#others are like nope you need our particular card

[jadedzer0]

I haven't been to the library in YEARS. I rarely had the time or drive to read in college and in recent years all I could muster is fanfiction. Now I am reading a book series and have a reason to go to the library. Problem is...it's overwhelming. There are A LOT of libraries in my area but they are all on different systems and catalogs but yet also the same one and it is...too much.

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[fuck-customers]

Desert County Lob Jot person again. I just really have two customers that I had to get off my chest. First the Mattress Karen and then let me tell you about Moldy Spoon Lady.

This lady comes in constantly and tries to return things that she found laying around her house that she doesn't want anymore. Doesn't matter if it a) came from us b) was purchased in the last 30 days or even this year c) is damaged beyond saleability or d) is apparently covered in a thick, stinky layer of mold.

She walks up to the service desk and I've already had an issue with her where she told me not to ring up a box of cookies because she "forgot it yesterday so I already paid for it" and of course she had no receipt that time either. So got upset when I said unless I have proof of this like having management watch the security cameras, I have to charge her for it or she has to leave without it. Shocker: she didn't want the manager doing that.

So this time she has a reusable bag, and so I call out asking if she has a return. She says yes and ohmyGOD when she took her hand off the top rim of the bag and it starting opening...I almost had to run to the bathroom from the smell. It was beYOND foul. Inside the bag was a completely molded wooden cooking spoon. She thought all she had to say was "for some reason this spoon I got from you for $6.99 (I'm sorry...seven dollars for a spoon? In THIS place? Not possible) is completely covered in mold. I can't use it. I need to return it for $6.99". I immediately say we can't do that. I told her we can't take items that are not in resellable condition and she doesn't have the receipt or item tags, so I can't even look it up through her member card. I even tried and showed her my screen to demonstrate. I also informed her that wooden spoons shouldn't be left soaking in water in the sink because this is what happens. I didn't realize that wasn't common knowledge but I've been running into more and more people that didn't know wooden spoons are porous and absorb water still. So I just thought it was harmless advice in case she didn't know, but of course she was insulted.

"You know, I always have problems with you and I've NEVER had problems with anyone here" (she had problems with everyone here)

I tried to just say sorry but I can't take a spoon without proof it's even ours.

"You know, you're bad at your job. EVERYONE says your bad at your job."

Idk what possessed me but I gave a short laugh and said "no they didnt"

"Yes they did!!!" God, what are you, a toddler?

I knew she'd take it more seriously from a manager, so I call an assistant manager over the intercom.

"What if I find the spoon and come up with the bar code?"

I shrug and say "sure go do that". She walks off and when the assistant manager gets up to the desk I tell her the situation and she laughs when she hears who the customer is. She is a regular and a massive pain in the ass. Certifiable. She's been a problem here for a long time apparently and everyone dreads when they see her come in the door.

Moldy walks back up and not only does she have a sort of similar wooden spoon in one hand, she has a 10 pack of wooden spoons in the other. The single is $1.99, the pack was $5.99.

"I can take this $5.99 pack as an exchange for it and then you just give me the dollar back." She was ALREADY putting the pack in her fucking bag. I grabbed it before it could touch the moldy one still in the bag and said nope, she can't have those because we have no proof the original spoon cost $6.99. We definitely wouldn't price it that high.

I and the assistant manager both had the thought to say just take the $1.99 spoon this time but that if she doesn't have a receipt and it's damaged, we can't do anything next time.

Why does this particular chain have the most braindead, absolute lunatics for customers? I've been in retail for 15 years and have never seen people pull the things I've seen here. It's incredible what customers try to get away with here. And it's a BARGAIN OUTLET. We are literally cheaper than anything else around and people still try to get cheaper?

And if they can't get it cheap, they steal it. Whatever. The only theft that bothers me is when people open up food and eat a couple things out of it and put it back on the shelf. Because then that means I have to throw that food out. The amount of food items I constantly have to throw away because people opened them up or take a few bits out of it makes me so angry. Seen as how I've been overdrafting the past couple months I get that everyone is beyond poor now, but jfc do you have to make another poor person deal with your shit? I can't wait to be out of here. Besides the customers having soup for brains here, the past couple days have shown me the underbelly of the management side of things and I don't like it. Definitely won't be coming back.

Posted by admin Rodney

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475 @cookiesupplier @timid-raccoon

I've been miserable ever since Noah left for the make-up shows from when they had to cancel due to his illness. Sleeping was hard without him, having been using him as a body pillow—we didn't think to grab an actual body pillow, not realizing how reliant I was of Noah for sleeping purposes.

Which is exactly why I was currently dragging one through the front door of our home all while simultaneously grabbing the mail. And grabbing my phone from my back pocket now that Noah was calling.

"Hey," I huffed into the receiver once through the door and threw the pillow onto the couch. "How are we doing?" he asks, a smile evident in his voice. "Good," I smiled lightly to myself; I loved hearing him say 'we' instead of just 'you', knowing he was not only asking about me, but the baby, too. "Tired, but good." "Still not sleeping well?" "Nope, so I bought a body pillow. Hopefully it helps." "Hopefully. But hopefully not too well that you won't snuggle me anymore," he laughs.

I put my phone on speaker and chuckled, shaking my head as I sat down on the couch with the mail in my hands, and flipped through it. There were mostly pre-approvals for credit cards amongst other junk, but one piece in particular caught my attention. It was addressed to me, the returning address of my childhood home back in Virginia, but the name made my heart skip a beat.

Warren Foster

"What the fuck?" I questioned under my breath, immediately tearing it open to read the letter and coming face-to-face with my name written in an all-too familiar script. The first few lines had tears pooling in my eyes and my hands trembling.

My dearest Heather Olivia,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer on this earth, but I am still watching over you. I had Mom keep this so she could give this to you when you needed it most.

My lips quivered and I squeezed my eyes shut, tears now rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't bear to read the rest of it right now and put it back in its envelope, tossing it on the coffee table. I brought a hand to my mouth and tried to stifle the cry I let out, but it was of no use. I couldn't hold my emotions back.

"Liv, why are you crying?" Noah asks calmly before his panic-stricken voice cuts through my hysterics. "Oh my God—are you in labor?" I shake my head 'No', though he can't see it. "Do I need to book a flight back home?" I choke out a 'No'. "Answer me, please, you're freaking me out." I suck in a choppy breath and let out one last sob before trying to answer him. "I-I got a letter from...from my dad." "What the fuck?" He sounded just as shocked as I was. "But your dad is—" "I know," I cut him off. He didn't need to say it.

Dead. My dad is dead, and I never got to see him before he went. Each time that thought crossed my mind, it was like a sucker punch to my chest. I'm back to hysterics in no time.

"Fuck, Olivia, I'm sorry. What did the letter say?" "I-I couldn't read it," I whimpered. "I read the first two lines and put it down. Said he gave it to Mom for her to give me when I needed it most." In a sense, it was comforting. Dad was thinking of future me before he passed, Mom was thinking of me during my pregnancy. She knows the doubt that I sometimes feel, and I'm assuming there was something in that letter that would be uplifting. But I couldn't read it. Not alone.

"What can I do for you?" Noah's voice is soft. "Bring my dad back, just for a minute," I mumbled, fresh tears welling in my eyes. He sighs deeply. I can picture him combing the front of his hair back with his hand. "You know I can't do that, love. I wish I could." "I know," I whisper dejectedly. "I can't wait for you to come home." "I'll be home to you two in no time, I promise." I sniffle, wiping the back of my hand under my nose. "Okay. I'm gonna try to relax some," I huffed. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asks warily. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I love you." "I love you, too. I'll call you later, alright?"

We hung up and I picked up the letter once more, bringing it and the pillow with me into our bedroom. I shoved the piece of mail into my nightstand so I didn’t have to look at it; it was tempting to read, but I know that I wouldn't be able to contain myself if I read it alone. I couldn't have it tip me over the edge and lead to...that.

I sighed and made my way to my bathroom, deciding to take a quick bath to help calm me some. I ran the water and threw some Epsom salt in, all while making sure the water didn't get too hot. I stripped of my clothes, piled my hair on top of my head, and carefully lowered myself into the tub.

It took a moment or two to get situated, trying to find a comfortable way to rest as he wriggles about in my belly. "I love you, but you gotta chill out, dude," I chuckled quietly, and I swear he retaliates with a swift kick to my side. "Asshole," I glare at my stomach, only to laugh at my foolish banter with my belly. I ran a hand over my bump, feeling him start to settle a bit, and I let out a slow breath as the warmth encased me, my eyes falling shut.

I didn't bathe for very long; one of the downfalls of being pregnant is that I couldn't for more than 15 minutes, and I loved taking long baths. As short lived as it was, it certainly helped me calm down—after dressing and getting comfortable with the body pillow, I was out like a light.

-

After a few days of using it, the pillow was easily becoming my best friend, and when I felt it begin to slip from my grasp, I grumbled and clung onto it. I nuzzled my face into the side of it, my arm and leg hooked over it tightening their hold. There was a muted chuckle as I sighed peacefully once I got comfortable again, feeling myself start to fade back into sleep.

In my sleep riddled haze, I can feel the bed dip behind me, but I paid no mind to it. Not until I felt a comforting heat on my back, a ghost of a tingle running down my spine when my hair was brushed away from my neck, a pair of warm lips left in its wake. I whined, bringing my shoulder up to hinder them from tickling me, and a deep chuckle vibrated against my back.

"Hey, love," Noah's velvety voice whispers in my ear. With my eyes still shut, I smile. "Hey. You're home early." "I am," he concurs, leaving a kiss on my cheek. "Took the earliest flight that I could after the last show." I shift, blindly bringing my arm behind me to lace my fingers through his hair, scratching lazily. "Why?" I peek my eyes open, and I can just barely make out his face from the moonlight filtering from the skylight. He grins at me. "To make sure you two are alright," he tells me simply, his large hand splaying over my belly.

I hum, giving him a kiss on his chin, and my eyes flutter shut once more.

"I take it the pillow worked well for you," he says after a moment of silence. "Mhm. I might choose it over you now." I muse, smirking. "Oh, hell no," he grumbles playfully. He slips it from between my legs and tosses it off the bed, landing in a soft thud. He shifts so he's on his back and gently rolls me towards him, my leg instinctively settling over him. "Mine," he states, tightening his arm around me. I laugh, shaking my head against his chest, laying a kiss wherever my lips landed. "Yours."

In the morning, I woke up in the same position; his arm around me, my head nestled against his chest and my leg over top of him.

I glanced up at him, admiring the peacefulness painted on his face as he continued to snooze. With his jaw slack and lips parted, quiet snores sounded from him, and I knew he was exhausted from returning home in the middle of the night. The sunlight pouring over him hadn’t bothered him one bit—usually he’d wake up the second it hit his face.

I carefully removed his arm from around me so as to not disturb him, trying my best to roll as gracefully as I could off his body. It wasn’t quite as easy as it used to be, now with a basketball for a stomach, and I more or less scooted my way out of bed praying I didn’t wake him. When he didn’t so much as stir, I made my way to the bathroom before our son decided to wake up and kick my bladder.

Once I had finished my business and exited our bathroom, I was surprised to see Noah had woken up, him lazily rubbing his eye with his fist. “Good morning,” he croaked, and I immediately apologized for waking him. “You didn’t wake me,” he tells me with the shake of his head, but I’m almost certain I did. “Did you sleep alright?” I smiled lightly, making my way back over to him. I raked the front of his hair back and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in two weeks.” He takes hold of my hand and presses his lips to the back of it. “Good,” he mumbles against me, and I can feel his lips curl into a smile.

It had been such a short amount of time, but God did I miss waking up to his sheepish, sleep-filled grin and hooded eyes, and the raspiness in his voice that came with the day’s first words.

“Would you like some breakfast?” I asked him. He groans quietly as he sits up, stretching his hands high above his head. “Sure, love, that would be great.” I grin at him before making my way to the kitchen with him following behind me. "What do you feel like having?" "Whatever you feel like having," he sidles up behind me, his arms snaking under mine with his hands settling on my belly. His thumbs run against me in gentle sweeps as he kisses the back of my head. "Hmm...how does French toast sound?" "Sounds perfect."

He unravels himself from me so I can start cooking, persistently asking if I'd like help. I denied him each time; eventually he gave up and parked his ass at the table like I kept telling him to.

With Noah off my back, it doesn’t take very long to set plates down for both of us, and I join him at the table, taking the syrup after he was done dousing his toast with it. He digs in as I put a normal amount of syrup on my breakfast, and I chuckle when he groans after the first bite.

“Good?” I smirk. “So good,” he mumbles through a mouthful. I rolled my eyes, wishing he’d stop talking with his mouth full. “I haven’t had a home cooked breakfast in far too long.” I snort, shaking my head. “It’s been two weeks, Noah.” “And? I missed your cooking…amongst other things,” he winks.

Heat rises to my cheeks at his insinuation, and I hide my smile by taking a bite of the toast. He laughed, and I knew he could see the blush crawling over my face.

“Sorry, I had to,” he snickers. “On a serious note, have you read your letter from…your dad?” He hesitates on the tail end of his question, and my heart leapt to my throat from the mention of it alone. “No, not yet,” I mumble dejectedly, my gaze dropping to the food in front of me. I circle my fork through the puddle of syrup on my plate, swirling the trail of cinnamon into it. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home. I can’t do it alone.”

“Hey,” he says quietly, his fingers grazing over my knuckles to gain my attention. I bring my eyes back to him, seeing his chocolate irises glistening with generosity. “You don’t have to do it alone, I’m here now.” “I know,” I nod shallowly, placing my fork down on my plate to lace my fingers with his.

He gave my hand a squeeze to which I returned, a faint smile grazing my lips as a sense of security washes over me. He was the courage and comfort that I needed for a moment like this, and I was more than grateful for his understanding about it.

I decided after breakfast that we could read it together. He helped me clean up, loading and starting the dishwasher as I wiped down the counter and put the ingredients back to their designated areas. When we were finished in the kitchen, he took my hand in his and asked where I wanted to read it, and he guided me back to our bedroom when I answered him.

I opened the drawer that I had shoved it in two weeks prior and took it out—it was the heaviest thing I have ever held. My eyes immediately watered as I stared at my father’s name on the returning address. Noah slips the envelope from my hand and places it on the nightstand before taking my hands and sitting on our bed.

“Come here, love,” he says in a hushed tone. “Let’s get you comfortable and I can read it to you. How’s that sound?” All I could do was nod as he sat back on the pillow he propped up, his hands pulling me gently into his embrace. I rest my head on his chest, and he reaches for the letter, bringing it to his view. “Ready?”

I take a deep breath, nodding against Noah’s chest as fresh tears fill my eyes from anticipation. He gives me a reassuring kiss on the top of my head before he flips it open, clearing his throat. He read the first two sentences that I had beforehand, and I closed my eyes, my tears spilling and staining his shirt.

“From the day you were born, I knew just how special you were. You easily became the littlest love of my life, my precious baby girl, who later became my Christmas Angel…I’m sure you remember that one time we took down the tree trying to put the topper on it.”

I couldn’t help the choked-up giggle after Noah read the last sentence, the memory was still so fresh in my mind. He pressed his lips against my head once more before he continued reading.

“You blossomed into the most beautiful, courageous, and strong-willed woman that I know you still are to this day, and I enjoyed watching you grow as the years passed. I cherished them.

I remember all the tough days you had when you were in school, how badly you wanted to give up when studying became too overwhelming, or when you didn’t get the grades you wanted on your tests. But with tears in your eyes, you pushed yourself through it, and you passed with flying colors by the end of it all.

The same thing goes for when you got the job for the city. I knew how scared you were, I knew you were afraid of letting me down or not meeting my expectations or whatever it was dragging you down, but you never let that stop you. But I am so, so proud of you for never giving up, and I admire you for your strengths.

If I was half as strong as you are, I wouldn’t be lying on my death bed writing this letter to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be able to watch you continue to grow, I’m sorry I succumbed to this disease and left you.

If there is one thing that I want you to remember, it’s that you truly are unstoppable; there isn’t a thing in this world that you cannot accomplish—I said that with my chest, and I took that to my grave.

If there is ever a day that you are doubting yourself, I want you to read this over and over until you find who you are again: the strongest, most beautiful, and courageous woman to walk this earth. The woman I am so proud to call my daughter.

I love you so much.

Until we meet again.

-Dad”

I was a blubbering mess by the time Noah finished reading the letter to me. He puts it back on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth ever-so-slightly while I cried it out.

In all reality, it wasn’t that bad of a letter, but it made me miss my dad that much more. It made me regret following in his footsteps, which ultimately lead me down a path to where I never got to see him before he passed. I was weak then. Oh, so very weak—and at times, I believe that I’m still weak, unlike what his letter had been telling me.

It took me a long time to recover, and I ruined it after three whole years of being sober. That is weak; I wasn’t the strong-willed person my dad thought I was. And even if I’m strong enough to be sober now due to the pregnancy, there’s always that thought in the back of my head that worries I’ll relapse after having him. But I can’t let that happen.

I won’t let that happen.

|Chapter 24|

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 5

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie has a question for you in this week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

“Donnie!”

For the simplicity of his nickname, there were so many ways you could say it. Even at a higher volume the slightest twang could manipulate the meaning. You had yelled for him, at him, and in calling. You’d sought him out of crowds. He’d surprise you. You fought. It was range, you supposed. It was the kind that illustrated your relationship by emphasizing one particular point.

It was one he was keen on undulating.

He already had a mastery of your noises on the barest level, but he’d come to elicit everything from your euphoric screams. It might have been your increased sessions where you went at it furiously for about a week straight, but you had really been taking notice lately.

He wanted you to know exactly who was inseminating you.

It was a thrill just to think and in practice it wasn’t something you realized until your throat was hoarse. He’d bring you to the brink in an all consuming way where all you could think was to scream out his only calling card. It was him in an essential distillation. It seemed ridiculous that there was ever a time when he disliked the shorthand of his name. It was all he wanted to hear now and hear it he did.

You gasped back to clarity and he was still there.

Too much of him in fact as you were immediately hoisted into the air.

You’d already shouted his name more times than you could count about this particular occurrence. Since your second month of trying for a baby, he had started grabbing you by the ankles after lovemaking. The pair fit easily in his hand and was, in his mind, the best handle to lift you with. Since baby imagery was on the mind, the fact that you were lifted up from there gave you nothing but the appearance of needing to be changed. The way he had to lay a pillow underneath you only increased said imagery which you had protested hotly until he finally relented.

The end product was ultimately the same, your hips would be propped up, but he at least used a scooping arm instead of a demeaning lift of your legs now. He had the angle down to a science and an exact pillow picked out. Your hips were laid upon the cushion and you relaxed. Your knees would bob in the bottom of your vision and you’d grown used to being stuck on your back.

“Alright?” Donnie’s head darted as he appraised you.

“Yup. Cool.” You stared dully at the canopy. “So cool.”

That same yank of concern pinched his brows. “Dearest…”

“It doesn’t get better, ya know?” You sighed. “I get the pillow thing. I get it helps the sperm gravity slide to the uterus. I get it, but it still sucks just… in general. “

“I know…” He took care in sitting beside you so you wouldn’t be jostled.

All it did was make you more acutely aware of how you couldn’t stop your complaints. “For 20 to 30 minutes I’m stuck on my back! We can’t have any regular cool down anymore! After care? Nope! Cuddling? Impossible! We need to do everything possible to make sure our stupid gametes mix!”

Donnie was quiet. You knew he wasn’t waiting for you to finish; he was letting you vent. It felt like he wanted you to stop though. There was something to how he couldn’t meet your eye. His protests were loud enough without a single action.

You both wanted this so why would you complain?

He had never pressed the matter, only presented it. Using the pillow wasn’t any sort of guarantee. There was barely science to support it. After your first month’s failure, it felt like you were already on desperate measures. The science that barred him from actionable ways to stimulate fertilization wore on his being. He hated being denied.

Like how he was currently being denied children.

Amongst everything else.

Why couldn’t you just lie on your back and take this one thing?

You reached for your knees as no logic query would abate your fury. They came to you with a flare in your mate’s interest because of course it did. While hugging your knees to your body could support the maneuver, you were already in a primped position. If you were moved you chanced the slightest slip of semen and it would certainly end in you unfertilized if that were up to chance.

Rage had you tugging your legs down anyway.

Donnie came to primp your posture.

“Donnie.” You protested softly.

His hands were out in an anxious hover to correct you.

“You act like it’s the end of the world if we don’t do this!” You told him with tears in your eyes.

It cracked his expression.

There it was.

Everything underneath.

The same toil you knew was there.

He was holding so much back.

You hated this process.

You hated that the moment he ejaculated, he had to leave you.

You hated that you couldn’t soothe him.

It was only your second month.

With your chances this could go on for any number of months or even years.

How could you break so soon?

“Hurry…” You decided on.

He was lightning fast in angling your body.

You couldn’t even feel the linger of skin contact.

It left you cold. 

It was too soon for this.

Time stretched on in an infinite sort of way and the not knowing was also there.

“Timer.” You spoke something that sounded chilled to your ears.

It appeared and read something to the tune of 22 minutes.

You turned your head away from it and felt how cold your wet cunt was.

Donnie lightly brushed your arm.

He was there.

He was stooped beside you so he could get to your eye level.

He was off the bed and opened connection lines.

You felt his similar abysmal thoughts commingle with yours.

Within your band it felt like there was a space all your own. A room where your most essential beings could meet as long as both parties opened the connection portals. There was feedback streaming in all day in a regular sense, but over time the two of you had honed that into something more defined. There was you, there was him, and there was you both.

You slipped into that space with your eyes closed.

You’d visualize it for the sake of your currently lonely body.

Donnie’s essence wrapped around you like an embrace. You thought his name loudly and in an imprecise way he responded with yours. A calling that you’d both done in many senses, this one was the reassurance; that you shared the same strife. He was obviously sympathetic that you took on the physical portion and you were sure that was only going to continue were his sperm to ever take.

The pain.

There would be extreme pain, the likes of which others could only be compared to. Giving birth was considered the metric. It could take hours, it often did, and it ravaged the body even more than growing an entire other little person already did. It came with chemicals made distinctly by the body just to help you forget the process because without that little biological factor, the human race might have died out eons ago with their maladaptive forms, gaits, and pathetic pelvis formations.

To say you weren’t looking forward to it was an understatement.

How would that feel to Donnie?

Neither of you had suffered real injury since completing the ritual of your martial bond. There had been toe stubbings and bug bites, but you hadn’t felt those inaugurating pangs. What you felt was a zip of magical energy that read as distress. It was the emotion you felt and not the pain itself.

Except for Donnie’s scars.

He had tissue all over his body that had been ravaged and it was why he wore compression gear. Those aches didn’t read like anything distinct. Donnie had been dealing with that chronic pain for most of his life. It wasn’t something he thought about specifically as it was omnipresent. The only times it really came up was on cloudy days just before the skies opened. It was then that he would move just a bit slower. 

You still weren’t exactly sure and hadn’t brought it up, but it was in your special room that you felt what you believed was a facsimile of it. It was like there was a dull throb to the space itself. Since the space was an equal mix of both your beings, it melded into your mind as something encompassing, but ubiquitous. You supposed that was how he felt about the pain’s existence and it read to you like a rash. It lingered with a burn along your imagined limbs and settled into something you could forget if you were still enough in the right position. It intrigued you that it was something that could be shared through your wedding band though its ramifications haunted you.

He felt enough pain and you didn’t want to pile on more.

Could you control that during childbirth?

How could you not instinctively claw and call for your mate, your ultimate source of comfort?

You’d probably want to kill him under false pretenses of him putting you through it.

You were frustrated enough as it was with him having only asked you to lay on your back after every session.

It was unreasonable.

Your frustrations stemmed from elsewhere.

It was the tenderness of a child, you thought.

A culmination of everything you hoped not coming to fruition made you as soft as a baby. Your emotions were raw and nubile. You bet it also had something to do with the treatment of pregnancy throughout your relationship. It loomed and had become commonplace due to your kinks. It seemed cosmically unfair that your proclivity was unreachable when it could easily be commonplace.

Donnie had said something about his kink coming about because of how he hadn’t thought he could impregnate someone.

It was sad in a way.

Sad in the same way you were laying with your hips raised on a pillow.

No, that was cruel.

Infertility was not synonymous with your willing act. 

You were a mess.

Wasit all just because you were frustrated?

What else could it be?

You blinked your eyes open slowly.

In one of Donnie’s many talks he had said something about hormones.

You felt like you knew, but you were in a state of second guessing yourself. “Am I ovulating?”

“No.” Your husband hadn’t moved and was watching you.

Something about that didn’t sound right. “That’s… Wait, bring up the calendar.”

It appeared before your eyes.

You found the dot marker that said what day today was.

It also clearly read that today was the first day of your ovulation phase.

“Donnie…” You let the weight of knowledge heap upon his name.

“It’s an estimation.”

“Based on you tracking me.”

“Correct.”

“Then who’s to say?” Your shoulders moved slightly with your protest.

The timer appeared like an irritant to say you still had two minutes and thirty-six seconds.

You shot him a warning glare and it disappeared.

“Me.”

“You what?”

“I’m, as you put it, to say.”

“You can’t know that.”

His lips turned down in challenge.

“You can’t! You can use your best estimation! You can feel the state of my discharge or whatever. I’ve read the same things you have!”

“Y/N-!”

“Why else would I be like this!?” You huffed.

“You know why…” His voice dipped low for the sensitive subject matter.

“Sperm live 3 or 5 days, whatever, yeah, sure.” Your voice sounded like you didn’t believe him.

That would trigger him explaining the science again and you saw him take a breath in preparation for it.

“No!” You shouted to cut him off.

You blew out a breath.

“No.” You tried again. “You don’t have to explain it. Let me… Yes, I know they do, or can, but it’s just like… I could be ovulating and this could be helping or I could not be and this isn’t doing anything! It’s like a catch 22! It sucks. It sucks if we know. It sucks that we don’t. The whole thing sucks, but it’s a necessary suck…”

“Y/N, you don’t-”

“So it’s not ovulation… Can this be the new diet thing?”

You heard a blessed ding that your time was over and sat right up.

Donnie fumbled to get some tissues.

You currently didn’t care how you soaked the damn pillow. “It’s what we figured out we could up our chances with!”

You snatched a tissue when he offered it and cleaned yourself up.

“We can’t stimulate hormones with medication, but we have a level of control over natural consumption! Omega-3 fatty acids are known to increase the likelihood of conceiving-!”

Your voice grated on your ears.

“Full fat dairy boosts ovulatory regulation! You’re eating more vitamin E for sperm! Lycopene for sperm!! Antioxidants for sperm!!!”

Donnie caught your hands.

You turned to him and felt that hopeless welling in your chest. “I know and I’m sorry! I’m sorry I keep complaining. I’m sorry I’m not taking this well! I’m sorry I’m trying to blame my shitty attitude on a hormone imbalance especially because like why would you even let that happen to me!? I’m just… Ugh!!!”

He squeezed tightly.

It was paired with a probing in your wedding band.

There was no false equivalence this time.

Now he was actually waiting for you to finish.

You cracked an eye to view him.

He watched you warily and waited until your calm was assured before he spoke.

“Y/N, I might be mistaken. Which case, feel free to berate me accordingly, but… it seems you are under the impression that I have only tracked your cycle in human terms.”

“What… do you mean? We had to limit blood tests because the damned government was concerned with your needle consumption and it’s not like we invested in an in-home scanner…”

“Because both were wholly unnecessary…”

“Yeah, because we have the schedule you set up. That’s why you did those daily exams for months. You figured out all the timing. You keep adjusting it for whenever my periods start and stop.”

He readjusted the grip on your hand and seemingly his sanity.

You frowned deeply.

“It’s not you.” He felt compelled to explain.

You soured further.

“It’s not.” He pressed both his voice and your wedding band. “While I adore research, the field of obstetrics haunts me. There is an alarming amount of misinformation and it is grossly available and perpetuated. You give my distress voice in a way I cannot.”

That sounded very honest and you felt worse for thinking he meant it maliciously.

“My heart…” He had only adoration and lifted up to nuzzle you. “We act as each other’s strengths. I cannot succumb at this time, but know if you had the fortitude I would.”

“You’re saying you want to though… That isn’t better…” Your voice warbled.

“Would you not step up if I were at my wit’s end?”

“Of course, I would!”

“If you were also taxed?”

“Donnie…”

He pulled back enough so you could see his knowing smirk.

It brought a bubble of happiness up from the abysmal lake in your chest.

He saw to it and kissed you.

You allowed yourself to release more of that building steam.

You stole a few more pecks before you pulled on him.

He crawled up into the bed to join you and you immediately coiled around him.

You did not miss how he kicked your prop pillow out of the way with a palpable ire.

You hugged him tightly.

He sighed straight into a churr.

“What were you talking about then…?” You murmured, feeling quelled.

“We spoke of tracking you in so many means, I failed to inform you of what was arguably the most important case…”

“There’s also a huge chance I missed it or… forgot…”

He thought for a moment before he returned to rumbling against your head. “Possible, but regardless.”

“Was it the home ovulation test? I feel like that was something we decided not to do, but I can’t remember why…”

He chuckled.

“Or the pregnancy tests? No, we go through a mountain of those every few weeks...”

He gave you a nudge before he sat up.

You rolled onto your back of your own violation to watch him since he seemed to have something prepared.

“Y/N.” He addressed you with importance.

“Yes?” You debated sitting up, but you were finally comfortable.

“I’ve trained myself to smell your ovulation.”

His gravity took on an air of comedy.

You let out a puff of laughter.

He held steady in a way that appeared to be enhancing the joke.

You chuckled a few times and lightly shoved him as you sat up. “Good one, Don. I’m feeling better. What was it really?”

He continued to wait beside you.

You looked him over.

His brows only rose in a way that told you he wasn’t joking.

“That’s… not a thing. There’s no scent to it. I read the studies.”

“Body odor.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Y/N.”

“There’s no smell.”

“Not that humans can pick up on.”

“This goes way far back to before any of the baby making stuff! There’s no human sex pheromone! I remember you said that line exactly!”

“Then you’ll remember what came next.”

“That you could smell I was turned on because you could smell when I got wet! Not that I was giving off a pheromone; you could smell my discharge!”

Donnie’s head bobbed as if that was the answer.

“You can’t smell when an egg gets released!”

“No.” He leaned into you. “I can’t.” 

Something about his intensity caused your stomach to flip.

He smiled as he glanced down your body, satisfactorily.

You squeezed your legs together.

He took it as a demonstration and traced down your thigh.

Goosebumps were left in its wake as he knew exactly what type of pressure was teasing.

You squirmed slightly before you released your tensing.

His hand trended inward and caressed the sensitive skin there.

The many sessions had your body especially keyed in and you felt your core stir.

He finally pulled from you only to inhale deeply from what was obviously the scent of your sex. “I can’t smell the functions. I can’t smell gonadotropin-releasing hormone or follicle-stimulating hormone or luteinizing hormone or estrogen or progesterone.”

You felt dizzy from the list and his hand heavy just above your sex.

“But I can smell your discharge. I have long been attuned to it. I believe I mentioned tasting notes all those years ago. Do you know how diverse yours are? They are like your brand. You have a distinct scent like none other.”

You bit your lip.

Donnie churred loud and had to interrupt his own throat. “Throughout your cycle it continues to read as such, but with daily examination, I found I could smell certain fluctuations. The thickening of the endometrium. The nutrients meant for the blastocyst. The flow of your cervical fluid.”

You reached for him.

He offered you his arm.

He allowed you to puppet him into touching between your legs.

You felt the wet in your mouth as your pussy lips parted.

“Donnie…”

“Alone these scents were mere deviations that could be credited to diet, but when I became hyper aware of your cycle?”

His fingers dipped into your folds.

“Y/N…” He spoke only desire.

You tried to mouth the same, but made little noise.

He quirked his hand so both his digits pressed your entrance. “I wouldn’t say believe; I know when you are ovulating. It is the scent of the ripest, juiciest, sweetest fruit that only you produce.”

“Again…” You urged him. “Let’s go again…” 

He grinned predatory and spread his fingers to open you up.

Cold spilled inside of you as you imagined the scent equally poured out.

It hit Donnie in an exaggerated inhale that was nearly immediately cut off.

Your mate stopped breathing.

Worry tinged you immediately and you pressed his limb.

“Donnie?”

His eyes opened and it wasn’t just the light that moved his pupil.

You watched it explode in growth.

He then shifted darkened attention to your face.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Don...?”

“Ask me again…” His words were soaked with drool.

You saw a bit of it in the corner of his mouth and almost wanted to wipe it were your blood pressure not sky high. “Am… I ovulating?”

“Yes.”

You crashed into each other like it was a given.

It gave you a strange sense of clarity as you did your best to consume one another.

That sort of accuracy was startling.

If Donnie’s nose was that acclimatized then you bet he could smell anything that translated through your sex. You knew the taste of your juices could be affected by food and that smell was an extension of that. You bet that he could probably tell from your scent now if you’d had a soda that day.

It was an exciting revelation. Already your sex was something you considered to be under his jurisdiction, but knowing you couldn’t conceal anything from him there was further titillating. Your entanglements revealed even more to him than just your wedding band and you liked it that way. You were solely his in both that way and the way he took you down to the sheets.

He was biting, you could feel it. He nipped your skin as he traced down you like a starving man. It was as if you hadn’t done it twice today already and an amount you’d lost count of in this entire cycle. That obsession you both craved now had a tangible output besides the small goal of cumming and the larger aim of closeness. You were going to mix your beings in more than just the room of your wedding brand; you were going to make a child.

Not just the rousing lead up conversation, but your body’s alarming poignant timing had charged your mate. Your last cycle, he must not have smelled when you started ovulating because of work. Now, he’d scented the exact moment and he was crazed for it. He palmed over you in a heavy way that said nothing was enough. You chirped heady for him to speak something similar and it spurred him further on.

He groped you unable to leave a tactile sense free from consumption before he hooked your hips and turned. It spun you around so you were staring down the mattress. It had been awhile since you’d seen it like this and, on your hands and knees, you spun to find him ready to mount with his cock in hand. Despite his shaded gaze, he was fully cognizant as he lined himself up.

You groaned at the sight and popped your ass plush for him.

He churred loud for it and sank into you. You spread your fingers to take the weight and he immediately coiled around your waist like a belt. He was your safety bar as his cock settled fully inside you and he rumbled out ecstasy before he rut.

You imagined he might clamp down on your mating mark since the need reminded you so much of his heat, but instead his voice rose.

“Gonna fill that perfect little cunt of yours. You always say I was made to breed, but look at you. You present like my cock sleeve. You get wet by my words. You ache for my seed. You're ready and willing whenever I want and this damned fit…!”

Your face exploded on contact.

Your mate was no stranger to dirty talk, but he rarely said more than a few key lines.

You could only mewl in return.

He poured over you as he slammed into you repeatedly.

“Astonishing. Astounding. Awe-inspiring-!”

He continued to run through an alphabetical list of praises until he switched his angle and you lost sense of what he was spouting.

“We said…!” He pulled out his length to the hard press of his spread.

“Donnie!!”

“How… it was that you took me, but never why!”

“Why!?” You tried to envelope him, but he kept you at bay.

“Because…” He spoke directly into your ear.

You gave an all too eager mating call.

“You weren’t just made for me…”

His cock hung like the peak before the drop on a rollercoaster.

You chirped out a babble.

He snaked a hand up to catch your jaw so you’d look at him.

Your eyes leaked as you did.

He smiled too sweetly for his actions.

“You were made for me to breed.”

He slammed back in, struck your g-spot, and you screamed.

He followed through, repeating the maneuver until only he held you upright as he humped into your gangle of limbs. Still, your muscles spasmed from the taxing position. Your leg twitched and you felt the makings of a Charlie Horse that Donnie fucked away. He plowed into you with a purely animalistic drive to breed. It coaxed something primordial out your brain and you shoved with the last strength of your elbows.

Donnie allowed your torso to drop to the bed and continued to fuck the pyramid of your body. You drearily had a final thought about that being something for gravity’s sake before a flashbang went off as your orgasm. You only imagined his name amongst the white noise and it became palpable only when the scorch of his cum was pumped into you. You were seeded deep, plowed down for safety’s sake, and left for the crops to take in the optimized soil.

You didn’t remember Donnie leaving you because this time he didn’t.

He stayed right there, holding you up and himself in all the way, until he went soft and retracted into his body.

Only then did he animate, longer still after the extra seminal fluid flowed down your leg.

It was pooling on the sheets when he moved away from you only enough to catch your hip.

He immediately kneaded the flesh and revealed that your muscles had locked up. You groaned once for the sharp pain it started with until you became putty in his hands. He molded the clay with a sentimentality that said something about his staked claim. Your body was his and he was taking the necessary care of it.

He eased you into the mattress where your body became a pool. It was a drifting comfort as you kissed him and pulled him in closer so you could doze with him actually there against you to make him equally your own.

-

A scooping arm hoisted your legs up. You allowed the maneuver as you drearily stared at the ceiling. A pillow was set under you and, maybe under any other circumstance, you might have thanked how it wasn’t under your hips. Instead, it was under your ankles and you felt the new angle of your body land in the apex between your hips.

It helped alleviate the cramps that were taxing you there.

It was the next thing Donnie tended to as he gingerly tapped the hands you had folded to apply pressure to your uterus. 

You thought it might be instinctual to protect your womb even if it had betrayed you for a second month in a row.

Your period was heavy enough that you didn’t want to bother with the tests you’d soon take for that supposed ‘just in case’.

No, this was some hellish version of your normal cycle.

You knew this all too well.

Periods fluctuated. 

A heating pad brushed your fingers in hopes you’d allow it to give you some respite.

You barely thought you deserved it but a small spasm had you lifting your palms.

A perfectly weighted and hot thing landed on your lower abdomen and you breathed relief.

Your hands settled atop it to protect that instead.

You’d keep it there.

Gravity would keep it down, but you would add additional pressure. 

Not for thirty minutes, but until you grew numb to the heat and would need a break so you could try once again.

💜 NEXT 💜

You know my betas are bosses! @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[aestariiwilderness]

SPOILERS

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 5(?) (I think?) Thoughts

Well, one big one:

HAHAHAhahahahaHHAHAHAHAHA

And the little ones:

I have been waiting for Omega to pull the age card since season 1 -- actually since before I really knew what the newest Star Wars Baby's name actually was. This was great and I want Hunter to realize it's coming for him next

I haven't stopped laughing about the "moment of silence for our fallen brother" since I saw it. Someone: *mentions Tech* Every single clone in the room: *pledge of Allegiance moment*

WHY IS CROSSHAIR STILL WEARING THE JACKET

WHY IS HE STILL WEARING THE JACKET ON A BEACH IN FULL SUNLIGHT

Crosshair is 100% the angsty sullen goth vampire hissing like he's been hit with holy water in Hawaiian environments with kind people chasing after him bearing fruit and love that I knew he would be

Crosshair: spends like two weeks on Pabu Crosshair: I can't take it anymore! UGH SUNLIGHT *drags the entire Batch to freaking Barton IV* ah, home sweet murder home. the last place I had a really good angst before my older sister found me and dragged me home by the ear. fond memories

Echo, you're a disgrace but also somehow still the only sane one here

Do datapads just not need to ever charge in Star Wars??

Omega: oh yah I have a sister did you know Echo: okay, we don't have time to unpack all that

Where is the heck is Phee? Is she just...off dismembering Cid or something?

Crosshair: "I know a place" Hunter: "YOU'RE NOT TELLING US EVERYTHING ABOUT IT" Crosshair: "I ALREADY KILLED EVERYTHING DANGEROUS HERE what do you WANT FROM ME" *Dune 2021 erupts from underneath the base* Crosshair: .... Crosshair: huh. guess Mayday forgot to mention that particular natural feature. My bad y'all

GUYS. WE NEVER TURN OFF THE MYSTERIOUS PERIMETER SENSORS. IDIOTS KNOW THIS. DID WE LEARN NOTHING FROM THE KRYKNA INCIDENTS I, II, and III

Crosshair looking at Batcher: ah, the new and improved Hunter. You're my favorite. We'll try to save you Hunter but if it gets too inconvenient I'll be over there taking a nap Hunter, standing right there: hey

Congratulations Batcher I guess you're his service animal now

Hunter: *sneaks up behind Crosshair stacking random regs' helmets one by one on a crate* Hunter: *considering Crosshair's past track record with regs, the Empire, and loyalty* so, like...did he kill these guys, or...? Hunter:...do I want to know? Hunter: *does a 180* NOPE

Hunter: "dID yOu tHiNK we wErE juST gOinG tO tAkE yOu bAcK witHoUT aSkIng aNy quEsTiONs???" Hunter, you beloved moron. You DID just take him back without asking any questions. To your super secret summer home no less. And let him spend two whole weeks chilling on a beach before it occurred to you to do anything other than stare at him with complete lack of subtlety from the top of a cliff

Why were you stalking him from the top of a cliff Hunter

Crosshair, he was silhouetted against the sun like 100 feet away with an almost seven foot dude right next to him. There was no hiding going on here. At all. Detecting him is not a super sniper skill. If you HADN'T seen that, we'd have a problem

Crosshair: hey yeah guys so this is clearly a Very Important Place to me that I will proceed to tell you Absolutely Nothing About. BTW don't land there Echo, there's a corpse in the middle of the landing pad somewhere. Possibly two if they never bothered picking up Nolan Echo:... Echo, 1000000% done with this Batch's drama: at least there's no blood this time

"I've made mistakes" AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *smash cuts to using flamethrower on civilians* *shooting Wrecker* *"aim for the kid!"* *nearly dropping Tech off an ion engine* *trying to burn them all alive in an ion engine* *shooting at them* *kidnapping Hunter* *kidnapping all of them* *getting them trapped on Kamino while it SINKS* *shooting pretty much everybody at some point* *plan 88 but no context!* AHAHAHAHAHAHA this is my new favorite line. Hunter should get him a T-shirt that says that to replace that awful hip pocket thing

Wrecker getting genre-aware

Omega: "I told you to TALK to him not ARGUE with him" Crosshair, sulkily: "He STARTED IT" EDIT: 23. IF I SEE ONE MORE ICE VULTURE IN THIS HOUSE

[meme-loving-stuck]

tags from @tooquirkytolose cause i was about to say the same thing

in the U.S. a LOT of things that are just meant to make life easier and more convenient reach some places before they reach others. the socio-economic demographics of american cities & states vary HUGELY, and so can our generational divide.

if youre talking about, like, the rural south... no, they probably arent using tap-and-go because the one family-owned grocery store in town understandably hasnt updated their card reader, and neither has the family-owned gas station. any of the other businesses there probably dont see it as a priority due to nobody asking for it, because what they have works fine. Touchless pay requires a NEW thing, or changing something that, for many people living there, already works fine and doesn't need to be changed. to make the change also usually costs money

same thing with electric kettles. if youve had a metal stovetop kettle that works great for the last 15 years, why would you buy an electric one? it's plastic, harder to store, and if the wiring in your house is older than you are... you'll probably just stick with the stovetop one that already works fine.

(the thing about that is also: the 'rural south' isnt just one area in one southern state. if you live in a smaller european country, you really wont grasp the scale unless you look at a map for comparison. a huge amount of places fall into this socio-economic category, meaning a huge amount of land and people in many different states)

however, where i live, it's a generally poor area but it's somewhat a city, so we do have both. you just dont see an electric kettle in every household, but every major grocery store here sells them. you dont see touchless pay used in every store— but the demand for it is present. i work for a business where our particular store didnt even have a chip option for our card reader, much less touchless pay, until last year! about half the people who shop there WERE asking for it for the last 3 years. but the company said "nope! if we change it one store we have to change ALL of them, and that requires money!" so... we didnt do it. but just about every other store near us did

tl;dr america is BIG and everything that we "have over here" varies a BIG amount depending on where you are. not just these 2 specific things, i could go on about how this applies to basically anything

I love all you American followers dearly, but you lull me into a false sense of security.

We can chat about normal everyday things for weeks, months even. And then you hit me with things like “tap-and-go payments don’t really exist here,” and “We don’t use electric kettles.”

I never want to hear another story about an American asking if Scotland has electricity or cinemas ever again.

[withahappyrefrain]

 He’s All That

Summary: Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover. 

Shoutout to @liz-allyn who came up with this idea and said “Abby, how have you not written this yet?” You’re not in this fandom, but I love you and love how we bonded over our childhood love of Bill Pullman 

Warnings: Language, Rooster being a himbo, Phoenix having the majority of the group’s braincells, drinking, afab reader 

Bob was shy.

Always was, always had been.

As a child, he found comfort in clinging to his mother's leg while she talked to other people. It allowed him to take in what was happening without being dragged into the conversation.

Of course, folks always noticed him. Always cooed as they kneeled down to exclaim, "Aren't you just a shy young thing!" before continuing the conversation with his mother.

Sometimes, he misses those days. Not the part about being a child. Moreso, he missed how folks would make the observation and just move on.

Now he had friends who could not take a hint.

"Just go talk to her!" Natasha badgered. Bob had hoped he could get away with tucking himself in the corner and stealing quick looks.

The group had decided to switch things up and go to a regular bar. It was a nice change, getting to wear civilian clothes instead of the khaki uniform. New sights and new faces.

One face in particular had stood out to Bob as soon as he walked into the place.

"I don't….I don't want to bother her. That would be rude," Bob stammered, staring down at the cup of peanuts in his hands.

He thought he was being subtle. Glancing over to steal looks and glimpses of her radiant smile. Offering to pick up drinks so he could walk by and hear that bright laugh that was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard.

Apparently not.

"Dude, she's been looking your way the whole night," Bradley commented, joining the two  in the booth.

"She could have been looking at any one of us!" Bob whispered, hoping it would send the subtle message to everyone else in the group to quiet down. The amount of alcohol they had consumed had already impaired their ability to gauge the volume of their voice.

"I followed her eyes, they led directly to you," Mickey said before taking another sip of his beer, joining the already crowded booth, "Go talk to her."

"She's…she's with her friends! That would be rude!" Couldn't they see that Bob didn't have the backbone required for him to just waltz up and start a conversation? If he did, he wouldn’t still be sitting with them right now.

"So then wait until she gets the next round of drinks! It should be her turn soon," Natasha commented, narrowing her eyes on her backseater.

Why was he so aversive? The girl was practically perfect for Bob. Confident but not cocky. Wasn't afraid to be loud, but only when she needed to be. Sweet with her gingham sundress and the countless thank you’s she said to Penny, a hint of edge with how she stayed on top of her friends' stories and jokes. But not intimidating.

Bob had been looking with stars in his eyes. The lovesick look that adorned his face would have been cute, if that wasn't all he planned on doing that night. Natasha knew Bob and knew he wouldn't make a move without major encouragement.

"I-I don't want to bother her." Couldn't they get the hint? He was nervous, painfully so. Being able to waltz up to beautiful women and strike up a conversation was never in the cards for Bob. He'd stumble through his words, turning in a blushing, rambling mess, talking about the most random things, like the Lego set he just completed.

And who wanted that?

Bob could easily calculate a missile range on the fly. But talking to someone he found attractive?

Nope. Couldn't do that even if his life depended on it.

"It's not bothering if she's been eyeing ya," Bradley countered before taking another sip of his beer. Was he one to talk? Perhaps. But Bob didn’t need to know that. 

"She came out to have a good time with her friends, I doubt she wants to talk to some random guy," Bob mumbled.

A collective sigh was heard from the squad. This wasn't unusual for Bob- trying to get him to talk to people he clearly found attractive was like pulling teeth.

"Alright baby on board, I'm already tired of this conversation. Either you talk to her within the next twenty minutes or I will," Hangman declared before grabbing Javy for another round of darts.

The group stared at Bob, who was now shifting in his seat, face bright red.

"C'mon Bob, are you really going to let that sweet girl deal with Bagman?" Phoenix practically begged her backseater.

Bob didn't want her to deal with that. He wanted to talk to her, to make her smile, to make her laugh.

But how could he compete with Hangman? The man was not only good looking, but he could get out a complete sentence with zero stuttering.

Bob knew exactly what would happen. He would stumble up to the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart with just one smile, barely able to get out his name. Once she saw he was incapable of talking without making a fool of himself, she'd find an excuse to walk away and go talk to someone like Hangman.

"Just go talk to her, tell her you think she has a great smile," Bradley offered. At this point, it was no longer Bob just being ‘Bob’. It was painful to watch.

Bob scoffed, "Her smile isn't great. It rivals the sun."

"Oh my god, just say that!" Natasha felt like she was talking to one of her many younger siblings, meaning the urge to smack Bob upside the head was growing stronger and stronger.

"I can't! I'm….." he sighed, "Okay look at me."

"Why-"

"Just look at me!" His cobalt eyes were narrowed, his thin lips formed into a tight line- Bob's adorable way of looking stern.

"Now look at Hangman," he instructed once his friends finally followed his order, "Now look back at me."

"Is something supposed to be happening?" Mickey whispered to Bradley, who simply shrugged.

"Notice the difference? Please tell me you see the difference," Bob practically begged.

"I mean yeah; Hangman would benefit from having someone tell him to sit the fuck down and you're a pleasant human being," Natasha laughed.

"He…" Bob signed, "There's a type of guy that girls usually go for and out of the two….it's not me."

"Bob! You're an amazing guy, and as a woman I can confirm that any lady would be lucky to have you," Natasha assured her friend.

"Nat, no offense but isn't your view kinda skewed since you don't like men?" Bradley whispered, receiving a deadly glare in response.

"Okay, well as someone who's actually in a relationship," now it was Mickey's turn to receive a death glare, this time from both Bradley and Natasha, "Cielo has told me so many times that she doesn't understand how you're single."

"Your girlfriend has also said she wants to adopt me, so that's like my mom saying she thinks I'm swell." Bob sighed, pondering if now was a good time to start drinking.

"What we're all trying to say Bob, is that you're a catch," Bradley stepped in, "You just need to grab her attention! I have a great song for that-"

"We are not singing a song again," Nat quickly snapped.

"My ears are still hurting from Coyote failing to hit every note," Mickey commented, pulling on his ear for added effect.

"Okay, if we're not doing a song- which would totally work by the way- what should we do then? Give him a makeover or something?"

"That might be the first intelligible thing you've said all day," Nat commented.

"Roo's onto something. We just need to spruce Bob up," Mickey said, analyzing his friend's current appearance.

"What do you mean-"

"Roo, go get the comb that I know you have in your car. Mick, get our friend a confidence booster shot,” Natasha ordered, already on board with the idea.

"What are we- Nat, where are we going?" Bob asked as his pilot began dragging him to the bathroom.

—----------------------------------------

"Just follow me. If we had more time, I would put on the Teen Movie Makeover Montage playlist I have saved on Spotify," Phoenix said, trying to reach for the buttons on his top and walk at the same time.

"You're what?!"

Growing up with three sisters and being in the military, Mickey had walked in on strange things.

The sight of his friends in the bathroom of the bar, Phoenix trying to do Bob's hair in the sink, Bob being forced to sit in a chair, dodging Phoenix's hands, and Rooster holding up two Hawaiian shirts…….was high up there on the list.

"Why do you have two shots?" Bradley asked, as if Mickey was somehow the strange one in this situation.

"Why do you have two Hawaiian shirts, in addition to the one you're already wearing?" Mickey retorted.

"One of them is for Bob."

"For the last time-stop that! I'm not wearing- I mean it, Natasha!" Bob hissed.

"Which one do you think is best? I think the orange and red one would bring out his eyes," Bradley commented, ignoring Natasha and Bob arguing.

"Bob, if you didn't put so much gel in your hair, this wouldn't be so damn difficult!" Nat snapped back.

"Dude, you have curly hair?" Mickey asked, walking over to the sink to inspect his friend and roommate's hair.

"Uh, I think it's wavy?" Bob replied. Half of his hair had been doused with sink water, as was the right upper side of his shirt.

"Cielo is gonna be so mad at you! You could have gone with us when she was helping me restock the hair care routine she created for me!" The level of betrayal was not quite what Mickey felt when Bob admitted to liking Star Wars more than Star Trek, but it was pretty close.

"You and your girlfriend are so cute, it makes me want to puke," Natasha muttered.

"I call dibs on the hair. You two can help him take the confidence booster shots," Mickey instructed his friends.

Phoenix took both shots, motioning at Bob to open his mouth.

"I'm not drinking-"

"Either you take them or I tell Bradshaw to put down the Hawaiian shirts and open your mouth for you."

Bob took the shots, nearly spitting out the liquor that was burning his throat and nose.

"Oh my god, that's awful. What the heck was that?" Bob asked between coughs.

"Confidence booster. Also known as tequila," Mickey grinned as he began scrunching water into Bob's hair.

"That's disgusting! Also how is any of this," Bob gestured to the strange site that was taking place in the bathroom, "supposed to help me?!"

"You need to switch up your look! And what better way than with a new hairdo?" Phoenix said.

"Plus, that tequila should start taking effect soon. Now, blue or red?" Bradley asked, motioning to the shirts.

"We are trying to make this girl notice him in a good way Bradley," Natasha teased as she finished unbuttoning Bob's navy shirt, revealing a white t-shirt underneath.

"Wait, I think the white t-shirt is a better look!"

"Bradshaw, your observation skills are unparalleled," Natasha muttered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"It shows off your arms and your veins! A lot of women dig veins for some reason," Bradley remarked, observing his colleague and friend.

"Isn't that usually a sign of dehydration?"

"Considering how much he loves to drink Coke Zero, that checks out," Mickey commented.

"My arms feel bare," Bob rubbed an arm with his hand, not used to showing off. He still kept his shirt on at the beach.

"Okay, what do you think?" Mickey asked, Bob's hair now fully ungelled and several curls swooping over his forehead.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Bob commented, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"That's just the tequila taking effect."

"Wait! It's just missing one more thing," Rooster leaned over, taking off Bob's glasses. He folded them and clipped them to the v-neck of Bob's shirt, much like one would with a pair of sunglasses

"I need those to see!"

"You'll be close enough to her, it'll be fine," Rooster said, despite the fact that was not how poor eyesight worked.

"Should we get him another shot?" Mickey whispered to Nat.

"I don't think he's used to this much alcohol, we don't want him throwing up on her shoes," Nat whispered.

"Wait, that's a thing?!" Bob all but yelled.

"Alright, let's get him out of here and find the future Mrs. Floyd."

—-------------------------------------------

Bob didn't curse that often.

But this was fucking stupid.

He was stumbling around the bar (because he couldn't see jack shit), trying to find this girl (who was probably already talking to Hangman) without getting in anyone's face or dry heaving from the three tequila shots he had been made to take (which was harder than it looked).

Bob felt ridiculous, he knew for certain that he looked ridiculous. Why did his friends think this would work? Why did he think this would work?

What would he even say? He wasn't confident like Hangman, charming like Coyote, coy like Phoenix, cheeky like Rooster, or romantic like Mickey.

He was just…..Bob.

Sure, family members had told him "Oh Robert, any lady would be lucky to have ya!" He had heard countless "You're adorable/delightful/so charming, how are you single?" from his friends and their significant others. It was an attempt to boost him up, make him feel good.

All it did was highlight the loneliness he felt, his inability to talk to someone he fancied, and his lack of luck when it came to finding someone he could potentially settle down with.

He had tried. Blind dates, dating apps, striking up a conversation at a bar. All had ended in disaster, with Bob still single at the end.

This was pointless, so with a heavy sigh, Bob turned around to head towards the door-

when he ran straight into someone.

Due to the height difference, their head went straight into Bob's broad chest. He bucked his knees to study himself, wrapping one arm around the waist of the other person and placing his other hand on the back of their thigh to steady them.

"I am so sorry!" A sweet, familiar voice said against the fabric of his t-shirt, sending vibrations all throughout his body.

The person looked up, revealing the most beautiful eyes Bob had ever seen.

Oh fuck it was her.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, eyes squinting so he could take in every detail of her face; every eyelash, mark, mole.

"I'm good, thanks for catching me!" It was then Bob realized his hands were still on her. He became all too aware of the fabric that draped her waist, even more aware of the soft skin of her bare thigh.

"I'm….I'm so sorry," he removed his hands from her body, taking a step back, "I um I should have watched where I'm going."

"I mean, it's hard to watch out for someone who's literally not in your line of vision," She giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. It was then Bob noticed the small outline of a moon inked on her inner wrist.

Bella Luna.

Somewhere, Bradley, Phoenix, and Mickey were all mouthing something for him to say.

Good thing he couldn't see jack shit.

"I should have been more careful," one of his hands reached up to the nape of his neck, running his hands through the curls and did she just bite her lip at me?

"So should I! Honestly, it's my fault," she began digging through her purse, "I really should be wearing these!"

Bob's mouth dropped as she pulled out a pair of black octagonal glasses and placed them on her face.

The frames were perfect, accentuating her gorgeous features, particularly her bright, doe-like eyes.

Bob could stare into those eyes for all of eternity. They were warm but also grounding, like the force of gravity that always pulled him back from sky to land.

He would never complain about being brought down if she was there on the ground.

"Oh my god, they're going to get married," Bradley remarked to Natasha and Mickey. The three were huddled together, watching from a distance.

"Just because she wears glasses too doesn't make her Bob's future wife," Natasha's eyes could not roll any harder.

"Nah, I have a knack for these things. Called it with Mickey and his girl and he's currently saving up for a ring. Also did you message her Aunt yet? Today's her birthday," Bradley asked the other WSO.

"Yeah….." Mickey said, giving the two pilots no confidence as he quickly pulled out his phone to type up a message.

"Well, it's only fitting I wear mine then," Bob said with a smile on his face, reaching down to grab his glasses. Whether it was the tequila or her presence that was putting him at ease, he didn't know. And he wasn't super concerned in regards to finding out.

Her eyes widened when Bob put his glasses on, "Oh my god! You're," she put a hand up to her forehead, as if she was smacking herself for not realizing it sooner, "Lieutenant Floyd! I am so sorry! I'm-I'm far-sighted and you didn't have your glasses on so I had no idea it was you I had-"

"Y-you know my name?" Bob asked, astounded that this angel in her adorable glasses knew who he was.

Her eyes widened at his question, heat rushing to her face, "Yeah, I um…I noticed you from across the bar, not that I was staring, it's just hard not to notice you…wait, that sounds bad! You're just really handsome and so-"

Bob felt a hand squeeze one of his shoulders, "She was asking who the guy in glasses was."

Bob turned his head and much to his (and everyone else's) surprise, there was Hangman standing there with a smirk.

Jake was only there long enough to establish his presence and flash a knowing wink to the woman who was now clearly flustered.

"I-I am so sorry," She stammered out, unable to look Bob in the eye.

"Why?" Bob asked. Usually he was the one apologizing in these types of situations. But he wasn't. He actually felt….pretty good? Was this what feeling confident was like?

She had displayed interest in him, asking for his name. Which confirmed that all those times he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, she was actually looking at him.

And that was when he had his glasses and gelled hair. She looked at him when he was Bob.

That made him feel pretty damn good.

"Plus, I've been looking for the moon to my stars for years. Would hate to see you go after we just met," He added, giving her a smile so soft it made her knees weak.

Her brows knit together in confusion, as Bob took off his watch. Confusion turned into astoundment when he revealed a cluster of three small stars, inked on his inner wrist.

He held it up to her tattooed wrist. She stared in silence. 

Two separate tattoos. Now complete as one. 

“Yeah, they’re getting married,” Jake commented, now standing with Mickey, Bradley, and Natasha. 

"See? Even Hangman agrees with me!" Bradley exclaimed.

"A broken clock is right twice a day Bradshaw, don't get used to it."

She looked down at the inked skin- hers and Bob's. Then back at him, then down again.

The silence got to Bob, who began to follow his natural instincts: apologize.

Bob liked to think he wasn’t super corny. Sure, he always planned to bring roses weekly to his person. That was a given. But matching tattoos?

Maybe it was a bit too much.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She asked, unphased by his rambling.

"Sorry, that was really cheesy, I just always thought that the moon and stars go together better as a couple's tattoo than the moon and sun, because they don't ever meet and I just said couple's tattoos, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Can it be water? My friends made me take three tequila shots to help me talk to you, but all it's done is made the room start to spin," Bob asked, completely serious.

"Absolutely!" She found his hand with ease, threading her fingers through his, "My friends made me take two vodka shots as a 'confidence boost', so I would love some water right now."

"Lead the way, Luna." Bob couldn't help but smile at how the nickname caused the bridge of her nose to scrunch up in delight.

He'd do anything to see it again.

Something was telling him the probability of that was extremely likely.

Call it luck or confidence. Either way, Bob Floyd felt good.

________________________________________

@chxosunbound @heartsforts @lt-bradshaw @soverign-lights @mymamalife @bobfloydsbabe

[powerpuffobsession]

I just read the most hilariously extremistic "Charlie breaks up with Vaggie and leaves her for Alastor" fanfic ever (or at least its initial few chapters since the later ones focused on Charlie x Alastor only)

Tw: Vaggie abuse, defacement of chaggie

Everything was just the paragon of the "we hate a lesbian character for being in the canon pairing instead of a male character we love so much" genre:

- demonizing Vaggie to the point where her anger problems are simply an unrealistic caricature, meaning she attacks everyone around her like a crazy banshee and even tries murdering the two hotel clients eventually (wtf totally OOC) for humiliating her in front of the others

- during their break up Charlie is shitting on Vaggie verbally for the latter being "too angry and unsuportive" and then going off on her way to trust Alastor who's mocking the princess every chance he gets and is openly sadistic to others. Instead of you know just talking to Vaggie about the issues bothering her, like, through calm and reasonable speech, before it's too late? Nope, too healthy of a behaviour for this version of our beloved princess of hell. Charlie instead chooses to conceal her worries all the time and then, during that one moment when minor inconvenience with Vaggie attacking the hotel guests occurs (seriously, plenty of sinners murder each other in hell! And your gf IS a sinner. What did you expect gurl), Charlie rants about how her gf isnt a perfect angel, then plays a victim card and ditches her gf for a demon who's a known serial murderer. Totally hypocritical and groundless. Canon Charlie is in no way that fucked up;

- Alastor torturing Vaggie and le manipulating her into not telling on his attack on her to Charlie while of course peppering her with insults and giving the so called "jerkass has a point" lecture to convince her how she was trying too much to protect Charlie, was holding her back, and how that was what led their relationship to its downfall (while uh hello that's what partners do? Protect each other? How is that holding someone's back). And guess what. Vaggie actually falls for his manipulations that would've never work on person like her, and obediently acts all guilty and miserable right in front if him. Lol. The author dumbed her down so much too. After Alastor harms Vaggie physically (in very graphic details), she just succumbs to his plan and doesnt even try telling Charlie about that. Just like that: no motivation, nor is the manipulation tactic that well written or thought out. Vaggie is forced to suffer and be devoid of any help or support because the author needs it to happen. Because apparently this version of Charlie wouldn't care about Vaggie at all, and wouldn't believe her, like, take her word for what the latter could claim happened (Charlie is a mf princess of hell and Lucifer's daughter, why not just use her connections or magic to see into the past for the evidence of Alastor abusing Vaggie or some shit), or protect her, regardless if they are in a romantic relationship or not anymore (after all, this Charlie said "let's stay friends" after she broke up with Vaggie)

Just... why do people in this fandom still create shitty plotlines like these. The answer is obvious

I could easily visualize the author jacking off to Vaggie torture porn he truly dedicated a whole ass few chapters to as a way to have at least any sort of revenge on lucky chaggie fans who got their pairing to be canon much to the toxic part of charlastor fans' dismay. Looks like those particular chalastor lovers just can't go through one creative process without HAVING to belittle and destroy Chaggie as a way to praise charlastor. Such saltiness

Why not... avoid mentioning the charlie/vaggie relationship in your work at all. Try making them friends to begin with. Or you could break the girls up in a more dignified way, like emergently sending Vaggie to heaven or something. Ooor you could be honest with your readers and put "vaggie torture porn" in your work's tags so Vaggie fans wouldnt have to abruptly stumble across all the above mentioned scribbled filth when checking out your fic

Idk, charlie/vaggie AND charlie/alastor in the tags for the same one fanfic is sometimes a huge red flag. Watch out for those

[ayoitspatricia]

The one with the adopted daughter

(Rachel Green x adopted daughter!reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I cautiously unlocked the door to Monica’s apartment, quickly peeking in to see if anyone was there.

Nope... Brilliant.

I stepped into the apartment clutching all of my shopping bags as I was trying to not make too much noise. I placed my shopping bags down and took Ross’ credit card out of my coat pocket and placed it onto the wooden table.

What? I only stole it because of the argument he had with mom that made her very upset. This will show him not to mess with the Green’s again.

I picked up my bags and placed them into me and my mom’s shared bedroom, not caring if mom sees them.

I decided to pick up my most favourite magazine, which was (Y/F/M), and flip through the pages whilst waiting for the others to get back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been about 45 minutes when I heard the door open and people coming inside, hoping that Ross would notice his credit card.

“Hey Mon, why is my credit card in your apartment, I thought we already looked here?” I heard Ross say, I smirked to myself.

“How would i know? It wasn’t there this morning stupid.” I heard Monica reply.

I could hear the murmurs of the others in the background, trying to think of how the credit card had ‘mysteriously appeared’. I thought that it was the perfect time to go and join them.

I opened the door, stepping out of my room making everybody stop what they were doing and turn to me.

“Oh hi honey! I’m so sorry for leaving you this morning, I had to be somewhere.” Mom told me, walking towards me and giving me a hug.

“Oh it’s no big deal mom. Hey everyone!” I said cheerfully, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

They all looked at me suspiciously for a couple of seconds before Monica spoke up.

“(Y/n), perfect timing! You wouldn’t happen to know why Ross’ credit card has all of a sudden showed up here would you? He hasn’t been able to find it all morning.” She asked me curiously.

Ross gave me a hard glare, attempting to intimidate me. It didn’t work, like always.

I gave a fake look of confusion.

“Aunt Mon, why would you even ask me? I was in my room the whole time! I didn’t get much sleep last night.” I lied.

Pheobe met my gaze, “ Then how come you went to bed early last night?” She asked me, trying to get answers.

“Oh I stayed up late looking through (Y/F/M), which was dumb, I know.” I said whilst giving her a small smile.

“Somehow that doesn’t seem convincing.” Chandler spoke up, Joey nodding in agreement.

I gave a fake look of sadness and looked up at my mom.

“Guys! Stop harassing my poor daughter. It’s quite obvious she doesn’t know.” Mom said, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Now if you excuse us, I need (Y/n) to help me with something.” She exclaimed, lightly tugging on my arm, leading me to our bedroom.

After we both walked in, mom closed the door behind her and turned around. Looking me in the eyes.

“You stole it.” She whispered automatically.

“Well, of course I did!” I whispered back. “I can’t just let Ross treat you like crap and let him get away with it.”

Mom smiled at me. “Honey, feel free to use Ross’ credit card whenever you want.” She told me. “Now... show me what you brought!” She whispered excitedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been about 20 minutes, me and mom heard Ross leave to go to the store. I smirked evilly. Mom saw this.

“Let me guess, you used all the money on that particular card.” Mom guessed, laughing when I nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Ross walked through the door he yelled:

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) GREEN! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THAT ROOM THIS INSTANT.”

I winced, realising that I was in for a massive lecture. Me and mom both walked out the room only to see the one and only Ross Geller with a mad look on his face.

“My card just got declined at the store. So I went to the bank to sort it out and they gave me a list of everything that has been brought through MY credit card.”

He pulled a list out of his pocket and slammed it in front of me.

“Would you like to explain this!?” He asked me rudely.

I quickly scanned through the list, smirking since everything on it was stuff that I brought.

“You disrespected mom.” I told him calmly. “I don’t take things like that lightly.”

Everybody looked at Ross with a ‘are you serious’ face.

“You’re lucky I didn’t do this a long time ago. You were practically asking for it this time.”

Ross facepalmed, “Rachel, did you tell (y/n)!? You were the one who specifically started the argument and I-“

I spoke up “Hey guys! Ive got some of Ross’ spare change so who wants to go get coffee with it?”

Everyone nodded except for Ross, who was spluttering words of disbelief.

“(Y/N) I SWEAR TO GOD-“

Pheobe interrupted Ross. “As long as its coffee, i don’t care whose money it is. The money could belong to a dying pigeon and I’d still spend it on coffee.”

Everyone turned to look a her. Joey and Chandler squinting their eyes at her confused.

“Oh no! Did that sound bad? Gosh! I feel so guilty now.” She continued, actually sounding like she did something wrong.

Mom linked her arm with mine and we walked out of the apartment, everyone except for Ross following us.

As we walked out of the building i overheard Chandler and Monica speaking.

“You can tell that she was raised by Rachel.” Monica told Chandler, laughing.

“Oh yeah. It’s painfully creepy.” Chandler shuddered.

“Are you sure Rachel even adopted her? She looks and acts too much like Rachel, perhaps she actually gave birth to her but doesn’t want us knowing.” Joey joked, joining in on the conversation. Pheobe laughing and nodding in agreement.

Mom overheard this and i saw her eyes widen, looking like she was panicking.

I was adopted by Rachel when i was 6, so of course what Joey said is not true.

Right?

Part 2??

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 22 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

helloooooo besties and happy Saturday! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here! 

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence and death

wordcount: 1.9k 

You're passing the diamond on your chain between your fingers anxiously a few days later as you and Spencer pour over a map on the jet. You’re headed to Colorado after a family annihilator had struck twice in the same small Denver suburb. The whole town was on alert, and you needed to solve this one fast before the whole state devolved into hysteria. Hotch decided on the jet to send you, Reid and JJ to the precinct-- you and Reid will keep working on the geographic profile, and JJ will coordinate local law enforcement. He, Morgan and Emily are headed to the neighborhood to see if any of the locals had noticed anything off. 

“There has to be a connection to this specific suburb. Why come ten miles outside of Denver when the city, or even a closer suburb, would be a more target-rich environment?” You floated an idea past Spencer, who nodded in agreement. 

“You think he sought out these families in particular?” He asked, turning his attention to the pictures on the whiteboard. 

“Not necessarily. Garcia’s still looking for a connection between the families, but so far she hasn’t found one. I think these two families were practice for something worse, or for a family that matters more to him.” You conclude, hoping more than ever that you had profiled wrong. 

“If that’s the case, our presence here might trigger the unsub to escalate,” he points out with a grimace. 

“Or, hopefully, it will send him into hiding.” 

“We’ll never find him if he does that.” 

“We’re gonna have to.” You sigh, pulling your attention back towards the map. You pour over it, certain that if you look just a little closer, the answer will jump out at you, but it doesn’t. 

Geographic profiles are always helpful, and you and Spencer were great at them, but they rarely solved cases on their own. The reality of the situation is that without any info on the unsub or the connection between the victims, you were essentially trying to create something out of nothing. You push your chair out from the table, deciding to give your mind and your eyes a break, when your phone starts to ring. It’s Garcia.

“Oh, you’re just my favorite person.” You said into the phone by way of greeting, hoping that she’s going to present you with the missing piece that will make all of these seemingly unrelated pieces of information make sense together.

“Careful, peach! There’s someone else on the line who might object to that,” Garcia warns you. 

“What do you have for us, Penelope?” Aaron asks.

“So, the Sutton and Mack families have more in common than we thought-- not so much socioeconomically, but their kids were both enrolled at the local high school, although different ages, and the moms were on the PTA together.” 

“Were they friends? The kids, or the moms for that matter?” You ask immediately. 

“It doesn’t really look like it, but I’m going to keep digging,” she tells you. 

“And no connection between the fathers?” Hotch asks.

“Nope, Mr. Sutton was an attorney and Mr. Mack was a cab driver. Doesn’t seem like they ever would have met.” She tells you both. 

“Garcia, do me a favor and make sure Mr. Sutton wasn’t in Mr. Mack’s cab within the last month or so. Let us know when you have more.”

“Oh, sir, before you both go, there’s one more thing.” She blurts out before Aaron can hang up the phone.  “It’s about Josh.” 

You take a sharp breath in, and Spencer’s in tune to you immediately, his head jerking up from the maps, looking you over to make sure you’re okay. 

“What is it?” Hotch asks, sounding every bit as tense as you feel. 

“Josh was arrested this morning. Busted for possession during a traffic stop,” She tells you and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“That’s… that’s great news.” You say.

“I thought you’d both like to know.” Garcia tells you.

“Anything else?” Hotch asks, and you're perplexed by his lack of response to such a good update. 

“No, that’s all for now. I’ll call you back as soon as I have more on the case.” She says, and the line clicks.

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, bringing you back to reality, and you share the info from Garcia about the victims. You can tell that he knows that there’s more, but he doesn’t press and you don’t offer. 

“If both the kids and the moms knew each other, we could be looking at a bullied kid or a woman scorned.” You theorize. 

“A woman wouldn’t kill the kids, at least not a mother. And if the woman wasn’t from the PTA, why target these moms in particular?” Spencer argues, and you agree. 

“Could be a man, too. Maybe he’s jealous that he doesn’t have the picture-perfect family he’s destroying.”

‘That’s more likely. Although with nothing connecting two husbands, we’ll have a hard time profiling a man if that’s the case.”

“Okay, so for now we focus on the kids until we find something that pulls us another way. You want to take the Macks and I’ll work on the Suttons?” 

“Will do.”    

You work in silence for a couple more hours until Hotch, Morgan and Emily return. 

“Anything helpful?” JJ asks, coming into the room behind them. 

“The moms were friendly, but not necessarily friends. The kids mostly hung out in separate social circles, it seems.” Morgan informs you all. 

“Any obvious power imbalances between the kids groups, or bullying?” You asked. 

“None that any of the kids we interviewed brought up.” Emily tells you. 

“None of the moms mentioned it either-- and they’d be more likely to bring it up than the kids would.” Aaron tells you. 

“So we’ve got a whole lot of nothing.” JJ concludes, and you sigh. 

You all continue to work for a few more hours-- putting together profiles of each of the members of the families that ultimately bring you no closer to finding the unsub. 

“We’ll be back here first thing tomorrow morning-- there’s nothing else we can do tonight.” Hotch concludes as he pins the last index card to the cork board. “Let’s head to the hotel and get some rest.” 

Despite the exhaustion that has soaked its way deep into your bones, you and the rest of the team pull yourselves out of your chairs and towards the SUVs. You nearly sink into the leather, and if he wasn’t such a stark professional, you might have asked him to carry you up to your hotel room.  He did, however, offer you a very gentlemanly hand to help you out of the car, and wrap his arm around your waist as the two of you trudged your way into the elevator and down the hall towards your room. You collapse onto the mattress as soon as you make it through the door, and Aaron chuckles at you, taking a moment to brush his teeth and change. When he settles on top of the covers next to you, you speak up, although hadn’t really intended to do so.

“Aaron, can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask me anything, my love,” Aaron mumbles like it’s the easiest thing in the world as he leans over to set the hotel alarm clock that sits on the bedside table. 

“When Garcia told us that Josh was arrested… you didn’t seem happy.” You said, decidedly not a question. He answers you anyway, shifting towards you to look you in the eye before he speaks up. 

“I’m sorry honey. I’m relieved, of course I am. I was just focused on the case this morning. Maybe I haven’t fully processed it yet,” he confesses. “But of course I’m happy for you. I would have been happier to arrest him myself, but this is just as well.” He tells you with a rueful smirk. 

He’s lying, and you can see it in his face. Maybe lying is a strong word, but there is definitely more to it than he’s telling you. “You’re sure? There’s nothing else that’s bothering you?” You pushed, but he shook his head, looking down at his lap.

“I’m sure, doll. I really am happy. We’ll take Jack out when we get home to celebrate.” He tells you, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Maybe a bike ride and some ice cream? I haven’t been out on the bike with him since he got his training wheels off.” You suggested. 

“Sounds perfect,” he tells you, reaching to kiss you again and moving to wrap his arms around you, which you dodged. 

“Get the bed nice and toasty for me while I change,” you smirked, rolling off the mattress and heading towards your suitcase for some pajamas.

You were back at the police station before the sun rose the next morning, pouring over the transcripts of what had come in from the tip line the night before in the hopes that you might find something useful. Your desk looked the same way it used to when you were studying for exams in the academy-- papers and highlighters scattered everywhere, color coordinated page flags littering all of your documents. 

“Cupcake, if I didn’t know any better, I might think you were the serial killer,” Morgan comments with a smirk, setting a hot cup of coffee in a relatively-unoccupied patch of desk. 

“Very funny, Derek.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m only letting you live because you brought me coffee. And because I’m too tired to kick you,” you told him.

“Do you want any help?” He offers, and you smile, but shake your head at him. 

“No, thanks. I’ve got a pretty strict organizational system going on over here, if you hadn’t noticed,” you chuckle. “But you can come to the medical examiner’s office with me in an hour or so?” 

“It’s a date, mama.” He confirms, rapping his knuckles against your desk before going back to his own workspace. You flip through a few more pages, leaving scribbled notes and wayward highlighter in the margins, before you notice something and call Garcia. 

“Good morning, peach! What can I do you for?” Garcia asks in her usual cheery tone, clearly far ahead of you in terms of cups of coffee consumed. 

“Morning,” you say to her. “Listen, something came in through the tip line last night, and it’s probably nothing, but I just have this feeling…” 

“Lay it on me,” she tells you encouragingly. 

“So, Mark Vexper is a long-term sub at the high school where all of the kids went. He didn’t go to work the day after both of the murders. He had a scheduled personal day the first day, and he called in sick the second. Like I said, probably just a coincidence--” 

“No stone left unturned, kitten! I’m on it. Buzz you when I have more.” She says, hanging up unceremoniously.

“Good catch,” Hotch says from behind you, and you startle. 

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” you brush the compliment off. 

“Maybe, but we won’t know until we look into it,” he tells you. “You feeling okay?” He asks. 

“I just really want to catch this guy and get home to our boy.” You tell him, and his heart warms. Looking around surreptitiously, he drops a quick kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Me, too, angel. We’ll get him.” He tells you. 

An unexplainable chill runs up your spine, and you have a strange feeling that Aaron’s not talking about this unsub.

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[fruitcoops]

Coops truth or drink but make the questions JUICY

You want spicy? I can do spicy ;) Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for many, many mentions of sex, as well as Marlene’s terrible alcohol

“Hey, everybody, welcome back to Truth or Drink!” Remus lifted the bottle of alcohol in a ‘cheers’ motion and Sirius snorted across from him. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“And I’m Sirius Black.”

“And we’re about to answer some incredibly uncomfortable questions for the world to see.” Remus poured two shots and passed one to Sirius; they downed them together and both grimaced. “Jesus, Marlene, is this gasoline?”

Sirius smacked his lips. “Oh, that’s horrific.”

“It’s motivation to answer the questions instead of drinking,” Marlene called behind the camera. “Ready?”

“Nope.” Nevertheless, Sirius took a card off the top of the deck. “Starting off strong. If our sex life was a porn, what genre would it be?”

Remus thought for a moment. “Gay?”

“My mind when directly to ‘sports’.”

“Is that a thing?” He looked back to the crew. “Does sports porn exist?”

“I think that’s just ESPN,” Sirius laughed, sliding the cards over. “Your turn.”

Remus cleared his throat. “If you could get rid of one of my friends, who would it be?”

“James Potter,” Sirius said without hesitation. “What a bastard.”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re the godfather of his child or anything.”

“Nah. He stole my cinnamon rolls last Saturday and I’ll never forgive him.” Remus shook his head as Sirius drew a new card. “What’s the most hurtful thing I’ve ever said to you?”

“I think it’s more the things you didn’t say, if I’m being honest.” Remus bit his lip. “You’re very careful with your words, so you haven’t said many awful things out loud.”

“What’s the most hurtful thing he’s ever done, then?” Marlene asked.

Remus hesitated. “It’s kind of a tie. Either leaving at the airport or not answering your phone afterward.” Wordlessly, Sirius reached across the table and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “We figured it out in the end, so I really don’t think about it much anymore.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. What am I best at in bed, and where do I need improvement?”

Sirius took another shot. “I’ll tell you when we get home, don’t worry,” he said when Remus gave him an offended look. “Have you ever faked an orgasm with me?”

“God, no,” Remus scoffed. “Are you kidding? First of all, it’s kind of impossible, and second of all, why would I have to?” Sirius winked at the camera and Remus flicked him on the arm as he took a new card. “Have you ever thought about breaking up with me?”

Sirius frowned. “No, never. I was afraid I’d lose you after we were outed, but I never wanted to.”

“Ditto.”

“Would you ever consider an open relationship?”

Remus shook his head. “Nah. I totally respect people who do, but I think we’re good as a pair. Would you?”

“It’s not really my thing, either. I get to be selfish and have you all to myself.” He looked rather smug about that particular fact.

“What’s the most annoying thing about me?”

“Besides your terrible sock habits?” He took a second to think. “You’re really slow getting ready, but once you are, we have to leave immediately.”

“That’s fair.”

“If you could sleep with anyone in the world, who would you choose?”

“You.” Remus seemed surprised by the question. “No competition.”

“Really?” Marlene chimed in. “There’s no celebrity crush?”

He stared at her. “I’m sorry, have you seen my fiancé? You think I’m passing up a chance to tap that?”

“Or get tapped,” Sirius added, handing him a shot. They clinked them together and drank. “Merde.”

Remus set his glass down and took another card. “What part of my body would you change?”

Sirius set his elbows on the table, narrowing his eyes at Remus. “Nothing,” he said after a short pause. “You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. Oh, this one should be fun. What do you think of my family?”

Remus’ blush faded and he coughed. “Regulus is great.”

“And the rest?”

“Regulus is really great. I’m so glad he’s your only relative on this earth.” With a serene smile, he pulled a new card; almost instantly, his jaw dropped. “The average duration of sex for most couples is ten minutes. How long do you think we last?” He put the card down and looked over incredulously. “Ten minutes?”

“Are straight people okay?” Sirius asked, mildly horrified. “Uh, we definitely last longer than ten minutes, holy shit. Have we ever not reached that mark?” Remus raised his eyebrows. “Oh, right. Usually, we go longer than ten minutes. Why do you love me?”

“Other than the fact that you’re the best person ever and I can’t wait to get married?” Remus rested his chin on his hand as Sirius flushed lightly. “Hmmm. How much time do we have?”

“Try and keep it to a couple sentences,” Marlene sighed.

“You are kind, and sweet, and funny, and you match my competitiveness perfectly. You love me for exactly who I am, despite everything we’ve been through, and you care so deeply for your friends. There, two sentences.” Remus smiled and Sirius leaned over the table to give him a chaste kiss, tracing his jaw with his thumb. “Alright, my turn. Should we have sex more or less often than we do?”

Sirius reached for the alcohol at the same time Remus offered his shot glass. He scrunched his nose up when he drank, but didn’t outwardly complain. “Whatever this is, it’s really starting to hit.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely tipsy,” Remus laughed. “It’s a good thing we brought Lily with us.”

“Which one—aw, come on—which one of my friends are you most attracted to do not answer this—”

“James Potter,” Remus interrupted with a barely-hidden smirk. “What a man.”

“For the record, he’s joking,” Sirius said as he buried his face in his hands.

Remus quirked an eyebrow. “Am I? How do you know?”

“Lily, my fiancé is going to steal your husband,” Sirius called.

“Good for them!” Lily’ distant voice answered.

Remus kissed Sirius’ forehead. “You know you’re the only one for me. Oof, have you ever thought about cheating on me?”

“Nope,” Sirius said easily. “Never crossed my mind. What were you thinking about the last time we were having sex?”

“When was that?” Remus asked, frowning in concentration. “Because if it was at the rink, I was hoping we wouldn’t get caught, but—” He cut himself off with a stifled laugh and Sirius’ eyes widened. “—I have to admit, I was thinking about grocery shopping the other morning.”

“What?”

“We only had two containers of leftovers in the fridge and I was so hungry.” Sirius continued to pout. “Don’t worry, baby, it was a fleeting thought. Do I get to ask the last one?”

“Looks like it.”

Remus’ mischievous smile softened, and he set the card down to gaze at his fiancé. “Do you think we’ll last?”

“Yeah, I do.” Sirius returned the smile and kissed the side of his hand. “I want to spend my life with you, that’s for sure.”

It was Remus’ turn to kiss him, propping his elbows on the table for leverage. It was deeper than the previous one, but still appropriate for the cameras. “Love you,” he said against his lips.

“Love you more.”

“We’re playing that game, huh?”

“Do you want to sign us off?” Marlene asked before things could get out of hand.

“I’m Sirius Black.”

“I’m Remus Lupin.”

“And thanks for watching Lion Pride. Be sure to like and subscribe for more!”

[vex-bittys]

[Lamia-Bitty news]

(Warning: mentions of drug abuse and other not nice things)

Hey there lamia lovers how are all of you? I’d love to say I’m doing great but to be honest things aren’t going all to well in my neck of the woods. Somethings have happened not to me but to my neighbor/friend, in the past two months the worst has happened to him. So much in fact it merited me to go out and adopt three lamias’ for him.

But lets not get to far ahead, I’ll explain the story from the beginning.

I moved into one of these nice apartments...its kinda hard to explain but its like built like a ranch style house but sectioned off, moment you walk in there’s a upstairs area and downstairs area with a shared fenced in backyard. I often take Dante and Chip out there to enjoy the sun and grill.

I have a very sweet neighbor by the name of Derek, he’s that kind of neighbor that waits till you settled in before coming over and unloading all kinds of greetings and gifts on you, then gushing about how adorable your lamias an then dumping gifts for them on you.

Yeah he’s a cinnamon roll......wrapped in a really athletic body, despite it though he actually prefers quiet things. He’s a huge book lover [like I am] a music aficionado and just the chillest guy in the world.

That changed though when he met this girl at a party, her name is Sarah. Now I know we’re all familiar with the phrase ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ but let me tell you it doesn’t suit her. She’s a demon dressed as a nun, I don’t know on how they interacted but at first I was happy he found someone. I even thought they’d go well together for a while. That changed when he started acting differently, he wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Not just me but his other friends too, the kind he’d leave in a heartbeat to hang out with. I then heard a lot of yelling coming from his apartment, the biggest red flag was when our landlord asked me if he had gotten laid off without telling him cause he hadn’t received his rent payment.

Now this guy is as punctual as you can get, finally; a few of his friends and I went to go talk to him. Unfortunately we were turned away by Sarah who had taken over his apartment, this went on for a day or two before we muscled our way in...we found our friend half drugged on the couch. This monster of a girl had got him addicted to Ecstasy and had been stealing his money. We called the cops on her when she tried to run off with his credit cards, he got angry at us but we told him she was no good. Yeah he fought us but...that changed when he found out she had been cheating on him too, using his money to go on wild shopping spree’s and parties.

Oh did I forget to mention this girl is freaking rich? Yeah she is, like her allowance can pay for collage...four times! To make this short we took the bitch to court, won, got all his money and more back. Though he was pretty broken up by the end, he went to get clean at a rehab center while we watched the place. Bless the landlord for understanding his situation, he’s holding off on his rent till he gets back on his feet. Till then I was given a little part time job of watching his apartment by request of the landlord in exchange he’d cut my rent down by at least 40$.

Now we all thought we saw the last of Sarah....nope. When I was in his apartment one day she actually walked right in having a spare key, I caught her and told her to leave but she pulled that stupid ‘I’m getting my things’ act. Didn’t last though cause I found out something. I brought Dante and Chip with me to watch the apartment and the moment she caught sight of them she froze like a statue.

Turns out the spoiled princess has a phobia of snakes, not kidding when she literally ran out the door screaming. I called the landlord about the spare key, he changed the locks right away. Derek came back, clean and sober but his heart and mind were still on the mend, he started delving into depression badly.

So ladies and gents thats why I decided to get him three lamia’s.

I’m seeing Vex about getting three specific types of lamia to help him, a King, Chain and of course a Honey bo, all of them full sized. A King would be an awesome guard, a Chain would heal that heart of his and Honey bo with their love of music can help ease his stress.

He’ll pull through, with three new friends joining him I’m sure he’ll pull out of this even better then ever.

[for adopting Lamia’s please see @vex-bittys for the best idea on Lamia’s for particular needs see her Lamia Master post for more information]

----------

(submitted by @sw124)

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter two

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Annie and I never established that we were friends until her eighth birthday.

In the blossoming spring warmth, I nestled myself in the corner of the bench in the playground’s garden. It was an unspoken fact that nobody really played in the garden; it was a quiet haven for a few of us to read or enjoy solitude, yet it had also become a spot where I waited for Annie every day, and almost every day, had she not been sent home or busy with other obligations, Annie joined me, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. I didn’t mind; I just loved to be in her company.

On this particular day, Annie stood before me, and despite her being the same height as me, her air always made her seem much bigger and powerful.

“My dad says this is for you.”

She handed me a white envelope into which I fervently tore, revealing a gaudy invitation card.

“It’s your birthday on Saturday?” I quizzed.

“No, my birthday is today. But my dad said it was too short notice to invite you to my house today, so you can come on Saturday.”

At this news of Annie’s birthday, I immediately leapt to my feet and braced her in a hug. “Happy birthday! What cake are you having? Are you going to hand out sweets to your class?”

Annie did not hug me back but did not resist. “I don’t like cake, and I don’t like anyone in my class.”

I gasped. “How can you not like cake? Also, who’s going to be at your party if you don’t like anyone in your class?”

“Cake is too heavy and sweet.” She responded monotonously. “Also, you’re the only one coming; it’s not a party, my dad just knows I have a friend now and wanted you to come. You don’t have to.”

Unlike Annie, I didn’t actively avoid the other children in my school. I was still invited to many class birthday parties, I spoke amiably to my peers and I could name a few schoolchildren whom I could consider a friend— yet Annie, the stoic, ash-blonde girl confessing she saw me as a friend elicit such joy within me, I can still remember the feeling to this day if I think about her enough.

“So if I’m your friend, I have to get you a present, right?” I had reminded her of the title that she gave me moments ago.

“No. I don’t want a present.”

“Yes you do, everyone wants presents!” I retorted. “What do you like best in the world?”

“Cats.”

I sat down, sulking. “I can’t get you a cat, Annie. What else do you like?”

Silence.

“Mummy and I can make you something.” I continued, desperate to find something that I could give to my friend. “She’s really good at baking. Do you like cookies?”

“No.”

“Cupcakes?” I refused to give up.

“No! Cupcakes are tiny cakes, you know I hate cakes.”

“Brownies?”

“No.”

“Doughnuts?”

This time, Annie turned away, not meeting the question with a monosyllabic “no”.

“Doughnuts! Annie, I’ll make you lots of doughnuts, okay?”

Annie still refused to look me in the eye. It never bothered me, but I had gathered that she was more inclined to refuse eye contact when she was upset or shy. Before I had the chance to attempt to pry into which flavour of doughnut she would have liked, the bell signalling the end of recess rang. I leapt to my feet and pressed a chaste kiss to Annie's cheek.

“See you later, you doughnut!”

She shoved me towards my line with no malice in the action. “Whatever you say, pumpkin girl.”

“Earth to (y/n)? You’ve been glazed over for the past five minutes. What’s so exciting about the window?”

I blink, snapping out of the saccharine memory of Annie’s birthday. Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me, and I animate myself, taking the doughnut from my plate and shrugging. “I was just thinking,” I respond.

“You sure? Not looking at any hot dudes?” the only other female at the table, Sasha, suggests. Her hazel eyes flicker suggestively over to the group of men kicking a ball about in the park over the road from our favourite local café, which has baked goods to die for (or so Sasha and Connie, the food fanatics of my friendship group claim. I won’t argue—the doughnuts are heavenly.)

“Yeah, c’mon, (y/n)! There are three dashing fellows right here, why do you need to stare at those losers?” Connie chimes in, gesturing to himself and my other two male friends, Jean and Marco.

“Yeah, you wish. My type isn’t idiots,” I playfully smack Connie’s head, the growing stubble brushing my fingertips as I find any way to bring the subjects away from men that I would apparently find attractive.

“On all seriousness, what is your type? We’ve never seen you have anyone about.” Jean interrogates. Great.

It took me a while to figure out that I’m likely not into men. I never quite knew why I got so uncomfortable when middle school brought an array of boy bands that prepubescent teenage girls loved to swoon over, and why I could never answer when somebody asked me who was the hottest, but at the age of sixteen, when I realised my heart was racing upon seeing two women kiss in a film my friends and I had watched, it hit me like a freight train that I was definitely attracted to women.

I chose not to indulge anyone in this knowledge; realistically, I know I don’t have too much to worry about. Sure, my parents aren’t screaming about supporting gay rights from the rooftops, but I know that they have no prejudice towards the community, and my four closest friends would accept me no matter what — hell, Marco told us he was gay when we were fifteen and sixteen years old over a game of Mario Kart and we embraced his queerness with open arms.

So what’s the big deal? I think to myself.

“Does it matter? I’m too busy to date. These university decisions are killing me!”

“Simple,” Jean interrupts, pointing the straw of his ridiculously large iced coffee in my direction. “You come to Marley with Marco and me. Good university, far enough away from your parents, and you get your favourite friends with you for the ride!”

Jean and Marco are one class above Sasha, Connie and I, and decided that Marley University, a small, public school that gained a decent reputation despite it being so new, was the place for them. It was hard to say goodbye once they left school, but the holiday breaks came frequently, and soon enough, they were back for Easter, helping their three younger friends decide on which school to go to.

“Tempting, but probably not. I can’t get over the English department in Sina,” I responded dreamily.

“Yeah, and the crazy entry requirements. You’d have to be a robot to get those grades! Just come to Marley with us, I’m sure the English stuff is fine there, too!” Sasha whined, poking at my hand. I take another bite of my nostalgic treat, shaking my head.

“Guys, I love you all, but I can’t make such an important decision based on my friends. You understand, right?”

“It’s fine, (y/n),” Marco interrupts, his familiar comforting smile gracing his freckled face. “We’ll come to visit you up there, right?”

“Nope. Four of us, one of you. She is coming to Marley.” Jean retorts.

“Jesus, fair enough. I’ll book the plane tickets now!” I tell him sardonically. He elbows me jovially in response and stands, coffee in hand. “Right, we can finish our drinks and snacks on the way outside. It's too nice to be spending it indoors.”

Ignoring the protests from Sasha and Connie, who forlornly protest that they haven't had the chance to order a baked good after their main courses, the majority of the group tail towards the double doors, leaving the duo no choice but to begrudgingly follow suit. The late March sunshine is glorious, beaming down on my face, much like the day twelve years ago I was daydreaming about. It suddenly hit me that today, March 22nd, Annie would be turning twenty years old. This newfound knowledge makes my stomach drop and I cannot control the grief coursing through my being.

It's ever so odd how I can remember every detail about my childhood friend; every memory we shared together, her favourite colour, (black, which I insisted was rather morbid for an eight-year-old, so I coaxed her into putting blue as a second favourite) how on Sunday mornings her father would always pick her up from my house after a sleepover at 10 am sharp to take her to karate, even though she had told me in confidence that she much preferred kickboxing. I couldn't tell you many facts about any other childhood friend who I lost to time; it's only Annie. Every detail of the girl who made my infancy etched into my heart, refusing to leave.

As I force myself back into the present moment, I am aware that maybe Annie was more than just my best friend.

But I was so young. How could I have truly differentiated between innocuous childhood affection and romantic yearning?

“Marco?” I punctuate the spring silence before I can even stop myself. “How did you realise your first crush?”

Marco raises his eyebrows. “Jeez, it was so long ago. I was eleven and I was having a sleepover with my friend. We were on his bed playing Minecraft on his laptop, but I wasn’t even paying attention; I was just admiring his face, how he was so engrossed in the game. My heart was racing because I realised I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t even think it was biologically possible to like the same sex, so I brushed it off. Now I look back…” he laughs awkwardly, before looking me in the eye, his tone suddenly earnest. “Why, what’s up? Anything you want to talk to me about?”

I stop in the street, completely oblivious to the speed of modern day life around me. Suddenly all I care about is how my stomach leapt when I saw her pallid figure walk through the double doors, into the garden, how I found any excuse to hold her hand, how obsessed I was with the topography of her curved nose, icy eyes, lips stark against her pale skin.

“How do you know for sure you’re gay if you’ve only ever had a crush on one person in your life? Somebody who you haven’t spoken to in eight years?”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[kerikaaria]

Smile

(Hoseok x gn!Reader) Oneshot, Coffee shop!au

Genre: (PG13) Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: None, unless you count a stereotypical Kdrama trope or two offensive haha

Summary: At 28 years old, you suddenly felt like your life was resetting. One of the few things that brought you comfort was keeping the routine of stopping by the local coffee shop, and the barista behind the counter had definitely noticed the recent change in you. All he wanted was to see you smile again.

Breath of Sunshine is a sequel to this fic. 

A/N – This fic is my submission for the January prompt with @thebtswritersclub for Beginnings/New Beginnings.

I'm a horrendous human being and absolutely forgot to tag @moccahobi for beta reading this fic for me! Thank you for your suggestions Lillia! And please excuse me being big dumb lol. I love yoouuu!

Pushing the door open, the familiar jingle of the bell sounded and warmth started to envelope your chilled body.

"Good afternoon, Y/n," the barista said as he made another customer's drink, pausing for a moment to throw a smile in your direction.

"Good afternoon, Hoseok," you replied, attempting to smile in return but could feel how stiff and forced it was.

He quickly finished the drink he had been working on, properly saying goodbye to the customer as he always did. He grabbed a new cup as he asked, “Are you having the usual?”

“Yes, please,” you said.

Hoseok gave you another smile before getting your drink started while you approached the register. You got your payment out, ready to go as he approached the counter. After swiping your card, you watched as he resumed making your drink. Hoseok had been working here for at least as long as you had been a regular customer and it was obvious he knew what he was doing.

"The weather isn't that bad today," Hoseok made small talk while he finished putting your drink together.

"Yeah, it's not quite as cold as the rest of the week had been,” you responded. If this were a month ago, you would have continued back and forth, encouraging conversation between the two of you. You could only just muster up enough energy to respond right now, much less continue a conversation.

Especially not today.

Preferring to stare at the counter rather than make eye contact, you didn’t notice the worried glance Hoseok threw your way. He had definitely recognized the change in your demeanor over the past weeks. He really missed your smile—the real one and not the forced one that sat on your face nowadays.

When he finished your drink and handed it to you, you attempted a smile once more as you thanked him before sitting at one of the tables in the café to relax.

It was a Saturday and you had a standard Monday to Friday job so you didn’t have anything to do today. But this was one of your favorite places to go, and after all the changes that happened the past month you needed a familiar routine to help keep you feeling sane.

One of the few comforts that came with moving back to your childhood home was that this coffee shop was within walking distance again. When you had moved away over a year ago, you would have to leave for work sooner to catch an earlier bus, getting off only to stop here before getting back on to finish going to work. You adored this quaint little shop and the bright faces behind the counter and didn’t want to sacrifice your patronage just because you had moved.

So needless to say, your weekend visits had stopped at that point since there was no need to catch the bus then. But now that you were back here, you had resumed your Saturday morning walks which led you here. Even though it was winter, you found the crisp air refreshing and found it easy to let your troubles escape your mind during the 20 minute venture.

You sat by a window, mindlessly watching the cars drive down the street. You had made a fair amount of progress this month, but today was particularly difficult. It was January 23, what would have been your 6 year anniversary. That wasn’t a thing anymore, of course.

At 28 years old, you suddenly felt like your life was resetting. Things that you wanted in life that had seemed so close to coming into fruition merely a month ago suddenly felt so far away, you weren’t sure they were possible anymore.

As you let your mind wander, you were unsure how much time had passed. Your drink sat empty in front of you for a while, but you didn’t feel ready to leave just yet. When you got back home you’d be reminded of how different things were now, and that wasn’t something you were looking forward to today.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a new cup being placed on your table. You turned to see Hoseok standing next to the table, smiling brightly as ever.

“It’s a good day for a drink like this, don’t you think?” he asked.

“I didn’t order this,” was the only thing that could escape your mouth. He was definitely known for throwing in a free drink here and there, but you most certainly didn’t want to take advantage of it.

“It’s my treat,” he insisted, “I’m actually done with my shift. Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

You glanced back at the bar, and sure enough Namjoon was now manning the station while the owner, Seokjin, took orders from the customers in line.

Looking back to Hoseok who had been waiting patiently for your response, you decide to give a nod.

He sat across from you, taking a sip from his own drink that he had no doubt made himself. A silence hung between you but it wasn't uncomfortable. Hoseok never made you feel uncomfortable. When you reached for the new cup and realized what drink he had made you, it only reminded you of how kind he was. 

It wasn't your usual, but was something you had most definitely ordered here before. You could still remember the first day you had ordered this particular drink.

Hoseok looked at you, amused. "Not getting the usual today, then?"

"No, not today," you confirmed. "I really need this today."

"Oh?" he asked as he rang it into the register. "Is it some kind of special occasion thing? I know some people do that."

"Not exactly," you said, handing him your card. "It's more of a comfort drink."

Hoseok hesitated to swipe your card through the reader. "Oh. Not having a great day?" A frown sat on his face.

"You could say that," you sighed.

He looked to be in thought for a moment before he handed your card back to you and moved away to start on your drink.

Your brows furrowed. "You didn't swipe my card, did you?"

"It's on me today."

"You don't have to do that," you said, staying parked at the register.

Hoseok hadn't said anything else while he whipped up the drink. When he brought it over to you, you tried making him take your card one more time, but he just shook his head.

"I don't like seeing my customers upset," he said. "It's not much, but I want to do anything I can to try to make your day at least a little brighter. Please, I insist."

The smile on his face and earnest look in his eyes made you pause, before ultimately accepting his kind offer.

His smile grew even bigger when he watched you put your card away and take the drink he offered you. It was a size larger than what you had ordered.

"Thank you, Hoseok," you said. You were still unsure about taking a drink for free, but definitely were in no way going to leave without showing him some gratitude.

Holding the cup of hot chocolate between your hands made you feel warm in more ways than one. He was telling you that he noticed you weren't as happy as usual and he even remembered the significance of the drink to you.

Knowing that someone cared, even a little, was something you really needed these days and, though a little silly, it almost made you want to cry. You held it back though, offering a smile to the man sitting across from you. It was small, but still genuine.

You waited for the inevitable question of what was wrong. The sweet gesture of the hot chocolate made you feel like you may not actually mind if he asked, despite having been tired of explaining what happened 50 times over already. Just as long as he wouldn't start asking you the loaded, 'How are you?' which translated to 'How are you after him?'

He didn't ask. Instead he said, "You know, I was really relieved when I saw it was you who came in earlier."

You looked at him curiously. "Why is that?"

"That customer that was here when you walked in? He's a real charmer." He was clearly being sarcastic. "The guy wants like 10 very specific customizations to his latte, and was backseat driving the whole time I made his drink. Despite the fact that he's a regular and I know his order to the T by this point. But nope, he can never let me just handle making the drink in peace. It's so annoying."

"Oh gosh, that does sound super annoying," you replied. A pretty generic reply sure, but you already felt more engaged in this conversation than you had in most others recently.

"But then customers like you come in and you're always so kind and friendly," Hoseok continued. "Even if the day hadn't been that great, it always feels a little better when you come in. You're definitely one of our favorite regulars. It's also nice now that I've noticed you're coming in on the weekends again."

"Oh yeah, I moved back into my last house," you explained. "So I can just walk here again."

"And out of all the things you could be doing on the weekend, you choose to hang out here in this tiny little place."

You took the first sip of your hot chocolate while Hoseok spoke. It may have been basically just hot milk and chocolate, but it was really delicious. You closed your eyes for a moment to savor the flavor before answering him. “I really like it here. It’s nice and cozy, the drinks are amazing and not super expensive, and you guys are all really nice.”

“It’s hard not to be when we have wonderful customers like you,” Hoseok said.

The compliment made you feel flustered and on top of feeling relaxed and warm from the drink, you found a genuine smile that reached your eyes spread across your face.

You felt that out of all the good qualities of this coffee shop, Hoseok was definitely the most comforting thing here.

After that day, you began to have longer conversations with the barista. It wasn’t that you didn’t chat before, but him taking the time to sit and talk with you seemed to have opened up a door to a deeper friendship between you. While coming to the coffee shop had always been one of your favorite parts of the day, it started to become something you looked forward to even more than before.

You even found yourself leaving your house a bit earlier than before just to make sure you had some time to sit and chat with him for an extra little bit before needing to make your way to work. Your encounters were limited to the shop, not having met outside of the café or exchanged phone numbers yet. Despite that, you felt like your interactions were some of the most genuine you had lately.

As for Hoseok, he could see the gradual change in you. While he had no idea what had suddenly made you so upset back in December, he knew it had to be pretty substantial with how long you’ve been affected. He never wanted to ask though. He figured if you wanted to talk to him about it you would, and he would of course listen.

That being said, ever since he decided to sit down and chat with you, he felt like you’ve slowly started becoming more like yourself—more like the Y/n he remembered. He couldn’t say for sure, but he dared to hope that maybe it had something to do with him.

So the weeks went by, most days highlighted by Hoseok’s smiling face as you started going to the cafe more. On Saturdays it basically became a routine for you to arrive shortly before he’d be done with his shift, and then he’d once again sit and chat with you when it was over.

Saturdays quickly became your favorite day of the week.

You were trying to figure out how to nonchalantly ask Hoseok if you could exchange phone numbers, or meet up outside of the café, or something. And really, it shouldn’t have been hard. Easy to slip in a ‘Hey, can I text you?' or ‘Let’s hang out sometime,’ during a chat and it would have been natural. But you felt oddly nervous about asking.

What if he didn’t want that? What if he just wanted your little budding friendship to stay as a thing just at the café? What if you were reading too far into it and he was just a nice barista chatting with his customer to make them happy? Knowing you, you very well could have been reading into it too much. Even though you really, really hoped you weren’t.

You walked down the sidewalk heading home from the bus stop after work when your phone rang.

You didn’t bat an eye when it was his name that came up on the caller ID. It wasn’t frequent but also not entirely unusual for him to contact you. His calls often had something to do with tying up loose ends, or he was just wanting to chat. Afterall, you both had agreed to remain friends after the breakup. But it was still a bit awkward, both of you needing a bit more time to come to terms with all the changes that were occurring in the aftermath and, at least for you, figuring out how to move on still.

You picked up easily, swiping the green button across the screen and putting it back in your pocket, earbuds in your ears to listen and talk through. The call was absolutely standard, him needing someone to talk to in his boredom. Usually it wouldn’t bother you, but he was having one of his moments where he didn’t realize he talked about something he really probably shouldn’t have.

He started mentioning how he’d finally gotten used to you not being around. That it was normal now.

You knew why he was telling you. The changes were hard on him as well, to the point where he couldn’t sleep in the house after you moved out and he realized just how lonely it felt with no one there. So he was telling you because he wanted you to know that he was doing better.

But at the same time, when you were still in the process of getting used to not having him around, it hurt to hear. You had been having far more good—or at least better—days than bad ones lately, but you could feel your heart rip a bit as he talked. You tried not to let him hear it in your voice when the tears started. As soon as you could, you ended the conversation, making up some excuse that you couldn’t really recall but it seemed to work well enough for him and he ended the call.

You couldn’t stop the tears from continuously falling, and you felt so stupid for crying in public like that. The street was a more residential one and not very busy so there were few people around, but you felt as though anyone nearby would instantly have their eyes on you and be judging you.

You stopped at a corner to cross the street, looking both ways before starting on your way. Your gaze was glued to the ground, trying to keep your head down as much as you could to try to keep others from seeing how stupid you must have looked.

It all happened so quickly that you had no time to register what was going on. You saw a car approaching out of the corner of your eye, looking up to see it very close and going dangerously fast. And then you felt a tug, someone grabbing your arm and quickly pulling you the rest of the way to the sidewalk, making you stumble in your step.

You felt the wind from the car passing so closely behind you just a second later. The reality of how close you had been to getting flattened suddenly hit you. Still in the grip of this person who had pulled you out of harm’s way, you started shaking from the shock of it.

“Y/n, are you okay?” a very familiar voice asked, just loud enough for you to hear him past the music in your earbuds.

You quickly looked up to see Hoseok standing there, eyes wide as looked over you, seemingly looking for any injuries. When you didn’t respond, he called your name again.

You shakily nodded. “Y-yeah, I’m- I’m okay,” you managed to get out, pulling the devices from your ears to hear better.

“That jackass,” Hoseok mumbled. “He just came speeding out of nowhere. What the heck did he think he was doing?”

Feeling like it was difficult to keep steady, you let yourself lean into Hoseok for support. He instantly responded by wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and tucking your head into his chest with his other hand.

“It’s okay, Y/n. You’re okay. You didn’t get hurt, you’re okay,” he calmly said, rocking you just slightly in an attempt to help you calm down.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, until you felt your composure return and straightened up a bit, pulling away from Hoseok’s comfort.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, eyes still filled with concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you said. “Thank you for saving me, Hoseok.”

“It’s lucky that I even noticed you across the street earlier,” he said. “I don’t want you to think you did something wrong because you really didn’t, but you should really try to pay more attention when you’re crossing the street.”

“Yeah, I really wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted. “I just- I mean I looked both ways first but I’m just not feeling the best and-”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok said. “You don’t need to explain to me. I can see something is upsetting you. I’m just glad that I was here.”

You nodded, a short silence sitting between you.

“Where are you headed?” Hoseok was the next to speak.

“I’m just going home,” you said.

“Let me walk you?” he asked.

“You don’t have somewhere to be?”

“I was just heading home too. I stayed late at the café because Joon was on a date. So no, I have nowhere to be. Can I walk you home? You still seem a bit shocked.”

You contemplated his offer, still feeling a bit shaken up from what just happened. Plus, after the phone call you just had, you could really use some company. “Okay, yeah I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

He stepped to the side, waiting for you to start walking in the right direction before falling in step next to you.

“I was just on the phone with my ex,” you blurted out.

Hoseok’s gaze snapped to you, but you continued looking forward. He remained silent, knowing you had more to say.

“You know the boyfriend I’d mention before?” you asked, sure that he’d remember since you talked about him quite a bit. He was such a huge part of your life. “He broke up with me back in December. On the 21st.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment before he softly asked, “You guys were together for quite a while weren’t you?”

You nodded. “January 23rd would have been 6 years.”

“That’s why you moved back here?” he asked. “You two moved in together about a year ago right?”

“Yeah, a year and three months at the time that we broke up. I’m just lucky that I still had this place to come back to,” you said.

“Did he say something to hurt you?” Hoseok asked. “On the phone just now, I mean.”

You shook your head. “Not intentionally. He just doesn’t always realize when something is inappropriate or hurtful to say.” You chuckle. “He was always kind of bad at knowing social queues. He didn’t realize that telling me how it’s gotten easy for him without me around would be hurtful for me to hear.”

Hoseok didn’t know what to say, so he waited to see if you had anything else you wanted to tell him.

“It’s really hard. I had really thought he was it, you know?” you said, a sad smile sitting on your face. “But now that we’re not together, even though it’s been hard and I’m still figuring out how to be my own person by myself again, I’m realizing that maybe this really was for the better. He told me he just felt like I was his really good friend more than anything else now, and he clearly hadn’t wanted to work on things between us so there was no way we could last at that point. I am not feeling hopeful about being able to find someone else quite yet, but if I ever do I hope that they’re someone who can understand me better.

“I was by no means unhappy with him, except the issues we started to have last year that I felt like we could work through at the time. But we had different love languages. I wanted things from him that I more or less had to flat out tell him and he’d try but even then he wasn’t always putting his heart into it because it wasn’t really natural for him. I understood it, it wasn’t a huge thing. Just things like that, that were never a huge deal at all, but I realize that I really hope I can find in someone else, you know?”

Hoseok nodded along, understanding what you meant. He had been with more than one partner who was uncomfortable with how he expressed his feelings as well. While they had been much less understanding and accepting than you seemed to have been with your ex, or that he even had done for you.

“It’s just… It’s so many changes all at once,” you said. “I usually question everything. I expect people to not stick around, and wonder if people really want to be around me. But with him, I never really thought that. When I’d think of our potential future, I always thought ‘when,’ not ‘if.’ But now it’s become ‘never.’ At least with him. And it’s still hard to wrap my head around. But I have been doing a lot better. I remember you saying once before that you don’t like your customers to be unhappy and if you can make them feel at least a little better, you want to try. And honestly, you have been a huge help to me lately.”

Hoseok smiled to himself. “I’m happy to help you, Y/n. I know that I can’t help a whole lot, I understand this is all really hard for you, but I do want to be there for you however I can. I promise that the interactions we have, it’s not just me being a barista who is trying to make his customers happy. I did say that yeah, but it genuinely comes from my heart. When you stopped smiling at the end of the year, I immediately noticed. Ever since then, I remember just thinking a lot that I missed seeing your smile and wanted to try to make you smile again.”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you chuckled. You were silent for a moment while you turned onto your street. “You know, that first day that you sat with me in the café? That was January 23rd. I was feeling worse that day than the others but you really did help me feel better. I completely forgot about what that day had meant while talking to you. And I know what the hot chocolate meant. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that. Thank you.”

“You make it sound like I’m not going to keep trying to help,” Hoseok said. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you know.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” You turned to him, a genuine smile on your face.

He smiled in return. “That’s the Y/n that I’ve wanted to see.”

When you were in front of your house, you stopped, letting Hoseok know you arrived.

“Oh, you live here?” he asked, a little surprised. “Really? This is literally just right down the street from my house.”

“Seriously?” you asked. “Since when?”

“For years. I’ve lived there since before I got the job at the café.”

“How come I never realized you lived that close?”

Hoseok laughed. “I have no idea. But hey, at least we know now, right?”

“Right,” you said. “Well, I don’t want to keep you, even if you do live close by.”

“Can I have your number before I go?” Hoseok asked. When you looked at him with widened eyes, he said, “Only if you want to! I just, I feel like the two of us have gotten pretty close and I’ve been meaning to ask but I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to be there anytime you need me. If you ever need someone to talk to, I want you to be able to contact me anytime.”

Hoseok’s words warmed you, leaving you speechless for just a moment before you smiled once more. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you the same thing. Yeah, I’d like to give you my phone number.”

Hoseok quickly fumbled to fish his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you to enter your number.

“And maybe if you have some time, we could hang out one day?” you asked. “Like, outside of the café. As much as I like it there, I think it’d be nice to be able to chat without you having to worry about attending to customers. Or your nosy coworkers listening into our conversations.”

Hoseok laughed, taking a moment to calm down while you handed his phone back to him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

You both stood there for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye. Just as you were turning around to enter your door, Hoseok spoke up once more. “Y/n?”

When you turned back around, you were greeted with a really warm smile.

“I know that it’s hard right now and it’s something that you have to work through on your own,” Hoseok continued. “But try not to think of it as an end. It’s a beginning, a new start. And maybe, it won’t be as hard as you think to find someone who will give you what you’re looking for. I, for one, know someone who would be more than willing to do that for you if you ever let him.”

You felt your heart speed up and cheeks redden at the insinuation.

“But don’t feel pressured,” he continued. “Take your time. Do what you need to heal and when you’re ready, I guarantee he’ll still be here for you. He’s ready to start a new story with you whenever you are, if you want.”

With one last smile, Hoseok waved goodbye and walked up the street. It took you a moment before you gathered yourself and unlocked your door.

He hadn’t said it directly, but you understood what he meant. You couldn’t say that you were ready for anything with someone new right now, but if how you felt around him lately was any indication, you were sure that as long as what he said was true, that he was willing to wait until you were ready, you most certainly would eventually be ready to have that new start with him.

And maybe, just maybe, you put a heart next to his name in your contact list. No one needed to know that though.

Breath of Sunshine is a sequel to this fic.

A/N – This fic is HIGHLY self-indulgent. Last month, on December 21st, my long-time boyfriend had broken up with me. A lot of what Y/n feels in this fic, and what they described about their past relationship are very similar to my own experiences. I’m also uploading this on January 23, 2021, which is rather poetic because, just as in the fic, today would have been my 6th year anniversary with my ex. So yes, this is super self-indulgent and somewhat of a coping mechanism for myself. But I hope that it can be enjoyed by others as well <3.

Also, please don’t feel worried for me or anything. I really do appreciate anyone who offers me support, but I promise that I am doing alright and holding up well. Although I do very much wish it were possible for me to find my own Hobi lol (not right away of course).

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :)

[septicstories]

When Will You Realize (UNEDITED)

A/N: @you-said-yes is a bloody freaking genius and came up with this idea for the multiverse twins, and I'm in love. So, I'm gonna write this (Peter-centric, of course) and attempt to do it justice! I just hope I don't goof this masterpiece up too much.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: cursing (duh, it's me), family drama, Charles + Logan + Hank ignore Wanda and Pietro because they need Peter, very brief mentioning of a needle, sad Peter + Wanda + Pietro, Pietro having the nickname "Piet" (pronounced as the first bit of his name, not diet with a "p"), no beta readers or edits (sorry)

Word Count: 3.3k (3,380)

"Peter! The cops are here! ... again."

When Wanda had yelled that down to him, Peter only found himself sighing. What store manager is accusing him of shoplifting this time? Did that punk-ass kid behind the counter at 7/11 rat him out again?

But Peter didn't do anything about it.

Nope.

Well... actually... maybe a quick pick-pocket wouldn't hurt, right? Just see who the hell these cops are, maybe spook them when he says their names. Unless he already knows them, then that'd be weird.

Peter let go of the paddle he was using, calmly walking upstairs as time just slowed around him, nearly to a halt. He was greeted with three new faces, all three of the men. None of them looked like cops.

He went into the pocket of the man with hella sideburns, opening up his wallet, only to see a folded-up piece of paper instead of a badge.

After looking over the paper for a moment, Peter found himself grinning. This was a rental agreement for a car. These guys were from out of town.

Peter folded the paper, replacing it into the man's wallet before slipping it back into his pocket. And with new confidence, he went back to his basement and continued to play his solo game of ping-pong as he waited for the men to come down.

He heard one of the stairs creak, a sure sign that it wasn't one of his siblings. A very particular spot on one of the stairs made the most obnoxious creaking noise, and it was the only way he was able to identify anyone new.

"What do you guys want?"

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Peter just kept going from one end of the table to another, waiting for his brother to come down so the two could go even faster.

"I didn't do anything!"

Of course, that was what he was waiting for before the cops showed up. But now, he was just waiting for them to all get down here. He was just showing off at this point.

Peter dropped his paddle once again, slowly stretching across his couch. Well, slow for him. To the three men, it probably looked like it happened in the blink of an eye.

"I've been here all day."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as the three men turned to him, one staring at him as though he were an animal at the zoo. The other two seemed exasperated.

"Just... relax, Peter. We're not cops--"

"'Course you're not cops, if you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." Peter interrupted.

"You're not cops?"

Peter didn't even hear Pietro come down the stairs.

"How'd you know we got a rental car?" the man with long hair and sunglasses asked.

"I checked your registration while you were walking through the door." Peter shrugged.

"Peter!"

Wanda must've recently come down as well, as she lightly smacked Peter's shoulder, like a scolding mother rather than an older sister.

"I also had some time to kill, so I went through your rental agreements and saw you're from out of town." Peter's shit-eating grin just spread across his face, before it dropped into a look of confusion. "Are you FBI?"

Peter shot up, grabbing the nearest wallet, which came from the guy with sunglasses. Nothing that a cop would carry. But there was a business card.

"Nope, you're not cops," he said in a near-mumble, reading the card.

"Peter!"

"Hey, what's with this Gifted Youngsters place?" Peter asked, ignoring his sister's scolding tone as he dropped the wallet, heading over to one of his many mini-fridges.

Peter grabbed two popsicles out of the fridge, slightly melted but still solid, handing one to his brother before beginning to munch on one.

"When I knew him, he wasn't so... young."

That was all he caught out of the conversation the three men had.

"Young?" Peter asked with his mouth full. "You're just old!"

"Peter, don't be rude," Pietro said, opening his popsicle and beginning to eat it at a monstrous pace.

"Both of you, stop!" Wanda said, her eyes beginning to shimmer a bright red color.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers." one of the men said.

"Powers, what powers?" Wanda squeaked out, her eyes flaring red before returning to their usual color.

"You see something strange here?" Pietro asked, leaning against Wanda with an empty popsicle stick in his hand.

"Nothing anybody would believe if you told them?" Peter asked, a massive smirk on his face.

When he saw the tired look on one of the men's faces, he did a little internal victory dance, patting himself on the back for that.

With the cockiest fucking look on his face, Peter went over to the pong machine in his room, turning it on.

"So who are you, what do you want?"

"We need your help, Peter."

"With what?" Wanda and Pietro asked in unison, glaring daggers into the three men.

"To break into a highly secure facility. And to get someone out."

"A prison break?" Wanda asked, her eyes widening.

Peter just chuckled, smirking. "That's illegal you know."

"Well, only if you get caught."

"Okay, no. Peter's not going." Wanda said, her fists clenched by her sides.

Exactly as she said that, Peter asked "What's in it for me?"

"Peter, no, this is an awful--" "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

Peter's fingers froze on the joystick, pausing. The Pentagon? The fucking Pentagon? Wait, were these guys actually cops? Like, undercover cops who are actually good at their jobs?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter asked, arching an eyebrow, slowly turning from the machine.

"Because we're just like you."

Peter stiffened, eyes bouncing between each of the three men. They all look normal, albeit a bit like hobos, but still normal. They didn't have any of the physical bits to a mutation, the lucky sons of bitches.

"Show him."

An absolutely disgusting squelching noise filled the room as the man with sideburns had bone breaking through his clenched fists, into a trio of boney claws, gnarly and super gross.

Peter's breath hitched as he watched, before gulping and nodding. "It's cool but it's disgusting."

"So? Are you coming with us?"

"No, he's not," Wanda spoke up again. "Listen, I don't know who the hell you are and why you're asking for Peter to help you break into the Pentagon, nor do I want to know who you're breaking out of the Pentagon, but my baby brother won't be joining you."

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Who are you to make decisions for me? I'm fucking 17, Wanda! I'm not gonna be staying in this damn house my whole life!"

Peter stood up, going over to his closet, and grabbing a backpack.

"Look, I know you guys are gonna drive me there and there's probably a plan. Fill me in on our way there. I need to bring food so I don't pass out on you guys."

"Peter, ple--" "We'll meet you outside. Thank you, Peter." the man with the sunglasses said as the three left the basement.

Pietro and Wanda shared a glance before heading up the stairs. "Wait for a second!"

Peter shook his head, grabbing the nearest box of food and stuffing it into his bag.

I'm not a baby. I'm 17. I can't stay here for the rest of my life because of humanity. I can't do that to myself. I'd rather be slaughtered for my mutation than sit the hell still and never leave this fucking house.

Pietro and Wanda couldn't keep him here. He loved them both to death, and he'd absolutely come to visit. But he couldn't stay. Even just a taste of adventure like this would be enough to sate him for the day. Maybe a few.

Besides, it wasn't like he was leaving for good. He was gonna come back. Probably. Y'know, assuming he doesn't get caught and shot to death.

Peter gulped.

That won't happen... right?

"Nah, I'll be fine," Peter mumbled to himself, grabbing another box of snacks and opting to grab a hair tie as well. The clock on his wall was ticking slower and slower the deeper into thought he got.

They wouldn't let him get hurt, right? He'd be a-okay.

"Slow down, you crazy child."

Peter stiffened for a moment.

That creaky stair was a blessing and a curse.

Reluctantly, he looked at Wanda, giving her a glare as time sped up. Pietro was right behind her.

"You're so ambitious for a juvenile."

Peter rolled his eyes again.

With this shit.

"But then, if you're so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?" Peter asked sarcastically, a scowl finding its way onto his face.

Wanda and Pietro give each other another look before they come closer to Peter. Peter went over to another side of his room, grabbing another box of food, this one already opened.

"Where's the fire? What's the hurry about?" Pietro asked, letting out a nervous laugh as he joked. The tension in the room was making everybody uncomfortable.

They get a bit closer, and Peter forcefully shoved what was bound to be a squished Twinkie into his backpack.

"You better cool it off before you burn it out. You got so much to do."

Pietro and Peter's eyes met, making Peter's resolve crack. Just a little bit. Not much. But a little bit.

Wanda's hand landing on his shoulder wasn't much help.

"And only so many hours of the day."

Wanda's voice was always soft and soothing. The Sokovian lullabies she'd hum to him when he was a child would sometimes play through his head when he was stressed out, and he'd even find himself mumbling the lyrics.

But not right now. Now wasn't the time for her calming voice. No, he had shit to do.

Peter brushed Wanda's hand off of him, storming away from them before speaking, "But you know when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

His tone was sharp, like a blade cutting open old sutures.

Pietro's brow furrowed, with a frown making its way onto his face, his own tone becoming less playful.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through."

The scowl on Peter's face only deepened as he turned away from his siblings. He didn't need to hear all of this. Not right now.

Wanda, with that voice that made Peter want to cry, spoke up again. "When will you realize..."

Peter stiffened, a lump growing in his throat. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't persuade him to stay. They couldn't do that.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro and Wanda spoke together, Pietro's tone had softened a tad.

When the twins saw Peter's face when he turned around, their hearts broke a little.

Their younger brother had tears in his eyes, his mouth twitching as he took in one shaky breath after another. His mouth opened, only to clamp shut, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight.

Peter sped over to his dresser, digging through one of his drawers, in search of his goggles.

"Slow down," Wanda began, her voice making him stop for a single second. "You're doing fine."

Pietro piped up again. "You can't be everything you want to be before your time."

Peter clicked his tongue, fresh tears beginning to roll down his face. They had the motherfucking audacity to pull that shit on him.

"Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight," Peter said sarcastically, turning around and spreading his arms out as he gave both of his siblings a teary-eyed glare.

To them, it probably looked like the glare of a child. Pathetic. Weak. Fragile.

Did he care?

"Tonight," he mumbled again.

Nope, not one bit.

Wanda took a step forward as Peter turned back around, still looking for those damn goggles.

"Too bad, but it's the life you lead," she said calmly.

She was going to start losing composure soon, Peter was sure of it. She had to crack soon. He wasn't going to let his dam burst anymore until he knows he's not the only one who wants to cry.

"You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need."

Peter winced as though he just got a needle stabbed into his arm. A painful pinch that'd be sore for a bit, but he'd forget about it soon.

Wanda sent Pietro a glare, which made the other speedster back down a bit. But only a bit.

"Though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right." Wanda and Pietro spoke at the same time, making Peter shiver.

It bugged him the hell out whenever they did that. Creepy as shit.

Wanda made it even creepier by repeating herself. "You're right."

She came closer as Pietro spoke. "You've got your passion."

"You've got your pride," Wanda said softly, taking Peter's shaky hands into her calm grip.

They need to stop. They needed to stop doing all that shit to him. They were trying to get him to stay. They shouldn't be doing that.

Peter yanked his hand out of Wanda's grip, his other hand grabbing his goggles before stuffing them in his pockets.

"But don't you know only fools are satisfied?" Peter said bitterly, staring between the twins.

He gulped as he watched Pietro glare at him, his arm going around Wanda as he did so.

"Dream on," Pietro said dully as Peter turned his back on the twins.

"But don't imagine they'll all come true." Wanda and Pietro did their freaky twin thing again, speaking at the same time.

Peter zipped up his backpack, just trying not to cry. He just needed to get past them, and into that car, and then it would be smooth sailing from there.

"When will you realize?" Wanda asked as Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro finished with a soft murmur.

Peter didn't even need to turn around for Pietro and Wanda to know what Peter's face looked like.

Hot tears burned down his face as he shoved past his older siblings, Pietro purposefully knocking Peter's shoulder with his own. A little thing they'd do when they knew they had a rough day ahead of them. A sign. A quick "good luck. I love you."

A sob got stuck in Peter's throat as he went up the stairs, hitting that creaky stair on the way up.

Wanda, with a defeated sigh, fell back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. There wasn't any way to stop Peter. Once his mind was set on something, he was going to do it if it were the last thing he'd do.

She just worried that this would be the last thing he'd do.

Before Wanda could even speak, Pietro's hand rested on her back as he sat beside her.

"He'll be okay, Wanda."

Peter was about to leave, fingers grazing the doorknob before he paused.

He turned to the small stand by their front door, grabbing Wanda's locket from when she and Pietro were children. Carefully, he opened it, revealing pictures of Wanda and Pietro as children.

Peter's fingers clumsily fiddled with the locket before placing it around his neck before taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears from his face.

The front door of the Maximoff household swung open as Peter left the house, his hair falling in front of his face as he left, walking at a pace that seemed a tad bit too fast to be human.

The guy with sideburns was sitting in the driver's seat of the car while the two other men stood outside the car.

"Ready?" the man with the sunglasses asked.

Peter found much more interest in the markings on his shoes, staring down at his mixed shoelaces before giving a weak response.

"Yeah."

Slow down, you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.

Peter got into the back seat of the car, slamming the door shut as the other two men piled into the car. He swears he heard Pietro and Wanda in his head.

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

His backpack got tucked by his feet on the floor of the car, buckling his seat belt before releasing a sigh. He wanted their voices out of his head. They needed to get out of his head, or else he may actually get fucking shot because he wasn't focused on the mission.

The Maximoff house was now quiet. The only noises came from the basement.

"When will you realize?" Pietro asked, his voice barely carrying over a whisper.

"Vienna waits for you." Wanda finished softly.

The two were leaning against each other on the couch that Peter called his bed, looking around the messy room.

A picture sat on his desk, the three of them all together and smiling. Peter was only eight when they took that picture. His two front teeth were missing from his massive grin, curly brown hair framing his face. He just looked... happy.

Peter, at that moment, felt far from that young kid he used to be. His arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to seem nonchalant. But he was stressed as hell.

In Sokovian, Peter mumbled to himself "And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

Peter could live with dying young. As morbid as it may be, he's accepted his mortality. He knew people wanted him dead because he didn't share the same species name as others.

His eyes looked out the window while the man in the sunglasses and the man with the sideburns spoke in the front seat. Hopefully not to Peter, because he wasn't paying attention.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing an empty doorstep, Pietro and Wanda were standing on the porch.

Pietro's hand was still on Wanda's back, and Peter could see the tear streaks on Wanda's face from within the car.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through," the two whispered, Pietro beginning to choke up "Why don't you realize?"

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

Peter turned to look at the guy with glasses who sat with him in the back seat, nodding with pursed lips.

"I'm good, man. What's the plan?"

Wanda and Pietro still stood on the doorstep, watching Peter look away from them. Wanda bit her lip, looking down at the ground as fat tears streamed down her face.

"Vienna waits for you." she and Pietro were so choked up, their speech was barely audible. "When will you realize?"

Peter listened in on the plan, nodding, but once they stopped saying his name, he looked back out the window. His sister was in tears as Pietro wiped at his face, making Peter's eyes well up a bit too.

With all he had in him, Peter mustered up a small, sad smile on his face. Luckily enough for him, his siblings looked up right then.

Peter gave a small wave, getting teary smiles and waves from his siblings.

The car's engine roared to life, and the group began to pull away from the Maximoff house. Peter turned in his seat a tad, watching as his siblings grew smaller and smaller in the window as the car pulled away from the Maximoff house.

At the same time, the twins watched as the car pulled away from their house, Wanda's body shuddering as she kept in unshed tears.

Pietro let out a heavy sigh as Wanda's head hit his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Wanda. He always comes out of these things okay."

"He's breaking someone out of the pentagon, Piet. I don't want him to... y'know."

"Yeah... I know."

Peter turned back around in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh of his own.

"They'll be okay." the man with glasses murmured beside Peter.

His only response was a nod and a yawn. "I'm gonna rest up real quick, okay? Save up energy, and stuff."

Because I'm absolutely fucking drained.