#i still don’t think i’m wrapping my head around the Point of these movies exactly unless there isn’t one

[livvyofthelake]

perhaps final destination 2 was just really bad. jj criminal minds you just did not give what needed to be gave…

[rninies]

✮ a measure of his love

౨ৎ gojo satoru x reader. fluff, gn!reader, short reader (because im short) — wc: 761

notes. self indulgent because !!!

gojo satoru is a tall man. like, an insanely tall man.

that’s one of satoru’s most annoying traits, you could say. he takes pride in the fact that he’s taller than you, and will not miss a single day to make fun of you for that.

to add to that, most of the cupboards in his apartments are pretty high up, so whenever you come over, you always have to grab a chair just to get a glass or ask satoru to come get it for you (though you’d rather do the latter because satoru takes five minutes just teasing you about how you can’t reach the cups).

today was no different. satoru had asked you to come over because he misses you and wants to cuddle with you (same excuse every time, but you find it cute). you complied, of course, because it’s been a while since you guys have spent any alone time together — satoru has been super busy with jujutsu high lately.

you are currently on satoru’s couch, his long arms wrapped around your body as a movie plays on his television. satoru wasn’t even paying attention — he was too focused on trying to not fall asleep and was quite literally holding your hostage.

“toru, can you let go?” you asked, trying to pry his hands off of you. “i want to grab a cup of water.”

“no way. i’m comfy already,” he replies, snuggling his head deeper into your chest.

“toru i’m serious! i’m really thirsty,” you exclaimed, and satoru eventually lets go with a huge sigh. “thank you.” you stoof up, stretching your limbs.

“fine, but hurry.” satoru orders, and you nod. you seem to have forgotten how high up the cupboard is because once you were in front of it, you stared up at it, a dejected look on your face.

right… the cups i use are on the highest part of the shelf. you thought to yourself sadly, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to the cupboards.

“why’re you taking so long?” satoru asks, appearing behind you. you screamed, jumping.

“what the actual fuck, toru?!” you exclaimed, holding a hand over your chest. “you scared the shit out of me!”

satoru laughs, making you frown. “what? did you not hear me walk?”

you shake your head. “no!” after taking five seconds to calm down, you sigh. “anyway, can you help me grab the cup on top?” you point at the white cup with flower patterns on it (satoru had bought it for you because you were staring at it for ten seconds straight). a mischief look appears in satoru’s eyes, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. “don’t you dare pick me up, you hear? don’t even try i- hey!”

satoru was already lifting up by your waist, making you eye level with the cup you were pointing at. “this is easier, no?”

“in what world is this easier?! isn’t this just more work for you?” you asked in disbelief, actually surprised that he finds this much more easier than just grabbing the cup for you. when he doesn’t reply, you sigh and grab the cup, tapping his arms to let you down.

he doesn’t, though.

“what are you doing? let me down!” you exclaim, looking at satoru who looks like he is holding back a laugh. “why are you laughing? let. me. down.”

“no it’s just-” he pauses, letting out a laugh. “it’s weird seeing you this tall. i’m so used to having to look down when talking to you.”

“wha-?!” you almost choked on your own spit “what? i am not that short, toru!”

“oh, but you are.” satoru hums. “i mean, compared to me, you’re only able to see my chest when standing in front of me, right?” he teases, and you can’t help but become embarrassed because you know he’s right. “see? i’m right.”

“oh shut up!” you whined, covering your cheeks with your hands, careful to not drop the cup.

satoru lets you down gently, but still holding you tightly in his arms. “you’re like a cute little gremlin.”

“what the fuck? a gremlin?!” you are staring daggers at him, but satoru only smiles at you. “can’t believe i’m dating a literal giant who does nothing but tease me about my height every day.” you had to wiggle your way to the water dispenser because satoru just wouldn’t let go.

“but you love this giant, do you?” satoru asks, resting his head on top of your head.

taking a sip from your cup, you smiled. “yeah, i do.”

taglist: @planetnini @xintre @kyoghurts @sad-darksoul @iminlovewqr0w (send an ask to be added!) <3

[aothotties]

Miss Me?

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Connie x Black!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, pet names, Connie speaks spanish, Connie is a panty thief, multiple orgasms, fingering, mirror sex, mating press, cream pie, super fluffy at the end.

Word count: 4.3k

-----

“Cairo please stay still so mama can change your diaper, your dad will be here any minute.” You plead with your toddler, rushing to put on his diaper.

“Damn it Connie”  You mumble at the sound of your doorbell ringing, of course he shows up early when your hands are full. 

“Mama, papa’s at the door.” Your oldest, Cj, says as he eats his snack at the kitchen table.

“Have you tried opening the door from papa?” You ask him, trying and failing to hide your sarcasm.

Your son sighs out dramatically and pauses his Ipad. He drags his feet to the front door and opens it. 

“Cj! Que paso papa?” You hear your son’s voice perk up as he and his father start speaking Spanish.

“Your Spanish is magnificent papa, I see your mama is teaching you well?” He looks over at you and stifles a laugh while you wrestle with Cairo.

“I’m trying to. There! Go ahead and be free.” You huff and lean back on your arms, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face as he toddles over to his father.

“Ven aqui hijo!” He exclaims, immediately scooping the small boy up into his arms as he kisses all over his face.

You stand up from your spot on the floor and grab your phone to check the time. You have a date tonight and who better to watch your boys than their father.

“Mama you didn’t give papa a hug yet” Your son points out, hiding a sneaky smile behind his hand as he giggles.

“He’s right mami, you’re the only one who hasn’t given me a hug.” He sets your younger son down and walks over to you slowly with his arms open wide. 

“You guys think you’re so sneaky don’t you?” You look between the both of them and playfully roll your eyes. 

You walk over to Connie and wrap your arms around his waist, you let out a gasp when he tightens the hug and rubs his hands up and down your back. You can't exactly explain it, but the way he’s hugging you kind of made you miss him being around. 

“Make sure your little boyfriend has you back at a decent time.” He pulls away from you and gives you a smile.

“Okay one, Tyler is not my boyfriend he’s my work friend. And two I will let you know how the night goes when I come back.” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek then head to your room to get ready.

After about 45 minutes you finally finish getting yourself together. You make your way to the living room and swing your purse onto your shoulder.

--- “Alright boys, I’ll be back by 11. If you need anything ask your father, and Connie if you need anything you know who to dial.” You dig through your bag for your keys and look up to see your sons and their father staring at you. 

“What’s the problem?” You ask, rolling your eyes and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Mommy it’s cold out you should wear a sweater” Cj says, walking over to the coat rack. 

“Yeah mami, you should really put on a sweater. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, would we?” He asks, eyeing you from head to toe as you apply your lip gloss. 

“It’s 78 degrees, you guys are doing too much” You check yourself over again and grab your keys.

“Have fun!” Connie and the boys say in unison which brings a smile to his face.

“Alright, who wants to watch scary movies and eat ice cream?!” 

~~~

Connie quietly backs out of the boys room and pulls the door shut as carefully as he can.

“Finally, those boys can play all night long.” Connie mumbles to himself and turns to walk down the steps.

He stops in front of your door and stares at the shiny knob in front of him. He rubs his hand over his face and steps inside what used to be your shared bedroom and looks around.

He chuckles to himself as the memories of you two in this room take over his mind, so many nights full of laughter, tears, moans and whimpers. Nights he wishes you two can hopefully have again.

A red fabric catches his eyes and he raises an eyebrow as he squats down to retrieve the piece of cloth. He unfolds the fabric and is surprised at the sight of your skimpy panties in his hand.

He stuffs the panties into his back pocket and can’t help but fantasize about the things he’s going to do to and with the pretty underwear. He decides to leave the room now before you come home and catch him snooping.

Although that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, he always points out how sexy you look when you’re pissed off. 

He jogs down the steps and out to your back patio, he makes himself comfortable and pulls out a bag of weed and a pack of wraps. 

“Now for my favorite part of the night” He says out loud, talking to nobody but himself. 

He opens up the wrap and dumps the contents out into your little trash bin next to the coffee table. Connie starts focusing so hard that he doesn’t notice you stepping inside the house.

You kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the sofa nearby, you look around the house and shake your head at the sight of him outside. You can’t help but smile at the sight, pushing down the memories trying to come back up.

“Are you going to stand there and be pretty or come and join me?” He asks, not needing to turn around to know you’re watching him.

“I’ve always hated when you do that.” You cross your arms and sit next to him on the sofa. 

“Yeah you hate a lot of the things I do, how was your little date?” He says, lighting up the blunt.  

“I see where Cj gets his listening problems from, it was not a date. But we had drinks, he bought me dinner and we just talked.” You shrug your shoulders and take the blunt from his hands. 

“You two just talked? You’re all dressed up all pretty and you just talked.” He makes a face and nods his head as if he’s trying to understand.

You cough up some smoke when he says the word pretty and pass the blunt back to him.

“Connie, you think I’m pretty?” you ask teasingly, moving closer to where he’s seated.

“I didn’t say all that, I said you dressed up all pretty.” He pokes your nose and takes a long drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he leans his head back. 

Your eyes trail up and down his figure and you can’t up but bite your lip at the sight of his tattoos. Your body moves before you can think and you trace your finger over your favorite piece on the side of his throat. 

Your name, you both were so young when he got the tattoo. He asked you for a suggestion and you jokingly said your name, but to him he wanted nothing more than to do it.

He would do absolutely anything to make you happy, in all honesty all he wants to do now is make you happy. 

“If you didn’t think I was attractive you wouldn’t have gotten my name tattooed on your neck.” You say to him as you trace your finger over the red ink. 

He laces his fingers with yours and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You know I think you’re the sexiest woman alive, you gave me two boys. To me you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are, yet somehow you always do.” He kisses your knuckles and sets your hand down.

You feel your face warm up as he speaks and his compliment has you at a loss for words.

“It’s getting late so I should head back to the apartment. Ony is gonna get into my stash if I’m not quick enough” You nod your head and stand up behind him. 

“I’ll lock the door behind you” you give him a small smile and he walks back inside. You follow behind him and walk towards the front door. 

“Thank you for watching the boys tonight, tell Sasha I said hey” To your surprise he just chuckles dryly and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah that ended two months ago, I guess I forgot to tell you” he throws his hood on and puts his hands in his pocket and shrugs. 

“Connie what the hell happened!” You slap him on the arm and wait for him to explain. He lets out a sigh in annoyance and rubs his hands down his face. 

“It just didn’t work out. We fought way too much, and she kept saying crazy shit that just didn’t make sense.” He keeps his answer short to avoid diving too much into detail about the situation. 

Crazy shit like what?” You cross your arms and stare at him in anticipation. 

“She thinks I’m still in love with you, I told her I wasn’t anymore. She called me a fucking liar,  I got mad and yelled then that was the end of it” 

You’re taken aback by his statement and look around the room awkwardly. You couldn’t help but wonder if what she said was somewhat true. He gets ready to head out the front door but stops when you speak. 

“Connie, are you still in love with me?” You quietly ask, walking up to him. 

He freezes in his tracks and refuses to make eye contact with you. He lets the door knob go and turns to face you, leaning on the door as he looks at you. 

“Why does it matter if I do or not? What’s gonna change between us if I say yes?” He pushes off the door and walks over to where you’re standing. Your stomach twirls at how close he gets to you and you twiddle with your thumbs.

“Connie…” You step as close as you can and pull him towards you by his jacket. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish mami, that’s why we got Cairo now.” He wraps an arm around your waist and stares deeply into your eyes.

You close the gap between you both and press your lips against his eagerly. He drops his bag to the floor and wraps both of his arms around your waist, pulling you in as much as he could. You push the hood off of his head and run your fingers over his hair, basking at how much it’s grown these past months. 

“U-upstairs, take me to the bedroom.” You say against his lips, shrieking when he picks you up by your legs. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh as he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, almost tripping up the steps.

“Be careful or both of us are sleeping alone tonight.” You threaten playfully and he pinches your ass in return.

“Yeah, in your wildest dreams cariña. You already got me in here and it’s gonna be hard to get me to go away this time.” He pushes you up against the door and connects your lips again. He grabs your cheeks to deepen the kiss and slides his tongue inside your mouth eagerly. His hands travel down your body slowly, and he pulls the tie open on your shirt.

You let out a sigh as your breast fall from the shirt, moaning into his mouth as his large, warm hands massage your nipples. You bite down on his bottom lip as he tugs on your nipples, he rubs over the buds to soothe the sting. 

“Oh baby you’re just as gorgeous as I remember.” He pulls you off the door and lays you on your bed, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Connie don’t just stare at me, you know I get self conscious.” You whine and pull him down on top of you by his shirt.

He chuckles at your desperation and pulls his shirt off to reveal his tattoos and muscular figure, your fingers absent-mindedly gravitate towards his abdomen. 

“You want to touch them baby?” He asks teasingly, taking your wrist in his hand to place on his body. You trail your hand down his body and lick over your lips. 

“You know what I was thinking, mi amor?” He pushes you back on the bed completely and starts to pull your jeans off your legs. 

“Now that the tattoo parlor is up and running, I think you should finally let me put some ink on you baby.” Your panties come down with your jeans and he bites his lip.

“Yeah papi? I think I’ll let you put your name on me this time.” You say, enjoying the idea of his name on your body.

His head drops down between your thighs and he nips at the skin, wrapping an arm around your thigh.

“I think imma put it here, right next to these pretty stretch marks over here.” He rubs his hands up and down your thighs ever so gently, sucking on the skin until a mark forms.

“N-no, you know I hate-” You're cut off by a tattooed hand wrapping around your throat.

“I see you’re still as hard headed as ever, huh?” He asks, picking you up and moving over to the middle of your bed. 

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, looking back up at him in confusion.

“Since you still don’t listen, I’m going to have to show you how beautiful you are. Remember baby, that’s the whole reason I even put the mirror up.” He kisses your cheek and spreads your thighs apart.

“Que bonita, no?” He asks, taking two of his slender fingers to open your lips up to him.

A low groan leaves his lips at the sight of your sweet hole clenching around nothing. You let out a whine and nod at his question, he smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Good job baby.” He praises, his lips leaving soft kisses down your neck. 

He rewards you by sliding two of his fingers into your needy cunt slowly. You arch your back and let out a low moan. Connie takes his free hand and slaps it over your mouth. 

“You wanna wake the boys up mami?” He asks, smirking at the way you clench around his fingers. 

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers meet with your g-spot. You feel your orgasm creeping its way up your body as you get closer. 

“I remember what that face means, you gonna come on my fingers mi amor?”” He asks, speeding up the pace of his fingers, curling them upwards to draw you closer to your release.

The coil in your belly snaps and you come on his fingers quickly, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Connie takes your cheeks in his hand and pulls you in for a deep kiss while you spasm around his fingers, he rubs your clit with his thumb and you whimper in his mouth.

“T-too much, I want to feel you inside of me. Please papi, I need it so bad.” You beg, he looks down at you and bites his lip at how whiny you sound.

“You want me to fuck you princesa? Want me to fuck you until you can’t speak, you want me to breed that sweet little pussy?” You moan at the thought of him filling you up with his cum and nod your head. 

He chuckles and bends you forward so you can see the mirror, you bite your lip when his sweatpants and underwear get pulled down his legs. His cock is standing upright, the tip is red and already leaking precum.

“Watch me in the mirror, okay?” He rubs a hand down your back and you nod in return. He gives himself a few strokes before he guides himself inside your pussy.

You let out a gasp as he continues pushing himself inside, he makes sure to be slow and careful as he eases himself in.

“Holy shit baby, you’re so fucking tight. Relax for me baby, I know you remember having me in there. It’s only been a few months.” He leans down and kisses the side of your forehead.

“A-ah it’s been six months!” You let out a loud moan into the sheets below you as he bottoms out inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure and grabs your hips, he grits his teeth as he resist the urge to immediately start pounding into you.

“Well then we have lots of catching up to do. L-let me know when you want me to move, I don’t want to hurt you.” He tells you, gently trailing his fingers up your back, needing some sort of distraction to prevent himself from fucking you like a wild animal.

“It’s okay” You lift your head up from the sheets and make eye contact with him in the mirror. He flashes you his bright smile and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. His hands make their way to your hips as his own start to form a steady rhythm. You grip the sheets as his tip kisses your cervix each time he fucks into you. 

“Connie!” You gasp, your chest pressing down further into the mattress. Gripping the end of the bed like your entire life depends on it. 

“Fuckkkk, missed this tight pussy so much baby girl.” He digs his nails into your skin and forces your ass back onto him. Your moans turn into whimpers as you feel your second orgasm creep up.

“‘m gonna cum papi, I'm coming.” You warn him, he picks up his thrust and rolls his hips as you come around him for the second time tonight. Your head falls down in exhaustion and you feel his hand wrap around your chin, forcing you to face the mirror.

“Is it too much baby? You know our safe word never changed?” He teases, his hips begin to pick up their pace, you cry out in pleasure the deeper he fucks into your cunt.

“N-no! I-I can ngh…I can take it.” You look at him in the mirror and he can���t help but bite his lip and tangle his hand in your hair. He’s got you flushed against his chest as he fucks you like it’s the last time he ever will.

“Yeah? You sure you can take all of me baby?” He pulls your head back more and smiles down at your fucked out expression, smashing his lips against yours passionately. 

“We’ll see about that won’t we?” He pulls out of you and you whine in protest. You’re about to complain, but he quickly flips you onto your back and places each one of his arms next to your head so he’s looking down at you. You feel your face warm up at how intensely his brown eyes stare back into yours.

“I missed you.” You confess, rubbing your fingers up and down his tattooed arms.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and lifts one of your legs up, taking advantage of the new position and immediately pushing into you again. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and he finds himself fucking into you again.

“I missed you so much, sweet girl, so. fucking. much.” He groans between each thrust and you arch your back in pleasure, his tip immediately finds your g-spot and you feel a warm sensation build up in your lower belly. 

Connie took your legs from around his waist and pushes your thighs up to your chest. You go to let out a loud moan, but are interrupted by Connie wrapping his ringed fingers around your throat.

“I know it feels good baby, but you’re gonna wake the boys up.” He gives you an evil smirk and picks up the speed of his hips. He parts your lips with his thumb and slides it between your lips.

You wrap your lips around his thumb and look up at him with teary eyes, holding back a scream as he continues his assault on your pussy. 

The sound of heavy breathing and wet skin slapping against each other fills the room. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack as Connie continuously pounds into your cunt.

“Look at you, my sweet girl. No one else can ever see you like this, entiendes?” He asks, you try and respond but are too fucked out to even form a proper sentence.

Connie's fingers tighten around your throat and his thumb finds its way to your overstimulated clit, he rubs quick circles on your nub and your eyes go cross.

“I asked you a question sweetie.” He leans your face down and forces you to look at him.

“Y-yo entiendo papi, o-only belong to you. Fuck fuck! papi I’m gonna come! P-promise I’m only yours! Ah fuck” You say urgently, your pussy clenches around his dick and you feel your climax approaching. This one definitely feels stronger and more intense than the other two.

Connie lets out a loud groan as your pussy clenches around his shaft, his hips start to lose their rhythm as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“Fuck yes that’s it cariña, I wanna feel you come all over me. Give me one more baby.” He bends down and presses a hard kiss to your lips, his hips buck into yours rapidly and he can’t hold on any longer.

“Fuck Y/N, voy a venir bebe! Want me to fill that sweet pussy up and put another baby in you? Think we should try for a girl this time, don’t you think?” You nod your head desperately, and he rubs your clit with his thumb again 

You bite down on his bottom lip as your final orgasm runs throughout your body. Your eyes squeeze shut and all you can see is pure white, your entire body starts convulsing. Your essence shoots out and splashes against his abs, down both of your legs, and onto the bed sheets below. 

You come so hard your pussy sucks Connie in deeper and he squeezes the skin of your thighs as he comes deep inside of you. He moans against your lips and you let out a sigh as you feel his come fills you up.

“You okay? You looked like you almost passed out.” He presses his forehead against your and smiles at you while you regain consciousness.

“Y-yeah I’m okay. Also, i feel like now is a good time to tell you that Tyler is a happily married man with no interest in me at all.” You inform him and he rolls his eyes.

“Happily married men can still want to fuck you if the oppurtunity allows.” He retorts and you hold back a laugh.

“Even gay men Connie?” You raise an eyebrow and the look on his face is absolutely priceless.

“Y’know there are in fact exceptions to the rule.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck.

“I really am sorry about you and Sasha.” You run your fingers over his hair and rub his cheek with your thumb.

“Don’t sweat it, she was right in the end and I just didn’t want to admit it. I’ve loved you since we were 16, just cause we break up doesnt mean I can just give up everything.” He leans on one hand and you sit up to kiss him in response 

“I love you Connie, I want you to come back home with us. No more fighting okay?” He nods and pulls you into his chest, rubbing his hands over your back.

“No more fighting baby, I promise. From now on we’ll only argue about dinner, what movie to watch, and what outfits we’ll put the boys in.” He says jokingly, you laugh at his antics and nod in return.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna pull out before you get me all excited again.” He warns, you whimper at the feeling of emptiness once he pulls out of you. Your eyes widen when his fingers take the place of his dick, you look at him in shock and he feigns innocence.

“Well we wanna make sure you get pregnant, right?” 

…..

“Okay Mrs. Springer, when you feel the next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can.” The doctor says and you nod your and begin to push through the pain and pressure. 

“There we go baby you got it! Keep going Y/N!” Connie encourages you, holding one of your hands in both of his.

A small cry breaks out into the air and the doctor guides your baby out safely, she holds the baby up and you fall onto your back.

“It’s a girl!” Connie exclaims and instantly bursts into tears, you can’t help but also shed tears as she’s laid on your chest.

Connie places multiple kisses all over your face and looks at the new baby in front of you.

“She’s gorgeous Connie, she’s so perfect.” You sniffle and giggle when you make eye contact with the small baby. 

“She sure is, she looks just like her mama. My sweet little Cecelia.” You give him a large smile and nod in agreement.

“Cecelia is perfect, my little Cece.” You giggle at the nickname and rock the small girl in your arms as she whines.

“I love you Connie.” You say, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

“I love you more, mi vida.”

Ari

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

I can’t stop thinking of demon! Adam going through development and reaching the point of like,, doing something nice without anyone telling him to do it, purely for the sake of doing it. Something he never would have done before. Even if it’s something as small as sitting down with you while you’re watching your favorite movie or show and not shitting on it the whole time, just to keep you company. Or something like that. I dunno. I’m just a sucker for slow burn subtextual romance.

THAT, and the reader seeing his face beneath the mask, looking him the eyes, and smiling a little. Even if they say nothing. I feel like that would stick with him.

Exactly. Demon!Adam lives in my head rent free now. I know this weren't a request of sorts but I kinda wrote something for this

random ficlet below

Demon!Adam x GN!reader (Fluff)

DemonSinner!Adam is something that plays on my mind a lot. He still doesn’t believe in the whole redemption shit that Charlie is laying down but if it gets him a glimpse of seeing heaven again he is willing to try.

-----

Adam was bored and needed something to do that would put off the inevitable “therapy” session with Lucifer’s brat later. So that must be why he finds himself outside your room. He knocks lightly on your door. You didn’t answer, he knocked again louder this time. Still no answer. So he opens the door and peers in.

“Hey errr (Y/n) Charlie asked me to check on you.” A blatant lie but he won’t tell you that.

He sees you’re watching TV.

“Huh? What no shitty nickname this time?” You mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. Adam walks over and flops down on the couch next to you.

“Oh yeah, nah I didn’t really feel like it.” He grabs a handful of your popcorn.

You quirk a brow.

“Also Charlie said nooo giving nicknames to people that demean them and also who don’t want it and people were given names to be used blah blah blah.” He shoves the popcorn into his mouth. “So what are we watchin?”

“I'm watching a movie I really like so if you're staying either shut up or fuck off.” You sink back into your blanket cocoon.

*10 minutes later*

“What the fuck! This guy clearly likes her but she goes for the other bozo. Is she blind . . . . as well as ya know hot.”

You choke on your drink. You didn’t think that this would be his kinda thing but here he was emotionally invested in the film you had picked. You had really wanted to just wallow in your depression by binge watching trashy romcoms but what was really making you feel better was watching the ‘dickmaster’ himself rooting for the underdog to open up about his feelings to the lead woman.

You go to grab some popcorn but see the bowl is empty.

“Gotta pause.” You go to stand but he stops you.

“I got this.” He hides the good deed by quickly saying “And I need to piss anyway.” You pass him the bowl.

“Not in the popcorn I hope.” You rearrange yourself back in your blanket burrito.

“HAA, You nasty but don’t watch without me. Coz that is a dick move.”

“You know all about those.” You mutter into the blanket. But Adam had gone to the hotel kitchen to make popcorn.

You chose to scroll on your phone until he got back. There were a few messages but you didn’t really feel like answering them. You flop on your side. You can always move when he came back.

While you waited in silence for Adam. You think back on how he really was getting better. After seeing him slowly open up to Charlie’s ideas and seeing that he can be a good guy when it suits him. You smile to yourself.

Your door slams open.

“Okay I’m back bitch.”

Nevermind looks like he has thrown up his walls again.

He lays out the armful of snacks and the bowl of popcorn that looks way bigger than the bowl he left with. He sees you on your side.

“You comfy down there?”

You groan and slowly sit up again. He sits back down but wraps an arm around you and hugs you into his side and nothing more.

“Okay we can continue now.” He grabs the popcorn and rests it on his lap.

You set the movie going again and snuggle just a little bit closer. For popcorn reasons of course not that Adam was nice and warm and you felt safe next to him.

“Clearly she don’t know a good thing when she sees it.” You pipe up after about three minutes into the film again. You had seen this film so many times but there was one scene that always brought out annoyance in you.

“Right!! She needs to open her eyes this guy clearly loves her for who they are and not some fake ass bs that other . . . what?” Adam stops mid-sentence looking down at you resting against his chest.

You blink a few times before realising you are staring “Huh oh nothing.”

You focus back on the screen in front of you.

The climatic end of the film was approaching and the main lead were confessing their love and as the credits role you can here someone crying. You glance up and see Adam wiping away tears.

“You okay.” You sit up and reach for the tissues on the table to hand them to him.

“What!!! I’m fine. Of course I’m fiiiine. Shut up bitch.” He grabs the tissue box from you.

“If it helps I cried the first time I watched this movie.” You wrap the blankets tighter around yourself.

“I . . . ah . . shit.” He saw you curling further in on yourself. He feels guilt crawling into his stomach. “Sorry, I’m . . .Ugh. Look I’m bad at these feel your feelings crap that Charlie spouts. But it was a good film and yeah I cried but . . .”

“It don’t make you any less of a man.”

“Yeeeah I know. Of course I know. I’m the first man.”

“Huh back to that are we.” You bump shoulders with him, making him laugh.

He pulls you back into his side “So what are we watching now?”

------

I really didn't mean for this to be as long as it was. I'm sorry

[veeluvss]

hii!!! hope your ok? could you write something about mom!emily and daughter!reader where reader gets pregnant(like teen pregnancy) and emily is just comforting her and helping her through it? - feel free to ignore if your not comfortable writing this!! ◡̈

hii!! i loved this request, thank you so so much! here’s the story - let me know what you think /nf

i hope you liked it !!

her smile

tw: teen pregnancy

fluff, family

2.5k words

The test in your hand shook. What the fuck were you meant to do now? This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t part of the plan. It was a silly one time thing, the condom broke, the chances - and you’d defied them all. You were seventeen, far too young for a child. You couldn’t raise a child. And god, what would your mum think?

You spent the night curled up in bed, holding your stuffed bear to your chest. Your legs were pulled up too, hiding your stomach from the world. You had a baby in there- you had to protect it at all costs. You were going to tell the dad first, thankfully you knew who it was. It wasn’t a serious thing but it wasn’t exactly a toxic thing either and you were thankful about that. You wanted to make sure he knew and he was involved every step of the way. The one thing, even only hours after finding out, you were sure of - is that you’d never get rid of your baby.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of fresh waffles being cooked. Mum was home. Jumping out of bed, you pulled on shorts and your mums FBI jumper and headed downstairs. She’d been on a case and you’d missed her. She heard you run down the stairs and opened her arms in preparation for the hug. You wrapped your arms around her neck and your legs around her hips. She laughed, her deep belly laugh and help you tight.

“Hi my darling,” she said.

“Hi mum, I missed you,” you replied, dropping your feet but staying in her arms.

“I missed you too.” She replied. You stayed like that for a few moments, soaking it up. You don’t really know what happened, or why but you began to cry. She held you tighter, not saying a word.

“One second baby,” she whispered, as you began to smell the burning waffles. She tapped your back and you let go. Sniffling, you wiped your eyes on your sleeve.

Emily turned around with burnt waffles on a plate but still put ice cream on them. You laughed.

“Mum, you can’t eat them if they’re burnt,” you said.

“I’m not wasting them,” she replied. “These are special waffles I got from the city.”

You smiled, at her smile, and lifted yourself up onto the counter. You asked her about the case and she told you what she could. You loved hearing about her work. It was something you really wanted to do.

Your hand rubbed at your stomach, thinking of the peanut in there. You looked at your mum and thought about how you wanted the baby to be just like her - to have her smile, her laugh, her light hearted attitude. She paused, looking at you with a whimsical smile.

“What are you looking at?” she asked softly.

“Just you,” you smiled back. “I love you, mum.”

“I love you too baby,” she whispered, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “Now come eat these New York waffles.”

You spent the entire day watching movies with your mum. Curled up in her bed with her blankets and hoodie. You cuddled into her closely.

“Oh babe,” she whispered, picking up her phone.

“A case?” you sighed, looking up at her with puppy eyes.

“Yeah, love,” she hugged you tight and let you go. You blinked back the tears, trying not to show how disappointed you were.

Hours later, your mum was gone and the dad to your new baby was sitting in your kitchen. You were stalling.

“Y/n, just tell me what’s going on. I’ve been here forty five minutes now and you still haven’t got to the point-”

You sighed and slid into the seat next to him.

“I don’t want you to freaak out. No one else knows but I want you to know that I’ve made a decision and you can either decide to be here for me or not-” you began. His face twisted, almost as if he knew already. His eyes jumped down to your stomach and then back up again. Your hand moved to rest there, protecting your baby already.

“You’re not-”

“I found out yesterday,” you replied, eyes down.

“Have you confirmed it with doctors?” His voice was surprisingly calm, almost as if he was prepared.

“Not yet. I’ve only done one test,” you said. You carried on before he could speak, “but, the signs are all there. That’s why I did a test in the first place.”

“Let’s go to the store and double check and then we can book you a doctors appointment,” he said. He stood up from the chair and went to grab his jacket but you grabbed his wrist.

“Wait,” you whispered. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sat back down quietly and cleared his throat. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You weren’t with this guy, not seriously and this could end so badly. You knew it. He turned in his chair and took hold of your shaking, clammy hands.

“Y/N,” he began. Tears welled in your eyes. “Whatever happens, pregnant or not- I’ve had feelings for a while. It began when we started that project together and then the sex and - look I’ve been meaning to tell you. I won’t lie I hoped that was why you called me over,” he said softly. You were shocked. You didn’t know he was attached.

“What about the other girls?” you asked, referring to the other girls you thought he was sleeping with.

“There aren’t any other girls. Not anymore. I know the lads joke about it - it’s funny to them. But since I realised how much I like you… I dropped them all.”

“All of them?” you were skeptical. His lads did joke, a lot. This guy was the man slag of the school - the one who slept with everyone and he had feelings for you??

“All of them. I promise. I even deleted their numbers, the lot. I only speak to my friends and the occasional girl in my class when needed. I’m serious about you,” he paused and looked at your belly. “And the baby.”

“You want to keep it?” You questioned, almost choking on the question. His eyes went wide – assuming you didn’t from your response.

“I’ll respect anything you chose-” He spluttered. “I just, it’s mine too and that’s important to me.”

“We’re still so young,” you sighed, lowering your eyes.

“We are.” he grabbed your chin and lifted up your head gently so you were looking at him. “But let’s triple confirm the pregnancy and then we can worry then, okay?”

You nodded in agreement and slowly leaned in to kiss him. His soft tone, his gentle eyes and entire person was so comforting to you. You couldn’t help it.

It was triple confirmed. As a pair, working on making things official, you had decided to keep the baby. You knew it would break you trying to abort and with a dad who was interested, genuinely invested even, you knew the baby would be okay. You just had to tell Emily.

She’d texted you to tell you she was about an hour away from home and you began making her dinner. It was her favourite. Deep down, you knew your mum would support you no matter what but the anxiety of the reaction was insane. Your palms were sweaty, you struggled to catch your breath and you couldn’t focus on the cooking at all.

Somehow, you still managed to patch something together in time for her arrival home. She walked through the front door, replaced her heels with slippers and entered the kitchen with a wide smile on her face.

“Oh this is lovely!” she praised, seeing her favourite on the side.

“Sit down mum, I’ll get you some wine,” you replied, unable to make eyecontact. As a profiler, that gave it all away. She smiled and held up her wine glass regardless then set it down, clearing her throat.

“So my angel cake,” she said softly, addressing you in a way that made you more worried - “you’ve either been suspended, done drugs or get pregnant. What’s going on?”

You knew she was joking. She said it as a joke - a common joke parents make: ‘Oh, you’ve come to tell me your pregnant’. But it wasn’t a joke, suddenly it was real life and you were ready to throw up.

Exiting the kitchen at high speed, you crashed into the downstairs bathroom. Emily was quick to drop behind you. She held back your hair and rubbed your back and then sighed. She sat behind you, flushed the toilet and then closed the seat. She stayed close to you and your head rested on the toilet in shame. She knew, no doubt about it, she knew.

“It’s ironic when a mother’s joke becomes truth, isn’t it?” she sighed quietly. Her head rested on the door frame and her eyes ran over you. She rubbed yoru back, sighing a little more and then grabbed your hand.

“Talk to me,” she encouraged. “Tell me.”

“The condom broke,” you suddenly sobbed. “I didn’t do it on purpose and I swear it was an accident-” Emily moved and took you into her arms completely. YOu clung to your mum as if you were four years old again, letting every emotion come out. The anxiety about telling her, the anxiety about the baby. The idea of even having a baby. A new relationship you didn’t know if you were ready for. The fact you were going to be a mum. The way you were only seventeen. The tears ripped through your body but Emily held you the entire time. She didn’t let go, not once.

“I was 15 when I first got pregnant,” Emily said softly, handing you a cup of tea. “

“What?” You replied, eyes wide. Your jaw dropped. Emily smiled at the reaction. “Fifteen?”

“Fifteen.” She took a deep breath before explaining. “I lived in Rome at the time, with my mum who was working hard. I had sex with boys to fit in, being a teenager is hard, I understand that more than you know. Anyway, church and religion was a big thing. My priest said that if I abort the baby, I’m not welcome back into the church. Obviously, I was fifteen, still at school - my mum couldn’t know. I had no other choice. I ended up aborting the baby but my friends helped me back into the church-” she explained. You listened intently.

“Does it make you sad?” you asked.

“What?”

“That you didn’t keep the baby?”

“All the time. I’ll grieve for the baby for as long as I’m alive but I know I made the right choice. My body was still so young, I don’t think it would have even managed to keep a baby safe, as well as me. And then the external factors - plus,” she smiled and grabbed your hand. “If I had kept the baby, I probably never would have had you.” You blushed and lowered your head.

“Are you ashamed?” You whispered.

“I’ll never be ashamed of what I did to fit -”

“No mum,” you interrupted. “Are you ashamed of me?” You saw her heart break through her eyes and she shook her head so adamantly.

“I would never, ever be ashamed of you. Y/N I am so proud of you.”

“Proud for getting knocked up at 17?” you scoffed.

“Hey, no.” she shook her head again. “You don’t talk about yourself or my grandchild like that. Ever. What happened, happened. As you said, it was an accident. Sweetheaart, you’re seventeen. You’re exploring your body and naturally boys too. These things are bound to happen. Perhaps if you were drugged up and on alcohol and got with about five men and we didn’t know who the dad was then I’d probably be a little disappointed but never ashamed.” you began to cry again and she pulled you into a hug.

It was baby shopping day. You had a bump, a cute one that everyone found adorable. Everyone had been so supportive. The entire team adored you evern more, buying you gifts, checking up on you, helping you decorate. JJ, a mum herself, had been lovely and so supportive. Giving you remedies, tips, massages - it had been amazing. Not only had your family stepped up but your boyfriends had too. Hsi family have loved you through it all. You agreed to stay living at home with your mum. Your boyfriend planned on moving in just before the baby arrived - after his exams - so he could help. Your mum wasn’t too bothered about you finishing school this time round as she knew she had more than enough money to send you back when you were ready, even if it was from home.

Garcia and JJ turned up in the car together as you and your boyfriend stood outside the house, waiting for Emily.

“She’s meeting us there, she got a bit caught up with work,” JJ said, opening the door for you.

“She’ll definitely meet us there?” You asked, sad she wouldn’t be able to shop with you. Her opinion was the most important.

“Defiently honey, now hop in,” Garcia said. You got into the car and put on your belt. Your boyfriend sat beside you and held your hand the entire drive, knowing about your new found travel sickness.

Shopping was so succesful. You were pretty sure that between the lot of you, you’d spent over a grand but you didn’t even care. Uncle Rossi had sent money, your grandparents had sent money, everyone you knew had sent you money to put towards baby Prentiss and you were so happy. It had been one of the most amazing days in the pregnancy journey. Whilst you were exhausted from being on your feet, you were even more excited for the little one to arrive.

The baby nursery was ready a few weeks before baby was due. It was under the sea themed, perfect for you and you’re little kicker. Your boyfriend’s exams were over too and he was in the process of moving his things in. Derek had helped build the nursery and Emily hadn’t left your side.

With such a supportive group, you knew the birth of the baby was going to be easy sailing. And it was.

Emily stood on one side, your boyfriend on the other. JJ and Garcia were in the room too, as well as your boyfriend’s mum.

“So go on, tell us the name you chose,” JJ smiled - she’d been in on it since the start. Holding the bundle of pink blankets and tiny baby in your arms, you looked up at your mum with tears in your eyes.

“Mum, you’ve been there every step of the way. From the moment you adopted me at five to this very second you haven’t left my side and I’m so grateful. I’m so proud of you for putting your life of the line everyday to serve the country and bring down the bad guys. I’m so proud of how unbelievably strong you are no matter what you’ve been through. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how incredible you are. Everyone can see that. I want my baby to have your strength, determination, huge heart and the most beautiful smile.” Tears were streaming down Emily’s face as she caressed your hair. “We decided to call her Emily Hope Prentiss.”

[hxney-lemcn]

i wanted to ask if you could do brett hand x gn! reader but angst? like stuff with his family and its getting worse. hope its not a bad idea

have a good night/ day hun!!

summery: reader tries to cheer Brett up. They find out just what is making Brett feel down and fluff ensues.

tw: toxic family relationships, hurt/comfort

a/n: ...teehee, so I'm pretty sure this was requested like...a year ago...uh...sorry for the late upload?? LMAO! If you're still interested here you go 💀

wc: 1.2k

Master List

I couldn’t focus on the shitty 80’s movie playing when I had Brett curled into my side. I noticed he seemed to be down at work, and offered to host a sleepover. Yes it may be childish, but after learning about Brett’s shitty family and how he never really had a childhood, I thought it would be nice. 

Brett didn’t hesitate to agree. Although his demeanor was enthused, his brown eyes still showed unhappiness. Which led to our current situation. Watching classic 80’s movies and cuddling on the couch. I kept sneaking glances down towards the brunette, his eyes glued to the tv. His head rested on my chest, and my arms wrapped around his back.

At one point, his eyes started watering, which led me to pausing the movie. Clearly something was eating at him and I wasn’t gonna just watch him suffer. 

“Why’d you pause-”

“What’s wrong Brett,” I said, interrupting him. I wasn’t gonna let him bat around the bush.

“N-nothing, why do you ask?” He deflected, eyes darting all over the place. He was a terrible liar.

Bringing a hand up, I ran my fingers through his hair, which made him relax almost immediately. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I soothed. “But I don’t want you to hold it in either. You can talk to me.” He fell limp, admitting defeat as I gently scratched at his scalp.

“It’s…” He stuttered slightly. “I-its my family.” I tensed when they came up. I’ve only met them once, and it was not a pleasant meeting. I mean, Brett literally took a bullet for his brother and he’s once again on their shit list. Which I could never understand. Brett was the sweetest man I had ever met! He listened, he cared, and he’d do anything to make his friends happy…well more like anyone happy (clearly coming from his family trauma), but still! He was an absolute sweetheart. 

All in all, I did not like his family. In fact, you could even say I hate them. I couldn’t tell Brett that though, as he still loved them dearly. Something they did not deserve. 

“What did they do this time?” I asked, trying to keep myself from letting my distaste show in my tone. 

Brett nuzzled further into the crook of my neck, “Just the usual, called me a disappointment and I never deserved to have even been considered for the 1st ranked sibling. How they don’t understand why I even bother to show my face around them anymore.”

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I know family is important, but if my parents did that, I’d be out the door and never come back. I have no clue how Brett could be strong enough to endure his parents' neglect and emotional abuse. I know his family is important to him, but there's a certain point that people should just cut ties.

“Oh Brett,” I muttered, nuzzling the top of his head. “My sweetheart. My sweet little boy.” Brett’s hold on me grew a little tighter at the nicknames, and I felt tears hit my neck, but I paid it no mind. “You deserve so much better. They should be the ones begging for your love and attention, not the other way round. You are so accomplished, loved, and overall amazing. You’re a boss at the shadow government, you’ve got a team who loves you! …in their weird little ways of course. Not to mention that you are just a caring and loving person.”

Brett sniffled, “Then why are they so mean?”

My heart churned, feeling my own eyes water at just how beaten he sounded. 

“I’m not exactly sure of their history, but I assume it’s because that’s how their parents treated them,” I replied, trying to think how people could be so cold to their own children. “That and a mix of them not having the capacity to actually care for you and your siblings. When they look at you, they see a commodity, not a person.”

I winced as Brett let out a sob mixed with a whimper. Did I make it worse?

“But you’re not a commodity,” I muttered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re an amazing, beautiful person who deserves the love you get and even more. I know you care for your family, but I think the best thing you can do is let them go. I mean you have a work family who do care for you, who want to see you succeed. I hope I’m not overstepping, but I feel like your family is holding you back. I know you can grow so much more if you learn that their affection and approval isn’t worth the pain and hurt. Because there are other people willing to give you that affection and approval.”

Brett let a sob escape him, his arms squeezing the life out of me, but I wasn’t gonna stop him. He was babbling things I couldn’t make out, but I think it was things of gratitude and love. I didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that he was grateful. I was just glad I seemed to have gotten through to him.

“Th-they found someone to m-marry me off to,” He stuttered. “A-and I didn’t want to disappoint them, b-but I don’t want to marry them! I want to marry you! A-and I told them that, and that's when they started t-to insult m-me.”

My eyes widened at his bold proclamation, my hand halting its ministrations in his hair. They wanted to marry him off? I guess that wasn’t out of their reach. But he actually said no? Because he wanted to marry me?! I felt myself fluster at the thought. I couldn’t help but picture us standing at the altar, or podium, in front of the sea? Maybe in the woods? I wasn’t sure where, but a beautiful place, with us exchanging our vows of love, and then becoming wedded. 

I snapped out of it when Brett’s teary eyes met mine. They were big and watery, almost like a sad puppy. He seemed to be freaking out, eyes frantically searching mine.

I cupped his jaw, brushing my thumb over his cheek, “I would be honored to marry you.”

His eyes widened, cheeks warming under my touch, a bashful smile gracing his face. A tear fell down his cheek, and I wiped it away.

“I would be honored to marry you,” Brett emphasized. 

I chuckled, feeling elated, “I guess we’d be honored to marry each other.”

Brett giggled back, the brightest smile I’d ever seen on his face, “Yeah.”

Pulling his face down, I littered his face with kisses, causing his giggles to continuously fall out of his mouth. I nuzzled our noses before leaving one last kiss to his lips. He hummed in content as I wrapped my arms around his neck, the kiss being a slow, passionate, loving one. 

“Do you wanna continue the movie?” I asked after we pulled apart.

Brett’s eyes were glued to my lips, “Could…we do that again…please.”

I blinked, an explosive laugh falling from my lips, “Brett this isn’t our first kiss.”

[emhahee]

Hi hi,

So like I have a question around your Hayffie headcanon’s. Because if I remember correctly you ship them? If not please ignore this.

Two questions actually

1: When do you think they went from arguing (derogatory) to bickering (affectionate)

2: What do you think happened after the war with them Book Verse v Movie Verse. (I only differentiate because a lot of people have different interpretations because of what happened with Effie book v movie)

I think the progression of Haymitch and Effie’s relationship from genuinely not being able to stand each other to making bedroom eyes at each other was a lot more gradual than what we saw as an audience. Like as readers, we only saw the last three years of the development of their relationship when they had YEARS of lore before that that we never saw. I’m sure when they first met, they were both a lot younger and Effie may not have even been an escort at that point. My guess is that they met when she was just working with the stylists, still learning the ropes, probably caught up in being a regular capitol young adult person, which probably hugely impacted their initial impressions of each other when they started having to mentor together, especially considering haymitch’s demeanor. That’s not to say Haymitch didn’t call her “sweetheart” in his Appalachian drawl just to see if he could make her blush through her makeup. Because he would, and she did. But also, for years and years before katniss and Peeta, Haymitch and Effie experienced the losses of their tributes as one. Katniss observed that each of them have different ways of coping with having to send two children to their imminent death year after year: Haymitch uses alcohol, and Effie lives in a hazy cloud of ignorance about what the games even really are, wrapping herself in the glamour and excitement leading up to the games and presumably tuning most of the event itself out. I think over the years, Haymitch and Effie certainly developed a mutual empathy for each other in this regard, because you can’t really blame someone for how they cope with unimaginable loss and suffering. But I think there was a shift in their dynamic around the time of katniss and Peetas first games, not only when they experienced the hope of having victors for the first time, but simultaneously becoming wrapped up in a rebellion. Effie was one of few constants in haymitch’s life and it is my personal belief that their feelings had been stirring for a long time but probably really took off on the victory tour. I’m sure there were nights where effie had a few too many and started sloppily confessing her feelings for Haymitch and the attendants on the train just looked the other way because it would NOT be a good look in the face of unrest and uprising to have a capitol employee fraternizing with a district citizen. But in that regard it was also 🎊forbidden🎊 which makes it so much better in my opinion. But I don’t think Haymitch would really have been able to admit his own feelings for Effie until learning she had been taken by the capitol, much like katniss wasn’t really able to know she loved peeta until he had been taken, too. And like I legitimately cannot imagine the torment Haymitch must have been experiencing at knowing someone who, on the surface, had such an innocent perception of the world being tortured for her association with him and his colleagues. I think Haymitch got home to 12 after the war, fairly soon after got a phone call, and, remembering his phone lines had been reconnected, knew exactly who was waiting on the other end of the line. And from then on it was game over. Or whatever. At least that’s how it is in my head.

[nctsjiho]

Trust Me One More Time

genre: angst, parent!au pairing: Haechan x oc, Haechan x female!oc, idol!Haechan, ex-idol!oc cw: (bad) parenting; arguing; talks about "giving up"; this is a really heavy fic (imo) with a heavy but hard to explain plot without spoiling it all, if u read this fic, feel free to stop whenever you feel uncomfortable

This is NOT part of the same NCT addition!JiHo AU. Think of this as an alternate version of that universe or part of the imagine series I have done so far under 'writer.answers'. If you are stumbling upon my blog for the first time, this is a standalone fic u can read pretty much without knowing anything about my oc.

❀ Being new parents isn't easy. Still being able to care for his child while being an idol, Haechan can't seem to understand the mother of his child's struggles.

“Don’t cry, baby,” the new father cooed as he walked towards the cot, having just returned from work. He leaned over the bed to find his son’s restless body. Despite not being able to move much, the little baby had mustered all his strength to reach his tiny arms out once he saw his father. “What’s gotten you so upset?” Haechan asked with a pout as he brought the baby up in his arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Haechan ignored the figure on the couch as he decided to retrieve a bottle of milk for his child first. When he returned to the living room he sat down on the couch, still skillfully handling the baby in his arms and started to give him his milk. “There you go,” he whispered softly before turning to the mother of his child.

“Why didn’t you feed him?”

An exhausted, emotion-filled sob left Jiho’s lips. “I tried, but he wouldn’t eat,” she told him while she still didn’t make eye contact with him.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

Silence filled the rather dark room, only lit up with a small yellow-toned table lamp. It wasn’t a comforting silence. The tension between the two adults was only thickening, so much so that it seemed like Dongmin—their child—felt it as well. The 4 month year old had stopped drinking for a significant amount of time, causing Haechan to look back down at him which seemed to comfort him as he started to drink again. “So what? Were you planning to let him starve? He’s eating just fine now.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Jiho whispered again.

“Maybe he’s scared because you’re acting like that.”

That's where the conversation ended for the moment. Haechan finished feeding the baby and moved him to the nursery where another cot was. He waited for Dongmin to fall asleep before returning to the living room, where Jiho still sat.

“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighed and blatantly motioned over her form. “You’re sitting there like you’re straight out of a horror movie. With your hair in your face, wearing the same clothes that you’ve been wearing for a week now. Jiho!” he suddenly yelled her name, getting her to look at him. “Get a hold of yourself.”

Haechan was almost begging her at this point, he was getting tired as well.

“I tried—”

“Try harder! This isn’t just any child, this is our child.” By now, Haechan had kneeled down in front of her. “You’ve always been amazing with children. What’s different now?”

“He’s… our child.”

Haechan shook his head as if he was in disbelief and moved even closer to Jiho. He pulled her legs down off the couch away from her chest and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “All the more reason for you to love him. You love him don’t you?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“It’s only been 4 months, Jiho,” he told her as his hand softly caressed her lower back. It had become a habit since during the last months of her pregnancy she always complained about her lower back and he always gave her massages for it. “You just need to spend more time with him—”

“I’m always here! Haechan, I’m the one who gave up on being an idol for this. I’ve been with him ever since—”

“You never call Dongmin by his name.”

Jiho pushed Haechan away and threw her head back in annoyance. Once she sat back straight, causing Haechan to see her face again, he could see that angry tears were running down her cheeks. “Your son hates me.”

“He’s our—”

“HE’S NOT MY CHILD!”

Those words took Haechan by surprise. In his shocked state he couldn’t even notice Dongmin starting to cry in his nursery—probably having heard the commotion from his parents. “How could you say that?”

“I had to give up everything! I stayed with him ever since he was born and did everything for him because you said we could do this. You said we would be great parents. I— I’m not a good mother, Haechan,” she confessed.

“I can’t get him to eat anymore. He won’t take bottles from me, he doesn’t even like me holding him. He cries the whole day if you aren’t here. How can I be a good mother if he doesn’t even like me?”

At this point Jiho had crashed onto her knees on the floor and started sobbing. The Jiho that was crying in front of him wasn’t the Jiho Haechan used to know. She wasn’t the girl—now woman—that he once fell in love with.

“Then try harder.”

Hearing those words, Jiho looked up at him in disbelief. Haechan was hovering over her with a hard to read expression on his face.

“What?” Her voice sounded a lot smaller than she expected it to sound.

“I’m not here to work the whole day, to provide for our son only for you to sit here and cry because you’re having a hard time feeding him. Maybe if you breastfeed him like the doctor told you to, Dongmin would trust you more.”

Confusion washed over Jiho as she didn’t expect Haechan to suddenly turn on her and sound so condescending. “What are you talking about? You knew I never wanted to breastfeed even before he was born. You knew this.”

“I want to help you Jiho, I really do. I know that we should’ve been more careful, that you put your trust in me and it’s my fault that we have a child now, but Dongmin is beautiful. He was an accident, but he’s the happiest little accident that I cannot get myself to regret. I know I broke your trust before, but ever since we found out you were pregnant I’ve never left your side. Can you please trust me again? We can do this together, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

Haechan had pulled Jiho closer to him, holding her by her forearms as he asked for her trust once again. However, Jiho started to shake her head.

“It’s not enough, Haechan. I’ve been scared ever since I found out I was pregnant. I’m still scared and you haven’t acknowledged it until now. Hell, I still don’t know if you realise it. The only reason I haven’t— the only reason I went through with it all is because it’s made you happy.”

“I—” Haechan stopped himself from speaking, feeling frustration rise in his body once again. “Let’s talk about this during dinner, okay? You order whatever you like. I’ll go check on Dongmin, we woke him up again.”

Jiho didn’t respond, but Haechan didn’t wait for a response anyway. He had already turned to go to the nursery, where he found his little boy crying once more. The baby was a bit fussy, but instantly calmed down once his father picked him up and swayed him around for a bit. “Your momma is a good person. She’s just really scared and appa hasn’t been very patient or considerate of her. Don’t tell her I said this, but I still love her very much.” Haechan chuckled a bit at how pathetic he sounded, but quickly shrugged it off. He placed a soft kiss on his son’s forehead before placing him back down in his cot. Dongmin fell asleep instantly.

Haechan took a little moment to regain himself before walking back into the living room. “Jiho,” he called out for her, but there was no response. “Jiho?” When she still didn’t answer and he couldn’t see her when peering through the door to the kitchen, Haechan decided to look through the whole house.

He checked Jiho’s room first. Haechan had never stood still by the fact that her room was pretty much empty since the first day they moved into the house. It had none of her personality and although Jiho was more of a minimalist, Haechan remembered how her dorm rooms from the time she was still an idol were filled with little trinkets. She used to always hold onto meaningful—and even meaningless—gifts from the members and fans. This room only held a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and a chair she would read those books in.

Moving on—not forgetting to knock on the bathroom door and checking if it was empty—Haechan walked through all the rooms in the house until he reached his own bedroom. His room was right next to Dongmin’s nursery, only separated by an ensuite bathroom.

“Jiho?” He pushed the door open hoping though not expecting Jiho to be inside. As he predicted, there was no one in his room. He looked around and noticed the two pictures on his dresser. One of them was of him and Jiho while they were still coworkers. They were younger, though not by much and they seemed incredibly happy. The second picture was of them a few weeks after Dongmin was born. Haechan was the one holding Dongmin while Jiho sat next to him. She looked visibly tired in the picture, something that Haechan hadn’t noticed before. He also realised that in every picture that they have together, Haechan was always the one holding Dongmin. The only exception being the picture of when the doctor handed Jiho Dongmin when he was just born.

Returning to the living room, Haechan had dialled Jiho’s number, hoping she would pick up and explain she was just picking up some food at their favourite Thai place down the street. Something stopped him dead in his tracks though, when Haechan noticed something missing. It took him a second to clock what he had seen—or had not seen—before he set out in a panic.

The sweater he was wearing the whole day and had dropped on one of the chairs in the living room when he returned from work was missing. He walked towards the front door and Jiho’s shoes—the ones that she could slip onto easily whenever they decided to go on a quick walk—were gone. “Ji…”

With a deep, shaky exhale, Haechan slipped on his own shoes and ran towards the neighbours door. At the urgent knocks on the door a woman in her mid to late 30’s opened the door and asked what was wrong. “Mrs. Choi, please look over Dongmin for a while. He’s sleeping in his cot in the nursery.”

Mrs. Choi nodded quickly. “What’s wrong? Where is Jiho? Is everything okay?” she fired the questions as soon as she noticed something must’ve been horribly wrong.

“I don’t know, I— I’ll be back,” Haechan yelled out in a hurried stuttering mess before running down the stairs towards the street.

He started taking off to that favourite Thai place over there, only to be confronted by the sign he forgot about. Closed permanently in big black letters letters on the door. “God damnit,” Haechan cursed, turning around and starting to run the other way, not knowing where to go.

“Haechan?” A familiar voice stopped him.

With a relieved sigh, Haechan ran up to the old owner of the Thai restaurant. “Sir, have you seen Jiho?”

“Your wife?” Not having the time to correct the older man, Haechan nodded. “I’m sorry, Haechan. I haven’t seen her. Why? What’s—”

“I’m sorry! I have to go!” Haechan yelled as he hurried further down the street continuously trying to reach JiHo’s phone that she wouldn’t pick up.

Sweat was beating down his face and if he wasn’t so preoccupied with other thoughts, he would’ve thought he was close to having a heart attack with how hard his heart was beating. “Jiho!”

When he finally reached the park he frequented with Jiho and Dongmin, he stopped to catch his breath again. He took a few moments, his hands were shaking violently.

“Jiho… I— You’re an amazing mother. If there’s one thing I want you to know, then it would be that you are the bravest woman I know. You trusted me despite me giving you the life you hated. Yet you still stuck with it. You still try to take care of Dongmin despite having a hard time. If you were a bad mother— You would’ve given up by now, but you didn’t.

“I don’t deserve you, Jiho. But— Dongmin needs you. He needs a mother like you. Please… Jiho please don’t give up. I love you—”

Beep beep beep~

---

READ PART 2 HERE

S/N: idk what tag to post this under so for now I'll use jiho.writings and post it on the main writing masterlist under it's own thingy. Might be subject to change, so if u don't find it under that masterlist it will be on my main pinned masterlist.

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

hey angel, I don’t know if you take song requests but I was thinking about an imagine with jj based on the song ‘I Know You’ by Faye Webster? I’m obsessed with it 🫶

totally okay if not ml !!

i know you

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader, jj maybank x kiara carrera

warnings: its lowkey sad, jj is distant, not so happy ending??

summary: you realize part of jj will always belong to someone else.

authors note: guys. my motivation has been at zero. i hope you guys enjoy this though. thank you so much for the request!!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you’re holding me and holding back

you were laying in your bed, jj sitting beside you against your headboard. your head was resting in his lap but what really struck you the wrong way, was the fact that his ringed fingers that were typically running through your hair, were now stiff at his sides.

i don’t really care for that

so instead, you sat up beside him and sighed. he immediately turned his head to you with a raised brow. “why’d you move?”

just you

“you’re not even paying attention to me, jj,” you said, staring ahead at the movie playing on your tv.

theres a pause between every minute

his hand reached over to take yours as he stopped for a second to think. “i’m sorry, baby. i’ve just been stressed lately.”

“about what?” you questioned, not understanding his point. “you don’t tell me anything anymore.”

feelin’ like i need something

“i miss you, jj,” you admitted sadly. “i barely see you anymore, you barely come over, text me, call me, anything. it doesn’t even feel like we’re in a relationship anymore.”

it’s just you

he used his hold on your hand to pull you into him, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. “i’m sorry, angel.”

i know, i know

he said this every time. yet nothing ever truly changed. he always distanced himself from you, then randomly came back in bursts of affection.

i know, i know

you always knew this was coming. you always knew he’d run to john b or kiara, then suddenly come back to you when he needed something.

you

you were so in love with him that you knew you’d never leave him.

you

jj was it in your eyes. you weren’t too sure if he felt the same though.

i know, i know

“hey, can you look at me sweetheart.” he knew that look too well.

i know, i know

he knew exactly what was on your mind. he just felt so bad that he made you feel like that.

you

he wrapped an arm behind your shoulders, knowing it calmed you in some way.

you

he knew you were upset with him. he wanted nothing more to just fix it, to have his old relationship back… to have his old self back. like how it was when you first started dating.

i’ll quiet down if thats what you want

so here you were, at the chateau with all of your friends around you. you were cuddled into jj’s side, choosing not to engage in the conversation. he didn’t listen to you anyway.

i understand i’m not the only one

you knew he was distracted. he always was. his attention was never fully on you.

for you

it was also on kiara. you saw the way he looked at her.

so tell me what you’re looking for

you really just wished he’d come clean and tell you how he really felt.

is it a picture perfect girl for you?

you weren’t even mad. kiara was gorgeous. she was absolutely perfect in every single way imaginable.

i know, i know

you knew sooner or later he’d realize.

i know, i know

you knew he could find better with her.

you

you knew how he thought.

you

you knew he was already half there.

i know, i know

jj dug his hand into your waist, looking down at you with a worried expression. he knew you often tended to zone out. “you still with me?”

i know, i know

when you nodded, he just knew you were lying.

you

he knew you too well.

you

he knew when something was up.

i’m here regardless of the pain

as much as it hurt you to know your boyfriend was in love with someone else, you didn’t want it to end. you just wanted to be with him.

don’t ever tell me to go away from you

you prayed he wouldn’t leave you, or tell you to do that to him. you wouldn’t be able to.

when we’re old and have to leave the earth

even if something did happen, you’d never forget this.

i’ll still remember all i’ve learned from you

maybe there was some truth to remembering your first love because you knew you’d never be able to fully let jj go.

i know, i know

“hey,” the blonde said softly when he noticed you zoning out in the car again on the way to his house from the chateau. “what’s up?”

i know, i know

he just knew you too well.

you

“it’s jus’ you and me, angel. forever jus’ you and me.”

[justmeinadaze]

A Toxic Lesson (Kurt X Reader)

A/N: "I introduce to you...this fucking thing." Lol @lunatictardis talked me into it. I was thinking this could be a series with a story surrounding each murder he does but that's if y'all even like this. This is kind of new for me in the sense of we are going outside of Eddie and Steve and also entering an extremely toxic relationship. Lol. God my damaged ass still wants him between my legs.

I was going to post this tomorrow but I never know how my triggers will work on the holidays so :) Here ya go.

Warnings: This does pull from the movie Spree especially the dialogue. The first passenger is a dick. I tried to bypass the worst things he says in the movie but it's still pretty evident. There is a murder and Kurt is aggressive with the reader. He definitely gaslights her. Please tread carefully if you continue reading <3

Word Count: 3105

You had known Kurt since he first moved to Azuza when you two were kids. You introduced yourself to him out on the playground when you saw him swinging my himself. 

“Hi! I’m Y/N. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure. I’m Kurt!”

You sit next to him swinging your feet to match his pace. “Have you made any new friends yet?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me today.”

“It’s just cause people don’t know you yet.”

His tiny smile made your heart melt. 

As the years went by nothing really felt out of the ordinary with him. Kurt was just an average, outgoing kid. He was always really animated which you loved so when he mentioned starting his own channel you thought it was a great idea. I mean, who wouldn’t love him?

The night he posted his first video to YouTube, he invited you out to celebrate. 

“I’m so excited. This is going to be great and I’ll be famous and everyone will know my name!”, Kurt threw his arms up, the drink in his hand spilling a bit making you laugh. 

“You deserve it. I’ll be your number one fan.”, you smile up at him. 

He’s not sure if it’s the energy of the day, you always supporting him, or just the fact that you looked so beautiful in the outfit you wore out tonight but he abruptly gripped the back of your neck, bring your lips to his. 

You coyly grin up at him. “Well, took you long enough!”

For the next 10 years, Kurt really did put a lot of effort into his account. He tried every bit of content that was out there from gaming to reviews. He even hooked up his phone to record people while he was driving around Spreeing. But his channel never broke into the double digits. 

Over the last year his personality really began to shift from your sweet, charismatic boyfriend to a genuinely broken man. 

“Hey asshole. Your girlfriend is here.” His dad guides you into Kurt’s room. 

“Why do you always have to talk to him like that? What are you even doing here?”

“I came to grab my records. He’s fine. He knows I’m fucking with him. Kurt, I’m going to head out. Clean up your room at least, will you? This place is a mess.”

You glare at him as he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Kurt hadn’t said a word or even made an indication to address your presence. You crawled into his bed turning yourself into the big spoon as you wrapped your arms around him.  

“Baby, are you ok? I’m worried. We haven’t hung out, you barely talk. You haven’t even posted a video in a while to your channel.”

“No one fucking cares about my channel.”

“I do. It makes you happy and you work so hard on it.”

He rolls on to his back and you place your head on his chest as your hand rubs up and down his stomach and sides. 

“Exactly. What’s the point of me working hard if no one cares.”

You sighed frustratingly. “Kurt, I care. People care. They just need to see you like I do.”

He gets off the bed, standing up to look down at you. “What people, Y/N? NO ONE CARES! You’re just one person. How can I get a billion eyes to see me and what I have to offer?”

You get up as well, rising so your face to face with him. “I may just be one person. But I’m the one person who has ALWAYS had your back, Kurt. Honestly, you’re making me feel bad right now. Like my support isn’t valid if you’re not famous or something.”

“I am nothing! Nobody! Without a following who I am?!”

“You’re still Kurt! Jesus! Fuck these people.”

“You don’t get it.”, he hangs his head. 

“You’re right I don’t. I’m sorry I’m not enough for you.” You stomped out of his room, leaving the house slightly annoyed that he didn’t come after you. 

Kurt went MIA for about a month until one day he showed up at your house at 3am, banging on your door. 

“Baby! I had this great idea that can make me go viral. I can finally get the recognition I deserve!”

“That’s great, Kurt. Really happy for you.” You start to shut the door but he blocks it with his hand. “Kurt, it’s 3am and frankly I’m still mad at you. You hurt me.”

“I know, Sweetheart. I know. I was just… I was just in a really low place. I didn’t know what I was saying. You’ve always been there for me from the beginning and I love you for that.” He stepped into your doorway, chest to chest with you. When he looked into your eyes, you saw something there but at the time you didn’t know what it was. “I. Love. You.”

His voice came out low and rough, making your knees weak.

“I love you to, baby.”, you sigh out a breathy moan.

When he made love to you that night, it was the best sex either of you had. Well, you two had only been with each other but usually Kurt was gently and kind of shy with his body and your own. That night he took what belonged him and left the love bites on your skin to prove it. 

He started uploading videos again and it made you smile because his old personality was starting to show through again. There were moments though when he would post something that gave you pause. 

“Kurt, should you be uploading videos like this? How to put poison in water bottles and hide it? I mean even if its fake what if a kid tries this.”

“Honey, its fine. It’s all a part of the lesson.”

“You haven’t told me what exactly that is and now I’m worried if it has fake stuff like this. What if someone takes it seriously and you get arrested or worse?”

He turned around in his gaming chair and leaned forward, tugging you on his lap. “Don’t worry, baby. Trust me. This will be amazing and you’ll be with me.”

“Oh, Kurt. I don’t know. You know how I feel about being on camera.”

“Y/N. This is the most important move of my professional career. I want you there.”

His words came out with sincerity but his tone was stern. Kurt wasn’t asking, he was telling you to be a part of this with him. 

You watched him with a small smile as he spoke into the cameras attached to his windows. 

“Actually, hold up. Real step one? Get. Your. Rig. To. Gether!”

When he leaned over you to reference the camera on your window, you giggled at him. Kurt kissed your cheek before turning back to the camera in his backseat. You loved seeing this side of him again even if it was just for the cameras. You still missed the days when he was a dork just for you. Kurt got out of the car, talking to the camera through the rear windshield. 

“Hey mom!”

You shifted your body to watch him run inside the house. Kurt’s phone dinged and a female robot voice from the app he was recording from started talking.

“Y/N. Why are you still with that loser?”

You make a disgusted face at his phone. “Shut the fuck up, Bobby.”

You jump at the sound of scream coming from Kurt’s house. After a minute, Kurt closes his front door and shuffle runs to the car. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You point towards the house. “Oh, my mom dropped something but she’s ok. Did someone say something?” He scrolls through his phone. “Hey Bobby. Oh my god. He’s so funny.”

He hooks his phone back to its dock as he starts to drive away. 

####################

You guys drive for a while before a ride comes through. Kurt stops at a house to pick his new passenger Fredrick. You give him a warm smile and he does the same. Kurt lies telling the man that the cameras are for security. You sit there silently, listening to them talk. Fredrick mentions that he’s been working on speech and is headed to an event with 3,000 people. 

Kurt’s eyes light up as he asks the man to tell his followers how he grew his audience to that size. Out of nowhere, Fredrick starts talking about “men like us” growing on social media. 

“What do you mean ‘Men like us?’”

“White men.”

Your eyes widen as Kurt continues to face the window. 

“You’re white, aren’t you?”, Fredrick asks and your boyfriend confirms. 

His passenger continues to spew racist, sexist, and homophobic comments as Kurt tries to talk to him telling him how it’s “not cool”. 

He suddenly presses on the breaks causing you and his ride fly forward. 

“Jesus! There’s a lot of stop signs.”

“Yeah.” Kurt ducks his head, looking around. “I don’t see any cops around. Should I run through this next one?”

“Kurt, no.”, you reach for his arm.  

He glances at you as he runs past the stop sign. “Geez, baby. I almost forgot you were there. You’ve been so quiet. Fredrick, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. We’ve been together for about ten years. Can you believe that?”

“Hm. Are you a snowflake as well?”

You roll your eyes at Fredrick, jumping as Kurt runs another stop sign. “The man asked you something, sweetie.”

“Kurt, stop it.”

Fredrick laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes. See Kurt, this is what I was saying. You have to keep your woman in line.”

Kurt’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. You know he hates what this guy is saying as much as you do. He takes a right turn down a deserted dirt road you don’t recognize. 

“Hey, remember there’s water back there if you need it.”, he pointed towards the water bottle he had stuffed in the seat pocket. 

“Kurt, what are you doing?”, you tone comes out low but forceful. You reach for his arm again but he still doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead, he leans forward turning on the radio. 

Both your eyes shift to the back seat when you hear Fredrick coughing.

“Hey, are there a lot of members in your group? You should let them know you’re not going to make it.”

“That’s not funny.” Your eyes widen as his whole demeanor remains calm. 

“Does this water have like a taste to it?” Fredrick starts coughing harder, taking in more water hoping it will help. 

“What are you talking about? It’s just pure water!” Kurt smiles into the rearview as one of his previous videos run through your head. 

“It’s perfect. Check this out. I already have bunch done.” He turns the camera lens to show a bunch of water bottles in a box. 

“Oh my god, Kurt!”, you reach your hand towards the back to take Fredricks bottle but your boyfriend grabs your wrist, holding it to you as he pushes you back against the seat. 

You watch in horror as the man flails in the back seat, Kurt moving his head out of the way as he continues to hold you down. After what feels like forever, everything is silent. Fredrick stops moving as his body falls and his eyes close.

His eyes flick to the back, before Kurt smiles at the camera, releasing you to grab his sunglasses and hold up a peace sign. He keeps driving until he pulls off into an abandoned area not too far from your house. You used to take him here when you were growing up when he needed to get out of house, away from his family and stress. 

He moves around beside you, tapping his phone before you hear the beeping of all 5 cameras in the car turning off. You move your head meeting his eyes. He had taken off his sunglasses and threw them back in-between your seats. There was a small moment where the world stopped and you were lost in each other’s gaze. Where Kurt wasn’t the guy who just murdered someone with you in the car on camera but the small boy you met on the swing set who made you laugh. 

You both opened your car doors at the same time as you sprinted away from the vehicle. He tackles you as you both tumble to the ground. Kurt’s arms wrap around from behind you, gripping your arms as he pulls you to your feet. He tugs you towards the car, throwing you against the trunk as he pinned you with his body, his hand roughly covering your mouth. 

“This is what I’ve been planning. This is part of the lesson. I brought you because I wanted you to experience this with me. You said you supported me. That you would always be my number one fan.” His tone changed becoming more authoritative. “Support. Me.”

A tear escaped your eye and landed on his hand. Kurt blinked as if he was just now realizing he was pinning you down. “Oh honey, you’re shaking. I would never hurt you. Not like that.” He pointed towards his backseat. His hand slid from your mouth as his fingers caressed your cheek. 

“You ARE hurting me.” You try to move your body but you can’t against his hold. 

“You ran.”

“You scared me. This is scaring me. This isn’t you, Kurt. Let’s just stop this.” You look around helplessly, not noticing his eyes start to glaze over. “I can…we can bury the body. No one will find it. No one’s on the stream so no one saw and Bobby will think its fake. We can delete everything—”

His hand comes to wrap around your throat interrupting your train of thought. “People will see it. No one may be on now but they will. Bobby will tell his following and they’ll watch. They’ll see the lesson.”

Something in your own eyes causes his head to tilt as he released his hold slightly so you could speak. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think Bobby is going to help you. He has never helped you before what makes you think he will now?!”

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s a little shit you used to babysit. He’s a terrible fucking person. Why would you want to be like him?! Just because he has millions of followers? Geez, Kurt, I thought you were better than that.”

“Take it back.” You shook your head and he pressed himself further into you until his nose was hovering over yours. “He’s my friend. He’s a legend. Take. It. Back.”

“Make me.”

His lips crashed down on to yours and you deepened it, mewling at the taste of him. You pushed against his hold trying to free your arms from his grasp but he wouldn’t allow it. Kurt was in control here. 

He spun you around, pressing his chest against your back. You didn’t even notice when he dropped your forearms to hastily unbuckle your belt, roughly pulling your pants and panties down. Even though you could hear his quick movements behind you, you felt like he wasn’t moving fast enough. 

You needed him inside of you desperately. 

Kurt breached your entranced easily, moaning at the feeling of your slick practically dripping down your legs. His body encased yours as he held you against the car, aggressively thrusting into you. His big hands were on either side of your arms on top of the trunk and you reached for them, intertwining your fingers with his. 

You wanted to speak to him but you couldn’t find words. Every time his cock pushed into you your brain stopped working. All you could focus on was how good his dick felt buried inside of you. Your pussy started to tighten around him and you whined when his hips abruptly stopped moving. 

Kurt’s lips hovered over your ear. “Take it back.” 

You shook your head. “Fuck him.”

He began thrusting into you again, this time bringing his hand down to rub circles on your clit. You felt yourself getting close to that edge and you whimper when he stops again. 

“Kurt, please.”

“Baby, I thought you loved me. I don’t like you disrespecting my friends.” He pulls out, turning you around to face him as his fingers reach down again to continue their assault on your nub. 

You feel like you want to cry but you try to control it, not giving him the satisfaction. “He’s not your friend. I’M your friend. I’ve been your best friend since we were kids. I-I-I…” Kurt slides his length into you again, pumping slowly as his fingers pick up speed. He watches your face as it contorts in pain and pleasure. 

When he stops again, you feel your will give. You can’t take it anymore. “I take it back.” 

“What was that?”

“I said I take it back! I’m sorry, Kurt. Please, it hurts. I love you so much. I’m sorry.” You close your eyes as you continue to plead with him. 

Something in the atmosphere changes as his touches become gentler. He reaches for your arms, interlocking them around his neck as he grabs your thigh, lifting your leg up to his waist. 

Kurt thrusts into you again but he’s a lot less rough and more precise. The tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you every single time. When you finally open your eyes, they are met with his gorgeous honey ones. They are much softer now and filled with love for you. 

This is the man you fell in love with. You feel the coil about to snap and this time he doesn’t stop. Your body trembles in his hands as you cum hard around him. Kurt holds you against him as he chases his own high. His head falls on to your shoulder as he grunts, releasing ropes of his seed inside of you. 

You reach up, brushing his hair out of his eyes when he finally leans his head up to look at you. 

“Baby, trust me. This will all be worth in the end, I promise.”

You look in his earnest, hopeful eyes.

“Have you made any new friends yet?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me today.”

“It’s just cause people don’t know you yet.”

Oh, they were about to know him but no one would ever understand him or love him the way you did. After a couple of minutes, you finally nod your head. 

 “Ok, so what happens next?”

[asskickedbygirl]

The Johnny elevator smut was so hot omg. Can I request a smut with a fem reader where Bam’s having a bad day and he’s super frustrated so the reader kind of lets him take it out on her by having rough sex and then it’s fluffy at the end? Thank youuu

Release

[Bam Margera x F!Reader]

Desc: anon covered it!

A/n: glad you enjoyed going up!!! icl i do enjoy writing bam smut even tho this is kind of out of fic character but i do love dom x reader sometimes

warnings: smut (18+), p in v, sub/dom dynamics, use of safe word

1.9k words

⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ 

“Fuck!” 

You heard a yell from the yard. Looking out the window you saw Bam slamming his board down on the ground, angry expression on his face. You observed the way he kicked it and mumbled incomprehensible things under his breath, unbeknownst to the fact you were watching him from a few feet away. 

Bam was already pissed given the fact some asshole MTV exec had cut an entire episode of Viva La Bam, claiming it was “too vulgar for television”, as the email stated. You had to restrain him from writing a fairly strongly worded one back which only ticked him off more, resulting in him heading outside to skate though not even that was putting his mind at ease, only enraging him even further.

‘He’s quite hot when he’s angry.’ You thought, eyes drinking in his slim frame that was littered with tattoos.

You and Bam weren’t a thing, you guys were just friends. Well, friends that had quite a bit of pent up sexual tension. The feelings were only rising, perhaps even bursting, ready to be released. Released.

Bam pushed his hair off of his forehead, panting and glaring at the ground where his board lay when he glanced up to meet your stare from the dining room window. You didn’t look away immediately, instead prolonging the eye contact a little longer, a tiny smirk playing at your lips. Bam tore his eyes away, confused on why he was flustered all of a sudden but deciding to head back inside anyways.

“Hey.” You spoke as he shut the sliding doors with vigour.

“What are you still doing here?”

How polite.

“Dico said we’re watching a movie later, no point heading home.”

“Yeah well I’m not hanging out.” 

And with that, he was out the door, stomping up to his room, only enticing you to follow him.

Your fist tapped lightly at the door.

“I said I’m not hanging out.” He wasn't yelling, but it was clear he wasn’t exactly very happy either. 

You opened the door despite his protests, leading Bam to glare at you as he put on a fresh shirt.

“What’s your problem?!” He spat.

“I don't think I’m the one with the problem.”

“Can't you just fuck off? I’m already pissed about those fucking assholes in suits, do you want me to be pissed at you too?!”

“Well about that.” 

Bam narrowed his brows as you walked closer to him, hands behind your back.

“I have an idea.” 

Bam looked you up and down, completely clueless as to what you were going to suggest but still hoping deep down it would be what his dreams entailed. 

“Why don’t you take your anger out on me?”

“What like fucking yell at you or something?” 

He wasn't catching on, you smirked.

“No, not exactly.”

You stepped forward, slightly closing the gap between the two of you, seductive eyes looking into his. You lifted your arms up to wrap around Bam’s neck, his breath hitching and cheeks flushing at the close contact.

“Other ways.” You whispered.

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You smiled at the frankness, moving your face closer so your lips were brushing his, just about. 

“Well I know you've wanted me for a while, and I’ve wanted you too, and you’re angry. What better way to release than to fuck my brains out?” 

“Are you fucking with me?” Bam’s voice was low and shaky, unsure.

You leaned in and pressed your lips into his, grabbing his chin as you did so before pulling his face away, his eyes forcing back open. 

“What do you think?” 

Bam slammed his lips back onto yours, his hands already grabbing at your hips to pull you flush against his body, mouths and teeth clashing the rougher he went. You let him push you onto his bed, his hands already unbuckling his belt with desperate speed. 

“You want me to take everything out on you I fucking will. Take your clothes off.”

Despite your previous mannerisms of being all confident and domineering, this power shift sent vibrations down to your core, excited that Bam was already willing to take the reins and fuck you as hard as you both needed. You swiftly removed your shirt and shimmied your pants down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. Bam had his hand down his boxers, shirtless and pumping himself to get hard, watching you splayed out on the bed for him. 

“I said take your fucking clothes off.” He spat lowly, a completely new personality taking over.

It dawned on you he meant your underwear and so you slowly bent your arm around to unclasp your bra, letting it fall forward to reveal your tits.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Bam had no intentions of enjoying this show you were putting on, instead lurching forward to rip your panties off, throwing the ruined pair on the ground and pushing his fingers inside of you with no warning.

You let out a surprised moan, jolting up to rest on your elbows as his index and middle worked in and out of you at a rapid pace, your body convulsing as it adapted to the sudden pleasure.

“Give me a safe word.” Bam said, not giving up on working you up.

Your head had lulled back, too dazed out from his movements to understand what he had said until he stopped, fingers pulling straight out of you. 

“Give me a safe word or I stop.”

“Oklahoma.” is all you said before you felt Bam’s warm spit drip onto your cunt, fingers dipping into your folds.

You let out a breathy moan as he slipped inside of you once again, thumb pushing against your clit while his other hand gripped your waist to make you hold still. Your back arched as Bam’s finger began making curling upwards, hitting the spot you needed him to, your legs beginning to close.

“Keep them fucking open.” 

Bam used the hand that had been holding your waist to force your thighs open, thumb pressing into the soft flesh as you continued to squirm. As you were brought closer and closer to the edge, he removed his fingers abruptly, a string of his spit and your slick coating them. You let out a disappointed whimper from the lack of contact but it was quickly hushed by Bam’s wet fingers being shoved in your mouth. You moaned against them, sucking lightly to taste yourself on them. Bam removed them shortly, kicking his boxers off and clambering on top of you, hard dick pressing into your thigh.

“You wanted me to use you right?”

You nodded, eyes looking into his with lust-filled wonder. 

“Get on your hands and knees then.”

You bit your lip and complied, doggy style wasn't something you were used to but you were more than willing to partake in it if it meant hot dom Bam. Bam sat back on his knees as you moved into position, lining up with your core as soon as you were ready. He pushed into you quickly, barely giving a moment to adjust before he was slamming into you, hips snapping. He brought his hand to wrap around your throat, pulling you up by it so your ass could press firmly against him as he fucked you, the feeling still sore. 

“This what you wanted? This feel fucking good?” Bam was panting, rough fucking wearing him out already.

You struggled to respond with his tight hand squeezing your throat ever so lightly but lord did he feel good. Bam let go of your neck then, your face plummeting forward into the pillows that muffled your moans. He moved his hands to your hips, grabbing them and pulling you back towards him as he continued to move his hips at the fastest pace you’d ever been fucked.

As you left your face to press into the soft linen to suppress your noises, Bam wrapped his hand in your hair, tugging you up and moving his torso forward to speak into your ear. 

“I said, does this feel good?” He whispered sternly, the low voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“Y- Yes.” You whined out, mind fogging from the pleasure. 

“Fucked out already.” He laughed almost sadistically, hips not letting up as he dropped your hair, pushing the side of your face into the mattress. 

“Fuck those fucking fuckers in suits.” He babbled incoherently, laying out all of his frustrations onto you as he fucked you. 

“Do you want my cum inside of you?” 

Your face was being held down by Bam’s strong hand but you could hear his question still. You nodded, eyes screwed shut, nearing your orgasm as well.

“Fucking come for me first then. Need to feel that cunt tighten.”

You moaned as the vulgar words poured from his mouth, his fingers wrapping around to attack your clit. You lifted your head from where Bam had shoved you down after his hand moved, stifling your moans with the back of your own hand. 

“No, no. Lemme hear you. It turns me on.” Bam grasped your hair again, pulling you up to force you to let out your noises. 

You were at the edge almost immediately what with Bam’s fingers moving at such a vigorous pace.

“I’m gonna come.” You exclaimed in a moan, eyes beginning to water. 

Bam responded with nothing, only fucking you harder as you came around him, letting out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard yourself release, tears running down your cheek.

“Fuck yeah. You’re so fucking tight.”

Bam’s hand dropped from your core but his fucking never let up. In fact, his free hand could now resume its place on your hips, allowing him to shove you back on his cock even harder. You were insanely sensitive given the fact you had came just seconds previous and Bam’s speed was becoming too much to bear.

“Bam, slow- slow down.” You whimpered as he let go of your hair, head lulling forward. 

“What was that? I can't hear you.” Bam mocked, clearly no sympathy to be had.

“It’s too much. Please just-”

“Safe word or I keep going.”

You paused. Although the overstimulation was hard to deal with, nothing in you wanted Bam to stop his movements and so you stayed silent.

“That's what I thought. Take it like a slut.”

Despite his cocky remarks, Bam’s hips were beginning to stutter and his thrusts were at a more erratic pace. He was close.

“Gonna come in your pretty little cunt. You want that?”

You nodded through moans as the overstimulation turned to just stimulation. Bam squeezed your hips tightly, his thumbs sure to leave bruises as he dragged you down all the way, burying himself deep inside of you as he came with a load groan. You whimpered as you felt him release, finally release. 

Bam pulled out of you shortly after but still held you up, bending down to examine his cum that started to leak out of you. 

“Fucking beautiful.” He whispered as he pushed a finger inside of you again before you swatted your hand back.

“Enough, jesus enough.”

Bam laughed and complied, letting your body drop to lie on your side, your cheeks a bright red. He smiled as he moved closer to your face, planting a kiss on your lips.

“You good? I didn't go too far or anything did I?” 

You shook your head, kissing him back. 

“Just what I wanted. You feel better?” 

He nodded back, wiping the wetness off your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. 

“Gotta do that more often.” He grinned and so did you.

End.

@gnarkillknoxville @steve-osahottie @izzaaaaaa @jackassvivalabam03 @bambammargera @spoookyberry @jackussy420 @lovexjoe

[prairiedust]

one thousand days of destiel, or cas: fuckerupper of endings

Idk why I’m crawling out from under my woodpile to write this, except that it occurred to me that in three years I’ve not rewatched a single episode of Supernatural and have at least two dozen tags yet blacklisted on tumblr, and that I am still not okay about this stupid show.

I never tried to tie up the folklore/author themes I’d been geeking out about through the last seasons, neither as the show was ending nor afterwards. I’ve been simmering now for over a thousand days. I could not even write a complete sentence about spn for all this time, and so I just left that pot on the back burner and did other things. Finished my Master’s degree. Started a new job. Saw my oldest child graduate from high school and move off to college, and helped my younger child move on to sixth grade. Watched some other shows, got a new blorbo, saw some movies, started painting again, picked up a couple of new hobbies as I am wont to do.  

Today is the 5th of November, 2023. (ETA i sat on this for a bit.)

November 5th, 2020, was exactly one thousand and ninety-five days ago.

I see gifs from the show from time to time and I think to myself, wow, that scene/episode/series is completely irrelevant to my life now. I am fine and normal about everything. But if it really was, if I really was, it would not hurt so much to see the gifs and the lyric posts and the amvs when they aren’t caught in my tag filters. So maybe it’s time to get some things out of my head and onto paper.

I genuinely, nearsightedly, naively thought that since Dabb et al had been the ones writing the whole folk v author themes, and thus posing as someone we could count as being on “our side,” the folk-side of the postmodern audience, they’d honor that conceit, even to the very last shot. 

They did not.

And yet… they absolutely did.

Which hurts and is fucked up, but also it’s fine. It’s fine.

In the end, the only “folk hero” (by which I mean the only force in the spn universe capable of warping the threads of the story with any permanence) was Castiel. When Castiel left the story (of his own volition, if you can find a comfortable layer of this meta pie for that concept to rest in,) the writers reverted to God Mode. Because Castiel had been their freedom, their mouthpiece, their avenue for improvisation, and so at the end of the series…

well, we got You changed me/I love you

   •

and then we got “Cas helped.”

So much has been written about that pivot point, but genuinely I don’t give a rat’s ass about rewrites, producers, the cutting room floor, or COVID. It exhausts me, and I’m not beholden to writing about spn for grades or notes or any kind of other bullshit that would oblige me to do research.

I feel like… we got what we got.

So let’s criticize some media.

The Paradox: 

Cas imploded— went from flexing the narrative from within to being narrated by a force from without. And I couldn’t bear to wrap my head around that for a long time. It seemed that this “twist” was beyond cruel. That’s what he got. Vanished and nerfed. For saying ily. That was what happened when he was finally in focus, fully revealed. He lost. He was relegated, along with Jack, to become heaven’s Two Men and a Truck.

It was a trick, the whole “Chuck is a writer” plotline. The Author regained control of the character that had previously been acting independently. Very Pirandellesque, very frustrating, ultimately even tragic.

So, yes, thematically and critically, having Castiel give up his Agency for Characterhood– giving up his ability to create plot for a role as a character in a plot— was ‘literary’ brilliance. It cemented his status as a grand fucker-upper of the show in a way that any show writer “authoring” a requited destiel ending would not and could not have done. Even Jack, I believe, had been “manipulated” into god-hood from within the narrative. Jack was Dabb’s grand metaphor, he was a product of Author. Castiel was… well, he was a chaos engine from the moment he walked through those barn doors. 

To seal the metaphor, the writers ended up living that truth.

I really don’t know if I’m being cogent about this. I’ve been struggling to turn this idea into words for, like, ONE THOUSAND DAYS.

The folk-vs-Author themes becoming A Thing in The Supernatural Show was like a chemical reaction: once the ions had bonded, the resultant compound could not be separated back into the different materials. What on that screen was Author, what was “author,” ie show writer, and what was text-experiencer-as-author? Where did the Sam-as-magician arc go, what were we supposed to do with the semi-metatextual moments that Mary had, having been brought back into the narrative by Amara, not Chuck? Everything got so out of control. Add in a smidgen of secret-sauce-TPTB possibly superseding the author/Author, and what you get is that ridiculous mess of a final two episodes.

It’s not about the rusty trombone or the butt hole pleasures. It’s about love. And kids.

Thank you, hon. It really is. (The above line was left in this doc by my spouse. It is a quote from The 40-Year-Old Virgin. I’ll allow it.)

Anyway. It was hard to see past the sound and the fury of it all. 

*****

I was feeling nostalgic several months ago and took a swim in my old meta tags; I found a gem from season…10? Idk and idc, but it was from “The Things We Left Behind.” 

I compared Claire to Sleeping Beauty (a tale that got a lot of use in later seasons) and wrote: “I tend to think that Castiel’s entire arc is about desperate and unintentionally misguided attempts to Change The Ending of whatever story he’s shown up in” and reading that again really kind of sucker-punched me.

‘We’re making it up as we go’ was the crux of Cas’ existence. Remember that half-related story in Baby wherein Cas got himself hitched to the Djinn queen? Remember when Jack died and the Empty came to claim him in Heaven and Cas made that terrible bargain? The last-minute attempt to gank Lucifer that actually got him killed and sent to The Empty?

Time and time again, Castiel’s go-to for “changing the narrative,” for advancing his plot, is self-sacrifice. In Chuck’s house against the archangel. The Leviathan disaster. Saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer. The Bargain for Jack in Heaven. And those times it worked out. Not without great pain for both the other characters and for the viewers, but he always came back. 

And with each return, his motivation became clearer. (Picture your favorite screencap of Dean here.)

Cas’ love grew, crystalized, and then disappeared, like frost on the windowpane of a house on fire.

If they had continued the CasDean storyline, it would have ultimately been The Author IRL writing/creating/manifesting/materializing ‘destiel.’ And so by putting a torch to all of that architecture, they essentially gave everything to us. Unspoilt. Fingerprints wiped. Serial numbers scratched away. Jailbroken. Whatever floats your boat. 

The confession was both affirmation and abnegation. Symbolically, The AuthorTM had washed his hands of it, but with destiel out of the picture, The Author also got his ending.

This is why “Cas helped” felt like a ‘fuck you.’ If Cas was out of the narrative, why did he come back as one of Heaven’s real estate developers? It did not fit. 

And yet. It did. Because Chuck won. Chuck, or everything that an Author represents in television land– TPTB, showrunner legacies, multiple producers, a chaotic and treacherous and politically messy writer’s room, multiple incompatible or unresolvable MOs and visions— all that ends up being packaged and presented as a single unerring vision.

So I have to admit, although I don’t have to do it with any ion of grace, that in the end it was pretty fucking smart.

Destiel is ours. Destiel is the folk ending. The Author never got to touch it, never so much as breathed on it, was so far divorced from the concept that the absence thereof going forward hit us like a truck full of bricks.

Yes, it hurts that Dean was just left on the floor until the credits rolled, that there were no final words, no ensuing acknowledgement. 

I’ll go so far outside the Text as to address the ‘Dean can’t reciprocate’ direction from one of the scripts:

If Dean had made a single move onscreen. Uttered a word. In Despair or either of the other two episodes.

Destiel would have been claimed by The Author. 

Anyway. I’ve been collecting posts now and again under the tag ‘the endless folklore of supernatural.’ For three years, the fandom has continued to loot, to ransack, to graffiti, to create and re-create, to burn, to mix, and to distill. 

There’s all kinds of things in that tag, it’s sort of a kitchen sink of everything that I thought was even tangentially relevant to folk-Destiel and the postmodern experience of creating text as a reader/viewer etc. 

We turned a literary story based on an urban folktale back into folklore. 

And so it goes.

I doubt I will do much more analysis of this show, even if it comes back, and I unfortunately can’t touch The Winchesters. But I can’t say I never will. I just thought three years, one thousand days, was a pretty good place to leave a marker on the trail.

—

Epilogue: About The Winchesters:

I did not finish watching The Winchesters because of something wildly, randomly, but highly personally triggering that was built into one of the episodes; however I am very sorry that it was canceled or possibly ironically lost to the WGA-SAGAFTRA strike of 2023.

“What is the maddest thing a man can do? Let himself die.” That’s the clue that leads Castiel to his hidden grace in a copy of The Man of LaMancha in 10.18 ‘The Book of the Damned,’ written by one Robbie Thompson.

I noticed from the get-go that Thompson gave Carlos the last name Cervantez. He was nodding to the self-immolation of the last cadre of writers of Supernatural and stating clearly that he was holding a pen, not a match.

Want some very fun and amusing and wildly pertinent facts about the Don Quixote books?

The narrative conceit of Don Quixote IN THE FIRST PLACE LOL is that Cervantes claims to have found a manuscript by a historian named Cide Hamete Benegeli and Cervantes thought the story was pretty neat, if a little rough; Cervantes retells the story for us from what he’d read by that author, distilling the “original” into the book we experience as Don Quixote the Man of La Mancha.

The final words of Cervantes’ Part One are “perhaps another will sing with a better pick.”

Later, someone publishing under the pseudonym Alonso Fernandez de Avellaneda wrote their own part two, feeling that the original author was taking too long to get their ass in gear (or judging by their own preface they felt that Cervantes had not even done the original story justice in the first place. Which is A Mood.)

So when someone actually did have the audacity to run off with his characters and commit word crimes with them, Cervantes absolutely obliterated the dude in his own Part Two. 

Thompson left Spn after season eleven. But, lest someone think this is a commentary about fan fic, he also wrote the episode Fan Fiction. So anyway all the Cervantez-Cervantes business was certainly something.

[blocked-zombieartist]

”Wait, what do you mean, you’re sick?”

Here’s a little get well soon fic for @lindssaphire

 I strolled through the grand halls with a small bouquet in my hand. My love would adore these roses. They always did. Roses were their favorite! Soon I reached their door with my cargo and opened it with a flourish.

 “Darling! I’ve got someth-“ I stopped and cocked my head. A mound of blankets and pillows suggested they were still in bed. I glanced at my watch. It read 1:27 in the afternoon. Why the hell are they still in bed? I stepped forward and said their name tentatively. Nothing. They were laying on their side, facing away from me. I leaned over to get a better look, and I saw that they looked sweaty, but were subtly shivering.

 “My love? Wake up.” I gently nudged them until they awoke. I smiled softly as they rolled over groggily to face me. “Hello, gorgeous. What are you doing in bed? It’s 1:30 in the afternoon.” I murmured as I caressed their face. I leaned in to kiss them, and was surprised when they quickly turned their head away and protested. “What? What’s the matter? Wait, did I piss you off at some point?” My mind raced as I tried to remember my transgression.

 They mumbled, “No, no, Jamie. I’m sick.” The nasally rasp that accompanied the words backed it up. 

 “What? What do you mean, you’re sick? You’ve never been sick, not since I’ve known you.” I paused. “How long have you been feeling poorly?” 

~~~~~

 I knew exactly how to take care of my brothers when they were sick. I’d known them all our lives, and we’d all been sick more than once over that time. But this was the first time my partner was sick since I’d known them. I wanted to do right by them. I had made them as comfortable as possible before leaving them to nap more. I utilized that time to go get anything and everything I could think of that might make they feel better, be it physically or just emotionally. 

 I returned with a big cardboard box in my arms, full of supplies. Blankets, tissues, cough drops, an electric kettle, and their favorite movies.

 “Doll, I’m back…” I stepped in the room and set the box down on the end of the bed. They were awake now, and sat up to greet me, arms outstretched and making grabby hands. I melted inside. “You’re fucking adorable.” I said as I went to them and bent to hug them. Their skin was burning up. “My sweet baby…” I murmured. They pulled me down onto the bed with them. “Aww, is someone feeling cuddly?” I laid them down and tucked them in, and I laid myself down behind them. I spooned them. 

 “Thank you, Jamie…” they said to me.

 “You’re more than welcome, my love. This is my job. You don’t need to thank me.” I pressed kisses to the back of their shoulder and neck. I smirked slightly as they shivered. I knew that shiver was not from their fever. They scooted closer and nuzzled into me. I wrapped my arms around them and this time, we both drifted off to sleep.

[okskz]

Break.

elsy + chan

chan and elsy hit a point in their relationship that they never imagined, causing them to start having conflict.

this is part 1 of this elsy series. not too sure how many parts I’ll have but in the mean time just enjoy :) please feel free to leave feedback because it is always appreciated!

[8th member of got7/soloist]

elsy stood eagerly in the elevator as she waited for it to get on the floor chan’s dorm was in. it had been awhile since the two had seen each other, chan being busy with his schedule and traveling all over. but now, chan had a bit of free time to spend with the girl.

elsy had took a break from music after leaving her company. she left mainly at the fact she wasn’t given the proper support as she had in the beginning. she hadn’t been able to release new music and her only option was to leave. elsy felt as if she was letting her career go to waste if she continued to stay.

elsy was now walking fast and she was almost to chan’s dorm but before she could make it, chan was already walking out. “bang chan!” she exclaimed, smiling brightly at him. chan turned to her direction and instantly smiled when seeing elsy. the girl jumped on chan, wrapping her legs around his waist. “elsy! my love.” elsy hugged chan tighter, not saying a word. she missed being around him and it felt nice having him right in front of her.

chan put elsy down, the two going in for a kiss. “I’ve missed you so much.” she said, kissing him again. “it’s so nice to finally spend time with you.”

chan giggled, kissing elsy on the forehead. “I’ve missed you way more.”

“how are you doing?”

“great.” chan answered. “very tired of doing these schedules though. but it’s all worth it.” he smiled. “and you? what have you been up to?”

elsy sighed, “nothing if I’m being honest.” she answered. “I‘ve mostly been home. and also been hanging with yugyeom.”

“no new music?”

elsy shook her head. “as of right now, no.” the girl sighed again. chan gave her a reassuring smile. he knew she wanted to make music and perform again, and he knew how unfairly she was getting treated. “it’ll be okay, els.” chan said, giving her forehead another kiss.

“enough about this.” elsy clapped. “what do you feel like doing? we can go out to eat, maybe catch a movie, go shopping. you name it. I just want to spend time with you.” she smiled, wrapping her arms around chan’s neck.

“I’d love to do any of that stuff with you, els. but I have to work on new music. care to join me?” chan smiled.

elsy felt her smile drop. “you have to work on new music already?” she asked. “don’t you want a little break?”

“I can never take a break on music, els.” chan chuckled. “I enjoy it too much.”

elsy sighed. “you’ve been sighing a lot.” chan pointed out. “it’s okay if you don’t want to join me, els.”

“I haven’t seen you in awhile, of course I want to join you. but I was thinking we do other things besides being in the studio.”

elsy has always supported chan with everything he did, from work and just the person he is. she was always in the studio with him when he’s by himself and it’s late at night. she was always there for him. but recently, she felt like that’s all they ever do now. she wanted to do other things besides sitting in a studio all day or night.

elsy never said anything though, knowing how dedicated chan was to his work. but she knew she had to at least tell him how she felt.

and after spending almost all day there with him, elsy was growing a bit inpatient. “bang chan.” elsy said. the boy was too focused on his laptop to even pay attention. “bang chan.” she said again. still no answer. elsy sighed, walking over to him from the couch. “christopher.” he shook his shoulder finally getting his attention.

“w-what.” he said startled. “something wrong, els?”

“no. not exactly.”

“hm?”

elsy closed her eyes for a second, gathering her thoughts before talking again. “it’s just, we’ve been here all day. don’t you think we can do something else?”

“but I’m not done-“

“I know you’re not done, chan, but we can’t just always hang around in the studio. I don’t mind doing it once in awhile but all the time? you just have me here and we don’t do much.”

chan sat there, blank expression on his face. he wasn’t understanding. and that made elsy a bit ticked off with him. she missed the times where they would actually go out, not just sitting around while chan worked. “look, I’ll just go-“

“no!” chan shouted, startling the girl. “we can do something after I’m finished.”

“bang chan, we’ve been here for hours, let’s go out right now. you can save the work for later.” elsy said. she checked the time, seeing it was night time already. meaning she had wasted an afternoon.

“okay, at least let me finish-“

elsy shook her head. “no, chan.” this time she sounded stern. and chan took notice of her voice changing, staring back at elsy. “what’s wrong? you’re never like this, you’ve never had a problem being here with me-“

“because I keep it all to myself to not make you upset.” elsy cut in.

chan was taken back from elsy’s outburst. the girl could see how slightly upset how her boyfriend got. “what are you saying?”

elsy closed her eyes, sighing heavily as she opened her eyes. “what I’m saying is, I’m tired of being in the studio with you chan.” elsy answered. “this is all we do now, and I’m getting tired of it. I want to do more than just this. I enjoyed it the first couple of times but I don’t want to do this all the time.”

“but elsy, it’s my job.”

“I know it’s your job! but for once can you put your job to the side and put me first? you’re either away traveling or preparing for something. and the times you finally have some free time you just want to do this, chan.” elsy said, she stared into chan’s eyes intensely. “when’s the last time we’ve been on a date?”

chan was silent.

and that made elsy let out a small laugh of frustration. “wow, you can’t even name the last time we’ve had a date.” elsy could feel tears wanting to come down her eyes but she held them back as much as she could.

“I just care for my job elsy.”

“yeah, a little too much.”

“you just don’t understand.” chan said. elsy raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean I don’t understand?”

chan was silent again, eyeing everything but elsy. he knew she was staring at him, wanting an explanation of what he meant. and chan let the words slip out of his mouth. “you don’t understand because you haven’t been doing anything.”

elsy furrowed her brows. “what?” she said. “did I just hear you correctly?” it felt like a slap in the face for elsy, she knew chan knew her situation on why she wasn’t working.

“no, that’s not what I meant, that came out wrong-“

“so what exactly did you mean, bang chan?!”

chan could see the hurt in elsy’s eyes. but chan just couldn’t back himself up. he stood there, hesitating which only hurt elsy more. “please, elsy. I don’t need this right now.”

“oh poor you bang chan.” elsy shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry I just want to spend time with my boyfriend. but I guess you’re not on the same page since all you care about is your job.” elsy knew how much chan put effort into his work, and she didn’t want to sound selfish. but she missed chan. she missed how things were.

“I’m sorry too elsy, but I just can’t have distractions right now.”

“oh my god?!” elsy exclaimed. “so now I’m a distraction?” tears began to fall down elsy’s face. “I can’t believe you right now.”

chan realized he screwed up more as he was mentally face palming himself. “no, no-“

“I don’t want to hear it.” elsy grabbed her purse and keys to get away from chan.

“elsy, come back please.” chan grabbed her wrist but elsy shook him away. “let’s talk this out.”

“no! you said what you said bang chan.” elsy snapped. “I’m leaving since you don’t want any distractions. have a nice night.” elsy slammed the door shut, leaving chan inside the studio alone.

and he was pissed and frustrated, more at himself for not thinking everything he said through. because now he hurt elsy, and hurting elsy was something he never wanted to do now that he was in a relationship with her.

elsy on the other hand, went inside her car crying her eyes out. her and chan never really argued in their relationship so this was a first one. she didn’t know what to do.

she was confused and hurt. how did her wanting to spend time with chan and letting him now end up to this?

[itshelfiredean]

Dr. Dad & Nurse Sammy

DeanxDaughter!Reader, SamxNiece!Reader

Dean Winchester’s six-year-old daughter, Y/N, is playing with her toys, but she looks tired and bored. She sighs and looks up at her father, her sweet smile faded.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” Dean looked down at the girls tired eyes.

“I’m bored, Daddy.” Y/N reached her arms up in hopes of being held.

“Bored? That’s no good. This calls for Doctor Dad and Nurse Sammy.” Dean scoops her up and placed her down on the table that the brothers were sat at.

Sam looks up from his book, grinning as he catches on.

Castiel enters the room, looking confused.

“Dean, Y/N doesn’t need a medical procedure. If she did, wouldn’t she need anesthesia?” Cas approaches the Winchesters, his eyes never leaving the 6 year old.

“Trust me, Cas. This is a different kind of surgery.” Dean gently grasps her shoulders and lays her down on the table, with her head resting on a pillow Sam has placed.

“Alright, Doctor Dad. Shall we prep the patient?” Sam took his place next to his brother.

“Absolutely, Nurse Sammy.” Dean brushed his daughters loose hairs out of her face.

Dean gently cups his hand over Y/N’s mouth.

“Now, sweetheart I need you to count backwards from 10, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Y/N giggled as she kicked her dangling feet playfully.

“Here we go. Ten... nine... eight...”

Y/N counts down with him, her eyes closing as she gets into the game.

“And... she’s sedated. Ready to start.”

Sam and Dean begin their playful “surgery,” using mock medical terminology.

“Prepping the area... Scalpel.” Sam placed two fingers gently on the crease of her smile.

They both gently poke and prod at her, causing her to giggle more.

“I think we need 20 cc’s of tickles, stat.” Sam turned to Dean.

“Agreed. Administering the tickle dose.” Dean tickles Y/N’s stomach, and her laughter fills the room.

“Daddy, stop! I’m better now!” The 6 year old pushed their hands away, giggling uncontrollably.

“Not so fast, young lady. You just went through a very delicate surgery. You need to rest.” He gently pushes her back down as she tries to sit up.

“No moving. Doctor’s orders.” He pointed a finger at his daughter.

Castiel watches from the side with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Is she cured now?” The angel questioned.

“By the look of that smile, I’m happy in saying that the surgery was a success.” Dean answered, as he cradled his daughter against his chest and made his way to her bedroom. Hoping to finish a perfect day with a movie night.

~Ten Years Later~

Y/N, now 16, is sitting at the kitchen table, looking gloomy and depressed. Dean, Sam, and Castiel notice her mood.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean whispered, gaining the attention of his younger brother and angel companion.

“Doctor Dad and Nurse Sammy make a comeback?” Sam questioned, a Cheshire grin across his face.

“Dean, Y/N’s not a little kid anymore. I don’t think she’ll be very open.” Cas spoke up.

“Trust me, Cas. This is exactly what she needs.” The green eyed man patted the angel’s shoulder and snuck up behind the seat that his daughter was sitting in.

“Gotcha!” Dean yelled as she wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist and hauled her against his chest.

“Dad! What are you doing?!”

“It’s important, kiddo. It seems that your smile is in need of reconstruction.” Dean grinned as he carried her down the long hallway of the bunker, leading to the infirmary.

Sam joins them, grinning. Y/N struggles furiously, but Dean’s grip is firm.

“Come on, Abby. It’s for your own good.” Sam gently placed his hand on his niece’s shoulder in attempt to calm her down.

They drag her to the infirmary, where the room is set up like an operating theater. Y/N’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” She yelled in shock.

“Deadly serious. Nurse Sammy, prep the patient.” Dean handed his daughter off to Sam as if she was a rag doll .

Sam lifts her up and places her on the infirmary bed, in constant dodging of her flailing legs and arms.

“Hold still, my little stubborn patient.” Dean takes her wrists in his hands as he tries to hold her down.

“This is ridiculous!” The teenager’s attempts to escape never ceasing.

“It seems we have no choice. Alright, Sammy. 20 cc’s of tickles.”

Dean tickles her like he used to when she was 6. Despite her stubborn and defiant charade, Y/N starts laughing.

“Stop it, Dad!” She begs as her laughter overpowers her words.

They finally let her sit up, and Y/N’s mood has visibly improved.

“Remember, you need a lot of rest after such a delicate surgery.” Dean grabbed her hands and helped her off of the bed.

“You guys are ridiculous.” She giggled as she rolled her eyes, happy to have such caring people in her life.

~By Bitches~

[cecilysass]

Still Feeling My Father Ascend (2/4)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter Two

Memory: 1972

She likes the movie. She likes it because at first no one listens to the girl character, Bernadette, but she keeps telling the truth, and in the end, everyone has to listen to her.

“Ahab,” she says, in shock, as the end credits roll. “Are you crying?”

“This one always makes me cry, Starbuck.”

“Why?” She is truly curious, climbing into his lap, trying to see his face better.

“I couldn’t say, exactly.” He shakes his head, slowly. “It just gets to me, I guess.”

“But Daddy, is that all real?” She gestures to their TV set, and her small brow furrows. “It all really happened?”

“You know it did,” he says, smiling. “Saint Bernadette was real. Your aunt has some water from the spring in Lourdes. She showed that little bottle to you, remember?”

“But Daddy,” she persists, “how do they know Saint Bernadette really did see the Virgin? She was the only one who saw her. What if she only thought she saw the Virgin, and she convinced everyone else it was real?”

“The spring in the grotto healed people,” her father points out. “That’s the proof.”

Scully doesn’t say anything to that, but she thinks of how sometimes at school her classmates are convinced that wearing your pajamas inside out makes it snow, or that taking a piece of people’s hair and putting it under your pillow makes them fall in love with you.

“Has Aunt Olive used her water to heal anything?”

“I don’t know, Starbuck. You should ask her, I guess.”

“If the water heals everyone,” Scully says, “then why do we even have medicine and doctors? Why don’t we just give out bottles of the spring water to everybody in the whole world who’s sick?”

Her father rubs his hand over his mouth, as though he is hiding a smile. Scully balls her hands into fists anxiously. She doesn’t want him to think her questions are funny.

“And—Aunt Olive has that big thing, that wart on her neck,” Scully continues earnestly, lowering her voice. “Why wouldn’t she use the water to heal that?”

Her father bursts out in an open guffaw, then tries to keep his face more serious.

“Why are you laughing?” Scully asks. She feels her cheeks go pink.

“I’m not laughing at you, Dana, I promise,” he says. “I just love how you think.” He ruffles her hair. “Personally, I think there are rules, Starbuck, like onboard a ship, and God’s a captain who respects the rules.”

Scully nods, toying with the end of her hair, watching him.

Her father shrugs, gestures at the credits on the screen. “But they’re His rules. It’s His ship. And sometimes, on very special occasions, He decides to break them. We never know exactly why.”

“Why did He pick Saint Bernadette to see the Virgin?” she asks.

“No one knows,” her father says. “He decided she was worthy.”

After that, Scully occasionally daydreams that God has given her a special task, that she has been considered worthy.

January 1994

Mulder doesn’t have a bottle of wine, for which he is very apologetic. He can offer her only the same inexpensive powdered hot cocoa that she herself purchased for him a few hours ago. He also has no marshmallows, whipped cream or flavored liqueur.

But he is being extremely solicitous, especially for him. After her hot shower in his mostly clean bathroom, he manages to find her an entirely clean sweatshirt and pants. He also provides her with a blanket, which she wraps protectively around herself on his couch. He carefully carries a mug of hot cocoa from the kitchen, passing it to her with an eager eyebrow lift.

“Comfortable?” he says. “Need something else?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she says with almost comic formal precision. She isn’t used to receiving the full blast of Mulder’s personal attention. Not for the first time in the past few weeks, it makes her uneasy.

She takes a cautious sip of the cocoa as he wanders over to the window, bending his blinds down to look out at the snow.

He whistles. “Wow. Can’t see a damn thing,” he says. “Looks like we’ll be here until spring.” He turns and flashes her a winning smile. “Just kidding, Scully.”

Dana, he had said, just two days after her father died. Dana. He’d said it more than once. Her first name sounded unnatural from his lips, like he was an actor saying the wrong lines from the wrong play. Then he’d touched her cheek: like a family member, like a lover. All wrong. All out of place.

He crosses back to lower himself onto the couch next to her. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

She eyes him suspiciously. “I don’t especially want to watch The Spirit of Seventy-Sex, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Please. I would never suggest that. It’s January, and that’s a Fourth of July film.”

She has a saucy rejoinder ready — “That one really puts a whole new spin on ‘the British are coming’” — but she comes to her senses and bites her tongue. She needs to make herself a whole new set of rules for Mulder.

They settle on turning on the TV. The local news has worked itself into a fever pitch over the blizzard, proudly flashing broken records over the screen. “Stay in, stay warm, and stay safe,” the meteorologist warns metro D.C. sternly. “Dangerous conditions out there, and those temperatures are no joke.”

“You should have listened to this wise advice,” Mulder says, making a tsk-tsk sound and wagging his finger from the other end of the couch.

Scully rolls her eyes and burrows further into the blanket. “Let’s find something else to watch, please.”

Mulder flips through the channels, pausing occasionally to gauge her reaction and determine if something appeals to her. He lingers briefly on figure skating, but she keeps her face impassive.

He stops again on “The Love Boat.” She sends him a withering look. “No? Okay,” he says. “I thought everyone liked Love Boat.”

She dismisses the home shopping network and People’s Court with a terse shake of the head. He clicks quickly past a series of cartoons and kids’ shows, apparently finding them not worth asking about.

When he lands on a young woman’s face in a black-and-white film, Scully hears herself say, “Wait.”

The young woman on screen wears a pale veil, her face heart-shaped and beatific.

Scully remembers this, remembers this so well. She remembers sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against Ahab’s leg.

“Leave it here,” she says, her voice ragged.

The dark-haired girl is speaking with a stern man in an office. “Once you can mistake a dream for something real,” the girl tells the man, “but not six times.” Her face is swathed in light; her eyes shine unnaturally.

“Scully?” In her peripheral vision she is aware that Mulder is staring at her. “What is this?”

“It’s just…” Scully purses her lips. “It’s my dad’s favorite movie. You don’t see it a lot these days, so it‘s a strange coincidence that it should be on.”

“Oh.” Mulder turns to look at the screen for a moment. “What is it?”

“The Song of Bernadette,” Scully says. “From 1943. Jennifer Jones. Have you seen it?”

“No,” Mulder says. He stretches out his legs, sticking his feet up on the coffee table, and he looks over at her. “But it’s about Bernadette Soubirous, right? St. Bernadette of Lourdes? I know the story.”

“Do you?” Scully raises her eyebrows.

“Of course,” he says. “It’s an X-file.”

Scully’s face blooms into a smile. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess it is.”

Mulder apparently takes that as reason enough to recite the facts of the case. “Bernadette is an innocent young girl who meets the Virgin Mary in a grotto in Lourdes. No one believes her, because small minds always fail to grasp encounters with the numinous. Right?” He innocently bats his eyes at her. “The spring in the grotto develops miraculous healing powers.”

“That’s the story,” agrees Scully.

“The faithful claim the water has the power to heal in real life, too.”

“They do,” Scully says. “Someone brought my Aunt Olive back a flask of it once from France.”

“Do you? Believe it has the power to heal?” He leans back to see her face fully, as though this is a question he is very interested in.

Scully doesn’t feel like having this conversation with him, like exposing her conflicting feelings to his scrutiny. “Do you?”

“No,” he says, leaning back his head against the couch. “It’s sheer hagiographic fabrication.”

“Ah, so there are some things you don’t believe in.”

“And some, it would seem, that you do.”

His statement hangs uneasily in the air like a forbidden apple on a branch. Scully is afraid to touch it, knowing that it could lead them to talking about the Boggs case, afraid of the questions that might knock loose.

She turns her eyes to the TV again, to poor innocent Bernadette trying to convince the world she’s seen an otherworldly visitor.

“I always thought it was a strange movie to be my dad’s favorite,” Scully adds softly. “Not a movie I would have ever guessed he’d love, if he hadn’t told me himself.”

“Why’s that?”

“I would’ve thought he’d prefer a war movie. Maybe a western,” she says with a shrug. “He wasn’t an especially sentimental man.”

“Was he religious?”

Scully considers. “Yes, in his way. He went to Mass, he prayed over meals, he did the things Catholic fathers do. But it was my mother who cried at our First Communion. It was her who helped us with catechism. She’s the one who talks about the saints and Our Lady like she knows them.”

She shifts around until she is facing Mulder. His head is lolling back against the couch, but he is watching her with his intent green eyes.

“But when my dad watched this movie, it was remarkable — he would become quiet, his eyes would actually well up with tears,” she tells him. “He was so… moved by Bernadette’s belief, her suffering. It seems out of character for him, looking back.”

Mulder smiles gently at her. “People are contradictory and complicated.”

“Yeah,” Scully nods. “Yeah, they are.”

His eyes hold hers. Scully has the disquieting thought, looking into Mulder’s eyes, that she might never in her life have the strength of belief of either of her parents. Nor of Mulder, either. Maybe her fate is to live always in principled doubt, in the shadow of others’ certainties.

Abruptly she breaks eye contact with Mulder to look back at the screen. She finds to her horror that her vision is blurring. She blinks quickly, but she knows it will only be seconds before Mulder notices her tears. She is filled with regret, telling him that story. It’s exactly the kind of thing she should be avoiding, for her own good.

Mulder doesn’t have a chance to see she’s crying. Just at that moment, everything stops.

The room is plunged into silent darkness.

“Scully?” comes Mulder’s voice into the blackness.

&&&

Phone pressed to his ear, listening to the automated message for Dominion Power, Mulder stares towards the feeble gray light radiating from the window. He can barely make out Scully’s slumped silhouette on the couch.

He clicks the phone off abruptly. “It says power is out for 770 households in Alexandria and Fairfax County. No update yet when it might come back on.”

“Not great news,” comes Scully’s tense voice. “It’s going to get very cold in here very fast.”

“Hmm,” he agrees. He looks around the room critically, wishing he had a fireplace. His poor fish, he thinks wistfully. Not meant to survive in the frozen food section.

“I suppose we could risk driving your car,” Scully considers. “We could try for a hotel with power—or my place.”

Mulder walks to the window again and peers out to a haze of white static. “The weather does not look cooperative, Scully. It’d be worse to be stranded in the car.”

He turns to face her. The pale glow from the window allows him to see Scully’s expression more fully: she seems to be growing resigned, accepting this reality stoically. “Okay,” she says, tightening the blanket around her a little more. “Then what’s our plan, Mulder?”

“This happened once or twice growing up,” he says, trying to sound confident. “Nor’easters on the Vineyard knocking out our power. This is the drill: you pick one room, shut off the rest of the place, wrap yourself up, stay still, and try not to lose body heat.”

He sees Scully’s throat bob, an almost imperceptible swallow. “Fine,” she says. “Seems reasonable.”

“Living room makes the most sense,” Mulder suggests. “With a way to get to the bathroom when necessary.”

“Show me where all your blankets, bedding and towels are,” Scully says with a sigh that is barely a breath. “You’re not supposed to be lifting things.”

In another half hour it's accomplished, more or less. They have shut all the doors to the living room and stuffed towels underneath for more insulation. Scully has dragged every piece of bedding Mulder owns—or every bit she can find, anyway—into a pile in the living room.

The temperature is already changing. Scully has helped herself to a red scarf he’s owned since he was at Oxford. She stands in the center of his living room now, scarf wound around her neck, and she stares at the pile of bedding.

“The best thing is probably…” She trails off. “It would probably be better for us to stay more proximate to one another. Body heat is valuable.”

Her eyes fall speculatively on his sleeping bag, lying innocently there next to the pile. It’s an expensive sleeping bag, designed for serious camping and backpacking, and he has used it only a handful of times, preferring to use the Bureau’s equipment while on a case. Once upon a time it had a matching mate: a hers version to go with the his. The pair had been a gift from his father, who no doubt thought that Mulder and his FBI agent fiancée would enjoy an adventurous hobby like backpacking. But Diana left, and so did any notion of camping, and so did the matching sleeping bag.

Now there is only one. And the idea of shimmying inside, completely flush to his prim and serious new partner’s body, makes his stomach tighten nervously.

“Are you suggesting… the...?” Mulder says, gesturing to the sleeping bag, unable to completely keep the unease from his voice.

“No,” she says quickly. “No, that’s a last resort. Maybe we could sit side by side on the couch. Insulate with bedding. It might be hard to sleep, but…”

“I doubt I’ll be sleeping tonight anyway,” Mulder says. “Yeah. Come on. Let’s cuddle up, Scully.”

&&&

They sit on the couch close together, so that the warm sides of their legs and torsos touch. Scully pulls one of Mulder’s quilts over their laps, tucking it in around them, and Mulder unzips the expensive sleeping bag, which he drapes around their shoulders. Scully piles some more of his bedspreads and sheets around them, trying to create some barriers against heat loss.

Sitting pressed into him, she can feel the reassuring flow of Mulder’s personal body heat: radiating from his shoulder, his hips, from his long legs, from his abdomen. She edges slightly closer, trying not to feel strange about it.

Mulder has a distinctive smell; she’s noticed this before, sitting next to him in cars, planes, in motel rooms. It’s probably the scent of some deodorant or aftershave or product he uses, but she’s overwhelmed with it now, coming off of him and emanating from his bedding. A slight spice, something woody. Her subconscious associates it with challenge, with argument, with excitement, with feeling well matched. She frowns.

Mulder glances down at her, shifting his position to try to see her better in the low light. “How’s this?” The closeness of his voice, its soft cadence, startles her.

“Fine,” she says, clearing her throat. “I’m warm for now.”

“Me, too,” he replies, nodding cautiously.

Human bodies are warm; this is just a reality. Scully knows that this is the most sensible course to take. But this isn’t what she wants at all. She wants professional, she wants impressed respect, she doesn’t want curling up with a boyfriend on a ski trip.

“Looks like we have some time to kill,” he says lightly, seeming to settle into the nest of blankets. “What do you want to talk about, Agent Scully?”

Scully considers. “Oh. I know. I’ve been meaning to tell you—we still haven’t finished the paperwork from the L’Ively case from before the holidays. There’s a set of additional forms to do when you work in tandem with international law enforcement. We should deal with that right away, Mulder.”

She feels Mulder’s body tense slightly beside her. “Wow,” Mulder says. “What a fun conversation topic you’ve landed on, Scully. Paperwork and Phoebe Green.”

“It’s on my mind, Mulder. We can’t let it go undone much longer.”

“Fine, fine,” he replies. “Do we want to do it right now? Seems like it’s going to be a little hard to do without a computer or a light.”

“No…of course not.”

“Okay then,” he says. “When we’re back in the office, we’ll do it.”

There’s a moment where they say nothing. Mulder shifts around, as though he’s uncomfortable. Somewhere out on the street, Scully hears an ambulance siren. She wonders how it’s managing to make its way down the ice-choked roads.

“Listen.” His change of tone immediately worries her. Too kind, too tender. “I know that you don’t want me to ask,” he says. It’s her turn to tense now. “But how have you been doing, Scully? With your father, the Boggs case—”

“I’m okay, Mulder,” she says. “Really. I’m doing fine.”

She hears the soft hiss of his inhale. “I think I was too hard on you during the case.” She turns her head to see his face better in the dim light, and she can make out that he’s closing his eyes. “I don’t know why. I said that stuff to you—about being afraid to go on the record sounding like Spooky Mulder.”

“Mulder, you weren’t—”

“No. I really think I was.”

She’d believed Boggs, even though she hadn’t wanted to. She’d been convinced by him singing her parents’ song, she’d followed his tips, even though Mulder thought they were bogus. All of that makes her hideously embarrassed now, makes her cheeks inflame, and she’s grateful for the dark.

“It wasn’t fair to accuse you of being afraid to sound like me,” he says. “On multiple occasions you’ve put yourself and your reputation at risk for even associating with me.” He releases a small bitter huff of a laugh. “Shit, I don’t even really understand why you do it. I don’t have any right to question you. I’m just … sorry I said that.”

His voice is rough, and she feels something well up in her chest in response, something so powerful she can’t identify what the feeling is. She swallows it back. She’s suddenly aware, too aware, of the contours of his long body next to hers. He’s an inconveniently good-looking man, Mulder. Scully wishes he were not quite so overtly attractive.

“It’s fine, Mulder,” she says, as evenly as she can. “I understand why you said it.”

“No, it’s not fine. Especially because you’re grieving. I’m just trying to say that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says suddenly. “I made a mistake. I thought Boggs was something he wasn’t, and I don’t want to dwell on it. Lesson learned.”

He shifts in place again, clearly agitated. She braces herself for more questions.

“What lesson is that, again?”

“My personal life,” she says firmly, “needs to stay out of the work. And work out of my personal life. Or I’ll be prone to irrational decisions.”

He makes a thoughtful humming noise, considering her statement, and because he’s so close, it sends sympathetic vibrations through her arm and shoulder. She feels hairs stick up on the back of her neck in response.

“You mean like I am?” he says, after a moment. There is no resentment in his voice. He’s perfectly matter-of-fact.

She turns to look at him, but in the waning light she can barely make out his expression.

“Oh, Mulder, no,” she says. “I wasn’t thinking of you. You said it yourself. My personal feelings were clouding my judgment in this case.”

“No,” he says. “That’s not what I said, Scully. I said being back to work without time to process your loss could be clouding your judgment in this case. That’s not the same thing at all.”

“I think it makes me a less effective agent,” she says. “When I let … too many other things in.”

“That’s interesting.” Mulder’s tone is somber and difficult to read. “Because I think it makes me a better agent. Or more accurately—I think it’s the only way I know how to be an agent.”

She thinks of his haunted eyes, sitting on the floor of the motel in Bellefleur, telling her in monotone about his sister. She thinks of his broken voice on the tape recorder, under hypnosis, describing Samantha calling out his name. She thinks of his vulnerable expression when he listens to Phoebe Green giving the facts of a case.

“You know it’s true, Scully,” he says, a trace of self-deprecating humor in his voice. “I have absolutely no professional boundaries.”

“It’s different for you,” she says softly.

“Because I’m Spooky Mulder?”

Because you’re a man, she thinks. Because you’re tall and wear ties and people respect you on sight. Because you’re a profiler, who trades on personal connections with others. Because you have no personal life, really, because your professional life is your personal life, so what would there be a boundary between anyway?

“Because belief is your professional strength, and belief is intrinsically personal,” she says.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Well, Scully,” he says, “that’s kind of a flattering way to put it.”

&&&