#anyways I will never get over giant exaggerated reactions

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Okay I’ve watched a good portion of Dungeon Meshi and I LOVE IT! I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE BRING SCIENCE INTO THEIR FANTASY AND MAKE THJNGS MAKE SENSE

Also Senshi?????? THE BEST CHARACTER EVER????

ALSP CHILCHUCK????? THE SECOND BEST CHARACTER EVER??????

AND I THINK K ACCIDENTALLY LEARNED SOMETHING????????

[hotchocolatelovesyou]

A monster made of clay

Um hi, this sucks and I’m losing my mind over it, so I’m gonna post whatever the fuck this is anyway because I’m not a coward. English is not my first language and you can tell. Open to criticism, but please don't be mean lol

Robert x Dadsona

Dadsona: Hector Amanti.

enjoy (or don’t idk)

pss pss every dumb mistake you can find, take it on grammarly. that bitch is so useful so useless I hate it

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It was weird. Really weird. Why did it have that shape? Why was it so long? Why was it so big?

"Robert, my very dear friend, I hope you'll pardon me for asking in such manners, but what the fuck are you doing?"

"Language, Hector. Language. You'd not want to scandalize a poor little innocent boy like me, would you?" Hector raised an eyebrow, still eyeing the weird statue.

"I would never. It's not like said poor little innocent boy is creating a giant di-"

"You lack artistic vision", he replied, interrupting the younger man. Hector clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to be mortally wounded.

The memory of him, Damien, Joseph and Hugo at the museum was still very present. He was a changed man after that: he finally understood art after many years of his relatively long but actually short life. Everything, everything, in art - and it didn't matter from where and when a piece was - revolved around butts. That's how it was. That's how it should have been. Amen to butts, one of Mother Nature's most lovely creations.

"Lacking artistic vision? Moi? That's it, cruel world. I'm ready to go." Hector hurriedly touched his throat as if he was suffocating, one hand still on his chest to stop the imaginary bleeding. Robert went back to smooth the surface of his, ehm, anatomically bizarre work.

"There has to be someone funnier than the other between us, and I happen to know who is who." Robert didn't bat an eye, apparently focused on his project.  

"Hghkk... Robert, I'm dying." The other man exhaled hard through his nose, annoyed by the distraction from his masterpiece. He was trying to create a vein with a stick for the fourth time in ten minutes. Hector stopped his theatrics then and rolled his eyes, bored by the minimal reaction. He blew a lock of curly hair away from his face, his own hands covered in green clay.

They both had stains here and there because they kept trying to make the other fuck up. Hector had to completely start again whatever he was trying to do at least three times, Robert just two. That vein not coming out right had absolutely nothing to do with Hector.

"I don't find clowns funny" was his calm reply, a second later. Hector gasped, pretending to be hurt.

"You bitch!" he whispered, getting closer to Robert with an exaggerated angry face. 

When Robert eventually appeared to give him attention, he stuck his tongue out at him and went back to his work with a raised chin.

"You don't deserve me. I'm gonna stop talking to you."

"Thank God, finally. Another word and I was going to toss this at you", joked Robert, showing the enormous dick of clay he had been working on the whole time. Hector laughed at the vision, though when the handsome older man went to fake-throw the thing, Hector almost fell out of his chair, attempting to dodge it. At that vision, it was Robert's turn to laugh, trying to hit a giggling Hector with his clay dick. 

He, Mary and Robert had become a good trio with time, they always met for drinks essentially every weekend. Sometimes one of the other dads was invited too, but it was mostly the three of them. Mind you, Hector had some veeeery embarrassing moments he’d like to bury in the back of his mind, but with the two he also created some of the best memories in his life.

Yet, this week Mary and Joseph were out of town visiting her parents with their children.

For the first time in a while, it would have been just Hector and Robert. 

When Hector heard the news, his heart skipped a few beats. It felt nice, knowing it was just the two of them for once. Really nice. And also extremely fucking stressful.

There was no need to make things weird, right? It wasn’t even the first time they hung out alone. Deep breaths, no touching, and acting like an adult would have done the trick. He was awkard already on his own, no need to overthink it and make things worse for the both of them.

So, Hector tried his best to search for something relaxing or at least, um, not too weird? 

Hector had found the course by accident, wasting precious time of his life that would've never come back - basically, he was scrolling on the internet - when puff! There was this small announcement on the online news of their town: it was a sculpting class that, coincidently, started on their usual 'drinking' night. It could have been fun, different from their typical nights at the bar, especially considering that Robert had stopped drinking months ago anyways. 

He proposed the idea, already waiting for a no, when Robert pleasantly surprised him. Hector half suspected it was because they had more than enough time to hunt cryptids later since the class wouldn't have ended too late.

And there they were now, fighting like kids who happened to be waaayyy too old.

When Robert shoved the gigantic clay dick near his face again, Hector, laughing hysterically, grabbed the upper half and attempted to move it away. Robert, grinning like an idiot, tried to make him lose his grip by pulling that monstrosity towards him holding the lower half. With the poor thing being pushed hard in two different directions, the dick tore in the middle, and both the men fell out of their seats. Two very explosive laughs echoed around the big room, capturing everyone's attention.

Hector was the first to be back on his feet, while Robert sat up, still holding the rest of his creation.  The curly-haired man fixed the glasses on his nose and went to help the bearded man with a smile.

Hector was pretty sure he had a dick-shaped spot of clay on the back of his t-shirt. He held his hand out to help Robert get up, but a mischievous grin suspiciously appeared on the older man's face. He suddenly pulled his wrist, testing his balance, trying to make him tumble. Hector miraculously resisted.

"Hah!" exulted Hector, actually helping a chuckling Robert to stand on his feet now.

He had already fallen for Robert, it was unnecessary to fall on him too.

When Robert's deep brown eyes were finally on his same level, if not a bit higher, they met Hector's gaze with an amused warmth. Robert was still smiling and the younger man couldn't help but reciprocate with enthusiasm. 

Everything was warmer with Robert. From the rays of the sun to the heat in his cheekbones when he looked at him a second too much, or even to whatever charge of electricity he could feel buzzing in his fingertips when they happened to be so close that their hands could touch; not to mention the boiling liquid in his chest when Robert allowed himself to show how tired he was, and how vulnerable, delicate and hard his new approach to his mental health and addiction was to maintain.

Those were times when he told Hector stories about his life, his daughter, and (very rarely) even his wife. Hector, in exchange, confessed his own struggles, his fight against depression, and his social anxiety. He offered comfort in grieving those who they had both lost and reassurance about how good he was doing.  

They also shared the good parts, the happy memories. They revealed themselves to the other, piece by piece.

Hector was simply honoured that Robert had learned to trust him so much. Sure, he still tried to sneak in some bullshit one way or another, but by now he had learned to call his bluffs.

They had learnt to know each other and, at this point, they seemed to be joined at the hips. There was a special bond between them, one Hector would have treasured with his whole being. 

It didn't matter that he had to fight the urge, always more often, to kiss him senselessly. Hector made a promise that day, and he intended to respect it, even 'til his last dying breath.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but yeah, he had a lot of patience and didn't make promises lightly, so...

Besides, things were great. Hector was genuinely proud of how far Robert had come. He'd been there on some of Robert's most difficult nights, and seeing him like that made him even prouder of how he was now.

Still looking at him, Hector noticed how much more relaxed he appeared. There weren't those deep, dark circles anymore, his eyes shined a bit more of their own light, and he was taking care of his hair and beard more. He seemed happier, too. He had a better relationship with his daughter, their monthly calls slowly turned weekly, and by now they called or texted each other almost daily.

He dared to glance down, where he met Robert's soft smile again. Hector was very satisfied with himself: he was the one who put that smile on those very, very kissable lips. Robert was happy because of him. They were a bit chapped, but Hector never gave a flying fuck about those things. As if such small detail could have stopped him from totally devouring him, body and soul, never letting him go and-- ah, for fuck's sake. Hector, stop right now. 

"Hey, you two! Are you done acting like middle schoolers? I'm talking here!" Hector jumped out of his skin, having honestly forgotten where they were. A man with a red sweatshirt and sunglasses was clearly scowling at them, even if Hector couldn't see his eyes.

"Who the fuck wears sunglasses inside?" 

"The moon probably hits too hard for him." Robert snickered at that and Hector felt like he won a prize. 

"Since you're being so active, why don't you show the class what you made?" the tutor continued, heading to their table. The problem was that after a few steps closer, he recognised the duo. Hector also had the same realization, freezing in horror.

Robert, instead, was more than ready.

"Hey, I know you! You were-"

"Listen here, dude", started Robert in a low voice, to be heard just by the two of them, "we are doing a very important job here, we are undercover. Tell people to turn their attention elsewhere immediately." The tour guide-art teacher looked around angsty at the worried tone, noticing how everyone was watching them. He gulped and cleared his voice.

"Just get back to your work y'all." Robert gave him a grateful look while Hector let out a sigh of relief, immediately on with the plan. When someone had a best friend like Robert, one had to learn how to improvise quickly. 

"Good. But now our positions might be compromised", said the older man, his face turned towards Hector, seeming tense. Hector sighed again. 

"It's not said the last word. We could still be able to continue with our plans." Robert didn't look too convinced. Hector tried to reassure him by placing a hand on his arm - and felt the muscles bulge under the leather jacket - but before he could speak, the third man lowered his head, whispering his worries so fast that he almost resulted uncomprehensible.

"Is everything alright? Am I in danger? Should I end the class now? I don't want to die this way! Wait, no, maybe I do. Do I? Am I s-" Robert quietly shushed him, stopping his bumbling. The tour guide, poor soul, practically smelled of anxiety. He squeezed himself into his old sweatshirt with a shiver.

"First, you need to stay calm. You are the one in charge here. If you are nervous, people will detect it, and you might create more trouble." The other man nodded, his shoulders still too tense

“Yeah dude, be the alpha we know you are” added Hector, feeling bad for the guy.  At the words, the man in sunglasses straightened his back, with a bit more confidence. Robert kicked him under the table, Hector hit him back with a moan of pain.

"It would be better if you stayed away from us", Hector said again, without getting hit in the process.

"Second, we just need you to keep doing what you are doing. Watch the others, tell people what they should be doing and how to do it, stuff like that." The art teacher-tour guide... didn't he also work as a quiz host? seemed a bit unsure of himself, though he nodded again.

"We are trying to monitor the whole room, it's not as easy as it looks. It would be a huge help if no one disturbs either of us. Subtly. We don't need to get attention." What was his name? Quinn? He listened attentively to his words before hugging himself.

“But, uh, why are you here? What is your mission?” Robert clicked his tongue at that. Hector rested his forearms on the workbench, in a conspiratory tone.

“We can’t reveal anything, it’s for your own good” murmured the curly-haired man, tucking a curl behind his ear and staining his cheekbone green.

“B-but I’m the alpha, I need to know if-”

“All you need to know”, interrupted Robert, rolling his eyes, “is that you shouldn’t play too much with this material.” A flash of pure panic crossed the teacher’s face.

“We have been testing it the whole time, it’s very bizarre” revealed his partner in crime.

“I-I have no idea where this is from, it was already here! I-” Hector gently gestured for him to lower his voice.

“Just pretend nothing is happening, we’ll take care of the rest” ordered Robert, with a spooky look in his eyes, one of a man who was ready to go on a battle. Hector loved this type of theatrics.

"I'll do my best to let you go under the radar." He was going to say something else, probably wondering if to give them an earful since they probably were the loudest angle in the room. Hector was aware of that, at least. He couldn't see his eyes, he was still wearing sunglasses (why? Just why?), but the frown he was reading on his face didn't please either of the fake-ass-ghost-hunters.

"If you see us behaving like idiots..." began the younger idiot in question, "... just know that it's part of the plan. We can't act like we are constantly studying people, it'd be too suspicious", ended Robert, throwing a glance at the man on his side. Hector immediately caught it.

"Obviously. Duh." Their tutor for the night smacked his hand on his forehead at their words. He bit his lip, unsure, and lowered his head.

"I, uh, would thank you but... ehm, I forgot your names..." he admitted shyly, shoving his hands in his pocket, his black lens shining under the white lights.

"You have forgotten them?" Hector asked, sounding truly hurt. 

"You know what? Maybe it's better this way" intervened Robert, apparently trying to console Hector. 

"Tell people you don't know us and we've never met", commanded Robert gravely, a serious look on his face. The teacher threw them a glance from over his glasses. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, then simply turned around and left, going back to his station. 

Hector bit his lip, trying not to laugh. He elbowed Robert gently.

"What even was my name that night?"

"Fuck me if I could remember", Robert simply stated, immediately working to create a new dick, even bigger than the one he previously made. Hector looked sympathetically at the cute, little panda he had shaped.

I'm gonna call it Po.

It didn't take much more time for the class to end. Hector gave Po to Robert as gift a few minutes later, already knowing the poor guy would get lost in the woods. He liked it though, and that was enough.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Po the one they had to let go, but Greenzilla (the name Robert chose for his mastodontic work), when Hector, a proud coward, took it to protect them from God knows what. 

He had to make the rational choice of throwing it at something hiding in the trees. Because there was something in the trees, right? Right, Robert?

They both started running back to the car, scared shitless, and cracked up from the adrenaline rush once on the road.

Sure, Hector had to listen to Robert scolding him when things calmed down - he had spent so much time on Greenzilla, and now he was just gone. They had a moment of silence, to commemorate the friend they failed so soon - but it was worth it. The whole night had been worth it.

And for Robert? He'd have thrown as many gigantic dicks as needed, if not more.

Hector went to sleep with a warm laugh still in his mind.

[its-nebula]

V3 Boys With an Overdramatic Fem!S/O

Sigh.

That's all he does is just sigh.

He tries to word things in a way that wouldn't make you feel the need to do any theatrics, but sometimes it can't be avoided.

"S/O... We can't go on our date tonight. I'll be too caught up with work, and... there she goes."

He watched as you rested your hand on your forehead, falling backwards onto the couch, telling him to "go, go on without you".

He jumped when he heard dramatic organ music, and looked to see Kaede playing ab organ right in your living room.

"K-Kaede?! When did you-? Why is-?! How-"

Kaede shrugged, pressing the keys as you continued your monologue.

"She hired me, and I get to play an organ!"

It's a good thing he has patience!

He doesn’t quite know how to keep you from reacting in the way that you do, so he just lets it happen.

“S/O, my dear, you know that I’ll gladly support you through any emotional turmoil you may face...but all they announced was that this was their final season-”

He watched as you laid across your special fainting couch, whining about how you would have to suffer when your favorite show ended.

“Hmm... I never knew that human emotions could be so fragile before I met you.”

Kiyo didn’t mean it in a bad way, but he regretted saying anything after seeing your reaction. 

“Now, now! All I meant was that, according to the studies I’ve conducted, most people usually save these dramatics for the theatre.”

Kiyo, stop talking.

“Really, I think you may have a natural affinity for it, S/O! Nobody would be able to compete with your over exaggeration of the emotions that you display, not by a mile~”

Kiyo. Stop. Talking.

A match made in Clown Hell.

The Drama King and Queen.

I hope everybody around you has prepared themselves because there is absolutely no turning back.

If somebody were to insult you, you’d act like you’d been shot in the heart, falling into Kokichi’s arms.

“No...NO! S/O! Why? Why would you do this to my precious Queen?!”

Here come the crocodile tears.

Don’t worry, it works the other way around too.

“What did you just say? You think we’re overdramatic? WAAAAAAAAAAAAH, I CAN’T EVEN EXPRESS MY EMOTIONS ANYMORE!”

The two of you could fill a pool with how many tears you produce. 

Sometimes Kaede plays the piano for dramatic effect.

“Kaede, will you stop encouraging them? This is a serious problem.”

“I don’t know, I just think it’s kind of funny.”

He's just... over it man.

Ryoma just really does not care anymore.

Every time he tells you news he already knows what’s coming.

“Well, S/O, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I heard the dog dies in the movie.”

Cue his girlfriend crying and monologuing about how the poor animal deserves to live!! He deserves to live!!

“...are you done yet?”

Everyone else in the movie theater lobby was staring at you after you’d been wailing about how Hollywood deserves to perish for their crimes.

Ryoma didn’t really like being the center of attention, so he just grabbed your hand and led you to the movie, a little embarrassed.

He doesn't get it :(.

"Why is S/O acting like that? It looks like her emotions system has gone into overdrive!"

He looked at you rolling around on the floor, after your favorite characters in the book you were reading kissed.

"Sorry, but us meatbags don't have hard drives! Not like you have any idea what it's like. She's just being dramatic, tell her to quit being such a drama queen!"

"I refuse to tell my girlfriend how to live her life! I will comfort her instead!"

He bends down to your level, and attempts to comfort you.

"S/O, don't worry! I will do everything in my power to make sure you're feeling better once again!"

He's so used to eccentric people that nothing fazes him anymore.

“Here she goes again. Thanks a lot for bringing it back up, Kokichi.”

You started to cry about the death of your favorite character, how they shouldn’t have been killed off so early. They barely had time for any real character development! Oh, the humanity! When will the pain end?!

Kokichi laughs because he knew you were going to do it, which is why he brought them up in the first place.

Rantaro crosses his arms and lets you complete your monologue.

“She’ll get tired eventually.”

I mean, really, it would’ve been so much better if that other character had died in their place! They were super boring throughout the whole game anyways, everybody probably forgot they existed most of the time because they were soooooo irrelevant to the plot!

“Mmmhm. That’s nice, baby.”

He’s not even paying attention, he’s flipping through a magazine.

He actually buys into it.

He actually listens to every word that you say when you tend to talk on and on about the tiniest things.

Talking about how that dastardly butterfly scared you half to death by landing on your shoulder?

“Gonta make sure butterfly no can scare S/O anymore!”

If you “faint”, he rushes to catch you, and gives you a piggyback ride.

“S/O should be more careful!”

Freaks out whenever you get overly upset.

"Miu no should say bad things to S/O! S/O is very upset!"

Gives you giant hugs to help you calm down.

"Gonta will always be here to cheer up S/O!"

Doesn't know how to react.

He always tends to forget how dramatic you are, so he says things without realizing that it may upset you.

“Yeah, some guy tried to fight me earlier today, but-”

Kaito? Someone was trying to hurt your Kaito? But why?!

He frowned as you started to cling onto his jacket. You told him how you regretted not being there for him in his hour of need, and how you were basically the "worst girlfriend ever".

"Hey, S/O! You know I still love you, right?"

You weren't listening as you told him how you understood if he broke up with you.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed you and kissed you to make you shut up.

"I said, I love you! You're such a drama queen, S/O, I'm fine! It'll take a lot more to faze Kaito Momota!"

[eatsleepmemerepeat]

My Dad’s Funny Reaction to Finding out Harry sang Medicine Again (With my dad not there to hear it):

To anyone new to my blog, my dad is in his 60s and is a big ass drama queen. This is long but worth the read in my opinion.

This is a true story. I should have recorded the call but I was half asleep and wasn’t even sure if it was real at first or a dream. I’m cracking up just writing this.

So I get a call very early this morning that wakes me up out of a dead sleep. It’s my dad and he’s cursing and his voice is raised. It takes me a second to figure out what the heck he is blabbing on about. Based on the tone of his voice it sounds like someone took a baseball bat to his car Carrie Underwood style or one of my siblings needs to be bailed out of jail or something because he is super worked up. I’m thinking it must be something really bad. Finally, I’m awake enough to comprehend what he is saying and here is what his dramatic ass said:

Dad: I am pissed at the m*therf*cker! I cannot believe him! I cannot believe he did it again! DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?

Me: What?! Who? I am asleep, why are you calling this early?

Him: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! I AM SO MAD HE SANG IT AGAIN!

Me: Oh, are you talking about Harry?

Dad: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE SANG F*CKING MEDICINE AGAIN! WHY THE F*CK DIDN’T HE SING IT AT THE SAN DIEGO SHOW?!

Me: Are you sure he sang it? I went to bed last night and didn’t see anything online about it. I know he sang it the other night though.

Dad: IT WAS THE FIRST THING I GOOGLED THIS MORNING! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE ME GOOGLING “DID HARRY STYLES SING MEDICINE LAST NIGHT?”

I don’t have this man googling anything! He did that all on his own! He is the one calling at the ass crack of dawn to tell me what Harry sang last night.

Me: You actually googled it?

Dad: YEAH! I HAD TO KNOW! I SAW AN ARTICLE ABOUT IT AND I LOST IT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?

Me: Huh, I’ll have to look.

Dad: I’M TELLING YOU! I LOOKED IT UP AS SOON AS I WOKE UP! AND NOW IM PISSED! I HAVE BEEN HEARING ABOUT THIS GUY EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR TWO YEARS AND HE DOESN’T SING MEDICINE THE NIGHT I GO TO HIS CONCERT!? He sings it BOTH NIGHTS IN LA though! We could have just gone to the LA show instead! He knows we want to hear it! Why doesn’t he just sing it every show! Come on man! I’m pissed! HE IS ON MY SHIT LIST NOW! I WORE A SHIRT THAT SAID MEDICINE AND A GIANT TACO ON MY HEAD BUT HE DOESN’T SING IT FOR ME?! EVEN AFTER I YELLED IT! I am not happy.

I am not even exaggerating he was yelling on the phone. He is dramatic and raises his voice a lot anyway but it’s usually about work.

Me: *holding back laughter* I’m sorry that you are disappointed, Dad. Trust me I am too, I have been waiting to hear that song in person since I heard on video in 2018. One of my friends recorded it though so we can still hear it and there are videos of it we can watch on YouTube. I am hoping he puts it on the next album.

Dad: *voice still raised* DO YOU HAVE HIS EMAIL ADDRESS?! I WANT TO SEND HIM AN EMAIL. I WANT TO TELL HIM THAT I AM A DAD AND I AM UPSET.

My dad is a Karen apparently

Me: No, I don’t have Harry Styles’ personal email address and you aren’t sending Harry hate mail for not singing Medicine. You are just going to have to get over it like the rest of us.

Dad: *Huffing and puffing dramatically* I just can’t believe him! Who does that?! If he’s not gonna release it, he at least needs to sing it! How much are the tickets to the next LA show? I deserve to hear it.

Me: You seriously want to try to get tickets last minute? The show is sold out but I’m sure we could find some resale ones for about $500 each.

Dad: Never mind, Mr. Harry probably won’t sing it again just because I’m there! He is gonna see me and not sing it out of SPITE!

Me: I don’t think he even knows who you are. But yeah, that would be a bummer if we went again and he didn’t sing it again.

Dad: GOD MAN. D*MN IT WT*! I wonder why he sang it yesterday and the night before but not in San Diego?

Me: He has only sang it in LA and New York this year. Plus at the LA show, the whole crowd was chanting it. We couldn’t get a chant going at our show.

My dad: THAT’S DISCRIMINATION! I FEEL DISCRIMINATED AGAINST! I’M A DAD! YOU SAID HE LIKED DADS!

Me: That’s not discrimination. I’ll send you the video. Now can I please go back to sleep.

Dad: Send me the video. Go back to sleep. BUT NO DREAMS ABOUT HARRY UNLESS THEY ARE OF HIM SINGING MEDICINE WITH ME THERE.

Me: Okay, got it. Talk to you later. Love you.

Dad: Okay. *Him huffing and puffing and complaining under his breath -I waited two years for this man to sing Medicine. I know everything about this guy. I even know about the fricken bears and he does this TO ME, AGAIN. That f*- *I hang up the phone*

My dad has called me 4 times today and texted me 3 times today and 6 times yesterday about this. He just started listening to Harry recently. He always gives me crap about being obsessed with Harry. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I am proud, but also slightly concerned😂

[voiceless-terror]

Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair. 

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves.  It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction. 

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.” 

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels. 

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine. 

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious. 

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat. 

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence. 

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk. 

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction. 

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then. 

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

[bxtchforstyles]

Political Love

Harry Styles x president's child!Y/N

Y/N was the granddaughter of the current leading president candidate, making her and Harry's relationship, well, complicated.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.5k+

gif not mine.

“Okay, you have to be quiet, or else we are definitely going to get caught.” Y/N seethes to her boyfriend as she opens the sliding glass door to the back entrance of her home.

“Don’t you have like security guards and shit, I mean, you are the President’s granddaughter.” He asks in a hushed tone, making her press her finger sternly to her own lip, signaling for him to be quiet.

“One, yes I have security guards but they stay by the gates at night, no point in them watching me sleep. And two, he’s not president yet, so not many people even know who I am.” Y/N grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him the rest of the way through the door before using only the tips of her fingers to shut it closed, trying to make the least amount of noise as possible.

The large back living room that was attached to the back porch was where they stood, surveying the area to make sure they had not woken up anyone else in the house. It seemed to be clear as they made their way towards the kitchen.

Y/N’s house was definitely significantly different from Harry’s. She had always grown up very wealthy, coming from a large family line of politicians and lawyers. It wasn’t like Harry was poor, because he was definitely a part of one of the wealthier families in Y/N and Harry’s small hometown, but it was nothing compared to his girlfriend who lived in a million dollar gated community.

The kitchen was ginormous, with large granite countertops along with white cabinets that had slabs of glass in them, so you could see the expensive china that had hardly been touched inside of them. There was also beautiful dark wood colored flooring that lined the kitchen up until the carpet of the living room.

There was also another living room that was immediately connected to the kitchen with tall, twenty foot ceilings, a giant flatscreen T.v mounted on the wall, and a sizable gray sectional that wrapped the entirety of the room. The staircase to go towards Y/N’s room sat in the entryway towards the front of her house, which is where their end goal was.

As the couple made their way through the first floor of Y/N’s house, they pretty much stayed silent, besides for the few times Harry attempted to sneak kisses while they tiptoed through the living room, which Y/N had to quickly shut down before they got taken away and got caught.

The stairs were old in her house, it was almost like one of those old victorian style houses, with white picket fences and rustic wooden flooring. So, trying to make it up the large staircase without anyone hearing the dilemma was most certainly a challenge.

“Can’t you just step on the stairs at the same time as me?!” She seethed under her teeth as she turned back to look at her boyfriend, guilt twisting his features.

“Okay, okay!” He responded, attempting to match her foot patterns as they quietly snuck up the remainder of the staircase.

The door to Y/N’s bedroom door finally creaked shut as she winced at the sound from behind the door. Harry was already comfortably sprawled out over Y/N’s queen size bed, like he had done many other times before. The two of them were only seventeen, so they rarely ever did anything explicit, especially in Y/N’s house.

She turned the lock on her bedroom door quickly before making her way over to her boyfriend, crawling into her bed alongside him. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping one of her legs around his lower torso. His arm wrapped around her easily as he pressed his head into her soft, curled hair.

Y/N reached over toward her small nightstand, grabbing her remote that laid on top of it. Flicking her T.v on before turning the volume almost all the way down. Neither of the two know why they even bothered to turn the television on whenever they laid in Y/n’s bed, since they just talked over the low volume show anyways.

“Ya know, I’ve never really questioned why your room looks like a princess fairytale threw up all over it before.” Harry laughed as he glanced around his girlfriend’s room.

It was true, Y/N’s room looked like a child’s bedroom of someone who lived in a castle. Her bed posts on all four corners of it that extended all the way up to the ceiling, along with a curtained canopy surrounding it.

“Shut up!” She pouted as she hid her face in his chest, “I like it.”

“I was just kidding darling, I like it too.” He pulled her face back up so he could look at her properly. “It’s very fitting.”

She leaned up towards Harry’s face, giving him a gentle kiss, melting into him. They stayed like that for a moment before leaning her forehead against his, letting her eyelashes brush against his as her eyes fluttered shut.

“You know, we won’t be able to do this once you’re living in the White House.” Harry reminded her with a small smirk as they both stared at the small chandelier that hung above the canopy of her bed.

“I know.” She sighed pathetically, not wanting to admit that if her grandfather won the election, it was very unlikely that she would see him as much as she does now. “I’m just going to have to tell my family about us before the election day.”

Harry pressed a small kiss to the girl’s creased forehead, “You do whatever you want, whenever you’re ready.”

“No, no, I’m going to have to tell them sooner rather than later.” She denied his attempt to comfort her, “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? They don’t even know who you are, so why would they hate you?”

“Exactly, baby.”

-----

“Oh shit, oh shit.” Y/N gasped as she heard the knocking on her bedroom door, feeling Harry’s arms snaked around her waist.

“Y/N? Darling, why is your door closed?” Her mother’s voice echoed from the outside of the wooden doorframe.

She quickly grabbed one of the many throw pillows that laid at the end of her bed, swiftly hitting Harry upside the head with it.

Before he could groan in unamusement, he felt his girlfriend’s hand quickly cup over his mouth, “You have to hide! My mom is trying to come in.” That made Harry move faster than he had ever before.

He quickly gathered his few things that he had discarded onto the nightstand before quickly making his way into the walk in closet that was connected to Y/N’s room, shutting the door quickly behind him.

“Y/N?” Her mother called again.

She was now sitting up in her bed, trying to contain herself before she had to get out of bed to unlock her door and allow her mom inside.

“One second!”

“Why have you got your door locked? Are you doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing in there?”

“No, no! Just trying to wake myself up for a moment!” Once Y/N finally gained her composure she stood up from her bed, sliding her feet into an old raggedy pair of slippers off of the floor next to her bed.

Y/N’s mother was already in her work attire when the door opened, she was leaning against the wall of the hallway, her hair cascading down her shoulders smoothly as she straightened out her suit jacket quickly.

“G’ morning” Y/N yawned, opening the door wider before turning back to walk inside her room, sitting at her vanity.

“Morning,” Her mother replies, taking only a step past the doorframe of her daughter's bedroom. “I just thought I’d come say hi before heading to the office for the day. Do you need anything before I leave?”

Y/N looked up towards her ceiling, pretending to think for a moment before shrugging her shoulders, “No, not that I can't think of.”

“Very well then.” The woman had a look on her face as she glanced suspiciously around her daughter’s room. “What is that?”

The girl felt her stomach drop, looking towards the floor where she was pointing. Sitting there wound up in a ball, was Harry’s shirt that he had discarded onto the floor before falling asleep last night.

“O-oh”

Observing her mother's face, she had a feeling as if her mom already knew what the piece of clothing was. “Oh goodness! Look at the time, I have to leave!”

“Okay, bye mom. Love you!” The younger girl called as the suit-clad lady made her way back towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

Before she could reach the stairs though, she replied quickly, “Your father will be home before supper, make sure you get all your school work done! Love you!”

As soon as Y/N hears the familiar sound of her mother's heels clomping down the stairs, she shuts her door, leaning against the back of it as she lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Am I good to come out now?” The closet door creaks open a small amount as Harry's head pops out of it slightly.

She nods, her head still leaned back in miserly as she looked at her ceiling. “I'm sorry.” she exhaled.

“Hey,” Harry grabbed her hand from where it was pressed against the door. “It's fine, baby. I'm not worried about it, and you shouldn't be either.”

It was quite obviously bothering her more than she was letting on, and Harry knew that, she didn’t have to let on a ton for him to be able to tell something was wrong. He also knew exactly what was bothering her.

She had always been scared to tell her family about Harry in fear of their reactions, and it never really came between their relationship early on because Y/N was very rarely home, making it easy for her to go to Harry’s house, or for the couple to go on dates.

But ever since her parents had demanded she spends more time at home with her family due to her grandfather’s election currently going on, it was very rare that she ever got much alone time with her boyfriend.

And she felt guilty about it.

“I-I just wish I could spend more time with you, and i wish that you could see how hard i’m trying, a-and-” The tears that started rolling down her face broke Harry’s heart, she couldn’t even finish her sentence because of how hard she was crying.

“C’mere love,” He pulled her frail body into his own chest, “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. I do see how hard you are trying and I know how hard this has been on you. I’m not mad, or upset, just take a breath.”

She completely crumbled into her boyfriend’s grip, sliding down the wall next to her door, “I’m such a bad girlfriend, I know I am. I’m sorry.”

“Woah, woah.” Harry stopped dead in his tracks, reaching down towards Y/N’s face that was hidden in his chest, pulling it up so her eyes met his own. “Don’t you dare say that, now or ever.”

“You,” He emphasized, pressing the pads of his thumbs against her cheekbones, “are everything I could have ever dreamed of, Y/n. You are absolutely perfect.”

It was insane how the mood had changed in the room so fast. Now Harry was seeing all of the pressure that his girlfriend had been building upon herself, and it had finally all come crashing down.

A heavy breath that Y/N felt like she had been holding for much too long finally fell past her lips as she tried to compose her emotions. She felt like a fool in the moment, having her boyfriend see her in such a state of distress.

“Sorry, sorry.” He backed out of his embrace, trying to act as if nothing had happened, “I’m fine...everything’s fine.”

“I want you to know that it’s okay to be upset, or frustrated, or afraid. I want you, and everything else that comes along with you, I just want to help, that’s it.” Harry tries to explain to Y/N.

Sh nuzzled her face against his shoulder blade, “Thank you.”

He kisses the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her shoulders “Don’t thank me.”

-----

“Y/N! Are you coming?” The booming voice echoed up the stairs, making Y/N snap her head towards the sound.

She was currently trying to put her last earring in her ear and put her small black heels on at the same time. They were already late, which was not a good first impression when your family is possibly about to be living in the whitehouse.

She hurried herself downstairs, but not before grabbing her phone off the charger and shoving it quickly in the dainty clutch she was planning on carrying around with her for the night.

Once she got to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped in the foyer to look at herself in the mirror, she felt two hands hold onto her shoulders from behind, “You look beautiful, sweetie, now come on, we have to leave.” It was her mother.

Their whole family was supposed to be dressed to the nines for the fancy dinner they were attending. Ever since the first time her grandfather ran for senate, the night before election day, the whole family would go out to a family dinner for good luck.

And it seemed to work, because her grandpa had won every election he’d ever ran in. But this was definitely the most important, because he wasn’t just running for senate, or congress, he was running for president.

It was nerve wracking to say the least.

When Y/N and her parents finally made it out the door, they were met with the signature black SUV in the driveway, along with two big buff men in fancy black suits standing near the doors, preparing to open them for the family.

The entire way to the restaurant Y/N’s mother gave her the same speech she gave her anytime they went to a function involving her grandfather and his career.

‘Be polite, don’t say anything out of turn, do not act foolish, do not throw food, do not act up with the cousins...blah blah blah.’

Waking into the large ballroom where the dinner was being held was absolutely insane. The first things that had caught Y/N’s eyes were the large chandeliers that had been hung all along the ceiling, one above every table. The glitter that covered the dance floor along with the arched balloon entrance made the entire space look like an old fashioned masquerade, and it was absolutely beautiful.

“Wow.” She gasped as her mother pulled her by the hand, leading her towards the large table in the center of the others, where her family always sat. “This is amazing. You planned this, didn't you?”

Her mother smiled brightly as she nodded, looking around the room with a proud look on her face. “Have you met me, daughter?” She then smirks.

Y/N laughed, deciding to begin walking around to look at all of the decorations around the large ballroom. Of course Y/N and her entire family had known of Y/N’s mother to be very over the top, but this year’s fancy dinner was nothing like the ones of previous years.

There were cakes, desserts, and balloons everywhere you looked. A large banner that said “congratulations future Mr. President!” hung up along the large wall in front of their families table.

As Y/N continued to look around, she noticed the overwhelming amount of people, to which her mother told her “We invited everyone who had ever had anything to do with Pop’s success.”

It was sweet, seeing all new people who were there to support her grandfather.

“Y/N?” She hears a familiar voice call quietly from behind her, she whips her head around to see who was speaking. “Hi baby.” Harry whispers.

“Oh my-” She cuts herself off, looking at her boyfriend with wide eyes. “What are you doing here” She asks in a rush.

“My parents got invited, said that your grandpa was an old friend of theirs.”

“What a small world.” Y/N smiles, hugging Harry quickly as to not draw speculation before pulling away. “I'm sorry i have to be so discrete, it's just that- well, my parents are luring around here somewhere and-”

Harry cuts her off, “I know, Y/N, I know.”

“You know what,” Y/N grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Harry asked with a light smile as Y/N got closer and closer to where her family was sitting. He was starting to get nervous, not knowing what Y/N was planning on doing.

A few moments later Y/N seas standing at the edge of the table where her family was sitting, hand in hand with Harry. A few of her cousins gav them confusing looks when they saw their intertwined hands, but most of the family didn't even notice, only exchanging hellos quickly.

“This is Harry, he's my boyfriend.” Harry almost choked on his own spit when she said it, especially so suddenly.

There were some shocked expressions and some were confused with how the two even knew each other, but for the most part, the reaction was pretty positive.

“Oh really?” Her mother asked, looking up at Y/N from where she was sitting. “I've met Harry's family, only heard good things about him.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief at her mother's support, that was before she looked over at her father.

His eyebrows were furrowed with a sour look on his face, “I don't understand how you think you can go and get a secret boyfriend, date him for weeks, or months, or whatever, without my knowledge and think it's okay.”

“Dad-” Y/N was cut off.

“This is not how I raised you, keeping secrets like this.”

“Honey,” Her mother looked at Y/N’s father with a stern look on her face. “She's telling us now, you can't expect her to tell us every single thing about her life. Like I said, I've only heard good things about Harry. You should just be happy that your child is happy.”

His face seemed to relax a bit, Y/N’s hand suddenly holding Harry's much tighter in fear of what he was going to say next. “You treat my girl alright?” His question was directed towards Harry, making him fix his posture and look at his girlfriend's father personally.

“Dad-” This was not how Y/N wanted this conversation to be going.

“Of course I do, sir.” Harry cut her off, making her father nod.

“Good.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “good?”

“As long as you're happy, angel” It was shocking to Y/N how understanding her father became so quickly. She was expecting it to take at least a couple weeks.

“thank you, dad.” She wrapped her dad in a hug, finally feeling relieved.

“of course, pumpkin.”

-----

“Well that was fun, wasn't it?” Harry laughed as he and Y/N danced together.

Y/N nodded as she laughed, “Yeah, it definitely was.”

It was getting close to the end of the night at the dinner party. Everyone had eaten dinner and had their dessert, and now was the relaxing part of the night where everyone just hung out, danced and had a good time.

Y/N’s hands were on Harry's shoulders, his hands on her waist as they swayed gently to the music that was playing slowly throughout the room.

Harry had been admiring the dress Y/N was wearing for quite some time now, she looked beautiful. The dress she had chosen was a gorgeous, golden ball gown that flared at her waist and ruffled all of the way down to her ankles. You could also see the sleek, while stiletto heels on her small feet.

“You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart.”

A small blush quickly rose to the girls cheeks, “Thank you.” She smiled back at him, “You look great too, you should wear suits more often, they look really good on you.”

Everyone looked so happy, including Pop, who had come up to Y/N and Harry during dinner to congratulate them, which the couple found pretty ironic that the (hopefully) soon to be president was congratulating them at his election dinner party.

But Y/N was especially happy among the room full of people, standing here, dancing with Harry like she had always wanted. The life that she had always envisioned with Harry was finally being pieced together, no more secrets, no more hiding.

They could just be Them. Harry and Y/N.

“I love you.” Y/N’s eyes widened when she had registered what she had just blurted out, her hand falling over her agape mouth.

All Harry did was smile though, kissing her on the forehead before softly saying, “I love you too.”

Thank you to the anon who suggested this! i really love it and might make it a series? what do you guys think?!<3

[sugar-petals]

Hey Caro ☺️ I just took your super m quiz - thanks for making such a fun quiz, I feel like it helped me get into super m! I know nothing about them yet but I thought it fit soo well that I got Kai bc I’m a full time dancer - now you have me super curious about him 👀👀

KAI :: INTRODUCTION MASTERPOST (dance focus)

so you wanna know about the god of k-pop choreo? oh yeah, i’ll talk to you about fucking kai! if you dance, this guy is the #1 must-know. once you see him move, there’s no going back. i don’t exaggerate: kai is the gold standard. brace yourselves, i’ll show you why.

kim kai aka kim jongin (27) is a solo artist and super m’s plus exo’s main dancer — est 2019 and 2012 respectively — heading either group with a passionate, hyper-physical style that roots in his early practice of of jazz dance and ballet. the influence definitely shows. 

learning choreography, he’s become the gorgeous fusion of emotional grace and explosive power that unites both tension and extreme accuracy. while at the same time: never sacrificing his interpretation. and HOW MUCH HE BLEEDS FOR HIS CRAFT. he enjoys it so much. 

and he’s communicating it 100%, jongin’s dance is so interactive and raw, luring. i swear to god, put the seatbelts on for this one. it’s never just him, it’s you as well. you’ve never seen this before. he’s like “yes, i meant you, i’m looking at you”:

he’s even gonna modify the choreography to point right at you to underline that very thought. he’s so good, he can learn it, ace it, epitomize it, and do his own thing anyway. even the person in the last row will get whatever point kai wants to make. this is dance that belongs on the biggest stages.

even when he films without a crowd, it’s like you’re literally standing opposite to him. he focuses on two people: his moves, and the viewer. he has it look like you made him smile and self-aware, or you made him determined. INCREDIBLE. he shows his charisma, BUT he also shows your own (!) impact on him. it’s a duet. he wants you to join him on the dancefloor. this is from exo’s call me baby mv where kai does his famous come-hither:

he flirts and he encourages. he values the audience and wants them to be confident as well. i think it’s the reason why he’s so outstanding and addictive, kai thinks beyond himself. it’s a tango he involves you in with his eyes and how he opens his body, interprets a lyric.

it’s not about imposing himself going one way. instead: he plays the back and forth ALL. THE. TIME. in any context. whether it be frivolous, or fun, or gloomy, or sweet. even with a simple little smiley wink it’s happening. and he acts like you had a reaction to it. there’s literally just a camera.

this guy’s physique, strength, elegance, feeling for the beat, character portrayal (!), and control is unbelievable. he’s destroyed it in every fancam out there. he can’t switch it off even if he tried. your eyes would go toward him in the largest group formation still. put him in the center, that’s his spot, he showcases it.

because he doesn’t just show learned moves, he makes it radiate something dynamic and animalistic (he embodies superm’s ‘tiger inside’ all the way). 

jongin’s dance says: i love this, you love this, let’s do this, the feeling is right. he makes bodies and unrestrained touch the opposite of wrong, he pronounces it a source of having fun and being instinctual. and he never breaks the tie with you throughout, and uses his shoulders and lips to put the oomph into it. 

he uses innuendo and a ‘we both know’ sentiment perfectly as an invitation rather than just going through his routine. that’s how he can make each move fascinating. you can tell kai knows exactly how to make everyone scream their lungs out. i bet somebody held their breath just reading this post already.

exo’s most famous choreo is ‘monster’ (kai focus linked) with good reason: jongin can turn himself into nothing short of a roaring beast. it’s one sharp, complex move after the other. kai can bend any gravitational law he wants to show any feeling and pose he wants. a glimpse:

now, how to spot him in general if you’re new to him? here are some pointers. kai’s execution is clean, fast, and powerful. those are two decades (!) of experience showing. kai is an all or nothing dancer, he plays no games. he treats every group and solo stage like his best and last. his work ethic is beyond words. yeah, he’s a capricorn. his style is direct as can be, working every axis.

as you can see, jongin is hard to overlook anyway: he’s a 182cm giant made of steel. he strives to acutely visualize impact in his style and it is always successful. in fact, it’s his signature. it’s like he creates invisible objects and pushes through them. boom, he just burst another bubble.

when the song gets to his part, i guarantee you won’t miss him and all the boldness and expression he brings to enrich the performance. hell... he carries it. jongin can handle the center, i’m telling you. (look how fast he rotates here)

talking features — this is what to look for when he dances in a group setting: you can recognize kai’s face by how wide, bluntly structured and sensual it is. jongin is a sight. he has such an aura, serious, sultry, and smiling alike.

with a very recognizable silhouette (like... holy hell!):

he’s very cute as well ♡ the fandom and kai himself have an adorable analogy going on. jongin calls himself a teddy/nini bear and we joined in on it. (i made a thread about it here, it talks more about his offstage life) — hence kai’s fans are called eri-gom, eris as in exo’s fanbase and gom meaning bear. 

and i mean. look at him. what an attractive guy. he’s that handsome. strong brows, teddy eyes, square jaw, swept hair, glorious lips, tan skin. 

now yes, something important concerning his appearance and a serious topic: i don’t want to list you the endless instances of colorism that kai has to endure but it has to be mentioned. jongin has been called every name in the book and people agonize him over his skin incessantly. it goes on and on and on. every day a new terrible comment about him emerges because some pitiful person thought it was funny and would elevate them. 

he’s had to deflect, ignore, reframe, defend, remotivate, assert, harden, prove, denounce, and push himself, protect his confidence, decline skin bleaching constantly, laugh along, dance and practice thrice as hard to get the respect, and still see his dignity torn to pieces all day. i’ll just give it to you straight, that’s all fucked up. kai’s skin is perfect, he’s amazing and wonderful. 

in his own words:

— exactly right. say it even louder.

having him at the bottom of every joke is weird and messed up. this man is an utter beauty and nothing has to be fixed. it is up to him to define himself rather than get called ugly for his skin’s appearance by default, and get whitewashed at every opportunity. it’s been going on for 27 years, he scrunitizes himself all the time and doesn’t look at himself fondly because he hears these beatdowns daily.

it’s heartbreaking that this happens literally with no end in sight (’kai is just a stripper!’... ‘he has bad vibes’... ‘darkest guy jongin!’). for his skin, and how he decides to show it, too. jesus christ his skin looks fantastic, end of debate. they just can’t handle him, kai couldn’t be any more immaculate.

♡

jongin has vigorously protected fans from discrimination, bullies, and shaming himself whenever it came up. in a very straightforward and deadpan manner because he knows exactly how it damages you. (”J” in the subtitles = jongin, he’s wearing the plain white top at the very back)

we need to protect and praise him that way right back. it’s important.

so, needless to say. all in for jongin getting the center stage he deserves. because he has the wow factor in every regard. kai usually opens an MV because there’s no better way to get people’s attention with that level of presence. with kai, you can’t go wrong. if you get the center in a an all star group like superm, you are the king.

being part of that presence, kai’s stage alter ego has reached levels of infamity you can’t even imagine. it’s great to see him being sovereign without apology.

and it doesn’t stop there. he shows time and again that acting, props, and commanding the audience has to be mastered to be an exceptional dancer. kai owns his sex appeal. sometimes, he even dances a portion of choreo with his eyes closed because he’s feeling it so much.

he is a pro in using his surroundings as well, superm’s stages are a glorious opportunity for kai to show how he comfortably ‘lives in’ the 3D space around him.

which makes the viewer do the same: watching kai makes you feel amazing, energized, but also serene and enjoying the moment. 

there’s always balance. it’s the magic of it. e.g. he comes along with so much impetus and decisiveness but eventually, he halts to offer himself. here i am — take me. i’m yours. closed arms, open arms. walking, kneeling. looking down, looking up.

kai goes every extra mile there ever was and makes each eye contact count. involving the audience, one grin at a time. it works. it’s about establishing contact. he connects to the onlooker with so much nuance. 

kai’s smirk is notorious and you can see why it’s so raw and real: he makes it linger. it’s such a duality since his dancing says i’ll come over, while his message is come and get me, i know what’s on your mind.

with a hilarious twist – kai expertly uses humor. you don’t get that in many dancer repertoires. i love it. all those quick expression changes. his smile! 😊 what a man.

so — what makes him so good and known: yes, his style doesn’t deny that dancing and eroticism are one in his business. that takes courage. kai has it. iconic performances have been his reward. point dance/killing part: exo’s love shot choreo. 

that suit has swept the nation. what’s more: kai shows you it’s more than just good hip movement that a good dancer needs. he does everything at once, he puts the pleasure on his face, all his limbs are following the template he chooses.

the thing is. kai couldn’t be any shyer, but when the music starts he becomes a oscar-winning madman. he emotes constantly (!) and stays in character. this is gold.

jongin always plays it up. he knows how to use that face and does a lot of power posing. this is how visceral looks like. he’s interpreted exo’s aggressive concepts to a T.

and he has so. much. fun. it propels him. on every beat.

past every hurt, heartbreak and injury, man. if you know about his genre you knew this was coming, kai does all of that with 4 herniated discs. since debut days, never recovered. every gif in this thread, he dances with a battered spine. wheelchairs, stage collapses, relapse-recovery-schedule tales, the dilemma of injuries being inevitable, limping, kai falling into depression during breaks, constant pain killers, countless tears on stage, we’ve seen it all, the extreme end of it. 

kai works out like hell to literally keep his body from falling apart. but it doesn’t help the nerves in his back that are impacted. doing choreo you can sometimes literally see the pain kicking in and he pulls himself through with force for the last minute. once you know how strained his back is, you can see it.

at the end his expression goes fuck now it’s coming when the adrenaline fades. he takes every second-pause he gets to rest but still finishes each move. even when he holds back, he keeps it together and executes each turn. sometimes, he has to restrict himself and soften his movements to protect his health (especially in hard choreographies such as lucky one which is universally disliked by exo — still jongin makes the very best of it smiling bright and dancing so hard his sleeves come off).

he frequently states he ‘dances in any case unless his legs are affected by something’. all torso injuries are fair game, this guy is hardcore. and people claim he’s just pretending. chen (a fellow exo member) says not a single part of jongin’s body is intact. he has paid every price to get this far to follow his love. he’ll step on stage with crutches. he works SO HARD.

that being said: exo being called the official nation’s group, i say kai is the nation’s dancer. period. he has had his great moment at the korean olympics flawlessly dancing in a hanbok with traditional instruments and fulfilling his dream. 

i love the tension and drama he can bring. he can also thrill with slow, vulnerable movements alike.

kai’s is called a legend, he’s all that and even more. the facial expressions alone are feared by any kai stan because they hit home. 

this guy is a sex icon and goes off like a gun, messing around was never kai’s incentive. 

while at the same time being incredibly nuanced and so, so descriptive with his movements.

point dance: baby don’t cry. yep, kai has danced in water. must-watch.

this man loves what he is doing. he said he wouldn’t regret to die on stage because dancing is his destiny. boy, it shows. this guy has found his purpose. he can tell any story he wants. he’s a complete artist.

he’s perfectly portraying his incentive and he couldn’t look any more like a god on earth.

long story short, kai is dance and motivation goals. if you dance professionally, you can easily look toward him for the right words.

if you want to further your study and knowledge: he released a self-titled solo album recently. highly recommended. he worked forever on it, and he’s really dishing it on there. you get to hear his soft voice plus sizzling footwork. and he isn’t even getting started yet. you’ll hear from kai, i promise. he constantly achieves new levels of artistic perfection.

a last remark. jongin is amazing for a myriad of reasons that go beyond what i show you here given the post focuses on his work on stage. but the point stands, while other people have tried to break him, he broke through every barricade instead and stood up for himself. we can be extremely happy to have him and witnessing his unreal dance is an exceptional pleasure. here’s to jongin continuing his passion and confidence, healing, and getting the sweeping respect and acknowledgement that is his.

[jingabitch]

Adhesion ch.1

SUMMARY: As a new stylist for Blackpink, you need to focus on doing your job well. If only your assigned idol weren’t so distracting.

PAIRING: dom!Jennie x sub!reader

GENRE: slow burn smut, idol AU

WARNINGS: D/s relationship dynamics and negotiation, sexual tension, smut in later chapters

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

A/N: major thanks to @mingyuistall​ for helping me go over this! 

series index

You swore under your breath as you struggled with the giant tote bag over your shoulder and the little suitcase you were rolling behind you. Being the new assistant stylist meant paying your dues and being put through your paces, and you understood that when you took the job, but this really sucked. This morning, you’d had to pick up all the clothes for the shoot from the various fashion houses and find your own way to the studio with all your things in tow.

Oh, and you had to get there earlier than everyone else, which was why you were carrying everything up the subway stairs before the sun had even risen.

It was all worth it, though, you reminded yourself as you almost rolled your suitcase over your foot, because you were working with Blackpink today, and it was going to kickstart your career in fashion.

Besides, you thought, trying to stay optimistic, at least since they were A-list celebrities you weren’t getting to the fashion houses and finding out that they’d already decided to loan out the pieces to someone else, which you’d definitely heard your less fortunate classmates complaining about.

Oh, and there might be the little issue of your giant celebrity crush on Jennie, but you were determined to stay professional anyway. This was your first time meeting the girls after the head stylist had deemed you ready for actual styling, and you needed to make a good impression.

Once the security let you into the building – and okay, you did enjoy the thrill of getting past security – you started setting up, laying all the makeup out and hanging up the clothes. The other assistants came in while you were doing that and started helping, and by the time the head stylist Jiyoon entered the prep area, everything was ready.

She barely looked at you as she tossed her handbag on the loveseat. You held back a cringe – that was a lambskin Chanel classic flap, infamously delicate and worth thousands of dollars. Then again, she’d probably gotten it for free and had dozens of others just like it. “Unnie, good morning,” you greeted, and it was only then that she turned to nod at you.

You shared a nervous glance with your fellow assistant stylists. Each of you was assigned to one member – although Jiyoon conceptualized everything, it was rare that she actually helped them get ready, and was mostly there just to supervise. She also had a temper that was known throughout the industry, but was one of the biggest names out there, so everyone wanted to work with her anyway. Honestly, you were lucky to have gotten this job.

When the girls filed in, still looking kind of sleepy and rumpled, you had to remind yourself again that you were a professional, and squealing and asking for autographs was not part of the job scope. Unlike Jiyoon, they zeroed in on you immediately, looking curious, and you almost squeaked nervously as you felt the full weight of their attention.

“Good morning,” you said, before clearing your throat. “I’m L/n Y/n, the new assistant stylist.” You bowed deeply, your hands folded in front of you politely.

As nervous as you’d been, it appeared that the members didn’t have the same concerns, since they just started getting ready. You looked over at the other assistant stylists, but they were already discussing outfits with their designated members, so you approached Jennie slightly hesitantly.

“Um, unnie, I have two possible options for you,” you started, biting your lip. As nervous as you were at the beginning, once you started discussing the looks and makeup, you were in the zone, and it all melted away. You didn’t even fully realize how easily it was coming to you as you compared the two outfits, pulling out a bunch of accessories from the giant box and letting her look at the completed styles.

Jennie, however, noticed the dichotomy between your earlier attitude and the way you were talking to her now, and it intrigued her. You were cute too, and she would have thought so even if you hadn’t made such an impression, but damn. It made her wonder what you were like normally. Were you shy and quiet, or were you passionate?

She was still watching you when she sat down in the chair for you to do her makeup. Again, there was that second of nervousness as you chewed your lip and your eyes flickered over her face, but then you turned to the table where all the products were laid out the way you liked, and it faded away again, almost like it had never been.

While you worked on her makeup, Jennie watched you. It may sound strange that you didn’t notice her intense gaze since you were working on her face, but you were so focused on what you were doing that it wasn’t until you were drawing back to look at your finished product that you realized, and instantly, you’d turned back into a sputtering mess, almost dropping the eyeliner from your suddenly nerveless fingers.

When you turned away to fuss over the makeup, Jennie let her lips curve up in a smirk. Her new stylist was ever so cute, and she couldn’t wait to see just how good you’d be for her.

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To Jennie’s amusement and your horror, you didn’t grow out of the awkwardness. In fact, the more time you spent around her, the worse it became, until just a glance from her turned you into a bumbling mess. The only saving grace was that it didn’t much affect your work. It was almost like you were in a different headspace while dressing Jennie and getting her ready for her various photo shoots and performances, but once you were done…

God.

You couldn’t help it – it was like Jennie had cast a spell on you. As hard as you tried to deny it, your celebrity crush was getting worse, and you were the butt of much good-natured teasing from the other assistant stylists. She was just so pretty and charismatic, and having her full attention on you – all right, even her glancing in your direction – was enough to make your cheeks heat.

There was no way Jennie didn’t know of the effect she had on you, when you could barely stop yourself from stammering in her presence, but she was nice enough to not comment on it, so there was that.

Tonight, you were tasked with returning the clothes the girls had worn for their shoot, so when everyone had left, you packed everything up and headed for the subway station.

“Oh look, isn’t that Y/n?” Lisa, who was sitting next to the window looking out on the sidewalk, jabbed her finger against the glass.

Jennie, who was sitting on the other side, immediately unfastened her seat belt and got out of her seat to look, crushing Lisa against the side of the car in the process.

As Lisa squawked in indignation, Chaeyoung and Jisoo snickered. “You certainly aren’t interested in your stylist, Jennie-yah,” Jisoo said mockingly from the back.

“Yeah, unnie, this is a totally normal reaction for anyone to have,” Chaeyoung chimed in.

Sulking, Jennie returned to her seat. “I’m not interested in her,” she protested. “I just think it’s cute how nervous she gets around me.”

Lisa muttered something under her breath, and Jennie looked at her askance. “What was that?” she asked suspiciously.

“I said, I think it’s cute how you’re using ‘cute’ as a euphemism for ‘wet’!” Lisa enunciated overly clearly now, causing Chaeyoung and Jisoo to collapse against each other in fits of giggles. Jennie folded her arms across her chest and sulked.

“I should have been a solo artist,” she muttered petulantly, causing her other members to burst into fresh peals of laughter.

“Aw, don’t be like that, unnie,” Chaeyoung finally said once she’d sobered up. “Y/n’s super cute, it’s only normal that you’d be interested in her.”

Flushing, Jennie sank deeper into her seat and tucked her chin into her chest, refusing to look at anyone. She’d only just come to terms with her sexuality, and definitely wasn’t ready for you. Your nervous lip-biting and the way she’d catch you staring at her almost reverently when you thought she wasn’t looking were stirring up deep urges she hadn’t known she had. She wanted to ruin you, have you panting, splayed out and begging beneath her. Even the thought of it made her want to squirm in her seat.

What would it be like to have you on your knees for her?

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

The next time you saw Jennie, it was the dead of night.

Well, that might be an exaggeration, but five am was certainly not a pleasant time to be at a TV studio, and you’d had to wake up even earlier to be the first one there to set up with all the things. Thankfully, you’d been able to collect the clothes last night.

Dressed comfortably in a warm plaid shirt and leggings, your hair gathered into a haphazard bun on top of your head and glasses perched on your nose, you hardly looked like a professional stylist, but at five in the morning, you honestly didn’t give a rat’s ass.

You were halfway through your coffee when the girls filed in, looking equally out of it. There was no time for slowly waking up, though, because you had to work fast if you were to get them to the stage in time. At least Jennie could nap while you were working on her makeup. You didn’t mind, since her eyes being closed made it easier for you to work on her makeup.

You shook her awake before you applied her lipstick because she had to open her mouth slightly, and she blinked sleepily at you before yawning. “Want coffee,” she mumbled, and you felt your heart squeeze from how cute she was. Even half-asleep, however, she was magnetic and compelling, and you found yourself reacting immediately to obey her.

Reaching for your own cup, which you’d set on the dresser, you offered it to her. “Do you want some of mine?” you asked, holding it out to her. “I drank some already, but you can have the rest of it if you want…”

Without a word, she accepted the proffered cup, and you continued helping her get ready, running a flat iron through her hair after finishing her makeup. You had to touch up her lipstick again before she went onstage because some of it was smeared on the plastic lid of your cup.

At the time, neither of you thought much about it, since you’d both been sleepy and otherwise occupied, but later, it wouldn’t leave your minds.

Jennie went over that moment over and over again, where she’d told you what she wanted and you’d leapt to get it for her. There was no shortage of people who would bend to her every whim, of course – it was one of the perks of being an idol. But when you did it so naturally, it made heat stir in her. You obeyed so readily, like there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her, and she wanted to test the limits of that obedience in a way she’d never experienced before.

It was almost scary, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. She didn’t think this was a crush – she’d had those before, and it had always involved a lot of dreaming about cute kisses and cuddles. This… was different, and she didn’t know if it was a good thing. Surely it wasn’t normal or healthy to think about bending someone else to your will?

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop puzzling over the same thing. Jennie had a way of making you act strangely. First the way she was able to fluster you just by being around you, and now this? Despite how you’d been acting around her, you weren’t generally a docile person, and it was weird that she was able to bring out this side of you that you’d never even known existed.

After thinking about it more on one of your free days where Jennie didn’t have any official appearances, you figured it was probably just that she was a famous idol and your boss, so of course you wanted to do whatever it took to please her. It was only natural, being nice to the boss, right? The satisfaction you felt at doing what she said was just because you knew you were doing a good job at being her stylist, that’s all.

Satisfied that you’d figured it out, you returned to writing the article you’d been working on. Being an assistant stylist didn’t pay much, and even though you were living in a tiny studio apartment you needed the additional income from freelancing to pay the bills. It ate up most of your spare time, but then again, with the irregular hours you kept as a stylist, it wasn’t like you had much of a social life anyway.

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

Really, you thought as you waited for Jennie to get out of the changing area, Jiyoon might be a genius and visionary, but you really wished she would spare a thought for practical considerations. The boots she’d insisted on dressing Jennie in were stylish and all, but had the most ridiculously complex laces that you’d ever seen, and you’d literally had to practice tying them last night.

They were currently sitting innocuously by the screen, and you glared at them. It was going to take ages for Jennie to get them on, and you didn’t have that kind of time. Why did they have to be so gorgeous? As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t hate them – they were truly a work of art.

When Jennie came out from behind the screen, you bit your lip hard to keep any noises from escaping. Stay professional, you ordered yourself. It was hard, though, when she was in a white ruffled crop top and short shorts that showed off so much skin.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you picked up the boots. “Here,” you said, handing them to her.

Jennie took them from you to sit down on the couch, bending over to tie the laces. She struggled with them – especially since Jiyoon had chosen a particularly intricate knot – and looked up at you for help.

“No, it goes over and then under, and you have to loop the other side through—” Your explanations fizzled out when Jennie started looking visibly annoyed. “Here, I’ll help,” you said, kneeling in front of her to tie them, thankful that you’d practiced last night so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself by fiddling with them in front of her.

“Wait, I want to see how you do it,” Jennie interrupted, standing to move to the mirror. You followed her then knelt again, narrating what you were doing to her.

Despite her original intention of learning the complex knot you were performing with the boots, the moment Jennie looked down and saw you kneeling in front of her, all rationality fled her brain. You continued blathering on about the laces, completely oblivious to the hunger rising in her. Having you on your knees for her just felt so right, so hot, that she involuntarily clenched, barely holding back a shiver that would definitely have given her away.

Finishing up the second boot, you looked up, and the words on your lips faded away as you took in the intense stare on you. Your reaction was instantaneous, your eyes widening as your fingers fell away from her boots. You were completely speechless, spellbound and struck dumb, completely transfixed by her gaze as it seared into you.

Later, you couldn’t possibly say how long you’d been stuck like that, staring at each other, lost in your own world. Moving like she was possessed, Jennie reached out and petted the top of your head softly, and a tiny whimper escaped with the rush of air that left your lungs. The sound startled her into remembering where you were, in a small room with all the members and stylists watching, and she jerked her hand back. Just like that, the moment ended, and you squeaked as you ducked your head.

“Uh, yeah, so these are good to go,” you mumbled, patting the sides of her calf before standing up. Awkwardly, you both made your way to the makeup station, where you started working on her face.

Today, there was no lingering gaze while you did her makeup. Instead, Jennie wanted to crawl in a hole. To die of embarrassment, sure, but also, there was a lingering sense of arousal as she couldn’t get the image of you kneeling for her out of her mind, looking up at her with those wide eyes.

As you worked on her eyeshadow, Jennie daydreamed about that moment, about what she might have done if you’d been alone. As she thought about it, that fraught moment where your gazes had met took on different tones and nuances, and when she considered how good you could be for her, it was a struggle to keep from biting her lower lip.

Really, this was getting to be a problem, she thought as she stood up to join the other members for sound check. Lisa smirked at her and Jisoo winked, and all hope that no one had noticed that little slip-up was dashed. At least Chaeyoung, who was Jennie’s new favourite, just patted her on the arm and didn’t say anything about it. As they left the changing room, Jennie tried to ignore how slick her panties were.

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Being the new hire anywhere was difficult, but it was even worse as a stylist, because the newest member of the team always got stuck with cleanup and all the admin work involved in getting and returning the borrowed pieces. Thankfully, Yuuki, the stylist who’d been hired before you, helped you out whenever she could.

As a result, the two of you had become close friends – it was almost inevitable when you spent almost every waking hour of every day together, either on location with the girls or in meetings with Jiyoon discussing future concepts and looks for events, shoots and performances. Tonight, Yuuki had asked you to go drinking with her because her mother was coming to visit and, given all the other stylist had done for you, you could hardly turn her down.

After she accompanied you back to the warehouse where you had to drop off the shoes and accessories, and then the Chanel, Dior and Gucci offices, she dragged you to a little restaurant where you had supper and drank soju.

You were pretty sure you knew what was coming, but Yuuki at least had the grace to pretend, bitching about Jiyoon and the two more senior assistant stylists on the Blackpink team with you before zeroing in on you and Jennie.

She waited, a twinkle in her eye, for you to throw back your shot of soju before asking slyly, “So, you and Jennie, huh?” You choked on the clear liquid the moment you heard her, slamming the glass back onto the table and grabbing some napkins while you coughed helplessly.

“No,” you protested. “There’s nothing going on there.”

Yuuki rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie to your unnie.”

“I’m not! Really. I don’t even know what you’re talking about, I—” Excuses and justifications tumbled out as your mind burst into overdrive, your hands gesticulating wildly in an attempt to show her how sincere you were in your denials. Yuuki just propped her chin on the heel of her palm and waited you out patiently, her chopsticks in her other hand picking at the kimchi pancake you were sharing.

When you finally fizzled out, your shoulders slumping helplessly, Yuuki looked up at you again, her eyes glinting. “Really? So do you want to explain what happened earlier today?”

Fuck. You truly had no explanation for her. Your ears drew up around your shoulders uncomfortably, as you used the only card you had left to play. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Then let me refresh your memory.” Yuuki’s smirk made you regret every single choice that had led to this point. Why had you decided to go to fashion school? You should have just been an accountant like your parents wanted. “I’m talking about earlier today, when you were practically eye fucking Jennie while helping her get dressed.”

“Unnie!”

“I’m just saying, usually it goes the other way, yknow?” Yuuki continued in a faux-nonchalant tone, even though her facial expression made it clear that she was very aware of what she was saying and enjoying your distress.

“Please stop,” you begged, crumpling onto the table in embarrassment. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Aww,” Yuuki reached over to pet your head, and you didn’t even swat her hand away. “It’s okay, baby. We’ve all been there. You just need to be better at hiding your crush.”

What— “I don’t have a crush,” you denied immediately, your head popping up. Sure, Jennie might render you speechless once in a while, and you felt all jittery when she looked directly at you, but that wasn’t anything special. She was an idol, of course she had a magnetic and charismatic personality.

Yuuki took in your slightly confused frown and raised a brow at you. “Sweetie… you have the biggest crush I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry, though, she likes you back. Neither of you are subtle with all the staring.”

You felt like you were in freefall. “What—I don’t…” you stammered. “I don’t like girls.” You’d never even had an inkling of that. Every crush you’d ever had had been a guy. You’d only ever had boyfriends. There was no way you liked Jennie in the way that Yuuki was claiming you did.

“That’s not what it looks like to me,” Yuuki shrugged. Taking in the absolutely gobsmacked expression on your face, though, she backtracked a little, softening her words. “Sweetie, it’s okay,” she said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Your mind, however, was still buffering and you barely registered a word she said. “I like men,” you murmured almost forlornly, your brows knitting in confusion. Yuuki, just now realizing that she’d broken you, topped off your drink without a word, letting you process your thoughts quietly.

When you were finally ready to talk again, you looked up at her once more. “Do you really think I have a crush?”

Yuuki shrugged. “What do you feel when you think about Jennie?”

You hummed thoughtfully, your mind drifting for a moment as you recalled your previous interactions with her. Limited, sure, but every one was charged in some way, filling you with butterflies or nerves, making your mouth dry up sometimes and at others causing almost uncontrollable giggles to burst from you.

Watching the soft, dazed look in your eyes as you thought about her question, Yuuki couldn’t quite hold back the triumphant smirk. Your expression made it abundantly clear to her, even if you were taking your time coming to terms with it, that you weren’t as straight as you claimed to be.

“She’s just charismatic because she’s an idol,” you defended weakly as you finally came back to yourself.

“Do you feel the same way about the other members, then? They’re all idols too,” Yuuki pointed out.

You subsided into a pout.

“Well, what did you feel when you were with your last boyfriend?” Yuuki prompted after a second. “Like, at the beginning.”

“Like butterflies, and I was so excited to see him all the time, and when he looked at me in that way…” You bit your lip, remembering, then frowned as you realized how similar it was to your feelings about Jennie. “Oh, fuck.”

Reaching over, Yuuki petted your head again. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?! Unnie, how are you this calm? Does everyone know?” How were you the last person to realize?

“I’m sure Jiyoon-unnie didn’t notice – you know she rarely pays attention to the stylists.” You grimaced as you nodded – your boss was now established enough in the industry that she hardly needed to think about the nitty-gritty details of actually dressing the idols under her care. “But you guys are not subtle at all.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, lowering your head into your hands.

“Don’t worry, nobody cares. Half the people in the room are in entertainment and the other half are in fashion,” she said blithely.

You just reached for your soju.

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

If you’d thought that becoming aware of why Jennie had such a hold over you would make things easier, you were wrong. It was like once the denial was gone, the feelings came rushing in, and you were sure that you’d made an absolute fool of yourself in front of Jennie with your inability to construct complete sentences and the way you rushed to do her bidding.

Thankfully, Jennie was either completely oblivious or an angel, because she never laughed or became impatient with you. She thanked you sweetly when you brought her coffee or food, never said anything when you lost your train of thought or stared, and even complimented you on your own outfit once, which had shut your brain down for a while.

Of course, it wasn’t that Jennie hadn’t noticed – on the contrary, she was thoroughly enjoying it. Who wouldn’t like having the object of your affections fawning over you, she tried to convince herself as you fussed over her hair. Today she had a magazine shoot, so it was just the two of you, and you’d snuck her some tteokbokki from the street market nearby that you’d picked up on your way.

Once she was ready, you followed her out of the dressing room with her lipstick and powder in your hands, ready for touchups. Watching Jennie as she posed for shoots or did interviews was one of the perks of the job, you supposed. Working with her hadn’t made you any less of a fan – in fact, the opposite was true. You admired how pretty and poised she always looked (and okay, at least part of that was your handiwork) and the way she was so natural in front of the camera.

Since nothing in your life could ever be easy, today’s shoot was supposed to have some sort of sexy, seductress theme. The photographer kept telling Jennie to give him a more intense expression, and you weren’t quite sure what that meant, but Jennie sure did. She leaned forward, planting her hands between her thighs on the edge of the box she was sitting on as her eyes swept the room.

You gulped as she found you, standing behind and a little to the side of the camera. Her lips stretched into a half-smirk that the director nodded approvingly at, and her gaze took on a downright predatory quality. In that moment, trapped, you clenched your fists so hard you felt the hard edge of the lipstick tube bite into your skin, but you couldn’t find the coordination to let go.

Her eyes drifted over your body leisurely, and even though you were dressed fairly modestly, in an off-the-shoulder sweater and leggings, you felt exposed, like you were standing in front of her in just lingerie. Against your will, you felt yourself gush into your panties as you bit your lip to hold back a moan.

By the time they took a break to let you touch up her makeup, your knees were weak and you felt unsteady as you walked the short distance to Jennie, grimacing at the discomfort of your soaked panties sliding against your core. Jennie turned her face up towards you as you blotted the sweat gathering around her temples and on her upper lip with a tissue.

“Thank you,” she murmured as you finished, pulling the powder puff away from her face. Her hand shot up and encircled your wrist, stroking the tender skin on the inside gently before releasing it. The simple touch scrambled your brain, and you spent an embarrassingly long time searching for the words before you could say anything.

“No problem,” you squeaked before running off to safety, your skin tingling where she’d touched it.

Jennie watched you leave with a small, triumphant smirk on her face. She loved the effect she had on you. It made her feel so powerful, so sexy, like she could imprint her mark into your very existence. How cute you were when you became flustered was definitely another bonus.

For the rest of the shoot, Jennie floated off the adrenaline of teasing you constantly. Making you give her unnecessary help with her wardrobe changes like zipping and unzipping her clothes and adjusting her accessories, holding her hand that time the director of the shoot had insisted that she wear heels no human woman would be able to walk in, and, of course, continuing with the casual physical contact that skirted the edge of boundaries of appropriateness. The camera was eating it up, too, loving the way she posed and that slightly distracted, intense, far-off gaze while she was actually watching you.

By the time the shoot ended, both of you were so wound up that you could barely focus on anything. Even Jennie seemed to have reached her limit, hastily leaving before you when her manager came back around to pick her up with a mumbled goodbye. Even her manager was surprised by how quickly she got packed up.

Now alone in the dressing room, you were able to pack all the makeup and do inventory fairly quickly. Laying all the jewelry back in their respective cases, you frowned when you realized that there was one box that was empty.

“Shit,” you hissed as you looked around the room, reopening the makeup bag to see if the camellia lily pendant had slipped in somehow. It wasn’t there, and you started to get a little more frantic as you started checking in all the boxes and doing a sweep of the room.

“Oh, fuck,” you swore as despair started to settle in your belly, pressing your palm against your forehead as you fought back the tears pressing hotly against your eyes. You couldn’t lose a piece of jewelry from Chanel – you couldn’t afford to replace it, and you would definitely be fired if it wasn’t back there.

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself down as you paced the length of the small room, you tried to think about where it could be. Jennie had been wearing it for the second half the shoot; had she taken it off? Frantically, you dived for your phone, leaning against the wall as you called her.

Jennie had just entered the dorm when her phone rang. She fished it out of her handbag and looked at the screen, raising a brow when she saw that it was you.

“Hello?” she said with the phone to her ear, taking off her shoes and stepping out of the genkan.

“Unnie? Are you wearing the Chanel necklace?” you asked urgently, surging off the wall as you spoke.

“Uhh…” Jennie’s free hand went to her neck, where she was, indeed, wearing it. “Yeah, it’s with me.”

You sagged with relief. “Oh, thank God. I’ll come over and pick it up now.”

“You’re—you’re coming over?” Jennie sat on the edge of her bed, letting Kuma curl up in her lap. She was definitely not prepared for this, and she looked around in a panic.

“Yeah, I need to return the necklace tonight. I’ll just come pick it up, okay?”

“Uh, sure.” With that, you hung up, and Jennie picked Kuma up, petting him with her free hand. She knew it was no big deal, that you were just expecting her to hand the pendant to you at the door and she could be on her way, but somehow that didn’t feel like enough. She wanted more. This was such an unusual opportunity, and she had to make the most of it.

She spent the next half an hour going through her entire closet to find the perfect outfit – one that looked cute and chic, but that she could conceivably be lounging around the house in. Finally, she settled on a Chanel sweatshirt and denim shorts, tugging on the neckline so that it showed off more of her décolletage.

Just as she was putting her hair up in an artfully messy bun, she heard the bell ring, and before she could get to the door, one of the other members opened it.

“Jisoo-unnie, hi!” Your voice was slightly muffled because Jennie’s bedroom door was closed, but that didn’t stop her from listening attentively to your conversation with Jisoo. You chatted with her for a moment, and when she invited you in, you declined politely, saying you had to be on your way to return all the stuff.

Excitement made her slightly clumsy, but she forced herself to take a breath and walk instead of run down the hallway to the front door. Your eyes widened as you saw her coming up behind Jisoo, and your cheeks heated as you visibly lost your train of thought at the sight of her. Jennie gave herself a metaphorical pat on the back but didn’t let any of it show as she smiled at you.

“Unnie, hi,” you greeted. “Do you have the necklace?”

“Yeah,” she replied, coming to stand right on the edge of the step. The sideways glance she shot Jisoo let the older girl know she should make herself scarce quickly, and Jisoo, ever tactful, excused herself and returned to her own room.

You hesitated, wondering why Jennie wasn’t handing you the pendant so you could make yourself scarce. Standing on the step, she was literally looking down on you, something you found both titillating and intimidating.

“Well, here it is,” she said, reaching into the neckline of her sweatshirt and hooking her finger around the chain to pull the necklace out.

“Uhh…” Your eyes widened awkwardly, not sure what she wanted you to do.

“The clasp is a little finicky, can you help me out?” she asked, turning around.

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed immediately, your hands lifting almost of their own accord to do her bidding. You didn’t even question why she’d left it on for so long, or why she hadn’t gotten one of her members to help her out when she’d arrived at home. There was a moment of silence as you fiddled with the clasp, before you got it loose and drew it off her neck. She turned right before your hands dropped to your sides, and there was a moment where they were hovering near her collarbones as you made eye contact.

Swallowing, you looked away, biting your lip, and the moment was broken. With the necklace in your hand, you were about to grab your things and leave when Jennie stopped you with her hand on your sleeve. “Wait,” she said, and you turned back questioningly to look at her. “Let me give you a ride home,” she offered, looking down at the giant bags you’d lugged with you.

“You can drive?” was your skeptical reaction.

Jennie chuckled. “New CEO, new rules,” she explained. “I’ll go get my keys.”

“Wait, unnie, you don’t have to!” you called hastily. “I can take the subway, and you’ll probably be recognized…” She ignored you, though, and you trailed off in slight embarrassment as you realized that you were talking to no one.

She reemerged from her room a second later, holding her wallet and keys with one hand and dangling a mask from the other. “Let’s go,” she said, and you followed meekly, grabbing your bags as she passed you.

Jennie led you down to the underground carpark of the apartment complex, where her BMW was parked. She opened the boot for you to throw your stuff in it, then slid into the driver’s seat as you got into the passenger seat.

“So, uh, how long have you been driving?” you asked, buckling your seatbelt.

Jennie chuckled as she started the car. “Why, are you afraid?” she asked, swinging out of the lot.

“No, no,” you demurred hastily, not wanting to offend her. “I was just curious. I didn’t know you were allowed to.”

“Don’t worry,” Jennie reassured you. “Where do you need to go?”

“Uh, I have to drop off some stuff at the Chanel office, and the rest of it belongs to the YG vault.”

Nodding, Jennie set the GPS and drove off. While she was ferrying you around (and what a surreal experience, being driven by YG’s princess!) you chatted about nothing and everything. You were honestly surprised that Jennie was so easy to talk to, having thought, perhaps meanly, that there was no way she could react to your broke life of scraping by with a bunch of student debt and a full-time job that paid next to nothing. She was interested in your stories about growing up in a small town and coming to Seoul for fashion school, and in return told you about what it was like living in New Zealand and being a trainee.

Jennie entered the underground carpark of the YG headquarters and you unsnapped your seat belt, ready to hop off. “Thanks for the ride today, unnie. You really didn’t have to,” you said, starting to bid her farewell.

“Wait, how are you going to get home?” she asked as you were opening the door.

“Uh, I’ll take the subway?” Confused, your response came out as a question.

“It’s late, you shouldn’t be on the subway alone! I’ll drive you.”

“No, you don’t have to—” You started explaining that you did this almost every night and it wasn’t a big deal, but Jennie wasn’t having any of it, insisting that she would take you home tonight. Finally, you had no choice but to accept, although secretly you felt warm inside at the thought that she was so concerned about you. No one had fussed over you very much since you’d come to Seoul alone.

After you dropped off the items at the vault, you returned to the car, and Jennie took you home.

“Jeez, this is where you live?” Jennie muttered, looking up at the dilapidated building the GPS brought you to.

You grimaced at her tone. “Being a stylist doesn’t exactly pay a lot,” you said defensively, unbuckling your seat belt.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way,” Jennie backtracked quickly. “But this building doesn’t look that safe,” she added, peering up again in concern.

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “It looks better on the inside. And it’s close to the subway, too.”

“That’s good,” Jennie said, smiling at you. “Well, good night.”

“Wait!” You surprised even yourself by blurting it out. “Do you… want to come in for some coffee? You’ve been driving me around all evening, I feel bad.”

“I’d love to!” Jennie eagerly accepted, then her brows knit together as she started second-guessing herself. “I wouldn’t want to impose, though…”

“Don’t worry about that,” you said, reaching over to pat her hand on the gear stick, before realizing what you’d done and retracting your hand, embarrassed. Jennie parked the car by the curb, and you led her up into your apartment.

“Um, here it is,” you said slightly awkwardly as you opened the front door, stepping in and turning on the lights. You hadn’t thought about actually having Jennie in your space, looking at your apartment, even as you were issuing the invitation, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious now, especially knowing what Jennie’s own home looked like.

With a critical eye, you looked over your tiny studio. The queen-sized bed dominated the space, pushed up against the far wall and under the window. You kept a few small succulents on the windowsill because they were the only things you could keep alive. Your closets were overflowing with clothes, to the extent that you’d had to buy extra racks to hang some items off, and your vanity was cluttered with jewelry organizers that were bursting with accessories. (In your defense, you’d gone into fashion because you liked fashion!)

The sink in the kitchenette was piled high with dishes, and your bin was filled with empty takeout containers. Some clothes were strewn on your bed over your bedspread, and your desk was filled with papers and notes, your laptop sitting in the middle of it all.

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” you apologized. For the last week or so you’d only been sleeping in your apartment and rushing out in the morning for long days.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jennie said, waving her hand dismissively as she took off her shoes. “You should see our apartment.” Jennie, taking in your living quarters, noted very different details – the pretty, whimsical patterned bedspread you had bought, the post cards and photos you had on your fridge, and the dizzying array of clothes you’d amassed.

You puttered around the kitchen, setting up your percolator for freshly brewed coffee. It was only clean because you went with instant most mornings to save some time, but you found yourself being grateful for it nonetheless. You only had the one desk chair, so you directed Jennie to sit on the bed, taking out the little foldable table you kept for when guests came over and setting it up.

“Thank you,” Jennie said gratefully, taking the mug you held out for her, before you sat down next to her with your own cup of coffee.

“Cheers,” you muttered awkwardly, bumping your mug against hers, before taking a deep, long sip to hide how embarrassed you were. What the hell was wrong with you?

Jennie, surprised and charmed, blinked at you for a second before drinking her own coffee. You continued chatting about everything and nothing, even when you started stifling yawns and blinking the sleepy tears out of your eyes stubbornly, not wanting this night to end. Eventually, feeling half-drunk from tiredness, you fell back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Unnie,” you murmured, and she lay down beside you on her side, continuing to watch you. The quiet intimacy of this moment made her heart flutter as she admired the way your lashes made little shadows on your cheekbones.

“What is it?” she asked, shifting infinitesimally closer.

“You’re so pretty,” you said around a yawn, turning your head to look at her.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She reached out to caress the side of your face, leaning in slightly.

A tense second passed as your gaze flickered down to her lips, then you closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers. Your fingers curled around her hand, which was still resting against your face, stroking her palm with your fingertips. It was chaste, tender and sweet – the opposite of every desire Jennie had ever had about you, and she found that she loved it all the same.

When she broke away, you looked down shyly and she leaned her forehead against yours, seeking your gaze. A second later, she realized that you’d actually closed your eyes and fallen asleep instead of acting coy like she’d thought, and she chuckled to herself before she was seized by her own jaw-cracking yawn.

As she settled in next to you, Jennie promised herself that she was just going to rest her eyes for ten minutes before getting up and driving home.

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: You Feel Insecure Because You’re Taller Than Them

Jin:

He called out your name, trying to reach up into the cupboard to grab the jar of sauce he’d brought, knocking it with his fingertips. You walked in, picking it up quite easily, slamming it onto the countertop making him jump.

“There you go, it does come in handy being tall,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as you walked back out of the room only for Jin to follow straight behind you.

He could tell straight away something was wrong. “Why are you being so snappy? All I asked you to do was reach the sauce so I could make us some dinner.”

You spun around to face him, “it’s not about that Jin, I hate being taller than you sometimes, these are the things that you should be doing for me, not the other way around.”

“Is this what all this is about? You really think that bothers me?”

“I’d be surprised if it didn’t.”

He frowned, walking across to stand in front of you, “I love you, for you, you need to stop worrying so much about your height, please.”

“Alright, I’m sorry for being so snappy with you just then.”

“It’s fine, I understand your concerns.”

Yoongi:

You stood up at the studio, walking past Jimin to grab your bottle of water, from beside you, you could hear the sniggers coming from Jungkook, you turned to face him, waiting to hear what it was he had to say.

“Jimin is the one person Y/N makes look tinnier than Yoongi, it’s so funny,” he chuckled, unaware of the insecurities you battled, looking across to Yoongi for help.

Yoongi sighed, shaking his head across at the maknae, “you don’t need to make comments like that, Y/N’s no giant, she’s human, and only slightly taller than Jimin and I.”

Jungkook looked across at you, sensing he’d caused some hurt, “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything Y/N, I was just joking around, I thought it would be funny.”

“It’s fine, it’s my problem that I get so worried about it all.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You smiled across at him, feeling Yoongi appear by your side, “let’s just forget it happened, you know now, and you won’t make the same mistake again.”

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry that he ended up bringing that up?”

“I’m fine Yoongi, don’t worry about me.”

Hoseok:

You were quick to place your laptop underneath your bed when you heard his footsteps come up the stairs, the awkwardness could be felt as soon as he walked into the room, watching as you smiled weakly across at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” He asked straight away, knowing by the look on your face that something was on your mind. “Just tell me what you’ve been thinking.”

You sighed, “I’ve been wondering quite recently why you’re in a relationship with me. Does it never bother you that I’m taller than you? Even just a little bit?” His head shook, sitting on the end of the bed, “I always tell you that it never bothers me because it really doesn’t, it’s not important to me at all.”

“It is important to some people though, who make it known.”

“You’ve been reading fan comments?”

You knew he’d be mad, but you nodded anyway. “I can’t help it sometimes, but then it just makes me feel even more insecure in our relationship.”

“You never have to feel insecure; I only want you Y/N.” “I know, I’m lucky to have you.”

Namjoon:

He frowned noticing a bag at the front door when he came home, instincts kicked in and he leant down, peering in he found a bag of all your high heels ready to be thrown away when you next went out to the shop.

“Why have you got rid of all of these?” He asked, carrying the bag into the living room where you sat on the sofa, “some of these are beautiful, I know how much you love them.”

Your head shook, “they make me too tall Joon, I need to get rid of them so that I can stand at your height, I don’t want to be any taller beside you.”

He tipped the bag out, watching as all the heels fell to the floor, “there is now way that I am letting you get rid of all of these, you don’t need to bin them.”

“But they make me look so tall Namjoon, and you don’t.”

“I know, but it doesn’t bother me.”

He moved to sit on the sofa beside you, resting his hand on your leg, “I’m sorry, I just got all worried that people were talking, I thought it would be good to get rid of them.”

“No way, I want you to continue wearing them and look beautiful.”

“You’re so sweet Namjoon, thank you.”

Jimin:

You were terrified as you stood beside him at the event, the flashes of the cameras taking photos of the two of you set your insecurities off terribly, your heart was pounding as you tried to bend your knees as best you could.

“Don’t do that,” you heard him whisper into your ear, spotting you drop your knees to be the same height as he was, “you don’t need to worry about it, stand tall, and be you, please.”

Your head shook, “I don’t want the photos to show that I’m taller than you, so I’m going to be the same height as you,” you told him, continuing to do so.

He sighed, but tried hard not to make a scene, “It shouldn’t matter what the photos look like as long as we’re in them, it never bothers me what they look like, and it shouldn’t you.”

“But it does, because I know people always spot it.”

“They honestly don’t, you’re worrying.”

Your head shook, feeling him tighten his grip around your waist, “do whatever makes you comfortable, but I’m honest you don’t need to worry about anything.”

“I’m fine doing this; I don’t want to be too tall.”

“If that’s what you want, then go for it.”

Taehyung:

Fans were often quick to add to your insecurities about your height, it often was the topic when it came to mentions about you in social media, which you always tried your best to ignore, but sometimes, your eye was caught.

“Did you see that?” You asked him, as you walked past two fans, one went up on their tiptoes to mock you, “what am I supposed to do about this?”

He squeezed your hand tightly, “Ignore it, just like I do. We don’t want to let them know that they’ve won and give them the satisfaction that they’ve got a response out of you.”

You nodded, turning away from where they were, “My heart is pounding right now, they made it so obvious, is it really that obvious in real life too.” “Of course, not, they just like to exaggerate and be stupid.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

He continued to walk along the street, “we’re going to carry on with our day and ignore all the petty things any fake fans want to try.”

“You always know the right things to do in these situations.” “I’ve grown a thick skin to it too.”

Jungkook:

He glanced over at an opportune time as you scrolled through your social media page, spotting an edit made of the two of you, your frame had been stretched so you stood almost twice as tall as Jungkook did.

“Don’t look at it,” he quickly snapped, placing the lid of your laptop down to hide it, “it’s stupid and immature,” he quickly added, moving the device away from you.

You sighed, watching him move it away, “I’m fed up of seeing all these things, I don’t get what the big deal is that I’m a couple of inches taller, the fans seem to get a kick out of it Kook.”

His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closely into his frame, “they don’t appreciate that you make me happy, they just want to try and tear you down.”

“But why? Why would someone do this to me?”

“Because they’re jealous of you.”

Your head shook with a light chuckle, “do they not realise how much this hurts? I’m insecure enough about this as it is, without seeing all of this too.”

“I’ll make it stop, somehow, I’ll find a way.”

“I’ve just got to get through it Kook.”

---

Masterlist

[erin-bo-berin]

A Day In The Life

MASTERLIST

This daddy Spencer fic came to be by the thought of me wanting even MORE daddy Spence, so I thought why not write something where it’s just a typical day in his life with his family/the kids/pets? Thus, this was born. Just a heads up, this entire fic is told completely in Spencer’s point of view, just to give the utmost feels, which you should definitely experience in this.

Thank you to @teamkiall for giving me permission to use her real life pupper Hopper in this; he was so fun to write. Thank you to her for some of the phrases I used in this. Also, thank you to everyone who helped me pick which bunny to use as inspiration of Duke for, including: @reidsstudies, @andiebeaword, @lightinthedarkuniverse, @one-sweet-gubler, @nanocoool, @multifandommandy and the anons who all offered their input. I appreciate you all, greatly!

Finally, for a little insight on some of the bunny things I wrote about. For those who don’t know or aren’t as familiar with bunny behavior, I’ve linked a few Instagram posts for y’all to refer to when reading. It really helps when reading if you know what they look like.

Bunny Binky (in slow-mo, usually a lot quicker)

Bunny Flop

Bunny Loaf

Now sit back, relax and enjoy all 10.2k words of daddy Spencer. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 10,283

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

Spencer’s eyes opened to not only the bright morning sun, but to a wide awake, hyper, three year old little girl.

“Yes, baby?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

His little girl Evie—born Evie Laine Reid—was currently jumping up and down on the bed at his feet. She flung herself on top of him and he over exaggerated his reaction, acting like she was the heaviest thing, making her giggle.

“What are you doing up so early?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.

“It nawt eawly.”

One glance at the clock and he realized it was after 8:30 a.m. 

“Where’s your mommy?” Spencer asked, looking over at the empty space in bed where his wife, Y/N, usually occupied.

In her place though was their German Shepherd, Hopper. He laid his head next to Spencer’s hand and Spencer smiled, giving him some ear scratches. 

Hopper was a giant teddy bear. At only two years old, he’d had enough trauma in his own life that made Spencer want to adopt him even more than he initially had. The poor canine had been severely mistreated and starved to the point his ribs had been showing when Spencer first laid eyes on him. After telling Y/N about the dog, they both decided to make their home his forever home. Despite having been through such hardships, he was such a happy and loving dog. It’s one of the things that Spencer loved about him most.

Patches of brown and white made up his fur color, although he was mostly brown. His face was a majority brown, a few lighter brown patches surrounding his eyes and an almost gray hued spot just about his nose. His ears were almost bigger than his head and as comical as it was, it made him even cuter than he already was—if that was even possible. He also loved his stuffed ducky, he made sure to take it to bed with him every night.

“I no no. I just wake up,” Evie answered his earlier question.

Hopper woofed softly and nosed Evie making her laugh and hug his neck.

“I wonder where Duke is,” Spencer asked, scanning the room to see if he was on the bedroom floor somewhere.

“Pwobably in fwont of da fwidge waiting for bweakfast,” Evie giggled.

Duke was their sassy, gray, 2 pounds of complete fluff, Netherland Dwarf rabbit. Yes, he had a bunny too. Spencer had never thought about owning a bunny before, until he met Duke. 

He, too, was a rescue, like Hopper. After being abandoned in a park by his previous owner, he was rescued by a shelter who took amazing care of him until Spencer came along and fell in love with him. Now, he was a happy six year old bunny who looked incredibly grumpy on the outside but was actually a sweetheart. His favorite things—other than napping and eating—were hanging out on the back of the couch to “watch” TV with him and Y/N and flop next to them—or Hopper, who happened to be his best friend ever. He loved head pets, bananas and licking Spencer’s slippers. He was a cutie that you just couldn’t help but love.

One of his routine things was speeding to the kitchen every morning if he heard even the slightest indication that someone was up. He would sit in front of the fridge until someone fed him his daily breakfast of mixed leafy greens.

He had pellets twice a day, endless hay to munch on and treats every now and then, yet he acted like they never fed him. It was quite humorous.

Also, if you didn’t get him his breakfast in a timely fashion he made sure to let you know of his displeasure and thump. 

Spencer hadn’t known as much about bunnies when Duke first came home with them and about had heart failure the first time he heard Duke thump. Turns out, thumping was just a bunny quite literally thumping their back feet against the floor, something they did to show their displeasure or when they’re startled or frightened. Most of the time now though, it was just because he wasn’t being fed fast enough. 

Despite his demands, he was an essential part of Spencer’s family, just like Hopper was.

He took a quick glance at his phone to see if he had any missed messages and saw a text from Y/N letting him know that she’d gone to the store. He felt more at ease knowing she was just out running errands. It was always a treat to wake up next to Y/N every morning and he missed it when he wasn’t able to.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you some breakfast,” Spencer said getting out of bed, lifting Evie up in his arms.

His little girl wasn’t so little anymore. She was heavier to carry now a days and didn’t want to be carried as much anyways, so he always took advantage of all the times she let him.

He headed out of the bedroom with her, Hopper right behind him on his heels.

“What would you like to eat, baby?”

“Pincakes,” she said, causing him to laugh.

She still couldn’t say pancakes all that well and it came out sounding more like “pincakes”.

“Let’s go check on your brother and sister, okay? Unless mommy took them shopping with her.”

Spencer set Evie down in front of the nursery and she pushed the door open, running in. He tried to hurry and stop her in case they were still asleep, but they were already awake.

“MOWNIN BABIES!” Evie squealed happily.

Standing in their cribs, already wide awake were their ten month old twins, Aden James—Y/N’s name pick—and Isla Jade, his pick. The girls seemed to favor him more while Aden looked more like Y/N. All three had his curly, light brown hair and hazel eyes though.

“Good morning my sweet little babies,” Spencer cooed to them.

It wasn’t his first time being left with all three kids, five if you counted their fur children. 

Spencer had been a stay at home dad ever since the twins were six months old. He’d loved his job as a profiler in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit—still did actually—but after fifteen years in the field he had gotten burned out and burned out badly.

He didn’t technically resign, per se, but with the advisal from Emily Prentiss, his teammate, friend and boss, he decided to take a year long sabbatical. It was a decision that he didn’t take lightly either. He put a lot of thought into it and took his time making the decision. At the end of the day, he missed his family and wanted to spend more time with them. 

Y/N was amazing and always understood his hectic, unreliable schedule and did a great job taking care of Evie, then the twins when they came along, while he was gone so much. But he knew it wasn’t fair to her or to their kids. He wanted to have the time to be with his family, be a good dad and be a good husband.

In the end, he knew work would always be there when he would be ready to return, a promise Emily had made him. For now though, he would often consult on cases his teammates were working on. At most, it only meant a few phone calls and some work time in his study, but never anything to take away from his relationship with his kids and Y/N. In fact, he was enjoying it much more than he ever thought he would.

It was nice, too. Y/N worked from home with a flexible job that allowed her to work whenever she could. As a mother of three, it was incredibly helpful. It also helped to have more family time, as well.

He’d become quite the super dad. Taking care of three kids three and under wasn’t easy by any means, but he’d had plenty of practice lately. He also had a newfound respect for Y/N, doing this all on her own. But for now, he knew he could handle the three of them while she was out grocery shopping.

“I bet you guys are hungry,” Spencer said, picking up Aden first as his crib was the closest to the door.

He picked up Isla in the other arm, trying to step around Hopper who was always people’s shadow. He rarely never followed a person somewhere and had to always know what was going on. With the kids and Hopper in tow, it looked like he had his own little tourist group.

Isla babbled, trying to reach down and touch Hopper’s head and he licked her hand happily. He and Duke both loved the kids as much as they loved them.

“Lead the way ladybug,” he told Evie, following her out of the nursery and down the stairs.

True to her prediction, Duke sat in front of the refrigerator door, as if waiting for the refrigerator god to open it up and sprinkle out some parsley and spinach leaves for him.

“Morning, Duke,” Spencer chuckled.

The tiny eared, grumpy faced bunny stared him from the place he sat, looking like he was judging him for sleeping in late. He most likely was.

“Just let me get the kiddos situated and I’ll feed you guys,” he told his furry friends.

Spencer sat Aden and Isla in their high chairs and sat Evie on her favorite stool at the counter. Hopper was the more patient of the two, so Spencer went to the fridge first. The second it opened, Duke started hopping around his feet in excitement, standing on hind legs to see if he could help himself to a breakfast buffet.

Combining a salad of spinach, romaine, parsley and cilantro, he sat the plate in front of an excited Duke and went about fetching Hopper’s food. It wasn’t even a full minute before he heard Duke chowing down on his breakfast, his munching quite audible.

Spencer filled Hopper’s bowl with his allotted amount of dog food and refilled his water bowl, giving him a pat on the back as he enjoyed his food.

Before starting the pancakes, he poured some puff cereal on each twins’ tray to let them eat while he cooked. To be twins, it was amazing to see how they differed—other than being fraternal twins. 

Aden loved the strawberry flavored puffs, which Isla hated. She much preferred the sweet potato or the banana ones. 

Aden was definitely more laid back and calm whereas his sister was loud and boisterous, something she definitely inherited from her older sister. On the other hand, Aden loved to be more independent and Isla loved just cuddling and staying close to him or Y/N.

“Daddy can I have chocowate chip pancakes?” Evie asked.

He had grabbed her a juice box from the fridge in the process of getting everyone, humans and animals alike, settled. She now sat, happily sipping on it.

“Is there anything better?” he grinned.

“Nope,” she shook her head emphatically.

He’d gotten the batter mixed up and was about to pour it on the sizzling griddle when he heard Evie calling him again.

“Mhm?” he answered, without looking.

“Isla twyin to put a puff in Aden’s ear.”

Spencer spun around just in time to see Aden pulling on Isla’s hair. Apparently he pulled hard enough to cause her to break into tears.

Things like this were just mild considering most days were even more hectic than this.

“Hey, hey. We don’t pull hair,” he scolded Aden, giving him a toy to play with.

He picked up a puff, putting it to Isla’s lips and she calmed down, eating it. They were still just grumpy from waking up and hungry, not actually upset.

“No putting puffs in your brother’s ear either, Isla,” he told her.

She grinned real big like she was proud of herself. He smiled. It was hard to be mad at any of these cute little faces.

Half an hour later after serving Isla and Aden their plain, torn into bite size pancakes, fixing Evie her chocolate chip pancake—with banana slices for a smile and chocolate chip eyes—and dealing with a ecstatic Duke who smelled the banana the instant Spencer unpeeled it, he had finally got to sit down with his own breakfast. He grabbed one more slice of banana, feeding it to Duke before stroking his head.

“That’s all you’re getting, little guy,” he chuckled.

He’d just taken a bite when the back door opened. Isla kicked her legs happily and Aden squealed as they spotted mommy first.

“Mommy!” Evie squealed, “Daddy made pancakes!”

Y/N walked in with her hands filled with grocery bags. Spencer shot up, immediately moving to help her.

“Hey baby,” he smiled, kissing her lips as he took most of the bags.

“Hey,” she smiled, setting down the bags she had left in her hands, “I thought I smelled pancakes before I walked in.”

“Chocowate chip too!” Evie piped in.

“Some of daddy’s best pancakes huh, Evie Bear?” Y/N smiled, kissing her cheek as she passed by her.

“Hey there, twinkies,” she said, calling the twins their popular nickname.

She smoothed a hand over each head of hair and kissed the top of both. Isla kept on happily eating and Aden handed her a bit of uneaten pancake which she took from him, eating.

“Thank you Aden,” she chuckled, “Good pancakes, Spence.”

“Want a plate?” he asked.

“Yes, but sit and eat. I’ll get them. You deserve a break for staying here with them,” she said, grabbing a plate out of the cabinet.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take the rugrats with you,” he commented, taking another bite of his breakfast.

“I would’ve, but it’s so much easier to grocery shop when there aren’t three extra sets of hands reaching out of the shopping cart to grab everything.”

“Touché.”

It wasn’t easy shopping alone with three kids. He attempted it once and it was a disaster. Now, either Y/N went alone or they tackled it both together with the kids, as a team.

She fixed her plate and sat next to Spencer at the island, pulling Aden’s and Isla’s high chairs closer to her. Spencer pulled her into his side and kissed her head, just enjoying having her near him along with their kids.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Spencer asked.

“Well I do need to get a little work done and clean some and take care of our little circus troop here,” she chuckled, motioning to the kids.

As if to prove her point, Aden started screaming when he dropped his sippy cup. Without even missing a beat between bites, she leaned down and picked it up, handing it back to him.

“How about I keep them entertained and watch them so you can get some work done,” he offered.

“Spence, you don’t have to do that. Aren’t you needed for a conference call with the team later?” she asked.

“Yes, but I can easily pop on Netflix for the kids and just step into the kitchen. Easy as pie.”

“Whatever you say, super dad,” she smiled, “But thank you. I owe you.”

“I’ll add it to your tab,” he winked.

He could think of a few things he’d like to ask for.

•

After breakfast, his little tribe moved from the kitchen to the living room.

He set Evie up with some toys, a coloring book and colored pencils while he changed the diapers.

“Ew stinky!” Evie complained, putting a hand over her nose.

Spencer laughed, amused at his toddler. Of course, being through this twice—now with double the diapers—he was pretty used to the smell. He was pretty sure dirty diapers were worse than things he’d smelled as an FBI Agent though.

“I know, Princess, but unlike you they’re not big enough to use the potty, so me and mommy have to change their diapers.”

“Cause dey too tiny dey would fall in.”

She said it was such a straight face that it was hard for Spencer not to laugh. The minds of children always amazed him, how they put things together, how they understood things, how they saw things. It provided endless amusement, especially with Evie.

“That and they aren’t a big girl and boy like you’re a big girl.”

She smiled big before going back to coloring. Hopper laid curled up next to her. Duke, finished with his breakfast, was zooming around the room, binkying.

Aden and Isla giggled and babbled watching the hyper bunny as they tried to reach for him as they impatiently laid and wriggled while getting their diaper changed.

Eventually after tiring himself out, he flopped near Aden, who reached out to touch him.

“Be gentle,” Spencer cautioned.

It was something they’d been raising Evie to do, both with Duke and Hopper. Evie was getting better about it, but still could be a little rough. They made sure that Aden and Isla would be raised the same.

Spencer took hold of his son’s hand, helping him gently stroke Duke’s head. In return, Duke gave Aden’s hand a little kiss, licking it. 

Finally finished with diaper changes, he set them on the floor to play. They were crawling everywhere by this stage, staying active and wanting to be held less and less. It was bittersweet to Spencer because the period of infancy was so short lived. Although, secretly he hoped to have another kid or two, maybe a few more. Although that was a conversation with Y/N to save for another day.

In addition to crawling, they were in the pulling up stage. They’d figured out how to grab onto things and pull themselves up. They also liked to try and knock things off tables, like it was a game.

Which is what they were currently doing.

They stood side by side, holding onto the coffee table for balance and knocking off magazines.

“Guys, no no,” Spencer said, picking the magazines up and putting them out of their reach.

He knew better than to try and put them back on the coffee table. They’d knock them off repeatedly until they were bored of it, which wouldn’t be for quite a while.

They dropped to the floor, back to crawling around and getting into things they probably shouldn’t. Aden remained happy with one of his toys and chewed on it, while Isla babbled as she crawled.

“Da da da da.”

“That’s my name,” he chuckled, trying to tidy up the messy living room just a bit.

Living with three kids often meant toys scattered all over the place. He figured trying to straighten up would save Y/N from having to do too much of it later.

“Stop it! You wuining it!”

He looked over to see Isla pushing more of Evie’s crayons on the floor, giggling like she was proud of herself. Evie on the other hand, was furious and near tears.

“Iwa stop!” she shouted.

“Isla, come here baby.”

He picked up his youngest daughter, pouring out some blocks for her to play with and setting her in front of them. He turned back to Evie who was crying now.

“Daddy she WUIN it.”

“I know, I’m sorry sweetie, come here.”

He held out his arms and she fell into them, crying out of frustration and anger.

“Iwa meanie.”

“Baby girl,” he soothed, picking her up and setting her on his lap so she could face him, “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

Evie sniffled, but didn’t say anything.

“She and Aden are only babies, Evie bug. They still don’t completely realize that they’re doing something wrong or upsetting you, they think it’s a game. In her tiny mind she probably thought she was playing with you. Besides, I can help you pick up your crayons and put them back the way you want them. Alright?”

She nodded a bit.

“Are you still mad at Isla?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Good, I’m glad,” Spencer kissed her head, “You’re a wonderful big sister.”

“I am?”

Evie looked up into Spencer’s face, her tears now drying on her cheeks and excitement in her eyes.

“The best,” he emphasized, “How about since you’ve been such a great big sister lately, we bake some cupcakes when they take a nap later? And maybe we can play tea party if you’d like.”

Evie was now grinning big and nodded, clearly thrilled about the idea.

“There’s that pretty smile,” Spencer grinned, chucking her under the chin, “Will you go give your sissy a hug then?”

“Otay.”

She wiggled down out of Spencer’s lap and went over to Isla, who was tossing blocks around in an attempt to play with them. 

Evie put her arms around Isla’s tiny body and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

“Love you, Iwa.”

Spencer smiled, his heart warming at the scene.

“That’s my sweet girls.”

•

It was amazing. Spencer had turned his back for a second and he’d already lost track of one of his kids.

“Did you see where Aden went, Evie?” Spencer asked, after rushing back from the kitchen with no luck.

“Nope.”

She hadn’t even looked away from the tv, so he was certain she hadn’t seen where he’d gone. 

He couldn’t have gotten far, but it was truly incredible how fast these tots were when they were on the move.

“Aden? Where are you buddy?”

“Looking for this little duckling?”

Spencer whirled around, seeing Y/N walking in, Aden in her arms, chewing on the toy in his hands.

“Oh thank god,” he sighed, relieved, “Where was he?”

“He came crawling into your study,” she chuckled.

“I’m so sorry, babe. I swear I turned my back for a minute and he was gone.”

“Believe me I know; sneaky little things aren’t they? Don’t worry, I needed the baby break anyway.”

She tickled his cheek slightly making him grin.

“Have you gotten much work done?” Spencer asked, sitting down on the couch, pulling Y/N down with him.

“Yeah. I can finish up later anyway.”

“Daddy, can we bake now?” Evie asked with hopeful eyes.

“Baking?” Y/N raised a brow.

“I told her when the twins went down for a nap, me and her could make something special. Maybe we can even make it a surprise for you,” Spencer grinned secretively, “How about it Eves?”

“Yes!”

She was up and racing to the kitchen in a flash. Spencer had stood, ready to follow her.

“Don’t worry, I can take these two in the study with me until their nap time,” she chuckled, “Just don’t make a mess!” she called after him.

“Never.”

•

Okay, so, the kitchen was a bit of a mess.

“Daddy, I cwacked da egg!”

“You sure did. High five!”

Spencer held up his hand and her small one high fived him as she grinned big.

Evie had picked out a funfetti cake mix for her choice of cupcakes and was currently helping crack the eggs into the mix.

There was some dry cake mix spilled on the counter. Empty egg shells were scattered on it as well in the midst of the chaos of the cupcake ingredients, baking cups, electric mixer and pan.

“Okay, this is the last egg. Think you can crack it?”

“Yesh,” she nodded, taking the egg carefully, a serious look on her face.

She tapped it gently against the bowl and cracked it open like a pro. Spencer couldn’t be more proud.

It was moments like this that made him less sad about her no longer being a baby. At this age he and Y/N could do more things with her that they couldn’t when she was a baby, like this. It was always fun to include her in little tasks nowadays. It made him excited to be able to incorporate Aden and Isla when they got older.

“Now I’ll mix it up with the electric mixer. Stand back, okay?”

She nodded again, stepping a bit further away on her little stool, hands holding onto the edge of the counter as he mixed the cake batter together.

“You think that looks good enough?” he asked, letting her see into the bowl.

“Mhm.”

“Alright. Daddy’s going to pour them into the pan and then bake them.”

“Then we eat dem?”

“No, they have to cool and then we get to frost them.”

Her face fell, disappointed.

“But how about while they bake and cool we have a tea party? You can go set it up while I get these in the oven and I’ll be right there.”

“Alwight!”

She hopped off her stool and dashed out of the kitchen faster than the cartoon roadrunner, making him laugh. What a character she was.

Keeping to his word, he got the cupcakes in the oven and headed up to Evie’s room.

“Otay daddy, you wear dis.”

Evie handed him a silver toy tiara and a pink feather boa.

“You be my guest.”

“Sounds good,” he grinned, putting the items on and waiting for further instructions.

“Otay you can’t sit ‘til I say so.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She put out some of her toy, plastic food on the tea party plates and pretended to fix some tea.

“Tea sewved,” she grinned.

It was impossible for him to sit in the tiny chairs, so he sat on the floor next to the table. He picked up the tea cup, pinky out and all.

“May I drink?” he asked, politely.

“Yesh, you may,” she grinned, reaching her cup over to clink it with his.

He took a pretend sip and gave her a grin.

“Excellent tea, my dear.”

They continued playing for a while longer until she started getting sleepy. Spencer knew it was past her nap time.

He was laying her down in her bed when Y/N found him an hour later. Poor thing had been quite literally falling asleep in the middle of the tea party.

“Now that’s a nice look,” she giggled.

He looked at her, confused for a moment before he realized he still had the boa and tiara on. He grinned, pulling them off and laying them down in her room before pulling her door closed as he walked out.

“I took your cupcakes out of the oven half an hour ago,” she said.

“Dammit I forgot about them! Well that just ruined the surprise.”

“I’ll act surprised then when you present them to me,” she grinned, “I thought we could frost them while the kiddos are napping.”

“Twinkies are already down for their nap?” he asked.

“Yup. They wore themselves out crawling after Duke.”

“That poor bunny,” he chuckled.

“Hey it keeps him fit. I think Hopper was thrilled it wasn’t him for once.”

Once they were in the kitchen, Spencer wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards him.

“Who knew the house could be so quiet?” he smirked, kissing her nose.

“It is a breath of fresh air,” she smiled.

“How about instead of frosting the cupcakes we frost something else?” he grinned, “I mean I already have my own knife.”

She burst out laughing, causing him to laugh as well.

“What?” he asked, grinning.

“Spence, you’re supposed to be a genius. I’m sure you can come up with a better euphemism for sex than that.”

“I was just rolling with it,” he grinned, pulling her close to kiss her temple, “How about it though?”

She sighed, sounding defeated.

“You know I’d love to, but I need to groom Duke after we finish these cupcakes. It’s shedding season, you know.”

She frowned, seemingly upset to let him down.

“It’s okay baby,” he smiled, hugging her, “Come on. We’ve got cupcakes to decorate.”

•

They were halfway through with the cupcakes when Spencer’s phone rang.

“Hey, Luke. What’s up?”

“Hey Reid, you busy?”

“Not really, just frosting Y/N’s cupcakes.”

There was a pause.

“Is that some sort of euphemism for sex? Cause I can call back later.”

Spencer couldn’t help it, he barked out a laugh. 

“No, I mean we’re just decorating some cupcakes.”

Y/N gave him a quizzical look and he gave her a lopsided grin, mentally reminding himself to share that with her later. She’d think it’s hilarious.

“Oh good cause we need your genius insight, Reid,” Luke said.

“Sure, one sec.”

He lowered the phone to his shoulder.

“The team needs me to consult on a current case, I’m sorry, do you mind?”

“Go,” she shooed him, “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.”

“You’re the best, Y/N,” he murmured, pecking her lips.

“Don’t I know it?” she smirked, turning back to the sugary explosion on the counter as he walked towards his study.

“Okay, what’s up?” Spencer asked, as he settled into the desk chair.

“Alright. So we have three murders in Seattle…”

•

By the time Spencer had finished bouncing around ideas with the team, it was after 1 pm. 

Walking into the kitchen, he saw all three kids had woken from their naps and was just finishing up their lunches of grilled cheese—bite sized grilled cheese pieces for Aden and Isla though.

Spencer stole one of Evie’s chips as he passed her.

“Hey! Dat nawt vewy nice!” she frowned.

His lips turned up in a smile as he apologized and kissed her head.

“How’d it go? Were you able to help any?” Y/N asked.

She held up a bite of grilled cheese to Aden’s mouth to get him to eat. He seemed to have more interest in playing with his food than actually eating it though.

“Help wiff what?” Evie asked, ever as curious as a typical toddler was.

“Daddy got a call from your aunties and uncles at the BAU. They needed his help with a case,” Y/N explained.

“And you didn’t let me talk to dem?” she pouted, “I miss auntie JJ and auntie Penewope. Auntie Emawee, Uncle Dave and evwyone else I can’t tink of.”

She had actually sat there and counted off all of the names on each finger, amusing Spencer to no end. He knew he was a bit biased, but she was the cutest.

“You were still napping, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, “Next time I’ll make sure you get to talk to them.”

That seemed to appease her and she went back to eating her lunch.

Oh the joys of being a child with no concerns in the world.

-

After lunch, Spencer took the kids outside and they were soon joined by Y/N, Hopper and Duke. It was such a beautiful day that they had to take advantage of it.

Duke was set up in a good sized space to run and explore, but with a collapsible fence around him, just to keep him safe and from running away. Y/N was still hesitant to take it away just yet, even though so far he did great at staying near them when outside. He loved it, nibbling on the grass and flopping in it. He clearly was living his best life.

Hopper just about sprinted out the door when Y/N let him out. He, too, loved the backyard. He had about worn paths in the grass because he loved his specific running routine. He barked happily as he sped around.

Evie immediately ran to their playground and started climbing the “rock wall” portion of it. Not surprising to Spencer though; from the moment she could stand she had climbed into and over stuff as a baby, practically always giving him and Y/N heart failure.

“You two want to go down the slide?” he asked, carrying the twins toward the play set.

Aden started fussing, reaching for Y/N.

“Ma ma! Ma ma!”

“I will take that as a no,” Spencer said, handing him over to Y/N.

“He’s been fussy since they woke up. I think he’s cutting another tooth,” she frowned.

“Aww, my poor little man. No wonder he doesn’t want to play.”

Spencer rubbed his back as Aden laid his head on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Growing teeth isn’t fun, is it buddy?”

Y/N smiled, cuddling him close.

“Go on and play with the girls, me and Aden will chill on the patio and cuddle.”

“So do you want to slide, Isla?”

She responded in baby talk, babbling away.

“Is that so? Tell me more.”

She continued to babble as he set her at the top of the slide, one hand on her stomach and the other on her back to keep her safe.

“I’d like to see you get on the slide, Spence!” Y/N called from the patio, laughing.

He shook his head.

“Never again!” he hollered back.

He once tried getting on the slide of this same play set with Evie in his lap, when she was younger. It was a disaster to the point that Y/N about had to call the fire department to get him unstuck...after she spent ten minutes laughing.

He’d learned his lesson from that.

Isla squealed as he slowly slid her down the slide. He picked her up, holding her in the air above him.

“You did it, baby!”

She squealed with laughter, grinning big. When he brought her back down, she held onto him trying to give him a kiss with her mouth wide open.

“Thank you; you’re extremely sweet, Isla,” Spencer cooed.

“Daddy, watch me!”

Spencer looked over and watched as Evie slide down the slide on her belly.

“Careful, Princess.”

“I am! Did you see me?”

“I did,” he said, “I’m impressed.”

She ran over to the swings next. The amount of energy this child had was outstanding. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had this much energy.

“Push me pwease?”

“Okay, honey.”

He put Isla in the baby swing, which she happened to love and buckled her in, starting to swing her a bit as he pushed Evie.

The peals of laughter that met his ears filled his heart with joy. He watched the wind blowing his little girls’ curls as they both swung, happy as could be. 

His eyes panned out over the yard; Hopper still running around, Duke munching on some grass and his wife rocking his little boy on a rocking chair on the patio.

It was moments like this that he treasured the most.

•

They spent nearly all afternoon outside, although the twins and fur children had meandered inside after an hour or so both hot and worn out.

Spencer stayed outside though spending time with Evie. He always tried his hardest to make sure she knew how much he and Y/N loved her.

After the twins were born, life became more hectic and she entered a new permanent part of life where she’d have to share her parents. He made extra efforts in spending some time alone with her, Y/N did too, just so she wouldn’t feel left out or any less important than her younger siblings.

He spent time jumping on the trampoline with her, watching her do tricks. He then pushed her on the swing until his arms hurt, but it was totally worth it to see the glee on her face. 

They laid in the grass, listening to birds chirp and looked at clouds. She claimed to see one cloud in the shape of the doughnut and he pointed out one he thought looked like a penguin.

They were both hot and sweaty after staying outdoors for so long, so he turned on the sprinklers and let her run through them. Of course, Hopper ended up joining them, sprinting like he had springs attached to his paws as he jumped through the spraying water.

Spencer couldn’t resist joining in, chasing after Evie. The water felt cool and refreshing on flushed, hot and sweaty skin.

“I’m gonna catch you!” he teasingly called.

She squealed, trying to run faster through the water.

“No you nawt daddy!”

He reached down and picked her up, swinging her around. He wished he could keep his babies this small forever.

By the time they were tired of playing in the sprinklers, their clothes were soaked through.

“Mommy’s gonna kill me for letting you get so soaked,” he chuckled.

“No she nawt. She love you. When a mommy love a daddy dey hug. She just hug you.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic.

“Come on munchkin, I bet mommy is wondering what happened to us.”

He walked behind her as she sprinted into the house. He was surprised to see it was nearly 5 o’clock.

“You two must’ve had fun,” Y/N chuckled, eyeing their clothes.

“That we did. Where’s thing 1 and thing 2?”

She pointed to the pack and play in the corner of the kitchen where the two were happily playing with one another.

“Thought I’d stick them in there so I could keep an eye on them while I started their dinner,” she said.

“Let me go change Evie and get some dry clothes for myself and I can help,” he offered.

“I’ve got it covered. I’m making chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese for them since it will soon be bath and b-e-d time.”

He nodded understandingly. They’d been having trouble getting Evie to bed lately. She always wanted to play when it was time for bed, so they’d gotten a routine down. Dinner, bath, story time and cuddle and then time for lights out. So far, it had been working.

“Do me a favor and turn on the tv please? I promised Evie she could watch cartoons before dinner.”

“Sure thing,” Spencer agreed.

He gave her a side hug on his way past her and maybe a slap on the ass too.

“Spencer!” she shrieked, exasperated.

He just laughed, sending her a wink over his shoulder.

-

He settled in with Evie on the couch and the twins playing on the floor. He held Aden up, helping him practice walking as Evie watched cartoons.

“There ya go buddy! You guys will get this in no time.”

Spencer sat him back on his bottom and Aden turned around, fussing, trying to climb in his lap. Even in his lap, he started crying.

“Brudder too loud,” Evie frowned.

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. He doesn’t feel good.”

Spencer rubbed his back, rocking him a bit, desperately trying to calm his son. He clung to Spencer’s shirt, crying at the top of his lungs, moving his face back and forth from the inability to get comfortable.

Spencer frowned, standing, bouncing him a bit. Y/N came into the living room a moment later, a small tube in her hand.

“He won’t stop crying, no matter what I’ve tried,” Spencer frowned, hurting for his own miserable child.

“I got some teething gel. Let me see your finger.”

He held his finger out and she squeezed some of the clear gel on his finger. Opening Aden’s mouth just enough, he rubbed it gently on the sensitive gums.

He went to pull his finger back but Aden kept a hold of it, gnawing on it.

“Good luck getting that finger back,” Y/N smirked, “I’ve had that happen way too many times.”

So that’s how he sat until Y/N had finished the kids’ dinner; next to Evie, Aden in his lap and his finger in Aden’s mouth. Luckily, Isla seemed occupied enough and didn’t feel the need to be clingy. It was like they’d switched personalities for the day.

“Evie, go wash your hands for dinner please,” Spencer told her.

She obeyed, heading off to her bathroom. In the last year, she’d really gotten to enjoy washing her hands. She thought of it as making her a big girl, which it did. She had a stool in front of her bathroom counter that she’d stand on, get some soap out of the fish decorated soap dispenser and wash her hands, proud to be able to do this big girl task now.

She came into the kitchen just as he was helping Y/N get the little ones into their high chairs.

“My hands all cwean!” she announced, holding them out as to prove her point.

“Good job, pumpkin,” Y/N said, giving her a kiss as she lifted her to set her on the island stool.

“What for dinna?” she asked, trying to peek at the fixed plates on the counter.

“Your favorite, chicken nuggets and mac and cheese,” Y/N smiled, setting her kid plate in front of her and a fork.

Evie’s eyes lit up and she immediately dug in.

“I snuck some broccoli in it for the twins,” she told Spencer, not worried if Evie heard.

They must have been blessed with an easy first child because Evie was always good with eating her vegetables and she loved when mommy fixed her veggie mac, as she called it. Y/N had tried multiple different vegetables in it from spinach to broccoli and even kale once, with positive results. Spencer was definitely impressed.

But where it was easy with Evie, it had been a bit more challenging with Aden and Isla. Aden was more open to trying new things, but didn’t seem to like as many veggies as Evie had at that age. Isla, on the other hand, flat out refused.

So Y/N had resorted to sneaking some veggies in with their food. Sometimes it was in their macaroni and cheese other times it was mixed in with sauces, easy things they could eat. It had been a struggle, but they seemed to finally start liking the flavor.

The sight of food caused a ruckus with the two as they babbled and shrieked, ready to eat. Y/N sat the small bowls in front of them, along with the cut up chicken nuggets spread on their tray. Hands immediately dug in the nuggets and they tried to feed themselves with their spoons. 

The twins eating was always an interesting time. One baby eating was messy enough; times that by two and it was even worse. Thankfully, bath time was after dinner.

Spencer had had his back turned as he fed Duke and Hopper their dinners and when he turned around he swore his two youngest were already covered in mac and cheese.

“Two seconds into dinner and they’re already covered in cheese sauce,” he shook his head, amazed.

“It’s your turn to do baths tonight too, big boy,” she chuckled, patting his chest as she walked by to put something in the dishwasher.

On her way back, he pulled her back to him, hugging her from behind. She didn’t complain though. He loved all the stolen hugs and kisses they shared even during the most chaotic of days.

He tipped her face up to his and kissed her gently, wishing he could convey just how much love and appreciation he felt for her in the simple, soft kiss. 

“Ew daddyyy,” Evie whined, covering her eyes, “I twyna eat!”

He pulled away from Y/N and they both laughed, both amused by their toddler’s outburst.

“Listen to her, she sounds like a teenager already,” Spencer said.

“Just wait ten more years when she actually is,” Y/N commented.

“Evie Bear, are you gonna be my little girl forever?” he asked.

She shot him a grin big enough to compete with his own toothy smile.

“Always.”

•

Bath time almost always followed dinner in the Reid household. 

Before the twins, it was easy just to bathe Evie and get her ready for bed. Now, it was three times the baths and three times the pajamas.

They tackled it as a team, though. They’d switch off between bath duty and pajama duty. Tonight, Spencer would bathe the kids while Y/N got pajamas ready, fixed the twins’ bedtime bottles and most likely tried to clean the kitchen in between.

He’d left Evie in his and Y/N’s bed to play on her kid iPad—way better than those actual iPads if you asked him—to keep her entertained while he gave Aden and Isla a bath. Their bedtime was obviously a little earlier than Evie’s so they were the logical first bath of the night.

All three of his children were fish. They loved water, so bath time was always a hit.

They both sat in the water, splashing and talking to one another in their own little baby language. They played with their toys: little bath alphabet and numbers, colorful boats, a rubber ducky, even little toy cups.

Spencer washed their hair as they played happily.

Aden baby talked, handing him a cup.

“Is this for me? Did you make me a drink?”

He pretended to drink it, handing the cup back to him.

“That was very good, little man.”

Aden smiled, reaching for another toy, putting it in his mouth to chew on. Spencer took the moment of stillness to carefully rinse the baby shampoo out of his hair. His baby soft curls hung in wet, wavy tendrils, similar to Spencer’s own hair when it was wet.

He repeated the same process with Isla as she was content to play with the boats, pushing them around in the soapy water.

“You two are like little ducks aren’t you? You could stay in here until you’re wrinkled and pruny and still wouldn’t get out,” he said.

They look up at him, serious looks on their faces.

“You wanna know a secret? You may be little ducks but you’re my baby ducks,” he smiled, leaning over to give each one of them kisses.

They were too busy playing to really care, but Spencer didn’t mind. One day, they wouldn’t want kisses all the time like they did now and he would cherish every second he could, of this part of his life.

The typical babbling ensued, including the normal da da’s.

“Da da da da,” one would start, encouraging the other to join in like it was a battle who could say it more.

“Daddy loves his babies,” Spencer smiled.

He finished rinsing the soap off their bodies, giving their faces one last wipe over with the washcloth—much to their dismay—and lifted them from the tub, laying them on the towel by his side.

He wrapped them tight in the towel, keeping them warm and carried them to Y/N to get ready for bed.

-

Bath time with a toddler was definitely a different experience than bath time with infants.

Evie was a little chatterbox. Something she got from him, undoubtedly. He always enjoyed when he had bath duty, it was special time with his little ducklings.

Evie had a few bath toys that were especially for her since they were a bit too old for the twins at this point. She loved her bath crayons and creating masterpieces on the bathtub walls. She also had a little toy that made bubbles. It was endearing to see her face light up when Spencer made the bubbles appear.

“Daddy, look at dis,” she pointed to her latest drawing.

“I see. What did you draw?”

“Dat Hopper,” she pointed to one blob of red.

“And dat Duke.”

Duke was a blue blob.

“I love it,” he chuckled, “I think they would too.”

“Can we pwactice da afabet?” she asked.

Evie’s bath time recently had become a sort of learning time to practice her letters and numbers. It had started with Spencer writing a letter or two on the side of the tub with her bath crayon and letting her name it. It had become so fun for her she ended up asking to do it more often now.

“Sure, sweetie.”

He took a green crayon and wrote the letter “A” on the wall in front of her.

“Do you know what this letter is?”

“A!”

Next to it, he wrote a “B”.

“B,” Evie said, confidently.

Another letter was written next to it.

“C.”

They did this throughout the whole alphabet, until the wall was covered with letters. She’d only stumbled on a few, but she was getting better all the time. The swell of pride he felt in his chest was never ending as he constantly discovered just how smart his babies were growing up to be.

“Let’s try something a bit different, okay?”

“Otay.”

He took a different color—red this time—and wrote her name. Using the crayon as a pointer, he pointed to the “E”.

“Do you know which letter this is?”

“Dats E!” 

“That’s right. What about this one?” he asked, moving the crayon to the next letter.

“Um,” she paused, taking a little longer on this one, “V.”

“Correct,” he smiled, “And this next one?”

“I.”

“And then we have this final one. I’m sure you know this by now,” he grinned.

“Dat E again!”

“Yes, that’s right! Do you know what that spells?”

“No,” she shook her head.

He didn’t expect her to, but it was all part of his little lesson.

“That is your name. E-v-i-e. Evie,” he smiled, “You just spelled your name.”

She smiled brightly, then looked like she was thinking about something.

“Daddy? Why I named Evie?”

“Well,” he said, returning to rinsing her long hair, “Your mommy wanted to name you Evangeline at first.”

Evie scrunched her nose up at that, making him snicker. She really did look just like him when she did that.

“I know, I didn’t like that name much either,” Spencer said, “But she really wanted to name her first daughter that because it was her grandmother’s name and she was really close to her before she passed away. I thought that was a sweet gesture to honor her in that way, so I tried to compromise with her.”

“What’s compwomise?” she asked.

“It’s where two people both get what they want by deciding on something that they both like. For example like your name. Mommy liked Evangeline and I didn’t. A common nickname for it is Evie and we both liked that name so we settled on that. We both chose a name we loved for you and mommy got to honor her grandma that way.”

“Oh,” she nodded, seemingly deep in thought, processing what he had just said, “I like Evie betta anyway.”

“So do I, my little Evie bear. Now come on, let’s get you out of this bath before mommy thinks you were washed down the drain.”

•

It was probably half an hour after their bedtime and all three kids were still awake, in their jammies on mommy and daddy’s bed. 

Spencer figured he’d let them stay up a little later so Y/N could finish her housework. Bedtime was also another team effort, at least when it came to Aden and Isla. It was hard to hold two babies with bottles—even though they could now hold their own bottles— and a book at the same time, even for the most experienced parents. So one of them would hold one twin, the other would have the other and read them both a bedtime story. It was a system that had been working well for them, so they stuck to it. 

Also, he kinda hoped the later bedtime would slip by Y/N’s attention unnoticed. No such luck, though.

Needless to say though, she was a bit exasperated to find them still up almost thirty minutes later than normal.

“Spencer Reid, I swear to God if my children don’t go to sleep, I won’t have sex with you until they move out of the house.”

Thankfully, Evie seemed too preoccupied with her iPad to notice Y/N’s statement. All they needed was her repeating that.

“Sorry, babe. I thought I’d let you catch up on your housework before we tucked them in.”

“You should’ve come get me, I didn’t even know it had gotten so late,” she said apologetically, “Besides they need their sleep so their brains can grow to be as big as yours.”

“Actually, the brain doesn’t grow. It stays the same size from the moment you’re born. As you learn, your brain makes new neuron connections.”

She chuckled, walking over to pick up Isla off the bed.

“You know what I meant, brainiac,” she teased, “I got their bottles in the nursery so if you can grab Aden and a book, we can get them to bed.”

He nodded, picking up Aden.

“You stay there and play on your iPad, okay baby girl?” Y/N said, “We’ll be back to tuck you in after we get the babies down.”

“Otay mommy.”

Spencer got situated in one of the two rocking chairs in the nursery, Y/N settling in beside him. Bottles were in the twins’ mouths and the twins were each nestled in a set of arms as Spencer opened the book of the night, Bedtime For Baby Star.

He was familiar with this story. His best friend JJ had given them a copy when he and Y/N first got pregnant with Evie. It was a story she’d read many times to her sons Michael and Henry. He and Y/N had read it many times to Evie—and still did—and now they read it to their twins. It was as if this adorable little story had been passed down through many bedtimes of many different kids.

“Once there was a baby star,” Spencer began, gently rocking in the chair.

“He lived up near the sun. And every night at bedtime, that baby star wanted to have some fun. He would shine and shine and fall and shoot and twinkle, oh, so bright.”

Isla cooed as she ate, eyes locked on Spencer and his voice. Aden looked around, but would turn his sight back to Spencer every little bit to make sure he was still there.

“And he said “Mommy, I’ll run away if you make me say good night.”,” Spencer read.

Isla’s feet shuffled back and forth against Y/N’s lap as she ate. Usually, they didn’t fall asleep during a nighttime story, but Spencer loved the routine of it and being able to have some bonding time, so it soon became a nightly thing for him and Y/N.

Aden pulled back from his bottle, taking a break from eating and looking around the room. Spencer glanced down to check on him before continuing reading, seeing Aden put the bottle back in his mouth on his own.

“And then his mommy kissed him on his sparkly nose and said, “No matter where you go, no matter where you are, no matter how big you grow, and even if you stray far, I’ll love you forever, ‘cause you’ll always be my baby star.” The end.”

Spencer closed the book quietly, setting it aside and dimming the lights. This, too, they had found worked best when getting the babies to sleep. They usually sat and rocked them in the dimmed nursery as they finished their bottles and fell asleep.

Looking down at Aden, he could tell that the little guy wasn’t far off from sleep.

As they both sat and rocked the babes quietly, he reached over with his spare hand to the rocking chair Y/N was in. He took her hand and held it in his the entire time until their two youngest were sound asleep.

•

“Why don’t you go order us some dinner and I’ll get Evie to sleep,” Spencer suggested after they’d tiptoed out of the nursery.

“It’s been a long day and I know you probably don’t feel like cooking a separate dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll go order us a pizza. The usual?” she asked.

“Pepperoni, yes please,” he grinned, kissing her cheek.

“Tell her night and an “I love you” from me,” she called as she headed down the stairs.

Evie was exactly where they’d left her earlier. She was still sitting against their pillows, playing her game.

“Come on rugrat,” he grinned, picking her up off the bed, “Let’s go choose a story to read.”

He carried her down the hall towards her room, setting her down once they were inside. He took her toy iPad and set it aside with her other toys as she kneeled in front of her book corner, deciding on a book.

“Find anything yet, Eves?”

“Yesh,” she pulled one out, walking back to her bed and climbing onto it then holding out the book for him to see.

“Five Little Bunnies?” he asked, taking it when she nodded.

“No,” she took it back, “I read to you daddy.”

He smiled, pulling her into his lap.

“You gonna read to me tonight then?”

“Yesh,” she nodded, her drying, loose curls shaking with her movement.

She opened the book to the first page.

“Once upon time dere five widdle bunnies.”

She turned the page and continued.

“Da fiwst widdle bunny liked to hop and play outside.”

Spencer’s brows raised, surprised that she wasn’t actually making something up, but quoting the book. He knew she wasn’t actually reading, but it still pleased him enough to know that she’d memorized the book to be able to read it to him. He held her close, resting his chin on her head as she continued “reading” to him.

“Da fifth widdle bunny didn’t want to be weft out of all da fun and hopped off to join all his fwends. De end.”

She closed the book, craning her neck to see Spencer.

“You nawt asleep are you daddy?”

“No baby,” he chuckled, picking her up and setting her against her pillows.

“Did you remember the entire story so you could read it to me?” he asked.

She slid under the covers and he pulled them up over her as she nodded excitedly.

“Did you wike it?” 

The hopeful excitement in her eyes just about melted his heart. He had loved kids for as long as he could remember, but there was nothing sweeter than your own children.

“I loved it.”

He handed her the stuffed animal koala—named Pookie—that she always slept with and she cuddled him in her arms. Spencer smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, making sure the covers were high enough so she wouldn’t get too chilly.

“Next time though, it’s my turn to read to you,” he laughed.

“Otay,” she smiled.

“Mommy says goodnight and she loves you,” Spencer said, turning on her nightlight for her, “Goodnight Evie, I love you.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

As Spencer turned off the lights, the last thing he saw was Evie turn on her side and close her eyes, heading quickly into a peaceful slumber.

•

“I’ve never been so happy to see food. Or the couch,” Spencer said, flopping onto the couch, a slice of pepperoni pizza in his hand.

Hopper was curled up on the couch, his head partially laying on Spencer’s leg, fast asleep. Duke loafed next to Y/N’s legs, relaxing, himself. They acted so tired, they made it seem like they had been the ones doing the parenting all day.

“Duke I hardly recognize you after your grooming,” Spencer chuckled, reaching over her lap to run his free hand over the soft fur.

“I swear he lost half a pound in fur alone,” Y/N commented.

It was just past 8 pm and the two of them finally were able to sit down to rest and eat their dinner. 

“I tried one of your cupcakes,” Y/N said after finishing her final piece of pizza, “They’re great.”

“Oh really? When did you do that?”

“Around lunch. It technically was my lunch.”

“Our rugrats sure keep us on the move, don’t they?” Spencer grinned.

“And to think you want more,” Y/N half groaned.

“I do,” he said seriously, “But not right now. One day. When they’re a little older.”

“Good because right now I’m too tired to even think about sex.”

“You and me both,” Spencer sighed, wrapping his arm around her. 

“How do parents manage to do this and have a sex life?” she mumbled causing him to snort.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure they take it one day at a time. Besides, I have plenty of time to show you just how much I love and appreciate you in that way, when we aren’t so tired.”

There was obviously more to their marriage than just the sexual part of it. Just making time for each other like this, even when it was at the end of the day, was more than enough. They were a team. They’d do marriage, parenthood and life together. It was all he needed right now.

Some day, they would find a balance. But right now, life was still hectic and intimacy wasn’t always guaranteed. One great thing though was that intimacy came in all forms.

This time right now, was an example. It was a private, cozy and relaxing atmosphere for just the two of them to spend some time together. 

“I’ll be there,” she smiled, laying her head against his chest.

“So will I.”

Spencer was tired, but he was also extremely happy,

They turned on the tv for a little while, not paying much attention to the show that was on since they both could hardly keep their eyes open. They dozed like that for a little while, arms wrapped around one another. 

They knew one twin or the other would likely wake up at least a time or two during the night, but right now even catching a few winks was better than none.

They’d make it to bed eventually, where they’d fall into a deep sleep next to one another, preparing for a new day when they’d do this all over again.

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @whatspunispun @iamburdened @cindywayne @thomasfoockinshelby @tinyminy88 @theitcaramelchick @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @theonlyone-meeeee @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @reidsstudies @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @likelovers @hopebaker @prisonreid @httpnxtt @daviddoughboy @pastathighs

[cherry3point14]

The Wrong Winchester - One Year Later

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen Warnings: Cavity protection required. Word Count: 12,304. (WHY) Summary: One year after the fiasco that was Fourth of July, you’re back in  Kansas and back at the Winchesters. This time with their other son. A/N: A sequel for the trope fluff fest that was The Wrong Winchester. Somehow this is fluffier and more trope-y! Listen, I didn’t say it was good, just that it exists. Happy 4th July my bitches! (*sobs in the corner* this was supposed to be a timestamp)

Ao3 if you prefer.

June has been cool this year, more so than normal, but then the heat of July hits like clockwork. Even though you enjoy airplanes, and the AC they provide, you’ve done the drive because Dean hates flying. It’s not even a compromise because the detour your journey takes means that it’s Thursday evening by the time you arrive in Lawrence. Sam and Eileen got there mid-morning. You’re hoping that the Winchesters are so distracted getting to know her that you can slip in like an old piece of furniture, unnoticed and ignored.

It’s when he turns the corner onto their street, and the family home looms in the distance, that it hits you. You’re here, again, and you’re doing this, again. And nobody would ever believe it but this is considerably worse because this time you love the guy sitting next to you.

Not that you’ve told him that yet. It’s been a slow year.

Loving Dean does complicate things though. It means that you care what the Winchesters think of you. Last year, pretending, was a walk in the park in comparison. You knew Sam was fake breaking up with you after you left. You could have cheated on Sam in front of him and it wouldn’t have mattered because it was all, well, fake.

Although you did kind of cheat on Sam in front of him. Boy, did you hope Sam hadn’t told them about that.

Now, the house you’re pulling up at makes your toes curl inside your shoes while hurried excuses start pouring out. “You’re positive you don’t want to stay in a hotel? Take the pressure off your mom having to entertain us and Sam and Eileen. That’s a lot of guests.” You nod to yourself convincingly while you stare at the front door.

He smiles at you like you’re adorable, which you don’t appreciate. “If you’re looking to make her hate you, then yeah, go ahead and tell my Mom you’re taking her firstborn to a hotel for the weekend.”

You huff and pout your lips so he knows exactly how frustrated you are, “I know you’re right, doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“When are you ever?” He counters, smirking as he gets out of the car. You follow suit although you’re convinced that as your foot hits the stone driveway you can hear the ticking of a countdown. One small step for you, one giant leap to your doom.

Dean grabs your case and his duffel from the trunk, settling one on top of the other so that he has a free hand to wrap around your waist. It’s probably a picturesque image, him walking you to the house like that. You’re not sure if he’s being nice or making sure you don’t run away. Dean’s a smart man so it’s probably a little of both.

His hand reaches to open the door but even after the long drive from Chicago, your reactions are lightning-fast. You pull his arm back to stop him and answer the silent look on his dumb face, “shut up. We should knock.”

“Did you give Sammy this much trouble last year?”

His joke drags a smile out of you, not a laugh but a smile. He’s been trying to calm you down the whole journey. You don’t get nervous often, so seeing you this anxious has both worried and amused him. He’s settled for being supportive, he’s done everything he can to take your mind off of this moment. He told you exaggerated fake facts about Kansas to stop you complaining that the entire state was too damn hot. He distracted you with questions about the case you’re working on when you panicked about exactly how Sam had explained everything all those months ago. And most importantly he fed you. A few hours out he’d pulled into a drive-through and minutes later you’d found yourself pulled over on a random stretch of highway, legs crossed, and a brown paper bag in your lap. He’d wiped sauce from the corner of your mouth and watched you wolf down cheese fries.

Dean knew how to keep you happy for the hours you’ve spent in Baby. But now that you’re finally standing at the threshold he, apparently, thinks it’s time to throw you to the wolves, which he does, literally.

In one swift movement, the door is open before you can rap your knuckles against it and he uses his arm—the one that’s around your waist—to guide you inside. Except guiding you inside is more like a gentle push, which means you trip your way into the Winchester family home while Dean remains safely on the porch.

“What the f-?” The end of your sentence never makes it past your lips, thankfully, considering the gathering in the living room as you turn your head.  

Sam and Eileen are sitting opposite Mary and John, all of them holding a drink, clearly mid-conversation. They all stop. Four pairs of eyes are now trained on you. Even after a too-long second has passed none of them move as if your presence has frozen them in time. A perpetual state of being horrified by your existence.

“Dean!?” You don’t exactly shout but there’s a worried twang to your voice and still, none of them move. In fact, Sam doesn’t even attempt to help, which is a betrayal you won’t allow to pass unpunished or forgotten.

That’s for another day. Right now you’re about thirty seconds away from your first actual panic attack in years.

Dean slips in behind you, eventually. Even walking in with the bags he’s more graceful than you had been stumbling in. Not that you compliment him on that. You’re too preoccupied because you might have broken the Winchesters.

“Honey!” Mary beams with happiness at the sight of her eldest son and jumps up from her seat like a mannequin come to life. Whatever spell had been cast breaks so quickly that it might not have happened at all. Every single person takes a breath again and Mary walks over, wine forgotten on the coffee table, to hug Dean the way you’d seen her do a year ago.

“Mom!” He hugs her back, wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her from the floor an inch or two. You want to say he’s the cutest thing ever with that childlike smile on his face.

That’s what you want to say.

Unfortunately, the innocence doesn’t last as his expression morphs into a cocky smirk with a waving hand in your direction once he lets his mother go. “You remember Y/N, right?”

Is he freaking kidding?

Mary’s face steels, as if Dean had never entered the room. Your best friend and his girlfriend, who you know pretty well at this point, remain safely in their seats. And your boyfriend, your goddamn boyfriend who you love and trust, is standing there at an arm's length like this is an early fireworks display. The fuses have been lit and he is waiting for the explosives to go off.

The only person in the room who dares to make eye contact with you—outside of the matriarch—is John freaking Winchester. And he has the audacity to smile sweetly at you. Or as sweetly as John Winchester is capable of.

“Of course I remember Y/N.” Mary’s words are friendly but her tone does not mirror the sentiment. She taps her chin with one extended finger, thinking, “you were on Sam’s arm last year, if I remember rightly.”

You were going to murder Sam and thanks to your job you’d get away with it too. “I’m so sorry Mary, Sam told me he explained. It was all a misunderstanding, I was only…”

“Only jumping around between my boys? Or was the misunderstanding when we welcomed you into our home and you lied to us?”

You may have met your match. You could never admit this to the district attorney's office but Mary has found a way to silence you with a stare. Your lips snap shut without a good answer for her. You feel like a child being chastised for making a mess.

In fairness you had made a mess last year, however, you cleaned it up afterward.

Your eyes dart to the still-open front door before you rummage up an answer. “I don’t think jumping between them is very fair, Sam and I weren’t a real thing. I mean we’re still besties, even if he won’t call us that, but we were pretending. Which is still wrong but I defy any of you to say no to him when he does that dopey puppy face of his. Anyway I know he told you it was his idea, because it was, and I made sure he told you that because I don’t want you thinking that I came up with it and…”

“Great, you got her stuck in a loop, Mom.” Dean grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

“What?” You interrupt your own rambling to frown at him.

That’s when it happens. Mary breaks out into a grin so similar to Dean's that it’s frightening. If Sam got his smile from his mother then Dean inherited her devious smirk.

“It was your idea.” She answers your seemingly caring boyfriend.

You’re confused, as you should be. Hours. Days. Weeks of dreading this moment and this weekend. None of this makes any sense.

“I hate to sound like a broken record but, what?”

Mary turns her brightness on you, in the distance, John barks out a laugh and cracks his hand against his thigh as if this all went completely as planned.

“I’m sorry Y/N. We were only playing. It’s great to see you again.”

Then she hugs you, stiff as you may be from the complicated mix of annoyance and residual fear that you’re feeling. Her arms around you exude motherly warmth, something you’re unfamiliar with, until your muscles relax in her grip.

Over Mary’s shoulder, Dean is pressing his lips together to stop himself laughing and then finally your brain catches up. That bastard set you up. He sold you down the river. Still mid-hug you silently mouth to him, “I’m going to kill you.”

That sends Dean over the edge and a deep belly laugh escapes him. He doesn’t even attempt to apologize. He’s too caught up in how funny he thinks he is.

“So, you were all in on this? You too Sammy?” You splay your hand across your chest now that Mary has released you.

Mary links her arm with yours and leans in as if she didn’t rob you of ten years of your life, “if it helps Eileen told us we were being mean.”

You smile at Eileen, your now very good friend, as you take a seat next to her, “at least someone has my back.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, “well, Sam’s girlfriends need to stick together.”

And just like that. The final knife in your back sets them all off howling with laughter again. This was obviously going to be a long weekend.

It's not even day one, that starts tomorrow. It's been a few hours at best and you're already in bed and staring a hole in the ceiling. Ordinarily, you might be questioning why there is a suspicious rectangle that is whiter than the rest. As if the patch of paint had seen less light than the rest of the room like a poster had been there or something.

“You gotta tell me.”

You scoff. He has done nothing to earn any answers from you so far. Looking after you during the journey must have been an act to lull you into a false sense of security because he jumped ship as soon as you arrived. Winchesters are a tight-knit bunch.

“Come on, please?”

It sucks that you love this idiot, it sucks that you haven’t told him, it’s even worse that you cannot resist him. You roll over to his whining voice and prop yourself up on your elbow. It was foolish to ever hope for a good night's sleep when he’s amped up to be in his childhood home again. You can’t say that you remember him being like this last year but, then again, last year you were avoiding him since you were pretending to date his brother. “Oh my god, if I tell you will you let me sleep already?”

Dean nods, using a finger to draw a cross over his chest. Even in the dark, you can see the crinkles of his eyes deepen playfully, “cross my heart. I’ll even help you get off to sleep, by way of apology.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear to hint at his meaning, under his oversized Zeppelin shirt you’re sleeping in.

“Nice try Benedict Arnold, I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”

He knows by the tone of your voice he won’t get anywhere right now, although it’s nothing to do with his betrayal. You’re still obsessed with somehow clawing back any semblance of a good impression. Sex in his childhood bed doesn’t strike you as the correct way to go about that. He doesn’t tease and try to change your mind with filthy words he knows you love. You think maybe Dean knows tonight isn't the night either. Maybe that’s why he’s asking questions instead.

His hand slides up over your waist and settles comfortingly around your middle—almost as if he knows he has some groveling to do. He asks again hoping to get one of the things he wants; answers. “C’mon. Just tell me. I’ll tell you mine.”

You haven’t spoken much about last year with Dean and you were absolutely fine with that. Last Fourth of July wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment for you. It almost cost you Sam and as much as you love Dean, Sam’s friendship is one of the very foundations of your adult life. Sure last year was the kind of thing you’ve joked about, but the nitty-gritty details had stayed where they should, in the past.

However, being back here, albeit in the next room over to the one you’d previously occupied, has apparently opened the topic up for conversation.

“Fine. You really want to know?”

“With all my heart.”

“God, you’re lucky you’re cute. At the airport. Okay?”

His smile widens until you can see his teeth shine. “You’re joking?”

You bury your face in the pillow, only coming up for air when necessary despite the way he pokes your sides to make you squirm. “No, I’m not joking. I wasn’t sleepy getting off the plane. I was trying to figure out if there was a way for me to make out with my fake boyfriend's hot older brother.”

“You were too good for your fake boyfriend anyway.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “too good for me too.”

He shouldn’t be allowed to catch you off guard like that, it’s against the rules. Yet he does it all the time. The sweetest secrets whispered in your ear while you’re brushing your teeth or watching a movie. As if he needs to tell you as soon as the thought pops into his head. And it’s not fair because he deserved some silent treatment or something. You know he’ll be back to his tricks tomorrow, so he should pay tonight. But now instead of being annoyed at him, your lips are following his while you realize you were never really mad in the first place.

His wandering hand moves to wrap around your neck, his fingers are lost in your hair and his thumb traces over your jaw. This is the classic Dean trick. He thinks he’s so smooth and that one day he’ll manage to keep you attached to his mouth forever if he holds you there, just right.

As much as you want to appease him, it never lasts. Eventually, you always need air in your pesky, needy lungs. Tonight though it ends with your hand on his chest nudging him off of you. “No way. You owe me yours. Come on, when did you start like-liking me?” You finish the question in a sarcastically childish voice.

Dean is nothing if not fair, sometimes, and he would never break a promise. He leans back a little and adopts what you have dubbed his ‘thinking face’. It may be nighttime but you’d recognize that furrowed brow anywhere.

“When I found you in my bedroom.” He finally answers.

It takes a whole second to remember. “Really? You mean when I was trying to find the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I mean a guy comes back to his room and finds a pretty girl...”

It’s your turn to frown, “wait. Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re saying that your ‘moment’ was when you found me in your room, in my pajamas, with bed head and a full bladder?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You were all cute an’ twitchy when I caught you, then suddenly you’re all fired up and telling me off for making fun of you. You were a little spitfire.”

You drop your forehead to his chest and let out a laugh. Trust Dean to like you because you busted his balls.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “good enough answer?”

You yawn, happily, and shimmy down into bed proper. “It was your game De. The question is are you happy with yours?”

He settles down next to you, close enough to hear the deep, “mm hmm” in his throat.

Almost everything is different this year but one fact remains the same. You can take the running gear from Sam but you can’t stop Sam from going running.

He has emergency running shoes in his closet.

The new part is that you’re up as early as he is. You’re sitting on the sofa with your laptop propped up on your knees, with yet another witness statement that you were sure was made up. It was too perfect and a jury would never buy it.

By the time Sam, the sweat machine, returns you’re typing a passive-aggressive email to that effect.

“You had any coffee yet?” He asks with two mugs in his hands, passing one to you.

You take the mug without looking up from the screen and swallow a scalding sip, which you only half notice burns your tongue. “Obviously not. Your mom is in there and she still scares me.”

He laughs but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t need to. Dean may have dealt with you on the long drive and whenever he was in town but Sam deals with you every day. He has been privy to almost every one of your breakdowns in the last month. June felt longer than thirty days.

Sam sits down next to you and starts watching the news channel you’d been ignoring. It takes a minute but eventually, he grabs the remote to pause the screen, “ah, there’s my favorite celebrity lawyer.”

You don't need to look up to know that you are on the TV.

“I won’t be anyone’s lawyer if I don’t figure out why my client insists on lying to me and getting people to lie on his behalf.” Your fingers get dangerously close to pounding the plastic keyboard into smithereens. “Hasn’t he heard of attorney-client privilege?”

“Okay. I think you need a little break from that.” He says prying the laptop from you and closing it on the coffee table, so you can’t see the screen anymore.

You want to be mad at him but, of course, you can’t. You look up at him and his soft smile that’s all kinds of sympathetic to the workload you’ve been bearing of late. If you weren’t being driven insane by the biggest case of your career then maybe you’d be a little more rational when it came to this weekend.

Although, that’s unlikely. You were always going to go crazy about this particular get together.

“I swear sometimes I think he’s actually stupid. I’m trying to help him. Why did he even think he could escape arrest in the third most populated city in America?” You shuffle yourself so that you’re sitting sideways and facing him. Despite your insults about your client, the question is earnest.

“Probably figured it’s the only way he’d get to hire you.”

You roll your eyes, “sure, that’s why I’m co-counsel to fucking New York’s finest Marcus Delaney, who he trusts like a fucking brother.”

Sam widens his eyes at you in warning but you catch on too late; his mother is in the next room. You both hold your breath waiting for a reaction. When nothing happens you relax and he answers the least important part of your statement, “technically you’re a New York native too.”

“Objection, relevance?”

“Well, you mentioned…”

“Nah-uh. Enough about me. You took my laptop away so now we have to talk about you.” You smirk into your cup.

Sam knows where this is going. He told you his news two entire weeks ago, it worked like a charm and was also the biggest mistake of his life. Because two weeks ago Sam invited you to his office for lunch and told you over takeout that he was getting married.

He wanted to tell you because you’re his best friend. He’d told you before Dean and sworn you to secrecy until he’d called his brother later that day. Both of you knew the news was coming anyway, so it wasn’t really a race. Sam had been wringing his hands over how to ask the love of his life for weeks before he did it. You only found out about the ‘yes’ before Dean, because Sam had been trying to calm you down after another ‘4th of July freak-out’.

Sam had forgotten what happens if a seven-year-old gets their hands on too much sugar. Or, to be more precise, what happens when he gives a big, juicy, sensitive piece of information to you. Now he can't get you to shut up about it.

He sighs. He’s still facing the TV even though your eyes are on him. “I should have let you keep working, shouldn’t I?”

“Too late for that, Sammy. Have you decided when you’re telling everyone yet?”

He shifts to side-eye you, “oh, yeah. I was thinking, how about never?”

“You can’t bring your devoted fiance home for the weekend and not tell them!” You’re keeping your voice low but it’s insistent all the same.

“Ok. What about at the airport?”

“We’re dropping you back to the airport.”

“Right, before that then.”

You laugh, “why did you even come this weekend if you’re going to chicken out?”

“I’m not going to chicken out but, would it be so bad if I did? I brought you last year to avoid my Mom's crazy and now… I mean this will be like Defcon two.”

You wonder, briefly, what triggers Defcon one. Considering how quickly Mary had asked you if you were pregnant last year, you’d wager it’d be grandchildren.

In the pause where you both sip your morning caffeine again, neither of you notice the slight creak. The kind of creak where a door begins to open but never does.

“All I’m saying is, getting married is an amazing thing. It’s time to share the happy news. Hell, I’ll go wake Dean and we can do it now.”

“That’s easily the worst idea you’ve ever had. And I’m including the outfit you wore to the first office Christmas party.”

He’s walking right into your trap. “I dusted that number off for your brother over Christmas, you know.”

“Oh god. I don’t need to know about you and-and him-and a sexy Santa's helper costume.” He actually gets up, sweeps his mug with him, and sours his face.

“You brought it up, Sammy!” You're grinning all wide and evil, calling after him.

He pauses with his back leaning against the kitchen door, at the same time that Eileen walks in. “I hate you.”

You look up at her and sigh, “you see the way he talks to me when you’re not around?”

This is not the first time Eileen has been caught in the middle of you two, so she laughs and promises, “I’ll talk to him about that.”

Sometimes Dean likes to yank your chain and sometimes you like to yank his. It’s what makes you kind of perfect for each other, any bruised egos or pouting lips are part of the game you play. An excellent example is the way he’d betrayed you already this weekend. You weren’t mad, well, maybe a little, but in the end, you forgave him because it’s him.

In all the jokes there’s one thing that Dean knows not to play around with, one thing that he wouldn’t dare mess with.

Winchester. Family. Baseball.

You had agreed to wear his dumb spare jersey the same as you’d done for Sam. Like Eileen was doing for Sam this year. Although you had to admit her shorts are a little more family-friendly.

You’d even made a sign. A big piece of poster board, some markers, glitter, and stickers that you had gone to Target to buy special. It said GO TEAM DEAN! With a heart to dot the exclamation point. The sign was a surprise. When you’d shown him before leaving for the game he’d called you a dork and smiled so wide you worried his face might break.

You were ready for the game because you were safe. The worst thing that you expect is the comments when you turn up with a ‘1’ on your shirt this year instead of a ‘2’. You’ve already dealt with this from Mary and John but you weren’t so blind to forget about the rest of the family.

Charlie laughs at you when she notices, straight away, and threateningly asks for the story later. Bobby simply says, “switched teams, huh?” Before walking off. Granted he doesn’t seem to judge you, merely stating the observation like an interesting factoid. And Gabe starts, “lookie here when do I-” but smartly stops. He’s too tongue in cheek to be offensive but the look on Deans’ face might have something to do with his change of heart.

All of that you could handle. Par for the course. You had been ready for it because—can’t stress this enough—you were safe. Today was going to be a fun day of cheering on your boyfriend at his weird family baseball game.

You’re so sure of yourself that you even helped Mary pack drinks and snacks, with Eileen as a buffer, because you knew you’d get to enjoy said food. As a spectator.

When John does his ‘gather round me for I am John Winchester’ bit to pick the teams you’re choosing your spot in the stands. A little area in the front row for you, Mary and Eileen where you’re putting the food. You don’t join said gathering because that’s how not relevant it was to your life. You’d find out the teams when they’re playing and you’re only fifteen feet away from them all. You can hear them barking out names fine.

Dean picks Micheal. Sam makes a comment like ‘big surprise’. Bickering ensues until John gets them to focus up.

You could write this stuff in your sleep. You don’t want to call them predictable, considering this was only your second year here, but sometimes the truth is right there in front of you. And the truth is Winchester family baseball is going exactly how you expect.

Actually it’s the one thing that is going how you expect this weekend. Frankly, you needed that, some stability. Something you could rely on.

“Y/N”

Time slows down. In your head, you can hear that siren noise from Kill Bill and the world is suddenly devoid of color, except one. A red light flashes over your vision, as you turn in comically slow motion to find out which one of those idiots betrayed you.

Dean. Of course. The goddamn one you’re in love with.

He has the absolute gall to wave at you from where he’s standing. Smiling like, well, like it’s Fourth of July weekend and he innocently picked his girlfriend to play a game with him. That’s what it must look like to his family anyway.

To you? You feel like Lady Macbeth. Disappointed and betrayed by your significant other who can't do his one job. You’re not even asking him to kill the King of Scotland, all he had to do was not say your name.

Before you have an opportunity to write yourself out of this tragedy, he’s waving you over and your legs start walking. Apparently your body listens to him more than it listens to your own brain. Was nothing sacred anymore?

“There’s my girl.”

Those words would normally make you weak at the knees. Unfortunately for Dean, when it comes to baseball, you’re not melting that easy.

When you reach him you smile until you’re close enough to mutter dangerously, “I’m going to make you disappear and it'll look like an accident.”

You notice people dispersing which means your amazing boyfriend waited to call you till last. Not only did he screw you over but he made you the embarrassing last pick.

He leans in to kiss you and breathes against you, “you know you love playing with me.”

God, you do. You love playing with this dick, who apparently hates you, as well as his dick. Not baseball granted but other games.

“‘Sides,” he continues in your silence, “you don’t want to let all that practice go to waste.”

“All that practice? Practice?” You pull your head back, unable to resist showing him how offended you are, “you mean the time you forced me to go to the batting cages?”

He crosses his hands at your back and pulls you to him until your thighs are pressed against his. Were it not for his jeans then it would be incredibly inappropriate for a family baseball game. Actually, with the jeans, it might still be inappropriate.

“I seem to remember someone enjoying my arms wrapped around her while I taught her how to hit. I also seem to remember that someone forgot all about me in a damn second once she could do it on her own.”

“It was very stress relieving, I kept pretending the ball was the dummy who took me to the batting cages.”

A laugh rumbles through him, his body is so close to yours that you feel it in your stomach.

“Come on, this will be fun. You need more fun.”

You poke a finger into his chest, an inch above the collar of his jersey, “don't pretend you're doing me a favor. if I remember the rules, I don’t have a choice. But don’t you worry, I won’t forget this.”

He grins in that ‘brighter than the sun’ Dean way, “I know baby. I know.”

You’d made it home four times, an impressive three more than last year. None of them were from hitting a home run or anything preposterous. You do hit the ball almost every time though. You still couldn’t catch, throw or run--all three skills are apparently super essential in baseball. You can connect the bat with the ball though. Everyone seems pretty impressed every time it happens, if only they knew how impressed you were every time you manage it.

Your lack of skills aside, when Dean wins, he leans you over his arm and kisses you rightly. As if it’s V-J day and he single-handedly stopped WWII. Eileen sneaks up on Sam, from where she’d been watching in the stands. Although your ASL is not perfect, you’re at least 80% sure that her hand's sign “sucks to be you,” as she walks to him. You might love her a little more than you did ten minutes ago and Sam laughs a little harder too.

Dean chooses a steakhouse. The place is all wood paneling and soft lighting. The ambiance reminds you of your first real date in Chicago, although there will probably be less sticky fingers. From the ribs, obviously.

Mary and John drive ahead and they’re waiting outside when you all arrive. You’ve told Eileen to be prepared, told her to have her wits about her, promised her you’ll jump in if necessary. She’d told you not to worry.

Oh, you hate to see it happen.

As soon as you’re inside you volunteer to sit next to John, it’s the smallest kindness you can do for your friend. She should sit between the safety of Sam and Dean for what is to come.

It starts as you expect and it’s strange being on the other side of the interrogation. Nobody gives a flying crap about what drink or food you order but Eileen? She gets the same treatment you had last year. Silence and an entire table waiting to hear what she has to say. She’s the shiny, new thing everyone is interested in. You’re both glad and sorry. Glad the heat is taken off of you and sorry that it’s Eileen bearing the brunt of it.

Although—and it’s not your imagination—they are a hell of a lot easier on her than John had been on you. It presumably helps that Eileen is a Librarian. Her stories are all child reading groups and teaching elderly people how to use email in the computer room. Even you find yourself a bit smitten and you already knew her.

You’re trying not to focus on her too much though. Let her charm Mary and John, she doesn’t need another face watching her while she talks. Instead, you concentrate on your appetizer, one of those deep-fried onion things you’re sharing with Dean. The unspoken agreement is if you eat smelly food then you do it together.

He shakes his head, making eye contact with you as he takes a particularly over the top bite, when you’re pulled back into the main conversation.

“Y/N, where did you spend Christmas last year?”

“I’m sorry?” You ask somewhat dazed by being called on so soon.

Mary smiles kindly, “Eileen mentioned her parent's cabin, which I know is where they spent Christmas. I realized I had no idea where you spent the holidays?”

“Sure. I-erm, I stayed in Chicago.” Dean's hand under the table surprises you when you feel the weight of him on your knee.

“Oh, funnily enough, I remember Dean saying he was in Chicago too and I thought to myself how strange that was with Sam being gone.”

Everyone laughs at her joke, even your boyfriend while he moves his hand up your thigh.

“Didn’t want to head to New York and see your parents?” She continues her line of inquiry.

You have no idea where she’s going with it, why you’re the one in the hot seat, or why Dean is driving you crazy with his thumb rubbing those incessant circles in your skin. You answer anyway.

“N-No. They go to Europe every other Christmas so they’ll be home this year.”

Mary takes a bite of whatever-the-hell is on her plate. “The boys are coming to us this year too, I guess we’ll have to get better about syncing these things up, huh?”

His hand alone wouldn’t normally drive you as crazy as it is right now. He’s only tapping a slow, teasing rhythm into your thigh for crying out loud. But it’s been a few days and before that a few weeks, and you’d been resolved to not sully this wholesome family weekend. So, your breath is just a touch shorter than normal when he squeezes, and you can only hide it by talking.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess we will.” You agree easily.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your parents, yours too Eileen. Do you think we’ll be meeting yours before Christmas Y/N? Any other big events coming up?”

Were you not focusing on the heat of his hand under your skirt then you might be suspicious of the way she asks that. As it is Dean chooses then to wink at you because he thinks it's hilarious how preoccupied you are.

“Erm, Thanksgiving?”

“Right, right. Thanksgiving.” She smirks like she has a secret.

You stand up suddenly, needing to get away from your teasing boyfriend, “sorry. I’m going to go use the restroom.”

“Hurry back.” Dean’s mocking tone follows you.

Were his parents not at the table you'd tell him to go to hell.

Saturday morning comes faster than you expected. You did have a jump on the long weekend because you’d all taken a day off work this year but Saturday still seemed to have jumped from a cupboard to surprise you.

You wake up as you often do when you share Dean’s bed. One of you, today it’s him, has the other one, you, in what can only be described as an inescapable hold. He’s got one arm wrapped around you, fingers hanging loose over your stomach where you’re laying on your side. His other arm is encroaching on your pillow to surround you and his head is curled in your neck. His breath is slow and hot over your skin. You never imagined that you’d enjoy waking up like this, so incredibly close to someone. And then you met Dean. Sometimes you wrap him up in your sleep, your fingers in his hair, and one leg thrown over his. Either way one always claims the other and you wouldn’t want anything different.

Except at this very second.

Dean is a light sleeper. A bit of a contradictory trait for someone who likes to sleep as much as he does—yours is not to question why—but you never want to willingly wake him if you can avoid it. You’re more than happy to let sleeping Dean’s lie. When you don’t need the bathroom that is.

Even though this isn’t your first time trying you still give it your best shot to slip out without disturbing him.

You think you’re getting there. You’ve managed to roll onto your back for an easier way out, his face is now smashed into his pillow instead of your back, you’ve slipped down the bed a little to get away from his hand on your pillow. It’s only that arm across you that you need to get free from. Today is the day that you’ll finally manage to pee without waking him up. The trick, you think, is not to touch him. You’ve been burned before by trying to lift his arm off of you when you only need to slip out from under it.

“Come on, five more minutes.” He mumbles, fingers come to life to hold you tighter and you swear you see his lip curl because you’ve failed to sneak away again.

“I need to pee.” Who says romance is dead?

He huffs, you’ve hit on what he deems an acceptable reason to let go of you. Barely.

Not that he eases up. You have to wiggle from his hold which makes you crack your first smile of the day. Despite your need to hurry you bend over him and press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I get some coffee while I’m up, see if I can get you to forgive me?”

“You can try.” He mutters in his half-sleep state.

The house is quiet when you leave the bathroom, ridiculously quiet for how full of people it will be later. The calm tricks you into feeling invincible, where nobody else exists save for you and the man you left in bed.

“Morning Y/N.” Mary is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and not doing much else.

“Oh my god!” You recoil with your whole body, arms bent into your chest like you’re trying to stave off a heart attack. You can be a little dramatic at times but the way she’s sitting in silence, illuminated only by the early morning light from the backyard, almost gives the illusion of her appearing out of thin air. “Sorry, Mary. I must be easy to scare first thing in the morning.”

A slow smile spreads over her face, “no I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I like a few minutes of peace before the boys are up is all.”

You grab two mugs, a pretty clear indication you plan to take coffee back to Dean, but before you can fill both she makes you an offer you can’t refuse. “You and I both know he is already back to sleep, he’ll keep for a few minutes. Sit with me.”

Dean's empty mug, your excuse to leave, gets left on the counter with most of your hopes and dreams. The only thing you try to cling to is that Mary wants to carry on sitting in silence, only, together.

“Y/N, we haven’t had a chance to talk, just you and me. Not since last year.”

Or maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for you all along.

“I guess we haven’t. I-eh, I really did mean what I said when I got here Mary. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m not trying to rake you over the coals here, and I’m not looking for another apology. I know what my sons think of me, Sam thinks I’m crazy. You were being a good friend.” She shrugs like it's that simple.

It’s kind of ridiculous how quickly you relax, and how quickly you start spilling your guts, “The lying though. I don’t feel good about that.”

Mary is quick. She leans over the table and wraps her hand around yours, “I don’t remember that much lying. I could tell you loved Sam last year and if that’s like a brother, I’m still glad he has you.”

She’s right. You do love Sam like a brother, the one you never had. He’s been more your family than your own. The first family you’d chose and only real family you had, which is why you’d been so scared at first. It’s why you’d been so quick to run from Dean at the risk of losing Sam. Hell, sometimes you wonder if it’s one of the many reasons you love Dean—because he’s the only other person on the planet who loves Sam as much as you do.

Your fingers twitch under her hand, unsure of the loving way she holds you. Unsure if you deserve it or why she offers it so easily. Whatever the answer is, she has your guard down.

“What about Dean?” It’s a loaded question. You need someone else to see what’s there before you can admit it to him. You're looking for confidence because you are unsure of his feelings. Who better to judge than his own mother?

She squeezes enough to tell you that you’re looking down at your coffee instead of looking at her, before she pulls back to lift her mug to her lips again. “That’s obvious Y/N.” She almost sounds bored at such an easy question, ”I knew I was right all along.”

"Right about what?”

Not even a pause. If she was indeed waiting for you this morning then she was waiting for you to ask this question.

“That you are going to be a Winchester someday.”

“No-I, no…” You trail off to nothing and it’s not because of the way Mary is still grinning despite your protests. It’s not her raised eyebrows over the rim of her cup. It’s not even the little hum like noise she lets out in affirmation that yes, you would wear the big 'W' as your last name.

It’s that you can see it. You’ve had a year of long-distance with Dean; scheduled weekends and facetime dates. You’ve been itching to tell him how you feel but terrified of scaring him away, scared of moving too quickly with the guy you don’t see enough, scared he doesn’t feel the same. And yet in the back of your mind, the vision is forming, pushing its way to the front without permission. Dean on one knee. You in a white dress. The moment you both say ‘I do’.

Is this what becoming a hopeless romantic feels like? Or were you always this much of a total sap?

“Don’t worry, I know.” She reiterates again.

Mary has a reputation, she’s pushy enough, so you assume that’s what this is. You assume she’s making a premonition, not looking for confirmation of something she thinks she already knows. So, you look to escape what you think is the awkwardness that you can’t answer.

“I’m going to get Dean his coffee or-or we’ll never get him out of bed.”

She nods you to leave but disagrees with your evaluation, “I think you underestimate how much my son loves fireworks.”

You smile wide, remembering how his face lit up in the dark the year before, “You’re right. Still, I should go get him up.”

Then you pour more coffee, including Deans, and run. If anyone else caught wind of this conversation they would never believe you were a defense lawyer, let alone the lawyer who’s been plastered over the news defending a celebrity on a murder case.

Dean has, predictably, gone back to sleep since you left. Although the light sleeper that he is, he is roused by the door opening and the smell of coffee.

“Baby?”

That’s all it takes to make you forget the conversation with Mary ever happened. You can’t help but laugh at his sleepy voice as you slip in next to him, careful not to spill anything while he fidgets awake, “who else would wake you up like this?”

He rubs at his eyes, “oh, y’know, my other girlfriend.”

“You’ll have to introduce us one day, we can compare notes.”

You’re still not used to the Winchester’s if you’re being completely honest. To you, barbecue has always been a type of food, and not necessarily one your parents approved of. It was never a place, a home. That’s what today is. Saturday afternoon and the sun is high, there's a faint twang of country music coming from somewhere. Not loud enough to hear the lyrics but loud enough to identify the genre, loud enough to wish you were wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone has a beer or a burger, or both. And it’s not all dopey eyed niceties. There are teenagers, Claire and Alex, hating everyone from the other end of the yard. Occasionally there’s a “screw you” or a “you idjit” shouted from the many random conversations happening. But it’s still somehow perfect in the imperfections. It’s cozy and homely. It’s a family. Love.

It would be easy to feel overwhelmed and convince yourself that you don’t belong. It’s lucky that you have your boyfriend. And since he has disappeared on you, Sam and Eileen. Although she is doing a much better job than you at fitting in.

“She’s going to make me look bad,” you tell Sam while you both watch Eileen animatedly tell Uncle Bobby something that makes him howl. Even his stoic expressions are hidden behind his beard but Eileen is a stand-up comedian, apparently

“That’s not hard is it?” He teases.

“That might hurt if you hadn’t picked me to bring last year, to protect her from all this.” You use the neck of your bottle to draw a circle in the air around the whole motley crew of his family.

Before you register his movement he has an arm around your shoulders, you’re expecting a headlock so you’re pleasantly surprised when he pulls you into a side hug. “That’s the first time you’ve joked about it since… since last year. I’m glad. Everyone else is over it, you’re the only one hanging on Y/N/N.”

You don’t want to choke up in the middle of their backyard but sometimes Sam’s big brother moments hit you like that. “I never said I was very good at letting things go.”

He huffs. “You’re too tough sometimes. That’s why I picked you to help me.” He sucks in a slow breath, “you have to get out of your head... and maybe stop being so annoying.”

You shove him back so he can’t lean on you but now you’re out of his hold he’s looking down at you with those damn puppy dog eyes. He hasn’t asked for something which means he’s trying to use them to make you feel better. You hadn’t realized you’d needed to feel better, was your face sad enough to warrant a Sam pep talk

“I’m fine,” you wave away his concern. “Have you decided yet?”

“And there I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Is Eileen happy to let you forget?” You counter him with an expectant look. “She wants to tell them but she’s happy to let me make the decision since it’s my family.” He says in a pointed, not pointed way.

You shake your head, “she’s going too easy on you. Good thing you have me to put you in line.”

“I thought I was the line?” It takes you a beat, you’re actually surprised he remembered you saying that to John.

“No, that was what I had to say when I was being paid to make you look good.” His face turns somber, “I never paid you.”

“Tomayto, tomahto Sammy.” You finish the beer in your hand, “you know I’m not pushing you, right? If you don’t do it, there’s always Christmas, or send a save the date.”

He shoves at you this time and the air returns to its normal lightness. “I know. You only want me to put on my big boy pants.”

“I could care less about your pants. I want you to take the heat off me, obviously.” You hold up your bottle to him, “I’m out. You need another one?”

He chuckles, ducks his head, and looks at his fiance again. “Yeah, dutch courage might help.”

“Dare to dream.” You sympathize, patting him on his shoulder.

Sam might tell them today, he might not. You wouldn’t judge him either way. He knows you aren’t judging him. You’re nudging him, not so gently. You’re being for him what he is for you. A good friend. Sam has a tendency to drag his heels sometimes and his relationship with Eileen is one of the few things you’ve seen him jump into wholeheartedly. He is, after all, engaged in under a year. You’re beyond pleased because you’ve never seen him so happy, all you want is for Sam’s family to enjoy seeing that too. If you elbow him in the right direction it’s only because you know he’ll regret it down the road.

Besides, it’s not like Mary can scare Eileen away. She already said yes.

So, Dutch courage it is. You don’t condone drinking to excess in front of his parents but a few more beers wouldn’t hurt. They’d only loosen his lips.

The cooler is by the door to the kitchen, for easy refills whether that’s ice or beer. It’s out of the way. Most people stay close to the grill or their seat if they have managed to command one.

You assume your trip will be short and sweet. There’s no one else standing by the plastic box, which means no awkward cooler small talk to get trapped in. It’s half-empty but there are enough bottles that you won’t have to top it up even taking one for you and Sam. Then you stand up with a bottle in each hand, about to turn tail when at the edge of your peripheral you register Dean and Mary in the kitchen.

The window to the kitchen is wide and open and you should walk away. You almost walk away. Then Mary speaks and you can hear them so clearly that you have no choice. You duck down and sit precariously on top of the cooler.

“I know I’m not supposed to rush you but Dean, honey, I can’t stand it any longer. When are you going to announce it? I’m dying!”

Your interest is piqued. Unfortunately. It’s wrong, completely and utterly. Dean should be allowed his secrets whatever they are. Still, it’s not your fault that he chose to have this conversation, with his mother, in the kitchen. Where anyone could walk in or overhear them.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Although to be fair Dean doesn’t sound like a willing participant in this conversation, so maybe he doesn’t have a secret you have to worry about.

You don’t dare get up and peak through the glass since they sound quite close, but you hear Mary sigh.

“I heard her talking to Sam about it. How she wants to tell everyone and-and if it was up to her she’d have told us all already.”

The sound of the fridge opening and closing before he answers. “Still not following, Mom?”

“The proposal Dean. You asked her to marry you. She all but admitted it to me this morning and I’m so, so happy for you. I did think you’d talk to me first but… When am I getting my big announcement so we can celebrate?”

You suck in a breath and hope that it didn’t make a sound. If you can hear them it stands to reason they might hear you. Neither of them seems to. Or they’re distracted. Dean is silent for a too long beat, Mary is clearly confused, and she’s thrown you under the bus along with her, for good measure.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what you think you heard…”

A pit forms in the bottom of your stomach at his tone, how against the idea he sounds. It’s fine, you try convincing yourself, he’s defending Sam’s secret.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean. I know you and your brother think I’m nuts but I want you both to be happy. That's all.”

There’s a part of you that knows you should stop this. Come to Dean's rescue and clarify. You could fix this in thirty seconds or less. That’s what you would do if you weren’t stuck like your feet are made of cement.

“You've gotta cool it with that, ok? Y/N is just a girl I’m dating, that’s it, and I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. You breathing down her neck won’t help anything.”

You have to remind yourself that you’d wanted to know his secret. But maybe you’d only wanted to know because you hoped, assumed, that he felt the same as you.

You’d never actually expected a proposal. Not for years. You’d have been happy with not getting one ever as long as you got Dean. He was your prize, not some ring. But his tone says you don’t have him in any way that you want, you’re just a girl he’s dating. Just a date. He didn’t even say girlfriend. He didn’t even say he likes you.

“Oh, well. I’m sorry. I must have had my wires crossed. I’ll leave it alone.” Mary sounds deflated and disappointed. About a tenth of the hurt you’re spiraling into.

She also sounds like her footsteps are getting closer.

You need to move this time. Because the only thing worse than hearing this conversation is one of them knowing you’d heard this conversation.

The beers get left on the decking next to the cooler you’re still balancing your weight on. You stay low, curled over, as you take long steps along the side of the house. Your immediate plan is to get out of the way while Mary re-enters the backyard but it’s a mere thirty seconds before Dean comes striding out after her. He looks around, maybe for you, maybe for anyone else, it doesn’t really seem like it matters.

You’ve been worrying if Dean loves you, if you would scare him off by telling him you do. You’d never considered that he’s not anywhere close to that. He might never be. 

Your mistake had been to immediately take solace in his room. It’s so his. It smells like him, every single thing reminds you of him. It’s the inanimate object version of going to cry in his arms.

It only made everything so much worse.

Though Dean’s room doesn’t contain a small library like Sam’s, there’s still a desk and a padded desk chair. The desk is covered in random things; a picture of him and Sam while Sam graduates Stanford, some sunglasses and amongst other things a small model car. A model of the impala that you’d toyed with while you were sneaking in some emails last night. He’d told you his dad gave it to him as a kid because his obsession with the car had begun early. However currently the chair is not where it is supposed to be. It’s wedged under his door handle because neither brother has a lock on their door.

You’ve spread out since you’ve been here. Your laptop is in the only free spot on his desk, your case is open on the floor where you’ve been living from it for two days now. Not to mention your things everywhere, a mascara here, or a lipstick there. At home, you only manage to stay any semblance of tidy because everything has its place but this is Dean’s space. It’s not even his, it’s his teenage space, somewhere he outgrew but visits every once in a while. Not even he completely fits in here anymore.

The point is you clearly don’t belong. Not even an inch. Dean liked you but that was it. As painful as it is to admit that’s not enough anymore. You’ve outgrown dates and sex, well, you’ve outgrown only having those things. For the first time in your life, you want the next step and Dean doesn’t. That’s the risk you take when you care about someone, getting hurt is always a possibility.

The only problem is you promised yourself no more pretending. Last year was enough for a lifetime. So, you can’t skip back downstairs and pretend you hadn’t heard what you did. You can’t sit next to him and watch fireworks and not be heartbroken.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” There’s a knock at the door that spooks the makeup you’d been collecting out of your hands. You don’t answer him instead, you scramble for the things you’ve dropped and scoop them up faster.

He twists the doorknob and you carry on your task because the chair will protect you.

Then the door starts moving. You expect to hear resistance after a second but the room is filled with the squeak of plastic wheels.

You’d forgotten that the damn chair is on wheels.

The makeup is dropped again, spilling out over the floor once more as you fall to your ass and slide across the carpet. You’d never managed anything close to a slide in baseball, never ever needed to learn one. Now you perfect it in all of two feet. Your feet plant either side of the chair and your hands wrap around the seat pushing it back until the door closes again. This was a mistake, the chair is only making it harder to push back, you should have moved it and shoved yourself against the door, it’s just too late for a redo.

“Hey, hey. Open the door.” It’s hard to tell if he’s angry, he mostly sounds urgent.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, still, it’s impossible to find the words to answer him. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret, or can’t take back, even if you’re hurt. In your silence, he keeps pushing, literally and figuratively.

He twists the handle again but this time there’s a little weight on his side. The weight pushes against the chair and by extension you. It’s not his full weight, he’s bigger than you though so even his half weight is starting to force you backward. You scramble to gain some traction, planting your feet better, shoving some more. The carpet gives you some friction but not enough to help against the force of Dean Winchester. You keep moving.

After a minute things are about a hundred miles south of ridiculous. You love ridiculous, when you’re not trying to run away that is.

Dean is one foot in the room, thick fingers wrapped around the door and his head pushed in looking at you. There’s a confused knot in his forehead while he takes in exactly what he’s forced his way to look at.

You straddling the bottom part of his desk chair, shoved against the door, and looking up at him wildly.

“Really, sweetheart?” He asks with a mix of frustration in his eyes and a curl on his lips, “what the hell?”

That’s enough to snap you out of it and jump up from the floor. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in your jeans as if nothing happened. “Hi, Dean. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

You may be hurting, sure, but if your parents taught you anything it’s how to cover any emotion with pragmatic denial.

He steps all the way into the room now without you in the way. “Someone else? Comin’ into my room, looking for you?”

“Could have been anyone,” you shrug. Careful to keep your voice steady and neutral while you go back to collecting your twice dropped makeup from the floor. “Wouldn’t want any of your cousins to wander in here.”

“Right. Because they’re leaving the yard while there’s food on the grill, come on it’s like-”

“I heard what you said to your Mom.” The last thing you wanted to say makes it to the tip of your tongue anyway, as you dispense the collected make up into your case like a dump truck.

He parts those lips of his, which means he’s worried about something and then he smiles. He smiles at you while you’re doing everything not to cry.

There’s a quiver in your voice despite yourself, “it’s fine I get it. I wish you’d told me yourself but I can’t do anything about that. And I know I shouldn’t have been listening in and I’m sorry. Can you give me a few minutes to get sorted please?”

Dean cocks his head, takes a step closer to you, and then stops when you grimace, “what?”

“You said you-that we-I’m not expecting anything but I thought I was more than ‘just another girl’ you’re dating.” You shake your head, trying to stop those tears now you’ve said it out loud. Feeling your vision blur and wobble anyway. “Like I said it’s fine. I’m getting out of here though. I found a flight home, there’s no point in you driving me home eleven hours when it’s four to St Louis.”

Not to mention the fact that you couldn’t stand to sit in the car with him that long while you’re feeling like this.

“Woah, Woah, Woah baby.” He doesn’t pause this time. He doesn’t care about your frown as he approaches you, he’s more concerned about fixing whatever you have gotten in your head. He’s on you in an instant. One warm hand on your shoulders and one at your chin, lifting your face to his and taking in all your sadness. You hate that he’s making you stare into his eyes like this. Those green, soulful eyes had been one of the first things you noticed on his beautiful dumb face and now this feels like a goodbye. Of course, it's not a goodbye. He’s trying to tell you just by looking at you that you’re a goddamn idiot. “Have you met my mom? Remember when she asked if you were pregnant when you’d been dating Sam like a month?”

“Fake dating. Why does everyone forget I was fake dating him?”

He chuckles, “‘course. Faking. Well, you heard her, right? She thinks we’re the ones getting hitched. Imagine if I’d thrown fuel on the fire and told her that you’re my girl, I love you and that you’re it for me.”

There’s a big, huge lump in your throat stopping you breathing. Too gigantic to swallow down. Tears still want to rain over your face, again, but you refuse to be the girl that cries because her boyfriend, who she loves, finally told her what she’s been waiting to hear.

Wait, you need to say something back.

“I love you too.”

His smile is slow and lazy but it’s perfectly timed with how gently his body leans in to kiss you. His shoulders drop while you’re sighing into his mouth like every romantic comedy heroine. His hands still on your shoulders relax their hold a little and you realize, he might have been doubting how you felt too.

“That’s good to know.” He breathes. “But see if I’d have told my mom all that, with the whole family here, she’d have us shotgun married before I got the chance to actually ask you.”

Your eyes widen, “no. You’re not?”

“Nah, planning on knocking those socks off when I do. Fair warning though, that’s coming.”

A strangled laugh comes out of you because you are, and have always been, the stupidest person alive. Dean loves you. He loves you and you love him. And why have you waited so long to say it?

“Move in with me?” It seems like the next best thing to every sweet thing he just said. It’s not enough but for once you’re happy to be second best in a conversation. You’ve been thinking about it long enough, hating the distance and the weekends you’ve spent apart. It’s so obvious that you should have worked it out months ago.

“What?” He gives you the pleasure of seeing his goofy confused face while your finger traces the curve of his bottom lip. In case you ever forget.

“Move in with me. Move to Chicago to be with me. Benny can manage in St. Louis and you can open a second location... or be chief of police or a fireman or just eat deep dish all the day long, whatever you want. Be with me in Chicago? Everyday? Sam’s there too. How can you be his best man from three hundred miles away?”

Another kiss and a bigger grin that comes from his chest, not even you expected it to be this easy. Which is more of that stupidity because with Dean it’s always easy. You can only imagine how rosy your cheeks are as he answers, “you had me at pizza.”

You get to the foot of the stairs when Sam pops out of the living room. You’ve schooled your beaming grin into something more subdued because you don’t want to draw focus but Sam’s probably still just waiting for his beer. He tilts his head down and asks, “you good?”

Before you can tell him that you have never been better, Dean saunters down the steps behind you without any concern for drawing attention. “Sammy, how many times have I told you, you can’t have her back. She’s mine now.”

Sam purses his lips at his brother, which is still funny to you, and you press a hand to his chest to distract him from their brother games. “We’re all good Sam, I’ll fill you in later. The important thing is are you ready to go? Weekend is nearly over.”

He smiles at you, “couldn’t do it without my legal eagle.”

Finally, he gets it. “Legal eagles for life, Sam.”

“You two are a pair of dorks.” Dean slumps an arm over both of your shoulders, “I can’t believe I love a dork even dorkier than my dork brother.”

If Sam notices any difference or the massive L-word Dean dropped, he keeps his reaction in check. Besides he’s engrossed in something else, he kind of has something huge to announce to his whole family right now. Something you’ve been dying to witness since he told you.

You turn in Dean’s arm to threaten him, “he can still drop you and make me best man, you know that, right?”

Dean feigns anger, “he would never.”

“Keep talking pretty boy and see how fast I’m planning the bachelor party.”

“She thinks I’m pretty.” Dean turns his head to smile at Sam and involve him in your sparring match, you know since best man is his decision, but Sam is now bitch facing the pair of you.

He doesn’t say anything, just swings an arm out towards the kitchen and beyond that the backyard. An annoyed invitation to join him and his fiance for the big moment you’ve all been waiting for.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on De. Let’s go let Sammy-boo and Leney-bear be as disgusting as we are.”

You’re already in the kitchen when Sam shouts after you, “I told you not to call us that!”

“Eileen said she didn’t mind!”

Weirdly, the party in the backyard is exactly how you left it and yet you feel like everything changed, for the better, in the last twenty minutes.

Eileen sees all three of you step out of the house and senses that its time. Or Sam had already told her it was before he went looking for you. Either way, she walks over to Sam who magically ends up in the middle of the yard.

You can feel the excitement buzzing from Dean where he’s standing next to you, you bet he’s feeling that from you too.

“Hey everyone, I kind of have an announcement,” Sam calls out.

Most of them look around but nobody moves and he hasn’t captured everyone's attention in the way John does at the baseball game. For some reason that line from Highlander pops into your head, there can only be one. It’s a concerted effort not to snort at your own joke.

John is, however, one of the people that heard Sam so he hollers, “cut it out, Sammy’s got something to say.”

That’ll do it. The music shuts off and everyone gathers in a circle around Sam and Eileen. You notice then that Eileen’s ring has appeared back on her finger. You know she had it on a necklace until this announcement but the sleight of hand to make it happen is impressive.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep this short and sweet because I know you’re all waiting on more food but while we had everyone here we thought we should tell you all.”

Somehow, you hear Mary’s heart stop from twenty feet away.

“As most of you know Eileen and I met just over a year ago,” a few people who haven't been briefed share looks since he’d been ‘dating’ you last year. “And well, I’ve never been happier or more in love with someone in my life. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and a few weeks ago I got my act together and asked her to marry me.”

Eileen holds up her hand then, beaming, ‘and I said yes!”

They had to have rehearsed that on the flight.

Chaos ensues. Everyone claps and cheers and people try to move in to congratulate them. Above all of that Mary screams like she’s being murdered. She rushes forward letting every thought in her head fall out of her mouth, “But I thought Dean and Y/N… so you’re telling me it was you all along? Oh Sammy, sweetie, I am so, so happy for you. Oh god, I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around him and crushes him. “And I’m so happy you’re going to be part of the family!” She lets go of her son to give Eileen the same bruising hug.

“Well done, son.” John claps Sam on the back with, you think, the faintest hint of proud tears in his eyes.

Dean wraps his arm around you then like he'd been unable to do it until everything with Sam was ok. You lean into his chest and whisper only loud enough for him, "he's going to be so excited about you being in the city with us."

"You think?"

"I know it. Granted not as excited as me."

He rests his chin on the top of your head, slotting you into him like a puzzle piece.

In the background, it goes on and on until everyone has said something to the happy couple. Even Bobby gets this choked noise caught in his throat. The whole display is actually very touching.

When they finish the mayhem John proposes a toast in which everyone raises their drinks. Then the drinking and eating continue, with much more vigor than before. The whole thing goes from a Fourth of July celebration to a party. The music is a little more upbeat, the hard liquor is brought out early and the hum of everyone feels excited.

Sam—who has been hugged, pinched and shoved playfully enough to last him till the end of days—wanders over to you and Dean with his fiance in tow. “Are you happy now?” He directs the question at you specifically.

You reach up to grab his face with both hands and jiggle his head while you baby-talk to him, “my little Sammy, I’m so proud of you.”

Dean and Eileen both laugh and it's one of those perfect moments you only expect to see in the movies. You realize then that with these three people around you could actually look forward to the Fourth of July with the Winchesters for years to come.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer​

[flying-nightwing]

Night Adventures in an Unlikely Maze of Blue and Yellow

Hiiiii guys. This is for @batwngs, the MVP of leaving the best comments ever and being generally an amazing person. I still have trouble closing my imagines so nevermind the underwhelming ending. Anyway enjoy the probably sweetest thing I’ve ever written, it’s really really really freakin’ cute.

Masterlist in bio // pinned

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Word count: 3174

Warnings: none beside mentions of doing the do and one (1) innuendo

Summary: While most people would qualify married life as boring, having Dick Grayson for a husband turns the most mudane task into an adventure. This is the story of one shopping trip turned into a teenage dream (Katy Perry can suck it up)

You were making breakfast when you heard it. 

The sound of the coffee brewing and the sizzling pan were singing the beginning of a new day, harmonizing with your soft humming of a song you had heard on the radio the day before. The sun basked the whole kitchen in golden sun and warmed your back through your fluffy robe, so much you never wanted to leave this spot. You closed your eyes, taking in the peace you had long seeked. But then, it was interrupted by a loud crash and a high pitched scream.

You perked up, turning down the stovetops and rushing to the bathroom. Luckily, your husband never kept the door locked. In fact, it was wide open when you came in. You reached the shower handle and pulled it open with all the concern in the world, only to see Dick with a pout on his pretty face.

“Dick” You frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“This is the worst thing that happened to me” He almost sobbed. Your concern spiked.

“What happened?” You asked. “Are you hurt?”

“My toes...” His pout intensified as he pointed behind him. “The rack broke and all the bottles fell on my feet”

The sudden stress and concern fell, only to be replaced by your incredulous expression. You shouldn’t have been surprised by his blown out of proportion reaction, but again, Dick was probably the most dramatic person you knew. Punch him, shoot him, beat him up to an inch of his life, the guy will shake it off and get back on his feet. Minorly inconvenience him? You’ll never hear the end of it.

“You big baby” You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be fine”

“You won’t join me and make it better?” He now gave you his puppy eyes, opening his arms. You had to admit, it was hard not to cave in and go hug the giant toddler. “I’m hurt”

“You’ll get over it” You tried to say sternly, but a small smile still made it past you. “I’m going to finish breakfast now”

“Don’t forget--”

“Your cereals yes I know”

“You’re the best” He yelled after you as you closed the shower door. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

You went back to the kitchen and turned on the stove tops again, taking care of the hashbrowns and bacon awaiting for your return in their pans. While they cooked, you cut oranges and melons, poured Dick’s favourite cereals in a bowl and put a cup of oat milk right beside. You started the eggs when you heard Dick come out of the bathroom, and managed to have everything ready on the table seconds before he came walking in in his own matching robe, his hair all damp and face shaved. 

“Smells amazing in here” He announced loudly.

You walked to him and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled of aftershave and jasmine shower gel. “Just in time”

Dick paused in his steps and stared at the full table with childish wonder. Then, his beautiful, almost sparkling eyes found yours. “What did I do to deserve you? And most importantly what would I do without you?”

“You were very handsome and convincing” You answered the first question with a sly smirk. “And probably dead in a ditch”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but closed his mouth when nothing came out. “Probably dead in a ditch, yeah” He admitted, before his gorgeous smile graced his features again. “Thank you for breakfast babe”

“You’re very welcome” You gladly accepted the quick peck on your lips, and laughed as he hurried to the table. You followed him and sat in front of him, watching as he piled food on his plate, unimpressed. You had been caught short handed when you first started dating, foolishly making food for two people like the boy didn’t eat enough to match a small village. But now you knew the trick and would never make that mistake again; you had to cook for a family of four. It was of utter most importance at breakfast, because he always woke up hungry. You didn’t mind though, because nobody appreciated your food more than him. You’d always get a ‘thank you’ before and after each meal, and he’d usually drop positive comments while he ate as well. 

Cooking for Dick Grayson was gratifying, to say the least.

“What?” He asked right after he shoved a spoonful of cereals on his mouth. “Why you shtaring?”

“Don’t worry about it” Your smile widened as you shook your head.

“It makes me shelf conschious” 

“Aw baby” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t be. You’re cute when you eat cereals”

He smiled wide, chewed cereal and milk pouring out of his mouth and onto his chin. You averted your eyes from the disaster and sighed.

“I walked into that one” You mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. “Should have known. That’s on me”

“Sorry” He half heartedly apologized, the laughter in his voice evident. “You can look again now, I swallowed”

You slowly trailed your glance on him, sending him a silent warning not to add a sexual joke to it. He visibly wanted to, but instead chose the prudent way and held his hands in defense of his innocence. You nodded slightly in satisfaction and served yourself breakfast, or what was remaining of each plate. You had enough however, since Dick knew exactly how much you needed and took care of leaving your preferred quantity. How thoughtful of him. 

“So, I guess we’ll need to go to Ikea to replace that shower rack” You spoke up once you knew his hunger rush had calmed down. “We can go this afternoon if you’ve got nothing to do”

“Oooh, I wanted to buy candles for the living room” He nodded. “Heard they got new ones. Yeah, we can go this afternoon”

“Cool” You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. “There’s always less people near closing anyway, so that way we’ll avoid the crowds”

“Brilliant” He pointed, nodding along. “I hate when they’re all gathered around the Rättviken and you can’t even see your Pilkån”

You laughed at his exaggerated mannerism and his pretentious eye roll over his botched swedish accent, then finished your breakfast in comfortable silence. Whoever tried to scare you about married life when you were younger was clearly missing on something amazing, or was dead wrong, because you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

Some might say going to Ikea in disguise might be a little excessive.

But you and Dick knew better. The number of times you were accosted by either journalists raising to the opportunity to grab a quick interview taped on their phones or nosy citizens looking for a peek of Gotham’s finest son to show off on their instagram feed was enough for you to take measures to ensure your privacy. You didn’t exactly mind, in fact, you thought it was kind of funny. However, sometimes you wanted to be left alone to your candle and shower rack shopping.

Today was one of these days. 

Hence, the baseball caps and sunglasses that would follow you even inside away from the sun rays, and away from unwanted attention. Dick suggested he wore his fake mustache, but you deemed it unnecessary for this not so delicate operation. Arms linked together, you entered the swedish domestic heaven and began snooping around the showrooms, pointing out what you liked better and styles you would definitely consider if your house hadn’t been entirely redecorated when you bought it some years ago. 

“We should buy an apartment just so we can recreate those rooms” You said as you paused in front of a beautiful study. “That would be fun”

“How about we just buy the show rooms so we can go whenever we want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, good point” You grinned, then let it fall. “If only we had more than negative ten dollars in between us both”

“But then,” He began, glancing at you. “The same problem arises for the apartment option. We’d still be broke”

You blinked a few times, then sighed. “Then we’ve got no choice” You stared at him through his sunglasses. “We gotta steal the showrooms and make a run for it”

You held for two more seconds before you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. The few people in the store looked at you like you were crazy, but you cared very little for them and their opinions. The facts were you had fun and they didn’t. You moved along to the bedrooms, where the big fluffy beds just called your name. Like your minds were connected, you and Dick both launched yourself on the king sized mattress in the orange tinted room. You bounced like you weighed a feather, then sank into the memory foam that would guarantee a good night of sleep to anyone bringing the mattress home.

“I’m comfy here” Dick scooted closer to you, reaching for your waist to cuddle and burying his face in your neck. “Don’t wanna leave” 

“Babe” You giggled, half heartedly pushing him away from you. You knew it was impossible to move him if he didn’t want to be moved. “We’re gonna get kicked out of the store if we get caught cuddling”

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes, and before you could strategize to stop whatever plan he acted in his mind, he somehow pulled you from the middle of the bed and used his vigilante stealth to carry you inside a closet, shutting the door behind him. Your face was flushed at the sudden rolling and spinning, and he only had a shit eating grin you could see all too well even in the dark. 

“What the hell?” You whisper-screamed. “We could have been seen!”

“Nope” He seemed so proud of himself. “Made sure of it”

“Cameras?”

“Blind spot” He replied. “I checked everything. I’m a pro, babe”

You kept glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “I hate you”

“Uh huh” He gave you a small, unconvinced nod, knowing all too well it wasn’t even close to be true. “That’s why you stormed off the closet the second after I brought you here… Oh wait”

“Smart ass” You lightly slapped his chest, a small smile creeping on your lips. You kind of enjoyed the thrill of hiding out somewhere anybody could burst in at any moment, and you definitely didn’t dislike the proximity to your husband. Even if you were married, his close presence still made your heart do backflips. 

“Your smart ass” He corrected, giving you once again his puppy eyes. Well, you couldn’t actually see his eyes, but the tilt of his head and the slight jut of his lower lip all pointed to his famous facial expression that got him virtually anything. And you were far from immune to it. So naturally, you leaned in for a kiss, knowing it was what he was begging for this time. 

And just like that, you were making out like two teenagers in the janitor closet. 

It was messy, teeth clashed and giggles interrupted the motions more than not. Dick bumped his head at least twice on the bar above him and you almost fell down on your ass if it hadn’t been from Dick holding you. Hands got grabby and before you knew it, the temptation to make articles of clothing fly like fireworks brought you back to reality. You reluctantly broke the kiss, still giggling as he definitely didn’t want to leave your lips just yet. He whined when he realized you weren’t coming back. 

“Hey, hold on cowboy” You chuckled, holding his shoulder. “If we keep going on like that, we’ll end up making a baby inside this closet”

The playful expression came back, along with a dash of flirting. His hand caressed your arm. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes” You deadpanned. “Because you would name the baby like, Songesand or something”

He gasped. “I would never name my child after Ikea furniture”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re not naming our baby Björn either”

He paused, caught in the headlights. You knew him so well he was becoming predictable. “But then how will people know he was conceived in swedish furniture?”

“You dork” You poked his chest, making the grin return on his face. “Obviously we let people know by having an ABBA reference in his middle name”

He laughed loudly, but you didn’t care whether or not you got caught. You were having too much fun. “Please marry me now”

“Sorry, already taken” You tsked, showing your ring. The one he put on your finger on your wedding day. “But he’s a cool guy, maybe I could talk to him about us seeing each other”

“Nah, he’s a jerk” He brushed off. “I’d rather have you all to myself”

He was about to kiss you again when you heard the lights going off. It was already dark in the closet, but there was no doubt, the main lights had been shut down. Your eyes widened as you stared at each other for a moment in surprise, until Dick grabbed his phone in his back pocket and checked the time. He turned the phone to you, letting you read the clock screaming 17:45 at you. 

“Uh oh” You bit your lip. Fifteen minutes after closing. “They’re closing already? Shouldn’t they do a check up before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe the employees got some places to be?”

“Who’s got places to be on a Tuesday night?”

“Nightwing?” 

“So the employees are all vigilantes?”

“Maybe, we can’t know for sure”

“Sure, okay. So we’re locked in?”

“Yup”

You took off your cap and sunglasses. “Guess we won’t need these anymore”

“Come on” He said as he also took off his semi disguise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about getting locked in an Ikea for the night?”

“I have actually” You pointed out. “It’s both my dream and my nightmare depending on who I’m there with”

“And I’m..?”

“Oh definitely nightmare” You replied in a serious tone, and his eyebrows raised. “Just kidding, being locked in here with you was on my bucket list”

“Attagirl!” He laughed, pushing open the closet like he realized you didn’t need to be hiding in there anymore. The store now had an eerie feeling, something on the other side of the vibe spectrum than it would usually be. It felt like you had crossed in another dimension narnia style. “This is gonna be fun”

“Where do we start?” You asked, stretching your legs. You had gotten a cramp from being all folded up in the closet. “Bathrooms? Living rooms?”

“Guards’ round” The mischief in his eyes returned, and just like that you were remembered you also would have to evade a guard. “We find out where he starts, how fast he makes his round, where he’s looking more carefully. Then we begin the cat and mouse game”

“Sounds like a plan” You nodded, then watched him perk up at something above your shoulder. 

He put a finger against his lips and stared down the hallway until you heard the shuffling of keys. How he managed to hear it long before you did would forever remain a mystery to you. In a blink, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun around behind the very wardrobe you were hiding in minutes ago. You put a hand against your mouth to hold back the giggle that threatened to reveal your presence, and it didn’t help that you could feel Dick’s grin on the skin of your neck. He only turned you around in his arms when he was sure the guard was far enough.

“All clear” He confirmed, a boyish expression gracing his features. Yup, you definitely felt like a teenager sneaking around where you shouldn’t. The thrill was a refreshing spin to your routine. “Where to?”

“Hmm” You hummed, tilting your head. “Cap on the living rooms?”

Without warning, he grabbed your hand and took off running in the opposite direction from the security guard and toward the beginning of the Ikea maze. You almost let out a squeal of surprise, but managed to keep it down for the sake of your stealth operation. He only slowed down once you reached the area, letting go of your hand to jump on a couch. He threw his arm over his head and adopted a dramatic pause.

“My love, thee life shall be intertwined withet mine for the ends of times”

“Oh my dearest Eleanor” You joined in, adopting a much lower tone to match his higher one. You kneeled in front of him. “I taketh the oath to love you forever”

“Even if my corset is not made of real lace?”

You gasped. “How could you lieth to me such way?”

Dick was about to reply something even stupider when you were interrupted.

“Who’s there?”

“Oh shit” You hissed, grabbing Dick’s wrist and sprinting away. You were just getting to the good part of your goofing. 

“The English, they’re invading!” He yelled loud enough to be sure the guard chasing you heard. “Ring the bell, wake the men, hide the tea!” 

“Hey come back!” The guard, well, a different one, chased after you. You didn’t plan on having two of them making rounds. “You can’t be here!”

“You’ll never take us alive!” You added before you took a shortcut through the living room appliances to try and gain ground, then glanced at Dick. “If you have any vigilante disappearance act, now would be the time honey”

“I’m trying to spot an exit point--oh there” 

You were yanked through an employees only zone, from where you easily found the door for the outside smoking zone. You could hear the security guard behind, but you were too fast. You came to a halt in front of the fence, hesitating. You were able to more or less follow Dick at a running pace, but you were in no way an acrobat or parkour expert. Dick, knowing this, didn’t waste time grabbing your waist and lifting you above it and jumping suit. You then ran straight back to Dick’s car and drove quickly out of the parking lot towards your home.

“Oh my god” You laughed in disbelief. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done”

He laughed heartily. “You’ve always wanted to see what patrol was like as Nightwing, this is as close as it gets without doing the real thing”

“I mean, beside the role play probably”

“Hmm no, it happens more often than you would think” He nodded. You kept staring at him for a moment, but he was serious. Well, after a small reflexion, and knowing his family, the surprise kind of fell apart. It made sense. 

“We should do this every week” You declared. “It was fun!”

“Told ya it would” He winked. 

“With all of this though,” You began, suddenly thoughtful. “We did forget the shower rack”

“And the candles!” He gasped. “Not the candles!”

[steve0discusses]

S4 Ep38: Awkward Hugs Episode

Remember how excited I was about the good storyboarder? Well this episode has the opposite of that. It looks a lot like they hit some sort of crunch and this entire episode got shipped to Singapore so that some other animation studio could deal with their problems. It’s got some jank.

And like listen, animation is hard, there’s a billion moving plates, there’s a lot of office politics and deadlines, this season in particular is very long and complicated, and I don’t know exactly what happened this episode, but it just...wow it’s a lot funny poorly animated moments and I was here for it.

So first off, Dartz died! I didn’t even cap it because it happened so quickly. He was standing there, a portal opened up, and then the Great Leviathan kind of munched him up in 3 frames of animation, and then dissolved away back into the portal. It was card shenanigans anyway, and I don’t go over card games here--just trust me he played cards, he lost, he died.

Once Dartz died, this happened, in the one place Roland thought he was safe.

Roland has spent a good amount of this time debating whether or not to go inside and now he’s got a situation. Is it safer in Soul Hut than...whatever this is?

I wouldn’t know either.

So he just decides to uh...look directly at it while everyone else deals with orb hell.

The three knights of Atlantis decide to revive the respective owners of their cards.

So Pegasus just has to sit back, relax, and find some other unsuspecting orb person to share his fanfiction deep cuts with.

PS, that was not an exaggeration on the lazy PowerPoint spiral-in transition--this episode was a marvel of “Oh crap we ran out of time!” last-ditch effort animation and I approve.

(read more under the cut)

And if you thought they were done being orbs now that we’re on a physical mortal plane--nah.

This is the closest Pharoah and Yugi have ever gotten to a physical hug. Just throwing it out there that this is the only time they’ve touched in any way as two separate entities. Also--I like that this is the same way Yugi holds his necklace when he’s talking to Pharaoh. Cute little parallel there.

And as I mentioned, there were a lot of people just hugging it out as if it’s the last episode of the season. First off, one of the most huggy people on this show, which I’m still surprised is the Kaibas.

(he did legitimately pretend to be asleep by the way, because as he was spiraling out of hell he was like “whaoooahahhh”)

So I guess if Mokuba, Tristan, and Tea woke up without being orbs first, then that really does mean they never died 2 episodes ago.

Fine. This is fine. I’ll append my headcanon.

...so Dartz really was just so tired of them that he decided to make them take a nap, huh? That Mokuba was so annoying he was just like “I’m turning them off ok? Not like OFF off, not killing them or anything, that would be rude--I just don’t like small one.”

Meanwhile Tea has a Yugi appreciation moment where she’s reunited with her very confusing relationship. Which is how she likes it best. Undefined in nearly every sort of way. A relationship made entirely out of subtext.

(and honestly, relationships made entirely out of subtext is like 75% of the teen dating experience, which I may have mentioned before, but I do not remember if I have because 2020 has wiped my memory of just so many things.)

I vocally, out-loud, went “Ahhhh!” at the screen because I FORGOT how big his eyes are. They are so wild usually, but with the animation B-team at the helm, I was just not ready for the eyes to return. Yugi’s eyes are just...an abomination in every way and I forget when I see them consistently. I get used to them, I get over it...But when I go an entire season without these hell eyes staring directly at me every five seconds, then it’s like I’ve seen them for the first time.

I’m glad he’s back but man his eyes.

Those eyes.

Anyway, on for some more awkward hugs. First off, Yugi’s visceral reaction to his pretty-much-a-wife-at-this-point giving him a...hug?

(she’s kneeling, by the way. Bro mentioned that it looks like she picked him up and held him entirely by the neck--that would have been great, and I would never doubt Tea’s strength, but she had the decency not to do that.)

And then to Yugi’s just overall confusion to whatever Joey Wheeler defines as a hug.

I am 5 feet 0 inches tall, much like Yugi, and can confirm that yes, some people do hug me like this.

This type of hug should be illegal, it’s very disorienting.

Then, Yugi got to do what he does best.

The FIRST THING he does from coming back from death is immediately hold back information. Mm. Yugi at his finest.

At the point that you’d assume that someone in this room would indicate that maybe this hell vortex is like...a situation...Roland comes in the room screaming for Kaiba to come outside and tell him what the hell to do with his life.

So they go outside and the city of Atlantis is popping out of the sea and flying directly into the air--which...sure, it doesn’t really go in the air usually...but I’ll take it.

And in case you’re like...wait, I thought Atlantis was in California, not in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, don’t worry, it’ll get even more confusing later on.

Also, this happened.

Most of the human race freakin died so like...not sure what we should be concerned about here. Gotta get that one last guy in Florida to board up his house, I guess.

I like that Tea is contractually obligated to beg Yugi to stay behind so she doesn’t have to live without him when...it’s like...Tea, your relationship is already a big ass question mark, and Yugi actually dying did not even mean you were living without him. He’s been around this whole season as Pharaoh, my dude. You have the only boyfriend who will not only never officially date you but will also officially never go away.

So like...earlier in the season it was mentioned that Florida had the pieces of Atlantis shoved in a museum so like...is Atlantis off of Florida now? Because the Battle of Atlantis was in the Bay Area, and Dartz lives in San Francisco, and they went on a helicopter and flew out to the sea so...

We GOTTA be in the Pacific, right?

Anyway, it could be that they’re worried it’ll hit the East Coast of Japan--which, yes--it would. That would also be way more pertinent to our cast of people who live in Japan, it’s just that if you’re doing a show in English that takes place in the USA and you say the “East Coast” it only means New York.

I don’t think the translation team got the memo, it was a very weird line.

Tea wishes Yugi luck instead of Pharaoh for once, and Yugi was like “I don’t know why you want to talk to me instead of the version of me with the fine ass.” and his confusion was kind of cute, but they didn’t actually go into any more deets than this.

Valon and Mai were almost making out with each other’s dead body like ten episodes ago, so maybe the team felt like they had enough practice to maybe almost approach something happening with their flagship couple? Almost.

But also...Yugi just has no idea that a few days ago Tea was trying to get Pharaoh to talk to her on a Caltrain by talking about wearing little swimsuits on a Florida beach date, and then Pharaoh got so upset he went to the tiny area between trains and started sobbing while punching a wall. Yugi doesn’t know this. I don’t think anyone will ever tell him.

And like...will anyone tell Yugi that Pharaoh woke up in Tea’s bed? Like no one, right? Like no one even knows that happened? The irony of how cautious Yugi is with this relationship after Pharaoh was just slicing and dicing for this entire season is great. It’s also probably unintentional, but I can still laugh at it.

Anyway, inside soul hut, Yugi got a little lost, and then his puzzle started glowing and brought him to the Macguffins from last season. Would have been really inconvenient if these got doused in the sea, honestly, and I don’t think the Ishtars would have appreciated it.

Also, this puzzle sensor would have been really, really useful in S2.

Meanwhile, I think Seto and Joey just stared at this glowy gate of hell thing being all “Do you know what this is, Kaiba? I was dead” and Kaiba being all “Hell if I know, I was also dead, I don’t know what this thing is.” And Joey being like “Well Yugi doesn’t know what it is, he was also dead.” and Kaiba being like “The only one of us alive was the dead guy who lives in Yugi’s imagination?”

And then Joey being like “Also, where the hell are we?”

So, frustrated that this obvious trap was simply too confounding, Dartz decides to explain to our dumb as hell cast what a “door” is.

Where we can then admire the sights of Atlantis! Which is mostly brick buildings and giant gates with snakes on them.

Also it would just be COVERED in dead fish but we’re gonna skip that and save it for what would be an extremely ill-fated Netflix live-action series that they will probably eventually make of Season 4. Netflix can’t help itself, you know it can’t. This is a spicy series. It would be terrible in gritty live action. Make it happen, Netflix.

I feel like the artist was trying desperately to fix Joey’s bangs and I feel that on an emotional level. We all want to fix Joey’s bangs. Why did they stop at Joey?

They find Dartz in some weird Gazebo which...OK. It was a whole lot of weird concept art that I didn’t cap because it’s like...nothing is terrifying about a Gazebo...

I straight up don’t understand Atlantis culture.

So, Dartz decided that he could just...use himself to raise the Great Leviathan. He had only one more soul he needed, and he was just as powerful as Yami--so lets just do it, lets just raise the snake!

MAN I just realized what a euphemism this season is.

Good job, Dartz.

Course this is how he spun his story to us, but he seemed pretty surprised when the Great Leviathan gobbled him up in the first 10 minutes of the episode.

But this is the story Dartz is sticking to. He, himself, will raise the Leviathan, himself, and he is very happy with his decision that he made all by himself. I mean, Dartz has been alive for 10,000 years, and maybe he got bored of immortality.

Dartz could have done this from day 1.

What’s up, Sephiroth? Nice little uh final fantasy thing we’re doing with this lizard’s face. I really can’t unsee these uneven man boobs (like what is that angle?) but it’s fine. Dartz doesn’t need hands or...legs...he’s a dragon now, like he can just bite stuff and fly around and stuff. Can’t be that bad.

But for reals, what is the dragon’s angle here?

what is it gonna DO?

Like after everyone’s dead. Is it just gonna...float around? Fly around outer space? Enjoy the sunrise?

Like what do dragons...DO?

Anyway, I’m sure we’ll never get the answer on why the Leviathan wanted to leave the core of the Earth so stinkin bad, but maybe--just maybe--this season might actually end next episode? Maybe?

Will I actually finish this season in 2020! I might! Y’all I MIGHT!

And for anyone reading these for the first time, here’s a link to read these in chrono order

[dearest-bucky]

That don’t impress me much (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sometimes fancy dates with fancy people and fancy flowers are not enough to make someone fall in love.

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: none for this one really, just cuteness hihi

A/N: This is loosely inspired by the song with the same title by Shania Twain. I really hope you like it. 

A/n 2: One or two days before my old blog got deleted I got an anonymous request that was in the kind of in the same lines of this story but I will still write it because I will mix it with something else to create a different story. Okay so this was just a reminder for the anon (who probably doesn’t even follow me here lol) that I haven’t forgotten their request and I will have it posted right after I’m finished reposting all my old stories. 

Originally posted: February 27, 2020

“Okay Dad America, he’s here so I got to head out.” She pecked Steve’s cheek lightly, leaving a pinkish mark of lipstick in his skin and headed out of the compound.

“Don’t wait up for me.” She jokingly called behind her shoulder and then she was out of the door.

Steve and Natasha chuckled in unison at her antics, meanwhile Bucky who was pretending to be invested in his book, huffed in annoyance.

She looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a navy blue long sleeved dress and black sandals. Her make up was as always on fleek and she was ready to make any man in New York fall in love with her.

It was yet another date for her, they were becoming a recurring thing lately and Bucky absolutely hated seeing her dressed up to the nines and  leaving with another man that wasn’t him. Despite his annoyance, he was trying to keep the focus on his book, but miserably failing anyway.

“You know you could always ask her out and then you won’t have to see her run off to another man’s arms.” Natasha stated matter of fact.

Bucky just rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“She’s right Buck.” It was Steve’s turn to speak.

This time the brunet closed his book in annoyance and got up from his spot on the couch.

“Like you two know anything…” His words were out in a mumbling voice all the while he was walking out of the common room, more than relieved to be out of the overwhelming presence of the Black Widow and his punk best friend.

Of course he hated seeing y/n go out on these dates, and he absolutely hated all the guys she dated. They were all too sophisticated and rich and they smelled like money from far away. The good thing was that y/n never liked any of them that much as to offer them a second date, but for how long? Bucky was sure someone would soon come along and steal her heart if he didn’t do something about it, but how could he tell her he had feelings for her? How could he compare to any of those other guys?

Sure, being an Avenger and living in the compound meant Tony was always stuffing their bank accounts, but Bucky felt like he couldn’t even get to the level of those guys, not only financially, but also emotionally. He could never offer y/n what they could. He could never make her happy like one of them could. And that’s why he kept his mouth shut.

*

Another failed date. Y/n realized it as soon as she entered her date’s car. He handed her a big bouquet of red roses, that was way too exaggerated for her liking and kissed her cheek lightly.

She smiled but she couldn’t help feeling she was just wasting her time.

Men always went out of their way with surprises and gifts, like pearly jewelry or in this case overly expensive bouquets of roses, thinking she would appreciate the materials and fall for them or something. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get a normal date. Possibly one with a certain handsome broody super soldier.

She kept going on these dates with these men trying to make Bucky jealous, desperately hoping he would say something, but she never got a reaction from him. Maybe he just didn’t like her that way.

Maybe all of her attempts to get his attention hadn’t worked.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat by the unpleasant thoughts and smiled sweetly at her date. She had to at least look like she was having a good time.

The ride to the restaurant was short and she was thankful for that. But when they set foot inside the place, y/n immediately felt suffocated by the stuffy atmosphere. That place screamed expensive, with the crystal chandeliers and porcelain plates.

While she enjoyed the nice food and everything, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the possibility of Bucky being with her there. Maybe they wouldn’t be there at all anyway. She knew how much Bucky hated the crowded places and she knew she would enjoy being with him anywhere, it didn’t matter how classy or expensive the place was.

“So I’m hoping next time we could escape for a whole weekend in my cabin in Vermont.” Mark was already making plans for a second date and y/n couldn’t wait for this first one to be over. He was so sure in himself it made y/n laugh at his face.

“I’ll let you know if I’m free.” She replied politely, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude with him.

They skipped desserts after y/n pretended she wasn’t feeling all that well and he drove her back to the compound again. When he stopped the car outside the building, he got close to y/n, trying to get a kiss from her, but at the last moment she shifted her face and his lips met her cheek.

Mark sighed quietly but smiled nonetheless.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a good time.” Y/n spoke almost too quickly, wanting this to be over already. “Good night.” With a small smile she opened the door of the car and got off.

“Don’t forget the flowers.” Mark called after her animatedly.

She turned around and picked the heavy bouquet. “Sure, we don’t want to forget the flowers.” The words were hushed out under her breath and she bid him good night for the second time before going inside.

It was only a couple minutes past ten, so she was surprised to see that nobody was in the common areas. She entered the dark kitchen with a sigh and put the bouquet on the counter, then headed to the fridge to get a frozen yogurt.

Only when the light of the refrigerator illuminated the place, did she notice a silhouette sitting unmoving in one of the armchairs, head hanging low.

Y/n gasped loudly, despite being an Avenger she was scared easily and immediately turned the light on, seeing Bucky sleeping uncomfortably in the chair.

He woke up by the noise she made and locked eyes with her.

“Hey, you’re home early.” He said after checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling too great.”

Bucky’s eyes averted from her face to the giant bouquet of red roses and he shook his head slightly. “That’s a really big bouquet.”

Y/n chuckled, not totally calm yet.

“Yeah, I thought that too.”

They stared at each other’s eyes for a little too long for y/n’s liking. Bucky made her feel nervous and every time he looked into her eyes it seemed as if he was able to read her every secret thought.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to compose herself, before talking to him again.

“So where is everyone else?”

“Steve and Sam got called on a mission. Tony is in his lab with Bruce and Vision. And the girls went out for drinks I think.”

Y/n felt a little bad for Bucky being left alone. No matter how much time passed he still wouldn’t be 100% comfortable around Tony and vice versa, so with every person left in the compound being with him, Bucky felt like he should just step away.

“We can watch a movie together if you want?” She offered without really thinking.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her words, and she took that for having stepped a boundary or something, so she quickly added “If you don’t want to go back to sleep that is, or if you just don’t want then that’s okay too. I just meant that it’s just us…”

She started rambling and she wouldn’t be stopping any time soon if it wasn’t for Bucky interrupting her.

“I would love to watch a movie with you, y/n.”

She blushed at his words and then nodded her head.

“Okay, great! Just give me ten minutes to get out of this dress and into some comfy pjs and I’ll be right back. You can pick a movie if you like.”

With that she got in the elevator, heading to her bedroom.

Bucky didn’t know what movie to choose, so he figured he would just wait for her to pick one. It was a little less than 10 minutes later when she re-entered in the kitchen, this time without any trace of make up in her face, her previously beachy curls gathered in a messy bun and wearing a cute pajama with little elephants imprinted on it.

Bucky thought she never looked more adorable.

“So, you picked a movie yet?”

“No, I figured you could do that.”

She scrolled down on Netflix to find some good movie, before deciding to watch Clueless. It was a light choice, funny, cute and she always thought that Josh was too cute and he and Cher were so good together.

They sat on the love seat, a blanket thrown casually on their laps and started the movie. It was a good one, a chick flick but Bucky liked it nonetheless.

He was focused on the storyline when around the middle of the movie he felt y/n’s weight on his left shoulder. He tensed a little, but relaxed again just as soon after, because it was y/n, and he loved having her near him. Besides she was never scared or repulsed by his metal arm.

Not long after her, he felt his eyes closing too and they were both fast asleep next to each other.

*

In the morning y/n was the first to wake up, feeling her cheeks flushing with embarrassment when she realized she had fallen asleep on Bucky.

Being tucked close to his chest, his head was resting on top of hers, and she could her his deep breaths. He was still soundly sleeping. Y/n didn’t know what to do, if she moved she would wake him up, but if she didn’t the other members of the team would see them cuddling on the couch and she didn’t want to hear their teasing.

She tried to carefully free herself from Bucky’s arms but his grip tightened unconsciously and she huffed out a short breath.

Bucky started stirring in his sleep and she could sense him waking up.

“Good morning.” He rasped out and oh god, his sleepy voice was the sexiest sound she had ever heard. She slapped herself mentally and tried to keep her thoughts in check.

“Morning Buck. I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”

“I don’t mind.” He replied, now being fully awake.

She smiled sweetly at him and didn’t know what to say. In that moment her phone chimed and she picked it up to read the new incoming message.

Mark: Good morning. :) Would you like going on a breakfast date with me?

She sighed upon reading the message. Bucky who couldn’t stop his eyes from  stealing a quick glance at her phone screen stiffened visibly and started retreating his body from hers.

“I suppose you have somewhere to go..” his voice faltered at the end of the sentence.

Y/n put her phone down and turned to look at Bucky. “Not unless you want me to stay here.”

“Doll I-”

“Should I stay?” Her interruption surprised him. She looked like she was almost pleading him to ask her to stay.

“Do you want to stay?” He asked unsure, not knowing how to answer to her question, actually fearing he would answer the wrong thing.

“Very much.” She didn’t even hesitate to give him that answer. “I am tired of going out on dates with guys that aren’t you.”

Before she could loose that boost of confidence she had no idea where came from, she continued speaking, her voice carrying all the feelings she was trying to communicate to him.

“I am tired of carrying these heavy exaggerated bouquets every other night and I am tired of having to be polite to my dates and refusing their expensive gifts and their second dates requests.”

Bucky eyes widened with every word leaving her mouth, but he didn’t dare interrupt her.

“I don’t want to put myself through the same useless process of dating people I know I won’t give a chance because I have my eyes on someone else. And I don’t want to wait anymore to tell you this, I really like you Bucky. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because-”

He didn’t let her speak anymore, pressing his lips softly to hers. Her breath hitched when he kissed her, but she wasn’t planning on turning him down. With newfound eager she reciprocated his kiss and he was all too happy to keep tasting her.

Too soon for her liking anyway, he broke it off and rested her forehead against hers.

“I really like you too sweetheart.” He whispered near her lips and she couldn’t hide the smile that spread on her face.

“But I can’t compare to those other guys. I can’t offer you expensive jewelry or fancy crowded restaurants dates and I-”

She pecked his lips for a second, just to get him to stop, before she distanced herself from him, but never going too far.

Her hands went to cup his cheeks while she locked her eyes with his.

“None of that impresses me. You know I don’t care about any of it. I had the best date with you last night, just watching a movie and sleeping next to you.” Her voice was sweet and honest and Bucky didn’t have any other choice but to believe her.

He covered her hands that were still resting on his face with his and smiled  lovingly at her.

“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, you know that?”

[dragonrebelrose]

TROS Reaction 12-20-19. AKA my 6 page long dissertation about why I really disliked TROS.

I didn’t think it would be this bad. I truly thought there would be some gleaming moments of redeemability, but no. It’s one...giant...shit-show. What a horrible blow to the end of not only the sequel trilogy and these characters but to everything that came before. It really takes skill to mess up this badly.

A little something nice though, was the guy I sat next to. Really nice (and cute too ^-^ ) and he offered me some of his candy (Buncha Crunch! My favorite!) before the film started and then throughout the film because he said, “Well this is consolation for having to sit next to me.” Aw I couldn’t have asked for a better seat partner, I didn’t even know him! And then when the film ended he knew I didn’t take it well and I cried and shook through many moments and he offered the rest of his candy and I said, “Thanks, I think I need it.” I asked him what he thought overall and he said, “C-3P0 was pretty funny.” I said, “Yeah I agree. I actually knew everything that happened before I saw it, and I thought it was a mess.” He chuckled and said, “Me too, but I didn’t want to say anything in case you liked it.” I said, “Oh, no, I didn’t really like it. But I gotta be honest, Ben Solo didn’t deserve to die. That’s just my opinion.” I think he was surprised by that but didn’t disagree. He just kinda nodded or something and then we said goodbye and he left with his buddies, who also seemed pretty unenthused by the whole movie. Hopefully I gave him something to think about with my comment, but he was really nice and I’m glad he sat next to me.

Pessimism aside for now, I’ll start by listing the things I liked. I gotta be honest, there’s not much here.

Reylo is canon! But, in my opinion, it was handled pretty badly. Ben’s death is only the start of the problems for it, but more on that later.

C-3P0 is funny I guess. Yes he is annoying sometimes like usual, but not more so than other times.

D-O is freaking adorable. Out of everything good I’ve listed I have no qualms with this one. His manner is cute, his speaking is very funny, and his actions are just precious.

Babu Frik is very cute too, just perfect! Lovely little puppet! Don’t know why he was shoehorned in at the end battle but whatever. We never saw him again.

Maz is a puppet now? Okay, cool. Wish that would’ve been the case since the beginning. You had the technology JJ.

The music is good, when it’s given its own time to shine and be noticed. I feel like I barely noticed it was there because sound effects just drowned it out. Really wasted, but still good nonetheless.

Leia’s death and how it affected Ben. Wow. This was the first moment I truly cried. This was handled very well by Adam Driver, and then Maz saying “Goodbye, Princess.” Ouch, that got me.

Ben talking to the memory of his father! This is something I did not know was in the movie and boy am I glad I wasn’t spoiled for it! THIS is where the really hard tears and sobbing came. I was literally shaking and shivering trying to keep it in so as not to disturb everyone else. This. Part. Was. Perfect. Ben looks at him like he wants to say “I love you,” and Han says out loud “I know.” *crazy screaming and crying* Out of all the things they got wrong for Ben in this film, THIS they got right!

Ben Solo is the Solo boy we always wanted. Running in with a t-shirt, gun slinging, blasting opponents without even looking. THIS is a true son of Solo! But of course they give him no lines except “Ow.” THAT was a bad idea.

And that’s it. Yes those are the only things I even remotely liked, but I have to be honest, each one of these has some kind of problem attached to it which sours the real enjoyment.

On to what I disliked. Strap in lads, this is going to be a long ride.

1. The pacing. OH. MY. GOSH. SLOW. THE. FUCK. DOWN. For fucks sake I couldn’t even process what the hell was happening before we were on to the next thing! This was the biggest problem with the movie, BY FAR. Yes I know the story is terrible, we’ll get to that, but the pacing just completely took me out of the movie. I couldn’t feel invested in anything because it was all in one ear and out the other like ten-fold!

And this is part of the issue I have with how Reylo was handled. It. Felt. So. Rushed. And. Unfinished. There weren’t enough scenes with them and the scenes we did get were so fast and then over with that it felt like no progress was being made at all! It felt, for lack of a better word, unearned. And I know, that’s not really the case since they’ve had plenty of build-up in the last 2 films, but there wasn’t enough time with them spent NOT fighting and hating each other and opposing each other. Yes, I know, Kylo kept trying to get Rey to take his hand, but it doesn’t feel genuine because even Kylo feels out of character, and Rey too, big time. Now this isn’t the actor’s faults, they did what they could with the shitty story they were given, so I put all this blame at JJ’s desk.

In any case the overall film pacing was too fast, too much, too soon, too many things onscreen, too many things happening at once, not enough character, not enough motivation, not enough letting scenes breathe and just play out naturally. Everything felt forced for the sake of the “plot.” Oh we gotta get this thing, and then that thing, to get this thing, so we can defeat these guys! LET. US. BREATHE.

2. The story. My gosh, they couldn’t have picked a worse storyline to follow. Everything truly felt like it was written by a fanboy who wanted to retcon everything in TLJ, even down to the dialogue. Everyone keeps saying to Rey “You’re a Palpatine.” But it sounds SO strange, like nobody says things like this. I get it, it’s a space fantasy, they talk weird mumbo jumbo but it just sounds like a fanboy ghost wrote this. Like we gotta have everyone know now she’s a Palpatine! You’re a Palpatine! You’re a Palpatine! Palpatine heir! All bow down to the Palpatine! Give me a break.

3. Yeah, let’s talk about Palps. The old raisin himself. You know, I never really liked ROTS, but Palps was always a great thing about it. He was sinister, diabolical, he had a plan and knew what to do with it. But this Palps. *le heavy sigh* What a waste this was. For one thing, the lightning effects that lights up his face is really annoying, even for someone who doesn’t get seizures, I can’t even imagine what it’s like for those who do, I’m so sorry. And like, he has this whole legion of Sith followers? The fuck? Where the hell were these guys before? I’m sure they existed BEFORE the last Sith Lord died, right?

I digress. I have a question though: why does he want Rey so much? Why didn’t he try to get his son to take over? Wouldn’t that have been easier? Also, WHO DID HE FUCK TO GET A SON?? HOW DID HIS SON GET AWAY FROM HIM?? WHY DID HIS SON APPARENTLY TURN TO THE LIGHT?? THERE’S TOO MANY QUESTIONS HERE AND NO GOOD EXPLANATIONS. AND NO DISNEY, I DON’T WANT A 10-PART COMIC ON THIS. GO FUCK YOURSELVES.

The only interesting thing about Palps in this film is that his face gets melted off like a Raiders of the Lost Ark knock-off. He better not be coming back. Ever again.

4. And hey, while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about Rey’s parents. So apparently they’re both good people. *le sigh* But what kind of good people leave their daughter alone on a harsh and unforgiving planet with a blubber guy? And don’t tell me they didn’t know he was an abusive asshole, they LIVED on Jakku, they HAD to have known him, ESPECIALLY if they truly were junk traders, they would have DEALT with him. Oh, and apparently the “I’ll come back for you sweetheart, I promise” line is changed up a bit and given to her father after all. No. Screw that. That line was meant for Ben, I don’t care how petty this sounds, this is terrible. So yeah, fuck Rey’s parents, I don’t care how “good” you try to make their intentions, they’re badly shoehorned in and they screw up anyway. Next.

5. Ben’s story and his fate. So yeah, obviously I hate that Ben died, but more than that I hate how his story was handled here. It was so rushed, it didn’t feel as natural as it should have. It needed time to BREATHE. A lot of time! And I feel like they really shafted Kylo/Ben’s story off to the side to give more time to the hereby named GoldenTrio. (You know who I mean...we’ll get to them.) It really seemed like JJ didn’t even care about Ben’s fate anymore, and just kind of put it in as an afterthought. His death scene? Not even given a fucking minute to process because WE GOT TO PARTAY. All in all, his whole story is so terribly sad that I don’t even know if I can watch TFA or TLJ anymore, knowing how it ends.

6. The GoldenTrio. Oh for fucks sake, JJ, you should have killed Poe off when you had the chance, because now the story is all about THEM. Boom! They’re literally front and center in the movie. I don’t even think Reylo gets as much screen time as them. I mean really, Ben’s death scene and Rey’s grieving gets 1.5 minutes, tops. GoldenTrio reunion and threesome hugging? 5 fucking minutes of nothing but them hugging. I’m not even exaggerating. (Okay maybe I am, but it’s given more focus and time to “breathe” than Ben Solo’s fucking death. I’m getting a headache remembering it.)

Hey, remember in ESB and ROTJ where the trio got split up and had their own story lines and own purposes to fulfill without each other hanging around (apart from Han and Leia because their story lines are interconnected)? Yeah, I miss that too.

Also, Rey keeps wandering off being “pulled” to something, and every...single...time, Finn is like “Rey, wait! Poe we gotta get her! rEy CoMe BaCk!!” This happens at least 5 times, pretty consecutively too. It gets old real fast. Boy do I miss the days of TLJ where people got to be away from each other to discover new things without interference.

Which leads me to another point: They tried to shove FinnRey in here while shitting on FinnRose quite literally. What. A. Slap. To. The. Face. This is horrible treatment, and I hope Kelly will never do another interview for Lucasfilm again. She doesn’t deserve this.

7. The Ending™. Wow. What a way to show that your characters haven’t progressed at all by showing them in the same environment that they started in. Let’s do an overview: Rey starts out alone on a desert planet and meets a droid that isn’t hers. Rey ends up alone on a desert planet with a droid that still isn’t hers. PROGRESSION 101!! *slaps forehead* I mean, don’t even get me started on the fact that Ben isn’t there with her and that literally one half of her soul is gone (how is she not in agony right now??), but then to add more salt to the wound she’s just like “oh yeah I must be the rightful successor to the Skywalker name, even tho I’m a Palps...makes sense to me!” Fuck off. You don’t deserve that title after hating Luke for not doing what you wanted him to do and for hating Ben for most of this movie too.

Can we also acknowledge that this is THE ABSOLUTE WORST POSSIBLE WAY TO END A 40 YEAR SAGA AND FAMILY LEGACY? So, Palps had a kid who had a kid. This kid is then deemed a-okay by the family that was affected most by Palps and they welcome her like the sunshine child she is, yet shun their own offspring for being damaged goods because he was being manipulated by said Palps. Okay, it’s official now, everyone’s an asshole...except Ben. He seemed to be the only one to understand his faults and right his wrongs and not be an idiot. Then the kid who was abused and manipulated is killed because “reasons” or “problematic” or whatever and the offspring of Palps lives while the family that Palps manipulated is ultimately gone forever because it’s last descendant wanted to save the offspring of Palps out of the goodness of his heart. Now the offspring of Palps doesn’t even give a flipping thank you and steals their name. wHaT a SaTiSfYiNg EnDiNg!!! Someone gag me.

8. Luke’s X-Wing being raised out of the water and it’s in perfect working condition. What. The. Fuck. I don’t know if you guys realize this, but this completely undermines Luke’s arc in TLJ. That X-Wing was sunk and dead to show that he had no desire to return to the outside world. He was staying on the island. For good. And he buried that thing in water to make sure he couldn’t use it ever again, but it was still visible to him to remind him of his conviction if ever he questioned it. But no. That thing is a-okay and ready to fly. No need for parts, there’s no rust or any sea salt corrosion, ready to go skipper! This was just added for easy call-backs to ESB but boy this had absolutely 0 weight to it. I literally yawned or looked at my watch around this part thinking “oh my gosh isn’t it over yet?” Pretty much sums up my entire experience.

9. Rose got shafted to appease the fanboys. This one needs no further explanation or analysis, it just sucks and has no real reason to exist.

10. Luke was barely in it and offered not that great advice. Poor Mark. His performance really peaked with TLJ and never went back up.

11. Rey is suddenly the Avatar now? You can now talk to all previous Jedi’s who existed? What buffoonery is this? Oh, but Ben doesn’t get a single. fucking. word. from Anakin, the man he looked up to. I’m so tired right now. What’s left?

12. The message changed from “it doesn’t matter if you’re a nobody, you’re a somebody to me” to “you’re a somebody with a bad bloodline, but that doesn’t define you (except when it totally does)”. That sort of message would be fine if it had been the message since TFA, but it wasn’t. The message since TFA was “I’m a nobody, but I can become a somebody regardless of my lineage or my childhood.” Why change the message in the 11th hour? To appease fanboys. Literally anything that makes no sense in this movie can be attributed to fanboys. There’s so much contradiction and hypocrisy in this film from both the narrative and the characters that it’s insulting.

13. Hux was utterly shafted too. What a waste of a well built up and conniving little bastard who in the end gets shot for shock value and laughs. It’s like what TLJ did but way worse because he’s actually killed. Hux as the spy? Just no.

14. Jannah was kind of wasted too, not enough screen time. I get her and Finn kind of bonding over being ex-stormtroopers, but it’s not really delved into. Also the whole “nature vs. machinery” thing kinda briefly shows up at the big battle and feels unearned too, because there was nothing before in this movie or others to suggest there was a war between the two.

15. Poe is treated more as the heir to Leia than Ben is. Poe gets to fly the falcon and gets to wreck it up (dishonoring who it belonged to before), gets to be by Leia’s deathbed, etc. Not earned at all.

16. The pointlessness of random cameos or thrown in references. Not a single person in my theater noticed John Williams as the bartender, nobody pointed out or said anything about any reference from previous movies, it was silent.

17. What the hell was even the point of the whole “Dark Rey” vision? Oh, she shows her scary pointy teeth ala Bilbo style. No thank you.

18. Why the hell does it feel like these characters aren’t the characters from TFA and TLJ? They feel so different and it’s noticeable.

19. Finn is Force sensitive. Literally tacked on like nobody wouldn’t notice. We noticed JJ. We notice everything.

20. Rey and Kylo/Ben fighting for way too much of the film and their interactions. Not enough caring or understanding, not enough longing looks, it feels like their romance was almost cut from the film entirely.

21. Oh yeah, Rey floating at the beginning? Looked stupid as hell. And the “Be with me” line? I thought maybe, just maybe, she meant Ben, but no. She’s trying to reach “her past selves” like the fucking Avatar and she’s even floating rocks around like Aang did. Ugh.

22. Anything else? Oh yeah, this movie sucks completely and wholly...FOR NOT GIVING ONE FUCKING LINE OF DIALOGUE TO BEN SOLO AFTER HE HAD BEEN REDEEMED. HOW HEARTLESS CAN YOU BE THAT YOU LET HIM DIE WITHOUT SAYING ONE FINAL THING?!?! DAMN J.J. YOU’RE STUPID.

And that’s it. Kudos if you read the whole thing. I ramble a lot.

[nasty-b]

No longer new at all

A Reader x Feitan Fanfic

Warnings: Non-con, Graphic, Abuse, Mindfuck

Heed the fucking tags folks

Requested by @bananaprincess0

Feitan wants to go ‘home’. Phinks has been riding his asshole this whole time about the last mission not going as planned when it wasn’t even his fault. It was probably everyone's fault but his. Did that matter? Apparently not, because he’s still sitting here and listening to the blonde chew his ass out for reasons he’s completely unaware of. He might as well just leave, it’s not like they’re going to solve whatever grudge is going around with this ‘conversation’. More like a one sided argument really.“Ey- Ey! Fucking pay attention when I’m speaking to you-“

Feitan continues to tune the other out and look to the side to watch the clouds roll past on the giant canvas that is the sky. Mhh.. he got more poetic. He supposes she rubbed off on him. It almost makes him giddy to think about them two rubbing off on each other.. The short man is faintly wondering what she was up to while he was standing here like an idiot and let Phinks yell at him. Maybe the h/c haired woman was making use of the toys he got her. Some gaming consoles and all for good behavior. He made sure to continue to use the ‘good behavior gets rewards’ tactics and it had worked wonders.

In almost any region at least. She was still repulsed by him touching her in any sort of manner, which was fairly understandable, but not an issue for him personally. Feitan did his remote best to not completely tear his woman apart but sometimes just watching her struggle made him tent his pants.. so maybe, he’s not admitting it but maybe.. he sometimes had a bit of a deathgrip on the woman on purpose to encourage a bit of wiggling. His mood sours at the faint realization that it’s his own fucking fault that she’d flinch every time he touches her. Maybe one day he’ll be able to remedy it, buy her with enough rewards. By now she’d know he’d never actually kill her but hurt her? Feitan’s still very open with that notion.

First week she tried to piss off and he broke both her legs in retaliation. That.. left an impression. After that y/n never tried to run away again but it also made any sort of interaction extremely unreal and fake. She smiled at him but it wasn’t real. She did it because he told her to and that made him only angrier. The man closed his eyes and frowned, his lip pulling tight as he tried to figure out why the woman was being so difficult. It’s as if she was retarded. Feitan could give her literally anything she’d want and here they were, playing cat and mouse because she’d rather cling to a life that didn’t appreciate her-

Then again. First time they met he did kick her in the stomach for no actual reason and more because he had the urge to.. Maybe that’s where he really missed it? The man sighed. Phinks wasn’t getting the program, he’s still talking and Feitan’s out of patience. Maybe leaving was going to be the best action here, if he had to sit through hours of this he’d rather do this later when his mood was better. Right now he’s really lacking the patience for this. Y/n was all alone too, he’d rather spend some time with her. Frankly, Feitan can stand letting off some stress. Heh.. His eyes open as he thought about the primal urge he felt going through his spine.. Oh yeah. He’s getting some ideas.

Whatever, Feitan tensed his legs and stood up finally, to his not extremely impressive height. Phinks gave him a sour look and they ended up staring at each other for a moment. Don’t antagonize him, he’ll only- “I wasn’t listening.” Great job. Phinks goes red like he was about to turn into a lobster but before he can blow up again, Feitan turned his body away and just left the situation all together. He’s ignoring the yelling behind him, the blonde knows well enough to not grab Feitan from the behind. That was like asking for an actual battle. He’s not in the mood for one right now, more into a mood of putting his cock into his girlfriend. Girlfriend. He makes a face at the word. That’s not what she is.

She’s more like.. his woman? Kind of, well not emotionally and not mentally either, they were way too off for that. More of a physical ownership. Not that it mattered, he’d get there eventually. Once he got back to her, he’d just beat it into her. Repeatedly.

She wasn’t bleeding anymore at least. Only the first few times, afterwards it was like her body just grew used to him. Frankly, she felt like a perfect mold around his cock. It’s probably not what she felt like though, seeing her sob and choke in despair as she just looked at him like she had learned the hard way how to do. If she didn’t he usually reprimated her. It was a steep learning slope, but they were slowly getting to a point where she didn’t cry as much. At first she usually would be in visible pain, now it ebbed off to just discomfort.

Feitan made sure she wasn’t in pain anymore. Y/N just loved to make a drama out of it because she was still unused to him. It hadn’t been that long that he’d expect her to realize how good she was going to have it yet. This was a long, wearing process of taming a wild rabbit. Sure, it thought freedom was the way of life but that’s because it didn’t know the comfort of a captivity in luxury and safety. She’s complaining that he’s hurting her, he knows he’s not. Take it from someone who hurt people a lot during his lifetime, he was pretty good at telling when someone was in pain and when someone was just exaggerating. Case in point, when he pulled back and then jerked his hip a bit upwards to slam as deep into her as he could he got a weak gasp instead.

His eyebrow twitches at the sound. It had been happening the past few times, once she had healed from their first time and he made sure to not tear her again. Feitan put a little effort into pleasing her sometimes and, while it was a normal biological reaction that she had little control over, it sometimes did manage to rile her up slightly. Not by much, the woman herself had never cummed while they were together. Mostly because Feitan didn’t care if she did. He tried to give her one at some point but she fought it so violently that he saw it reasonable to let her keep this for herself for now.

Eventually she’d give it to him willingly anyway. He tilts his head at her, slowly reaching up and grabbing her in a mock-gentle fashion by the side of her face and giving her horrified expression a warm and inviting smile as he slowed his pace and just began gently rocking into her. She was flushed and sweat, her h/c hair sticking to her half dressed body. She’s wearing a shirt, because he was not feeling touchy today. Maybe he’d feel it next time. “Even you should start getting bored of your temper tantrums.” They’re not tantrums. They’re realistic reactions to someone raping you but a good opportunity to scrutinize her and make it a huge lesser deal than it was.

It wasn’t that he was dumb enough to think her reactions were overdone, he knew they were valid in the face of what he was doing to her, but if he told her long enough that she was just being dramatic, eventually, whether she knew better or not, she’d feel like it too. The wonders of human mentality. Some people were stronger in that regard than others. Y/n? Not exactly a strong person altogether, the woman was so sensitive to pain just the threat of breaking a finger had her in almost hysterics. Considering she was a civilian that grew up in a normal environment, not that much of a surprise. The woman isn’t answering him. She knew better, unless she agreed with him being silent was her best option.

Feitan didn’t take protest well, in fact, he didn’t take it at all. The man felt his cock twitch when her walls clamped down on him in reflex and he closed his eyes for a bit, just relishing in the sensation. Work had been hard.. (No it hadn’t.) He deserved a break. Deserved some pampering, some indulging in his needs. It’s what he tells himself even though he knew that by moral standards he deserved nothing but a rope around the neck. Good for him that he didn’t care about morals. The need to listen to his had stopped long ago. Feitan pressed his slim body against her and exhaled, she’s shivering, trembling and just biting back wails. She won’t get used to this fast.

He’ll have to keep it up, otherwise this might take forever. Not that he didn’t have the time, or patience. He could muster it if he tried hard enough.