#in fact- although she’d never say it out loud- he’s… actually kind of adorable.

[markerofthemidnight]

Currently lying in bed and coming to the slow, dreadful realisation that Wiggly x Miss Holloway is actually a really fascinating idea for a crackship.

I thought of this, so now you all have to think of it too.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery

- Chapter 10 (ao3) -

tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude), part 9

-

In Lan Wangji’s view, the best part about the upcoming visit by Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen wasn’t the excuse to drag a tetchy and reluctant Jiang Cheng night-hunting, nor the chance to meet such interesting and swiftly famous cultivators, or even the vanishingly rare opportunity to learn more about Wei Wuxian by exploring his heritage on his mother’s side.

No – it was definitely the way the mere concept transformed Jiang Cheng into a stuttering teenaged admirer about to see their revered idol for the first time.

“You remember that they are both nearly ten years your junior?” he asked as Jiang Cheng fussed around, alternating between worrying himself sick for not being prepared to receive guests (for all that the Jiang sect had been receiving honored guests for years at this point) and bragging about the exploits of their soon-arriving guests to the fascinated flock of children dogging his heels.

“No more than seven or eight at most,” Jiang Cheng objected, and Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Look at how accomplished they both are! When I was that age, I hadn’t done anything!”

Lan Wangji didn’t think that was entirely right. When Jiang Cheng had been the age Xiao Xingcheng and Song Zichen were now, he’d endured the loss of his sect and rebuilt it from nothing, acting more or less singlehandedly while still finding time to fight the Wen sect shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Great Sects and also search for the missing Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji.

He opted not to mention it.

Let Jiang Cheng keep his illusions and ignore the steady encroachment of time.

“You’re calling me old in your head,” Jiang Cheng said accusingly, and Lan Wangji pasted an innocent expression on his face as confirmation. “You are, you bastard! You know you’re older than me, right?”

Lan Wangji could get a great deal of out of an admission like that.

“That’s not what I meant! We’re peers, you…!” Jiang Cheng huffed. “Listen, you’d better be on your best behavior around our guests, all right? I don’t want them to be scared off just because it looks like you’re glowering whenever you think –”

“I’ll follow your example, then, and simply not think at all.”

“Go jump off a pier!”

The children all giggled.

“You’re all going to be on best behavior too,” Jiang Cheng told them, fierce as a hissing domestic cat and just as adorably toothless. “You hear me? All of you! A-Yuan, A-Ling, that means you’re going to be cute but not spoiled, while A-Yu can – actually, just do the same as them in an age-appropriate way, you’re cute enough –”

Mo Xuanyu beamed.

“Still, we don’t know what they’re like. Start by being a little reserved – not too loud –”

Lan Sizhui waved for attention as if they were in a classroom.

“…yes?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking vaguely resigned and grumpy in a way that was clearly meant to conceal how unbearably charming he found the gesture.

“Can I be called Sizhui this time?” Lan Sizhui asked eagerly. “I’m old enough!”

Jiang Cheng frowned a bit, and Lan Wangji understood. The Jiang sect generally didn’t use courtesy names until the child in question had mastered a full sword routine, usually age eight or nine, and close family almost never made the switch in full; from what Lan Wangji knew, Jiang Yanli had called Jiang Cheng ‘A-Cheng’ right up until the end of her life, not to mention referring routinely to Wei Wuxian, who she’d only met when he was already old enough to use his courtesy name, as ‘A-Xian’. The Lan sect, in contrast, started using courtesy names almost exclusively once a child was old enough to leave his parents, typically age three or four – Lan Wangji had been calling Lan Sizhui by name for years already, and had been needling Jiang Cheng to pick it up as well without success.

“I’ll introduce you,” Lan Wangji offered, saving Jiang Cheng the awkwardness of having to explain or decline or, worst of all for someone like Jiang Cheng, accidentally slip up and say something sappy like you’ll always be A-Yuan to me.

Lan Sizhui nodded, satisfied, and next to him, Jin Ling frowned. “What about me?” he asked. “Am I going to be Rulan?”

“The Jin sect is the last of the Great Sects in using courtesy names,” Jiang Cheng said, finally on more solid ground. “Not until you get your sword, and that’s not until you’re eleven. Or twelve!”

“But I already have a sword…”

“The age you would be if you were getting your own,” Lan Wangji interjected. “To make it fair to all the rest.”

That seemed to reassure Jin Ling, who nodded. “Good,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna be Rulan, anyway…jiujiu, when did you say these guests would be arriving?”

That, of course, sent Jiang Cheng back into a flurry of activity, and Lan Wangji shook his head, long-suffering. “You’ve hosted entire discussion conferences,” he pointed out to Jiang Cheng. “There are only two cultivators this time. It is far easier.”

“Is it?” Jiang Cheng shot back. “Is it really?”

In contrast to the expectation and build up leading up to it, the actual arrival of Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen was rather unremarkable. They arrived just as the sun was setting, two young men, one beautiful and the other handsome, both valiant heroes with faces that shone with kindness and righteousness. Xiao Xingchen’s face was curved in a gentle smile, Song Zichen set in a neutral expression. Both seemed sincere and respectful when they bowed deeply in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure and honor to host such heroes,” Jiang Cheng said, nodding his head regally in return. He really had at some point learned how to fake being a competent and confident sect leader, and it might have even had the effect he was going for if it wasn’t for the small gaggle of children very eagerly stealing peeks from next to him – but Lan Wangji wasn’t going to be the one to tell on them. “I’ve heard many stories of your adventures, and I have long looked forward to meeting you in person. My Lotus Pier is open to you for as long as you require.”

“Sect Leader Jiang is upright and straightforward, well known for his righteousness,” Xiao Xingchen said, and perhaps only Lan Wangji knew precisely why Jiang Cheng flushed with such pleasure at a compliment more commonly applied to Nie Mingjue. “We are happy to be here as your guests.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, still a little stiff and wooden. “You have traveled quite a distance. Are you tired or hungry..?”

They shook their heads in refusal.

Jiang Cheng darted a glance at Lan Wangji, then turned back to them, finally relaxing out of the excess formality that suited Jin Guangshan far more than it did Jian Cheng. “In that case,” he said, his voice a little dry. “Upon the suggestion of certain of my advisors, would you prefer to cut the boring small talk and go out on a night-hunt instead?”

Xiao Xingchen’s face split into a genuine smile, and even Song Zichen’s severity seemed a little eased.

“What an excellent idea, Sect Leader Jiang,” Xiao Xingchen said warmly. “We’d be happy to. I was just telling Song Zichen not long ago that it seemed as though we hadn’t been on a proper hunt in far too long.”

“You think you have problems, try being a sect leader,” Jiang Cheng replied impulsively, then turned red when he realized how rude he’d just been. “That is, I mean – well, there’s not nearly as much free time, that’s all.”

Xiao Xingchen laughed. It gave Lan Wangji a good impression of him: light-hearted and lively, his demeanor kind and good-humored. Despite the lack of blood relation, Lan Wangji was reminded of Wei Wuxian – although perhaps that was just his wistful thinking.

“Well, there’s a reason Zichen and I haven’t started our own just yet,” he said mischievously. “There’s time for that later, after all. Youth is when you make a name for yourself! And speaking of which, I’ve heard plenty about your own prowess, Sandu Shengshou. I admit I’m looking forward to seeing Zidian in action.”

Jiang Cheng looked unbearably pleased at the compliment, clearly sincerely meant, and something in Lan Wangji’s heart that he hadn’t even known was tense finally eased.

He hadn’t realized that he himself was nervous about this meeting – less for his own sake, although he burned with curiosity to learn everything he could about Wei Wuxian, than for Jiang Cheng, who had longed for this meeting so much, cared so much. Lan Wangji found to his bemusement that he had even been a little afraid: afraid that the two strangers would be cold or arrogant, afraid that they’d reject Jiang Cheng tentative overtures of friendship – that Jiang Cheng would be disappointed.

Lan Wangji might enjoy teasing Jiang Cheng into a frenzy, but that was his prerogative. In fact, one could argue that it was only what he was due for having lived with and put up with the man for so long. He’d been the one who’d been there all this time, the one who’d put in so much effort to help rebuild him back into the man he could be rather than the wreck he had been; he’d earned the right to mock him.  

No one else was entitled to so much as touch the hem of his robes.

“I have heard much of your matchless skill as well, Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said, his voice unexpectedly deep, and Lan Wangji’s attention came back to him as he returned the man’s salute. They both had reputations for being closed-mouthed ice-blocks, and it seemed to Lan Wangji that Song Zichen was probably just reserved, like him, rather than truly standoffish.

“You’re in for a treat, then,” Jiang Cheng said with a faint smirk. “Whether in sword or music, few can match Hanguang-jun’s talents, and he never stints on displaying them.”

To the untried ear, perhaps Jiang Cheng sounded bitter or jealous, and given his competitive mania he probably was, a little, but to Lan Wangji he sounded more smug than anything else, as proud as if he were the one being praised.

With everything settled, they headed off at once.

The subject of the night-hunt was nothing terribly exciting – a troop of fierce corpses ravaging the countryside that someone had finally managed to divine the location of, with the only interesting aspect about them being that they were unusually fast-moving – so there was plenty of time for them to talk as they followed the trail.

Lan Wangji expected Jiang Cheng to start asking questions about the immortal mountain and Wei Wuxian’s mother at once – Jiang Cheng might be prideful and thin-faced, prone to shame and overthinking, but he’d been raised along Wei Wuxian, who was second to none in shamelessness, and Lan Wangji was well aware of how much he hungered for that knowledge.

Of course, probably as a direct result of Lan Wangji’s expectations, Jiang Cheng went for a completely different target.

“It’s said that we live in an age of young heroes,” he remarked, seemingly casual. “Of course, for most of us, that was simply the inevitable result of war – crisis demands the best from people, regardless of age. Without such necessity to spur us onwards, most of us probably would’ve been still kicking our heels even now, whereas you two became heroes as soon as you arrived…how old are you now, again?”

“We are both twenty-one,” Song Zichen said, and Lan Wangji used the moment to glare over at Jiang Cheng when he mouthed six years at him – was this really the time to quibble over something as pointless as the exact age gap between them, which he’d clearly inquired about for no other purpose than to prove Lan Wangji’s earlier assumption wrong? This was Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle here! They should be getting all the information out of him that they could!

(Lan Wangji had long ago decided that when it came to feuding over minor matters with Jiang Cheng, he would be as gracious in defeat as his opponent…which was to say, not at all.)

Jiang Cheng smirked at him, knowing what he was thinking, but then – finally – turned the subject onto the immortal mountain, or more specifically its former disciples.

This time it was Song Zichen’s turn to relax minutely, Lan Wangji noticed. A moment’s thought revealed the reason: they’d probably feared cultivators asking questions that were far more pointed than what they were getting from them – cultivators greedy for the secrets of immortality. No wonder they so assiduously avoided being hosted by the Great Sects, and had done so even before Lanling Jin had gotten in the way of their heroism.

Well, luckily for them, the interest Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji had was a little more…down to earth.

“Cangse Sanren was a talent to shake the ages,” Xiao Xingchen said, his eyes bright and expression enthusiastic. “It was as if anything she turned her mind to, she excelled at, and she turned her mind to all sorts of things without discrimination – painting, poetry, swordsmanship…” He paused, then firmed his shoulders. “I heard that her son was much the same..?”

Lan Wangji felt a smile want to come up to his lips.

It seemed that Xiao Xingchen was just as interested in finding out more about his martial nephew as they were in finding out more about Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle.

Jiang Cheng glanced over at Lan Wangji, who nodded very shallowly, indicating his approval. In his judgment, both of them seemed safe enough: trustworthy, and not like people who would spread gossip.

They could talk about Wei Wuxian.

Talk truly about him, praising his good points and speaking fondly of his faults…these two, Lan Wangji thought, wouldn’t judge them harshly for failing to condemn him, and they wouldn’t tell anyone else, either.

Later, after they’d finished dispatching the ghouls – and the Wei Wuxian portion of the conversation, for which Jiang Cheng had taken the lead and which a listening Lan Wangji had enjoyed tremendously, largely on account of Xiao Xingchen’s genuine enthusiasm for learning everything he could about the martial nephew he had only just barely missed meeting, fearsome Yiling Patriarch or not – Jiang Cheng finally and regretfully brought them back to the original subject.

“I heard that you two are collecting allies to go after Xue Yang,” he said, and pretended (just as Lan Wangji did) to ignore the way Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen suddenly glanced at each other. “I’ll support that, of course. From everything I’ve heard, he’s become a mad dog, trying to bite anyone he sees. Hasn’t he been launching all sorts of raids on sects left and right these past few years?”

They nodded.

“Rather pointless ones,” Song Zichen said, a deep frown on his face. “He runs in and causes chaos, then flees into the night – he barely even stops to kill people, and almost never steals treasures. At most he goes to make trouble by defacing the walls of some of the ancestral tombs…we can see no sense in it. The only explanation is that his demonic cultivation has in fact driven him mad.”

Demonic cultivation didn’t necessarily drive a person mad. That was something Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng had painfully learned over the years, much to Jiang Cheng’s distress. However, it certainly didn’t help maintain calmness or peace of mind; there was every chance that a delinquent like Xue Yang had had his temperament worsened by demonic cultivation, leading to his present circumstances.

“Indeed,” Jiang Cheng said noncommittally. “I really have only question for you, then.”

Knowing where this was going, Lan Wangji turned his gaze on their guests’ expression.

“Haven’t you been chasing him on your own for all these years now, trying to get him to go to trial for his crimes, refusing any offers of help?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice suddenly pointed. “Why the sudden change in favor of asking for help now?”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen shared another long look between them.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat. “In truth,” he said, “we spread that rumor as a smokescreen. We’re not looking for allies, generally speaking…we really only wanted a reason to ask for your help.”

Jiang Cheng stopped and stared, visibly surprised. Lan Wangji kept his expression more neutral, but privately he was just as taken aback; when they’d discussed this earlier, planning out this conversation in advance, that wasn’t even remotely one of the possibilities they’d considered.

“My help?” Jiang Cheng asked cautiously. “Or…?”

“Yours and Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said. “We weren’t sure who else to turn to.”

“What’s the issue?” Jiang Cheng asked, waving a hand to halt their forward progress. A good idea, in Lan Wangji’s view: it was the middle of the night, and they were in the middle of the forest in the back hills near the Lotus Pier, with no one around for a good distance except for trusted Jiang sect disciples – if there needed to be privacy for this discussion, this was the best place for it.

Another shared glance.

Lan Wangji slanted a glance of his own to Jiang Cheng, who returned it: they’d been right, there really was something unusual with this visit.

They stood in silence for a while.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen yielded. “Very well,” he said, and met Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Sect Leader Jiang…can you tell us what you know about the Ghost General?”

Jiang Cheng stiffened, his fists clenching.

Lan Wangji’s heart felt just as stiff. He stepped forward.

“There are many people who can tell you about Wen Ning,” he said neutrally, watching them carefully. “Assuming that what you wish to know is how he fought or his transformation into a conscious fierce corpse. Is your concern that Xue Yang has replicated the technique and created his own ghost general?”

He didn’t think it would be that. As he’d said, everyone knew what Wen Ning had done once he’d become the Ghost General – the Jin sect would know far better than either of them how fearsome he was, since it was at Jinlin Tower that he had erupted in his final massacre. If they wanted to know about fierce corpses in general, they could go there.

To come here, to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji – the only two people who were known to have gone up to the Yiling Burial Mounds while Wei Wuxian lived there with Wen Ning at his side, the only living people who knew what the Ghost General was like when he wasn’t being a weapon, to know what Wen Ning was like as a person – suggested something different.

Something impossible.

Xiao Xingchen met his eyes. “It is not.”

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice tight and unsteady. “He murdered my brother-in-law, my nephew’s father, and when Lanling Jin demanded his head as retribution, he and his sister went to them under pretense of surrender and murdered even more of them before they were taken down. He was destroyed.”

They said nothing.

“The former Sect Leader Jin was very interested in demonic cultivation,” Lan Wangji said slowly. “While Wei Wuxian lived, he sought to claim the Stygian Tiger Seal. When he died…”

He glanced at Jiang Cheng a second time. They had not discussed the subject of the Siege of the Burial Mounds in any detail, as it inevitably put Jiang Cheng into a terrible frame of mind, and Lan Wangji remembered with a shudder the state they had both been in at that fateful meeting – he didn’t want to remember it himself, much less bring back bad memories for Jiang Cheng.

They certainly hadn’t discussed the subject of spoils. The only thing that had ever brought it to mind was the silent presence of Chenqing lying in place of pride in the Jiang sect’s memorial hall as the substitute for the memorial tablet they could not afford to raise for Wei Wuxian.

It hadn’t seemed relevant.

It was now.

“Sect Leader Jin took it,” Jiang Cheng confirmed, his voice shaking a little. “The Stygian Tiger Seal was broken in two, and Wei Wuxian destroyed one of the halves – the Jin sect claimed the other, saying that they were going to destroy it. I think they took more than that, too…I know they took Suibian, but they also took all the papers that’d been left in the cave. I always suspected that that was why they were so protective of Xue Yang, who was a demonic cultivator himself – that Jin Guangshan wanted to squeeze him for information, or maybe even use him to figure out some of Wei Wuxian’s notes…”

His voice trailed off, and he shook his head furiously.

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” he insisted. “The Jin sect scattered his ashes! They – they…”

“They lied,” Song Zichen said.

Lan Wangji pressed his lips together. He had no particularly warm feelings towards Wen Ning, who had been Wei Wuxian’s shadow in that last year or so of life when Wei Wuxian had turned his back on the world – a position Lan Wangji would have given his left arm to have, and over which he had had all sorts of inappropriate feelings of envy and stifled, unjustified possessiveness – but Jiang Cheng took the man’s existence far more personally.

In Jiang Cheng’s view, it had been for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had stolen the Wen sect remnants, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had abjured his relationship with the Jiang sect and Jiang Cheng himself, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had given up everything, and yet simultaneously it had also been Wen Ning that had pushed him to the very brink and over. Wen Ning who had murdered Jin Zixuan – Wen Ning who Wei Wuxian had so brutally avenged in the massacre at the Nightless City, at which Jiang Yanli had died.

Wen Ning, who they thought had been destroyed.

“We believe that the former Sect Leader Jin hid Wen Ning away instead of destroying him, then gave Xue Yang access to him, just as he did with the Tiger Seal and Wei Wuxian’s notes,” Xiao Xingchen said, his face solemn. “We also believe that Xue Yang took Wen Ning away with him when he escaped Jinlin Tower once the former sect leader died and the current sect leader took over. We believe that he has been controlling him through demonic cultivation, using him as something of an – accomplice, or something of the sort.”

“Controlling him how?” Jiang Cheng asked. They paused, and he continued, “I’m not stupid. You’re very sure that Wen Ning’s not gone, which means you located him and saw something that made you think so. What was it?”

Lan Wangji nodded shallowly, approving of Jiang Cheng’s deduction – and of the self-mastery he was demonstrating in not exploding in rage on the spot.

“He had nails in his head,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He…the Ghost General was mindless and unthinking, but strong. Very strong. He…”

He trailed off, and shook his head, seeming a bit sad.

“What help do you require from us?” Lan Wangji said, suddenly sick of the tension, and he saw Jiang Cheng throw him a look full of relief for having raised the question.

“Hanguang-jun is right,” Jiang Cheng said, backing him up at once. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you need us for? You two are heroes, and half the cultivation world would sell their firstborn child for a chance to bring down the Ghost General to increase their fame – there’s no way you came here just to get our help in bringing him down. If that’s what you wanted, it wouldn’t have needed to be us, and there wouldn’t have needed to be a smokescreen. What do you want?”

“We want to heal him,” Xiao Xingchen said solemnly. “To bring back his consciousness and return his sanity. But we don’t know what he was like, before Xue Yang. The only ones that do are the two of you.”

“You do remember that he killed my brother-in-law?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice sharp.

“At Wei Wuxian’s order,” Song Zichen responded, equally sharp. “You do not blame the sword for the men it kills.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes briefly, in pain at the reminder. He took a breath, steadying himself, and then another.

He opened his eyes.

“We will help,” he said, and ignored the betrayed look Jiang Cheng shot his way. They would talk about it later, and he would help Jiang Cheng see that this was what they had to do, no matter how painful. “And we will not betray the secret of his existence.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen said, and saluted deeply; Song Zichen did as well. “And yet, we have more we would ask of you.”

“Spit it out, then,” Jiang Cheng growled.

“Finding Wen Ning had shown us that Xue Yang’s actions have gone truly beyond the pale, beyond redemption,” Song Zichen said, and his voice was fierce. That wasn’t surprising: it had been his childhood home, his master and fellow disciples, that Xue Yang had attacked. “He is, as you said, a mad dog, biting all that he can – I believe that Wen Ning was his only companion as he fled, chased by the whole cultivation world these past few years. I fear what Xue Yang will do now that his last connection to humanity is gone. He is capable of anything.”

“We must find him,” Xiao Xingchen agreed. “We must find Xue Yang, and we must stop him from doing – whatever it is that he will do next. I cannot even begin to imagine the atrocities he might perpetrate. And so we must ask…”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng said, and they both looked at him, surprised. “We’ll help you heal Wen Ning, and we’ll even help you hunt down Xue Yang. But this time, no excuses, no dragging your feet, no waiting for a proper trial, nothing like that. He dies, you hear me? Xue Yang is to be killed on sight!”

“I agree,” Lan Wangji said, folding his hands together behind his back. He had helped Jiang Cheng in pursuing and judging demonic cultivators before – there were those that could be granted mercy, and those for whom the only just answer was death; time and too many second chances had made inescapably clear that Xue Yang was the latter. “Each time you have sought to bring him to trial, he has taken advantage of your devotion to justice to escape.”

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Zichen, who nodded firmly; a moment later, Xiao Xingchen sighed and nodded himself. “Agreed,” he said. “You will help us?”

“We will,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and Lan Wangji nodded in full support. “It would be a pleasure to wipe that trash off the face of this earth.”

-

The town was full of mist and fog, choking the throat and making it hard to breathe or see; the feng shui of the entire valley was as bad as could be, and there was more miasma than there was air.

“You there, drunkard, what are you doing!” someone shouted at a figure lying halfway in the door of a house that was filled to the brim with coffins. “Don’t mock our livelihood! Just because it’s a coffin house doesn’t make it a good place to play dead!”

The figure stirred.

But I’m not playing dead, he thought, rubbing his aching head with one hand, noticing that he seemed to be missing his little finger. I actually was dead, wasn’t I?

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Pedro being teased and questioned about how close he is with you, Gal’s adopted sister, and trying his best to hide the fact that you are actually dating.

“So, Gal, I am going to direct this question mostly at you but of course anyone can get to answer. I actually wanted to know your opinion about it.” Conan said, as Gal herself nodded her head with a smile.

“Oh, please, with pleasure.”

“There have been several photos, and I do not mean just from paps or professionals. Even you on your personal instagram posted a few. Which, to say the least, broke the internet as we all saw.”

“Yeah uh truth is my instagram wasn't working for several hours afterwards and I thought it was just me but then I kept asking others and got the same reply from everyone! Turns out, we caused a blackout of sorts.” Gal laughed, admitting to it before looking away in embarrassment while the rest of the cast nodded their heads as if almost giving her a a playful glare, even through the screen of the computer.

“And the reason behind that, who would have thought, a couple photos!” Jimmy nodded his head “Your sister, your adopted sister (Y/n), came to visit you on the set of Wonder Woman 1984. It was, for lack of better words, a historic moment not just for instagram who crashed because of the popularity of the photos but also for comic book fans worldwide. It was the closest we could get to a Marvel and DC crossover.”

“You say that because she was in her costume in some of them yeah?” Gal asked with a bright smile, always loving to talk about her little sister as Conan nodded his head “Yes, it was (Y/n)'s idea and everyone knows it, I can never say no to my little sister. Plus, she was right; we had so much fun fooling around in our costumes! I had more fun than I've ever had on a set of a movie before. And, yes, I almost always enjoy the movies I'm in, but this one- this one was truly something else! We- almost everyone, I think, played along as we acted as our characters and filmed some scenes just for laughs. I really really hope they make it into the bloopers somehow.”

“So you're planning on taking down youtube next, I see. I see.” the host nodded his head with playfully narrowed eyes, seeming all suspicious and making everyone laugh.

“No, no I swear! I don't want to!” she said in between laughter “We all had so much fun and an amazing time on set and in front of the cameras, playing superheroes that it would be incredible for the fans to see! It's- Really, it is kind of an unofficial crossover that should make it to the internet at least!”

“I'll have to-” Patty spoke up “I'll have to give it to Gal, she is right. (Y/n) had this amazing idea and creative at the same time because she had a small plot in her mind and lines and everything concerning the set. We all did a small setup and filmed it and, honestly, it came out to be real good!”

“Patty is no even exaggerating and Gal is certainly right. We had so much fun filming that small crossover, and (Y/n)'s ideas were brilliant! Fans will definitely love it!” Kristen said in addition.

“She truly is an incredibly talented, smart and creative person, besides an absolute darling. So kind to everyone and sweet, we all couldn't get enough of her. And-” Patty raised a finger “I will say it here once more because Gal has heard it before: the fastest we've filmed a scene in this movie. And it was all thanks to how professional she was, it was truly incredible!”

“Well, I can't ever deny it, my little sister is the biggest star there is! Oscars or other awards aside, she proves how great she is on every set on her own!”

“And you are definitely her biggest fan, as we all can clearly tell.” Conan pointed out with a small laugh “Speaking of, I think we do have someone who could only be described as your main rival on that sweet stop of being your sister's number one fan. Someone who hasn't been shy about expressing his admiration about (Y/n) but who has yet to utter a word.” Conan looked back up from his papers and said someone almost felt his heart jump in fear and nervousness, hoping that at least nobody noticed that he was indeed being silent for a reason “Pedro, you're being uncharacteristically quiet about this one, especially for something that caused Instagram to crash within thirty minutes of the photos being uploaded. I'm not- I'm not used to this from you. Come on, talk to me. Say what's on your mind.”

“This is oddly- I'm getting strange deja vu vibes here. Must be cause of that one time I visited a therapist. Long story short, it was only one session for me and about hm at least 25 for him. I heard he's still going to a therapist now.” he shrugged casually, earning laughter from everyone. He chuckled slightly himself, glancing over the screen of his computer while trying his best to keep anything from showing on his face even more so his smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean-” he cleared his throat “Ah man, what else can I say? The ladies have spoken, and they've said exactly what- I believe anyone that gets the opportunity to work with (Y/n) or watch her movies would agree she is one of a kind.” he shrugged softly with an adorable smile “Besides, it feels like anything I say is just going to be used against me, so I- I better keep on silently observing. That does seem like it's the safest option here.”

Pedro's laugh was more of a nervous if not awkward one, but he was pretty confident it was just no different to how he would usually laugh away questions he didn't want to answer in interviews. Most celebrities did the same, he wouldn't be the first nor the last, so he didn't expect Conan to insist any further. He didn't want to push his luck, he had been really successful (if not blessed after all these close calls) with all these online interviews to not have everything revealed by accident, so now especially with the current topic, he didn't feel like messing things up. He loved this privacy, he didn't want to lose it not yet, he wanted you and this all to himself for now. And he wanted the story of how you met, of how over that one month and a half on set he felt himself fall in love with you.

And yet... Yet, he was probably a weak man, a man who couldn't help but indulge even if he knew it could probably get him in trouble. You were worth it, though, you were worth all of it and as you were his weakest spot and so indulge he did. He slowly chewed on his lower lip and he so subtly looked over the screen of his computer.

His eyes fell on you, still splayed on his bed, book in one hand and steaming mug on the nightstand – your nightstand on your side of the bed, the thought of which made his heart flutter inside his chest – hair slightly messy, that oversized Mandalorian shirt on, which you'd gotten all excited amongst many many more fandom related toys a couple months ago and couldn't wait for him to see. A shirt which had, inevitably, ended up being taken off you barely ten minutes later starting from him stealing kisses and leading to the two of you making love till the very morning in between endless giggles. The pup you'd gotten – the both of you – not so long ago made a small noise drawing your attention for a short moment as you kept petting him, the both of you too tired to do anything else after an exhausting day of playing. Pedro couldn't complain, although he'd been a part of it he had mostly spent time filming everything even if you hadn't been the one to ask him to, he couldn't help it.

It was something that the both of you decided on and although you hadn't said it out loud, you both knew and at least Pedro hoped, that it was the next step, a very important one, in your relationship besides you moving in with him. To be responsible for another living being together was, if not a test, at least a way to see how well you could cooperate. And, if he could say so himself, you had been doing great so far.

“Good morning, darling. Here for morning kisses? Yes? Come up here.” your giggles were able to warm him more than the sunlight coming through the window “Ooooh someone really loves mommy, don't you?”

And then your words set his entire being alight. Or more specifically that one particular word.

“Well-” he stretched a bit, his arms finding your waist again to bring you closer and cuddle with you “Who doesn't love mommy in this house?” he couldn't help it as his smile turned into a lovestruck grin “Morning, mi amor.”

“Good morning, darling.” you pecked his lips “And don't worry, mommy loves daddy back, enough to make up for the rest of the world.”

As if reading his mind, you chose to look up from your book at him, smiling as you held his gaze for a good few seconds. So much love was evident, even in those few seconds, he could almost feel his own heart burst. Yet another reason for him to control his reactions from showing just how much on high on happiness and love he was. You shook your head, eyes wide as you heard Conan speak again, you playfully mouthed to him “Focus!”

As subtly as possible he tried to clear his throat and taking the mug of coffee that was beside his computer, he took a sip and decided to focus on it as much as he could. Until the subject changed, at least.

“...Wise man. I feel you, so don't worry I'll leave you to it.” if only he knew the big sigh of relief Pedro tried to hold back as Conan continued “It's the tactic I follow 99% of the time when I'm out with my wife, just smile and wave kind of thing. Alright-” he nodded his head in thought “Alright, well, let me ask you all something else. You keep saying in front of the cameras and talking about this small crossover, but I assume she must have been around for longer than that, yes?”

“Yes, yes she was there for at least a month, a month and a half I think. She was on vacation, after being done with filming, and she decided that before heading home that she'd come by and visit us. It was meant to be for a short period of time. She loved the place... the people, perhaps, how could I know for sure?” she shrugged not looking innocent in the least bit, earning a few laughs.

“Anyway-” she cleared her throat “And you see before she knew it, before we all did, one week turned into two turned into three and so on. It-” she chuckled “She was around on set and with us on all those beautiful locations we were in. And while we were all working and walking around with purpose and the need to finish this scene with so much pressure on- on our shoulders and she was just sitting around with a iced coffee or tea on her hand, sunglasses on and phone on the other hand looking she didn't have a single care in the world. It kind of made everyone a little bit jealous to be honest.”

“A little? Cause I sense that there's more than you're letting on, Gal. Come on, spill the tea.”

“Alright more than a little.” she laugh “I mean, it wasn't all the time, of course. Just the first couple days mostly but you can imagine how it was. It seemed like she did it on purpose sometimes.”

“Twistin' the knife even deeper, that's what she's best at. Oh I know!” Conan nodded his head “I'm actually afraid to invite her on the show because I fear how bad she'll roast me. Andy-” he laughed “Andy is the only one who has the most fun during those interviews.”

“I know right? Boy you tell me!” Gal exclaimed “That little shit. I adore her to no end but I really had the hardest of time when she was around. She just had to make comments on everything she could, especially when I was acting. I couldn't stop laughing sometimes, but nobody got mad at her. It was always my fault somehow!”

“I mean she's just so sweet, how could we be mad at her?” Patty added.

“She messed up so many of my scenes!” Gal pretended to be angry but her smile gave it away “But it's true, I couldn't even be mad at her. I don't get to see her that often, because of the work we both do, so I would give anything to have my sister with me like that every other chance I got. Even if I got all the blame for it, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, you understand.”

“Aw that's- that's incredibly sweet, actually. It's- that's the exact opposite of me and my brother so no I can't really understand to be honest, but alright.” Conan laughed “Well, then, you really got your chance this time, right? You had the opportunity to spend all this time with her. When you were not working of course.”

“I...” Gal trailed off, her smile turning into a mischievous one but the rest of her expression trying to remain innocent, and failing at it because she truly wasn't even trying “Well, I would say yes. And I would agree with you. And I would even ramble about the wonderful two months I spent with my sister... If that had been the case. If I had really seen her for more than a week total, then yeah I would say that.”

“Wha- P-Pardon me?” Conan blinked in surprise “Didn't you j-just say your sister was with you on set for about two months? Or have I been in a parallel universe all this time and I just now came back to our reality?”

“Oh no it's very much our reality but I also did mean what I said. My sister was on set, and I did see her quiet often. But did I spend almost all of my free time with her? Did she spend hers with me? Nope. And that-” again with a far-from-innocent shrug “That is probably the only question I can answer. What she did? Did she have fun?... Who she was with? I wish I knew. What I know is I wasn't the one closest to her on set.”

“So you're telling me, (Y/n) was on set full of people she didn't really know, and you, her sister, barely spent any time with her? I'm gonna assume the rest of you didn't spend more time with her compared to Gal, right?” he asked and got nods from everyone, well, everyone who had their eyes on their screen and therefore looking at Conan, because there was still one that would avoid eye-contact even through the screen “Well, then, who was closest to her on set, if not you?”

“She, well-” Gal paused, smile all too sweet as she added “There could be someone...”

Said someone who couldn't even look up from his mug of coffee, as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire world, and didn't dare say a word for fearing of messing things up; even if his silence spoke volumes as it was. A silence which was... even more intense than before. Even more... real. Probably because it wasn't just in his head, probably because it wasn't just from his part.

Blinking several times, he slowly raised his head to look up from his mug and at the screen of his computer. Only to be met with the eyes of the rest of the group staring at... well, they were staring at the screen of their own computers but for some reason – a reason which he knew all too well – he felt like all eyes were suddenly on him. And they probably were. Because Gal was being nice about it but almost everyone had noticed how much time you had spent with Pedro during those almost two months. You had just met back then so they didn't imply anything back then but now... now they could just as well do so.

“I-” he laughed and he hated how nervous he sounded “Is it time to talk about my character?” he asked almost shyly, nearly praying on the inside that they would say yes and let him change the subject “Well, Max Lord is a guy who-”

“Are you trying to change the subject there, Pedro? One can wonder why.” Conan narrowed his eyes “Come on, don't be shy. Share your opinion here, or maybe your personal experience. Since I am assuming you do have one?”

“Yes, Pedro, why don't you share your opinion with us?” Gal raised an eyebrow, small smirk on her lips “You've been particularly interested in that drink the past couple minutes apparently.”

“I-” Pedro paused, before shaking his head with a laugh “This is going to be a long interview. I can tell.”

[dodo-begone]

The Kidnapping...

(Aka in a nutshell the Yandere boys kidnap reader)

They adored you. They befriended you. They payed attention to you. All for one very important reason. They loved you. And they were quite sure you felt the same for each of them. However. There was no good way of keeping the thing they loved safe and hidden from everyone else. Something so good could be snatched away right from their finger tips. They couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. So they created a plan. A plan to keep you safe. More precisely, a plan to kidnap you.

After sometime they realized their feelings for you. The four sat down to talk about their feelings for you. Tommy confessed first, stating that he should have the reader for himself, followed by Tubbo barking back that reader and him were closer then Tommy and reader ever were. Ranboo jumped into the fight  stating that Tommy was just being a selfish child and that Tubbo was just as immature as him. Purpled knew this was a battle he had to fight in too. “I should have (y/n) for myself! They actually notice me and make me feel seen!” Purpled said. “Your just desperate for attention from someone Purpled! You’re always just giving them crap to make reader like you!” Tommy shouted at Purpled. Before they knew it the argument turned violent with Purpled trying to stab the shit out of Tommy. Just as Purpled backed Tommy into a corner ready to plunge his dagger into Tommy’s throat, Ranboo yelled “Wait! W-What if we s-shared them?” Purpled turned his head to Ranboo so fast it could give him a whiplash. Everyone in the room went silent at his comment. “That could work.” Tubbo agreed. “Fine I guess I can work with this.” Tommy grumbled. Purpled gave a silent nod signifying he agreed. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief after Purpled put his dagger into his hoodie pocket.

They finally all agreed to share you. It was better this way. This way no ones feelings were trampled on and together they’d have a better chance of keeping you safe. The next day they confessed their (platonic) love for reader. They wanted to keep you for themselves forever safe forever! After all you guys are such good friends. They could make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll have everything you could ever want. Just please stay with them. If you say yes? Great! You get to move into your new forever home with them. They’ll cut you off from the rest of the server. If anyone asks about you or tries to search the forever home? They’ll get a nice wack to the head from Purpled and wake up outside their base or home unaware of what just happened or how they ended back up here. If you want to leave, they’ll guilt trip you into staying with them. This is your home now. And they’re your best friends! Don’t you love them? Why would you ever want to leave? “Are you tired of me (y/n)? Is that what it is?” Tommy said. “Please don’t leave me alone (y/n)! You don’t hate me do you? Oh thank goodness your willing to listen, come over here and we can have a nice cuddle session! No need to focus on the outside world!” Tubbo said. “What if I forget you (y/n)? I could never forgive myself if I did (y/n). Do you want that?” Ranboo said. “You could get hurt if you leave here! Please just stay by my side and I’ll keep you safe (y/n). I won’t let a single person lay a finger on my best friend.” Purpled said. Eventually after cuddles, gifts, and kind words from the strange teenage boys. Your content (or you think your content) with living here. You’re stuck either way.

If you say no? Fine. They’ll do things the hard way. Over the next few days you’ll start to notice foot steps behind you, more random noises in your house then usual, and wherever you go somewhere you feel rather unsafe. Eventually you reach your breaking point when you come home one night to find your house’s door wide open and your kitchen window smashed. You take off in a random direction with tears streaming down your face. As your running into the distance you bump into someone. In the dark you can’t quite see who it is but whoever it was offered to take you back to their base to calm you down. As you reach their home you start to see the lights of the forever home in the distance. Entering the forever home, you finally realize who your savior is. Not only did you have one savior, you had two. Ranboo and Purpled. You didn’t care it was them in the moment. You felt to scared to be in your home alone in the moment. “Oh you poor thing! You’re shaking! Here have some tea to warm up.” Tubbo said as he handed you a cup of tea while you sat in their living room shaking like a leaf. After drinking away the entire cup of tea you started to feel tired. You didn’t feel calm or scared. You felt numb, like the world was slipping out of your grasp. The last thing you remembered before you blacked out was being picked up by Tommy and being placed somewhere warm.

You’re their beloved best friend. They could never let you go. Even if you try to escape or scream how much you hate them. That won’t change anything. They just think your tired and cranky. So they’ll take you to bed for naps and cuddles instead. But honestly living with them isn’t so bad. Besides any teenage boy habits and random little things they might do that seem a little strange. They don’t try to hurt or punish you. They’re usually just overly sweet and soft towards you. When ever the boys talk to anyone in the outside world they’re usually more loud and obnoxious towards everyone. But to you, they’re as soft as cotton candy. Days could be spent with doing small to large tasks with them in the home. Or just enjoying movies together that turn into late night cuddles. Cuddle piles are the best! They don’t exactly know how to cook, but they’ll often try to cook meals for you which turn out rather interesting. Their favorite part about the process is when you compliment their food. Any compliment you give the four boys will send them over the moon. Often times they’ll try to 1-up each other all the time to see who can get the reader’s appraise over the others. It’s really cute what they’re willing to do for you.

After some time with the yan boys, you’ll start to love their company just as much they love yours. Days where they’re busy become incredibly lonely and dull in the home. So because of this reader would make small gifts for the boys while they were out. Like little flower crowns out of the flowers they brought home for you yesterday. Or writing little letters telling them how much they mean to you. Or just trying to make them some food for when they come home to you. Just little things to make them happy. When they find these things, they’re more then happy. They’re overjoyed! The fact you’d do this for them proves you think about them even when they’re not there! They couldn’t be happier! They’d wear or use anything you give them with pride. One day Purpled decided to wear a flower crown the reader made. Turns out the same day he was going to train with Punz. “So Purpled, what’s up with the flower crown? It’s not usually your sty-“ “Shh! More training less talking!” Purpled would say while dragging a confused Punz by his hood.

Although things weren’t all calm. People already suspected the boys kidnapping reader beforehand due to how they had already made such attempts in the past. We already knew that if someone made an attempt to search the home they’d be put to a stop by one of the boys. But what if none of the boys were home? Uh oh. Say if one of the caretakers of the smp(Puffy, Philza, or Sam) came to the home in another search of reader. And found them inside the house. We’d be in trouble. All I can imagine is the reader kicking or screaming to be released back home. And the the caretaker would just be like: “but we are going home? What’s the problem?” I can just see the reader being sad cause they miss the boys and know the boys miss them.

As soon as the yan boys find their bestie has been taken away. Panic. It’s panic mode baby. The four gear up in full netherite and grab any weapons necessary. Along with an extra set of netherite for reader. Tommy and Purpled scout outside. While Tubbo and Ranboo stay at the forever home just in case you come home. At a certain point while Tommy and Purpled were searching, they heard from Niki that she’d seen reader with Puffy. Tommy and Purpled were overjoyed and quickly ran back to the forever home to alert Tubbo and Ranboo of their discovery. They decided on ambush. They went to Puffy’s base ready to ambush but were completely unaware that Sam and Phil were currently taking care of reader with Puffy. So this ‘ambush’ went less then pleasant. The four went into the water stream that went down into Puffy’s underground base. Phil was about to go upstream to grab some more medicine from his base only to be greeted with four angry teens ready to tear the place down just to find reader. Phil knew exactly why they were there based on how reader had been ranting on and on about how they were going to come and save them or something. Tommy and Tubbo tried to hold off Phil as Purpled and Ranboo searched for reader. It wasn’t hard to find reader at all. Sam and Puffy were just keeping reader restrained in a small makeshift room in the west wing. Purpled and Ranboo saw Puffy and Sam by reader’s side trying to convince them they were safe and the boys wouldn’t find them here only for them to quickly stand up pulling out weapons ready to defend reader. Purpled being more experienced in combat than Ranboo instructed he help reader while he took on Puffy and Sam. 2 against one wasn’t easy due to the fact that Puffy and Sam were strong fighters too. However Ranboo was quick to follow orders. Ranboo in a hurry took off reader’s restraints and handed them a full set of netherite armor. Both hurried to assist the now cornered Purpled. Reader took a running start launching themselves onto Puffy. Due to the unexpected weight, Puffy went tumbling down knocking Sam down with her in the process. With reader now saved, the three ran out into main area of the under ground base to find Tommy and Tubbo still battling with the Angel of Death. Tommy and Tubbo noticed Reader and they all headed for the water stream up. Finally after a long day of fighting and searching for reader they had them home safe again. The long day had the five tired. They all laid down near the fireplace for some late night cuddles.

Yay! Good list/story? I don’t know. This kinda turned into a strange story at the end lol. I hope you liked this either way. This was just something I made while being sick. So your welcome I guess Dodo :D Apparently I wasn’t done with kidnapping head cannons after that one alien-purpled thing. Either way. Good day. -Toma can anon 🥫

————————————

First off, Toma I’m so sorry that I took ages to answer this. Second off- FUCKING POP OFF MAN THIS WAS SO FUCKING GOOD HOLY SHIT. I McLove it.

Okay so I won’t be writing too much of a commentary on this- I want ppl to enjoy this masterpiece in their own plus anxiety but let’s not talk about that. Anyways beyond the cut is my commentary- so tw for jokes and all of the stuff from above.

KSJDJDJD PURPLED PULLED THE QUIET KID MOVE- lmao Purpled the Quiet Kid tm. It just reminds me of that one fucking meme: “I wanna kill you and destroy you. I want you died. #scene #anger #fuck #die #hatred”.

Can we just mention that the bonking ppl on the head and them appearing at their homes confused and shit is literally just the despawn system in mc. Like right on par- that’s the literal version of it and that’s how I’m seeing it and I’m fucking cackling at the idea of it-

OKAY LEMMIE GET ANGSTY!!! WHAT IF- What if, when the boys start getting so busy that you practically don’t see them anymore. Eventually you leave to either find them or just leave the house (for company or freedom). You feel that they don’t like you anymore. That you were just a bother. No wonder they haven’t come back. The withering alium flower crown in your hands was a somber reminder of the better times that weren’t so long ago.

[chloebeale]

honestly i couldn’t think of a caption, so there’s a little bechloe drabble under the cut instead. feel free to enjoy the gif set with or without!

(approx. 1k words)

***

Sure, maybe the Bellas are three time collegiate a cappella champions with a surprising amount of glory and notoriety to their name—the a cappella world is...weirdly way more expansive than Beca would’ve ever imagined—and sure, maybe they have found themselves invited to entertain the troops during the USO tour alongside other (way more legit) groups (no, bands. Legit bands.), but even now, even after touching down in their first destination of Cádiz, Beca still...doesn’t really get the hype.

Performing with the Bellas is fun, they really are her family at this point, and Beca enjoys singing alongside each and every one of them, but she really doesn’t understand how this level of acknowledgment has happened—or why in the hell they have the a cappella world’s most annoying podcasters following them across a freaking ocean to keep up with their lives as if they are literal celebrities or something.

Still, over the years, as irritating as they may be, John and Gail have become something of a staple in the Bellas’ lives, two people Beca has kind of just given up on trying to avoid—after being followed to work every morning, it becomes difficult to really give a damn anymore, anyway. They are technically not harming anybody, so it is easier at this point to just do what they ask, which is how Beca now finds herself seated in front of their camera, brows lifting in response to the two excited faces beaming back at her from behind their equipment.

“So, Beca,” Gail begins enthusiastically, “What do you hope to gain from this tour?”

It is a simple question, in reality a pretty broad one, too, but Beca cannot help but find herself momentarily stumped for a response. Honestly, after spontaneously quitting her job and essentially finding herself kind of stuck, she really does not have any expectations. This tour had simply been a distraction for her, something for her to do so as not to find herself crawling back to the office and begging the BFD higher ups to take her back… She cannot very well say that, though. Can she?

Evidently noting a lack of input, Gail adds helpfully, “Any dreams? Fears?”

“Fears,” John echoes. “Of course you have fears, women are scared of everything.”

Although Beca only responds with a neatly arched brow, she notes the immediate look of disdain to pull itself across Gail’s features in response to her co-host. “Uh, I don’t know,” Beca says flatly, “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Really?” John questions curiously, mouth twisting into something of a knowing smirk as he exchanges a brief glance with the blonde seated beside him. Beca can see the same look drawing itself onto her face, too, and finds herself entirely confused. “Not even bear traps?”

The way Beca’s short, black polished nails clamp onto the arm of her seat is something she rectifies quickly, and silently prays has gone unnoticed by the two eager sets of eyes piercing into her from behind the camera. What do bear traps have to do with this, anyway? It is not like they are at Aubrey’s campsite from Hell anymore, after all.

“Bear traps?” Beca echoes with as much nonchalance to both her voice and expression as she can manage. She quickly clears her throat. “No, they’re whatever.”

In response, John and Gail only continue to watch her expectantly, and the amusement painting itself onto John’s weathered face tells her he knows something she doesn’t. Sure, these two show up everywhere, but Beca knows for a fact that they had not been at the retreat, and despite the fact that she’d never explicitly said so, she has always been under the assumption that there is a mutual agreement among the Bellas to never bring up that particular incident again—ever. To anyone.

Beca’s eyes narrow in on his expression, before adding in that same nonchalant tone, “I mean, I don’t, like, love them, but I’m not,” she air-quotes the next word, “scared of them.”

By now, Gail’s subtle smirk has settled into something of an almost sinisterly kind smile, though John looks just as outwardly smug as he had done before. “That’s not what a little red birdy told us,” he muses proudly, and Beca’s nostrils instantly proceed to flare.

A little birdy.

A little red birdy. Fucking Chloe.

“Chloe, yeah?” She says in a blank tone, lips pursing in defeated thought. She stares upward in a half eye roll, head shaking disapprovingly. “Dude, I swear, if she wasn’t my girlfriend…”

The good thing about a John and Gail interview is that the Bellas are under no actual obligation to see it through, so with a scoff and another more obvious roll of her eyes, Beca pushes herself up from the seat, deciding that their pointless interview is effectively over.

While Gail attempts to reel her back in, John says in an amused tone, “Watch where you’re going, little woman. You might run into a… Bear trap!”

The only reason Beca jumps in response is because of his increasing volume and emphasis, not because she cannot even hear the very term since the unfortunate incident at the retreat, duh. Without looking back to even glare in response to the loud, obnoxious laughter echoing from the hosts, Beca grumbles petulantly and tugs open the door, closing it loudly behind her.

“Hey!” Chloe’s voice is the next thing Beca hears, head lifting to take in the sight of those vibrant eyes shining excitedly. Beca only glares in response, though Chloe doesn’t seem to notice. She simply rocks on her heels, meeting Beca with natural Chloe Beale enthusiasm. “That was fast. Their questions are kind of weird, huh?”

Rather than respond to the question, Beca approaches her girlfriend with folded arms, the look of helplessness on her face entirely unintentional. “Dude, you told them about the retreat?” Chloe only stares at her curiously, so Beca adds in a lower tone, “You know… the bear trap thing.”

Chloe’s lips pull inward then, and Beca cannot tell whether she is trying to bite back a grin or if she looks kind of...embarrassed? She does note that no verbal response comes, though, and that serves as confirmation for Beca to release an annoyed groan, shoulders slumping defeatedly.

“I thought we were never bringing that up again?” she half-whines, hand rising to brush her fingers through her straightened hair. As it falls, her palm easily covers her eyes, and Beca releases a long sigh through her nostrils.

Familiar fingers wrap comfortingly around her wrist, and Beca’s lids flutter open to watch Chloe’s apologetic expression as she gently pulls her hand away from her face. She is kind of annoyed, obviously, but as her gaze meets that overwhelmingly calming blue, fingers parting to make room for Chloe’s to naturally slot between them, her own expression melts into something a little less angry, a little more calm.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe pouts, thumb brushing instinctively over the back of Beca’s knuckles. “It just slipped out.”

Despite the look of disdain Beca had been wearing only moments before, there is just something about that look on Chloe’s face, that adorable, apologetic wide-eyed stare that causes Beca to easily melt, for her shoulders to relax and her defenses to fall. Chloe has always had that kind of spell on her, truth be told.

It makes it hard to stay mad at her for long, no matter the circumstance.

She stares for only a moment longer, before easily relenting with a small puff of air through her nostrils. “Whatever.” She doesn’t even know why she does it, but Beca finds herself lifting their connected hands toward her mouth, lips brushing reassuringly over the back of Chloe’s fingers. “Just...don’t tell anybody else, yeah?”

The guilt written all over Chloe’s face begins to melt away at that, and is instead overtaken by a small, soothing smile. She uses the grip she has on Beca’s hand to easily tug her closer, and Beca does not resist as Chloe’s lips, familiar like home, push a delicate peck to her own. “Okay,” Chloe nods, gently nudging the tip of her nose to Beca’s. “Deal.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - Loving Is The Antidote (Part 3/3)

Because Hearts Get Broken Part 3 :) read the first two on my masterlist 

Synopsis: Overcoming fears is not an easy thing, but maybe it’s worth a shot if the ending leads to happiness. 

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: kinda angsty, mostly fluffy and SHMUTTYYYYYYYYY

Warnings: SMUT!!! (so beware, this is kinda sweet, but oh so filthy; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), m going down on f, slight fingering etc), swearing

Word count: 5895

Y/N had never been so nervous while getting ready for a show. She liked to be front-row, right by the stage to feel as close to the music as possible, the energy of the crowd filling her up and making her buzz with excitement, even hours after the concert was done. 

        The thing was – with when they started dating and then with the pandemic shutting everything down in spring, Y/N had never seen Harry live. Sure, he’d given her private concerts, had sung her any song she wanted, but this was different. Somehow, even though there were more people, it felt more intimate because this wasn’t just him lulling Y/N to sleep. This was Harry baring part of his soul to the world, and doing it with such ease, it made her heart ache.

        The venue was small, at least compared to the arena sizes Y/N knew he typically performed at. There were around 100ish or so people, and the line was quite quick to move. 

        She told the woman with the clipboard her name and provided some ID. The list wasn’t that long, and it took her barely two seconds to spot the name, as she smiled and gave Y/N a nod.

        “I’ll have Bert escort you to the backstage if you’ll just follow him, please.”

        “Could I actually watch from the crowd?” Y/N asked biting her lip. “I love being a part of it, you know. Feel the energy and stuff.”

        “Uh, sure.” The woman gave her an uncertain look. “It’s just that Mr Styles asked for you to be brought backstage, and umm…”

        “If Harry says anything,” Y/N put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “I’ll deal with it. Please, don’t worry too much. Unless he wants a kidnapping charge, he’ll deal with the fact that I’m inside the venue.”

        And that seemed to do the trick, as the girl, visibly relaxed and even laughed a bit, handing Y/N back her ID and motioning with her head to go inside. 

        Small tables had been set up, and each one could house four people at a time. Most of them had already been taken and given how she didn’t want to draw any attention, Y/N decided to take one of the tables at the very back, a pillar half obscuring the stage and with that – her face. 

        The enthusiasm was palpable in the air, and people were chattering away, anticipating the moment Harry with his band would walk onto the stage. A waitress came up to her, asking if she wanted anything to eat or drink.

        “And your name, please? To set up a tab.”

        “Y/N Y/L/N.”

        “Oh,” her eyes went a bit wide. “Um, no need to pay then.”

        Her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

        “We’ve been told that anything you order should be put on Mr Sty – “

        “Mr Styles tab,” Y/N finished the sentence with a chuckle. “Yeah. Okay… well, is it possible for you to not say anything to him and let me pay for my drinks?”

        “I – “ she shrugged. “I guess?”

        “Just the G&T please.”

        The waitress nodded and clicked her pen, still seemingly unsure about what to do, but ultimately deciding to go with what Y/N asked. “Coming right up.”

        The lights dimmed, and Y/N’s attention was brought to the stage, where she saw Harry, Sarah, Mitch, Adam, Naomi and Charlotte appear and take their places, as applause and cheers became their background music.

        He looked good, very good, in fact. His brown hair was the typical messy mop on top of his head, the signature pearl necklace around his neck, while he sported the soft rainbow cardigan, a sharp-looking high neck button-up, and black slacks, with black boots.

        “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Harry started, and it made a collective chuckle rise into the air. He could post a fleeting comment on Instagram saying he was having a concert in three minutes, and there’d be ten thousand fans waiting for him. “When ‘Save the Children’ reached out to us and asked if we could help them raise some donations, we immediately hopped on the idea, and it warms our hearts seeing so many of you here, and the fact that you’re supporting their cause.”

        Loud cheers immediately exploded, and Y/N obviously joined in. 

        “All proceeds for the tickets made today will go to them, as will any other donations you decide to give, so, I hope you do, and let’s get the show going.”

        That was Sarah’s cue to hit her drumsticks together three times, as the notes of ‘Golden’ rattled the air.

        Seeing Harry in his element was nothing short of electric. Although he was sitting down, and most of the songs he sang were acoustic versions, it was dazzling to see the passion seep out of his body and into the lyrics he'd composed. 

        Throughout most of it, his green eyes kept scanning over the gathered people, while flitting to see what was happening behind the curtain, and it made Y/N sort of giddy, thinking that he might be trying to find her.

        Because in truth, he was. When Harry had arrived, he was all nerves and jitters, which had never happened before a show. Well, never before had Y/N come to one of his shows, so there was also that. 

        All throughout prep, he was waiting for someone from the staff to come up to him and tell him his girl had come, but no one did, until like five minutes before he was supposed to perform, a breathless woman, who seemed so nervous she was about to pass out, had tapped him on the shoulder.

        “Is she here?” Now he was the breathless one. 

        “Uh, yeah, Y/N arrived a little while ago.”

        His forehead creased in confusion. “Then, where is she? No one came to inform me.”

        “I’m so sorry Mr Styles, but she asked to be allowed into the crowd, she uh… didn’t wanna be taken backstage.”

        “Oh.”

        That was literally all he could manage, as his heart dropped. “Well… at least she’s here.” He gave the assistant a smile. “Thank you. I uh, I hope you’ll enjoy the show.”

        Then it was call-time, and he had to gather himself as he walked on the small podium, taking his place by the mic, and beginning the concert.

        After each song, he scanned the gathered people, in hopes of seeing Y/N’s face, but she had hidden really well, and when he’d looked to the sides, wishing to see her frame standing there, he had to remind himself, that she was there, and he still had to fulfil a little surprise, which he hoped she’d like.

“You know when writing… songs are inspired by many things, but just like with books you reread, they can get new meanings and make you feel different than before. So, although I had no clue this person existed when I wrote this song, the second I met her, I knew it was about her. She’s uh, she’s here tonight.”

Y/N’s head snapped up from where she’d been propping it against her hand so hard, she was sure she heard a bone crack.

        No.

        Fucking.

        Way.

        “So, I’d like to end this small get together and dedicate it to her. And I know this isn’t one of her favourite songs,” Harry let out a small laugh, Sarah mimicking it behind the drums. “She told me she’s kind of sick of it, given how it was all over the radio at one point, but uh, I hope that maybe, she - uh - she just listens to the words, and knows I mean it.”

        Y/N didn’t even need the first chord to be played to know what song he meant. ‘Adore You’. 

        During their quarantine, she’d jokingly said if it played one more time on the radio, she’d have to break up with him.

        He’d yanked her down on the couch, nose nuzzling into her hair. “ ‘N why’s that? Thought you liked my singing.”

        “I do,” Y/N wove her fingers into his locks and massaged at his scalp, making Harry let out a satisfied groan. “I just don’t wanna hear you sing about loving and adoring someone that ain’t me.”

        A playful smirk pressed against her skin. “Jealous, are we?”

        “No,” Y/N shrugged pinching his side. “Jus’ tired of the song.”

        “Don’t worry.” He brought his face from where he’d hidden it by her shoulder and turned hers to face him. “From now on, whenever I’ll sing it, I’ll sing it for you. You’re the only person I wanna love and adore.”

        “What about Gem and your mum.”

        A disgusted look passed over his features. “Not in that way!”

        “Harry!” Y/N slapped his arm as both of them dissolved into laughter. 

        “You don’t have to say you love me,” he sung, breaking her out of the trance, “you don’t have to say nothing, you don’t have to say you’re mine.”

        She’d never hated the song, never meant it when she’d said that, and could never be mad at Harry for having written out his feelings, woven them into notes and masterfully put it together for others to hear.

        It was a weird notion to Y/N though, knowing everyone in the world could hear how he’d loved someone so much, but that was just because of her own inability to properly express her feelings. Yet now, listening to him sing that song for her, made her chest hurt.

        Thankfully Y/N wasn’t the only one sniffling in the audience, so she wasn’t standing out that much. She was kind of scared that Harry might look over and others would connect the dots, but he didn’t, not really at least. His green eyes scanned the people, but mostly he kept his gaze on the floor, as if afraid of what reaction everyone would have as the song ended.

        “Thank you,” he muttered into the microphone the cheers morphed into ovations, while he pressed his fingers against his lips and ‘sent’ the kiss to the audience before retreating backstage with his band in tow. As people started to filter out, groups heading down the street while others lingered in hopes of catching a glimpse or having a word with Harry, Y/N waited by the table, finishing off her drink before moving towards the backstage. 

        “I uh.” She showed one of the security guards her ID. “I was told I can come backstage?”

        The burly man looked down at the woman next to him, who much like the assistant before had a clipboard. When she found Y/N’s name she looked up and smiled. “Right this way.”

        They wove through the small walkways, as people rushed back and forth, coiling up wires, dismantling the drum-set and carefully placing the instruments in their boxes for them to be put in the van.

        “He’ll be back here in a minute,” the representative said, opening up a door where Harry’s name was plastered on, letting her step in, and Y/N nodded, pulling her jumper sleeves down her palms.

        It was a nervous habit of hers, having switched over from biting her nails to plucking at loose threads of clothing to now pulling at them. Harry had been the one to help her get rid of the biting.

        “How am I supposed to paint your nails, if you rip them off?”

        Y/N had scoffed shoving him a bit. “You have your own nails to paint.”

        “Yes, but I wanna make your pretty too.”

        “You telling me I ain’t pretty enough for you?”

        “No, I think you’re gorgeous, but,” he’d leaned closer to her, so close she could feel his teeth graze her earlobe, “I do love it when I can see marks on my back in the morning.”

        Y/N let out a shaky breath, as butterflies tumbled through her stomach. Three minutes of anticipation and the door clicked open, making her whip around and come face to face with Harry.

        “Hey,” he breathed out. “I uh I didn’t really think you’d come, but I’m really happy you did.”

        Y/N shrugged toeing at the ground and smoothing her hands against her thighs. “I’ll always do everything I can to support you. Being together is not a condition in my book for making sure you’re alright and happy.”

        “Did you uh – di –“

        “Did I hear the song?” she interrupted him, and Harry visibly gulped nodding. 

        “Yeah.” It was barely a whisper, her eyes cast down, noticing how his foot was tapping an irregular rhythm.

        “And?”

        “And?” Y/N let out a chuckle before leaning down to the couch and grabbing a pillow. “How! Dare! You!” she yelled, hitting his arm with it. “You think you can just do that, you think you can dedicate a song – a fucking love song – to me and get away with it? You think you can just be sweet and nice and so fucking loving and not make me fall in love with you more? And – and – and you just think you can do that?! And make me feel things?”

        Harry’s smile was blinding, as he grabbed the pillow, throwing it onto the sofa, and eliminating the two remaining steps between the two, hands on her waist, forehead to hers, as Y/N huffed seeing the smirk bloom even more on his lips. “I made you feel things, huh?”

        “Yes,” she grumbled crossing her arms in front of her chest, but in no way was she attempting to push away from him, actually relishing his touch and warmth, and his skin against hers. “You did. And I hate you for that.”

        “Do ya really, dove?” He was smiling wider than before.

        Her nose brushed against his. “Very much so.”

        “I love you too. So much.”

        “You sure you want to take a chance on me?” Y/N had to ask. “It’s – I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

        “Love’s not supposed to be easy. And you’re worth it. You’re worth everything to me.”

        “Okay then…” She had to suppress the cry that threatened to break out of her throat by clearing it.  “But on one condition,” Y/N stated with all seriousness. “You give me a proper shag right here, right now, because I’ve missed you so much, I won’t be able to wait until home.”

“Fuck, dove!” Harry groaned and cupped her cheeks, pulling her lips to his. “They’re gonna ban me from here,” Harry muttered against Y/N’s mouth, trying to wiggle out of the cardigan.

        “Then let’s give them a reason,” Y/N hummed against his lips, as her fingers, shaky but still nimble, undid the first button to his high-collared shirt. 

        Down and down, they went until the planes of his chest and stomach were exposed, and she could indulge herself by letting her palms and nails rake over the skin and the tattoos.

        “Wanna taste you,” Harry gasped pulling away for a breath of air. “Haven’t had you in so long, wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”

        Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head from his words alone, and given how she didn’t trust her voice to not shake, she nodded her head, helping him get her boots off, toeing the socks with them and then shimmying out of her jeans.

        Her bottom half was practically naked when Harry pulled her by the thighs, legs around his waist and lowered her on the shabby sofa. Her mind was so hazy from all the love and pleasure, Y/N didn’t even care about how it probably hadn’t had a good deep clean in ages.

        Skilful hands lifted up her jumper, exposing the tank underneath. Harry raised his eyebrow. “How many layers do you have on? I want you naked.”

        “It’s fucking winter in New York.” Y/N helped him remove the piece of clothing he found so offensive. “Did you want me to come in just lingerie and freeze my tits off?”

        He hummed before looking up. “Speaking of tits? Can I see ‘em?”

         “Maybe. If you eat me out first.”

        “Deal.” 

        The thing was, as much as Harry wanted to dive right into it, he was feeling mischievous, so he decided to drag out the process as much as possible. Hands caressing her sides, he lifted the shirt so he could press kisses to her stomach, leaving invisible marks of love with every step of the way, and he grinned to himself hearing Y/N’s breath hitch as he reached her underwear.

        There was an embarrassingly large wet spot, and Harry pressed his hips against the couch to somewhat minimise the pain he was starting to feel. He was not gonna blow a load in his pants when he finally got to be with Y/N again. 

        “Can I take 'em off?” Harry murmured, leaving a fluttery press of his mouth against her hipbone, while she viciously nodded. 

        Quickly he pressed a kiss to the spot he’d soon be able to see unclothed, and it made Y/N jerk, but fuck she was eager, pupils blown so much there was nothing left of her usual Y/E/C eyes, but two black abysses.

        Harry’s were quite the same, as the green had turned dark jade, and even that was a small ringlet around his intense gaze.

        “Do not!” She pointed a finger at him, and Harry stopped mid-motion, just as he was going to pocket her panties. “I won’t go commando while wearing jeans.”

        “But –“

        “It’s not you who’ll chafe.”

        Harry huffed, and put them on the side of the couch. “Fine. But just so you know, you’re very boring and are ruining all the fun.”

        “At least I won’t have to deal with a yeast infection.”

        He couldn’t argue with that, running his hands over her thighs. “Fair enough. But you owe me a kiss.”

        “Come here, you doofus,” she grabbed at the open lapels of his shirt and pulled him down, arms looping around his broad shoulder to have his chest pressed against hers and bring their lips back together. 

        For a couple of minutes, they let their tongues dance in the familiar rhythm. There were no teeth clashing, no foreheads bumping or biting. Despite both of their eagerness, they’d decided to revel in being together, so each kiss was experienced to the fullest.

        “Better?” she asked, completely out of breath, as they pulled apart. 

        “Yeah.” Harry smiled, mind a blissed-out haze. “Now, where were we?”

        She couldn’t really think straight either, so her only response was a lift of her hips.

        “Right,” he sighed and slipped a delicate hand down her tummy and along the inside of her legs.  “God, I missed being here.” And slowly his head joined where he was brushing the sensitive skin of the apex of her thighs.

        “Harry!” she dragged out his name, as his fingers just kept skimming her skin, and when she thought they’d slip past her folds, he dragged them back to the inner thigh. “Stop teasing!” Y/N had her hands over her eyes. 

        “Why?” he smirked, kissing right around the place she wanted his lips on, but not on it. “It’s fun. Payback for everything you put me through.”

        “Harry, I swear if you don’t put your tongue in me, I’ll put my foot through your face.”

        He lifted her legs up, and then over his shoulders, caging her hips in with his arms. “Not if I do that.”

        “Just – fuck! You’re such a bully!” Y/N laughed. 

        “Are you telling me, I’m being mean to my girlfriend, the love of my life, owner of my heart and soul?” he asked, leaning his cheek to rest against the inside of her thigh, and she wove her fingers into his hair.

        “Well, if you don’t do anything, it’s gonna be ex-girlfriend again.”

        Harry narrowed his eyes. “Look who’s being a bully now.”

        “But – just – please!” she whined. “Please, I need it so bad.”

        “Need what?”

        “Ugh, you’re such a menace!” Y/N pretty much yelled and leaned to rest herself on her elbows, catching Harry’s eyes to keep a direct gaze. “I need your tongue so far up my cunt, that by the end of it all, your neck is covered in my cum. Happy now?”

        His grin was wicked. “Very.”

        That seemed to do the trick, as he lowered his head, and with closed eyes like a wine taster, finally attached his mouth to where Y/N had been craving him for so long. A deep sigh of relief passed her lips, and she threw her head back against the couch cushion, savouring the feeling of what was happening to her. 

        “Did you eat pineapples before coming?” Harry asked, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers; they slipped in without any resistance with how wet she was. “Taste… sweet.”

        “Had a fruit salad for dinner,” she moaned as he leaned back in and licked a broad stripe. “Didn’t have anything else in the fridge.”

        “That’s not proper dinner. Pizza afterwards?”

        Y/N hummed as he sucked on her clit. “Domino’s?”

        Harry linked his fingers through hers and brought their intertwined hands to rest on her stomach. “Whatever you want.”

        “Isn’t this kind of cheating for you though?” she let out a choked-back laugh, and with furrowed brows, he detached himself from her core.

        “What’dya mean?”

        “You’re having dessert first.”

        The singer threw his head back with a cackle. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat my veggies. But let me finish having my fruit first.”

        It was like he’d been starved of her, and in a way, Harry definitely had been. For almost three months, a quarter of a year, he hadn’t felt Y/N’s touch, hadn’t tasted her, nor pretty much heard the sounds she made.

        All he’d been left with was one last good-bye, a kiss given in a passion induced haze, and the one-sentence she’d recorded for her voicemail box, and well, let’s just say – Harry was more than happy to feel her hands let go of his and grasp onto his hair, to drink up everything she offered and listen to all of the moans Y/N was no longer depriving him of. It was heaven, to say the least.

        “ ‘M not gonna last long,” she gasped, yanking at his hair, making him moan into her, the vibrations only adding to the already intense pleasure that was coursing through her veins.

        Harry released her clit with a small pop. “Don’t want you to last long. Want you to cum and do it like you said you would – soak me all the way down to my neck.”

        A second later, he had his mouth around her clit again, ten seconds later, her whole body seized up, the air got stuck at the back of her throat, as her eyes rolled to the back, and her back arched up from the couch so far Harry almost lost his hold on Y/N’s waist.

        It was through a fog she heard Harry speak, and it took all of her willpower to focus on understanding what he was saying.

        “Hey, come back to me, dove,” he whispered, gentle palms coming to hold Y/N’s face, and he intently watched her eyelids flutter, body still going through the aftershocks of orgasm. “Come back, dove.”

        “Mhmm,” she let out a soft sigh, leaning her face more into Harry’s touch before opening her eyes and giving him a fucked-out smile. 

        “You good there?”

        The words ‘the best’ were pretty much a slur, but Harry understood them, eyes twinkling. “Take my top off.”

        “What?”

        She quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you wanna see my tits?”

        “Yeah,” Harry laughed. “I did – do. Very much so. Gonna let me?”

        “Just take my top off.” 

        Pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, where she could taste herself (and much like Harry had said – she did taste sweet), he practically ripped the tank top off, and with a little help from Y/N who stretched her back, the bra came off as well, revealing her in her full naked glory.

        “So beautiful,” he uttered in a soft voice. “Still so bloody gorgeous. Should kick myself for ever letting you go even for a second.”

        A little piece of her heart broke at Harry’s statement. “Wasn’t your fault.”

        “Maybe.” He dragged a hand between her breasts and watched as Y/N’s breathing went ragged. “Maybe not. All I know is, I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

        “Then don’t let me. Please.”

        It was the tears in her eyes which made him lean down and give her an open-mouthed kiss, tongue twisting against hers, promising that whatever happened, whatever insecurities came their way, he wouldn’t ever let go. 

        “Take these off,” Y/N said, popping open the button to his slack, and even that small motion made Harry release a groan of relief, as some of the pressure was taken off his painfully hard dick. “Wanna have you inside me.”

        “Dove, you’ll kill me with that mouth of yours.”

        “I’d rather you raw me than die.”

        “ ‘S not my fault you’ve got such a dirty mouth.”

        He’d managed to kick off his shoes, and shimmy the trousers down, now lying in a pile on the floor, while Y/N had fully removed his shirt and had thrown it somewhere across the room, itching to just have him pressed against her. 

        “Condom,” Harry hissed when Y/N’s hand slipped behind his briefs and grabbed him at the base, twisting her palm the way he liked, and slowly moving it up so she could press her thumb against the sensitive tip. “Condom – shit – Y/N,  I wanna cum, but not that quick.”

        “Nuhu,” she shook her head, wrapping her legs around his waist, both her hands going to the back of his underwear and dragging them down, not before squeezing his ass. “I said I want you to raw me.”

        If Harry was going to bust a nut before, now it took him literally biting on his lip and closing his eyes for a minute to gather composure.

        “Wait no!” Y/N suddenly sat upright as he was going to lean down, almost knocking her forehead to his nose.

        “What? What’s wrong?”

        “Nothing, I just wanna blow you.”

        “I –,“ he stammered, “you – fuck. Okay. As much as I love that idea, because believe me I do, you’ll have to do it later, ‘cause I’m just about ready to cum.”

        Y/N’s brows furrowed, hand reaching for his hard member, Harry having to stop her midway. “But – you just gave me such good head. I wanna give some to you too.”

        “I will literally cum just from you talking if you don’t stop, but I really wanna fuck you, so will you please just let me?”

        “Okay,” Y/N nodded leaning back down and reaching for Harry to lay over her. “But you’ll let me stuff my face with your cock after?”

        “Jesus Christ.”

        “ ‘S not fun being teased, is it?” Y/N grinned, biting on his earlobe, as Harry took himself and lined up with her entrance, letting the tip nudge against her clit.

        “Yes well,” he took in a breath, slowly sinking in, “if you giving me a blowjob is your form of revenge, I might have to piss you off more.”

        That was a suggestion Y/N was happy to take him up on, as long as it got Harry inside her. 

        He was being very gentle, very much so aware of how sensitive she still was from her previous orgasm, and all he wanted to do was make her feel as good as possible, so he stilled half-way in, but Y/N shook her head.

        “More,” she whimpered.

         “Don’t wanna hurt you,” he muttered against her lips, legs shaking from how much pleasure he was already having, but still very much so attuned to what Y/N’s body was telling him, yet she seemed to not be having any of it.

        “Harry if you don’t get inside me right up to your balls, I will get myself off in front of you, and leave you high and dry.”

        “Now that,” he looked at her pointedly, “just won’t do.” And with those words, he sank deeper, just as Y/N had requested until he’d bottomed out.

        All the air had been choked out of her lungs from the sensation, and not only did Harry have to wait for a second for her to adjust (and to compose himself somewhat), but also for Y/N to take in a breath.

        “Breathe, dove,” he let out a small laugh, and it made Y/N reciprocate, her chest rattling with uneven intakes. “Said I didn’t wanna hurt you, let alone kill you.”

        “ ‘S not my fault your dick’s massive.”

        “Do I hear complaining?”

        “No, just stating a fact.”

        “Well, I’ll be taking that as a compliment.” He smoothed away some strands of hair, letting the two of them just lay there for a moment, to relish in the normalcy of the situation and how amazing it was to be back together, emotionally, mentally, and physically.

        Harry left kisses all over Y/N’s face as she calmed down, lips skimming over her cheeks, then down her jawline, up her chin to give a peck on the lips before kissing the tip of her nose and the bridge, then each of her eyelids and then the forehead before slipping to soothe at her temples. “You alright?” He checked in, a thumb stroking her cheek. “Do you want some water maybe?”

        “No,” she shook her head, her own palms on a never-stopping motion on his back, up and down, and then circling against Harry’s sides. “Jus’ needed a second to gather myself. ‘S been a while.”

        “So, you haven’t gotten with anyone while we – “

        Y/N raised an eyebrow as his question trickled off. “Do you really wanna know if I’ve had sex with anyone? Right now? With your dick all the way in my vagina?”

        “Hey! STDs are a real thing!”

        “Harry, if I was, I would’ve told you before all of this. And not just because of health risks…”

        And that made something in his chest bloom. This certain hope, he’d felt get extinguished when Y/N had broken it off, but that had been quite the pest in his mind. The hope that was the reason he’d tried so hard to talk to her both on New Year’s and then the week prior – the hope, that Y/N did trust him enough to open up, and that if he just gave her the time, she’d do so without inhibitions.

        Her answer confirmed it to Harry. He had no rights to know what her sex life was like when they weren’t together, he wasn’t her keeper, but the fact that she’d implied, she would’ve let him know regardless, that Y/N so wholeheartedly trusted him with such intimate information made that hope blossom into a glowing flower.

        “I haven’t been with anyone either,” his tone was sincere. “I – I couldn’t. I tried to, but I just couldn’t take it that far, because every time I opened my eyes… it wasn’t you staring back at me.”

        “Haz…” tears gleamed on Y/N’s bottom lashes, and when they fell, he gently wiped them away. “I’m sorry.”

        “No.” He shook his head. “None of that. It was a good thing. Because we’re here, right now, right this second, and it’s you I’m with, and it’s you I wanted. Needed. So, none of that.”

        “I just – “

        “I know,” he said and pressed his forehead against hers. “I know.”

        “Okay… I – “ she took in a breath. “I think you can move now.”

        “You sure?”

        “Mhm,” Y/N hummed. “Just take it slow at first.”

        Harry’s head fell into the crook of her neck. “I’ll take care of you. Promise. Just tell me if it hurts, and we’ll stop.”

        “You could never hurt me.”

        And as much as her statement made his insides all warm and fuzzy, Harry still moved gently. Slowly he rolled his hips into hers and took in the small moan that left Y/N’s throat. Then once more, and more, and more until he’d set a bruising pace, pounding into her so much, the table next to the sofa shook with the force.

        “Fuck, Haz.” It was a breathless whimper, her nails digging oh so deliciously into his back, leaving crescent moon marks for him to admire later. “Feels so good. So deep.”

        “And you’re so tight,” he grunted, placing a hand on her lower stomach and pushing down until he could feel himself moving inside of Y/N. “Taking me so fucking well.”

        One of his palms came to rest by her head, and the other took the arm of the couch, giving Harry the chance to lean into her even more and finally hit that spot that made all thought leave her head, and all breaths come in short gasps, while she desperately tried to hold onto reality by digging her nails in his biceps.

        Not that Harry was fairing any better. With every thrust and stroke, he was slowly coming closer to letting go, to finally getting that release he craved and painting Y/N’s core with his cum, but before that, he just had to, if only to prove to himself he could, get her off one more time. 

        His palm slipped down from the armrest of the couch, over Y/N’s collarbones, squeezing her breast before finding its way between them to rub circles over her clit.

        “Ah, shit,” he moaned, looking at where his cock was disappearing into her, wetness spilling and sticking to his lower abdomen and thighs. “Fuck, dove, I need you to come.”

        “ ‘M almost there,” she gasped. “Don’t stop rubbing.”

        He didn’t, instead, increasing the pace, and he felt her clench more and more until there was pretty much no way for him to move and that pushed both of them over the edge.

        It was an explosion of fireworks without a sound, as bright colours came to life behind their eyelids, but all the noise became non-existent, the most euphoric feeling in the world seemed to replace their blood and replenish their souls with love.

        But funnily enough, even though Y/N was the one who’d had two mind-blowing orgasms, it seemed Harry was having a harder time coming down from the high, as he was still shaking, his whole body racked by tremors, hair sticking to his sweat-slicked skin.

        “Come back to me, Haz.” Y/N kissed his eyelids just like he’d done to her. “Come back. ‘S alright.”

        “Nuhu,” he shook his head, laughter rumbling through his chest and reverberating into hers. “I think you’ve killed me. Absolutely bloody murdered me.”

        “Guess I gotta hide your body then.” She smiled, letting her hands roam his back and soothe the pain her nails had left.

        “Good thing you’re obsessed with all those crime shows.”

        “Gotta get some useful skills somehow.”

        Loud banging against the door made the two jump, and Harry whipped his head towards it.

        “Are you two done fucking?” Sarah hollered. “ ‘Cause there are people here who’d like to change and get something to eat.”

        “What’dya say?” Harry raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “Pizza?”

        “You did promise dinner.”

        “I did.” He kissed her. God, he was never going to get tired of kissing her. And luckily, Y/N was there to stay.

        “Great.” She smiled. “And after that, I’ll get my desert.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N:..... I need a cold shower, yall. Didn’t intend for it to get that explicit, but oh well :D 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

[fortunaaamajor]

Something in the Way (Fred Weasley)

Fred Weasley x Reader

The trope of everyone else knowing two people are in love before the two have figured it out is just so adorable to me, I love reading it so thought I’d try my hand at writing it...

Fem!Reader, no house mentioned, no specific physical features

Warnings: None I don’t think

Word Count: 1.6k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

Fred and Y/N’s relationship was special, everyone knew that. What they shared was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. Fred and Y/N’s relationship was loving and tender, both always willing to put the other first whatever the cost. Fred and Y/N’s relationship was lasting, for the last three years they had been looking at each other like they were the sole reason for the stars in the sky, the mists on the mountains and the full, glowing moon. 

Except Fred and Y/N’s relationship didn’t exist. The two had been dancing around each other all this time, never quite getting close enough to call it love.

This was why their family and friends were on high alert, overanalyzing every look, comment, or touch exchanged by the pair. Sometimes it was the glance thrown by Ginny to George as Fred adjusted Y/N’s scarf to keep her warmer. Sometimes it was Mr and Mrs Weasley whispering conspiracies about how they couldn’t pinpoint the look in Fred’s eyes when he stared at Y/N intently at dinner earlier. Sometimes it was the abrupt and secretive silence that engulfed Harry, Hermione and Ron when Y/N appeared in front of them, bringing an end to their discussion about how oblivious the two were.

Just the other day at the Burrow the twins had been helping to decorate the tree when Molly had piped up 

“Will Y/N be visiting this Christmas?” Fred’s head whipped round to frown at his mother as he finished adjusting some of the shiny muggle ‘tinsel’ Arthur Weasley had gleefully presented to his family, 

“Why would Y/N be visiting?” he had questioned, shaking his head slightly and looking towards George, who averted his eyes towards a particulary intriguing bewitched bauble. 

“Oh no reason,” Molly’s face fell “I just wanted to make sure she had some plans is all, dear...”

“Yeah, she does. She’s away until the new year actually” Fred had huffed, confused as to why his mother seemed more keen to spend time with his best friend than with him.

It was a frosty Saturday in January that Y/N had sent an owl saying she was popping in that afternoon to check out the stock for the new year. The air was clean and crisp yet cold enough that not many shoppers were braving the chill to visit Diagon Alley. The boys leant against the counter, George fumbling with some packaging distractedly. Ron was also working that day, taking his sweet time stacking some Blaze Boxes in the corner. Fred’s eyes kept darting to the clock, 

“When did she say she’d stop by again?” he asked nonchalantly, causing George to look up

“Eh, just said afternoon I think mate, don’t worry though I’m sure we won’t be too busy to have her in” he gestured to the empty shop. 

Fred stayed silent. In the corner a loud bang erupted as Ron dropped one of the boxes. Bright sparks whizzed round the room, popping and fizzing as Ron stood swearing at the front of the shop. George began to laugh but was interrupted by his twin, fist was clenched and brow furrowed - 

“Bloody hell Ron, save some stock for us to actually sell, would you?”

Fred’s tone was snarky and a comment that biting sounded so strange leaving his mouth that it took all three boys aback for a moment. 

“I’m not sure who spiked your cereal this morning but you can lose that tone with me... maybe when Y/N gets here you’ll be a bit nicer!” Ron pouted.

“Y/N’s clearly forgotten about her plans for this afternoon, or she’d be here by now.” Fred muttered, pushing past George on his way to the stock room. 

George and Ron exchanged familiar confused looks, over the three years Y/N had been in Fred’s life an entirely new language of bewildered or disbelieving stares had formed amongst the Weasleys. Fred didn’t emerge until the bell above the door rang and Y/N’s soft voice greeted them all joyfully. As if a weight had been lifted off his chest he bounded past the till and embraced her tightly. 

“I missed you, loser.”

Only a week later, the twins were sitting opposite each other, both focusing on checking the shop’s accounts (or so Fred thought) George had been turning the last interaction between his brother and Y/N over and over in his mind, wondering how on earth Fred hadn’t connected his bad mood to the absence of his dearest ‘friend’. He coughed and sat up, straightening his back, but failed to make eye contact with his brother who was still hunched over the large leather-bound book.

“Why do you think Y/N is single?” he pondered aloud, noting the way Fred’s head flicked up at the mention of her name alone. 

“That’s obvious - nobody we know is good enough for her.” Fred stated, as if George was silly for not considering such a simple explanation. 

“Ah yeah... obviously,” George coughed, attempting to hide his laugh. He made eye contact with his twin “are you sure we don’t know anyone?” he asked slowly, hoping Fred might finally catch on.

“Listen, I don’t know what this is all about but if you’re thinking of trying anything I would advise you to check the mirror to confirm that you closely resemble a mountain troll.. and I know it’s been 2 days since you last showered, therefore Y/N would never even consider it, okay?” Fred snapped 

George spluttered with laughter before managing to stammer out 

“First off, we’re identical you absolute savage.” 

Fred just shook his head, “Anyone with taste knows I’m the better looking twin.”

Fred wasn’t just fiercely protective of Y/N but he would also go to the ends of the earth for her, this much was clear to everyone...except her. It started with one, two, three butterbeers on him and developed into Y/N being able to attend plans with the twins without her purse. It was established that Fred would not allow her to part with as much as a knut whilst in his company. Nor would he allow her to spend it on his company, any product she showed interest in (or looked at for more than five seconds) was hastily put aside for her, sometimes with a shimmering ribbon clumsily knotted round it. 

“As a gift, on the house, absolutely no need for your money darling” he would assure her every single time. 

In fact, the only payment he would accept was if she came to work for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes - “you’d be amazing, Y/N you’re so good with kids, and I know you can really push sales - who could say no to you?” he had pleaded, whilst she flushed red and chuckled... “funnily enough Freddie, pretty much everyone apart from you can say no to me, you poor sod!”

This hypothesis was correct, and had been proven time and time again. When everyone gathered for dinner at Harry and Ginny’s house instead of apparating in Fred, Y/N and George had stood shivering on the doorstep, waiting for the door to be answered. When Ginny pulled it open all three of them bundled in to the warm hallway, slipping off coats and hats. 

“Why didn’t you guys apparate? It’s bloody freezing out there tonight!” she had remarked, noting that all three had cheeks flushed with cold and pink shading the tips of their noses. George tutted and glared at Fred, speaking lowly so only Ginny could hear 

“Because, my dear sister, Y/N doesn’t really like apparating so obviously Fred wouldn’t allow it!”  At the same time Y/N piped up, not having heard his comment,

“We all fancied a walk I think didn’t we Freddie?... George?”

George rolled his eyes but nodded enthusiastically and Y/N beamed as Ginny led them through to the dining room as the feeling in their fingertips began to return. 

The spread that had been prepared looked divine, the smell travelled through the whole house and made Fred’s mouth water. 

Food was shared around and wine poured, everyone caught up on the excitement of Christmas and the New Year, and congratulated the twins on the  soaring sales of the new launch. George took the chance to mention his new girlfriend, Guenevere, to the group - causing Ginny and Hermione to squeal with delight and Ron to lean over and smack him on the back in congratulations. Harry nodded along with the conversation, focused on the plate infront of him. That is, until he looked at Fred quizically

“When do you think you’ll meet someone, Fred?” he asked gently, with not a hint of malice in his voice, if anything he was trying to nudge Fred’s thoughts of the future towards Y/N, who sat on his left. 

The atmosphere in the room felt a little like a joke that everyone except Fred and Y/N were in on, everyone waited with baited breath for Fred to talk. They gasped slightly when he turned to face Y/N... then George...

“Um, I don’t know, really, at the moment I’m alright just hanging out with George and Y/N, they’re all I really need just now... and you guys, of course, and the shop. But that all goes without saying”

The entire table let out a frustrated sigh, they had been so close but were once again disappointed with his answer, Fred was none the wiser. 

‘Goes without saying my arse’ George (and the others) thought grumpily. All they wanted was Fred to say it, to say anything, to call it what it was.

The two had been dancing around each other almost four years, still never getting close enough to call it love.

A/N: Thought I’d give another bit of Fred writing a go, as my George one has been so much more popular than my last Fred one, give the boy a chance! Also this kind of invites a part two, so if anyone has any suggestions of scenarios in which these two finally get together, send em my way. Much love.

[abbacchiosbelt]

Clarity | Johnny Joestar x F!Reader

18+ under the cut, CW for lactation kink. 5477k words.

The thought of finally getting to lay down on a real bed as opposed to a bedroll is the only thing keeping you going as you look between Gyro and Johnny, arguing about something out of earshot right in the lobby of the hotel you’d chosen for the night. All you wanted to do was collapse in your hotel room, but your companions were making it difficult. The day had already been incredibly long and more challenging than usual thanks to the humid, swamp-like forest your group had been forced to cross through.

(When the three of you had finally emerged, you were bitten from head to toe and marked with tiny red blotches. Gyro and Johnny had somehow escaped the barrage of bugs that had attacked you. The three of you had stopped momentarily to check each other and the horses over for any particularly nasty bites. Gyro was far too animated for someone who’d just been eaten up by bugs and Johnny was flushed bright red, almost appearing embarrassed as he peeked at you from under his beanie.

Johhny had kept peeking at you throughout the ride to the nearest town – a town that Gyro claimed he ‘knew a guy’ in that would give him a good deal on hotel rooms. Nothing was better than a bargain during the Steel Ball Run, so the three of you had trudged forward despite how tired everyone was. Still, Johnny had enough energy to keep staring at you for a reason you couldn’t parse. His eyes would linger when he saw you scratching the marks, though the emotion on his face was unreadable.

After enough time, you decided to say something. “Johnny, they’re just itchy. You don’t have to worry about it.” It’s not that you minded Johnny looking at you – he was very cute, and you’d come to grow quite fond of him – but no one would feel like being looked at after being sweaty and covered in bug bites.

“S-sorry,” Johhny had muttered, looking embarrassed about being caught. Gyro had cracked up at Johhny’s response, seemingly aware of something that you weren’t. You were too tired to ask, so you let it go as the three of you continued.

Still, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed knowing that Johnny was looking at you… Even if you were covered in bug bites.)

Just when you’re about to go over and attempt to figure out what the problem is, your companions turn to look at you with mixed expressions on their faces – Gyro is grinning from ear-to-ear while Johnny’s face is set in a pout, his cheeks bright pink. You step closer so Gyro doesn’t yell loud enough to alert everyone in the lobby again. Gyro’s grin somehow grows even wider as you stand next to Johhny, the blonde pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“So?” You say. Their conversation had looked heated and you could only make out a few words. You were curious to find out what exactly had the two so riled up.

“I got us the rooms.” Gyro starts. “I thought it’s only fair I get the single one. Johnny-boy isn’t so keen on sharing, though, so if you would rather stay with me instead of him…” Gyro trails off. You barely register what Gyro even said before Johhny speaks, heated.

“Gyro! I never said that. I just thought it wasn’t proper to share rooms n’ all with a woman.” Johhny chances a glance at you before he looks back down into his lap. “If you’re gonna be an ass about it, I’m sure she’d rather avoid you for the rest of the night.” Gyro laughs at Johnny’s barb, used to his harsh tongue. “’Sides, your room only has one bed and the other one has two, right?”

“Yep.” Gyro replies, his expression unchanging. Johhny narrows his eyes at Gyro, the Italian raising his hands in protest. “That’s what my guy told me! I’m not lying.”

If you didn’t step in now, Gyro and Johnny would bicker for the rest of the night. “It’s fine. I’m glad to share a room with Johnny.” Though his face is downturned, you can see the tips of Johnny’s ears turn red. “But I’ve about had it with the arguing, so if you boys don’t mind, I’m going to head to the room now.”

The prospect of sharing a room with Johnny had your stomach fluttering in excitement. Sure, he didn’t seem to respond to your flirting much, but he was decent enough to spend time with and didn’t talk nearly as much as Gyro did.  

“Fine by me. I’ve got some business to attend at that bar next door anyways.” Johnny rolls his eyes at Gyro’s words and Gyro responds with one of his ‘nyo-hos’, making Johnny roll his eyes even harder. “You’re welcome to join, Johnny, but I know you’d rather be in bed, sì?”

Johnny looks like he’s about to strangle Gyro, which cues your louder companion to chuckle as he quickly exits the hotel, leaving you and Johhny alone.

“Wanna head back to the room?” Johnny says, breaking the awkward silence. With a nod, you and Johnny set off to the back of the hotel. Luckily, the rooms were located on the bottom floor of the hotel instead of up the staircase. You and Gyro had no issue with helping Johnny upstairs, but you knew he preferred to do things on his own. You couldn’t blame him. Johnny jingles the set of keys the receptionist gave to him before he unlocks the door, letting it swing open to reveal a tidy and reasonably sized room for the discount price.

The room has a cabin theme – deep brown oak walls with stained wood flooring, richly colored furniture, a double bed with strong oak posts… Both of you are silent when you come to the realization the Gyro had, in fact, lied about the conditions of the room.

“I’ll take the couch—” Johhny starts, but you speak at the same time.

“You can have the bed—"

You stare at each other for a moment. Johnny’s mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but he remains silent. It would be up to you, then.

“We could share.” You offer, willing yourself to look at Johnny. He averts his gaze but after a few moments eventually mumbles a quiet ‘fine’, his whole face pink again. It was adorable how easy it was to fluster him – his blushing always gave him away.

“You can change your mind later if you wanna, I won’t be offended.” Johhny mumbles. Johnny was wrong if he thought you were dreading this or were just doing it to be nice. Though you hadn’t started the day with the intention of spending a night in a hotel room with Johnny Joestar, you certainly weren’t complaining about how the day had turned out. There’s a small part of you that wonders if Johhny is just saying ‘yes’ to be nice, but you’d spent enough time with the ornery jockey to know he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. If he were actually upset about the room, he would have left and chased Gyro down.

The fact that he hadn’t meant that Johhny did want to spend time with you, but whether he had more in mind for the night was a mystery to you.

“You okay?” Johhny’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” You gesture down to your grime-covered clothes and bitten arms. Johhny doesn’t look much better either – his clothes are just as muddy, and his hat is practically plastered to his hair. Nothing sounded better than a hot bath right about now. Even though you didn’t want to leave Johnny alone, both of you would be in a better mood after getting clean. “You wanna take the bath first?”

“Uh,” Johhny mumbles. “I don’t mind, but I’ll need help getting out. Normally Gyro helps out. I can wait until he gets back and bug him about it if ya want.” He glances at you, lips turned down into a frustrated frown.

“I don’t mind at all. I’ll just throw a towel at you and close my eyes if you want.” Your attempt to lighten his mood makes Johhny’s grumble in embarrassment, but his frown softens.

“Y-yeah, that’ll work.” Johhny acquiesces to your proposal with no fight at all – you’d expected a bit more complaining from him. It was a pleasant surprise and one that had your heart skipping a beat in your chest out of excitement that you didn’t want to acknowledge just yet. Maybe he was just tired and didn’t want to argue any longer. (Or maybe, you hope, he’s not so opposed to the idea of you seeing him without clothes on.)

“At the very least, let me get the bath started for you.” Before Johnny can protest you bring a finger to your lips and walk to the mid-sized bathroom located in the righthand corner of the room. The door is already open, so you’re greeted by the site of the well-kept bathroom as soon as you look in. The tub is the nicest one you’ve seen in a long while. It certainly beats bathing in the rain or the cold mountain springs.

Sat on the tub’s edge is a collection of soaps, bath oils, and other body care products. Gyro was right when he said this guy owed him – the kind of products the hotel had offered as an amenity wasn’t cheap. You hum as you lean down to pick through the selection, leaving out a honey-scented bar of soap for Johnny that had a hint of pine to it. You set the other products to the side after picking out a mint-scented hair care set.

Though you didn’t think Johnny would be too perturbed by the other scents, it was the lightest and most refreshing smell of the bunch. Finally, you get to the task you came into the bathroom for originally and lean over the tub to twist the faucets until water starts pouring from the faucet. Your mind drifts to thoughts of what Johnny would look like naked and soaped up - strong arms glistening, blonde hair curling around his shoulders, his chest and what laid below. You only look down when you realize you’ve been letting the water run for too long, but luckily, the faucet seems to be slow-going. You bite your lip as you will the thoughts away and concentrate back on your task. Although you consider asking him if you could take a bath first to slip away for some alone time, you’d feel guilty making him wait. With a sigh, you stand up and call out for him.

“It’s ready!” As you walk out of the bathroom you’re greeted by Johnny, so close that he almost runs over your toes with his chair. Your face heats up as you remember what you were just daydreaming about. “O-oh, Johhny, sorry.”

“Careful,” he chides, peering up at you. “I didn’t get ya, did I?”

You shake your head, hoping he doesn’t see how hard you’re blushing. “Nah, I almost ran into you. Besides, you only run over Gyro’s toes on purpose, right?”

Johhny stifles a laugh and his face lights up in a rare toothy grin. “Ya got me.” He says. “Don’t tell him, though.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Johnny’s smile turns into a familiar smirk – a smirk that was unfairly attractive. Anyone could be swayed by it. It reminds you that Johhny used to be a playboy back in the day – that he was surrounded by women and had his pick of the most beautiful ones there. The thought hits you like a train, and you wonder for a moment if you even have a chance with him. His playboy days may have been over, but he had time to experience everything under the sun back then. Suddenly nervous, you walk around Johnny to sit down on the bed.

“I’ll holler for ya when I’m done.” Johnny shuts the door behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts again, wondering if perhaps you’d misread the situation.

You lie back on the bed and wait for Johhny to call for you, resigning yourself to daydreaming about making a move.

-

Only a few feet away, Johhny was panicking behind the bathroom door and wondering if you felt the same way he did. Johhny was smitten – even during the worst days of the race, your smile was like a light on a cloudy day. God, you even had him using cheesy metaphors. He doesn’t want to ignore how he feels about you any longer, but… Would you even want someone like him? You were strong and beautiful, and he was just a washed-up jockey who had barely entered into the Steel Ball Run. What could you possibly see in him?

He grumbles, beginning the arduous task of removing his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his briefs. They’d be easier to remove once he got into the water. His clothes were going to be cleaned later, so whether they got wet now or later didn’t really matter to Johhny. With a practiced motion, he pushes himself up and out of his wheelchair onto the ledge of the tub until he can slide in comfortably. It took him a long time to get good at it, but he was set on retaining as much independence as he could. Still, it was impossible to get out without the help of someone else unless he wanted to risk hurting himself. This time, that person would be you.

Johhny leans back in the tub and groans at the thought of you seeing him so vulnerable. You wouldn’t judge him, he knew that, but the thought still plagued him while he started to wash. Whatever you had picked out for him smelled nice enough that Johhny used more than he needed, enjoying the luxury of expensive bath products for the first time in a while.

Eventually, the water runs cold and Johnny knows he can’t stall any longer. He’d decided to keep his briefs on – at least until you helped him out of the tub. He’d figure out the rest later. Taking a deep breath, he calls for you.

“M’ done!” It only takes a moment for you to respond – he hears the creak of the floorboards from you walking towards the bathroom.

-

You poke your head in the bathroom frame and observe him, smiling. He looked relaxed for once. Johnny’s head was resting against the far edge of the tub, eyes closed and hair floating around his shoulders as he enjoyed the final few moments in his bath. He opens his eyes to look at you and immediately averts his gaze, cheeks already starting to heat up.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take a peek at anything I can’t already see.” Johnny’s eyes open wide and you realize what you’ve just said, hand flying up to your mouth to cover it out of embarrassment. As much as you’d like to run and hide, you had to help Johnny out of the tub.

“Uh,” Johnny starts, but you interrupt him.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” You mumble, letting your hand fall to your side as you approach the tub. Johnny holds your gaze instead of looking away, his eyes bright.

“I don’t… Ya don’t…” He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Ya can look if you want.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re positive that you must have misheard him. When you meet his gaze, though, Johnny’s expression tells you that you heard him correctly the first time. He’s blushing, but the small smile he had on his face was easy to read. Johnny wasn’t as brazen as he was in his playboy days, but he hadn’t forgotten how to flirt.

Johnny sits up in the tub and lets the water slide down his shoulders and chest as they’re exposed to you, the smooth skin glistening with soap. The bubbles have dissipated enough so that you can see his lower torso and legs in the water. His legs look soft and plush compared to his muscular upper body and it’s all you can do not to stare at the expanse of his freckled skin. There’s so much you want to say, to babble about how cute and handsome Johnny is – but you were here to help him, not take advantage of the fact he needed your help to ogle him despite his encouragement.

“Ready?” You ask. Johnny tilts his head and gives you a look that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking about, but merely nods. With his consent, you lean over and into the tub before hooking your arms under his and hoist him carefully to the edge of the tub so he can dry off his body. Once he’s finished, you help him back into his chair, having placed a towel on the seat beforehand so he didn’t soak it through.

“Thanks. I know it’s a hassle.” Johhny mumbles, whatever confidence he had shown earlier quickly deflating.

“No!” You shout, and Johnny’s eyes go wide. “I-I mean, no, it’s not a hassle.” You pause for a moment. “You’re not a hassle.”

It’s not a flowery compliment, but to Johnny, your words are everything – his face, still tinged with pink from his current situation, lights up as he tucks his head into his shoulder and tries to hide the smile on his face from you.

It was almost comical how the two of you were so close yet so far from revealing how you felt about each other, the awkward dance being performed one built on anxiety and self-doubt. The stars had aligned things in your favor so often, yet you both tried to ignore what was so obvious to Gyro and fate itself. No longer could either of you play ignorant, your words stroking a fire in Johnny that had been only ashes for far too long.

There’s silence, as you register what you’ve said, and then you and Johnny are both talking at the same time—

“Johnny, I need to tell you something-“

“Can I talk to you when you’re done-“

The words end up jumbled together and both of you stare at each other, eyes wide and cheeks pink. Johnny tilts his head and nods at you.

“You go first.” Although you would have said the same thing to him, Johnny had spoken first. You can only hope what you were about to reveal to him was the same thing he had wanted to say to you.

“Okay,” You breathe, steeling yourself. “Johnny, I like you. You’ve never been a burden to me, and…” You shy away from looking him in the eyes, nerves overcoming you. “I would like to be with you.”

Johnny doesn’t even take a second before responding, sounding just as nervous as you had. “Yes! I mean,” he clears his throat, and you look up to meet his pale blue eyes. There’s sincerity in his face when he speaks next. “I would like that too if you’ll have me…”

Though you want to lean down and kiss him, there’s another pressing matter at hand – you glance at the bath and Johnny follows your eyes, his mouth quirking up on one side in a smirk.

“Take your time,” He says, pivoting away from you in his wheelchair and into the bathroom doorway. Though his face is away from you, the pink tips of his ears are visible. “I don’t mind waiting.”

-

By the time the tub has drained and been refilled so you could scrub down the grime of the past few weeks, it’s been nearly half an hour. Your nerves have been abuzz the whole time with anticipation, wondering just what Johnny was thinking about on the other side of the doorway. Did he regret what he said, or was he just as excited as you? Even though he’d told you as much, anxiety still dug its nasty claws into your thoughts. It wouldn’t be worth it to come this far and give up, though, so once you’re dry you step back outside to the hotel room in little more than the linen robe the hotel had provided.

Johhny, true to his word, was waiting near the large bed that acted as the centerpiece of the room. He snaps his head towards you as soon as he hears the bathroom door open, his mouth slightly parted as he watches you emerge from the steamy room. He takes in the expanse of your skin revealed by the robe and swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he allows himself to really look at you for the first time. He hadn’t felt worthy of doing so before but knowing that you desired him too gave him license to finally appreciate you.

Johnny looks you from head to toe with clear appreciation written on his face as his cheeks turn red, his arms not at all subtly covering his lower half. You walk forward until you’re close enough to touch him, hands desperate to reach out and caress him – you hold yourself back though, waiting to see what Johnny would do.

He stammers for a moment before getting his words out, barely able to look at you. “O-oh, you look so beautiful.” Johnny chances a glance at you from under his lashes and you smile at him before you lean down to his face, lips nearly touching his own.

“Can I kiss you?” You whisper. Johnny’s breath hitches in his throat and his lips are on yours immediately, only slightly chapped from the wear and tear of the road. You hardly care though, not when you’re finally kissing him. Johnny shyly swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, and you surprise him by coaxing him to open his mouth with your tongue, a small moan rising from the back of his throat.

When you finally break apart both of you are breathless and Johnny’s pupils are blown wide, cheeks bright pink.

“Do you want to move to the bed?” You ask, and Johnny nods with no hesitation. He pauses for a moment as he looks between the bed and himself, bottom lip jutting out in the tiniest pout.

“You won’t think it’s… weird, having to help me up there?” His voice wavers and you can tell that he’ll lose steam fast if he gets too in his head.

“You remember what I said earlier, don’t you?” Johnny nods his head again at your words. You cup the side of his face with your hand and run your thumb gently across one of his cheekbones, smiling. “I meant it. Now come on, I think we’re both feeling a little impatient.”

It only takes a few moments for you to get Johnny onto the bed, helping him so that he can lean back against the headboard with his legs out in front of him. Before climbing on yourself, you let your robe fall to the floor and earn a quiet noise of appreciation from Johnny. You feel a little shy when you realize your skin still has bumps after being razed by mosquitos from earlier in the day.

“Sorry about the bumps, I hope they’re not too gross.” It’s Johnny’s time to reassure you this time, his eyes going wide and his mouth twisting up into a little knowing smile.

“I don’t mind,” He says, though Johhny offers no further explanation. “You’re right, I am impatient, so get yer cute ass over here.”

Perhaps finally being able to look at you fully had inspired a bit of the old Johnny to make an appearance again – you giggle at his bold words before climbing up onto the bed, no longer worried about your appearance. Johnny was earnest, and you could trust that he wasn’t lying about enjoying what he was seeing.

You settle yourself over his legs so you’re hovering just above the hardness protruding from his briefs. Johhny practically whines as you let yourself barely ghost against it, his arms shooting up to take hold of your shoulders. He was already so sensitive. You press yourself against his bulge again and Johhny’s fingers tighten on your shoulders, a low whistle leaving his mouth.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Johnny breathes, biting his lip. You respond by grinding down on him again and he lets out a sharp noise, one of his eyebrows raising as he looks at you. “You’re gonna tease me, ain’t ya?”

“Just a little.” Johhny huffs a laugh at your reply, the laugh quickly cut off when you lean down and press your lips against his neck, hips rolling at the same time to press yourself against him once more.

Johnny groans and starts to slide his hands down your bare arms, his fingers gently sliding against the bites that you had received earlier in the day. The sensation isn’t something you’re used to, but with Johnny doing it, you can’t help but enjoy it as his light touches send a shiver down your spine. You finally break apart from his neck and Johnny is practically panting, looking at you with lidded eyes. His eyes trail down to your breasts and his gaze turns hungry.

“Can I touch you there?” Johnny brings his hands to your breasts, his touch only inches away – when you nod, he wastes no time bringing his hands down as he begins to massage your breasts, fingers gingerly working over your nipples. His mouth drops open when he sees a droplet of milk-white liquid begin to pool, looking up at you in wonder. Even you’re surprised by the development, though you remember reading in a health book long ago that any long-term simulation could cause your breasts to lactate. Perhaps it had been the long journey you’d taken throughout the Steel Ball Run. It was new, but you weren’t complaining. Johnny looks at you eagerly. He doesn’t have to speak for you to figure out what he wants.

“Please,” you murmur. Johnny dips his head down and latches his mouth against one of your nipples, suckling gently as he uses his hand to continue to massage you. It feels so alien but so good that you keen into him as his mouth works your nipple over, the stimulation causing milk to flow into his mouth. You can only grind against Johnny helplessly as he switches from left to right, sucking and licking at your nipples until they were puffy. The way he was drinking down your milk with such enthusiasm was almost enough to send you over the edge.

Johnny lifts his head once your moans turn into cries of ‘too much’, licking his lips. His clothed cock twitches against your bare pussy, the fabric of his briefs soaked from your ministrations with a mix of his precum and your juices. You’d be feeling ashamed of what a mess you had made on him if you weren’t so turned on, and by the way Johnny was looking at you, it was clear he felt the same.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Johnny whines. “I need you; I want you,” he starts to babble, cock twitching against you again. “Please, darlin’, let me fuck you.”

Johnny’s husky voice sends a pang of arousal straight to your lower half – it’s what you’ve been waiting for. You help Johnny wiggle out of his briefs, his cock immediately springing forward and leaking precum. It was cute, just like the rest of him. His blush turns beet red when he catches you staring at it, his boldness wavering.

“You’re perfect.” You lean forward to kiss Johnny and he sighs into your mouth, sigh falling away to a loud whine when you wrap your fingers around his cock and gently pump him. Johnny’s whines are almost the cutest thing about him, but the time to tease him for that would be later. For now, the only thing you could think about was filling yourself with his cock until neither of you could take it any longer.

You climb on top of Johnny and let yourself hover over his cock, gently grinding against the spongy head to help lubricate him. Johnny’s head rolls back and hits the headboard with a quiet thump, his mouth hanging open as he almost loses himself in the sensation. After a few moments, he rolls his head back forward, his eyes full of adoration and lust.

“You’re perfect too,” he says. “But please, let me fuck ya already-“

You don’t give Johnny a chance to say anything else before you catch the head of his cock on your slick entrance and slide down, taking his stiff cock in one go as you moan through the mild burn. It’s nothing compared to how good it feels to finally be full of him. Johnny whines loud enough that you’re sure the whole building can hear him but neither of you cares – not now, when the only thing in the world that matters is the two of you joined together.

“Aw, fuck-“ Johnny hisses. You roll your hips and Johnny brings his hands down to cling on to them, squeezing tight. “I don’t know how long I can last; you feel so good.”

“Me either,” you reply. “You feel so good in me, Johhny.” Johnny’s eyes almost roll back into the back of his head when he hears his name fall from your lips – the culmination of months of flirting and close calls was enough to have both of you feeling overstimulated so early on. It was good, though, like nothing you’d ever felt with anyone before.

“Please keep movin’,” Johnny rasps. You oblige without a second thought, starting with a slow rhythm of your hips that has his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you. Johnny’s arms move from your hips until they’re wrapped around you so the two of you are pulled close together, your chest pressed against his own while your hips keep working his cock inside of you.

Johnny pants and lets out tiny whines at every single roll of your hips, his face bright pink and his pupils blown wide as you fuck him into the bed. Your name falls from his mouth when you start to clench your walls around him while you increase the pace. Johnny tightens his arms around you and pulls you even closer, his head tucked into the crook of your neck.

“I’m close,” he hisses. “C-can I cum in you?”

You nod your head eagerly, consequences be damned – it didn’t matter when his cock was so hot and heavy inside of you. All you wanted was to feel him cum inside of you and know that you’d been enough to make him lose control. The closeness of your bodies has your clit rubbing against Johnny’s lower stomach, the stimulation helping you edge closer and closer to your release.

“Oh god,” Johnny groans – it only takes a few more moments until his mouth falls open and his arms grip like a vice around you as he crosses over the edge, his cock twitching as he shoots ropes of cum inside you. You don’t slow down though, your hips still rolling as you chase your release while Johnny holds on for dear life as you milk his cock. The sound of Johnny’s low moans is what sends you over the edge, the orgasm ripping through your body with such force that you fall bonelessly against Johnny, panting.

“Fuck,” Johnny whispers. “You’re incredible.” You smile against his skin and lift yourself back up to look at him, sweat plastered on both of your foreheads as you bathe in the afterglow.

“So are you,” You reply. Johnny blushes, though you’re not sure the blush ever left his face since he and Gyro had argued down in the lobby just a few hours ago. You groan quietly as you pull up from him and flop next to him, laying your head on his shoulder. Johnny wraps an arm around you and uses his free hand to lace his fingers through yours, sighing.

“So…” He mumbles, his voice trailing off.

“So?” You ask, peeking up at him. There’s a sheepish smile on his face.

“I think we probably need to use the bath again… but can we stay like this for a while?” Johnny's smile falters for just a second as if he thinks you might say no – but when you snuggle harder against him, his smile splits into a content grin.

“Of course.”

-

The next morning arrives faster than either of you want it to when Gyro bangs on the door, demanding to know if the two of you had a good time last night.

[chokemeanakin]

Aggressive Negotiations (part 2)- Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 2.6k

You woke up with a gasp, legs scrambling to push yourself into a standing position, but something weighed you down. It was pitch black, and as you kicked your legs out your heels hit wall. Something warm was pressed against your back. 

“You’re awake,” not something— someone. “How do you feel? Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?”

“Anakin—“ you tugged at your arms, which were uncomfortably twisted behind you, bound by cuffs that held Anakin as well. “Where are we?”

“Well, if I had to guess, we’re in a prison cell.”

“This is kind of small for a prison cell, isn’t it?”

“There are two of us in here.”

You blinked hard, trying to peer through the layers of darkness. The sudden weight of your situation began to crash down on you.

“I’m so--”

“You’re not.”

“I should have known--”

“How could you have?”

“He tricked me!”

“He tricked us both.”

You groaned, hanging your head in despair. What a fool. You’d walked right into his trap! He put something in your drink, and all the while you thought you had the upper hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Hey,” Anakin’s voice was softer. “Are you okay, though? He didn’t do anything to you, right?”

“No, we didn’t even make it to his room,” you mumbled. You felt him release a breath that he was holding, his shoulders relaxing against your back. Had he been drugged, too? You couldn’t recall him ever taking a drink from the champagne the Prince handed him.  “Anakin, how’d you end up here, anyway?”

He grunted unhappily, shifting his position ever so slightly. “The Prince came back to the ball without you, so I went up and asked him where you were. He took out a blaster and pointed it at me-- I could have handled that easily, if it weren’t for the fact that suddenly every single person in that room also had a blaster trained on me. I was forced to surrender.”

“You surrendered?” you couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the look on his face as he let the scrawnier Prince cuff him and lead him away. “Now that’s got to be a blow to your ego.”

“You really want to bicker with me right now?”

“I don’t see much else to do,” you stretched your leg out as much as you could, hitting wall halfway. “You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

“No. You?”

“Slightly.”

His fists tightened in the cuffs behind him. “I’ll get us out of here.”

“Calm down, Hercules. We’re in this together-- literally. You don’t have to handle it by yourself.” You paused to smile to yourself in the dark. “Besides, I have a plan.”

...

“It’s to the left more. No, the other left. My left, your right.”

Anakin was sifting through your hair with the force, looking for the pin you had used to keep your hair back. However, the problem with being in the complete dark and facing away from each other was that locating said pin was harder than expected.

“A little up. Too far,” you tilted your head, trying to shift the gentle sensation down to where the pin was. 

“Got it,” he pulled the pin, causing your hair to fall into your face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, just get us out of these handcuffs.”

You waited patiently as he stuck the pin into the keyhole of the handcuffs, twisting it this way and that, searching for the divet that would unlock the mechanisms. Your legs were beginning to ache at the position they were stuck in, back cramping from being hunched over for so long. You couldn’t even imagine how Anakin was feeling. 

The click of a set of cuffs releasing was like music to your ears. The metal loosened from your left hand, and you shook it off. The cuff on your right hand still dug into the flesh of your wrist.

“Good news and bad news,” Anakin told you as he plucked the pin from the air and handed it back to you. “The good news is that the cuffs are locked on one side only, which is why we each have one side free. The bad news is that the other side locks electromagnetically, meaning we need to find the nerfherder who has the pulse signal in order to get out of these.”

“Who’s the jackass that came up with that idea?” you whined.

“It’s actually a pretty clever mechanism. Especially for detaining pairs, like us, who might work together and get out.”

Of course he’d be finding the genius in this situation. 

“Right… well I guess having one hand free is better than none.”

“That’s the spirit, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at his dumb banter. “Okay, now that that’s done, on to phase two.”

Your heels collided with the wall before you over and over, the bangs echoing around the tiny chamber you were in. Your shins rattled and knees ached, but you kept up with it. There was muttering outside, and just as you’d hoped, a tiny slit of light soon entered the chamber.

“My orders are to keep you quiet,” the glowing eyes were blinding as they provided the first light you had seen in hours. You forced yourself to look into them.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You are unable to do that at this time.”

The eyes disappeared, and you were cast back into darkness. You began kicking at the wall again.

“Y/n,” Anakin hissed. “This isn’t going to work, that’s a droid.”

“Do mind tricks not work on droids?”

“No.”

“Oh…” your kicking paused. Anakin sighed. 

“Nevermind that. Switch places with me.” You began shifting so that he could take your spot, no doubt dirtying your dress to the point of no return. You sent a silent apology to Padme-- she’d understand.

You had just gotten situated in your new positions when the eyes returned at the slit of the door. 

“I said, you are unable to leave at this time. Please remain quiet--”

There was a loud crack as the droid’s body collided with the door, sprinkling bolts and spare parts all over the ground. The glowing eyes flickered out, but the slit in the door remained open. Anakin let go of the droids now broken body using the force, and began to search the ground for the key for the door.

“Elegant tactic,” you remarked. He chuckled breathily, focused on reaching his senses past the door.

“You know I like to keep it classy.”

His breathing became slow and even, and you didn’t have to be able to see to know his eyes were closed, that adorable look of concentration on his face that he got every time he did something strenuous with the force. You were so calmed by the steady rise and fall of his body against your back that the abrupt click and groan of the door opening made you jump.

“You falling asleep back there?”

“‘Course not,” you shielded your eyes from the sudden onslaught of light with your free arm, the one still attached to Anakin being tugged up as he stood. 

You were being kept in some sort of underground dungeon, the air thick and moist and walls glowing purple with the lighting globes. 

“That droid didn’t happen to have a pulse signal, did it?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Anakin kicked a stray bolt with his boot. He turned to shoot you a lopsided smile. “That’s alright though, I think you’ll find I’m a pleasant person to be handcuffed to.”

“How many people can testify to that?” you wandered. It didn’t surprise you that he had been in a position like this before. 

“Have I ever told you of that time I was handcuffed to Obi-Wan and Count Dooku at the same time? Now that was something.”

Anakin inched out of the cell, peering down the hallway left and right. When he saw the coast was clear, he pulled you out with him. You and Anakin worked like a well-oiled machine, ducking behind crates and barrels as you made your way to the stairs, counting the seconds it took for one security droid to appear and then leave again before sneaking your way to the next point.

You made it to the stairs without incident, but it was only on the ascent did you run into trouble.

“Anakin, wait--” you stumbled over a step, barely catching yourself on his shoulder. “My dress, it’s too long.”

You bent down to rip the hem off, but he beat you to it, his gloved fingers tearing the red fabric away so that your legs were free. The strength of his arm never seized to amaze you, although it was disappointing that in this situation, the material of your handcuffs were resistant to it’s uncanny crushing abilities. 

“Thanks,” you caught the fabric and wrapped it around your wrist a few times, beginning your ascent again. As soon as you reached the halls of the palace, you knew this would be more difficult than you had expected. There were patrols travelling in pairs at each beginning and end of the halls, and there was no way you’d be able to sneak into the Prince’s master chamber at the end of the hall.

“I hate to be the one to rush into things headfirst,” Anakin smirked at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “But I say we run for it.”

You shoved your fist into your mouth to keep from laughing. It was amazing how Anakin could ease your nerves so easily, even in a situation like this. Your heart swelled for the man beside you, and you nodded in agreement. You trusted him with your life. 

Slipping your shoes off, you kept one steady under your knee as you ripped the heel off. Your knife had been taken from you when you woke up in the cell-- just as they had taken Anakin’s lightsaber-- and now at least you had some sort of weapon.

“Keeping it classy,” you echo his earlier words, loving the way he bit his lip as he watched you. 

“You’re coming to my room as soon as we get out of here.”

Your body filled with a giddy warmth at his proposal.

“Alright, on the count of three. Ready?”

You and Anakin took off into the center of the grand hall. You were fast, but his legs were longer, and he took the lead and zig-zagged you through blaster shots coming your way. Dust and rubble fell from the pillars and into your eyes, but you blinked the sting away and kept up, slipping and sliding across the floor. 

There was a lull in the firing as the guards reloaded their blasters, and Anakin took the chance to pull you to a halt, squeezing his eyes closed and opening his palm toward the sky. There was a shutter beneath your feet, and his hand closed into a fist before pushing out. Every guard in a 360 degree radius flew back, knocking into pillars and crashing into walls.

“Let’s move!” Anakin didn’t even hesitate before pulling you forward again. Soon, you made it to the outside of the master chamber.

“Is he in there?”

“Cowering like a baby,” Anakin punched a hole through the wooden door with his metal fist, the thick oak splintering away. He reached through and unlocked the door from the inside, revealing the Prince huddled in a corner, blaster hugged to his chest. You surged forward, ducking as he fired a shot at you once, and then twice. You were close to slapping his blaster out of his hands, when suddenly you were yanked back.

“What are you doing?” you shot at Anakin.

“A pulse signal,” he reached for the mantle, calling the hidden device to him. He pressed the button as soon as it fell into his palm, and the cuffs linking you together fell to the ground. The Prince fired at you again, but Anakin deflected it with a shield that he had ripped off the wall. He moved toward the Prince, but you held him back with a hand to his chest.

“He’s mine.”

The Prince’s hold on the blaster was feeble. Obviously, no one taught him how to handle one. You knocked it out with a punch to the wrist, and caught it before it could hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet, but you used your sharpened heel to dig his jacket into the wall, pinning him in place. Then, you placed the cuffs Anakin kicked your way over his hands, locking him up before tying the fabric of your dress over his eyes.

When you were all done, you punched him in the jaw. 

“Where is Count Dooku?” you demanded.

“Gaah,” the Prince groaned, testing his jaw. “I don’t know. Not here.”

“You’re lying,” you pressed the blaster into his chest so he could feel it. “I’m not going to ask you again. Where is he?”

“He left as soon as you got out. Said I failed, and that working with me was a waste of time.”

“That sounds like Count Dooku, alright,” Anakin remarked behind you, where he was keeping watch by the door. “He has a habit of running away when things get dicey.”

“What was your business with him?” you continued. “How did he convince you to work with the Separatists?”

“He didn’t. Krygo joined the Separatists at the beginning of the war. The Republic never bothered to check on us, which was why it was so easy to hide our allegiance and convince them we needed their help.”

“What was the point of all this then?”

“The point was to get rid of Anakin,” he turned his head toward the door, where he was standing. “Dooku wanted to get rid of you once and for all, and the plan almost worked.”

Anakin laughed humorlessly, knocking the Prince’s head back into the wall hard with a flick of his wrist. “Barely.”

He groaned again, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth where you punched him.

“I’ll call off my people,” he promised. “Just let me go.” 

“Do it now,” you wrenched the heel out of the wall, freeing him so that you could drag him to his feet and over to his vanity. There, his comlink sat, beeping green with unread messages. You grabbed it and held the speaker to his mouth, the blaster now pressed against his temple in case he tried anything. “Speak.”

“Soldiers, put your weapons down. Let the hostages go,” you pressed the gun further into his head. “A-and, pull up a ship for them. The Grand Maroney. Anyone who stands in their way should be executed.”

You nudged him once more. “And give the Jedi back his lightsaber.”

After he was done, you dropped the comlink to the floor and shot it with the blaster. You didn’t want him changing his mind when you left. 

Anakin held the door open for you as you walked out, looking back to give the broken Prince one last promise:

“You’ll pay for all of this.”

...

Anakin held your thighs to his shoulders as he walked up the ramp of the Grand Maroney, the transport ship that was directed right outside the palace doors for you. You gently dug your fingers into his hair, holding on to steady yourself. Your feet had been hurting something awful after everything was said and done, so Anakin insisted in carrying you back to the ship. Who were you to pass up that kind of offer? 

“Revenge is not the Jedi way, you know,” he told you as he lowered you into the passenger seat. He took his own place at the pilot station, lifting the ship into the air and putting in the coordinates to go home. 

“Good thing I’m not a Jedi.”

[nightshade-minho]

-Inferno-

Warnings: public sex, insinuated break-up, cheating (kind of), fingering, oral (f. receiving), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie, Master!kink, degradation, humiliation, size kink, light dacryphilia. 

Wc: 3k+

Note: (@chanonymous told me this Minho gives off Black Widow vibes- and I just had to write another superhero!au. Minho’s alias in this is Black Widow, but he isn’t really affiliated to or similar to the Marvel Black Widow in any way. Y/n’s alias is DragonClaw, and she’s a dragon-shapeshifter with pyrokinesis. I know this is the second Y/n I’ve written with pyrokinesis- I’m sorry, I just love fire hhh-)

Why?

Why did the universe hate you so fucking much? 

It was torture enough being one of only two female superheroes at this year’s Annual Gala. It didn’t help that said female superhero was The Peacock, aka insufferable, bitchy diva- who was currently on the stage, that melodious, lilting voice of hers flooding through the speakers.  You watched as the men around you fawned over her, listening eagerly as she regaled everyone with yet another one of her self-centred tales. 94% made up, you were sure of that. 

“There’s no way she’d be able to beat up 50 gangsters with her powers.”

And there it was. His voice. Him. The real reason for your anger and frustration tonight. 

You carefully ignored him, hating the way he was seated right next to you at the table. How did this happen? There were currently 50 tables in the venue, more than enough to accommodate every superhero in the state. But of course, your rotten luck had landed you right next to him.

“I just don’t understand. Isn’t her power looking pretty, or something like that?”

You gritted your teeth, still not looking at him. However, the awkwardness of his unanswered question lingering in the air became too much to bear.

“It’s Allure. Her power is Allure.”

“Meaning?”

You rolled your eyes, answering reluctantly.

“Supernatural beauty that can be used to manipulate, distract and hypnotize.”

‘So...basically, looking pretty. Huh. That’s a cool superpower, being so beautiful that people can’t help but do what you say.”

You stayed silent, your eyes observing the seated audience, all of them absolutely enamoured by the beauty on stage. You’d entertained him enough.

“I think you’re prettier, though.”

That was it. You whipped your head around to face him, breath slightly hitching in your throat as your eyes met his. “Shut up.” You hissed. “Stop trying to talk to me.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking. 

“You know why. I don’t like you. That’s why.”

“Come on, Y/n. No one here knows about our...history.”

You glanced around, putting a finger up to your lips. “Why don’t you scream my real name a little louder? I don’t think the Grand Master heard you.”

“Look, just because you used to be a supervillain once doesn’t mean you still are so-”

You were sure he was doing this on purpose. You quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, shooting a look of apology to the dude opposite you, who turned to look. As soon as the man turned away, you glared at him.

“Look, Minho.” You seethed, your voice dripping with venom. “I’m not the only one with dirty secrets here. If you don’t shut up, I’ll stand up right now, and tell everyone who really caused that wildfire in California.”

“It wasn’t my fault-” 

“Yeah, right.”

Minho sighed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed your hand, wrenching it away from his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been saying sorry ever since that day. Although I’m not the only one who should be apologizing, and you know it just as well as I do.”

You turned away from him, choosing to ignore him once again. The pain was still fresh, the emotions still raw. You remember how devastated you’d been that night, how you’d wanted to murder everyone in sight. Instead...you turned a new leaf, and chose to reinvent yourself as a superhero. Usually, tragic incidents and heartbreak lead to the birth of a supervillain- in your case, it was the opposite. You’d felt so miserable and dejected that you became good. 

And the man sitting next to you was the cause of it all. The fact that he had the audacity to sit there and flirt- especially knowing everything that happened between the two of you? It made you want to bury him six feet deep.

You fiddled with the spoon on the table. “How...how is she?”

“Who?”

“You know, her. Your girlfriend.”

“...girlfriend?”

“Spitfire.”

“Oh. Her. Um, she’s fine.”

Minho was lying. He hadn’t seen Jiwon- Spitfire, since that fateful night. Somehow, though, the lie had come out before he could stop it.

He watched you nod slightly, your face still turned away from him. 

Fuck, why did I do that? What was I expecting? That she’d be jealous? That she’d beg me to leave Jiwon? That she’d fall at my feet and ask me to take her back? Stupid.

Minho shook his head, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and tried to focus on the woman speaking. But..he just couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting to you. He wished he could take the mask covering half your face off..wished he could see your beautiful eyes staring into his again. 

Wished he could kiss you just one more time...

***

The next few minutes passed by in silence. You were about ready to walk up on stage and strangle the woman, droning on and on. She seemed to go off on tangents constantly, the story growing longer and longer until you just couldn’t take it anymore. 

The rest of the audience clearly didn’t share your views, their gazes filled with adoration and wonder. Well...everyone except...

You turned to Minho. He seemed to be lost in thought, his stare fixed on the blank wall. 

“Hey? Earth to Minho?”

He snapped out of his reverie, turning to look at you. His eyes widened as he realized you were talking to him.

“Shh. Black Widow.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a silly alias.”

“Like Dragonclaw is much better.”

“Hey! Dragonclaw is a very cool alias.”

Minho rolled his eyes as you shoved his arm playfully, your heart growing a little lighter. 

Okay. Just...forget about the past. Talk to him, even if it’s only to keep yourself from dying of boredom...

And so you did. The two of you started talking. He moved his chair closer to yours, telling you what he’d been up to for the past three years, discreetly whispering. 

“Okay, okay. Enough about the missions, tell me more about Spitfire! What’s she like?”

“S-she’s...cool. Very...fiery.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and smiling. “Do you have a thing for superheroes with pyrokinesis or something?”

“Uh...yeah, I guess you could say that.” He winked, noting how your face turned a light shade of pink. Hmm...

“Though...she’s nothing, compared to you. You were really...hot, especially in bed.”

You sneered at him. “That was a bad pun. Seriously, you could do better than that.”

“Oh, what a burn.”

You cringed, pressing your lips together. “Never mind, this was a bad idea. Even listening to Peacock’s speech is more bearable than this...”

“No, wait- I’m worth your time, I promise.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Maybe it was the way you puffed your lips out, or maybe it was your challenging tone...either way, Minho couldn’t help it. Before he even realized what he was doing, his hand was on your thigh. 

Your eyes widened a little. “W-what are you doing?” You stuttered.

Courage, Minho. “I know of a way we can get rid of the boredom...”

“You do? And w-what might that be?” You swallowed, feeling a slight streak of arousal shoot through you, despite his minimal touch. 

Minho’s confidence grew as he observed your flustered demeanor. His hand slowly crept up your thigh, a delightful smirk spreading across his face as you bit your lip, your sudden shyness turning him on. He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Do you want this, kitten? Tell me to stop before it’s too late...”

You shuddered as he called you that pet name. He hadn’t called you that in years...

Minho took your silence as a yes, his fingers creeping up higher until it reached your zipper. He slowly pulled it down all the way, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. 

His hand slipped into your pants. Your breath hitched as his fingers reached your clothed clit, the pad of his finger running over it.

“How does that feel, kitten?”

You struggled to speak as he started rubbing you in circular motions. “It f-feels...good...” You choked out.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.” 

You heard a clatter as a fork fell to the floor. You twisted your head, Minho shrugging. “Oops. I dropped my fork...”

Your eyes widened as Minho slipped off his chair, crawling under the table. Looking around frantically, you realized that no one had heard the loud noise, Peacock’s glamour still captivating them- they were essentially zombies. 

Honestly. Did she not know how to turn the sexiness off, at least to be professional-

Your line of thought was interrupted as you felt Minho pulling down your pants, down to your ankles. Oh, right. 

So much for professionalism. 

You felt him spread your thighs apart, fitting himself between them. A few seconds passed before his breath ghosted over your clit, his fingers coming up to rub you through your panties.

You clutched the edge of the table, sweat forming on your forehead as his fingers slid aside your underwear. He ran two digits through your soaked folds, humming to himself. “Still as wet and pretty as ever...”

You shifted slightly in your seat, eyes darting here and there. This was so risky. Your eyes went up to Peacock, your brain unable to comprehend her incessant chatter as Minho pressed a kiss to your clit, his fingers circling your entrance.

You let out a soft whimper, leaning back against the seat as he pulled you forward a little. Placing your palm over your mouth, you muffled your moans as he wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. 

He let out an appreciative moan at your taste, pushing a finger into your drenched pussy and trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. Minho could barely believe that this was actually happening- he wanted to pinch himself, but both his hands were currently occupied. One was busy gripping your thigh, the other drawing little moans from you as his fingers went deeper.

“Fuck...you taste so good...” He mumbled against your pussy, tongue coming out to lap at your folds. You could do nothing but groan helplessly, his mouth alternating between sucking on your clit and licking at your pussy, fingers fucking you through it all.

Your legs shook as you realized you were about to cum. You pressed your hand over your mouth, trying your best to not let out any sounds. You felt your high build up- flames of pleasure sparking at you...until it was all gone.

You frowned as Minho pulled away from you, confusion filling you as he tugged on your leg. Quickly looking around you, you bent down to lift the tablecloth and make eye contact with him.

“Come down here.”

“W-what? P-people will definitely noti-”

“That wasn’t a question, it was an order. Do as I say, or you’ll regret it, kitten.”

You whimpered softly, your heart beating faster as you lowered yourself to the floor. Minho quickly pulled you under the table, adjusting the tablecloth behind you before turning to you. 

Smirking at you, he palmed himself, eyes watching you hungrily as he crawled over you.

“Minho...this is a bad idea. I’m already on thin enough ice as it is-”

“Shh...” He traced his finger over your chin, down to your zipper, slowly pulling it down. He licked his lips as your chest was exposed slowly, leaning down to nibble at your ear. 

You stared up at him with glassy eyes, throwing your head back as Minho’s lips made his way to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to leave a hickey.

“M-Min...”

“Hmm?” He breathed against your neck, his fingers pulling the zipper all the way to your navel, staring at your bare skin. 

“Please...”

“Please, what?”

“I w-want...you...”

He chuckled. “I thought you were scared. Superheroes should be brave, you know?”

You frowned up at him, his infuriating smirk making you want to slap it off his face. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

He frowns. “That’s no way to talk to your Master.”

“M-master?”

He nodded, mouthing at your chest and wrapping his lips around your soft nipple, sucking gently. 

“Looks like you need to be taught a lesson, my little slut...you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

You opened your eyes as you felt the head of his cock against your pussy, moaning softly. Minho stared down at you, jaw clenched. He couldn’t wait a second more.

His hand made his way to the back of your head, gripping your mask, breathing hard. “Can I?”

You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, please...just...need you in me.”

He slowly took your mask off, tossing it to the side as his eyes took in your face fully, breath hitching in his throat. You were just as beautiful as he remembered.

It was too much to handle. Eyes still fixed on yours, Minho steadily pushed his cock into your pussy. He groaned as he felt your walls hugging his length tightly, going deeper until his tip hit your cervix. 

“You’re so fucking tight...how are you even taking this big cock?”

He growled, clutching your waist as he moved you up and down on his cock. You moaned, his solid girth filling you up perfectly. You felt weak, shivering as Minho started thrusting slowly, loving the little whimpers falling off your tongue.

“You’re so...so big...”

“I know. And you’re too small, so easily ruined.”

“Please. F-faster-”

“If I go any faster, I might destroy this tiny pussy.”

You whine, slinging your arms around his neck, an innocent expression on your face as you pouted at him. “Please, Master? Want to be...s-stretched out by you, want my pussy ruined...”

He stared down at you with dilated pupils, a low groan in the back of his throat as this new side of you came out. 

“You’re driving me insane...” Minho sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin growing louder as his hips met yours with each thrust. “What a little whore, so needy for cock that she’d let herself get fucked under the table in a room full of hundreds of people...”

You felt the humiliation rise in you as his hands stayed on your waist, firmly pounding into you. “You like being a little sex toy for Master? Like being used as his personal cock sleeve?”

You nodded desperately, swallowing as Minho chuckled, one of his hands coming up to grope at your breast, thumb stroking your nipple slowly. 

“Well, I love fucking this little pussy open-” He cut himself off with a groan as you clenched around him, spurring him on and making him go harder.

He shifted a little bit, causing his dick to hit your sweet spot dead-on, drawing a long whine out of you. 

“Shh, kitten, you don’t want anyone else knowing what’s going on under here, right?”

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Minho grunted, leaning down, face hovering over yours. You held his gaze for a few minutes, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Minho was the first to break. He leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours, a sharp contrast to the harshness of his cock plunging deeply into you. He deepened the kiss, tongue meeting yours as he held your cheek. The kiss quickly became messy, as his hips went faster.

“M-master, ‘m gonna cum...” You mumbled against his lips. Minho pulled away, his eyes turning darker as he observed the tiny teardrops gathering in your eyes. 

“Aww, is my cock making the little baby cry?”

You whimpered, the tears spilling past as you squirmed, hating the way he’d stopped thrusting. 

“P-please, wanna cum...please! Want Master’s cum filling me up...”

“Fuck, I’ll give what you want, fucking slut.”

His eyes moved over your tear-streaked face, groaning as he lifted your leg up over his shoulder, enabling him to go deeper into you. He began fucking into you, his pace ruthless as he worked towards making you cum, his other hand coming down to rub your clit.

You arched your back as you felt your orgasm approaching, your hands tugging at his hair and making you moan. 

He pecked your lips. “Cum, baby...cum for me.”

You whined, unable to hold it anymore as he pinched your clit. The white-hot pleasure made you cry out, Minho groaning as you clenched around him, your orgasm ripping through you. The overstimulation slowly set in as he fucked you harder.

“Fuck-”

His hips stuttered as he chased his own high, cock twitching inside you. A few thrusts later, he came with a groan, spilling his seed inside you.

You watched Minho, moaning softly at the feeling of his cum pooling deep in your core. His chest heaved as he panted, collapsing on top of you. You hummed, your grip in his hair loosening as he lifted himself off you slightly, eyes searching yours.

“How did that feel?”

“F-felt so good...” You paused suddenly as a thought hit you, now that the pleasure had worn off. 

“Wait...Minho...you just ch-cheated on-”

Minho sighed, rolling his eyes.”I didn’t, Y/n. I was lying. I haven’t seen her since that night. Trust me...cheating’s something I’ll never do again.” He whispered, thumb stroking over your wet cheeks.

You looked up at him, filled with emotions that were familiar, yet also new. 

“Give me another chance, Y/n. Please.”

You thought about it, sighing as you nodded. “Okay...but we’re going to take things slow.”

He let out a small laugh, eyes drifting to the spot where you two were connected. “Bit late for that.”

He pulled out slowly, watching as his cum seeped out of your entrance. He used his fingers to part your pussy lips, groaning softly under his breath at the sight of your stuffed pussy.

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed through the speakers, startling you. You hadn’t even realized that Peacock had stopped talking.

“And for the next speech, Dragonclaw! Come up onstage, and share with us your report from the last few months.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you sat up, half-naked and filled with cum.

Minho smirked at you. “Go on, then.”

[ambrosiaaddiction]

Not Meant to Be

Word Count: 1,404

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Summary: You are obsessed with the Duke of Hastings and become jealous of the fact that he chose to marry Daphne rather than you. If you couldn’t have him, then you were going to do everything it takes to make sure that no one else can before you take your place as his wife.

TW: none

Part 1/6

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

In the end, he chose to marry her. After all we had been through together, she placed herself in our midst and seduced him for her own advantages. It just wasn’t fair! Even when I had tried to warn Simon, he told me that I was being utterly paranoid!

The people who claimed to care about me would say that I shouldn’t be so hostile towards Daphne, and that I should happy that Simon was happy.

They couldn’t see the distress hidden in his eyes that shone with faux adoration of his erroneous bride to-be. I was supposed to stand by his side. We were supposed to be engaged then live in his grand country estate with just the two of us.

Whether or not we had children was up to fate and not out our selfish desires. Yes, I knew of Simon’s sworn secrecy of his bloodline dying with him, but I felt a small ounce of pity for the Bridgerton girl.

I, too, was capable of providing what he needed. I, too, could have a lifetime with him and not worry about trivial affairs. But I still hadn’t the faintest idea as to why he was the one who suggested to begin their elaborate ruse.

Once I had confronted him, I could believe the words that left his mouth. “Y/n, you don’t understand. The two of us are helping each other to fulfill our achievements. You need not to worry. You and I will be together again like old times.”

Oh, how foolish I was to hold his promise in the highest regard. It tore my heart to pieces the night Simon got down on one knee to propose to Daphne in front of her entire family. I slipped away from the celebrations, and found myself standing in front of a lake. It was dark for as far as I could see, but the moonlight’s reflection on the water showed how lonely I felt at the time.

With no recollection of how I had gotten there or how to find my way back, I sat down on the ground and curled up my legs to my chest. Why couldn’t I have been the one he loved? Daphne was beautiful and kind, yes, but she did not belong with Simon.

A tear then another and another began to fall down the sides of my face. I began to sob and whisper the words, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair!” I had lost track of time, and then the sun slowly peeked over the horizon, which meant that I’ve been gone for several hours.

That was when I heard my name being called by several voices, and Simon’s was the most distinct out of them all. Some time later on, I vaguely remember being scolded by mama and papa because I made Simon, and everyone else searching for me, worried beyond relief.

They reprimanded me for wasting his time when he should have been preparing for the wedding that was taking place in three day’s time. The opportunity to confess my love for him was getting further and further away from my grasp.

There wasn’t much room for me to argue it defend myself when they were both right. What they said next swept away the last few remaining pieces of my already shattered heart. “Why can’t you be like Miss Bridgerton and put aside your problems, y/n?”

Miss Bridgerton this. Miss Bridgerton that. Everything revolves around that wench, and I hated every moment of it. Yet there was nothing I could’ve done to change the course of events.

Simon was to be married to a young woman whose skin was fair and void of blemishes, her hair kissed by the sun and voice as sweet as sugar. A young woman who wasn’t me.

It just wasn’t right. She was too much of one characteristic as though she ended up being all of the perfect qualities that a man was looking for. Speaking of personality traits, from the youngest Bridgerton to the eldest, they were all too good to be true. It was no wonder why I grew jealous of Daphne.

Although, I was not going to admit it out loud. I would be ridiculed and teased for my biased opinion of her. She’d knew how to play the piano, how to crochet simple yet intricate patterns, and her mannerisms were to be rivaled.

Now was a better time than ever to ruin her happiness. She didn’t deserve to have Simon if I had lost him first. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into or the real reason why Simon refused to have children.

I invited her to my home for tea and a brief lunch, which my mama gave me appraisal for attempting to make amends with the eldest Bridgerton daughter. Little did they both know that I had plans to break her down bit by bit.

Eventually I transitioned the topic about our families to her fiancé, and her eyes lit up with delight. Well, that wasn’t going to last for long. “Miss Bridgerton, how has Simon been treating you as of late? Fairly, I hope?” The question stopped Daphne whilst she sipped her cup of tea, and she cleared her throat before she spoke.

“Yes, the Duke had sent me bouquets of flowers and scheduled a dress fitting at the modiste later today. He is a very generous man.” She smiled softly, and I forced one of my own. “How lovely! You must be enjoying the gifts, I take it. Your family is quite fond of him, too.”

Except for Anthony, that is. Like me, he had done all that he could to stop Simon from marrying his sister. Then after some odd occurrence, he was suddenly the first to congratulate their engagement. It baffled me, but I knew asking him questions would only raise suspicions.

“‘Tis a shame that you won’t have any children, though. Simon swore to have his bloodline die with him, and his father died moments later.” Daphne’s smile fell apart, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. I raised my cup to my lips then took a long sip, quietly waiting for her reaction.

“How do you—” “Daphne, Simon tells me everything. I’ve known him far much longer than you’ve spent time with him, and he hasn’t shared an actual piece of himself when the two of you are together. He’s marrying you to placate the queen’s disappointment as well as the ton’s need for a perfect couple of the season.”

She went silent after I said what I have wanted to let out, and she looked like she was trying not to cry. The poor thing took in a deep breath then folded her hands on top of her lap. “Well, Miss Denbow, I cannot say I’m not surprised. You are a good friend of the Duke’s, and therefore you do know him better than anyone.”

I scoffed in disbelief and at the audacity of being called Simon’s “good friend.” I was more than just a measly role of comforting someone in their most vulnerable state; I should’ve been the one engaged to him.

“I never had the chance to give my best to you for the engagement, so I’ll say it now before you leave. Congratulations, Miss Bridgerton, and I hope you live a wonderful life as the Duchess of Hastings.” Silence and rapidly beating hearts. “Th-Thank you, Miss Denbow for the tea, and have a good day.”

After our pleasant conversation, I walked her out of the parlor and to the door. We said our goodbyes as the light in her eyes become clouded with betrayal and disillusion. “I must say, y/n. Job well done.” I chuckled and patted myself on the shoulder once I’ve closed the door then headed up to my bedroom.

Only time will tell when the relationship between her and Simon begins to tear at the seams, then I will be the one to take my rightful place at his side. He’ll realize that Daphne wasn’t meant to be his bride, and he’ll finally love me just as much as I love him.

It felt good to break the rules fate had set for us, and I would do it again to get what I want. Nothing was going to stand in my way of marrying Simon.

Everyone was going to accept it whether they agreed with me or not.

[vanillasakura]

IT’S FINALLY HERE <3

I first got into Red Dead around late July or so when I watched my friend and her dad speedrun the game, and one of the first things I came across for this fandom was Sapphic Week, so I’m very very happy to be able to contribute this year, especially as I’d be lying if I said the lovely ladies in this game weren’t the main reason I initially got into it and ended up buying it for myself.

Once again, a HUGE shoutout to @rdrsapphicships and Aldrig for hosting this event! I’m so excited to see what everyone creates <3 Without further ado, let’s get into it!

RDRSW21 Day 1: Music 

Title: Close Your Eyes (As it Eats at Us)

Words: 1857

Pairing: Abigail Roberts/Molly O’Shea

Warnings/Notes: Slight John bashing I’m sorry but this takes place early chapter 2 so... slightly warranted 

(Title from Close Your Eyes by The Midnight Club)

ao3 link

  ≿━━━━━━━━━━༺❀━━━━━━━━━━≾

Don't you know, when your eyes are closed, you see the world from the clouds along with everybody else?

Indeed, Molly was on her own much of the time. Dutch could only afford her so much attention, and when he was away from camp or otherwise occupied, there wasn’t anybody who really came up to her on their own will. Not exactly like she could blame them, Molly wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Growing up, she’d always assumed otherwise, but after seeing how Karen and Tilly had told her to stop coming up to them and “being a bitch for no good reason”, she began to wonder if everyone back home was nice to her because they had to be. Even if Molly herself wasn’t a picture-perfect example of politeness, being anything but an angel to the O’Shea daughter could have been considered blasphemy. 

It was lonely, terribly so, but Molly wasn’t quite sure what she could do to remedy the situation. She wrote poetry, she read books, she went on walks in circles around camp, she looked out over the valley (Horseshoe Overlook really hadn’t gotten its name from nowhere), but more than anything, Molly watched.

She watched how Reverend had gradually stopped bothering pretending to read the bible, instead choosing to start downing drinks earlier and earlier. She watched how Bill devoured Kieran with his eyes, all but confirming her suspicion that the man did indeed want to bed the new camp member. She watched how Karen would clench her jaw when Mary-Beth asked how things were going with Sean, but would then take his hand later and pull him out of camp, the pair slipping away to either do each other or to do nothing at all. She watched how Arthur hadn’t bothered to take down the photo of the woman who did nothing but cause him pain even after Hosea had told him to do so, instead still glancing at it longingly every now and again while he cleaned his guns in his tent. She watched Josiah practice speaking in all sorts of different accents on the outskirts of camp, correcting himself out loud whenever something wasn’t quite right. She watched how Jack would try and weave flower crowns for his mother, small hands shaking as he attempted to tie the stems of various blooms together, putting the ones he had broken too short or knocked a petal off of in a pile to his left. She watched how John admitted to Javier and Pearson that, if he could, he would kill Abigail and never think twice about it. 

The comment shouldn’t have startled Molly as much as it did. She knew that John was a good man deep down, but the way that he uttered the confession without so much as a second thought as to if what he was saying was okay made her sick. Abigail was nothing if not kind, hard-working, and strong, nothing like the type of woman you would imagine deserved those kinds of threats. What made John that angry at her, Molly didn’t know, and she wasn’t quite sure that she cared to. 

After that night, Molly didn’t just stop watching. She’d heard people say worse things, many times, but there was something about the raw earnesty in which John had spoken that made his words haunt Molly like nothing else had. She decided to start watching Abigail more, justifying it by telling herself that it was for the other woman’s safety, even though realistically, there wasn’t much protection that Molly could offer her. 

And one of the first things that Molly noticed as she began watching Abigail was that the woman could sing. 

Abigail had this habit, whenever she was sitting in her tent on her own while working on something that needed to be done, where she would hum a tune, letting her own voice pop in here and there with the words that she knew. It was an uncoordinated affair, but it was never intended to be anything but. 

It was also adorable.

So adorable, in fact, that Molly decided that maybe she didn’t just need to watch anymore, maybe she could actually go and sit with Abigail. After all, much like her, Abigail was alone, more often than not. What harm could come of it?

“You need any help?” Abigail looked up from her work, pausing her humming as Molly stood by her, close, but not so much so as to suffocate the other woman. 

“Didn’t know you offered that.” Abigail responded, expression unreadable. 

“Hasn’t been something I’ve extended before.”

“With all due respect, Miss O’Shea, I don’t need anyone’s help if they only do so because they take pity on me, especially someone who ‘isn’t anyone’s servant girl’.” Abigail’s eyes turned cold, her brow furrowed, and Molly felt anxiety beginning to set in. 

“That wasn’t my intention whatsoever, I just…” she trailed off, and Abigail cocked her head, “I just don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I enjoy your company? Just for a short while.”

Abigail sighed, chewing on her lip. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t know that feelin’ all too well. Truth be told, you’re the first person who’s come up to me in weeks.”

“I have no idea why that is, though.” Molly picked a sock out of the basket by Abigail’s feet, grabbing a needle and some thread along with it. “You’re such a nice person, it truly is a shame that others don’t recognize it.”

“ ‘Nice person’? Miss O’Shea, you hardly know me.” 

Molly felt the same dreadful wave of anxiety begin to rise inside of her again. “I may not have talked to you much in the past, but I’ve watched.”

“Watched? Me?”

“I watch everybody.” Molly admitted, stabbing the cotton with her needle. “Although I must confess, I do enjoy watching you. I know that isn’t exactly polite, though.”

“You’re right in that it ain’t, but I suppose I’m a hypocrite, so what does my opinion really matter?”

“You, a hypocrite? How so?”

“Gets lonely when nobody comes up to make conversation. Sometimes, you’ve gotta get your fix by watching others.” Abigail laughed. “You never really feel like a part of the group, but it can help alleviate the pain sometimes.” 

“Have you ever seen how Karen and Sean sneak off all the time?” Molly asked. “Lord only can imagine what shenanigans they get up to.”

“If I know either of them, they’re probably finding some tree to fuck up against.” Abigail said, a smile appearing on her face. “Although, on second thought, maybe not, given what happened at his welcome party.”

“At the welcome party? I guess you must have seen something I didn’t. Mind sharing?” Molly asked, her interest thoroughly peaked. 

Abigail snorted. “Well, you saw how the two of them were all over each other that night, right?”

“Would’ve had to be blind as a bat to not have.” 

“Well,” Abigail continued, “at some point, I saw the two of them go into John’s tent, and given my proximity to them, it wasn’t hard to hear what was bein’ said and fill in the gaps.”

“So they slept together at the party? Can’t say that I’m quite surprised.” Molly tied up the thread as she reached the end of the tear, reaching for a handkerchief to work on next. 

“They sure did, but that ain’t the good part.” Molly watched as Abigail’s eyes laughed, full of a mischief that she had never seen present before in her usually quiet companion. “Sean has got to be the quickest quick shot I’ve ever seen, and given my history, that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“No.” Molly covered up her mouth, stifling a laugh. 

“Yes! Poor Karen never even got hers, it had to have been the most pathetic thirty seconds in her entire life.” Abigail smiled, and Molly’s heart twitched. Why?

“Thirty seconds? Wow, if that’s so, then maybe they aren’t all over each other when they go out, and you’re right.” 

Abigail laughed, smiling at Molly. “Well, who’s to say, I’m not sure there even is such a thing as a constant when those two are involved.”

“You may be right there.” Molly puffed one of her cheeks out, trying her best to figure out what to bring up next. She was having a lot of fun, she should do this more often, especially as Abigail also seemed to appreciate the time they were spending together. “Okay, now is it just me, or does Bill look at Kieran a little too often for it to be considered friendly?”

“Oh, it’s not just you, no worries. I’m just a little surprised that out of everyone, he decided to be sweet on Kieran.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, he’s nothing like the kind of men Bill’s been sweet on in the past.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you’ve known about Bill before this?” 

“Yeah, it ain’t that hard to figure it out if you know what to look for.” Unable to gauge Molly’s reaction, Abigail continued on. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, whatever makes you happy makes you happy, y’know? And if that means lovin’ somebody of the same sex, I sure as hell don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Molly smiled, going back to her work, her heart beat now more palpable. “I mean, as nice as it can be to see everyone here fall in love-”

“Or lust.” Abigail interjected, a smirk on her face.

“Or lust, that’s true-- I still think that my favorite person to observe is you.”

“Hm? And why is that?” Abigail still had that smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow. “What about me is so interesting that you’d prefer to watch me than whatever the latest addition to the Sean and Karen saga is?”

“I, uh,” Molly flushed, suddenly aware of what she was saying and how weird it could be considered. “I just, I like watching you hum and sing whenever you work. Something about it is just, I dunno, very relaxing.”

Abigail clicked her tongue. “You really do notice a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Molly replied sheepishly.

“I guess it’s only fair that I tell you that I find watching you write poetry is quite calming.”

“You saw me doing that?” 

“How could I not? Both of us do a lot of watching and thinking, we’re both very similar in that regard.” she said, unbothered by Molly’s embarrassment. 

“I’m… glad, you can find comfort in something that I do.” Molly settled on. 

“The more we talk, the more I’m beginning to think that I just find comfort in you. Somethin’ about you just makes you easy for me to talk to.” Abigail smiled. 

“The same goes for you.” Molly sighed, nibbling on her lip. “We should do this more often. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I.” Abigail agreed. “It’s much better to be with you than to be alone.”

“It really is.” Molly shifted a bit, turning more towards Abigail. Maybe working wasn’t so bad after all.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Whenever commie is no longer busy and have time (and ofc would want to write it), would you be willing to make a complete list of those who would kabedon; and the list of "who would and would not say the f/curse word"?

Oh man, you want a complete list? Well, ok, let’s go show by show here, I’m gonna get really lengthy with it. Like, I can’t go through every character in every show, but I’ll hit what I think are the major points.

Fair warning before you mash the read-more: I did, in fact, go through nearly every show I’ve seen. This post is long.

We will start with Kamen Rider.

Kamen Rider 1号: I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you heard my grandpa say a cuss. Go on. I dare you.

Kuuga

Godai Yusuke: is capable of saying fuck, but does not, because he’s too polite. He might kabedon, but not for any romantic or sexual reasons, just because he likes to be close to people and he gets excited about stuff.

Ichijo Kaoru: says fuck on a regular basis. I think he would kabedon unironically but only in the heat of the moment.

Ra-Baruba-De: doesn’t cuss because it’s beneath her. She’d kabedon Ichijo, but would follow this up with an attempt to kill him.

Agito

Tsugami Shouichi: does not swear and cannot kabedon, although someone else might do it to him.

Hikawa Makoto: might say fuck in a moment of stress, but rarely swears otherwise. He could and would kabedon, but only in situations where doing so would get a comedic result related to his strength and clumsiness.

Ashihara Ryou, the sexiest man in the world: probably swears like a sailor and would absolutely kabedon. The very thought makes me go weak at the knees.

Kino Kaoru: definitely says “fuck,” but I don’t think he does fuck, and he certainly doesn’t kabedon.

Ozawa Sumiko, however: both says “fuck” and does it. She will kabedon, and she will stand on Omuro’s shoulders to get enough height for it.

Ryuki

Kido Shinji: always wants to swear, but doesn’t actually do it. He could kabedon, but only in anger; the thought of doing so in a romantic or sexual context would make him blush and stammer.

Akiyama Ren: can and will say “fuck” at a moment’s notice. You know he kabedons.

Kitaoka Shuichi: says “fuck” quietly, when no one can hear him except maybe Goro. He would kabedon gently and think himself very sexy.

Yura Goro: is a sweet, sweet man who neither swears nor kabedons.

Asakura Takeshi: is saying “fuck” at this very moment. He would only kabedon as a prelude to stabbing.

Tezuka Miyuki: is on this list because I love him, but he does not say “fuck” and could not be induced to. He could be kabedon’ed.

555 (we haven’t finished this one so I can’t guarantee that all characters will be included)

Inui Takumi: I’m pretty sure he could say “fuck” but I don’t think he’s actually inclined to. Kabedon’ing requires a level of investment in whatever situation that I don’t think he’d want to admit to.

Kusaka Masato: oh, absolutely.

Sonoda Mari: swears all the time. Doesn’t kabedon because she expects someone to do it to her.

Keitaro Kikuchi: is a very nice boy who does neither of these things.

Kiba Yuji: contains vast lakes of suppressed rage, and if he says “fuck” even once it might all come out. Does not kabedon for the same reason.

Osada Yuka: says “fuck,” but only in her heart. Does not kabedon.

Kaido Naoya: says “fuck,” but only when he can’t find a more ridiculous option. Absolutely kabedons at a moment’s notice.

Smart Lady: does not say “fuck.” Will definitely kabedon you, and moreover she’ll do it with her leg to make sure that the situation is just, uncomfortably sexual.

Blade

Kenzaki Kazuma: is breathtakingly earnest but nevertheless does, on occasion, say “fuck.” Doesn’t kabedon because he’s too sad.

Aikawa Hajime: has neither the inclination nor the desire to say “fuck” or to kabedon.

Tachibana Sakuya: can say “fuck,” but mostly doesn’t. Also too sad to kabedon.

Kamijou Mutsuki: would say “fuck” to get someone’s attention. He wishes he could kabedon.

Kurihara Amane: is in so much trouble with her mother for saying “fuck.”

Hibiki

Hibiki/Hidaka Hitoshi: is An Dad, and thus is theoretically capable of saying “fuck,” but if he does then it means the situation’s gotten pretty serious. (Or he’s hit his thumb with a hammer.) He can definitely kabedon, but we’ll never see him do it, because that means the situation’s gotten a different kind of serious.

Ibuki: has too much self-control and dignity to say “fuck,” but said it when he was younger. Doesn’t kabedon because it’s just...not the right vibe for him.

Todoroki: has considered saying “fuck,” but the prospect makes him blush. Cannot kabedon to save his life but desperately wishes that he could.

Zanki: comfortable with the word “fuck” but uses it sparingly. Doesn’t seem like a kabedon type.

The Children: Asumu, Kyosuke, and Akira can all definitely say “fuck” just by dint of being high schoolers brimming with all kinds of messy emotions. Kyosuke would definitely attempt to kabedon someone, although he might not do it well.

The Tachibana Sisters: anyone who runs a restaurant can say “fuck.”

Kabuki: like Miyuki, above, is included because I adore him, even though he’s a movie-exclusive character. Definitely says “fuck.” Might kabedon in the process of tricking someone, but wouldn’t do it seriously.

Kabuto

Tendou Souji: feels that saying “fuck” is beneath him. Wouldn’t kabedon so much as he’d very gently brace himself against the wall and lean in, which, let’s be real, is much sexier.

Tendou Juka: you know that comic that people have done all those redraws of? I think this one is the original? This is an accurate representation of what would happen to someone, possibly Kagami, if Juka said “fuck.”

Kagami Arata: is all the time saying “fuck,” at least in his head, but doesn’t often say it out loud because it would draw the wrong kind of attention. Would kabedon Souji, probably, who would be surprised and then quietly delighted.

Kusakabe Hiyori: unlikely to say “fuck,” and if she did I suspect Tendou would take it badly (see above entry for Juka). Might be kabedon’ed, but would definitely knee the perpetrator in the groin.

Kamishiro Tsurugi: my beautiful son does not know what the word “fuck” means, but would definitely kabedon because he’s excitable.

Yaguruma Sou and Kageyama Shun: get one line because they do things together--imagine, if you will, Yaguruma saying “fuck” and Kageyama echoing him quietly a moment later. They would also kabedon together.

Kazama Daisuke: would say “fuck” very quietly. Does not kabedon.

Den-O

Nogami Ryotaro: cannot say any swear words without suffering a potentially fatal nosebleed. May have kabedon’ed once in a dream, but the thought of him attempting it in real life is actually laughable.

Hana: says “fuck” as an adult. As a child, says it more. Does not kabedon, because why bother?

Naomi: can do whatever she likes and I will support her.

Momotaros: says “fuck” regularly and with gusto. Kabedons as a greeting.

Urataros: does not use any curse words because women find them off-putting--unless the woman he’s with swears, in which case he does too. Will kabedon if it is situationally appropriate for getting laid.

Ryuutaros: see, again, this comic, but this time the person doing the shocked face and then later the punching is me. He does not know what a kabedon is.

Kintaros: is probably asleep. Believes that excessive swearing is unmanly. Doesn’t see the point of kabedon.

Sieg: believes that excessive swearing is unfit for a prince, but will very occasionally say “fuck” if it’ll get every eye in the room on him. Unaware of kabedon.

Kiva

Kurenai Wataru: does not.

Kurenai Otoya: does both, vigorously.

Asou Megumi: says “fuck,” doesn’t kabedon. Would encourage someone else to kabedon her though.

Asou Yuri: absolutely says “fuck” all the time, might kabedon Otoya to shut him up.

Jirou: I actually don’t think he swears? Definitely kabedons though.

Nago Keisuke: says “fuck,” but feels bad about it afterwards. Might kabedon from anger, or if induced to by Megumi.

Nobori Taiga: is far too polite to say “fuck,” but occasionally thinks it. Does not kabedon.

Decade

Kadoya Tsukasa: there is no question that he says “fuck” all the time. Not the romantic kabedon type, much to Daiki’s disappointment. May kabedon in other situations, though.

Kaitou Daiki: says “fuck” only occasionally, but with feeling. Would like Tsukasa to kabedon him.

Hikari Natsumi: says “fuck” regularly and energetically. Will sit on Yuusuke’s shoulders to kabedon Tsukasa.

Onodera Yuusuke: does not say “fuck” at all. Cannot kabedon because he is too busy giving Natsumi a boost.

W

Hidari Shoutaro: believes that saying “fuck” is unbecoming of a true man, but still says it if he stubs his toe. Kabedons unintentionally and then blushes when he realizes what he’s done.

Philip: has said “fuck” a total of once and then went down a rabbit hole looking into its etymology. Kabedons intentionally and with forethought, and then completely loses the thread of things as soon as Shoutaro starts blushing.

Narumi Akiko: says “fuck” just to shock Shoutaro. Definitely kabedon’ed Terui at least once, which he was unspeakably charmed by.

Terui Ryuu: is not open to questions about whether or not he says “fuck.” Only kabedons out of frustration.

OOO

Hino Eiji: neither says “fuck” nor kabedons.

Ankh: both says “fuck” and kabedons, and both are generally directed at Eiji. In fact, since he is only a hand, kabedon is an important part of his physical vocabulary.

Izumi Hina: does not say “fuck.” Would break a wall if she kabedon’ed, and thus it’s fortunate that she isn’t inclined to anyway.

Gotou Shintarou: would blush terribly if he ever said “fuck,” or for that matter if he attempted to kabedon.

Satonaka Erika: considers the word “fuck” an important part of her vocabulary, to be used sparingly. Kabedons Gotou, and at least once Date.

Date Akira: says “fuck,” but not in, like, an aggressive way? Just as an expression of mild distress. It does not occur to him to kabedon.

Fourze

Kisaragi Gentarou: is not legally allowed to say rude words. Would kabedon out of an excess of enthusiasm and then be deeply confused if the recipient blushed.

Sakuta Ryuusei: says “fuck” sparingly and only when it’ll have an impact. Does not kabedon.

Utahoshi Kengo: says “fuck” frequently and with enthusiasm. Doesn’t see the point of kabedon.

Jojima Yuuki: like Gentarou, is not legally permitted to curse. Kabedon would not occur to her unless it could be some way related to space.

Kazashiro Miu: says “fuck” occasionally. Kabedons when appropriate, which is rarely.

Daimonji Shun: wishes he could say “fuck,” but can’t quite bring himself to.  Doesn’t kabedon anymore, but he used to.

JK: only says “fuck” deniably. Strictly a receiver of kabedon.

Nozama Tomoko: doesn’t use curse words, she uses curses. Doesn’t kabedon, but appreciates it when she sees others do it.

Wizard

Souma Haruto: definitely says “fuck” sometimes. Prefers a flirtatious lean against a convenient wall over kabedon.

Nitoh Kosuke: says "fuck," but only if his grandma can't hear him--unless there's a notable archeological discovery in the offing, in which case all bets are off. Thinks he's too slick to kabedon, but he's not.

Fueki Koyomi: no.

Nara Shunpei: absolutely not.

Daimon Rinko: has said "fuck" on occasion and would certainly do it again. I can't imagine a kabedon from her though.

Gaim

Kazuraba Kouta: seems like he secretly swears kind of a lot. Does not kabedon because he is, at base, a deeply non-aggressive individual.

Kumon Kaito: says "fuck" at least once a day. Absolutely kabedons, but mainly because he's annoyed and slapping a person seems tactically unsound.

Kureshima Mitsuzane (Micchi): says "fuck" to sound edgy. Would like to kabedon but no one would take it seriously.

Kureshima Takatora: will use the word "fuck" sparingly, and only to indicate that The Situation Has Gotten Bad Indeed. Does not know what kabedon is.

Sengoku Ryouma: says "fuck" occasionally, and with malicious good cheer. Does not kabedon, but if he would like to give it a shot, I am available.

Takatsukasa Mai: says "fuck" quietly but with frequency. Doesn't see a good reason to kabedon anyone.

Oren Pierre Alfonso: only swears in French. Dismisses kabedon as a thing for callow youths, but despite this he did once have a heated dream of doing it to Takatora.

Drive

Tomari Shinnosuke: says "fuck" if he's hit his leg on a table or something, but in more serious situations he does not curse. I cannot possibly imagine him trying to kabedon, it's impossible.

Shijima Kiriko: doesn't swear as much as one might think; "fuck" is for special occasions. Will use a kabedon to get someone's attention.

Shijima Gou: says "fuck" all the time. Would like to kabedon, but hasn't found the right person yet.

Chase: does not swear. Does not kabedon--he's interested in human behavior but that's just nonsense.

Sawagami Rinna: is a professional engineer and thus uses the word “fuck” as punctuation. Might kabedon, but it’s unlikely.

Mr. Belt/Krim Steinbelt: mutters “fuck” quietly when Shinnosuke isn’t paying attention. Does not have arms.

Heart: has said "fuck" experimentally but didn't like the mouthfeel. Delighted by the very concept of kabedon but hasn't done it yet.

Brain: believes that swearing is a sign that you have nothing constructive, intelligent, or amusing to say. Provided Heart with the comics from which they both learned about kabedon, and since then the thought of Heart doing it to him has occupied his every waking moment.

Medic: has thought about saying "fuck" but isn't sure that she really wants to. Stole those comics from Brain and now she, too, would like Heart to kabedon.

Ghost

Tenkuuji Takeru: the thought of saying “fuck” has genuinely never entered his head. More someone who is kabedon’ed than someone who does it himself.

Fukami Makoto: can theoretically say “fuck,” but mostly doesn’t. Would maybe kabedon if the moment seemed appropriate.

Alain: thinks saying “fuck” is sort of uncouth but does it anyway. Wants to know what kabedon is, please tell him about it.

Tsukimura Akari: does not get enough sleep or lab time for anyone to be able to stop her from saying “fuck.” Has kabedon’ed out of excitement, but never for romantic reasons.

Yamanouchi Onari: tries not to say “fuck” because he’s supposed to be setting a good example, but sometimes it just slips out. Definitely doesn’t kabedon, but that’s more out of cowardice than a sense of restraint.

Fukami Kanon: see the comic previously linked to for reference for what would happen if Makoto found out that someone had taught Kanon how to say “fuck.” Reads comics in which there is the occasional kabedon, kind of wishes Alain would do it.

Ex-Aid

Hojo Emu: doesn’t say “fuck” because he works with children. Doesn’t kabedon because it’s not his style.

Parad: absolutely says “fuck,” if only to see Emu drop something in surprise. Thinks kabedon looks fun.

Kagami Hiiro: is too uptight to say “fuck” and too shy to kabedon.

Kujou Kiriya: uses “fuck” as an expression of low-key dismay. Does his best flirting from across the room, but might kabedon if it seemed like the reaction would be entertaining.

Hanaya Taiga: barely even thinks of “fuck” as a word, it’s just a noise he makes when he’s annoyed. Kabedon’ing would require him to get much closer to people than he wants to.

Dan Kuroto: definitely says “fuck,” are you kidding? Even before he was a cackling supervillain he was, at least partially, a software engineer. Does not kabedon.

Poppy Pipopapo: no.

Saiba Nico: says “fuck” all the time as long as Taiga’s not looking. Will not admit to reading the kind of comics where a kabedon might occur, but definitely does.

Graphite: thinks all of this is human nonsense and yet is, despite himself, intrigued.

Build

Kiryuu Sento: probably says “fuck” more than any other main Rider. Yes, even Tsukasa. Is kabedon’ed.

Banjou Ryuuga: says “fuck” because MMA guys have foul mouths, although he did clean up his language a bit when Kasumi was still alive. Kabedons.

Isurugi Misora: if Misora says “fuck” then something terrible is about to happen. Would laugh at anyone who asked if she knew how to kabedon. Would knee anyone who tried it on her in the groin. Kazumi knows this well.

Takigawa Sawa: considers the word “fuck” an essential part of her vocabulary, to be used frequently and sometimes at a great volume. Knows how to kabedon due to spy training but does not use it in her personal life.

Sawatari Kazumi: says “fuck” all the time, unless Misora is paying attention to him. Thinks that kabedon is very sexy and that he’s very good at it; mileage may vary on whether this is actually true.

Himuro Gentoku: says “fuck” softly and solemnly when something really bad has happened. Maybe he kabedons, I’m genuinely not sure.

Evolt: probably does both, but I’m not getting close enough to check.

Zi-O

Tokiwa Sougo: doesn’t swear because it’s not kingly. Does not kabedon.

Myoukouin Geiz: surprisingly, does not tend to curse. Definitely kabedons, not always romantically.

Woz: doesn’t say “fuck,” because there are more roundabout ways to express his frustration. Kabedons, sometimes for romantic reasons and sometimes just to be weird about things.

Tsukuyomi: specifically uses the word “fuck” to indicate that things have gotten serious. If Geiz isn’t going to get around to kabedon’ing her, she’s going to do it to him.

Zero-One

Hiden Aruto: look obviously I can’t really comment on these characters because I haven’t watched that show yet but just from the clips I’ve seen I think Aruto would spontaneously combust if he said “fuck.”

Saber

Kamiyama Touma: says “fuck” sometimes, especially if he’s very tired. Thinks kabedon is kind of a tired plot device.

Sudou Mei: doesn’t think saying “fuck” is that big of a deal, uses it to express irritation. Agrees with Touma that kabedon is overused as a plot device, but likes it nonetheless.

Shindo Rintarou: oh my god no, definitely not.

Fukamiya Kento: uses the word “fuck” the way other people might use the word “moist”--it’s not a word he likes to say, but it has its place. Not generally aggressive enough to kabedon, but might if it seemed useful.

Akamichi Ren: is a teen edgelord and thus says “fuck” a lot. Talks a big game, but is secretly too shy for a successful kabedon.

Ogami Ryo: has tried to clean up his language since becoming a dad and been pretty successful with it. Doesn’t kabedon anymore, but did once.

Daishinji Tetsuo: says “fuck” when he’s working on things. Kabedon generally involves prolonged eye contact, so no.

Sophia: good heavens no, can you imagine?

Tassel: might be a divinity of some kind, can swear if he wants although he’d probably do it in French, but if he kabedons then I’m a walrus. I love Tassel.

All right, that’s Kamen Rider done! Now on to...

Super Sentai

AkaRed: if AkaRed ever said “fuck” I think something in the multiverse would be profoundly damaged--oh, hell, this is how Zenkaiger happens, isn’t it?

Dairanger

Ryo of the Heavenly Fire Star: doesn’t say “fuck,” but you might when you taste his gyoza. They’re the best in the world, you know. It has never occurred to him to kabedon.

Daigo of the Heavenly Illusion Star: is too gentle to say “fuck,” or for that matter to kabedon. (Besides, anyone who tries to kabedon Kujaku is going to be in for some difficulty.)

Bullet Shoji, Warrior of Love: used to say “fuck,” because he used to be in a gang, but doesn’t anymore. Doesn’t kabedon because he tries not to intimidate people.

Kazu of the Heavenly Time Star: doesn’t say “fuck,” he just kinda makes a hiss noise if he’s irritated. Doesn’t object to kabedon in theory but not interested in doing it himself.

Rin of the Heavenly Wind Star: does sometimes say “fuck,” much to her uncle’s dismay. Does not kabedon.

Kou of the Howling New Star: is a horrible child and says “fuck” regularly. Too immature to be allowed to kabedon.

Kakuranger

Tsuruhime: does not say “fuck,” because if she’s mad she can just smack someone. She is fairly sure that people don’t actually kabedon in real life.

Sasuke: has said “fuck” once or twice but mostly tries not to. Too friendly to kabedon.

Saizou and Seikai: get one line because they’re attached at the hip. They are too goofy to say “fuck,” and would only ever manage to kabedon each other.

Jiraiya: not only does he say “fuck,” he will actually be saying “fuck” and not a Japanese equivalent, because he is more comfortable speaking English. I cannot imagine this man attempting to kabedon.

Ninjaman: is tremendously excited to learn about modern cursing, but never actually uses the words he’s learned because his teachers would be mad at him. Naturally too large to practice safe kabedon.

Hurricaneger

Please know that I’m not very far into this series yet, so this is based on fairly early impressions.

Shiina Yousuke: does not say “fuck” but often wants to. Doesn’t kabedon because it seems really aggressive, especially if you’re trying to kiss someone.

Nono Nanami: sometimes thinks the word “fuck” but doesn’t say it. While she’s read a few comics which contain kabedon, the thought of putting the concept into practice has never occurred to her.

Bitou Kouta: would never say “fuck” because children might hear him. Doesn’t kabedon because he’s a gentle soul.

Kasumi Ikkou and Kasumi Isshu: I just met these boys last night but I know in my heart that they both say “fuck,” and moreover they mean it. They also definitely kabedon.

Furabijo and Wendinu: can call me, please, I’m apocalyptically in love with you both.

Gekiranger

Same as Hurricaneger--I’m not that far in, we don’t even have the extra guys yet, but I sure do have some thoughts about the folks we’ve got so far.

Kando Jan: doesn’t even know the word “fuck,” probably has some cute repetitive term for sex that he uses instead. Doesn’t know what a kabedon is either.

Uzaki Ran: may say “fuck” very occasionally if she sustains an injury during training. Not inclined to kabedon.

Fukami Retsu: will pretend that he’s too in control of himself to swear, but does on occasion say “fuck.” Sees no reason to kabedon.

Mele: says “fuck,” but never when Leo can hear her. Doesn’t kabedon, would like someone else (*coughcoughLeocoughcough*) to do so though.

Leo: says “fuck” like he’s chewing on something and spitting it out. Definitely kabedons, but has no idea that this might have romantic or sexual implications.

Shinkenger

Shiba Takeru: does not say “fuck” anymore, because once he said it in front of Jii, who lost his mind. Could kabedon, he’s capable of it, but he’s a little too wound up in himself.

Ikenami Ryunosuke: would never say “fuck.” Not a kabedon type because it seems rude.

Shiraishi Mako: used to work with children, and thus didn’t say “fuck” for years, but now does occasionally--mainly while cooking. Doesn’t kabedon because she has other ways of getting in your face.

Tani Chiaki: is a Gamer and thus definitely says “fuck.” Nonetheless, respects women too much to kabedon them and the only men he might kabedon he is slightly afraid of.

Hanaori Kotoha: is a sweet, precious girl, very dear to my heart, who certainly does not swear or kabedon.

Umemori Genta: only says “fuck” if he cuts himself while preparing fish, or while arguing with fish vendors. Might kabedon to be goofy, but never seriously.

Kusakabe Hikoma/Jii: definitely had kind of a wild youth. Takeru once heard him say “fuck” to a kuroko while working on the clan accounts and has never recovered from the shock. Doesn’t kabedon anymore, but he did once.

Shiba Kaoru: doesn’t actually know the word “fuck” or anything about kabedon, and isn’t going to learn if Tanba has anything to say about it.

Gokaiger--one of the ones I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for

Captain Marvelous: I think we all know that the answer is yes on both counts.

Joe Gibken: says “fuck” quietly in serious situations, and loudly if Marvelous is deliberately getting on his nerves. Does not typically kabedon.

Luka Millfy: uses “fuck” as a general intensifier. Likes guys she can intimidate a little, so she does kabedon, but she mainly does it to Doc and Gai.

Don Dogoier/Doc: if you hear Doc say “fuck” it’s probably the middle of the night and he’s repairing an engine problem. Certainly does not kabedon.

Ahim de Famille: cursing is unladylike--not that she always tries to be ladylike, but she just doesn’t see the point there. Doesn’t kabedon.

Ikari Gai: probably uses some sort of goofy minced oath like “fudge” unless in the actual throes of passion. Doesn’t really have the poise to kabedon.

Basco ta Jolokia: only says “fuck” when no one is listening, because otherwise he might seem less than poised. Would kabedon Marvelous to get a rise out of him.

Go-Busters

Sakurada Hiromu: seems like he’d probably drop the occasional “fuck.” I’m of two minds on the kabedon thing; I think that he could, but I’m not sure that he would.

Iwasaki Ryuji: says “fuck” if he’s working late on some problem. Doesn’t kabedon because he doesn’t want to scare people.

Usami Youko: says “fuck” specifically because it gets Ryuji to make a shocked face at her. Might kabedon if she found someone short enough. She will never find someone short enough.

Nick, Gorisaki, and Usada: no, definitely not.

Masato Jin: says “fuck” with the casual manner of a man who has definitely not just dropped a wrench on his foot. Doesn’t kabedon, but has joked about doing so.

Beet J. Stag (the “J” stands for “Jueki”): says “fuck,” but doesn’t know what it means. Who would he even kabedon?

Enter: only swears in French. Would kabedon with one of his creepy tentacles.

Kyouryuger

Kiryuu Daigo “King”: is a ludicrously perfect shoujo manga love interest, and thus does not say “fuck” but does kabedon in a sexy way.

Ian Yorkland: says “fuck” on dig sites but not in polite company. Might kabedon if it’d make the girl in question smile, does not kabedon men.

Udo Nobuharu: used to say “fuck” sometimes, but doesn’t now that he’s helping to raise Rika. Too busy and tired to kabedon.

Rippukan Souji: is too uptight to do either.

Amy Yuzuki: doesn’t say “fuck,” just makes irritated noises. Might kabedon if it would get someone to stop screwing around and pay attention to her.

Utsusemimaru: is familiar with neither the word “fuck” nor the concept of kabedon, although he might learn about the latter from some of Amy’s manga.

Yayoi Ulshade: says “fuck” when she’s working. Perpetually disappointed that she will never get Daigo to kabedon her.

Candelira and Luckyuro: my beautiful wife and her adorable son have no knowledge of these things.

ToQger

Right, Tokacchi, Mio, Hikari, and Kagura: are all children and thus are barred from engaging with these things. Although I suppose now they’re all fifteen or sixteen, so maybe some of them have started cussing, but I refuse to contemplate it.

Nijino Akira: doesn’t know the word “fuck,” but if he did he’d use it. Doesn’t know about kabedon either, and wouldn’t use it if he did, because that involves getting way too close to people.

Wagon: much like Smart Lady, would kabedon with her leg, but in her case she’s trying to be cute and fun, not creepy. Does not say “fuck.”

Emperor Zett: can in theory say “fuck,” but hasn’t found an occasion to do so. Would kabedon to intimidate, I think he’d kinda puff up like a little angry wren.

Jyuohger

Kazakiri Yamato: will only say “fuck” if he’s just been bitten by an animal he’s taking care of, and even then only if it really hurts. Doesn’t kabedon.

Sera: doesn’t say “fuck” because there’s always something more cutting available. Would bite anyone who kabedon’ed her.

Leo: says “fuck” as long as there are no girls listening. Has been bitten by Sera at least once as punishment for kabedon crimes.

Tusk: says “fuck” about paper cuts, but nothing else. Doesn’t kabedon.

Amu: doesn’t say “fuck” because there are cuter ways to get mad. Doesn’t kabedon herself, but will take any kabedon from someone else as an opportunity to get them to do something for her.

Mondou Misao: says “fuck” sometimes, always apologizes directly afterward. Far too nervous to kabedon.

Bard: says “fuck” at least once a week. Isn’t clear on what kabedon is.

Uncle Mario: you leave Uncle Mario alone.

Kyuuranger

Lucky: does not say “fuck.” Might kabedon in a moment of high spirits.

Garu: is a polite man who neither says “fuck” nor kabedons.

Stinger: says “fuck” frequently. Kabedons with his tail.

Hame: says “fuck” quietly but often. Doesn’t kabedon, and would just vanish if someone did it to her.

Raptor-283: says “fuck” very rarely, but at great volume. Dreams of being kabedon’ed, this is canonical.

Champ: doesn’t curse, and thinks kabedon looks dangerous.

Spada: only says “fuck” in the kitchen, where he can say whatever he pleases, grazie. Could be kabedon’ed.

Balance: says “fuck” if he’s panicking, but only then. Might kabedon for fun.

Naaga Rei: doesn’t do either, and would be terribly puzzled if someone kabedon’ed him.

Shou Ronpou: said “fuck” once when he got his finger caught in the Kyuulette. Isn’t familiar with kabedon, but thinks it looks fun.

Kotaro: is ten years old.

Ootori Tsurugi: doesn’t say “fuck” because it’s not grandiose enough. Definitely kabedons, we see him do it at least once in the show.

LupinRanger Vs. PatRanger

Asaka Keiichiro:  might say “fuck” if he’s really angry, but would feel bad about it. Would blush if he kabedon’ed Kairi, but would still do it.

Yano Kairi: has been saying “fuck” on the reg since he was twelve. Would kabedon to make Keiichiro squirm.

Hikawa Sakuya: might say “shit” on occasion, but never “fuck.” Wishes he was the kind of guy who could kabedon.

Yoimachi Tooma: doesn’t say “fuck,” but does think it loudly. Too reserved to kabedon.

Myoujin Tsukasa: could potentially say “fuck,” but chooses not to. Not a kabedon type.

Hayami Umika: mostly has pretty clean language, but will say “fuck” when she’s sewing, especially if she’s just stuck a needle into her finger, which hurts like a bitch. Doesn’t kabedon herself, might giggle if someone did it to her.

Takao Noël: only swears in French, but does so in extensive and exacting detail. Kabedons, but in a chill way.

Zamigo Delma: thinks the word “fuck” is extremely funny. Would kabedon Kairi to make him uncomfortable, but if Kairi’s unavailable then he’s welcome to look me up.

Ryusoulger

Koh: has never said a swear in his entire life. Doesn’t kabedon.

Melto: says “fuck” often, but quietly, so that the others don’t hear him. Seems kabedon’able to me.

Asuna: doesn’t actually know the word “fuck.” Wouldn’t kabedon, like, on purpose? But she’d definitely do it unintentionally, please see this comic for reference.

Towa: will say “fuck” sometimes if his brother won’t catch him at it. Overconfident enough to kabedon, but I don’t think it’d occur to him.

Banba: says “fuck” if things have gotten very bad. Kabedons only rarely, when he needs to be very serious about something. Yes, sometimes that something is “I think about kissing you with such frequency that it’s interfering with my ability to focus.”

Canalo: doesn’t say “fuck” because Mosa Rex would be disappointed in him. Would never kabedon, if he even knows what that is, due to his overpowering Respect for Women. (It has never occurred to him that one might kabedon anyone but a woman.)

Oto: might say “fuck,” and if she did then Canalo would specifically blame Melto.

Nada: uses “fuck” as an expression of dismay, like, “well, fuck.” Not into the whole kabedon thing.

Tatsui Ui: might have said “fuck” once, but then was so embarrassed that she got a case of hysterical giggles. Absolutely does not kabedon.

Super Sentai is done! That was exhausting! Wow! On to...

Ultra Series

I have seen very few Ultra shows, so this section’s gonna be short.

Orb

Kurenai Gai: doesn’t say “fuck,” does curse in some kind of alien language. Doesn’t kabedon, I bet it’d make him blush, although mostly he doesn’t seem like the blushing type either.

Jugglus Juggler: says “fuck” regularly and with relish. Was once described by someone very wise as having “big kabedon energy,” which is to say, of course he does.

Yumeno Naomi: definitely says “fuck” and doesn’t care who hears her. Will kabedon Gai and Juggler simultaneously, one with each hand, and they will both be impressed and maybe a little turned on.

Hayami Jetta: says “fuck” sometimes, but not as frequently as he’d like people to think. Might try to kabedon, although he wouldn’t necessarily succeed at it.

Matsudo Shin: does neither of these things, as they have no relevance to science.

Geed

I can’t really say much about Geed, since we’re not even ten episodes in, but what I can say for certain is:

Asakura Riku: is too nice a boy to say “fuck” and not intense enough to kabedon.

Toba Laiha: definitely says “fuck” on occasion. Would kabedon with her sword.

Pega: is a child.

Igaguri Leito: does neither of these things, he is a sweet man. And I think Zero would disapprove.

Fukuide Kei: says “fuck” with frequency. I think he would, theoretically, kabedon, but there’s no one on Earth he’d do it to.

Belial: I haven’t actually, like, met Belial, but I’m fairly sure his existence is a concentrated dose of the word “fuck,” in the sense of, “oh, fuck, it’s Belial.” If he kabedon’ed he could destroy the planet, please do not let him.

R/B

I’m even less far into R/B, since I’m watching it by myself.

Minato Katsumi and Minato Isami: they do not.

Aizen Makoto: is too weird to do either of these things.

All right, we’re done with the brief foray into the Ultras. Now, last but very much not least, we have...

Garo

Of which I have only watched the original continuity, none of the Ryuuga stuff yet, so it’s a slightly limited take. However, I love all of these characters dearly, so here we go!

Saejima Kouga: is way too upright (and uptight) to say “fuck.” Doesn’t know what kabedon is, wouldn’t do it if he did.

Suzumura Rei: is a man who swears colorfully and at length and uses “fuck” to add a little bit of pep to things. Definitely kabedons, with varying levels of success depending on who he’s trying it on.

Fudou Leo: is a soft-spoken man, but nevertheless does occasionally mutter “fuck” quietly when he’s working on a Madou device. Blushes and stammers at the very suggestion of kabedon.

Mitsuki Kaoru: might say “fuck,” but only in the absolute heights of fury, which are rare for her. Not inclined to kabedon, but even if she was, who could she even do it to? The shortest person she might kabedon is Rei, who is seven inches taller than her, and it only gets worse from there. She’d need a boost to reach, and my dude Gonza’s back is not good enough for that.

Jabi: believes too strongly in the value of language well-used to say “fuck” except when absolutely necessary. Could kabedon with her leg, probably, and would if she thought it’d be useful.

Rekka: says “fuck” sometimes, mostly to express irritation. Most likely to kabedon with a knife or something.

Saejima Raiga, Mayuri, and Crow: I only barely know these kids but I adore them. None of them are allowed to do any cursing. They do not kabedon.

Madou Ring Zaruba: is a ring, so obviously he can’t kabedon, but he can say “fuck,” and I think sometimes he does.

The Moral Of This Story Is: never ask me for a comprehensive list of anything, because I cannot be trusted to do anything but go completely overboard.

[sanktagenyas]

ok so i finally watched those last three episodes. i said buckle up it’s time to suffer and by the saints did i ever suffer. i just knew the darklina scenes were gonna be rough to watch. it was already rough reading the scenes as they were written in book one. i mean the darkling just shines with his intelligence in that chapter, doesn’t he? threaten the man she loves? well the other man she loves? check! tell her she betrayed you when the reality is you’ve been telling half truths all along and didn’t trust her to make her choices? check! 

buddy this isn’t how you apologize. in the show itself it’s pretty much the same back and forth that leads nowhere. you lied to me! you ran off because my mother told you i’m not who i say i am without giving me a chance to explain! you’ve been lying or bending the truth since we met! YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON YOUR COUNTRY!

by that point i was just like chill the fuck out man you’re about to decimate many many countrymen and you know it. i loved that the stop they made was all about him getting revenge on the man who attempted on alina’s life, that was very unhinged of him and i was HERE for that shit but everyone else in that port? every other woman and child and man on that port? not all of them played a hand and he just went ahead and had them slaughtered without batting an eye. and it’s not like he has some kind of safeguard for grishas does he? how does he know there’s no grisha wherever he’s expanding the fold? some could be in hiding because they fled, because they didn’t want to serve the king. oh well he doesn’t really care about those people does he? we all saw how he spoke about those deserters to arken.

also he could NOT handle alina’s harsh truths about how his own actions are harming grisha close to him even though he claims that every choice he’s made was to protect them and empower them. when she brought up genya i was like yes you better look down you motherfucker! you did this to her, you delivered to her abuser over and over. 

we saw his backstory, some of it and he acted out of grief and rage. he toyed with magic he did not understand and of course he didn’t intend this but his reaction to the fold once it was all said and done was definitely foreshadowing what he was to become. i created something he said defiantly. you created something you don’t have control over. and now he’s done it again somehow, he’s got brand new creatures following him at the end.

i actually felt for young aleksander for losing the woman he loved but the arrogance and the recklessness he showed there is still the same arrogance he has now. he thinks he has thought his plan through but that’s just working off the assumption that no one opposes him ever otherwise he went ahead and put a target on grisha’s backs. he definitely put a target on alina’s back although i know that was never the plan. the fact that when he has a perfectly good remedy to the fold, a chance to actually fix his mistakes once and for all he turns its back and decides to make it ten times worse, chooses ruling via fear over hope is jusr a sign of how far he’s gone. and he didn’t waver once not even when alina was pleading with him that he could have made her his equal, that they could have stayed together and made ravka safe together if only he gave her a choice, he was still manipulative and lied to her face.

at this point i just don’t think his love for her outweighs his belief that he knows what’s best for ravka, what’s the best way to protect grisha. because he doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t grisha at all. he was persecuted like so many others. he won a war for a king centuries and that king turned on him. i’m sure he’s looking at the current one knowing that once grisha have exhausted their uses that king will turn on him too. the fold is just a different kind of war and if he wins that one for the king the darkling already knows what the outcome will be. 

so to summarize this whole darkling commentary here i understand where he is coming from, i understand the fear and the rage and the desperation. it’s not working out for him though. he’s feared but he’s alone. for every ivan there’s a zoya. for every man who’s blindly loyal to him there’ll be someone rising up to oppose him eventually. and if it’s not his own people it’ll be non grisha folks. he has the second army working for him still, but he is alone. and that’s no one’s fault but his own because alina was willing to work with him. 

speaking of alina i loved every second of her rising up to oppose him telling him she never needed him. she may have fallen in love with him but she never actually needed him to be powerful, she only needed to free herself of the restraints she’d put on her powers out of fear. i also thought that the way she freed herself of his control made more sense than it did in the books. 

i have hope for darklina still despite all that’s happened despite how positively full of rage ans resentment she is because she still loves him, she still listened when he pleaded with her that they needed each other if they wanted to deal with the fold. of course there’s the slight issue of him lying directly and manipulating her to do his bidding and of course the fact that he took her power from her. the only thing that was her and he perverted it for his own gain. i think it just might take more than a year for her to forgive him i’m afraid. i don’t necessarily see a path to redemption right now but reconciliation? alina can be merciful, she can be forgiving. i think all it would really take is just one selfless act, one show of good faith. if he keeps pursuing her and mal and keep trying to rob her of her agency however i don’t see them ever having any kind of closure.

i don’t think i need to expand much more on my thoughts on malina. i’m not feeling what the show wants me to feel. i’m not seeing them as these soulmates that belong together. to me they’d be better of as best friends. the darkling didn’t make her strong he tried to steal her strength for his own use but mal doesn’t make her strong either, she relies too much on him. mal actually was pretty damn resourceful when left on his own. i unfortunately couldn’t say the same for alina. co-dependant love is not better than toxic love and darklina’s toxicity (most of it) comes from the lies and from the darkling repeatedly choosing for alina. he’s not brave enough to just tell her what he intends to do and let her decide whether to align herself with him so he lies and he deceives instead. not much he can do to undo it now but he could help actually destroy the fold if he wanted to. i don’t know if he’ll ever come around to it though.

the darkling visiting mal with the sole purpose to rub it in his face that alina and he are immortal and so eventually mal will die and then he could just swoop in was just peak comedy. the way he delivered that line too you’d think he was talking to an insect not another human being. it was brilliant. mal echoing that same line but ending it with “the past will do it for me” was pretty good, nice quip i’ll give mal that but also terribly ironic when you see the ending.

team crows remains the highlight for me. kaz and inej and their unspoken love for each other is just killing me. i can tell there are personal traumas there that i don’t know about (gotta read those damn books and quick) what with kaz not being able to help tend to her wounds and the fact that there were moments were i could see there was maybe a kiss about to happen or an embrace (at the end when kaz let alina go free and made a deal not to rat her out) and it just didn’t happen. there’s a story there about kaz and his distaste for being touched/touching others. jesper is just here to look pretty, shoot shit and be the most charming person in any crowd. i’m in love. also someone give him his goat back for the love of god.

nina and mathias were entertaining for sure. with all that banter and all these jabs i should have really seen them falling for one another coming. i felt like it was perhaps a bit rushed but i guess there’s nothing like almost freezing to death together to make you reconsider your views. you know the whole saving of lives thing can really bond you. the waffle date was adorable. was not expecting nina to just brand herself a traitor for him and she’s damn lucky fyedor came on that mission because i’m pretty sure ivan wouldn’t even have offered to keep her name out of the report. she and mathias ended their story both heartbroken and separated. i really hate that he thinks this was all intentional. really hope she’ll join the crows on their next con job. and i also cannot wait to see the look on heleen’s face when kaz buys inej’s freedom.

i was not at all expecting zoya to turn against the darkling. that’s what happens when you turned down one of your fuck buddies, aleksander they get bitter and then they leave you to be eaten alive by volcras. ok but in all seriousness she did the right thing and i hope she finds her family even if they’re not alive so she can say her goodbyes. 

oh and completely unrelated but since i talked about heights of comedy before i really need more sassy! darkling in my life. he is everything. that quip about his speech. the way he said adorable like he was gagging on the word. him just letting david be his dorkiest self and raise his hand before speaking, that little put upon sigh. i love sassy! darkling almost as much as jealous and petty darkling which is saying a lot. just more of that. it humanizes him, i’m tired of villains who are forever stoic and stone face. 

i think i about covered everyone and everything that happened in those remaining episodes. all in all shadow and bone is an amazing adaptation, really faithful to the first book. they made some changes to the characters which in turn changed some dynamics (alina actually admitted she wanted to be with the darkling. out loud. to his face. book!alina would never and book!darkling would never cry in front of her.) but it made for surprising viewing. it also made me become even more attached to some characters (the darkling let’s be real) which made me care more which is why i was livid when they started making a lot of terrible no good choices.

i was just really blown away by this show and the way the grishaverse was brought to life and above all major props to the actors who all just seemed to be born to play their respective roles. 

[jalapeno-princess]

Nobody Compares to You

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 5.8K

Genre: Angst (Yugyeom stans, you have been warned. It isn’t sunshine and rainbows for our sweet maknae in this story so if your bias is Yugyeom, this imagine isn’t for you)

Summary: It’s been months since you and your ex-boyfriend Mark called it quits on your relationship. Six years of a relationship isn’t something that someone can easily get over which is why almost four months ago, your coworker Youngjae introduced you to his good friend Yugyeom. Although your first meeting got off on the wrong start, over the course of the last three months, you found yourself becoming very fond of the extremely kind and gentle boy. When your mother finds out about your new relationship, she invites you and Yugyeom over for dinner in order to get to know your new love interest and unfortunately, things don’t go the way you wished they could have. All your family members seem to immediately take a disliking to your boyfriend and it is revealed later on in the night that the reason behind your family’s hostility is not something; but someone. Your ex-boyfriend in particular.

This was not how tonight was supposed to go. Usually, when you introduce your boyfriend to your parents for the first time, it was expected that things might end up a little awkward. Poor Yugyeom was already very nervous at the idea of meeting your parents when you told him that they invited him over for dinner with the intentions of meeting the new man in your life.

The two of you have only been together for a little over three months now, so you felt as if it was still pretty early on to be bringing him over to your parent’s house and having him spend time with your family. However, the older boy was very understanding and did his best to try and impress your parents.

When your mom found out about your relationship, she was pretty upset to hear that you moved on from your previous boyfriend. Mark had to be everything she could ever want in a son-in-law and more. He was such a gentleman; he took care of you in ways she could only dream about your significant other doing for you.

Although he was very soft spoken and kept to himself a lot of the time, he was extremely polite and a very good listener. She would observe the way you would interact with one another while you would go over to your parent’s house. Your mom was always the type to be very observant of her surroundings.

All she ever wanted in life was the best for her children; she made sure they received only the best education, a well-paying job and a life partner who would treat them the way they deserved. She noticed how happy Mark made you. You were always such a bubbly, happy-go-lucky individual. It didn’t take much for you to laugh, or smile; but your smile was more genuine if Mark was the reason behind it. Not that you were secretive when it came to your relationship with Mark, but you weren’t one who believed in telling people what went on in your relationship. This included your mom.

She may not have known how the two of you would act while you were alone, but when you were with Mark in a place surrounded by others, it was as if you would be in your own little worlds. Both of you could be in a crowded room with hundreds of people and pay nobody any attention other than each other. Every now and then, when you’d find yourself on the phone with your mom talking about your day or just how your life was going in general, you’d absentmindedly bring Mark up in every conversation.

No matter what you and your mom would be talking about, you’d always find a way to bring him up and your mom found your admiration and the love you had for him very adorable. Some days, she would meet Mark’s mom for lunch and they would talk about your future and how neither of them could wait much longer for the two of you to finally get married and start having a family. You didn’t know this, but they would even plan out your wedding; where it would be located, what kind of food would be served, the kind of entertainment you’d have, how many people you wanted to invite—and then they would converse about the different types of names they wanted you to name your children.

You didn’t have to say it out loud that you loved Mark, your mom could just tell by the way your eyes would light up when talking about him, or the way you’d sound so happy telling her about the many things he would do for you. She’d watch the way he would make a plate of food for you at parties before he could even make one for himself; she’d observe how he would give you his undying attention whenever you’d inform him about something that happened at work or a story from your childhood that one of your aunts would bring up.

Your mom particularly liked the way that he would always need to be touching you in a protective and affectionate yet not too touchy or improper way. On one occasion, you excused yourself to go use the bathroom and a couple of your aunties and some of your cousins took this opportunity to see what Mark’s intentions were with you. They wanted to witness for themselves the kind of man you claimed to be “the most perfect man in the entire world.” Anyone could see that Mark was overwhelmingly handsome.

He was the definition of a sight for sore eyes. Time and time again, your cousins would never fail to remind you of how lucky you were to have scored such a good-looking man with such a wonderful personality. If only they knew just how amazing he actually was. Since Mark was very shy and only talked to your family members when they would approach him; unless it was one of your nieces and nephews asking him for a piggy back ride to which he was always quick to agree to, nobody really had the chance to learn more about him other than what you or your mom would tell them.

It seemed as though Mark would follow you around like a lost puppy and your cousins thought it was such a heart-fluttering notion. As much as you loved your family, there were times where some of them could be a little too blunt and sometimes a little too nosy, no matter who they were dealing with. First they complimented Mark on his breathtakingly gorgeous looks, and then they told him how they admired how polite and gentle he seemed to be. Your oldest cousin asked him what he genuinely thought about you and if only you were there to hear his response.

“She’s my entire world. She’s the reason for my existence. Everything I do, it’s with making her proud in mind. I love her more than I can even fathom in to words.”

He scratched the back of his neck in the most enchanting way, even if it was because he was so flustered. It was one thing to tell you on a daily basis just how much he loved you and treasured you as if you were the one who set the moon, sun and stars on the sky. It was another thing to describe to your family what he felt for you. Mark wasn’t embarrassed at confessing his feelings for you to anyone else; he loved the idea of you and being in love with you. He didn’t care how people viewed him for being in love.

Sometimes, he could turn in to a real sap whenever it came to you. You just made him so happy, and his response seemed to make everyone in the dining room swoon over him. Your mom was listening in while washing dishes and she couldn’t stop the wide grin on her face once those words fell from his mouth. Right before the party ended that night, your cousins came over to you and told you what Mark said. No matter how many times he would tell you he loved you, or why he loved you, for some reason; knowing that he told your family with so much love and excitement in his tone, no matter how embarrassed you were sure he probably was, it set your entire body in flames.

Your mom pulled you to the side and told you that Mark was the one for you. Which is why you could understand that it would take her a little longer to accept Yugyeom as your current boyfriend. When you first told your mom the news of your breakup with Mark almost seven months ago, it took her a while to process it in her mind. In fact, with the way she was acting towards Yugyeom; so fake and so artificial, you couldn’t help but feel as if she still wasn’t over the end of your relationship.

It came as a shock to everyone who knew the two of you. Your relationship with Mark was the envy of all of your friends and some of your relatives. The love you and Mark shared was that of what one could only witness in movies. Your relationship was honestly too good to be true. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end whether we’re prepared for it or not. Five years was quite a long time to be with someone; but that did not necessarily set in stone that the two of you would spend the rest of your lives together even if that’s what you both planned. Sometimes life throws situations at us that we’re never ready for. There are some battles we have to go through and storms we have to face that we don’t always end up coming out triumphant.

Couples grew apart—sometimes to the point where they fell out of love. You didn’t know how or when it came to that point in your relationship, but when you looked at Mark and didn’t feel that same spark you did for almost the entirety of your relationship; nor did butterflies fill your tummy whenever you’d see him, that’s when you knew you couldn’t continue being in a relationship with him anymore. What was once your only source of happiness, turned in to the number one thing that was bringing you so much pain and misery.

Before you could end things with him, it seemed as though Mark had the same idea in mind and told you that he couldn’t do this anymore. Accepting that you and Mark were actually over and learning how to live without him took a very long time. How do you go from having someone you loved more than life itself; waking up to his contagious smile and stinky morning breath, holding him and being held by him, eating breakfast he would make for the two of you, showering together to “protect the environment”, staying in on the days you were both off from work to cuddle and lounge around doing nothing together—having him in your everyday routine for the last five years only to stop all of that, it was pure torture.

There were some days and even some nights where you’d forget that the two of you were no longer a couple, and you’d begin typing out a text, asking how his day was going or if he ate only to delete the message in it’s entirety because you no longer held the rights to do so anymore. How his well-being was, how his life was going, what he was currently doing or if he was seeing anybody was no longer your business. You attempted to stay friends; the two of you started off as friends, so naturally you’d still crave to have his presence in your life even if it was strictly platonic.

That ship was quick to sink as it was to sail; there was no way you could continue being friends with Mark, especially when you finally came to terms with the fact that you were still so in love with him. Just because you no longer felt a connection with him didn’t mean you stopped loving him. Five years of a relationship plus two years of a friendship wasn’t going to disappear overnight. You don’t think you’d ever stop loving Mark.

He was your genuine first love and everyone knows that you could never forget about the person who showed you what love was. Mark taught you how to love yourself when you thought that was impossible. He helped you learn to love the things you claimed to hate about yourself because he claimed that every single thing about you was extraordinary. You haven’t seen or heard from him since you told him that you couldn’t handle being just friends with him, but the two mutual friends that you shared together would update you on how he was doing every so often, but they never seemed to want to tell you if he moved on to somebody else.

One day, you went over to your parent’s house to drop off some food to your mom when you heard her on the phone with who you assumed was Mrs.Tuan. The disappointment in your mom’s voice caught your attention and you found yourself leaning against the doorframe to eavesdrop on their conversation. As soon as you heard her reconfirm that Mark was giving dating another try, you soon regret your decision. You could tell your mom was even more upset and you tried your best to pretend that you didn’t hear anything and that the news didn’t affect you.

The boy sitting beside you with his hand gripping tightly on your thigh as a sign he was growing uncomfortable was the effect of what hearing about your ex-boyfriend’s new love interest would do to you. Yugyeom was a friend of your co-worker Choi Youngjae. He claimed that the tall and lanky boy was very sweet and had kind eyes. Youngjae also informed you that he was also very passionate about dancing. The first date he took you on was in more or less words, a disaster. Not only was he over twenty minutes late and had you sitting there looking like an idiot waiting for him, but he was completely underdressed for the restaurant you were dining at and with the way his hair stuck to his forehead and the dried sweat on his neck, you had a feeling he came straight to the restaurant after practice.

He was very apologetic, and he seemed to be everything Youngjae explained him out to be, he just wasn’t what you were used to. If he was already like this on the first date, what more the rest of your dates or just your relationship in general. For some reason; which you believed was the fear of being alone and just needing someone to fill the void Mark created in your heart when he took all of his things out of your shared apartment, you continued to go on dates with Yugyeom hoping you’d be able to develop any sort of feelings for him so you could finally move on from Mark. You weren’t going to lie, Yugyeom seemed to be a very charming and animated kind of guy.

A lot of the dates he’d plan out for you both had a lot to do with music, dancing and anything that had to deal with the performing arts. He would also text you at least once a day to see how you were doing and would send you memes that he’d find funny, but you still found yourself comparing him to Mark. Yugyeom had no idea about Mark; you didn’t feel like it was necessary to tell your current boyfriend about your ex-boyfriend, especially since you wanted nothing more than to be with him than with Yugyeom.

He could tell there was something you weren’t completely honest about, and sometimes he felt as if you weren’t interested in him the way he was with you. He didn’t want to force you to have feelings for him, nor did he want to bother you about what seemed to be clouding your thoughts, but as a boyfriend; he hated seeing you so down about something he had no clue about. After you told him that your family wanted to meet him, his mind went haywire and a part of him wanted to find an excuse to get out of it. But you were someone Yugyeom saw himself dating for the long run; therefore he hesitantly agreed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet your family, he was just afraid that they wouldn’t like him or approve of him. He bought your mom a bouquet of sunflowers, he bought your dad his favorite bottle of whiskey and a cake for your family to enjoy. He compliment your mom on her cooking and he conversed with your older brother about sports—so you thought things were going pretty well. You were sure with how polite and attentive he was acting towards your family; especially towards your parents in order to make a good impression, that your mom would at least accept the fact that you were seeing someone else.

You didn’t know if it was because she still felt as if Mark should have been the one at dinner; that he should still have been the main man in your life, or if she just genuinely did not like Yugyeom at all. You couldn’t find a reason why she wouldn’t like him though; it wasn’t like he was rude or unamused. Poor boy was shaking his leg out of nervousness. He was genuinely trying to get them to like him yet it was painfully obvious that nobody really seemed to have the slightest bit of interest in what he had to say and you found it completely disrespectful. You’d look from out of the corner of your eye and you’d watch how your mom looked at Yugyeom in aversion.

For a few minutes, you contemplated on confronting her about her negative reaction but you didn’t want Yugyeom thinking anything was wrong nor did you want to leave Yugyeom alone with them in fear of someone saying something that could hurt his feelings. When Yugyeom got a call from his mom and politely asked to go answer it, you motioned for your mom to follow you in to your old bedroom so you could try and find out why everyone was acting so cold towards your boyfriend. Once you closed your door and right as you were about to open your mouth, she beat you to it and her emotionless and icy tone sent chills down your spine.

“I don’t like that boy.”

You looked at her in confusion; what could Yugyeom have said or did that she wasn’t particularly a fan of? You were with him this entire time, you didn’t witness him being rude in any way; matter of a fact, he seemed like the type of guy most parents would want their daughters to bring home to them. Sure, it took some time for you to get used to dating someone new. It was obvious his qualities were completely different from that of Mark’s, but you didn’t go in to this relationship expecting him to be a carbon copy of your ex-boyfriend.

Even after three months together, you were still learning more and more about him every day. You learned about his love for chocolate shakes only a week after your second date together. You were also quick to learn about his allergy to dust and lint when you wore a cardigan on a date and he ended up sneezing the entire night. It was going to take some time for your feelings for Yugyeom to grow, but you did genuinely care about him. Youngjae told you that this was Yugyeom’s first actual relationship, so he was still learning how to be the kind of boyfriend that you deserved.

Hearing your mom say something so negative about him made your skin crawl. Maybe if he showed no interest in being there or if he didn’t treat you in a such a loving and affectionate way, then you’d be able to see why she took a disliking to him. The only reason you could come up with, was the fact that she still wanted you to end up with Mark. This may have been your first relationship since the breakup, but you were sure that no matter who you ended up with; even if they were very successful, intelligent, good looking—hell, they could have a mansion in Beverly Hills and in your mom’s eyes, they would never be good enough. You didn’t know what it was that made her gravitate towards Mark so much, however, that shouldn’t be an excuse as to why she would treat any of your future partners in such a cynical way.

“Well, that’s just too bad. I like Yugyeom, he’s a really sweet guy and he makes me happy. What Mark and I had was amazing and yes, I do miss him and I do think about what could have been but our relationship is no longer. It’s been months mom, I have every right to want to move on. You of all people should be happy for me. It doesn’t matter who he is or who he isn’t, he takes good care of me and I know he feels the same way about me as I do for him. I can’t find another reason as to why everyone’s treating him like he’s a criminal, but I refuse to let this continue any longer. We’re leaving.”

You could tell there was more she probably wanted to say. This was the first time you have ever talked back to your mom, but it was inevitable. You refused to just stand there and allow her to continue degrading Yugyeom. She didn’t know anything about him. This wasn’t her life; it wasn’t her decision to make. Your relationship was nobodies business but yours and Yugyeom’s. When you went back downstairs and saw that he was no where to be found, you released a frustrated grunt.

As much as you wanted to think that there was a chance he was still on the phone with his mom, you were away with your mom for at least ten minutes. You marched over to your dad angrily and all you wanted to do was find Yugyeom and go home. Tonight drained out all of your energy and you were sure the poor boy was probably scarred by this entire experience.

“Where’s Yugyeom?”

Your dad tilted his head towards the front door; it was adamant that similarly to your mom, he too couldn’t care less about your boyfriend. The way your family was treating him made you frustrated. If it were you in his shoes and his family were to act so unwelcoming and cold-hearted, you would’ve came up with a reason to leave. It was unfair, both to you and Yugyeom. Without even saying goodbye to anybody, you yanked at your things and stormed outside the door; slamming it in your wake. When your eyes landed on his sullen figure, you could physically feel your heart clench at the sight.

“Hey, everything alright?” He looked up at you with the saddest look in his eyes and you were sure his pained expression would stay etched in to the back of your mind. All he wanted to do was get your family to like him in order to impress you and win brownie points, but this entire experience caused him to question your relationship. If your family was already acting so cold towards him after only the first meeting, what more as your relationship continued? He didn’t think he’d be able to visit them again knowing that they didn’t necessarily care about him. Once he took a deep breath in and stayed quiet, you walked over to him and lifted his chin up; making sure he was giving you his full attention before stealing a chaste kiss from the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry Yugyeom. My family, they’re not normally like that—and it’s not you. Trust me. You are a wonderful guy and an even more amazing boyfriend. Please don’t think tonight meant anything—we really shouldn’t have came here. Let me treat you to a chocolate shake.” He gave you a sad smile at your attempt to make him feel better, but it was quick to disappear and the question that’s been heavy on his mind hesitantly fell from his lips.

“It’s because of Mark isn’t it?” Not once in the duration of your relationship with did you tell him about Mark so you were a little nervous as to how he knew of him. Did your dad or any of your siblings say something while you were away? The way your brows furrowed in curiosity caused him to respond quicker as to how he could have known about the man in question.

“Youngjae told me about him. He kind of warned me in a way, not because he was afraid of you leaving me or cheating on me with him—it wasn’t like that. Knowing that you’re my first actual girlfriend, I guess he just wanted me to know that you were probably still healing and still growing from your breakup. I wanted to be an understanding boyfriend; I wanted to be there for you in any way possible but you never showed that you were suffering or anything so I just assumed Youngjae was fucking with me. I felt like it wasn’t my place to ask you about him or any of your past relationships for that matter. All I care  about is you. I was fine this entire time; you seemed to have moved on. But then your family didn’t seem to like me all that much and I just assumed it’s because they must still want you and Mark to be together. I—You don’t—uh—still have feelings for him do you?”

Just like what you had told your mom, you did wonder about Mark every now and then, and you knew that you still cared about how he was doing but you no longer held any romantic feelings for him. Or at least you didn’t think you did. But Yugyeom was the only person who deserved your full attention, all your love and your affection and that’s what you planned on giving him. This was the first time you’ve seen him anything but happy and it bothered you knowing that your family was the reason. You were now regretting this entire gathering and you were sure this only made Yugyeom insecure about your entire relationship.

He was never one to really admit what he was feeling; even on the days where work was a little too hard on him or if his dance teacher would overly critique his performances, he would never make it known that it troubled him. Why didn’t you put more thought in to this? It was considerably too early to have brought him over to meet your family and knowing how they favored your ex, you should have expected them to be so harsh. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek sweetly in attempts to show how apologetic you really were.

“No, I don’t. Mark and I are no longer together for a reason babe, you have nothing to worry about. I really like you Yugyeom and I’m sorry that they were so mean to you. Thank you for trying; I know you must’ve been worried to meet them and they made it extremely difficult for you, but I know you did it to make me happy. That just shows me how much you adore me. What my family thinks—or just what anyone thinks about us or about you means nothing to me. If I allowed people to dictate my life and tell me who I can and cannot be with, then I’d be miserable. I’m a grown woman Yugyeom. I make my own choices; I decide what I want and I want you. Now, I think it would be best if we both pretended this night doesn’t exist. Don’t you agree?”

Your sweet words made him smile like an idiot. He admired how headstrong and I depended you were. You were soon pulled in to his warm embrace and he left a few gentle kisses on your forehead. Unfortunately, Yugyeom ultimately decided he had enough drama to deal with in one night and declined your offer to go out for dessert. The car ride back to your apartment was eerily quiet other than  the soft hip hop playlist he put on. He reached for your hand and placed it on his lap as his was of reassuring you that he was okay. You snuck some glances at him and you had a feeling he was overthinking tonight’s events.

Yugyeom was the type of person who could talk for hours about pretty much everything. While on the way to your parent’s house, he was giving you his honest opinion about the live version of Mulan and how it wasn’t even half as good as the cartoon which led you to fill the car with your laughter. Now the air was filled with underlying tension and it made your heart hurt. He may have been holding your hand, but you could tell it was more so for your sake; not because he wanted to. After what felt like hours of awkward silence, he pulled up to your apartment structure and put the car in park.

“Thank you for dropping me off. And thank you again for being such a good sport. You’re really such a extraordinary person Yugyeom. I’m so sorry—“ he stole a few kisses from your mouth for what you thought was to prevent you from muttering any more apologies.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can go get those shakes you mentioned earlier. Have a nice rest of your night babe.” With a playful pinch on your cheek and a few kisses later, you said your goodbyes to your boyfriend and made the short trek up to your unit. As soon as you entered, you made a beeline toward your bedroom and began changing in to your pajamas. Once you were done preparing for bed; ridding your face of any trace of makeup, brushing your teeth and putting on your moisturizer, you went back in to your room and practically flung yourself on to your bed.

You released a hysterical laugh of disbelief; did tonight really even happen or was it just a fever dream? You could only hope that Yugyeom didn’t take your family’s hostility to heart. When you reached for your phone to see what time it was, you were curious to see that you had a few text notifications. Since you were just with him, you assumed it was your boyfriend informing you that he was home now. But once you saw who the messages were from, you really believed that you were probably asleep and that you’ve been dreaming the entire time. You had to be, there was no way this could all be going on in the same night.

Mark: Hey. 10:23 P.M.

Mark: It’s been a while. How have you been? 10:23 P.M.

Mark: I know you’re probably wondering why I’m contacting you right now and honestly I don’t know what to tell you other than I made a mistake. 10:25 P.M.

Mark: My mom talked about you this morning and it’s been a while since my thoughts wandered to you. Now they won’t stop. 10:29 P.M.

Mark: I don’t know if you’re single or if you’re seeing someone else, but if you are you can completely ignore this entire message and I’ll accept it for what it is. 10:29 P.M.

Mark: But if you’re still single, then I just want to tell you that I miss you like crazy and if you still feel the same way that I do, then maybe we can try again? Don’t feel like you have to reciprocate my same feelings. 10:30 P.M.

Mark: Although, it would be pretty amazing if you did. 10:30 P.M.

Mark: Goodnight y/n. I love you. 10:30 P.M.

[letsperaltiago]

i love you and i like you

Based on @stars-my-darling's adorable post: 

“When Mac starts talking he will sometimes just randomly tell Amy that he loves her, usually at the end of an unrelated sentence. They later realise that he learnt to do this because Jake is always randomly telling Amy that he loves her and Mac is copying him." aka. 5 times toddler Mac Santiago-Peralta tells his mommy he loves her

Also includes prompt #101 from the 101 fluffy prompts-list: "…They just grow up so fast."

Read on ao3

Every like and reblog is appreciated <3

Amy Santiago has so far had a lifetime’s worth of great jobs, which, she knows, isn’t that hard when you love work and everything it implies. Everything from assisting her middle school’s librarian to that brief job at a small uptown museum her degree got her to being a respected sergeant in the NYPD. She’s loved every single job but, she’s now come to realise, nothing vill ever beat her most recent employment: Motherhood. With a capital M, yes.

Mac throws her and Jake’s worlds over like the tiny miracle of a storm he is and they’ve never looked back since. It’s brand new, it’s exciting, it’s scary, and though they’re not exactly religious, he’s the answer to their prayers. Parenthood turns out to be nothing like what they’d expected, like nothing they’d ever tried before and looking past some of the rough days, which are inevitable, it’s actually even better. They get to shape and watch a human grow; a human of which they’re both the genesis and they couldn’t be any more proud - both of each other but also their son.

Everything Mac does and achieves is a moment to remember, and they take nothing for granted: every new sound, even simple gurgles, every new movement, even the flick of a tiny finger? They beam, look at each other with wide, joyous eyes and celebrate their newborn addition to their little family. They hold on to everything they can, while they can although, they swear, every other day they’ll be lying in bed with him while he sleeps or watch him begin to explore their apartment on his own and they’ll take turns breaking the comfortable silence with what they’re both thinking:

“They just grow up so fast.”

Even if he’s merely grown a tenth of an inch since the last time they brought it up.

This fact aside, before they know it, their before so very tiny and helpless son can sit without assistance, sooner than later starts crawling and before they seem to have the time to catch up with the ladder he suddenly knows how to say “mama” and “dada” - and the day Mac takes his first steps, Amy filming on her phone while Jake is squatting to entice his son? Both parents guiltlessly shed a tiny tear rewatching the video that night after their little one, who suddenly seems so big, is put to bed.

With the walking comes the talking. Mac, like his dad, is an entertainer and seizes every chance he gets to chat with his parents, and anyone else who’ll listen for that matter, and hopefully make them laugh. Amy quickly sees through the fact that her son’s mannerism is definitely inspired by her husband’s, and Amy’s heart swells at every glimt of it: everything from Mac’s tiny ‘big dramatic movements’ to him attempting to crack small jokes (that sometimes are actually super funny but also mostly make people laugh because his delivery is beyond precious). Despite the fact that his personality is absolutely a solid blend of both parents, Jake’s genes definitely conquer everything else, and Amy doesn’t mind one bit. Although she could do without the short, Peralta-inspired attention span, which can be both very cute but also slightly maddening when you’ve told your barely 3-year old toddler 6 times to finish their meal meanwhile he’s to preoccupied by his father cleaning up the water said toddler spilled just seconds ago.

All in all, Mac is a copy of Jake, and in more ways that one Amy is grateful. Especially when the little boy starts getting a grasp of the word ‘love’ and what it actually means though his parents have showered him with it since before he was born. Jake and Amy will tell Mac ‘I love you’ on the daily and, besides this, his parents themselves aren’t exactly shy of telling each other, especially Jake who often tends to do it out of nowhere or any kind of context which the boy must’ve picked up on at some point.

It starts off quite naturally: the first time he says it.

One night after getting him washed down and put into his favorite firetruck-print pyjamas (the parents couldn’t deny him it even though they were far from thrilled), Amy’s sitting with Mac in his new so-called ‘big boy-bed’. Feeling her son’s curly-haired head nestled into her chest, one hand grabbing onto the fabric of her shirt while the other holds onto his best buddy Leo the Lion, Amy reads out loud from one of the many books she’s managed to accumulate for her son. Obviously worn out from the day Mac, as being almost 3 is very exhausting, stays silent and listens carefully to the sound of his mother’s voice, dutifully paying attention to the book’s colourful drawings and even sometimes pointing at them whenever Amy reaches a part of the story that’s been illustrated.

“Then the little puppy ran through the big big field and the big big forest to get back home-“

“Shee, Mommy,” Mac interrupts her with a lisp caused by the pacifier hanging from one corner of his mouth and points to the drawing of the running dog with his index finger. “Doggy runth!”

“Yeah, I see, baby,” she smiles before pecking the top of his head. Normally she’d ask him to remove his pacifier when he speaks. Her and Jake slowly trying to make the object something Mac knows he can use to relax rather than constantly needs, but when it’s this late and right before bedtime Amy can’t be bothered to reprimand him. For now she’s just proud of her tiny, smart guy. “Where is he running?” She pulls back to look at him, encouraging him to explain further.

“He’sh going home!” he smiles proudly to a point where his pacifier almost falls out, just barely clinging on for dear life.

“That’s right. He’s running home to his family - good job,” she chuckles sending him one last smile before skimming her wristwatch quickly realising bedtime is just minutes away. It’s not that they’re following a strict schedule that depends on every single minute and second of the day: something she’s actually glad Jake’s and his more laid-back lifestyle has transferred to their parenting-style. Although Mac, his parents have come to find out, will reach a point during the evening where it’ll be too late and he becomes overtired and impossible. Therefor 8 PM is the ultimate limit (on weekdays, that is) and Amy sees it quickly approaching so she quickly finishes up their story and shuts the book closed.

“That’s it for today, Mr. Mac. Time to visit dreamland,” simply not able to resist the feel and smell of her son’s newly washed curls, she places another kiss to the top of his head before climbing out of the small bed and hears him reply with a yawn which tells her that she’s probably timed bedtime perfectly. To the great delight of the now also tired mother (a high rank full-time job and a toddler will do that to you) she’s once more proved right when Mac gets under the covers without a trace of fight.

“Roshie?” he looks up at his mother with worried eyes as he hugs Leo the Lion a bit tighter. Those stupid beautiful brown eyes he’s inherited from Jake.  

“Oh,” Amy kneels down to the bed’s side and starts running her hand all over the duvet, mattress and bed-frame. “Where’s Rosie, bud?”

Rosie aka. the pink unicorn he’d gotten from auntie Roro back when he was still a tiny baby (though he’d always be Amy’s tiny baby) was missing and they both knew very well that there would be no sleeping without it. Suddenly her hand comes across a bump, to her relief revealing the stuffed animal once she lifts up the duvet.

“Yay, mommy!” her son smiles as if she’s cracked the mystery of the century and Amy can’t help but feel just a bit proud - anything she does that makes her boy happy will do that to her.

“There you go,” she smiles and places the unicorn in his arms right next to Leo the Lion. “All good, Mr. Mac?”

He nods profoundly, eyes suddenly clearly tired and droopy, which earns him a warm smile from his mother before she leans in and kisses his forehead tenderly, all at once running her hand fingers his curls as to get her one last fix for the day. Incredible how your child can become somehow addicting.

“Sleep well. I love you,” she pulls back to take him in, the declaration of love hanging in the air for a few seconds before, taking Amy by surprise, her son answers her.

“I wuv you.”

She knows ‘love’ is an abstract feeling that a toddler can’t really comprehend and isolate as an emotion, which is probably also why Mac’s never said it back before, and although she’s told him a million times before and has never awaited or needed an answer, him saying it back definitely throws her off in the most magical, proud, emotional way in a long time. She’s constantly proud of the little things he does on the daily, slowly becoming a tiny actual human with opinions and a personality, but this is a whole new level.

“Thank you for saying that,” she can feel tears forming in her eyes and throat, but doesn’t want to confuse the small child who’s just begun to understand ‘love’, and therefor doesn’t also need to be explained that crying can also be a sign of happiness. That is an oxymoron that will surely just confuse him when, currently, crying is Mac’s way of expressing and understanding sadness and anger.

“That was very sweet of you and I love you so so much too, baby,” she manages to say it one last time, without breaking, before getting up to turn on his tiny night light and leave. “Me and daddy will be just down the hall watching TV, okay?”

A slight movement from beneath the duvet lets her know he’s heard her before she allows herself to half-close the door and walk back to where Jake is cleaning up after dinner. There she is finally able to let out a few soft cries as she lets her husband in on the small, incredible moment she’s just had with their son. Of course, it instantly makes Jake feel like crying with joy too. Their baby is surely the best.

From there on it’s just one big mess of declarations, at the most random moments and Amy is very amused but also even more enamoured.

One night Jake is away on a stakeout which leaves Amy is home alone with Mac, and to the toddlers immense joy this means he’s allowed to sleep with his mom in her and dad’s enormous bed. Jake has told him to keep mommy safe while he’s gone and of course takes this task very seriously. It’s 3 AM, they’re both fast asleep when suddenly Amy is awoken by what seems to be quite some new weight on top of her chest.

“Mommy,” promptly breaks the silence slowly bringing Amy back to consciousness.

It takes her a second to collect herself but she instinctually reaches out to figure out exactly where her son is in the dark. It’s quickly clear that he’s stretched out stomach down across her chest. “Yes, baby?” she mumbles tiredly eyes still closed hoping that her son is just being restless and will go back to sleep.

“I need pee.”

“Oh.”

This, with a power that almost no other request from her son holds, immediately dawns upon and takes over her body pushing her to sit up. Mac is pretty much fully potty trained but only day-wise. During the night he still uses a diaper, and they’ve only just recently started easing him into the night-potty by telling him it’s an option. The boy showing initiative himself is an absolutely great start and even more importantly an opportunity she won’t let slip by.

“You wanna go use the potty?” she looks at him to make sure and he immediately nods. “Okay, lets go then.”

And so they scurry out of bed and make their way across the hall to the bathroom, hand in hand in the darkness, where once the light is turned on Mac’s potty awaits him.

With a bit of help from mommy, he pulls down his pyjamas pants and diaper before getting settled on the potty. There’s no hiding the fact that they’re both very tired, especially Mac whose head hangs a bit, almost asleep while giving in to his body’s need for relief while Amy sits dutifully on the floor besides him.

“Good job telling me, Mac,” she praises, smiling tiredly but the little boy is too tired to even react.

They stay like this for a while, in silence, Amy not wanting to interrupt a probably concentrated Mac, when suddenly he, to her surprise, is the one to break the silence.

“I’m peeing and I love you, mommy,” he mumbles tiredly almost fully asleep right there on the potty, messy curls hanging in whatever which way gravity will allow.

Then, as if she’d never been tired, asleep, woken up and feeling exhausted, Amy’s body rises to a much higher level of awareness. Warmth, one that completely makes her forget about the bathroom floor’s cold tiles, spreads throughout her entire being and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was currently trying to pee, Amy would’ve pulled him into the tightest hug right there. But she doesn’t, of course, and instead settles for a gleaming smile.

“Mommy loves you too, honey,” He’s her very own bedhead, she thinks to herself lovingly running a hand through his hair. “And I’m so proud of you for waking me up to go potty.”

It’s very faint, too tired to put much effort into it but there’s definitely a small smile growing on her son’s face, When he falls asleep on top of her chest a bit later after he’s done and has been put into a clean diaper, just to be safe, the smile is still there, Amy can tell even in the dark.

Another occasion, it’s safe to say, happens when Amy leasts expects it. They’re running on ‘tantrum from hell: hour who-even-knows-anymore’, this time triggered by the banal fact that, no, Mac wasn’t allowed to play with the big knife Jake had been using to cut vegetables for their dinner.

Everyone has their bad days, the parents are well aware, but this one of Mac’s was particularly bad. All day, from the minute he woke up and went straight to the living room instead of joining his parents in their bad, he’d been extra fussy thereby not feeling content with whichever way his parents tried to fix his mood. They’d been understandable and gone easy on him all day, hopelessly trying to please him while also not just giving in to his unreasonable demands. It appeared that this was very a fine line to walk, and so far it sure hadn’t offered them the intended results. Both parents were exhausted and Mac screaming was far, so very far, from their ideal way of spending the evening in.

Both Jake and Amy have tried experimented with different tactics, some that are known to work. Picking him up to soothe him; ask him if he’s hurting somewhere; offering him to choose one of his daily snacks like a glass of milk, yoghurt or a fruit; suggesting that they play a game…  But the little boy wants nothing. Nothing but that huge, sharp kitchen knife.

“Look, you can cry all you want, but daddy is not going to give you the knife. It’s dangerous, Mac,” Amy’s voice is definitely stern but nonetheless still calm well aware of the fact that screaming as well won’t get her anywhere. Besides that she also considers herself a structured, punctual but nonetheless also a cool mom: nevertheless enough is enough. She’s really had it by now, hands resting defensively on her hips  as she feels a head ache creeping up on her meanwhile her 3 year old, who’s now lying face down on the kitchen floor, lets out yet another scream.

“Listen to mom, bud,” Jake intervenes the best he can without interrupting his wife’s operation. “She’s super right, you know? The knife is very very sharp and in your small hands it can easily slip and hurt you. We don’t want that.”

Another scream is how he’s thanked for the explanation and Jake, even though he loves his son unconditionally, has to roll his eyes and sigh. Logic is not relevant when you’re working with a toddler, he has learned but nonetheless gives it a try every time they’re back in the arena - only to be disappointed.

They try not to be the kind of parents that scold or punish their kid unless it’s necessary and they but alas this is not one of them. Amy has had it and shares a look of confirmation with her husband before proceeding - she needs him to back her up on this.

“Okay, McClane Santiago-Peralta,” Amy says strictly. Full name? This is the point of no return, Jake knows.

“If you’re going to continue to behave like this then that’s up to you, but that also means it’s time for time-out, because daddy and I don’t know how to help you, when you keep screaming like that.”

God, she hates this side of parenthood and this shade of herself, though she knows it necessary.

“Knife!” Mac cries out rolling onto his back and hitting the floor with the palms of his tiny hands in protest of now both the knife and the time-out.

“I’m not going to keep discussing this with you,” she makes up her mind, picks up her son which results in him screaming/crying even louder while also putting up a fight by wiggling his entire body in his mother’s hold. “If you’re not going to go by yourself, like the big boy I know you usually are, then I’ll have to carry you there.”

And so Amy, knowing that the most important thing right now is that she sticks to her pledges, starts walking out of the kitchen and down the hall towards her son’s room. The wiggling continues, the crying doesn’t come to quit and he even adds kicking into the air as she carries him to the mess of it all. He really doesn’t want to go, even less have his mommy take him there since it’ll mean that he’s really pushed her to the limit.

Then suddenly the next wail he lets out suddenly sends the situation down a completely different path.

“I just want the knife and I- I wuv you, mommy!” her son screams loudly through his cry, face all red and scrunched up as if he was cursing her which by nature results in Amy freezing on the spot, left to wonder what the hell had prompted that outburst.

That one was new, she thinks, and how the hell do you handle this exact situation right? On one hand his previous acts, and the fact that he’s still hysterical, means that he deserves to be sent to his room; on the other hand he just screamed, bloody murder, that he loves her… Parenthood was indeed so confusing sometimes.

A sigh leaves her body.

“I love you too, Mac,” she figures he deserves, and always will deserve, to hear it back - no matter how frustrating and crazy the situation might be.

“And daddy does too, but it’s really hard for us to help you when you scream and cry like that, baby,” she gives explaining the consequences of his tantrum one last shot, and, to her surprise, the boy actually stills in her arms and buries his face into her chest. The cries die out before transitioning to small sniffles and alas Amy sees the opportunity to, perhaps, talk some sense into her son.

“We’d much rather have you use your words, tell mommy and daddy what’s actually wrong, rather than having you scream and cry like this. Do you understand?”

There’s silence but Amy can feel Mac’s tiny head slide up and down in nod against his chest, and relief, although it might still just be a false sense of safety, floods her entire body.

“So, what is actually wrong? Why are you sad?”

“I-“ Mac sniffles trying to mould his thoughts. “I just wanted help daddy make food.”

Of course, she thinks internally rolling her eyes.

“I see,” she nods. “And you can help daddy cook, but next time you’ll have to say it like that. Use your words, okay?”

He nods again before lovingly grasping onto a strand of his mother’s hair.

“Good,” she pecks the top of his head. “Now,” she cranes her neck to look down at her son’s face where it’s half buried into her tear-stained shirt. “Do you want to be in your room by yourself for a bit to calm down, or do you want to come help me and daddy clean the kitchen and set the table?”

“I wan’ help,” he mumbles obviously lacking energy after spending it all throwing the tantrum, but if he wants to be with them and redeem himself then Amy won’t be the one to stop him. It took a while, but Amy always tries to remember that he’s still very little meaning that it’s inevitable that some social skills aren’t fully developed. So whenever he can come to his senses, with his parents guidance or not, Amy will of course be the first one to endorse it.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she walks back towards the kitchen with Mac resting silently in her arms.

A third memory that pops into Amy’s mind upon trying to remember the many random moment’s where her son has shared his love for her out loud and of the blue (Peralta-stylez), is one time (of the many) they went grocery shopping together. They’d been wandering around the big grocery store, her and Mac, targeting the cereal aisle, hand in hand with a basket in Amy’s free hand.

“Okay, since you and daddy ate the last of the Fruit Loops this morning we need to get some cereal. You think you can help me with that?” she looks down at her son who’s already looking up to meet her eyes. Mac’s enchanting glimmering eyes instantly light up at the thought of responsibility, a trait he’s definitely inherited from her, and prompts an eager nod. Before she can even say or explain further, which he probably doesn’t actually need her to, he’s let go of her hand.

“More Fwuit Loops!” he exclaims happily as his tiny legs take him ahead, down the aisle, to reach the mosaic of colourful cereal-boxes.

“Sure, if that’s what you want, babe, but maybe…” she walks towards him, "we could try something else for once?” she tries to not be too strict about her son’s eating habits, especially when she knows Fruit Loops is usually the only straight up sugary stuff he eats daily, but also, she has to admit, secretly wishes she could perhaps trick him and Jake to eat something just a bit less… candy-like.

“What?” he stops and looks at her with a frown. “Something else?”

“Yeah,” she catches up with him and looks as the many options before him. “Like… bran-flakes, maybe? They look yummy, right?”

Either Amy is a really bad actor or her son simply too smart, but nonetheless Mac looks more than quite unimpressed when his mom pulls a boring, brown box out from the shelf to showcase it

“I donno want brain-flakes ew, mommy” and the face Mac makes, a face of utter disgust, would be way more solid proof than a paternity test if one was needed - he is definitely, without a single doubt, Jake Peralta’s son - and she definitely can’t help but chuckle at the similarity he constantly carries with him.

The tiny human’s hand starts dancing across all the different packages, probably gathering himself a good dose of various germs that in the moment Amy can’t make herself care about, and every now and then he’ll stop to study a cereal that’s caught his child-brain and eyes’ attention.

“There are so many to choose from, huh babe?” she encourages but keeping her distance as to be supportive of him doing something on his own, independent like a big boy.

First he stops in front of the Cheerios, which Amy can totally be content with, but alas he quickly, to Amy’s chagrin, puts them back in their spot. Then come the Frosted Flakes with their blue box and cute tiger cartoon (the perfect child-trap) which, if possible, are even worse than Fruit Loops. Amy unconsciously frowns at the thought of having to rip the box of cereal from her son’s grip when he in a few seconds won’t let go and instead grab the Bran Flakes. But to Amy’s great relief Mac’s finger continue their trip down past the tiger-trap, mindlessly mumbling small nothings to himself that she can’t quite make out. Then, all at once seeming way more determined than with previous ones, Mac throws himself at a bright and colourful box.

“These!” he exclaims jumping up and down on the spot with the held over his head in victory.

As soon as she gets a closer look, having gently grabbed the box from her son, it dawns on Amy that Jake Peralta being the father of her child isn’t exclusively beneficial. Not when their child is asking for Sour Patch Kids morning cereal and Amy knows it’s because he’s inspired by his dad as Jake will gladly share his candy with his son whenever he happens to have some.

“Oh, baby… “ Amy tries to keep up a neutral face as to not reveal how she dreads to get something that’s somehow even worse than the king of artificial ingredients, Fruit Loops, and sultan of sugar, Frosted Flakes, combined. “You sure you don’t just wanna get the Fruit Loops then? I don’t think you’ll like Sour Patch Kids.”

“Yes I do! I eat them with daddy all the time!”

Of course.

Her son is completely oblivious to her dread and shines proudly thinking he’s pleased his mom by finding something new (which it is - Amy can’t deny that) to have for breakfast. And Amy’s mom-heart can’t get herself to contradict her son’s persuasion of the fact that he’s accomplished the mission she set up for him. No way. Not when his face flows with pride like it does now.

“Okay,” she surrenders with a forsaken smile. “We can get these, but they’re very sugary so only for weekend mornings, got it?” she puts her hand forward as to shake on the deal.

Either it’s the handshake that takes his mind off of it, or her 3-year old actually somehow understands nutritional values, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate to meet her hand with his own, agreeing with her proposed deal. Immediately after she hands him back the box, it’s a mystery to Amy how such a simple thing can make her son that happy, he beams with excitement and basically hugs the box of sugary sweetness. Amy has to chuckle and then he’s off again to do his own little thing, prancing down the remains of the aisle chanting a made-up song, Amy guesses, to himself.

“Cereal. Breakfast. I love cereal. I love breakfast. I love mommy and mommy loves cereal and me and daddy and breakfast. Cereal, cereal, cereal!”

And to her, and Jake’s, sheer luck Amy manages to snap a short video of it for them to enjoy and fuss about for years.

That same night, Friday, they’re all lounging on the couch watching a movie. Tangled as per Mr. Mac’s demand because “Flynn Eugene whatever is really cool and the pretty princess hits him with a pan and the horse and green little thing are super fun too.”

So, needing no further arguments, they watch Tangled and snack on Sour Patch Kids (the candy, not the cereal) that Jake had bought on his way home from work after Amy had texted him about their adventure at the grocery store, attaching the video of their son singing.

Although, after a long day, by the time the lanterns in the movie light up the dark sky while Rapunzel and Flynn sing to each other, Mac is half, almost completely, passed out with his head in Amy’s lap and legs stretched across his father’s. Mommy stroking your face and playing with your curls turns out to be very soothing and sleep-inducing. Jake can also, if asked to testify, agree with this fact. Guess there’s something special about Peralta-curls Amy simply can’t resist.

“Ames, I think he’s asleep,” Jake whispers discreetly throwing his wife a knowing smile when he notices his son’s current state.

She, having not noticed being too busy watching the movie, looks down and sees, indeed, a sweet angel face with shut eyes and pouty lips that indicated that her son is, if not entirely, on the verge of being asleep. Nevertheless, every 30 seconds or so, his eyes will flutter just a bit, like tiny butterfly wings, as if he’s fighting to see the end of the movie - a movie he’s seen 134 times already.

“You want to go to bed, Mac?” she coos leaning down to peck his temple.

“Nu-uh,” he fights off the urge to say yes, Amy can tell.

“You sure?” she tries again.

He nods heavily in her lap, shuffling a bit in an attempt to get comfortable enough to, Amy knows, fall asleep. But he can’t seem to find the right spot, is surely overtired too and both parents can tell it’s a matter of minutes before he’ll give in to either fall asleep on the couch or demand to be put to bed.

And they’re right.

“Mommy,” he mumbles in the most exhausted and soft soft voice that makes Amy’s heart flutter time after time. “I love you but I wanna sleep - in my bed.”

Those three words, especially coming from Mac, will never seize to send a tiny jolt of joy and dopamine through her entire being. She chuckles softly stroking his back.

“That’s okay, baby. We’ve had a long day. Let's get you to bed.”

“Okay, I love you mommy. And daddy. Love,” he passes out before he can finish the sentence and won’t even notice his father carrying him to bed while Amy gazes after them with loving eyes.

Even three years in, four if you count the pregnancy, she can’t believe this sweet, beautiful and smart boy is hers. A bundle of love that is half her and half the man she loves the most (next to Mac himself, of course). Parenthood is an irregular graph with ups and down, but they have so much love that it’ll make up for the bad days and hard cases. In the very end the most important thing is that he, Mac Santiago-Peralta with his brown curly hair, tiny nose and deep brown eyes, is here and he’s theirs. Not only is he theirs but he is his own and he loves them, his parents, so much, every day. Plus, he’s so good at actually expressing it that Amy can’t help but feel like they’re definitely doing something right. She’s proud to know her son is surrounded by so much love that it has planted a seed that everyday blooms within him, making him spill over and spread his care and love to other people.

So, yes, Amy Santiago is 100% sure: she is definitely the luckiest, most loved mom in the entire universe. Mac Santiago-Peralta will always make sure of this.