#i half just want to take them out but i really like them and am hopeful :/// things will improve :///

[somarysueme]

So, tattoo shop AUs are really popping off lately and personally I love it. What’s more romantic than bleeding for art? Nothing!

But as someone married to a tattoo artist, I have been experiencing some mild She Wouldn’t Say That regarding tattoo culture. So here’s a few quick tips that may help inform your AU. With a grain of salt for my mostly-second-hand knowledge:

NO ONE REPUTABLE SHOP WILL TATTOO A DRUNK PERSON. EVER. or even a person they suspect of any kind of inebriation. This is not just for Regret reasons, but also because alcohol is a blood thinner. If someone is on an acute dose of blood thinners, you generally do not want to stab them dozens of times per second.

Maybe this is regional, but in my experience most tattoo places don’t call themselves parlors anymore. It has a kind of seedy vibe. I see shop or studio a lot but rarely parlor.

Most tattoo artists are hot, yes, but none are as hot at my wife

Tattooing janks up your hands. Sometimes in a RSI way but definitely in a changing-gloves-every-five-minutes-fucks-up-your-skin way.

Artists themselves are rarely if ever employees of the shop. They will be independent contractors who pay the shop either a cut of their sales or rent on their station like a hair dresser. They are also (usually) responsible for taking care of their own supplies, tools, etc. except for the stencil printer. What kind of dweeb would have their own stencil printer?

There is always a line for the stencil printer. Always.

Artists generally spend orders of magnitude more time working on art, replying to emails, doing consults, etc compared to time with their needles in skin.

A typical schedule for an artist might be: wake up at noon and guzzle half her body weight in coffee, one appointment from 1-4, and another from 6-9. Home to eat one (1) real meal at 10 pm. Drawing until 5 am. This is good for her actually and good for our marriage and she’s so healthy all the time.

An ideal shop receptionist needs to be friendly, knowledgeable, and encouraging. They also need to be willing to get out the baseball bat that is kept behind the counter.

If a shop has to choose between “good people skills” and “will promptly rebuff Nazis and the obviously inebriated” the later is often a more important consideration.

At any given moment in any given shop there’s going to be at least one apprentice or someone bumming around hoping to be taken on as an apprentice. They spawn on tic and this feature cannot be disabled.

Again I can not overstate how hot my wife is

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈𝐈

summary now that you’ve kissed, the two of you can’t help but wonder what it means moving forward. Luckily, it’s so easy being with each other that taking it day by day doesn’t seem half bad | wc 1.1k

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[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

If it’s one thing shy!eddie knows well, it’s labels. They’ve been forced on him all his life. But this—whatever has blossomed between the two of you—he can’t quite pin down. And the universe sure as hell isn’t gonna step in and do it for him. For once, the cards are in his hands, and he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

Later that night, he walks you out to your car, and it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. The feeling of your lips still lingers on his. He’s never wanted anyone to stay as badly as right now.

Nevertheless, you hug him one last time, and he gets the door for you without second thought because he’s always done so. Even before you made butterflies a permanent fixture in his stomach. 

“Thanks, Teddy,” you lilt as you settle behind the wheel. “Can I call you that?” You’re teasing, but only partly.  His blush is evident in the glow of the streetlamps that illuminate Forest Hills against the night. 

He hasn’t heard that nickname since it came past his mother’s lips when he was a boy. He smiles a little, lifts a shoulder as if he’s more indifferent than he is. “If you want," he says. 

You’re quiet for a beat, then cutely scrunch your nose up at him. “But what do you want?”  Eddie blinks like he hasn’t heard the likes of this question in a long while. 

“You can call me Teddy,” he decides. You could call him Edward for all he cared. Whatever you wanted, really. That’s when he realizes he’s in trouble. The best kind. 

Shy!Eddie who can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happens, but realizes he’s begun to pay more mind to the way he looks—undoubtedly because of you. One morning at 7 AM, his Uncle Wayne knocks on the bathroom door. Inside, he hears the startled sound of a tub of hair gel tumbling into the sink. “Shit—I’ll be out in a second!” 

An affectionate smirk pulls at Wayne's lips. “Guess I'll use it outside like a dog,” he jokes.  

Later that day, as Mrs. O’Donnell lectures the class, Eddie feels you poke the end of your pencil into the side of his ribcage from where you sit behind him. The way he straightens makes you smile, and he shoots a discreet glance over his shoulder to see what you want. Except your gaze is cast out the window in feigned innocence. 

Three minutes later, he curls in on himself as the ticklish pokes start up again. This time, you pass him a ripped piece of notebook paper that features your neat, bubbly handwriting: hi, handsome ;) 

All Eddie can do is helplessly flush with warmth. 

A couple weeks later, as you’re painting your nails on your best friend’s bedroom floor, you think aloud, “Me and Eddie.” Robin peers down at you from her bed, where she absentmindedly braids a strand of her hair. “I think we’re a sure thing.” 

Her brows lift in surprise. “So you’re official?” 

You purse your lips in consideration. “No, we’re just…us.” 

Robin frowns at first, but eventually nods because, maybe, that’s all love was ever meant to be. Unadulterated in the sense that it could never be bogged down to titles and definitions. 

“Sweet,”  she finally says. 

You nod and begin to smile at the thought of him. The way he gives you his full attention whether you’re talking about life at large or your day. The way he bites back his own goofy smile whenever he unintentionally makes you laugh—which happens all the time. The way he’s welcomed you into his little world.

You’re remiss that you weren’t braver sooner. 

“Yeah,” you agree in a wistful exhale. It is pretty sweet. You raise your hand to gently blow over the sheer pink polish coated on your fingertips. 

Like clockwork, the dismissal bell sounds to denote the end of yet another school day. A few more months, and you'll be kissing these stuffy, bustling halls goodbye.

Eddie catches up with you at your locker and asks if you’d like to go hang out with him in the woods behind the school. It’s nice out today. 

You narrow your eyes as you shut the metal door. “So was this your plan all along? Get my guard down so you can lure me into the woods and go in for the kill?” 

He knows you’re joking, but his answer is sincere anyway. His big bambi eyes dark and gooey as he says, “Never. No way.”

There’s a picnic table nestled amidst the tall trees, as it turns out. A calming breeze glides through the branches and rustles their leaves. Eddie sits first and expects you to choose the bench across from him, but you sit on the same side. You want to be near him. He can’t complain.

A comfortable silence settles between you that he eventually breaks. “Used to come out here a whole lot," he says. “I’d write songs or sit and listen to music," he lists. "Enjoy the scenery…” his words fade as his eyes settle back on you. There’s a tender depth to your gaze. 

He smiles a bit self-consciously, but he's not exactly embarrassed. More so hyperaware because you always make him feel so seen. “What?” he murmurs. 

Without a single word, you scoot closer to press your lips to his. One of his hands rise to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin. This kiss is different. Deeper. Unlike your usual affectionate pecks in every way. 

Warmth kindles in your stomach when his initial hesitancy dissipates. As he finds his way, his lips move sure and easy against your own. Plush and warm. You can feel his gentle exhales puff from his nose, and against your own desire, you slowly begin to pull away to ensure all this is alright.  

But Eddie’s okay. He’s more than okay. For the first time since he’s known you, he feels the soft tug of frustration in his chest. Except it’s not rooted in irritation. It’s rooted in want. 

When he leans back in, cheeks flushed and dark eyes hopeful, you let his lips just barely graze yours before you pull away. He tries again, and you lean back once more, flustered and excited by his newfound boldness. 

You place a gentle hand on his chest and chuckle despite yourself. “Easy, Teddy,” it’s a honeyed warning that carries no bite. 

“C’mere,” he insists, a pout on his face even though it's threatened by a smile. "Wanna kiss you." His voice drops low and shy, like it's a secret.

When you giggle, butterflies aflutter in your stomach, he takes it upon himself to hold you steady and kiss the sweet sound from your lips. 

The two of you are a sure thing, indeed.

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated ♡

a/n making this a series because I can't get enough of these two. Stay tuned for the formal announcement!

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[pretentious-blonde]

for you? always

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you’re unravelling—badly—but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

warnings: toxic work environments, crying, SWEET STEVE OMG

a/n: i made a part 3 but can be read as a STANDALONE, and once again, it is hurt/comfort. i just love sweet steve!!

if people want another part i am down. pt. 1 pt. 2

It might be an exaggeration, but Steve Harrington didn’t think life could get much better than this. 

He was standing behind the counter at Family Video, half-listening to Robin as she complained, not really giving her his full attention. She could have been ranting about his terrible sorting system, or the stain on the carpet neither of them had managed to get out since last week. He wasn’t too sure. His focus was more invested at the clock on the far wall, waiting for it to hit 6 p.m. 

It was Friday night, closing time. Normally, he’d be stoked to clock out and get home, maybe lounge around or hang with the kids. But for almost four weeks now, his evenings had been filled with something—someone—more exciting. 

He was aware of how annoying he had gotten. Hell, even Robin teased him about it, calling him the “lovesick puppy,” for the amount of times he was caught staring out the door wistfully, hoping you would wander in on your lunch break. 

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Plus, if he could put up with months of her pining after Vicky, she could put up with it for a little while longer. 

Four weeks—four perfect weeks since that first time you let him take you out for dinner. He brought you to Enzo’s, the fanciest spot in town, really trying to impress you.

He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face remembering it: the two of you tucked into a booth, your eyes lighting up when you tasted the pasta, holding it up for him to try it from your fork, your giggle when he got some of the sauce on the side of his mouth. He became acutely aware of your laugh, actually. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds. 

After he’d driven you home that night and dropped you off at your door, he’d stood there, wanting so badly to kiss you, but also not wanting to assume just because you let him before, he could do it again. 

So, he’d leaned in awkwardly, maybe an inch too far, and you’d given him the sweetest little smile that told him to relax and pulled him in the rest of the way. That moment was etched into his memory, something he found himself revisiting over and over. 

And from there, it had only gotten better. 

The second date at the local diner (you’d shared fries with him and stole a sip of his milkshake), the movie night where he insisted you pick the snacks—any snacks, your call—and still ended up grabbing M&Ms halfway through the film, claiming it was for “variety.” Then there was the afternoon you invited him over to bake cookies—insisting it would be a fun bonding activity—only to end up with flour in your hair and half the dough on the floor, while Steve practically bent over double laughing at how grumpy you looked in your patterned apron. 

And that perfect night at Lover’s Lake. God, he was happy you hadn’t grown up around here. He took full advantage of your lack of knowledge about the location. It was magical, lying on a threadbare blanket underneath the stars. You’d called him “a total sap” when he waxed poetic about constellations he barely remembered the names of.

He had caught you smiling at him like he’d hung the moon himself. He’d stolen a kiss—okay, maybe two, or three—when you’d turned your head toward him, and the surprise on your face melted immediately into something so soft. It made him sure you were feeling the same as him. By the time he was driving you home, hand resting on your thigh, you both felt like you’d just lived out a scene in one of those old romance movies he pretended not to like.

Then came your visits to his territory. He could still picture the day you stepped through the door, a shy smile on your lips. He tried to maintain some level of professional cool, but the moment Robin saw you, she took it upon herself to tease him relentlessly. “So you’re the one Harrington won’t shut up about.” 

He’d glared but couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. You’d just grinned, leaning against the counter, and introduced yourself to Robin, who then spent the rest of the shift chatting with you while Steve tried to play it cool and failed miserably. Yet somehow, that failure felt okay—good, even—because seeing you click so easily with his best friend just made his day sweeter.

Yes, the last month had been a whirlwind—one that left him with a permanent giddy glow. He liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And it wasn’t just because you looked great in every light—though, let’s be honest, that didn’t hurt—but because you seemed to get him. You found humour in his dumb jokes, shared your own stories with him, and let him into your life without any of the hesitations or expectations he’d grown used to.

Even Robin had mentioned how he didn’t snap at customers as much. He threw a glance in her direction, who was now tapping her fingers on a shelf impatiently. 

“Dude,” she said, rolling her eyes, “if you stare at that clock any harder, it’s gonna melt.”

“Give me a break,” Steve smirked, flicking his gaze back at the time. “I’m just… in a good mood, okay?”

“You just want to get out of here to see your girlfriend,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“She’s not my—” He paused, the flush creeping over his cheeks again. “We haven’t exactly— I mean, yeah, we’re kinda… I dunno, it’s been a few weeks. She might be my girlfriend.”

Robin laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm as she approached. “You’re so far gone, it’s painful to watch. Honestly, it's jarring watching you be all heart-eyed lately.”

He wanted to deny it, but instead he found himself laughing too. Was it that obvious? Judging by the glances from Robin and the kids—especially Dustin—it definitely was. But he couldn’t bring himself to care; if being obvious meant you were in his life, then so be it.

Finally, the clock hit closing time. Steve turned, circling the counter to the front entrance. He flipped the sign to “Closed,” already imagining what he might do for the rest of the night. 

You told him to come over that evening at around half past, maybe order some late-night takeaway, or go for a drive, or just hang out on the couch, do nothing but talk about your days. It all sounded equally perfect to him. 

As he began turning off the main computer, the store’s phone rang, shrill and unexpected in the quiet. He exchanged a puzzled look with Robin. 

Who the hell was calling this late?

You arrive at your apartment with shoulders hunched. Your day at The Hawkins Post had been a complete train wreck. You’d expected to face challenges when you got into journalism—no one just handed out dream assignments on a silver platter—but you hadn’t expected to be treated like the office errand girl.

All day, you’d been fetching coffees, photocopying pages, and biting your tongue whenever they cracked jokes at your expense. You told yourself you could handle it, that it was just part of paying your dues. But this afternoon, when they were brainstorming story ideas for the week’s paper, you’d jumped at the chance to volunteer something—anything. Before you could even get more than a sentence out, they’d laughed it off, practically shooing you out of the room.

You clenched your fists, trying not to let tears burn at the back of your eyes as one of the senior editors—some balding guy who’d never bothered learning your name—actually said: “Why don’t you just get us another round of coffee, alright hun?” 

You’d never felt so small in your life.

Now, alone in your living room, the tears finally came. Hot, embarrassing, unwelcome. You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag aside, your mind buzzing with memories of the condescending smirks you’d gotten. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Made you question what you were even doing there. 

The clock on your bookshelf read 6:00 p.m. That meant Steve was probably about to close. You’d said something about grabbing dinner, or even just hanging out at your place to watch that cheesy horror flick you’d both joked about. Normally, the thought would make your heart lift. But right now? You felt too raw to face him.

Not that you didn’t want to see him—you did, desperately. But something inside you balked at the idea of letting him see you like this: tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, humiliated. It’s too soon for that, you had only known him for about a month. No point in handing him your emotional baggage just yet. Maybe that was a two or three month sort of milestone. 

With trembling fingers, you picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d scribbled on a scrap of paper “just in case” you needed him. A part of you wished you had the strength to ask for him, to ask for comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

It rang a few times, and your stomach twisted painfully. Then, his voice came through, warm and cheerful, exactly what you needed and exactly what you felt you didn’t deserve right now.

“Steve?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve’s tone instantly made your eyes sting with fresh tears. “I’m just finishing up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer. You alright?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice not to crack. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean—no, not really.” You cringed at how shaky you sounded. “I’m not feeling so great, so, um… I think I’m gonna have to cancel tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, really? You sure you’re okay? Like fever or something? I can—”

“N-no, I promise, I’m good,” you cut in too quickly, wiping at your cheeks even though he couldn’t see you. “Just think I need some rest.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” He sounded so disheartened. You didn’t like disappointing him. “If you need anything, will you call me? I can be there in like ten minutes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt gnawing at you. He was so sweet, and you were lying. Well, half-lying. You weren’t okay. But you couldn’t tell him that. At least not yet.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured instead. “Just… sorry to cancel.”

He hesitated, that warm voice going even softer. “No, don’t worry about it. Feel better, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve,” you said, barely keeping it together. “Talk later.”

You hung up before your voice could betray you. The moment the line clicked, you tossed the phone aside, heart feeling heavier than before. God, you just hoped he wouldn’t be upset—or that he wouldn’t pry deeper. You didn’t trust yourself not to break down if he asked the right questions.

Still, a tiny part of you wished he’d come anyway.

Steve set the receiver back on its cradle, staring at the phone for a moment longer than necessary. His stomach did a little flip, the kind it did when something was wrong. He could usually read you pretty well by now—your moods, the subtleties in your tone. And that phone call? It screamed distress.

Robin, who’d been watching from across the store, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her. “She canceled.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Robin’s face immediately fell into sympathy. “That really sucks.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “No, I don’t think it’s… I mean, I hope it’s not that. She sounded off, like… said she wasn’t feeling well.”

Robin tilted her head. “She’s sick? Flu or something?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, trying to reconcile the tension in his gut. “She said she just needs rest. I offered to bring her something, but she shot it down.”

Robin gave him a long look, then sighed dramatically, piecing together the puzzle. 

“Harrington, come on. You told me she just moved here, right? She’s got no family around? No close friends yet?”

“Yeah, she’s new,” he admitted, mind flashing back to the time you mentioned how weird it was living in a town where you barely knew anyone.

Robin folded her arms. “So, if she’s not feeling great, she’s gonna be alone.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated, slower this time. A prickle of realisation stirred in him.

“Which might mean,” Robin continued in her usual exasperated tone, “that you, as the devoted whatever-you-are—boyfriend? friend? something—should maybe check on her anyway.”

His eyes widened. “But she said—”

“People say a lot of things,” Robin cut him off. “Sometimes they don’t want to feel like a burden. Or they’re embarrassed. You, of all people, should get that, right?”

A flicker of memory—Steve himself blowing off concerned offers because he didn’t want to look weak—made him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “You think the pharmacy’s still open?”

Robin gave him a small, genuine smile. “Definitely. Swing by, grab some tea or cough drops, or whatever else might help. And maybe the grocery store for soup.”

Steve nodded firmly, adrenaline already buzzing in his veins. You’re alone. You’re upset. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let you suffer through that. Not if he could help it.

“You’re a genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” She waved him off. “And call me later—if you’re still alive. Just in case she actually has the plague or something.”

“Ha-ha,” he shot back as he flew around the counter, grabbing his jacket and headed for the door. 

Steve hovered outside your apartment door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, an overstuffed bag clutched in one hand. He’d stopped at three different stores, grabbing tea, soup, your favorite candy, a variety of painkillers—everything he could think of to help you feel better.

Maybe he was totally wrong about the situation. I mean, hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe you truly wanted space. Maybe he’d overstepped. Maybe he’d come off overbearing. 

But the memory of your shaky voice on the phone nagged at him. He couldn’t just stay away. You’d insisted you were fine, but your voice cracked at the edges. Better to let you tell him in person than for you to suffer in silence. So he took a breath, rang the doorbell, and braced himself.

When you opened the door, it was worse than he expected. Way worse. Every bit of resolve he’d mustered wavered.

You were still in your wrinkled work clothes, eyes red, cheeks blotchy. It was obvious you’d been crying, and the sight of it knocked the air from his lungs. Instantly, all of Steve’s doubts vanished, replaced by a need to do whatever he could to help.

“Hey,” he said softly, attempting a small, reassuring smile. You looked ready to apologise, but before you could say a word, your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. His heart clenched as he gently pushed the door open wider and slipped inside, letting the bag drop beside him.

“Hey, c’mon,” he murmured, pulling you toward him immediately. Not expecting to find you in this state, but nonetheless prepared to help. “It’s okay. Talk to me, yeah? Are you—are you feeling sick, or…?”

You stood there, overwhelmed, arms shaking as you let yourself cling to him. Steve’s heart ached—the same way it did when he saw one of the kids upset, except this was deeper, more urgent.

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and sank further against him, your breath catching in a muffled sob.

It was all he needed to hear.

He readjusted his arms to fit you better, cradling the back of your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He could feel how shaken you were, how close you were to coming completely undone. It made him want to bury you in every comfort he could possibly give.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.” He didn’t know if those things were true, but by the end of the evening, he would make sure they would be.

You pressed your face into his chest, holding him like he was the only solid thing in your life right now. He felt the tremor in your shoulders, the ragged rise and fall of your breaths, and it lit that familiar spark inside him—he needed to fix this. Except he didn’t know how yet. But he would try. So for now he just held you, gently running his hand across your back.

Eventually, he guided you away from the door, nudging it shut behind him with his foot. He decided it would be better to get you settled before trying to get you to talk.  

“C’mon,” he murmured, leading you to the couch. “I…I brought a bunch of stuff—tea, soup, that candy you like…” He tried a tentative smile, but worry still ached in his gut. Those things seemed rather redundant now that he spoke them aloud. When he looked at you, it appeared you didn’t even register what he was saying. Whatever was ailing you, it certainly wasn't the flu.

“Hey,” he said again, voice hushed so as not to scare you. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” His gaze flicked over your tear-stained cheeks, and you could practically feel the genuine concern radiating off him. “I just… I want to help. I can’t help until you tell me what’s wrong. So… let me try, okay?”

His words hung in the air, soft and pleading. There was so much earnestness in his eyes, it almost hurt. He was trying so hard, and you could tell he was moments away from offering every solution under the sun.

That was who he was—a guy who dove in headfirst, wanting to protect and fix. And though part of you still felt hesitant, the rest of you knew you needed him right now. His soft, brown eyes begging you to let him in. 

It would be cruel to tell him not to worry, especially since he already saw the state you were in. You took a deep breath as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

“Work was… hard,” you start, voice trembling on the last word.

Steve nods, encouraging you to continue. “Yeah?” He scoots a little closer. “Tell me about it, angel.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. The humiliation still burns in your chest, but as soon as you see the concern in his eyes, the words begin tumbling out.

“All the guys at the paper,” you say, swallowing hard, “they basically laughed in my face today. I wanted to pitch an idea—I thought, maybe if I showed some initiative, they’d take me seriously.” You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. “Turns out, they don’t.”

He inches forward, the couch creaking beneath his weight. “They laughed?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, blinking away tears. “The whole room, practically. They didn’t even let me finish. Just told me to go make more copies or bring them more coffee. I felt so stupid. Like I’m not cut out for any of this.”

Your voice cracks, and Steve’s expression tightens with empathy. He raises a hand to your cheek, carefully brushing away a stray tear with his thumb before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know how you feel,” he says softly. Then he corrects himself with a small shrug. “Well, not exactly. I know someone else who went through that crap. I don’t know the full story, but from what I heard, it was awful.”

Nancy let slip here and there snippets from her time at The Hawkins Post. The incessant ridicule, the constant demeaning remarks. It irked him then, but now? He was vexed. Grown men picking on you all for a power trip? Unbelievable. 

He had to school his anger before he said something regretful, he always did have a sharp tongue. What you needed now was comfort, not someone going on a rampage on your behalf.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. But you know what I do know?” Steve continues, his voice dropping to a firm, truthful tone. “Those guys? They’re idiots, alright?”

“Maybe…” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and you sniff, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “They made me feel like a complete joke.”

“No way. Not even close.” He shakes his head firmly, like he wants to banish that thought forever. He won’t allow you to linger in self-doubt. “You’re brilliant. Look, you picked up and moved across the country by yourself, found a place to live, and started a brand-new job in a town where you barely know anyone. That takes guts.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of the day pressing in again. “Feels like it was a dumb move,” you admit, voice quieter. “Like I’m playing dress-up in a grown-up’s world, and everyone else can see I’m an imposter.”

A flicker of protectiveness flashes across Steve’s face. He can’t stand the idea of you belittling yourself—he’s seen how you throw yourself into your work, how bravely you uprooted everything to move here, how determined you can be when you set your mind on something.

“Hey,” he says, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re strong, you’re smart, and if they can’t see that, well…” He shrugs. “That’s on them. They’re the ones missing out. I swear half those guys probably haven’t stepped foot outside of Indiana.”

When you lean into him, relief flickers in his chest. 

Thank God, maybe he’s getting through. 

He tucks you closer against his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ll crush it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I believe that.”

“Yeah?” you ask, voice thick.

“Absolutely.” He gives you a little squeeze. “You want a new job? You’ll find one. You want to stay and prove those assholes wrong? You’ll do that too. Just say the word, and I’ll be right there to cheer you on. Or beat them up, if that’s easier.”

Despite the tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes, you let out a half-chuckle. “I’ve never really been much of a quitter,” you admit, the first spark of determination returning to your tone.

“Didn’t think so,” he says with a grin, admiration evident in his voice. “Strong girl like you? You’re gonna do just fine.”

You nestle closer into him, thankful beyond words that he’s here, that he understands in a way you desperately needed someone to.

Steve’s just relieved that you’re letting him be the one to help you shoulder the weight. Something else he realised this evening was that he hates seeing you hurt, but if being here—listening, comforting—helps even a little, then it’s worth every second.

You exhale a shaky breath and smooth down the front of your shirt, eyes still puffy from crying. You feel lighter, like a burden’s been lifted just from having Steve here. Even with a hint of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice quiet. “For making you worry, I mean. I should’ve just told you what was going on.”

Steve’s gaze flicks over your face. “You didn’t—well, okay, maybe I was worried,” he admits, a tiny wry smile tugging at his lips. “But I’d prefer it if you just told me when you’re sad. I mean, I can’t fix everything, but I want to help—when you’ll let me.”

You nod, fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I still feel bad for lying earlier. Telling you I was sick.” You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You got me soup and everything.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, shifting with a touch of bashfulness. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least try to look after you?”

A beat passes, and then your eyes snap to his. 

“Boyfriend?”

Steve freezes, colour blooming across his cheeks. 

Shit.

“Uh… yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, that’s—what did you think we were doing? I figured we were… you know, dating. I pick you up, I pay for stuff, sometimes we—uh—we kiss—” He falters, stumbling over his words. “Not all the time, but—”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile as you watch him ramble. Something tender wells up inside you. It’s like he’s laid himself bare—admitting out loud how he sees you, how he sees this. And it’s so damn endearing you can’t help the small giggle that escapes.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you tease, reaching to gently poke his cheek.

He groans, cheeks going even pinker. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, covering his face with one hand. “I can’t believe—”

You place your hand over his, coaxing him to look at you. “I like the idea of you being my boyfriend,” you say softly, each word weaving comfort through the space between you.

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and for a second, he looks almost boyish with relief. “You do?”

A small smile curves your lips as you lean in. “Yeah.” 

You slide a hand to his cheek, guiding him into a kiss—slow, sweet, and laced with the warmth of everything you’ve been lacking back all day. He exhales against your mouth, shoulders easing with the gentle press of your lips. His thumb strokes lightly over your jaw as he returns the kiss, and you taste a hint of peppermint from the candy he’d been snacking on in the car. When he finally pulls back, breath a little unsteady, there’s a stunned happiness in his eyes. 

“So…” he murmurs, voice catching in his throat. “I’m your boyfriend.” He tried to make it sound like a joke but you could see the question behind his statement. He wanted full clarification here. He wanted to hear you say it out loud. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Yes, Steve. You’re my boyfriend.”

“That’s—God.” He laces his fingers through yours, a giddy laugh bubbling from his chest. “That’s—yeah. Glad we cleared that up.”

You both end up in the kitchen soon after, unpacking the soup he brought. It’s nothing fancy—just store-bought chicken noodle—but it warms you from the inside out as you eat together, perched on stools by the counter. He slides you half the candy he picked up, and you pass the bag back and forth, bumping shoulders with quiet smiles. There’s something so normal about it—the day’s troubles left behind in another world.

Later, you curl up on the couch together, switching on the TV. Steve insists you get first pick after the day you had. You flick through the channels until you settle on some old sitcom that neither of you pay much attention to. You’re more focused on the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, the clock inches toward midnight. The hum of the television plays softly in the background as you shift to look at him. 

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

He winces a little. “Yeah,” he says, regret threading through his voice. “’Fraid so. Saturdays are insane. I tried to switch shifts, but Keith was being a total pain. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shake your head. “I was just wondering if… you wanted to stay here tonight.” Your cheeks warm slightly at the invitation. “I live closer, and I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Plus…” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze momentarily. “I’d really rather not be alone tonight.”

Steve’s eyes flicker with surprise and then a rush of tenderness. “You—you want me to stay? I mean, I don’t want to impose. Not like in a—like we don’t have to—I mean—”

You cut off his rambling by resting a hand over mouth. “Steve.” Your smile is gentle. “Stay the night, please? I’m asking you to.”

He searches your face, seeing sincerity there, and his entire demeanour softens. You’re too damn sweet for your own good, he swears. 

“Alright,” he breathes. “Yeah. I’ll stay.” Then he leans in, pressing a slow, grateful kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Eventually, the two of you shuffle into your bedroom, quietly laughing as you rummage around for that spare toothbrush you promised. You lend him an old T-shirt that’s slightly snug across his shoulders, which only makes you giggle more. By the time you both slip beneath the blankets, the mood has shifted from the sadness of the day to the tenderness of tonight. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, and you snuggle into his chest, breathing in his soft scent. For a moment, neither of you says anything—it’s enough just to lie there, safe and comfortable, heartbeats syncing in the quiet. 

“Night, sweetheart.” He murmurs and you sigh in agreement, already being lulled into sleep. It’s a happy sound—one that makes him pull you closer as you drift off. 

You stir awake to the warmth of Steve’s arm still draped over your waist. Morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating the little dust particles swirling in the morning light. The alarm you set starts to go off and he lets out a quiet groan, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder as if he can hide from the responsibilities of the day. You can’t help but smile, tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand.

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You push a sleepy chuckle past your lips. “You have to—Robin would miss you too much.”

“No she wouldn’t.” He sighs dramatically, rolling onto his back and turning off the blaring sound. “Probably count it as a blessing not to put up with me for a whole Saturday.” But there’s a small, silly grin on his face that betrays the fondness beneath all the complaining.

A short while later, you’re both in the kitchen, sipping hastily brewed coffee due to your shared reluctance to get up. You lean against the counter, watching as he rubs sleep from his eyes and nurses his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. You don’t say anything about the state of his hair, enjoying the way it falls messily across his forehead. 

“You sure you’re feeling better?” he asks, gaze flickering over you, still laced with concern even though you’ve assured him more times than you can count.

You nod, a softer smile pulling at your lips. “I am. Thanks to you,” you add, nudging his foot with yours, blushing with how sappy you’re both being.

He tries for a humble shrug, but the flush creeping up his neck is unmistakable. “Anytime, angel.”

Before long, the clock reminds him that time is up. He slips into yesterday’s shirt—grimacing a bit at the wrinkles—and heads for the door. You follow, hands clasped around your mug. At the threshold, he turns to you, pressing a gentle goodbye kiss to your lips.

Then another.

And another.

“Steve, you’re gonna be late.” You let out an exasperated laugh, placing a firm hand on his chest.

He grins like a kid caught stealing candy. “What—trying to get rid of me already?”

“You know I’m not,” you sigh, rolling your eyes as you gently shove him. “I’m literally seeing you after you clock out!”

His voice lowers playfully as he backs out the door. “Damn right you are.”

He winks, then sets off, leaving you with a warm, tingly feeling long after he disappears from sight.

When Steve finally strolls into Family Video, he finds Robin already at the counter, re-shelving tapes. She glances up, raises an eyebrow, and greets him with a lazy wave.

“Hey. So… how’d it—” She stops mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at him. “Wait a second.” She points accusingly at his shirt. “That is the same outfit from yesterday. You did not—”

“Whoa,” Steve lifts both hands defensively. “It’s not like that, okay?”

Robin sets down the tapes, folding her arms over her chest. “Then enlighten me. Because it sure looks like you had a fun night.”

“Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It was—look, it’s not what you think. She was having a rough time, I went to check on her, and… well, I stayed over. Nothing crazy.”

Robin cocks her head, curiosity replacing her initial look. “So she’s okay?” She may not know you as well as Steve did, but if you were important to him, you were important to her too. 

“Yeah. She will be.” He nods, and a small, proud smile graces his lips. “My girl’s tough.”

Her eyes light up. “Your girl, huh?”

He bobs his head, trying to hide the giddy surge that washes over him. “Yeah. Officially.”

Robin squeals—actually squeals—and Steve flushes, glancing around to make sure there are no customers to witness it. 

“We have to do a double date!” she says, practically bouncing on her heels. “We’ll get Vickie—”

“Rob,” Steve pleads, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from curving up too high, “let’s not scare her off, okay? One step at a time.”

“Fine,” Robin huffs, but she’s beaming at him. “But soon. I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, yet there’s no denying the warmth in his expression. The truth is, he’s never felt so content. The memory of your smile still fresh in his mind, and the knowledge that, yes, you’re his girl. Officially.

“Yeah, we’ll figure something out,” Steve says quietly, stocking a few tapes behind the counter. His voice is softer than usual, carrying a note of contentment Robin hasn’t heard in him for a long, long time.

She shoots him a conspiratorial grin. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, thinking of how you looked in the morning light, how sweet it felt to hold you close and kiss you goodbye. He looks out the window toward your apartment, knowing you’re going to be there when he leaves in a few hours. “Me too.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

matches my weird

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "we are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." - dr. seuss

rated t | 1069 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush on eddie, open ending but assume they're gonna kiss later

🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒

Steve knows it’s gross, which is why he never does it when someone else is around. He opens the jar of pickles and the jar of peanut butter.

He scoops out a spoonful of peanut butter because he’s not an animal. He would never risk pickle juice getting in the jar when so many people come over to his house and ransack his cabinets. God forbid Robin try to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and end up with the taste of pickle on it.

She hates pickles almost as much as she hates Vecna. Seriously.

He dips the pickle into the peanut butter and puts it up to his mouth to take a bite.

“What is happening right now?” Eddie’s voice is high pitched and Steve jumps, nearly dropping his snack.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. He can’t hide what he’s doing at this point, so he might as well embrace it.

“I left my jacket here last night, remember? I called and told you I would be by to get it before I went to work?”

Eddie is holding said jacket in his hands and looks…not as disgusted as he probably should be. He just looks surprised.

“Oh, right.” Steve does vaguely remember this phone call, but he was half asleep this morning when Eddie called. He can’t be blamed for forgetting.

“Are you putting peanut butter on your pickles?” Eddie asks as he steps closer.

“I obviously am,” Steve replies.

“Bread and butter?” Eddie clarifies.

Steve checks the jar to be sure. “Yeah.”

“You should try it with the dill ones.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“The regular dill ones are really good in peanut butter. These ones are too, but the savory– Oh! And the sweet and sour ones! I ran out of peanut butter once and used chocolate syrup. Wasn’t as good, but got the job done,” Eddie explains as he walks over and takes a pickle from the jar to dip into the scoop of peanut butter.

“Um. What are you doing?”

“I’ve never known anyone else to do this! I did it when I was little and Wayne thought it was gross, but he always kept pickles and peanut butter in the house for me,” Eddie shrugs as he chews.

“This isn’t you just trying to make me feel like I’m not weird?” Steve doesn’t think someone would go to such lengths, especially not Eddie, but who knows.

“No. Who would do that?”

“I…dunno. I didn’t know anyone else did this. It’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, have you met me?” Eddie laughs. “I’m a pretty weird guy. Wait until you see what I do to my hot chocolate.”

“What do you do?” Steve takes another bite.

“This is Wayne’s fault, but I usually make it with a mix of milk and cola.”

Steve makes a face, but immediately realizes that’s actually probably pretty good. He’s heard of people using cola in chocolate cake before, so why not make hot chocolate with cola?

“I should try that,” he says.

“Yeah, I can make it for you after work if you want. I only have a four hour shift today.”

“I can go get some hot chocolate packets from the store.”

“We don’t need packets if you have syrup,” Eddie says.

“I always have syrup. El and Dustin drink chocolate milk every time they’re here,” Steve sits back in his chair. “But is that really gonna make it sweet enough?”

“Trust me, Harrington.”

“I do.”

It’s a loaded sentence, and Steve recognizes almost immediately that it’s a bit heavy for a very simple discussion about hot chocolate. His face is warm as he reaches over to grab another pickle from the jar.

“So…I can be here around eight?” Eddie continues after a long pause.

“Yeah, man, sounds good.”

Eddie reaches over Steve to get another pickle from the jar. Steve holds his breath as their arms brush against each other. His heart stops for a moment.

“You know, Wayne always says I gotta find someone just as weird as me. I don’t think he meant this, but maybe it’s that simple.”

Steve blinks, staring ahead so he doesn’t do something stupid like stand up and kiss Eddie or pull him into his lap. Now’s not the time to explore the feelings he’s had simmering in his gut for months, not when Eddie has to go to work. They’ve got plans later, maybe he can be brave about it then.

“Anyways! See ya later, Steve.”

Eddie leaves. Steve waits until he hears his truck start up before he throws his head back and groans. He’s ridiculous.

The phone rings and he groans again. He’s almost positive he knows who it is, and her timing is always impeccable.

“Hello?”

“Steve. You have to hear what Keith just told a customer. We would have been fired it it was us,” Robin whispers into the phone.

“Are you calling me while Keith is next to you?”

“Obviously I am.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “What did he say?”

“He told them that if they wanted to watch kid movies as an adult, they should keep that to themselves,” Robin sounds half-crazed. “I promise it sounded more scathing when he said it. The customer left and said he’d never come back. But I always got the creeps from that guy anyway. You know the one who always asks if I turned 18 yet?”

“Gross. Hate that guy. Maybe he won’t come back,” Steve says as he closes the peanut butter jar. “Hey, you know how I have a crush on Eddie?”

“Duh,” Robin says, half-distracted.

“Think I’m gonna do something about it tonight.”

He’s met with silence.

“You there?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to do something about it for a month now. Why tonight?”

Steve looks at the jar of pickles and smiles. “Because our weird matches.”

“O…kayyyy. You’re probably right about that.” He hears Keith say something about getting off the phone. “I gotta go, but good luck with that tonight.”

“Thanks, Robs. Do you like pickles dipped in peanut butter?”

“That’s disgusting, Steve. Seriously.”

“Just checking.”

“Do you?” Robin asks, but Keith starts yelling about personal calls on the clock and she rushes to hang up the phone before he can answer.

Steve hangs up and leans his head back against the wall.

“He matches my weird,” Steve sighs, smiling to himself.

[acexsmhking]

TICCI TOBY WITH A THING FOR KNUCKLE RUBBING LORD I BEG THAT IS THE REQUEST

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

(𝗮𝗱𝘃.) 𝗜𝗻 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻����𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗮𝘆

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Toby relationship knacks

note: i actually just got done with a full sobbing breakdown so this ask genuinely made me giggle i love you😭😂

Warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff nothing else<3 kinda..

No cause Anon you’re so right, like idk about anyone else but I LOVE knuckle rubs just in general and Toby 100% rubs your knuckles. All of them!!

Especially that little knuckle bone on your wrist tho I guess that’s a wrist bone.. what the difference..

But omg Toby LOVES hands; he loves holding your hand, kissing your fingers, your palms, EVERYTHING!

Toby is a very very touchy grabby feely person like 98.99% of the time. Of course he has his moments where that depression or anxiety hits all of us and he just,.. cannot handle any human interaction

But trust! He is holding your hands, thumb rubbing your knuckles, occasionally bringing your hand up to kiss.

And Toby is actually very open about PDA. Toby doesn’t really care about other people’s opinions or feelings if it isn’t you.. Tim.. Brian.. and Kate. So. Like. Ya know.

He keeps it more PG around them but 100% expect that if Toby ever does wiggle his way into town with you to go shopping he will slap your ass no care

So yeah no one is like shocked by just HOW often he kisses your knuckles. And it’s a lot

Toby pretty much is always with you, sure he heads off for house chores and maintenance and food but other that Toby is with you the whole 24HRS.

So he just… holds your hand. It’s really great actually. Toby doesn’t sweat, and he’s pretty chill not necessarily cold. So like it’s weirdly comfortable and satisfying to hold his hand

Sometimes he’ll hold your hand in his mouth if he’s doing something but still wants some body part of yours

We love the little cutie patootie

Toby 100% is the kinda guy that holds your hand when you guys have sex. I mean it, he loves it. He craves it. It’s just so.. close and intimate like those sappy old adult movies

*sobs*

Not to mention if YOU kiss his knuckles? Yeah he feels his heart tingle; back flipping, doing the tango. Toby is a very big emotion feeler. He feels rather intensely a majority of the time

Like he will break down crying holding your face telling you how much he loves you…

Me with my dog

But he is just a sucker for love. Don’t get me wrong, yes Toby has his moments, and his flaws, and lingering issues. But at the end of the day it genuinely is.. exhausting. And Toby isn’t just some emotionally stupid person he’s stupidly smart if anything lol

Especially canonically

And sometimes after eating a family of five, with your weird demon friend and masked adoptive mom you just wanna go home to your beloved and hold hands

Nothing wrong with that..

Omg going on dates Toby 100% holds your hand across the table. I don’t make the rules

(Ok sure your dates are always at home or the picnic table he built for you but it still counts)

He also LOVEEES how your hands feel, especially that soft skin one your knuckles. He had very very worked hands and just lovessss the differences in textures it itches something in his brain

Ride him, hold his hands as you bounce he will get you pregnant. Sucks if your a guy or mtf he don’t give a fuck. m!preg bitch take that

All in all. While Toby is 99.98% of the time a chaotic bundle of cannibalism, weird morals, demon possession and neurodivergence when he’s with you his only the neurodivergent and chaos LMAO

someone draw Toby kissing some hands<3

: ̗̀➛ Thank you again for this ask I have actually been so stupidly stressed today and this made me feel better. I promise Deer anon and other anon I am working on your requests too!! Just well tumblr decided not to save half the progress LMAO deer anon yours should come out tomorrow! — Ace

[temporarywelcome]

Hospital Visit - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: Your smooth criminal series is actually perfect!!!! Ahh I love the way you write both of them and their dynamics with the team. Obsessed 💕 Request: Kleptomaniac!Reader twists her ankle or like gets hurt due to practices during a dance and ends up at the hospital and worried spencer comes and sees her stealing little equipments again and her trying to leave because she doesnt want to miss her dance. (I really didn't know how to frame what I was thinking but honestly i think whatever you write will be amazing) -anonymous

CW: swearing, a bit suggestive towards the end. Technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series though you don't need to read the other parts to understand!

AN: I'm half Dominican so yes I can poke fun of Dominican people 🙄 lmao this character I created for this is loosely based off of my grandpa-. Also totally forgot the "her trying to leave" part so I might make a seperate fic with that, mb...

_____

Words: 2k

Spencer Reid wasn’t one to leave work early. 

When there was not a case and the Behavorial Analysis Unit was busy at the office, Spencer never left early. For him, that is ridiculous. Other members of the team like Hotch and JJ would have their moments where they would have to dash out of the building with barely any warning, due to little emergencies with their children. It barley happened, but when it did, it was understandable. 

Spencer, on the other hand, did not have children to worry about. He never had a reason to leave work. 

Until his phone rang. 

Flipping it open, his brows furrowed when he noticed who it was. His girlfriend. Her calling him in the middle of work never raised any alarm. She probably just brought him some lunch again, which she did a few days ago. Or some drama happened in a show she was watching and she just had to let it out. Probably something silly like that. 

But, wait! She had said she was going to be at the studio early today to get in some extra practice before rehearsal. So why would she be calling him instead of practicing?

“Hello?” he placed the phone to his ear. 

The voice on the other end answered in panic, “Hello? Is this Spencer?”

That was not his girlfriend. Instead, it was a man with a heavy accent, the genius deduced Dominican. What the fuck was she doing with this guy? 

“Yes, I’m Spencer, as the contact ID says,” Spencer replied curtly, feeling a hint of jealousy brewing within him, “Who is this?”

“I am Flavio!” the man replied confiently, “Flavio Herrera de León! I-”

“-Why are you calling me from my girlfriend’s phone?” Spencer interrupted in annoyance, “Where is she?”

“Oh!” the man laughed awkwardly, “On the floor! I will be taking her to a hospital now!”

Now Spencer was shooting up to his feet, gathering his things as he spoke, “Hospital?! Why do you need to take her to the hospital? Why is she on the floor?!”

“Very bad injury,” said Flavio, “I worry for her,”

Very bad injury?!

“What do you mean by that?!” Spencer mouthed to Hotch a quick ‘I gotta go’, not waiting for an answer as he sped towards the door, “How bad-”

“-Must take her to hospital. Blood everywhere. Bye bye!” And with that, fucking Flavio hung up the phone, leaving Spencer in an even worst panic. Blood everywhere? What the hell was Y/N doing?

Knowing her, it could have been anything. Every possible thought went through his head, every possibility. She was zoned out and got hit by a car. She tried to befriend a dog that wasn’t very friendly. She fell down a flight of stairs. 

She stressed him the fuck out. 

After breaking at least twelve traffic laws, Spencer found himself at the ER, pushing past people to get to the receptionist. “Y/N L/N,”

Not looking up at him from her computer, the woman replied with: “Relation to the patient?” 

Ugh. “FBI. Let me see her,” he waved his badge at her. He knew this was unprofessional and an abuse of power, but this was his girlfriend. The girl he was planning to marry someday. Who he was convinced stupidly got herself into this medical emergency. 

Abuse of power be damned. 

He was led through the ER to her room, bursting in. He was expecting tubes and machines connected to her unconscious form, maybe a cast or two. He was expecting to be completely traumatized by the sight before him.

Not his girlfriend shoving surgical gloves into her pockets. 

Her head snapped into his direction, eyes wide, but when it hit that it was Spencer and not a doctor, she sighed, body relaxing. “Shit, Spence, why didn’t you just kick the door down while you’re at it?” she said sarcastically. 

He did not find her amusing. She didn’t even know if her words registered to him. “What happened?!” he felt like he repeated that quite often today. He cupped her jaw, turning her head in all different directions while looking for any wounds, “That guy said there was blood everywhere! Where are you hurt?!” his eyes went from her face to the rest of her body. 

“He’s so dramatic,” Y/N groaned, “There was blood everywhere because I had gotten a bloody nose from hitting the floor.” She grabbed his hands that were now on her shoulders, bringing them to her cheeks. Her eyes closed and lips curled into a smile, nuzzling into him. “No broken nose,”

“Then why the hell are you in the hospital?” 

“Sprained ankle. Doctor said I won’t be able to dance for about three weeks,” Her eyes opened, meeting his, and all his anger and anxiety vanished. She was okay. She was safe. Not mauled by a dog or hit by a car. 

Safe. 

“Next time you get an injury like this, please call me yourself,” Spencer sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “Your friend scared me to death,” 

“My friend is super dramatic,” she giggled, already sensing his dislike towards Flavio, “He thought I broke my foot and my nose,” 

“Of course he’s dramatic. Birds of a feather flock together,” Spencer tried to joke, hands now resting on her waist, “You know… You never told me you were practicing with this friend. I thought you were practicing alone,” 

“Didn’t think I had to specify,” Yeah, he was so jealous, it was so obvious to her. 

“You should, so in the case you get kidnapped, I would have somewhere to start-”

“Spence!” she gasped, playfully hitting his shoulder, “Not only is that really anxiety-enducing, but I know for a fact that’s not why you wanted to know.” Y/N smirked, leaning closer to him, “He has a wife, Spence.”

“And? People cheat all the time. About twenty percent of married men cheat on their spouses-”

“How little do you trust me though?” she huffed. 

“It’s him I don’t trust,” Spencer corrected himself, “I trust you. Of course, I trust you,” As he spoke, he removed the surgical gloves from her pockets, “Even when you steal all of my things and I have to buy replacements because you lost them after, I still trust you. It’s just…” he trailed off, throwing the now contaminated gloves into the trash bin. 

“Just what?” As he distracted himself with the gloves, she reached out and grabbed a handful of q-tips from the table next to the examining bed she sat on, now putting those into her pockets. 

Spencer turned to face her again, “It’s just that, with this job, I see so many horrible things happen to women. And the thought of something happening to my woman scares me,” His arms went around her again, “Every time I get a case file and see a woman’s body, it occurs to me how easily it could be you,” 

“...damn,” she cleared her throat, looking down, “Gee, now Imma be scared to go outside,” 

“No you’re not,” his hands slipped into her pockets, taking out the q-tips. Spencer always noticed everything. “You’re going to continue being you and I’m going to continue worrying about you every time we’re apart. I do wish you would be more careful. I know right now you were with this guy for work-related reasons and you had to, but at least tell me?”

“Mhm,” she nodded softly. He went to throw out the q-tips, and while he did so, she began shoving gauze into her pockets next. 

“Put the gauze back,” he said firmly, not even looking at her as he disposed of the material. 

“I can’t help it,” a huff left her lips as she tossed the box (yes, she attempted to steal the whole box) back onto the counter. 

“Tell me why you need a whole box of gauze, dear,” Spencer always spoke like that when addressing her kleptomania. Why do you need this object you are stealing? And they both would know she didn’t need it, and she would keep repeating that in her head until the urge (hopefully) went away. 

“I don’t need a whole box of gauze,” she stated the obvious, taking a deep breath, “I don’t need a whole box of gauze,”

“You don’t need a whole box of gauze,” Spencer confirmed, taking her hands like he always did when she was getting her urges, “Or q-tips. Or surgical gloves. What do you possibly need to examine with those, hm?” he said the last part lightly, nuzzling her nose with his. 

A smirk formed on her face as she spoke, “You?” 

“Me? And how would you do that?” 

“Can examine the part of you I love most….” she trailed off, in thought, “Wait, that’s hard. That was supposed to be me saying your dick however is that really what I love most? ‘Cause, like, look at you,” 

She always knew how to make his cheeks burn red. “What else do you love then?” 

“Oooh, where do I begin?” she threw her arms up in the air dramatically, “Okay, let me start with your facial features…”

____

By the time she was cleared by a doctor and allowed to leave the room, Spencer had a good hickey or two (four actually) on his neck and a giddy expression on his face. Once in the waiting room, a man shot up seeing Y/N, Spencer immediately assuming Flavio. 

“Ah, mi flor,” he exclaimed, examining her all over, “Nothing is broken! How good!”

“Yep, all good,” Y/N replied, “Flavio, meet my boyfriend, Spencer. Spencer, meet Flavio, one of my dance partners for my current show,” 

Spencer and Flavio shook hands, Y/N giggling softly at the look Spencer was giving him. Oh, she knew damn well Spencer was profiling the fuck out of him. To most people, Spencer looked like he had a blank expression on his face, but Y/N knew him better. There was something about Flavio that Spencer did not like. She wasn’t sure if it was the simple fact this was a man who spends alone time with his woman, or something else entirely. 

“It is so nice to meet you, Spencer!” Flavio shook his hand cheerfully, “I have heard many good things about you!” 

“Oh, really?” that made Spencer cheer up slightly, “I’m glad to hear that,” he draped an arm around Y/N’s waist. Spencer didn’t look like the type, but he was incredibly possessive, which was fine, because Y/N was possessive as fuck over him. Spencer precieved everything friendly said to her as flirting, though, when someone actually flirted with him he wouldn’t catch it. It was cute, but also frustrating, because then the only way to get these people to leave him alone is a threat or two coming from her. 

Flavio opened his mouth to speak, but paused when his phone rang. He flipped it open, seeing the caller ID. “Ah, I must take this. My girlfriend is calling,”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, “I thought you were married?”

“Yes yes, I am,” the dancer shrugged, “My wife is here. My girlfriend is in la Republica Dominicana,” And with that, he was off, babbling into the phone. 

“I told you,” Spencer rolled his eyes, glaring at Flavio’s retreating form in disgust, “Twenty percent,” 

“You best not be part of that twenty percent in the future or I’ll end up being an unsub your team has to catch,” Y/N threatened lightly, pinching his side. 

“Hey!” he gasped, “What makes you think- wait,” hard stop, “Does that mean you see yourself marrying me someday?”

She smirked, beginning to walk (limp) towards the exit, “Hmmmm, maybe?” 

“Wait! Wait, you can’t just drop that and wobble away from me!” He followed after her, a huge shit-eating grin forming on his lips.

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups! 💕

Chapter three is here, and things are starting to take shape! I know, we’re still keeping a steady pace, but trust me—good things take time (at least that’s what I keep telling myself while writing this f-ing slow burn…🙈).

As always, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading, darlings! 😊✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, smut 18+, Auston x unknown female character, protected vaginal penetration

Word count: 6.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Three: Pucks, Plans, and Pretences*

::

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems our Ice King has traded his signature cool for something decidedly warmer. A newly surfaced photo from the depths of the Scotiabank Arena has set the internet alight, capturing Auston Matthews and his now-infamous Mystery Queen in a moment that could rival any story.

The city can’t stop talking.

But what’s the real story? Is this the beginning of something genuine or a strategic distraction for Toronto’s captain? Matthews, ever the enigma, isn’t saying much—but that smirk of his has done little to quell the rumours.

As for his Mystery Queen, she’s still just that—a mystery. Ambitious, poised, and undeniably captivating, she’s become the city’s obsession overnight.

Whether this is love, strategy, or something in between, Toronto is hooked. And with Matthews at the helm of this unfolding drama, one thing is certain: it’s going to be a season to remember.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Tuesday –

Sitting by the high table in the compact kitchen of your small studio flat, you traced the rim of your coffee mug absentmindedly. The faint hum of the city outside was a comforting white noise, a familiar backdrop to your mornings. But the fragile peace didn’t last long.

Your phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment. You groaned, setting down your mug to glance at the screen. Of course, it was Jess and Maya. The two of them had wasted no time diving into what was clearly the hot topic of the day.

Jess (7:13 AM): “Spotted: You and Auston. AGAIN. Girl, explain.”

Maya (7:15 AM): “We need a FULL breakdown. Coffee tonight. No excuses!”

You sighed, gripping the warm mug a little tighter as you composed a response. Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating.

You (7:18 AM): “There’s really nothing to explain.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Maya (7:19 AM): “Oh, please. You’re trending AGAIN. #MysteryQueen is still going strong. Spill.”

Jess (7:20 AM): “You can’t brush this off. Coffee tonight after work, our usual spot. Don’t make me come to your place.”

You let out a soft laugh despite the tension knotting in your chest. Jess and Maya were relentless, but their concern came from a good place. They were your best friends—your constants in a world that felt increasingly chaotic.

Still, the guilt nagged at you. They were cheering for you, defending you, believing you were swept up in some whirlwind romance. And here you were, dodging their excitement with half-truths and carefully constructed vagueness.

You (7:22 AM): “Fine. Coffee tonight. But it’s really not as exciting as you think, ladies.”

Jess (7:23 AM): “We’ll be the judges of that.”

Maya (7:24 AM): “Don’t forget the juicy details. We need to know EVERYTHING.”

You set your phone down with a heavy sigh, your appetite fading as stress settled over you like an unwelcome houseguest. It wasn’t just the messages. It was the weight of everything that had piled up over the past few days.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, watching the liquid swirl. The events of the gala played on a loop in your mind, every moment amplified now that the media had latched onto you. And then there was Auston.

Had you really agreed to fake-date Auston Matthews, the Ice King himself? The words “Let’s do it” echoed in your mind, making you wince. What had possessed you?

You knew the answer: desperation.

Auston’s reasons were crystal clear. He wanted control over the narrative. He needed a way to silence the incessant speculation about his personal life. His pitch had been logical, almost clinical. And you, standing at the crossroads of your career, had agreed.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. If his biggest problem is dodging rumours about his love life, he’s got it easy.

Your problems felt heavier. Tangible. Your boss’s voice rang in your ears, his warnings cutting through your thoughts: “No distractions. No drama. No more headlines.” The gala had already pushed you to the edge of his patience. And now? Now you were willingly diving into a situation that could unravel everything you’d worked for.

But wasn’t this what you wanted? A chance to make your mark, to prove you weren’t just another cog in the machine? Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing you a lifeline—wrapped in chaos, sure, but a lifeline, nonetheless.

Or maybe you were just grasping at straws.

You sighed, pushing your barely touched breakfast aside. The decision had been made. There was no turning back now. Auston had given you an option, and you’d taken it.

Your to-do list for the day felt overwhelming. Face your boss. Navigate the fallout. And later, coffee with Jess and Maya. They’d want answers—real ones, not the half-hearted deflections you’d been giving them.

You weren’t sure how much you could—or should—tell them. But one thing was certain: you needed to pull yourself together. Time was ticking, and the last thing you could afford was to let it all spiral out of control.

_

Auston Matthews awoke with nothing but a grin on his face. The kind of grin that wasn’t about a win or a goal, but about the sheer satisfaction of knowing he’d set the board perfectly for the game ahead. Sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, casting warm, golden rays across the room. Felix, his Australien Bernedoodle, was already wagging his tail eagerly, sensing that his human was in a particularly good mood.

“Alright, Snuff” Auston muttered, stretching as he reached for the dog’s leash. “Let’s go.”

The grin stayed fixed on his face as he walked Felix through the quiet morning streets of Toronto, hidden just slightly under the brim of his cap. The rhythm of his steps matched the upbeat hum in his chest. Felix trotted ahead, pausing every so often to sniff a tree or a fire hydrant. Auston’s thoughts, however, were far from their usual pre-game routine.

You’d said yes. The moment replayed in his mind, not because he doubted it had happened, but because of the satisfying sense of control it gave him. You had agreed to his plan. Fake dating. It was genius, really. It ticked every box: no questions about his personal life, no endless media speculation about who he was seeing, and the cherry on top—it made him unavailable. Off the market. And if anything, it made him even more unattainable.

Felix barked once, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Alright, alright,” Auston chuckled, tugging the leash gently to keep his dog moving. “Don’t get too excited.”

Back at home, Felix flopped onto his dog bed with a satisfied huff while Auston grabbed his duffel bag and packed for the day. The grin still hadn’t faded. Tonight was a game night, and he had an away trip to Columbus. Normally, his thoughts would already be on the ice, visualising plays, but today his mind kept drifting back to you and the whirlwind of events from the past few days.

Auston wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the media worked. They’d dissect every glance, every move, every word exchanged between the two of you. That was the world he lived in—a world of scrutiny, where even his most mundane actions were twisted into headlines. And yet, for once, he didn’t mind. You weren’t like the others who had flitted through his orbit.

Most women in this position would’ve jumped at the chance to bask in the glow of his fame. But you? You seemed determined to avoid it entirely, almost as if the spotlight burned too bright for your liking. That was refreshing. It intrigued him. And maybe—just maybe—it was part of why this plan felt so right.

He paused mid-pack, considering for a moment if he should bring his PR manager into the loop. Ultimately, he decided against it. The man hadn’t even batted an eye at the first photo. For someone like Auston, these kinds of headlines were par for the course. A fake relationship wouldn’t even register as a blip on his radar. And besides, Auston didn’t want anyone meddling. This was his game, and he intended to play it his way.

His teammates? They didn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway. They’d complicate things with relentless teasing, and Auston wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mitch Marner’s inevitable barrage of questions. And his family? Absolutely not. All they needed to know was that he wasn’t available. End of story.

The airport was bustling with the usual pre-travel chaos. Players joked and jostled each other, tossing bags into overhead bins and making playful bets about who would score the first goal of the night. Auston moved through the commotion with his usual calm, but the grin remained—a subtle, smug reminder to himself that he had everything under control.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice rang out as he flopped into the seat beside Auston. “What’s with the face? You win the lottery or something?”

Auston smirked, adjusting his noise-cancelling headphones. “Something like that.”

Mitch squinted at him suspiciously. “This have anything to do with the latest post? You know, the one that’s got X losing its mind?”

“Don’t start, Marner,” Auston replied, his voice even but amused.

“Oh, I’m starting,” Mitch said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, man. Spill. Who is she? I mean we know what she works with, but… She’s not another one of those random girls you keep fucking, is she?”

Auston sighed, pulling one side of his headphones down. “She’s just someone I’m getting to know. Relax.”

“Someone you’re getting to know?” Mitch echoed, his grin widening. “That’s all we get? Not even a compliment about her ass?”

“Drop it,” Auston said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Across the aisle, William piped up. “If she’s just someone you’re getting to know, why’s she all over your social media? You’re usually better at keeping things under wraps.”

Auston shrugged, playing it cool. “She’s not all over my social media. That’s the media doing what they do.”

But Mitch wasn’t about to let it go. “You don’t talk about the other girls, but you’re dodging questions about her? That’s new.”

Auston shot him a look. “Maybe because it’s none of your business, Mitchy.”

The banter continued as the plane took off, Mitch throwing playful jabs from across the aisle and William chiming in with his usual teasing smirk. Auston brushed it off with ease, keeping his replies curt and nonchalant. But their questions lingered in his mind, nagging at the edges of his thoughts like a loose thread.

If his teammates were already this curious, what would happen when the media started digging deeper? And they would dig deeper. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. They’d dissect every detail, every inconsistency, every crack in the story. That’s when it hit him—he didn’t know enough about you. Not the kind of things that would make a fabricated relationship believable, at least.

Your favourite coffee order. Your go-to excuse for leaving a party early. The kind of music you liked to blast when no one else was around.

He needed to know something—anything—that could make this story feel authentic. His teammates might have been satisfied with the vague details he’d given them for now, but they nor the media wouldn’t let it slide. This had to look real. And for it to look real, he had to be able to talk about you like he’d known you for longer than a fleeting gala moment.

Auston leaned back in his seat, letting out a small breath. The team’s chatter faded into the background as he turned his focus inward. He’d have to talk to you, but it couldn’t feel forced. It had to be casual, natural. Just enough to set things straight and make sure the narrative stayed intact.

Satisfied with the plan forming in his mind, Auston allowed himself to relax, the familiar hum of the plane’s engines lulling him into a moment of calm. He adjusted his noise-cancelling headphones and gazed out the window as the city faded into the distance. The grin he’d worn all morning crept back onto his face, a mixture of confidence and anticipation.

This was going to work. It had to.

You might not realise it yet, but Auston Matthews had chosen you for a reason. You weren’t just a pawn in his game. You were the perfect partner in crime for the plan he was about to execute.

_

As you walked into the office, you held your chin high, shoulders back, just like Jess always encouraged during your frantic late-night phone calls. Her voice still echoed in your head: “Own it. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat.” Easier said than done.

Your heels clicked against the polished floor with a rhythm that you hoped exuded confidence. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the charade pressing against your chest. The office buzzed with its usual energy—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, snippets of conversations floating through the air. But today, the atmosphere seemed to hum with something sharper, something just shy of gossip. Again, you didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were about you.

You felt their eyes on you as you passed, a few heads turning slightly as you walked by. It was subtle—an extra glance, a barely concealed smirk, a phone quickly tucked away as if you’d interrupted someone mid-scroll through the latest viral photos. You’d expected this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your phone vibrated in your bag, but you ignored it. No doubt Jess or Maya was checking in to remind you of your coffee date later. Or worse, your boss with a sharp-edged “we need to talk.” Neither option felt appealing.

By the time you reached your desk, the tension in your chest had settled into a dull ache. You sat down, carefully placing your bag at your feet, and took a steadying breath. The screen of your laptop glowed to life as you opened it, the familiar sight of your inbox providing a small sense of normalcy.

But even as you sifted through emails, your thoughts kept circling back to the lie you were living. You felt bad for keeping Jess and Maya in the dark. They were your best friends, your ride-or-die crew, the people who’d been there for you through every triumph and heartbreak. But you couldn’t risk telling them the truth.

What would happen if anyone found out? The question lingered in your mind like a persistent shadow. Even the smallest crack in the story you and Auston would be concocting could lead to an avalanche. If word got back to your boss that this wasn’t just an accidental photo op but a deliberate ruse? You didn’t even want to imagine the fallout.

So, you kept your cards close to your chest, smiling politely when a co-worker passed by, nodding along to the faint hum of office chatter. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jess and Maya—it was that you didn't want to burden them with this. The stakes were too high. Or maybe, just maybe, you felt a bit embarrassed about having agreed to it? 

For now, your best move was to stick to the plan: keep your head down, stay professional, and pray the whirlwind around you would eventually settle.

But as the day stretched on and the whispers persisted, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope with no safety net.

During the workday, you did your best to stay under the radar, skirting through the office with a practiced air of nonchalance. Your strategy was simple: avoid your boss at all costs. Fortunately, his schedule was jam-packed with back-to-back meetings, giving you a much-needed buffer.

Still, you weren’t entirely off the hook. You’d barely rounded the corner when he appeared, laptop in hand, his expression sharp and unreadable.

“Y/N,” he called out, his tone clipped.

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your face neutral. “Good day, Mr. Manion.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yes, well. Care to explain why half the office is suddenly fixated on some hockey romance conspiracy theories? Or why your face seems to be at the centre of it, again?”

You swallowed hard, scrambling for a response that sounded calm and collected. “Just media being media,” you said lightly, forcing a small shrug. “They’re spinning something out of nothing. It’ll die down soon enough.”

Manion stared at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to dissect the truth. “It better. We’ll discuss this later. My office, tomorrow morning. Or… when I have time for this mess.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you with the sinking feeling that you’d just delayed the inevitable.

The rest of the day dragged on in a blur of emails and half-hearted attempts at productivity. No matter how much you tried to focus, the looming conversation with your boss weighed heavily on your mind.

By the time the clock struck five, you were almost relieved to escape the office and head to the coffee shop where Jess and Maya were waiting.

The café was warm and bustling, the scent of freshly brewed espresso mingling with the faint sweetness of baked goods. Jess and Maya were already seated in the corner, their expressions a mix of curiosity and impatience as they spotted you walking in.

“Well, well,” Maya teased, her grin widening as you slid into the chair opposite her. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Jess smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, Y/N. Spill. Now.”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the mug the barista had just placed in front of you. “Please, calm down. It’s not as exciting as you think. I promise.”

“Bullshit,” Jess said bluntly. “You’re trending. You don’t just get to brush this off.”

Maya leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on. We’re your best friends. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell?”

There it was—the guilt. It crept into your chest like a cold weight, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to stick to the story.

“We met at the gala,” you began, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “He was… well, exactly how you’d expect. Arrogant, cocky, a total smartass.”

Jess arched a brow. “So, what? He just walked up to you and swept you off your feet?”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Not exactly. I sort of… tripped, and he caught me. It was all very cliché.”

Maya gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Like something out of a movie! I knew it!”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said quickly, laughing nervously. “He was just being polite. Honestly, I thought he’d forget about me the second I walked away.”

Jess tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “But he didn’t.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment. “No, he didn’t. He’s been… persistent. But it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s not really my type.”

Maya’s jaw dropped. “Not your type? Are you serious? He’s Auston Matthews. Literal perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t exactly charming when it comes with an ego the size of the CN Tower,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Jess.

“Fair,” she said, smirking. “But don’t pretend you’re immune. Something about him must’ve worked if he’s got you responding.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the media doing what it does best—blowing things out of proportion.”

Maya studied you for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Jess leaned forward, her grin devilish. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you protested, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

The conversation continued, a whirlwind of teasing and speculation, but you managed to hold your ground, weaving just enough truth into your story to keep them from digging deeper. By the time you left the café, your nerves were frayed, but at least you’d survived the first round of questions.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.

_

The training rink in Columbus carried the usual buzz of pre-game preparation: the slap of pucks against the boards, the hum of skates carving into the ice, and the low murmur of coaches directing drills. But something about the energy felt off. Auston could sense it in the way passes missed by inches and shots rang off the crossbar instead of finding the back of the net.

The Leafs were coming off a high, but the weight of expectations clung to the team like an anchor. By the time practice wrapped up, the locker room was filled with subdued chatter, players trying to shake off the tension as they prepared for the night’s game.

Auston, ever the focal point, felt the weight more than most. Captaincy wasn’t just about leading on the ice—it was about carrying the team’s hopes and shielding them from criticism when things went sideways. And tonight, things went very sideways.

The game was a mess from start to finish. Columbus exploited every crack in the Leafs’ defence, while Toronto’s offense sputtered, unable to capitalise on power plays or momentum. Auston had his moments—a slick assist here, a near-miss there—but it wasn’t enough. By the time the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard told the story: a 4-1 loss.

Auston’s jaw tightened as he skated off the ice, his grip on his stick like a vice. The locker room was eerily quiet post-game, the usual camaraderie replaced with a heavy silence. Players peeled off their gear in near silence, a few murmuring frustrations under their breath. Auston exchanged a few words with the coaches, but the sting of defeat lingered long after he left the rink.

Back at the hotel, the air in Auston’s room felt heavy—thick with the weight of the night’s loss and the expectations that always seemed to grow louder in defeat. He sat on the edge of the bed, his duffel bag still untouched by the door, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

Down the hall, his teammates were decompressing in their own ways—some glued to their gaming consoles, others nursing quiet drinks in the lounge—but none of those options appealed to him. Auston’s frustration needed a different outlet.

Without much thought, he opened his DMs, the endless flood of messages a familiar distraction. His name was a magnet, his inbox teeming with invitations, compliments, and the occasional overly bold proposition. One message caught his eye—a familiar face from Columbus. They’d met on a previous trip, a fleeting encounter that left no lasting impression, which was exactly what he needed now.

Auston: “In town for the night. What’s up?”

Her: “Still waiting for you to call. Thought you forgot about me ;)”

Auston: “Never.”

The exchange was simple, transactional, and within the hour, she was knocking on his door.

Auston opened it, leaning casually against the frame. His expression was unreadable, save for the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. She smiled up at him, dressed to impress—or undress. As always, no pleasantries were exchanged; none were necessary. She stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the outside world.

It was exactly what Auston needed—a reprieve from the relentless noise in his head. She was eager, uncomplicated, and predictable, offering a distraction that required nothing from him emotionally. He let himself sink into the physicality of it, her hands trailing across his chest as she whispered something flirtatious. But her words barely registered. His thoughts were elsewhere.

They were on the ice, replaying the game in relentless detail: the missed chances, the failed plays, the sting of another loss. They drifted to the media frenzy surrounding his so-called “Mystery Queen” and the elaborate charade he was now orchestrating with you. No matter how much he tried to focus on the present, the weight of everything he was juggling refused to let go.

Still, he allowed her to take the lead, lying back as she straddled him with practiced confidence. The friction, the heat, the rhythm—it was enough to stoke his hardening member. She felt good, but it was a fleeting, surface-level pleasure. The connection was purely physical, and Auston was fine with that.

Her fingers dug into his chest, as she rode him expertly. Auston felt his climax slowly building, her tight cunt wrapped so neatly around his throbbing cock. He didn’t need more than this. Shutting his eyes he could imagine her to be anyone he’d like. His mind wandered as he heard himself let out a moan. She was good to him, picking up her pace as she too chased her own high. 

Her moans filled the room, crescendoing as she announced her climax with exaggerated fervour. Auston stayed silent, his body tense beneath her, waiting for the moment to pass. And when she slumped forward, her chest rising and falling against his, he decided to take control in order to reach the rush. 

Flipping her onto her back, he moved with renewed intensity, chasing his own release. His hips slammed against hers in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. His fingers clenched the sheets as he gave up holding back. He was merciless. Ruthless. Her cries of his name echoed in his ears, a mantra that boosted his ego but did little to penetrate the hollow space inside him.

And when his climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing through him with a force that left him momentarily breathless. His low, guttural grunt filled the air as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they finally stopped.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. She brushed her fingers through his hair, her touch lingering as though she hoped it might spark something deeper. But Auston rolled away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The message was clear, though unspoken.

So, within minutes, she was dressed, smoothing her hair and offering a coy smile as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you around,” she said lightly, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Auston replied, his tone indifferent as he closed the door behind her. The lock clicked, and just like that, she was gone.

He sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the hollow feeling settled in—a familiar, unwelcome companion. The release had been satisfying enough, but it hadn’t erased the gnawing frustration or the pressure weighing on his shoulders. It never did.

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen. Notifications flooded in: highlights from the game, speculative articles dissecting the team’s loss, and the ever-present hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

A small, wry smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. The plan was working, and that was something. For all the chaos, for all the noise, the narrative was moving exactly as he’d intended. Now all he had to do was keep it that way.

He set his phone back on the nightstand and let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. Tomorrow, he’d regroup. Tomorrow, he’d strategise with you, fine-tune the story you were selling. For tonight, survival was enough.

As exhaustion finally crept in, Auston closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to you once more. You weren’t like the others—too smart, too grounded to fall for someone like him. That was part of the appeal, he realised. You weren’t here for him, not really. And maybe that made you the most intriguing person he’d met in a long time.

But that was a problem for another day. Tonight, all that mattered was that the noise had faded, if only for a moment.

_

“Oh, Toronto, isn’t it fascinating how our beloved Ice King chooses to thaw? While the Leafs are licking their wounds after a tough night in Columbus, it seems Auston Matthews is sticking to his tried-and-true method of post-game ‘recovery.’ Word on the street—or rather, whispers through the grapevine—suggests that our captain might not be as unavailable as the Mystery Queen narrative wants us to believe. Curious, isn’t it?

But here’s the thing, dear readers—there’s always more beneath the surface. Matthews might play the media like a maestro, but even the best orchestrations can hit a sour note. Will the cracks start to show? Or will our Ice King’s dual life—both on and off the rink—continue to skate by unscathed?

As for his Mystery Queen? One has to wonder how she fits into this symphony of appearances. Is she just another carefully placed pawn in Auston’s game, or is there something more stirring beneath the headlines?

For now, Toronto, we’re left with a tantalising mix of speculation and intrigue. The season is still young, and the drama is only just beginning. - The Benchwarmer”

_

Wednesday - 

Auston tried to enjoy the breakfast with his teammates. A hotel was a part of their routines, yet it never truly felt like home. His phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications, but one headline in particular caught his eye: “The Ice King’s Double Life? Drama Heats Up Around Toronto’s Star Captain and His #MysteryQueen.”

Auston clicked the link and was greeted by The Benchwarmer’s latest post. The commentary was sharp, hinting at cracks in his narrative and questioning whether the supposed romance with you was genuine—or just another fleeting distraction. The subtext was clear: his actions in Columbus hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He let out a groan, running a hand down his face. Reckless, Matthews. Really reckless. Sure, the plan with you was still in its infancy, but if this was going to work, it needed direction—intent. Otherwise, it would just look like every other shallow story he’d been a part of.

He needed to fix this. Fast.

Grabbing his phone, Auston scrolled to your contact—“PR Genius”—and fired off a quick text.

Auston: “Coffee today? We need to strategize.”

You: “Agreed. When and where?”

Auston: “3 PM. A café on Yonge. I’ll message the address later. Bring your game face.”

As the message was sent, Auston stared at the screen for a moment longer. This wasn’t just about keeping the media at bay—it was about keeping you on his side. If this plan unravelled, it would take both of you down with it.

_

A bit further North, your morning was no less chaotic than Auston’s. Jess, ever the early riser, was already on fire by the time your phone buzzed with the first notification.

Jess (7:15 AM): “HOW DARE HE???”

Maya (7:16 AM): “Is he seriously doing this to you? I’m ready to slash some tires.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, even as you groaned at their intensity. To them, it was a betrayal of epic proportions. To you, it was just another complication in the tangled web of your arrangement with Auston. But how could they know that? All they saw was a man seemingly toying with your feelings, and as your best friends, they were ready to go to war on your behalf.

You (7:18 AM): “Guys, relax. It’s not like we’re official or anything.”

Maya (7:19 AM): “Not official?! You’re trending as #MysteryQueen, Y/N! That’s practically a royal engagement!”

Jess (7:20 AM): “I swear, if he breaks your heart… bad things will happen!”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at their over-the-top reactions. It was sweet how protective they were, but you couldn’t let them spiral into full-blown outrage.

You (7:22 AM): “Look, it’s still early. He can do whatever he wants—we haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

The group chat fell silent for a moment, long enough for you to think maybe they’d finally let it go. But Jess’s response proved otherwise.

Jess (7:30 AM): “Fine. But he better get his shit together, or I’m hunting him down.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, setting your phone down as you leaned back in your chair with a sigh. Jess and Maya were reacting the way anyone would if they thought their friend was being strung along. You couldn’t exactly blame them for jumping to conclusions—it wasn’t like they knew the truth.

Still, it left you with a heavy feeling you couldn’t quite shake. Sure, you weren’t dating Auston—not really. But even you couldn’t ignore how bad it looked. His actions might not have stung personally, but they made everything feel messier, more complicated. You were suddenly questioning whether this whole arrangement was as foolproof as he’d made it seem.

You stared into your half-empty coffee mug, the quiet of your kitchen contrasting sharply with the chaos in your head. By now, the plan you and Auston had agreed on felt more like a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest push.

The afternoon coffee with him couldn’t come soon enough. If this ridiculous plan was going to work, you needed to lay everything out on the table and get on the same page—and fast.

_

The coffee shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon when you arrived, your workday still clinging to you in the form of a slight tension in your shoulders. You pushed open the door, letting the comforting aroma of roasted beans and the soft murmur of conversation wash over you. The café was the perfect midpoint between your home and Auston’s—a cosy, unassuming spot where you could blend in without drawing too much attention.

You spotted him immediately, leaning casually against the counter, waiting for his order. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Felix, his ever-loyal best friend, sat patiently by his side, drawing a few admiring glances from other patrons. Auston, as always, looked like he belonged anywhere and nowhere at once, exuding an ease that made people take notice without realising they were doing so.

Auston caught sight of you as the barista handed him his drink. He gave you a quick nod, that trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted as you approached. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you replied, offering a small smile as you ordered your coffee.

As Auston watched you at the counter, his gaze lingered longer than he’d intended. You were dressed in your workday attire—professional yet effortless, like you hadn’t spent a second longer than necessary pulling yourself together. But it was the way you carried yourself that intrigued him. Even with the slight tension in your shoulders, there was a quiet determination in your movements, a resilience that he couldn’t help but notice.

Once you had your drinks, you stepped outside, where Felix immediately perked up, tail wagging enthusiastically. “He’s got more energy than I do,” you said, watching the dog sniff at a nearby patch of grass.

“Good thing he burns it off fast,” Auston replied, handing you Felix’s leash with an easy confidence that caught you off guard. “Here, you take him for a bit.”

“Me?” You stared at the leash, then at Felix, who was now looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Yeah, you,” Auston said, his grin widening. “It’s not that hard. Just don’t let him drag you into traffic.”

You rolled your eyes but took the leash, letting Felix lead the way as the three of you started down the quiet street. Auston glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, amused by the way you held the leash like it might bite you. Despite your initial awkwardness, he had a feeling Felix would win you over in no time.

“You’re stiff,” Auston said after a few moments, his tone casual but observant. “Relax. It’s just a walk.”

“It’s not just a walk,” you muttered, glancing around. “There are probably a dozen people ready to take a picture right now.”

“And what if there are?” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

You huffed but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the weight of being “seen” felt heavier than you’d anticipated.

“You’re overthinking it,” Auston said after a moment. “We’re just two people, walking a dog. Act like it.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, but the edge in your voice made him smirk.

“Try harder,” he teased.

As Felix tugged you toward a nearby lamppost, Auston found himself studying you again. You didn’t fit the mold of the people who usually surrounded him. There was no pretense, no calculated charm. You were genuine—maybe to a fault, given how uncomfortable you seemed in the spotlight. He found it oddly refreshing.

“He’s really into this whole sniffing thing,” you said, changing the subject as Felix investigated another patch of grass.

“He’s thorough,” Auston said with a chuckle. “Doesn’t miss a single blade of grass.”

The light banter helped ease the awkwardness, and soon, the conversation shifted to more neutral topics. He asked about your day, and to his surprise, you opened up with a candid rundown of your work. You asked him about his travel schedule and the demands of his career, your questions more thoughtful than the usual superficial ones he was used to. And for the first time in a while, he felt like someone was genuinely interested in him, not the player or the famous persona.

“You’re used to it, though, right?” you asked. “The attention?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It comes with the job. You get good at tuning it out.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

He caught it anyway. “You’ll get there,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow. “You sound awfully confident.”

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

The conversation gradually turned more personal as you walked, Felix weaving between the two of you. Auston told you about growing up in Scottsdale, his early days in hockey, and how he adjusted to life in Toronto. In return, you shared snippets of your own life—your family, your job, your goals.

Yet, as you spoke, Auston couldn’t help but notice how you deflected any kind of praise. If he complimented your work ethic, you’d shrug it off. If he mentioned your ambition, you’d redirect the conversation. It was clear you weren’t comfortable taking credit for your own strengths, and that baffled him. In his world, confidence was currency, and yours seemed to be in short supply.

By the time you circled back toward the coffee shop, the awkwardness from earlier had all but evaporated. Felix was panting happily, his energy finally burned off, and you felt a little lighter too.

As you handed the leash back to Auston, he gave you a considering look. “You should come to the game tomorrow.”

“The home game?” you asked, caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re supposed to be my…” He trailed off, his smirk turning playful. “It’ll look good. You know, for the act.”

You hesitated, unsure, but he pressed on. “Come on. VIP seats, good company. What’s there to think about?”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself nodding. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said, pulling Felix closer as he grinned down at you. “And don’t forget your game face.”

As he walked away, Auston couldn’t help but glance back, his thoughts lingering on you longer than he expected. For all your insecurities, there was something undeniably compelling about you. This arrangement might have started as a strategy, but he was beginning to wonder if it could be something else too.

_

“Oh, Toronto. What a tangled web our Ice King is weaving. One moment he’s dominating the ice (or, well, trying to), and the next, he’s walking through the city with his Mystery Queen by his side—dog in tow, coffee in hand, and cameras lurking around every corner.

It’s a scene straight out of a romance novel: casual smiles, shared laughs, and the kind of chemistry that can’t be ignored (even if it’s staged, we see you, Matthews). Yet, there’s something undeniably intriguing about this pairing. She’s poised, seemingly unbothered by the chaos surrounding him, and he? Well, let’s just say he doesn’t seem to mind the added spotlight when she’s in the frame.

But don’t get too comfortable, dear readers. There are cracks in every façade, and this one is no exception. The whispers in the hockey world are growing louder, and if there’s one thing we know, it’s that the truth has a funny way of coming to light—especially when the stakes are this high.

So, what’s the endgame here? Is this truly a strategic pairing, or are we witnessing the beginning of something that neither of them saw coming? Whatever the answer, you can bet your last sip of Tim’s coffee that I’ll be here to spill the tea.

Until next time, Toronto. Keep your eyes on the ice—and the streets. The season is young, and this story is just getting started.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Complicated (Will Graham)

Description: Will loves Y/N who is cold towards everyone but opens up to him that is until Hannibal comes along

Warning: Smut

Word Count:1,908

Request:Can you write a will graham x fem!reader where reader is an fbi agent and is working in the case with will and will starts to fall in love with her since she ‘understands’ him but she’s quite cold towards everyone can you also make her one of the best agents and Hannibal becomes quite intrigued by her could you add in will and reader smut too pls❤️

Author’s note: kind of an x Hannibal story as well. Also I misread it and thought it said to add smut and then add Will I am sorry but I hope you like it!

She took off her gloves and put them in her pocket as her and Will checked out the body. “Looks dead to me.” She said in a plain voice but Will laughed. “Yeah he certainly does.” Jack put the best agents on the Chesapeake ripper case and all week they’ve been trying to find hints, clues, anything that would give away who it was.

Y/N sighed and looked at the poor guy’s neck. “He was strangled to death.” She said and he nodded, “His lower half is missing.” She nodded. “Way to point out the obvious.” She looks at him and he smiles. They sat there and investigated the upper half of this man. Y/N making jokes with a straight face and Will laughing and adding to the jokes. Y/N was cold and distant to a lot of people. She was very professional and one of the best agents in the FBI.

Will favored her over anyone and loved her jokes even though she never has a joking tone to her voice when she speaks. He could tell her anything and she never judged him and even on rare occasions she would share some things with him. She too had sleep problems and needed therapy. She could make him smile without even trying. He wanted to tell her so badly but decided that it wasn’t right. She was too professional; there was no way that she would date him. 

“You have a good night, Will Graham.” She tells him and he nods, “You as well, Y/N Y/L/N.” As she walked to her car she had a small smile on her face. Will had a huge smile as he got in his car and drove home for another restless night. 

Will should have told her how he felt but once Hannibal met her he had the feeling that Hannibal also liked her but Y/N didn’t seem interested in his company as a matter of fact Y/N didn’t seem to like him at all. “You need to leave, we are working on a case Dr.Lecter.” She told him without looking at him.

Will hid a smile as Hannibal looked surprised. Not many people talked to him like that but he wasn’t offended. He was intrigued and wanted to know more about her. “I was offering my help on the case.” “We don’t need it.” Will nodded at Y/N agreeing with her. “Well I will leave you two to it.” He said and left the room.

“You don’t like him very much do you?” He asked her. She shrugged, “I don’t like many people.” She told him and he felt that. Though he had his quirks with Hannibal the guy was smart. “He shows up and thinks he knows everything and that he could help.” Y/N says and Will looks at her a little surprised. “You aren’t interested in what he has to say?” He asked her. She shrugged, “Not really.” Hannibal felt the complete opposite about her. And the next day Will would be pondered with questions about her. 

“Y/N seems different.” He said to Will who was not happy about him taking interest in her. “Y/N doesn’t really like you Hannibal. I would give up now.” He told him and Hannibal looked offended. “She doesn’t even know me.” Though this was true Y/N didn’t care to get to know him at all. “She’s just like that.” Hannibal looked at him before standing up, “What makes you any different?” He asked Will. Will gave him a smile, “She likes me.” What does Will have that he doesn’t? 

Y/N rolled her eyes as Hannibal walked in her office with Will and Jack. She looked up and greeted ⅔ of them. Hannibal cleared his throat but she ignored him. “Y/N this is Hannibal. You may have already met him.” Y/N nodded and looked over at the man. “He is helping us on the case.” Will said, trying to hide his annoyance. “We don’t need help, we have got this.” Y/N told Jack. Will agreed but Jack didn’t care. Y/N tried to hide her eye roll but Will saw it and smiled at her. “I promise I won’t get in the way.” Hannibal said and Y/N looked at him. This was going to be so fun. 

Hannibal shared his thoughts on what he thought about the next person that was murdered. Y/N hated to admit it but he seemed to know what he was talking about. Maybe he should be in the FBI. “You are onto something Lecter.” Hannibal chuckled, “Did you just call me by my last name?” He asked with a smile.

She looked at him and shrugged, “You have been warming up to me.” He teases and she rolls her eyes. Will was the only person that she truly was comfortable around but after these past few weeks she had gotten closer to him. Will walked in and saw the smile on Hannibal’s face. He too has noticed that Y/N was warming up to Hannibal and he didn’t like it. Hannibal also could tell that Will was annoyed by it but that was more of a reason to do it.

They worked on the case and made up theories and thoughts until it was time to rest. Will left first no longer wanting to be in the room with Hannibal and his flirty comments towards Y/N. “What’s it going to take for you to let me make you dinner?” She looked over at him. 

She couldn’t say exactly how she got to this point. This wasn’t like her at all. She was eating the meal that Hannibal had made her and let herself go for once and now she was on the table that they just ate off of and Hannibal was thrusting into her. Her fingers dug into the table as he rocked her and the table. His large hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises, not that either of them cared right now. Her lips were swollen from kissing and taking his dick into her mouth. She was loud but not extremely loud.

Hannibal had his hips angled to hit her sweet spot so she was moaning and whining for him. He looked down at her and noticed how beautiful she was and how amazing she felt. She whined his name weakly pulling him out of his thoughts and making him thrust faster. He wished Will was here, not to join but to see him fuck the woman of his dreams.

Will would hate it but Hannibal would love it. He wrapped a hand around her throat and groaned, “Are you going to cum for me?” She nodded and was breathless. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock and scream.” He demanded and just from that it was so easy for her. She screamed his name as she came all over him. Her body shuddered and her hips stuttered as she felt the intensity of the orgasm flow through her body. The sight of her made Hannibal cum with a moan. 

The next day Will was supposed to have a session with Hannibal but Y/N was there for the case. Will had nearly walked in on them making out but Y/N stepped away before they could get caught. “What are you doing here?” Will asked her as he walked into Hannibal’s office. She held up the case file in her hand, “I believe I have the next lead.” She told him as she handed him the file. He took it but looked over at Hannibal, “We were supposed to have a session.” “Yes but Y/N said that this was important.” Will opened the file and looked through it.

Though he believed that the other man in the room had something to do with this he couldn’t shame Y/N’s effort. “So this is what we are working on today?” He asked them. Y/N nodded and sat in a chair, Will sat in the other one. He couldn’t shake off how weird it was that Y/N was in Hannibal’s house and in the office with the door closed. Come to think about it, Y/N never knew where Hannibal’s house even was…unless… He tried to ignore that thought but couldn’t.

Y/N would call him first about the case before showing Hannibal. Let alone tell him what the plan was today. He saw Hannibal not even paying attention but staring at her with hungry eyes. He had no doubt that they had slept together and maybe were about to before he came in. Anger and jealousy rose in him and he was going to confront her as soon as they left the house. 

“You slept with him didn’t you?” Was the first words out of Will’s mouth once they were outside Hannibal’s house. Y/N turned to look at him with surprise. Had it been that obvious? “What makes you say that?” She asked him. He shook his head with a scoff, “You so did. You would have straight up said No and you barely show emotions through your face.” She stared at him with a straight face as he ranted. “Why does it matter?” Will couldn’t believe she would even ask that.

He thought that they had something but was proven wrong with this Hannibal situation. “Y/N you can’t be that oblivious.” She knew that Will and her were very close and before Hannibal that was the person she was closest to. “You think he’s using me for something?” Yeah she was that oblivious. “I’m in love with you!” He yells at her and her eyes widen a little. “I love you and I thought that we had something or that was a possibility but you sleep with him? You hated him when you first met him.” This was all true and Y/N couldn’t help but look down at her feet in shame. This wasn’t like her at all and if she was to sleep with anyone it would be Will. She couldn’t believe herself.

“Will I-I don’t know what to say. It’s complicated.” She admits to him and he wants to laugh. He wants to laugh in her face because what was so complicated about it. He shakes his head, “Truth be told Y/N I think he’s the Chesapeake ripper.” He walks away to his car leaving her stunned. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about what Will said to her that night. She went back to being quiet during meetings and investigations and even cut ties with Hannibal. She knew that Will was smart but did she actually believe what he said? Hannibal, a killer? Hannibal was confused by her behavior. Maybe she regretted sleeping with him or maybe Will put things in her head about him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe Will was truly behind this. But she wasn’t speaking to him either. Actually she was avoiding them both.

But for different reasons. Will loves her and maybe she feels the same way back and Hannibal could be the killer that they are looking for. She sat in her bed staring at the pictures of all the bodies that they found. Could Hannibal actually be capable of doing all of this? She thought back to all he was saying about the killer and how he did seem to understand things even though he was a therapist. She reached for her phone and called Will, he answered and she sighed before talking, “So Hannibal’s the Chesapeake ripper.”

[boybandbaby]

Start Over (Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader)

word count: 2233

warnings/tags: exes to lovers, alcohol, being half naked, flirting, tears, as always if i missed anything let me know

note: do yall prefer when writers add summaries or without?

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You’re stood outside Buck’s apartment in a warm colored dress, heels in your hand and jacket lost somewhere at the reception.

It’s been four months since the breakup and you haven't been to his apartment since you came by to collect your things three months ago.

You’ve knocked twice already and a third time would only make you feel more sad and pathetic. Your cousin’s beautiful but extravagant wedding had only added to the months of heartbreak.

Buck was supposed to be there at your side tonight. Instead of dancing with your family and having a good time, you answered too many questions about where Buck was or how he was doing. You lied to everyone stating that he just couldn’t make it due to work.

Only your close family knew that you weren’t together anymore. You wanted to keep it that way. But what you really wanted was to be with Buck, back in his beefy arms and kissing his pretty lips.

After your third drink and no luck warming up in crisp the fall air, you’d made the slightly drunken decision to see him. Though you lost your jacket, you still had the important items in your purse including your phone. With sloppy thumbs, you’d called an Uber and landed at Buck’s apartment.

It’s two am and you’re not sure why you thought he would be up or even home. He’d either be at work or out with friends and family or worse, on a date.

You shake the thought from your head and take a deep breath. Pulling out your phone and opening the Uber app again, you feel tears in your eyes. You should’ve called him first instead of showing up. Would he have even answered or wanted to see you?

Your bare feet stick to the hallway floor, grounding you as you sway. You’re able to use this as an excuse as to why you haven’t left his doorstep yet.

You hear two noises at the same time, the sound of the Uber app notifying you that a driver has accepted your ride request and another chime signaling someone has exited the elevator on your current floor.

You’re already embarrassed and don’t want one of Buck’s neighbors seeing you camped outside his apartment. You finally find the strength to pull yourself away from his door, telling yourself you don’t get a second chance with him.

“Y/n?” His voice is slurred and his cheeks are flushed. He’s stumbling as quietly as he can towards you and his door. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” You point to his shirt. It’s wet around the neck line and chest. You’re not sure if it’s sweat, alcohol or both.

He looks down, laughs, one of your favorite things about him, and runs his hands over his wet shirt. “Yeah, too many shots, I think.” He hiccups and burps.

“I was just leaving, I’m s-sorry for showing up like this.” You apologetically smile and wave bye as you begin to pass him.

“Hey, don’t go.” His fingers brush your bare arms. “You look really pretty. How was the wedding?”

“You remember?” Your hand covers his as he holds onto your bicep.

“Yeah, of course. I still had it in my calendar. I kind of spiraled when I got the notification this morning.” He shrugs. “Do you want to come in? Sober up, warm up? Are you hungry?”

“Yes please, to all three.” You nod and let your hand fall.

Buck's hand caresses your arm, down to your fingers and grabs the heels from your hands like he always used to on date nights. He searches his pockets for his keys and jingles them around his pointer finger when he does.

“Please excuse the mess.” He fumbles to open the door and ushers you in.

“Wow, so messy Buckley.” You laugh, looking around the familiar apartment.

“I think I still have a shirt or two of yours if you want to get changed. You know where everything’s at.” He sets your heels down by the door and locks it behind him.

“I thought you returned everything back to me?” You turn to him, rubbing your arms up and down as he flicks the kitchen light on.

“Did you? I seem to be missing the bracelet I got you for Valentine’s Day last year.” He raises a brow before pulling out a pot and filling it with water.

“That was a gift! That was not going to be returned to you and please don’t tell me you have the black shirt with the embroidered frog on it from that one trip to the zoo." You defend.

“I do.” He smirks.

“I’ve been looking for that everywhere!” You gasp, laughing as you approach him in the kitchen.

“I figured once you couldn’t find it you’d come back and we’d work things out.” He reveals.

“You always could’ve dropped it off at my apartment if you wanted to see me so bad.” You nudge his shoulder.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” His tone is not joking anymore and he quiets down. The apartment is quiet save for the traffic outside and the slow rising boil of the water on the stove.

“I would’ve.” You admit.

“You could have it back?" He says, voice lifting at the end.

You can tell he doesn't want you to have it back by the way he offers it. “No, no. You keep it.”

“What are you going to wear then?”

“This.” You look down at your dress.

“As pretty as you look in that it’s not practical to sleep in.”

“When have I ever been practical.” You both laugh.

“I miss this, I miss us.” He admits.

“Me too.” You sigh. You're not ready to dive into your breakup. At least not yet. “Hey, can I use your shower?”

“Yeah, of course. You need any help in there or?”

“Real cute, Buckley. You can help me up the stairs to get my shirt.”

Buck nods and sets the box of pasta down on the counter. His hands find your hips as he helps you up the steps. “You sit.”

He rummages through his drawer before tossing the shirt to you and a pair of sock. “Do you want a pair of sweats or something?”

“No, this is good. Thanks, Buck.” You’re not moving to head back down stairs so he sits beside you. “New bed set?”

“Yeah. Story is too long and gross to discuss.” He shrugs. It’s too embarrassing he thinks. He made himself so sick the first couple of weeks apart, he had no choice but to throw away the bed set. It was one you’d bought him anyway and it hurt to much to sleep in.

“It’s okay if I stay the night, right?” You hope he says yes. Cuddling with him would make everything okay again even just for the night.

Buck normally would be a gentleman and offer you the bed while he took the couch but he misses you too much. He does turn his back as you strip out of your dress and stays that way when you're ready to head downstairs.

Buck stands two steps below you as you hold onto his shoulders. You guys guide each other back downstairs and he helps you start the shower. “Food should be done by the time you get out. We’ll eat then sleep?” You nod and smile up at him as you sit on the toilet seat. “Call me if you need anything okay?”

You nod and wait for him to exit before peeling the towel off of your body and then your undergarments. You step into the warm water and rinse everything from the night and past 4 months away.

Buck settles in the kitchen, stirring the noodles as the water boils. He hopes this isn’t a one night event and that you’ll leave his life after this. He sees it in your eyes though. You long for him the way he does for you. He feels it in the way you're still comfortable around him and the way you don't hold any malice after your rough breakup.

You’d both ended things as they just got too hard. Busy schedules, too many fights, not enough time spent together creating good memories. He thinks that things can be different this time. He knows the mistakes and how he can try to help prevent them this time.

You’re out before he realizes, padding towards him. He can’t keep his eyes off your bare legs as you approach the kitchen and sit at the counter.

He begins to drain the noodles. “Do you want something to drink?” He calls out.

“Can we share?” You answer his question with a question. He laughs and nods.

“You gonna come and help me carry these up?"

“I’m half naked.” You point out.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He smiles.

“Fine but no peeking.” You hop off the stool and attempt to pull your shirt down.

Buck has already served two bowls of pasta and the biggest cup of water he could find. He stabs the pasta with forks and hands you a bowl. “You go up first mister. I don’t need you looking at my butt.”

“How am I going to make sure you don’t fall?” He cheekily states.

“I’ll hold onto you with my free hand.”

“Okay, fine, that works.” He grumbles, you having bested him.

You hold onto his waistband as you follow him up the steps. He turns around as you run under the covers to cover your legs. He really is a gentleman.

You both sit in silence as you eat, sharing small glances and giggling when you meet each other’s eyes. It’s almost as if you’d never broken up.

You yawn and place your half eaten bowl onto the nightstand. Buck holds the cup of water to your lips and watches the way you gulp the liquid down. You wipe your chin with the back of your hand. “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.” He smiles and sets the bowl and cup on the nightstand, quickly. He's just as eager to be in your arms as you are his.

You shuffle under the covers as he stands to undress. The damp shirt is pulled from his body and he shuffles out of his jeans. It’s not long before he’s under the covers with you.

His heart is pounding the more he realizes he’s going to be this close to you again. You’re already turned to face his side and watching his every move.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He whispers.

“Night Buck, thank you for letting me in.” You whisper back.

“Thank you for coming by.” He smiles.

Your hands find his under the covers and you give them a quick squeeze.

His eyes squeeze shut as he can feel your breath on his face. It's a mix of alcohol and pasta sauce, matching his. He's straining himself so he doesn’t try to kiss you. He’s wanted to kiss you the moment he saw you at his doorstep. Your eyes are open and you watch to see if he’s sleeping. He’s not and you can tell by the way his eyelids twitch.

“Buck?” You mumble.

“Mhm?” He hums back.

“I miss you.” You confess. “A lot.”

He opens one eye, “yeah? I miss you too.”

“Do you even think we could be together again?” Your voice is small and it breaks his heart but your words give him hope.

“I do.”

“What do I need to do to make things work again?” You bring his knuckles to your lips.

“I think we need to work together to make things work this time." He emphasizes the we. He doesn't want you blaming yourself for the fallout.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.” You sigh, words coming out wobbly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t communicate better.” He supplies.

“I know I made a lot of mistakes. I don’t want to do that again.” You cry.

“We both made a lot of mistakes but if we’re both willing to not make them again, I think we could work.”

“I think so too." He wipes the tear from your cheek and traces his finger down to your lips.

"Can I kiss you now?" He shyly asks. You laugh all watery and snotty while nodding. Buck pulls you into him. You're both hot under the covers as your bodies mold together. The kiss is hard and desperate but it's perfect. You lay quietly in each other's arm until you both fall asleep. By then it's nearly 4 in the morning and you're knocked out cold.

You're both so slumped that you don't hear the key in the lock downstairs. “Buck, you forgot your damn phone in my car.” Eddie calls out, closing the door behind him. The apartment is quiet as he enters and he shoves his key in his pocket.

He trudges up the stairs to bother a sleeping Buck but freezes in his tracks when he sees you two curled up with each other. His eyes widen and he wonders how this came about considering Buck didn’t have his phone.

He settles on the idea that you’d come to see Buck on your own. His worries from last night of his broken hearted best friend are gone as he sees that he’s right where he’s supposed to be. With you.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[4lexnilsen]

“that’s what it was,  yeah…”   alex absently agrees,  nodding his head and sucking on his still bleeding lip.   a fresh wave of guilt fills his heart and he hears himself saying,   “i think most people are just jealous of you.   you have everything,  helena.”   and it’s no excuse for bullying,  but in a way it is an explanation.   “i can only speak for myself and although i don’t see you as a rich,  entitled brat,  i am very much jealous of what you have.   and i’m not even talking about the money,  that doesn’t mean much to me.”   even though,  it must be nice to never worry about getting a job or wondering how you’re going to pay the rent.   “you were right about me.   i wish i had a dad like yours.   yours wants to give you the world while mine doesn’t even know when my birthday is.”   shoulders shrugging faintly underneath the puffer jacket like it’s no big deal,  eyes flickering back onto the road when they begin to sting.   “and so people attack your family or your upbringing because they’re jealous,  but believe me,  if given the opportunity,  they’d swap lives with you in a heartbeat.   you’re not a horrible person.”   he glances down at her hand lingering on his skin,  butterflies fluttering in the pit of his belly,  making him simultaneously nauseous and infatuated.      

“is that a hammer?   what were you planning to use it for?”   he laughs dryly,  somewhat amused by the contents of his friend’s pockets but still very much disgusted with himself.   but the mere memory of their very first meeting has his features softening,  a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips,  causing the wound to reopen.   not that it bothers him.   he feels so warm and tingly,  confused feelings brewing deep inside.   “you saved my life that day,  i’m not even kidding.”   maybe in a way he’s managed to pay his debt tonight by disarming harry.   “oh,  then i’ll get mine virgin,  too.   i’m not much of a drinker.   i’m actually pretty famous for always bringing a book to the bar.   that’s my thing.”   it’s very kind of her to offer him a ride back home,  but the bar that he has in mind is only a few blocks away from his apartment so there will be no need for that.   “yeah,  of course,”   he agrees,  focusing on driving and turning the radio on so that it can fill the silence between them.   katy perry’s old song is playing,  the one that got away,  and alex finds himself sinking his teeth into his busted lip to keep from getting emotional.   stupid song.   

they circle the block a few times before alex finds an open spot,  right outside the small corner bar that he’s been telling helena about.   its neon sign flickering half-heartedly,  but there are quite a few people inside.   this place is the opposite of that fancy lounge,  its patrons stink of vodka and cigarettes and don’t drive rolls royce,  but maybe that’s exactly what they need.   a change of scenery.   the black mustang pulls in,  barely fitting between two beat-up sedans.   “alright,  here we are,”   he mutters,  cutting the engine and unbuckling his belt before climbing out into the cool night.   he circles the car and opens helena’s door for her,  offering her a hand,  but doubting she’ll be willing to take it.   the air around them smells like wet concrete and distant food trucks,  but at least the hum of traffic has all but faded away.   inside the bar,  it’s warm and dim,  which alex figures works in their favor —   at least no one will ask questions about their faces.   does it look like they were in a domestic brawl?   probably.   he leads his friend over to the wooden bar,  helping her slide into a high stool.   shoulders brushing as he takes a seat beside her.   he orders them a round of some fruity beverages,  virgin.   and when the bartender places two glasses in front of them,  with sugar-dusted rims,  he doesn’t even realize the guy didn’t hear the last part.   there’s rum in their strawberry daiquiris,  but as he takes a sip,  he can’t really tell a difference.   “so…   what a night,  right?”

"i've took a lot of self defense classes and such, but i don't think that was it. i think that was just anger talking, i just had enough of being called a rich entitled bitch. like i'm some horrible person for things out of my control, i can't help who i was born to." another curse word she'll repent for. but remnants of anger are still left soaring through her, when you have been judged for it your entire life you finally realize you're not going to take it so lightly anymore. "no." she answers, she doesn't know who she is. but she's guessing she's someone who frequents the lounge looking for what she got tonight... or was. since she's sure she and alex have ruined their mood.

dumping her pockets of all the tools she had them filled with... screw driver, taser, mini hammer, phone. head turns towards him when his fingers touch her cheek, setting off an unwanted spark to burn beneath her chest. "i do have one." a first-aid kit, that's always a number one thing to have. "ever since you needed a walgreens trip, i've been inspired to keep one." helena would laugh, almost there with the start of a smile at the fond memory, until the said memory fades along with the smile that was just beginning to bloom across her face with ache because that was before everything he said to her tonight that's made her view him as a different person. words are not quickly forgotten, unfortunately. and now everything's tainted. even her favorite memories of him.

"let's go there, then. i'll get mine virgin though." not telling him it's because she's never drunk before, he'll make fun of her for it. "you'll need someone sober to drive you afterwards." she claims, pretending the tears stinging her eyes isn't because of the memories being tainted. blaming it on the cut across her jaw. "watch the road, i'll be okay." fingers gently wrap around his hand, slowly removing it from her face even her touch lingers a little extra longer against his skin before letting go completely.

[chxmpagneprxblem]

Chapter Three - Sunshine

Tough Love Masterlist

“Paul LaHote asked me on a date and I kind of want to go on it.” Leah looked up from her DVD collection and stared at you from where you sat on her sofa.

Thursdays were a long honed tradition. You and Leah spent every Thursday having a movie night and a sleepover and neither of you ever broke that.

So you had gotten all of three days holding in the secret of Paul asking you out. You still hadn’t given him a definite answer. He had given you his number instead. You hadn’t called him yet.

“What?” Leah asked, dropping back from her crouched position to sit on the ground. You stared at her for a second before dropping her gaze to pick at the edge of your nail.

“Paul. He asked me out.” You explained without looking up. “I haven’t told him I’d go.”

“But you want to?” Leah asked, confused. You knew why she was confused. She’d never even heard you mention Paul in any capacity only to hate on Sam and his followers.

“I mean. Kind of?” You knew you sounded unsure. “He fixed up my car the last time. And he did loads of extra things too. And he didn’t charge me, just asked me out. And he’s sort of funny. And really hot.”

“And friends with Sam.” Leah finished and you deflated. You nodded and looked up at Leah who didn’t look mad, just confused still.

“And friends with Sam.” You sighed. She nodded again and you chewed on your bottom lip. “I would never dream of forgiving him for what he’s done. And I wouldn’t hang out with them, like ever.”

“You really want to go on this date, huh?” Leah asked and you nodded again. “You won’t leave?”

“Never. Not ever Leah! You know that. I’d rather cut my arm off.” You promised her, clambering off the sofa to sit next to her. “He’s probably gonna be terrible and it won’t be a good date and I’ll have to come back her and complain about it all.”

“Probably.” Leah agreed, her voice suspiciously thick. “And I’d listen, you know, even if it’s a really good date and you have the best time.”

“I love you, you know that?” You asked her softly. “More than I’ll ever love a dumb guy.”

“You better. We made a pact, a blood vow.” She reminded you and you both held up scarred little fingers. “That scar means you can’t ever pick anyone over me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

…

“So about that movie?” You asked into the receiver, watching your father in the living room who was transfixed by the game.

“Kind of late notice, isn’t it?” Paul asked with a chuckle and you rolled your eyes.

“Well if you’re not interested anymore then-“

“Hey! No! I didn’t say that. I can pick you up in like an hour, maybe an hour and a half?” He rushed out and you laughed, drawing a look from your father.

“Make it an hour and we’ll see if there’s time for that pizza after.” You warned and he called an affirmative before you hung up.

“That wasn’t your Leah laugh.” You narrowed your eyes at your father who only raised his hands. “Just wondering who’s taking my Sunshine out.”

“You don’t know him.” You assured your father. He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “Paul LaHote.”

“Lives down on the Rez, don’t he?” Charlie asked and you sighed heavily again. “Good kid. Billy talks highly of him.”

“He’s not a kid and either am I. So don’t wait up tonight.” You warned and Charlie guffawed.

“You’re twenty one kid. You still live under my roof. Have your ass back in bed by two in the morning or I’ll coming looking for you. Siren and all.” He warned, you knew he was only partially kidding.

“You suck, Chief.”

“Yeah, get used to it, Sunshine.”

…

“Fifty six minutes. I hope you timed me.” Paul grinned and presented a bouquet of yellow gardenias with soil still on the roots.

“I’ll close the door if I look across the road and see Mrs Herschel is missing any flowers.” You warned. You felt more than heard your father step into the hallway. “Go away, Chief.”

“I took those flowers from my mom’s garden who offered them up. Also, hey there Chief Swan.” Paul waved to your stoic father.

“Don’t be a bootlicker, Paul. His name is Charlie and if he wants dinner tomorrow he should get back in the living room.” You didn’t turn to look at your father but you did take the flowers from Paul and hold them out for your father to take. “Could you put these in a vase please, we’ll be late.”

“Two at the latest, Sunshine. Or the sirens are coming out.” Charlie warned as you shrugged on your jacket.

“That would break the domestic noise level law. Don’t break your own rules, Chief. I’ll be home when I’m home. No earlier and no later.” You shut the door behind you and Paul chuckled warmly. “My sister has given him so much to worry about that he forgets I’m not her.”

“She was dating that Cullen guy, right?” Paul asked and you nodded, following him to his truck. He paused by the passenger door and opened it for you.

“Yeah. That’s the guy. He really did a number on her. So now all guys are the worst in the world.” You explained before he closed your door. He jogged around the front of the truck and pulled his own door open.

“He’s just protective of you. That’s what a dad is supposed to do.” Paul shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“Bootlicker.” You whispered and he laughed again before backing the truck out of your drive.

“I ain’t a bootlicker. I’m respecting the man who brought my date into the world. Or isn’t that allowed, Sunshine?” Paul asked teasingly.

“Don’t you dare. It’s a stupid nickname he gave me when I was a kid and I’ve been trying a long time to shake it.” You knew from his laugh it wasn’t going anywhere soon.

…

“By movie I assumed you would be taking me to Port Angeles.” You told him when he went the opposite way out of Forks. He only shrugged his shoulders and you swatted at him. “Where are we going?”

“You don’t rent an R-Rated movie and then watch it in theater.” He reminded you and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Sounds like an intentional bid to get me back to your place. Did you kick your mom out for the night?” You asked and he laughed.

“I don’t live with my mom.” He corrected and you rolled your eyes. “I went by her place earlier and grabbed the flowers. I got my own place.”

“Bought your own place with a couple of garage shifts?” You asked and he shook his head, turning off the highway towards LaPush.

“My grandpa left it to me. I don’t know why you think I’m trying to pull a fast one on you. I’m an honest guy.” Paul shrugged and you chewed on your bottom lip.

“I’ve been mean. To you. And you just put all that aside to ask me out.” You admitted quietly and Paul shrugged again. “No, don’t brush it off. I have a reason to be mad at Sam but I dragged you and Jared into it too.”

“You don’t understand the situation. I won’t hold it against you for being a good friend.” Paul promised and you sighed again.

“I, you have to understand, I can’t be their friend. I can’t hurt Leah like that. And they’re your friends. I know that. If you can’t excuse that then this won’t work.” You told him. He pulled into a long dirt drive and you watched him quietly think about your words.

“I think that maybe if I had been around for the Sam and Leah thing I would feel as you do. I see it differently than you do so I can be his friend. It’s perspective and I won’t ask you to be friends with someone you don’t want to be.” He huffed a breath as if the whole sentence had taken years off his laugh.

“You worded that very intentionally.” You pointed out when he parked outside a small cottage.

“Sam is my friend. That won’t change. Leah is your friend. That won’t change. Sam broke Leah’s heart. There’s no changing that either. We’ll just have to find a way to figure it all out.” You nodded slowly.

“Only if this date is any good.” You teased and he laughed.

…

“Terrible. Worst date of my life. I’ll never see him again.” You brushed past Leah at the door and made straight for her room.

“Oh, so you’re gonna marry this boy?” She asked as you flopped down, face first, into her bed.

“Leah. I can not explain how much I want to spend my life with him. We’re going to have three children and Billy will officiate and you’ll be my bridesmaid.” You turned your face to speak before burying your head in her mattress to scream at the top of your lungs.

“Jeez, take it down a notch.” Leah sighed and flipped down next to you.

“Dude, you’re fucking on fire.” You pushed up on your elbows to free one hand to check her temperature. “Are you sick?”

“I feel weird. Achey. It’s nothing. Probably my period coming on.” She sighed and rolled over to face you. “Tell me everything.”

“He brought me flowers. We watched a movie at his place and he ordered pizza. We cuddled a little.” Leah raised her eyebrow at your blushing. “Okay so we made out. Like a lot. It was good. He’s so strong and he just lifted me into his lap. He even made sure I was home in time for Charlie’s bullshit made up curfew.”

“Paul LaHote, a gentleman?” Leah asked with a laugh. “He must really like you.”

“I told him. You know. That I couldn’t be friends with his friends. That I wouldn’t do it to you.” You promised, linking your little finger with hers. She smiled and then sighed, rolling so her face was pressed into the blanket. You wrapped your arms around her and lay with her in silence.

“Love you, Lee.”

“Love you too, Sunshine.”

[carpenoctxrn]

Promise (Yandere!Ominis x fem!reader) Part 3

Requested by Anon!

Disclaimer: Mature adulting stuff.

AN: Ominis is not possessive in this as much because everything is going "as planned", like little lark Ominis was crazzzzy possesive. So really he is sweet more than anything because he is getting everything he wants. Like he has no need to be possesive when she so willingly is letting him take her.

Also I want to get married at a vineyard now and own one too.

Masterlist

It had been three weeks since she had given herself to Ominis.

Three weeks after they had lost their virginity together, their bodies entwined in the moon illuminated room, in secret, where no one else could touch them, see them, ruin them.

And for the past three weeks, she had been filled full of him every single night.

Her body still ached from the last time, his grip on her hips, the way he pushed deeper, deeper, deeper, whispering how she was his, how he would never let her go.

She had loved every second of it.

But now, as she struggled to zip up her skirt, her stomach twisting with a growing sense of dread, she felt something else entirely.

Am I swelling with a child?

The thought made her breath hitch.

No. No, I can’t be.

Her parents had been strict, enforcing ridiculous rules about courtship “No dating until after Hogwarts.”

And yet, here she was. Possibly pregnant. With only a month left until graduation.

Her fingers trembled as she adjusted her uniform, hiding the half-zipped skirt beneath her vest before rushing out of the dorm, her mind spiraling.

She needed to get to the Great Hall. She needed to think.

But she never made it there.

A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, yanking her into the shadows of a secluded hallway.

Her breath hitched; until she felt him.

Ominis.

“Good morning, love.” His voice was velvet, smooth and possessive, before his lips descended upon hers in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Her thoughts blurred.

She melted into him instantly, just like she always did.

And Ominis smirked.

She was pliable in his hands— putty, soft and eager, bending to his touch without a second thought.

But so was he.

Just the clack of her shoes across the stone floors was enough to set him on edge, to make his body crave her all over again.

She was his.

His to love. His to keep.

His to ruin.

“Good morning, Omi.” She greeted, voice hazy from his kiss.

He pulled her in again, deeper, his fingers curling around her waist, claiming, holding, keeping.

And that was when he felt it.

The way she tensed beneath his touch.

She pulled back, and Ominis' smirk faded.

Something was wrong.

His grip on her waist tightened. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed, eyes darting away. She looked nervous. Afraid. Like she was hiding something from him.

And Ominis hated that.

“Omi… I think—I think I’m pregnant.”

She whispered it, as if saying it too loudly would make it real.

His heart stilled.

Then—a slow, creeping smile spread across his lips.

It worked.

His plan had worked.

She was now with his child. His seed had taken root, claiming her from the inside out, binding her to him forever.

Soon, she would be plump with his heir, her body growing round and soft, all for him, all because of him.

Ominis exhaled a shuddering breath, pure ecstasy rushing through his veins as he crushed her against him, capturing her lips in a kiss filled with triumph, devotion, hunger.

“Don’t worry, love.” He whispered against her mouth, his tone soothing, reassuring, final. “I’ll take care of you both. I promise.”

But she didn’t kiss him back.

She stiffened in his arms.

And then her voice broke.

“But I don’t want a baby.”

Ominis felt his heart shatter.

His breath caught. His grip tightened.

“Why not?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but there was something dangerous in it.

A pause. A long, painful silence.

Then the words that nearly destroyed him.

“I love you, Ominis.” Her voice was soft, filled with emotion, and for a moment— just a moment— his heart swelled.

But then she kept speaking.

“And I want to experience the world with you before we settle down.” She sniffled, her hands gripping his robes. “You don’t want to be associated with your family, and I don’t either. If we have a child now, we’ll be forced to depend on others, to be tied down before we’ve even had a chance to live.”

Ominis stared at her, something dark and possessive slithering through his chest.

She didn’t understand.

She didn’t see what he saw.

She spoke as if freedom was something they needed.

But they already had freedom.

They had each other.

Still, he forced himself to think. She’s not saying she doesn’t love me. She just… doesn’t want it yet.

He took a slow, measured breath, choosing his words carefully.

“You don’t have to worry about money, love.” His voice was smooth, reassuring. “I made investments years ago. I have more than enough to provide for you— for us— without ever needing to rely on anyone.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and he let his fingers brush against her cheek, soft and gentle.

“That being said,” he continued, tilting her chin up, “this is your body. I will never force something upon you that doesn’t make you happy.”

His words were sweet, but his tone was possessive, laced with something darker, more dangerous; as if he was branding her with them, ensuring that she understood how deep his love ran.

She made her decision that day.

They went to Nurse Blaney; a kind woman who had helped many girls in this predicament before. She had been gentle, understanding, offering them a small vial of potion and explaining the aftercare in a voice soft with warmth.

“You don’t have to take it.” She reassured them. “Even now, with it in your hands, you are allowed to change your mind.”

And she almost didn’t.

Back in the Room of Requirement, she stared at the vial, her hands shaking.

She was about to drink it.

And then the tears welled in her eyes.

Her fingers trembled.

Her throat tightened.

Ominis' heart stopped.

“Love?” His voice was careful, scared. He pulled her into his arms, his hands firm on her waist, anchoring her to him. “Talk to me.”

She choked on a sob, gripping his robes. “I—I want them.”

A pause. A single, shuddering breath.

“I love them.”

She hiccupped, clutching him tighter. “And the thought of losing them; it scares me. Its unbearable”

Ominis exhaled, his lips pressing into her hair, his hold unbreakable.

And for the first time that day he smiled.

—---

The two of them had agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret— at least from their families.

Their friends, however, knew immediately.

The girls had been beyond ecstatic, squealing over the news, while the boys had clapped Ominis on the back, teasing him about becoming a “family man.”

But beyond the teasing, there was something undeniably different about him now.

Ominis had always carried himself with quiet intensity, but now? Now, there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the way he held her, the way he moved, the way he whispered against her skin every night, "You're mine. Always."

By the time graduation arrived, her stomach had begun to round ever so slightly, though not enough for anyone outside their close circle to notice. She wasn’t yet feeling the full symptoms of pregnancy— her breasts were a little fuller, a little more sensitive, but nothing drastic.

Her family, strict as they were, had grown fond of Ominis.

They knew his status, knew he was a gentleman, and had no reason to doubt him. If only they knew the depraved things he had done to their daughter, they wouldn’t be patting his back so proudly.

And then, of course, there were the Gaunts.

They arrived at the ceremony, cold and composed, but when introduced to the infamous Hero of Hogwarts, their greedy expressions flickered with something close to approval.

Power. Beauty. Status.

That’s all they saw when they looked at her.

Not the girl who had saved their son from becoming like them, not the girl who had made Ominis smile for the first time in his life, not the girl he had worshipped body and soul every night.

Just power.

And yet, Ominis didn’t care.

Because they didn’t matter. Only she did.

After the ceremony, once the Gaunts had left without fanfare, Ominis approached her father, his expression steady, his grip on her hand firm.

“Sir, I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Her father had known this was coming.

She had written letters about Ominis for years, talked endlessly about him during the holidays, and would smugly refer to herself as ‘the future Mrs. Ominis Gaunt’ just to tease her father, who loathed the idea of his little girl growing up.

Even her mother had joined in on the joke, always responding, "No dating until after Hogwarts."

But now, here they were.

And her father, after a long moment of deliberation, let out a deep sigh before nodding. "She loves you. That much is obvious. And you're a good man. You have my blessing."

Ominis let out a breath, relief flooding him.

Not that he had needed permission.

Because even if the answer had been no, nothing would have stopped him from keeping her forever.

Later that evening, as the sun cast golden hues across the castle, Ominis led them to a secluded overlook, a breathtaking spot where they could see the castle, the lake, and the rolling mountains in the distance.

Her family stood behind them, admiring the view, but Ominis wasn’t looking at the horizon.

He was looking at her.

And then he reached into his pocket.

Her breath hitched as he knelt before her, pulling out a ring that he had chosen months ago.

His fingers trembled slightly as he held it up, but his voice, his devotion, his love, was unwavering.

“You are the love of my life.”

The words were soft, gentle, but they carried the weight of everything he was.

“Not because of your beauty, not because of your power but because you know me better than I know myself. Because every day with you, I learn something new about who I am, about who I want to be. You are my reason for everything, my guiding light.

And I want to spend the rest of my life learning more about you, about us, about the family I know we will build together.”

His breath shook slightly, but his grip on her hand was firm, reverent, unyielding.

“Marry me.”

Her vision blurred with tears, her throat tightening as overwhelming love, devotion, and sheer emotion swallowed her whole.

She barely managed to choke out a soft, tearful “yes” before dropping to her knees and throwing herself into his arms.

Her family cheered, her mother wiping away happy tears while her siblings laughed and teased her for crying so much.

But it wasn’t just the proposal.

It was everything.

Her hormones, yes but more than that, it was Ominis.

The man she loved.

The man she had given herself to.

The man who would burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.

And now, he was hers. Forever.

Fireworks erupted in the night sky, a little favor he asked Sebastian who happily obliged and delivered.

—--

The wedding happened within a month.

Her family had hesitated, worried that she was rushing into it. But every time they questioned her, she would simply say,

“I courted him for two years. I refuse to be his fiancée when I could just be his wife.”

And that was that.

They knew their daughter, tenacious, brilliant, headstrong. And they knew Ominis, devoted, loyal, utterly besotted with her.

So, despite their reservations, they gave their blessing.

The Gaunts, however, were not invited.

Ominis had finally confessed everything— his unstable home life, the cruelty he had endured, the cold, loveless existence he had been raised in.

And her parents, with their warm hearts and unwavering protectiveness, had taken him in as their own.

For the first time in his life, Ominis felt something he had never known before.

A place to belong. A family that cared. A love that didn’t come with conditions.

And with that, the final tether binding him to the Gaunts snapped.

He was hers now. Entirely. Forever.

—

Then came finding their home.

A quaint little mansion, nestled just minutes away from Godric’s Hollow, with land sprawling around them in lush, green abundance. Vineyards stretched in one direction, fertile soil in another, ready for her to plant anything her heart desired.

Their home was perfect.

High-arched windows that bathed the rooms in golden sunlight. A kitchen lined with white marble, polished and pristine. A library for Ominis, lined with towering bookshelves, seamlessly doubling as a study for her. And most importantly; space.

Space for their growing family.

—-

The ceremony was set in their own backyard, just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Tables and chairs were arranged neatly, all in white, the air thick with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. Flowers in blush pink and deep green adorned every surface, soft candlelight flickering around them.

And then— Ominis.

He stood at the altar, his tuxedo expertly tailored.

Charcoal grey. Silver embroidery. A crisp white shirt beneath, his vest black with intricate silver threads woven through the fabric.

He was breathtaking.

His groomsmen, Sebastian, Garreth, and Amit stood beside him, all dressed in black tuxedos, but Ominis stood apart. He was stunning, regal, ethereal.

And yet, even in all his refinement, he had eyes only for her.

His bride. His wife.

And when she appeared, walking down the aisle, arm-in-arm with her parents, Ominis nearly forgot how to breathe.

—-

She was a vision.

Her wedding dress clung beautifully to her form, the white fabric glowing in the soft twilight.

Intricate pearls were sewn into the bodice, shimmering with each graceful step she took. The corset-like design held her firm, and though she had worried about it being too tight around her three-month baby bump, Natty had reassured her, "It won’t harm the baby, I promise."

So she had worn it.

And now, as she walked towards Ominis, the delicate lace-trimmed veil trailing behind her, the soft parting of her breasts exposed by the gentle dip of her gown, her bare shoulders kissed by the glow of candlelight—

Ominis was undone.

His chest tightened.

His fingers trembled at his sides.

His bride, his wife, his love, was carrying his child as she walked toward him.

She was his.

And soon, she would be his in every way imaginable.

—

The vows were spoken.

Her voice was steady, full of promise, devotion, and love.

Ominis’ voice, however, was thick with emotion.

How could it not be?

He was marrying the woman who had saved him. The woman who had tamed his demons, softened his heart, and ruined him for anyone else.

She was his breath, his mind, his soul, his body.

And when the minister said, "You may now kiss the bride," Ominis did not hesitate.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him as he captured her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.

It was a kiss meant for show— loving, tender, drawn out just enough to make the crowd swoon.

But beneath it?

Beneath it was something else entirely.

Beneath it was hunger, longing, the kind of desperate devotion only he could feel for her.

Because tonight— finally— she would be his again.

—

As they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, a shower of petals rained down upon them, their guests cheering, the sun fully setting just as expected.

Candles floated around the courtyard, their soft glow illuminating the evening, courtesy of Professor Weasley’s magic.

And through it all, Ominis held onto her.

He held onto her like a man possessed.

Because in every way that mattered, he was.

—

Their first dance as husband and wife was nothing short of enchanting. Beneath the full moon’s soft glow, they moved in perfect harmony, their steps slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second. The makeshift pillars, once simple wooden boxes, had been transfigured into elegant structures adorned with ivy, framing their dance beneath the night sky. The air smelled of blooming flowers and ripened grapes from the vineyard, a reminder of the life they were building together.

Ominis had never known such pure joy. He could feel her love radiating through every touch, every whispered breath between them. But what truly made his heart ache with emotion was the gentle bump pressing between them; the life they had created together. His grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly, a silent vow that he would protect them both with everything he had.

Their foreheads touched as she blinked back tears of happiness, her lips curling into a smile. "I'm officially Mrs. Gaunt," she sniffled softly.

"And I'm officially your husband," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing the nape of his neck. "But I was yours, and you were mine, from the moment I bumped into you leaving the Undercroft."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "And I knew you were mine the day I realized I couldn't stand the way other boys said your name."

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You glared at every single one of them, Omi."

"I wasn’t glaring," he protested, though even he knew it was a lie.

She only laughed again, shaking her head. He could listen to that sound forever.

His hand settled protectively over her stomach as he whispered, "I love you both more than anything in this world."

"And we love you too," she murmured, resting her hand over his.

Under the moonlit sky, with music swirling around them and their love wrapped in the warm embrace of the night, Ominis knew— this was his forever. And he would never let it go.

—

The embers of the bonfire crackled softly, casting golden light over the circle of friends gathered around it. The air carried the scent of burning wood, mingling with the distant sweetness of the vineyard. Laughter and conversation flowed as easily as the dark liquor Amit kept sneaking sips of, their voices hushed yet lively in the late-night calm.

Ominis sat comfortably on a transfigured loveseat, his wife nestled against him, her soft, loose dress doing little to hide the way her body molded perfectly into his. The warmth of her pressed against his side made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. He breathed in deeply, trying to steady himself, but every time she threw her head back in laughter — especially when Imelda mimicked Headmaster Black’s pompous drawl — he felt himself slipping. Her delicate fingers gripped his thigh as she lost herself in amusement, her hair falling into her face, nose crinkling in that way that always undid him.

Ominis tightened his hold around her. Before her, he never had a reason to wake up in the morning beyond obligation. Now, he had purpose. He had her.

“So, do you want to know the baby’s gender?” Natty asked curiously, snuggling closer to Amit.

His wife’s parents had left an hour ago, having spent the past month at their estate, meaning the topic could be spoken about freely; something she loved.

“I think I do,” she murmured, cradling the small bump as she gazed down at it.

“I want to crochet as many little clothes as I can before they pop out,” she added with a giddy smile, excitement lighting up her face.

“And what about you, Ominis?” Amit asked, taking a slow swig of the dark liquor Ominis had introduced him to.

“I prefer whatever my wife prefers,” Ominis replied smoothly, as if the answer had always been written in the stars.

A chorus of teasing sounds erupted from their friends.

“You’ve gone soft, Gaunt,” Gareth chuckled, shoving another handful of chicken dippers into his mouth.

“More like being married has turned him into a doting husband,” Anne quipped, her words laced with knowing amusement towards Gareth as if for him to catch a hint.

“You’re not marrying my sister until you become something, Weasley,” Sebastian warned, his voice holding an edge of seriousness.

Laughter erupted, but Anne turned red in protest. “I am not marrying him!” she shrieked.

“Well, you’re not marrying anyone else besides Gareth either,” Sebastian shot back with an air of finality.

Everyone knew the truth that Anne and Gareth were inevitable. The moment Gareth had pummeled a sixth-year back in their fourth year for making an offhanded comment about Anne needing to “grow into her looks,” Sebastian had known. And so had the rest of their friends. The only ones oblivious were the two idiots themselves.

“So, who’s next to marry in our group?” Ominis’ wife asked coyly, stirring the pot with a mischievous smile.

“Maybe it’ll be Sebastian,” Ominis said with a smirk, finding humor in how the most hopeless romantic among them was the only one still single.

“And who, exactly, would I marry?” Sebastian asked, brow furrowed.

“Mrs. Hecate, of course,” Imelda deadpanned, laughing as Poppy nudged her with an elbow.

Their friends erupted into laughter, the old memory resurfacing. Sebastian groaned, rubbing his face as if to erase the embarrassment. He had once found a photo of a breathtaking young woman in the Restricted Section, believing it to be a former student. For months, he had been determined to find her—only to discover, to his absolute horror, that the photo was of Professor Hecate in her prime. When the picture had fallen out of his bag in the middle of class, she had simply stared at him, expression unreadable, before asking why he had it.

That day, the entire group had been sent to detention—for their uncontrollable laughter. It was the only time Sebastian had ever dreaded serving it.

“Hey, leave my good friend Sebastian alone,” Amit slurred, waving his drink dramatically. “I know what it’s like to have your heart broken.”

“Why would you say that, Amit?” Natty asked, suddenly curious.

“Well—I—it was—uh—” Amit stammered, his ears turning red as Imelda let out exaggerated “oohs,” sensing trouble.

But Ominis barely heard them now. His attention was fixed on the woman beside him. Her head had begun to droop slightly, exhaustion finally catching up with her after the long day. Her eyes fluttered shut for brief moments before she blinked herself awake again.

“Would you like to turn in for the night, love?” he asked, his voice softer now, pulling her just a little closer.

“Mhm…” She hummed, her body melting into his touch. “It’s as if I forgot I had a long day, and now my lack of sleep has crept up on me.” She yawned delicately, rubbing her eyes.

“Let’s go, Mrs. Gaunt,” Ominis said smoothly, smirking as she giggled at the sound of it.

“Goodnight! Make sure you all sleep inside the house and not out here,” she called out drowsily. “Birky will clean up outside in the morning.”

A chorus of whispers and giggles erupted behind them as they made their way toward the house — no doubt their friends making jokes about their need to consummate their marriage.

But just as they reached the threshold, Ominis suddenly stopped.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to face him, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the night had fallen into silence.

Instead of answering, he pulled her close, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. It was one of the hundreds he had stolen from her that day, but this one was different. This one was filled with quiet hunger, with promise. His hands roamed over her figure in a slow, reverent touch before he pulled back just enough to maneuver her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry.

A soft giggle escaped her lips, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“I intend to make good on my promise, love,” he murmured against her ear.

Her breath hitched, all traces of sleep vanishing in an instant. He knew exactly what he was doing—how easily he could undo her.

And with that, Ominis carried his wife inside, the rest of the world fading away as their night truly began.

-----

Anyways this is part 3 to yandere Ominis. fourth part would be them consumating their marriage cause duh. Probably more breeding Ominis because lets be honest here, the man is feral.

Masterlist

Talk to me for funsies you guys, I love yapping!

pssst.... first divider by @anitalenia and second divider by @pommecita. the plain banner is by me....

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🦖'Cause you, you're my everything

Title from Good to Me (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: Dino seems to be having a migraine though he never has had one before. The members are worried and it gets worse before it gets better.

CW: emeto, migraines, seizures, hospitals and hospital procedures

Sickie: Chan/Dino Caretakers: Wonwoo, Joshua, Jeonghan, Seungcheol (+ others)

Wonwoo ran his hand through his hair as he power-walked through the company halls. He wasn’t having the easiest day - somehow his schedule was incredibly long and there was no real break into later that evening. He loved being busy of course, otherwise he never could have made it as an idol but for the moment he just wished for a bit of space to breathe. He hoped that Seungcheol would go easy on them in the upcoming Hip-Hop Team meeting despite them nearing a deadline and not having as much finished as they probably should have.

He entered the room, Seungcheol already sitting at his laptop while Vernon and Mingyu were snacking on some dried fruits. 

“There you are”, Seungcheol said, looking up. “We were wondering if you got lost in the halls on the way here.”

“Funny, hyung”, Wonwoo replied, plopping down next to Vernon and stealing the distracted maknae’s strawberry he was holding.

“Hyung”, Vernon whined, pouting but just reached into the bag again.

“Sorry, my schedule is just crazy today”, Wonwoo apologized, “I literally had to beg manager-hyung for a break so I could pee earlier before we left the photoshoot.”

Mingyu snickered and Wonwoo was very tempted to throw the strawberry at his head but he refrained just on principle of not wasting food. Instead he rolled his eyes and said: “Well, let’s …”

At that moment his phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. To his surprise it was Dino. Wasn’t the maknae scheduled to have solo dance practice today? What could he want?

“Sorry, it’s Channie”, Wonwoo said, “I want to see what is up.”

He accepted the call. 

"Hyung?", the maknae’s familiar voice came through the speakers, though unusually quiet.

"Hey, Channie, what is going on?", he asked, stealing another dried fruit from Vernon.

"Where are you?", Dino asked in return.

"Hip-Hop team meeting", Wonwoo replied, confused. He thought Dino knew that, considering they always had meetings on Tuesdays. “Is something the matter?"

"No, it's, uh, it’s fine. Yeah, right, the meeting. I'm having a pretty bad headache, but I'll call somebody else to drive me home. Don’t worry." Wonwoo’s heart clenched at the shaky, stuttering voice of his favorite dongsaeng.

"Where are you?", the rapper inquired. Dino very likely wasn’t in the practice rooms if he wasn’t feeling well, especially if he was feeling so bad he asked to go home.

"Practice room bathroom. Spend the last half hour puking my guts out", Dino sighed.

Wonwoo echoed the sentiment, feeling worry rise. Clearly their youngest was truly not feeling well. But nevertheless, the Hip-Hop team meeting was important and they were thirteen people after all…

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Can you try to find somebody else to drive you home? I am so sorry, really. Call me again, if you find nobody else to drive you home, okay?"

"Yeah."

They disconnected the call and Wonwoo looked up at three worried faces. “Channie isn’t feeling well. I hope he finds somebody else to drive him home. Otherwise we might need to reschedule the meeting.”

Seungcheol nodded, eyes full of concern. Soon Wonwoo found himself swamped with the workload, practically forgetting about their conversation.

 💎

Dino, meanwhile, leaned against the bathroom wall. His head was aching, neck muscles sore from tension. He closed his eyes against the bright light. There were motion sensors in the bathroom and he knew he couldn’t stay in this brightly lit room. Little stars were dotting his vision. 

With both hands bracing the wall he carefully stood up, trying to keep his balance. He lifted his backpack on his back, nearly crying from the pain it caused in his neck.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the stall door, again blinking against the bright light, fighting terrible nausea for a moment. Then he stumbled to an empty meeting room, leaving the lights off. It didn’t help much, he still felt awful. 

Dino knew he needed somebody to drive him home. In his wish for his favourite hyung he had totally forgotten about the Hip-Hop meeting. But that meant that next to Wonwoo, Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon were out too.

He scrolled through his contacts, contemplating his options. Jun and Minghao were in China. Jeonghan was on a solo schedule. Woozi was likely busy in the studio and he didn’t have a driver's license anyways. Seungkwan would nag too much. He loved Hoshi but he knew he would probably puke in the car considering how his hyung drove. Jeonghan was visiting his parents. So it only left Joshua - not that Dino minded. He loved his gentle hyung and he craved his soft voice if he was honest.

 💎

Fifteen minutes later Joshua knelt down before him and smiled. 

"Hey, let's get you home, maknae", he said and gently helped the dancer to his feet. Once he was sitting in the overly hot car - at this moment Dino decided he hated summer - he shut his eyes and leaned back against the backrest.

"Sorry, baby, the AC seems to be broken", Joshua said apologetically as he put the car in drive. “I meant to get it fixed but we were so busy, you know how it is…”

 Dino didn't answer him, drifting between sleep and wakefulness in the twenty minute drive. He was very glad when they arrived at the apartment, the motion and the heat making him steadily nauseous. The elevator ride up to the apartments - okay, Joshua was taking him to the apartment Dino shared with Jun, DK and Vernon - was nauseating and Dino felt himself break out in cold sweat.

Once Joshua had opened the front door for him - Dino’s own hands were too shaky and his vision too bad to enter the keycode -, he bolted to the bathroom. He retched pitifully as the pain in his head exploded even more. It was probably the worst pain he had ever felt and he felt so dizzy. His mouth tasted awful, he could barely breathe between waves of vomit coming up and his head pounded in time with his heartbeat. Even his ears ached. 

When what was probably minutes but felt like hours was over he noticed a delicate hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles onto his back. Another hand landed on his shoulder and only then did Dino realise he had slowly started tilting to the side. He groaned and resisted the urge to rest his head against the toilet seat.

"You wanna lay down, baby?", Joshua asked worriedly. 

He nodded, well he tried to, but his muscles seized up so badly he let out a very undignified pained grunt. It got the message across anyways and the older man carefully helped him to his feet for the second time that day.

He led him to his bedroom, as he kept his eyes firmly shut, and sat him on his bed. While he struggled out of his sweatpants and shirt, Joshua efficiently pulled the curtains shut. They didn’t black out all the lights sadly. At this moment Dino wished for the blackout curtains they had all chipped in to buy for both Joshua and Woozi for their migraine attacks. If his hyungs only felt a fraction as bad as Dino did at that moment he pitied them. He didn’t know how they survived pain like this on a regular basis and he didn’t even know if it was a migraine he was having but rather a bad headache? After all, normally he didn’t get migraines. 

Once the room was as dark as possible he dared to open his eyes, looking up at Joshua. Due to the darkness and his squinty vision he wasn't really able to see him, only barely being able to make out his silhouette. 

"Thank you, hyung", he breathed.

"Sleep", Joshua replied and gently moved him so that he was laying on his back. "I'll put a bucket on the floor in case you need to be sick again and be in the living room if you need something. You’ll probably want some quiet."

Dino closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

 💎

To say that Seokmin was surprised when he found Joshua eating his cereal in his kitchen was an understatement.

His hyung chuckled at his expression. "Close your mouth or you might catch flies", he said.

"Uhm, well, not that I don't like your company, hyung. But why are you sitting in my kitchen? And why are you eating my cereal?”, Seokmin asked and walked across the kitchen and grabbed a spoon.

"Dino has a migraine, I think. I mean, he never had one before but he looked as pitiful as Jihoonie does during his attacks. It’s a pretty bad headache if not. So yeah, I drove him home from the company and decided to stick around should he need something. And I was hungry and I'm not gonna eat Hansollie's stupid healthy stuff."

"Fair enough. How is Channie?"

"Asleep, last I checked. He's been throwing up on and off. Couldn’t even keep the pain meds down."

Seokmin sat down across from her and used his spoon to eat the cereal with her. It was his after all. Joshua just fondly rolled his eyes and pushed the bowl closer.

 💎

“I should probably check on him again”, Joshua said once the cereal was eaten. “You should probably stay here. I know you aren’t the biggest fan of puke.”

He found their maknae tangled in his blankets, his forehead sweaty and creased in pain. His eyes opened when they stepped in.

Joshua sat down next to the maknae and brushed a hand through his soaked bangs. 

"You're really warm, baby", Joshua mumbled, feeling worried. The maknae was getting worse and worse. "I'll get a thermometer, take your temperature and then you should go back to sleep, okay?"

Dino didn't answer, but when Joshua returned he had shifted a bit, the heating pad he had asked for earlier to relax his tense muscles visible under his neck. After putting a plastic cap onto the tip of the thermometer, Joshua carefully slipped it under Dino’s tongue. The beeping sound made Dino whimper and Joshua tenderly carded his hand through his friend’s hair. 

"Sleep", Joshua mumbled and pressed a feather-light kiss on Dino's sweaty forehead before he left the room and returned to the kitchen.

He studied the thermometer and frowned at the reading of 39.5 degrees. "Not good?", Seokmin asked, peering over his shoulder. "Oh, poor baby."

“I’ll bring him an ice pack”, Joshua decided, “and take the heating pad. Even if it helps the pain it’s just making his fever rise. He’ll feel even worse then. I just wished he could have kept down the medication I tried to give him earlier.”

 💎

Three hours later, nearly all members were sitting in the living room. Joshua wasn’t sure how that had happened. When he checked his phone he realised that Wonwoo asked about the maknae in the group chat (maybe Joshua should check his phone more often after all) and Seokmin had answered and now everybody was worried. Jun and Minghao had even jokingly asked if they should book flights back to Korea - though Joshua wasn’t sure how much they were actually joking. 

So now Hoshi, Seungkwan, Seokmin and Joshua sat in the living room. Even Woozi had come out of the studio - a bit embarrassed by his rushing to the maknae’s side but defending his normally tsundere approach to life with knowing bad headaches could be. Jeonghan on the other hand had immediately slipped into Dino’s bedroom, never one to stray far from his hurting kids.

Blessedly all of them were more or less used to migraines and so very quiet when they talked. They had put on a movie that was playing silently in the background, while most of them were working on something or playing on their phones.

They all looked up, as Dino's door opened and their maknae stumbled into the hallway, leaning heavily on Jeonghan.

"How are you feeling?", Joshua asked quietly, from where he was curled up on the couch.

"Urgh", Dino mumbled, but smiled weakly at them. He let Jeonghan move him to the couch, which Woozi and Hoshi had vacated as soon as Dino had appeared. He sank down gratefully and cuddled up to his hyung immediately. Seokmin handed Jeonghan the thermometer who coaxed Dino to open his mouth to take his temperature.

"39.6", Jeonghan read with a frown, "that's not better." 

Woozi returned from the kitchen with a glass of water which he held to Dino's lips, knowing very well that the maknae would be too shaky to hold it himself.

 💎

Dino drank slowly, likely aware that anything could upset his stomach again. The headache was barely better, but he didn't feel like he was going to throw up any second anymore. With a sigh he leaned back against Jeonghan and closed his eyes.

"Yeez, no wonder your head hurts, your muscles are basically rocks", Jeonghan commented as he rubbed Dino’s shoulder. The maknae cursed in pain, as Jeonghan put pressure on his neck, uncaring that his hyung was … well, his hyung. 

"Hands off", he mumbled, "hurts." 

He noticed Jeonghan and Joshua exchanging a glance - probably because normally Dino enjoyed getting massages a lot and would often pester his members for one if he felt like it. RIght ow, he didn’t feel like it. His muscles hurt so much he didn’t think a massage would fix it.

“Stop thinking, let me sleep”, he grumbled and let himself drift off into a light sleep.

However, barely ten minutes later he jolted out of his sleep, stomach tossing and turning. He quickly sat up, but it was too late. Leaning over he retched and threw up the water ... all over Jeonghan. The older, to his credit, just helped Dino lean over further, so that the rest of the sick landed on the floor. Dino was shaking all over and he could barely muster the strength to move back upright, his body so stiff it felt impossible.

He could feel the other gazing at him, probably worried, but Dino wouldn’t care about them. There was vomit all over Jeonghan and the couch and his mouth tasted like dead animal. 

When he was finally done, Dino leaned back against the couch cushions. Only then did realisation hit. He stared in horror at Jeonghan, who just raised his eyebrow and said dryly: "Thank you for sharing that with us."

"Aish, hyung, I'm so sorry." Dino was mortified but Jeonghan just squeezed his arm. 

"It’s not the first time one of you kids threw up on me, love. It's not your fault that I forgot the bucket in your room." 

 💎

Clean up was just done, when the door opened, admitting the Hip-Hop team. Immediately Wonwoo jogged over to Dino who was dozing on Hoshi’s lap.

"How are you feeling?", Wonwoo asked quietly, gently stroking the bangs away from Dino' forehead.

"Head really hurts, hyung”, Dino whimpered. “Still really nauseous too.”

"I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier, kiddo. Do you need anything?"

Dino smiled crookedly, feeling a bit embarrassed. But his bladder had demanded attention for a while and he could no longer ignore it. "I need to use the bathroom. Help me walk over there?"

Wonwoo nodded and lifted Dino to his feet slowly. Once youngest seemed reasonably steady he helped him walk the short distance.

"Remember, don't...", Wonwoo started.

"...lock the door, sit down if I feel dizzy and call if I need anything, I know, hyung”, Dino repeated the words he had heard Seungcheol drill into Joshua and Woozi when they had migraines ever since Woozi had collapsed in the bathroom and it had taken Mingyu’s and Seungcheol’s combined strength to force the door open. 

 💎

A few minutes later the maknae returned, still looking pale and he let Wonwoo lead him back to the couch without any fuss. 

But then he looked up at the flashing police lights from the movie that was playing and froze. Wonwoo looked down at his dongsaeng and quickly grasped Dino tighter as the younger man's knees gave out under him. With a surprised shout that alerted their friends, he lowered Dino to the floor.

He could only stare in shock as every one of Dino' muscles tensed and then … then Dino was seizing.

It suddenly didn't matter how long Seungcheol had been on his feet that day apparently (even though he had complained all the way back to the apartment), as he was the first on his knees next to Dino. 

Quickly the leader turned the seizing maknae on his side. Wonwoo was only able to stare at what was happening in front of his feet. His dongsaeng, his Channie, was jerking in unrealistic ways that frightened him to the bone. It was the first seizure Wonwoo ever witnessed and he had never once imagined it to be as awful as it looked.

"Wonwoo-yah, let’s take a step back", Jeonghan said, suddenly next to him, his own voice trembling, "Cheollie and Jihoonie are helping him and Soonyoungie is on the phone with the emergency services." 

Numbly Wonwoo watched how Seungcheol and Woozi tried to help the maknae, placing pillows against the walls. Hoshi indeed seemed to be on the phone and Seungkwan was staring at his wristwatch. Maybe he was timing the seizure. He couldn’t spot Vernon, Mingyu and Seokmin. 

The next time Wonwoo was aware, paramedics (when had they arrived?) lifted Dino on a stretcher, exchanging quick words with Seungcheol which Wonwoo's muddled brain couldn't make sense of, the leader crying.

Then Jeonghan was kneeling in front of him, no trace of Dino and Seungcheol to be seen. His mouth felt dry, his whole body was numb. He could see Jeonghan's mouth moving, but he didn't hear anything he said. Then Joshua was kneeling next to Jeonghan, his face worried, but a tiny smile on his lips. He looked up and saw all of his friends, except for Seungcheol and Dino and ... oh god, what was happening?

There wasn't enough air in the room, how could the others not notice it? Wonwoo clutched at his throat, trying to keep his turtleneck pullover from choking him any further. He whimpered and then arms were thrown around him and then at last could breathe in a familiar smell. Tears were leaking uncontrollably from his eyes but he clutched Mingyu tighter, pressing his face in his best friend’s shirt. Then sound came back and he was aware of somebody crying and whimpering, but even more so of Mingyu whispering soothing nothingness in his ear.

"'Gyu", he ground out, coughing slightly due to his dry throat.

"Hey, you back with us?", Mingyu asked tenderly, cupping Wonwoo’s face and wiping his tears with his thumb. Suddenly a bit embarrassed Wonwoo nodded. Seungkwan tipped a glass of water against his lips with utmost care and he drank greedily to soothe his parched throat.

"'M sorry", Wonwoo mumbled. “I …”

"Nothing to be sorry about", Jeonghan said. He had stood up and now was standing at the front door, obviously wanting to get to the hospital as soon as possible. "Happens to the best of us. It was scary, I'll give you that." 

 💎

Wonwoo let Hoshi and Jeonghan pull him to his feet and was quite grateful that they didn't let go as his legs still felt like jelly.

They quickly entered Seungcheol's car, Jeonghan in the driver’s seat, Woozi passenger and Hoshi and Mingyu joining him in the back. 

Mingyu pulled him close and Hoshi scooted to the door, so that even with the limited amount of space Wonwoo was able to rest his head on Mingyu's shoulder. Hoshi still held his hand in his, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on Wonwoo’s wrist. The rapper was too hyped to sleep, though he felt his body crashing as the adrenaline died down, but he was able to relax against his friends a bit.

Soon after, Wonwoo found himself in one of the plastic chairs in a private waiting room of a busy Seoul ER. A door opened and Seungcheol stepped in, his limb more pronounced again. Crashing to his knees seemed to have done him in, Wonwoo noted vaguely as Jeonghan rushed over to support him. 

Seungcheol squeezed his hand thankfully and sank down on Jeonghan's vacated chair.

"Dino's awake", he said with a forced smile. They all breathed a sigh of relief but it was short lived. "He is in a lot of pain, but they are running the test quickly. He already had a CT and MRI. They gave him some medication for the seizure, so he's good in that department. He's been freaking out at the prospect of a … I forgot the term but they want to take a sample from his spine fluid. Wonwoo-yah, he’s been asking for you. I told him I couldn’t guarantee it but do you want to go?"

Wonwoo nodded and moved to get up. He needed to be there for his dongsaeng now, especially if he asked for him. He still didn’t feel great, more like he was about to redecorate the hospital floor, but he had to do this. Mingyu squeezed his hand encouragingly and then he stood in the small treatment room.

Dino, pale and shaky, was lying on his side on the gurney, dressed in a hospital gown. He seemed impossibly small curled up like this, even more than normal.

"Hey", Wonwoo breathed and strode over towards Dino. The maknae opened his eyes and looked up at him. 

"Wonwoo-hyung?", he asked, his voice filled with a bit of uncertainty. 

"Yeah, it's me." He gently wrapped Dino small hands in his. Seeing Dino, no matter how he looked right now, calmed him down significantly.

"I'm scared. What's wrong with me?"

"I don’t know", Wonwoo said honestly. "But I am sure the doctors will find out why you are in so much pain and had that seizure"

"Seizure?", Dino asked, panicky. Wonwoo leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Yeah, you had a seizure at the apartment."

"I don't remember", Dino said, closing his eyes again. "Shua-hyung drove me home and I went to bed. The next thing I know I wake up here with a worried Seungcheol-hyung, who looks like he just survived a war."

Wonwoo had no chance to answer as a doctor entered. 

“Good afternoon”, she greeted with a smile. “I’m here to perform the lumbar puncture. Chan-ssi, are you feeling ready?”

“No, but I don’t think I ever will. Just do it.”

"I promise I will be as gentle as I can, Chan-ssi. Relax, please, this will be a bit uncomfortable nevertheless."

"Focus on me, baby", Wonwoo said, running his finger across Dino' cheek, trying to distract the maknae. He nodded at the doctor who injected Dino' back with a local anesthesia. The maknae whimpered slightly and grasped Wonwoo's hand tighter.

 💎

Forty-five minutes later Wonwoo rocked a crying Dino in his arms, after the procedure was finally done. A nurse called somebody to move Dino's bed into a private room and nobody batted an eye when Wonwoo followed them. 

Once Dino was settled into the room, an IV connected to him to give him fluids and anti-nausea medication, Jeonghan and Mingyu appeared in the doorway.

Jeonghan quickly walked over towards Dino and gathered him in his arms in a tender way, kissing his forehead. Mingyu stepped to stand next to Wonwoo and grasped his hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

"Visiting hours are over in half an hour", he quietly informed Wonwoo. The older rapper nodded.

Now that Dino was settled he felt the exhaustion weigh him down and his vision got blurry. 

"Hoshi drove Woozi and Joshua home, pray for them. A manager is waiting for us to drive us back", Mingyu then added.

Wonwoo nodded again and then his knees buckled under him. He was so tired.

"Come on, hyung, sit down", Mingyu mumbled when Wonwoo sagged against him more and more with every second. He moved him to sit at the table in one corner of the room and sat down on the table, so that he could pull Wonwoo's head to lean against his stomach. 

They silently watched Dino and Jeonghan talking to each other, Jeonghan impossibly gentle with their youngest.

A knock on the door startled all of them out of their thoughts and the doctor from before entered the room.

“Good evening. How are you feeling, Chan-ssi?”, she asked.

“Tired. Headachy and tense. Still queasy”, Dino mumbled, his head dropping against Jeonghan’s chest.

"That’s understandable. The tests just came back. They show you have contracted bacterial meningitis. You will receive some antibiotics for the next few days. You should count on being here for at least a week. I’m sure your hyungs will keep you company during visiting hours but you need rest above all." 

With that she walked over and connected Dino's IV to a small bottle of what seemed to be the antibiotic.

"Thank you", Jeonghan said and turned to Dino as soon as the doctor had left. “Dino?”

“Hm?”

“Whose baby are you?”

Dino sighed and rolled his eyes. “Jeonghannie hyung’s baby.”

“That’s right”, Jeonghan said. “You are our baby brother. Don’t scare us like this again. You can count on your hyungs nagging you for the rest of time.”

Dino smiled crookedly. “From what I gathered I think I scared you enough that you’ll all wait on me hand and foot for the rest of time.”

“Brat!”

Notes: Lately I haven't been doing well mentally and especially with work it's been hard to write consistently. So this fic (and likely some future ones) are just rewrites and adjusted Les Misérables stories I wrote. I can assure you it's definitely my own story (even if the account name is different) and I mostly don't like doing this but I still want to present you some fics! This is why it also doesn't quite fit the request I based this fic on - because a) this was already written and b) I only headcanon Joshua and Woozi to get migraines and I needed something that looked similiar to one. I hope you enjoyed anyways!

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[scrumptiousstuffs]

see now one thing i truly don't get with somsoms is how terribly incapable of rooting for their own faves they are. does that make sense? like, when First plays those more grayish characters (ex, Akk & Kant) everyone has those swings between “omg my pookie” and “omg ew why would he do that” and it's just so so funny to me. same with Khaotung and what happened for ex with Ray. idonno why our fandom can't just lock in and root for the “bad guys” too.

but i may be biased because i really need fkt to play the biggest villains in the whole universe lol would LOVE to have the fandom where we all can just collectively go “yea my man killed that guy but yk what? HE DESERVED IT.” instead of “my man killed and now he ain't my man anymore”

(btw hii it's me again 🍋)

Hi anon.

From what I can glean (and of course I may be wrong here), most FK fans have no issue with how Kant are being portrayed. It’s the casual viewers of FK/people who generally watch lots of Thai BL but don’t specifically follow FK per se that either had negative take on Kant (with some crossing the lines and starting talking nonsense on First itself) or just skipped KantBison scenes altogether because they perceived it as boring in the 1st half of the series (and then sounded so surprised that Kant was being blackmailed because of his brother. Some didn’t even know he had a younger brother 😑)

However, what I am realising with FK fans, and this is especially with inter-fans are the preconceived ideas they have of the series and then went absolutely bonkers/disappointed when Kant (or Bison) didn’t turn out to be how they thought it should be (it’s already happening with Cat For Cash). Some inter-fans said that it was a missed opportunity to make Kant “more interesting” and he became “boring” after getting together with Bison? (Very puzzled with this). So, in fact, we actually have inter-fans wanting Kant to be even an even greyer character than what he currently is?

Interestingly, I have never seen Thai fans of FK saying anything negative about the series or how they portray KB (maybe I’m not following as many Thai fans?). But I do follow Thai fans that have been with them since at least 2022 or before!). And if these Thai fans put up highlights from Thai reactors from YT - all of these Thai reactors are singing praises on KB acting/scenes.

However, if you look at inter-fans, you will see a fraction of them being angry about KB scenes where these are perceived as not being as meaningful as SF’s. Some are critical with Jojo/screenwriting team, labelling them as “lazy” that KB had to improvise their scenes, stating the scenes are only saved purely from FK acting. Now, I disagree with the statement. That’s like spitting on the face of the whole production team/lighting/cinematographer/costume/props department etc when they worked just as tirelessly.

Or how, it was “robbery” because THK was not as intense/more dramatic as it could have been - inter-fans got upset especially following the recent interview by Jojo with a Brazillian podcaster/YT channel where he confirmed he altered the script to be lighter in tone for 2 reasons - 1) he didn’t want an intense drama after just filming OF 2) when they were about to shoot the pilot trailer, the mass shooting in the shopping mall at Bangkok just happened and the series almost got canned by GMMTV. I also think personally, he wanted to challenge himself because he mentioned (during the interview), Thai series usually don’t mix comedy with action/drama together (it’s either one or another) - one of the reason why Khaotung apparently find it difficult to find the right balance as Bison when he first started shooting THK.

That’s another thing about these inter-fans, I am bemused when these same inter-fans insisted THK was made for international audience and not Thai/local audiences. I put up a post recently where P’Aof made a pointed remark stating Thai directors/production houses make BL/GL with Thai audience in mind. International fans are just bonuses for them.

Sure, THK is probably more “accessible” to inter-fans because Jojo references a lot of famous/classic rom-com from the late 90s to early 2000s. But his target is first and foremost Thai audience and that’s why he tailored it to the current political climate in Thailand at that time (not to mention he likely won’t be able to produce the series otherwise) plus “gentle” introduction to non-vanilla sexual practices to the largely still conservative Thai audiences (yes, I’m talking about BDSM, where again I see inter-fans (and not Thai!) complaining there were only that 1-2 scenes in Ep 3. Since I already explained why I wasn’t surprised in a different asked, I’m not going to say it here).

And please do not compare THK BDSM to KinnPorsche. KinnPorsche is a different ball game together. That show was aired on IQIYI exclusively with the budget largely covered by one of the main actor who is super rich, while THK is still being aired on YT/GMM25 (their local channel that is targeted to be more family oriented).

@firstkanaphans and @doublel27 also answered a recent asked about the discordant on why audiences may be so hypercritical to Kant/Ray as opposed to actual “bad people” like our hitmen. I think it was a brilliant answer.

Regardless, It will be interesting to see how Dr Karn is going to be perceived by audiences (local and internationally). I get the feeling it will again be mixed results. But one thing I will say about FK - they have always challenged themselves with the roles they take. Plus tirelessly working on perfecting their craft. For that, I will always adore them.

[marzipanilla]

RAGE ! heh. yah.

To just veer off bc I have been rewatching this channels stuff lately - Batman stuff ! (x)

On to the rambles.

Yeah it just felt like every single character came out of the woodwork JUST to say 'wink wink nudge nudge we KNEW you two crazy kids would figure it out eventually!' and ?? why ??? why ?? why did you feel the need for their EXES specifically to give them the go ahead, to even shove them towards it even?? I just ?? surely they have other shit to talk about? Not to mention Rex and Eve's we are traumatized teens bonding was way more interesting then their very shitty romance!

I hate the fucking while I was dying I was thinking of you line too. Yes Mark. When you are panicking and freaked out, clearly that is when your mind is most clear. please. dear god. amid the ethics courses you should have been taking, a few ones about psychology and trauma response would also be good, yes?

lol Hannibal. Yeah. I agree. I love Mads' interview where he like Hannibal is the happiest man I have ever portrayed : ) and its like. he's right tho. That man IS having the time of his life and his falling in love, he is having a GREAT time. beautiful show. need to rewatch it soon.

I was talking to someone else and they compared the whole Eve and her parents situation to 'I wont be gay in the house but you can't stop me from being gay outside' and like. ugh. it really is tho. WHY are you still there. WHY are you so determined to make THESE people your family. You know you were (unknowingly adopted) they AREN'T your only option anymore. You aren't 12. You had TT ! (supposedly) You have NEW friends now!! Stop going back to these people!!

The UTTERLY SILENT (I do like the choice but it is also funny that all that happens is literally without a voice) and completely undiscussed by the main 'moral' force of the show maybe villains have REASONS for what they do opening ??? yeah it was great but it also feels so 'lol look at whats going on in the background! no one will ever realize how complex these situations can be!!' anyway here's Oliver being fucking stupid.

Like yeah, I loved the GoG breakdown/breakup in ep 3, as like a we all need to discuss autonomy and accountability and the messed up world we live and people are both right and wrong- but any of the personal-ness to it is ABSENT bc again.. we have rarely seen these people do anything. Stop calling them your family Samson! NONE of you know each other !! Also him calling out Rudy for playing the odds and then acting like he's all fond of him is wild. Amanda being so thrilled this 19 year old girl is marrying her boss is insane. AND Immortal just invited his own ass back, that shit is hilarious. You know that fucker would make anyone asking to come back jump through hoops.

I have played a bit with the idea of danger blind Debbie and it just.. it makes enough sense to me. Her response to terrible shit happening just being like 'well this is annoying : /' while everyone else is freaking out. I feel like Nolan would have been like ??? squishy human not afraid ??? and Debbie's response like ?? you think you're special bc you can kill me?? literally anything could kill me ! Why should I be afraid of you just bc you're fast and strong? A slow person with an air filled needle could get me !! and Nolan just having to be like : / Okay. I guess I see your point.

Look I find the over all narrative and some of the characters fascinating enough that I WANT to engage with and talk about this media, but honestly, I am such a hater and I don't even try not to be xD Invincible is my BUT YOU COULD BE GOOD IF YOU WERE GOOD fandom fr. 'star wars would be great if it wasn't star wars' is a thing I've seen half-jokingly get thrown around and for me its 'Invincible could be good if they weren't adhering it to the comic' lol

TBH I started a 'Cecil basically becomes Mark's parental figure' story that would take place in my Liar Liar/Man Who Played Wolf AU, but I ended up disliking it so I never really went back to salvage it. Maybe I just need to refocus and honestly just make it about Cecil : /

Honestly given a number of the dumb things the GDA gets up to I wonder how good they are at strategizing lol Like.. I really hoped they would leave out the 'we knew Nolan was lying FROM THE START!' thing, bc.. okay... he's a viltrumite. You have only just recently barely found anything that could hurt them... but... like... 20 years on the planet... and not only did you find nothing you didn't WARN anyone ? like ? where's the contingencies ??? Also I will never get over them not giving that astronaut a medical check up, just so he could go puke up more aliens into his sink. Sometimes I also think they deliberately prevent heroes from getting access to education bc the moment one of those fuckers learns how to strategize then you're ACTUALLY fucked, bc they really do make some dumb decisions in battles. constantly.

Yapping bug ! time for the yappings !!

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[keeps-ache]

sigh. i think i just do not like dogs very much lol