#i started thinking about it as a joke it's almost scary how accurate it is

[pinkd3mon]

Dedede at the end of revenge of the king

Day 4 of drawing random kirby shitpost for every day of October

[boltwrites]

Rough Handling

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (AMAB, masculine) Rating: E Tags: Face-fucking, Blowjobs, Masks

Anon Requested: Reader using Logan’s helmet as blowjob handles 😩

A/N: There is actually a line in here where I could have dropped a perfectly placed, Logan-accurate bub, but didn't out of principle. First person to spot where it goes wins a prize lmao

"You know," you started, gazing down at Logan's discarded cowl as it lay in your lap. "I think Wade had a point."

"About what?" Logan asked, frowning as he tried to scrounge together the rest of his laundry. You'd snatched the cowl up as soon as it had been uncovered in the back of the closet, and you'd pounced on it like some kind of creature. Logan had let you have it, waving you off in favor of actually doing something about the piles of dirty socks around the place.

"These are some pretty hefty blowjob handles," you grinned, sliding your hands over the wing-like portions of the cowl, even twisting your wrist like you were revving up a bike. Logan shot you a deadpan stare, before rolling his eyes and throwing a pair of jeans into the laundry basket.

"Fuck off," he replied, shaking his head as he moved on to the things on your side of the bed. "Not like I designed the thing. Still think Scott had it out for me."

He huffed - it almost sounded like a little growl. You laughed, rolling your eyes at the fact he took this as a jab against his costume, and not the proposition it was.

"I'm not making fun of your outfit, Wolvie," you laughed, shooting him a silly grin as you turned the cowl around, wiggling it as you said his little superhero nickname. "I think we should try it out."

He peeked over the bed, a pair of your underwear in his hand as he shot you a withering glare.

"You're not serious."

"Oh, I'm serious," you insisted, nodding the cowl in your hand. Logan huffed as he turned away, gathering up the last of the laundry and balancing the basket against his hip.

"Well, you look like an idiot," Logan replied. But - importantly - he didn't say no. And he was very upfront with you about shit he didn't want to do, so you were notably intrigued.

"But you would look better with your lips wrapped around me in the cowl..." you teased, an eyebrow raised and a little sly smile on your lips. "I'll even let you fuck me in the suit after."

"Both of those things seem like shit you're into," Logan countered, but you couldn't help noticing how the corner of his lip twitched a little. The little almost-smile. "And there's only half a suit left."

"Oh no, just the mask on while we fuck-" you fanned yourself with the cowl like you were so scandalized. "What a horrible turn off -"

"Shut up." Logan rolled his eyes again, but this time it was with a stupid smirk. "Let me get this load in first. Ah ah-"

You had definitely opened your mouth to comment, but he tilted his head to the side, eyes wide and finger outstretched as he dared you to make a dirty joke. Your lips stayed firmly shut. You were not going to risk face-fucking Logan Howlett over a cheap cum joke. You weren't Wade Wilson.

But you were, however, already half hard at the thought of it. Was the whole thing stupid? Yes, absolutely. But as you undressed so you could make yourself comfortable at the end of the bed, you couldn't help the thrill that rushed through you when you caught a glimpse of the cowl in your periphery. You thought everything about Logan was hot - even the parts that others might thing were scary, or even a little dorky. The claws, the scowls - but also the bright yellow of his suit, the little curly cowlicks in his hair. And, maybe most of all, you liked being a little goofy with Logan. Making him laugh, making him smile. And you knew this was going to be that kind of fuck.

You knew it when he walked in from dealing with the laundry, took one look at you and asked, eyebrow raised. "What, me in just the mask, you in your fucking socks?"

You quelled a snort as you looked down - white nike crew socks still on your feet. You'd gotten so lost in your thought you'd stripped down bare ass naked, dick out, socks still on.

"What, they're not as hot as thigh highs or something?" You laughed back. He grinned in reply as you peeled yourself out of them, sauntering over to inspect the cowl. He shook his head - like he was questioning the life decisions that led him to this moment - before he slid it on.

Oh. Ok. Logan in jeans, a white T-shirt, and the mask? Kind of hot, you weren't gonna lie. Your dick twitched in interest.

"Oh, come on," Logan snorted, unable to contain himself. "Really?"

"Honestly, I think you've given me some kind of complex," you tried to defend yourself. "Remember the time you wore that yellow shirt to the bar-"

"Mhm, vividly," Logan hummed it low, smirking as he looked you up and down. You couldn't help the bob of your adam's apple as you swallowed, the way your dick plumped up between your legs, at full attention now. That's just what this man did to you, really.

Your full attention was on him now, as he sank to his knees in front of you casually, sliding his hands up your thighs so he could spread them. Your gaze lingered on those hot hands, and-

"Oh, don't even think about it."

You snorted, because he'd clocked you fantasizing about his claws dead-on.

"Hey, a man can dream," you chuckled, breathless as Logan repositioned himself between his legs so that now the scruff on his jaw could scrape along the inside of your thighs. So close, but so far.

You were pretty sure Logan rolled his eyes, but you couldn't tell because of the mask - oh man. You reached out, half believing that he'd slap your hands away, before you wrapped them around the curved bits - the blowjob handles. He was - wow. He was really letting you do this.

And he was into it - he just didn't project it like you did. Or, maybe it was more accurate that he was into you. As you were distracted with his cowl, he'd started to press kisses to your thigh, sinking down lower in his stands as his breath ghosted over your dick.

Most of the time when he did this for you, he was in control. He'd hold your hips down and take you into his mouth at his own pace, smirking when you whimpered at how much attention he paid to the tip, or when you whined at how long he licked you up and down instead of just sucking your cock already.

But like this - like this, you could gain some of that control back. Logan nuzzles into the seam between your thigh and dick, licked a long, wet stripe from base to tip - and then you applied just the smallest bit of pressure to the handles on his mask, and Logan made a little shocked noise in the back of his throat, stilling in his tracks as he tilted his head to look at you.

"Oh no. None of that this time," you insisted, grinning as you adjusted your grip on his cowl. "Come on. Let me fuck your face."

Without being able to look at his eyes, Logan's expression was unreadable. This wasn't something you did with him often - and for a split second you wondered if you'd taken this whole joke too far.

That was, until Logan's lips parted. Just barely, at first, before he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out like you'd done so many times before for him. But oh - he rolled his jaw as he opened wide, squared his shoulders. This wasn't just an invitation. It was a challenge.

You removed a hand from the mask, if only to angle your dick to Logan's mouth, bouncing off his tongue with a little hitch of your breath before you rolled your hips, lips wrapping around you as the both of you found your places. It took you another breath to center yourself, to wrap your hands tight around that mask.

The first roll of your hips was experimental, slow and steady as you bit your lip, learned to tilt down Logan's head just a bit as you guided him with the cowl. He made a low noise in his throat - approval? A moan? you didn't know. You did know that he slid his tongue along your shaft like he knew you went crazy for, and you gasped at the feeling of it, his thumbs drawing circles on your inner thighs only serving to distract you further.

You built up a rhythm - hips rocking faster, deeper into his mouth, but never quite hitting the back of his throat. Logan took you with no complaints, head bobbing in time with how you dragged him along your cock by his mask, trying your best to keep your breathing steady, to make all this last.

But, try as you might, there was still something missing. You couldn't fuck his throat deep, not as hard as you wanted to, and his hands on your thighs were distracting enough that you wished you'd invested in some adamantine sex cuffs. You needed more control.

So, you took it. You stilled your hands, your hips, and then you stood. You didn't bother telling Logan what you were about to do - you didn't need to. After all, you were the one guiding him this time. And you did it well - hands on his mask firm enough to help guide him as you stood, letting him shift his weight and steady himself with a hand against your knee. You moaned at the new angle - it was so much easier to thrust into him like this, and you knew that with the advantage of forward momentum, you could fuck his throat raw.

"Oh, yeah-" you breathed out, as Logan swallowed roughly around you - it was clear he understood the implications of the new angle too, bracing himself with a wider stance, knees further apart, hands tracing your hips more as a way to keep himself steady than to quell your thrusts. And when he looked up at you - well, obviously, the mask was in the way. But just the fact that he bothered to try to meet your eyes had you smirking.

"Ready?" you asked him, your voice almost teasing. The low grumble he replied with reverberated all along your dick, and you shivered at the feeling. Oh, he was ready.

So, you gave him what you promised. Tilted his head back just slightly, and with your fingers wound tight around that mask, you speared his mouth on your cock, his throat squeezing around your tip as you cried out, grinding deeper into that heat before you pistoned your hips out. You yanked him forward by that cowl, then back off with your hips - and despite the wet choking noises he made, Logan only urged you to fuck him more - harder, faster. His hands wrapped around your ass, squeezing tight, willing your hips back into the vice of his throat, like you could somehow force your way even deeper.

It had you crying out, nails catching at the feeling of that mask, your pace stuttering the closer you got, thighs shaking as you rammed the back of Logan's throat again and again, just to feel how tight he squeezed your cock. Between thrusts you could see how it affected him, too - how he'd sunk low in his stance, no longer able to kneel upright with how hard you were fucking his face. His shoulders were slumped, one of his hands now cupped against the bulge in his jeans - how hard he was from you ruining his throat.

And that was it - the image of him hard because of this, pliant and desperate and blissed because of how you thrust ragged into his mouth. That's what finally sent you over the edge, burying Logan's nose into curls at your base as you cried out his name, his throat convulsing around you as he struggled to take all you gave him.

Your knees damn near gave out afterwards, shaky as you released your vice grip on Logan's mask, pulling out of his mouth with a groan. You'd left a mess at the corner of his mouth, over his lips - it almost made you twitch to life again, with how good he looked.

Maybe Wade did have good ideas sometimes.

[x-birdsong-x]

Curious what you have to say about Adams

Edit: speed-rewrote/rearranged this at 10pm in a burst of anxiety-driven rambling because my coursework started up again. posted it as is because i probably need to take a break and it's been in my drafts for a few weeks. there's not really an ending here this is one big post with me rambling about my underdeveloped blorbo

I've rambled at my buddy @/willowpelt about Adams for weeks now n I think any of my House moots know how very autistic I am about her,,,,

Adams is stubborn. And petty. And sheltered. She's short-tempered and avoidant and nowhere near as trusting as she likes to think/say she is. She does not make it easy to get along with her.

Her moods are about as reactive as early-season Chase, the closest any later character ever gets to being similar to that; the smallest thing can set her off and she's snapping at everyone like a cornered cat for the rest of the day (god knows what made her angry in the first place half the time). She can get physically destructive when she's angry enough and refuses to get physically destructive when she's angry enough until her upgraded dad tells her to and gets her a rage room to destroy with a baseball bat. Her reaction to House asking if she's still angry before that is to shut up and stare at him. She swings between Fight and Freeze depending on the situation. The one time she reads House even mostly correctly is when she tells him he took the first deal anyone offered him Because He Wanted To Punish Himself. The only time she even near-successfully lies to House (or Chase) is when she is lying about her family, and Adams is Not A Good Liar. She can not lie to House or Chase or even Foreman to save her life.

She's completely Insane in ep 1 and is drastically toned down after that for literally no reason -- She gets attached to House before he gets attached to her and within two minutes of him calling her a dumbass she decides he's her Free Dad Upgrade and she'll never listen to anyone else ever again. She spends a good few seconds just pouting at him and then sulks for a good few hours when she finds out he briefly (indirectly) lied and then drops it completely when she's done. She gives him Vicodin when she's already on incredibly thin ice with her actual boss- and she doesn't like being in trouble here. She gets herself fired doing House's test and still finds a way to get a note smuggled into solitary just to tell him he was right. She's happy to meet up (for what she thought wasn't even work) with him when he first contacts her before ep 3 and sticks around from there.

Ep 5 is where she and Park are dramatically watered down even further just so Chase and Taub can play House-translators in a way that wasn't at all necessary given the way it's done covers misunderstanding House in ways Park and Adams literally never did.

And then there's ep 6. I project on Adams like a little whiteboard. I get mad when I think about her parents. Icicles by the scary jokes most Adams song of all time

This

Was Not

Her Fault

"You took the first deal they offered you because you wanted to punish yourself" is the only time she accurately reads House, the only time she almost manages to lie to any of them is when she's lying about her family. House spends their interactions this episode poking his second-to-newest daughter with a stick, as he does, and it gets little to nothing out of her except that her parents totally didn't do anything

When she does give him an answer, she starts it, and only when she has the opening to tell him He's Wrong, it was All Her Fault.

Honestly Adams would need years of therapy even if she hadn't had another episode after this (And Parents wasn't even her assigned episode, it was mostly Taub's)

The way Adams carries this around is genuinely so fucked up. Your sixteen-year-old with anger issues did a majorly impulsive thing. Something snapped and she went missing for two months and got into a very confusing very Not Good situation. She's not the type of person to have told them where she was- or at least where she stayed- while she was gone but I literally don't care if she didn't tell her parents that part of it I literally don't care if she got home and said she just stayed with a friend you can not tell your kid that She Did A Bad Thing that It Was All Her Fault that You Can't Believe She Did That that She Was Always The Problem There that She Caused All That Trouble to the point she believes it so strongly to the point she carries so much guilt so much desperation for absolution that when a kid who did the same thing who is the same age she was shows up she spends every second of it making everything worse by going This Is How It Has To Be This Is What You Need To Do Next

Runaways my beloved mess.

Why is this character-driven episode stuffed full of everything they needed to get into the season before Nobody's Fault/Chase covered months in-universe? Why are we following House running around without his ankle monitor all on-screen? Why is he taking the whole team with him to all these places? Why is Wilson here to say House is protecting Callie because he feels a connection with her but House never interacts with Callie at all past the opening? Why wasn't Foreman's relationship with Anita put in the episode before this - where it would've fit infinitely better because a point there was the patient's wife having feelings for her friend? Also I swear to god that reveal of Foreman going to that boxing match with House at the end of Parents did more for Foreman and House's relationship than any of this here.

Why is Chase so out of character and/or non-existent?

In context this one was Callie lying to keep covering up what her mom was really like, but this still feels ooc for Chase to me. Once they know about it, Callie's home life before she left is more fitting to Chase's situation with his mom and his sister than any other patient Chase has ever been matched up with and the one line he directly gets about Callie at all implies he doesn't believe her?

The most in-character thing Chase does in one of his so few significant appearances in this ep is be brutal when Adams tries (again) to go to him for reassurance/advice.

Chase doesn't ever hold back with her and I find it funny

The way Adams was handled here could have really worked if the episode had focused on what it was meant to focus on - if this one episode hadn't been used to scramble to tie up these other things pre-Nobody's Fault - if this other stuff wasn't taking up So Much Time in Someone Else's Assigned Episode.

I rewrite Runaways for fun- one version generally and one Much more self-indulgent version for the Warrior Cats AU because taking how Adams is handled in Parents - even moreso if they'd let her stay Crazy like she was in ep 1 - it could have worked as well to have had her be the one causing trouble through basically acting the way House does in the canon version of the ep, motivated by keeping Callie away from her mother, rather than causing trouble by doing what is, for Callie, the opposite of what she needs/wants.

Callie is given such a hard time here and Adams actually leads to multiple of those hard times but Callie still talks to her about Everything. Callie latches on to Adams as her safe person and looks for her opinion specifically when it only gets her nowhere and gives detailed versions of why she left/how she feels about her mother to Adams alone. They're so firewatcher's daughter to me,, nothing scares me more than the stranger at my door who I fail to give shelter time and worth

These two were the perfect matchup,, House read Callie like a book within minutes of first meeting her. He had this exact theory about her before he said it out loud. She's avoidant and stubborn and initially doesn't trust any of them. She swings between Fight and Say Nothing.

Callie at sixteen reached a breaking point with her family and ran away, got into (for her personally) a better situation, and then runs away again to get out of the hospital when the chance of being sent back home comes with it.

House read Adams like a book within the first day of knowing her (given he mentions noticing her getting bored in the three months she's been there - he'd done so much earlier than that without even talking to her). She's avoidant and stubborn and a whole lot less trusting than she thinks she is. She's Fight or Shut Up.

Adams at sixteen reached a breaking point with her family and ran away, got into an even worse situation, and then ran away from that to get out of it when going back home became the clear better(safer) option (and that really fucks with your mind when all you're told is that you did something wrong in the first place)

Adams blames herself for everything that went on when she was sixteen. She doesn't look back on any of it and see a reason for her leaving that she doesn't see as play stupid games win stupid prizes. But Callie's not doing that - She's found more stability away from home than she had at home, she's going to school, she still sees her friends, she's living on her own and knows what she's doing and where she wants to go even with the pushed-down emotions toward such a severed attachment to her mom.

Lightly counting the tiny retelling she starts here is watered down with the brightness turned up (succeeded by her being surprised that Callie still goes to school):

The way Adams responds to Callie is so much of her echoing. She spends this whole episode projecting right down to you think her mother wants to feel responsible for her daughter's problems?

It's you could at least let her in the room it's she's your mom and she's finally acting like it it's your mom knows she messed up and she's determined not to do it again and beyond the existing conflict Callie is upset that her parent is not listening to her(me too girl)

Adams' parents did something to make her snap before she ran away

And that Rebellious Phase is something Adams never really lost?? She's completely insane in ep 1. She and Park do a test House didn't want, she tries (and fails) at lying to Foreman for cover for House, she destroys a whole room with a baseball bat with only House telling her she's allowed to in ep 4. In Nobody's Fault she and Chase do a test House didn't want. Ep 18 she gives the kid a treatment House didn't want. She's yes a bit of a pain in Chase. She's stubborn as all hell in (parts of) Post Mortem and Runaways itself. Ep 8 and others she's just,, in One Of Her Moods.

Callie's actually fitting in some way for each of the team. Adams - ^^^ I'm autistic about them / Chase - caring for addict mom while just being a child himself. Dad unavailable in some way. Runaways is Adams' episode, but hell if Chase isn't actually involved in my rewrites / House - mentioned in the episode by Wilson / Taub - still adjusting to being a dad, struggling to feel an attachment to his kids and Callie is mentioned to have been closer to her dad than her mom / Park - Devotion to family / It's mad how Callie is (at least one of) the most developed patient(s) in the season even when the episode spends so much time on irrelevant stuff.

And with that - and again the way Adams is handled in Parents - The way Adams was handled here actually could've fit better for Park given that devotion to family and how they responded to the patient having left his family in ep 3:

vs.

I dunno. Have Adams cause trouble by pushing back at everyone who mentions getting Callie's mom involved.

That said I actually love Adams' last scene in Runaways I'm a complete sucker for the tone of these scenes (Parents, Runaways). Callie's parallels with Adams continue. House again tells Adams she's super fucked up. House tells Adams he doesn't care if she's fucked up. Adams has another crushing sense of unfinished business relating to that part of her life.

I'm obsessed with her. She's soaking up all my trauma like a sponge. I don't even remember when I first got so attached. She should be allowed to hit her dad with a baseball bat.

Adams also tells Chase she's seeing a trauma counselor post-Nobody's Fault and in the words of Willowpelt: "her therapist has it cut out for them and Adams doesn't even know it"

[yellowroseswrites]

yo. so i just saw that spencer x reader you wrote featuring an ED. i was wondering if maybe you could write it as an imagine/one shot/whatever but from a different perspective? im struggling with losing weight unintentionally due to drug use and its starting to scare me. last time i was this thin i did have an ED. so would you be able to do one where the reader is just as concerned as spencer about their weight loss? maybe he helps find foods that work for them, encourages them to eat, etc? id love it of spence were cheering me on to finish a bowl of cereal (⋟﹏⋞)

"One more bite?"

Spencer Reid x Reader

Author's notes - {I have quite literally no clue if this is good or accurate, but I did my very best. I did a little research but I still wrote it very vague to avoid as much invalidating as possible. I hope this brings at least a little comfort, and my apologies for any and all inaccuracies}

TW- {Plenty of eating talk, reader eats, Spencer eats, they eat cereal, milk is mentioned, past eating issues are mentioned but barely, Pulp Fiction is mentioned, probably inaccuracies about movies, Dead Poets Society mention, there's a 420 joke but it's from Spencer so it's not really said as a joke, Autistic Spencer Reid, but that's just how I write him,not proofread, if there's any more lmk! love you all please eat some food and drink some water lovelies <3}

“I’m not hungry.”

God, it sounded so sad on your tongue. You wished you could just eat, you really did. You weren’t like you used to be, you didn’t want to be like this. You just wanted to eat.

Spencer’s face fell, but only a bit. He was used to this by now to, your body working against you. Your body craved things that would destroy it, but it refused to accept the things it needed, like food. It was scary for you, and it was positively horrifying for Spencer. He was watching you fight back, but wither away anyway, and he hated it.

"I know you aren't, but it's important that you eat it."

You groaned in annoyance. You knew Spencer was helping, but it was the same thing you've heard over and over again.

Reid seemed to think a bit before moving again, this time pouring milk into his own bowl before putting away the milk and the cereals, (fruit loops for you and raisin bran for him, which he insists helps him remember things during cases).

He came back to his bowl and started eating in front of you, "You like Tarantino movies right?"

"Uh, some of them, why?"

While you spoke he took a bite of his food, signaling with his spoon for you to do the same. Once you grabbed your spoon, he spoke again.

"Did you know that almost every clock in Pulp fiction is set to 4:20? Some people have said that they only have 2 scenes where they are set differently, but to be honest I've never seen it so I wouldn't know."

"Wait a minute," You said, "You have never seen Pulp Fiction?"

"That's what you got from that?"

"Who hasn't seen Pulp Fiction? It's a classic!" You took another bite of the cereal.

"That's what you said about Dead Poets Society." Spencer replied.

To be fair, he had read the book. He knew everything that would happen, it was definitely not your fault he spent the whole time pointing out things they got wrong. You simply nodded your head at his reply, messing with the fruit loops left spinning in your bowl.

"Wanna take one more bite for me?" 

There was barely any left in the bowl, half of you wanted to fight back, and half knew it was stupid and that Reid wanted the same thing you did. You took the bite and slid the bowl over to him, which he quickly took with his to the sink. 

"Ok," You stood up from your seat at the table, "We are totally going to watch it now."

Spencer giggled at your excitement, walking over to you and kissing your forehead. "Uh-hu. Go turn it on, I'll be in in a second."

 

You turned to walk over to the couch when Reid stopped you again, 

"And hey, I'm proud of you."

He gave you a quick smile before you walked off again, and his smile only grew as he washed your empty bowl.

[linagram]

Hiii! Don't know if you remember me, I send you Naomi and Asahi sketches once. I want to repeat how much I like your project and I'd love to draw more for it, but I miscalculated how much free time I have so it took some time (I was supposed to finish the second drawing two months ago or smth...). Anyway! I present to you: the goddes of Linagram, Andou Miki! (I wuv her) Same as last time, I tried to make it look more like Milgram style, this time with color even. Not sure how accurate it turned out, but I kinda like the result. Tbh at first I just wanted to make an art of her, but now looking at the composition and background style... Dunno I just think it looks like it shoud be a series of art of wardens... I really want to make it into a series, but not sure if I will be able actually do it Aaand I guess I kunda screwed up some of her design details (jokes on you, I coildn't even be consistent with her design in my own drawings lol), but it's too late to change anuthing so whatever In the end I want to wish you good luck with both T3 Linagram and Linagram2 development! Oh, oh, and I also want to ask something, but you obviously don't have to answer: are there any special gestures or facial expression traits that your characters (both prisoners and wardens and maybe even victims or side chars) have that you'd like to point out? Like Shun having closed postures or Kei smiling a lot even if it doesn't look like he feels like it? I suppose you've talked about this before, or maybe someone even sent you a similar ask... If it's true, I'll search it!

SHDJAJASJKSJSJ SHE LOOKS AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH!! (and yes i remember you!) i love her expression in the first drawing so much she looks like a tiny scared kitten.. (and she kinda is one) i really love the shading on the second one too it looks so much like the milgram art style!! (and it's okay i kinda forget things when it comes to my own designs too 😭)

oh and also i haven't received an ask like that before so here it is! so sorry i think it turned out a bit long ><

akio is one of the characters who has changed the most throughout the seasons. in season 1 (and before milgram), he usually had this kind of annoyed or more serious face expression (but i really like to make his expressions look like he's a bit nervous or even scared maybe? like he's just putting up a front..)

in season 2 he looks much more tired and traumatized for obvious reasons and he's supposed to look like he's in a lot of pain (and he is).

and in season 3, he still looks very tired, but i like to think that now he just kind of.. accepted everything that happened to him. akio doesn't think he'll be able to live that long even if he's able to leave milgram so 😔 akio's character arc is just a humbling experience took too far

aimi's an interesting case! she's actually a character who has the most consistent face expressions and by that i mean. she's literally almost never seen without a smile on her face.

like this art is the only exception??

but also, in season 1 the faces she makes are usually more sad or apologetic-looking! she also likes to do. The Thing with her sleeves

she still has some of that in season 2, but she starts to smile a bit more calmly and even confidently.

and in season 3? she's in her girlboss era!! she's much more confident now, her smile is more wide, she doesn't look sorry at all!!

but some of the art that is supposed to show her outside of milgram shows her having the same smile too.. like she started to look more "like a victim" only when she came to milgram.. huh..

shun is a fun character to draw because most of the time he's either supposed to look stressed (or like "physically he's here, but he's not here mentally") or he's supposed to look so confident that it's kinda scary considering his usual personality. i like to think that in season 1 he mostly looked like the former and started to act like the latter in season 2 only to act like the former again in season 3 because of his punishment.

like!! the difference!! also im not sure if it's easy to notice but when i draw shun i try to make his poses look a bit.. tense? i like to imagine his movements being a bit unnatural, almost like he's in pain or he genuinely doesn't know how to move or make certain poses. it also could be related to why he has his hands close to his face so often, it's almost like he's trying to check if he's real or not!

like aimi, naomi is almost always smiling and her expressions and poses are supposed to make her look like the "mom friend".

she also has her hand on her chest very often, to make her look more.. confident, maybe? like she's supposed to have this "don't worry i'll take care of it :)" vibe!

SHE IS LITERALLY STILL SMILING EVEN IN SEASON 3 it's just that her smile is more wide now and it's supposed to make her look more unhinged rather than someone reliable. like aimi, literally the only case of her having a different face expression is this art.

I HONESTLY CAN PUT KEI, EIKO AND RIKU IN THE SAME SECTION all of them are the smiley characters too but the way they act is a bit different.

kei's smile is supposed to show that there's something. Wrong with this man. like you shouldn't trust him. i'm also not sure if it's easy to see but kei often has this expression like he's looking down on someone. he's supposed to look all cool and when he's drawn with another character, he's almost always going to either look at them or look somewhere else, like there's another person that we don't see.

this is also one of the reasons why this art with him and someone who is (or was?) very precious to him is so important bc he's!! looking UP at the boy!! and he's not smiling!!

riku also likes to smile a lot but it's often supposed to look a bit. forced. it's like kei really believes that he's better than others and breaks when he realizes it's not true, meanwhile riku has the same belief about himself but he KNOWS he's not really special or unique, so he has no choice but to fake it until he makes it. when i draw riku, i always have this sort of rule (?) in mind: riku's smile is never sincere. he is always too worried about his image, popularity and reputation. he hates himself too much to be truly happy even for a moment. which is why him suddenly not smiling in his t3 art is so scary to me it's like.. idk, it's like he's too broken to even pretend to smile now..

eiko is very interesting bc unlike the guys she is a genuinely very confident woman! she doesn't have that many issues with her self-esteem, yes, she's a bit too much of a perfectionist, but honestly, she just has very high expectations from others and if we compare that to kei and riku's problems, that.. doesn't seem too bad to me. her expressions are also often supposed to look like she's laughing at someone or she's about to tell a joke or she's just being playful.

asahi's expressions are surprisingly hard to come up with when i draw him, so i usually just go with whatever i think is cute or shows his personality well. so most of the time he looks disgusted or angry, but i like to make his expressions adorable at the same time too! like akio, he also often looks a bit scared or stressed on the inside. he is also often seen chewing on something.

yurika is another character i find hard to draw when it comes to expressions and poses.. but that's also why i like to take advantage of her. reputation in the linagram fandom and i like to make her look a bit insane!! i get to go crazy with her poses too like girl get a snickers or something!!

and when she's not in a silly goofy mood she just looks kind of >:( i also have a rule similar to the one with riku: if yurika is smiling, her smile is usually fake.

tumblr pic limit is killing me we have to do the rest of this quick!!

reina is another character that changed a lot and if in season 1 she was usually seen smiling, she quickly dropped the facade after it ended and now she is only seen with a more cold and emotionless face expression. who knows, maybe she will smile again one day..

eiji, ironically, was supposed to have expressions and poses a bit similar to kei in season 1, but after it ended and the plot (and yurika) hit eiji badly, i can only imagine him looking more and more stressed with each day. the fact that he's actually similar to kei, but he can't pretend as well as he does..

miki is almost always seen being a bit sad or scared, and she only starts to smile more when season 2 begins and she starts embracing her role here. interestingly, her smile isn't supposed to look fake or forced, and it's actually more sincere compared to kei and riku. when season 3 starts, she lets her hair down and her eyes become more empty (same goes for eiji, who had "swirly" eyes in season 1 and the beginning of season 2) and her tone is more cold.

hinode is a bit.. too relaxed for a guard. he often presses a finger to his chin, like he's curious about something, he's always smiling and his smile is like.. you can't say it's sincere, but you can't say he's faking either. he also often has to lean on something or someone because he gets tired a bit too easily so he's usually seen either sitting or lying down and if he's standing, he's either leaning on a wall or someone's shoulder (usually miki's).

[portablecity]

recent watches and listens and reads

Movies: The Pale Blue Eye - not bad, but by halfway through i had a strong “i bet the book is real good” feeling despite not knowing at that point that there was a book. Extreme problem of Charming Young Men In Uniform who all looked identical.

Point Break - a cultural moment I am glad to have caught up on. Incredible steady escalation of the tone and stakes. Bodie was a terrifyingly accurate depiction of the self-absorbed new age older dudes that hung around art school student scenes. Has anyone adapted this movie into a Descended From the Queen hack yet?

Woman King - hey i waited way too long to watch this, i super recommend it, it did not pull any punches on the action, the script, the themes, the emotional arc, the everything. It turned out that watching the trailer had told me almost nothing about it. Still a bit stunned. And despite the uniforms every character was easy to id and learn about and love.

The Hexer - the polish tv movie adaptations of The Witcher from like 20 years ago. It’s on youtube for free. No budget but all the enthusiasm. Pretty sure Henry Cavill based his geralt on this one, down to quite a few of the gestures and poses.

Audiobooks:

I’m working my way through the discworld books for the nth time, this time via my library’s audiobook collection. I have unconditional love for the series, but if you are coming from outside and want a place to start, I think I’d recommend Going Postal as your intro.

Most recently I just finished The Monstrous Regiment, and it is everything i remember and more. Some authors move the goalposts, or the finish line; Pratchett keeps moving the punchline, building on the joke until it’s non longer a joke and instead a core theme with big beautiful emotional payoff. I cried A Normal Amount.

Favourite character moments so far:

Sybil: in The Fifth Elephant, climbing out the window.

Vimes: any of his conversations with Willikins in Snuff.

Willikins: every time he is on screen, as it were.

Carrot: honest to god the addition of age and experience has really changed how i see Carrot and frankly I find him pretty terrifying. By the end of Men at Arms he is Legit Scary, and the shit he pulls in The Fifth Elephant is not cool. The only Carrot I particularly like is the one you hear in his letters home.

The Wizards: everything in Unseen Academicals.

The Librarian: how could i choose, honestly

Moist: the shit he pulls at the end of Going Postal; it’s such a bastard move for a good cause, which is i think the core of his appeal.

Death: dancing with Miss Flitworth

Vetinari: every conversation with Moist. Especially the one with the signet ring.

Gaspode: never not a fav but especially love his cameo in The Truth.

Angua: again, i feel like i read her very differently now; I don’t know if I really get her anymore. Further rereading needed.

I have been on the holds list for the witches books for a While, and the library doesn’t even HAVE Lord & Ladies, but I will update as I get to them. I do appreciate every moment Magrat gets her own out of a scene. But how to pick a fav moment with any of the others?

The only books I haven’t reread MANY times before this reread are Unseen Academicals, and Raising Steam; relistening to Unseen Academicals was a delight and left me very sad Pratchett didn’t get to continue those thoughts and themes further. Maybe the sweetest romances in the whole series. And somehow I just didn’t register Pepe and Madame on my first readthrough? Anyways I’m excited for Raising Steam, but not sure where to find an audobook version at this time.

Listening:

I discovered accordion players performing music like Vivaldi sonatas and Bach fugues and that certainly lives rent free in my brain now:

Otherwise I think I’ve listened to Devin Townsend’s Terria album at least twice a week sonce november. It’s harder to track down nowadays but remains a favourite.

Also we watched Andor slowly and carefully and I am still extremely immersed; can’t believe they got me back into the s’wars after boba and kenobi, honestly, but i am real glad I watched it.

Also, I read Ducks by Kate Beaton in a single sitting. Recommended.

[deesmenagerie]

Everything is wonderful if you look at it with curiosity

Until this injury, I've never had surgery before. I'm not exactly happy that I had to have surgery-- I was proud of my streak, and I'm disappointed that it's over now.

But it happened. And I have to just fuckin' deal with it.

One of the first (and arguably most important) lessons I've learned over the past month is that perspective is EVERYTHING. The way you view your experience really does dictate how you experience it. And at the beginning, I decided I would approach every experience in this process with curiosity.

Instead of: Fuck, I have to get an MRI. I've heard they're scary. I'm dreading this.

I'm doing this: I've always wondered what it's really like getting an MRI. I've seen every episode of House, and I've always wanted to know if they portray it accurately.

Not even close! (At least in the MGH system.)

It was a surreal experience. First of all, I was VERY late, and the front desk lady was VERY angry with me, and warned that I might have to wait a while.

When I'm called, I'm whisked away to the back room, which consists of a waiting room connected to a hallway with lines of stalls on one side and lockers on the other. I have to get undressed (underwear can stay) and don a pair of linen hospital pants, robe, and of course, grippy socks. All my belongings are put in a locker, and I grasp to my key-- now the single most important belonging of mine.

I sit in the waiting room for a while, scrunched down in the chair slightly because it felt better for my leg. People pass me by-- maintenance contractors (CBRE, the same people that manage my work building), bustling nurses, mysterious businessmen.

Finally, I'm escorted into yet another back room. Another hallway, with patient loading bays on one side, and the MRI machines on the other. What made this experience so bizarre was the lights-- the hallway was on a constant, hypnotizing rainbow loop. Red flowing into orange, to yellow, to green, and so on. Over and over. Not only that, but there wasn't a single bit of harsh white light in the entire place. If the light wasn't rainbow, it was a dim white.

I'm fitted into a table for the next MRI slot. They position my leg in a frame, stuff padding anywhere that my knee isn't, and then lock in the top portion of the frame.

They ask me to start thinking about what artist I want to listen to during the MRI. I'm surprised by this question, but almost immediately know who I'm picking.

While we're waiting for an MRI to open up, the nurses around me are joking around with each other-- it's clear that the vibes are immaculate in this workplace.

Finally, it's my turn, and I'm wheeled into the MRI room. They load me up, and I tell them sheepishly that I want to listen to Qveen Herby, yes that's Qveen spelled Q-V-E-E-N. They don't bat an eye, and a tinny version of 'F Myself' plays in my headphones.

My lower half is brought into the machine. I lay there, eyes closed, intently focused on not moving my knee. I'm then pulled out, before anything actually happens. I have to switch tables. They reload me, and this time things progress as normal. The machine warms up, and then the rhythmic clanging begins. With the headphones, it's not that bad, but I totally understand why it would freak people out, especially if your head was in there. My focus flits between listening to the different rhythms of each scan, and listening to the music in my headphones. Why is the music so tinny? Couldn't they afford nice headphones?

And then it's over. I'm wheeled out and released from the table. I catch a glimpse of the headphones as they remove them from my ears, and I see that where a cord should be, there's just a clear tube. I realize then that normal headphones probably aren't MRI friendly.

I retrieve my belongings and change back into my clothes. The person at the front desk is much kinder to me, and wishes me a good day. Outside, the valet gives me a pitying smile and tells me to have a good day, in an earnest and fully well-wishing way. He says this knowing full well that I parked in the garage instead of using the valet, and that the walk was long and horrifically exhausting.

***

Because I approached this experience with curiosity, I had a really good time. I had a brand new experience, and learned a lot of new things! Of course, I'll acknowledge that it's easier to stay curious when my indication is strictly mechanical-- torn MCLs are much easier to identify and fix than say a tumor.

I've found that when you approach everything with curiosity, with a desire to learn something new, the chance to experience a new sensory experience-- the experience becomes instantly more soft. How can you be judgmental with something you're curious about?

[pandorasboxoftreasures]

And yet frustratingly several disabled people I know, these things fly right over their heads. I have to be the one to point them out. 

I've got Asperger’s. That’s not easy for me. I can get pretty frustrated with having to explain what I think is obvious to other people and it can manifest as scary looking once I start getting “ranty” because they won’t connect the dots themselves. It puts people off what I say and they focus too much on how I say it. I just want the message sent. But I keep having to remind myself that sometimes the worst way to send a message is with a metaphorical sledgehammer as much as it could save time. And yet trying to do anything else is extremely taxing.

That being said... There’s something about the way Kiri is depicted that doesn’t sit right for me. I think she may be a little bit too good. She does talk back and act sarcastic in the forest but later among the Metkayina she has a lot of her scenes taken up by being comfortable in nature or sad about being different (or unconscious) and only small elements of the more rough and realistic teenager Kiri show up until the final acts where she has to fight. But then she’s back to being hyper confident and capable. 

I may have to re-watch her scenes more closely next time to make sure I have as much info as possible absorbed from them, but being on the autism spectrum myself, it smacked a lot of Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night Time meets Tiny Tim in parts. Looking at and assuming patterns of behaviours that people with ASDs do without really looking at reasons or taking their input to get a more grounded approach and sort of giving them a bit of a holier than thou vibe.

I was aware of Kiri before I saw the movie. I can’t remember where but the discussion was somewhere and I came across it. Didn’t look at it too hard to avoid spoilers but having seen Sigourney Weaver in Snow Cake, I knew she’d do a good job depicting a neurodivergent character. I think the issue is more to do with the writing rather than the acting.

Then again we do have 3 more movies and a lot was cut out so maybe I just need to watch and wait see what happens with her later on and if more deleted scenes give a clearer picture like with the first movie.

Nobody is talking about how strong the Asperger’s traits are in Recom Quaritch, though. It’s weird. Maybe it’s just awkward to bring it up because he’s a villain, but even the way Stephen Lang describes how his way of thinking works from his perspective playing him makes it extremely obvious. Especially to me as somebody with it as well as having several friend groups and family members that have it. 

Personally I don’t give a damn if he’s a villain or not. I’m sick of people with Asperger’s coded or stated in text always being the pedantic nerds rambling on about the periodic table that can’t throw a punch when a vast majority of us are far from Sheldon Cooper (who isn’t even canonically diagnosed). It’s actually a very painful stereotype to see and feels almost as uncomfortable as seeing someone in blackface. 

I know absolutely NOBODY like that out of dozens and yet after my diagnosis everyone expected me to be like that. To fit that offensive mould. An accurate Aspie villain would be vastly preferable especially if done right.

Literally all Quaritch needs is a scene where he takes something somebody says sarcastically or as a joke too literally or takes a moment to process it because it’s not automatic to him, and I shout Bingo.

Oh wait... There is...

Okay, I can't. ONE MASSIVE SPOILER BELOW.

I feel like a lot of neurodivergent people can connect with Kiri's story.

Being the weird one all your life, never knowing if it means you're special or... special... trying to find answers on your own...

And then someone swoops in and tells you that you have a disease or a disorder. There's something broken and wrong about you. You shouldn't do the things that feel natural to you, or you could get hurt or even die.

We all know how movies about people with disabilities play out. The wheelchair-bound character happily dies so the pretty young healthy woman can move on. The autistic character is just a prop to show off how tough and cool the pretty young healthy woman is. It's always - we're objects.

We are only ever allowed to be objects.

The first Avatar movie said "fuck that, this guy's a badass when he's in his avatar AND when he's using his chair." The second Avatar movie is saying "fuck that, this child's elopement and stims are powerful and magical. And seizures are dangerous, but the way she is and the things she does are unquestionably beautiful and she uses them to save her family."

Yes, it's a fantasy. The whole movie is a fantasy. But fantasy isn't only for non-disabled people.

This...

This is a fantasy for us.

[latinopercy]

LEAKED LUKE SIDES???? WHERE

they got taken down almost immediately (you can still read a bit of it here) but i can summarize it for you! under a cut bc it's pretty long

it's the scene where luke brings percy the flying shoes before the quest -- luke asks percy how much money they gave him for the road, percy says they gave him some cash and something that looked like chuck e cheese tokens, luke tells him they're drachma. luke looks at what he's got and is like "you should be good, they gave you much more than they gave me." percy asks what he means and luke explains his quest to percy (book accurate description -- they didnt change any of it).

he shows percy how the shoes work and tells percy that he's rooting for him (this is where the script pieces linked above come in). percy is struck by that and tells luke that he thought about asking him to come on the quest instead of grover. luke defends grover, but percy admits that he's really going on this quest to save his mom, and he knows that if it comes down to saving his mom or completing the quest, he's going to save his mom and that annabeth is going to try to stop him. when he heard luke say earlier that he would always be on annabeth's side, he questioned whether he should have both of them on the quest, and chose grover instead. luke accepts that, and tells percy to take care of annabeth on this quest. percy jokes that she'll be taking care of him, and luke clarifies that what he means is that annabeth hasn't been outside camp since she was 7. he says that when you're kept away from the outside world like that you start to think it must have all the answers to your questions, and it can be scary when you realize the answers aren't out there, or worse if you're left thinking they still might be.

sides aren't always actual pieces of the script -- it's likely we'll see a version of this conversation, but not exactly what we see here. but it's a good window into what kind of changes they're making and im super excited about literally all of them (it was also a fun window into how they're writing the dialogue, but we can't watch that anymore 🙄)

[tetsunormous]

Provoking the captain

pairing: dom!Kuroo x f!reader

genre: smut (18+), established relationship

word count: 2.4 k

warning: swearing, fingering, choking, daddy kink, exhibitionism (?), edging, clit spanking, degradation

You and Kuroo have been together for a few months now. It was routine for the two of you to have lunch together with the team, and you could tell how happy it made him to know you get along so well with his teammates. He gets jealous quite easily, although he completely trusts you, so it’s hard for him not to feel some type of way when you go off joking around with the rest of the boys.

You were feeling a little bratty today and before you went your separate ways after lunch, knowing fully well you didn’t give him as much attention as he’d like, you grab Kuroo’s tie and pull him close enough that your lips barely touch.

It’s clear his team was watching with wide eyes, you look up at him before softly saying, “I’ll see you in class, make sure you pay attention, yea?”

You pull away with a faint smirk resting on your lips before turning to the team, “I’ll come by practice later, see you soon!”, and with that you start walking away knowing teasing Testsu like that will definitely come back to bite your ass later.

Kuroo stood there shocked that his baby girl would act out like this infront of other people, but he was also in awe of your confidence. That all changed when he heard Yamamoto and Lev snickering about how you have their captain wrapped around your pretty little finger.

“Oi! Who knew sweet little y/n was actually in charge” Yaku says, knowing it would egg Kuroo on further.

“Get your asses to class! If any of you show up late to practice I’m making you run extra”, and with that Kuroo walks away to the sound of Kenma’s snickers in the back.

It's the last period and you both have chemistry together. Normally he’s very good at staying focused but you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him constantly fidgeting and scrunching up his nose. “Are you okay, Tetsu? You seem a little distracted today” you ask as you rest your hand on his thigh.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing right now, but you know how I feel about you getting so close to others, especially right in front of me”, he turns towards you and whispers just loud enough for you to hear, “you didn’t give me any attention at lunch, and you top it off with a tease in front on my team? You really are my naughty girl aren't you chibi-chan?”

“Is that what I did? I’m sorry Tetsu” you say before shyly smiling, “maybe you can tell me more about what I did wrong after class, okay daddy?”

At this point, you knew you were screwed but watching your boyfriend’s eyes darken never fails to get you excited.

The rest of class went by slower than you hoped but the not so secretive glances Kuroo kept making made it entertaining to say the least. You tried your hardest not to pay him any attention, but the way his leg was bouncing against yours told you what you already knew. Practice was going to be different today.

The two of you start packing up your books as the bell rings and he’s already standing behind you with his large hand caressing your side.

“You better be good and finish your homework while I’m in practice chibi-chan, I’m not sure you’ll have time to complete it later after your little games earlier” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that a threat, or a promise Tetsu?”

You could taste the lust in his voice, “My pretty girl, I promise I’m going to fuck some manners into you”

And with that he leads you out of the classroom and over to the volleyball gymnasium. He taps your ass as you head towards the table in the corner where you normally get your work done while he's practicing.

“Alright kitten, give me a kiss before I go change for practice”

“Hmmm I don’t know Tetsu, for someone complaining about my manners, you forgot the magic word when you asked”

“Is this how you want tonight to go? Because if you keep this up, I will drag you into that janitor closet and remind you of your place”

Right as you were about to give in and offer him a kiss, the team floods into the gym and starts shouting at the two of you.

“I think it’s time for you to go captain. Don’t worry though, I’ll be a good girl and finish my homework”

He chuckles dryly, “You better.” and heads to the locker rooms.

Practice goes as usual but you can tell he’s on edge. Everyone in the room could tell Kuroo was on top of his game today. His serves are more powerful, his spikes are breaking through all their blocks, and his read blocking was scary accurate. Every so often he would make eye contact with you and it was nearly impossible to keep yourself from squeezing your legs shut. Kuroo is an incredible player but seeing the effect your little act has on his skills was shamelessly attractive.

You’re normally pretty well behaved and it’s a given you’d finish your work so completing your homework was never something that troubled you. However, the sounds of Kuroo’s hands smacking against the balls was distracting enough to make the process longer than normal. You finish all your work just in time to his two hour practice ending.

As you start packing up your work, you feel a presence looming over you and Kuroo’s scent fills your mind. He takes your hair and sweeps it behind your shoulder before leaning close to your ear, “I asked Yaku to lock up, I’m giving you two minutes to meet me in the janitors closet. If you’re late, I’m sure the boys wouldn't mind watching me put you in your place.”

A shiver runs down your spine instantly, but you know there's no hiding the wetness leaking from just the thought of what might happen next. He begins to leave and you can physically feel your body blushing as you scramble to pack up your bag. You knew teasing Kuroo would lead to a ‘funishment’ of sorts, but you’ve never heard him speak to you in such a sadistic tone.

As you pick up your book bag and head towards the janitor’s closet, your heart feels like it wants to burst from the anticipation. It’s common for Kuroo to get a little rough when you’d have sex but perhaps acting up at school wasn’t the best choice. Especially if the team has a big game next week.

You quickly slip into the closet and you’re met with your gorgeous boyfriend wearing a shit eating smirk, “Just in time kitten, I was beginning to think you want the team to see how desperate you are for my cock. No worries, I’m sure they’ll hear you either way.”

He kisses you softly and takes your bag from you before setting it on the floor. You’re standing there playing with your fingers with your legs pressed tightly together as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why do you look so nervous? What happened to the attitude, kitten?

“I’m not nervous!”

“No? It doesn’t make you nervous that the boys are going to do some individual practices before locking up? It doesn’t make you nervous that I plan to fuck you dumb so you know what happens when little girls try to give me an attitude, and the only thing separating us and the team is that door behind you?” He takes his hand and tilts your chin so you’re looking straight at him. He gives you a small smile, “My, you must really be a whore if it doesn’t make you nervous that anyone who’s in the gym will be able to hear just how desperate you are. We both know how loud you get”

“I know how you get when I’m bratty, for someone so smart you’d think it was easy to figure my intentions by now”

“Do you really think you’re in any position to talk to me like that?” His right hand now gripping the sides of your neck while his left hand travels under your skirt and begins to caress your thigh, “especially after admitting you acted out on purpose”

His hand is more than big enough to fully grasp your throat. You begin to feel a little lightheaded from the lack of blood flow, but that only makes you want him more. You know his left hand is snaking its way up towards your heat but you can’t help but to want to push him one step further.

“You gonna keep your promise from earlier daddy?”

Kuroo almost wants to laugh at your words, but part of him is still in awe at your boldness today. “I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight”

He slams your body against the door as the two of you begin to makeout. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you with urgency. You grant him access as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and his left hand finds itself situated between your legs. You feel a tap against your inner thigh and you spread your legs open while your tongues move in unison. The grip on your throat tightens as his fingers begin to stroke your pussy over your little panties. He pulls away and leans in close -- kissing, nibbling, and whispering into your ear knowing how sensitive you are, “what’s got you so wet kitten? We’ve barely just begun”.

“You Tetsu” you whimper into his shoulder as his fingers start to hover over your needy clit.

“Yeah kitten? I barely touch you and you’re already soaking. Do you think you deserve to feel good after teasing me today?”

“T-tetsu, please” as you clutch onto his arms looking up at him to see his expression. However, you’re met with his piercing eyes, now a shade darker, staring intently into yours as he starts rubbing you over the thin fabric you still wear.

You continue to whimper and his speed increases but he suddenly stops and takes a step back.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“I promise I’ll be good Tetsu, please, I’m sorry for being a brat” you quickly respond with your hands reaching out to him but he just chuckles.

“Of course you’ll be good now kitten, you want me to help you get off. You want me to fill you up and remind you how good my cock feels inside you.” He walks towards you and cages you between his body and the door, “bad girls don’t get what they want, but for now all I want is to fuck you with my fingers. If you even think about trying to cover your mouth I will make sure you don’t get to cum for days. You want to act up? Daddy’s going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to, go it?”

“Y-yes yes, please fuck me with your fingers”

He roughly tugs your panties off and uses his foot to spread your legs wide open. His left hand spreads your pussy open before spanking your clit, sending a sharp pain up your body, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips, “That’s not my fucking name.”

“Daddy! Yes, yes daddy I got it!”

His lips attach to yours and he strokes your wet folds feeling how you shudder at his touch. You moan into the kiss and he bites your bottom lip slightly as his thumb finds its way to your clit. “So fucking wet.”

“Only for you. I’m only this wet for you daddy. Please, I want to feel your fingers”

“Yea?” His thumb continues to rub you as two fingers lightly trace over your folds teasing your hole. “Let me hear how much you want my fingers in you.”

“Please! I’m sorry for teasing you today, please just let me feel you daddy”, you whine into him trying to keep your knees from buckling. “I promise to be your good girl, I need you in me! Please daddy, please make me feel good!”

He smirks down at you before plunging two fingers in your tight little hole and your body arches back while you let out a whiney moan. “Let me hear how good my fingers feel inside you baby” His fingers begin to curl and continually hit your spot while his thumb persistently pays attention to your clit.

“F-fuck daddy, you make me feel so good”

Your arms latch onto his for balance, and your head falls back against the door. Kuroo takes the opportunity to run his tongue against the exposed curvature of your neck before planting kisses against your jaw. He sucks against the skin where your neck and ear meets before biting on your earlobe, “I want everyone out there to hear how needy you are” and inserts another finger into your dripping cunt.

“Oh my god” you breathe out, “daddy it feels so good!” you scream not caring who’s on the other side of the door. All you can think about are his fingers expertly pumping into you, hitting your g-spot every time, while his left hand spreads your pussy lips further making it easier to continually rub your clit.

He can feel how close you are by the way your walls are squeezing around his finger. By the way you’re shamelessly moaning out his name asking for permission to cum. By the way the grip you have on his arms tighten and the heavy heaving of your chest.

So he stops.

“Bad girls don’t get what they want, remember?” He sticks his fingers into his mouth and sucks all your juices off before bending down to pick up your bag. “Maybe next time, you’ll think about how badly you want to finish before you become a fucking brat. Now, let's go out there and show everyone what a needy slut you are, yea?”

“T-that’s it?”

“I’m sorry, you didn't think I was actually going to let you finish, did you?”

The blush on your cheeks only grows darker at the thought of facing his teammates. You bend down to put your panties back on before you feel his hand rubbing your ass. “When we get back to my place, I promise to leave handprints all over this pretty ass. If you behave yourself, I’ll think about letting you cum”

© tetsunormous 2021 lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

[nerdzzone]

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One

----

Part Two

25.12.19

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?

I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.

"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"

I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.

"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."

"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."

I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.

"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."

"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."

I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.

-

When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.

"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"

"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."

"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."

"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."

I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.

"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."

There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.

"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"

Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.

"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."

"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.

"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."

"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."

We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.

-

"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"

"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."

They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.

"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"

"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"

"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."

There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.

I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.

However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.

It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.

"Wow! A dinosaur!"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."

Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.

"Does he need batteries?"

"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."

He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.

"There's a button on his back, press it."

Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.

"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.

Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.

"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"

"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"

I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.

"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."

The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, please."

"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."

Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.

"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."

He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.

"You know what? I might just do that."

Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.

"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"

"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."

"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."

I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.

"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."

Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.

-

The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.

An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.

"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"

His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."

"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."

"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."

"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."

I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.

"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"

"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."

"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"

Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.

-

The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.

Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.

Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.

"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.

Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.

"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."

"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."

My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.

"He should come all the time."

I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.

"But what about Dodger?"

Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.

"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.

"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"

So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.

Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.

"You okay?"

The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.

"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.

"You looked pretty downhearted in there."

"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."

I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.

"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."

"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."

"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."

Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.

-

After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.

The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.

It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.

However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.

"Releasing some tension."

As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.

"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."

Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.

"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.

"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."

Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.

"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.

"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."

Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.

Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.

My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.

"Whitney, have you seen it?"

Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."

Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.

"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."

"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"

"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."

I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.

"That's the life of a mom."

"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."

"Scott."

Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.

"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."

"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"

He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.

"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."

"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."

"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."

"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."

I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.

"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."

"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."

"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."

They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.

-

I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.

"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"

"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."

I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.

"Well, it has been a busy day."

Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.

"It's so freakin' cold tonight."

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."

"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."

I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.

"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."

The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.

"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."

"What?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.

"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."

For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.

"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."

I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Whitney."

I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I did try. I really, really did.

But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.

We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.

"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."

"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."

"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."

"I was really dreading it."

My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.

"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."

"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."

"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."

He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.

The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.

It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.

"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?"

The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.

"Doesn't matter."

Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.

He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.

Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.

"You okay?"

I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.

"I've never been better."

Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.

I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."

I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.

"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."

"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."

He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."

He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.

"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."

He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.

I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.

"Wait!"

My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.

"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."

"What?"

Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.

"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.

"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"

I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."

Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.

"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."

He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.

They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.

He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.

"Beautiful."

He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.

I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.

"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."

A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.

"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.

Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.

It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.

"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.

I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.

He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.

Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.

I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.

"Take these off."

My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."

Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.

"As you wish."

He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).

Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.

"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"

His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.

"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"

"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"

Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.

"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"

He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.

"You good?"

"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."

"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.

That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.

He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.

I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.

"Good girl..."

Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.

My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.

He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.

It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.

Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.

We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.

"I'll be right back."

I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.

"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.

They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.

"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.

There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.

So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

-

Part Three

[kaistarus]

The Only Exception

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Nishinoya was genuinely happy with his life. He’d gotten used to being by himself and had accepted the fact that that was how it was supposed to be. Until you came along and threw everything he thought made sense out the window.

A/N: I really like this fic. It’s one of my favorites Nishinoya ones so far just because it’s his pov and timeskip and the amount of love feels makes me happy. i got a lot of serotonin while writing it :D

Masterlist

Nishinoya had never been someone’s first choice.

He knew that sounded dramatic, but it was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, Tanaka could chug three-fourths gallon of milk before vomiting, and Nishinoya was never anyone’s preferred option--which never bothered him so keep the pity to yourself.

He learned to accept this when he never got scouted for the All-Japan Youth Camp and after the only person Nishinoya ever even kind of loved ended up loving his best friend. It taught him to keep his expectations low and to focus on things he could control, which was what led him to solo-traveling Japan and then the world. He realized things might be better on his own, and with the constant itch that he was missing out on something bigger traveling alone just made sense.

But then you came and ruined everything.

Hold on. That came off way more aggressive than Nishinoya wanted. He meant there was a perfect vision for how his life would go-pyramids in Egypt, Hollywood sign in Los Angeles, deep sea fishing in Italy-until he toppled over you in the streets of Italy. He’d been sprinting toward the docks when you stepped out of a marketplace and he collided into you, knocking you flat on your butt and sending your groceries all over the sidewalk. Nishinoya fumbled through his best apology in broken Italian while shoving produce into your paper bag, but froze in surprise when you snorted rather than began an enraged lecture.

He swore his heart actually stopped when your eyes met. You were clearly amused by his flustered behavior and when his heart started back up it was abnormally fast. Not once had he understood what Tanaka meant when he explained the first time he’d seen Kiyoko, but the first time Nishinoya saw you everything Tanaka said clicked. If Nishinoya had been fifteen he probably would’ve proposed to you on the spot.

But he wasn’t, so instead he shakily handed you your groceries with furiously red cheeks.

“Come ti chiami?” You asked with a raised brow.

Nishinoya blinked several times. He racked his brain for what he’d been taught on his last fishing trip, but it was mostly curses and inappropriate sayings he should probably avoid using. He was pretty sure Duolingo mentioned ‘chiamo’ as name though.

“Nishinoya?” He answered like a question and felt relief wash over him when you nodded.

“What are you doing this weekend, Nishinoya?”

He stared blankly before pointing at you with wide eyes, “I understood that.”

“Well you obviously don’t know Italian,” you rolled your eyes and he pouted at the incredibly accurate jab, “so, are you free?”

He looked around the empty street before pointing to himself. “Are you still talking to me?”

“Is there another Nishinoya around here?”

“I mean, there could be.” He looked up thoughtfully. “The odds would be crazy though.”

You laughed lightly which made a warmth creep up his neck. “I’m talking to you. I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “Why?”

“You’re attractive and you seem nice,” you cocked your head to the side. “Is that not a good reason?”

He stared at the ground intensely. “I guess… It is?” Then his original reason for being there struck him and his eyes widened. “Oh shit. I have to go,” he started leaving before quickly coming back. “Wait, I, uh, yes. Yes to the date thing.”

You chuckled, pulling a cellphone from your pocket to let him hurriedly create his contact before continuing his sprint to the docks-with a teasing recommendation not to knock anyone else over. That literal run in was the moment his entire world view became out of whack.

It wasn’t that he thought he was immune to liking someone-high school Nishinoya fell for any breathing human that gave him attention-he just lost the ability to imagine someone liking him. Maybe he’d been by himself too long or maybe that was just another fact he’d grown used to. He didn’t know anymore.

He did know that when he showed up at the restaurant thirty minutes early-there’s only so much pacing someone can do before they go insane-he hadn’t expected to see you. Just sitting on a bench beside the main entrance, looking too perfect while bouncing a knee and nibbling on your thumb nail as if you were nervous to be there.

Except it was only him, so that wouldn’t make sense.

“Hey,” you said when you spotted him standing in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot.

“You’re here,” he raised a brow. You took it as the time, but he meant it in a general sense. He truly hadn’t expected you to show up.

“Oh,” you chuckled awkwardly, twisting the material of your clothes. “Yeah, I was kind of nervous.”

He mulled that over for admittedly too long, but it just seemed like such a stupid thing to say. It wasn’t that you looked stupid, but that’s what made it so confusing.

“You’re also early.” You pointed out when the silence became awkwardly long.

“I was nervous.” He said like it should have been obvious.

“At least we’re starting on equal ground,” you said with a shaky breath.

Equal ground? He wasn’t sure his brain was cut out for this type of critical thinking. He’d even spent the past few days planning for every scenario-even you sneaking out the bathroom like in the movies-but he never pictured you being nervous.

“Uh, yeah,” he tapped against his leg while glancing through the window at the half-filled dining area, “we can probably go inside.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you gave him a quick finger gun before whipping around with shoulders to your ears.

Nishinoya blinked several times before looking back down the street. A part of him thought about running, saving you both from the shitty date to come filled with awful conversation starters he’d pulled from an online article for high schoolers. However his fate was sealed the moment you sent a gentle smile over your shoulder and his feet began following you through the door without his permission.

Ever since that day he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ever since you giggled behind your hand instead of wincing at the terrible jokes he regretted the moment they left his mouth; ever since you weren’t burdened by the need to translate for him the whole night; and ever since you were amused rather than annoyed at his nervous rambling and awkward icebreakers.

It was just too good to be true.

Like the first time you came over and teased him for the cheesy dialogue in his favorite action movies. How his chest ached when your head rested in his lap and you gazed at him with overwhelming amounts of affection. He’d never dreamed he’d have this-couldn’t have if he tried. Sharing his favorite things with someone while they traced designs against his palm and occasionally sealing them with featherlight kisses. The fire it sent up his arm was too much and not enough and he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted this.

It was a little scary how much Nishinoya didn’t want to lose it.

And that thought started keeping him up at night. Nishinoya was never really scared of anything-it was kind of what he was known for everywhere he traveled. If anyone needed something done they asked the foreigner with a death wish. So, the idea that you had that effect on him was, again, terrifying.

But what was Nishinoya supposed to do when you press your forehead against his in the middle of the night? Running your fingers through his hair and paying special attention to the blonde strands he’d always been secretly self-conscious of, whispering low how they were one of your favorite things in the world. How could he regret anything when you rubbed your nose lazily against his and kissed him softer than he ever deserved? He didn’t give a shit how scared he was if it meant he could stay like this, with you, for as long as you’d let him.

Because his heart raced a million miles a second when you mindlessly held his hand under a table or leaned against him just to be close. Because for some reason he was the first person you called when you were excited or when you needed comfort. Because when he rambled too long about spearfishing or an old friend’s volleyball game your eyes lit with genuine interest rather than annoyance. And because he was in love with you.

Which he both wasn’t prepared for and had known was inevitable. Falling for you had been like getting hit by a semi-truck he’d seen coming for miles.

It probably happened sooner than socially acceptable, but that didn’t surprise him given his all or nothing nature. This outcome was decided the moment Nishinoya knew he’d be fine with you breaking his heart a hundred times if it meant he could keep waking up next to you cascaded by the rising sun because he was still too lazy to invest in curtains. Just you cuddling closer to him for warmth in your sleep would make every ounce of pain worth it.

Once Nishinoya’d acknowledged his feelings it was nearly impossible keeping them down. With every breathtaking smile, or brush of your hand against his, or bubble of laughter that rang throughout his apartment it nearly spilled from his lips like a breath. It took all self-restraint he had to hold it back. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know because you deserved this piece of him-every piece of him.

He just wasn’t sure you’d want it.

His resolve lasted nearly a month-a month longer than he thought he was capable-before the feeling was too intense for him to keep down. And it wasn’t anything drastic that made him break. No, it was something so absurdly casual that he was almost pissed at himself when the words flowed from his mouth.

It had been a completely average morning, nothing crazy, the weather was actually gross with rain pounding against the windows and the sky a depressing shade of grey. But then you stepped out of his bathroom while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, giving him a lopsided smile before slurring a soft request for breakfast. It was like time froze and he was in a stupid romcom except you were there so it was actually an oscar nominated masterpiece.

Your head lolled to the side, half-lidded eyes filling with concern at his silence. “We can cook together. I didn’t mean it like-”

“I love you.”

That seemed to wake you up. Your body straightened while your mouth hung open in stunned silence. Nishinoya had expected this kind of reaction, so he clenched his fists tight in preparation for the worst.

“Are you sure?” You asked, barely above a whisper. “That’s a pretty serious word, Noya.”

He knew that. Nishinoya had spent too many nights losing sleep over that.

“You scare me,” he confessed, deciding if he was going to dig his grave he might as well make it deep. “I’ve never really been the one someone chooses. More like deal or settle with.” He grimaced when his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, “but I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone and that scares me. You make me feel wanted and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Because I do want you.” You whispered and his stare locked on yours so quickly, meeting your loving gaze while his heart started racing. “And everyone you know must be really stupid because I feel lucky I got to choose you. I get to love you.”

He stared at you wide-eyed while his chest swelled with so much emotion he was surprised he hadn’t passed out.

“Sorry, that sounded really lame.” You placed a hand against your forehead and Nishinoya shook his head vigorously.

“I think that was the greatest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You stepped closer and cradled his face, gently brushing your thumbs along his cheeks. If he wasn’t so manly and awesome he may have teared up, but he definitely didn’t. Which was why you obviously weren’t wiping any water off his cheeks before pulling his lips against yours.

Nishinoya set a languid pace that turned desperate when you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled you as close as he could, which was never enough, snaking an arm around your middle and sliding one to cradle the back of your head. 

When it got heated enough that he decided he’d very much like to move it to his bedroom Nishinoya’s stomach growled and you snorted against his lips. Nishinoya pouted, whining when you pulled away with a playful smirk.

“Later,” you said, pinching his cheeks and waving his head around. “Food first. We’re both hungry.”

He did love food.

He disrespectfully watched you leave him in favor of searching the fridge for food that could be thrown together for breakfast. A dopey smile covered his lips because he loved you. He was lucky enough to get to love you. And for some ridiculous fucking reason you were dumb enough to love him.

He would do whatever he could to keep it this way. For now, that was helping you cook breakfast. Tomorrow, who knows? But whatever it was you would be there, so it would be pretty god damn amazing.

[datawyrms]

Half a Decade Late

Valerie was finally promoted to the main headquarters of the Guys in White. There she finally comes face to face with Phantom, who disappeared five years ago, locked in a cell. For Phic Phight 2021, @lexosaurus' prompt!

Nothing proved ’harder workers get ahead’ was only a capitalist lie than the absolute hassle getting promotions within the GIW. Of course she’d gone right to them for employment, it was the only organization large enough to actually pay people that took her resume of ghost hunting seriously. She had experience, actual knowledge and even her own gear but had still spent years getting jerked around to various small operations, basically just using her to train all their useless recruits while still just considering her a ‘fellow’ field agent. It wasn’t like she had the option to quit in protest, no one else was in the market for ghost hunters. As far as most people knew ‘ghost intelligence’ was just a joke cover story that the agents were very attached to. They didn’t want any more Amity Parks, so if she wanted to live somewhere new and still do her job...these guys were it. She’d been very clear, she wanted to be in the main office, where everything happened. That didn’t stop them from constantly assigning her literally anywhere but the actual headquarters. Maybe they finally ran out of other places, she still half expected to get stopped at the door and be told about a new field mission they absolutely needed her on immediately. It didn’t happen. Valerie Grey finally got to clock in as an Ecto Containment Officer at the main branch. Where they kept the strongest creatures, developed the new anti-ghost equipment and did more than just splattering a ghost down to nothing. Sure, she liked a good ghost obliterating, but it got boring after a while. There were only so many ways a ghost could beg for it’s useless afterlife before it became white noise. It didn’t stop any new ones from showing up, or tell her anything new. Just got rid of one pest, permanently. That wouldn’t help explain some ghosts, the powerful ones that showed up again and again. It wouldn’t explain the one that stopped showing up either. There was no way that life ruining ghost just got ‘bored’ and vanished without notice. It was still out there, plotting something. She just knew it in her bones. She had to be ready for it. There were traces of that ghost, hints of his ectosignature that she came across in the field, he was still out there. The GIW was just a means to an end, she didn’t trust them to be ready alone.

Sterile corridors and simplistic signs were expected, but even the break area was doing its best impression of a frozen tundra. Fantastic for morale? Probably not. Made the coffee pot easy to spot, at least. Even if she preferred to avoid the stuff in uniform. It stained too easily, and just made her wish for her red battle suit. She took a cup to at least have an excuse for her scoping out the place, she could pass it off to someone once she got to the containment area. A quick double check that everything was in place at the mirror before heading right back out to the winding halls. She wasn’t going to be late, she didn’t have time for that. Maybe a red tie was against protocol, but no one had been stupid enough to bother her about it yet. Judging from the deferential nods from her latest coworkers, that wouldn’t be changing. No one who worked here couldn’t know who she was. The only Ghost Hunter who got out of Amity Park without getting corrupted by the ectoplasmic monsters. It was a shame, Jack and Maddie Fenton used to be a serious force for humanity. Five years ago they suddenly flipped the script, denouncing their work and calling for peace with unreasonable fiends. Their daughter Jazz likely had something to do with it, but Valerie had her own theories. Danny, her friend and once boyfriend had gone missing around that time. Leverage to ensure the Fenton’s ‘good behaviour?’ The whole thing reeked of ghosts. To think she might have gone the same way. Back then she was actually listening to the pest, starting to really consider them a ‘good’ ghost. Like that was actually possible, when he’d just been playing to emotion and her own desire to give up in fighting a dangerous foe over and over. So much for that. That monster showed it’s true colours, sure enough. Something the GIW never bothered to look into, even as she wrote report after report about the incident, how unlikely it was for the Fentons of all people to change that drastically without constant possession. Not worth the resources, even when it was easy to see what tech was built on the foundations the couple had laid. They were throwing away so much to focus on little outbreaks of ghosts instead of making more of a lasting change. Stupid. That was what the funding was ‘meant’ to go towards, as if helping the Fentons would be less productive than making a slightly different ectogun.

She almost hoped there would be a problem, just to prove this is where she should have always been.Even if it seemed distinctly unlikely. She had to swipe to get into the lab, then yet again to actually get to the cells. Or the ‘vault’, as if the higher ups wanted to pretend the creatures in there were inert materials instead of cunning and dangerous beings. Even though they had someone posted at each door, and someone on guard inside as well, herself today. To get acquainted with the place mostly, she had more than enough training on ‘proper handling’ procedures.

“Hey, you can swap with me today, if you want.”

Valerie blinked, eyebrow already raised at the posted guard’s suggestion. “I can handle watching caged ghosts.”

They had the sense to look embarrassed, taking their hand away from the oversized ectogun to loosen their tie- which was tied rather poorly now that she got a better look at it. “I’m sure you can, it’s just, well.” They wouldn’t stop fidgeting with their tie now, eyes checking that no one was really paying attention to the guards. “H0G02 is awake today. No one likes those days.”

“Then all the more reason to get used to it early.” She didn’t give them time to sputter another excuse, swiping her card and striding past without another look. As if people should be worried about a captive ghost being awake. Maybe some of the people here never got a spine before joining up.

It wasn’t as cold as she expected it to be. Or as dark. It was actually brighter, thanks to the extra row of fluorescent lights. On some level she expected the room to reflect the monsters kept here, a shadowy icebox of a space. Of course it wasn’t. These were defeated creatures under human control, of course their cages would be bright and clean, the air warmed for human comfort. The ghosts might not like it, but why care what they wanted? It wasn’t like there were many to begin with, mostly green oversized vermin with blank red eyes. Most had the sense to cower back as she walked past, but a fair few didn’t even twitch. Calling a ghost of all things lifeless was foolish, but it was the only word coming to mind...she had to focus. She didn’t pity these things. Why so many creatures though? The real dangerous ones, the most monstrous ones were the ones that could play human, the ones that had conniving minds that only worked to cause destruction and terror. These were just feral things, annoying but hardly more impressive than a coyote when you knew what to do. Half of them she’d barely rate above ‘feral cat’. A light near the back flickered. Strange. When it flickered a second time she was already releasing her helmet to pull it on. Not nearly as easy as just willing it on, but at least she could carry it in a pocket without needing to rely on some ghost’s power. Three steps and her gun was ready, not that she expected to need it. Really, she worked on autopilot, legs still moving as she stared at the largest glass cage at the back of the room. Or more accurately, at what was in it.

“Oh, newbie. ‘Sup.” The ghost rasped out, blank green eyes watching the ghost hunter. A teenaged boy with a shock of white hair, a black jumpsuit, but the voice of a seventy year old chain smoker. Just sitting in a painfully bright cell, watching. Not exactly as she remembered him, but close enough.

“You.” The disgust was easy to voice, even as her brain struggled to catch up. He was here? Looking practically exactly as he had when she was still a soft hearted freelancer?

He only gave a sputtering laugh at the aggression. “Me? You’re not that mad about the light, are you? I’m bored, Tie.”

“What are you doing here?” That wasn’t the important question really, she should be more concerned that he apparently was able to manipulate light fixtures from his cell...but she’d been hunting after this ghost for five years. Protocol could go shove itself up the director’s ass.

“Same thing I do every day Tie, being some government property!” His laugh was wrong, not from amusement like she remembered. A desperate cackle that didn’t fool anyone. “You new enough to still have your soul in there?”

“Answer the question, Phantom.”

The smirk slid off the ghost’s face. “Wh’ad you call me? Like I’m only calling you Tie cus the red sticks out, I can call you Shooty if you don’t like it, newbie.”

The response made her insides run cold. It had to be Phantom, and the terrible sense of humour was just like him- but the ghost wasn’t quite right. What was this? It couldn’t be some copy of the ghost kid, could it? “I called you by your name, ghost.”

“Never heard of em.” The ghost crossed his legs and looked away, apparently bored of the person holding a weapon. “What day is it?”

Surely he was playing around. “What do you think your name is, then?”

He didn’t take his attention off the ceiling, looking more bored than anything.“Day first, Tie. Gotta know how much of a head start I’ve got.”

“Like you’re in any position to bargain.”

“Hm? Whatcha gonna do Tie? Let me be unconscious for a few hours? Scary. Day first.”

There was the Phantom she knew, snide and sarcastic when he really had no business being so. “I could do worse than that.”

“Doubt it. You gun grunts gotta listen to the freaks out there, remember?” His shoulders shook with a silent laughter, but it looked more like spasms. “No more mishandling the goods, yeah? Day Tie, comeonnnnnn”

Since when was he so interested in the calendar? Not to mention how weird it was how he kept referring to himself...and pretending he didn’t know his name. “It’s Monday.”

That got his attention, the casual rocking halting as he looked at her again, disturbingly still. “Monday, really?”

“Lying is your thing, not mine.”

He grinned. “I like you Tie, so you’ll probably be fired in like a week. Maybe it’s the red.” The tension left the ghost completely, she hadn’t even noticed how stiffly he’d been sitting until his spine relaxed as his elbows rested on his legs. “Pretty sure I’m H0G02. Least that’s what all your creeps call me.”

There was no way Phantom of all ghosts would call himself ‘H0G02’. He had to be a mimic of some sort, a ghost that modelled himself on the once well known Amity Park menace. “You like me because I told you it was Monday? Seriously?”

“I like the Mondays more than you, if that helps.”

“Not particularly.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” He was watching her again, more curious than anything. She shouldn’t be glad to see a spark of something in those eyes, but he was far less creepy this way.

“What’s so great about Monday? You’re a ghost.” She didn’t really care. She should be asking important questions. She was just...playing along to see if it really was Phantom. That didn’t stop her for being grateful for the helmet.

“Monday is the farthest day away from Friday.”

“Wouldn’t that be Saturday?”

“It hasn’t been Saturday or Sunday for...like four years? Those days don’t exist, I think you humans made ‘em up to prank me.” Phantom shrugged, sounding completely serious. Not even a hint of amusement or a grin. “Pretty good one, all you new guys keep it up.”

He was going to be completely useless if he kept saying nonsense. How could he be useful in finding out what happened to the Fenton’s son if he couldn’t even talk about the days of the week sensibly? “Fine, what’s so bad about Friday then.”

“Ohhhhh, you’re really new, Tie.” the ghost flopped onto his side, bored of sitting up apparently. “You know, the day they keep me around for? That day.” He wasn’t quite still, his right shoulder moving very, very carefully. Hiding something.

She didn’t have the patience for this.“What are you hiding there.”

“Tie has good eyes. Gotta remember that.” Phantom muttered, getting onto his back, a blue shard of ice melting off his arm.

“You don’t really think that some ice would help you out of there?”

“Out?” He looked mystified by the suggestion, but that could more be seeing his face upside down. “That glass doesn’t break for anything, I should know.”

Which didn’t explain why he’d been trying to hide the fact he’d made ice at all. He knew it too, but apparently playing stupid was still one of his favourite tactics. “Knock it off and just answer me.”

Phantom’s frown didn’t change, green eyes staring intently at her helmet as if hoping to see through it. “I could show you why?”

It didn’t sound like a threat. “Sure, why not. It’s gonna be a long day.” If it was? Then she’d show him that she wasn’t someone he could mess with.

Ice wrapped itself around the ghost’s lower arm alarmingly quick, a wickedly sharp blade of ice with serrated teeth jutting from the scrawny arm at an awkward angle. It was practised, something this ghost must have done often in all the time he’d been gone from her life. Yet it was so different from how Phantom usually chose to fight. That was a weapon to tear and maim, not to shock, stun or bruise. It looked wrong on him. The idea that this ghost wasn’t Phantom at all only grew more credible with that thing on his arm, even if ice powers were to be expected. His eyes flicked back to green, still fixated on her as he lifted the arm and stabbed down hard. Right into his other arm. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you doing!” She couldn’t remember the last time Phantom had ever been frightening on some primal level. This- with the disturbing snap of bone as the edges of the blade caught and tore made her hair stand on end. “Stop that, Phantom. What’s wrong with you!?”

“Cancelling Friday.” Phantom was laughing as the blade melted away into the pool of green rapidly spreading from his self inflicted wound. “I said you’d probably get fired Tie.”

“Forget Friday you idiot, cover the wound so you stop splattering everywhere!” He was just a ghost-a ghost messing with her. A ghost she’d fought with and had heard scream in pain. This...thing wasn’t him. Her heart didn’t care what her mind thought, insisting he needed help.

The ghost sat up, his left arm holding on by a shred of his suit before splattering into the puddle, but the left behind stump stopped dripping almost as quickly as he’d lost the limb. “Aw. Maybe Tie does have some soul left. You actually sound worried.”

“Of course I am! You slashed your arm off!”

“So?”

He didn’t seem to be in pain. If it wasn’t for the mess of green and the lack of a limb, she’d almost say she imagined it. Why did she care? “You wouldn’t do this sort of thing.”

“Uh. Yes I would? You just saw me do it. I’m down for an encore.”

The idea just made her feel ill. “Don’t.” Did she want this to be Phantom or not? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well I’m down an arm. So the coats are going to be very whiny about how much ectoplasm they can get out of me.”

“You must have felt that.”

“Sure. Isn’t nearly as bad as when they start ripping as much ectoplasm as they can out of you. Every single Friday.” He actually rolled his eyes, like she should just know this.

Why did they bother keeping Phantom around if they just wanted ectoplasm? He might be strong, but no ghost had limitless amounts. They’d just fall apart and stop existing. That’s why the weakest ones never even left the Ghost Zone, they couldn’t survive without constantly being around the stuff! “What makes you so special then? Not your attitude.”

“I’m just lucky enough to make my own ectoplasm. Who knew food was easier to get then high grade ectoplasm? Not me.” His remaining arm pointed to her weapon, his smile stretching. “Bet ya your weapon’s fully powered from Fridays. Yours and every other thing they use in this hellhole.”

“Ghosts can’t do that.” The lie was absurd. It went against everything they knew about ghosts, even before food entered the equation.

“Y’know, Tie. I think I knew a ghost hunter that wore red once.” the ghost’s eyes went unfocused, unmoving as he looked listlessly into space. “It’s a good colour.”

“You knew me. Quit fooling around with this not remembering crap.” Valerie threw her helmet aside, no longer caring. She had to know who this ghost really was. She had to know if everything he was blathering about was a lie. So what if it wasn’t ‘safe’.

His eyes didn’t change. “Y’know how hard it is to remake a brain? Cut me some slack Tie…”

“I mean it. Look at me Phantom. If you’re the ghost I know, you can stop pretending to be something else.”

“You lose the details. Arms and legs are easy. The brain though? Way too hard.” He kept rambling to himself, not reacting even as she put a hand to the glass to get his attention. “Y’know how many times they’ve cut it open? I don’t. I lose track after like. Eleven. Maybe. Pointy Shoe said my best was fifteen but I sure don’t remember that.”

She wanted him to just stop talking. She wanted this ghost to be some strange creature she didn’t know. To not have the only possible link to someone long lost a shattered husk. “Phantom. Do you remember the hunter in red’s name?”

He finally blinked. “I’m not this Phantom guy, Tie.”

“Okay, whatever, forget that part. The ghost hunter in red, what do you remember?” She insisted, knocking again in hopes it would keep the ghost’s focus.

“Wish I’d told em something.” he held up his gloved hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t remember what that something was, don’t ask.”

So he was Phantom? He couldn’t be. That was so non-specific it could be anything. “You never explained how you’re the only ghost that can make their own ectoplasm.”

“It’s in my name Tie! Come on. Thought you guys were smart or whatever.” He did a very awkward one armed attempt at crossing it, eyebrow raised. “The H? The feeding a ghost food thing?”

She didn’t really get the whole naming scheme they used here. The fact it mattered wasn’t making her gut unclench either. “What about the H?

“Hybrid? Might have been Human. That might have been a joke.”

Valarie’s mouth was drier than any desert when he said it that easily, that casualty while kicking his own arm aside. “You’re saying you aren’t all ghost.”

“Yup. Not yet! Trust me, I’ve tried,” the bubbly high pitched laugher clawed out of the ghost at that. “I tried so much. Guess it’s another thing I’m a failure at, eh Tie?”

Something told her not to ask. She had to know. Five years she waited, five years apparently knocked Phantom clear from reality.“Does Danny Fenton mean anything to you?”

He just laughed harder at the question. “Really Tie?”

“Yes, really.”

“That’s the name I scream at em. Don’t know why. Feels good though.”

“Is it your name?” Had he had contact with Danny? Been part of whatever made him go missing from everyone’s lives? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

“They get reallllll angry when I say it is.”

There was no way the GIW had a human captive for five years. There was no way Phantom could be the Danny she knew. The ghost was just lying. He had to be, she desperately needed him to be. “Were you fused with a human or something? Got stuck when possessing someone?”

“Nah. Been like this before I got here, pretty sure. You can check your fancy gear though. There’s some non-ghost DNA in it. Lucky lucky me,” he lay back down in the mess of ectoplasm, ignoring how it clung to his hair. “Thanks for the Friday off! I hate those.”

There was no reason to need air. Talking to a ghost she didn’t even like shouldn’t make her feel like she was being crushed under a boulder. Panting for air, outside the room would make her look pathetic and weak, but she needed the space, needed to be away from that...mockery of a ghost.

“He does that to everyone. He’ll repeat the whole thing in a week or so, but he’s a really good copy the first time you see it.” The guard gave a comforting word, apparently unsurprised by her sudden unscheduled departure.

Oh, there would be no ‘next time.’ Not if he was right about her weapon. But she nodded instead, letting her ‘coworker’ think she was just overwhelmed. Even if all she could think of was how many ways this place would burn if that ghost- that thing had been a human once. She was good at telling when ghosts lied. Phantom didn’t sound like he had. No matter how much she tried to convince herself he did.

[anhed-nia]

And now that I've been positive about something that didn't demand it, I'm gonna be MEAN for no reason just to restore balance to the universe. I fucking hate this movie. Never has a tagline been so accurate. TRICK OR TREATS is one of these things that has remained in circulation long enough for me to wonder, like, do people LIKE this, and there's just something good about it that I don't get? Or is it just anomalous that it's still available enough to be on Shudder 40 years after its accursed birth? I'm not just irked that it's "bad", which it is, but because I have no idea what the fucking point of it is supposed to be. What form of pleasure am I supposed to receive from it? This is a movie that's loaded with sluts and blowjob jokes, but it's completely devoid of graphic nudity or violence or even proper swearing. You might point out that it's more of a comedy, as horror-comedies go, but it's also not at all funny. It features a (not scary) escaped homicidal lunatic, but most of that plays out as a long gag about how, if a big ugly dude puts on a frumpy dress and a stuffed bra, absolutely no one can tell the difference and randos will start trying to fuck him immediately. Ha Ha Ha. It's a movie that seems to be aimed at horror buffs, but the "special effects" basically amount to Halloween decorations and cheap prefab magic tricks for children, which gives you that suspicious feeling that the filmmakers actually kind of hate horror movies and think that you can put any stupid thing in front of a genre fan and get their unqualified, brain dead approval.

Also like, maybe this is a personal thing, but I'd say MOST pranks are pretty unfunny, and movies that prominently feature pranksters are almost unbearable. If you're going to anchor your movie to the idea of tricks and pranks, it really better be as outrageous as the setup of TERROR TRAIN (a movie that also isn't very good, but at least there was an idea in there somewhere); you really cannot ask me to pay rapt attention to, for instance, an endless scene of a snot-nosed brat duping his babysitter into thinking there's somebody at the door. Oh wow, the little boy uses a string to pull on the door knocker, oh boy, the babysitter answers the door, oh no, there's no one there. Lather, rinse, repeat. Ha Ha Ha. By the way, why is this frustrated woman running around in like a Joan Collins type of nightgown while she's both managing this unruly child and having to answer the door for trick-or-treaters every ten minutes? Who fucking knows. How much time can we kill by putting the babysitter on the phone with her inconsequential boyfriend so he can report in about his awful-sounding Shakespeare performance? You'll find out if you watch this piece of shit! (FYI the occasional appearance of cult favorite actors only makes you wish you were watching something better)

There's a lot more to be perplexed about behind the scenes, like the fact that the writer-director-etc also shot movies for Orson Welles, and great horror movies like THE TOOLBOX MURDERS (where's the horror in this movie?), and also a huge amount of porn (where's the damn sex appeal in this movie?). I vaguely worry that TRICK OR TREATS was just made as a simple excuse to create a starring role for the filmmaker's young son, which makes it seem innocent and like something I shouldn't spend so much energy bagging on, but it's just so un-fun, and vaguely insulting, that it's hard for me to just turn a blind eye. AND ANOTHER THING I really hate that the title is pluralized. You can DO trick-or-treating, you can BE a trick-or-treater, but there's no such thing as "trick or treats". It reminds me of when I watched NOTTING HILL a couple years ago (*John Waters voice* What was I thinking about?) and among other sticking points, I could not get over Hugh Grant repeatedly saying "whoopsies-daisies". I mean. What the fuck, guy? Why are you, an adult, saying that, but also it's NOT PLURAL. It's just "whoopsy-daisy"; sure, you'll find a few variations in an idiomatic dictionary, but not one that pluralizes both words. "Whoopsies-daisies" isn't even easy to say. How the fuck did you come up with that? I think I've finally drained my poison gland for this morning, so to leave on a bright note, here's my favorite part of NOTTING HILL. Just Hugh Grant's roommate's implausible shirt. I kinda want one.

PS I posted that NOTTING HILL review on Facebook a few years ago, because I thought it was fun and like one of the more publicly acceptable/accessible things I'd written, and indeed, a bunch of people found it pretty funny. But then within a day or so, I had to go to a friend-of-a-friend's birthday party where I was quietly informed that I was nearly dis-invited because it was the adult birthday girl's favorite movie and she just, like, didn't want to see my face after she found out what I had to say. So, never let it be said that my opinions are not powerful and of consequence for others!

[hotchley]

balls fair in love and war

So... this is the fic inspired by the AU in this post. Umm... it's a shambles, I low-key hate parts of it, the ending is rushed, but we're going with it before my laptop dies </3

Ignore any and all medical inaccuracies. I did a bit of research, but a lot of it confused me, so... this is not an accurate representation of a concussion. Like seriously. Also ignore any ethical issues, they're just... it's fine. As usual no proofreading. Umm.... don't ask where Rossi is. I don't know.

Taglist (I guess? I don't actually have one, it's just for this lol): @eldrai @willlemonheadsupremacy @shmaptainhotchnersmain @sarcvstiel @unionjackpillow @katytheinspiredworkaholic (you said you would read it so... is that okay?)

A very big and grateful thank you to @aaron-hotchner187 for giving me a title!! And to everyone else that gave suggestions, you are also much loved <3

Also, the way Hotch acts as a teacher is inspired by the way I think @ellyhotchner will be when they become a teacher <3 and everyone go and tell @whump-town thank you because she: told me about penlights, gave me the easy tiger line and is just overall a good person.

Trigger Warnings: concussions, fear of brain hemorrhages, hospitals, self-blame

read on ao3!

Like most things that went wrong in Aaron Hotchner’s life, his current predicament could be blamed on Emily Prentiss. He would not hear otherwise. And he didn’t think he should be forced to hear otherwise, given he was the one sitting on a hospital bed in a thin gown that did nothing to keep him warm, whilst she got to sit outside with a cup of coffee.

She had, admittedly, looked absolutely horrified when the accident occured, and had spent the whole journey to the hospital apologising again and again. He’s pretty sure she offered up her first-born child to him at some point as a form of penance. As well as her apartment. And he definitely remembers hearing something about grading his papers for him.

So whilst he may not want to be anywhere near her offspring- especially if they’re like her- and whilst he may definitely not want her apartment- he doesn’t care what she says, it is haunted- he will be taking her up on that last offer. Did he feel suitably appeased by her squirming the whole time, and by the fact that she was the one that had to explain to the principal why there were two classes screaming, crying and a teacher on the floor?

Yes, but there was no harm in milking it.

If he’s being completely honest, he felt like he was taking advantage of a hospital bed. He was sure he was fine. Yes, it hurts to move his head and he feels dizzy, and he probably has all the symptoms of a minor concussion, but he just really doesn’t want to be in the hospital.

Besides, he needs to make sure the kids aren't traumatised. It can’t have been easy for them, watching him just fall to the ground and hit his head hard enough for there to be blood. Emily could be traumatised, he didn’t care. But their students? Absolutely not.

He sighs. He wants to hand in his resignation now. Going back is going to be so embarrassing.

“I don’t think you understand. He is my best friend, and if he doesn’t get this blanket, he will- Spencer, what will he do if he doesn’t get this blanket?” A voice says from outside.

Aaron closes his eyes. He wants the ground to swallow him up. Forget returning to school, the next few minutes of his life are going to be even more embarrassing than the time Emily tricked him into being part of the Christmas pantomime. Haley hadn’t been offended, thank goodness, but still. It took him three months to be able to meet her eyes.

“He’ll- he’ll- I can’t even say it, it’s just so upsetting,” Spencer lies.

“Ma’am, sir, if you would let me speak for two seconds. Miss Prentiss said that some of her colleagues would be coming with Mr Hotchner’s things. All I am asking for is proof of identity,” the floor receptionist says.

The apologies immediately start to pour from the mouth of Penelope Garcia, whilst Spencer Reid just takes out both their driver's licences. The receptionist clearly approves, because before Aaron knows what’s happening, he’s being embraced by someone who smells like roses, and his favourite blanket is being draped over him.

“Oh my goodness, you don’t know how grateful I am that you’re alive,” Penelope says.

Aaron gives her a slight smile. Penelope is one of his favourite people, despite all their differences. And he likes to think he’s one of her favourites. He wouldn’t be thinking wrong.

“Penelope, I’m fine. Seriously. This is just a precaution. I promise it isn’t that bad,” he says, even though the light is starting to hurt his eyes.

“Isn’t that bad? I saw you and Emily taking your classes outside, which was weird to begin with because you both have classes that don’t require being outside, what were you doing? And then, I’m watching because the class can be trusted to sketch without my guidance and I’m curious. But then I turn my back for three seconds to help someone, and everyone is screaming, and you’re on the floor, and there’s blood everywhere and- it was scary!” she says.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron says, for lack of anything else to say.

“I don’t want you to be sorry! I want you to stop getting hurt!” Penelope exclaims, whacking him in the shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be sorry either. It was hilarious to watch, my students were in hysterics,” Spencer adds. Penelope glares.

Aaron isn’t surprised. Him and Spencer get on- they even have shared interests- but they also have some of the same classes. And as a result of the different subjects and ways they teach, it seems to them that it is impossible for their students to like them both.

“So, not that I don’t appreciate it, but why are you here?” He asks.

Spencer and Penelope glance at each other, and Hotch feels like he’s dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.

“Garcia. Reid,” he says. In the same tone he uses when dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.

“We thought that if we came, JJ wouldn’t, but uhh-” Spencer starts.

JJ bursts into the room before he can finish. “”Hotch! What happened? I mean, I’ve heard what happened because Strauss came and told me the basics, but still. Why were the two of you in the playground? Are you okay? Let me see that bump on your head. I also brought your lunch in case you were peckish.”

“Well basically-”

“Why does Emily look like she’s about to start crying?” Haley asks, entering.

Everyone but JJ turns and stares at her with a slight look of horror. Aaron slides down the bed slightly, hoping the blanket can cover the furious blush that he just knows stains his cheeks. Him and Haley went on a date once, after he asked her in a moment of impulsivity. It was the worst thing he’d ever done, for both of them.

“Oh come on guys, we’re professionals. JJ asked me to come because apparently, Aaron listens to me? I said he’s just too afraid of me to disobey. Which, I meant as a joke, but you do know that I don’t hate you right? Sure, the date was a disaster, but you do know we can still be friends?”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he confesses.

“That’s why I brought her with me. To prove you wrong,” JJ says. “But yes, why is Emily so upset?”

“Because I almost killed my best friend and traumatised our students and I’ve ruined his life and our careers and he can get me fired and press charges, but all I wanted to do was make him laugh, and this is the first place where I’ve felt appreciated, and I’m going to lose it all,” Emily sobs from outside.

“Can you bring her in?” He asks Penelope.

She obliges, and Hotch pats the area next to him. Emily sits beside him, wiping her eyes on the corner of the extra blanket they brought.

“You didn’t almost kill me, it’s a mild concussion at most. Our students have seen worse, and they will be fine. My life is not ruined because you will be doing my grading. I’m not going to get you fired or press charges, and you’re not about to lose any of this. Okay?”

“You always know what to say,” she says.

He ruffles her hair.

“Love you. Platonically,” he tells her.

She gives him a bright smile, and he can feel himself smiling back, less embarrassed about everything.

And then she starts laughing hysterically, and deliberately shoves him, causing him to almost fall out of the bed, only stopped by Haley and Dave each grabbing one of his arms and pushing him back up. Of course, Emily just looks at him like she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I cannot believe you fell for that. As if I would ever be that upset. Honestly. Haley, maybe I should replace you as drama teacher!”

Haley raises an eyebrow. “Ah yes, because the last time you got others involved in theatre, it ended so well.”

Emily has nothing to say.

Aaron does. He turns and swears in French.

“Naughty boy. Don’t let anyone else hear you. Especially not my class, I told them what that meant after you said it when I stole your stapler and then told you I’d given it to Miss Brooks.”

He pales.

“Speaking of your classes, how did this happen?” Haley asks, clearly sensing the need for a change in topic.

Emily looks at Aaron.

“It was your fault!” he says.

“Well it was your idea!” she counters.

He sighs. “So what happened was…”

Hotch and Emily’s classrooms are next to each other. To Hotch, this is both a blessing and a curse. It means he could keep an eye on her. It also means he had to keep an eye on her. See, Emily isn't irresponsible, and she would never actually endanger her students, but sometimes, she leans towards danger.

How, when she teaches modern languages, is beyond Hotch, but regardless. Strauss had actually hired Emily, not just for her abilities, but because she believed someone needed to keep an eye on Hotch. How the times have changed.

Hotch is on break duty, and he can't see anyone from his class. Which is weird. He tries to keep their lives as stress-free as possible, and he was always willing to help anyone that needs it, but certain assessments could not be avoided. But still, he expects to see at least one of them outside, if only to get a few minutes of fresh air.

Emily smiles at him sympathetically before she walks into her classroom. It is like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. Sympathy from Emily isn't comforting. Not when it was aimed at him. If anything, it just makes him more scared. The last time she had looked at him like that, he had explained how his date with Haley had gone from one disaster to another.

And then she laughed.

So he pushes the door open, stepping back in case something fell on him. It wouldn't have been the first time. But nothing does. So he steps into his classroom, expecting to see his eleventh grade literature class doing something suspicious.

They aren't, and suddenly he understands exactly why Emily had looked at him like that.

Because his class has never looked so upset or defeated. And his heart breaks for all of them. It has been a while since he was fifteen, but he wouldn't ever forget the feeling of helplessness that seemed to define his existence. Nor would he forget how everything felt like too much and not enough.

"What happened?" He asks them gently.

Violet, a quiet girl that always tells him what Miss Prentiss had said about him, burst into tears. One of her friends patted her back, but it's clear they didn't quite know what they were doing. Neither does Hotch, but goddammit, these are his kids. Nobody is going to hurt them.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you want to go somewhere else?" He asks her.

She shakes her head. "I just- I want all of this to be over, but then I don't because it means going to college and leaving here and having to grow up, but I just- I have no fucking idea what I'm doing and it's all too much."

He winces at the use of swear words, because he is still a teacher, but that also means he feels a sense of pride that she's able to voice what it is. Because now, he may not be able to fix the situation, but he can help.

"I know. That's okay. That's normal. And you'll work it out. You know, I almost became a lawyer."

She looks up, her eyes red, but starting to sparkle again. "A lawyer."

"Yep, I almost also applied to the FBI Academy. It was actually Miss Prentiss that talked me out of that one. Well, it wasn't really talking but the true story is a little too… inappropriate for school."

"I can't imagine you doing either of those. You'd get bored as a lawyer, and you would never smile as an FBI agent," Clarissa says.

Hotch blinks.

She shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then she offers him a piece of candyfloss, which he rejects.

He checks his lesson plan. And then his planner. And then the calendar he keeps on his table. Emily always makes fun of him for being so organised, but Spencer admires it, and that makes him feel cool, so he focuses on that instead.

"I have a compromise. We don't need to do a lesson today, we have more than enough time to cover everything because we're already ahead. I let you do whatever you want for the remainder of the lesson- whether that's colouring or crying or dancing. But you have to do it outside. I didn't see any of you at break."

"Really?" Violet asks.

He nods. "Of course."

Everyone cheers, and grabs their bags, clearly ready to not use their brains for a bit. Aaron gives them the most warm smile he can manage, but he can't help the small surge of guilt that accompanies his lack of realisation.

As his class exits, happily chattering away to each other, Emily pokes her head out the door.

"Mr Hotch, what are you doing, and can I join?"

Immediately, all eyes are on him.

"Please?" Violet asks.

Clarissa pulls out the puppy eyes.

Thomas falls to his knees.

"Oh my god, yes fine, okay, just- everyone be quiet before Strauss finds out and shouts at me," he says.

Emily runs back inside, and soon, they're all just milling about and having fun on the playground. It's nice, both for the students, and the teachers, to have a bit of a break from the world, and to spend a few moments away from it all. Some of them are running around, playing a game of tag, some of them are simply sitting around, and a few are colouring.

"Do you still like playing catch?" Emily asks him.

"What?"

"Catch. Remember, you used to play it with Sean all the time when we were in college."

"I mean yeah, I would probably get involved, but I'm not quite sure-"

"Think fast!" She shouts, and she lobs a netball at him.

The last thing he thinks, moments before his head meets the ground with a large amount of force- enough for there to be a small amount of blood- is: how is it always her? Every single time he gets into a situation, it's her that causes it. That has to be statistically impossible. Maybe he should ask Spencer…

"So yeah! And now I'm here!" He shoves Emily, who has the audacity to look offended.

Penelope kisses his forehead. Haley laughs a little, but Reid just blinks like he can't quite believe how stupid his co-workers are.

"Well. From what I've heard, it was a pretty good shot," JJ comments.

Haley turns to her. "From everything we've just been told, that's what you choose to pick out?"

"I'm a gym teacher, can you really blame me?"

Emily mutters something.

"You were what?" Garcia asks.

"I was aiming for his leg," she repeats.

"Emily. I know you teach languages, not biology, but look at me. Head," Hotch says, pointing at the bump he's not going to cover up, "Leg." He points at his ankle.

"It's always lovely when people know their anatomy. Saves me a lot of time," a new voice says.

Hotch turns in the direction of it, ready to make a snarky comment, but whatever words he had thought of die on his lips as he suddenly feels like he's been transported into a medical drama full of unrealistically attractive protagonists.

Because the doctor who has just walked in is the most handsome man he has ever seen. His smile is easy and genuine, and his eyes seem to twinkle with mischief. And his arms, oh god his arms seem like the safest place to exist. Aaron can't help but wonder what it would be like to have those arms wrapped around him-

His cheeks warm. No.

"Hi, I'm Dr Morgan. But you can all call me Derek. I'm here for Aaron Hotchner. Who I am going to assume, is you," he says, looking straight at Hotch.

"I- yes. How did you know?"

Dr Morgan- Derek- somehow smiles even more. "Well, even though there are far too many people in here- did all of you somehow miss the two people at one time sign- you are the only one in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown, so. I'm no profiler, but it was pretty easy."

If it's even possible, his cheeks flush more. But one word sticks out to him. "Wait, profiler?"

"You got me. Crime procedurals are my guilty pleasure. I always said that if I joined the FBI, I would become a profiler. Obviously, I went down a very different route."

"Obviously. Wait, too many people? Oh god, I'm so, so sorry, if you need them to leave, they can. In fact, I also feel a lot better, so if you would like me to also go, I really, it's no trouble."

Because he is an idiot- there really is no other justification for this- he tries to stand up. And he does. He also gets a few steps in before the world starts spinning and he almost loses his balance. Derek somehow moves fast enough to guide him back to the bed. Aaron tries and fails to ignore how warm he is.

"Thanks," he whispers, slightly breathless. And not just from almost hurting himself again.

"It's not a problem Aaron. Both things. Your friends can stay, we're just doing some simple checks," Derek says.

"Oh everyone calls him Hotch," Penelope says.

"Aaron is fine. Really." Because he likes Derek calling him Aaron. He wants Derek to call him Aaron.

And then he meets Emily's eyes and he realises his mistake. There's a common denominator that exists with everyone that he tells to call him Aaron, and he knows that she knows what it is. He's fucked.

"Okay then. Well, can you explain to me what happened?"

Aaron is mesmerised by Derek's eyes. So mesmerised that he forgets to answer. "Sorry, what?"

There's a flash of concern, replaced by a smile. "Can you tell me how you ended up here?"

"Oh yes. So, I'm a teacher- so is everyone here. And I- I was outside, with my- my students when Emily- that one there- she, look, it's a really mild concussion, can I just be discharged? I'm sure my students are very, uhh, very scared," he stutters. Why can he never function when he likes someone? It's mortifying.

"I'm sure it is, but you can't blame me for doing my job. I'm going to take your heart rate now, okay? The stethoscope will be cold, but it'll warm up eventually," Derek says.

Aaron nods, and barely flinches when it touches him. If anything, he's more concerned by how close Derek seems to be. Not in a malicious way, but he's always had this deeply irrational fear that if someone got too close to him, they'd be able to read his thoughts. Which would mean Derek can hear both the fact that he has a crush and that he has this fear.

Derek pulls away, and Aaron exhales.

"Your heart rate is unusually fast. Normally that wouldn't be too concerning, because we expect that when patients seem anxious, but you've seemed pretty calm, up till this moment," Derek says, noting how Aaron tenses.

"Is he going to be okay?" Penelope asks.

Derek turns to her. "Of course he is. He's in good hands."

Aaron needs to get his mind out the gutter before his cheeks explode. Or before Emily opens her mouth.

"Aaron, I know you think the concussion is mild, but this is still a requirement. I'm going to turn on this penlight, and I'm going to ask you to follow it with your eyes okay? Follow the light," Derek explains.

He nods, and Derek turns the penlight on. Aaron flinches at the brightness of it, then tenses in slight fear that his lovely doctor is going to be annoyed at him or call him difficult, or sigh and say he needs to stop acting like a child. It wouldn't be the first time,

But Derek doesn't do any of those things. He does something very different.

He places his hand on Aaron's thigh. "Easy tiger. I won't hurt you," he says.

Aaron melts. His eyes drop down to where Derek's hand is warming his skin. He thinks Derek says his name, but he's too busy having a crush to hear him. And then suddenly, his thigh is cold, but Derek is touching his shoulder and he should be shying away from the light being shone in his eyes. But he isn't because he's too busy looking at Derek and his beautiful eyes to even pay attention.

Rather late, he remembers that there is a reason for Derek to be looking at him the way he is, and he tries to follow the light. But the headache he's had since he came around is only getting worse, and the light isn't helping.

Derek isn't smiling anymore.

"Aaron. Be very honest with me. You've displayed difficulty with coordination, memory and speech. If I asked you whether or not you felt sick or nauseous, what would your answer be?"

Normally, he would just under exaggerate, but Derek seems to genuinely care. So he chooses to be honest.

"Yes?"

Derek's eyes widen. "Aaron, I don't want to alarm you, but I like to keep my patients informed. You're going to have a CT scan done immediately, and there's a chance you may be rushed into emergency surgery."

Everyone, including Emily, starts to panic, but Derek leaves the room to grab a nurse to help, and to tell someone else to make sure there's a clear room. Aaron isn't completely sure what's happening, but his head is killing him, so he lays down again. It only helps a small amount.

For Aaron, the CT scan isn't too bad. If he knew the reason it was being done, and that it wasn't a routine procedure, he would probably have spent the whole time panicking. But he doesn't, and so he sits there- well lies there- with a slight smile on his face. The migraine he's had has been getting worse, so keeping his eyes closed for such an extended period of time is actually quite enjoyable.

It is far less enjoyable for everyone that is upstairs, waiting to find out whether or not their friend has a brain hemorrhage. That's what Derek told them after Aaron was carted away, still seeming very out of it. They needed to test him for a brain bleed. And if he had one, then it would just be a case of waiting to see whether they could treat him. And even if they could treat him, it wasn't guaranteed that he would get back to normal.

Emily, in spite of all of her teasing comments, isn't coping. Because it's still early, the floor is relatively quiet, and Derek is technically on his lunch break, so he's sitting with them in an attempt to provide them with some sort of comfort. He's not sure where this emotional attachment to these random people has come from, but it's formed itself and now he's determined to provide some comfort.

"I really was aiming for his leg," Emily whispers.

"Hmm?" Derek asks, not quite following.

"When I threw the ball, I really was aiming for his leg. He had lost consciousness by this point, but I started crying when he hit the ground. He forgave me. He told me he loved me, platonically that is, and I laughed at him. He's going to die, and he isn't going to know how much he meant to me."

"He's not going to die. He may not even have a brain bleed. But if he does, we're going to save him, and you're going to be able to spend the rest of your life telling him how much he means to you. I promise," Derek says.

Even though there are tears in her eyes, Emily turns to him and smiles. "You're a good man, Dr Morgan."

"That's all I've ever wanted, Miss Prentiss. So thank you. It means a lot to me." And it does. He replays the moment as he goes over to Spencer and Penelope, who he feels a strange sense of protection over. Like he needs to protect them from everything, which is weird, because once Aaron is discharged, he'll probably never see them again.

That shouldn't make him sad, but it does.

"Mr Hotchner's CT scan came back normal. There's no sign of a brain bleed," the nurse tells them, what feels like a lifetime later.

There's a collective sigh of relief, and when he's wheeled back in, looking tired but alive, Emily throws her arms around her best friend, who lets out a soft sound of surprise. Like he's not quite used to the fact that people love him. Derek smiles. His patient will be in good hands when he gets discharged.

"Wait, so what caused all of those problems?" Spencer asks.

The nurse shrugs. "It's probably as simple as: his concussion was more severe than we initially thought, but not as bad as we feared."

"Oh."

"And on that note, Aaron, we're keeping you overnight for observation. It's just to be safe. We can't be too careful. You gave everyone a very big scare when you got sent out," Derek says.

Aaron cannot, and will not, confess. Does he feel guilty? Yes. But he can live with the guilt. He cannot live with the all-encompassing shame that will come with explaining that actually, the reason he was stuttering and failing the penlight test was because of a silly little crush.

"Okay," he says, determined to be as compliant as possible.

"One- and only one- of you is welcome to stay with him, if you'd like," Derek adds.

Haley's eyes light up. "I'll do it! Jessica can bring me my things, and maybe you'll be able to look at me after we've spent another night together. Only this time, nobody's getting pneumonia. I hope so, at least. You're not cold are you?"

Aaron shakes his head. "But you really don't need to stay. I'll be fine on my own. Seriously."

"I know, but I want to. Believe it or not, I do actually enjoy your company."

He smiles.

"We should all be getting a move on. Jason and Erin will want updates, and I have lots of marking," JJ says. She kisses Hotch on the forehead before walking to the door, smiling at Derek for looking after her friend so well.

Spencer waves from where he's standing and Penelope showers him with affection. Emily is the only one that seems hesitant to leave.

"Can I stay till visiting hours end?" She asks.

"Do you feel like you can keep up with these two lovely ladies Aaron?" Derek asks.

Aaron has never enjoyed the sound of his name as much as he does when it comes from the doctor. "I- sure," he stutters, and he just knows his cheeks are a stupid colour. Emily frowns, as though she finds something suspicious.

Derek smiles. "Good man. I'll be back in a few hours to run the same tests as before. For now, take it easy."

Derek doesn't come back a few hours later, because he has other patients. It's a different doctor, and Aaron is both relieved and disappointed. Because on the one hand, he's not going to create another medical crisis, on the other, he wants to see Derek again.

Maybe he can get Emily to knock him out again…

"Your heart rate seems completely normal. And you followed the penlight exceptionally well, so I believe we have nothing to fear. Of course, you'll stay overnight, and we'll run these tests once more before you're discharged tomorrow, but I think we're out of the woods now," they say.

Emily gasps, and Aaron knows he's screwed. Luckily, both the doctor and Haley seem to not have heard, and she leaves with the doctor, so Aaron doesn't have to know right at that moment whether his suspicions are correct.

"Night Hotchner," Haley says a few minutes later.

Hotch is already asleep.

The entire team comes and collects him from the hospital.

Aaron is just grateful they're sending him home with a pack of all the things he now needs to do, because he spent the whole lecture admiring how handsome Derek looks with sun shining down on him that he didn't take any of it in. It's also Derek's signature on the discharge papers. He's reminded of high school, when he and his friends would make fake marriage certificates. Not that he's going to do that.

"Bye Aaron. I don't want to see you here any time soon, okay?" Derek teases.

"I won't make any promises," he replies, just relieved he does it without stuttering or blushing.

Derek smiles, and the twinkle in his eyes seems even more mischievous. "Miss Prentiss," he says, spotting Emily.

"Dr Morgan," she responds. She's smirking.

When Aaron asks her what was going on, she doesn't answer. Haley says it's probably linked to the emotions of the previous day, and she's usually good at reading these situations, so he doesn't push any further. Besides, he's too busy catching up with the meetings he missed, and the antics of his students, because a lot happened in the three days he was off, to give it much thought.

Two weeks pass, and the incident is almost completely forgotten.

But then he walks back into his classroom, having just finished a meeting, and he finds flowers on his desk. Tulips. His favourite. He immediately pulls the note out, and when he opens it, he almost wonders if he's concussed it.

Because he knows that signature. He's been staring at it for fourteen days. It's Derek's.

"Surprise. Aaron," a voice says for the doorway.

"How- what- I- what?"

Derek Morgan, still in scrubs and a white coat, smiles at him. "Want to pick a question I can actually answer?"

"How did you- what are you doing here? And why?"

"Well, you should thank Emily. After the other doctor took your heart rate, she came and told me her suspicion. Apparently, you always say you're Hotch. Even the students call you Mr Hotch. Which is strange, because I call you Aaron. And, you shouldn't have done the penlight flawlessly if you had a more severe concussion. So she thinks you have a crush. I didn't want to be unethical, so those flowers can simply mean: I hope you're coping. If you don't have a crush that is."

"What if I do?" Aaron asks, surprised at his own boldness.

"Then I would ask if I could kiss you before I take you out to dinner," Derek says, not missing a beat.

"And if I said yes?"

Derek takes three long strides, and he kisses Aaron like it's something he was made to do. Aaron melts against him, trying to memorise him as quickly as he can, before he realises he has all the time in the world to do that. Because Derek is going to take him out to dinner. Derek, who brought him flowers.

"That was- wow. Wait. You have a crush on me too!" Aaron exclaims with a grin.

"Of course I do," Derek says.

That stuns Aaron back into silence. "Wow," he whispers to himself.

Derek hugs him, and being in his arms is everything- no more- than Aaron imagined it to be. "I'm glad you're okay," he says.

"I'm glad you don't hate me," Aaron says, because he really doesn't know what else to say.

Derek laughs, and Aaron can't wait to find all the ways he can make that happen.

"We should say thank you to Emily at some point. If she didn't know you as well as she does, she wouldn't have realised you had a crush. And if she wasn't so terrifying when she wants something good for her friends, I wouldn't have sent the flowers."

"Can we say thank you later? I want to stay like this for a few moments," Aaron whispers, snuggling closer to his new boyfriend.

"Of course we can," Derek says, kissing his forehead.

When they eventually make it to Derek's car- Aaron can come back tomorrow and get his, it'll be fine, Aaron realises he has one more thing to say.

"Derek?"

"Yes, sweetness?"

Well. That makes him feel things he won't confess too, because he needs something to make him seem the slightest bit cool.

"I'm really sorry I made you think I had a brain hemorrhage."

Derek's laughter is so real that Aaron can't help but join in, and they end up not starting the car for five minutes because it would be irresponsible to drive in that state. And it's only when they're pulling out that they both realise something: Derek gets to see Aaron's family again, and Emily didn't need to hit him in the head again for him to get to see Derek again.

[primergon]

Hello! I’m so glad you decided to take scenarios and matchups ☺️ Could I get a matchup for a pseudo-parent please?

I’m a non-binary ace lesbian, but I can’t tell my family. I’m an INFJ who deals with anxiety and derealization issues. At first appearance, I’m told I come off as cute and unassuming but I’m scary as hell when angry.

I plan to go into biology (ecology, specifically) and work in helping ecosystems hurt by the climate crisis. Science has always been a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, but I don’t say it much because it makes me feel like a smart kid stereotype. Speaking of, I’m a very good student and have a record of straight A’s.

In the past I used to be very shy around other people, but I’ve been working on it and I’m simply just very quiet now. I’ve also been trying to work on my confidence, and one of my proudest moments was when I seperated from a toxic friend.

I used to suffer from some eating problems, but I’ve gotten through the worst of it. I’ve always been thick, and am starting to feel good in my own skin for the first time. Because of this, I’m getting interested in fashion and such. I like oversized sweaters and sweatshirts and I swear I’m about to break my combat boots from how much I wear them.

When I’m familiar enough with someone, I tend to have a dry, anti-joke sense of humor with a hint of self-deprication. Almost every friend I’ve ever had has said that they were surprised at how loud and outspoken I was when we got closer.

I’m very stressed almost all of the time and have a tendency to people-please, but if I get annoyed enough with someone I won’t hesitate to speak my mind. I also am extremely tired during the school year because I need more sleep than school allows me.

This is probably WAYYYYY too long, so I’m sorry in advance 😅 hope you have a good day!

+ additional details you wanted me to add: I completely love music. Like, I think I’d die if I couldn’t listen to music for more than ten hours. I love all kinds of music, and I’m involved with my school’s band. Marching, concert, pep, jazz, anything. I’m also a field commander for the marching band this year.

A/N: Hello Anon! No worries, as a fellow INFJ I understand that we tend to put in a lot of details and I enjoy that too so don't worry :) This will be my first time in making a (pseudo) parent matchup so I hope I don't ruin it, but I think idw Ratchet would make a wonderful parent figure for you.

1. As an INFJ, Ratchet understands you in the sense that he sees himself in you. You remind him of his early days in the academy: all the sleepless nights spent on studying and preparing himself for a future that once seemed uncertain. Ratchet started becoming protective of you when he heard you talk about school with First Aid. He catches on to the fact that even if you're a brilliant student, it doesn't mean you didn't struggle with anxiety. With a major like yours, it's hard for the medic to not feel proud and worried at the same time. While Ratchet was happy that you aim to make the world a better place with your major, he knows the kind of pressure that comes along with it: so one night he just sits next to you with an Energon cube in his hand and said ' talk.'

2. Eventually, the two of you fell into deep conversation, from your accomplishment as this year's marching band's field commander to your journey in parting ways with a toxic friend. It was nice to hear Ratchet tell you he's proud you made the right choice knowing it wasn't easy. He gave several sarcastic remarks here and there but you knew hidden underneath was a word of advice: cleverly concealed by someone who has a hard time expressing his emotions ( not that you mind. ) He left with " keep up the good work" and you knew from that moment on that he cares.

3. The thing about Ratchet is that he shows his support subtly. He knows about your interest in fashion - even if he, a Cybertronian, can’t fully grasp the appeal, Ratchet makes an effort in trying. So he sends Swerve and Brainstorm to your habesuite - “ C’mon, it can’t be any different from designing an avatar right ?” “Swerve the eighties called I think they want their fashion trends back.”

4. When you walked into the medbay, the old medic would compliment you. “Hold the test tubes properly, you don’t want to stain that nice sweater.” “Don’t let First Aid soil those boots of yours with the chemicals, it’ll be a shame.”

5. Every time you fall asleep in the med bay or Brainstorm’s lab, you would always wake up to a blanket around you. Whenever you ask either Velocity or Perceptor, they would smile and shrug at you as if to say ‘ you can thank Ratchet for that.’ Sometimes, others would wake you up, urging you to go back to your room to rest. “ Ratchet wouldn’t want you to hurt your back so he sent me to wake you.” You always return the blanket after, but every time you fall into a quick nap, you will never wake without it.

6. If not in the medbay or the lab, Ratchet would find you at Swerves. Either laughing with the minobot over a shared deprecating sense of humor or putting Getaway back in his place when he gets a little too disrespectful towards the other patrons. He would sometimes join you, staying to drink for a while before going back to work, all the while ignoring stories of him being a ‘party ambulance’ back in medical school. If he stays long enough, you find the courage to give him some advice regarding Drift, and the old mech would deny everything even if he made a mental note to every word you said. “ Gifts? Pft, you’re a sap.” “ Trust me, Ratchet! “

7. One time on shore leave, you were separated from your group, pulled away from them by the crowd passing through the markets. The local authorities you bumped into had asked for identification, but you knew as an Earth citizen, you didn’t have the proper permits. Before the officer could drag you away, Ratchet had stepped in, one hand shielding you - “ And what is your relation to the Earthling ?” “I’m their Sire. I have a permit to be here.”

8. The officer took one glance at Ratchet’s credentials before leaving. He didn’t bother to ask whether Ratchet was actually your parent or not ( which obviously was questionable ) instead you were free to go with no trouble. The whole time Ratchet was scolding you for going astray, you were smiling at the thought that he chose to lie as your parent, even if he could have lied about anything else. He could have called you his apprentice, the ship’s liaison, heck, he could’ve lied and said you were a prisoner. Yet, in the moment of danger, his first instinct was to protect you as his own. You had hugged him right there and then, stopping him in the middle of the bustling crowd. Hidden by the swarm of people, Ratchet finally caved in and returned the gesture.His worry was evident from the way he held you close.

9. After that, everyone on the ship treated Ratchet as your pseudo-father, and Ratchet went along with it. If someone wants to find either of you, they know where to look. All they need to do is follow the music playing from the med bay, your laughter should follow not far behind. 

A/N : I hope this was accurate Anon ! i hope you like it, i’m sorry it took quite a while <3