#if you’re reading this and that was your dad tell him he’s an icon

[lauraisakilljoy]

I love how they explained the D&P lore for the parents and straight boyfriends that were dragged along to the show and those people probably still had no idea what the fuck was going on 90% of the time

[pathologicalreid]

wavelength | s.r.

in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: child in hospital with unnamed illness, seizures, pregnant!reader, boy dad!spencer, MRIs, head injury word count: 1.96k a/n: this is my little reid family from three's a family, but as usual, you don't have to read that one to understand this one. (it's one of the cryptic pregnancy ones so maybe keep that in mind lmao) - welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda, i missed it

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thumbs enough to press the call button, tapping the green icon, you press your phone to your ear, listening to the rings as you keep your other hand on the bed in front of you.

Sniffling, Leo holds your hand in his much smaller one, “Mama?” His voice is little more than a whine, and you find yourself wishing he’d fall asleep while you wait for his turn in radiology.

“Yeah, lovey?” You whisper, squeezing his fingers gently as he looks at you with sad eyes.

His eyes were sad in a way that only a three-year-old’s could be, not quite understanding why he had to stay in the hospital, and continuously asking for his parents. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, his voice soft as he shifts on his side in the hospital bed.

Your shoulders slouch ever so slightly, trying not to show him how much of his displeasure you shared, “I know. I’m so sorry.” They were holding off on giving him more medication, but it just made him miserable.

Starting to wonder if they could just give him something to help him rest, you distantly hear your name being called, taking a moment to be confused before you remember that you called Spencer.

“Hey,” you greet a little breathlessly, “Are you working?” You move your hand, smoothing back Leo’s hair in an attempt to coax him to sleep.

You hear a shuffling of papers on the other end of the call, answering your question well enough before he responds verbally, “We’re just trying to finish a few things up before calling it a night.”

Bowing your head, you sigh, “Right, you have that senate review next week.”

Spencer groans at the reminder of the meeting, “And finding some of these files is proving to be difficult. I think Garcia’s just about had it, but we’re all starting to get to that point. Why the call? Not that I’m unhappy to hear your voice,” he clarifies. “Did Leo get to sleep alright?”

You falter slightly knowing that Spencer is already stressing about work, “Honey,” you start softly, “Leo’s alright, but I had to call an ambulance for him about an hour ago.”

“What happened? You said he’s alright?” He asks, fear changing the pitch of his voice.

Swallowing thickly, you watch Leo continue to fight sleep, his brown eyes watching you while you’re on the phone. “They think he had a seizure,” you whisper, keeping your voice down so that your son doesn’t catch onto your anxiety.

There’s a shuffle of papers on the other end, “Is he sick? Was it a febrile seizure?”

“Uh, no, hold on,” you flip through the pamphlet, “They called it a drop seizure when we were in the emergency room, and they did an EEG.” You explain, reading over the papers in front of you for the nth time.

Spencer talks to someone else in the room, hopefully letting them know that he has to leave, “What happened?”

Tears prick your eyes, and you look up into the fluorescent light to will them away, “I was just getting him ready for bed, and he went to go potty, and he just fell. He hit his head on the tub and I just… I panicked,” you admit the last part. “I was not very collected, and the 911 operator knew that,” you tell him, watching Leo’s eyes finally fall shut.

“I wouldn’t have been either,” Spencer assures you, “What hospital did they bring you to?”

Rattling off the name of the hospital, you risk assuming that Leo’s asleep enough for you to step back, enabling you to speak at a higher volume, “Can you leave work?” You weren’t even thinking about how busy the BAU was when you called, you were just thinking about getting Leo his dad. “They want to do an MRI, and he’s allowed to have someone in there with him, so he doesn��t get scared,” you explain.

“But you can’t,” Spencer needlessly reminds you.

A huff of frustration escapes your lips as you look down, eyes focusing on where your shirt catches on the soft swell of your lower belly. “No, I can’t,” you say miserably.

A nurse walks through the door, sparing a pitying glance at you, the pregnant mom whose toddler was in the PICU, before checking on Leo’s vitals. Spencer clears his throat, “I’m already on my way.”

You lose track of time, sitting in the reclining chair that lives in the corner of the PICU room, and memories of Leo’s first month of life start to flash in front of your eyes. He was a thirty-two-weeker, and he spent twenty-nine days in the NICU before coming home for the first time.

You felt like a failure then, and you feel like a failure now.

Tapping your fingers on your belly, you watch Leo sleep, his body curled up on the hospital bed and collodion stuck to his forehead. You remember finding out you were pregnant again, the overwhelming joy that mixed with the stunned fear like oil and water—Spencer had to remind you to breathe.

Something caught your attention, a small, high-pitched beep from one of Leo’s monitors sent a group of people flying into the room, standing around your son and listing off things that your fear-addled brain couldn’t comprehend.

He’s there when you stand up, Spencer stays at your side for all twenty-one seconds of Leo’s second seizure, watching as strength returns to his tiny body and his eyes open, “Mama?” His small voice calls out for you, afraid of being surrounded by doctors and nurses that he doesn’t know.

Slipping away from Spencer, you make your way back to the hospital bed, hovering over your son as you cup his cheeks affectionately, “I’m here, baby.” Hiding your face to wipe tears away, your fear that he still feels ill is only exacerbated by the fact that he doesn’t insist that he’s not a baby—he’ll always be yours, though.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let him see past you, the way his eyes light up at the sight of his father, “Daddy!” He chirps, trying to reach out for Spencer.

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer says, his voice tight while he crouches in front of Leo, “Mama says you don’t feel good.”

Leo shakes his head, “I hit my head,” he recounts mournfully, “then we had to go in the loud car.”

Your husband frowns for a moment before he realizes Leo’s talking about the ambulance, “Did they tell you I get to go with you to get your tests done?” He warps the narrative to make the MRI seem like a fun activity—something they get to do.

“Can mama go?” Leo asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning into you as he does so.

Gently, you wrap an arm around him, dressed in a pediatric hospital gown with all kinds of wires and electrodes attached to him. “Mama has to stay up here,” Spencer breaks the news to him, sparing you a sympathetic glance, “but she’ll be here when we get back. Then, we can tell her and the baby all about it.”

The baby won’t be able to hear outside voices until you’re much further along, but when Spencer tried to explain that to your toddler, the only response he’d gotten was Why?

As it turns out, even Spencer Reid has a limit to the number of questions he can answer, so you let Leo talk to the baby. “I’ll be right here when you get back,” you reassure Leo, taking a shaky breath when he wraps his arms around you.

He’s in tears by the time they come to get him, only willing to go to radiology if they let his daddy carry him there.

You’ve let go of the hope that this was all just a freak incident, but the looks that the nurses have started exchanging squashed that optimism immediately. Taking the opportunity to lie on the hospital bed, you try to reassure yourself—if Spencer didn’t seem worried, you shouldn’t be worried.

Though Spencer wouldn’t show his concern to you, he certainly wouldn’t do it with Leo in the room.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by something being set on your side, your eyes cracking open just enough to watch Spencer lay Leo down on the bed next to you. “Hey,” Spencer whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I was trying not to wake you up.”

Cringing at the brightness of the room, you watch Leo as he curls into your side, “How did he do?”

“He was great,” Spencer says, gently ruffling the sleeping boy’s hair. “He fell asleep about halfway through,” he informs you, carefully pulling a chair up to the bedside.

You hum, making sure Leo is snug in his blanket before turning back to Spencer, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Spencer shakes his head dismissively, “It’s okay,” he whispers, mindful of the hour—it’s nearing midnight now.

Reaching a hand up to cover your mouth, you hiccup a sob, “I’m a bad mom.”

“You are not a bad mom,” Spencer responds quickly, peeling your hand from your mouth and taking it in his hand.

Your lower lip quivers, “This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been born so early.”

Spencer’s face softens, squeezing your hand comfortingly, “That wasn’t your fault. That was a situation that you didn’t have any control over.”

Deep down, you know he’s right, but your mom guilt that was on the surface level made the truth hard to see. “I couldn’t even hold his hand while he got an MRI,” you cry, small tears falling from your eyes.

“Honey,” Spencer murmurs, carefully wiping the tears from your cheeks, “You’re pregnant. Even more, you’re high risk,” Spencer reminds you as if it’s something you’re soon to forget. “There’s no way I would’ve let you in that room. You can blame that on me if you’d like.”

Leo shifts next to you, garnering your attention for just a moment before you turn back to Spencer, “I thought an MRI was better for pregnant women.”

Sighing, Spencer looks at you fondly, “Compared to a CT, an MRI is the better option if it’s medically necessary. Logically, I’m well aware of this, but I do find myself more protective over you these days,” he admits, eyes flickering down to your bump.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I should’ve been watching him before he hit his head.”

Your husband dismisses your concern immediately, “We’ve been teaching him privacy, he’s proud that he gets to go potty on his own.”

“Why won’t you let me feel guilty?” You ask, frowning at him.

He hums in response, “Because you aren’t guilty. Your baby is in the hospital, and you might have some unresolved issues from when he was in the NICU.” He takes a deep breath, “and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re tired, and you have a lot of conflicting emotions and hormones that you’re struggling with.”

Leaning your head back on the pillow, you sigh loudly, “You know me too well.”

“I also know that our son loves you, and what happened tonight was not your fault,” he reiterates. “Whatever is going on with him, we’ll figure it out, okay? The four of us are going to be just fine.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod in understanding and listen to the soft whistle of Leo’s nose as he exhales. “We’ll be just fine,” you echo, intertwining your fingers with Spencer’s and preparing yourself for what’s bound to be a long night.

[zaczenemiji]

Hi! Just saw your request are open. I thought it would be a great to request a OS of Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader.

I got inspired by that song of "Too Sweet" from Hozier and I got the idea of how good is Reader with Emi, (since she knows he's Ultraman and also raises a baby Kaiju alone) such a Sunshine, even Emi sees her as a new maternal figure, he thinks she's too sweet, getting the idea of having kids with her but having the thought she deserves better.

But she thinks on the contrary, he's such a bad boy with a good heart. If you wanna add more things, it's up to you. I'll leave it to your imagination. Take your time and no need to rush. Take care.

Too Good, Too True

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,456

Genre/Warnings: Established Relationship, Found Family

Author’s Note: Particularly in love with this one, and Too Sweet plays rent-free in my head.

MASTERLIST

You know everything about Kenji: his past—the reason he’s distant from his dad, his secret—that he’s Ultraman, and his love child the 20-foot-tall kaiju baby in his basement.

You guys have been together for a long while now, even before everyone knew him as Ken Sato, the baseball star—the one whose name dominates the headlines.

With millions of adoring fans, you’re grateful you still have a place in his life. At first, there was a looming thought at the back of your head that tells you how easily replaceable you are.

No matter how you repress the thought, the fact remains that it is true. Who are you when compared to Kenji? You weren’t a model, an icon, a singer, or the daughter of a CEO—like all the other women waiting in line for him.

You were just… you. Simply (y/n) in her soft pastel and floral dresses. You don’t own a lot either, just a flower shop in LA. Your favorite hobby is tending to your garden where you grew the flowers that you sold.

All of your issues regarding this have long been resolved since Kenji has always been quick to reassure you of his love. That to him, everything and anyone else pails in comparison to you. He wishes you knew your impact on his life.

You have always been his breath of fresh air. It started at college during his baseball trainings, he’d wait for a certain girl to pass by. His eyes were always quick to find you among your group of friends.

On his games, you were his number one cheerleader. Your friends and his teammates were always so surprised to see the quiet dainty girl that you were yelling and cheering for his name.

Back when his mom was around, you got along with her so well. Kenji would find you and his mom in their kitchen baking cakes and making cute little pastries.

His mom loved having you around. You were always welcome at his house. When she found out that you were an international student who flew to LA alone and lived in a dorm, she almost wanted to adopt you.

But ain’t no way Kenji wanted to be just a brother in your life.

Many things have changed since then. In becoming a baseball star, half of his life was no longer private. In becoming Ultraman, his responsibilities were no longer limited to that of his career and personal life. And in becoming a daddy to a kaiju baby, he realized you deserve better.

You came over to his house every day to visit Emi. He admired your patience with her and how you were always a ray of sunshine to everyone, including a kaiju. And you’re not afraid of playing with her even if she could literally crush you out of nowhere.

You’d come over with fresh flowers picked from your parents’ garden. You’d make big flower crowns just for Emi and smaller ones for yourself and Mina.

Today was a particularly rough day as Kenji got home from a game. You wanted to accompany him today but he insisted for you to watch over Emi. He has been feeling like shit lately, not knowing what to do with Emi and his declining performance in his games.

Upon passing by the kitchen table, he sees a can of his favorite fizzy drink. Under it, a note. He lifted the can and read, “left this up here so mina won’t see (｡- .•)”

For the first time that day, he smiled. You’ve always told him how lucky you thought you were for being with someone as great as him. But the truth is, it’s the other way around.

In one go, he finished his drink so he could immediately head down to see you. You and Mina were too busy playing with Emi to notice him. He stayed at the lounge where he could see you from the other side of the glass.

There you were, beautiful, with flowers adorning your hair. You looked so pure and innocent. Your gentle demeanor had always put him at ease.

Your expressive eyes looked up at Emi in an attempt to communicate beyond words. Kenji loved your eyes. They were always filled with warmth and kindness but when you look at him, all he sees is love.

On the contrary, there’s him. He and his troubled past.

He is distant from his dad, wanting little to no connection with him. If it wasn’t for his mom, he wouldn’t have returned to Japan.

You weren’t like that. You had a good relationship with your parents. You deserve someone who could give you and your future children the same kind of environment you grew up in—peaceful and without the fear of the possibility that one day, your husband might not come home.

He worries he’d be like his dad, absent. He is Ultraman now. His duties would one day require him to be away, sometimes without notice and for extended periods. You deserve someone who can be there for you consistently.

He is constantly under the scrutiny of the public eye, both as Ultraman and the baseball star that he is. And the public is not often gentle. You deserve a private and peaceful life, away from the criticisms of society.

Kenji loves you dearly, he really does. But oftentimes, he thinks he’s not the best person for you. He thinks you deserve someone who can offer you a simpler and safer life.

Too deep in his thoughts, he failed to notice you enter the room. The kiss you gave on his cheek pulled him back to reality.

“Tough day?” You asked, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But I’m okay now. You’re here now.” He turned to look at you, his rest.

“Would you like to talk about your day?” You asked, reaching out to brush strands of his hair away from his face.

He shook his head. “I’d like to hear about yours first.”

You smiled, excited to tell him what you planned on doing. Since he’s staying here in Japan for good, you thought you would too. The flower shop in LA would be left in a good friend’s care. And here, you thought of working as a kindergarten teacher. You had doubts before but after being able to take care of Emi and enjoying it, you were now sure that this is the kind of job for you.

Kenji’s expression shifted upon knowing this. A shadow of doubt crossed his face. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Do you not approve?”

“You deserve better,” he said, eyes falling downward before turning away to lean properly on the couch.

Confused, you leaned back as well. “Better job?” You asked. “Kenji, I think this is the bes—“

“Better than a guy who’s got a kaiju baby to take care of and a past, present, and future that’s complicated,” he continued his earlier statement, cutting you mid-sentence.

You were shocked. You never expected him to feel this way. You felt bad because for every time he assured you of his love, you failed to realize that he needed reassurance too.

“Oh no, Kenji,” you said. You turned his face to look at you, cupping it with both of your hands. “You’re a good man.”

“I’m worried, (y/n),” he said softly. “I worry that I can’t give you the life you deserve.“

He wants to marry you, he truly does. He dreamed of having children with you, teaching them, watching them grow. And when all is done, living the rest of his life with you.

When he passes by jewelry stores, he always thinks of you. He’d get in, and browse their selection of rings, but thinking of how you’re too sweet for him holds him back from buying.

"You're the best man for me, Kenji. Not despite your past and your duties, but because of them. They've shaped you into the person I love,” you told him.

“You're a wonderful father to Emi. And if you ever wanted more—if you ever wanted us to be more,” you leaned in to press your forehead on his. “I know you'll be an amazing father because of how you love me every day.”

Kenji closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, the tension slowly leaving his body. "You really believe that?"

"Every word," you said softly. "You are my home, Kenji. As long as we're together, I'm not afraid of anything."

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, (y/n),” he said. “I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you replied, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 3/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [in this chapter: oral (f. & m. recieving), whole lot of teasing, dirty talk ohohoho, praise too, very crack/fluffy/soft, first time], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: we're on the last couple of chapters aaaa!!!!! this has been such a ball to write, thank you all to everyone who has been patient with me and my work <3 if you're wondering why my ao3 "has more chapters," that's because i split the story's chapters on the basis of setting, if that makes sense? but the content posted here & there stays the same! hope this makes sense, or you can just hop on my ao3 and read it there if you're confused. 

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you watched suguru disappear through airport security, a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

he’ll be okay, right? 

you kept telling yourself he would be, that he was suguru, and if anyone could handle this gracefully, it was him. his quiet resolve when accepting the wedding invite was proof enough… but there was still that little worry.

then, of course, there was your own life to consider. 

you had a lot on your plate, and maybe that was why you didn’t have as much time to let your mind dwell on suguru’s situation. because just as suguru was closing one chapter, a whole new world of chaos was opening up for you.

the explosion of “mating with the dragon king” on social media had brought nothing short of madness for the team at gojo-sonic. toji’s voice acting was all over the place, going viral within days, with fans clamoring for more and turning audio snippets into memes, thirst tweets, fan edits — the whole nine yards. 

toji had gone from your secret boyfriend/situationship/“is this a real thing?” guy to a sought-after voice icon practically overnight.

and that, in turn, meant everyone at gojo-sonic was running overtime. gojo and shoko were handling the bulk of the social media cross-posting, with gojo obsessively upgrading gear and insisting on “maximum quality,” dragging shoko into his whirlwind plans. there were sound tests, new mic placements, adjustments to soundproofing in the studio, and — thanks to a trend gojo had seen online — experiments with “immersive audio.”

then there was the fan engagement: gojo insisted on answering every single question in the comment section, which kept shoko up at night to keep up with the influx. she even started experimenting with a few out-of-the-box ideas herself, like limited-time merch drops (her idea, of course) that ranged from mugs and t-shirts to an official “mating with the dragon king” plush.

but your role was far from a background one. 

no, you had a looming deadline for the sequel of “mating with the dragon king” — one that fans were now waiting on with an impatience that bordered on feverish. because once the sequel was out? 

toji would inevitably be back in the booth, bringing it to life with that deep, rumbly voice that had captured everyone’s attention.

oh, god, you thought, a sudden wave of panic hitting you. you had imagined the sequel, sure. 

but had you imagined it being this big? and this soon?

you could already picture toji smirking as he teased you with lines from the new book. the idea of him bringing your words to life again was thrilling — and terrifying, all at once. 

what if i can’t finish it in time? what if it’s not good enough? what if fans hate the new direction?

and still, you had to admit… something about the insanity of it all was exhilarating.

it was one of those late, cozy nights where the three of you — megumi, toji, and you — were all huddled in your apartment, which was sparklingly tidy since toji’s last visit, thank you very much. no empty cans of mountain dew rolling under the table, no fast food bags piling up in the corner. you even caught him glancing around with this pout, practically bemoaning the absence of lingerie on your lampshade.

“dramatic ass,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he stretched out on the couch, shaking his head as if you’d betrayed him by cleaning up.

“you know, i miss the… ambiance of the place,” toji teased, one eyebrow cocked as he stretched his arms over the back of your couch. “nothing quite says ‘writer’s den’ like takeout and underwear draped everywhere.”

you snorted, turning back to your laptop. “sorry i deprived you of such art. maybe i should throw my socks around the place just for you.”

“wouldn’t be the same,” he sighed, leaning back and watching you type away.

and then — surprisingly — toji started… actually giving you advice. as you typed out the next few scenes of your book, he leaned in, reading over your shoulder with a squint that softened into genuine interest.

“you know,” he started, “if you’re gonna have the dragon king confront the knight here, shouldn’t he be a little more… i dunno, cocky?”

you paused mid-keystroke, surprised. 

“cocky? you think he’s not cocky enough?”

“yeah, i mean, he’s the dragon king,” he said with a little shrug. “doesn’t need to hold back. if he’s as powerful as you say, he’d probably be flaunting it more. show the knight he���s completely in control, get into his head a little.”

you considered it, nodding slowly. “huh. i hadn’t thought of that. but that’s actually… kinda perfect.”

he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “see? this is why you need me around.”

“oh please,” you scoffed. “you think you’re an expert now because you read, like, half a chapter?”

toji chuckled, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “just callin’ it how i see it, sweetheart. think i might know a thing or two about intimidation.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “okay, sure, ‘intimidation expert.’ so… what do you think should happen next?”

“well,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “what if instead of outright threatening the knight, the dragon king pretends to befriend him? y’know, make him lower his guard. he could talk about how ‘understanding’ he is, maybe even share a drink or something, but all while he’s setting up the knight to fail.”

“you’re onto something,” you said, eyebrows raised as you typed up a few notes. “i could use that to build tension between them.”

“exactly. you get it,” toji said, leaning back with a smug smile.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head. “who would’ve thought you would be helping me with plot development?”

“hey, i’m full of surprises,” he winked, giving you a little nudge. “besides, i like helping my girl out.”

your cheeks warmed, but just as you were about to respond, a small voice piped up from behind you. 

“why can’t the dragon king be friends with the knight?”

both of you looked up to see megumi standing there, his arms crossed as he squinted at your laptop screen.

“what’s that, kid?” toji asked, leaning over to ruffle megumi’s hair, but the boy dodged it with a huff.

“i think they should be friends,” megumi repeated, tilting his head as he studied your document. “it’d be cooler if they were best friends, even though they’re supposed to be enemies.”

you looked at toji, who blinked, then shrugged as if to say, well, he’s got a point.

“friends, huh?” you mused, considering it. “but they’re, like… sworn enemies, ‘gumi. they’re on different sides.”

“so? friends can be on different sides,” he replied, completely serious. “maybe the dragon king can teach the knight things about dragons and fire, and the knight can show him sword stuff.”

toji chuckled, folding his arms. “sounds like he’s thought this through more than we have.”

you leaned back in your chair, nodding thoughtfully. “you might be onto something, megs. maybe they could start off as enemies, but end up working together at some point.”

megumi’s face lit up, clearly thrilled that you were taking his suggestion seriously. 

“yeah! like, maybe the knight is only fighting the dragon king because he doesn’t understand him. and then they talk, and he realizes the dragon king isn’t so bad.”

toji let out a low laugh, raising a brow at you. “well, looks like we have ourselves a new co-writer. you hiring, sweetheart?”

you laughed, ruffling megumi’s hair. “you know what, maybe i am. you wanna help me write this book, megumi?”

megumi grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “yeah! i’ll make them the bestest friends ever.”

toji smirked, pulling megumi onto his lap as he sat back, arms around him. “guess we’ll have to make this a regular thing, then. family book nights, huh?”

your heart melted a little at the sight of them together, and you couldn’t help but smile. “sounds like a plan.”

the word family rang in your ears, echoing over and over, refusing to quiet down. 

family book nights. 

it sounded so casual, so… certain. as if the three of you already were a family. like the idea of you, toji, and megumi spending evenings together was just normal. something he assumed you’d keep doing.

a gentle warmth crept over you, but it mixed with a twinge of confusion, and maybe a bit of worry, too. megumi clearly saw you as someone close — close enough to leave his prized legos on your shelves alongside your makeup, which you had given a special spot as if they belonged there. and you’d gotten used to him padding around your apartment, lounging on your couch like it was his second home.

but what about you and toji? 

what did it mean, the two of you making quiet breakfasts with megumi’s chatter filling the space, or all those little private moments, where he’d pull you close and kiss you in a way that made your heart race? it was something that felt like commitment, like you were both slipping into each other’s lives piece by piece. 

yet… you’d never actually talked about it. 

about what any of this was, what the kisses or the way he always wanted to be around you really meant.

it wasn’t like you were just casual, either. toji had been there for you through your chaotic schedule, your looming deadlines, even giving surprisingly thoughtful advice on your writing. 

and you’d been there for him, too, sharing these quiet, vulnerable moments that went beyond a simple fling. but despite all of that, there’d been no explicit commitment. no labels, no official this is what we are conversation. 

and maybe you hadn’t minded, up until now.

but toji’s offhanded mention of “family” — it had shifted something. your heart was suddenly tied up in knots, and you found yourself wondering if you were just reading too much into it, or if maybe, just maybe, he thought of you in the same way you were beginning to think of him.

lost in thought, you barely noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched him with megumi. your mind buzzed with a hundred questions, each one sparking new uncertainties and hopes. 

is this what we are? a family? 

is that what he wants, too?

“hey, you okay over there?” toji’s voice broke through, his eyes glinting with amusement as he noticed your far-off expression.

you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, cheeks warming under his gaze. “yeah, i’m… just thinking.”

“about what?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he gave you that familiar smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes.

you opened your mouth to answer, but found yourself hesitating. 

what would he say if you just blurted out everything you were feeling? 

if you just asked him what this really was?

instead, you gave him a little shrug. “oh, just… book ideas. plot twists.”

with megumi finally dozing off in the middle of your bed, the soft sound of his steady breathing filling the room, you and toji tiptoed out to the living room. 

time to tackle the smut section, you thought, dreading it a little. this part always managed to be equal parts thrilling and exasperating to write. and tonight? 

you were completely, hopelessly blocked. 

every draft seemed stale, as if you'd used the same recycled phrases one too many times.

toji noticed immediately. he always did. 

leaning back on the couch, he smirked as you groaned in frustration at yet another blank page.

“y'know,” he said, voice a little too casual, “if you’re really struggling here, i could offer some… hands-on help.”

you shot him a warning look, rolling your eyes as he just grinned back. “oh, real helpful, mr. cliterature.”

toji snickered, unaffected by the jab to his ego. “i’m just sayin’. i happen to be good at this stuff,” he drawled, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch, looking entirely too smug. 

“and i’ve got a lot of ideas. call it… creative inspiration.”

you gave a small laugh, even though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. was he serious?

toji caught the look on your face, his grin turning almost… inviting. “look, maybe it’s not writer’s block you’re dealing with,” he teased, leaning in just a bit closer. 

“maybe you’re just… unmotivated.” his voice was low, coaxing, and damn if it didn’t make your heart beat a little faster. 

“so… should i help you get in the right headspace?”

for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had a point.

the minute toji offered his “help,” he felt a little like a perv. a line had definitely been crossed, but what was he supposed to do? you were asking for inspiration, and he just happened to have a few… ideas of his own. 

sure, he knew you were kind of jittery when it came to the physical stuff, but god, if he didn’t want to see you beneath him, to hear you whimper and moan. he was getting ahead of himself, though; this was supposed to be about writing, right?

“you sure you can handle it?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eyes.

you shot him a nervous look, your fingers hovering above the keyboard. “well, it’s either this or staring at a blank page forever,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. 

cute, he thought.

“exactly. so let’s start simple.” he leaned in, capturing your neck between his lips, pressing soft kisses that sent a jolt down your spine. this was nice, you thought, trying to focus on the sensation instead of the racing thoughts in your head.

“m-maybe i should… um… write this down?” you managed, hands shaking slightly as you fumbled to adjust the laptop on your knees.

“no need to rush,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. “just feel it.” he nibbled softly at the curve of your neck, and you nearly dropped the laptop.

“toji!” you gasped, trying to keep your composure while your heart raced in your chest. “this is… um, kinda distracting.”

“good. that’s the point,” he replied, his lips continuing their exploration. “i’m just setting the mood, babe. think about how this feels.”

you let out a shaky breath, the heat pooling in your stomach as you tried to jot down your thoughts, but all that came out were half-formed sentences that didn’t make sense. 

“this is supposed to be… research!” you squeaked, but the way he was sucking and nibbling at your neck made it hard to think straight.

“isn’t research supposed to be hands-on?” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with mischief. 

this was definitely a line crossed, you realized, but god, did it feel good.

“y-you’re a terrible influence,” you breathed, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but the playful smirk on his face told you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“and you love it,” he shot back, diving back in to plant more kisses along your neck, and all you could do was gasp and try to write through the haze of pleasure.

you were trying desperately to type something coherent, but your fingers were like they had suddenly developed a mind of their own, hitting keys at random and producing a glorious mess of gibberish. 

great job, you genius, you thought sarcastically. get all hot and bothered over a few neck kisses — what’s next?

your concentration shattered as you felt toji’s hands slide beneath the hem of your loose shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

oh, lovely. just what you needed. 

now, instead of articulating the tension between characters, you were supposed to describe both sensations — his mouth on your neck and his hands groping your tits.

“you’re making this a little hard, you know?” you managed to squeak out, trying to keep your voice steady while your heart raced. 

your fingers fumbled over the keyboard, and all you could think was how you were definitely going to get a solid “F” for focus on this assignment.

“oh, really? hard, huh?” toji’s voice was laced with playful arrogance as he continued his exploration, thumbs pressing into your chest, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. 

so much for being a good influence, you thought dryly, almost wishing for a second that you had stuck to research papers instead.

“look at that, you’re not even writing,” he teased, pressing his palm against your chest, a bold move that made you gasp. “where’s that award-winning author i’ve heard so much about?”

you glared at him, half amused and half exasperated. “she’s currently being distracted in the middle of a very important research session.”

he laughed, the sound rich and infectious. “who needs research when you can have a firsthand experience?”

“this is supposed to be about character development!” you protested weakly, trying to make sense of the disjointed words on your screen. “how am i supposed to write about a dragon king and a princess when you’re busy turning me into a blushing mess?”

“focus on the feelings,” he replied, his hands moving with a confidence that made it hard to concentrate. “feelings are important, right?”

well, you thought, he wasn’t wrong. 

your cheeks flushed hotter as he squeezed gently, the sensation conflicting with your need to maintain some semblance of writerly dignity. 

“i guess i’m just…trying to find the right words,” you mumbled, practically squirming as he continued to toy with you.

“good luck with that, babe,” he said, an infuriatingly charming grin spreading across his face. “but i can assure you, all that gibberish on the screen isn’t gonna help. sometimes you just need to let go.”

let go? the idea sounded almost freeing, but the practical side of your brain was still wrestling with the fact that you had a deadline looming. 

“what if i don’t get my manuscript finished?”

toji leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “then i guess we’ll just have to come up with some creative solutions, won’t we?”

you groaned internally, realizing you were in way over your head, but the way he looked at you made it hard to care about anything else. 

“this is not how i envisioned my writing process,” you sighed, but even as you said it, the thrill of his touch made your resolve waver.

what a disaster, you thought, but at the same time, a part of you was absolutely here for it.

the heat radiating from your laptop on your thighs mixed with the warmth pooling in your core made you feel dizzy, and suddenly, the manuscript didn’t seem to matter at all. 

screw the deadline, you thought wildly. screw the manuscript. 

you needed this hunk of a man right now.

without thinking, you pulled your shirt off, feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline and regret. 

oh god, what have you done? 

the cool air hit your exposed body, sending chills across your skin, but it was nothing compared to the look on toji’s face. his jaw dropped comically, eyes wide as he took in the sight of you in your bra.

“well, hello there,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent. “are you trying to kill me? because it’s working.”

“i — uh — ” you stumbled over your words, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. 

you are not a main character. why the hell did you just do that? your inner monologue was spiraling, but the heat of the moment overshadowed any logic you might have had.

“what? do you expect me to be cool about this?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes practically devouring you. “you just stripped in front of me! how am i supposed to react?”

you fumbled to cover yourself, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “i thought… maybe it would help with the writing? you know, get in the mood?” you mumbled, feeling ridiculously silly for saying it out loud.

“get into the mood?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-incredulous. “baby, you just put me in a state of absolute chaos! this isn’t about mood anymore; it’s about survival!”

survival? you thought, but then you caught the glint of mischief in his eyes, and suddenly, the weight of your insecurity felt a bit lighter. 

“you could just, um, you know, not look?”

“and miss this view? no chance in hell,” he smirked, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “besides, why would i want to miss the chance to admire a beautiful lady?”

your heart raced at the compliment, battling between feeling flattered and mortified. “but you said i write gibberish!” you retorted, the words tumbling out before you could think better of it. “how am i supposed to be taken seriously as a writer when i’m sitting here in my bra?”

“oh, you’re serious, alright,” he said, unabashedly leaning closer again. “and if you keep this up, you’re going to be more than just a writer.” he paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “just think of all the inspiration we could gather right here.”

you swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks heat up even more. “toji, you can’t just say things like that!”

“why not?” he challenged, amusement dancing in his eyes. “if you wanted me to shut up, you shouldn’t have given me a show like that.”

you felt your insides fluttering, a strange mix of embarrassment and thrill surging through you. 

what was happening? 

“i didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, unable to articulate your thoughts, feeling ridiculously caught off guard.

“oh, don’t even play coy with me now,” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence. “besides, the real question is: what do you want?”

your mind raced at the implications, suddenly realizing the gravity of your actions. 

what did you want? 

you thought you wanted to write, but right now, with him leaning in, the idea of writing seemed worlds away. maybe you wanted this? 

the thought was tantalizing and terrifying all at once.

“i —” you began, but your voice faltered as he reached out, brushing a thumb against your bare skin.

“just say it,” he urged softly, his gaze steady and inviting. “what do you really want?”

you took a shaky breath, caught in the moment, knowing you were dangerously close to stepping into a territory you had only ever written about. but you were here, in the flesh, and he was waiting for an answer.

“i want…” you started, feeling both exhilarated and terrified. 

the moment you said you wanted him, toji nearly cheered. 

it took everything in him not to let out an actual whoop of excitement, but he had to remember the little sleeping figure in your room. megumi was tucked away, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few feet away on the sofa. 

and here you were, about to lose your v-card to your super hot colleague.

“so, uh, just to be sure,” toji started, trying to play it cool even as his heart raced. “you know we have to keep it down, right? can’t wake the kid.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you looked up at him, and damn, you looked so cute it nearly drove him wild. how could you be so oblivious to how breathtaking you were?

“right, good,” he said, clearing his throat, his brain whirling with the implications. “and just so we’re clear — this is what you want?” he leaned in closer, the air between you thick with anticipation.

“yes, i want this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. god, you were so cute.

“okay, okay, but…” he paused, feeling the weight of the moment. “i need a pinky promise.” he held out his pinky, the humor of the situation almost making him chuckle. 

his massive frame was caging you against the sofa, and yet, here he was, asking for a pinky promise.

“are you serious?” you laughed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement lighting up your face.

“hey, it’s important! this is a big deal, alright?” he insisted, trying to keep a straight face. “pinky promise me you want this. like, for real.”

you reached out, your smaller hand wrapping around his pinky, and he felt an undeniable rush at the gesture. 

“pinky promise,” you said with a grin, your confidence shining through.

“alright, then. let’s get to it,” he replied, his voice low and steady, even though he felt like he was about to explode.

he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, teasing kiss, savoring the taste of you. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you melted against him, and it only fueled the fire in his belly. 

“just remember,” he murmured against your lips, “we’ve gotta keep it quiet.”

“right, quiet,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he trailed kisses down your neck.

he couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the thrill of the moment. 

“you know, this is definitely not how i pictured your writing sessions going,” he teased, pulling back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“yeah? how did you picture them?” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

“i don’t know,” he said, smirking, “maybe less —” he gestured to your exposed torso, “ —and more brainstorming about literature.”

“this is literature!” you protested, your cheeks flushed with heat.

“sure, sure,” he laughed, leaning in again, capturing your lips once more. “but it’s not just about writing. it’s about the experience.”

your breath hitched again, and he felt your body responding to him, the way you leaned into him, craving more. 

“so, you’re saying i should take notes while you —”

“now you’re getting it,” he interrupted with a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips before continuing down your neck, relishing the way you squirmed beneath him.

“this is so distracting,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to keep your focus.

“distracting?” he echoed, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “that’s the idea. if you’re gonna write about it, you might as well get some real-life experience, right?”

“right, but — oh!” you gasped as he nibbled at your skin, sending sparks shooting through you.

“just relax,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry. “i’ll take care of you.”

this was going to be one hell of a writing session.

you were trying your absolute best to keep track, really, you were. 

you had a job to do — a manuscript deadline that was breathing down your neck, and this was… well, technically research, right? 

but as toji’s mouth pressed hot and needy kisses along your shoulder, then to your collarbone, the exact order was getting fuzzy. 

was it the nip to your bra-covered chest first and then that delicious pressure against your pulse point, or the other way around? 

honestly, at this point, even your notes looked like gibberish.

“mm, you’re really focused, huh?” toji’s voice was smug, with a lazy grin that could probably melt glaciers. he glanced down at your not-so-steady hand trying to type one-handed on the laptop next to you and chuckled. “this part of the book that important?”

you swallowed, nodding as you scrambled to refocus, even if every nerve in your body was firing off for entirely non-work-related reasons. 

“y-yeah. research. gotta… capture the sensations. the character dynamics.” 

but god, your voice wavered, betraying exactly how not on top of things you were.

“uh-huh,” he said, raising a brow as he leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with that wicked look. “and do these characters also get this close?” his hips pressed insistently against you, the not-so-subtle hardon pressing against you making it extremely difficult to focus on anything but him.

“it’s… it’s a… a very passionate story,” you managed, trying to keep up some semblance of professionalism, but the words came out more like a breathy whimper. you could practically feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed along your jaw, his hands wandering in ways that made coherent thought feel like a long-lost friend.

“just remember, babe,” he murmured, low and teasing as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “you’re the one who asked for hands-on help. gotta commit to the scene, right?”

you bit your lip, focusing — or at least trying to. “yeah, i just… need to remember every step for… for later.” 

as if you could even think straight with him leaving trails of kisses down your neck, his rough fingers skimming over the bare skin of your waist.

“oh, every step, huh?” toji’s mouth moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses over the fabric of your bra. “you’re gonna write about how the dragon king’s all riled up too?” he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“because ’m guessin’ he’d be… pretty hard to ignore, wouldn’t you say?”

you swallowed, cheeks flushing hot as your eyes flicked down to where his hardon pressed against you, demanding attention. 

“y-yeah,” you managed, cheeks burning. “can’t ignore him at all.”

he chuckled, low and sultry. “that’s my girl.” one of his hands reached up, teasing along your sides, slowly moving up until it found its way to your bra strap. 

“you, uh, want help describing this part too?” his tone was innocent, but the glint in his eyes was anything but.

“toji,” you squeaked, shooting him a glare despite the warmth pooling in your core, the heat from his body practically radiating into you. “i don’t think the dragon king was this forward in chapter fourteen —”

“oh, he’s forward in this chapter,” toji murmured, his lips quirking up as he let his fingers trail along the edge of your bra strap. “trust me. he’s been waiting.”

“right,” you said, your voice embarrassingly shaky as his lips found their way back to your neck, a little nip to your skin that had you gripping the sofa beneath you. 

“he’s… he’s definitely waiting…” your voice trailed off as the pressure of his mouth sent a spark straight through you. you could practically hear your own characters’ voices narrating it in your head—

damn it, you were turning into your own leading lady.

“you know,” you muttered, desperately trying to find some control here, “this is technically a writing session. so maybe you should… y’know, help me keep notes on this?”

toji grinned, fingers skimming down your waist. “oh, i’m helping, alright.” his thumb brushed over the skin of your hip, pulling you just a bit closer. “but if you need the full experience babe, you gotta put that laptop down.”

“the full experience?” you repeated, breath catching as his mouth found your collarbone again, your hands tingling as you felt every inch of his warm, solid weight pressing you into the couch.

“you know i’m not a —”

“a main character girl?” he interrupted, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “yeah, right.” 

his gaze softened, though, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “trust me, sweetheart. you’ve got that in you. just… let yourself have it.”

the laptop was abandoned — gently tossed to the coffee table, where it settled with a thud you barely registered. all you could focus on was the feeling of his rough hands tracing your shoulders as he finally slipped the clasp of your bra free. you could practically hear him exhale, a low, reverent sound that was part sigh, part growl, as he took in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, beneath him.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost to himself, his gaze intense, drinking in every inch of exposed skin like it was some forbidden treasure. he looked at you like he could hardly believe his luck, and for a moment, you swore you saw his focus waver. 

it was… endearing, actually, how his usually cocky confidence stumbled when faced with you, bare and vulnerable and trusting.

“toji,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath, as his hands skimmed down your sides, drawing goosebumps in their wake. he chuckled, a warm, raspy sound, but you could tell he was just as rattled as you.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?” he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours for a beat. “and here i thought i was supposed to be the big, bad dragon king.”

you snorted, half-dazed, your hands moving to grip his shoulders instinctively. “well, this isn’t very dragon king behavior, is it?”

“oh, trust me, babe,” he growled, fingers trailing lower, making you shiver under his touch. “’m just… gettin’ warmed up.”

then his mouth was on you, lips closing over your nipple, and you had to actively bite down on your lip to muffle the high-pitched squeak that escaped your throat. 

you’d been prepared for his hands, the calloused fingertips brushing over you, but his mouth — hot, teasing, so much more than you’d expected — was a whole new battlefield.

“t-toji!” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your entire body. he chuckled, a low rumble, mouth curving in a smirk against your skin.

“now, now, you were supposed to be quiet,” he whispered, voice laced with that familiar teasing edge. “megumi’s right down the hall, remember?”

you glared at him, though it was probably more of a pitiful attempt given how out of breath you were. 

“you — god, you’re the one making all the noise…,” you muttered, squirming as he only doubled down, his mouth leaving trails of heat across your chest, lingering in a way that made you feel absolutely undone.

he paused, lifting his head just enough to grin down at you, his eyes gleaming. “oh, you’re blaming me, huh?” he teased, raising a brow. “thought you wanted my… hands-on help.”

“yeah, but…” you trailed off, cheeks burning, as his mouth moved lower again, tracing around your tit again. 

“not like this,” you whispered, and it came out more as a whimper than you’d intended.

“oh, trust me, it’s exactly like this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his hands came up to hold you steady as his lips found their way back to your tit, tongue flicking over your nipple just enough to draw out another, higher-pitched squeal. 

you could barely focus, let alone remember how to breathe, as he skillfully coaxed more sounds out of you, like some damn orchestra conductor who knew every one of your weaknesses.

“okay, that’s… not fair,” you choked out, fighting the urge to arch into him. “i thought i was supposed to be taking notes.”

“oh, you’re taking notes, alright,” he chuckled, pressing a final, teasing kiss to your chest. “bet this’ll make one hell of a chapter, don’t cha think?”

you froze for a second, realizing that while here you were, topless and feeling vulnerable under his heated gaze, he was still fully clothed. 

well, almost. 

toji was lounging in just his gray sweats and that black compression tee stretched over his ridiculously broad shoulders, hugging every line of muscle like a second skin. and you, like a fool, were only just now noticing how unfair this was.

"wait a second," you muttered, hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling the firm warmth of him through the fabric. "why am i the only one halfway undressed? where’s the equality here?"

toji’s lips quirked in that half-smirk of his, eyes glinting with amusement as he tilted his head. 

“oh? so that’s how it is, huh?” he teased, his hands tracing light circles along your waist, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “you just wanna see the goods?”

"maybe," you mumbled, a little breathless despite yourself. your fingers slipped down to the hem of his shirt, tugging just enough to let him know you weren’t kidding.

“well, since you’re asking so nicely…” he leaned back and, in one fluid motion, pulled the compression tee over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him. 

and wow. 

your jaw might have actually dropped.

your eyes traced the defined lines of his torso, all hard muscle and taut skin, shadows dipping into those sharp v-lines that disappeared into his waistband. each detail seemed sculpted to perfection, his pecs broad and firm, abs visibly tense, and his shoulders… 

good lord. 

toji fushiguro looked like he was carved straight out of a fantasy. 

you swallowed, heat pooling in your stomach, very aware of the way his gaze was fixed on you, almost predatory.

“so? what’s the verdict?” he asked, voice cocky but still a little rough as he watched your reaction with clear satisfaction. he shifted, arms tensing a bit like he was showing off — not that he really needed to, honestly.

you tried to play it cool, but your voice came out breathy, betraying you. “well, uh… equality’s restored,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

he chuckled, leaning back in closer, and his breath was warm on your neck as he murmured, 

“oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to hold back on my account.” his lips brushed the shell of your ear, teasing. “go on, touch all you want.”

you swallowed, hands trailing over his chest, tracing each ridge and groove of his muscles with your fingertips. every time your fingers brushed over him, he’d inhale a bit deeper, his muscles flexing in response.

"didn’t know you were hiding this under all those sweaters and hoodies,” you murmured, lips twitching into a grin as you kept tracing along his torso.

“mm, well, if i’d known it’d get me this kind of attention…” he grinned, hands tightening on your waist as his voice dropped to a rumble. "maybe i’d have stripped down sooner."

you rolled your eyes, still taking him in. “you’re insufferable, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are, practically drooling over me,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“you wish,” you retorted, but it was weak, considering your hands were still exploring every inch of his chest like it was your personal map.

“oh, i know,” he said, and before you could sass him back, he dipped his head to press a trail of hot, slow kisses along your collarbone, his voice dropping even lower as he murmured, “now, where were we?”

the air felt thick, heavy with every shared breath, each soft whimper from you met with toji's low, gravelly groans that reverberated through his chest and straight into you. there was nothing between you now — just skin on skin, the heat from his body practically searing into yours. his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, almost as if he couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance between you.

you both let out a sharp exhale at the same time when that familiar, aching throb in your core made itself very known. you could barely focus, hips shifting slightly, seeking… more. 

and then you felt it — a certain twitch against your thigh that made your cheeks flare up instantly.

“shit,” toji mumbled, pausing just for a second to meet your gaze. his pupils were blown, gaze dark, and yet he somehow looked almost surprised himself. “you feel that, huh?” his voice was rough, low, like he was barely holding himself together.

you could only nod, biting your lip, feeling that throb intensify in response. 

you wanted to say something clever, something to keep the mood light, but all that escaped you was a quiet, desperate “yeah…"

he chuckled breathlessly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “look at you,” he murmured, one hand trailing down to squeeze your hip, his thumb tracing small circles just to keep you even more on edge. 

“you sure you’re ready for this?”

“toji…” you practically whimpered, squirming in his grip, his voice sending another jolt straight down to where you ached. “you’re the one who offered, remember?”

“mm,” he hummed, his voice going even lower, the words barely a murmur as his hand trailed up your thigh. “i did. and trust me… i’m gonna make damn sure you don’t regret it.”

the throb in your core turned into a full, needy ache, and from the way he was looking at you, it was clear he was just as affected, every breath deep and slow like he was savoring this moment. 

it took every ounce of self-control not to just… well, throw yourself at him, but he was giving you that little smirk that said he was definitely going to take his sweet time with this.

oh god.

you didn’t even get a chance to formulate a comeback before he had your pants halfway down, those dark eyes glinting with way too much satisfaction at your wide-eyed, barely-composed look. 

this man was on a mission, and your brain was rapidly short-circuiting.

“matching set, huh?” he mused, a smug grin spreading across his face as he glanced from your discarded bra back to the lacy underwear you were currently trying to keep from absolutely melting in. “dare i say you were planning this, sweetheart?”

oh, you wanted to snap back. something witty, maybe a sarcastic quip — but his hands settled at the curve of your hips, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to send a shiver up your spine, and it’s like every coherent thought just fizzled out right there.

"don't push your luck, fushiguro," you managed, voice barely a whisper, trying your best to sound confident.

"oh, i'm not pushing anything...yet." he smirked, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned over your exposed skin, and oh god, was he eyeing your underwear like he was already halfway through devouring you with just his gaze?

as if it couldn’t get worse — or better — he hooked a finger around the waistband, tugging just slightly and raising an eyebrow. 

“tell me when to stop,” he murmured, teasing, waiting for a sign, a word — anything.

you gulped, feeling the air go heavy, and the words came out before you could even stop yourself. “don’t stop.”

toji could swear he heard a damn orchestra kicking off in his head the second he finally got you out of those damn panties, his eyes fixed on the sight of you bared beneath him. 

honestly, he felt a little dizzy — a grown man, practically undone by this — and he was not about to mess it up. yeah, he was ready to dive in.

but god forbid he skip over anything as important as making absolutely sure you were okay with it.

his breath came out uneven as he leaned closer, warmth fanning over your core. "you... you're sure about this, right?" he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, his thumb grazing your inner thigh as his other hand tightened its hold. "you can stop me anytime, really. swear on our little pinky promise." he gave a small, reassuring squeeze, but you could hear the faintest tremor in his words.

“toji,” you murmured, breath coming out in frustrated little puffs, but he just kept talking, checking and re-checking because he wasn’t about to mess this up.

"just gotta be absolutely sure, sweetheart," he said, now with a crooked smile, eyes twinkling like this was both the most serious and hilarious thing he’d ever done. "if this is too much, just tell me." he pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh, half-expecting you to push him away or maybe even change your mind.

instead, he felt your hand on the back of his head, fingers gripping tight and — oh. 

well, that was his answer then, wasn’t it?

“just — stop talking,” you mumbled, shoving him down in a way that left no room for ambiguity, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he finally made contact with your cunt.

that was all he needed. 

any restraint he’d been clinging to snapped, and he closed his mouth — well, not literally — because he was about to put it to much better use.

the minute toji’s mouth latched onto you, your brain might as well have been yanked out and replaced with static. 

this was nothing like what you’d written — no, this was raw, needy, almost overwhelming. 

in your books, eating out had been... gentler? polished, even, with words like “savor” and “caress.” things like “he licked her like she was the sweetest dessert,” and even “he lapped at her like she was honey.”

but this? 

this was... messy. desperate. 

each flick of his tongue sent jolts through you that words could never do justice to. “velvet-soft licks” and “feather-light touches” — pfft, no, you were beginning to realize how off the mark you'd been. where was the “velvet softness” in the rough warmth of his tongue, the almost urgent pressure he was putting on you?

you could practically see your own overly-romanticized lines flashing in your head as if taunting you: “gentle ministrations left her a quivering mess.” 

yeah, you were quivering all right, but the way he worked his mouth was anything but gentle. in fact, the “gentle assault,” as people liked to call it, felt like he was trying to unravel every last nerve. every hum he let out against you sent another wave of heat straight to your core, and every swipe of his tongue was this maddening blend of rhythm and chaos, hitting spots that made you gasp and clutch at his hair with abandon.

“you really wrote all that poetic stuff?” he mumbled between licks, barely lifting his mouth from you, smirking against your skin like he knew exactly how thrown you were. “guess you’re gonna have to rewrite it all, huh?”

you wanted to retort, but words were beyond you. 

instead, a strangled, nonsensical sound escaped, and he chuckled, letting his mouth return with more insistence, even nipping lightly just to see you jolt.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. ’m just givin’ you some material to work with,” he whispered, eyes flashing up to meet yours, clearly relishing in how absolutely wrecked you were under him.

not even a couple minutes in, and already, you were close to cumming — so close that all your earlier attempts at keeping it together turned into outright babbling.

“oh — god, toji, that — right there, don’t you — ah!” you whimpered, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as his tongue found that one spot that made your thighs start trembling around his head. “don’t... oh my god... don’t stop — please don’t —!”

your fingers clawed into his hair, trying to keep him right there, as if he even needed a reminder. and if your writhing and half-coherent pleas weren’t enough encouragement, toji could feel the telltale quivering of your legs, see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. 

yeah, you were gonna cum, and he knew it.

“that good, huh?” he muttered against your folds, the vibration making you moan even louder. “wanna tell me what you’re feelin’ right now so you can remember it for that research of yours?”

“t-toji, please — just —” you stammered, your brain too fried to give him anything but desperate babbles. “need you to... oh — just keep going, don’t — don’t talk, just...”

he chuckled against you, but his mouth never slowed. in fact, he redoubled his efforts, tongue pressing firmer, alternating between those long, slow drags and quicker, flicking strokes, every one sending electric shocks through your body that you could barely process. all you could do was clutch at his hair, unable to find the words to tell him how close you were.

he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of this, watching you like this, your usual sharp wit and composure reduced to nonsensical pleas and gasps, and all because of him.

“come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, slipping his hands under your thighs to hold you steady, his fingers digging in just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted. “you’re so close, can feel it. don’t hold back — show me how good it feels.”

and that was all it took. 

your body seized up, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the tension finally snapped, sending a wave of pleasure that left you reeling. you barely registered your own voice, the words spilling out somewhere between a plea and a demand.

it took a solid sixty seconds for reality to come crashing down on you — that the whole time, you’d been squealing like a lamb to the slaughter, blissfully unaware of the fact that megumi was literally sleeping in the next room over, across the hallway.

god, you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. you’d just hit new decibel records, loud enough that anyone within a two-room radius would be alerted to the whole scene unfolding out here.

you covered your face, cheeks blazing as post-nut clarity came barreling in like an uninvited guest at a party. 

the first realization: holy hell, you’d just had an orgasm coaxed out of you by another person. 

and not just any person — nope, the man looking at you with that trademark smug look, his brow cocked as he tried to keep from laughing.

“what?” he asked, his tone as infuriatingly self-satisfied as ever, his lips glistening with the very evidence of your... uh, situation. “you look like you’re about to combust or somethin’.”

"no! i just... can’t believe... that really happened,” you stammered, swallowing the absurdity of it all, hardly able to meet his eyes. 

“and with you, of all people.”

“oh, yeah? who were you thinkin’ about when you were writing that smut of yours?” he grinned, lounging back, way too pleased with himself.

you swatted his arm, finally managing a scowl. “oh, shut up! this wasn’t — i wasn’t — this was supposed to be a research exercise.”

“well, you did get a little, uh, hands-on learning,” he teased, eyes twinkling, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“toji! i was practically screaming,” you hissed, scrambling to pull a pillow over yourself, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “megumi’s in the next room! do you know what i’ll do if he heard that?”

he just chuckled, completely unfazed. “oh, he sleeps like a rock. trust me. he’s not gonna hear any of this. but if you’re worried about it, guess we’ll just have to work on our volume control next time, huh?”

next time? 

you almost spluttered at the very idea, but there was something addictive in the way he said it, like this whole scenario was already just the beginning of some ongoing arrangement. 

and you? 

well, after that, the idea of another round didn’t sound half bad — embarrassment and all.

“oh, don’t act like you’re not into the idea,” he teased, catching that glimmer of interest despite your efforts to seem outraged.

you sat there, a confusing blend of irritation and... something else, as you noticed toji’s situation. 

his hard-on was still very much an issue, evident in the way his sweatpants strained against him. at first, he tried to play it off, waving his hand like it was no big deal. “eh, don’t worry about it,” he muttered, attempting nonchalance despite the clear discomfort in his voice.

but that just felt like a challenge.

“oh, so you’re just gonna sit there like that?” you asked, a mischievous smirk curling at your lips.

toji cocked a brow, clearly sensing where this was going. “what are you gettin’ at?”

you scooted closer, feeling a surge of confidence at the sight of his expression changing, almost as if he couldn’t believe his luck. 

"well, since you put so much effort in, maybe i should... return the favor?” you murmured, your fingers slipping down to graze the waistband of his pants.

the second those words left your mouth, toji practically choked, his composure unraveling just enough for you to catch a flicker of nervous excitement. 

“careful what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” he rasped, voice thick, though you could see the flicker of a smirk.

but when you tugged his pants down, just enough to free him, that cockiness took a swift exit. 

“you’re serious, aren’t you?” he breathed, his usual bravado slipping as you took him in hand.

“oh, don’t act like you’re not excited,” you teased, shooting him a wink as you started slow, savoring the way his head fell back, a low groan escaping his lips.

by the time you took him fully, sliding your mouth down and earning a strangled, “shit — fuck, careful, sweetheart,” you knew you were onto something.

his fingers found your hair, gripping lightly, though you could tell he was barely holding on, his muscles tense, jaw clenched. 

“if you keep goin’ like that, i swear... i won’t last,” he ground out, practically panting. but that only spurred you on, determined to make him unravel completely. 

and toji? with the way his hips bucked, his hand clenching and unclenching, he was clearly in blissful agony, barely holding back.

it was almost surreal, really — the flashes of every single “m oral” scene you’d ever meticulously crafted in your stories were running through your head. it was like you’d written these moments for a thousand characters and now, finally, you were experiencing one yourself. 

only… no scene you’d ever written could’ve fully prepared you for this. 

the way your mouth stretched around him, the warm weight of him against your tongue, the salty taste mixing with the faint scent of him — it all just felt so real.

and “death by dick?” 

well, you’d imagined it a hundred times in jest, but with toji... you couldn’t think of a better way to go.

him, on the other hand, looked completely floored, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you, mouth parted in disbelief. 

“this… your first time doing this?” he asked, almost incredulously, voice hoarse and breathless, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact.

his question earned a sly, humored look from you, but you didn’t stop, dragging your tongue along his length in a way that made his grip tighten in your hair. “shit, babe, you… you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, though there was a distinct pride laced in his tone — like the idea of being your first made him want to last as long as he could and cum in a few minutes all at once.

“you’re too damn good at this,” he rasped, brows furrowing in concentration as he struggled to hold back, the feeling of your soft lips and the light suction nearly enough to make him lose it right then and there.

toji was doing his best to keep a gentle rhythm, letting you adjust, guiding you slowly — because damn did he want you to be comfortable. 

but the closer he got to cumming, the harder it was to hold back, and before he knew it, all kinds of filthy words were slipping out of his mouth.

“you’re really using your colleague for this, huh?” he rasped out between heavy breaths, his voice low and rough. “actin’ like you’re all sweet ‘n innocent, but here you are, puttin’ that pretty mouth to good use…” his fingers tightened in your hair, every word spilling out dirtier than the last as he fought to stay coherent. “couldn’t wait to see what it’d feel like, huh? what i’d feel like?”

you could only hum in response, both stunned and electrified at how he spoke to you, a thrill shooting through you with every low, teasing word. he alternated from murmured praise, telling you how good you were, how perfect your mouth felt, to more degrading words that made your cheeks heat up, his voice dripping with that gruff, amused edge.

“never thought my sweet author would be down on her knees, looking so — ah, shit — filthy.” his grip on your hair grew firmer, his breaths coming out quicker, as if he was barely holding himself together. “look at you… chokin’ on me, takin’ it like a good girl…”

and just as he’s about to cum, his body moved on instinct. his hand tightened in your hair, and he pulled you down until your nose brushed against his stomach, feeling him pulse against your tongue. you choked a little, the sensation overwhelming, and with a shuddering groan, he finally came, riding out his release.

the second he did, though, his eyes went wide. 

“oh, shit, shit — baby, you okay?” he was practically tripping over his words as he pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face with an almost frantic gentleness. 

“i didn’t mean to — god, i… i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to…you alright?”

as you tugged your shirt back on, toji slumped back into the sofa beside you, throwing a very dramatic sigh your way. 

“really? you’re putting the shirt back on already?” he scoffed, throwing his head back, one hand over his heart like he’d just been personally betrayed.

“oh, please,” you rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh. “i think you got a pretty good view already, mister dragon king.”

he snorted at the nickname. “still, it’s a shame. i was just getting used to you, y’know, without it.” he gave you a playful grin, eyes wandering a little too purposefully down your now-covered torso. “it’s practically disrespectful to put it back on after that.”

“disrespectful?” you shot him a look, pretending to be scandalized. “says the man who had the nerve to yank my pants off like I wouldn’t notice.”

“hey,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in mock innocence, “in my defense, you looked way too good with them off.” he shrugged casually, though the gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “besides, you didn’t seem to mind.”

“maybe,” you admitted, leaning back against the sofa with a little smile. you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you just a bit closer until you could feel the warmth of his bare chest against your side. “still... not sure i’ll ever live down what just happened.”

“which part?” he raised a brow, looking amused as he tucked you closer to him. “the part where you tried to suffocate me or the part where you shoved my head down?”

you smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “shut up. i didn’t shove you — i just... suggested very strongly.”

he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “yeah, yeah, you ‘suggested.’ guess it’s good i’m into pushy women, huh?”

you both laughed, and as the sound settled, you realized just how right this felt. 

there was something strangely comforting about this moment — the two of you, just sitting there, basking in the quiet after all the chaos. you couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, the kind that made you all too aware of how special this moment was.

“hey,” you murmured, glancing up at him, suddenly feeling a little shy. “i’m... glad it was you, for, well, you know... all of this.” you gestured vaguely, but toji’s gaze softened, like he understood exactly what you meant.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now, thumb brushing a gentle circle on your shoulder. “didn’t think i’d be the one, honestly. but... i’m glad it was me too. you’re kinda... unforgettable, you know that?”

you laughed, cheeks warming. “you sound like one of my romance novels.”

“oh, please.” he gave a little scoff, though the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable. “if i were a romance novel guy, i’d be way more dramatic than this.” he paused, then threw in a mock-swoony, “oh, my darling! i shall never forget this evening of rapture!”

you burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as he continued, exaggerating his voice and gestures, “the way you, my fair lady, shoved my head to the heavens... or rather, between your —”

“okay, stop,” you wheezed, playfully slapping his arm again. “you’re impossible!”

“impossibly charming,” he corrected with a smug grin.

the laughter settled, and you found yourself just gazing at him for a moment, savoring the warmth and the easy comfort between you. it was a strange feeling — new, yet familiar at the same time. with a sigh, you leaned into his chest, letting your fingers trace little patterns along his arm.

“thanks, toji,” you murmured softly, “for being... you.”

he looked down, his expression softening as he pulled you closer. “hey, anytime.” after a moment, he added in a playful whisper, “and for the record, i’m still protesting the shirt.”

you rolled your eyes, but nestled deeper against him, smiling to yourself.

toji let out a low groan, glancing at the clock. “ugh, we should probably get to bed,” he muttered, reluctantly shifting on the sofa.

“yeah,” you agreed with a little sigh, realizing how late it had gotten. “megumi’s probably sprawled all over, snoring up a storm and drooling on my pillow.”

he chuckled at that, standing up and stretching. “kid’s probably babbling away about frogs or something. you know he was talking about ‘frog powers’ the other night?”

you laughed, following him as he headed toward the bedroom. “he’s got an active imagination. wonder where he gets it from...”

toji gave you a teasing smirk. “oh, yeah? well, you’re the writer in this house.”

you both reached the door, easing it open gently to peek in. sure enough, megumi was lying right in the middle of the bed, completely hogging the space with an arm thrown over your pillow, tiny mouth open, drooling a little as he mumbled something unintelligible.

“my pillow’s gone,” you whispered with a chuckle, shaking your head. “but look at him. i can’t even be mad.”

toji just stared for a moment, the soft rise and fall of his son’s chest filling him with a strange warmth. he was quiet, but there was this look in his eyes — a mixture of tenderness and awe. 

he leaned close, murmuring, “every time i see him like this, i can’t believe i got so damn lucky. that i get to be his dad, y’know?”

you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “you’re a great dad, toji.”

he smiled softly, wrapping his fingers around yours. “thanks,” he said quietly, his gaze still on megumi. after a beat, he added, “c’mon, let’s get in there before he wakes up and realizes he can kick us off the bed.”

you both carefully slipped under the covers, but this time, instead of settling on either side of him like usual, there was a silent understanding — a new, natural shift. you curled up behind megumi, your arm wrapped around his little body, while toji slid in behind you, his arm settling around your waist. he felt you press a soft kiss to megumi’s head, and something about the moment felt... whole. complete.

toji nestled closer, his chest warm against your back, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “this... yeah, this is pretty perfect.” his hand found yours under the covers, intertwining your fingers together.

you smiled, feeling the warmth of him surround you. “feels... right, doesn’t it?”

“more than right,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “never thought i’d be the guy lying in bed, cuddling up with... with you, and him.” he swallowed, a hint of emotion in his voice. “never thought i’d get this lucky.”

you squeezed his hand, and the silence that followed was soft, peaceful. after a moment, toji’s fingers traced slow circles over your knuckles as he mumbled, “think he’ll mind if we’re both here when he wakes up?”

“probably not. he’s got his favorite people right here,” you whispered back, feeling his thumb brush along your hand. “plus, i don’t think he’d mind waking up to his frog-loving dad next to him.”

toji chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. “yeah, frog powers and all. kid’s got taste, huh?”

“must take after his dad,” you teased, grinning.

he snorted. “oh, don’t go putting ideas in his head.” he shifted slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “but hey... thanks. for this. for... y’know, letting me have this.”

you leaned back into his embrace, closing your eyes. “wouldn’t want it any other way, toji.”

and with that, the three of you drifted into a warm, quiet sleep, held together by a bond that felt as strong as anything you’d ever known.

sitting at your laptop, you found yourself typing with a newfound intensity, almost unable to keep up with the words spilling out of your mind and onto the screen. 

the romance between the dragon king and the princess — previously a plot device to add some “spice” — now felt infused with something else entirely. something raw, something softer, something more... real.

toji’s touch, his voice, his warmth — all those things lingered in your mind, guiding your fingers as you breathed life into scenes that once felt staged. now, they felt natural, like they were flowing from some deep, hidden well. it was almost laughable how last night’s escapade had changed everything, but you couldn’t deny it. you smirked as you wrote, feeling every word resonate with a clarity that wasn’t there before.

and then, after hours of relentless typing, a quick text to shoko: 

you [12:30 pm]: hey, mind taking a look at the new chapter?

within minutes, she was at your place, reading your screen as you paced in the background, trying not to hover.

“alriiight, what do we have here…” shoko began, her eyes scanning the text. she paused. blinked. 

then slowly lifted her gaze to you, one eyebrow arched. “you... did write this, right?”

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, crossing your arms with a smirk. “just... tell me what you think, alright?”

she raised her hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright.” then her eyes dipped back to the screen, and this time she read aloud, 

“the dragon king’s fingers traced along the princess’ collarbone, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the weight of his strength. ‘you’re safe with me,’ he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear.”

she stopped reading aloud, her eyebrows raised a little higher, and then looked at you. 

“...safe with me? wow. last time i checked, this guy was like, ‘get in my lair, princess,’ but now he’s a softie? who is this dragon king, and what did you do to the one who existed, like, two days ago?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the heat creeping up your cheeks. “well, maybe he’s... evolving. finding his softer side, or whatever. i don’t know, shoko, do you like it or not?”

she leaned back, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face. “oh, i like it alright. you’re actually writing a romance. like, a legit one. not just something with ten billion euphemisms for —”

“don’t say it,” you interrupted, laughing and waving her off.

she just laughed. “fine, fine, but seriously, what happened? you’ve always been good, but there’s something... different here. it’s like you’re channeling the romance instead of just writing it.”

you swallowed, feeling that flutter in your chest as you recalled the night before, with toji and the way he made you feel so... cherished. it was so much more than just physical, and it translated into every keystroke.

“maybe i just... i don’t know, felt inspired?” you muttered, giving her a small, sheepish smile.

“inspired, huh?” she grinned knowingly. “well, whoever gave you that inspiration, tell them i say thank you. this stuff? it’s gold.” she leaned forward, her expression softening a bit. “this isn’t just commercial smut anymore. this has heart.”

you felt a sense of pride bloom inside you as she kept reading, the quiet tapping of her finger on the edge of your desk as she occasionally mumbled things like, “oh, that’s good,” and “damn, that’s really good.”

“sooo... what’s your verdict?” you asked when she finally looked up, a grin teasing at her lips.

she closed the laptop with a flourish, fixing you with a smirk. “well, i can’t wait to see where this story goes. you’ve finally gotten to the real heart of it. don’t stop now. oh, and if that dragon king of yours has any friends... i’d like one. just sayin’.”

laughing, you gave her a hug. “alright, alright, if i find one, you’ll be the first to know.”

and as she left, you sat back down at your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. 

inspired? maybe. 

but something told you it was more than just that. and as you resumed writing, you knew this was exactly where the story was meant to go.

toji ^.^ [6:26 pm]: hey, you busy? you [6:30 pm]: yeah 😭 but i'm thinking about you both! toji [6:32 pm]: yeah? thinking enough to take a break and maybe come over later? you [6:40 pm]: :((( i REALLYY wanna, but this chapter has me by the throat. gotta finish while the inspiration’s hot. toji [6:40 pm]: yeah, i get it.  toji [6:40 pm]: still, kinda wish you could be here… you [6:41 pm]: i know! i’ll make it up to you and megumi, promise. you two are always on my mind 💕 toji [6:41 pm]: alright. don’t work yourself to death, alright? we miss you. you [6:42 pm]: 🥺🥺 hug him for me, yeah? toji [6:42 pm]: always. but holding you to that promise.

it was late, and toji had just finished reading megumi his favorite story, watching him drift off, all tangled in the blankets. toji was barely leaving the room before he heard megumi mumbling sleepily, almost to himself.

"when's she coming back?"

toji felt that pang, the same one he got every time you were too busy to swing by. he tucked the blanket a little tighter around megumi’s small frame, brushing a hand over his hair.

"she’s got a lot of work, bud," he murmured, low enough that megumi might not even hear. "she’ll come soon, i promise."

megumi nodded sleepily, giving a tiny, droopy smile before settling back into the pillow, and toji let out a soft sigh, watching the little guy drift back off.

a few days later, toji was back at gojo-sonic, caught in the back-and-forth about the upcoming project when satoru, who was way too perceptive for his own good, leaned over with that smirk of his.

“soooo, toji, how’s the ‘inspiration’ been treating you?” satoru teased, one eyebrow arched.

“shut it, satoru,” toji muttered, rolling his eyes but not able to hide the hint of a smile.

satoru shrugged, grinning like he’d struck gold. “hey, i get it. long-distance love, practically a tragic romance. she’s probably typing away, ignoring you...”

toji groaned, already regretting sharing any details. but then satoru’s expression softened, just slightly.

“hey, she’ll come back around. give her time. just means she’s actually doing what she loves, right?”

toji nodded, a bit of that weight lifting. he missed you, sure, but there was something about seeing you so passionate about your writing, knowing he’d sparked even a part of it. 

and if that meant a few late nights alone, well... it was worth it.

toji dragged himself down the hallway, nearly ready to collapse with each step. the recording had been a nightmare — a mic malfunction right in the middle of his best take, a last-minute script revision that completely changed the character’s tone, and a sound engineer who wouldn’t stop fussing over the tiniest background noises. all he wanted was a strong drink and a bed to crash in. 

maybe both, at this rate.

as he turned the key in the door and stepped inside his suite, though, he heard... giggles? his eyes blinked, adjusting to the dim light. in the middle of the room, megumi was squealing, running from none other than you, who were wearing an iron man mask, arms outstretched like you were going to scoop him up at any second. the sight stopped him dead in his tracks, exhaustion washing away in an instant. 

of course, he remembered giving you a spare key, but it still surprised him to see you here, like a surprise balm to his long day.

“daddy!” megumi yelled, darting over to him, grabbing onto his leg. “look, it’s iron man!”

toji huffed a laugh, setting his bag down. “yeah? well, iron man better be careful before he gets ambushed.”

you lifted the mask, peering at him with a grin. “hey, dragon king. long day?”

“you have no idea,” he muttered, shaking his head, but he couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto his face. 

seeing you here, with megumi so happily engaged in a silly game, felt like walking into a whole new world, one where he could just breathe.

“want me to blast him with my repulsor beams?” you joked, wiggling your fingers in megumi’s direction. the little guy shrieked, pretending to hide behind toji’s leg but clearly loving every second of it.

“better not,” toji chuckled. “he’s got a long night of running around ahead of him, looks like.”

“oh, come on,” you teased, tossing the mask aside and crossing the room to wrap your arms around his waist. “i think the dragon king deserves a break.”

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “yeah, i’d say so. didn’t expect to find you here tonight.”

you smiled, looking up at him. “thought i’d surprise you. guess it worked?”

“yeah,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “worked a little too well. can’t say i’m not happy about it.”

“okay, ew,” megumi said, tugging at toji’s pant leg. “can we go back to iron man now?”

toji laughed, ruffling his hair. “yeah, yeah, don’t get jealous, kiddo. why don’t you show her the move i taught you earlier?”

megumi’s face lit up as he immediately struck a pose, fists clenched, trying to look all tough. “look, iron man! i can fight like daddy!”

“oh, wow!” you gasped, feigning surprise. “i don’t stand a chance, do i?”

“nope!” megumi declared, clearly proud.

toji watched you both with a softness he rarely let show. 

somehow, you just fit right in here, with him and megumi, in a way he didn’t think was possible. his life was so often filled with tension and challenges, but seeing you like this, in his space, making megumi laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world... well, it did something to him. 

the world outside could keep its troubles. right here, right now, this was all he needed.

“y’know, i was about to make myself a drink,” he said, glancing at you. “but this... this might be better.”

you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “well, lucky for you, i already poured you one. just sitting there on the counter waiting for you to notice.”

toji raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the drink he’d completely missed. “oh, so you’re full of surprises tonight?”

“just for you,” you murmured.

toji sank onto the sofa, cradling the glass you'd poured for him. as he took a sip, he let out a satisfied hum, leaning back and watching as megumi raced around the room, still brimming with energy. you were crouched down, arms out and dramatically dodging his attacks, fully committing to the role of iron man battling his formidable opponent, the "evil dragon." 

toji couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing his son’s face alight with happiness, and decided he’d add a little fuel to this game.

he cleared his throat, straightening up on the couch as if on a stage, and dropped his voice to a low, gravelly tone. "ah, iron man! you’ve come to challenge the mighty dragon!" he boomed, lifting his drink dramatically. "but little do you know... i have an army of minions at my command!"

"oh no!" you gasped, feigning shock, as you glanced at megumi. "the mighty dragon has backup?"

megumi cackled with delight, waving his arms around. "yeah! and i’m the strongest one!”

toji held his hand to his chest, fighting back laughter as he leaned into his role. "you’ll never defeat us, iron man. my son, the evil dragon prince, will make sure of it."

megumi, now fully invested, stomped his foot. "get her, dad!"

"aha, but iron man has a few tricks up her sleeve!" you declared, lunging forward with playful swipes, causing megumi to dart behind the sofa for cover.

toji watched, transfixed, as you and megumi continued the game, your laughter blending together in a way that filled every corner of his suite. his heart swelled as he saw the ease with which you fell into this little world with them. 

he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d started to imagine it, but in this moment, the thought fully settled in him: this was what he wanted. 

a life where you were more than just a visitor, where you were there every day, filling their home with laughter and warmth, where megumi had a mother he adored just as much as his father.

"don’t think you can escape my wrath that easily, iron man!" he called out, smirking as he put on an exaggerated serious face, holding back a laugh. "this villain is relentless!"

"oh, we’ll see about that!" you shot back, now crawling over to the sofa, reaching for toji’s leg as if to pull him into the fray.

toji raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. "wait, no! not me! i’m just an innocent bystander!"

"yeah, right!" megumi giggled, pushing toji’s knee to “trap” him. "you’re on my team, daddy, you’re evil too!"

"right, right!" toji winked at you, lowering his voice. "well, if i must play the villain… then let it be known that the evil dragon prince and i have one weakness."

megumi’s eyes widened, and he immediately looked to you, curious. "what is it?"

toji glanced at you, a soft smile on his lips. "our only weakness is… iron man’s hug attack."

"ah-ha!" you shouted triumphantly, launching yourself forward and wrapping both of them in a bear hug. megumi squealed in delight as toji laughed, caught up in the warmth of your arms around him. for a moment, the three of you were just tangled up on the couch, the room filled with the sound of giggles and breathless laughter.

as he held you close, toji let himself fully sink into the feeling. 

he knew then and there, more clearly than ever, that he wanted this to be his life. 

he wanted you as his wife, as megumi’s mom. 

he wanted this laughter, this warmth, every single day. his hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent promise he hoped you’d understand.

you looked at him, your gaze softening, a knowing smile on your face. "thanks for the assist, dragon king," you murmured, squeezing his hand back.

"anything for iron man," he replied, his voice low and affectionate. "besides, someone’s gotta keep this dragon prince in line."

megumi pulled back just enough to look up at you both, an innocent grin on his face as he pointed between you. "you two should team up more often," he declared, clearly oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words, but making toji’s heart race nonetheless.

toji chuckled, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulder. "you know, kid… i think you’re right."

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[starkwlkr]

hi babe!! love your dad!Charles ideass!! ABSOLUTELY MY EVERYDAY READ!! anyway if you don’t mind, can you make where ruby is jealous of her little sister/brother because her parents give too much attention to him/her and she thinks they forget her.

why not me? | charles leclerc

am i using a mitski lyric as the title? yes. i also got another request similar except uncle pierre makes an appearance

request: Hi! You should do a baby Leclerc one shot where she tells Pierre she’s going to live w him since they had the baby and she thinks they’ve forgotten her

Mathéo was crying too much, that’s what Ruby thought. She didn’t really understood why he even cried. Y/n always fed him, changed his diaper and even called him sweet names to comfort him. Years ago, Ruby was in Mathéo’s position, but now she was older and she didn’t like being pushed to the side.

Ruby was in her playroom. She was coloring in her Barbie book when she heard Mathéo cry. Charles was away for another race so it was just Y/n with her children in their home. Ruby ignored the crying baby since Y/n was taking care of him and continued coloring in. Once she was done, she put down her crayon and walked into Mathéo’s nursery where she found her mother attempting to calm the baby down. Y/n looked stressed, she probably slept about three hours since Mathéo didn’t want to sleep so he cried all night long.

“Mama, look! You’re not looking! I colored Barbie! I want to show grand-mére, can you take a picture and send it to her?” Ruby showed her work proudly.

“Give me a second, Ruby, your brother needs me right now.” Y/n adjusted the baby in her arms.

Ruby watched as her mother held the baby close to her. She felt jealous, she’ll admit that. They went four years with Ruby as their only child and suddenly Mathéo came. Now she had to share everything, especially the love and attention from her parents, uncles, aunts and most importantly, her grand-mére.

“Can you take a picture now?”

“Ruby, I can’t, I’m taking care of your brother.” Y/n sighed as Mathéo continued crying.

“But you always take care of him!”

Ruby ran out of the room nearly in tears. She decided that her parents didn’t need her, not since the new baby arrived. She ran to the living room and saw her mother’s phone on the kitchen counter. She knew she was still on a phone ban but she picked it up and unlocked it. She clicked on the messages icon and saw pierre’s name. She opened up the messages and typed out one of her own.

Y/n

uncle peair can i c ome live wiht you ?

She hit send and waited for a response. Luckily for her, pierre wasn’t busy.

Pierre

what’s wrong, my little ruby?

Y/n

mama do es not love m e

Pierre

Of course she does.

Y/n

No

I want to live wiht u and ki ka

Ruby didn’t get a response back from Pierre. She immediately thought that Pierre was already on his way to pick her up. What she didn’t know was that Pierre has shown the messages to Charles.

Suddenly Y/n’s phone started ringing with Charles’ contact name appearing on the screen. Ruby took the phone to her mother and then ran back to her room.

“Hey, you okay?” Y/n said when she answered the call. She put the call on speaker since she was about to change Mathéo’s diaper.

“I’m okay. But Pierre just received some messages from Ruby. They came from your phone.” Charles explained so Y/n checked her texts and saw what Ruby had typed to the Frenchman.

“Oh, Ruby.” Y/n sighed. “She was trying to show me her coloring book and Mathéo was crying. I’ll talk to her.”

“Give her kisses for me, I’ll be home soon. Let me know how it goes.” Charles said then Y/n hung up.

After changing Mathéo, Y/n carried him to Ruby’s room where she was all snuggled up with blankets in her bed watching ‘Cars’ on her iPad.

“Ruby, papa told me that you sent uncle pierre some messages. You want to live with uncle pierre and kika?” Y/n entered the room and sat on her daughter’s bed.

“Yes and he’s already on his way.” She said confidently.

“Well uncle pierre lives in Italy and papa and i would miss you so much.” Y/n said.

“No you wouldn’t! You have the baby.” Ruby replied.

“Ruby, papa and i love you and the baby so much. You’re my special little girl and Mathéo is my special little boy. You were the one who made me a mama. You know before you were born, I thought I was never going to be able to have children and then you came. That’s why you’re my special little girl, Ruby Jules.”

“Am I papa’s special girl too?” She asked curiously.

“You’ve always been, baby. He was so excited to meet you. He cried so many times but don’t tell him I told you.” Y/n chuckled when she saw Ruby laugh at the thought of her papa crying.

“So you still love me?”

“Ruby Jules, we never stopped loving you.”

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Fairytale wedding”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

Part 1, Part 2

Weddings are supposed to be big and beautiful days for the bride to celebrate her upcoming life, well mine wasn’t. Being pregnant before marriage was a huge no with my parents, so I was terrified to tell them. I was 20! I wasn’t even out of their house yet. I had to tell Austin first, but I was terrified, what if he didn’t want to have a baby? He was 27.

At first he was perplexed, he blinked a thousand times more than I’ve ever seen anyone in my life. I was ready for him to shout and blame me but he didn’t.

“I’m gonna be a daddy…” Austin muttered under his breath before a smile appeared on his face. He grabbed me and kissed me all over the face. “We’re gettin’ married, baby!”

I was giggling excitedly, it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever lived. Ever since I was a young girl, I’ve always dreamed of having a romantic proposal— not this. But I read the room and un destroys that he was short on money. We thrifted my rings that same night, to me it was beautiful.

I waited a while before telling my parents, we were having dinner at him. My mom and dad sat besides each other in front of me, meanwhile my younger sister and brother sat on each side of me. I had kept my hand hidden and kept trying to use my left hand but the excitement got to me.

“I’m getting married.” I said nervously as I showed off my ring.

“You’re what?” My mother put her utensils down slowly, so did my dad.

“Austin… proposed.” I stuttered once again. “I said yes.”

“You do know what this means, do you, Cynthia?” My father said sternly as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I know…” I knew he wanted me out of the house as soon as the wedding took place, I would only be able to visit home and never stay here again, just like my older sister did. “I’ll be out of the house once the reception is done.”

After dinner I was in my room, dreading the decision I made hours ago, was I even ready to be married? I loved Austin but to spend all my life with him. Soon enough my mom and younger sister were there with me, laying in bed, talking to each other.

“Y te juro que el me hablo pero bien lindo, ¿cómo lo iba a rechazar? (And I swear he talked to me sweetly, how could I reject him?)” I groaned to my mother, my little sister giggled.

“Yo se, yo se (I know, I know).” My mother rubbed my head softly. At the end of the day, I’d only have my mother to cry to.

“Can I be a bridesmaid?” My 12 year old sister asked excitedly, the same exact excitement I felt when my older sister got married and I had the privilege of being one of her bridesmaids.

“Of course.” I told her with a big smile.

————————————

I always wanted to have a big wedding, like the ones of fairytales. With the big dress and big wedding, I tried to tell Austin that but he was quick to always shut down my wishes.

“Baby, a big wedding it’s just too much work for the both of us. And I ain’t going to risk our baby.” Austin said as he placed his hand on my lower stomach.

“I know I just— I’ve always dreamed of my wedding being big and beautiful.” I said softly as I then pressed my lips together.

“Now— what happened to the twinkle in your eyes?” Austin rubbed my cheek softly. “All that matter is that we’ll be husband and wife, and that we’ll have a small baby with us…”

He made me feel as if wanting a big wedding was just a silly and egoistic wish, how dare I want to stress myself planning wedding and harming his baby on the process?

We looked through a bunch of salons for the reception and we ended up finding one we both liked. It was pretty and small, to keep it private like Austin wanted. I already had on mind how I wanted to look that day, my mind was all over Priscilla Presley’s wedding look. I wanted that bouffant and a similar dress, I was already skinny but with the pregnancy— I looked bloated. I needed a vintage wedding dress and so I went on the look out for one. Austin had bought himself a nice tuxedo, he had recently dyed his hair black because of a Broadway play he was doing.

The day of the actual wedding, I was excited beyond belief. I woke up at 4 AM, so did my mother and sisters. I did my makeup on my own but my room was a mess, my older sister, Jackie and my younger sister, Pattie, we’re getting ready there with me. I did my usual glam— just this time I added three pairs of falsies, Jackie helped me do my hair that day, she helped me tease it into a bouffant, then my mother helped me put on my veil. I would be lying if I said my father didn’t cry, it was the first time I saw him cry in all my life, he just hugged me tight.

The wedding was quick, we said our vows but the good part would be the reception. As we entered the salon, the guests were already there as ‘Venus’ by Frankie Avalon played on the background, I felt so— lucky. I was marrying who I thought was the love of my life.

“I’m so happy, baby.” Austin said as we sat at our table, he was squeezing my hand.

“Me too.” I whispered back to him.

My dad ended up accepting Austin as my husband, as he watched how Austin handled me so tenderly, how his big hands cupped my face, how his hand wandered around my waist as we talked to guests, how he kissed my cheeks countless of times.

“My little girl’s gonna be a good wife.” *My dad told Austin as they shook hands. Then my dad walked up to me and hugged me again, crying again as he took a step back to watch me. “Mija, tú sabes que tu mamá y yo siempre vamos a estar para lo que tú necesites (Mija, you know that your mama and I will always be here whenever you need us.)” My father said sweetly.

I cried a lot that day too, I never wanted to stop living with my family, we were very close, but I was maturing and growing up, I was starting my own family and I had to be strong.

Austin and I got married on February 12th, 2018, while I was one month into my pregnancy. We went back to his house, he carried me bridal style and laid me on the bed, he got on top of me, he kissed me.

“My wife.” He whispered softly before kissing me passionately.

It’s not like it would be my first time with him— but it felt magical. I don’t know why I felt so taken care of. I was scared, I never knew you could have sex while being pregnant, but he told me he had been doing his research. He made sweet love to me that night.

I was now Mrs. Butler— it had a nice ring to it.

I know some of y’all might not like Austin on this fanfic! He might be an asshole half the time.

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter nine — suspicion

WORD COUNT — 2,880

WARNINGS — none

NOTES — sorry but this chapter will always be iconic to me

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

In the week since you’d realized your true feelings toward Newt, it was as though you couldn’t get your mind off the topic. Your eye caught onto everything Newt said or did, fixating on him, making you glance his way every few minutes. 

You felt like your senses had been dialed up to eleven, like you’d suddenly become more alert and hyper-aware of his presence when he was around you. You’d automatically began to pick up on every little thing now, and it was getting to you. Every time he sat next to you during lunch, every time he’d lean over to see your workbook during chemistry to make sure you were doing things right — where you’d always end up catching a whiff of his cologne. You even picked up on how he would glance your way every now and then, like he was checking to make sure you were still there. 

Normally, you’d be excited that it was Friday, because Friday meant dinner at Mickey’s and going to the playground. But there was a problem this week. Instead of you getting a ride with Thomas and Teresa, Newt had offered to pick you up early, and for some reason, you said yes. You’d usually be even more excited about something like this, but you weren’t looking forward to being hyper-aware, nor were you looking forward to being alone with Newt. 

You didn’t have much of a choice anymore, though, as you’d already agreed. Plus, this was something you were going to have to learn to live with if you wanted to keep the friend group entirely intact, so adjusting to it this way just seemed like your best option.

By 6pm, you’d changed out of your school clothes and into something warmer — and playground appropriate, as you were sure that you’d be playing Grounders again like you had last week — and were waiting patiently for the text from Newt to tell you he was waiting outside. You’d already put everything you needed into your purse, and pulled it onto your shoulder as you headed out of your room to wait in the living room with your dad and Chuck. 

When you found them and sat on the arm of the couch, you were unsurprised to find them watching Star Wars, both of them so invested in the film that you were sure they hadn’t noticed your arrival. Your phone pinged just as you were being sucked into the movie, indicating Newt was waiting for you. 

You typed out a reply as you stood and made your way to the door, hitting send just as Thomas called out your name from the stairs. You stopped right in front of the door, turning around and looking up from your phone. “What’s up?”

Thomas wasted very little time in crossing the hallway, nor in getting to the point. “Do you have feelings for Newt?”

You froze, merely blinking at the boy in front of you as you tried to wipe the shock from your face. You already felt the burning creeping up your cheeks, and you only hoped that Thomas didn’t notice it as you laughed his question off. “I don’t know what makes you think that, but I can promise you, Thomas, I don’t have feelings for Newt.”

“Oh, really?” Thomas’ words came out eerily calm, underlined with anger. “Because I think you do. I think you have since you met him. I mean, you’re basically spending every second you’re with him as close to him as you can get. And I’m starting to think he has feelings for you, too.” 

You could feel the anger stewing within Thomas like a brewing storm. “Listen to me, Thomas. I don’t have feelings for Newt. And I doubt he feels that way about me, either. So don’t read too much into something that isn’t there, or you’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

A horn honked outside, accompanied by another ping on your phone. You turned back to face the door, gripping the handle and opening it. A chill was sent over your body as a breeze blew inside, and you turned to face Thomas one final time. 

“There’s nothing going on between us, I promise. You have nothing to worry about, okay? I’ll see you at the diner.” 

Stepping out into the cold evening, you slammed the door behind you. Your gut began to churn as you made your way to Newt’s car, your mind running in circles as you processed exactly what just happened. How has Thomas managed to figure it out? Were you so obvious about how you felt about Newt? And why had he been so angry, anyway? There was no way you were going to do anything about how you felt, there were just too many risks involved.  

You managed to pull yourself from your thoughts and back to the real world when your hand clutched the handle of the passenger door, prying it open. You plastered a semi-fake smile on your lips as you slipped into the car and greeted Newt, making sure he had no suspicions that anything negative had happened.

As the boy turned the car off the street, you asked, “Is there any real reason you wanted to take me to the diner alone, or am I just that amazing that you wanted to spend more time with me?”

Newt laughed, glancing at you. “I just thought you’d want to have at least one car ride to the diner that didn’t involve your brother and his girlfriend. I know what it’s like to be the third wheel with them on car rides, and it’s definitely not my favorite thing to do.” 

“Thank you for saving me from that this week, then.”  You smiled. “It feels weird, listening to their conversations in the backseat and not really being a part of them. It’s like I’m hearing stuff I’m not supposed to.” 

The rest of the short drive was occupied entirely by the radio as a calm feeling settled over the both of you. Once you arrived at the diner, you were greeted immediately by Mickey and Frypan before heading to your usual booth, unsurprised to find that you were the first ones there. You and Newt sat at the booth with your backs to the door, with him tucked into the wall, and you right next to him. 

Not long after you arrived did Teresa and Thomas, who mirrored yours and Newt’s seating position. Then came Brenda, who had walked up on her own using the shortcut. The rest of the group arrived all at once, about twenty minutes after you first got to the diner. Gally, Minho, Sonya, and Harriet all filed into the diner, one after the other, like the warmth inside was the only thing that would keep them alive. 

Turning your head to face them as Gally slid into the booth next to Teresa, you smirked and asked, “So, what took you four so long to get here, exactly?”

“He took forever to get ready,” Gally glared at Minho, who put his hands up defensively and wore an expression that displayed the perfect mixture of shock and offense. 

He scoffed. “Well I’m sorry that I actually care about my appearance, jackass.”

“There’s a difference between caring about your appearance and spending twenty five minutes in the bathroom doing your hair.” Harriet cut in, pushing the tables together. 

“Seriously, Minho, what the hell were you even doing in there?” Sonya asked, pulling up a chair. 

Minho sat down and said, “There’s a science to the swoop, okay? I have to get it right otherwise it doesn’t work.”

The group laughed as everyone sat down, before you took over the conversation. “Couldn’t Minho have driven himself, though? I mean, you’re almost eighteen, right? Don’t you have a license?”

“Minho’s not allowed to drive,” Newt told you, a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Why not?”

All eyes landed on Minho, who sat at the head of the table. “I may or may not have crashed the car my parents bought me.”

“He didn’t just crash his car,” Thomas said. “He crashed the very nice, very new, Toyota his parents got him for his birthday a week after he got it. Dumbass tried to do donuts in the school parking lot and hit a lamppost.”

“They banned me from having a car until I’m 20.” 

Minho’s downtrodden tone and exaggerated pout was enough to get people laughing for a bit. 

Dinner went as it always did. Conversation flowed steadily between everyone, sometimes pausing as people ate their food. Then came the milkshakes, and you were almost shocked when Mickey stopped you before you ordered to tell you he knew what you wanted, and had already written it down. The only oddity of the meal was Thomas, who seemed to think that glancing between you and Newt every few minutes with a stone cold expression on his face was completely normal and not weird in the slightest. You noticed the anger brewing in his dark brown irises, and could only feel annoyed at him. 

After dinner, while everyone was on their way to the playground, Gally called out from the back of the group, “Everyone’s going to the bonfire, right?”

“Bonfire?” You asked, glancing back at the boy. “There’s a bonfire? When?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Brenda realized from beside you. “Yeah, it’s like this unofficial school event type of thing. The juniors and seniors throw one every year on the second Friday of November, just outside of town. There’s an old baseball diamond out there where the old school was before it got torn down and it’s always super fun. There’s booze and music and stuff.”

“But that’s not the best part, though,” Sonya told you. “Apparently, every year since like…. the eighties, something big has happened at the party. Most times there’s a fight or something like that, but a few times people have been caught cheating on their partners. From what I’ve heard, it’s really cool to watch.”

Your stomach churned once again as you processed the information. A party where alcohol would be served without supervision to a bunch of teenagers, packed with drama, and a raging, borderline dangerous, fire? It sounded like a recipe for utter disaster. You only nodded at Sonya’s words, keeping quiet until you reached the playground, where everyone left their items on the picnic bench as Harriet declared a game of Grounders. 

The game itself lasted for a while, and as usual, it was a lot of fun. Newt proved to be surprisingly good at creeping over the gravel ground to reach the merry-go-round without getting caught, and you devised a practically foolproof plan of not getting caught by whoever was ‘it’. All you had to do was climb over the railing of the small bridge on the main play structure, stand there with your hands on the rail and feet on the lip of the platform, and wait for the game to end. 

Once everyone decided to do their own things, you decided to head over to the swings. With your hands gripping the chainlinks, you leaned back as far as your body would allow and tilted your view to the sky, deciding to see exactly how much of Newt’s information about the stars you could remember, doing your best to identify as many constellations as you could remember. 

As you were searching for Orion’s belt, the chainlinks of the swing to your left rattled, and you pulled yourself up to find that Newt had sat in the swing beside you. 

His feet kicked lightly at the dirt and rocks below him as his hands gripped the chainlinks similarly to yours, neck stretched to look up at the sky as well. 

Your eyes trailed along the outline of his side profile, from the way his hair flopped backward, to the slope of his nose, to his very prominent Adam’s apple, which bobbed as he began to speak. 

“Do you know why people named the stars?”

“No,” you practically whispered, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. You were struggling to focus, completely overtaken by Newt. You begged it to focus, focus, focus on anything but him. On the way he looked. 

On how much you wanted to kiss him. 

“We’ve always been doing it. Mostly the Romans, Arabs, and the Greeks, though. They liked attaching names and meanings to the stars. To cope with living with them, I think.” He said. “They all had different names for them. The Greeks liked putting the stars into their myths, like the daughters of Atlas and stuff.” Even as Newt continued talking, you could barely focus on what he was telling you. 

The simple fact was, you just couldn’t take your eyes off of him for long enough to tune into the conversation. You could hear the hum of his voice, it’s usual cadence, but your mind refused to process his words, only willing to process him. 

When you did manage to pull yourself from the stupor you found yourself in, you glanced over to the picnic table, where Thomas, Teresa, and Brenda were, sitting on the tabletop with their feet planted on the bench seat. Brenda and Teresa talked adamantly to one another, but Thomas remained silent. His hand was intertwined with Teresa’s, resting on her thigh, but his eyes were glued on you and Newt. 

The unsettling feeling in your gut and the burning in his eyes confirmed that he’d seen everything, and everything you tried to deny came undone in seconds. Everything you’d told him earlier was a complete lie, and now he knew it, too. 

Newt’s voice trailed off after a few more minutes, and this time, you were the one who took over the conversation. Squinting, your eyes swept over the playground as you said, “Do you know what I caught Brenda doing in photography today?”

A laugh was already beginning to form in his mouth as Newt asked, “What’d she do this time?”

“She was watching Descendants, again.”

Newt laughed loudly, probably catching other people’s attention, but you didn’t care, as you laughed with him. 

“I don’t blame her, since we didn’t have much to do, but when I asked her why she was watching it all she told me was that she ‘couldn’t help that Jay was hot.’”

Newt’s contagious laughter continued, reducing to giggles that you couldn’t help but smile at. When he finally calmed, he spared a glance to her and Teresa, still talking adamantly with one another. “I’ll never understand their obsession with those movies. Ever since the first one came out it’s like they’ve watched them a thousand times.” 

“I get it,” you shrugged. “I was the same way with Lord of The Rings. I still am.” Newt’s eyes widened at your confession and you giggled at his expression. “Me,  my dad, and my uncle have been obsessed with the movies for as long as I can remember. They sat me in front of the TV when I was like, five, and I’ve been hooked since. And with the amount of stuff I’ve bought because of it, I think my dad’s starting to regret it.” 

“How much do you think you’ve spent, then?”

You contemplated the question for a bit, doing some brief mental math. “I’m not sure, exactly, but it’s a lot. I’ve got like, four or five different copies of the trilogies, maybe?” Newt’s jaw dropped and you laughed. “Let me explain it to you. I have them on Apple TV, since the bundle for The Hobbit and Lord of The Rings were on sale last year, uh, my dad bought the extended edition of the trilogy on DVD when the last movie came out, and a few years ago my uncle gave me his DVD set, and I found all three theatrical edition DVDs at a Value Village a few years back, so I bought them.” 

Newt scoffed out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “I just can’t believe your family spent that much money on a single movie series.”

“Oh, that’s just the movies.” You said. “If you saw all the merchandise and memorabilia we have, it’d probably put you in credit card debt before you even had a line of credit.” 

Newt laughed again, and you felt your heart stutter. You realized in that moment that you could listen to him laugh forever. The conversation continued on for a while, switching topics every few minutes as you both bounced from thought to thought. 

Just as you were wrapping up a heated rant about how weird of a show Riverdale had become since its first season, which you didn’t have the courage to watch past, everyone came to the decision that it was time to go home before curfew was broken. 

So again, you said your goodbyes to the group and headed home again, this time with Thomas and Teresa, despite wanting to catch a ride with Newt or Gally, considering your step brother’s angry eyes that nearly burned holes into your head the entire way home. 

A single thought repeated in your mind until you escaped to the sanctuary that was your bedroom, the exhaustion of the night ready to take over — you were completely, totally screwed.

series taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

[lbctal]

y’all mind if i yap about the walton gq interview a bit?

okay shoutout to my friend ash for manifesting this interview after danny did his LMAO

FIRST THOUGHTS: WHERE THE FUCK IS VENUS???

if you asked me his most iconic characters, venus is absolutely in the top three. how the fuck do they mention BILLY CRASH and JAY WHITTLE but not VENUS VAN DAM???? fuck whoever came up with this list.

now that that’s out of my system, let’s go in order, shall we?

lee russell: ty walton for describing russell fucking perfectly. him and i are the only people who understand russell. (jk) ALSO YESSS THE DUCK LIPS BUT SIR CAN YOU SAY A LINE. PLEASEEE. on my knees. MOST IMPORTANTLY; WALTON SHIPS GAMBYRUSSELL. FUCK YESSSS 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 LOVE WINS

cooper howard: snore. i’m so fucking bored of this guy. are we not tired of hearing shit about the goddamn ghoul. moving on.

shane vendrell: STOP MAKING ME WATCH LEM DIE. CHRIST. but thank you again walton for focusing more on the shield than on your biggest piece of shit character!! and when he started talking ‘psychological condition’ it reminded me of how i’m like almost certain shane is bipolar. wonder if he’d agree w me on that? anyways.

boyd crowder: WHYYYY DO THEY HAVE TO PLAY THE FINAL SCENE HOLY FUCKING SHIT I ALMOST CRIED AGAIN. so thankful to mr. olyphant for convincing walton to do justified. their chemistry IS SO PALPABLE. his love for boyd and raylan and justified in general is so fucking precious to me and it makes the show so much more special and it would absolutely not be justified if it weren’t for his spectacular input. i could listen to him blab on about that show all fucking day, it’s the whole reason i love him. beautiful fucking words to describe it. just speechless. much love to this man. ‘raylan givens is an asshole. but he’s my asshole.’ WE KNOW YOU’RE THE ORIGINAL RAYLANBOYD SHIPPER, BABE. 🩶

baby billy freeman: this bit was JAM PACKED w info and i loved it sm. really shocked they just came up w him on the spot but you could really tell cuz he’s like the perfect combination of walton’s ideas and danny’s ideas cultivated into this old man. too bad he didn’t mention that he was inspired by his dad again, lol.

billy crash: this part was like a bit confusing to me cuz i have heard different stories about how he got the role from other sources but it’s good to get some confirmation. pretty akin to what i heard, though. also giggled a bit when he said you don’t change what quentin writes cuz tarantino himself said ‘someone’ wanted to change the ending of django. but y’all didn’t hear that from me, lmao. always love to watch billy crash writhing in pain. :)

chris mannix: also a lot of new info for this one!! although i already knew about all the drama about h8 and the leak and all that, it’s interesting to hear the process the actors went through. would’ve paid millions to hear him do his voice. also why is he gatekeeping info, UGH. all i wanna know is if he had an encounter with tarantino’s punsihment dildo for falling asleep on set. lmfao.

the hero / jay whittle: okay, at first i was kinda pissed that he got a spot instead of venus, but this might’ve been my favorite segment aside from boyd’s. I never really find anything about him talking about his time on set of I’m a virgo so this was such a nice treat. i LOVE how he approaches each one of his characters, it’s so special and is why each one of them are so special and different from any other character you’ve ever seen. the wig story was fucking hilarious and it’s just so sweet how he says let’s figure this person out together. such a wonderful guy. it is SUCH a BEAUTIFUL story with a POWERFUL message and i adore how he recognized that. and the way he described jay? CHEF’S FUCKING KISS. mid-life crisis superhero who behaves like an alcoholic and is incapable of seeing different than his own pov? walt, you’re a fucking genius. his closing statement was absolute beauty.

anyways thanks for reading my ramble.

JUSTICE FOR MY GIRL VENUS

[vickozone]

The Magnus Archives

-S4 Notes-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SOMETHING ABOUT FANART GOES HERE I THINK

<- previous notes

next notes ->

Handwriting translated below:

#121 Oliver. He’s dead and JON! YOU’RE OKAY!

#122 zombies and Jon’s first instinct from waking up from a 6 month coma is to read a statement. Icon.

#123 He just got back and Melanie wants to kill him and something is up with Martin. Also, The Web, I suppose. Coding?

#124 More Simon. What a guy. Also, Jon is… very concerned for Martin…

#125 The Slaughter is back and Melanie! CALM DOWN! MY HEADPHONES ARE ON LIFE SUPPORT AS IT IS!

#126 The Spiral clarity + Martin is being manipulated (SHE STABBED HIM!?)

#127 Another letter to Jonah. AND ELIAS IS JUST CHILLIN IN PRISON. GO OFF, KING!

#128 Breekon is nothing without Hope. The institute and ooo! Jon eye powers!

#129 Guy drowned in grandpa’s house and JON NEEDS AN ANCHOR! Also, very homosexual interaction.

#130 Meat ritual and JON! NO, SELF HARM IS BAD! YOU BETTER NOT DO WHAT I THINK YOU’RE IMPLYING!

#131 AAAA! AAAA! OH. OH NO. Jared is the Boneturner and Helen is an absolute queen <3

#132 Jon saves Daisy!! Yay! She is also The Hunt, but, whatever. The tapes drew him back…

#133 The Hunt ritual, and Basira… has feelingsss. The Hunt is about the chase, not the kill.

#134 The Extinction!? NO. Also Lukas is the worst. Hate that guy.

#135 “Have I ever told you how much I hate the sun?” -Manuela Lol, The Dark, The Vast, and The Lonely funded the space expedition.

#136 Annabelle! Creepy celeb puppet. And Daisy telling Jon he’s not responsible for everything gives hope. Yes! Therapy!

#137 The Slaughter ritual & Gertrude was fond of Gerry :( The Watcher’s Crown??

#138 “And then the sky blinked.” Elias is literally the ‘no need to thank me’ meme and Jonah and Smirke knew about the 14 fears and then he dies or smthn

#139 The life and crimes of Agnes. Jon MAYBE saw Peter’s plan and- PRAISE THE LORD, JON LIKES MARTIN!!

#140 Stupid Maxwell. Also, Santa is working working with the Devine Host (/j) & we’re going on a trip! :D

#141 Salesa statement from boat guy. Oh, Jon, I see why Martin has a crush on you now. 10/10 voice acting on everyone’s part.

#142 JEEZ, JON! You gave this poor woman literal trauma! Goodness…

#143 oh, it’s Manuela! Jon looked AT the darkness and HELEN IS A SAVIOR!

#144 MARTIN! We do NOT talk to people like that! Especially Daisy! This isn’t you! The Extinction is real, I guess, but, come on! Not cool.

#145 Gertrude is COLD. Dude’s head is somewhere in the institute- uh-

#146 5 people? Goodness, Jon. He can’t control it though, can he? Helen got Marcus and Basira is off to meet with Annabelle friggin Cane.

#147 Okay. No, he can control it. I love Anna. I also got Nikola flashbacks. Oh boy.

#148 Not 5 seconds in and Elias gets assaulted. Jon is worried for Martin and he read a statement about The Eye. A.

#149 Concrete Jungle. Oh and Martin is using Lonely powers. Greaaat.

#150 Homophobic endless houses and Melanie really said “nuh uh” to her job

#151 Simon is my new husband. Uhhh. He answered Martin’s questions, yada yada, he has Lonely powers

#152 More of The Buried. Jon and Helen chat more about avatar crap.

#153 Another odd desolation flesh cult, also Trevor and chic is here and he is HUNGRY

#154 Gerry’s dead dad gives a statement. J + M both F bomb, very gay, eye gouging is the only way out. (“It’s pretty drastic.” “What you gotta gouge your eyes out or something?” “…” “…” “…” “Fuck off.” <- funniest conversation in the whole series)

#155 Guy kills others to keep himself alive + MEL IS REMOVING HER EYES- OKAY-

#156 More extinction about an abandoned park and I am very scared for Martin

#157 another extinction- OMG MEL AND GEORGIE! Did… Helen stab Jon?

#158 SO MUCH. Martin played Lukas, Daisy is feral, ELIAS IS JONAH, Not!Sasha is loose, disaster duo is here, Martin is stuck in Lonely, Gertrude wanted ‘Elias’ to kill her. WHAT.

#159 Peter shares his story, is evaporated. “I see you, Jon…”

#160

Look at the sky, Martin. It’s looking back.

I OPEN THE DOOR!

[ozimagines]

Ok so it’s official; Holly is the collective Oz child. I will be writing her interacting with EVERYONE at some point at this rate😂 Got inspired by a few posts by Fiona St. James himself! (He goes by He/Him out of the drag personas I believe and she/her while in them. I will be using only she/her for Fiona just because I’ve read some good pieces where she’s a trans woman and not a drag persona so I want to be respectful of that.🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️) Written because I could have really used this absolute ICON when I was in school, trying to figure things out for myself.

Fiona Zonioni and Holly Beecher in:

Read for Filth

Holly rushed into the car and slammed the door, put her head in her knees, and started to cry. Beecher and Keller both exchanged a look, Beecher’s being one of sympathy and understanding, and Keller’s being one of unbridled rage.

Holly was dealing with some bullies as of late. She wouldn’t tell them what it was about. Always said something like “girl stuff” and moved on. Holly was a strong kid. She had been through a lot at a very young age. She grew a thick skin, for the most part. But she was blossoming into a preteen, in her first year of middle school and apparently the other girls were just not having any of it. Keller and Beecher had heated discussions at night about what to do about it. Beecher wanted to tell the principal, but Keller thought that would only make things worse. Keller thought he should go deal with it, but Beecher insisted that would only make it worse.

“Holly Jolly, are you ready to talk yet?” Beecher called softly as he drove. She wouldn’t look up.

“No.” She said, muffled by her own jacket sleeves. She kept sniffling and whispering softly to herself, and Beecher tried to stop himself from crying with her. He lived and died by what his daughter felt, and right now she was in pain he couldn’t take away. He felt helpless. Keller placed a large hand on his thigh and squeezed. Time for Dad #2.

“C’mon, kitten, you’re gonna have to tell us eventually.” He turned around in his seat to face her. She still had her head down, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Leave me alone. You don’t understand.”

“Try me, pumpkin.”

She cried even harder into her coat sleeves. Every attempt at making her feel better seemed to make her feel worse. Both men relented, Keller reaching back and putting a hand on her shoulder as she cried.

“I wanna go home.”

“Soon, Holls.” Beecher said, checking in her in the rear view mirror. “First we gotta drop something off at a friend’s.”

“She’s your friend. She doesn’t like me.” Chris corrected in an attempt to make Holly laugh. Both men checked. It didn’t work.

They pulled up to a house in a different neighborhood, with a woman sitting out front. Holly peeked over the edge of her hoodie sleeve. The woman was wearing a sparkly black dress in the middle of the day, full make up, and long black hair. She sauntered up to the car with a confidence and glow, smiling at the familiar faces. She waved at them, and the men acknowledged her. She came up to the car and Beecher handed her a package.

“It’s from Alvarez; he said this time don’t…” Beecher looked back at Holly, who ducked her head down and pretended not to be looking. “Don’t eff up the tiara before the third act this time.”

“Darling, have you ever known me to be responsible when it comes to diamonds. They are a girl’s best friend.” She added, slyly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Holly couldn’t help but watch. Her beauty was mesmerizing. Her confidence, even more so. Holly hiccuped, which always happens when she cries, and the woman’s eyes darted to her.

“Would this be the little miss Holly I’ve heard so much about?” She asked, kindly, sending a little wave back at Holly, who just ducked her head. “Bad day, sugar?”

“Yeah. Fiona, this is Holly.” Beecher answered for her, leaning out. “Something about some mean girls at school today is all.”

“Oh, honey, I know all about how mean girls can be.”

“Do you?” Keller chided, but one smoldering glance from her shut him up.

“What’s this particular shit storm about?” Fiona asked in her buttery smooth voice.

“This… poop storm…” Beecher really had to make some friends that were age appropriate for Holly to be around. “…is… well… we don’t know. She hasn’t told us.”

“Keeps saying it’s ‘girl stuff’.” Keller added softly. Holly could hear them, of course, but she pretended to be too far lost in her own grief. Fiona’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, well, sweetie, then you came to the right place. Why don’t you two come by later after we’ve had some girl talk, hmm?” She clapped her hands excitedly, and squeed softly. Beecher and Keller exchanged glances but before they could say anything… “oh, come now, I’m surprised at you two. If anyone in this world understands not to judge a book by its cover, it’s you gentlemen.”

“Holly’s never met-“

“No. I want to go with her.” Holly said softly from between her arms. Holly never got shy around strangers, and there was something about this woman that just comforted her. Keller and Beecher exchanged a wordless, dad-eyes conversation about it. Chris obviously lost because he sighed and got out of the car to help Holly get her things. He took her book bag over to Fiona.

“No sweets an hour before dinner and, and I mean this, Fiona, keep things age appropriate.” Keller scolded before there was anything to scold about. Fiona merely batted her eyelashes and smiled.

“I’m understanding why Holly needs a woman’s touch.” She remarked, blowing a kiss at both men, and putting a manicured hand on Holly’s shoulder. “Miss Holly, is it? My, you have pretty hair. At your age, I would have killed for that hair.”

Holly wiped her tears and mustered a thank you, but it was choked and she sobbed immediately after. Fiona tutted softly and placed a hand under her chin. Holly felt like Cinderella looking at the Fairly Godmother for the first time, really taking in Fiona’s makeup and face.

“You’re really pretty.” She said quietly, and Fiona beamed and struck a pose.

“You’re not the first to say it, doll, you won’t be the last.” She flipped her hair again and sauntered into the house. Holly as mystified as soon as she entered. Beecher was pretty vanilla when it came to decorating. A bowl of fruit and some knickknacks. Keller? As long as he had a place to eat, sleep, and shit, he didn’t care how it looked. Fiona’s place was immaculate.

“Whoa.” She said, eyeing all the pink and glitter and pizazz. “It’s like Barbie’s Dreamhouse.”

“With a better closet.” Fiona chirped, hanging her shawl on the hooks. She helped Holly take off her coat and hung it up, looking it over. “Next year, I’m telling your fathers that I’m taking you back to school shopping.” And then under her breath as she glided away. “I should call CPS.”

Holly giggled, and Fiona glanced over her shoulder with a warm smile on her painted lips.

“Oh? So we can giggle. Good to know.” She smirked and gestured Holly into the kitchen, which was again, wall to wall Fiona. She put on a pot of hot water. “How do you take your coffee, love?”

“I don’t drink coffee.” She said, then remembered something about school and looked away again, misty eyed. Fiona noticed but didn’t want to embarrass her, so she said nothing.

“I’ve yet to know a girl yet who can turn down a pumpkin spice Frappuccino. Let me make you one.” Fiona got out her tools and got to work. Holly felt like she was watching a witch brew a potion, there was so much care in each step. Holly stopped crying and merely watched, in awe. Fiona sang a little as she worked. Holly didn’t recognize the song. Something about nails, hair, lips, and heels. When Fiona was finished, she presented the treat in a beautiful clear coffee cup, with generous whipped cream.

“I’m going to teach you something not very lady like.” Fiona entrusted, and Holly leaned in to watch her. Fiona sprayed the whipped cream directly into her mouth. Holly giggle and put her hands over her mouth. With a too-full mouth of whipped cream, Fiona asked; “wan’ any?”

Holly nodded excitedly and Fiona sprayed too much whipped cream into her mouth. They both laughed as they tried to swallow their treats. Holly then tasted the PSL delight.

“It tastes like a pumpkin pie milkshake!”

“And now you’re a woman!” Fiona gestured to the air, grandly. Holly couldn’t help her smile around Fiona. Her energy was contagious. She was almost mad at her Dads for not introducing them sooner. Fiona sat down with her coffee. She explained it was a double shot espresso macchiato with hazelnut milk, pink velvet and mocha flavoring, a splash of vanilla extract, and some crushed cloves overtop.

“I’m going to tell you what my mom never told me; if your coffee takes less than thirty seconds to order, then you’re not doing it right.”

“Dad takes his with milk and Pop takes his black.” Holly informed, and Fiona grimaced.

“I’m surprised you’re as sane as you are.” She remarked, taking a little whipped cream on her index finger and then licking it cleanly off the long, red nail.

“Are you a movie star?” Holly asked after a second, and Fiona chuckled good naturedly.

“Oh, honey, no. If I was, my closet would be twice the size it is now.”

“You look like a movie star. Like one of the old ones my dad likes. Like Marlene something and the Breakfast at Tiffany’s girl.”

Fiona placed a hand over her mouth and blushed sweetly.

“Now stop, child, you’re going to give me an ego.” She said, and then added; “unless you want to keep going. Then I won’t stop you.”

Holly smiled big, and then it suddenly disappeared. Fiona put a hand on her shoulder.

“Spill it, Miss thing. What’s the tea?”

Holly sniffled for a second, wondering if she could really trust this woman. Those dark eyes said it all. Those kind, dark eyes. Holly started crying all over again, except instead of retreating into her hoodie, she flopped into Fiona’s arms. Fiona cooed and shushed and cradled her like she might her own child. Holly let it all out on Fiona’s sparkly black dress. Fiona normally would NEVER sacrifice an outfit for someone, but desperate times as they say. She placed a hand underneath Holly’s chin, and lifted it, smiling softly as she did.

“Sometimes the heaviest burdens are the thoughts in our head. Lighten your own load, sweetie.”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Or my Dads’.”

“What about your feelings, little dove, or do those not matter?” She used her thumb to wipe a tear off Holly’s cheek. Holly shrugged, but Fiona’s hands wouldn’t let her look away. She is intensely kind.

“They made fun of me for having two dads.” She choked out, and continued crying. Fiona’s heart broke. She remembered how mean kids could be. And those mean kids grew up into mean adults and spat out more mean children just to torment the next generation.

“Are they jealous?” She asked, and Holly looked up confused. “I didn’t have one good dad, and you’ve got two great ones. They mean well, they’re just terminally men. If you know, you know, honey.” She shuddered at the thought. “I know I’d be jealous.”

Holly huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right, like you’d ever be jealous of me.”

“I don’t like the tone you used when you said ‘me’. I feel like we’re not all looking at the same person.” She admitted, and grinned quickly, understanding what she must do. Her heels clicked out of the room and then clicked back in. She was holding a large mirror. She held it up to Holly’s face, and sat next to her. “What do you see?”

“…me.” Holly answered, and Fiona gave her an ‘are you serious’ look.

“Try, honey. What do you see?”

“I see mousy brown hair and freckles I don’t like. Samantha H. says they look like poop.”

“I’m willing to put serious money down that Samantha H. has a personality like poop.” Fiona remarked dryly, and Holly laughed again. “Keep going.”

“I see stupid green eyes that don’t even look that green. A dumb nose that looks just like my dad’s-“

“Hmmm. Isn’t that wonderful?” Fiona sang like a Disney princess. Again, Holly was confused. “That you can look in the mirror and immediately see something that reminds you of someone that loves you.”

Holly blushed. She hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I don’t like my nails.”

“I never liked mine either unless they were painted”. She confessed. “Go on.”

“Manlike shoulders?”

“You don’t like my shoulders?” Fiona asked, and Holly seemed just as confused. “I’ve been told I have mannish shoulders. The better to hug you with, my dear.”

“You?” She reacted in shock. Fiona couldn’t help but feel adored by the way Holly looks at her. She suddenly had an idea. She pointed the mirror at herself.

“Now what do you see?”

“I see a beautiful woman. I see perfect makeup and eyeliner. I see perfect white teeth in perfect red lips. Perfect skin and perfect glitter. Perfect walk and perfect talk-”

“Now, that’s a lot of perfects.” Fiona started to fan herself with her hand as if she were sweating. Holly bet this woman only sweat glitter.

“You are. When I grow up, I want to look like you.”

Fiona touched her heart, and then kissed Holly on the forehead.

“Well, there was a time where I would have given anything to look exactly like you and not like me.”

“Really?” Holly’s yes went wide. Fiona tilted her head and smiled sadly.

“Everyone does at some point. Because at some point we were all told what we have wasn’t enough. That it was better to be the opposite. And everyone thinks that way too. Even Samantha H.” She looked over both shoulders, and leaned into Holly as if explaining some ancient secret. She whispered; “you know what I want to look like now?”

Holly shook her head, deep in thought over what she could change to make herself more beautiful. Fiona paused for dramatic effect, and then gestured into the mirror.

“This.” Fiona found herself staring into her mirror, fondly. Her hands touched over her cheekbones and her forehead and her smile lines. “Holly, I don’t want to be anything other than what I am. Because what I am is amazing. And you know what?”

Again, Holly shook her head feverishly.

“What you are is amazing too.”

Holly got tears in her eyes again and hopelessly asked how. Fiona reacted in mock surprise.

“Why, Miss Holly Beecher, don’t you dare tell me that those wonderfully kind eyes that see me as Marlene Dietrich -yes, that’s her name, hush- can’t find a single thing to love about yourself. Okay, fine, we’ll do it together.” She slid so that she and Holly were both looking in the mirror.

“I see two pretty green eyes that probably remind your father of your mother. I see cute freckles most people draw on to get. Nails that could stand a manicure but are probably really good a digging.” Holly nodded her head, and told Fiona she was the best digger in her class, and Fiona thought of Busmalis with a slight smile. He and Norma were raising the original kid, plus triplets! Apparently, Agamemnon had some strong swimmers, to everyone’s surprise.

“I see a graceful swan neck. I see lovely brunette hair that reminds me of Holly Golightly.” Holly quirked a brow and Fiona sighed. “The girl from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“You know what else I see?”

“What?”

“I see a strong girl. Strong in the ways that matter. I see a girl who survived a bad guy. A girl who, despite her past, is kind to others instead of mean. I see a girl with eyes that only see beautiful things, but is missing the most beautiful thing right before those same eyes.” She shook Holly’s shoulders for effect, and now Holly was crying again. Fiona had a mini panic.

“They’re good tears. Not bad ones.”

“Oh.” She replied softly.

“I don’t always think I’m strong. I just freeze up around these girls.”

“What do they have that you don’t?”

“Friends.”

“Easily replaced. Plus, you have me, and a few other wonderful people from what I understand.”

“There’s Uncle Cyril. He’s really nice to me. Gives me some of his candy and he hates sharing his candy.”

Fiona smiled at the thought of that blonde haired doofus.

“And I know Cyril. He wouldn’t share unless you were really special.”

“Those other girls are just so mean.” She sniffled softly.

“And they’re gonna keep being mean, because that’s what they were taught to do. But you don’t have to worry about that. Know why?”

“No.”

“Because you need to stop chasing after people who don’t deserve you, Miss Holly. You can’t put flowers in an asshole and call it a vase.” Fiona advised confidently, and then realizing she swore, went; “shit!”

Both she and Holly laughed for a good minute.

“I just don’t want my dads to feel bad for coming out. Like it’s their fault I’m getting bullied. I love them both.”

“I know, child. They love you too.”

“You understand.” Holly muttered. “My Dads don’t.”

“They’re trying their best, baby, give them a break. Your fathers have probably been holding each other back to stop them from pummeling these girls. And believe you-me, both of them pack a wallop. Your dad had someone who was mean to him in prison. You know what he did? He stood up for himself, that’s what.”

“What’d he do?”

Fiona thought and her mind flashed to breaking the glass window and rubbing shit in Schillinger’s face and the chaotic mess of the riot…

“Unimportant. But let me tell you what we’re gonna do.”

**********************************************

The next day, Keller drove Holly to school with Beecher in tow. Keller kept glancing at Holly in the rearview mirror. Beecher was nervously tapping his fingers against the armrest. Fiona was right; they really were holding themselves back to let her deal with this.

She exited the car and so did they. They gave her a big hug each, and sent her on her way, she got a few steps away from her Dads when Samantha H. and her cronies all came over. Holly braced herself and thought of running back to her Dads, but she held herself up high like Fiona told her and walked right up to them.

Let them make the first move. You’re better than that, Holly.

“Oh are your Daddies dropping you off again? You know, your mom killed herself because your dad is gay.”

Beecher and Keller whipped around. They sure heard that. Keller started to make his way over to her when Beecher stopped him, literally holding him back from beating up three eleven year old girls. Holly just smiled.

Now, attack.

“Don’t be jealous just because I have two awesome dads and yours is a drunk, loud mouth.”

Beecher’s jaw dropped and so did Samantha H’s.

“What did you-“

“You heard me. He’s always got a bottle in a brown bag at soccer practice, trying to remember what team you’re on. Oh, and last season’s Forever 21 cardigan doesn’t give you the right to act like a douche to everyone.”

Her Dads were stunned. Almost literally stunned. Holly was blunt but she was in attack mode right now. They weren’t sure they could stop her.

“Last season-“ the girl to her left spoke up but Holly shut her down.

“Your name is Phelony with a PH. You’re too easy. Next.” Holly turned to the third girl and smiled. “Eleanor. Samantha H. kissed your boyfriend this summer, that’s why Aaron C. dumped you. She only said it was Nikesha so you wouldn’t turn on her.”

Keller and Beecher just stood in shock of their daughter. They realized Holly can handle everything on her own.

Samantha H. looked from her friends to Holly to her friends again.

“That’s a lie! You’re a bitch, Holly B.”

“Wrong. I’m THAT bitch. Put some respect on my name. Now, I’m gonna go to class before your,” she took a deep breath and tried to remember what Fiona talked to he about reading people for filth. “Your busted ass basic bimbo ballon brained big bitch on campus attitude is boring me.” She reached into her bag excitedly and pulled out Fiona’s tiara. “See this? That’s what queens wear.”

Chris and Toby exchanged looks, and walked back to the car. They got in it and sat in silence for a second. Then they called up Fiona and thanked her profusely. With all their hearts they thanked her.

Holly tossed her hair like Fiona told her to do and wore her crown the whole day in school. She never felt more like a princess in her whole life. When Holly walked by the doors, she saw her reflection, with the crown sparkling on her head. She looked at herself as if for the first time. For the first time in her life, there’s not a thing she would change.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Just some unlikely friendships forming below. Don’t mind me…���🔥

And then one of the lovely Miss Fiona St. James herself: (marry me?🥹)

[pariskylar]

Part 1: The Interview

Monday: August 2, 2021

in 2, 3 …hold… out 2,3; in 2, 3 …hold… out 2,3; in 2-

she was practicing her breathing techniques in her car outside of the mansion when her alarm for 8:20 am sounded. she gasped, snatching her eyes open and grabbing the phone and silenced it.

she pulled down her visor, checking her hair and makeup.

chill out, you’re Jazlyn—fucking—Reed, you got this. she told herself letting out a breath before grabbing her bag and leaving the car.

hi, nice to meet you. i'm Jazlyn Reed. i graduated Summa Cum Laude from MIT-no. hello, my name is Jazlyn Reed, nice to meet you. i graduated from MIT, Summa Cum Laude.

she was rehearsing her introduction when she arrived at the door.

i’m Jazlyn, fucking, Reed she said to herself before knocking on the door. after a full minute the door was pulled open revealing a middle aged white woman with brown hair and brown eyes.

“yes?” she asked.

“um, hi, i'm Jazlyn Reed. i’m here for the 8:30 interview with Mr.Thrombey”

“oh, yes. come in” she stepped aside letting her in “you can sit in the foyer and i’ll tell Harlan you’re here”

she nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs, crossing one leg over the other. her leg was shaking from how nervous she was. she closed her eyes working on her breathing techniques, again.

you're intelligent, you're ambitious, you're courageous. just breathe, because you got this.

“Ms.Reed” the voice pulled her out the oasis she was creating in her head “Mrs.Drysdale will see you now.”

she nodded standing with her bag following the lady to the in home office. she graciously bid adieu before pushing the already cracked door fully open.

in the office sat a white older woman with white hair and blue eyes behind the desk reading over papers.

in the corner of the room sat a cute brown skinned woman next to the iconic Harlan Thrombey.

she could credit this man for a lot of things in her life. her love of reading, her love of writing and the reason she studied writing in college. she had stayed up countless nights trying to finish his books and hopefully solve the mystery of Whodunit. if there was a book released by this man she would be sure to get it one way or another.

she stood there in awe, just staring at him.

“Jasmine Reed?” she asked.

“um, yes. hi, i’m Jazlyn Reed,” she walked further into the room “nice to meet you.” she stuck her hand out.

“i’m Linda Drysdale.” she accepted. “and this is my dad Harlan Thrombey and his nurse Marta.” she introduced.

no shit! she waved over at them.

“please have a seat.” Linda waved to the seat in front of her “so, Jasmine, tell us about yourself.”

“i graduated Summa Cum Laude from MIT this spring with a 4.8 GPA. i interned with Beacon Press and externed with Candlewick Press where i assisted a few editors and temporarily filled in for head editor." she reached in her bag and pulled out the manilla folder, containing her resume and excerpts, and handed it to Linda "i was also head writer and editor for The Tech and my high school paper."

she actual felt good about the statement.

Linda readjusted her glasses and looked over the resume.

"impressive" she nodded "first question,"

the interview went on as usual—the strengths, the weakness, the greatest accomplishments, what interest her about the job—and she was knocking it out the park when Linda tossed a curve ball passing the questions over to Harlan.

“dad? any questions” all the attention turned to Mr. Thrombey

he sat quietly for a few breaths before asking the most odd question.

“why are you shaking?"

"excuse me?" she asked genuinely confused.

"you haven’t stopped bouncing your leg since you’ve sat down.”

she looked down and realized she was indeed bouncing her leg.

“oh, i’m sorry.” she immediately stopped, crossing her legs

“why?” he asked pointed.

she went to answer, but he was just staring. it felt like she was being scold by her grandparents. it was a bit a bit unnerving.

“why am i sorry?” she felt her leg beginning to shake again, as she grew more nervous than before.

he just sat there staring. he stared at her for an unsettling amount of time, causing her mind began to race with everything she’s said during the interview.

“you’re quite dull, aren’t you?” he stated earnestly.

that hit her like a ton of bricks.

“i-i” she turned to Linda not sure what to say.

“please ignore that.” she waved him off "it was nice talking to you. we will call you." she stood up extending her hand.

that’s it? she blinked twice before standing up, accepting her hand and making a quick exit out the house. she went out to her car deflated and hurt.

the man she grew up idolizing just called her dull. dull?

she dedicated her entire life to literature wanting to make people feel the way he did with his writing and with a single word she began reconsidering everything.

he didn't read her resume yet alone any of her excepts but him calling her dull hurt like crazy and starting bringing up her old feelings of imposter syndrome.

she had worked so long and so hard, with years of therapy, to get over those feels and with one word a man she just met sent her spiraling.

she hopped in the car and slammed the door behind her, upset. with jittery hands, she set her phone in the phone holder and connected it to the charger. she opened the FaceTime app starting her group FaceTime session.

“hey, love.” Tia was the first to answer, the camera was facing the ceiling and she heard the clinking of dishes.

“hi.” she replied putting on her seatbelt and started the car.

“how was the interview?”

“oh my gosh!” she let out a shaky breath before shifting her gears.

“what happened?” Tia setting up the phone.

“hihi” Ash answered the call from Kiara's closet.

they returned the greetings.

“how was the interview?”

“she was just telling me about it.” Tia cracked an egg and began whisking.

she pulled off and began explaining the entire interview to them, including the off the wall shit Harlan said, and for some reason they found it entertaining.

Tia tried stifling a laugh and Ashley fully giggled.

"what?" she asked pulling up to a stop light.

“that’s just a weird thing to say to somebody you just met.” Ash laughed more, taking a hanger from the closet rod.

"yeah."

T looked at her disconsolate friend and could see her having an internal crisis.

"hey, don't let some old white man cause you to spiral. he called you boring? so what? he doesn't know you. you've worked too hard to let that happen."

"thanks, babe." she gave a small smile pulling up to work.

“hey, y’all, my bad i was rehearsing.” Zariana finally answered

she earned a chorus of replies

“how was the interview?”

“i have to tell you later, i just pulled up to work.” Jazlyn cut off the car.

“yeah and i gotta serve breakfast.” Tiana slid a plate on a serving platter.

“i have to take Kiara her fits for the day.” Ashley held up the outfit.

“dang! love y'all. see y'all later, i guess.” she blew them all a kiss

Jaz walked into CVS ready for a long and draining shift.

"hey, Jaz, i need you to show this customer where the eye drops are." Randy, her supervisor, order as soon as she stepped inside.

i just got here

"it's on aisle 5." she said walking past them.

"she can't find them" he rushed in front of her.

she rolled her eyes, vexed already, "ok, i need to clock in then i'll help her."

"just show her on your way."

today is gonna be a long ass day.

and it was. after 12 hours of getting yelled at by customers, berated by her supervisor, and a serious back ache she was ready to go home and pass out.

when she was back home she flopped on the couch, next to Tia, tired.

“long day?” Tia asked pouring her a glass of wine.

“too long.” Jaz handed her her Ben and Jerry’s

‘what’s the sitch, Wade?’ Kim Possible played on the TV.

she scooted closer to Tia resting her head on her's.

“fall asleep watching K.P with me?” Tia asked.

“yeah, but i need to take my makeup off fist.” she said eyes still glued to the t.v.

thirty minutes and two glasses of wine later they were both knocked out on the couch. - - - - -

"KILL YOURSELF!"

"FUCK YOU!"

she was scared awake by by arguing. she rolled out of bed—grabbing her phone—and rushed out the living room to see Tia and Shawn yelling at each other at full volume.

she sighed to herself and walked towards the kitchen.

"how bout you stop bein a bum and get a job!" Tia yelled

"how bout you get a life and stop worrying what me and Jaz got going on?" he shouted back

she grabbed a naked juice from the fridge and sat at the table waiting for the arguing to stop.

"i have a life. i also have a career, a car and a place of my own. what do you have? no money, a dorm on campus and a school shuttle bus."

"i'm med school student."

"on your eighth year."

"seventh." he corrected

"ouuu, seventh." she mocked him.

"are y'all done?" Jazlyn asked breaking up the bickering.

"you need to get your friend." he stormed off to Jaz's room

"no, she need to dump your sorry ass!" she yelled towards her door. "i have to go, love you" she place a kiss on her forehead.

"love you too." she called out to her.

she went over and flopped down on the couch, just wanted a moment of silence with herself. she pulled out her phone checking her notification.

core four 👯‍♀️👯‍♀️: Ash 👒: is it weird to share panties with ur gf

core four 👯‍♀️👯‍♀️: Zari 🪐: bro wtf

core four 👯‍♀️👯‍♀️: Tia 🫧: i'm blockin u

Shawn: otw, in the Uber

she opened her email hoping she had finally gotten some type of update on her interview. she had been impatiently waiting for two weeks.

she couldn't take another shift at CVS. her body hurts from working 12 hour shift and it felt like she was on the verge of psychotic break from only getting four hours of sleep every night.

her mailbox was full of spam, promotional emails and her bank telling her she had payed her bills.

she tossed her phone to the side and laid back trying to take a nap, but she couldn't. this was her first day off in months, but her mind wouldn't let her relax—she had to stay busy.

standing up she began pacing the house trying to find something to busy herself. she landed in front of the refrigerator. five minutes later the fridge was empty and she had on rubber gloves scrubbing it until it looked brand new.

once the fridge was done she realized how nasty the floor was. she grabbed a scrub brush and got to work.

while scrubbing the floor her phone began to ring. she stood from the floor and rushed to her phone.

"hello?" she answered.

“Jasmine Reed?” the familiar voice asked

finally!

“yes, this is she.” she tried keeping her cool

“this is Linda Drysdale, i interview you two weeks ago”

"Linda? hi."

"hi, i was just calling because you really stood out to me when we talk and if you are still interested."

are you insane

"yes, i'm still interested."

"are you able to start Monday?"

"yes."

"ok, well you have the address and start time is 7:00 AM."

"thank you." she hung up

"YES! YES! YES! YES!" she jumped in a circle.

she opened the group chat and shot the message

BITCH I CAN FINALLY QUIT

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

going insane about Hamlet: Act 2 edition. let’s get straight into it

- firstly, Polonius makes me feel many things. Mostly rage. Frustration. Vague annoyance. The need to stab something through a curtain. I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish by paying someone to slander his son (a lie, I know his reasoning and I think it’s dumb) but he’s just a strange old man and I don’t like him. Polonius enjoyers (if you exist) please make your case because I don’t know if there is anything I’m supposed to be seeing in this guy. only redeeming quality was having generally okay kids and being killed off in Act 3

- the scene where Hamlet startles Ophelia in her chambers is so endlessly funny to me. you have to really visualise the scene to get it, the imagery is silly. imagine you’re having a normal day and your bf walks in with his pants down except this is like pre 1600s Catholic Europe so you freak out and then he just acts really weird and walks out weirder. poor Ophelia your boyfriend’s only going to get worse and more unrecognisable from here but we’re staying silly until then

- I’ve never been able to read any of the scenes with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern quite the same after the banger play that is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I thank Tom Stoppard for taking what was originally two characters I didn’t know where my feelings lay towards and making them the silliest little guys under the sun. I sort of change my feelings on how ‘canon’ I consider the interpretation each time I read the book, but I like having the option

- Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia also makes me feel many things. ‘Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love (I never loved you)’. I’m on the bandwagon that Hamlet did truly love Ophelia at least prior to the events of the play (and then I switch up depending on the readings again), but I find again that it adds to the tragic element to spend time considering the lives they led before the King’s death. I’ll probably delve mostly into the relationship of these two in my Act 3 ramblings (starring such wonderful quotes as ‘Get thee to a nunnery’ and ‘That’s a fair thought, to lie between maid’s legs’) but goodness. ‘Thine evermore most dear Lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet.’

- Hamlet’s habit of using wordplay to mock and annoy the people he doesn’t respect will always be funny to me, but it’s increased prominence whenever in the presence of Polonius is excessively so. This man is taking every single opportunity to twist this old man’s words into some odd pun or another and it’s so very silly. ‘Excellent, you are a fishmonger.’ ‘Have you a daughter? Let her not walk i’ th’ sun’ also blatantly making comments about your girlfriend in front of her conservative dad is insane but. I guess that’s the angle

- ‘What do you read my Lord?’ ‘Words, words, words’ oh he hates this man

- ‘You cannot sir take from my anything that I will more willingly part withal (except my life)’ has lived in my head rent free since reading. icon

- I’ve annotated my irl copy of Hamlet with pink markers every time he makes a misogynistic comment, and within roughly 30 seconds of meeting his childhood friends, he’s found an excuse to pull another one out of the bag. I suppose it is interesting how his misogyny does seem to be a very direct result of his glaring mother issues however, specifically his mother’s sexual promiscuity (of a kind) distressing him so much that it’s tainted his entire view of women as a whole.

- and then he drops two of the hardest lines back-to-back, ‘There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so’, and ‘O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a King of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams’. like okay slayy

- immediately calling R&G out on their bs. It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you, or something

- ‘My Lord, I have news to tell you-‘ ‘mY lOrD, I hAvE nEwS tO tElL yOu. when Roscius was an actor in Rome-‘ oh he HATES this man

- we as a society don’t talk enough about Hamlet being a theatre kid methinks

- ooh I love the ‘rogue and peasant slave am I’ soliloquy. at this point, it’s been four months since the King was murdered, and two months since his ghost has asked Hamlet to take revenge. and still nothing has happened. Hamlet’s pretended to go mad, but hasn’t been able to make up his mind on what to actually do just yet, and he’s starting to hate himself for it. I also love getting to see the thought process behind his actions, and honestly things are still making sense from his perspective at this point. Yes it’s been a while, but he also has no definitive proof that the murder actually happened. For all he knows, the ghost was a devilish apparition trying to trick him into committing an unforgivable sin. And we’re still at the point where we can justify this, even if we might consider it a little indecisive of him a whole two months after. It’s just a silly little spiel that leads well into the next act, and I just like to read it out loud

Not as much on this act, but I’m saving all the juice for Act 3, my personal favourite >:) see you soon

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 9 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system but he gets worse before he gets better yk. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 9.6k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, not really fluff but a lot of high highs and a lot of low lows

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: miss jenn is a legend icon queen slay goddess (cited two times), iconic interactions between the cast, jealous ricky being a cutie, ricky and EJ are not bros yet, nini has gone from messy to borderline evil, your mom is a legend, kourtney anxiety foreshadowing, opening night/theatre vibes so strong it made me tear up a little /hj, lynne bowen is a horrible horrible toxic person!!!, todd jumpscare, ricky has a mental breakdown, EJ is trying his best but horribly misreads the situation, ricky is in a crisis, ricky bpd episode, art to cope :'), ricky has a good support system, reader is good in a crisis, nini is REALLY testing your patience, gina gets a well deserved moment to shine, terrible theatre etiquette, ricky gets emotionally ambushed, mike is a good dad, nini gets yelled at by reader (slay), reader yells at lynne (slay), reader gets slapped (in a dramatic way not a violent or sexy way), reader gets called a slut as an insult, ricky defends you, messy necessary screaming match (slay), things are said that cannot be unsaid :/

summary: opening night is just as magical and incredible as ricky hoped it would be, just as wonderful as you made it sound - until the worst case scenario comes to fruition. but the show must go on, right?

song recs: something about this night - finding neverland obc, twenty million people - my favorite year obc, opening up - waitress obc, twinkle in her eye - leann rimes, window seat - amelie obc, this is how I disappear (instrumental) - my chemical romance, un organo suona - ennio morricone, the music and the mirror - a chorus line obc, holding onto you - twenty one pilots, you oughta know - jagged little pill obc

other media: "art is not a luxury, it's sustinance" - ethan hawke ted talk clip, "and the way he sings sends a chill right through me" - lullaby for the taken lyric by kimya dawson, "what a mother does for you out of obligation vs what a mother does for you because she wants to" - text post/poem by tumblr user vympr,

a/n: fangz to cici for reading!!! I felt like my immortal chapter 6 "paragraph" 4 while writing the last part trying not to under or overuse dialog tags lmao. remember when I said it's gonna get messy? it gets worse :)

tags @yesv01 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

You and Ricky had been planning to get to the El Rey early on opening night since tech week, to make sure you have plenty of extra time to get ready, warm up, and get in character. Plus, you’ve been telling him how much you’ve missed just being in theaters, and near stages. The more time you’re there, the better. When you’re on the way over Ricky couldn’t shake the excitement gripping him. You can’t seem shake the feeling something was going to go wrong.

It was different from nerves, different from anxiety or worries that everyone can get before a big event. It was the same small, nudging feeling you got the night the basement flooded during your run in Matilda. It’s not as bad as it had been that time, but you take in a breath, steadying yourself and knowing you should be ready for anything. When you do, the feeling is quickly overshadowed by your excitement. You haven’t acted in far too long, and you’re ecstatic that you’ll get to perform again soon. 

Once you get to the theater, you and Ricky are the first to sign the sign in sheet. You draw a little smiley face next to his name, and when he glances back at you, eyes falling on the paper. He smiles, struck by sudden joy at the little face. He leans back over and grabs a pen, drawing a smiley next to your name on the line below. Miss Jenn glances down when he returns the pen. 

“Oh!” she exclaims, seeing the little faces, “How cute. I love this energy we’re creating.” she gestures vaguely before shooing you off to your respective dressing rooms to get ready. 

Soon everyone’s there, and you’re once again wrapped up in the familiar hustle and bustle of show nights. You and your castmates are simultaneously getting in costume, warming up, and trying to get ready while helping each other’s hair and makeup. Ashlyn and Nini join you in an impromptu karaoke session, singing your hearts out to Bop to the Top while Nina riffs and harmonizes. The boys, one or two rooms away, start singing Getcha Head in the Game at the same time. In spite of the chaotic cacophony of voices, it's both a good way to warm up, and a good outlet for the nervous energy growing, bouncing from one person to the next, turning electric. 

Kourney enters suddenly, grabbing some bobby pins.

"Do you know if you have any safety pins?" She asks.

"Uh," you pause doing your hair, tying it up into a bouncy low half updo, and fumble through your bag, "how many do you need?" 

"Two or three?" She says hopefully. No matter how many you buy, bobby pins and safety pins always seem to be in short supply at every theater you've been to. You dig around for a minute before finding them, handing them to Kourtney.

"Thank you!" She declares, "Seb's shirt just completely-"

"Has anyone seen my glasses?" Ashlyn asks, and Kourtney pauses, noticing she's not wearing them. 

"Shit," Kourtney mutters, both of you looking around for them.

"Knock knock!" Comes Seb’s voice from behind the door.

"Decent!" You and Ashlyn reply in unison. Seb enters, holding the side of his shirt together with his hands. 

"Any luck?" He asks Kourtney. 

"Right here," she replies, holding up the safety pins. "Turn around." Nina puts in her headphones and starts doing some vocal exercises and scales to warm up a little more. Seb lifts up his jacket so Kourtney can pin the ripped seam back together.

"Oh," she remembers, "have you seen Ashlyn’s glasses?"

"The really big ones?" He asks.

"Yeah."

"Nope." He shrugs. She turns to Ashlyn. 

"We'll find them." Kourtney reassures her. Seb heads back to his dressing room he shares with Ricky and EJ, and you move on to the last few steps of your makeup routine. 

"Where are they?" Ashlyn huffs rhetorically. Natalie pokes her head in a moment later. 

"40 minutes till show time!"

"Thank you 40!" The three of you reply together. A little while later, you’re finally dressed and waiting for the glue on your eyelashes to get tacky, when you hear EJ call your name. You stumble out of your dressing room, zipping up your boot, and you’re greeted with EJ in his Chad costume, clearly in a huff. 

“Can you help me with my eyeliner?” he asks, a slightly petulant tone to his voice, handing you a black pencil. You laugh. 

“Yeah, hold on.” you go back into your dressing room, passing by Seb telling Kourtney something. You dig through your makeup bag as Seb reenters, Darbus glasses in hand, presenting them to Ashlyn. 

"Where were they?" She exclaims. 

"The prop table!" He says. 

"Why?" Ash asks, stating your thoughts exactly. 

"Natalie says they're technically a prop because in the detention scene when you…" you find what you're looking for, missing the tail end of his sentence as you leave a moment later with a stiff angled brush in hand. You grab EJ and lead him to the stairs where he can sit down. He does so, and you rub the bristles against the eyeliner, demonstrating for him. 

“This will make the application a lot more precise. Close your eyes…” you instruct, tilting his head back. You smudge the outside of his lash lines, careful not to make it look like too much. 

“Okay, now this is the scary part…” you trail off, gently lifting up his eyelid. “I swear I’m not going to stab you, just look down and don’t blink.” you instruct at the worried look on his face. You tight line the middle of his lash line for a defined, natural effect, then repeat the step on the other side. 

“Okay,” you say, pulling away to check that it looks even, unaware of Ricky standing a few feet away, watching you hold EJ’s face. You look so focused, and a twinge of jealousy flashes through his stomach, wishing you were holding his face, looking focused at him like that. 

“You should be good,” you say, and Ricky approaches, dragging you away as EJ thanks you.

“I just need to borrow her for a second.” he cuts EJ off, smiling tensely at him - one he returns. Ricky takes you a few feet away while EJ goes back into their dressing room. 

“What’s up?” you ask. He lets out a breathy laugh.

“I just… I can’t figure out this whole bronzer thing.” You bite back a smile. You know that  it’s bullshit, specifically because you went through his whole stage makeup routine with him twice last night. He could do his makeup and anyone else’s with one hand tied behind his back, so he obviously just wants your attention. You can’t deny that it’s really cute - and it’s working. He’s probably nervous, you figure. You chuckle, taking the brush from him. 

“Make a fish face,” you instruct, sucking in your cheeks and puckering your lips. His face mirrors yours, and you blend the product into his foundation. Your hand rests on his jaw, angling it this way and that until you’re satisfied with your work. He glances briefly back at the stairs, where EJ has long since left. Ricky’s about to look for any other excuse to keep you here for a few more minutes, your eyes light up, remembering something.

“Oh!” you exclaim, turning around, “Stay right here.” You’re back a moment later after digging through your bag past bobby pins, safety pins, your water bottle, script, sewing kit, extra makeup, makeup wipes, bandaids, and throat lozenges. You grab a small box, holding it triumphantly before running back out to Ricky in the hall. You stand in front of him, that glimmer in your eye. 

“I have a surprise.” Excitement swirls in his chest.

“What is it?” he asks, trying to suppress the anticipatory giggle bubbling up, his energy matching yours. You hand him the small box, and he looks at it, confused. He opens it slowly, pulling out a little charm. It’s a dog tag with the number 14, and a metallic T on a jump ring.

“Oh my god…” he breathes, looking at it closer. You’re beaming, so glad that he likes it. 

“You know,” you say softly, “something to remember your first show by. And your heart ring was looking kind of lonely.” You smile, pointing to the plastic ring he still wears around his neck, waiting until the last possible minute to take it off. You barely get the words out before he grabs your arms, pulling you close and kissing you. His lips are warm as they move against yours, and for a split second, you forget where you are, completely losing context for everything around you. 

“I love-” he murmurs against your mouth, freezing for an instant. Your hearts skip a beat in tandem, then he cuts himself off to kiss you again. “I love it.” he finishes. You smile against his lips, pulling away very reluctantly. He leans back in, pressing a few more kisses to your lips before you wiggle out of his grasp. 

“Ricky!” you laugh, “We’re gonna mess up our makeup. We can kiss after the show.” He runs his fingers up and down your arms, gazing at you as you talk. You have all his attention. 

“Okay,” he says in that light hearted, joking tone of his that always makes you laugh, “but I’m gonna hold you to that.” You laugh again, and he takes off his necklace so you can slip on the new charm. After getting it fixed on the chain, you reattach it to his neck. 

At the end of the hall where you’re standing, Nina lingers, watching Ricky touch you and kiss you like that. It makes her sick, and she finds herself holding back a gag. Her hours of research had turned into days, and she has your playbill.com page open on her phone at this very moment. She’s torn, reminiscing over how much she loved your performances and how obsessed with you she was as a kid, and simultaneously fuming over it. You’ve done all this professional work, you’ve acted on Broadway, and now you’re here at East High? 

She scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. She wanted so badly to be you, to have your perfect life, and you threw it all away for what? To come do crappy high school theatre in a town that couldn’t be further from New York? She fights a laugh suddenly, realizing just how much dirt she has on you. There must be a reason you’ve been keeping this secret, lying to everyone, lying to Ricky. She shakes her head. She doesn’t know why yet, but she’s going to find out. 

35 minutes before curtain, Miss Jenn gathers everyone for circle time, and a cast meeting to boost morale before the show. Everyone is finally in costume and Kourtney follows Seb, makeup pallet in hand, adjusting the finishing touches to the glitter on his cheeks. You can feel the energy stirring and growing, electric between all of you. 

“Most of you know that our dazzling Taylor had to leave under family circumstances. Gina sends her love and support, but has left for the east coast and will not be able to make it to tonight’s performance.” Miss Jenn says. You and Ricky share a look, trying not to be too obvious. You got Gina a plane ticket together, and your mom is at the airport right now to pick her up. The last you heard from her, Gina’s flight was delayed. Now there’s only a slim chance she’ll get here in time. You silently keep your fingers crossed, praying to whatever theatre gods are out there that she’ll make it to the theater before it's too late. 

“And so,” Miss Jenn continues, “I have asked… Kourtney to fill in, in her place!”

The room erupts into cheers. Kourtney smiles, eyes on the floor bashfully. She’s praying she doesn’t seem as nervous as she feels. It’s not that she didn’t expect you guys to be supportive of her subbing in as Taylor, but seeing first hand how excited everyone is for her eases some of the worries that have been building up. 

“Now,” Miss Jenn continues, “everyone join hands.” After some heartfelt words of encouragement and other usual circle time warm ups, she claps her hands.

“Let’s go, wildcats! 20 minutes to curtain!”

Once again, the room erupts into cheers. 

“Now, if I can get my main characters and my ensemble members starting the show with a mic on stage for mic check?” she directs, pointing towards the way to the wings. You walk with everyone else towards the stage, pausing when you pass Miss Jenn. 

“Do you want me to help Kourtney get ready?” you ask. Her hair and makeup are done, she just has to get in costume, but you can sense that she needs a pep talk. 

“That would be fantastic,” she says with a look that indicates she thinks Kourtney could use a pep talk too, “thank you, Sharpay.” She pulls out her walkie to let Big Red know you and Kourtney are going to be released from mic check early to finish getting ready. After singing We’re All In This Together while Big Red adjusts your volume from the sound booth, Kourtney sings Bop to the Top, voice getting louder and quieter as Red tweaks the settings. Once you’ve both gotten the thumbs up, you scurry backstage to your dressing room, handing her costume pieces while she gets changed. 

“Oh, wait,” you say before she pulls on her top. You grab your setting spray you use for shows from your bag. “Close your eyes.” You mist her face with the product, fanning it dry so it doesn’t smudge. 

“Thanks,” she says. You take one look at her expression, and can tell she’s nervous.  

“You okay?” You ask. She hesitates, then sighs.

“I had two weeks to learn all my lines. I had two weeks to learn all the lines and the songs, I haven’t even gotten to rehearse on stage with you guys, and I’m just so worried I’m going to blow it, or choke in front of everyone…” she trails off. This is clearly the tip of the iceberg, and she fiddles with her bracelets, trying to get out some nervous energy. 

“There is no way you’re going to choke.” you say confidently, “You know this show inside and out! Plus, haven’t you been running lines with Nini the whole time?” you ask.

“Yeah,” she replies, listening carefully, trying to grab onto your reassurance.

“Almost all of Taylor’s scenes are with Gabriella.” You state. Her expression changes as she realizes you’re right. She knows this part better than she was giving herself credit for. 

“Plus there will be scripts in the wings if you need to refresh between scenes.” 

“Yeah,” she says again, more confident this time. “I know my lines, I know the songs, I know the dances - mostly, at least - so it’s all going to be fine! Even if the choreography in Stick to the Status Quo is still totally terrifying, and I have no idea how to dance with a lunch tray or do a death wack, it’s going to be fine!” Her laughter turned from relieved to slightly panicked again. 

“You think you’re nervous for Stick to the Status Quo?” you ask rhetorically, a comedic note to your voice, “I have to get caked in the face!” You exclaim with a chuckle. You’ve only practiced with an actual cake once, during the last tech rehearsal, and it was messy, to say the least. Literally and figuratively. 

Kourtney laughs, remembering the whipped cream that got everywhere, how loud you were yelling in character before storming off. It took more makeup wipes than you'd expected to get the sticky sugar off your face. 

“We’ll get through it together.” You state, holding out your hand. She squeezes it, reassuringly.

“Yeah. We will.” 

“Five minutes to places!” Natalie calls, poking her head in. 

“Thank you five!” you both reply. You check your phone one last time, the new text from your mom stating that she’s still at the airport, waiting for Gina’s flight. You text Ricky the same thing, letting him know you’re all still waiting for more updates on the delay. The good news is that your mom’s friend from work - who was planning on coming to see the show anyway - is going to stream the show to your mom until she can get there, that way she won’t miss anything. 

It doesn’t feel like five minutes has gone by when Natalie is calling for places, ushering everybody into the wings and into their starting places and positions. Hushed whispers of encouragement and break a leg spread through the wings, and everyone falls silent as Miss Jenn begins her curtain speech. It’s unusual for a group of such high energy people to be so still, so quiet, and you soak up every moment of it. This is your favorite part - or one of them, at least; it's those few fleeting minutes when everyone’s backstage in the wings, the opening of the show is seconds away and hurdling closer and closer with every breath, every heartbeat. This is one of those magical, transformative, fleeting times that can only really be described as in between. 

You never knew just how much you would miss this, the distinct and irreplaceable energy, the feeling of being in a theater. Tears spring to your eyes as it really hits you that you’re home, back where you’ve always needed to be. You close your eyes, taking deep, measured breaths to focus, to get into that headspace of being in character. Even with your eyes closed, you can feel it around you; the rich wood and cement mixing into different sections of the floor, the heavy curtains, the grid and catwalk and lights, all intangibly high and far away. It’s beautiful. It’s so beautiful that you don’t know how your body is supposed to contain it. You know now that you could never leave, not really. Theatre will always be your home, and you know this feeling will only solidify more and more with time. You realize, too, that it’s a home that will always grow and change and evolve with you, because that’s in its eternal, fleeting nature. That’s the most beautiful part, you think.

You squeeze Seb’s hand in excitement and encouragement and every other good thing, a gesture that he returns. In spite of the silence and the stillness, you know that everyone is just as excited as you are. Ricky’s in the opposite wing, or else you’d be squeezing his hand right now too right now. You use this moment, this stillness that's growing and getting more charged with energy every second, to become laser focused on giving this performance everything you've got - on really getting your head in the game. 

Nini looks around, then over at Ricky - again. He’s been avoiding her this whole night, and she can’t stand it. She leans closer. 

“I need to talk to you. After the show.” someone shushes her, and she lowers her voice, continuing. “She’s been lying to you about everything. You don’t know everything about her, Ricky.” 

“Yes, I-” he cuts himself off, not wanting to feed into this. Not now. “I have to get into character.” He says, moving away from her. He tries to focus on the energy the cast is creating around him, on becoming Troy. He takes a breath, centering himself. 

“Without further ado, I am proud to present… East High’s High School Musical: the Musical!” Miss Jenn’s voice is drowned out by applause, and the music begins. 

The first few songs and scenes go smoothly; everyone is on time and remembering their cues, and the audience couldn’t be more engaged, applauding and laughing right when you want them to. During Jack Scott’s announcements after Darbus reveals what the winter musical is going to be, you leave to get ready for What I’ve Been Looking For. You pass by Ricky, who’s quick changing for Get’cha Head in the Game, and shoot him a big thumbs up.

“Great job!” you whisper enthusiastically, stomping your feet quietly in excitement.

“Thanks,” he smiles, beaming as he pulls on his jersey. He watches you scurry down the hall before getting nudged toward the stage right before his cue. He shakes his head, wondering why he let Nini get him so worked up before. Of course he knows you. He knows everything about you! There’s absolutely nothing on earth you could tell him that would throw him off, or scare him away from you. She’s probably just making something up to get in his head, to drive a wedge between you. That seems like something she would do lately.

“Let’s see some hustle! Move, move, move!” Coach Bolton calls from onstage, and Ricky jogs over to him, as ready as he'll ever be.

“Sorry I’m late, coach.”

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, as much as he’s trying to stay in character and stay focused on the scene, Nini’s words are still echoing in the back of his mind, throwing him off a little. He catches his dad’s eye in the crowd as the music starts. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this proud, and it steadies Ricky. He takes in a breath, and begins to sing. Part way through the song, he notices a woman in the crowd who looks weirdly like his mom. He doesn’t miss a beat, making sure to look in his dad’s direction instead. That’s weird, he thinks, but it can’t be her. There’s no way she’d come all the way from Chicago for something like this. Just like what Nini said to him before the show, he won’t let that distract him from performing, and tries not to let that throw him off.

During the dance break, he gets hooked up to his harness, and his stomach erupts into excited butterflies as he slowly moves up. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd that turns into cheers as he hovers in front of the hoop, ball in hand. Up here, he’s not blinded by the stage lights, and he looks down at the crowd, able to see his dad’s face even better than before. He’s filled with such euphoria, he knows you’re right - nothing can beat this feeling. He feels more alive, more awake than he ever has, simultaneously enveloped by a deep sense of peace, of rightness that he doesn’t want to let go of. 

On the other side of the auditorium, someone moves, catching his eye. Some guy is making his way into his seat, presumably because he showed up late. He leans over to his date, kissing her and touching her leg. Nothing could have prepared Ricky for what he saw when he pulled away. Past the blinding stage lights, his stomach plummets back down to earth as he’s able to make out more faces in the audience - including hers. She’s here. She’s really here, and she brought that douchebag with her. She’s whispering something in that bastard’s ear, barely five rows away from his dad. They’re all over each other, talking close and kissing and smiling. 

It’s only when she points up at him that he snaps out of it. He realizes the pit has been waitin for his cue a beat or two longer than usual, and follows up quickly with it. He had dropped his basketball when he was up there, and he’s scrambling to make it through the rest of the number. He tries desperately to get back into character, to focus on the lyrics and choreography, to focus on the music instead of what he just saw in front of him, but he can’t shake what just happened, what he just saw. Even as he’s being pulled backstage to change into the costume for his next scene, it takes all his effort not to let that overwhelm him. He can’t crumble right now, not like this. There’s a whole cast and crew, all his friends, that are counting on him. He gets some water, tries to pull himself together. 

EJ looks for Ricky backstage, having a few minutes before their next scene. Even he has to admit he was impressed with Ricky’s performance back there. He looked so conflicted, so torn between basketball and singing. He even managed to make his distracted blocking and choreography look so organic EJ was worried he’d messed up for a second. He’s been giving him a hard time, butting heads on and off stage, but Ricky is really shining tonight. He’s committed, and EJ has to commend him for that. 

“Ricky,” he says, just loudly enough to get his attention. Ricky turns around. “I have to hand it to you; you’re doing great out there, man. You deserve all the applause you’re getting.” 

Ricky takes a breath, closing his water bottle.

“Thanks.” 

He stares into space to the ceiling on EJ’s right, gripping his water bottle until his knuckles have a white cast to them. EJ’s brow furrows. He actually seems a little out of it. 

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully. They’re not really close like that, but even EJ can see that he seems a little off. 

“I’m fine,” he says a little too fast. “I am totally fine. Because it’s opening night, and nothing’s going to ruin this.” 

Suddenly it makes sense. He knows exactly what Ricky’s going through. He sighs. 

“Look, everybody gets stage fright. Just take a deep breath, and use the music and your lines to stay grounded.” He claps Ricky on the shoulder supportively.

“Thanks,” he chokes out again. EJ leaves to fix his mic tape, and Ricky is once again exactly where he doesn’t want to be - alone with his thoughts. Even though EJ has no idea of the scope of issues Ricky’s dealing with right now, his advice might still work. Instead of waiting in his dressing room, he hovers in the wings, going over the chemistry class scene as it happens, waiting for the lights to go down so he can talk to you, or at least be near you. He’s so tempted to barge onstage and drag you away with him. Instead he listens closely to your dialog with Gabriella. Just hearing your voice is enough for him to hold on to for now.

The lights go down, and you exit into the wings. You’re surprised to find Ricky there - he usually comes up about half way through Jack Scott’s narration. One look at his face and you know something’s wrong. Before you can ask, he’s pulling you into a less busy area by the prop table. 

“She’s here.” He grips your arm, hand shaking. He doesn’t need to say anything else, you already have a full grasp on the gravity of the situation, the effect this is having on him. 

“Here?” you ask, needing to clarify, and he nods. “Are you okay?” you ask sincerely.

“I’m…” he struggles for an answer, “trying to be.” You take his hands in yours so gently he doesn’t even notice until your thumbs are stroking his skin reassuringly.

“Okay,” you say calmly, and he can see the gears turning, see you figuring out the perfect solution as you speak. “Why don’t you have some water, stay right here, and I’ll go get Miss Jenn, okay?” 

He nods, and you move quickly to Natalie, asking her if she knows where Miss Jenn is. She picks up her walkie talkie, asking Miss Jenn to come to the stage right wing. Jack’s narration scene wraps up and the crew changes the set to Darbus’s detention. You have seconds before you have to get out there, and you turn to Ricky, worried about him. 

“Are you going to be okay?” you ask in a hushed whisper. 

“Yeah.” he says, “I think so.” 

You see Miss Jenn walking toward the stage right wing as you’re about to head onstage.

“We’ll talk to her right after.” you tell him in a hushed, reassuring whisper. You give his hand one more squeeze before you find your places in the dark. Moments later, the lights are up, and the scene begins. In all the time you’ve spent acting, you’ve gotten very good at staying in character, compartmentalizing thoughts and worries about your personal life while you’re onstage. You find it a little more difficult to keep the disgust at Lynne Bowen’s blatant lack of basic respect, or even awareness for the consequences of her actions, buried in the back of your mind as the scene plays out. 

Sitting on the wooden flooring of the stage, warm under the bright lights, Ricky does exactly what he’s supposed to do - he uses the scene and dialog to stay grounded. He follows the dialog while doing his stage business, listening for his cues just like Miss Jenn thought him to do. If he stays in character, he doesn’t have to think about any offstage drama. As long as he doesn’t look out to that section of seats, as long as he can keep his eyes from being magnetically drawn there, he’s going to be fine. He stays in character, stays right there as Troy, clinging to his character like a life raft. If he can be Troy, he doesn’t have to worry about everything he’s going to have to deal with as Ricky for just a few more minutes. It's desperate and fleeting, but it's the only thing he can do right now. 

Soon, the lights are down, and you’re hustling toward the stage right wing, where you know Miss Jenn is waiting. He finds your hand in the dark, the sparkly pink sequins on your outfit unmistakable even in the darkness. He holds onto you desperately, until you’re both standing in front of Miss Jenn. She knows from one look that whatever is going on, it’s bad. 

“Um," Ricky starts, swallowing hard, "my mom is here…” he hates that his voice is already trembling so soon. It sounds more like a question than a statement, and his stomach twists at how foreign the word now feels in his mouth. My mom. The last time he called her that had been months ago when he told you and Miss Jenn what had happened. Ever since he’s only referred to her through pronouns and as briefly as possible, trying to disconnect the person she is from who she was supposed to be. Who he thought she was. The closest he’s gotten to addressing her has been vague statements; she didn’t call back, or I think that was her recipe, let’s find a different one. Actually saying it, actually calling her that makes his jaw feel stiff. 

“My god.” Miss Jenn says softly, unable to believe that she could have the audacity to show up unannounced after what she put Ricky through. Ricky hesitates, and she knows there’s more. She nods, waiting for him to continue. 

“And she, uh,” he swallows thickly, hating his throat for tightening up so much when he has to sing in a few minutes, “she brought her boyfriend…” Your eyes widen and Miss Jenn gasps. 

“They’re in the sixth row, they keep talking and kissing, and-” he cuts himself off, unable to continue. His hands are balled up, tight and shaking. 

“Okay. Ricky, sweetie, why don’t we talk about this somewhere a little more private.” You both guide him to the boys’ dressing room, and after making sure no one’s in there, she sits down facing him, and takes his hands in hers. 

“From the beginning, what happened?” 

He was barely able to get it out the first time, but now he can’t stop. Everything he’s been trying so hard to ignore and shove down for the last 20 minutes - and it’s felt way longer than 20 minutes - comes tumbling out. He doesn't think he could stop talking if he tried. He doesn’t even realize how loud he’s getting until Miss Jenn gently shushes him. 

“We don’t want the audience to hear us.” he nods, taking a breath for the first time since he started talking. You left a minute ago to check on how much time you have before the next scene, and reenter the dressing room now, looking stressed. 

“They’re almost done with Auditions.” you state. You need to go up there now, you and Seb have What I’ve Been Looking For soon, and you don’t want to miss your cue. 

“Go,” she says. Ricky nods, so you do, knowing that Miss Jenn has this under control, that she can help Ricky right now. Your footsteps recede, and Ricky turns back to Miss Jenn. 

“Ricky,” she starts calmly, “what she did was wildly inappropriate.” He already feels a little better, less crazy, and he waits for her to continue. 

“Showing up unannounced with a…" she chooses her words carefully, "date, was… probably the worst thing that could have happened tonight.” 

“Yeah,” he scoffs in agreement. She continues.

“You have every right to be as upset as you are. Whatever you need right now, just tell me, okay?” He nods. “I think what we should do is get your dad, and let him know what’s going on. I can try to have one of the ushers escort her out, but I’m sure the last thing you want tonight is even more drama.” 

“Got that right,” he breathes, relieved. 

“I’m going to talk to EJ and see if he can go on as Troy-” 

“What? No.” he protests. 

“Ricky-” 

“No, Miss Jenn- I have to play Troy. Please, I have to!” 

“It might be best for you-” 

He stands up suddenly. “What’s best for me is going out there; acting and singing, like we rehearsed -  like I’m supposed to! Please, you can’t…” 

“Okay,” she says, standing up and trying to calm him down a little. “Okay. If you think you can do it, you can go back out there.” 

He relaxes a little. 

“Thank you.” his voice breaks as he speaks, and she realizes how badly he needs this right now.

“Why don’t we revisit this at intermission, see how you’re feeling then? Just to check up on you.” she adds quickly. 

“Okay.” he agrees. She puts a hand on his arm. 

“I’m going to let EJ know to get ready, just in case you change your mind. We’ve got to be ready for anything, right?” She smiles gently, one he tries to return. 

“Right,” he says. A stagehand pokes his head into the room.

“Troy, we need you.”

“Be right there,” Miss Jenn says. She claps her hand over Ricky’s one more time. “Okay, Ricky, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go out there and sing a ballad with Gabriella that will make the audience swoon,” he smiles, “and I am going to do my best to get this situation resolved as quickly and discreetly as possible. If anything else happens, or you need anything, come tell me right away.”

“Okay.” he says, this time, with a note of determination in his voice. Miss Jenn pats him on the back, sending him off. He runs through the halls, making it just in time. Once he’s in the wings, she pulls out her phone to text Mike, and fill him in on everything that’s going on. He enters on Gabriella’s cue, and Miss Jenn pauses, watching him deliver his lines. All the distress, all the pain melts away as he steps into character.

It’s giving him a break from everything, she thinks, it has been the whole time. Theatre isn’t just a luxury or a passion for some people, it’s a means of survival. It hits her all at once, that in staying here, in facing the challenges and struggles that came from directing this show, she’s helping Ricky through one of the hardest things he’ll ever go through. She’s become the person she needed when she was his age; with only one parent, feeling completely lost at sea. Her chest squeezes, and she watches them sing, their voices sending a chill through her. 

Backstage, in the few dark moments of the set change for Cellular Fusion, Nina somehow manages to corner you. 

“What did you do to him?” she demands, and you know she’s referring to Ricky, who exited to the other wing. You stare at her, aghast. You lean in close, lowering your voice, desperately holding on to your professionalism. 

“We have to go onstage, literally right now. I am not doing this with you right now.” 

“Huh,” she scoffs with a fake smile, “you’re one to talk.” You have approximately two seconds to look at her, baffled by everything she’s saying, before you have to go on. You enter, and hit your mark. At the cue, you and Seb begin to harmonize. Right as you do, your phone - tucked away in the wings - silently begins to buzz. Your phone lights up with a text from your mom, informing you that Gina’s flight has finally landed, and they’ll be at the theater any minute. 

You run off stage as Cellular Fusion wraps up, and Miss Jenn and Carlos are trying to figure out what to do about the Taylor dance break coming up. Kourtney has been doing great so far, but she doesn’t think she can handle choreography that complicated with so little time to rehearse.

“I could tell the pit to cut that section…” Carlos offers. You check your phone and your eyes light up, looking at the doorway. 

“Uh,” you start with a smile, “I don’t think that will be an issue…”

Miss Jenn, Carlos, and Kourtney look over at Gina, smiling timidly. 

“Oh, thank god,” Miss Jenn chokes out. She turns to Kourtney, then Gina. “You, go out there before you miss your cue. And you, quick change into something more 2006 before the dance break.”

They both agree, and a stagehand runs over with something for Gina to change into, guiding her to the dressing rooms. 

“Is he doing any better?” you ask Miss Jenn before you go on. You don’t have much time, but you need to know if he’s okay.

“A little,” she says, “I think.” You both know it’s better than nothing, and you’re just hoping whatever he’s doing keeps working. 

Stick to the Status Quo couldn’t be going any better. There’s so much happening, so much organized chaos, that he forgets about everything for a few wonderful minutes. There’s no time to think about that when he’s dancing on tables, begging his classmates not to sacrifice their individuality so they can fit in. It only gets better when you and Seb enter toward the end of the number. You look so genuinely pissed off that people are breaking free from the boxes they’ve been put in, and your voices sound perfect harmonizing together, reverberating through the auditorium.

He tries in vain to stop Zeke from giving you a cake, watching with bated breath as it smashes into your face. He turns away, just like he’s supposed to, but his eyes accidentally land on the one place in the audience he shouldn't be looking at.  His stomach plummets. Has she been on her phone this whole time? After running from everything this whole night, it finally gets the best of him. He can’t stand it any longer, running into the wings as you let out an ear shattering scream, loud enough to finally make her look up.

“Someone… is going… to pay for this!” you yell furiously, before the lights go down. The curtain draws to a close as applause thunders through the building. The lights in the house go up for intermission, and you hear a slow rise of chatter as people mill about and make conversation as you exit the stage. You grab a makeup wipe a stagehand has ready, thanking them as Natalie calls out that intermission is starting, and you have 20 minutes to places for act two.

“Thank you 20,” you call out distractedly, searching for Ricky. You run to the back, wiping the rest of the whipped cream off your face, and check the boys dressing room to see if he’s in there. He is, sitting in there by himself, seeming worse than before. One look at his face and you know something else happened.

“She was on her fucking phone the whole time!” he states in disbelief, “Like…” The words dry up as he holds a pillow in his lap in a death grip. 

“Oh my god…” you say, shaking your head. He’s not doing good, clearly. No one would be in his position. He pulls you in for a hug as soon as you’re close enough, one you reciprocate. He holds onto you tight, feeling just a little more stable as soon as you’re in his arms. Surrounded by your familiar grasp, it’s just a little easier to breathe, to think clearly. Unfortunately, it also means he has a much clearer grasp on everything that’s happened tonight and how it’s affecting him, how he feels about it. His dad is right behind you, and he lets go of you long enough to stand up and greet him. His dad pulls him into a hug, patting his back. 

“I’m so sorry, kid. I had no idea she was going to pull something like this.” Mike’s voice wavers, and when Ricky doesn’t answer, you know it’s because he’s choked up. Miss Jenn enters a moment later, walking over to Ricky and Mike. 

“The both of them have been removed from the premises.” She states. 

“Thank you,” Mike says earnestly. 

“Oh, it was nothing a little faked parking violation couldn't take care of,"  she says, earning a small smile from Mike. She turns to Ricky, continuing. “I filled you dad in on what’s been going on, too.” 

“Maybe we should just go home,” Mike offers, knowing he probably won’t want to. 

“No,” he protests, “I can do act two, I want to. Plus, if we leave now, she’ll know where we are and she’s going to ambush us again, and-” 

“The one place you’re guaranteed not to run into her is here at the theater.” you finish quietly. 

“Yeah,” Ricky agrees, motioning to you. Mike considers, weighing his options. Since she’s gone, if Ricky thinks he can handle it, he doesn’t see why he can’t do the second half of the show - especially since he seems to want to so badly. Maybe now isn’t the time to take that away from him, even if he means well.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But if anything happens, if you change your mind at all-”

“You’re the first to know.” Ricky agrees quickly. 

“I want you to stay plugged in with me, okay?” Mike says, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Text me when you’re not onstage, let me know how you’re doing.” Ricky agrees again. Miss Jenn looks between them. 

“Alright. Well, in that case, Ricky, you should get changed for act two.” She says with a tentative smile. He nods. 

“Thank you. Thank you guys.” he says sincerely to his dad and Miss Jenn. Before you leave, you catch his eye.

“I’m going to refill my water, then I’ll be back here, okay?” 

“Sounds good." He says, "Hurry back,” he adds quickly, giving you that sweet look with those big puppy dog eyes, and it makes your chest squeeze. 

“Absolutely.” you agree. 

You barely leave the dressing room before you're met with Nina. She barges forward and stands in front of you, arms crossed, and you realize she's waiting for you to move out of the way so she can get into the boys' dressing room. You don't budge. 

“I need to talk to Ricky. I heard what happened, and I'm the only one who can convince him to go on for the second act, and I don’t need you-” 

“Wow,” you begin, cutting her off, once again amazed at her audacity, “now is really not a good time. Don’t go in there and stir things up.”  

She looks you up and down, letting out an indignant scoff. 

“Don’t act like you know him like that. I’ve known him since we were in kindergarten, I know him better than anyone.” 

You take in a deep breath, trying so hard to stay patient. 

“Sure. You know him better than anyone.” you say, in a pacifying tone, “So you should know the last thing he needs is more pressure on him when he’s in the middle of a family crisis, right?” The question is rhetorical, and you continue, patience with her finally starting to run thin. “If you actually care about him, then for the sake of his well being you’ll leave him alone and let him get through this. Now is really not the time, Nina, read the goddamn room!” 

The sentence is finished with an aggravated, humorless laugh. Your priorities right now are Ricky, and getting through opening night. You need to help him process some of the shit that's been happening tonight, make sure he’s okay, so he can perform like he wants to. The last thing he needs is Nina barging in there and telling him he’s letting the cast down, or that he’s not serious about theatre, and that he should have quit after auditions - all of which you’ve heard more times than you can count over the duration of rehearsals, even up to a few days ago. 

You’ve tried so hard to be patient with her, but dear god, she’s really starting to get on your last nerve - nevermind the fact that you have a special type of hatred for the kind of people like Nina, who shit on people that are still learning about something they have more experience in; like telling someone they’re not serious about theatre because it’s their first show, for example.

“Do not fuck with him right now.” you state, rolling your eyes at her shocked expression.

You push past her, walking over to the water fountain. She watches you walk away, mouth hanging open, and lets out an indignant scoff. You swear to god, if one more thing goes wrong tonight, if one more person tries you, you’re going to absolutely lose it. You take a few deep breaths as you fill up your bottle, trying to calm down and center yourself a little. Once you’re done, you start to walk back to the dressing rooms, but you’re stopped by a woman who is definitely not cast or crew. She sees you and approaches, seeming a little pissy. 

“I’m looking for Ricky Bowen?” she states. As she speaks, your stomach drops. 

You recognize her voice from when you heard it on the phone, and from the voicemail Ricky showed you over Thanksgiving. This is Lynne Bowen. As in, the Lynne Bowen. The one that left.  The same woman who’s made such a tactless and selfish decisions over and over that have ultimately caused her son to be on the verge of a breakdown just down the hall from where you’re standing right now. 

“You are not supposed to be back here.” you state, desperately trying to figure out how to handle this. You pull out your phone and text Miss Jenn, ‘code red, really need backup’.

“Can you just tell me where Ricky Bowen is? I’m his mother.” she says it in a way immediately expects sympathy from you, sympathy she doesn’t receive. You stare at her blankly, and she continues, much less kind than she’d been pretending to be. “I need to see my son, okay? Maybe when you’re a mother someday you’ll understand-”

You’re not sure what about her, about the way she’s talking to you specifically is the last straw for you, but your patience is already running so thin it’s practically transparent. Against your better judgment, you cut her off. 

“He does not want to see you. He doesn’t want to speak to you - or be anywhere near you right now, for the record - and you need to fucking respect that, okay?” you say decisively, offense written all over her face, “And you are really not allowed to be backstage if you’re not cast or crew, which you’re clearly not-” 

“You are way out of line, young lady!” she yells, “I don’t care if he doesn’t want to talk. I’ll talk to him if I want to; I’m his mother.”  She adjusts her purse, clearly expecting you to fold, to tell her where he is. You know you should keep your mouth shut, you know you should be diplomatic and patient and professional like you always are, you should wait for Miss Jenn to handle this, but you’ve spent the past three months watching Ricky suffer because of this woman and her choices. You can’t stay quiet when the woman who hurt him is right in front of you. 

“I think you lost the right to pull that shit when you walked out the door and chose not to be in his life!” you snap, a dangerous smile on your face. The stunned look on her face is better than anything you’ve ever seen. It’s clear no one has ever tried to take her down a peg until now. 

“How dare-” 

“You gave him a free pass to hate you forever, because you’re not the parent who stayed! You didn’t try-” 

Your words lose momentum as you find yourself suddenly looking at the wall to your right, your cheek stinging. The sound of her slapping you across the face echos across the walls for a moment before fading away, and you freeze, tears prickling the corners of your eyes from shock.

“Listen here you little slut,” she says, much more ferocious than before. All facades of a concerned mother have melted away. “You have no right to talk to me like that-” 

“What the fuck?!” 

You snap out of it, and she turns around at Ricky’s voice at the end of the hall.

“Ricky, my baby,” she starts, walking toward him, but she’s thrown off at how distant he seems toward her. “I’m sorry you had to see that, this girl is so-” 

“Don’t ever talk about her like that again.” His voice is stone cold as he brushes past her, analyzing your expression closely to see if you’re alright. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice shaky.

“I’m fine,” you say as calmly as possible, “are you okay?” 

He’s decidedly not, but he tries to pull himself together. 

“If you are, that’s all that matters.” Behind him, growing impatient, Lynne takes a step forward.

“Ricky,” she demands. He takes a breath, and leans closer to you. 

“You should change for act two.” You look between them, wishing there was something else you could do, some way that you could make this better. You agree, stopping before you leave for your dressing room. 

“Text me if you need anything.” you say seriously, and he agrees, understanding the subtext of your words. Text you if he needs backup, or if it gets to be too much, because you’re there for him. Lynne moves toward him again. 

“Can we talk?” she says with a domineering tone to her voice, and you both know it’s not a question. You want to object, but all he wants is to get her away from you. He nods, indicating you should go, and you do - albeit, very reluctantly. He turns back to her. 

“Yeah,” he says seriously, “I think we need to.” 

She grabs his arm to lead him down another stretch of hallway, but he shakes her off immediately, walking a few feet in front of her. 

“Ricky, are you alright?” she demands, once they’re relatively out of earshot. She crosses her arms. “I was so worried about you when you ran offstage like that.” 

“I’m surprised you noticed.” he murmurs. She either ignores him or doesn’t hear. Regardless, she continues. 

“Why did you leave? Is it stage fright? Because a lot of people are counting on you, honey. You made a commitment to this-” 

“You’re one to talk about commitment,” he mutters, voice low, but loud enough to be heard. His impulse control is not at all where it should be, especially with how she just talked to you, what she called you.

“I’m sorry?” Lynne demands. She’s not used to Ricky yelling at her. She’s always had a lot of influence over him. He used to do everything she said, he’s always been such a mama’s boy until now. 

“I mean, do you ever think about anyone besides yourself?” he snaps, “Did you even care that you ruined the only thing I’ve been able to count on in my life- I can never get this night back, Lynne. And now…” he trails off, trying so hard to regulate his emotions, even though he knows he’s out of control. He takes a shaky breath, trying with everything he has inside him to reign it back in a little. 

“...Why would you bring him to the show?” 

Lynne looks stunned at his question. 

“Wh-” she starts, “This is about Todd?”

“Why would you bring him here?” He demands, repeating himself.

“I…” she struggles for an answer, “wanted him to meet you.” she infuses as much guilt into her words as she can. He should feel bad for the way he’s speaking to her. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to throw you off.” 

It doesn’t work this time, and he refuses to back down, to fawn for her. He doesn’t buy it for a second.

“So you waited until I was suspended, mid air over a basketball hoop, for me to see you all… cozied up together? You didn’t think - not for one second - that might be just a little upsetting to me?!” 

“Ricky-”

“And what about dad, huh? How do you think he feels watching you feel each other up right in front of him?” tears brim in the corners of his eyes as everything he’s been suppressing all night, all these weeks and months finally breaks the surface. She lets out an indignant scoff and tries to say something, but he ignores her and keeps going. It’s an avalanche now, and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. 

“He didn’t leave the couch for a week after you left!” he roars, remembering how hard it was to see his dad like that, to have to be the one to drag him out of it. 

“...I didn’t know that-”

“How could you?!” he laughs bitterly, "You weren't there!" He screams. He doesn't think it's ever felt better to say something than it does now. "You weren't there the whole time I was rehearsing, you weren't the one running lines and going over blocking, and teaching me how to listen for cues and do stage makeup and quick change! You weren't there for any of the work that went into this, and you just waltz in here with the newest guy you're screwing to your fucking son's musical like you've been here the whole time, but you havent!" He's never yelled at her like this, but a part of him thinks after how much she hurt him - and his dad - it's long overdue. "You don't get to enjoy this show, and you don't get to be around me, or dad, or anything we do because you walked out!"

"You are way out of line-" she starts, voice cracking. 

"No, you know what’s way out of line?" He demands, all too ready to throw her words back in her face. "Breaking my heart, breaking dad’s heart, then acting like everything is fine when it’s not!"

"You think I wanted to leave you?!" She screams back at him. 

"Yeah," he answers quickly, "I do, because you did! And you know what? I'm glad you left." He spits, watching the pain grow in her eyes, his words like venom. 

"All you do is hurt us." 

She blinks like she was just slapped. He takes a step forward, shaking, angry tears silently spilling from his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is low and dead serious. 

"Don't call me anymore."

Before she can say anything, he starts to walk away. She calls out to him, desperate to get the last word in, to make him know how much pain his words have caused her. 

"You are really hurting me, Ricky." She says, voice shaking as she cries, "you're breaking your mother's heart."

The sound of his mother crying like that because of something he said should have wrecked him, but he pushes away any last remaining scraps of guilt his rage hasn't burned away yet. He turns back to her, no love in his eyes, and laughs bitterly.

"Yeah, I guess it runs in the family. You know, the one thing I got from you is the ability to ruin any relationship I have, so thanks for that, mom." He spits, turning to leave. She takes a step forward. 

"Don’t you walk away from me-"

"Like mother like son, huh?" He barks. With that, he's gone. He doesn't stick around for any more of her manipulation or guilt tactics. He just really, really needs to see you right now.

[pandemonium-in-the-music-hall]

my favourite rwrb moments

-“fucking eyelashes”

-“stop telling me what to do! you’re not the prince of me!”

-“this time with feeling” skssjkslsjdhdkshh

-every lams shoutout (i see you casey mcquinston)

-the little girl with leukaemia thirsting over han solo

-“his royal horniness” “first son of shirking responsibilities” “hrh prince dickhead 💩”

-“i want you-” “then fucking have me”

-alex feeling some kinda way about henry slamming him to the floor and pinning him down with his thigh in a closet of all places

-henry calling alex a wanker

-them going off to make out at every possible opportunity

-nora

-henry getting pissed off and pulling alex into his lap

-“i will not have you tease me for another fucking second”

-alex’s reaction

-henry’s touch being described as ‘greedy’ whenever he and alex get into it bc of him being starved of intimacy and affection at home (read: aziraphale ziraphale fell)

-“i’ll show you my good boob” “they’re both good”

-juna and nora definitely having a relationship in the background but alex’s dumbass never noticing it bc he spends most of the book in horny jail

-alex sweating watching henry playing polo in february

-“wanker”

-“i will staple your dick to the inside of your leg if it keeps it in your pants” or something like that

-“exploring your sexuality is healthy, but does it have to be with the prince of england?” a powerpoint by POTUS Ellen Claremont

-shaan being zahra’s fiancé (i fucking called it)

-texas turning blue!!!

-alex having to take a minute to recover from a picture of henry on a sailboat (but like, it’s fine, it’s not like a whole thing)

-alex making out with the enemy against a portrait of alexander hamilton, the original bisexual disaster, who had a major crush on a british spy

-henry being so fucking proud of being named after james I i.e. the gay king

-bea dumping a pot of tea on phillip’s lap and blaming it on the cocaine (icon)

-alex thirsting over henry’s dad (rip)

-them emailing each other at like 2am for literally no reason

-alex seeing david beckham at wimbledon and wondering why he ever thought he was straight

-“he whips a thick leather strap off a hook on the wall, and alex almost blacks out” i cried

-“he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.”

-liam being So Fucking Done with alex the second he talks to him for the first time in four years

[the-fangirl-diaries]

111 Thoughts I Had While Watching: The Edge of Love (2008)

 Keira Knightley, Sienna Miller, and oh, would you look at that. 

Keira can sing? 

1940s? London Blitz? Based on a true story? Tissues on hand. 

Childhood friends to lovers sounds like a good plot. 

Smoking is bad for you, kids. Don’t do it. 

Wait, he’s married and a dad? This will be interesting. 

Tommy Shelby? Ariana What are you doing here? 

Man, the handkerchief line was smooooooth! 

Vera giving Caitlin her number? They were definitely flirting. 

Getting serious Moulin Rouge vibes with the coloured spotlights. 

Tommy do be smitten like a lovesick kitten and I love it. 

LOOK AT THAT SMILE, I’M IN LOVE! 

“When he looks at me, and I look at him!” ~ Vera, maybe. 

His name’s William. 

THEM FLIRTING, AGH! 

Imagine having a good drink and then the earth shakes. 

“They all melt at the sight of a uniform.” VERA, I AM A PUDDLE! 

He’s walking her home? Where can I find me a gentleman like that? 

“A sad poem about a 100 year old man. Great.” ~ Caitlin, definitely. 

Caitlin loves Dylan, Dylan loves Vera, Vera loves Dylan, Will loves Vera. 

Not a love triangle, a love rectangle?  

Cillian, when will you do ASMR with that voice? 

Vera and Caitlin reading in bed together. They’re in love, Your Honour. 

Caitlin if all you’re good for is nurturing his talent, break up with him! 

Another air raid? 

Stopping a street fight without violence? Will, marry me already. 

Again, don’t smoke kids. Unless you’re a movie character. 

CILLIAN SINGS? WHAT? HOW THE -- HOW DID I NOT KNOW? 

“Dylan, Caitlin, I’m right there. Why are you --” ~ Vera, definitely. 

Vera, if you don’t dance with William, then move over, let me have him! 

The way he comforts her after the air raid? WHERE ARE MY TISSUES? 

“You have a raindrop running down your cheek, like a tear.” I CAN’T! 

“No word of mine will ever hurt you.” WILLIAM, I BEG YOU TO STOP! 

They’re doing the spicy time now and I’m crying. Thanks. 

NO, MOTHER, I AM NOT OKAY! 

“That should be me.” ~ Dylan, maybe. 

Dylan, enough, she’s in love with someone else, okay?! 

“Don’t write poems for me anymore?” Caitlin dump his sorry butt. 

Vera.....why are you looking at Dylan like that? Sus. 

William’s been posted? No!!! 

NOT WILLIAM BEING ADORABLE!!!! 

Dylan and Vera were childhood lovers. See, I was right! 

Why shouldn’t she tell William about it? 

Two girls, chillin’ in a tub, five feet apart, cause they’re not gay. 

Happy music time. 

“FOR OLD TIMES SAKE, EH? WHY’D YOU KISS HER?” ~ William. 

And now they’re singing together in Welsh. A love song, I guess? 

Oh, I know where this is going and I don’t like it. 

The way Caitlin tried to cheer William up. Awwww. 

“Love me, love me, say that you love me,” ~ William, maybe. 

All he’s asking is for honesty, girl! 

You can’t even tell him you love him? HE’S GOING OFF TO WAR! 

Why did I half expect her to shout “I love you” before he got on the plane? 

He’s so poetic even in his letters. 

Oh, no. She’s got the sicky icky which means she’s pregnant. 

She doesn’t want the baby, and yet -- hold on! 

A nurse telling Vera not to scream and Caitlin telling her off. ICONIC! 

A birth and an arm amputation? What an.... interesting parallel. 

Imma just skip over this part because it’s sad and a bit graphic. 

Okay, now she’s in Wales writing a letter telling William to come home. 

“It’s not what I married you for?” GIRL, WHAT? 

I JUST WANNA GIVE HIM A HUG!!! *sniffles* 

Wait, Dylan’s got a new woman? I’m not surprised, just disappointed. 

“If you were a man, I’d fancy you.” ~ Caitlin. 

YES, CAITLIN, GET HIM!!!! 

You sleep with other women because you’re a poet? WHAT? 

I write poetry and I don’t have a partner, but if I did, I wouldn’t CHEAT! 

You know what, you and Vera deserve each other. I’m done with this. 

See? Even the patrons at the bar know something’s up with them. 

Who’s looking after the kids while Caitlin’s on her bike? 

Don’t drink and bike, okay? 

Just friends, huh, Vera? Why’d you kiss him on your wedding day, then? 

He can’t even play with his kid? That’s sad. 

Flushing the poem down the toilet? Not what I expected but good on you. 

LOOK WHAT YOU DID! YOU MADE HER CRY!!! 

Now you’re taking a bath together? What’s William gonna think, huh? 

Poor boy is shell-shocked. 

I thought you said you were going to tell him you love him. 

He can’t even hold or look at his child because he knows the truth. 

Now he’s broke because you spent all his money. 

See? Told you he’d find out. 

Wait, what’s the child’s name? Rowatt? That’s a new one for the books. 

I already have a bad feeling about this Anita person. 

IT WASN’T THE BRITISH WHO RISKED THEIR LIVES!? WHAT?! 

Will had to watch a soldier’s arm be amputated! 

Dylan, you’re friends with these people!?

You have the AUDACITY to LAUGH while he’s having a breakdown? 

She’s just antagonizing him at this point. *sips water.* 

I shouldn’t say it’s okay that he slapped her, but SHE HAD IT COMIN’! 

William, whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t. 

Going to your wife’s boyfriend’s house with a weapon.... Oh, no. 

You weren’t aiming for anyone, but still, not the best idea, love. 

He told Caitlin what happened. 

Aww, he’s sad because there’s a bruise on Vera’s cheek.  

And because he scared Caitlin’s son and doesn’t like the screaming. 

COME ON VERA, MAKE A SMART CHOICE FOR ONCE! 

Thank you. I am this close *spreads arms out* to forgiving you. 

Okay, this moment with William and his son? I’m crying again, darn it!!! 

“Lashes like feathers, like yours.” WILLIAM! MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT!  

Not surprising the police are involved after the incident. 

See? Caitlin wonder’s if the kid is Dylan’s, too. 

“You’re my friend.” SAYS THE GIRL WHO SLEPT WITH BESTIE’S MAN?

Asbestos walls? Aren’t they dangerous nowadays? 

“Scratch my head, Cat.” No, Dylan. Kiss my- Oh, look a rainbow! 

How was he supposed to know the walls were poorly built? 

If you can’t live without him, why’d you cheat on him, then? 

“It’s my firm belief that he tried to murder me.....” 

FORGET DEEP BREATHS, I’M SCREAMING INTO MY PILLOW. 

Wait! No evidence of murder? Yay, I guess? 

NO, NOT A HAPPY CAITLIN AND VERA MONTAGE OF THE PAST? 

Everyone made peace with each other. That’s nice. 

I was half expecting a sad ending, but I’m so glad it wasn’t. Also, no, I didn’t cry a hundred times, what are you talking about?! 

[purenguyening]

Since it’s father’s day, some assorted thoughts on Norman most of it is based on Emerald’s interpretation but I do touch a bit on Ruby/Sapphire and Pokemon Masters EX:

(Warning, this is very unorganized and I’m just writing whatever pops into my head)

Norman has two kids, Whitney and Brendan.

When they were living in Johto, Norman was a super stern father. To the point when both Whitney and Brendan asked to dye their hair he said no.

Whitney waits for her family to move to Hoenn to dye her hair

Brendan learns to knit and makes his iconic hat. He made it while in the back of the moving truck and used his Advance SP as light.

After moving to Hoenn he wanted to loosen up and because he felt like he was too hard on them (I think there was some period of time where he moved to Hoenn first just so he could get acquainted with the Hoenn Pokemon and properly become a Hoenn gym leader there)

He taught Whitney how to catch her first Pokemon outside of Olivine.

He wanted to teach Brendan how to catch his first Pokemon, too but decided to teach Wally how to catch his first pokemon as warm up (This was promptly ruined the moment Brendan showed up to Petalburg gym with his starter and at least one Pokemon) Hence why Norman says “Oh. I see, you’re with your Pokemon”)

Norman then gets the brilliant on the spot idea to get Brendan to teach Wally how to catch Pokemon because he believed in his abilities (and also because he thinks it’s a great opportunity for Brendan to make his first friend not knowing that technically Brendan’s first friend was May)

After Brendan beats him and wins his Balance Badge he tries to come up with a way to schedule time so they can eat a meal together.

After you beat him in Emerald he talks about how the player should go home and visit their mother (a hint to the player the mother will give you the Amulet Coin)

If you call your mother in Emerald after you beat your dad she mentions Norman only ever comes home to eat and then goes back to the gym and jokes that he took losing to you very hard

Conclusion: Norman is trying to ask in a very roundabout way to ask his son to eat a meal with them as a family.

I have also thought Norman set aside the Amulet Coin to give to his son as a congratulations for beating him.

This is even better in Pokemon Masters EX where Norman asks the playing character if there’s a good place that young people like to eat: "Do you know of any good restaurants that are popular with young people on Pasio? I was thinking I'd like to take my son out the next time we have a day off!"

(Brendan may or may not have already eaten with Latios:  "Latios has the ability to make people see images of what it has seen or imagines in its head. But my Latios is actually kinda shy. Earlier he was acting so fidgety, I was wondering what was up... And it turned out he just wanted to tell me he was hungry! Isn't that cute?")

(My favorite running gag is to constantly have his plans “foiled” by outside forces, hang in there Norman....)

Norman sometimes tries to bond with his son by giving him rare berries he finds on his walk (in Ruby/Sapphire when you scanned in the E-Reader berries you go to Norman to pick them up).

Similarly when you scanned in the Eon Ticket the only message that is played when you load up the game is just the game saying “Go see your father.”

When you use Arbitrary Code Execution to activate the Eon Ticket event, you just go get the ticket from the Lilycove Department store, one way to read this is that Norman won the lottery and his decides to give the ticket to his kid

In general Norman always frets about his kids but learns to give them room to grow and is just overall doing his best

(He even mentions this in Emerald if you call him after you get your 2nd badge: "Hm… Little by little, but also very surely, you're getting tougher, <player>. The stronger you get, the farther and higher you soar from Mother and me… This feeling is hard to explain." )

To some extent, I think the reason he doesn’t accept Brendan’s challenge right away is because he knew his team would be hard to beat for a rookie. Losing can be pretty discouraging, so I think he wanted Brendan to develop a stronger sense of confidence and gain more experience before accepting his challenge.

Even though badges 2-4 can technically be done in any order, I do think it makes sense narratively for Flannery to be the last gym leader to fight before Norman.

When you first arrive at the Petalburg Gym Norman says this: Hmm… Then I guess you're going to become a Trainer like me, <player>. That's great news! I'll be looking forward to it! , which I can imagine Brendan reading as he’s expected to eventually hone his skills and become a gym leader (even though that’s not what he actually said) Coupled with a personal HC that Whitney is his older sister, it adds an extra layer of pressure to follow the “family tradition”. 

Added to that in the original RSE designs, Brendan’s sprite shows his sideburns that are of similar color to Norman’s hair, meaning it’s possible Brendan was design to look a lot like Norman (And why I HC Brendan made that hat and wanted to dye his hair, he wanted to create an image of himself that was for him)

After you beat Flannery she says this: "Oh... I guess I was trying too hard... I... I've only recently become a Gym Leader. I tried too hard to be someone I'm not. I have to do things my natural way. If I don't, my Pokémon will be confused. Thanks for teaching me that. For that, you deserve this." and apparently after you talk to her again: she says this:  "Your power reminds me of someone... Oh! I know! You battle like Norman, the Gym Leader of Petalburg." 

I think this always sets up to the core part of Brendan’s early journey about struggling to be himself and while getting comments comparing him to his father (I say this but the only other time it’s mentioned is Birch mentioning that the playing character is a chip off the old shoulder kind of comment)

This is also why I really think Brendan’s hat is important to his character design and why I think Brendan was always designed with the intent on being Norman’s son (even though throughout this entire post I’ve been sort of using Brendan/the playing character almost interchangeably)

Overall, if you made it to the end, I don’t think Norman is a bad father, but I think he was unprepared for fatherhood and was trying to figure it out as he went. Also I guess, the post got derailed at some point and started to talk a little too much about personal interpretations of Brendan, but I think they were important to explain Norman’s effect on Brendan, specifically.

Edit: I forgot to include it but if you do have a Pixiv account please like and bookmark [this work]. There’s a lot of cute works where Norman is just being a dork with Brendan and May and his junior trainers and made me appreciate Norman a lot more.