#if i stress around about replying to everyone “equally” or how much time it takes me and shit it takes the fun out of it for me and makes me

[blbcabelts]

gonna try to work on stuff i owe, so sorry for delays and people who have been waiting for things. life's been lifing lately and sometimes i get tunnel vision and sometimes i just have muse for some things and not others. ✌️

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights I Chapter 10

Satoru Gojo × Fem!Reader × Suguru Geto

This is a dark/yandere fic that features upsetting themes and it is canon divergent. Updated every Wednesday.

ABOUT: You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You were starting to feel a little overwhelmed with how much attention you had to divide between so many people and then in the midst of it all, something went terribly wrong.

TRIGGER WARNING: Extremely dubious consent/sexual content/coercion/foreplay

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

10. Just “Friends”

Back home at last, you chose to lay in bed until around four in the afternoon as you muddied your own mind with conflicting thoughts—trying to, hoping—to make sense of everything that had happened so far.

You weren’t quite looking forward to socialising with someone new, but you figured that if they were Shoko approved, then it was likely absolutely fine, so come the correct hour, you unstuck yourself from bed and entered a better state of mind.

Shoko introduced you to an equally nervous looking woman around her age standing right behind her. She was quite pretty, you thought as you looked at her; long dark hair and a scar over her face, kind eyes overlooking her features.

“This is Utahime,” Shoko said as she introduced you to her, “and Utahime, this is [name].”

You both awkwardly said that it’s nice to meet each other as you got settled on the sofa, Utahime brought out a couple of beers from a plastic bag as Shoko opted for a glass of wine instead.

“Any preference?” Utahime asked you, trying to be polite.

“Beer would be nice,” you accepted, not quite feeling the mood for heavier alcohol so soon.

She nodded accordingly in response as she cracked open two cans, seeming quite happy to share.

The conversation for the most part was carried initially by Shoko as you both carefully crossed the barrier in getting to know each other while you resisted the urge to spill too much of your trauma too soon, avoiding a repeat of the last time you spoke to new people.

When full comfort had been achieved, a mutual annoyance for Satoru emerged after a while of talking. Nothing too accusatory, but Utahime’s history with him seemed to paint him as a leading cause of her own stress while Shoko joked that he caused her smoking habit.

You didn’t really have a strong opinion on him just yet, but it was interesting to get to know him through the opinion of others. You wondered it with even Suguru before, thinking about the side he allowed you to get to know—thinking if Satoru was doing something similar to you.

Utahime and Shoko clinked their glasses and cans alike, announcing cheers for a peaceful evening and new company, because Shoko was right—you both did get along.

This newly formed comfort however was relatively short lived as soon as Satoru entered through the door, the celebration seeming to have been some type of summoning ritual for him instead.

“Hang on a sec,” Shoko said as she suddenly sat up, “how’d you get a key?”

She didn’t like that Satoru could just enter her apartment, choosing to come and go as he pleased. Her home was a sacred sanctuary for her own approved company and if he wanted to visit, he’d have to ask the same way as everyone else.

Utahime stared in mild disbelief, now wondering if she had managed to somehow hex herself as she stared bitterly off into her drink.

“Aww, don’t act that way~” Satoru purred as he continued to stroll inside, his hand arrogantly extending to reach out for someone to take hold of it, “we just need an extra person to get our usual table, otherwise they’ll just sit us at the smaller, worse table again.”

“Tough shit. I’m not abandoning Utahime to go be a table filler,” Shoko replied as she rolled her eyes, her hand playfully slapping his own away from her sight.

“I’m not going either,” Utahime replied.

“I-I can go otherwise?” you offered, presenting yourself as a sacrifice. You didn’t actually mind as it felt awkward enough already to third wheel between Shoko and her friend, since you could give them both a chance to catch up as you reconnected with the two people you already were familiar with.

“Don’t stoop to their level,” Shoko said, catching onto your wrist as you stood up, “let them suffer.”

“Ah, but she offered~” Satoru sang, tugging you away to the front door.

“I-It was nice to meet you, Utahime!” you called out as you quickly found yourself dragged outside into the stairwell, barely having time to grab onto your bag and shoes.

Suguru stood outside as he waited, his back leaning against the wall with a knee bent to balance himself.

Satoru walked down first as you followed, Suguru closing in from behind as he watched you go downstairs. In truth, this was his plan all along because he knew that Shoko would be occupied with Utahime and when Satoru showed up at his own place wanting to hang out, he knew that his friend was still burdened with clan responsibilities so he could still end his night with you—if he could help it.

He still felt some conflicting feelings about you getting closer to Satoru, which was exactly why he chose to hang out with him tonight in tow, wanting to keep tabs as to what you were up to at all times to make sure that nothing else blossomed beyond that kiss.

He did seem to understand though, that you didn’t think that the kiss itself was genuine so in his mind, what he was doing was closer to prevention; ensuring that Satoru didn’t try to talk you into doing anything else.

(While Suguru himself talked you into other things.)

You continued to walk in between the two of them to the bar, fully unaware at what festered away in the back of their minds. Suguru’s hand brushed on and off around your hips, guiding you a certain direction as you passed through thicker crowds. Satoru on the other hand occasionally would pull the two of you in as he walked and talked, sensing that you didn’t pull back as much anymore.

In reality, you were slightly buzzed from the maybe two cans of beer you had. They were tall cans and you didn’t quite care to push either of them away, leading them both to have the same type of curiosity invade their minds; could they go even further?

You settled off into the booth you got to know them both at on the night it had all began, sitting opposite with an empty spot beside you instead. Suguru ordered a bottle of sake for a change, pouring the three of you a glass each.

The topics of discussion were trivial for now, at least the ones that you could keep up with anyway. Things like your opinions on Utahime and the discussion of what Satoru was up to for the most part of the day occupied the conversation.

Then at some point during it all, Satoru got a phone call that he couldn’t avoid, zoning off into the distance as he talked himself through it.

“Just my luck,” Satoru sighed as he ended the call, “I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow.”

His tone sounded a little resigned but he tried to smile through the annoyance he harboured, refusing to sour the mood. He didn’t want to be constantly away, especially not during what was supposed to be his time off—but he wasn’t in a position to refuse his responsibilities either.

“Think they’ll bother you this much when work starts up again?” Suguru asked him.

“Probably not, no,” Satoru replied, “I’m probably being pestered so much because they know I have time to spare.”

“Must be difficult being so important,” Suguru teased him.

“You know me, the strongest and the most important,” he continued to joke even if his demeanour did continue to dampen.

When he left, the staff asked you both to downsize to a smaller table anyway to make room for the other customers as the establishment quickly filled out with more and more customers. Suguru didn’t really mind this development as he continued to top you up more, slowly drinking his own glass as you continued to finish off one glass after another, finding yourself a little bit too tipsy to think properly.

It was then that he moved just a little bit closer, playing the current situation into his hands with successful ease this time.

“You know, my place isn’t too far from here,” he spoke deliberately, allowing dangerous words playing off of his tongue in a tempting melody, “Shoko’s probably still busy with Utahime, probably best not to disturb ‘em,” he leaned a little forward as he spoke, “feel like relaxing at mine for a bit?”

You hesitated initially, wondering if by accepting that you were accepting something that you shouldn’t be. You didn’t want to lead him any more than you already had, either.

“I have my own room at Shoko’s you know, I can just wait it out there,” you replied, trying to establish a boundary right away.

“Yeah but, you wouldn’t want to impose right? Besides, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, [name],” he continued to say, coaxing you into his reach, “it would be just for a little while, we’d both sober up and I’ll even walk you back.”

“I mean…” you continued on as you started to slightly panic, your gut instinct telling you to pull away.

“I do this all the time with Shoko and Satoru,” Suguru continued to lie, knowing fully well that he doesn’t really allow anyone into his home, “I just think you need to relax a bit, that’s all.”

“B-but, doesn’t it seem weird if I go back with you while I’m this drunk?” you asked.

“Why would it be weird?” he asked, his voice hushed, as if he didn’t want to be heard by others.

“B-because, like, I don’t know-“

Suguru interrupted you as you spoke, trying his best to remain patient while he had you all alone, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. We don’t do anything bad, we’ll just watch a movie or something to wait it out.”

“B-but-“

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked you, seeming a little colder.

“I-I mean, I guess I do…” you considered it again, foolishly trusting him to not do anything just because he said that he wouldn’t, the alcohol clouding your judgement.

“Just to unwind, yeah?” he repeated himself, luring you in. “It’s not like I’m asking you to spend the night, right?”

“R-Right.”

Still, some type of danger lurked. You were agreeable right now, drunk and easily swayed. Some type of looming threat filled his all too promising tone, seeming almost deceitful.

Your own gut instinct was telling you to reject him a second time, a third time if you really had to do so—but you didn’t do a single thing.

Instead, in the peak of your inebriated judgement you chose to trust him because he was your friend and because he promised you something so simple and yet so major.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

At least not like that.

(Would he?)

***

The walk back with Suguru felt strangely quiet but it was relatively a short journey just as he had promised you. He kept your body steady as he walked you back to his home, keeping you from tripping over your own feet.

To some extent, he wondered if he should actually be taking it this far with you given that you couldn’t even walk straight—but he wouldn’t be forceful, he’d only go as far as you’d let him.

His place was probably the most central out of all of the places you had been so far, not counting Satoru’s place as you hadn’t yet been there.

Suguru continued to carefully handle you as he sat you down on his bed, his movements feeling all a little too personal and calculated. His hand drifted back to your thighs to test the waters of your own lacking sobriety as his other hand swooped in to meet around your waist.

“So, [name], I’m sorry but I gotta ask you something,” he spoke up after a short moment of silence, doing his best to continue to keep his tone as kind as possible, not wanting to scare you in any way, shape or form.

“Huh?” you replied, suddenly catching onto the idea that he might have wanted something from you, only just now registering that his hands were on you, too.

You were still trying to keep as soberly passing as you could be, but the strange mood and the new environment felt disorienting, even if you had already been in here before.

“You haven’t been with anyone, right?” he asked you as his eyes locked onto yours, the question he asked you seemed important to him for some reason. “You’ve not slept with anyone?”

Usually, he didn’t even care about this sort of thing—but something about you being being one was making him go crazy, in an almost possessive kind of way.

It felt wrong for him to admit it, but he felt entitled to you—not just for a quick fuck either, but something permanent.

He wanted you.

“Yes, but don’t laugh-“

“—I’m not asking to make fun of you.”

“Then why?”

He sighed as he looked back at you, wondering if it was best to just let you fall asleep or to take you back to your apartment and forget that this conversation almost ever happened.

But something told him to hold onto you, wanting to see just how far it could all go.

“I have a dilemma with you, that’s all it is,” he admitted, scooting a little towards you so that he sat closer. It was difficult for him to get the right words out as he had to find a reasonable way to explain that he didn’t want others to get close to you, to make you understand exactly what type of madness was going rampant through his head.

It was difficult to form something coherent that didn’t sound like he wanted to use you, because that wasn’t his intention at all.

“A dilemma?” you asked, your words slurring against your tongue.

“Don’t get with anyone else,” he asked you, the hold he had on your thigh seeming to tighten as he talked, his other hand pulling you closer as he dared tempt something he might regret, “it makes me unwell just thinking about it, I don’t even know why.”

Your words initially got caught in your throat as you failed to produce a response—even currently drunk, you understood what he was trying to imply.

And yet, not a single word could come out.

“Don’t hate me for saying it, but,” he sighed again, not letting you move let alone get away, “I want for you to allow me to…”

“No,” you finally choked out, not letting him finish off his sentence that he barely got to begin with. You understood what he wanted to ask you and you weren’t ready, even when this drunk, you knew that much.

Suguru stared at you as he took that rejection somehow in continued stride, fully well having anticipated that exact answer. He never once expected you to directly accept his offer, knowing that it would be insane for you to do so.

Instead, his plan was to actually ease you into it; to build up a gradual acceptance on your side, to get you close to him before anyone else could.

Dating was too slow—he wanted to get to you sooner, before you could catch onto what’s going on, before you could simply just leave.

It was wrong for him to do so, he knew it, but his own desire was overwhelming his sense of reason and he had to do it, or else he’d actually do something he regretted.

So to him, this was a more diluted path.

“Look, I’m the only one who really gets you, right? I’m the only one who can look out for you properly,” he continued to say, “and I’m the only one who would stick around with you after, [name], because let me make one thing abundantly clear—this world is cruel.”

You continued to zone out as he spewed out words he thought you were genuinely considering when the reality was that you were trying to keep yourself from passing out in his company.

You knew exactly where he was going with this, you weren’t that unaware and oblivious, his intentions were apparent from the very moment he put his hands on you in the car but you weren’t still entirely sure how he went from ignoring your texts from days on end, to wanting to get in bed with you.

Something must have happened last night, otherwise why else did he know to ask you certain things?

“I’m just saying, [name],” he said as he pinched your chin, making you face him directly, “Satoru got a taste, but he didn’t appreciate you, did he?”

“I-I mean n-no, but-“

“—did he make you feel anything?”

“He never meant to.”

“But don’t you want to feel something, anyway?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Because, I want you to feel things.”

He didn’t give you a whole lot to work with, nor any time to think for yourself as this conversation continued back and forth. His body continued to otherwise slowly towards you the same way, regardless of what you said, his lips seeking yours out as you moved back in retaliated discomfort.

Suguru continued to play the part of someone who appeared reasonable, nodding and pulling back to respect your decision. He was going to get to you either way, so your rejection didn’t hurt him because as long as he got with you before Satoru did, then he will have won.

He reconsidered his options as an almost unhinged expression manifested on his face, tightening his hold on your body as he surrendered to a flow of worrying ideas.

You internally panicked as this all unfolded, doing your best to perhaps foolishly hold onto his friendship while also pushing back on his advances, entering a point in your own psyche where you had no idea what you truly wanted either.

Certain words stuck, like Satoru stealing your first kiss and the fact that you felt nothing from it. Shoko got the title of your first real friend and Suguru sported the title of your first date, even if it was platonic. To circle back to Satoru, he had the honour of being the first guy you introduced to your parents; so no wonder it all seemed so confusing if he even liked you at all.

Your friends were out here taking away all of your firsts that were meant to be special moments shared with someone you could trust, instead being snatched away by this strange new group of people at every whim.

The lack of it all being genuine except for the friendship was starting to eat away at you, realising that such rapid progression was beginning to hurt you in a way you didn’t truly understand.

But… you were still left unsure.

Was he making such a big deal out of this because he actually cared—or did he simply want to play you, to get into your pants?

As you continued to hold off on his advances, he finally let you go of you to find your own way, intending to just vent to you instead. You’d listen to him whether you wanted to or not, so he took advantage of that opportunity as it happened.

“I’m just feeling some kind of way, [name],” he said, surrendering a chunk of his feelings.

He continued to stare at you, feeling a little guilty as he continued to do so—this damn feeling just wasn’t going away.

“I think I like you and I don’t want to share, that’s all.”

“I-I can kind of get it, I think,” you finally said after a while, giving him an opening of sorts if only by complete accident, “but,” you were to still quick to stifle, “I don’t want to do anything I might regret and that includes with you, too.”

He nodded as you spoke, completely understanding the exact sort of direction to take with you now much to your unassuming dismay; you were simply shy in his eyes, inexperienced and not quite used to this sort of thing and he could work with that—to make you his before anyone else could even have such a chance.

He wanted to stick around, to give into those strange and confusing feelings that have otherwise been eating him alive for the last couple of weeks.

“So, how about we start off slow?” Suguru suggested, moving into closing off the gap with you once again, “I don’t want you to regret a single thing with me.”

“I-I still don’t really know-“ you considered, not quite saying no directly. He wasn’t backing off even if he did drop the subject concerning your virginity, being pushy in a whole other sort of way.

“Don’t you like me too?” Sugur asked you, trying to find something that might not have been there.

“I-I do, but you know, as a frie-“

He cut you off again, not letting you finish that sentence, “Don’t say it. We’ve got something going on that’s better than just being friends.”

“W-we do?” you slurred a little.

“Can’t you feel it too?” he asked, leaning closer again.

“I mean, I don’t know, this is all too sudden for me and I don’t even know you that well,” you admitted, trying not to give into the pressure, you didn’t want to be something temporary or casual to someone you were trying to just be friends with.

“Then get to know me,” he whispered, “nobody else will appreciate you like I do.”

By then, you felt the booze hit your body a bit harder too now that it has had time to simmer; suddenly you couldn’t quite sit still, let alone agree or disagree.

He leaned into your lips without any protest on your end, despite your lacking consent to continue onwards; the smell of stale cigarettes exhaled into your mouth as he finally connected this kiss. His tongue pushing itself into your mouth, wrestling it with your own—your own muscle reluctantly following suit, despite not really knowing exactly what to do.

Your vision blurred as you barely kept up; you never did express consent nor give him the green light to continue, but every time you considered speaking up, your words would either slur or they never made it out of your mouth to begin with.

“Relax, you can keep your mouth still if it’s easier for you,” he said as he pulled back, his dark eyes intently focusing on you, “I’ll lead the way.”

Once again, he didn’t give you an opportunity to reply as he quickly resumed his pursuit of you; his mouth reconnecting with yours as his breath so hot and heavy rippled waves down your chin—his tongue flickering against the tip of your own as it fought back involuntarily, trying to move it away.

You felt as his hand then crept towards your own, grabbing onto the back of it as he slowly guided you into his trousers; straight past the waistband and slipping into an even deeper layer so that you could feel his, his—oh—were you feeling his—?

You froze as you now had a burning compulsion to pull away but your head pushed up against his face as his free hand held your skull in place—fingers weaving between interlocked strands of your hair, bringing you forward and tugging at your lips with his teeth, keeping you tethered to him.

Using the hand that held your own hostage, he moved you in so that your hand filled out with the length of his meat; your fingers wrapping around it as he then moved your hand up and down in a particular motion, encouraging you to keep up.

Maybe this was more than just taking it slow—but fuck, he was so turned on.

“Can you keep that going for me?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerously playful as he clearly was enjoying this moment.

You couldn’t vocally protest in the meantime nor shake or nod as he kept you subdued in a specific sort of state, so you kept it up either way because you were too overwhelmed to break away.

Not that he would allow for you to do so either way.

This was too good for him—he felt too good, so fucking good and he hadn’t even gone all the way yet. He wouldn’t yet. He knew now that he should savour this, to build it up.

He pulled further back from the kiss as your saliva trailed over your chin, webbing between his own—curious to see exactly how you were doing, realising that you might be struggling to keep up as someone with virtually zero experience with this sort of thing, while also wanting to get you used to this sort of state.

You continued to get into it and kept up to his requested pace along his shaft as he finally moved the hand that otherwise kept you glued to him to slip in between your legs, finally getting just a little further. He moved in smoothly, his hands brushing up the skirt and pushing past your underwear—his fingertips finally exploring the slick wetness you kept so well hidden.

To his amusement, he could see just how turned you actually were based on how soaked you were as well as the blush that formed on your face, even if your expression was a little unreadable.

In reality, you were equal parts confused and rosy red from the liquor settling in your system, keeping up but just barely.

You knew that this was wrong, that he never even asked you if this was okay to do, but you’ve also been so confused in this past couple of weeks.

You didn’t know what you were feeling.

“You’re doing so well, [name],” Suguru continued to purr into your ear, “wanna let me help you feel good too?”

“U-um,” you managed to reply, although still not using proper words.

“Trust me, I just want you to enjoy yourself,” he tried to reassure.

There it was; that confusing feeling again. You felt cornered as you considered accepting his quickly approaching advances, even given the position you were locked into. His hand rested near you, delicately parting you using his fingers—his touch was pleasant and warm and he wasn’t hurting you at all, but it still felt so terribly fucking wrong.

So, when he continued to once again move in despite not getting a verbal confirmation, he wrongfully read into your lacking say in the matter as a green light, thinking that because you weren’t screaming no or for him to stop despite your body language gesturing at something different was simply because you were shy.

Oh no, he didn’t even think to consider that you were simply too drunk to comprehend a single thing to begin with.

His fingers continued to slide into your heat, pushing over the opening and searching for something else in particular; your clit from what it felt like, focusing his efforts on there as his fingertips started to trace circles right around it.

Suguru enjoyed watching your reactions, his dark eyes finding light in your expressions and reactions—your own thighs quivering from his touch, trembling as you approached your limit.

He of course wanted to push you even further, wanting nothing more than to see you be needy and to moan his name; to beg him to let him fuck you, but he couldn’t be too greedy, at least not yet.

He’d slowly break you in, convinced that there was something about the chemistry that you both shared; feeling certain that there was absolutely something there, even if you couldn’t quite see it just yet.

So as he continued to gently swirl around your budded flesh and as your breathing quickly grew shallow; cheeks bruising cherry red, your insides coiling from his pressing touch—he too, got sent over the edge just from the sight of you alone.

At the same time though, that invading thought relented, daring him to go just a little further despite you not being ready; wanting nothing more than to taste your neck, to nip on your skin and petal behind lovebites, to push himself deep inside of you and feel just how soaked you were—but, but… he had to refrain, to hold himself back, at least for now, remembering that he didn’t want for you to regret him, so he finally pulled back from you.

His breath shuddered as you finished up on him, his face tightening as he clenched his jaw, eyelids fluttering as he started to finish, remembering to complete the same for you.

You squeezed your legs tight as you enveloped his hand, a rising need to finally seek out release; his circling motions finally coaxing out rolling pleasure as waves of warmth coursed through your body, a reaction that caused you to almost whimper breathlessly.

He pulled you closer as you finished, practically leaning into a hug against your body; his face rubbing against your own as he feverishly kissed you, his hand guiding yours as he finally got closer and closer to—but not yet, closer—to—

“Go a bit faster he breathed into your mouth, demanding release, “be a good girl for me—please, fuck.”

You listened to him as you accelerated the tempo against his dick; feeling a little more at ease from his continued flow of praise and encouragement until you felt his cock twitch, his breath hitch and finally empty himself at the mercy of your hand. Hot white ropes shooting without aim, causing a mess for you both.

He breathed in deep to recollect himself, still leaning against you before finally peeling himself away from you, allowing you to take back your hand and to find your ground again.

Guilt however then started to surface as he saw just how drunk you still were, leading him to finally seek out his own senses as he paused in his own tracks, leading you carefully to the bathroom before getting you cleaned up before returning back into bed with him.

There wasn’t a single chance in hell that you were going back home, even if he were to walk you all the way back and tucked you into bed himself.

He didn’t want a single person to be near you currently, not even Shoko and he trusted her.

So as you fell asleep beside him, your side occupying the usually vacant space against his chest, he felt a new sort of emotion plant itself and bloom, knowing that you were both in trouble if he continued to keep this up, just like that realisation many weeks ago.

Knowing fully well that he still wasn’t going to stop.

Not at all.

[dollerinna]

Me low-key thinking about yandere Hughie and Butcher again. cw: Butcher saying that an author should kill themself

We've already established that Hughie thinks Butcher's recklessness/instability will get you killed, Butcher thinks that Hughie's quote on quote 'pussy attitude' will get you killed.

Reader met Hughie first.

Hughie most likely met you at a comic or retro video game shop. He was stressed and thought maybe seeing some cool old stuff would help. He bumped into you and he was like 'wow'. He got this weird feeling. It was the same feeling he got when he first saw Robin.

He nervously got your number (somehow) and tried to keep it from the others.

Of course Butcher found out!

"Oi, ya twink, how you get this darling's number? Seems out of your league. Ain't you fucking sweet ole orphan Annie over there?"

Hughie runs over and awkwardly waves to Annie and wants to jump off a bridge, for like the third time this week. (It's Monday for him.)

"Shh, we're taking a break! They just seemed nice, okay?"

"Doubt it. No chick like this would talk to someone like you unless they wanted something."

"Hey! I have charm. And charisma."

"You got just as much as the ugly ass duckling from that one book."

"I will take that as a compliment."

"No—I wished that fucking twat killed themself."

"It's a fictional duck, Butcher!?"

"I was talking about the author. No one should make such a shitty book and live."

Sooooooooooo the cat is out of the bag now.

It was just a shallow crush Hughie had on you until Butcher knew about you. Hughie started feeling oddly protective and possessive. Butcher doesn't know anything about you! Why is he being so nosey?

"Why am I even talking to you? I could get you killed! Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

That you are Hughie, that you are.

Hughie continued to meet you in secret. You got in bad trouble with some people who wanted The Boys dead. Everyone had to save you.

Which triggered Butcher's ptsd from Becca. What the hell was the kid thinking!? Of course Hughie can't take care of you. He can't just throw you back out on the street. You look like a stray dog.

So you joined The Boys. (you had to join them. you had no choice.)

And it is just a constant fight between Hughie trying to impress you in his awkward, nervous boyish way... and Butcher sweeps you off your feet with flirtatious remarks and a protective presence always near you.

Butcher is scary dog privileges. Just make sure to keep a hold of his leash. Shut him up with a kiss.

Butcher obviously will kill for you.

Hughie would, but it'd kinda be like Translucent all over again.

Still... MHM

Imagine walking into some sketchy place and having Butcher and Hughie near you. Hughie got anxious so you are holding his hand and he's standing on one side of you. He's kind of leaning over onto your shoulder a bit. (He looks like a kid needing his mother's warmth and protection.)

Butcher has his hand around your waist. He's got his 'I will fuck anyone up' face. He's also glaring at Hughie and almost growling in anger. He's purposefully using cute nicknames with you 'darling, babe, doll- doll is his favorite'. Prince(ss) is the one where YOU KNOW smth is about to happen.

So you just have two boyfriends now. They won't leave you alone, but at least you're protected now. The entirety of The Boys is gonna have to be killed before anyone touches you. (Butcher and Hughie fight less if you are giving them equal attention, and Butcher is in a better mood-and they saw what happened with Becca... so it's a silent understood agreement.)

Trouble?

Get you out first.

Kimiko is usually the one that does so because of her abilities.

Okay okay I’m finally back online and of course this is gonna be the first ask I reply to!! And honest to FREAKIN’ god- this headcannon is actually so much more interesting and fun to read than the new episode they released today y’all 😭😭😭😭

Off the bat, LOVE the convo between butcher and Hughie. I could literally hear it in their voices so accurately 😂

I feel like it’d be a reoccurring argument too, no doubt about that. But especially with the parts where reader gets involved and dragged into their business just from (barely) being associated with the group. From that alone, the tension would heat up fo sureeee. ((Especially from Butcher’s side, cuz like you said “Becca”

But there would be tension in other ways too, like how Butcher could ensure their physical safety better than Hughie, which in return would make Hughie feel insecure and incompetent, even more so than usual. Meanwhile, the way Hughie is able to be effortlessly vulnerable and pour his heart out to reader would contrast starkly with Butcher’s own brutish and borderline cruel behaviors, since he’s not really known for his moral compass. And perhaps Butcher might be afraid it’d be a turn off for reader, which could actually be the case at times if he goes too far.

So it’d be a very interesting dynamic that would potentially strain their friendship on the occasion (which is already kinda a thing in the show to begin with)

But at the same time, this dynamic surprisingly still works pretty well though. I feel like they both can be “too much” in their own ways, so together they could balance each other out for reader. After all, teamwork makes the dreamwork yk 😭

Also kinda going off course here, but can we talk about Annie for a second? LIKE POOR GIRL LMAOAOOO. It shouldn’t crack me up but the way Hughie is brushing her off???

CRIMINAL. THAT IS CRIMINAL 😭😭😭💀💀💀

[batsplat]

the reaction to pecco/casey comparison post made by motogp acc on insta is kinda funny bc so many ppl are like “how dare you compare pecco to casey when pecco has the best bike on the grid and casey rode that garbage ducati” . but what about casey’s 2007 title run guys and how in some ppl’s eyes it wasn’t that legit or something bc of the bike advantage. like obviously comparisons between eras are often pretty pointless and devolve into pointless arguments and circle jerking for your fave guy but…..

lol oh man. here is the post for context

world's most boring discourse generator. the most predictable replies imaginable. did you know that. casey stoner. was very good... and had a bike that was tough to ride? did you know that. did you know the aliens were all very talented? did you know that casey's stats are very impressive? wow. you're telling me now for the first time

when I first saw the tweet, I did immediately go. *sigh* why are you setting pecco up like this. it's obviously interaction bait and, well, it does work every time. the phrasing "has equalled or outscored most of" casey's achievements at ducati is a bit unnecessary but like... god. who cares!! the only place stats like this belong is in spreadsheets proper hardworking fans made themselves to compare random shit for their personal amusement. bring back real fandom

and yeah, listen, I don't even really have the energy to engage with the merits of comparing the two sets of stats... it was a different time. you can say that casey had on average a less dominant bike than pecco did, which would be true - and he only had the clear outright fastest bike in one of his ducati seasons. you can say the level of competition was higher or lower back then, depending on whatever agenda you're pursuing. you can make arguments about when it was easier to rack up wins, given only around six bikes back then were even capable of winning races - something which is only kinda becoming true again now with the superiority of the gp24. you can point to the ducati back then being a considerably harder bike to ride. you can point to pecco's more impressive internal competition, you can point to casey's era having some undeniably pretty decent riders in the mix. you can do all of that. and it's a complete and utter waste of time. the main point of it is to have another bout of wanking about how much worse today's riders are, which, I cannot stress this enough, who cares!! literally. why does it matter. quality of viewing experience isn't directly linked to some imaginary talent-o'-metre, that's just not how sport works. everyone knows casey is one of the biggest talents this sport has ever seen! it is perhaps the single least controversial take in the whole sport. nobody's erasing casey's achievements. thank you to the random instagram user for securing casey stoner's legacy by bashing pecco. we've solved the crisis, guys, wrap it up

anyway, look. pecco's a two time premier class champion. nobody will die if he's mentioned in the same name as casey. people used to try and discredit casey's achievements... eventually the consensus morphed to acknowledge that he was obviously extremely good. once pecco's retired, the same thing will presumably happen to him. nostalgia comes for us all

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

Blog Update / Muse Retirement

//Hate that it's got to this point. Going to be a bit of a downer here so, read at your own discretion.

There is little to say really. Like many people here, I use RP as a form of escapism to my own stress and life. It makes me genuinely happy to get into character and forget about problems for a while.

These past weeks I have been in dire need of RP more than I had in a very long time. An awful timing really, to hit a slump in interactions.

I did my homework, I tried to network. I reached out. A few became welcome and beautiful mutuals, but many, many many others unfortunately did not. At my age, I tell myself I can handle rejection well, but that is only true to a certain degree. Even if I don't let these feelings impact my routine and real life, they are there nonetheless. And I don't want them to be.

After doing research on how to help with the situation, I have reached the conclusion that I have been in denial just how much my choice to make a multimuse blog has come back to bite me in the ass. Things like anonymous RP confessions say it like it is: multimuse blogs are stigmatized and often passed on without a chance given.

We are considered to be unorganized, lack commitment, and not provide the muses we put in our roster we asked. Personally, I thought multimuse was an excellent idea. I thought that making single blogs muses for such niche fandoms would lead to no activity, since my pool of potential partners would be smaller. I thought a multimuse would equal to fish with a net rather than a rod.

I was wrong, haha.

I can be super organized and tag every post with its fandom; I can provide all the tools for my followers to blacklist fandoms they are not interested in; I can commit to respond to any muse in my roster one may ask for. All this hard work won't amount to anything to those who just look at a number and decide I do none of those things without actually giving me a chance to prove them wrong.

So what is it that I can do? Create single muse blogs. The idea of having to log out and log in from tumblr for each individual muse to check notifications, reblog memes and post replies seems like even more work than what I already am doing, but if it is what gets mutuals, then so be it.

I feel like I have lost a fight here, but RP is a hobby, my favorite hobby, and it shouldn't be making me miserable.

So what is the TLDR? Do not panic. This blog isn't going anywhere anytime soon. But I will be slowly retiring muses that haven't gotten any engagement in months. Those I care to keep will get their own blog, and when those are set up and running, I will update you and provide links for anyone interested.

We are talking about an endeavor that will take months, so do not throw me away as a mutual just yet. This blog will stay up and running until everything else is set up properly. I have over 1500 posts to scan through and decide whether to transfer or not (I hate to leave my own writing behind, I like to go back and reread these threads for my own enjoyment).

In the meantime, I hope to still RP with everyone here. If you want to make sure I update you regarding a specific muse getting their own blog, DM me and I'll write a memo to do so. Just know that it is a long term project.

Thanks to all of my new mutuals and the old ones who have stuck around. You guys are keeping me sane everyday and trust me, this is less of an overstatement than it sounds.

Saru-mun\\

[rynrambles]

UH I don’t usually like to talk about my personal life because I desire to be an enigma, like the contents of a Costco hot dog. But at the same time, I felt like I just wanted to scrape all this out of my head and put it somewhere else. It’s a long read, and I don’t expect anyone to trudge through it, but at least these things aren’t stuck in my brainspace, rattling their cages anymore. 

--

To preface, I’m equal parts torn between “Bro, you’re overthinking this, no one cares”, “everyone cares a LOT, and you’re potentially opening a big can of worms here,” and “are you truly explaining yourself, or just making excuses for yourself?” (The answer being: I honestly don’t know.)

The thoughts are so disjointed, all vying for my attention with the same urgency and insistence. I desperately want to put them in order, line them up neatly, clearly, concisely, but it ends up being a very “herding cats” sort of endeavor; As soon as I turn my attention to one thought, the other 27 have disappeared, gotten into something they shouldn’t have, or barfed on the carpet.

At the core of it all, I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve not been particularly reliable in recent years. Obviously, I do not enjoy disappointing people; I don’t like failing to meet expectations, making promises that go unkept, disappearing for months on end, etc. I cannot stress how inadequate and ashamed I feel because of it. Yet the scrambled eggs I call my brain fights me tooth and nail every time I try to do anything about it. 

I know this is the most autistic thing imaginable, but please allow me to compartmentalize and elaborate on some thoughts that have been tumbling around in my head.

The Mental Health thing:

I’m trying to get better about working with my bipolar2. I can prolong my manic phases in a way that allows me to get more work done for a longer period of time, and I can cushion the blow of depressive phases. But I still feel the push and pull of these cycles. 

The downswings are the primary reason why I simply disappear at times, and it feels like a herculean effort to claw my way out of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad pit of despair and 14 hour depression naps.

But then the upswings have me chasing novelty: prioritizing ephemeral, unimportant things over projects that I really need to get done. There is no negotiating with the ADHD brain to work on a task. Guilt, bargaining, bribery, blackmail, reason, logic, it’s all thoroughly ineffective. I might as well be trying to move mountains. I'm getting better at structuring things in a way where I'm able to do "fun, exciting, new projects," while also doing my gotdamned job, but it's still something I'm working on.

The Physical Health thing:

I once told one of my closest friends that I felt she and I, with all our similarities in mind and body, were cut from the same cloth. She replied “yeah, but it’s cheesecloth,” and I’ve laughed about it every day since. 

She’s chronically ill, much more so than I, but there’s a sort of… guilt-laced comfort in knowing that we’re not alone, that someone does understand to a similar depth and degree. 

But it’s still bullshit, yaknow? I’m tired of migraines that render me temporarily blind multiple times a week, I’m tired of the disruptive visual disturbances and hand tremors making it difficult to draw. I’m tired of tachycardia, palpitations, breathlessness, fatigue, nausea. And I’m tired of being shuffled between cardiologists, endocrinologists, pulmonologists, ophthalmologists, one specialist after another. Endless referrals. Numerous tests. Give us your blood, pee in this cup, try this diet, take these medicines. And the final verdict is always “hmm, we’re not sure what’s wrong.”

I don’t understand why my own body insists on fighting me at every turn. I give you water and walkies and sunlight every day, you ungrateful lump of flesh.

The art & friends thing:

I think enough people are aware that I had a huge falling out with my friend group some years back. There were rumors and accusations I wanted to address, but I was always worried things would blow up all over again. One can’t simply put out a statement and expect the involved individuals will have nothing to say in turn. And that’s only fair, right? The mere act of “defending” myself calls their integrity into question, so shouldn’t they be around to offer the counterbalance of their personal experiences and reasoning?

But ultimately, neither party wants to dredge up and rehash the same shit all over again. It’s exhausting. It’s emotionally taxing. And in the end it all boils down to he-said she-said anyway. 

So I’ve done my best to just be okay with it. Like, I did cause a lot of problems anyway, so maybe it’s penance for my wrongdoings. I don’t know. 

Moral deliberations aside, I found myself abruptly without friends. Emotionally devastating to be sure, but it also had an additional aftereffect of leaving me without artistic colleagues who could encourage creativity, offer input and opinions, redline my work, etc. And because artists cannot grow in a vacuum, I began to stagnate. 

To say nothing of the perpetual rumination whenever I would sit down to draw. It was the same unpleasant thoughts, over and over again on repeat. Day in and day out. 

So I stopped drawing.

Onwards:

Since then, I’ve slowly healed. I reconnected with my childhood friends and I cannot possibly express the amount of love and joy they’ve brought to my life. Likewise, my beloved husband has been nothing but supportive and encouraging, despite the literal years of me sort of moping around, aimless and without purpose. I look back at how I’ve spent the past half decade and I hate this languishing creature that has worn my face but contributed nothing of value to my life. 

I want to be me again, and I want to be productive and creative, not because of (mandatory) hustle culture, but because it genuinely makes me happy. Like, not to be a goober but isn’t it kinda magical to be able to see something in your head or have a vague idea and then conjure it into existence through art/writing/music?  That shit is cool as hell. I wanna do magic. And I want to feel proud of myself for accomplishing something. Maybe it’s capitalist brainwashing but productivity scratches the constant itching in my brain.

Ultimately:

So, that’s where I sit now, getting back on the horse for the umpteenth time and hoping I can do a little better than before. Perhaps, with the knowledge of what has and hasn’t worked in the past, I can hold on longer, recover faster. 

I want to thank everyone who has continued to cheer me on through it all. There are some names I’ve seen pop up again and again over the years, offering me kindness and patience well beyond what I deserve. You’ve always made me feel like it was worth it to dust myself off and try again, encouraging me ever onward. Even though you owe me nothing. Even though it can be difficult to gather that energy, and harder still to turn those thoughts into words. 

So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[megumishotgf]

moments like this (shouto x reader)

summary: shouto never grew up truly being ‘free’. here are five times you, his cheerful and hyper close friend, show him what it really means to live.

warnings: possible mentions of suicidality? the fifth scenario is based on s6 if you haven’t watched yet! this turned pretty long?

masterlist

: ̗̀➛ picnic at dusk

the atmosphere in the dorms had been pretty tense lately. everybody could feel the stress and impending doom of your final term exams coming up soon. you were in the midst of a training session with kirishima when your stomach started rumbling loudly.

unfortunately, you could not run on coffee and sweets. and neither could shouto, no matter how much he denies it and claims to be taking care of himself well.

from the first day you met, you were instantly drawn in by him. you admired how much he had developed not only his skills, both mentally and physically, in such a short time. he had really started to break down his hard exterior and become more sociable. you were good friends with everyone in your class, but there was something special about shouto that you couldn’t put your finger on.

your friends had told you many times now that shouto seemed to act differently around you. they called him softer, sweeter, kinder. you didn’t think much of it as you considered those to be qualities shouto always showed to his other friends. nevertheless, just like you had taken an interest in him, he seemed to be equally as invested in you.

shouto admired how kind you were to him. you did so many thoughtful things for him everyday. he hadn’t met anyone like you before - partly because he never had the chance to before, but he knows you’re special).

it’s a little past five in the afternoon and the sky is starting to darken. you quickly say goodbye to kirishima but running off. he’s not sure where you’re going as all you told him was that you had a ‘great idea’ and he was frankly to tired to pester you about what you meant.

shortly afterwards, shouto is walking back to the dorms when he receives a text from you out of the blue. he’s never been one to use his phone much, but ever since you’ve started messaging him on there he’s found himself instantly taking it out of his pocket when he hears that familiar ding.

y/n l/n: todoroki !! come to the field behind the dorms !!

without hesitation he sends you a reply in agreement back. he finds himself wandering what you’re up to while he makes his way around the building.

he’s there before you know it. you’re eyes light up when you see him and your smile makes him feel all mushy inside. you greet him happily before rushing to his side and looping your arm around his.

“we’re going to have a picnic!’ you say excitedly.

shouto blinks in response. like he’s ever had one of those. but he knows that’s why you did it, and is more than happy to oblige. “picnic?”

“hmm. i got our favourite snacks. i thought it would be a nice way to destress.”

he was too busy distracted by how you’re holding onto him to see the pretty set up at first. you’ve laid a cosy blanket on the floor, as well as a jar full of fairy lights onto the lush grass. you excitedly take a seat, already handing out all the snacks you’ve packed into your picnic basket.

“come on! i got you some of your soba from the fridge. and some cookies me and ochako baked the other day!”

shouto freezes for a second and he feels his eyes start watering. you don’t notice it though, too busy browsing through the snacks you packed hurriedly.

“hey, todoroki? are you okay?” you finally look up at him with concerned eyes.

he silently nods, giving you one of those rare smiles of his. he doesn’t know how to say this, but you make him so happy. he hasn’t had someone care of him so well in such a long time. after seemingly composing himself, he takes a seat next to you on the blanket.

“you can call me shouto.”

: ̗̀➛ spilling drinks on the dancefloor

if you had told todoroki a few months ago that he would be attending a loud, crowded school dance for actual entertainment, he would have scowled in your face. it was clear to everyone that now he had broken through his stoic facade a little bit, he was more willing to go to these kind of events with his new friends. in particular, you.

you’ve been pulling him towards the dance floor all night so far. you’ve greeted every classmate so far, shouto on your arm throughout all the little conversations you had with others. you’re always a little more extroverted around him - he’s so quiet and prefers to listen, leaving you to freely talk about whatever you want.

he hadn’t taken much interest in school dances until he had met you. he didn’t think of it as something he would find enjoyable. but lately, he’s been finding himself doing a lot of

“my punch!” you say sadly, the exaggerated pout on your face making shouto’s heart skip a beat. why do you have to look so cute? “aw, man.”

“do you want me to get you some more?” shouto asks softly, grabbing some extra tissues from the refreshments table to help you wipe it up.

you smile but shake your head. once you’ve cleaned up your small mess on the floor, you instantly jump up, back to your bubbly self again. “let’s dance!”

“dance?”

“yes, dance, shouto!”

he feels his cheeks heat up at the sound of his first name. he was overjoyed when you had asked him to call you by your first name last week, insisting the same. but now every single time he heard it from you, the butterflies in his tummy fluttered even more intensely. he thought it was so strange and contradictory how he felt so nervous around you sometimes, but you also made him feel so safe.

you recognised how hesitant he was, grasping onto his hand and pulling him along onto the dance floor.

as if by the power of the universe, a slower song begins to play. shouto recognises it as one of the tunes you had showed him before. you were shocked at his lack of musical knowledge and made it a personal mission to show him all your favourite artists.

you’ve quietened down now, visibly tired as the night starts coming to an end. you feel so peaceful and happy when you’re around shouto. every time you lock eyes with him you can almost feel those cliche sparks. you know it’s more than just friendship at this point, and even clueless shouto seems to too. you suddenly forget all your friends around you, and it feels like it’s just you and shouto in this moment.

he freezes momentarily when he feels you fall into his embrace. arms circled around his waist and your head resting on his shoulder. you let out a peaceful sigh, swaying gently to the rhythm of the music.

“thanks for being here, shouto,” you mumble into his shoulder, just loud enough so he can hear. he can’t muster an audible response, so he just tightens his arms around you.

you get the message, luckily.

: ̗̀➛ 3am shopping trip

“shouto...?l”

“shouto...”

“shouto!!!”

todoroki barely can open his eyes to see your figure hovering over him. he groans at the sudden noise, his precious sleep so abruptly interrupted.

it seemed that shouto forgot to lock his door last night. he had retired to bed early after a day full of training. but he isn’t complaining that it turned out so.

“shouto, open your eyes!” you say softly.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” it takes him a few seconds to come back to earth, “is everything okay?”

“i want to go get ice cream,” you say as if it’s the most important thing in the universe. and also as if it isn’t the middle of the night.

“can’t you... just go to the kitchen?” he responds, questioning why you had woken him up to tell him such a trivial thing.

“we don’t have any. and i want you to come with me to get some!” you pout at him in response. truthfully, there’s a tub of vanilla ice cream hidden somewhere in the freezer, but you want - no, you need - chocolate ice cream. “please, shouto!”

you know he can’t say no to you. and he knows that too. so he quickly agrees and you jump up in happiness. you’re already dressed in a warm sweater and hurriedly usher him to get something warm on too.

luckily, japan has plenty of convenience stores open all day. you draft a shopping list in your head of snacks you’re craving as shouto gets dressed (you also note in that moment that he was shirtless and your brain stops working for a moment).

you tell shouto all about your day while you’re walking to the convenience store. he’s pretty tired but he’s happy to listen to you ramble on. he likes just watching you, he feels in awe at how much happiness one person can hold. he loves seeing you get excited over the little things. like your favourite pint of ice cream. he gives you a few responses here and there, watching you alternate between skipping forward hurriedly and walking with him side by side.

“we’re here!”

you hurry into the store, grabbing a basket and already starting to fill it up with snacks and goodies. shouto observes the rate at which you’re throwing things in and grabs another one just in case.

“gummy worms or gummy bears, sho?“ you ask, “you’re right, we should get both!”

why didn’t you wait for me to answer…? he’s a little confused but he still supports you. shouto sees you throw crisps, fizzy drinks, pocky, skittles, a ready-made sandwich… he throws a few apples in there to encourage you to take a break from all this sugar once in a while.

you’re excitedly picking up and playing with all of the kids toys when shouto reminds you why you came here in the first place.

“y/n, you were here for ice cream.”

your eyes light up and you nod enthusiastically, “how could i forget! thanks, shouto!”

before he can reply, you’re running off to the frozen section of the store, debating to yourself between two of your favourite tubs of ice cream.

the cashier scans all your items they’re all packed into plastic bags quickly. you take your phone out to pay before shouto stops you. he pays for all of it, and by the smug glint in his eyes you can assume with his father’s card.

you’re walking back to the dorms now. you’ve munched on a few chocolate bars and treated shouto to a few of your favourite sweets. after your well deserved snack, you begin to feel the tiredness and your eyes grow heavier as you loop your arms around shouto’s. he blushes - even though you always like to walk this, his stern exterior always seems to falter.

as if your energy has plummeted or coming down from a sugar, you begin to lean on shouto for support. your head is resting against his shoulder. shouto feels his heart skip a beat when you envelope your hand in his.

“it’s okay, y/n. we’ll be there soon,” he takes the plastic bag from your hands and grips your hand tightly, as if he was scared you would collapse in exhaustion. how did you go from a hundred to zero so quickly?

“just a little but further,” he reassures you. you reluctantly open your eyes and look at the dormitory building in the distance. shouto can feel you speed up slightly, determined to get in bed as soon as possible.

“thanks for coming, shouto. goodnight,” you smile at him once you’re in front of your room. you muster your courage and leave a small kiss on his cheek. you can see him get flustered and it makes you chuckle slightly.

shouto says goodnight to you too, making sure to remind you to brush you teeth before you sleep. though he knows you’ll collapse onto your bed straight away. he can still feel the lingering kiss you left on his cheek. he’s definitely going to be laid in bed thinking about it for the rest of the night. damn.

: ̗̀➛ the rain incident

“do you want to start heading back soon?”

you peer up from your textbook, glancing back at the window in front of you. it’s starting to get a little dark, and the clouds in the sky aren’t looking very promising.

“yeah, sure. just let me finish this paragraph,” you smile.

shouto nods in response before beginning to tidy up his schoolwork. it’s a friday evening and you both decided to head to the library a few minutes from ua. mainly because they had a really good frozen yogurt place next door, but also to help concentrate on your studies. it’s exam season soon and you’re both looking to get ahead of schedule to keep the stress at bay.

you and shouto both head outside, making conversation of the material you’ve just covered in your study session.

the clouds are looking particularly angry today. and to your dismay, it suddenly starts to rain shortly after you leave the library.

“wait, we can use my jacket,” he suggests, already beginning to take off his blazer.

“it’s fine! it’s just rain,” you giggle. not only would he be freezing, even with that useful temperature-altering quirk of his, you happened to love rain. it was refreshing and calming to you. “i’ll race you back to school, huh?”

“you want to run all the way back?” shouto asks, although the determined look in your eyes says all he needs to know.

“yes! it’ll be fun!”

“are you sure? i don’t want you to get sick,”

“i’ll be okay, shouto,” you smile back at him reassuringly. it’s cute to see him so worried about you. “it’s not that far!” you insist.

he knows you’re not the type of person to step down once you make a decision. it’s one of the things he liked about you best. so he agrees, and after offering you his jacket once more you begin racing back to the dorms.

were you always this fast? shouto keeps a few seconds behind you. he feels safer being able to keep an eye on you. he really starts to wonder where you get all this energy from.

“hurry up, shouto!” you call out playfully before speeding up even more. with every step the puddles of rain splash onto you. you’re soaked through but you don’t have a care in the world. you’re just happy. it’s one of those moments where time feels like it’s stopped.

you make it back to the dorms quickly, your hands instantly falling onto your knees to catch your breath. shouto follows shortly after you. you straighten your posture and giggle at him before stepping closer to him. “i won!”

he hums in agreement, a rare smile adorning his features.

it happens fast, but in a split second he’s pulling you towards him. your chests collide, you almost stumble over his feet and then suddenly you feel his lips on yours. it’s slightly messy, but you don’t care, because once you realise how intimate this moment is, your heart swells.

shouto’s chest feels warm, the sensation of butterflies in his stomach rising upwards, yet the nervous feeling is so calming. he’s always known you were attractive, but in that moment there was nothing more beautiful than you in the universe. your makeup smudged, hair drenched from the rain and slightly tangled at some ends, clothes sticking to you. you look surprised when you pull away from the kiss, but smile warmly once you see the calm and tranquil expression on his face.

“kissing in the rain? when did shouto todoroki become so romantic?”you say teasingly once you both pull away.

“i guess you can say you do things to me,” he says casually, when in fact he has no idea what he’s just done and how he managed to do that. oh god, what is this messes things up? “i’m sorry if i stepped over the line. you just looked really pretty and it felt right…”

you cut him off by circling your arms around him again. “it was perfect timing, sho,” you compliment him, shocked that he had done something so brazen.

little did you know hagakure had witnessed the whole incident from the third floor of the dorms, ready to gossip about what she had seen to your friends…

: ̗̀➛ stargazing

it’s been months since you and shouto have had a peaceful night together. once the ‘war’ erupted, and even after it had been resolved, the atmosphere was always tense. your heart aches at the thought of everything shouto had had to endure these past few months - you know there’s only so much you can do to soothe his pain. but he’s grateful for every second you give to him, especially since you’re always looking for something else to do for him.

the second you looked outside at the night sky, you took notice of how beautiful it looked. a full moon decorating the dark blanket of abundant stars - you could probably pick out a few constellations if you tried. your first thought makes you grin - it’s a perfect night to take shouto out stargazing.

y/n: bring a coat, pillow and blanket and come to my room. i have an idea <;3

shouto reads your text instantly, the familiar ringtone reserved especially for you still making his heart skip a beat even after months of being together. he manages to smile to himself upon reading it, and he sends you back an agreeing reply before gathering said items. in a few minutes, he’s at your door, knocking and as always waiting for you to respond.

“hi, pretty,” he says softly when he sees you, clad in his hoodie, a pair of sweatpants and holding a plush he got you for your birthday close to you.

“shouto,” you say, pulling him towards you into a warm hug as soon as you see him, “let’s go out to stargaze! it’s so pretty outside.”

“stargaze?” he says.

“yes. come on, it’ll be fun!”

suddenly you’re pulling him out onto the rooftop of the building, piling your blankets and pillows and plushies in a far left corner, right below the full moon and countless amount of stars. it’s strange to see the japan sky look so clear. you excitedly pull shouto down on top of your makeshift bed, squeezing as close to him as possible, arm firmly wrapped around his torso. he gladly welcomes you into his arms, making sure the blanket covers you completely. you giggle as he cocoons you in the warmth, thankful that you’re clinging to his left side.

“it looks so pretty,” you say softly, “i just had to bring you out here.”

“it is,” he agrees, eyes flickering down to your huddled form before back up to the sky, “thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me. i’ve… i’ve missed you. i know it sounds silly because we spend everyday together, but i feel like i haven’t seen you smile in so long…” you say sadly. it’s not like shouto smiled much to begin with - he was never one to express his emotions so outwardly, but you knew how much he struggled on the inside. he’s carried a lot of pain throughout his life and never had an outlet for him. and it might sound selfish, but you wanted to be that outlet for him.

“i’m here for you, shouto. i just want to make you happy, and i’d do anything for you, okay?”

“i know, y/n. i’m fine,” he responds.

“you might be okay now. but i worry about you a lot. i know sometimes things can get too difficult. i don’t want to lose you, sho. so please remember you always have me here.”

a few seconds of silence pass. you hands are cradling his face, and his own raises to yours to hold it gently against his cheek.

“promise me?” you say tearfully. he’s a little shocked to see how emotional you’re getting just at the thought of losing him - it warms and aches his heart at the same time.

“y/n, i can promise you that as long as i have you, i’m not going anywhere,” he says truthfully and smiles, “even if the outside world is a disaster right now… when it’s just you and i out here, it seems like everything is okay.”

you look back at him with heart-shaped eyes and a stupid smile on your face. you sniffle slightly, looking down at your entangled hands. “i love you so much, shouto.”

“i love you too. i have no intention of ever leaving you, i promise.”

the next few hours are spent shedding a few tears, but also feeling the purest of love. shouto also points out a few constellations he can see. he won’t tell you, but he learnt some a few months back because he wanted to have something to tell you about at night. but you love it, because it shows how considerate he is about the little things.

the world may be complicated, but at least you have your shouto. ♡

this turned into shouto x unmedicated adhd! reader and i love it

[natewriteslol]

Hey! Could i request the dorm leaders with an esper MC? Kinda like Mob psycho or Saiki k :) and maybe they don't really use this ability of theirs that much since in their world they're literally a teen who's trying to live a normal life(like Mob basically), so nobody knew about their psychic powers except Grim since the mirror said that he couldnt sense any magic in them(i'm pretty sure that psychic powers don't really count as magic but idk lol).

Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna write it! :)

 A/N: Ooh this was a fun one! I haven't watched Mob Psycho (I know about that fine ass blonde man-) but I have watched Saiki k and I loved it, still need to finish it tho jlafljhdas 

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

P.S: I’m so sorry this is so long omg but I guess this is a strong comeback-

Warnings: none except for language

Riddle:

-You wanted to stay as far away as possible from him

-Riddle was part of the trio of people you wanted to stay away from: Riddle, Vil, and Azul

-Riddle paid so much attention to fine details that if something was up, he'd definitely notice it

-But unfortunately you were best friends with the two goobers of Heartslabyul: Ace and Deuce

-And Riddle had started to pay attention to you and your habits, and something was off with you

-It's almost as though you tried too hard to be normal, like Jamil

-And he could never let something like that happen again, so yes he was watching you

-One day you accidently slipped up and was irresponsible with your powers

-Grim was bothering you since he got into a deal with Azul for tuna and they were standing outside with the twins, since Grim lost

-You told him to fend for himself and teleported, however you didn’t plan where you would go

-And you teleported into the Heartslabyul dorm

-What sucks is that your teleportation power was literally flashy with a bright ass green light every time you popped in somewhere

-Just when you thought you were lucky since the whole dorm was uninhabited...except for Riddle who watched the whole thing

-He was completely shocked, he didn’t know what to say other than “What did you just do?!” 

-You explained to him, and that just pieced everything together

-How you solved overblots with such ease, and that one day you had a “strength potion to test for Azul” was such bs!

-Riddle ends up keeping your secret, since he values your privacy but if you do something major and mess up then he will tell!

-”I understand but please be more careful with your powers. I need to institute discipline and you are no exception, Y/N.”

-He really does care about you and doesn’t want you to be found out 

-Goes the extra mile to cover for you often, and in exchange you help him out with things :)

Leona:

-He didn't really care about you at first but as you started to hang Jack and Ruggie, Leona started to get more suspicious

-Your scent had proven that you had some trace of magic, but Leona just couldn't put his finger on it

-So he sent Ruggie after you for a couple of days

-If you were a threat to Savanaclaw, Leona would crush you

-But Ruggie had only reported back that everything with you was perfectly normal

-"Just give it up Leona, they're just an ordinary human. The scent is probably weird because they're from a completely different world."

-But Leona still had that feeling, so he was keeping an eye on you

-You had made a deal with Crowley to keep your powers secret to solve problems on campus (it did cut repair costs and handymen costs in half so-)

-Your new quest was to rid the forest of the Angolo fungus that was manifesting into living fungus blobs 

-The one thing that gave you away was Grim, as you both had to stop by the Greenhouse to read some info about the fungus

-The cat beast was being far too loud, not understanding why he had to go and mess around with the icky fungus

-You simply replied “It’ll be quick, I’ll just use Hydrokinesis and dry out the fungus since they’re mainly filled with water. They become fertilizer once dried so we can just leave them there.”

-And there Leona was, ears perked up once he heard your voice

-Hydrokinesis? What are you talking about?

-So he set off, following you to the forest

-You started to fly, turning the once green and lively fungus to brown dust while Grim napped against a tree

-Leona for the first time in the while, was left speechless

-Once you noticed him, you realized you had to talk to him

-Confronting him later on, luckily Leona didn’t spill to anyone 

-He promised to never tell anyone about what he saw, and had no clapbacks for what you had to say 

- Leona doesn’t even benefit from this secret...besides mayyybee one day asking for your help if his pride lets him

-By the Great Seven why does everything have to not be in his favor-

Azul:

-Another one who you have got to be careful around, since he’s incredibly observant

-More observant than Riddle

-Azul noticed that you’re an incredibly average person, and were incredibly relaxed even during the most stressful situations

-And almost every single time whenever you were in a tight spot, it works in your favor

-Just how is that possible? Solving overblots left and right? Every single time you disappeared the infestation of magical beasts are gone? 

-One day, you were getting picked on by a three guys, their stature far above yours and incredibly strong. How could you possibly win?

-Just as he was about to scoop in a save you, you slammed one of the men into the concrete, taking on the other two by electrocuting them, the blue lightning buzzing in your palms

-They were completely knocked out, dusting off your palms and picking up your things only to face Azul’s eyes

-After giving an explanation of what that was, he was still speechless

-Azul at first was incredibly shocked and then since Azul is Azul... later on realized this had benefits

-He could just blackmail you to be his new bodyguard!

-Oh how he always manages to bend life to his will-!

-So you could just wipe his memory... or turn him into stone...nvm

-You’re now Azul’s arch nemesis since you end up saving people from his scamming and you’re basically untouchable and there’s nothing he can do about it

-But he does find your great strength admirable (and a lil hot, I mean what can u say seeing someone floating in the air with electricity flowing through them is a nice look okay Nate shut up)

Kalim: 

-Oh Kalim my beloved

-He just thinks that you’re incredibly talented and a little mysterious

-You have your little quirks and he has his! Who is he to judge?

-Until one day you wanted to make the load lighter on Jamil, since the berries that Kalim had requested for were only in season in one country

-You decided to just teleport and then come back with the berries so Kalim wouldn’t be pouty 

-You were outside the door ready to teleport when last minute you felt a hand on your shoulder

- “Oh Y/N you forgot-!”

-And there both you and Kalim were, in a berry field thousands of miles away from the Scarabia dorm

-Kalim screams, falling to the lush green of the field

-What happened?! Where are we?! How did you do that?!

-You quickly gathered all the berries at light speed, making sure that you got back before Jamil realized that you were gone

-Kalim wasn’t scared of you, rather impressed that you were able to keep a secret for that long, he could never!

-You’re already super cool, and on top of this you have otherwordly powers!

- “It must’ve been stressful living your life like this! But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

-Yes he sometimes asks you to perform some of your powers for him, sorry Y/N-

Vil:

-While you were his friend, he was incredibly suspicious of you

-Even though you wiped everyone’s memory, he still had the faint memory of when he was in overblot mode of you blasting him with a beam of light

-Vil was incredibly upset as one of his assistants had mixed up his items, and left one of his vital skincare items on the set of where they were filming a new commercial

-It was being shipped and would take 3 days to reach NRC

-His mood was horrible and you had to do something about it to give grace to the Pomefiore dorm

-So you went to the second story of the Pomefiore dorm, ready to use Apport (the power to pull anything before you) 

-However, Vil felt incredibly guilty

-He was acting like a child and he shouldn’t have taken it out on the people who he loves and values

- “Y/N, how I was acting was incredibly inappropriate and- is that my moisturizer? How did you get it?”

-Starts freaking out as this was impossible as it was on it’s way from being shipped from another country

-This was the last straw for him ther was no justification for this that wasn't done by some form of magic

-He takes you to his room to make you sit down and give him an explanation for this

-Once you finished, Vil understood but was still freaked out

-He cares alot about keeping your powers a secret and will cover for you

-"So my aport powers need to exchange something of equal value so... I exchanged it with that Scucci purse over there-

-"MY LIMITED EDITION SCUCCI PURSE?!"

-He loves you, but you're dead to him, Y/N dear

Idia:

-Before he knew you, he didn't really notice anything off with you

-A little quiet sure but he minded his own business, he had bigger things to focus on

-Until you hung around Ignihyde more often for a project, fixing a huge generator by yourself for one of your partners for a project

-They took a break only after you told them that they could and apprehensive went to go get food and water

-Anyone with eyes could see that there's an overbearing amount of energy flowing through the fairly large sized cube

-Wait, you were wearing no gloves, you could get electrocuted! Why would have your bare hands on something like that?!

-Just as he was able to yell, it was too late, your whole body was flowing with the bright blue energy... and then you let go

-You were walking completely fine, you went and held a random wire on the ground, placing the electricity inside

-The static from your hair was gone, and you looked completely normal. . .

-Just what the hell are you?

-He did hours of research trying to figure you out, even sending Ortho to monitor you

-Yet there was nothing, you were just a “regular teen” 

-Was ready to get S.T.Y.X.S on your ass- (is that too soon to joke abt my bad overblot boys-)

-Until one day he caught you again bending electricity to your will

-Is incredibly impressed with your power (lowkey wanting to experiment on you)

-After he realizes that you can read minds Idia is so damn frightened

- “O-Okay I promise not to say anything, just don’t tell anyone what I’m thinking a-alright?!”

Malleus:

-You were one of the only people who he trusted

-Malleus had always detected some form of magical aura that was otherworldly from you and it never seemed to fade

-And it wasn’t often, but it was almost like you knew what he was thinking

-Whenever he was deeply upset he felt a twinge of energy from you, and then you would insist and help him out with his problems

-And he flat out says “Are you reading my mind, Y/N?”

-You had never been directly outed like this before, you felt horrible 

-You never read people’s minds unless it was very necessary

-whenever Malleus felt deeply gloomy you felt like it was important to just read his mind and help him with the problem

-You explained it to him and apologized, but he wasn’t upset

-In fact, he was smiling?

- “It seems like we have alot of things that we’re hiding from each other. But... you always had the best intentions whenever you used your abilities”

-He let out a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “And, I know that I’m quite stubborn with revealing my feelings.” 

- “I will keep your secret as long as you keep mine, Child of Man,” the dragon fae said, you both shaking on it

- “I always had a feeling that you were special, but I never thought it would be something of this caliber...” 

[mc-lukanette]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

—————

A few days had passed since Marinette had burned the Adrien photos, and Luka was relieved to note that they hadn't come back since. Marinette seemed equally at ease, their daily calls becoming more and more relaxed with each time she told him about her still-empty wall. He did wish he could do a little more concerning the red string around her neck, but his mind was drawing a blank and she was happier than before regardless.

The main problem however, was the relation to the miraculouses. Everyone knew that Ladybug wasn't interested in Chat Noir, a fact that made the knowledge of the red string even worse. He wasn't sure if the red strings were tied to the miraculouses or not - or how if they were indeed connected - but he speculated that it was about more than just talking to Marinette about Adrien; Chat was a factor as well. He couldn’t imagine the societal pressure of Ladybug and Chat Noir being a couple, and no one had to do much research to realize that Chat Noir was okay with it while Ladybug was very much not.

He'd have to take on the red string from both sides of the masks, and it took one particular day for him to get his chance.

"You want me to go on patrol with you?"

Ladybug nodded, balancing herself on his windowsill as she replied, "If you'd like to. Chat Noir is busy tonight, so the position's opened and you're one of the people used to having a miraculous."

Luka caught himself before he could start smiling too much, knowing that it was Marinette under that mask and she wanted him to go on patrol because they were friends.

"I'd be honored to."

She beamed at him, and after the snake miraculous was on his wrist, he was transformed and the two set off for the rooftops together.

—————

Viperion glanced left and right as he went along with Ladybug. He'd been called enough by then to have gotten used to superheroing, though it was his first time actually on patrol. Given the situation they were in, he was thankful that Adrien was busy that particular night with what Viperion could only guess was Gabriel's orders.

The red string was still dangling around Ladybug's neck, though Viperion'd grown attuned enough with his fate sensing that he could stop focusing on it and simply see her if he chose to. It didn't stop him from thinking about it, but it helped.

Ladybug seemed to know the route to take, so he mostly followed after her, but it was partway through where she'd decided that they should take a break. Paris was always quiet right after akuma attacks, meaning that they could afford to take it easy since there'd been one just that afternoon.

They leaped buildings until they reached the Eiffel Tower, scaling the monument until they reached the top platform. He didn't miss that she'd avoided using her yoyo for the job, possibly to put them on an even playing field.

Letting out a breath, Ladybug leaned against the railing and she gazed over the city. Gesturing to the view, she explained, "We'll have a good vantage point from here in case anything happens."

Viperion chuckled. "You really do think of everything."

She blushed faintly, but took the compliment casually. "I'm just doing my job." She turned her hip to more easily grab her yoyo, then opened it and reached inside. "Anyway, are you hungry?"

He tilted his head in curiosity, then grinned as she pulled out a bag of macarons from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. It wasn't anything suspicious given that it was known as the best bakery around.

"Thanks," he replied gratefully, taking one of the macarons she offered him.

She grabbed one as well and they took a simultaneous bite of their respective treats. He was a little surprised to hear that she brought along snacks, but supposed it made sense if breaks during patrol were a common thing after akuma.

They settled down on the ground, Ladybug placing the open bag in-between them so they could pick them out at equal leisure. Tossing him an apologetic but teasing smile, she added, "Sorry, but cushions wouldn't fit in the yoyo."

He raised his brows at her, then glanced down at the hard ground below them. He snorted at her joke, noting, "It's nice to see you outside of akuma battles, where you can relax and play around more."

She smiled shyly at him, in a way that was so Marinette that he couldn't believe he hadn't figured her out sooner. "Thanks. Chat says I have no sense of humor."

He frowned, replying without hesitation, "Chat's wrong."

She waved him off, though he could tell that she appreciated the comment. Hearing that Chat had told her something like that was news to him, despite all the research he'd done into their relationship. Granted, he imagined that anything could be said off-camera and he couldn't have known.

"Does he say things like that a lot?" he asked, hoping he wasn't prodding too much. There was just something about how casually she'd said it that unnerved him.

"Huh?" She blinked, thrown off by the question, then rubbed the back of her neck. "Well... most of the time, he flirts instead. It's..." She hesitated, like she wasn't sure that she could talk about it. Glancing at him, then back to the open sky, she relented and added, "—it's a lot sometimes, but he does his job well enough, so it’s not like it’s a serious problem. I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve never wondered about the what ifs of having someone else, but whenever I think about it, I just—"

She squinted at nothing, Viperion's gaze flickering down to the string, which had became visible now that he was focusing on it.

It had tightened, pressing into the black of her bodysuit in a way only he could see, and he found himself squinting just like she was.

"—I can't imagine being Ladybug without him," she said.

He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress any reaction to the comment. He'd suspected it for a while, but actually seeing it was something else entirely.

The red string demanded dependency on Ladybug's part. He wasn't sure how much it pulled Chat on the other end, but judging from what he'd gathered from Marinette's luck and fate's blatant favoring of Adrien, he could guess.

Ladybug peeked up from her macaron when he remained silent, confusion passing over her features. "What? You look like you have something to say."

"Ah—" He looked down, brows furrowing as he hoped even more that he wasn't pushing boundaries. "—just... I know that he's been with you since the beginning, but I don’t think you need Chat Noir to be an amazing Ladybug."

She straightened, dropping her treat in surprise and then fumbling to catch it. Perhaps she hadn’t caught onto what her words implied, or had said them without thinking due to the string and was now facing it head-on.

He continued, "You've dealt with akuma plenty of times without him, and you work well with all your heroes. I'm sure you could make the best out of any partner you had." He smiled reassuringly at her. "Maybe Chat Noir only seems as good as he does because he's at your command."

Ladybug's cheeks tinted red, nearly matching her mask, as she ducked her head at the high praise. She raised the macaron back to her lips, chewing on it as if that helped hide her face.

It was only after she'd slowly nibbled the treat all the way down and swallowed that she replied, "T-thank you."

He shrugged, having only been honest.

"Chat Noir..." She cleared her throat. "Well, Paris would disagree with you."

"Paris is wrong too," he replied in the exact same tone as when he was discussing Chat. After careful consideration, he asked cautiously, "Do you mean how—"

"Yeah, the—" She frowned and waved both hands vaguely in a gesture that no one but him would've understood. "Yeah."

So she was all too aware of their status of a "couple" in the eyes of Parisians. It made sense with everything he already knew, but he hadn't wanted to be right.

The phrase she'd used when talking about Adrien resurfaced in his mind: made for each other.

He clenched his fist. She was being pressured on both sides of the mask, towards both sides of Adrien's mask.

"I don't like it," she admitted, "but Chat drinks it up and I guess the public is into the idea of this superhero couple. They see us like celebrities."

"It's not right," Viperion hissed, and Sass would've been proud of it. "You save Paris every week and you deserve to be respected."

"There's nothing I can do about it," she told him, almost in defeat. "Besides, Chat... he needs a pick-me-up every now and my pep talks don't always work on him. He pouted when I brought in a male hero for the first time."

"That's not your fault!" he argued. "Chat needs to be confident on his own. He can't keep relying on you or make you feel like you can't do anything without him doubting himself. You're under enough stress as it is, and—!"

He caught himself, his mouth shutting tight before he could reveal exactly how much he knew. Ladybug blinked at him, seeming puzzled by the outburst but not suspicious at least.

He took a breath, reminding himself to stay calm. Reaching back, he grabbed hold of his lyre and brought it in front of him, strumming a few notes and letting them settle the discordant song that was playing in his stomach.

"My point is... Chat shouldn't be someone adding onto the pressure. That's not a partnership."

Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes darting around as she processed his words. She looked conflicted.

"...I'm sorry," he added, settling his lyre in his lap. "Not for what I said, but—I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

"No, no." She shook her head, pulling her knees to her chest. "It's good that you did. I've actually—" Her voice grew quiet. "—been thinking about it lately."

"About what?"

She made the same vague gesture from before. "All of that. There's been a lot going on and it's given me a lot to think about."

He knew immediately what she meant.

"It's... frustrating," she groaned. "I don't like Chat that way. I mean, maybe sometimes he said or did something that I found charming, but that's just—not enough for me, you know? To only feel something like that for a second or two." She averted her gaze, growing distant. "Everyone seems to think we belong together, and... I hate that they might be right."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Well, I'm a hero; a permanent one. I need to be there all the time. Every akuma, every purification, every Miraculous Ladybug. Only I can do it." She hugged her legs closer, burying her face in her knees. "I want a relationship. I want someone to date and be close to, but I can't have it. I'm always running away; always going somewhere with some excuse so I can go deal with the akuma, and I can't tell anyone! Can you imagine how that'd make my date feel?"

He opened his mouth, but a thought occurred to him at the last second that gave him pause.

"You... so you think..."

Once again, he hoped to be wrong. He wanted so badly to be wrong.

But Ladybug looked up, her expression pained as she confirmed, "There's only one person I could be with where it wouldn't have to happen."

His blood ran cold, he felt sick, and the memory of the red string flashed in his mind, wrapped around Adrien's ring.

Fate didn't just tie her to him; it wanted to make her believe that he was her only choice.

Viperion's grip on his lyre tightened, his teeth grinding together behind closed lips as he tried to maintain an aura of calm. He wasn't just angry anymore, he was livid, and he silently wished that the face on the other side of the butterfly miraculous was the universe so he could give it a piece of his mind.

How could you do that? How could you take a girl who's always worked so hard and tried her best, and treat her like she's nothing? No, not nothing, because then at least she'd be left alone. How could you treat her like a plaything, as if she's some prize for a guy to win no matter what? How could you manipulate her to think that everything's her fault, just so she never thinks to fight back against the ones putting pressure on her?

What's love if it's gotten through such force?

"V-viperion?"

A hand falling upon his jolted him back to reality, his head snapping up to see Ladybug there, her pupils shrunken in and her brows knitted in worry. Whatever his face had looked like, it'd scared her.

His first instinct was to feel guilty. He was supposed to be comforting her, not making things worse by letting all of his emotions show on his face.

His second instinct...

He tossed his lyre off to the side, Ladybug's gaze briefly following it until his hands fell upon her shoulders. Her eyes widened, and she let out a squeak as he pulled her onto his lap and into a hug.

The only thing he was grateful for in terms of her superhero status was that he could hug her as tightly as possible without hurting her.

"A-ah..." She seemed tempted to say something, but fell silent soon after and hugged him back, burying her face into the side of his neck. He felt her strength in the way she squeezed him, like she was starved for his affection despite them being in a similar position not too long ago.

He understood. Before, they were tackling her problems when she was Marinette, but Ladybug had never had someone to personally confide in concerning Chat.

She'd needed this.

"You already do so much," he whispered. "You should be allowed to be with whoever you want, and you shouldn't have to settle when it comes to love."

She sighed against him, like she knew deep down that he was right. "You don't know how bad it could get. Some hypothetical boyfriend wouldn't deserve that kind of treatment."

"I get why you'd feel that way," he said, "but I'd hope that this hypothetical boyfriend would know that you're worth it."

Her fingers twitched against his spine. "...You don't even know me."

"I know that you're creative. I know you're smart. I know you work harder than anyone else to keep Paris safe. I know you have a right to feel however you want, and if you think you need to earn being with someone who's not Chat, then you've more than done that." He slid his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. "I also know that you'll find a way to make it work, if you put in even half the care into it as you put into Paris."

"Vi—" She paused, her voice softening. "Luka..."

They stayed like that for a while, the bag of macarons going untouched an arm's reach away. Viperion just held her, sensing that she was feeling out what he'd said and that they didn't need words for it. That was fine with him; her love life was none of his business. He only wanted to help her have the choice to live it.

A breeze blew by, their bodysuits protecting them from the wind chill factor as their hair was lightly shifted by the gentle air. Ladybug stirred, letting out a noise like she felt personally slighted by the wind, then pushed herself up, her hands on his shoulders as she pulled away from him.

"We...we should get back to patrol," she admitted.

He offered her a small smile, noting that she seemed to be in better spirits at least. "Alright." He let her out of his lap, leaning over to the side to pick up his lyre.

He heard her retreating footsteps, along with a light, "You can keep the macarons."

He glanced up at her, surprised. "Are you sure?" he asked, knowing that he was mostly responsible for them not eating all of them. "Is that what you usually do on your breaks: let Chat have them?"

"Oh." She stood awkwardly in place, looking off at the sky before dropping her gaze to the ground. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she grinned sheepishly and replied, "Actually..."

He tilted his head, curious.

She peeked over at him, eyes half-lidded as she told him, "I've never done this with Chat."

He raised his brows, as if that would make her clarify, but she simply turned away from him and started doing a few stretches, clearly prepping to head back out.

Pursing his lips in thought, Viperion turned his back to her, giving attention to the little plastic bag resting neatly on the ground. Even though it was open, the little ribbon that had held it shut was still around it, suddenly feeling more special now that Ladybug had said something so... cryptic.

He looked out at the view they had, then Ladybug, then back at the bag, feeling extremely slow on the uptake as his brain pieced things together based on what information he had.

Then, suddenly his brain supplied: Wait... was this a date?

He buried the thought just as quickly, shaking his head and scolding himself for jumping to that so fast.

"Are you ready to go back to leaping rooftops?" Ladybug asked behind him, her tone light even if she was still in her own head.

"Yeah," Viperion replied, picking up the little bag like it was something precious. Hoping to lighten things further, he then added, "I'm new to this, so I might lag behind."

She chuckled. "You might. Apparently I'm a really amazing hero according to someone I know."

He grinned to himself. Even if she was just teasing, it felt good to hear her compliment herself in a way.

He had just tightened the ribbon to seal the bag back up, listening to the sound of Ladybug's foosteps, when he felt a sudden niggling sensation at the back of his head, or—behind him? He turned, puzzled, then leaped up as he caught sight of a teal wisp in Ladybug's path.

He rushed over as she yelped and tripped over what would seem like nothing according to her. Catching her just in time, he also realized belatedly that it may've been an overreaction, given that she was in superhero form; he could only blame it on reflex.

Ladybug stood up with a start, covering the lower half of her face in shame. "Ugh, that was so embarrassing, I'm sor—"

"It's not your fault," he hurried to say, not explaining further as he grew lost in thought, staring silently at the place where the wisp had formed itself.

He hadn't just seen the wisps this time; he had sensed them. That was new, and he wouldn't have questioned a new addition to his fate sensing had it not been the fact that he hadn't particularly done anything as Viperion; it usually took an instance or two of him using his power for something to manifest, but here...

He glanced up when he realized that Ladybug was looking at him curiously. Debating with himself for a moment, he ultimately trusted his gut and met her gaze, asking,

"Do you mind if I talk to Sass again after this?"

[valdomarx]

A Marriage of Convenience

Octoberfest romcom tropes day 1: fake dating

Jaskier pushed his ale aside and broke the wax seal on the letter. As he read the contents, his face pinched into a frown.

“Anything important?” Geralt asked, glancing up from his soup. 

Jaskier chewed his lower lip. “Not really. It’s from my family.” He took a breath. “They’re going to disinherit me.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Nothing, thank you very much! But it’s my 35th birthday next month, and the stipulations of the Lettenhove family will are quite clear. If the oldest son isn’t married by the age of 35, inheritance passes to the next married cousin.”

“Very keen on weddings in Lettenhove, are they?”

“Rather less keen on unmarried bachelors, actually.”

Geralt grunted. “That’s too bad. I imagine a viscount’s fortune could have come in handy for you.”

“Oh, I don’t care about the money.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just,” he sighed. “I have younger sisters who rely on me for support. If the inheritance goes to cousin Edward, he’ll turn them out without a penny to their names.”

“That’s unkind.”

“It is.” Jaskier slumped. He was glad to have left Lettenhove and its court intrigues behind, but the thought of his sisters being at the mercy of his greedy cousin was unconscionable. He knew too well all the terrible things that could befall a woman alone in the world.

“This will,” Geralt said, stirring his soup absentmindedly, “does it have any rules about who you have to marry?”

“No. Any old wedding will do. But it’s not like I’m going to find anyone willing to tie themselves to me in the next month.”

Geralt shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll marry you.”

Jaskier choked on his ale. “You?”

“Why not?”

“Because…” he broke off and mopped the sweat from his brow. Because I’ve been in love with you for decades. Because I’ve fantasised about you saying this in a million different ways. Because having to pretend it’s real is going to break my heart.

Geralt reached over the table and patted his hand. “It’ll just be pretend,” he said, as if that were in any way reassuring. “This is a problem easily solved. Let me help you.”

Jaskier sagged. This was going to be a disaster.

-

“This is going to be a disaster!” Jaskier paced anxiously around their room. “There are so many ways this could go horribly wrong.”

Geralt sat on the bed counting bundles of herbs. “It’ll be fine.” He was infuriatingly calm. “We’ll head to Lettenhove, have a quick wedding, get your family off your back, and be on our way. It’ll only take a few days.”

“But,” Jaskier kept pacing. “We’ll have to. You know. We’ll have to do couple things. There are certain… expectations of a newly married pair.”

Geralt got to his feet and placed his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders, stopping his anxious traipsing. “We’ll manage. Can’t be any worse than fighting drowners.”

Jaskier looked into amber eyes and felt his heart turn over in his chest. “Everyone will expect us to be holding hands, and kissing, and gods know what else. And you can’t do that.” He sighed. “You don’t even like men.”

Geralt leaned in closer, close enough that strands of his silver hair tickled Jaskier’s cheek. “I like men just fine,” he said, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then Jaskier did something terribly foolish. His body moved before his mind, his feet stepping closer, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck. He kissed him, hard, and to his astonishment Geralt kissed him back hungrily, lips parting to allow Jaskier to taste him fully, tongue exploring, hands roaming, and by the time they broke apart Jaskier was flushed and breathing hard.

“See?” Geralt said, his deep voice sending a shiver up his spine. “We can do this.”

-

Jaskier wrote to his family to tell them the good news, and he and Geralt wasted no time in heading off to Lettenhove. The journey was long but nothing they were unused to. They traveled by day, slept under the stars by night, and Geralt even picked up a few quick contracts to help pay their way.

It was comfortable, and normal, and Jaskier could almost forget about what he was about to put himself through.

At least, until they reached the outskirts of Lettenhove and they heard the whoosh of an incoming portal. The ground shook, the air rippled, and through the rent in reality stepped Yennefer, terrifying and beautiful as ever.

She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at them. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Jaskier couldn’t even bring himself to come up with a snarky reply as she swept past him and went to Geralt. He stood back and watched the two of them, powerful and dazzling together, each other’s equals in capability and composure.

He had never had a chance in this competition, he thought bitterly. He would be pretending with Geralt, while she had his heart for real.

Jaskier was left at camp while Geralt and Yennefer went off to do... whatever it was they did together. (He could guess what that was.) He spent a cold, lonely night with no one but Roach for company, berating himself for feeling so hurt by something he knew from the beginning was nothing but a ruse.

-

With their arrival in Lettenhove proper, there was nothing to do but face his family. The brightest spot of his day was walking into the estate and having his sisters squeal and jump on him just as they had done as children.

He stopped laughing and caught his breath long enough to introduce them. “Essi and Priscilla, this is Geralt.” My husband to be, he thought, and something twisted inside him at that. “Geralt, these are my troublesome sisters.”

Essi dipped her head and Priscilla performed a theatrical bow. “We were wondering if Jaskier would ever settle down,” Essi said with a sly smile.

“But seeing how handsome you are, I can’t blame him!” Priscilla replied, and the two of them broke into fits of giggles. 

Geralt, for his part, took them with good humour. Where Jaskier had been expecting him to be dour, he smiled indulgently and took each of their hands in turn and pressed a kiss to their knuckles, resulting in another uproar of giggling.

“Thank you for that,” Jaskier said quietly as they made their way to the room waiting for them.

Geralt inclined his head. “Have to make a good impression on the future in-laws,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking upward in amusement. 

The rest of his family were predictable as clockwork. Cousin Edward was sour, his father was distant, and his mother was simply relieved to see him married off as was proper. Geralt sat through all of it with more patience and good grace than Jaskier would have thought him capable of.

-

The day of the wedding itself passed in a blur. With such short notice the ceremony was terribly paired down by noble standards, but still, there was the formal breakfast, the dressing in formal garments, the journey to the temple outside of the city, the clamour of priestesses and officials and his family, the exchanging of rings, the reading of texts, and of course the formal dinner.

Jaskier barely remembered any of it. Looking back, the only thing that stuck out in his mind was the feeling of Geralt’s hand clasping his own during the handfasting. And the way that, whenever he was feeling overwhelmed over the course of the day, Geralt’s hand would find his own and give a comforting squeeze. 

-

Finally the ceremonies were complete and they were left in peace in their chambers, the two of them alone for the first time all day. Geralt’s hair had been braided into two slim plaits running either side of his face, though by now they were starting to become mussed. He’d even put on a shirt of dark blue silk as opposed to his standard uniform of all black. The effect was quite stunning.

As the door closed, Jaskier’s shoulders slumped and he breathed for what felt like the first time in hours.

Geralt cupped one cheek tenderly. “You good?”

Jaskier exhaled, letting the anxiety and stress of the day slowly unwind. He looked into Geralt’s warm eyes and felt, for once, safe and unjudged. “I’m good.”

Geralt brought their lips together, soft as could be, and Jaskier’s knees shook. He grabbed Geralt’s forearms to hold himself upright and, desperate for some sort of control, some sort of meaning, he pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. 

This was a bad idea, he was aware, but Geralt felt so good in his arms. He ran his hands through silky silver hair like he’d always wanted to, he pressed himself close to that muscled chest he’d spent more time than he should have admiring, and he moaned unrestrainedly when Geralt picked him up, locking his legs around his waist.

This was a terrible idea, he knew, but Geralt carried him over to the bed with firm, confident steps, and the temptation to touch, to hold, to kiss was overwhelming. This would only lead to heartache, but he was weak in the face of love, as always. 

Geralt laid him out and took him apart with soft lips and careful fingers and a wicked tongue, and it was everything he’d been dreaming of for years, and yet so much more intense than anything he could have imagined. Geralt was dazzling beneath him, warm amber eyes and pale scarred flesh, beautiful and kind and more than he could possibly deserve.

-

Nuptial celebrations in Lettenhove were mercifully brief, and with the ceremony completed and recorded to the satisfaction of the genealogists, they were free to depart.

There were, however, some customs which could not be avoided.

“You’ll be honeymooning nearby?” Jaskier’s mother asked, with the understanding that this was not a question.

“Actually, we thought -”

“They’ll be staying in my cottage, won’t you?” Priscilla interjected. She’d availed herself of her position, such as it was, to secure a tiny ramshackle cottage on the Kerack coast. It wasn’t opulent but it was, thankfully, far from prying eyes.

Jaskier gave her a tiny nod of thanks and she winked.

“A cottage?” His mother’s lip turned up in distaste. “How quaint.”

“And there’s ever so much to pack, so we must be on our way -” he excused himself with a bow, tugging Geralt behind him.

Out of the view of their parents, Priscilla and Essi set upon him with hugs and kisses, thanked him for saving them from the horrors of cousin Edward, and packed up an obscene quantity of cheeses and wine to take with them.

By the time they departed the estate, Jaskier was even smiling.

-

It was quiet and calm on the coast. The cottage overlooked the sea, rolling and tempestuous, and had just enough space for a kitchen, a bed, and a bath. They had everything they needed, even a stable for Roach outside.

Even though it was only for a few days, Jaskier imagined Geralt would be bored and unhappy, feeling trapped in a place so small. But he seemed content: riding along the coastline in the morning, brushing Roach out, going fishing in the afternoon, preparing the catch for their evening meal.

Jaskier showed him his favourite spices and how to prepare the fish with butter to make it rich and indulgent, and in the quiet moments he wrote poetry or simply sat on the battered chair on the porch of the cottage and watched the waves.

Geralt returned to the cottage with a net bulging with fish and a smile on his face. He’d been doing that more recently, Jaskier had noticed, smiling in a way that seemed natural and unforced. He even left his armour and swords in the cottage and waded down to the sea in just his trousers and shirtsleeves, disarmingly casual.

It was comfortable, almost domestic. 

And it was a torment, showing Jaskier a tiny glimpse of a life he’d never have.

-

Their last night on the coast, Geralt cooked the remainder of their provisions into a feast, poured the best wine they had, and set a fire in the hearth. He piled up blankets and pillows, laid down their warmest furs, and pulled Jaskier into his arms in front of the flames.

“Thank you,” he said, dotting kisses in a line up Jaskier’s neck, “for taking such good care of me.”

Jaskier fidgeted unhappily. “You’re the one doing me a favour,” he reminded him. That seemed important to remember. This was a favour from a friend, nothing more.

Geralt hummed against his neck, the vibrations rippling against his skin. “I can see some advantages to me,” he murmured, continuing his line of kisses up Jaskier’s jaw and toward his lips.

Jaskier, stupidly, allowed Geralt to turn him around, hands delicate around his waist, allowed him to bring their lips together. He allowed a kiss, soft at first, and then another, more intense, moaning into Geralt’s mouth. 

“Can I interest you in an early night?” Geralt purred in his ear, and everything in Jaskier’s body said yes, and everything in his mind said no.

Eventually, his mind won out and he pushed Geralt away. 

“No,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry, Geralt, but this was a terrible mistake.”

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Geralt’s sad expression. He was hit by the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Hey,” Geralt’s voice was so soft behind him. “It’s okay, Jaskier. Whatever it is. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

Jaskier deflated. He turned to face Geralt, watery eyes and all. “That’s not the problem. I don’t want you to stop. I want this to be real.”

Geralt stood carefully still. “What do you mean, real?”

Jaskier took a breath, tried to imagine how to explain himself, how to convey what he felt. “I’m in love with you!” he snapped in the end. Not his most eloquent work, but perhaps his most honest.

Geralt tilted his head. “I know,” he said. He looked down at the ring on his finger. “Isn’t that the point?”

“The point?” Jaskier exploded. “The point!” He couldn’t stop himself from waving his arms as he ranted. “Oh, sure, I’m certain that the ideal marriage is between one person who’s hopelessly in love and one person who’s indifferent and besotted with another. I’m sure Yennefer will be delighted when she hears about this whole situation.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m in love with Yennefer?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

He paused, obviously weighing his words. “That night when she visited us outside Lettenhove, she wasn’t surprised by the news. She told me congratulations, and that it had taken long enough. I think she knew long before I did that I wasn’t in love with her, not really. My heart already belonged to another.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “You mean… You and her, you’re not...”

Geralt shook his head. “What she most wants is something I can’t give her.”

“And you?” Jaskier asked, dreading the answer.

Geralt took his hand. “What I most want,” he stroked his thumb over the ring around Jaskier’s finger, “is something I already have.”

Jaskier’s heart leapt. It was almost too much. It was overwhelming. “You really love me?”

Geralt smiled softly. “I really do.”

Jaskier threw himself into Geralt’s lap, arms around his neck, foreheads pressed together. “Tell me again,” he said, because he was needy.

“I love you,” Geralt said, kissing down the side of his face. “I love you,” he said, lacing their fingers together against the furs. “I love you,” he said, their bodies moving together, finally free to feel with the intensity they had been hiding for so long, their scents mingling together with the fresh salt tang of the sea.

-

The sun shone brightly and the wind whipped their hair as they packed up Roach the next morning. Jaskier paused to admire the view one last time: The rolling waves, the steep cliffs, the shingled beach. 

Geralt slipped his arms around his waist from behind and dropped a kiss just beneath his ear. 

“What does our life look like now?” Jaskier asked, eyes on the waves.

He felt Geralt’s smile against his hair. “Much the same as before,” he said. “With perhaps a few improvements.”

Jaskier turned then and kissed him fully, no need to hold himself back, taking Geralt’s hand and running his fingers over the ring there.

“Ready to head back to the Path?” 

Geralt smiled, and Jaskier would never tire of that. “Ready if you are,” he said with softness in his eyes, “husband.”

[bex2313]

Sooooo, I was inspired to write this outline when I helped my pal @story-courty move out of her apartment last year. I had planned to write the fic for real, but in honor of her birthday, here's what it is so far:

-Luke is slowly moving from his crappy apartment into the house he and Julie bought and are going to live in after their wedding. 

-A week before the wedding, he enlists the help of his guys to move all his big furniture: couch, dining table, recliner, washer and dryer

-Alex gets there first (with Willie in tow) and immediately starts freaking out because “Luke! Why is nothing packed yet???” “Dude, it’s fine, I’ve got time.” 

-Alex immediately calls Emily because only the woman who raised him will know how to deal with Luke’s Luke-ishness right now. 

-Emily and Reggie arrive at the same time and are equally concerned about Luke’s lack of preparedness. “Luke Christopher Patterson, I raised you better than this! I should be preparing for your wedding, not packing your life into boxes like you should have done weeks ago!” “Yeah, dude, what were you thinking? You knew you’d only live here for six months!” 

-Emily spends all day packing boxes while the boys move the big furniture. She calls Mitch who comes to help right after work. 

-When dinner time hits and Emily realizes that she and Mitch have to reschedule their plans with Ray, she tries to cancel, instead Ray shows up with takeout for everyone and starts helping pack.

- “Mijo, remind me again  when your lease ends?” “... Next week?” “You mean while you’re on your honeymoon?” Alex asks incredulously. “I guess we better keep working then,” Ray responds calmly. 

- Everyone gathers the next day to help too, including Flynn, Carrie, Tia, and Trevor, but no one tells Julie because they don’t want to stress her out before the wedding. She eventually gets suspicious and shows up unannounced. “Yeah, I stopped by the storage unit this morning to drop something off and noticed that it was still half empty. It didn’t take much to put it together after that.” 

-As soon as she arrives, Julie naturally immediately starts sorting which things are coming into their new home and which are going into her storage unit. “No, Luke, your ratty posters are not going to decorate our bedroom. You can hang them in your studio when you build it, but they are not going to be decor in our home.” “Told you,” Alex adds with a smirk. 

- When they finally start taking boxes to the new house and/or the storage unit, Julie gets right to work, picking up whatever’s in front of her that’s clearly going one place or the other and that’s light enough for her to carry. Alex flitters around trying to figure out the most efficient means of bringing everything over. Luke stands there overwhelmed, watching everything happen until finally Emily rolls her eyes and says “Okay honey, it’s time to start using those biceps you love showing off to the world.” 

- Very slowly over two days, everything gets moved over to either their house or their storage unit. And somehow they still manage to have time to get everything ready for the wedding, too. 

- “So glad we can finally get married now,” Julie says fondly with a dramatic eye roll when the last box is moved into the house. “Wait one second there, Julie,” Emily replies with a grin. “Someone’s going to have to clean the apartment before you can officially call it done. And I’m afraid I won’t be the one to do it.” 

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[whimsicallyreading]

For Day 29 of Rowaelin Month

“A song fic-“

The song- “Always Been You” by Quinn XCII

CW- Mentions of miscarriage and divorce

"I can't believe you right now."

Rowan looks at his wife in frustration. She's sitting at the end of their bed, staring listlessly at the wall. The skirt of the red dress she's wearing is wrinkled, and his heart aches when he notices the mascara marks on her cheeks.

"Aelin," Rowan tries again to reach for her, but she leans away from his grasp.

"No, Rowan. I'm done."

Rowan takes a long swing from the beer in front of him. The time on his phone alerts him that he's spent most of the evening sulking at his bar.

The guys had invited him to dinner, but Rowan hadn't felt like going in light of his current situation. Instead, choosing to meander to the shady little pub they'd passed by coming from the airport.

His lawyer had sent him numerous emails. Documents to sign, agreements to approve, and papers he needed to read through before sending them to the judge.

Divorce was a pain, and Aelin wasn't making it easy.

"Hey, bud. I thought I might find you here." Fenrys slides onto the barstool next to his.

Rowan sighs and rubs the lines forming on his forehead. "Well, I thought it was obvious I didn't want company."

"Too bad. Drinking alone isn't a good look on you." Fenrys raises a hand and motions for another round of beers. "How are things going with ya know?"

"Shitty. She's never paid a dime of rent on that apartment, but she wants the lease signed into her name and for me to front the first four months of rent." Rowan cracks a peanut between his finger. He has no intent to eat the growing pile in front of him. He just craved the satisfaction of breaking something.

"Well, have you talked to her about that?" Fenrys frowns in sympathy, knowing how equally attached both parties were to the little rental.

Rowan laughs mirthlessly. "No, she said that it was better if our conversations were mediated. I always knew Aelin was catty, but she's acting like such a-"

"Don't." Fenrys gives Rowan a severe look. "I know you are upset, but don't start saying shit you'll regret."

Rowan pauses and reluctantly nods his agreement. It's the alcohol talking. He knew the problems that had festered his marriage were predominantly his responsibility.

He takes a deep breath, but a heaviness seems to keep the air from reaching his lungs fully. The weight was slowly becoming too familiar, starting the day Aelin had presented him with the papers.

Rowan wishes he'd done more. Wishes he'd paid more attention and seen the signs of Aelin's unhappiness.

The day Aelin had broken down in their bedroom had been a cold wake-up call but by then? It was already too late.

"You missed our anniversary Rowan." Aelin shouts and pulls her heels off angrily.

Rowan picks up a shoe and tries to hand it back to her. "I know. I'm sorry. It's not too late, though. We can still go out? There's still time to salvage-"

Aelin turns away from him and seems to fold in on herself. Rowan wants to reach out. He wants to hold her, but something dark is building in the air.

"I don't want your leftovers, Rowan," Aelin whispers. "That's all I get anymore—your leftover time. Your leftover attention. Whatever leftover resentment you bring home from work."

"Aelin-" he tries to cut off her depressive spiral, but she's not finished.

"You used to call me during the day." Aelin's voice cracks, and he realizes she's crying. "Every day, you would call me on your break. Now you don't even call when you leave town."

"Baby, just listen to me." He puts his hands on her shoulders, but Aelin breaks his grasp to turn around and look at him.

"Is there someone else?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. So unlike his regular Aelin."

"What?" His brain is struggling even to formulate a reply. Rowan's lack of response only causes Aelin to worry more.

Something in her cracks. There's a quiver to her lips, and her face drains of color. "Oh. Oh no."

"Aelin. I swear there is no one else." Rowan finally says, but it's too late.

"Is," Aelin presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Is it because I lost the baby?" She sucks in a hiccupping breath. "You've always wanted kids. So did I, but my fucking body doesn't work."

Aelin closes her eyes, and Rowan knows she's speaking more to herself than him, but her words gut him just the same. "My body doesn't work right. I keep giving us false hopes and wasting money on pregnancy tests. Of course, you would look for a woman who can give you what you want."

He's surprised by the sudden flare of anger in him. "Don't put words in my mouth. That will never be your fault."

They'd known right from the start their journey to parenthood would be a long one. Aelin had a family history of complicated fertility. It had seemed so trivial when they got married. Yet even knowing there could be issues, nothing quite prepared them for the pain of a miscarriage.

Aelin sniffles, unable to force back her grief, "But you resent me. Don't you?"

Rowan doesn't reply.

"It's rough," Rowan admits out loud. "I let a lot get left unsaid. I was hurt and pushed her away. Now she won't even speak to me without a lawyer present."

Fenrys nods, "It's all probably for the best. Once this is over, you guys can put this drama behind you."

"I wish it were that easy," Rowan knocks back the rest of his beer. He grimaces at the drink. It's not taking hold quickly enough.

Fenrys raises an eyebrow. "You both will be able to shut the book on this chapter of your lives and move on? Considering how bloody you two have been fighting, it sounds ideal."

They sit in silence. Fenrys takes the peanut basket away from Rowan and picks at the shells. The bartender comes by, and disgruntledly eyes Rowan's pile of crumbs as he orders a whiskey neat.

Fen was like his little brother, but Rowan found it hard to admit his real problem to him aloud. "I still love her."

The basket goes flying over the side of the counter, and Fenrys chokes on his beer. "What?"

Rowan can't look him in the eye, "We lost a baby. It was early. Aelin didn't want to tell everyone. Three years we tried to get pregnant, and finally, a test comes back positive. She was so happy."

"Shit," Fenrys says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"It was there, and then it was gone. I thought Aelin was fine. She cried for a week, but then it was like a switch flipped, and she was back to normal." Rowan clenches a napkin in his fist. "I was devastated. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to send her back into a depression." Rowan shakes his head at how stupid he'd been. "So I put some distance between us. I didn't want her to think I was upset with her."

"I didn't feel better," Rowan sips the whiskey, relishing the warmth. "It made me mad that she got over it so quickly, and I couldn't. I didn't realize that I was growing that space between us. I didn't understand how much guilt she harbored and that she tried to be strong for me. Not until she broke."

"We fought. I said all the wrong things. Aelin couldn't take it anymore, she left, and I didn't stop her." Rowan leans his head on his hands and elbows against the counter. "She's the love of my life, and I watched her walk out the door."

Fenrys sucks in a breath and sighs. "You are my best friend, and I mean this in the most loving way possible. Why the hell are you here?"

"What?" Rowan looks at Fenrys annoyed face.

"Get out of here. Go. I'll tell the boss you have ebola or some shit." Fenrys fishes his wallet out and throws cash on the bar. "I'll even cover the tab. Just leave. Now."

"What? I don't understand?"

Fenrys looks at Rowan like he's stupid. "No offense, but you are about as interesting as a brick wall. The fact you caught a girl like Aelin is astonishing. If you love her, are you honestly going to let her go on being miserable?"

"She's not miserable," Rowan scoffs.

Fenrys laughs bitterly. "You forget I'm pals with Aedion too? Aelin winds up at his house almost every evening crying her eyes out. You two are still hopelessly in love. You're just dumb and badly in need of a good conversation."

"Aelin is upset?" A sense of disbelief washes over him.

"Yes! She misses you, but she's under the impression you are off sleeping around." His face saddens. "I told Aedion you weren't. He knows I go on all of these trips with you. Aelin's just upset you're gone and needs to believe in something that can help her let go."

Rowan stands up, swaying. "I have to go."

"Hell yeah, you do. Give Aelin my love," Fenrys waves as Rowan vates the bar like a hawk out of hell.

Aelin sets the stack of papers in front of him.

Rowan had been camping out in his office ever since there disaster of an anniversary. He'd texted a few times, but every time they talked, it was like relighting a fuze. Things weren't getting better.

"What are these?" Rowan asks without looking up from his screen.

"Your ticket to freedom," Aelin sits in the chair across from him.

She looks thin, thinner than she did when Arobynn was her foster father. It physically hurts Rowan that he's causing her that kind of stress. Glancing at the papers, she slapped in front of him. His blood becomes like an ice river through his body. "Aelin-"

"I'm not the one for you. That's apparent now. I won't hold you hostage in a marriage that you aren't happy in." Aelin blinks, and a tear slides down her face. He wants to wipe it away, but he's beyond angry. She was giving up on them.

"If this is what you want," Rowan slides the papers towards him and pulls out a pen.

Rowan is racing the familiar paths to their apartment. He doesn't care that it's almost four in the morning. The plane ride between Perranth and Ornyth is mercifully short, but he can't force himself to wait another minute.

"Aelin," he yells through their door. "Baby, answer me. Open the door."

Rowan's fists tap a consistent rhythm on the door, and his heart skips a beat when a bedraggled Aelin finally appears. "Rowan, do you know what time it is?"

She's in a pair of grey flannel pajamas, not one of her usual silky numbers. Aelin's eyes are red around the edges, and her face is still dewy from the excessive amount of lotion he knows she loves to put on. Rowan knows all of her routines. All of her favorite outfits, comfort movies, and best memories. He knows the scar she has on her left hand from an abusive foster father. Rowan remembers how the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she's upset in the same spot her cousin's does.

He knows everything about her, because not only were they husband and wife, they were best friends.

How could he have let that go?

Before Aelin can ask any more questions, Rowan has swept her into his arms. "I missed you so damn much."

"Rowan, have you been drinking?" Aelin asks in a voice cracked with emotion.

His hands are running up her back, and his knows burrows into her hair. He's always loved the smell of her jasmine shampoo. "Fireheart, I never resented you for losing the baby."

"Rowan, I don't want to talk about this," Aelin tries to push him away, but he squeezes her into his chest, and she melts.

That had been his mistake. He should have held Aelik like this and never let her go on pretending to be happy. How could he know everything about this woman and not have seen past her facade? She'd suffered. His own pain had blinded him.

"Aelin, I've made so many mistakes lately." Rowan rubs the back of Aelin's neck the way she likes, and he can feel the sobs starting to build up inside of her. "But the greatest shame of my life is not being there for you when you needed me. I was stupid, Fireheart. I'm not going to be stupid any longer. This separation can't go on, we aren't any happier for it, and I can't live knowing I'm away from the other half of my soul."

Aelin cracks, and he can feel the tears wetting the front of his shoulder. "You were never home. I thought there was someone else, someone who could give you the things you wanted because I can't."

Her whole form is shuddering his arms, and Rowan squeezes tighter as if he can hold her broken pieces together. "It's always been you. I don't care if we adopt or never have any kids at all. All I need is you, baby. You are all I've ever needed."

Suddenly, hands are in Rowan's hair as Aelin crushes their lips together. The kiss is frantic, a relief of the stress they'd carried upon their shoulders.

"I missed you too," Aelin whispers in between kisses. “Gods I mussed you so much.”

The rest of their night is filled with soothing words, frantic kissing, and murmured apologies. Rowan kisses the tears from her cheeks and Aelin looks into his eyes like she’s home. Nail dig into skin as they promise never to be apart again.

For the first time in months they sleep in the same bed. Rowan sinks into a deep restful sleep with his wife in his arms once more. He loves the way her cold toes search out his heat. How Aelin fits so perfectly against his chest. When he wakes up and she’s still there, his heart nearly features from relief.

After months of pain, it's the beginning of their walk towards healing.

The days after aren't perfect. They had legal issues to sort back out, more problems to lay bare to the sunlight. There was arguing, but it lacked actual heat, and they didn't walk away feeling unloved at the end. No longer did they fight to land barbs. Their bickering now served to work towards solutions and to express needs.

Between struggles, the love began to grow back. Rowan kept his job at work, and when he was home, it was about them. He started calling her on his breaks again, and it always astonished him how much he missed the sound of her voice. They both strived to communicate their feelings better and actually listen instead of reacting.

Aelin surprised him with romantic dates, and Rowan read pages of her favorite books to her at night. They danced in the kitchen and laughed at their favorite shows.

Fixing their marriage was hard work, but Rowan and Aelin didn't mind. The separation proved that neither of them wanted a life without the other. It was to whatever end, and they wouldn't accept anything less for them.

On one Sunday morning, Rowan opens his eyes and realizes that Aelin isn't on her side of the bed. Panic surges in him, and he looks around to make sure her things are still there.

They are, and the tension eases from his shoulders until he hears soft crying from the bathroom. Darting out of bed, he grabs Aelin's bathrobe and knocks on their bathroom door. "Aelin, what's wrong?"

Had he screwed something up? Was she sick?

The lock clicks, granting him silent permission for him to come inside. Rowan pushes the door open and finds Aelin crying on the side of the tup. With gentle hands, he wraps her robe around her and throws an arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Aelin looks up at him, a radiant smile on her face. "Look."

Rowan glances down to her clenched fists and-

He blinks, once, twice. Aelin laughs at his dumbfounded face, and it breaks his paralysis. Rowan grabs her around the waist and spins her around the cramped bathroom, the positive pregnancy test clattering to the floor.

Aelin's arms wrap around his neck. The emotion in the room is raw and bittersweet, but there's a hopefulness that can't be denied. Rowan holds her tight as they process the news. When they break apart, the love between them is palpable. They had another shot at this, a fresh start.

Hards times would come and go, but good days were never far behind for them. Because for Aelin and Rowan, it's always been them.

And that's all they needed.

[gernades]

Ace is gone. He’s been gone for five weeks. 

Nancy has had a lot of time to think. 

She sees the places where he used to be- the kitchen, his house, the spot in his driveway where Florence is always parked- and can’t stop looking at them. 

“Nancy?” 

Nancy blinks and looks up. Ace’s mother is watching her, hands resting on the dough, eyes concerned. “Are you okay?” 

Today they’re making babka-chocolate bread, braided in sections and glazed with egg wash. Nancy looks down. She’s not very good at braiding, but it mostly looks like Rebecca’s dough. 

“I’m fine,” she says, a half-smile working its way across her face. “It’s just been a long week.” Another week without Ace.  She doesn’t know why she’s here, in his house- in his kitchen- but Rebecca doesn’t seem to mind. She never has.

Nancy’s here every other day, now. They’ve made bread and biscuits and a dozen Jewish desserts that Nancy is now addicted to. 

Sometimes, Thom joins them. 

( “He’s taken quite the shine to you,” Rebecca whispers on one such day, eyes sparkling. “He’s not like this with everyone.” 

Nancy doesn’t bring up the ASL textbooks sitting new and shiny on her desk at home. 

Talking about me again, Thom signs over his shoulder, and Rebecca laughs, flicks him on the shoulder. )

Now, Rebecca gently sets down her dough and wipes her fingers off on her apron. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

No, thank you, is Nancy’s knee jerk reaction. She pauses before letting the words come out. She’s been doing that more often, as of late. Sana-her therapist- would be proud. 

Nancy purses her lips and drags a finger through the loose flour on the counter. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just… going through a lot with my dad’s business, and... I can’t help but feel like I’m never going to be happy again.” 

The last part she doesn’t mean to say out loud. “I’m sorry,” Nancy says immediately, and lifts her head up. “That was…” 

“Oh, honey,” Rebecca whispers. Her eyes are shiny. “I don’t know exactly what’s been going on, but I can tell that it’s been hard on you. You’ve always been so strong. Just like your mother.” 

“Hm,” Nancy manages, throat tight and vision blurry. When Rebecca bustles around the table and wraps her arms around her, she doesn’t pull away. 

Rebecca smells like soap and rosemary: she is warm and accepting and she makes Nancy’s heart hurt less. This will have to end eventually, but she can’t help but lean into it anyway.

                                                              *** 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out of the house,” Carson remarks later that night. 

They’re sitting at the dinner table, doing their best to eat what is supposed to be spaghetti, courtesy of Ryan. He’s still learning how to use basic appliances: his cooking is dangerous.

 Nancy wrinkles her nose and stabs at a coagulated lump of pasta. 

“Yeah. Nothing bad. I’ve just been… baking.” 

Ryan hums and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth. Nancy and Carson watch in amazement as he gets it down without gagging. “You’re really good at it, too. That, uh, chocolate croissant thingy you brought home yesterday was amazing.” 

Nancy raises an eyebrow, amused. “The rugelach?” 

Ryan jabs his fork into the air. “Yes. So good.” 

“Spending time with Rebecca, I gather?” Carson’s voice is light and free of judgement. Before the whole Wraith thing, Nancy would have pulled up her walls, deflected the conversation. 

It’s a little different now, though, so Nancy just nods. “It’s just... nice to have someone to talk to who’s normal.” 

Carson sighs and rubs her shoulder. “I understand that completely.” 

“Hey,” Ryan states, expression pinched, “is pasta supposed to make my stomach bubbly?” 

Nancy and Carson exchange a long, tired look. 

They take Ryan to the ER for food poisoning. 

                                                              *** 

George slams a palm down onto the table. Her engagement ring sparkles in the afternoon light. Nancy jumps. “It’s been quiet, Drew. Too quiet. I don’t trust it.” 

Nancy takes a long look around the Claw. It’s nearly packed to the brim with customers- their Yelp ratings have skyrocketed since the staff have actually started working again. “This is your idea of quiet?” 

George groans and slides into the opposite booth. “You know what I mean. We’ve had nothing supernatural happen for almost a month. It’s driving me crazy.” 

“Good,” Nancy replies mildly, and takes another bite of her crab roll. “I’m taking a sabbatical from sleuthing.” 

Sana was the one to suggest a break from anything stressful- like sports or large events! Avoiding murder and possession via the paranormal probably isn’t what her therapist means, but Nancy can read between the lines. 

George screeches. Half the restaurant turns to look at them. They turn back when they see who it is. 

“What?” She narrows her eyes and leans in. “Okay. I never thought I’d live to see the Hero of Horseshoe Bay gives herself a break.” She crosses her arms. “I’m proud of you, Nancy.” 

Nancy’s heart hums. She sends George a grateful smile. “Thanks.” 

George smiles back. “Your lunch break was over ten minutes ago, by the way. I need you to clean out the grease traps.” 

Nancy’s smile drops. 

The grease traps are gross, hard work. They’re also the last normal thing Nancy did with Ace, which is equal parts sad and amusing. 

She grits her teeth and scrubs her cloth against the dirty metal. At least it’s cool here, in the kitchen, and away from the always-prying eyes of customers. 

The bell above the restaurant door tinkles faintly. Nancy sighs and dips her rag into the bucket of degreaser. 

Bess screams, high-pitched and excited. “Ace!” 

Nancy stands up so quickly that she knocks the bucket onto its side. No way. 

He can’t be back- it’s too soon, too late. Nancy needs to think more. If he’s back, she can’t go to his house again, can she?

Heart pounding, she creeps over to the window and peers into the restaurant. He’s surrounded by Bess and George- and, after a moment, Nick jogs in from the parking lot, smile blinding. 

Nancy wants to go see him. She does. Her feet seem to have other ideas, though. She can’t seem to move at all. 

Ace looks good. His hair is longer, and sun-bleached; his skin is tanned. Even from this distance Nancy can see the new freckles on his face. 

There’s a leather jacket, black and tight around his shoulders- and two new silver studs in his ears. He’s smiling. He looks happy.

 Nancy’s chest aches. 

“Hey,” she hears him say to George, “Where’s Nancy?” 

Nancy takes a half step backwards. 

“Cleaning the grease traps in the kitchen,” George replies, spreading her arms in a grand gesture. “The best job in the world.” 

Ace laughs. 

Nancy runs. 

She doesn’t really run- she simply makes a strategic, tactical retreat into the staff room and out the back door. 

There’s no time to overthink it- not yet, her brain and heart agree. Not yet. 

Nancy thanks her former self for parking her car at the very edge of the lot. Nobody notices as she pulls out onto the road, a full two hours before her shift is supposed to end. 

Ooh, she’s a little runaway! Bon Jovi croons on the radio. Daddy’s girl learned fast- 

Nancy grits her teeth and pushes her foot against the accelerator. 

All those things he couldn’t say! Ooh, she’s a little runawa-

Nancy spins the radio dial with fumbling fingers, and spends the rest of her drive listening to germanic opera. 

“Shit.” 

                                                               *** 

“Jesus,” Ryan says when he opens the front door. “You look worse than I do, and I spent three hours getting my stomach pumped last night.” 

Nancy pushes past him without a word. 

Ryan’s voice lowers, softens. “Nancy. Hey.” He reaches out, gently wraps a hand around her wrist. She stops walking. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Nancy says, but her words come out wobbly, uneven. 

Ryan scoots a little closer. “Okay, well… that’s a lie.” 

Nancy snorts. “Ace is back.” 

Ryan smiles, relieved. “That’s great!” He pauses. “Isn’t it?” When she says nothing, he squints his eyes, searches her face. “Oh,” he says finally. “I see.” 

Nancy stiffens, alarmed. “How did you-,” 

Ryan sighs and taps his cheek. “We make the same kind of face, you know. Genetics and all that.” 

“Shit,” Nancy says again, and tries very hard not to sink through the floor. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryan promises. “I wont say anything.”

“What’s going on?” 

Ryan and Nancy turn to face Carson, who is wrapped in a purple robe, fresh out of the shower. He takes one look at the expression on Nancy’s face and rushes over. “Is there another entity-,” 

“No,” Nancy says vehemently. She drops her head onto his shoulder, breathes in the smell of his aftershave. “I’m just not feeling well.” 

Neither of her dads press her for more- they simply stand like that, the three of them, for a very long time. 

                                                              *** 

        George: where the hell are u?? 

        George: hello? nancy?

        George: are u ok

        Bess: ACE IS BACK!!!! :D

        Bess: wait where r u 

        Nick: Did something happen? 

        Ace: hey. i just got back. where are you? 

“No,” Nancy says softly, and turns off her phone. “I am not good.” 

She needs a plan. Something to protect herself, and to spare everyone from the complications that one-sided feelings often bring. It’s been a good five weeks, if she doesn’t include the whole Ace thing. It’s been peaceful. Happy. 

She doesn’t want to ruin that. 

Nancy draws her knees up to her chest and stares out the window. I think I’ll just have to pretend. It’s either that, or avoiding Ace altogether- which would be impossible.

No more baking with Rebecca and Thom, either. That hurts more than Nancy wants to admit- but she’s already made up her mind. She’ll keep her feelings on the back burner, and do her best to keep things normal. 

With a sigh, she stands, and goes upstairs to take a much-needed nap. 

She dreams again. It’s the same one she’s been having every night for the past five weeks.

Nancy dreams of silk and cigarette smoke- because Ace always has to light one up after he has a joint- and of the ocean. The waves lap at the shore, rhythmic and quiet. It’s peaceful, here. Safe.

She dreams about a cliff, soft grass: warm, roving hands and a familiar mouth against her own. If she calls out his name in her sleep, that’s her problem.

 If she wakes up sweaty and teary-eyed, that’s her problem, too.

[spencers-renaissance]

Shovel Talk

Summary: Hotch and Emily find out about Derek's relationship with Spencer and decide it's time for a chat.

Tags: fluff, humour, est. rel., protective!derek, emily, and hotch, relationship reveal, mentions of past hurt spencer

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Inspired by this post by @penemily that I couldn't stop thinking about. Honestly I love this fic so much lol.

Derek isn’t quite sure how he’s found himself in a vacant office after hours, crowded into an office chair with broken wheels as the two most intimidating FBI agents he knows stand over him.

“Either of you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Derek asks, bewildered by how quickly his evening had changed. One minute he’s sneaking looks at Spencer over his computer screen, and the next he’s hauled off to a private room like some sort of hostage.

He’s not scared, but he’s definitely a little pissed off. It’s nearing 10pm and all he wants to do is go home with Spencer, curl up on the sofa and eat take-out in front of the TV as they celebrate closing a case in their own way. He used to celebrate by going out for a drink, falling into bed with a stranger if the opportunity arose, but a quiet evening on the sofa with his boy in his arms is surprisingly satisfying these days.

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “We know,” he says simply, something fierce behind his words.

Derek’s heart skips a beat. It’s not hard to figure out what it is he’s talking about. He and Spencer had started dating a couple of months ago but had decided to keep it under wraps for now; something so young and beautiful was too precious to expose to all the inevitable eventual complications just yet. They’re so ridiculously smitten, though, that he’s not exactly surprised two profilers paying close attention had figured it out.

Ignoring the quietly humming nerves starting up in his stomach, he mirrors Hotch’s raised eyebrow, trying not to look as affected as he feels. “So… what? You wait for Spencer to go to the bathroom to lure me to an empty office to beat me up?”

“Maybe,” Emily replies, voice dry.

Behind the nerves and the posturing, Derek can’t feel a small twinge of hurt. “Look, guys, we expected it to be a bit of a shock, but we thought you’d at least be happy for us—”

“It’s not a shock,” Hotch interrupts.

“What?”

“It’s not a shock,” Emily repeats. “Everyone saw this coming a mile off. We’re not surprised.”

Now, he’s even more lost. “Look, can you guys just sit down? You towering over me is creeping me out, man.”

“Good,” Hotch says easily.

Irritation takes over, and he stands up. “You know what, if you’re gonna be funny about it, I don’t actually have to be here.”

Before he can actually make to leave, though, Hotch is shoving him back down into the chair, old metal and plastic creaking under the force of his caught-off-guard body hitting it again. “Stay.”

“What is going on?” Derek explodes. Maybe under different circumstances he’d be able to profile the situation but as it stands, he’s stressed and confused, desperate only to be allowed to leave this dark, cramped room and take Spencer back to his place. It almost surprises him that all he craves in such a weird and unfamiliar situation is cuddles and a nature documentary, but he’s been with Spencer long enough for it to be approaching normal. The younger man’s probably back at his desk by now, wondering where he is, and Derek would hate for him to be worried. He just wants to go home.

“Derek, we are happy for you and Spencer,” Emily finally explains. “But we couldn’t in good conscience let this go on without having a… chat.” Her face twists into the faux charming expression he’s watched her use to disarm unsubs countless times. It stings a little that she’s using it on him.

He splutters a little as a realisation dawns on him, equal parts bemused and offended. “This is… this is a shovel talk!”

“Yes,” Hotch says with a straight face, his expression tight and intimidating as he tilts his head to the side slightly, clearly entirely unaffected by Derek’s emotions. “This is a shovel talk.”

Derek feels himself relax, tension easing slightly. “Guys, I appreciate the sentiment, but Spencer’s my boyfriend; nobody wants to protect him more than I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m pretty sure we could give you a run for your money,” Emily says, her expression quickly transforming into something far more dangerous and challenging than only moments previously. “Spencer has something every single member of this team would die to protect. And if you get in our way, then we’re going to have a problem.”

“Emily, what, we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, shrugging easily, “and I love you. But Spencer is my little brother, and I would do anything to stop him from getting hurt. As long as you don’t interfere with my primary mission, we’ll be fine.”

Hotch speaks before Derek can get a word in. “Derek, I knew Spencer long before you did. I remember the first time Gideon brought him to one of our lunches, and I saw something in him that made my heart ache. It didn’t take me long to realise that what I saw were the scars left by incredible deep-seated pain. Spencer has been through hell and back throughout his life, and he’s been hurt repeatedly by people who were supposed to protect him, including Gideon. I would do anything to prevent him from getting hurt by someone like that again, you hear me? Anything.”

As confusing as this all is, Derek can’t help but feel touched by Hotch’s earnest, emotional speech. Most of his nightmares these days revolve around Spencer getting hurt, and it’s kind of reassuring to know that he has so many people in the world who will stop at nothing to prevent those horrible dreams from spiralling into reality.

He can’t help but smile a little. “I’m glad he has you two,” Derek says honestly, looking between them, “but I can assure you that if I ever hurt Spencer for some unfathomable reason, your services wouldn’t be needed. I would hate myself enough for all three of us.” Even just considering the hypothetical possibility of hurting Spencer makes his stomach turn: it’s enough for him to know that he wouldn’t need Hotch and Emily to hold him accountable to that, his own self-loathing would be punishment enough.

It seems to appease Hotch and Emily, who Derek realises look sort of like intimidating twin mafia bosses standing over him like this, and they finally step back a little, posture relaxing.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Emily says, smiling for real this time. “Get your boy and get home. It’s getting late, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at her as he makes his way to the door.

“Oh, and Derek,” Hotch says, laying a hand on his shoulder, turning him before he can leave, a genuine smile on his face too, “I am actually happy for you and Spencer.”

Derek grins at that. He really is a lucky, lucky man. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, his features twisting in curiosity as Derek makes his way across the bullpen to his boyfriend, Hotch and Emily emerging from the same room moments later.

Derek doesn’t answer properly, laughing instead. “You got some good friends, you know that?”

Spencer nods, still looking a little confused, but clearly deciding to let it go as he slings his messenger bag across his body, standing up from his desk. Derek slings an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, leading him towards the exit as his insides twist at the adorable blush that colours Spencer’s cheeks so prettily.

“Derek,” he hisses, “shouldn’t we be leaving separately?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he chuckles, looking over his shoulder. Spencer does the same, blushing even fiercer as he spots Hotch and Emily leaning against the railing, overlooking the bullpen with all-knowing looks on their faces.

“Oh my god,” Spencer mumbles, clearly embarrassed, but Derek just laughs again as they leave the bullpen and approach the elevators.

“Come on, pretty boy,” he sighs happily, sliding the arm around his shoulders to rest at his waist, fingertips pressing into the small frame of the boy he’s already falling in love with. “Let’s get you home. That penguin documentary awaits.”

“You’re gonna watch Emperors and Kings with me?” Spencer’s happy exclamation and the delighted expression on his face only warms his heart further, and in that moment he decides that he wants a happy Spencer and another nature documentary within his reach for the rest of his life.

Surprisingly, it’s not as terrifying a thought as it might once have been.

(If Derek thinks the shovel talk from Hotch and Emily is bad, though, it’s nothing compared to the one he gets from Penelope. By the end of the next day, he’s somehow reduced to tears that are both happy and the product of extreme terror, on the receiving end of a ‘baby girl’ ban for keeping it from her for so long. In the end, he decides that it’s probably an alright price to pay for everything beautiful that his life has blossomed into over the last few months.)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @queerminalminds (taglist form)

[jaskiersvalley]

I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.