#other than watching so much big brother..

[ultravi0lence14]

SMALL TALKS

DEAN WINCHESTER X DEMON!READER

WARNINGS: nothing!! just pure, tooth rotting fluff that will also make you yearn for dad!dean

SUMMARY: with majority of their children being in school, little monster and dean have their plates full with keeping each of them out of trouble.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the truck door slammed behind dean and his little monster in the passenger seat, your face turning to his as he heard a soft sigh leave your lips. what had just transpired at the school had been shocking, seeing that you and dean strived on the fact that your children tell you everything.

lily and milo had been picked up by sam and his wife the second you and dean got the call, knowing that this visit to the school was going to be one without a three and two year old attached to your hips. the car ride was silent, soft chatter filling the space when clara and lincoln were picked up from their middle school, but that was it.

there was a grace period in which the two of you could drop the eldest children off at home and wait until the little’s need to be picked up from their elementary school. it was mostly filled with you and dean talking about what course of action you’d take with the phone call, but it was also listening to clara talk about her day and how her history teacher was out to get her.

when the clock struck 3pm, the truck was rumbling back down the road, headed to an impending conversation that dean never thought he’d need to have in his life. he never thought he’d ever have children, better yet ten foster ones, so when his little monster got a call that one of their children had gotten in a fight, he knew that this was going to be a big moment in his parenting journey.

by the time it was 3:15, five out of six of his children were in the car. luke and sam were babbling to each other about pokémon or god knows what boys their ages talked about, sadie was showing you the drawing she made in art class, marley was eagerly listening to her sisters rambles while adding in her own little commentary, and then there was scarlett, sitting behind your seat and longingly staring out the window.

dean was watching her intently, seeing the remnants of sadness on her cheeks. it was evidentially clear that dean’s little scarlett was thinking about two things; the mean words that the cruel boy sneered at her today, and how bad of a punishment her twin brother thatcher was going to get for defending her.

that is what the call had been about. apparently, a boy a year older than scarlett had cornered her on the playground, spewing hurtful words about how she was taken in by you and dean like an unwanted mutt. the poor girl had already been in tears by the time the boy had said her real parents never wanted her, and thatcher had already been reaching for the boys shoulder from behind.

from what the principal explained to you and dean, the blows thatcher delivered to this boy were brutal, and a broken nose and severely bruised eye had been left in the wake of the nine year olds rage. no one talked to his siblings like that — heck, no one talked to his twin like that without hearing back from him.

he’d been taken down to the principal’s office, and the call had been made. this had all been around twenty minutes ago, and dean still remembered the view of thatcher’s arm around scarlett’s shoulder, her tiny hand clutching his tightly in the rearview mirror of the truck.

his son was fiercely protective, and dean couldn’t even be really mad at him for what he did.

but as the last of the children left the car, scampering up the gravel of the driveway, you and dean looked at each other, a look that spoke a thousand words. you two weren’t even mad at thatch; that little boy had it coming for what he said to scarlett, and someone had to teach him a lesson. but as parents, you needed to make sure your kids knew that violence was never the answer.

as much as the two of you resorted to it most of the time.

“dean i don’t know what to do,” you finally said, breaking the silence and scrubbing a hand down your face. “this has never happened before. and as much as i would love to tell thatch that i’m proud of him, i know as parents we can’t do that.”

a laugh tore from dean’s lips, rumbling in his chest as he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and running your knuckles across in a feather soft motion. “i know baby,” he breathed, holding your hand tightly in his grasp. “but as much as he should know that looking out for scar is important, he also needs to know that sometimes violence isn’t the answer.”

“this is really rich coming from us.” you chuckled, and dean couldn’t agree more. you were a demon for hell’s sake, he a hunter. violence was in your nature, and there was a gnawing feeling in dean’s gut that thatcher got his keen sense of violence from his daddy.

a smile graced dean’s lips, and in a feeble attempt to get to the conversation at hand, he leaned over the centre console and opened your door, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek before he spoke softly in your ear. “cmon little monster, let’s go do some hard core parenting.”

thatcher had been sitting on one of the lawn chairs in the backyard, spine still and hands placed delicately in his lap as he thought about the days events. that’s where you and dean had found him, and it stirred a solemn feeling in your gut that your little boy felt so broken up when all he wanted to do was protect his twin sister.

it was his birthright to protect. he and scarlett had come into the world together — albeit thatcher three minutes earlier, and it would be a cold day in hell before he saw his sister cry at the hands of false words.

you and dean had been standing at the back door, waiting for a good moment to interfere when thatcher’s voice broke through the tense silence. “i would do it again y’know,” he spoke clearly, turning his head slightly so his side profile was on display to you and dean. “and not just for scar, for all of my siblings.” a lump rose in your throat, a sudden realization that you had raised your children to be kind and good people, someone who people could trust.

“i don’t care that majority of them aren’t my blood siblings,” thatcher continued, ringing his hands together as you and dean stayed silent. “they’re my family, you’re my family. you guys were there for me and scarlett when things got tough. so was clara, link — heck even milo and lily.” he giggled at the end of his statement, and you couldn’t help but let a teary giggle out as well.

“what i’m trying to say is that all of you mean the world to me, and i would beat up as many bullies as i need to just to make sure that my siblings are smiling.”

the pitter patter of your feet running over to where thatcher sat was the first sound to be heard, your sniffling the second. you lunged at the nine year old boy who was way too wise beyond his years and engulfed him in a hug from behind. kisses were planted on his forehead, and the idea to say violence was never the answer went completely out the window.

“you might not be biologically ours,” you spoke into his ear, ruffling his hair as you spoke. “but you will always be our son, always have a special place in me and your dads hearts.” your words were followed by dean’s hand resting on thatch’s shoulder, the boy in question turning his head to look at his father.

“you are mine and your mothers son through and through, thatcher winchester; and i’ve got some tricks to teach you if more bullies try to mess with scarlett or any of your other siblings again.”

thatcher just smiled, resting his head on dean’s shoulder as you nuzzled your face against his. “i love you mama, i love you too papa.”

and at once, dean winchester knew what peace was. he felt it in the loving embrace of his little demon, in the arms of his ten foster children. he felt it in the beautiful home you and him created as a safe space for your children, and he finally understood what normalcy felt like.

TAGS: @titsout4jackles @starzify @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @deanangel @haunteres @figthoughts @gibson-g1rl @foolinthera1n @whisperingdaze @honeyryewhiskey @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess

NAT BABBLES: i love post szn 15 dean having a litter of children and living happily on a farm with his lil monster☺️

[sjsmith56]

You Know You Love Me

Summary: Bucky drives another member of the Avengers crazy with his teasing of her, and the non-stop women that he dates.

Length: 3.4 K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed and undescribed fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being insufferable, condescension, interference in reader’s dating life

Author notes: Avenger AU; Thanos never happened in this universe.

There were times when Bucky Barnes could be really irritating. Actually, it was most of the time. Living in the tower with him was like having the most irritating big brother / roommate / overbearing neighbour ever, trying to run your life. The worst moments were when he would say something just to get a rise out of me. He’d say it, then smirk, then the smile would get broader as he watched my reaction, then he would practically laugh when I’d call him on his bullshit. Those perfect teeth would be fully exposed, and I swear there would be a lens flare sparkle effect on them as his eyes crinkled in amusement. It was maddening.

He always had an opinion on everything, from TV shows, movies, favourite foods and especially with what I wore, and shared it whether I wanted to hear it or not.

“Sweetheart, you should wear that blue dress more often on your dates,” he would say, or something similar to it. “It will make your eyes pop.”

“You telling me what to wear, Barnes?” I would answer. “You practically live in your dark jeans and Henleys.”

“That’s because they’re comfortable,” he would reply, with a grin. “After what I went through in my life, I’m entitled to a little comfort in my old age, aren’t I?”

“Eat shit,” would be my response, except I never said it aloud as he was still a man of the 40s and would act all concerned at the language people used, which was rich coming from him, as he swore more than I did.

To be honest, I couldn’t really call him out on his life because he was tortured for most of it, and technically he was a centenarian. But to watch him just grin, with that look he often had after saying something outrageous to me, knowing I was holding my tongue, brought out the worst in me. Of course, the other Avengers would say he obviously liked me because he was normally Mr. Silent and Grumpy with all of them.

“Take the smile,” said Sam. “It’s proof the man has a heart.”

“But it bugs me,” I explained. “Drives me up the wall.”

“That’s why he does it,” smiled the winged man. “He obviously likes you and thinks you can handle it.”

That was the real problem for me; I couldn’t handle his attention, seemingly focused just on me. None of the others got as much scrutiny as I did. It didn’t help that the man was insanely gorgeous, with that thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, a jawline and cheekbones that rivalled those of any Hollywood heartthrob, topped off by an incredible smile. Physically, he was the type of man that women drooled over; tall, broad shouldered, sculpted waist, an ass that filled out his jeans so well, and thighs that gave me all sorts of thoughts. Which was another reason why I did my best to ignore or insult him. You would think I would know that my tactics weren’t working but the alternative to his attention was not getting it and that was unthinkable.

He had lots of female company, based on the number of times he came out of his room in the morning with a different woman for the walk of shame to the elevator. He’d stroke their hair, say how much fun he had, kiss them softly on their lips, then send them on their way, never to be seen again. It hurt, and I didn’t think I could compete against that. Not that I ever really tried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with myself. After falling into that trap of denying myself anything that might stick to my figure, I realized I was playing a sucker’s game. I liked food, I liked enjoying myself, and so what if I wasn’t a perfect size 2. I was perfect the way I was, loved my curves and loved showing them off. Dates weren’t a problem, although second dates weren’t automatic, and third dates were rare. I often wondered why that was.

Somehow, Bucky would always be around when my date was picking me up for the first time. He would lean against a wall, his arms folded, gazing intently at the man who showed up. Occasionally he would speak to them with something along the lines of bringing me home before curfew. They would look at him, then me, to determine if he was kidding. It didn’t help when he said it was part of my “parole conditions.” Even if Bucky started grinning and say he was joking, more often than not those would be the dates that didn’t progress beyond the first one. If I did get asked out again, he would be waiting even nearer to us, almost like a lurking parent.

“Did you remember to take your infectious disease medication?” he would sometimes ask.

“Bucky, you know damn well I’m as healthy as a super soldier.”

“Yeah, now you are,” he’d say, with a straight face. “Gotta stay vigilant. Remember Typhoid Mary appeared healthy.”

The last time it happened, and Bucky said something really outrageous, the guy decided not to follow up with any more dates, so I confronted Bucky the next morning.

“Why are you always interfering in my love life?” I was almost apoplectic in my anger. “You told him I had to be home to tuck the kids in.”

“You can do better than him, sweetheart,” he answered. “If he really liked you, he would have asked to meet the kids. He wasn’t right for you. None of them are.”

I was done with his interference.

“How would you know? When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Haven’t found the right one, yet,” he said. “But I get lots of action during the search, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I wonder if you have your lady friends over here just to make me jealous.” A flicker of something appeared in his eyes and quickly disappeared. I obviously hit a target. “You see me giving your dates the third degree?”

“They know our dates are casual,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I don’t lead them on.” The grin appeared again. “They just want a taste and I’m happy to oblige.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I was in serious danger of losing it. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to start dragging guys to my bedroom. See how you like it then.”

With what I hoped was dramatic effect I whirled around and stomped away, not looking back. He just made me so angry. What he didn’t know was that I went straight to my room, turned on the TV really loud, then buried my face in my pillow and cried. Cried for letting him bother me; cried for being jealous of the women he brought back; cried for obviously not being someone he saw as worthy of dating. I hated to admit it, but I was in love with him, but I also knew I was nothing like the women he brought back for the night. They were beautiful; tall, graceful, perfect hair and teeth. Even though I liked myself I still felt like I was a 6 compared to their 9s. I didn’t think he would ever think of me as anything other than someone to tease.

It didn’t help that before I came to the tower, I was in a disastrous relationship with a SHIELD agent who was just as handsome as Bucky. He broke my heart when I learned he was cheating on me, and I didn’t want to be put into that position again. I put up all my emotional guards and just did my job. Except Bucky kept chipping away at me. I was tired of it. Did I already say he drove me crazy? This boomeranging between loving him and hating him wore me out.

For a week after that last confrontation, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him as I was so mad at myself for loving him. He didn’t bring any women back to his quarters during that week, so I guessed that my words had an effect.

That lasted until I went out to a nightclub with a bunch of college friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. I was dressed to the nines that night, in a slinky dress, cut low in the front and back, showing a lot of leg. I did my hair, wore makeup, nice jewelry … the works. We walked into the place like we owned it, and heads turned as we made our entrance. Drinking and dancing like it was the first day of the rest of our lives, we drew lots of male attention (and some female, as a couple of my girlfriends were lesbians). It was fun and liberating at the same time.

I was on the dance floor, grinding my ass against a guy as we danced when I saw them; Bucky and Sam, sitting at the bar. I couldn’t believe they would follow me. Women were hitting on both and every time I looked Bucky would lean over, whisper something in their ear, then pull back with that sexy smile he had. I was sure he was doing it deliberately. When we finally made eye contact, he lifted his glass to me. What an asshole.

“Who’s an asshole?” asked the guy I was dancing with, raising his voice so I could hear him over the music.

I must have said it out loud.

“Just a guy from work who showed up here,” I yelled back. “He’s always on my case. We had words and I told him off. Now he’s here and I just find his presence annoying.”

“You want me to tell him to leave?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”

Before I could answer he left me on the dance floor and made his way to Bucky. I watched him point back to me then say something. That smirk came out, then Bucky looked at me and shook his head. Working my way off the dance floor I confronted him, swaying lightly as I was definitely under the influence.

“Why are you here?”

“Baby, I just told him to leave,” said my dance partner. “Come on, he’s just being a dick.”

“Seriously, Bucky, why did you follow me?”

He looked at Sam, then at the guy I had danced with, then back at me, sizing me up in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were here. We often hang out here, don’t we Sam? Good booze, nice staff, and great music.”

Sam said nothing, just arched his eyebrows a little. The guy I danced with was getting impatient.

“Bullshit, you hate this music,” I said. “You always go to that jazz place on the east side.”

That smirk twitched at the side of Bucky’s mouth. “How would you know? You been watching me?”

“No,” I answered defensively. “People post pics on Instagram. You’re a celebrity.”

The guy looked at Bucky again then at Sam and his brain suddenly put two and two together.

Bucky scoffed. “Thought I would find out what the appeal with this place is,” he answered, then he looked at the guy who was definitely figuring out he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Gotta say, I’m not that impressed.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I retorted, trying to appear put together, then losing my balance. He caught me before I tripped over the heels I was wearing. “Thank you. Now, I’m going back to dancing with my friend here. You can just … just … buzz off.”

I waved my hand at him dismissively, then turned back to the dance floor, grabbing hold of the guy’s arm. As I headed back into the throng of dancers with him, I lost my balance again and almost fell, but felt a strong pair of arms catch me up in their arms. It was Bucky.

“Put me down,” I said.

“No, you’re going home,” he answered. “You’ve had enough.”

“She asked you to put her down.” Bucky glared at him.

“You're not my dad,” I slurred. “Or my boyfriend. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“That’s true,” he answered, still holding me in the middle of that dance floor as the other dancers ignored us. All I could see was that cute cleft in his chin. God, I wanted to lick it. “But I am your friend, and I think you should call it a night.”

It was like the other guy didn’t even exist. Bucky thought he was my friend? Never before had he said that and for some reason, it made me cry. Every time I tried to stop, I couldn’t and I buried my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. Calmly, he carried me off the dance floor to where Sam was, holding my purse and jacket. I still don’t know what happened to the guy I was dancing with, but he didn’t follow us.

“I’ll get the car,” said Sam. “She’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“She’ll be alright,” replied Bucky, then he looked at me in a way he never had before. “You really need to know your limit.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad.” He was still holding me in his arms. “I’m actually sorry.”

We were waiting at the door now, where it was quieter and the pounding in my head that I knew came from how much I drank began bothering me. He stood me upright for a moment, helping me on with my jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked as he buttoned it up.

He breathed out noticeably. “I went about things the wrong way. I might be over a hundred years old but when it comes to women I like, I forget how to act around them.”

I swayed a little, and he put his arm around me, supporting me.

“Who do you like?”

Sam’s car appeared and Bucky helped me into the back seat, buckling me up. Not that it helped as I wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Sam shrugged as Bucky got into the back seat and put his arm around my shoulders so that I leaned against him. He was so warm, and his arm felt so nice and comforting.

“You smell good,” I murmured. That was the last thing I remembered until we got to the tower.

When we got there, I know that he picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me in the elevator until we reached the residential section. He carried me to my room then I could hear Natasha’s voice. For some reason that made me cry again, but she was so nice, telling me to let it out. I ended up in a T-shirt and shorts, tucked into the bed.

“There’s a glass of water and some pain killers on the nightstand,” she said softly. “Next time you wake up, take them, okay?”

She left me there although I could hear her and Bucky talking in Russian, but not understanding it, I didn’t know what they were saying. I just wanted to sleep, and I did, like the proverbial dead. When I did finally open my eyes, the light hurt, even though the curtains were drawn. I took the painkillers and drank the glass of water, then promptly ran to the bathroom, and brought it all up. As I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hands while I leaned against the bathtub, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away,” I muttered. “Let me die in peace.”

“Were you sick?” It was Bucky.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I could hear you. Clint could hear you and he wears hearing aids.”

I closed my eyes, then fought the urge to cry. He must have heard that because he spoke again, in a softer tone.

“Please, let me come in.”

“Fine.”

The door opened and he stepped inside. He turned the cold water tap on then filled the glass with water. Lowering himself to the floor, he sat next to me, holding out two new painkillers.

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep the last ones down,” he said. “You really tied one on last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to forget,” I answered, taking the pills and holding them in my hand.

I took the water in my other hand and sipped it. When my stomach felt better, I swallowed the pills and washed them down with more water. Without thinking, I sighed, and put the glass down on the floor, reaching for some toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Bucky said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m trying to forget?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered, just a little too quickly. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you. I kind of got carried away.”

I huffed a little. “Why do you act like you do?”

“No excuse for that,” he answered. “None that are valid, other than making up for lost time. Even that is suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, then scratching his stubble with his fingers, he turned those blue eyes on me.

“I’ve been trying to make you jealous,” he said. “Juvenile I know. I can turn on the charm for most women, but for the one who I really want, I can’t seem to say the right thing. It makes you respond in kind and instead of us getting closer, it just pushes us further apart.”

“You want me? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a razor-sharp wit that I love. The worst of it is that other guys see it too, so I got a little prehistoric and bared my teeth at them, figuratively speaking. I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”

“It hurt when you would bring all those women back here,” I said, frowning. “Then you pulled that double standard shit on me, by chasing away my dates.”

“I know. Guilty as charged. No excuses.” He breathed out. “You know how my senses are amplified?” I nodded. “None of them smelled as good as you. That probably sounds weird, but their scents were all chemical and fake compared to you.”

It was weird. “What did I smell like?”

“Home.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Before I could say anything else, he kissed me, even though my mouth must have tasted of barf. He didn’t care, and it was the best kiss I ever had, making me feel weak and dizzy and aroused all at the same time. Then he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me some more, while putting one hand around to the nape of my neck while the other one wrapped around my body. Just as I was really getting into it, he stopped, then cupped my jaw in his one hand.

“You need to have a shower and brush your teeth.”

“You kissed me,” I countered. “I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It matters. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“Know what?”

“That you know you love me.” That smirk came out, along with the lens flare on those perfect teeth. Just as I was about to argue the point, he kissed me again. “I love you, too and I’ll tell you that in public and private as many times as I can until you believe it.”

He lifted me off of his lap and deposited me on the bathroom floor. Then he stood up and went to the door, looking back at me.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

He thought I was cute. At my age I would take it. He was right about several things. I did know that I loved him. Now that I knew for sure that he loved me too, it was going to be interesting finding out where that love would take us.

One Shots Masterlist

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[theangelsheardyou]

Everybody talks abt the bakugous adopting toga, now get ready for: the togas adopt bakugou

They adopt him when he's around 5 years old, after an accident with his Quirk awakening heavily injures his mother, putting her in a medically-induced coma. His father isn't capable of taking care of a child after that, and katsuki is sent into foster care. Part of him has given up on the idea that his dad would ever take him back, but the other part is clinging onto the hope that his mother would wake up and find him. Wherever he is.

The Toga's foster Katsuki for a few months initially, which turns into a full year. Himiko, about 6 years old, likes the idea of having a new little brother.

(I've heard theories before that Himiko already had some other unnamed siblings since she's described as "the oldest daughter of the family" but to keep things simple let's just say she was an only child up until this point.)

(Also, I don't know whether this is canon or not, but while Himiko is her first name, we aren't sure if Toga is her real last name. But again, to keep things simple, let's just say that it is.)

Katsuki was a tough nut to crack, or maybe he would be if his foster parents ever really tried. From what we see in Toga's backstory, I assume they're not really there for their kids emotionally. As long as they eat three meals a day and have a roof over their heads, they've done their jobs, or at least that's what they think.

Katsuki and Himiko are left alone a lot. Maybe their folks are always busy at work or just didn't spend much time with them. Either way, the two become closer as the only kids in the house.

Now, canon Katsuki would probably be really judgemental about Himiko's gorey interests, but in this AU, he has literally almost killed his mother. He's in no place to judge and he knows that. No matter what crazy infatuation this girl has, it's got nothing compared to what was practically a murder.

Katsuki's a little more closed off at this age, kind of like in the canon storyline, but at age 5-6. Having lost his parents, his friends, and being put in some stranger's home, he's not the type to really show off anymore. He's hard to get to know, but Himiko never stops trying.

Despite everything, a bond begins to bloom.

Katsuki and Himiko are inseparable. They do little kid things like Katsuki going "watch this!" Before doing something cool and making sure his sister gets to watch, and Himiko cheers him on like he's just done the most amazing thing in the world. And to her, it probably was.

This is where Katsuki's show-offiness begins to bloom again. He loves showing his sister all his achievements. A perfect score on a test, an award from the sports festival at school, no matter how big or small he shows it to his sister who always cheers him on and encourages him to keep going. He works hard to get better at school, does well in sports, all to get his sister's attention, which she gives generously. She loves watching her little brother succeed in everything. Everyday she's so, so proud of him for something new. She's proud to call him her brother.

Katsuki's personality rubs off on Himiko, too. She starts to get a little competitive, especially when the two play against each other. Be it badminton, tennis, or even just a game of tag, these two are unstoppable. And there's never a sore loser because one will always be proud of the other no matter what the scores are.

Himiko also rubs off on Katsuki, more than she'd like to admit.

I don't think canon katsuki was ever the type to be grossed out or queasy about gorey things. He'd probably find dead animals on the side of the road and call his sister so she could check it out too. As they get older, he brings along a camera, so he can take pictures of all the bloody details for her to examine later. By now Katsuki has been legally adopted, though there still isn't much of a bond between him and his new parents. They are proud of his achievements of course, but they prefer to show him off at parties like a showdog. He prefers Himiko's way of showing her pride in him way more. It feels more genuine.

Katsuki and Himiko aren't exactly delinquents, but they do get into trouble a lot. Katsuki has grown to be a little more violent due to Himiko's influence, enjoying seeing the blood burst from someone's face when it comes in contact with his fist. After he beats someone up, he likes to take a moment to examine his handiwork. A broken nose, a black eye, a tooth landing somewhere, he finds joy in it. He's definitely more of a bully in this AU, not out of anger, but out of pure bloodlust.

At this point he hasn't heard much from his dad, but he visits his mom at the hospital now and then. He gives her updates on his new life, tells her about Himiko, and all his achievements. Part of him doesn't really think she'll ever wake up again. But another still clings onto the hope.

Katsuki and Himiko are middleschool outcasts. Weirdos. Freaks. They don't have many friends, but they have each other, and that's what counts.

Katsuki is still very into heroes, but he let go of the idea of ever becoming one. The shame from his Quirk awakening has left him afraid to use his own Quirk for almost ten years now. It's Himiko that encourages him to use it, calling it a beautiful ability that should be shared. It takes a while, but by graduation, Katsuki is dead set on becoming a hero. Not for money or fame, but for his sister.

Katsuki has also been very supportive of Himiko's interests from the beginning. In fact, he encourages her to become a nurse. After middle school she starts studying medicine, and by the time Katsuki's at UA, guess who's Recovery Girl's cute little sidekick/apprentice.

Himiko gets a front-row seat to all of Katsuki's high school achievements. She cheers him on from the sidelines as he wins the UA Sports Festival, while also treating all the poor souls who fought against him. This is actually how she meets Ochaco. A real meet cute.

She gets angry at how the awards ceremony went, and even got Recovery Girl to use her status at the school to speak to the teachers on her behalf. She's still pretty ticked off by the time they get home, and tells Katsuki to throw the medal away, but he doesn't. He keeps it in his room. It's a symbol of the first time in his life that someone aside from his sister acknowledged his abilities, his Quirk, as a good thing. Aizawa's speech during his fight with Ochaco was proof. After that, he follows his teacher around like a lost puppy, and in turn Himiko does, too. Now he's got two little blonde kids tailing him, and he just gets used to it at some point.

Katsuki's personality is a lot less angry and more a...weird kind of friendly. He got like, half a cup of bimbo-ness from Himiko, as well as a couple of her more tame friendly influences. But he does sometimes get a little too close, and asks questions very bluntly, sometimes offending or making people uncomfortable. But considering 1-A is just a mosh pit of weirdo high school kids, they all get along just fine.

Katsuki and Izuku reunite at UA. It was actually Izuku who approached him. Having missed all the middle school bullying since Katsuki was in another school at the time, the same one Himiko went to, he's a lot more confident. The two have a grand reunion and become better than best friends. They, along with Himiko and Ochaco, hang out together a lot in and out of school. It gets to the point that Ochaco gets a little too happy when she gets injured, knowing she'll get a free pass to visit the cute nurse at the infirmary. Izuku gets to join Himiko on the front row to all of Katsuki's victories, which assigns him as Vice President of the Katsuki Fan Club instantly.

I have so many more ideas for them and I kinda wanna draw/write more about it, so tell me what you think! If this gets very little attention my shyness and short attention span will probably shift me to something else😅

[crushpunky]

rafe cameron x kook!reader thoughts !!! UPDATED

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

rafe and y/n have been friends since childhood, their parents being good family friends, but grew closer following the death of rafe’s mother and y/n's brother while they were both in high school.

whereas rafe gravitated more towards drugs and partying to cope with the loss of his mother, y/n gravitated more towards rafe.

y/n was definitely more “polished” than rafe and kept a fairly good reputation despite constantly hanging out with the kook king. however, that didn’t mean she was always such a role model, smoking the occasional blunt or getting hammered at the boneyard.

whenever one of the two was invited to some big event, the other was forced to go along with them. if one of them was going to have to suffer through hours of stuffy small talk, they would both have to. it didn’t really matter too much though, most of the time they would end up sneaking off to walk along the beach or smoke.

as they grew older, and rafe’s addictions grew stronger, y/n tried multiple times to convince him to get clean. he’d always promise, but then that weekend she’d see him doing another line.

they had fought multiple times about rafe’s dangerous behavior, typically ending with him saying something out of line and y/n leaving, telling him to talk to her when he figures his shit out 

no matter how mad they were at each other, the time apart was excruciating. eventually, whether a few hours or a week depending on how bad their fight was, one of them would show up at the others house with coffee and an understood apology between them (usually rafe)

y/n first realized her feelings towards rafe when they were young, before his mother or her brother had died. she fell in love with the boy that made her laugh or played soccer with wheezie in the backyard of tanneyhill or chewed on the top of his pencil when he did his homework

after the death of his mother, rafe changed, but y/n's feelings for him didn't. she still cared so much for him, but seeing him descend into the depths of his addiction terrified her

rafe didn't realize his feelings for y/n until he watched her at a party in high school, really looking at her. watching the way she would smile as she spoke or waved her hands as she told a story excitedly or how she always listened so intently as anyone spoke... but as soon as he came to the realization how he felt about her, he also knew he had to keep them a secret. he couldn't do anything about them. he couldn't risk affecting her with his anger and violence and rage. so he got high. really high.

the night rafe realized his feelings for y/n was the first night he'd ever overdosed. topper and kelce had tried to talk him down, his paranoia intensifying as he begged them to not let y/n see him like this. once y/n found him, though, she was finally able to talk him down enough to take him home. once he fell asleep after hours of him pacing around the house, she sobbed. sobbed the hardest she had since her brother died.

rafe knew every time he relapsed killed her, but he found himself falling back into old habits each time. the drugs and sex and alcohol were the only things that numbed the thoughts and feelings he had that terrified himself.

as much as seeing him like this hurt her, y/n couldn't give up on him. so she stayed. she stayed when he would yell at her or ignore her for weeks, when he'd be cruel or erratic, because every so often, she'd see glimpses of the boy she fell in love with and that made it worth it.

overtime, rafe realized that maybe he didn't have to hide all of his feelings. maybe he could let her in, allow her close, while still keeping her a safe distance away. maybe that closeness was enough to dull the cravings for getting high or drunk out of his mind. maybe that closeness was the thing he really needed this whole time... and maybe that was what she needed too.

[bluestarlett]

Chonny’s Charming Cosmic Confluence; Tridental Regicide AU INFO POST

WARNING; This post will contain a lot of spoilers for the canon Cosmic AU lore! If you haven’t read/finished it yet and don’t want spoilers I suggest waiting to read this.

since someone (@peachphernalia) asked me so politely to tell sun more about this AU, here is a big post explaining it!

Now, I’ve called it a swap/evil AU a handful of times but technically it is neither of those things. I wouldn’t consider it a swap AU because the cast doesn’t completely swap positions or traits with their contrasting character! The lore and events in this AU are just significantly different from canon, which ultimately leads to the cast becoming extremely different people.

I might as well talk about Aster first, since she’s why you’re all here. Well. Technically her main name in this AU is Sidra.

Now, if you’ve read Cosmic, you know how Aster and Gaea’s story goes. Asteria is a naive child who falls in love with a world she cannot have, and when she tells Gaea about her love for the world, about the way she yearns for mortality, he snaps and grants her wish with no returns.

And you know that this comes in the form of… well… Gaea fucking KILLING Aster.

Now this is where the canon kind of veers off 2 lanes to the right and straight into a ditch. If you’ve seen Asteria’s trident design, you know that there’s an equally sharp prong on the other end of its handle. And just when Gaea is ready to kill her, to plunge her own weapon through her heart, she grabs the handle and pushes it back.

I won’t go into a lot of detail here but essentially, she kills Gaea. Curses him to the fate that he planned to cast upon her, and takes his power for herself.

So now, Sidra, this once kind, wondrous child with light in her eyes and a sea of love for the world around her, is covered in the blood of her brother and her god. All of the other gods start to grow scared of her, and for a while she tries to go on as if nothing is wrong, as if nothing has changed, but overtime she grows colder as her friends refuse to meet her gaze, and hold their breaths as she passes them in the corridors. She stops trying to be kind to people that fear her, because if they think she is some kind of monster, then she will give them a monster.

The only one who isn’t scared of her is Iris, naturally. Partially because Iris is a lot scarier (/hj) but also because her love for Sidra will always be unwavering, even when she snarls at everyone around her through gritted teeth, even when her hands are coated in blood that was almost her own. Charon watches over Sidra in the same way that it does for Gaea—because it knows he would’ve begged it to if he had the chance—though Charon itself fears her in a way. It could strip her of her power, of her life in an instant, but it would then be killing the one thing it swore to protect. The one thing every god swore to protect. She is much more vicious and unforgiving than Gaea, because at the end of the day she snaps in the way that a cornered prey animal does, one that snarls at you with rabid fear in its eyes, as opposed to the way a predator does, one that knows it could kill you with ease if need be. Gaea’s anger is fueled by guilt and Sidra’s is fueled by hatred.

of course, there’s more to her than that, but that’s for random posts that I decide to make at 1 a.m. on a Tuesday. (AKA, you and I will learn more about her together as time passes on.)

Now for Saturn. Or Shams, in this AU.

To put it very crudely, Shams is still a weird stoner in the same way that Fluttershy is a weird stoner. They’re definitely just as odd as Saturn, but they’re much more softspoken, much more reserved and a bit timid.

This is because all of the sirens are like this. After what happens with Sidra and Gaea, Scylla goes from this ruthless, powerful murder machine—one that despises humans and the air that they breathe, one that strikes down sailors and fishermen’s ships on sight because she has seen the way humans ravage and destroy, how they fin her sirens and leave them to drown, how they treat the seas that she calls home as their wasteland—to this scared, skittish creature which hides as deep in the ocean as she can go and holds her sirens close, doesn’t let them go up to the surface, because the surface will hurt them. The sirens become reserved, they become sneaky and quick to hide, and they are curious about the world because it is one they will never know, but very few have ever dared to go to the surface, and even fewer have come back down afterwards.

this means that everyone’s favorite blunt, cunty and somewhat pretentious bitch Saturn ends up translating into this nervous, softspoken, slightly naive siren who is constantly receiving the most mixed messages about the world which they have no idea how to decode. They keep all their interests, though—they’re very book smart still, and just as fascinated with time and space and the surface world.

They’re kind of Nerve-coded? (Aka antiHMS mind.) They’re not all that pathetic, necessarily, just overly polite and apologetic, and kind of jumpy.

They don’t get along super well with Qamar (Seraph) but the two don’t hate eachother. They’re just very different and don’t exactly understand one another despite being siblings, but they’re civil with each other… for the most part. Shams is extremely close with Gaea though.

Now for Seraph I HATE THIS CUNT sorry. Anyway Seraph AKA Qamar

Anyway, much like Shams and the siren species as a whole, the angels are wildly different from their canon counterparts. In canon, the moon angels are these kind, gentle, forgiving beings. What you would think an angel to be like. However here, they’re strict, ruthless, with blindingly harsh judgement. This is a result of Selene herself having a massive fucking shift in personality, much like Scylla.

I do believe I’ve already stated that Selene and Aster were quite close in canon. As SOMEONE likes to put the dynamic into perspective, they shared the same night sky.

Now, in this AU, they fucking HATE each other. Sidra has strayed so far from who she once was, has put everything and everyone against each other, so Selene matches that out of spite. She becomes strict, and relentless, and cold. The angels are less like your closest friends who you just haven’t met, and more like a military boot camp.

…Qamar included. He’s, for lack of a better word, a massive fucking cunt. He’s very pretentious and self-absorbed, and has this kind of holier-than-thou mentality–like all angels, because they believe they are higher than the other species on Tycho. Spoilers, they’re not. He thinks he’s better than everyone around him and will say it to their faces. …nobody really likes him. Shams tries to, but it’s not exactly easy.

…However, he is efficient, and determined, and honestly badass, which is why Gaea keeps him around. The angels are ruthless birds of prey, despite the fact most of them are, by design, meant to be the ones being hunted. They’re resilient. The angels are physically weak, but have the minds of a hawk and the weapons of… well, gods.

…He isn’t exactly the meanest to Gaea, because he isn’t stupid. He knows that Gaea was a god, but he certainly isn’t now, so at the end of the day, he still sees himself as better.

now for my SHAYLA Gaea AKA Almajara

he’s honestly the closest to the general fanon interpretation of his CCCC self? He’s just some guy. /hj

he’s a little bit afraid of Sidra, but doesn’t hold that resentment or attachment towards her the way Asteria does with Gaea. He’s more guilty than anything else, because he knows this is because of him. If he hadn’t acted out that day, none of this would’ve happened—everything would be fine. The gods wouldn’t hate eachother, Sidra would be happy, he would be home. He knows this is his fault, and he can’t change anything. He accepted that early.

He is a lot more loving, a lot more forgiving and merciful, as an attempt to make up for the love he didn’t give Sidra. At the end of the day, he is still the god of life. It is only natural that he is motherly, and nurturing to the world around him.

He’s always in an odd state of discomfort but doesn’t express it the way Asteria does, he doesn’t lash out or hide away from the world. He pushes on because he knows he doesn’t deserve the luxury of giving up.

His relationship with Qamar and Shams is a bit strained, but he never openly expresses disdain for either of them. He’s much closer with Shams than Qamar, the same way Asteria is closer with Seraph than Saturn. Shams showed up first, and was always kind, despite being a bit of a hassle. It was nothing Almajara hadn’t dealt with before. Qamar on the other hand… again, he’s just generally not the most pleasant person to be around, though Almajara still puts in the effort to be kind and forgiving. I suppose you could say it’s to prove himself, in a way.

…there’s more I could say but I can’t think straight right now, plus this is not at all a serious AU. Just for fun and the enjoyment of myself and the rest of the devoted cosmic fans lol ^-^ essentially the equivalent to what VNS is to the CCCC fandom. It’s more up to the fandom to have fun with them and play with them like your touys, not for me to write another installment of chonny’s charming cosmic confluence. Sorry XP

[thechy-fychannel]

Pls ramble about domestic everywhere but princeton-plainsboro hilson and thirteen occasionally coming over for holidays and stuff pls pls pls!!! Id love to hear more

I would be happy to!!!

they go a weekend trip to the flea market in the next town over about once a month. it's just about the only time wilson can get house out of bed early bc house loves going to the flea market. they always hold hands while walking up and down the various aisles, pulling each other to the booths they want to look at, even if house will pretend to complain about each one they go to. house loves pointing out obvious knock offs that ppl are trying to pass off as genuine and wilson always gets a kick out of watching him demolish the scammer trying to charge $400 for a bad knock off handbag.

wilson secretly schedules a time for them to sneak around in the backseat of his car for a while. not just because they're desperately horny for each other all the time, but because they both get this sick nostalgic thrill from it, reminiscing about fooling around in the back seat when they absolutely should not have been. it makes them feel young and freshly in love again and sometimes they need that, they need to just hide away from the world for a while and remember what that felt like all those years ago.

every now and then, someone who also works at the hospital will see them having dinner together and they swear it looked like a date, they swear house and wilson were looking at each other with big heart eyes and it did not look platonic at all. and then house will like, send out a hospital wide memo the next day about being able to see cuddy's bra through her shirt and everyone's like "yeah uh huh sure, he's obviously gay with the guy known for fucking half the nurses here 🙄"

as part of bearing the responsibility of knowing their secret, thirteen's place becomes the "dog house" when her dads friends are fighting. house has shown up at her door drunk and sad a few times and when she asks him why he didn't just sleep on their couch, house always has an excuse, but she always comes to realize that the guy just didn't want to be alone and thirteen was the only one he could be honest with about what they were fighting about and why house can't just put his ego aside and apologize. wilson almost always comes to pick him up the next morning, bringing breakfast with him that they all enjoy and her dads friends are back to normal by the time they leave her place.

the holiday's become unbearable for her after her brother is gone. her dad moved to live closer to his family, and she can't stand the idea of being around them all grieving her brother while she alone carries the knowledge that she killed him, even if she knows it was the right thing to do. neither house or wilson ask her to explain when she says she's not going to go home for christmas. wilson invites her over and ofc she tries to decline, says she wouldn't want to intrude, but wilson insists and says they're not doing anything special, just eating takeout and listening to house play christmas music on the piano, maybe watch a movie or two and drink a little too much wine or beer. she swears she'll be fine alone, but she shows up at their door on christmas anyways and she is so happy to not be alone. house and wilson get tipsy and they're so cute, kissing on the couch, making each other laugh and house making all sorts of innuendos about the kind of gifts he gave wilson that morning.

thirteen's apartment building gets shut down for like a termite infestation or smth like that, so she has to stay with house and wilson for a couple of weeks and she learns far more about those two than she ever wanted to. she witnesses their morning routine which includes a lot of sleepy bickering, shower sex, not so sleepy bickering, and then wilson inevitably leaving house behind and telling him to take the motorcycle bc he can't be late for the third day in a row, he actually has meetings and a general sense of respect for his job, unlike some people. house looks far too pleased with himself at wilson's attitude, which led her to her next discovery of just how much of their fighting is actually just foreplay. she is traumatized by the time she goes back to her place.

[siena-sevenwits]

Goodness of the day

I woke up at 9 AM, and took the beginning of the day slow.

@telthor and I gave each other mini-tours of rooms in our homes with photos, and that was fun.

We picked up Brother Two at the airport last night. He and his formators have discerned that while he almost certainly is called to a priestly vocation (and apparently they think the world of him at the seminary,) he may be called to diocesan ("normal") or monastic priesthood, rather than with the more niche group within the Church with whom he was studying. So, after much prayer and discussion, he's following their suggestion to come home to Canada, take a semester off to work, and look into where the Holy Spirit might be calling him next. He's taking it in a spirit of hope and trust. I really admire him. So, even though it's something of an uncertain time for him, it is nice to hug him and talk to him in person and the rest. I love him and was already missing him, even though I saw him only a few weeks ago at Christmas. I want to be there for him in whatever way he needs. (It's not the same thing at all, but I know that having to leave the convent I was discerning with back in the day was something that took a long time for me to work through emotionally. And I was only with them nine months. So I know it can potentially be a lot. But he's not me - I'll stand by him in whatever way he wants or needs) I love him.

I made a lovely brocolli-bacon-spinach stir-fry, and really liked how it turned out.

Big puzzle progress!

We went out for Chinese food as a family, because Brother Two loves it.

We came home and watched the first hour of the silent film of The Phantom of the Opera, and I'm really enjoying it.

My brother and I had an amazing conversation about brokenness and grace, inspired by the Stormlight Archive. How do you strive to do the right thing when you are so messed up, as a person, as a nation, as a species, that you yourself cannot solve anything, and there is no way to undo all the damage that has already been done without causing greater hurt? How to do good when you *are* the orcs? And where grace comes in, and why hope suffuses everything even in such a broken state, and just getting the Ring to the Crack of Doom even if you never, ever had what it took to throw it in and you sure as anything don't suddenly have what it takes now. And grace comes in, and grace comes in, and grace comes in. (Yes, I'm using Tolkien language to describe a Stormlight conversation, but more of you will get it if I do.) This does absolutely nothing to tell you what our conversation was really about - you had to be there - but oh, it was a good one.

[shmisky]

Me, after finishing watching Gravity Falls and seeing the Stan twins sailing away together: The beginning of a dream! 🙂😀😃😄😆

Me, after finishing your meta about how Ford just dragged Stan back to their extremely codependent dynamic and Stan never goes to therapy to get help to deal with his inferiority complex: Everything went wrong! 😟😩😫😣😭

OH NOOO 🥺 Poor anon!! I’m sorry!! 🫂

Is this you? shejdkj

I was going to just comfort you a bit but then it got somewhat long again (I’m HOPELESS 😭), so... Under the cut.

Perhaps it helps to know that, when I said things would inevitably blow up here, I didn’t mean that in an ominous, dark way! I read a looot of fanfic, and in fanfic, the point of conflict is the climax of the story!

So, basically, in my head I imagine that once Stan accidentally makes his inferiority complex/feelings of worthlessness very, very clear in the worst way and moment possible (sorry, I just don’t have much faith in the communication skills of those two 😔), Ford would absolutely, firmly, and sexily shower him with love 😏 Like in those fanfics in which he worships Stan’s body to help with his insecurity 😳

And you don’t have to subscribe to my interpretation, btw! Not even Alex’s! That’s the fun of fiction! If you want to imagine them as more wholesome and functional, of course you can! 💕

I happen to love the codependency/most toxic aspects! It’s SO juicy for me 🧃

This actually reminds me of many people’s expectations and reactions to the finale, with Stan accepting Ford’s broposal being a big surprise! I’ve seen before fans saying that they genuinely thought Stan would reject it, after all what he went through, or that it would’ve been way healthier for Stan if he had rejected it.

I agree that this could have been healthier for Stan, and even, perhaps, the more predictable ending...? I don’t remember what I thought because I was a kid way too invested in Dipper and Mabel and Bill to care much about the Stans back then. But I think that it would’ve been a pretty classic ending!

They could have leaned on the “found family” trope. That even if Stan isn’t with Ford, it’s okay. Blood isn’t everything. Stan realizes his true family was there all along, valuing and loving him: Mabel, Dipper, Soos, Wendy... (never mind the fact Mabel and Dipper are still his biological family 😅) He realizes it’s time to step out of Ford’s shadow and be his own person (especially after he saved everyone in Weirdmaggedon and proved himself), that it was wrong of him to cling to Ford so desperately, and it was time to... finally let go...

I can easily picture it: Ford invites Stan, hopeful, but Stan looks at the horizon as his hair is tousled by the wind. After all the adventures in the summer, Stan learned so much. Stan is wiser now. “Nah, Poindexter...” [says some deep stuff about never realizing how dependent he was on Ford] Ford hesitates for a moment, then smiles sadly but somewhat proud of his brother, says he understands, apologizes for taking so long to understand Stan’s value. He also learns his lesson, one very different but no less painful than the one Stan had to learn. About humbleness, the consequences of the choices you make, etc.

He then stays in Gravity Falls as the local authority on anomalies whose help people can always count on as the Author of the Journals, while Stan, Soos, and Wendy take care of the Mystery Shack. I think it would be too sad to make Ford sail away on his own in a show about the importance of family so they likely wouldn’t go there. Or would they...? Ford could just permanently assume his narrative role as the Author of the Journals and keep sending the kids’, especially Dipper, updates on his new findings. They show Dipper receiving one letter from Grunkle Stan, and one letter from Grunkle Ford, separately. Their relationship with the kids (the protagonists) ends up as more important than their relationship with each other.

I don’t know about you, anon, but I think we did get the happier ending 🥺

Yes, according to Alex, they are both so damaged that they desperately need each other. But according to this same Alex, Stan and his brother are meant to be a parable that show what can go wrong in a family relationship, but also show that, with hard work and sacrifice, the rift can be repaired.

Also, to be honest... I just pity Ford 🥺 His pitiable regretful peacock swag unfortunately works on me. I want them to stay together codependently and kiss codependently on the mouth!

[a9saga]

i don't know how but they found me - downside // i know this song sounds super 80s like all idkhow songs do but it also feels extremely like the academy is...

[a-lonely-dunedain]

finally got to introduce Halbarad to Puddin, went far better than expected! Puddin wasn't upset about Halby at all and they've just been playing most of last night and all morning

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[switchingolliesmythe]

"Sure, sure, sure it is. I'm not sure I buy that" If the light glint in Ollie's eyes were anything to go by, he 's definitely teasing the other with such comments. There's a little bite of his lower lip as the other put those arms behind his head and showing off just how much muscle that Sebastian had put on in recent years, it was more than a little distracting even as he walked towards his sibling. There's a soft hum at those words as his lips brush just under the others collarbone. "And yet I never get tired of it. Besides maybe I just like being a voyeur and watching for a little bit. Watching the water rush down that body and down that big.." he teased his head up to meet his brothers eyes. "fat...thick cock of yours brother." he teased that last word as he rocked his hips back playfully on the others lap. There's a soft happy hum as the others hands find his hips, no matter how much he'd been enjoying the other body.

"You two love to stroke each others somethings, that's for damn sure." Ollie shot back at the other before his head tilted back and he gasped at those kisses to his throat. A hand reaching up to curl into Sebastian's dark hair to give it a playful little tug but didn't try to pull him off at all. "Oh so now I gotta ask for one? You want me all sweet and bright eyed asking for a dick pic?" He teased over at the other as he tilted his head down to meet his brothers eyes. "Hopefully more than one for the collection." he countered and was about to add a few more cheeky comments before those lips finally found his in that deep passionate kiss. Ollie let his brother move him where he wanted as he kissed back just as passionate, just as hungry. A hand dropping down to trace along that chest, along his pecs and down his stomach. before reaching between his own spread legs to find Sebastian's cock and gave it loving squeeze as they kissed. Stroking it as best as he could though those sweatpants as they made out.

Sebastian chuckled. "Why would I just say that? You know I speak only the truth. Family time is favorite time." He caught the path his twin's gaze followed and grinned, staying perfectly still so that he would take a good look, then put his arms behind his head, showing off the muscles on his bare chest and arms, while his eyes roamed all over the other's lean but strong frame, a grin curling his lips as he watched the sensual, teasing way in which he walked towards him. He definitely knew what he was doing, and what that did to Sebastian himself.

He kept his arms back when Ollie finally sat on his lap, his teeth tugging on his lower lip when he felt the warmth of his tongue licking his chest. "As if we haven't taken plenty of shower together, ma belle. But you know I like pleasing you. I promise next time I'll send you a notification so you can watch me." He chuckled softly, only then putting his arms down and letting his hands rested on Ollie's hips, squeezing the soft skin there.

"Hm, he sent me one first, and you know how we love to stroke each other's egos." He winked at him playfully, then leaned forward and placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the hollow of his throat. "All you have to do is ask for one, my slutty sister" he said, then he looked up at him. "One more for the collection, right?" As he spoke, Sebastian moved his head up and licked Ollie's lips softly, smiling as he looked into his eyes and finally leaning in to capture his brother's lips with a passionate kiss, his hand moving up to grab on his hair, his head tipping to the side just enough to make their lips fit together perfectly.

[technikki]

i adore thinking about the fucked up tpn stuff that was either not considered during the writing process or deliberately left unexplored.

tpn really said 'each house has about 6 shipments and receives about 6 new children to replace them each year. the minimum age a child can be shipped out is 6. tpn begins with conny's shipment in october, after which dominic is the only remaining 6 year-old at the house' without even considering the implications of that. how about 'we know literally nothing about anyone from the age group between anna+nat's and thoma+lanni's groups because theyre all gone by the time the story starts' also literally no one ever brings them up. or my personal favorite of 'isabella painstakingly hand-made little bunny for conny's 6th birthday. conny turned 6 in september, about a month before she was shipped out' like do you think isabella was at least a little pissed about that. i like to think she was

[floral-hex]

I’m out of town for a couple of days for my brother’s chess tournament and the internet in this hotel sucks butts and I only brought one book with me 😓

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[bmpmp3]

i NEEED to be more annoying about being mixed race in public i keep forgetting how dire it is. sometimes i point out stuff in like visual culture classes about like a magazine cover with a biracial model or something and it blows peoples MINDS because the whole class forgot mixed people were real