#esp when he's nervous

[mieczy-stiles]

Paris + that thing he does around his scar

[akkivee]

the pivotal points in bat’s past 🤔

kuukou

age ????- his best friend moved away

age 14: attained a higher level of asceticism than his father, met hitoya who helped clear an assault charge on some good will that went awry

age 15: left home to flex his talent, got humbled quick lol but met ichiro and vowed to grow stronger

jyushi:

age ???? (presumably 6)- received amanda from his grandmother

age 13- started middle school where he ‘befriends’ iyogi

age 14- has been a victim of bullying for a year and the bullying escalated to the point his grandmother was killed. met hitoya who made sure iyogi ain’t seeing the light ever again and a little later helped jyushi find the will to keep living

hitoya

age 14- loses his brother

age 23- upon receiving a tip, he decided to change majors from being a doctor to a lawyer in order to jail the guy that bullied his brother. broke up with jakurai after a disagreement

age 31- meets kuukou and jyushi for the first time and we see the fruits of his lawyer efforts

[ratatatastic]

no im still on maffhew calling the forsymaffhew lovechild a missile

[faerynova]

Hey, 🥝 of the queue system here again! I'm sorry if I'm clogging up your ask box here, but im pretty sure my previous ask got eaten. Anyways- I was wondering when exactly raph's OSDD came to light?

Hope you're good ^^

it didnt get eaten its in my drafts with like 5 paragraphs of nonsense sldkjfsdk

dw tho youre not a bother i love getting asks and talking about my fics. it can just take me like a while to respond if its something i have to actually think about

honestly im still figuring out details!! its not relevant to connective tissue (the big fic im working on w my friend) so its not super high priority, but im dipping my toes in a raph backstory oneshot to explore his whole everything

uhhh rambly under the cut!!

i think hes like 11 or 12 when he figures out hes a system. but also i think that he pretty consistently heard and even talked to mind raph for years and just assumed that like... he has a very animated inner monologue (donnie's words, not raph's). mind didnt see any need to say anything otherwise because it kept the system functional

tbh all the boys are so weird in their own ways that raph's weird stuff (garbage memory, "mood swings", hardcore zoning out, randomly going nonverbal, talking to himself) is hardly a blip on anyone's radar so he didnt really think about it either (raph is also autistic you'll pry it from my cold dead hands so theres another reason he just didnt second guess anything)

i think what tips raph off eventually is the memory stuff. if he forgets something, or blanks out a whole day, then why can mind raph remember and give him tips and reminders for things? he shouldnt know things that raph doesnt.

basically: slow realization, nothing sudden or alarming. unnerving yeah but on raphs end it gets worked out through communication w mind raph and then the rest of the system. and from there honestly he IMMEDIATELY tells the rest of his family that hes got other people in his head. that part im sure of. the collective doesnt hesitate with telling everyone else

its a lot of confusion and antics with splinter being halfway convinced raph is possessed (absolutely nothing bad comes from it. splinter just doesnt know what the fuck osdd is and he knows magic is real so like. reasonable assumption on his end), and then its april to the rescue because her dad is a psychologist and she can be like hey this thing has a name actually and ive got info from a ~professional~

reactions vary--splinter has some v e r y complicated emotions. donnie and leo both get a bit overbearing/invasive asking raph all sorts of questions about his system and april is beating them back with a stick. mikey is mildly confused but is having a blast getting to meet the rest of the collective properly. everyone gets to figure stuff out together from there

[fiendishartist2]

eaten from the core and out to the skin– mp100

Reigen strutted through the halls of Salt Middle School, passing empty classrooms and bustling club rooms at a brisk pace. As he turned an unfamiliar corner, he schooled his worried expression to something closer to irritation. Reigen was on a mission and he couldn't let any weakness show. He came upon the door he was directed to by the woman in the main office.

He entered with a hand on his hip, suit bunching up at the action. Reigen surveyed the small office, eyes catching on the cheesy inspirational posters and self-help books. He wrinkled his nose, ah, a guidance counsellor. Oh god, Mob, what kind of trouble did you get yourself in this time. Speaking of Mob– Reigen spotted his student sitting in the only other chair in the cramped office. His shoulders were brought far up to his ears and his head was hung low. Whatever they called him in for, Mob sure was taking it seriously.

Whatever, Reigen thought confidently, we'll be out of here in no time if I have anything to say about it.

The woman that had called him in sat at a cluttered desk that took up about a third of the small room. She smiled widely, brushing back her black bob behind her ear. Her elbow nudged against one of the many stacks of paper littering her desk.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Reigen. Please, take a seat." He obliged, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He tapped his foot impatiently.

"Would you mind telling me why I was dragged out of work to be here?" Mob hiked his shoulders higher, curling in on himself. His flat fringe cast a dark shadow over his face, covering his expression. Reigen thought he could see his lip wobble out of the corner of his eye, however.

"Ah- apologies, it was at Shigeo's request. I'm sure he didn't mean to interrupt." Mob asked for me instead of his parents? Reigen narrowed his eyes, lips pursing in thought. Mob never asked Reigen to pick him up from school unless something was really wrong. Last time this happened, Mob was trying not to blow up over the black eye some kid gave him. That day, Reigen had to keep reminding himself that a 26 year old man beating up a 12 year old middle schooler was definitely illegal. Now, seeing the way Mob's face was painfully schooled, like he was just barely holding it together, Reigen felt the same urge to hunt down whoever had done this.

He took a steadying breath, cracking a placating smile, "No, it's alright." Some of Mob's tension dissolved, "But, I do want to know why you called me." He tried, making sure to keep a pleasant tone. The last thing he wanted was to get Mob all worked up about whatever it was he did.

The guidance counsellor smiled, although it was fake just like Reigen's. Just a gesture meant to put the other at ease. She cleared her throat politely, picking up a file from under her elbow and sliding it across the table to Reigen. He leaned forwards, eyes scanning the page.

He landed on a few scribblings in pen that read 'lunch hour', 'truancy', and 'physical altercation' before she interrupted him.

"Shigeo was absent from all of his classes today and was seen by another student loitering in a club room during second period mathematics. As well as-" she picked up the paper, reading with a light hum, "-Ah, here– during lunch hour, Shigeo pushed a classmate, resulting in a dislocated shoulder." She read it off so stiffly, like a judge reading a list of crimes out to a jury. Reigen resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her seriousness. That's what Mob was in here looking like he was on the verge of breaking down for? Skipping class and pushing a kid? Reigen had done much, much worse in his school days– this was practically nothing.

Holding in a scoff, Reigen hummed sympathetically.

The counsellor sighed and put the paperwork down. She levelled Reigen with a tired stare, "As this is the first time I've had to discuss Shigeo's behaviour with a parent or guardian, I'm not going to punish him." Reigen's face softened before he could stop himself and she pounced on the opening, pressing her lips into a thin line. Or maybe this game of social chess was all in Reigen's head and she was just emoting like a normal person. Either way, she continued, "However, due to school policy, I still need to come to an understanding with Shigeo."

Reigen nodded, "Of course," he went on the attack, "I'm sure Mob didn't mean anything by his actions. Sometimes he just gets overwhelmed and-" his good natured smile slipped as Mob joined the conversation.

"I meant to push him. I'm sorry…" He whispered, hands twisting around each other. C'mon, Mob! I'm trying to vouch for you here, just don't say anything and I can get you out of this scot-free! he screamed internally. Unfortunately, Mob never had figured out telepathy, so Reigen's pleas went unheard.

"I skipped my classes too, on purpose." He continued in his soft voice. His warbly confession felt wrong, twisting itself around Reigen's stomach. This was all too serious, why was Mob getting so worked up over nothing?

Reigen swallowed the questions that crawled up his throat in favour of clawing the conversation back to normalcy. He patted Mob's shoulder forcefully, nervous laughter bubbling out of him.

"Such an honest student I have! As you can see, he's much too well behaved for trouble-making. So really, we should just let this whole thing blow over, huh?" Reigen boasted in his salesman voice. Despite directly contrasting Mob's incriminating words, he hoped she would believe him over his student by confidence alone. Judging by her unamused expression, it wasn't working.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reigen, but multiple students admitted to seeing the fight at lunch. Now, Shigeo," she turned her attention to him. Mob didn't even look up from his lap.

"Why don't you explain to me why you were absent from class?" Reigen crossed his arms, turning to his student as well; he obviously wasn't getting them out of there any time soon. And, he was actually kind of curious about that too. Mob wasn't a perfect student by any measure, but he hated getting scolded and was too polite to break any rules anyways. It was really out of character for Mob to skip a whole day of classes.

Mob didn't react. Reigen couldn't be sure he even heard the counsellor's question at all. The boy sat so still he might have even been holding his breath.

Just as she got ready to try another approach, Mob sucked in a sharp breath, "...I don't know." His voice shuddered. Reigen's mood curdled instantly– Mob was definitely lying to them. There was nothing to lie about in the first place; sure, skipping class was against the rules but it wasn't egregious and it certainly wasn't uncommon. A bead of sweat rolled down Reigen's temple.

"Were you bored in class? Maybe you wanted to meet up with friends or get an early lunch?" She listed off the most common excuses bolder delinquents gave her. She hummed, leaning her chin on her entwined fingers, "How about an emotional reason? Did you feel upset in class and needed to take a walk?" She probed gently.

Mob curled imperceptibly inwards, holding his shoulders tighter to avoid reacting. But, Reigen spotted his clear sign of guilt: Mob's hands were gripping his knees with white knuckles.

"I'm sorry. I don't know." He replied robotically, voice getting flatter as Mob's distress grew. Uh oh, Reigen realised suddenly, this is bad. Mob really doesn't want to talk. He rubbed his clammy hands on his thighs, readying himself to step in and stop this situation from escalating any further.

Before the counsellor could say another word, Reigen went on damage control.

He hummed in surprise, drawing his phone from his suit pocket. In one fluid motion, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. He made a show of clicking the 'answer call' button.

"Spirit's and Such Consultation Office. Reigen Arataka, greatest psychic of the 21st century speaking. How can I help you?" He nodded along to the silent client on the other end of his fake call, "Hmm… an important job, you say? Please, calm down sir, of course I can handle it."

As he dialled the theatrics to 10, Mob spared his mentor a glance. Reigen trained his eyes on the wall, only so that he wouldn't break character once he spotted the dried tear tracks running down his student's red cheeks. Reigen widened his eyes dramatically, letting his mouth fall slack in mock horror. His imaginary client was describing quite the gruesome scene.

"Oh wow, that is very serious." He mumbled just loud enough for the counsellor to catch it. Reigen held back a smirk as she let out a worried hum.

Standing from his seat, Reigen straightened his tie, nodding again, "Stay calm and get to safety. My disciple and I will be there as soon as possible. How many victims did you say this spirit claimed already?" As he spouted a bunch of concerning nonsense, Reigen gestured for Mob to follow him. He scrambled out of his seat, thankfully used to Reigen's antics enough to understand the scheme he was pulling.

"Oh my-! Is something wrong?" Reigen flicked his eyes to the counsellor rising from her desk, a hand on her chest. This time, he let his satisfied smirk free, facing the door. Dramatically, he clicked his phone shut. In his grimest voice he could muster, Reigen put the final nail in the coffin.

"Yes. I've just gotten a call about a violent spirit terrorising innocent civilians. It's serious- life or death, you see." He reached for the door handle, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut this meeting short. I'm sure you understand." With that, Reigen threw the door open, steering Mob out of the school briskly. Sure, it was one of his more reliable lies, but it didn't fool everyone and Reigen would rather be caught dead than have to own up to lying straight to someone's face.

Once they were outside the school, he relaxed. Reigen clapped his freed student's shoulder with a relieved grin.

"Alright, Mob, let's get out of here. What do you say to an early dinner? On me." Of course, that would mean Mob's paycheck would be lighter tomorrow, but it's the thought that counts. Money doesn't grow on trees after all.

Reigen stopped his stroll when he realised Mob wasn't following. Instead of falling into step with him, Mob was still standing in front of the school, his face buried in his hands as his shoulders jumped up and down sharply.

Reigen rushed over to him, hovering around his crying student. He floundered; Mob hadn't cried in front of him in what must have been years. He hadn't cried in front of anyone else in much longer.

To his surprise, Mob tipped forward until his forehead rested on Reigen's chest. Reigen froze before placing a tentative hand on the top of his student's head. Gently, he patted down his shiny black hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked. Mob mulled it over for a few minutes. Reigen didn't mind; he knew that Mob needed time to think about what he was going to say. Mob had always been a quiet kid and when he wasn't lost in thought, he was speaking his mind– even if the things that came out of his mouth were terribly blunt. So, in the middle of the day outside of the school they had just ran out of mid-conversation, Reigen and Mob stood as Mob collected his thoughts. Reigen really hoped no one would spot them.

"He poured milk on my head." Is what eventually wrestled it's way out of Mob's throat. It was mumbled, like he was both scared and ashamed of the admission.

Reigen didn't understand the gravity he was giving it, but sometimes Mob was just sensitive about violence. No matter how tame or justified.

"The kid you pushed?" Reigen prompted. Mob just nodded, "Well then, I think he deserved it. Serves him right for being a jerk."

He thought that would be the end of it; Mob would wipe his eyes and give Reigen a faint, grateful smile, and then they would be off eating mediocre ramen at the cheapest place in the city. Instead, Mob unfurled a bit, grabbing Reigen by the front of his blazer and burying his face in his chest as he choked and sputtered.

"Woah, kid!" Reigen wrapped him up in a real hug, confused at Mob's sudden clinginess, "Mob, calm down, you're hyperventilating." He struggled to keep the panic out of his tone. Mob shook his head frantically.

"Okay! Okay, Mob, just breathe," Reigen shushed, rocking them back and forth slightly in their hug. He hoped it was comforting, he wasn't very well versed in hugs. Mob wasn't usually touchy like this.

He felt a few teardrops soak into his shirt before he collected himself.

He ran a hand through the back of Mob's bowl cut, "It looks like you got most of it out, but you probably want to get properly cleaned up, huh? How about I walk you home and-" Mob shook his head again.

"You don't want to go home?" Reigen took the resounding silence as a yes, "And you probably don't want to go to the office, right?" Nope, alright, last resort, "Okay, what about my apartment, then? You can get cleaned up and I'll order takeout." He sweetened the deal, "And we can watch those action shows you like?"

Mob thought about it; it had been a while since he had been to Reigen's apartment, but he remembers it being pretty cozy. He liked hanging out there when he was younger and his parents needed his boss to act as his pseudo-babysitter. Reigen always tried to make his few stays there fun. And although 'free' dinners were regular with Reigen, Mob was really hungry from missing lunch to hide in the Telepathy Club room. Takeout sounded like a dream at this point.

"Mhm." Mob hummed.

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

Reigen gathered his haphazardly folded pyjamas, placing them in Mob's arms. He shot the boy a smile, but Mob's eyes were glued to the ground, glazed over with a distant frown on his face. He took the clothes with a quiet thank you, padding into Reigen's small bathroom. The door clicked behind him loudly in the silence.

Reigen sighed, scrubbing his face with a hand. Maybe he should get into something comfier as well.

The shower started as Reigen dug around for anything remotely wearable. I hope I didn't give Mob the last of my clean laundry… Just then, Reigen pulled a crumpled sage green ('barf green' a particular spiky haired kid jeered in his mind) tracksuit from under his bed. It didn't have any obvious smells or stains so it was passable in Reigen's book.

He jumped into bed, relaxing into the pillows and dragging his laptop towards himself. As he sent out emails and filled out his calender with upcoming appointments, he heard the shower shut off. A few minutes later, Mob shuffled out of the bathroom, wet hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks red from the hot water (or from crying, his brain supplied unhelpfully). He was fiddling with the hem of the oversized sweatshirt Reigen gave him. It went past his hips and the sleeves pooled at his wrists. The pyjama pants he wore had to be rolled up at his ankles and cinched tight around his waist. Reigen didn't like he frail he looked.

Reigen pulled out his phone, rummaging through all of the random papers in his desk for a takeout menu. Just as he sat up to move to his couch, the mattress dipped next to him as Mob settled on the bed. He pulled his knees to his chest. Wordlessly, Reigen handed him the menu.

Once they had their food ordered, Reigen pulled up a new tab in Mobgle, quickly searching through suspicious websites for good quality rips of Mob's favourite shows.

"Cover your eyes, I don't know what kinda ads will pop up." He reminded Mob, chuckling. His student just hid his face in his knees.

Soon, they were huddled around Reigen's laptop, eating their dinners and watching TV. The show was in pretty good quality, but even then, Reigen had no idea what was happening. As he watched the flashy fight scenes, he wondered why kids even liked this stuff. It was just guys yelling at each other and blowing shit up with magic. He realised that might be a bit hypocritical, remembering the magical girl cartoons of his childhood. Kids like to watch other kids wear colourful outfits and fight with superpowers.

Reigen cringed; after seeing what that mentality did to real children, he couldn't watch the show without feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Or maybe it was the two bowls of ramen he ate…

The credits played softly, some woman singing about friendship over quiet piano. Reigen collected their leftover bowls and chopsticks, taking a quick three-step trip to the kitchen to throw out their trash. He stretched, wincing at the way his back popped way too loud to be healthy. As he made his way back, he realised Mob had paused their show.

Reigen hesitated at the side of his bed, before perching on the edge of it next to Mob. He reached out and patted his knee, silently imploring him to talk.

"Shishou-" Mob started, face crumpled in a way that looked painful, "I'm sorry for bothering you." He bowed, "I caused so much trouble today for no reason. I made you come to my school when you could have been working."

Reigen shook his head harshly, "No, no! No, Mob, you didn't bother me. You needed my help back there. What kinda shishou would I be if I didn't get you out of trouble, anyways? Besides," he cracked a smile, ruffling Mob's hair, "I don't blame you for skipping class after what that jerk did."

Mob ducked his head down, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"That's not… why I skipped." He whispered. Reigen stilled.

"No?"

Once again, Mob was tense. He was pulled so taught, he was shaking. The room held its breath for a minute or two as Mob collected his thoughts.

"I wasn't feeling well this morning. I had a nightmare- uhm- about school."

Reigen hummed softly, not wanting to break whatever spell made his student want to talk about what was bothering him.

Unfortunately, Mob held his tongue, falling silent again.

"What happened in your dream, Mob? You can talk to me, you know." Reigen prompted. Mob's face was blank, but his breathing came out in short bursts, revealing the emotions boiling just beneath the surface.

"Do you remember when we had to- to help that possesed girl?" It didn't make sense; why did Mob look so scared?

Reigen nodded. Of course he remembered that awful job; he remembered how he had to sit and watch his disciple put himself in danger while he could do absolutely nothing. He remembered getting in a cab to go home and how Mob refused to look him in the eye the whole ride, but glued himself to Reigen's side. He remembered how jumpy he was and how unstable Mob's powers were for a whole week after. Now, three weeks later, Reigen was just glad they got out of there without incident and they could put the whole thing behind them.

"Asagiri? Yeah, what about it?" Reigen replied flippantly.

Mob flinched.

"When I was in her mind with…" He was staring at his feet, gaze worryingly distant. It looked like he wasn't even present in their conversation– like he was only talking through himself from somewhere else.

"With Mogami," he mumbled the psychic's name, "I was in there for a long time. I think it was longer for me than it was for you."

Reigen stayed silent, rubbing small circles on Mob's knee with his thumb. He hoped his small reassurances were enough to clear that fog from Mob's eyes.

"Um- it was months, actually." He confessed. Months?! How could he have been there for months? It took only half an hour at most for Mob to exorcise Mogami. Reigen barely bit back his questions.

"That world I was in, it was…" he paused, struggling to find his words, "Shishou, you didn't exist and my family didn't either a-and-!" His grip around himself tightened. As his aura spiked, his hair started to float, revealing wide, scared eyes underneath.

"Everyone hated me– Minori hated me and Ritsu didn't care about me and all of my classmates thought I was awful-" Mob couldn't breathe. All he could see as he squeezed his eyes shut was Minori's malicious smile. The smile she gave him when she picked on him, called him names, cornered him in the halls, poured milk over his head. Cold sweat dripped down his face and it was like he was back there, his own blood gushing from his head and over his cheeks. It felt like dying.

Meanwhile, Reigen was getting more confused with each confession; what was this other world Mob was talking about? What does he mean he didn't exist? Were they still talking about Mob's dream? What does this have to do with Mob skipping class?

"I'm sorry, Mob, but I don't really get what you're trying to say?" Reigen said gently. Mob's eyes opened and he startled like he forgot Reigen was even there.

"M-Mogami," again he said it in a hushed tone, "He made a world in Minori's mind. It was like my life here but- but none of my friends were there. And I think my family wasn't either because... I lived alone." He didn't mention how Mogami took away his powers. He didn't know what he would do if Reigen found out what he did once he got them back.

"Minori…" Mob scrubbed his palms over his eyes, drying the tears springing up against his will "She always targeted me at school." 'And everywhere else,' was left unsaid.

"I don't know why, um– why she hated me so much, actually. One time…" His hands twisted in his borrowed sweatshirt, right above his stomach, "She spilled a carton of milk on me. On purpose." He confessed in a hushed voice.

Reigen's heart clenched. So that's what he's so upset about, he thought, relief flooding through him. Just as he started to make up a speech about how that job was over and he was safe, Mob continued speaking.

"A-and I was scared of going to class because…" The cups and plates in Reigen's cupboards started to rattle, "Be-because-" he flinched as a something shattered in the distance, phantom pains sparking on the skin of his cheek. Reigen paid the ruined dish no mind. He barely ate out of them anyways.

"My teachers they would- uh. If I got a-a question wrong… they hit me. Um- hard." Mob's words oozed shame. He hung his head, cheeks flush with humiliation.

It's not everything, Mob knew. It would probably never be everything, if he was being totally honest. Six months of pent up frustration at the world, crushing loneliness, and a hopelessness so all encompassing he thought he would choke on it every day couldn't be voiced in a single conversation. All Reigen needed was context right now, Mob told himself. There was no need to worry his shishou with details of box cutters and cats and the cackling laugh of high schoolers.

He threaded his fingers in his flowing bangs, "I know it's not real," he reassured himself, "But it's still so- it makes me feel so-" he floundered, mouth popping open and closed.

"Scared?" Reigen supplied weakly. This whole conversation made him feel like that, actually; scared and weak.

Mob finally looked him in the eyes and the open desperation could have made him cry. He opened his arms and Mob fell into him.

“I had a dream about it last night…” he croaked, “I co-couldn’t calm down all day. I was scared of hurting anyone s-so I hid in the club room instead of going to class.” Mob’s voice broke, “I’m sorry.” He whispered. Whether Mob was apologising for breaking the rules or for keeping this a secret from Reigen, he couldn’t tell.

Reigen tucked the boy's head under his chin, wrapping his arms around his small back. Small because he's a child. A child you failed to protect. He counted with Mob, trying to get his breathing under control. Reigen tried to stay present but his own distress was mounting by the second, stirring in his chest and making his heart race.

How long did Mob say he spent in that hellish world? Months? Reigen tightened their hug with shaking hands. Mob was trapped in Mogami’s manipulative illusion for so long with no one to turn to– not even himself it sounded like. Reigen was almost glad for it; he didn’t want to know how Mogami would have twisted their relationship. He didn’t want to think about what kind of irreparable harm he could have caused.

The thought of himself raising a hand to Mob in the same way his teachers had was enough to make him nauseous.

After what could have been hours of hushed voices and panicked sobs, Mob’s aura calmed down and Reigen’s apartment was finally still. Reigen held his student long past the sun setting, no matter how much his back protested the action. He rubbed circles in Mob’s back, talking about anything and everything until he slumped against his chest, fast asleep.

He was in the middle of a rant about the proper way to season pork when the peace was broken by his ringtone. It was muffled, tangled in the comforter they both sat on. He rifled through the blanket's folds, digging out his phone and flipping it open. The time blinked back at him.

"9:13 already?" He mused under his breath, hitting the answer button.

Before he could start up his customer service greeting, the woman on the line cut in.

"Reigen?" Mrs. Kageyama demanded, relief lacing her concern. Reigen's eyebrows rose.

"Oh, hey, Mrs. Kageyama." Reigen answered dumbly. She forewent her usual correction of the formality and rushed into the reason why she called.

"Is Shige with you? He was supposed to be home hours ago and he hasn't been answering his phone." Her tone was scolding but the frantic pace she spoke with gave away her anxiety. Reigen looked down at Mob's slowly rising and falling back as the boy dozed. He still clung to Reigen's middle in a tight grip, sitting up despite his exaustion.

"He's with me. Sorry for worrying you, I didn't see the time." He pinched between his eyes, "It's been a long day, if I'm being honest. Shigeo's asleep right now, but I can get him a cab or something if you need him home."

Mrs. Kageyama answered slowly, a warning just under her words, "Did something happen?"

Reigen winced.

Lying to Mob's parents wasn't something he loved doing- they already put so much trust in him with their son and violating that trust made his skin crawl. They could also be pretty intimidating when they wanted to be, especially his strict mother. What had happened on the Asagiri job was horrible and keeping that from Mob's parents didn't sit right with him.

On the other hand, Mob seemingly hadn't told anyone else about it yet. If his student wasn't comfortable telling his parents about Mogami, then Reigen had no place doing it for him.

"Nothing drastic. Just a bad night's sleep, I think," he stretched the truth. "He's hanging out at my place." Reigen let out a hollow laugh, "Don't worry, he's been fed. We were just eating ramen and watching TV before you called."

"I wasn't criticising you, Reigen." He could hear the smile in her voice as she teased him, "I'm sure you boys had lots of fun. Just make sure he hasn't been cursed or whatever it's called."

His smile strained. Sure, Mob hadn't been cursed by a spirit, but another kind of heavy presence hung over him. This was something they couldn't just exorcise in a second– something that would follow him around for the foreseeable future.

"I'll have you know, Mrs. Kageyama, I'll be 30 soon. I wouldn't exactly call myself a 'boy' anymore." Reigen joked weakly. It was hard to keep his festering guilt out of his voice.

She hummed sarcastically, "Goodnight, Reigen. Let me know when Shige wakes up." Reigen agreed and quickly hung up. He snapped his phone shut as quietly as possible, letting out a sigh into the remaining silence.

Judging by the time and the heavy weight of Mob's head on his shoulder as the boy slept soundly, Reigen was sure he wouldn't be getting back to Mrs. Kageyama anytime soon. He shot her a text saying just as much.

Gently, Mob's fists were released from the sides of his tracksuit. Reigen tucked him in, slipping off of the squeaky mattress. He nabbed his laptop from where it lay forgotten next to Mob's head, settling onto his couch and resting it on his stomach. The couch was way too small for Reigen to sleep on, but he could handle his ankles dangling off the arm for one night if it meant Mob would sleep peacefully in turn. He reached around under his coffee table, finding a thin fleece blanket with a triumphant smirk he didn't really feel. It also didn't cover his feet.

Reigen fell into a restless sleep, passing out in the early hours of the morning with his clunky laptop pressing into his gut uncomfortably.

The only solace from his endless nightmares, was the soft, steady snores of his student filling the air in his apartment. Everytime he woke, stomach roiling and berating himself over how badly he had failed Mob, he was comforted by that noise.

Part of Reigen knew that it was probably because the boy was exhausted after the day he's had, but a smaller, softer part of him wanted to believe he put the boy's dreams at ease. The thought that Mob felt safe and cared for, at least for now, in his presence warmed his heart– no matter how much he tried to deny it.

Reigen dialled Salt Middle School the next morning, calling his student in sick. He and Mob spent the day walking through parks and eating mochi, instead. They don't talk about their conversation last night, but Mob leans into his space more than usual and Reigen makes sure to smile at his student more; when they part for dinner, Reigen ruffles his hair and Mob huffs out a faint laugh, not bothering to duck away from his hand.

[theloveinc]

Shinsou, the mans who has been daydreaming for months, made up all the scenarios, hyped himself up for weeks to ask you out, sees you across the hall, panics, and walks the other direction lmao, loses all his nerve

Meanwhile, you’re left wondering what the hell is his problem because you were just about to smile and wave…

I have no idea why, but for whatever reason I always imagine scenarios like this as that cartoony trope of the man’s flowers immediately wilting when the interaction is over—and for some reason that just screams Shinso to me.

Poor guy, he doesn’t even want much, just to take you out to dinner and maybe get to know each you better (lord knows he’s quiet as all hell)… he’s so smart and yet you have to wonder for what since he has no idea that you’ve been admiring him right back, all the darn while.

(Even if the image you have of him in your mind is a little bit different, more harsh, than the reality of him. Not that he can’t be a rough, tough-loving man, but… he wants to prove he can be sweet first, is all.)

Anyway. Like you said, he plans it all out so carefully… but his flower still wilt. And then melt, too, into such shame and embarrassment at the fact he can’t even seem to be friendly to you, either… and he kicks himself for it so badly :(((

Not that you’re able, but if you saw his face from the front as he was walking away, you’d see that he was blushing a neon, bright red (and thinking about how to try again). Gruff on the outside, soft on the inside.

(Keep trying though, buddy! I’m rooting for you!!!)

[termagax]

i hate when people make him insecure but i do love when people make him easily flustered. theres a difference but too many of youse on internet dot com conflate the two.

[hsslilly-blog]

just realised that as far as i recall it hwu mc doesn’t cry at any point in hunts date quests and i think this is the biggest evidence of them being weird. not that people who don’t cry are weird but hwu mc specifically is very weird for not crying

[slashersweethearts]

if i had a nickel for every time i had a 5cream oc who was an absolutely 100% fruity girl who kept hitting on white boy wes w ZERO intention of actually following through on anything i’d have TWO nickels. which isn’t a lot but its weird that its happened twice right.

[lambshackleglory]

eek. theres an escape from the zoo and holy locust tour coming to dallas in september. which i should def go to since that was a reason i agreed to go up to dallas more. for concerts… but i have no one to go with and i feel nervous by myself

[sylusdoll]

bf zayne headcanons ♡︎

suggestive if you squint

- always kisses your head and cheek when he sees you

- loves when youre holding his arm

- constantly checks on you throughout the day

- at the end of every shift he always wants to hear from you, he either calls you or asks to meet up if possible

- very protective of you

- a cuddler! before bed he wants you in his arms, his arms wrapped around you, and you’re just laying on him, blanket covering you two.

- always looks you in the eyes when talking which makes you nervous

- he takes yalls relationship very seriously

- when you get upset with him at some of the things he says he takes a mental note and never makes the same mistake

- doesn’t hestitate to apologize when hes in the wrong

- when you’re angry with him, his chest feels closed up and needs you to look at him or talk to him and wants to talk things out as soon as possible

- he admires you when youre distracted

- he pats your head when he feels soft for you

- when hugging you, he always places a gentle kiss under your ear

- when hes had a rough day at work, his hugs tend to be longer, and tighter.

- blushes when you pull his ear or pinch his cheek.

- sometimes you cup his face with both hands to admire him, his face heats up but he doesn’t loose eye contact

- when he comes over he always brings fruits of your favorites

- his hands are always cold and the warmth of your hands when holding his makes him feel fuzzy.

- youre always on his mind when working

- has a pic of you in his wallet and smiles to himself when he sees it everytime he opens his wallet

- pinches your cheek when you tease him

- you gave him a pin, and he wears it everyday to work

- he calls you dear, honey, my love, my star.

- he gave you a promise ring, and treats it like a wedding ring

- likes to clean off your makeup for you esp after you had a long day

- on date nights, he always puts your heels on for you, and lightly kisses your thigh

- gets jealous, if he notices someone stare at you, hes gna kiss your forehead lightly to let the person know you belong to someone, and youre just confused on why he randomly did that

ʚ�� ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

authors note: been a heavy zayne girl these past two days.. sorry sylus 😓

©sylusdoll 2024

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

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

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[xazse]

MORE PUPPY GIRL HYBRIF MORE

WENT A DIFFERENT ROUTE WITH THIS! And I think this is what you wanted? Or if you meant something different let me know!!!

And btw I made Satoru in mind as a hybrid who’s a little clueless about females, esp females of a different species. And he has scent glands lol.

Can’t stop thinking about WolfHybrid!Gojo who’s new to Suguru’s household, he had not known it would come with you as well: A PuppyGirl!Hybrid. At the facility Satoru was at he had not met other hybrids of different species, only been around other wolves in case they became aggressive or overly possessive. This means it’s his first time meeting a female hybrid, he’s cautious at first, you’re a lot smaller than he is and he finds himself liking that.

Suguru is situated on the couch while Satoru is on one side and you’re on the other. You’re just as curious, leaning over Suguru’s lap to take little sniffs of Satoru, you determine from staring at him that his hair is unusually white, his ears are pointy unlike your floppy ones, and you think he smells nice, like really nice. Satoru’s body language begins to show he’s nervous when you start getting even closer to sniff his neck, he’s not sure what to do with himself besides sitting stiffly and occasionally meeting your eyes while you do your thing.

Suguru gets up to excuse himself to the kitchen to make something to eat, he encourages you two to become more familiar and aquatinted with one another. You’re so bold as you move to rub yourself all over Satoru, you’re loving just how woody he smells. You smoosh your head and ears all over his chest, mewling and soft rumbling can be heard with Satoru’s excellent hearing. Satoru feels incredibly weird as you press your full weight on him. His pants feel tight like they’re 10 sizes too small for his throbbing body. He can’t quite put his finger on why he’s having this reaction, in the facility he was only taught the basics of his primal needs: nothing about females were ever taught in depth so he really isn’t sure how to handle you.

You don’t seem to have noticed the tent in his pants nor has he. He does however notice the little shorts and tight tank top you sport, he can see the fat of your supple skin.

You’ve even started licking him in a show of your welcome, you go from licking his face to licking on his very sensitive scent glands. His groan is so caught within his throat it’s deeply lewd.

He again hasn’t noticed how you’ve managed to slip into his lap and have both of your legs on either side of him, he doesn’t notice how he’s slowly bouncing you on the throbbing area that’s causing him trouble. Satoru is on cloud nine, his head is heady as it falls on the back of the couch while soft whines leave both of your lips. Suguru comes back from the kitchen to ask what type of meat should he use for the two of you to discover the site in front of him, he’s quick to pull you up from Satoru’s lap not wanting you two to do something like that so early. He’s holding a needy you with one arm around your tummy and Satoru hasn’t stopped staring at you with so much lust in his eyes.

Suguru’s gaze drops to the front of the hybrids pants to see a large wet patch.

[luveline]

omg i love ur pregnant reader x hotch esp the flangsty ones…

maybe him and reader get into a little argument and the fighting plus the hormones plus the constant discomfort makes her leave to stay at a friend’s house for “space” (maybe someone in the bau hehe) then he shows up and grovels and they kiss and make up <333

ty for requesting! —hotch and pregnant!reader make up after a fight (neither being quite as mad as they’d claimed).

“Your boyfriend’s outside.” 

You raise your tired head from the couch cushion. “Who?” 

Morgan grins at you. “Hotch, mama. He’s at the door.” 

Hotch is your husband, not your boyfriend. You’ve got the ring to prove it. 

“You didn’t let him in?” 

“He said you might not want to see him.” 

You want to see Hotch more than you’ve ever wanted to see another person. It is absolute torture to be so heavily pregnant with someone’s baby and to worry they don’t want you anymore. If he’s here at such a late hour, he must’ve forgiven you for being grumpy. Right? 

You sit up and let Morgan help you into a standing position. He pulls your blanket tight around your shoulders. “Should I let him in?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You drop your voice to a whisper, “But don’t let him know I’m eager.” 

He gives you a knowing smirk. “Course not. Stay here, okay? I’ll bring him in.” 

Morgan starts back down the hall. You stand in his living room wondering what Hotch is gonna say, if he’s still mad, if you’re still mad, and if he’s strong enough to carry you back to the car. You don’t wanna sleep in Morgan’s bed, as much as you love him. You want your bed, your Hotch, his baby boy snoring in the room across the hall. You love your life (most of the time, when you aren’t carrying the weight of a bowling ball on your abdomen and the hormones aren’t making you sick). 

“Hello,” Hotch says, still in the suit he’d been wearing when he got home that evening, strangely and obviously nervous where he stops in the doorway. 

“Hi. Where’s Jack?” 

“He went with Jess. I needed to talk to you.” 

“Could’ve brought Jack.” 

“I didn’t want to upset him if you stayed here.” 

You nod. Hotch —who’d cringe if he knew you still called him that in your head, though it’s the name he went by when you fell in love, so what are you supposed to do?— gestures for you to sit, not demanding, only concerned. “It’s late,” he says. 

You can’t be bothered to lower yourself awkwardly into the cushion nest you’d made. “Morgan offered me his bed. He has a California king.” 

“But you stayed on the couch.” 

You glare at him half-heartedly. “Maybe I was watching TV.” You’d been waiting for him to call, but it’s not his business.

He doesn’t seem perturbed by your reaction. He's about to apologise anyways. “I’m sorry for getting mad. I know how stressed you are, and I should’ve done better.” 

Your glare softens. 

“I’m sorry I upset you,” he furthers, the ever present pinch of his brows particularly severe. His eyes are dark like clouds full to bursting with rain. 

You don’t want to say it’s okay. You want him to cross the room and cuddle you up like you’re fragile, the way he does, his nose pressed to your temple as his hands grasp up your achy shoulders. 

“I’ll be better,” he says. 

“You really wound me up, you know? I already feel like I have cabin fever.” 

His eyes cast over you, sympathetic and sorry down to your stomach and up again. He’s pleading without speaking. 

You’re not mad anymore, anyhow. “Can you do that thing for me, please?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch crosses the distance between you and encourages you into his side and under his arm. Careful, he bends into your back, pressing his hand under the round bottom of your bump and pulling up. It takes some of the weight from your hips and spine, alleviating a certain heavy pain and discomfort, while also closing the sour gap between you both. 

“Aaron,” you say, a little shy, mostly relieved, “you should’ve brought Jack. You know I’ll come home if you ask me to. I wasn’t even that mad by the time we got back here.” 

His breath is a shudder by your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You look out toward the hall. “Where’s Morgan?” 

“He said he’d go for a walk.” 

“He's a good friend.” 

“He’s a great friend,” Hotch agrees, rubbing the side of you with his other hand before he pulls away completely. “He told me you can always sleep over when I’m acting like your drill sergeant.” 

You laugh under your breath, leaning in with arms held up to slide over his shoulder. He lets out a sigh as your chests touch, your bump smushed, like he’s finally been cut from a trap. To think he’d be so clearly relieved at having your forgiveness has you emotional all over again, but not with the same red passion you’d been angry with before. “I’m your drill sergeant,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“You’re my sweetheart,” he says, so quiet you’re sure it wasn’t him, so out of character to admit something like that on a random day. There’s a hint of joking under it, but enough sincerity simultaneously that you melt in his hold. “You are, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t sleep in your own bed.” 

“It’s not like I’d have been put out. Morgan’s got a California–”

“So you’ve told me.” His palm stays flat to your back, his fingers patting you gently. His voice mellows into that silken gentleness to match, the tone that drew you in and has you in such a terribly emotional position to begin with. “I couldn’t leave you here. I know you’d be more than comfortable, but I couldn’t sleep the night without you.” 

“Imagine how I feel when you’re away.” 

“I know. I know.” He kisses the skin shy of your eye. “Should we go and get Jack before bedtime?” 

“Can we get something to eat, too?” 

His answering smile is a curve on your cheek. “Mm-hm,” he hums. “Let me just say thanks to Morgan. Then we can go wherever you want.”

[sugarypinecones]

a panic challenge is busted and having to avoid the cops with dodge… sneaking you into his bedroom while his mom and sister sleep… giving you a rodeo t-shirt to sleep in… maybe making the first move straight away… or maybe going to bed and then waking up a few hours later tangled together in his bed…

we were jet-set, bonnie and clyde — dodge mason x reader

warnings: SMUT(?) he never actually gets close enough but he gets.. pretty close, like cum in your pants close oops but i can do a pt2 i just kinda got confused and unsure how to really.. like do things idk and i kinda hate it but it took so much time and writing i feel bad if i scrapt it, mentions of reader living in texas obviously, reader has no real desire to win panic, whiny desperate dodge, idrk how to tag its late im tired, dayna interrupts without knowing

a/n: oh i love this actually. like actually love this. like im foaming at the mouth thinking about this actually. title from getaway car by taylor swift also, love u all and ty for the request!! 💐💐 also sucks esp the ending but like idk im down to rewrite the ending if not continue the tangled thing! just lmk if you actually wanted it and dont be afraid to leave other requests.

Living in Carp, Texas meant that there weren’t many fun things to do. You can only drive around an empty parking lot for so long before getting bored. So when the opportunity of playing Panic rises, you rise with it.

And surprisingly, you didn’t immediately get eliminated. In fact — you’ve somehow made it this far, round two, which.. you’re sure you’re going to fall to your death or just entirely not do it. And you were fine with that, truly. You had your fun.

Now it was time to focus on something a little bit more real – your chances of winning the pot were low, especially because of all that stuff last year, and because of Dodge Mason.

If you didn’t know what determination was before that boy, you definitely did now. It was hard not to see him and not see determination, especially after the first challenge. He didn’t have fear in his eyes when he did it, unlike any of the other contestants. He had something else.

You shift on the hood of the beat-up car, sighing as you look over your shoulder for any sign of your friends. It was hard to tell through the sea of people — some juniors who were eager to see the game, some graduates who refused to play, such and such.

Dodge’s eyes roamed over to you, taking in the way you fiddled with the bracelets on your wrists and the tight, nervous expression on your face. He knew what you were thinking — he could see it in your eyes. I don’t belong here.

He watched you look around for your friends and found himself wondering why you were alone. Why weren’t you with them?

He seems to recognize you from the first challenge, and when you meet his gaze, he raises a hand. A small smile follows, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return.

Something sparked in Dodge’s chest as your lips curled into a small smile — he hadn’t expected a smile in return. Nor had he expected your eyes to soften at the sight of him, or your cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink.

Maybe he had more of a chance with you than he thought.

The sight of you smiling in return gives him just enough confidence to walk over, stopping in-front of you. It was slightly unnerving, but it felt nice. Exhilarating, even.

He smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you — and just like that, his bravado returned.

“So,” he started, turning his head to the side to look down at you as he leaned against the car. “Here to root for me?”

Your gaze tilts to him, and you almost laughed. “No, I’m here to win.”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your response, a scoff and chuckle of disbelief slipping between his lips. He turned around, leaning his hip against the hood of the car, the smirk never wavering from his face.

“Oh, really?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “You honestly think you stand a chance against me?”

He wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from - because if it were anyone else, he would’ve just been nodding along with simple responses by now.

You grin. “I know so.”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, although, you really aren’t. You planned to chicken out the second you got called on that death-trap of a beam, no way in hell are you risking your life just to possibly lose in the end.

“Yeah,” he begun, but you shook your head; letting laughs fall from your lips. “No, not really.” You grin up at him, and he acts surprised; but he kind of had a feeling from the start you wouldn’t actually go through with any of this.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re backing out just like that?”

Your eyes catch on the flex of his muscles as his arms fold over his chest, before flickering back up to his face with a shrug. “I guess—“

You’re cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, closing your eyes as you let out a frustrated exhale. Playing panic was dangerous — watching it, even.

Dodge’s expression quickly turned serious as the sound of sirens filled the air. He immediately turned his head towards the noise, his muscles tense and eyes narrowing.

He quickly looked back over at you, silently cursing how distracted he had become from your presence. He should have been on guard — his focus needed to be on the task at hand, not on some cute girl.

“Cops,” he said lowly, looking back at the police cars approaching.

“Obviously,” you retort, sliding of the hood as you glance over your shoulder. There wasn’t really much places to scatter to, but –

Your train of thought is cut off by his hand on your wrist, pulling you along towards a patch of woods.

Dodge moved fast, tugging on your wrist and pulling you away from the car. He quickly led you towards a patch of woods nearby, trying to put as much distance between you and the cops before they got out of their cars.

He kept his grip on your hand as you ran, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. They were rough — calloused from working on the farm and years of horseback riding.

As they made it into the safety of the trees, Dodge pulled you behind a large oak, pinning you against the trunk.

He quickly retracted, internally cursing himself for doing such. “Sorry, instinct,” he grumbles, although not angry towards you, god, not you.

“You lead a lot of girls away from cops?” You quip, fighting the urge to laugh to yourself.

Dodge let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

He’d somehow managed to pull you almost 500 yards within that span of three minutes.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied sarcastically, his smirk returning as he leaned his shoulder against the tree next to you. “You’re the twenty-third one I’ve led this month alone.”

You roll your eyes, “How charming.”

Dodge chuckled at your eye roll, leaning closer to you and looking down at you. His smirk widened as he pushed himself off of the tree, turning to face you fully.

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He paused then, noticing how close he was to you.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, pulling away, partially in fear of scaring you, partially in fear he couldn’t stop himself from asking to kiss you. “So, uh… you got a ride home or something?”

Fuck. No you did not. You hadn’t actually accounted that part down — you came with your friend, who is currently nowhere to be found, if not currently in the back of a cop car.

“No.” You huffed, narrowing your gaze as you looked at him, “I was gonna crash at Natalie’s,” You said, trying to explain your situation, which wasn’t hard to understand to begin with. Came with a friend, planned to leave with a friend, currently 500 yards away from said friend’s car, can’t exactly account to go home, as you told her you were going to bed three hours ago.

Dodge’s eyebrows furrowed at your answer — not out of annoyance, but concern. He knew the cops would be searching everywhere, and you didn’t have a ride home.

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn’t leave you out here alone until the police left. It was too dangerous.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again before speaking. “Alright,” he said, looking down at you. “You’re comin’ home with me, then.”

Your eyes widen, and you seem to swallow as you tilt your head forwards, perplexed. “What?”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your reaction, his expression shifting to confusion. He was surprised that you seemed so shocked by his offer.

Although, he got it. You didn’t know him well — not outside of school at least. You had seem him a few times, sat by him in a few classes. Thought he was cute, too, but never would’ve admitted that.

“You need a place to stay for the night,” he explained, his eyes locked on yours. “And you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

He paused, eyeing you up and down before continuing. “So you’ll stay at my house. It’s not a big deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly snapped it shut, knowing he was right. Spending the night in the woods with the cops searching was a recipe for disaster.

Going home would be even worse.

And yet… spending the night at his house still stirred something within you — anxiety, excitement, curiosity — you couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” You nod, eyes darting around. “Yeah.” You exhale, it was for the better. You weren’t gonna sleep on the side of the road, and you knew Dodge.. to an extent, enough to know he’s not gonna pull an axe on you in your sleep.

Dodge’s face morphed into a sly grin as you agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he was probably going to regret this later — he’d never brought a girl to his house before, let alone a girl his mother didn’t approve of.

“Atta girl,” he said, lightly patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

Dodge stepped away from the protective cover of the trees, gesturing for you to follow him. The coast was clear for now, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As you fell in step with him, he leaned down to your ear. “Just so you know,” he began in a low voice. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming over. So.. don’t talk too loud when we get to the house, alright?”

You cock your head to the side, a slight laugh escaping under your breath. “Doesn’t know or isn’t okay?”

Dodge chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking. “Both,” he answered, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“She wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have some girl she’s never met before spend the night out of nowhere.”

You nod, wondering why he’d offer in the first place then. He could’ve left you to get in trouble with your mom, left you to get eliminated, anything else.

“Is that your car?” You tilt your head forwards, breaking the silence that fell over the two teens, eyeing a white car.

Dodge followed your gaze, looking at the car you were eyeing. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of boasting in his voice. “That’s her.”

You find it slightly funny that he’s gendered his car.

He quickly started towards the car, reaching it within a few long strides. He pulled the passenger side door open, motioning for you to get in. “C’mon.”

You almost hesitate — but, it’s not like you have another choice — or enough self control.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the open door before climbing inside. You settled into the leather seat, shutting the door behind you, your stomach twisting with nervousness.

Dodge walked around to the driver’s side and got in, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine of the car coming to life with a low, rumbling purr.

He pulled out of the field and onto the road, navigating the deserted streets skillfully. You sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Dodge glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how tense and quiet you seemed. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s just..” You trailed off, unsure of how to actually describe the feeling.

It wasn’t scary, but it was. You were almost excited, but you didn’t know him well. Any knowledgeable person would be wary, but god, was Dodge Mason cute.

“I don’t know.”

Dodge chuckled, a sympathetic scoff falling from his lips at your failed attempt at putting your feelings into words.

He could tell you were conflicted about all of this — going home with a guy you barely knew, spending the night in a home you’ve never been to before… he didn’t blame you.

He sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your night, huh?”

You scoff. “Who doesn’t plan to go home with a boy they barely know after cops raid them?”

He shook his head with a grin and looked over at you again, his eyes scanning over your features. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window. The night was still and quiet, only the hum of the engine breaking the silence.

“Dodge?” You spoke up suddenly, your voice soft.

Dodge’s attention immediately went to you, his eyes flickering over to glance at you. “Yeah?” He responded, his tone just as quiet as yours.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him. “Can I ask you something?” you inquired, your expression slightly serious.

Dodge raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in your demeanor. “Shoot,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “Why did you offer to let me stay the night?”

The question had been weighing on your mind since the moment he suggested it. You knew he wasn’t exactly the most responsible or trustworthy person, yet he’d gone out of his way to offer you refuge at his home.

Dodge’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as you asked the question. He expected it, knowing it was bound to come up eventually, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it fully.

The truth was simple — he found you attractive, intriguing, and he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud, not yet.

Instead, he shrugged nonchalantally. “Seemed like you needed a place to stay,” he responded, keeping his tone casual.

Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the hint of evasion in his answer. You knew there was more to it than that, but you also knew it wasn’t your place to push him for the truth — especially given your options in the current moment.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and looking out the window again. The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road beneath the tires.

After a few minutes, Dodge finally pulled into a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house. The house was modest, but well-kept. Even in the dim light, you could make out the meticulously maintained garden and the freshly painted exterior.

He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, turning to look at you. “We’re here.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the house. It was cozy, but not overly extravagant. It looked lived in — a home owned by a family who actually spent time here.

You let out a shaky breath, nerves starting to bubble up inside you once more. This was really happening. You were really going in there.

It wasn’t like regular nerves you’d had before. Not like panic, more like when you’re hanging out with a friend you’ve met for the first time — although, you technically know Dodge.

Dodge could sense the anxiety radiating from you, your nervousness evident in the way you fidgeted in your seat. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering over your features for a moment before speaking.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he reassured you, his voice soft. “My mom and sister are probably already asleep, so just stay quiet.”

You nodded, smiling. “Well, let’s go then. I’m tired.”

Dodge returned your smile with a nod of his own, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

He pushed the driver’s side door open, the soft creak of the metal mixing with the sound of the crickets chirping in the night air. He got out of the car and shut the door, rounding the hood and opening your door for you.

You stepped out of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. You followed Dodge as he led the way to the front door, your eyes darting around nervously, taking in the surroundings.

He paused in front of the door and fumbled through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a moment, he fished them out and unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly.

He wasn’t exactly worried about making noise - his mom usually didn’t pay mind to him coming late. She figured he’d be home way later in any other circumstances, anyways.

As Dodge opened the door, a warm, inviting light spilled out from inside the house. You followed him inside, stepping into the entranceway and closing the door softly behind you.

The interior of the house was cozy and homey, with warm wood accents and comfortable furnishings. There was a sense of order and cleanliness, but it didn’t feel overly stiff or overly lived-in.

Dodge gestured for you to keep your shoes on, before nodding towards a hallway. “My room’s down there,” he whispered, indicating the direction of a long hallway to the left of the entryway.

You followed his gaze, looking down the hallway. You could see several doors lining the sides of the hallway, presumably leading to different rooms — bathrooms, bedrooms, and the like.

You looked back at Dodge, your heart rate increasing as you realized the implication of his words. His room. Where he sleeps. Where you’ll be sleeping, in close proximity to him.

Dodge noticed the look on your face, noticing the way your eyes widened slightly, betraying your thoughts. He chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

“Relax,” he whispered, his tone playful. “You’ll be fine. My room’s big enough for the both of us.”

You roll your eyes, “OK, cowboy.” You step into the open door, taking in the dimly-lit room. It wasn’t much. Just trophies, a wardrobe and a bed and small clutter around the room.

You liked it. You could get used to it.

Dodge chuckled at your nickname, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him. The atmosphere grew more intimate as you both entered the enclosed space, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the scent of his laundry detergent.

He leaned against the wall, watching you look around with a slight smirk on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t take any convincing, and immediately flop down onto the bed, exhaling at the feel of the differing comfort in comparison to his car and old truck.

Dodge let out another chuckle as you flopped onto the bed, his eyes watching you sprawled out on his sheets. the sight amused him - you looked like a starfish on the soft material of the mattress.

He pushed away from the wall and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Comfy?” He teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” you hummed, a soft grin adorning your face. “although,” you sit up, glancing to him, “wish I would’ve known i’d be having a sleepover. All my stuff is in Nat’s car.”

Dodge chuckled, his eyes scanning over you as you sat up next to him. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this either,” he retorted, a smirk still playing on his lips.

He thought for a moment, his gaze flicking towards the door and then back to you. “You can borrow something to sleep in, if you want.”

You nod vicariously, laughing. “I am not sleeping in this.”

Dodge chuckled, leaning back on his arms as he looked you up and down. He took in your outfit, noting how out of place it seemed in this setting.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly sleepwear,” he agreed, amusement in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over your body before he spoke again. “I got some old T-shirts you can borrow.”

He stood up, walking over to the closet, before tossing a shirt your way. It was larger, but you could tell that it was his. It smelt faintly like him, and you can make the outlines out of a cracked pattern from an old rodeo.

You smiled up at him, appreciatively. “Thanks,” you said, placing the clothes down beside you. “Do you mind if I change here?”

Being caught by his sister or mom wasn’t exactly a want for you right now.

“Nope, go ahead,” he replied, leaning against the wall lazily. “I won’t look.”

You nodded, watching as his gaze shifts towards the closet, adjusting clothes.

You waste no time peeling the clothes off of you, pulling the T-shirt over your body as you exhale, and then pulling the old sweatpants over your body, tying them as tight as you could around your waist.

“Okay.” You said.

He quickly shook the thoughts away, clearing his throat. “You decent?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Yep.” You nod, shifting back on the bed some, “Oh,” you glance away, “you can change too, sorry.”

Dodge chuckled at your realization, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, reaching down and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping in this, anyways.”

He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his bare chest.

He knows how badly this could’ve ended - but, he was already here, and honestly the lack of sleep was beginning to make him more bold than he’d like to admit.

Your eyebrows raise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

Dodge noticed your reaction, his smirk widening as he caught your laugh. He chuckled in response, his eyes locked on yours.

“What?” He asked, his voice playful. “Never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You shake your head, blinking back shock. “I have,” you note, trying to pretend as if your eyes weren’t raking over his body.

“Just.. wasn’t expecting this.”

Her close proximity was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume filling his senses and clouding his thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to lips, the desire to kiss you overwhelming any logical thoughts in his mind.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me to, and I will. But I need to hear you say it."

He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above yours, the gap between them practically non-existent.

"I want this," you admitted, barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the minimal gap between them, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

His hands moved from your cheek to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

But it wasn't just about physical need, you could sense. There was a sense of desperation in the way he held you, as if this moment was more than just a passing lust.

As the kiss deepened, Dodge backed you up against the bed, gently maneuvering you until you were trapped between him and the mattress.

His hands moved under your shirt, tracing a path up your bare skin, causing you to shiver against him.

Dodge trailed hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, worshiping every inch of your bare skin.

His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in a passionate embrace. He rolled his hips against you, eliciting a gasp from your lips as the friction between your bodies intensified.

With a smooth movement, he pulled away from your lips and moved to your jawline, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice low and ragged with desire, “how long I've wanted to do this.”

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard as he shifted between your legs.

Dodge took a few moments to admire the sight of you beneath him, your face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him.

He leaned down to capture your lips again, his hands roaming further up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants, the thought of going further crossing his mind.

Dodge broke the kiss, panting slightly as he looked down at you again.

“God,” he rasped, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

He leaned back down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “All of you. Right here. Right now.”

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone as his hands continued to wander over your body. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, tracing patterns against your skin.

“Okay,” You nod, “okay,” you repeat softer.

Dodge's breath hitches at your agreement, his fingers stilling. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. "You're sure?"

You nod, “I’m sure.”

Dodge's response is immediate, his mouth crashing back down onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands move faster now, pushing down the sweatpants and discarding them onto the floor.

He positions himself back between your legs, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you hungrily. One of his thighs slides against you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

Dodge takes advantage of your moment of surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth. His hands roam over your bare thighs and hips, gripping the flesh tightly as he continues to move against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, the evidence of his desire evident and urgent. He pulls away from the kiss, panting slightly, and looks down at you.

“God,” he mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifts his hips, pressing against you more purposefully. The friction between your bodies causes him to let out a guttural groan, his head dropping down to bury in your neck.

He peppers your neck with kisses, his lips and teeth leaving behind a trail of marks and bites. He continues to rock his hips against you, the friction growing more and more intense as the seconds pass.

His hands roam over your body, mapping out every dip and curve with fervor. He's almost feverish in his touch, his need for you overwhelming his rational thoughts.

"I need," he gasps, his breath warm against your skin, "I need..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, instead moving to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace of his movements. The friction between your bodies is enough to send waves of pleasure through you, the feeling consuming your senses.

Dodge breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to see your face. He takes in the sight of you, hair mussed, eyes glazed over with desire, cheeks flushed with color.

He looks wrecked himself, his breathing labored and his body taut with tension. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught, as if he's holding back from completely letting go.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He's on the edge, you can tell. But he's still holding back, still trying to control himself.

"I want... I need..." he pants, his words coming out in shuddering gasps. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me I can... tell me you want..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. He's desperate, his need for you almost palpable in the air.

He know’s he’s gotten your permission beforehand, but he needs to be sure.

“Please.” You whine.

Dodge exhales a ragged breath at your response, the sound almost a moan. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body trembling with need.

"Thank god," he gasps, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god."

He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth hungrily. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as he positions himself against you.

The friction between your bodies is maddening now, the pleasure building with every movement. Dodge bucks his hips against you, causing you both to moan into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You feel so good," he whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers through your body. "So perfect, so goddamn perfect."

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of exposed flesh. He's everywhere at once, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

You almost whine out at the lack of contact to your body as his hands travel to his belt.

Dodge's hands fumble with his jeans, the frantic motion a clear indicator of how desperately he needs you. He pushes the material down, kicking them off the edge of the bed with a hasty movement.

He's bare now, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. He positions himself back between your legs, bracing himself above you.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you beneath him. You're flushed and trembling, your eyes glassy with desire. You can see his gaze flickering over your body, taking in every detail, every curve.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place as he rolls his own into you.

The friction between your bodies is enough to drive you both insane. Dodge lets out a guttural moan into the kiss, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise.

He swears he could come at the sight of this alone, and he honestly might.

A rapid knock to his door stirs him out of his frenzy.

Dodge grunts in surprise, pulled out of his passionate haze by the interruption. He looks up at you, his eyes still dark with desire but confused by the sudden intrusion.

"What?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he called out to his sister in the hallway. "What's wrong?"

“I can’t reach the cereal above the fridge.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing as he pulled your — his, sweatpants over his body.

He raises a finger, as if telling you to wait, and you nod, but you were asleep by the time he finished helping Dana.

[wlwanakin]

Please show me your fav scenes where Anakin looks like a scared child in a man's body

OOOO this is a great question. yes ofc!!

the first scene that always comes to mind and imo the most exemplary one is obi-wan and anakin’s convo with padmé and her staff at the beginning of aotc esp after obi-wan reprimands him. first screencap is from the beginning of the scene and second is from later, and you can see how much anakin shrinks into himself after obi-wan’s reprimands but even at the beginning he’s making himself small and hiding in his robes:

he also has a nervous child vibe when he’s on the balcony talking about his dreams to obi-wan later:

his body language is also very small and petulant when obi-wan talks him out of landing the ship to get padmé during the battle on geonosis:

it’s a bit less obvious in rots but it’s still very there imo. i think the scene i see it in the most is in the scene where he’s appointed to the council, especially right after his “it’s outrageous. it’s unfair” outburst. doesn’t come off as clearly in screencaps but one thing i noticed in my rewatch is how quickly and nervously he concedes after mace windu reprimands him:

i also see it a lot in his scenes with palpatine, like this one right before aforementioned council scene:

and it also feels very present when he finds out palpatine is the sith lord, but one part that always stands out to me is how he says “i would certainly like to” when palpatine asks if he’s going to kill him. there’s such a petulance to how he delivers the line and this real undercurrent of fear, and it reminds me a lot of an abused child nervously talking back to an abusive parent:

and my favorite is when he kneels to palpatine bc it’s just all-around desperate and pathetic and that is such a stark contrast to what the scene represents for the galaxy at large: