#sorry it’s so long i’m just tired of being excluded again

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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123 for 🧟:

---

Buck feels relieved. She didn’t travel all this way not to have a support system in him. 

“Hershey didn’t get the worst of the outbreaks,” Maddie says. “Roads closed from Harriburg, and… Well, it was stemmed.”

Buck remembers that, from the early days. Before the internet went out. He’d tried to reach out. Even to his parents. 

“But everyone went into lockdown mode,” Maddie says. “At first I thought that would exclude me, being in healthcare. I thought I was needed more than ever.”

“Weren’t you?” Buck asks. 

“Oh, I think probably.” Maddie admits. “But Doug came home one day with new guns and told me neither of us was leaving the house again. Not without his say so.”

“What the fuck?” 

“I think he was happy, honestly. Society had gone to hell, and he didn’t have to be careful anymore.” Her eyes tear up a little. “He could do whatever he wanted.”

Buck’s blood goes cold. He knew Doug didn’t treat her right. Didn’t treat her well at all. But what she’s implying? If he had known… Oh god. He would have never left her. 

“Maddie…”

“Don’t say sorry,” she says firmly. “I worked hard to make sure you didn’t know, okay? It’s why… It’s why we lost contact.”

Buck’s head hangs a little. “I would have helped you.”

“I know. That’s why. He would have killed you.”

Buck sighs. “So what happened?”

“He got sick,” Maddie says. “Went out on a supply run one afternoon, came back sick. Infected.”

“Shit.” Buck hisses.

“So I shot him.” Maddie says, very quietly. 

“My god, Maddie.” Buck exhales. “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

“It was,” she agrees. “But I wasn’t going to die there. Become infected or wait for him to fully turn and… Eat me.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t,” Buck replies. “I’m so glad you survived.”

“Me too,” she says, inhaling a little. Like she’s convincing herself. 

“Can I ask what happened to Mom and Dad?” Buck asks. 

They’re obviously not close. Never were. He hasn’t worried for them, the same way he’s worried for Maddie. But it’s not like he wishes them harm. Though, harm has come for most people anyway. 

Maddie shakes her head a little.

“I don’t know entirely,” she admits. “By the time I left and was able to check on them, the house was abandoned. No trace of them. No remains.”

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. So it will always be a question, then. 

“Sorry,” Maddie says. 

Buck shakes his head. “No, that’s… I mean, everyone has people like that, right?”

She nods. “I’m glad you’re not one of them, now.”

Buck throat feels tight. “Same with you.”

▪️▪️▪️

Buck starts his shift on cams after Maddie is asleep. He’s on from eight until two in the morning, when Bobby will switch with him. 

It sounds painfully boring, but Buck doesn’t hate cam shifts. He did at first. The stillness was grating. Drove him crazy. He learned to entertain himself, over the past months. He can’t read, really. He could miss something. But he can listen to music or audiobook CDs. Not just CDs, either. Karen’s iPhone is still in good shape, and it had dozens of audiobooks, podcasts, and music downloaded onto it. She leaves it in the cams room with a charger for whoever is on shift. So there is a lot for Buck to do to occupy his mind. Even if some of the podcast episodes and audiobooks start to get repetitive on the second or third listen. 

Tonight, he’s listening to a nonfiction selection of Karen’s. Something academic and a bit smarter than Buck. But the only way he learns is by challenging himself, so he’s trying to focus. It’s nearing ten o’clock. Most everyone has gone to bed. It’s been a long, tiring day. Full of activity. 

All this to say, Buck is surprised when he sees someone pop up on the security camera. Not just someone. Eddie. He’s walking, purpose in his step, down the hallway connecting to the front foyer, right out the big glass entryway doors. Oh. Well, that’s stupid. The doors lock from the outside. Bobby locks them before he goes to bed. Buck will have to leave his post to let him back in, which is annoying. 

He’s about to do as much, making the short walk to bang on the glass and let Eddie know, when what he sees on the screen stops him short. Eddie walks to the side of the building, leans against a brick wall, and starts to cry. 

Oh.

Well, this is very awkward. 

And, hey, there’s nothing wrong with crying. Buck has cried twice today. One over the radio, once over his sister returning. No shame in it. It’s just that, Buck has all the off-cam good crying spots down. Including his private room. This poor guy doesn’t realize Buck can see him. 

He shouldn’t watch. Surely no zombies or other forms of villain will come in the next… Well, how long does it take to cry? Buck doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything about this guy. Other than that he saved Maddie. Really, the polite thing to do would be to turn away and give him a minute. He’s going to. Definitely. 

Except, he finds he can’t look away. 

Something in his heart cracks, watching this guy. He’d seemed friendly and collected earlier. Steady. Not like someone hours away from weeping. Maybe that’s just a front. Maybe he wants to seem tough in front of his kid. Buck thinks he could understand that, despite not being a parent. 

The crying lasts less than ten minutes. Buck watches Eddie straighten himself up, rub his eyes, and turn back towards the entrance. Which is still locked. Shoot. Buck bounces to his feet, leaves the cam room, and jogs down the hallway towards the entrance. By the time he reaches the door, Eddie is trying the handle to no avail, a panicked expression on his face. 

Buck reaches forward and opens the door. 

“Sorry, man,” he says. “It locks from the inside. Safety.”

“No, right,” Eddie nods. “That makes sense. Thanks for letting me in.”

“Don’t mention it,” Buck shrugs. Really. He literally saved Maddie’s life. Buck opened the damn door. Not the same level of effort.

“How did you know I was here?” Eddie asks.

Buck’s cheeks go a little red. “Uh…”

[fatuismooches]

SMOOCHES!!! Hii my cutie patootie!!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

It’s been a while since I last sent something here and I’m so sorry about that!! I’m doing a lot better now (although I never got my test results back to see if I had that syndrome or not LOL) and I almost have the two new Fontaine regions 100% oopsies! But I have like serious brainrot (but school is so tiring I usually just nap the whole afternoon) anyways!! I listened to one of mitski’s songs called “Once More to See You” and ugh it honestly just reminded me of Dottore and fragile!reader. The beginning makes me think of how fragil!reader and Dottore (especially) having a reputation and being looked as “weird” or as students who don’t belong in the Akademiya. The rest of the song just reminds me of Dottore being alone once fragile!reader fell into their coma, and him longing to feel your hand against his. To have your warm touch, caress his cheek, kiss his lips, embrace him, and to say his name, “Zandik!” In that lovely tone of yours. ouuughh I love fragile!reader and Dottore so so much just Dottore having to wait so long for them to wake up. Like imagine having to wait hundreds of years for the only person who’s every shown you affection and love. The only person to hold you so lovingly, say your name with love and not disgust, or with horror.

And after waking up??? Oughhh I know I say this a bit frequently but Dottore would become so so protective and possessive. I mean, you’re the only thing he has left, and he almost lost you once. He won’t spare to almost lose you another time, especially after centuries went by without your warm touch, or your voice. He defff savors every moment you two have together when he’s available. And especially when he becomes so used to having you on his lap and him being able to feel your heartbeat. Sometimes he may unconsciously tighten his grip on you when he’s holding you.

okieokie I think that’s enough for today!! I hope you’ve been doing amazing smooches again I’m so sorry I’ve been away I always wanna brainrot but sometimes I think my ideas aren’t that great compared to anons (YOUR ANONS ARE SO AMAZING I LOVE READING EVERY POST, AND KAI’S WRITINGS <333 MWA MWA!!) But i hope you’re getting lots of rest and staying healthy!! A bunch of chu chus n hugs, n maybe a few cuddles ! hehe!!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ౨ৎ

🎐 ANON MY BELOVED!!! Oh my gosh I'm so happy you're back and alright, I missed you, and I'm so happy to hear your health has gotten better ❤️ Congrats on your Fontaine exploration and omg i totally understand, take those naps if you need to 😭 I'm not much of a napping person but those few times that i do nap, feel so good lmao. Okay brainrot time~

WAH THANK YOU FOR INTRODUCING ME TO ANOTHER MITSKI SONG... omg i love this so much. Dottore was definitely ostracized and excluded in the Akademiya, everyone thought that he nor his crazy ideas belonged there. And you, I imagine your reputation start to get dragged through the mud the more you hang out with Dottore. They just don't understand. Why would you ever want to even sit in the same room as him, much less befriend him? You started to be labeled as the same things as him. You don't mind (most of the time, sometimes it still gets to you) because you think those people are just shallow compared to your friend. But Zandik himself doesn't understand you either? There's no way that his "friendship" (your words, not his) is worth the stress of all this. He doesn't understand, it's not like you're using him, if anything he's the one using you instead. Zandik doesn't understand... but he's not going to admit that the fact that you chose him over everyone else makes him feel a certain way. And that tingly feeling only grows and grows. And he refuses to acknowledge it... until you leave him and suddenly everything he's chosen to ignore hits him at once. Everything that Zandik's been trying so hard to deny, he admits to now. He misses you... he longs for your touch, your kindness, the way you treat him with such love, your voice... as horrible as this is, it really did open his eyes. Made him realize that living by himself again in the dorms is slowly making him even crazier without you. Made him realize that he's willing to do anything, and i mean anything, to get you back.

OH YEAH Dottore is extremely protective over you when you finally wake up. See, Dottore isn't really scared of someone else hurting you. He knows that he and his segments would never let that happen. Rather, he's scared of other things. Like your illness. Things he can't control. Dottore is a man who's used to being in control now, so when he can't predict things? When he can't see them coming? He doesn't like that. Not one bit, especially when it comes to you. He needs to know everything, otherwise, he won't be satisfied. He can't risk you being hurt again, not under his watch. You're very confused in the beginning because hello? This is the same guy who used to let you go out and do all these crazy tasks on his behalf? But yeah, he can't help but be very possessive. It's very Dottore like of him.

Thank you for the delicious brain rot 🎐 anon!! I enjoyed it tremendously :3 AND SHUSH YOUR BRAINROTS ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE THEM. But yuppp my anons and Kai have such yummy writing!! I am doing well, thank you :) just busy but I'm fine! Giving you lots of my hugs and kisses to you toooo <33

[kazanskys-mitchell]

hey guys come get some mav angst with a side of slimav!

been feeling kinda out of place and weird the last couple of days and this was a result of that. i proofread it twice so hopefully there’s no mistakes.

i hope you like it :)

isolation

Maverick was never a people person. He liked to be alone, tinkering with some sort of machinery to pass the time. He didn’t make friends easily, people seemed to hear his callsign and look the other way. But he didn’t care.

Or maybe, he cared a little bit.

Growing up, he liked his time alone, but when other people who pretended to befriend him made plans that excluded him, he distanced himself. He didn’t want to be a nuisance, after all. That’s what he saw himself as.

A nuisance. Someone that nobody wanted to be around.

Until he met Goose.

Nick Bradshaw was a character, he was very different from Maverick in a lot of ways, but they also were all too similar. Their personalities worked so well together, and Goose declared himself Maverick’s best friend.

Goose always made sure that Maverick was included in anything they did, whether it be getting drinks with other aviators or hanging out with Carole and Bradley. Goose always made sure that Maverick felt included and welcome, and if he didn’t, they would leave to do their own thing.

The night out at the O Club with Goose was fun, even if Iceman and Slider were being jerks about the MiG and “who’s the best pilot?”

Abused children was what Goose had called them.

Maverick just had to laugh it off.

Top Gun was a little isolating for Maverick. He knew how everyone there felt about him, but he put on a brave face and kept flying like he knew how to do. He knew he was good at it, and it took his mind off everything.

Until Goose died.

The events of that day replayed in Maverick’s head so many times, he lost count. Nothing had ever felt more isolating than losing the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t a burden. Now that Goose wasn’t there to include him, he knew he’d end up alone again.

He thought he wanted that.

After the Layton rescue, he gained a friendship with Iceman and even Slider. He felt less alone when they were around.

They didn’t quite pick up on the fact that Maverick would silently excuse himself if he felt like he wasn’t wanted. It happened many times, the Top Gun class reuniting and getting drinks, and Maverick leaving early because he felt like he annoyed everyone just by being there.

Slider eventually noticed.

He would run after Maverick, asking why he was leaving, to which Maverick would respond “Oh, I’m just tired.”

Slider knew it was a lie.

So he started doing what Goose did. He made sure that Maverick felt included in everything, and it worked. Maverick liked that Slider seemed to care for him.

A year after Goose died, Maverick realized he had feelings for Slider.

He didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know who he could tell, and he was sure that Slider wouldn’t feel the same.

He felt more comfortable about it after Wolfman had one too many drinks and confessed to Maverick that he and Hollywood had been together for a while. Wolfman didn’t seem to remember that he had told Maverick, but Maverick remembered it for a long time.

Eventually, Maverick figured his shit out and confessed to Slider.

He was sure he’d be rejected, like he had been many times in the past, but Slider surprised him by asking Maverick on a date.

The rest was history.

Slider eventually took Maverick to his hometown to meet his family. They seemed pretty accepting of Maverick, but he still felt isolated from them. They didn’t include him in conversations, and hardly acknowledged him when he tried to join the conversation.

It took Slider a while to notice it was happening. Maverick figured that he was trying to spending time with his family, and that little ol’ Maverick was just a burden that he dragged along.

Slider found Maverick on the front porch, staring out into the road at nothing in particular.

“Mav?”

“Hey. Sorry, I figured you wanted more time alone with your family.”

“I brought you here to spend time with you.”

“I feel like I’m intruding.”

Slider had heard enough. He spent an hour on the porch with Maverick, the smaller man tangled in his arms, and told Maverick just how much he was loved.

They went inside eventually, after Slider’s mom had questioned where they went. Slider made sure from that point on that Maverick was included in their conversations, all while keeping a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pressing small kisses to the top of Maverick’s head whenever he had the opportunity.

To Slider, Maverick was everything he ever wanted and more, and Maverick no longer felt alone.

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 22 | Nora x Hancock

A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

//

Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

When Nora thought for sure she was going to die too, the pain stopped – and then there was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. Nothing but the grief. Half of her soul was suddenly gone forever. She was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drifting among the waves with no land in sight. Then just as suddenly she had been cast adrift, she found land. The hole was filled the moment it had been created. As she gripped Nate’s vault suit and begged him to open his eyes, Nora found herself battling with the horrifying realization that she had another soulmate; that some stranger had taken Nate's place.

//

[ 1 ] <- [ 17 ] [ 18 ] [ 19 ] [ 20 ] [ 21 ] - [ 23 ]

//

They called it The Slog, and Nora found herself liking the place not long after arriving. The citizens belonging to the settlement, all ghouls, were a welcoming bunch as they invited her to congregate in their common area to share supper. Though a bit hesitant at first, Nora found herself relaxing into the new company. It was hard not to – they all seemed so friendly. As the storm raged outside, the occasional gust of wind blowing rain in through the uncovered opening, but it was hard to pay it any mind as they all fell into conversation. 

For the past several days, Nora had been running on meals that had little to no nutritional value. Old canned food, and snack cakes, mainly. The meal the folks at the Slog served her was savory, thick, with vegetables and meat. Nora was slack-jawed with awe when they passed her a chunk of bread. They offered their food without question. They offered it without asking for anything in return. There was no Marcy Long, demanding that she get her lazy butt up and provide the settlement with a sufficient water supply, and there was no Preston Garvey griping at her to take over some organization that was on its last legs. Wiseman had offered her a place to stay without even knowing who she was, and after all of the cruelty and hardship she had encountered in the Commonwealth, she couldn’t quite keep herself from crying into her delicious meal. 

No one mentioned it, and yet they somehow didn’t exclude her from the conversation. They talked about things – old world things. Things that Nora never thought she would hear mentioned ever again. It was heartbreaking as much as it was uplifting. As she sat quietly, her empty bowl in her lap, and her stomach full for the first time in days, Nora gathered her courage. The more they talked about the old days, the more her curiosity grew. After she stopped crying, she gently cleared her throat to speak.

“So, you were all there? Before the bombs dropped?”

The ghoul Nora knew as Jones quirked a small smile in her direction, “We’re what some of you smoothskins call ‘Pre-War’ ghouls.”

Nora tilted her head curiously. She rolled the information around in her head for just a moment, scooping up some of the remnants of the stew that was left in her bowl with her index finger. She offered the digit to Dog, who licked it up greedily. “Pre-War? What vault did you belong to?”

There was a scoff, a snort.

“Sorry,” she grimaced. “I, uh, just got out of a vault recently.” She gestured to her vault suit, her Pip Boy. “I’m… still trying to figure things out.”

“Got tired of being a lab rat, huh?” The woman from earlier chuckled.

Nora sighed softly, “You could say that.”

“To put it simply,” Wiseman rasped, “We weren’t unfortunate enough to get into a vault, but we were unfortunate enough to live through the bombing.”

Nora’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth, because her jaw practically came unhinged. How horrible – living through the bombs, watching as the world around them was decimated, and then witnessing the change in their bodies as it happened. It must have been terrifying. Body parts falling off. Skin rotting away. Nora couldn’t even imagine some of the things these people had seen, and she didn’t want to.

“So, Vault 111,” Deirdre said from beside her, a finger gently tapping against her upper back where the yellow numbers branded her suit. “What experiments did they put you through there?”

When Nora shook her head, no one pressed her for more information, and she was thankful for that. The evening wound down, and despite Nora’s offer to clean up after such a wonderful meal, she was sent off to relax and get some sleep. Wiseman gave her the bottle of Rad-X, in case the storm continued on through the night and she needed some more. She popped two more pills before settling in for the night, Dog resting on the floor beside the mattress she was given. 

-

It was a gentle hand on her shoulder that woke her, immediately followed by the persistent wining of Dog. She was breathing heavily, gasping for air. She was sweating and her cheeks were wet with tears (would she ever stop crying? She had to run out of tears, at some point). One of the ghouls was beside her, his brows lined with worry.

His hand found hers, and he gave it a gentle tug, silently indicating that he wanted her to follow him. Abandoning all of her things near the bedthat they had given her, Nora followed him. There were a couple of lights still on in the poolhouse, but the light was so dim it was nearly useless. She used the light of the Pip-Boy to navigate through the resting bodies. The green light that was cast made their features look more mottled, and rough. They looked like corpses; like she had fallen asleep in a morgue. Only the bodies were breathing. 

The ghoul led her outside, towards the pool, and then around the side of the building. The storms had thankfully passed, leaving a chill to the air. There was another portion of the building, separated from the pool house proper but still connected to the primary structure. It could have been used for storage once, but had since been converted into a work space. Mismatched desks lined the walls, covered with various scraps of junk, old newspapers, and scattered notes.

“You were having a nightmare,” the man murmured once they didn’t run the risk of waking the others. His voice was thin, and coarse. After gesturing for her to sit in a lonely wooden chair tucked into the corner of the room, the ghoul shifted around the work space. He sifted through the junk, pulling a kettle and a hotplate from the mess. The hotplate was turned on, and the kettle was set on top.

Nora rubbed her arms, trying to generate a bit of warmth, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“I don’t get much sleep these days,” the man said, offering a gentle smile. His features seemed so sad. The man remained busy in the space, plucking an old tin box from the junk and cracking it open. Two sachets of tea were selected, and plopped into tin camping cups. Closing the lid, the box was abandoned back to the various items on the desk.

He touched the back of his hand to the kettle after a handful of quiet moments, and then removed it from the hotplate. He poured the water into the prepared cups. The smell of chamomile drifted across her senses, and Nora found herself drawing in a lengthy inhale to commit the smell to memory – and then one of the cups was held out to her. She accepted it.

Nora sipped, and sighed. She had never been one for chamomile, but she would take any old world comfort that she could. The taste brought back memories of her grandparents’ house, of the long hard worked days, and hot summer nights. Nora sank back into the chair, letting the taste coat her tongue as she inhaled deeply. When she finally swallowed, she peered up at the man curiously.

“I don’t think I got your name earlier,” she said apologetically.

“I’m Arlen Glass,” he held out his right hand, and Nora reached to take it, her tea clasped in her left.

Her eyes lit up, her hand still holding his, “Arlen Glass? The Arlen Glass? The toy designer?”

He smiled softly, setting his tea aside so he could clasp his freehand over the top of their joined ones, “And you’re Eleanor Morrison, Prosecuting Attorney.”

Nora was sure her eyes bugged out of her skull as she stared at the old ghoul, with his evening tea, and his kind smile, and his sad features. Before she could ask how he knew who she was, he released her hand, and faced his workbench. 

Nora was suddenly able to spot pieces of a deconstructed Giddyup Buttercup littering the table. And she suddenly couldn’t help but think that there was a method to all of the madness taking over the desk space; a mess to her untrained eye, but he knew where everything was.

Arlen procured an ancient Boston Bugle, holding it out to her.

The headline nearly took up the whole upper half of the first page:

Handsome Johnny Roselli Verdict: GUILTY

Under the headline was an image of the man, wearing handcuffs, looking as though he was in the middle of swearing at whoever was taking the picture. Further into the article was a picture of her, standing in front of the court house, addressing the press after a particularly lengthy trial. And God, she looked good. Clean, put together. Makeup done, and not a hair out of place. At her side was a man in a long coat and hat, his hands tucked in his pockets. There was a natural frown creasing his features. Nora glanced at the small blurb beneath the image.

Eleanor Morrison and Detective Nick Valentine after court proceedings.

Oh, God. Nick.

Her gaze lifted to Arlen. The man was watching her, idly sipping at his cup of tea.

“How did you…” she looked down at the paper in her hands yet again. “How could you even remember…” How could he even recognize her? She felt like she looked like a totally different person. It felt like the Nora in the photo belonged to a whole nother world.

Arlen gave her another smile, then gestured to a crate tucked under the workbench. It was filled with old Boston Bugle newspapers. “I read the paper every day,” he said wistfully, knowingly, “I’ve seen your picture more than a few times, young lady.”

It was too late to deny much of anything. Her shock had given her away. Yet running around claiming that she had slept through the bombs and came out on the other side seemed ill advised, and in present company it felt awfully cruel. 

“Eleanor,” Arlen murmured, calling her from her rampant thoughts. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Arlen.”

“Now,” he murmured, turning his attention to the work bench. “You should get back to bed. That is, unless you want to help…” A piece of the disassembled Giddyup Buttercup was lifted, and waved at her invitingly.

She stood, stepping up to the workbench, standing shoulder to shoulder with the old ghoul and he immediately passed her an old wired brush and a few gears. It was better than falling back into nightmares, and who was she to pass up an opportunity to work side-by-side with the legendary toy designer.

//

Tag List: @takottai / @a-little-pebbl  / @yamatra

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Cashmere and Cradles

Jean Kierstein x Pregnant!Reader

summary: y/n gets sick, and Jean worries sick. then, they’re both in for the sickest surprise of their lives.

word count: 3226

a/n: I was inspired to write this by the always lovely @quiveringdeer! this is also something close to home for me due to me incorporating my personal experiences, so plz be nice in the notes ya’ll (everyone always is but I like putting the disclaimer there for certain fics)

masterlist

I haven’t stopped being nauseous since I woke up. Is this really all because I had an anxiety attack from that one asshole? I already googled it, maybe it’s the fact that I drank a ton of water right when I woke up. I don’t know. I could barely touch the alfredo noodles we had last night, but I thought that was just me being anxious. Jean looked a little concerned at dinner, but I told him I was fine when he kissed me goodbye this morning. Just tired.

Really, I’m exhausted. I feel my stomach lurch, and I realize, I’m going to throw up. I run to the bathroom as fast as possible, nearly missing the toilet, and the last bits of undigested dinner from last night come up, along with bile and all the water from earlier. When I stop retching, I flush the toilet, and stand up dizzily. I brush my teeth to get rid of the remaining vomit, gargle a million times, and wipe my face, which has tears streaming down from the pain. Without fail, my body always feels like it’s been shoved into a trash compactor when I throw up.

When I’m finished cleaning myself up, I decide to go back to bed. The thought of trying to keep food down right now is an awful one. I text Jean to tell him I think I got a stomach bug, and he immediately texts me back asking why. I smile to myself, rolling my eyes a bit. He’s such a worry wart. Just puked, but I feel a lot better. Must’ve been why I was tired, I reply.

Do you need anything? He asks me, and I can imagine his furrowed eyebrows right in front of me.

You’re so sweet, baby. No, I just need sleep.

Have you eaten today?

No. If I eat right now I probably won’t keep it down. I never can after throwing up. I’ll eat when I wake back up. Love you xo

Ok, love you too babygirl xo

I smile to myself, then set my phone down on the nightstand. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

I’m woken by my phone vibrating on the nightstand. “Hello?” I answer groggily, and am spooked by Connie’s annoyingly loud voice.

“Y/n! Someone’s pregnant!” He yells into my ear. I hold my phone far away from me, pinching the bridge of my nose. Somehow, he’s already given me a headache. “Who?”

“I don’t know, but Sasha said her mom had a dream about fish! And you know what that means!” He says. I do not know what that means.

I yawn, asking, “Does it mean she misses her son-in-law’s cooking? Niccolo should visit her again soon.”

Connie pauses. “Hey, were you asleep before I called you?”

“Yes. Very peacefully, I might add. I have the flu.”

“W-why didn’t you tell me?!” He yells at me, and I wince.

“Connie, shut the fuck up! I have a migraine because of you! And because, I thought it would be obvious!” I say.

“Huh?” Connie asks in exasperation. “It’s three in the afternoon! How am I supposed to know you took a midday nap?”

“I never took a nap…” I trail off when I realize that means I’ve slept for basically 14 hours straight, excluding my short time being awake this morning. “Damn. I didn’t think I was this sick.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up, y/n.” Connie apologizes, panic gone from his voice.

I wave him off, not realizing he can’t see me for a few seconds. “No, no, it’s fine. I needed to get up anyways, I have commissions I need to work on, sick or not. Anyways, what’s your point? About the fish and somebody being pregnant.”

“Oh! Right!” He exclaims. “So, dreams have meaning. There’s symbolism in them that rings true.”

“Why are you using the word symbolism? That has no business being in your vocabulary, it’s out of your intelligence bracket.” I say, snickering to myself when he pauses to process what I’ve said.

“Hey! I know things, okay?!” Connie defends himself after realizing I called him stupid. “Anyways, when someone dreams about a fish, it means someone they know is pregnant. And there’s always someone who’s pregnant.

“Mhm.” I say. “Well, if you figure out who that pregnant person is, tell me so I can congratulate them on making a terrible financial decision for the next eighteen plus years. I’m tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.”

Connie says, “But didn’t you just talk about how much work you were gonna do?”

“Times change, Connie,” I respond, “That, and I just got even more tired than I was when I first answered the phone. I think you’re just exhausting me with your idiocy.”

Connie gasps, and I swear I can hear him clutching his imaginary pearls. “Hurtful!”

I sigh. “Goodbye, Connie.”

He groans, like I’ve just ruined his plans to gossip about pregnancy candidates. “Bye, y/n.” The phone hangs up with a beep, and I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as I think to myself. There aren’t many options, in all honesty. Ymir and Historia could have decided they wanted to start a family, Eren and Mikasa, Annie and Bertholdt, even Sasha and Niccolo. I’m sick as a dog, so I’m already counted out — can’t have a baby when you’re busy having stomach flu. Before I know it, I’m lulled back to sleep by the comfort of the plush mattress and cushy blankets.

When I come to, it’s sunset, and the offending noise that wakes me is Jean’s keys jangling in the doorknob. I would get up to unlock the door for him, but I’m too groggy to move more than a finger. The door squeaks open, and I hear him put his keys down on the counter, stepping out of his shoes. “Y/n?” He calls, concern laced in his voice.

“Over here!” I respond in turn, yawning and stretching a bit. Jean’s footsteps make the apartment vibrate. He’s not heavy, but the infrastructure isn’t immune to jiggle physics. He turns the concern and I can see the wrinkles forming in real time, all because of me. Then, I can see flowers and a card. “Baby!” I exclaim in surprise, “Is that for me?”

He smiles, and he’s no longer aged by seven years. “I couldn’t come home to my girl empty-handed now, could I? How are you feeling?” He sets the flowers down on the bed, along with the card, and gathers me into a gentle hug, kissing me on the cheek.

“Babe,” I argue, “Don’t, you’ll get sick.”

“And get to take time off to spend with the most beautiful person in the world? Sounds great to me.” He grins when I roll my eyes, then asks, “Did you stay in bed all day?”

I nod. “Yea, I felt pretty shitty. No throwing up aside from the one time, though. Oh! And guess what? According to Sasha’s mom, somebody’s pregnant. The fish in her dreams told her so.”

He meets my eyes with a knowing look, his smile ever-present. “I am taking this so seriously right now, I swear. And who did we hear this fish dream news from?”

“Connie, who dared to wake me from my slumber.” I sigh, sitting up in the bed so I can be on eye-level with Jean.

Jean says, “I see, I see. Sounds like indisputable fact, if you ask me.”

“No, babe. We’re asking the dream fish.”

He laughs, and I laugh with him. “Okay, enough bullying people for being superstitious. You need some water, and soft foods. You probably haven’t eaten all day, have you?” I shake my head no. Jean says, “Well, I’m not Chef Niccolo, but I can make something pretty saucy. I’ll see what I can manage.”

“Do we have…” I start, but trail off, realizing it was a stupid question. Of course we wouldn’t have Kraft mac and cheese. “Nevermind.” I say with a smile at Jean as he looks at me inquisitively.

Fifteen minutes later, he brings me a bowl of noodles with shredded chicken in it. “Is this alright?” He asks me, and I can see he genuinely is worried I won’t like it.

I smile gratefully at him. “Of course, thank you baby. You don’t have to worry about me, the nausea seems to be the worst of it.” I feel a twinge in my stomach looking at the food, but I know it’s just me being finicky because I’m sick. I have to eat something if I want to get better.

He pats my back. “All right, I’m gonna hop in the shower. The door’s unlocked if you need anything, as per usual.” He kisses my forehead, then leaves me to handle business.

When he’s out of sight, I stare at my food like it’s insulting me. My stomach feels like it’s doing flips, and I would rather go back to sleep, but I know if I don’t eat anything, Jean will freak. His mom used to get sick all the time — bad immune system — so now, after everything I’ve been through, he watches over me like a mother hen.

And what is it that I’ve been through? Well… a miscarriage. And an eating disorder. It was for the better that the miscarriage happened, because neither of us were ready for a kid, but it was grueling. I only found out I was pregnant because of the miscarriage, and it left me even more physically and emotionally drained than I already had been for the month before. It explained the nausea, and the inability to eat most foods, but after the miscarriage, I continued being unable to eat. I lost a lot of weight, and when I finally went to the doctor’s office, they recommended I start eating protein bars to regain what I’d lost. I did, and I haven’t lost the weight again since then, but Jean fusses over me, because he knows my eating disorder is a daily battle, not one that just goes away. I tell him not to worry, that as long as I’m keeping my current weight then we have nothing to worry about, but it’s like talking to a brick wall. Or, for accuracy’s sake, it’s like talking to a magical brick wall that finds the most anxiety-inducing message in all of your words and echoes that back to you.

The miscarriage and the events after it happened years ago, but I remember it like yesterday, and so does Jean. Every now and then, we whisper to each other at night, talking about what might have happened if I hadn’t miscarried.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this right now. Maybe it’s because the nausea I’m feeling now reminds me of back then. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, then mentally prepare myself to take a bite of food. I stab the fork into my noodles and twist, twist, twist, until I have a reasonable lump of noodles around my fork, ready to be eaten. I lift it up into my mouth, and when I smell the noodles… it’s over.

I throw my fork down, quickly setting my bowl down on the nightstand and run to the bathroom faster than the speed of light. I nearly slam the door open, and start puking as soon as the toilet seat and lid are propped up. I hear Jean pull back the shower curtain as I heave, splatters of liquid and mush landing in the toilet. The room is already steamed up – he loves hot showers. We both do, to be fair. “Babe? Are you okay?” He asks me, and it takes literally everything in me to not snap at him and say that I’m obviously not okay.

I give him a thumbs up. “I don’t know why, but just smelling the food made me nauseous. What was the expiration date on the canned chicken?”

As water trickles down his bare chest, sculpted abs dividing my attention, Jean says, “I just bought that on Saturday. No way it’s expired. If you can’t eat, why don’t you try taking a shower? You’ve been in sick clothes all day.” I put the lid down and flush the toilet, slowly nodding as I stand up. I strip down, joining him in the spray as he holds his hand out for me to take. Always the gentleman. I’m sandwiched between him and the warm water, and I sigh, feeling some relief for once. He slides his hands around my waist, kissing my cheek and leaning his head against mine, sighing with me. “I’m sorry you’re so sick, baby.”

I turn around to face him, the water hitting my backside as I wrap my arms around his neck, looking up at him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” I get up on my tip-toes to kiss him, and where nausea once was in my stomach, a fire suddenly rages – a fire of want, of desperate need. I close my eyes, deepening the kiss and pressing my body against his. “Baby.” I pant out, reaching down for his member as I feel the slick growing between my thighs.

He grunts, stopping the kiss and holding my arms, stepping away. “Not right now, y/n. You’re sick. It would just make you worse. Let’s wait until you’re feeling better, yea?” I hadn’t actually touched him yet, but I can already see that he’s clearly aroused.

I frown to myself. I’m disappointed, but he’s right. “Yea, right. Sorry.” I don’t know what came over me in that moment, but right now, I feel riled up for no apparent reason. What is happening to me?

We finish our shower, and he grabs out the silkiest pair of pajamas for me, helping me dry off and put them on before helping me into bed, and I note he removed the offending food from the area. I don’t know how I managed to meet someone as kind as him. “Hey,” He asks me, “Weren’t you supposed to start your period a few days ago?”

I think to myself, then nod in confirmation. “I think I was. No big deal, though. I’d probably be miserable if I had to deal with that and this at the same time.” He looks deep in thought. “What is it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “I’m just worried about you, is all. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll run to the store to get some hot cocoa for you to try?” Hot cocoa sounds delicious right now, I’ll give him that. It’s not usually something I crave, but maybe some sugar is just the thing I need after all of this bullshit.

I smile, then lay back in bed. “Okay, baby. See you then.”

When I wake up, it’s to Jean sitting at my feet, holding some kind of stick in his hand, eyes wide in shock, jaw completely slack. I look to my right and spot two mugs of cocoa sitting on my nightstand, one half-drunk. “Baby? What is it?” I ask him, unable to push myself up.

“I… I… I didn’t think… I only had an inkling of a hunch as to what it might be, but…” He stammers, more to himself than to me.

I sigh forcefully. “Jean. Baby. What is it?”

“Baby.” He says.

“Yes, I’m listening, Jean,” I reply, a bit annoyed that he isn’t listening. It’s not like him. “What is it?” I ask again, with more emphasis.

“A baby.” He says, and when he lifts up his hand to show me, I realize he’s holding not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests. And they all are positive. “You forgot to flush the toilet when you peed after getting out of the shower.”

Now, my face matches his. “What???” I say, suddenly jolting up into a sitting position, but not without a wave of nausea rolling over me. “I… what are we gonna do?” I say, panic setting in.

Jean answers, “We’re gonna do what you want to do, of course.” He leans over, setting the tests down on my nightstand and grabbing my hand, squeezing it. “If you don’t feel ready…”

“I–” I cut myself off when I feel my lip wobble. Tears suddenly well up in my eyes, and I fight the urge to let them loose. “Jean, I can’t.” I see the disappointment in his eyes, and I start to cry. “I can’t lose another one, Jean, I can’t. Please.”

He pauses, taken aback, but quickly hugs me to comfort me. “Oh, y/n, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m an idiot, I thought you were saying ‘I can’t’ as in, you couldn’t keep it, I’m an idiot, ignore my initial reaction.”

I sniffle and wipe my eyes. ���Wait…” I ask, “You mean you would rather me keep it?”

Jean laughs, and I almost puke from the vibrations alone, but I don’t care right now. “Yes, yes, I absolutely would rather you keep it, but I’ll support you either way.”

I start crying even more. “Oh, thank God, thank God, I thought…”

Jean pulls back slightly, but only to place kiss upon kiss all over my face. He pauses, looking me in the eye. “Put that thought away. It doesn’t have any place here.” He then places his arm behind my back, laying me back down on the bed. He starts unbuttoning my pajama top, just a few buttons from the waist up. He kisses my stomach, right below my belly button. “Hey, baby.” He whispers against my abdomen, and I lightly push him away with my arms.

“Baby. As cute as that is, please don’t. The vibrations make me nauseous.” I smile tiredly, but beckon him to lay next to me. He happily joins me, throwing an arm over my stomach and sliding under the covers.

Quietly, he says, “How does the cocoa smell?”

“Good.” I whisper.

He chuckles. “My mom said she liked that when she was pregnant with me.”

Sassily, I say, “Oh, so the baby has your taste, does he?”

And he says, “Possibly. Is it selfish of me to want them to be a girl? I’d love to have two of you around here. Plus, then Connie won’t try to make me name them after him in honor of him being the first one to share the news of your pregnancy.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, the fish gods.”

“I thought they were dream fish?”

“Same shit.” I scoff. “Can we just… never tell him?”

Jean hums. “Mmm… unfortunately, that might be a little suspect. We have to tell my mom first, anyways. Gramas always have seniority. Want me to wait a bit?”

I respond, “Maybe for a week, that way you can say I got you sick and you can’t go into work.”

Jean groans. “Babe, how are you so hot, so smart, and so pregnant with my kid, all at once? I feel so lucky right now.” He kisses my collar bone, laying back beside me like I’ve knocked him out with my grand idea.

I laugh, hand resting on my stomach. “You’re an idiot, Jean.”

“Just a fool in love,” He says, “Thinking about cashmere blankets and cedarwood cradles.”

[pixelchills]

What’s up, Current content & Original story starting point

Hey guys! I’m getting back on track with the move now over, and I have my full focus on art and writing again! 

I know many of you are getting a bit impatient with the lack of updates on my fics - which is fair, they’ve been without new chapters for a few months now! However, I have been very busy with a lot of other stuff (travels, moving, crafting the dolldrops), and my focus seems to always be on one thing at a time, which hasn’t been the stories of ANSSW or MDD for the moment. 

This doesn’t mean I’m abandoning them. The updates will just be a little slower since I write those stories when I feel like it. The reason why the Prequel was written so quickly, was because it was my main focus at the time. I have ADHD, I tend to hyperfocus on one thing for a while, then move to the next. Right now, my focus has been on the Helper Bot AU, commission work, and my original story of Dreamflower. 

I might be able to go back to hyperfocusing on ANSSW and MDD, but as for now, they’re getting updates whenever I feel like it. The fics are content I give you guys for free, as art and writing is mostly just my hobby (excluding Patreon and commissions). And since I’m not working this summer, I’m doing commissions. So technically they’re my summer job, lol. So work comes first, and fanfics a bit later.

I am a disabled person with long-term fatigue. There are many days when I can’t make content at all because of how tired I am. And since I have so many projects and AUs and interests (most of them circling around Sun and Moon though), sometimes I’m more focused on other projects than I am on the others. So sorry about that!

This is not what I wanted to talk about, though. Just to give a little heads-up on what’s going on behind the screen! 

My genuine wonders lie within the original story of Dreamflower right now, and I would love to hear your opinion on this. 

I know most of you follow me for my Sun & Moon stories and AUs, but I can genuinely tell you if you like my storytelling, LGBTQ+ themes, with angst and fluff; I think you’ll enjoy the story of Luan and Solros a lot, since they are based on my Animutant Moon and Sun after all! 

While building the story and its characters, and besides a few Tumblr ask answers and drawings, I am really eager to tell their story and work on the universe with you. But right now it all seems to be still stuck in my head and drawers.

I really wish to make Dreamflower into a Webtoon one day. But to get there, I need to get faster at drawing, and figure out the story fully before I can start drawing it. Besides being a visually driven person, I’m also really wordy (ADHD trait, I talk even more than I write). So writing a comic script from scrap, where I need to keep the story moving at a good pace, seems like a lot of work to my wordy brain. 

So, I wondered: what if I write first and then script the comic from there? 

This way I would be able to get the story out and delivered - with as many words as my heart desires - while also being able to publish content about my original story. 

Of course, this would push back the actual starting point of the comic itself, but I have realised this story and its universe are a passion project of mine; I don’t really care how long it takes, since I’m mostly doing it in my free time anyway. 

So I have a few options I’d like you to help me pick out from:

Write the story of Dreamflower in the order it should be told, and publish it to AO3. Currently, there wouldn’t be an ending point, since the story itself continues far after where the Webtoon would end. 

Same thing, but publish future scenarios/oneshots to Tumblr or AO3 separately too (usually these scenes take place after Solros and Luan have started dating, and they would appear in the main story if you’d like me to keep them secret until in that part of the story.) 

Most likely, similar to ANSSW & MDD, I would include art in each chapter for visuals. I’ve found this type of content creation very appealing to myself, as it allows me to both tell a story and draw a scene from the story without it becoming overwhelming like a comic. 

So, any thoughts on this? Which way would be a good way to go?

Thanks for reading! I hope you’re having a good summer! (Or winter if you live on the other side of the globe! c:)

I'll be taking a little break again next month when travelling again, but I'll mention that again a bit closer to the date! Just wanted to give a little notice of what’s going on at the moment!

-Chill

[hogmilked]

long post and i’m sorry, i’m on mobile and tbh i don’t know how to do the keep reading thing.

ok i wanna just rant real quick about how i am once again tired of the eurocentricity of what i will tentatively call gen z queer music (and culture as a whole but i wanna focus on music here). i wasn’t gonna rant any further until i decided to do a uquiz and i don’t wanna put op of the quiz on blast but like

(img description in alt) i was gonna answer and move on and then stopped myself. spot the issue here.

while of course there are plenty of non-white artists in the listed genres, they’re overwhelmingly dominated by white artists. you might note that a large amount of mainstream genres that i guess are “obscure” are ones populated in large part by non-white artists. rap, soul, r&b, even metal and electronic (genres that have been gentrified) are just as popular and mainstream, if not more so, than more than one genre here, but they’re “obscure.” i’m stating this from a black perspective so of course my main focus is on the very active exclusion of primarily black genres, but i also wanna add that i often see these kinds of quizzes either leave k-pop off like this one or even actively shit talk it, and that’s mad fuckin popular.

the other thing here is that yeah i know exactly the genre they call “gay” is, and it pisses me off. what i assume they mean by “gay” music is what i like to call “quirky white people” music because that’s what it is. they’re talking specifically about the tik tok theater kid energy music. artists like lemon demon, wil wood, the orion experience, mother mother, tally hall, etc, which i’m not saying are inherently bad artists (been a cicerega fan since i was a kid and i like what i’ve heard of several of these acts), have become the official sound of gen z queer culture, and while i’m glad the kids have found music they identify with and i know online queer culture has been whitewashed to hell for years, i can’t help but be a little alienated by the sheer whiteness of “gay music.” i know i’m not alone and i know it hurts the artists too, just look at what’s happened with mitski - this attitude towards what is considered “gay music” actively pushes non-white members of the lgbt+ community and non-white musicians out. it also pushes entire sectors of cultures and genres out. when people like the op of this uquiz say “gay” music, you know they’re not talking about kehlani or frank ocean or kali uchis or syd or kaytranada or arlo parks or rina sawayama or big joanie or moses sumney or bloc party or even lil nas x. narrowing all queer music down to lemon demon and mother mother is disingenuous at best and fully racist...period, actually. and it’s not just the op of that uquiz. i’ve noticed this as a general pattern in younger queer spaces. it saddens me deeply.

if you mean white gay culture when you say gay culture, just say so

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Lonely | part 3

Summary: One is the loneliest number.

Pairing: former Natasha Romanoff x female!reader, Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1206

a/n: I’m glad you guys are enjoying this!

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @strangegardentaco @cmssfc

Y/N stays alone in her room for two days, not finding any strength in herself to leave. She was able to get a week off from her duties, thanks to Steve. She didn’t tell the real reason why she wanted a break, which is why no one at the tower knows about her and Natasha’s break up, but she hasn’t taken a real break in a long time, so Steve was more than happy to give it to her. Because their separation is unknown to everyone, the others aren’t questioning anything, mostly because nothing has changed. Y/N alone in her own room and Natasha somewhere else.

The only one who did notice a change, no matter how small, is Wanda. Natasha is just a little bit more gloomier and doesn’t ask others to hang out as much, Y/N on the other hand hasn’t come to the kitchen in a long time, where she usually likes to chat with Wanda while she cooks for the team. This makes her worry, which is why she is knocking at Y/N’s door right now.

“Go away.” Wanda can hear Y/N’s muffled voice through the door. “I’d like to be alone.”

Wanda sighs, knocking again. “It’s me, Y/N. Let me in, please.” When Y/N stays quiet, Wanda tests the door and finds it unlocked, so she opens it. “Hey.” She stares at the mound under the covers that is Y/N. “How are you?” Wanda sits down to the bed, setting her hand where she thinks Y/N’s leg is.

“Fine.” Y/N mumbles.

“You aren’t fine.” Wanda states. “Did something happen with Natasha after your conversation?” Grumbling, Y/N presses her face against her pillow. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She rubs circles on her leg with her thumb. “Is- Does Natasha treat you well? I just noticed that she didn’t talk to you very nicely.”

“We broke up.” Y/N whispers, peeking enough from the covers to see Wanda’s face.

Wanda’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry.” She lays down to the bed on her side, facing Y/N. She moves the covers completely off of her face so she could see her properly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I got tired of her treating me badly.” Y/N gives a vague answer, not wanting to talk badly about her ex-girlfriend.

“What do you mean?”

“She, uhm.. She had a habit of excluding me of things. Spending time with me only when you or someone else couldn’t.” She sighs, taking her eyes away from Wanda’s.

Wanda furrows her brows. “Is that why you never joined us?” Y/N nods, pursing her lips. “Shit. Natasha always said you didn’t want to join us if we asked.”

Y/N scoffs. “Of course she did.” She mumbles with a frown on her face. “I just thought none of you actually liked me.” Her voice is quiet, mostly wanting to be unheard by Wanda, but no luck.

“No, no, no, детка.” Wanda coos, her hand moves up to her cheek, wiping the lone tear that escaped her eye. “That’s not what’s going on at all. We like you. I like you.” She emphasizes the latter sentence. “I have always liked you.” Y/N doesn’t realize the ulterior meaning behind the sentence. “I’m really sorry I never noticed.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t your fault.” Y/N gives Wanda a small smile, leaning to her touch. Her hand is soft and comforting, something Natasha’s touch never was. “Thank you for being here.”

Wanda smiles, pulling her head to her chest. “Of course I’m here for you. Rest now, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Three months go by. Y/N spends most of her time with Wanda now that she stopped spending time with Natasha, not that Natasha tried to spend time with either of them. During their time together, Y/N has grown feelings towards Wanda, the same feelings Wanda has felt towards her for months. Y/N just doesn’t know what to do about these feelings. She isn’t sure if she should tell Wanda, or let it go. She doesn’t want to ruin her friendship.

Light steps coming towards the common room stop her running thoughts. She glances towards the opening and sees Natasha. Quickly turning back to the television, Y/N tries to ignore the burning gaze she feels.

“Y/N?” Natasha sits down next to Y/N, far enough to not to touch her. “Would you like to hang out today?” She rubs her neck. Her voice sounds quieter than usual.

“I don’t..” Y/N rubs her leg, looking away from Natasha. “I don’t know, Tas- Natasha.”

Natasha can practically feel her heart breaking at the slip up. She knows she messed up, but she would like to make it better. “That’s okay. I just thought we could watch movies together. Maybe finish the ones we started?”

Before Y/N can answer, Wanda walks into the room. “Hi, детка.” She glances at Natasha. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Natasha answers, slightly insulted Wanda interrupted them. “I was just asking Y/N if she wanted to watch some movies.”

“Oh.” Wanda looks at Y/N, who is staring at her hands, not saying anything. “Well, we actually agreed to go to the park today. So, maybe later?” She gives Natasha, nowhere near nice, smile and takes hold of Y/N’s hand, pulling her up.

“Thank you.” Y/N mumbles, squeezing her hand even tighter.

“No worries. Want to actually go to the park?” Y/N nods, so they put their jackets and shoes on before heading outside.

The weather is chilly, but nice for a walk. They keep holding hands, mostly walking in silence, but at times making small talk. After a while of walking, they decide to sit down to a bench in front of a small lake.

“Can I tell you something, дорогой?” Wanda stares at the lake, playing with her fingers.

“Of course. Is something wrong?” Y/N puts one of her hands on top of Wanda’s, trying to lessen her nerves. “You can tell me anything. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Wanda smiles, taking Y/N hand to her own. “I...I like you, more than a friend. I have liked you for a long time.” She looks at Y/N who stares at her. The quietness makes her anxiety rise.

“I like you too.” Y/N smiles.

Wanda lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I thought this was going to get awkward.” Y/N giggles, making Wanda smile at the sound. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” Y/N whispers.

Wanda sets one of her hands to her hip and grabs her chin with the other. She pulls her closes till their lips touch in a sweet and soft kiss. Y/N melts to the feeling of Wanda being so close to her. “I’ll make sure you’re never alone again, okay?” She mumbles, her lips still almost touching hers.

Y/N leans her forehead against Wanda’s, keeping her eyes closed. She nods slightly, smiling widely. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You deserve the best.” They kiss again, holding each other close in the chilly wind.

[bomberqueen17]

alive

i am alive, i promise, sorry it’s been all queue of late

i made 28 quarts of chicken stock today-- well, packaged it-- actually i made it too, we’d cut the chickens up yesterday and stuck the stock pot in the walk-in cooler overnight but today i put the water in and plonked it on the stove, an enormous stock pot, and simmered it all day while we cut up the rest of the chickens. (yesterday’s chickens we cut up were for sausage, today’s were for sale as parts.) tomorrow we’re ostensibly making the sausage, we’ll see how that goes.

since CSA is over, Farmsister was available to help us today-- but just like last time she helped us, mostly what we needed her to do was to take everything out of the upright freezer in the commercial kitchen and find other places for it to go, which was a heroic undertaking and took her like two hours. it was a lot. she had to restock the farm store just to make room. so it was good, things are beautifully restocked, everything is organized and beautiful, but like, good lord, at what cost.

anyway i just stuck 28 quarts of chicken stock in there so tomorrow we’re gonna have to ask her to do it again, but i believe in her.

i have done like. zero writing this week. lots of 10+ hour days of work, so. oh the insulation in my cabin has been great though. i know it’s november now so i should expect it to be chilly but it’s been like-- warmish during the days mostly, and then in the evening it’s fine and i have actually woken up too hot and sweating twice in the last few days because i was still wearing pajamas and dressing my bed like i expected it to be in the mid-40s in the room where i’m sleeping and... well it’s not.

there’s a mouse making so much fucking noise though, and i haven’t been sleeping well because the fucker like, pitter-patters around the room while i’m trying to sleep. he’s louder because he has to rustle in through the insulation. the roof edging isn’t on properly yet so i cant’ exclude him. so a side project is that i’ve had cayenne steeping in water most of the week, and today i set it up with coffee filters and rubber bands over the mouths of jars, and filtered it into a spray bottle, and i’ve just sprayed cayenne water all along the bottom of the insulation where he’s been coming in. (I know because i can hear him and also see him.) so we’ll see how much noise he makes tonight. i don’t know that cayenne will actually deter him.

anyway i’m gonna have my queue post this tomorrow morning so idk, i’ll hopefully know by then. but i’m so tired, using the queue gives me a minute to proofread and then if i wake up in the middle of the night like “i used that word wrong” i have time to look again when i wake up.

i have so many writing projects underway and no time to work on them. i spent a bunch of time today while i was packaging cold dead raw meat thinking about various projects. it was a nice escape.

here is a surprise snippet from a background bit i’m working on, going slightly back in time to before Ciri re-established the Upper Aedirn Free State, featuring a new OC i’m going to make room for-- a very elderly elf named Faerveren who has aged out of the concept of gender, to give us some unexpected backstory.

Faerveren leaned in the doorway, giving the dh’oine who had so rudely knocked a once-over. He was tall, handsome, self-assured, though he looked a little tired and travel-worn, and the haughty arrogance of his expression was covering a bit of uncertainty. 

“I’m looking for Caerulia Fitzhugh,” he said. 

“I bet you are,” Faerveren said. “Since she lives here.” Faerveren xerself hadn’t lived here terribly long. The Fitzhughs had kindly offered xer a place to stay after xe had come to them injured and ill after the battle for the city. Many elves had needed treatment, but only Faerveren had merited the permanent invitation. Perhaps because the Fitzhughs could appreciate xer age. It was restful, being among others with a similar perspective on the passage of time. 

Faerveren watched the dh’oine’s expression go through disbelief into indignance, and relented slightly. “Are you here on behalf of someone who is sick?”

“No,” he said, frowning, “I need her help.” His frown deepened. “I believe it is not a matter that your kind could understand, elder brother.” He used an Aen Seidhe term, showing that he wasn’t entirely ignorant. 

“Ah,” Faerveren said, “I’m no one’s brother. But I see, you are not the dh’oine you look.” Neither were the Fitzhughs. This was vampire business, then. Another of the reasons Faerveren had been invited to stay was likely the complete lack of reaction xe’d had to the revelation that both Fitzhughs were bruxae. But Faerveren’s people had lived in peace with higher vampires, never their prey and never their antagonists, so it hadn’t been alarming to figure it out. It wasn’t as though they were particularly secretive about it. They tended not to shift or fly where anyone could see them, but Caerulia had a habit of gliding around without touching the ground because of an old foot injury, and nobody seemed to notice. The dwarves of Vergen were singularly unconcerned about vampires as well. 

“No,” the man said. “Can you tell her, Dettlaff is here? She knows me, though it has been years since we spoke.”

Faerveren sighed. “Perhaps you should come in and sit down,” xe said.

[the-apprentice-lia]

Hey! I saw that you do headcanons as well? Sorry if I’m asking in the right place but I loved your post on Asra’s hurt!! Could you possibly do the “mc getting slapped by the m6” ask please? My angsty little heart needs foodddd

hiii!! i’m so glad you liked my post:)) don’t worry, i’ll do my best to not cry when i’m writing this although it probably won’t work

i just wanna say that under no circumstances is it okay to hurt your partner!! please don’t take this post the wrong way:)

the main 6 slapping mc

asra

• it probably started because of how much he keeps from you. you know it’s just because he doesn’t want to see you hurt or unhappy because of how much of your life you’ve lost to your premature death, but it’s still so infuriating. you’re not a child, and you tell him as much.

• as much as you love each other, arguments can get messy. you know so much about each other that it’s difficult not to go for the soft parts in an argument, and you just snap.

• they’re probably running his hands through his hair, tears of frustration and pent up feelings slipping down his cheeks and catching the light of the many candles around the shop, making them glister strangely beneath the low light.

• “asra, you’re being ridiculous. how in the arcana am i supposed to know about who i was if you won’t fucking tell me?” you shout at them, crystals and glass bottles clinking together on the shelves.

• asra breaks, finally raising his voice as well, telling you that you’re acting like a child. you feel a twisted feeling of satisfaction at his loss of control. at least they’re actually treating you like a person— but you’re still so frustrated.’why can’t he just see that you’re not a china doll, easily broken and delicately made?

•you’re screaming now, tears blurring your vision. all you see is red. “if i’m acting like such a child then why did you even bother bringing me back? you should have just fucking left me to rot beneath the lazaret if you won’t so much as—” you’re cut off with a sharp crack.

• asra’s stronger than they look, and he wasn’t thinking as he lashed out in anger and pain, so you probably stumble back into the shelves behind you, or onto the counter of the shop.

• you touch your hand to your hot cheek with a dull feeling of surprise. it’s as if everything is through a haze, your gaze flickering up to meet asra’s horrified one as you take a step back, a dry sob heaving through your chest as your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

• “mc, i’m so sorry, i can’t— i don’t— please. i’m so sorry,” he stumbles over his words as he crouches before you, giving you enough space that you could easily leave. you don’t, and he breathes out slowly as they reach towards you and gently, heartbreakingly softly, cups your face to turn it towards him. he inhales sharply as he takes in your bruised cheekbone, red already beginning to spread outwards in the shape of his hand, and he flinches to see that he’s hurt you, his beloved apprentice.

• he opens his arms slowly, hesitantly, and you sink into them, burying your face in his scarves and then drawing back slightly with a faint hiss as your cheek touches the fabric, and he lets out a sob as well, burying his face in your sweet-smelling hair. murmurs “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” into you over and over again, rocking you back and forth on the floor of the shop.

• he’ll hurt for weeks after, even after the bruise fades, he’ll simply refuse to touch you for days after the incident. whispers “but what if i hurt you,” his voice breaking at the mere thought of it, and you cradle him to you, stroking his cheek as he shakes.

nadia

• the argument was probably about her refusing to ask for help. she’s been alone for so long that the refusal simply comes naturally. she has to prove that she can be successful alone, that she can make something of herself without anyone.

• at first, you tell her gently that she can trust you, that you’re always here for her, and that she doesn’t have to do this alone— but she doesn’t want to hear it, telling you insistently that she doesn’t need any help.

• “your dark circles would say otherwise, nadi! you can’t keep going on like this!” you tell her, your voice strained as you lay a hand on her arm. you just want to help her, but she won’t listen to you. “i can do it myself,” she tells you coldly, pulling away from you and turning back to her work. “i don’t need your help. i never have.”

• you feel the hurt blossom in your chest, but you try to push it down as you close her books, smudging the ink on a document by mistake. “nadi, please.” you tell her, but she doesn’t even seem to hear you as she opens her books and sets her jaw, looking at the ruined document. you bite your lip in dismay and go to apologise, but she cuts in before you get the chance. “you ruin everything. you’re such a nuisance, can you not find anything better to do with your time than to bother me? i am the countess of vesuvia, and i don’t need your help.” she’s shouting by the end of her outburst, and you recoil, hurt now showing across your face— but it’s quickly replaced by anger.

• you laugh disbelievingly, your voice spiteful and pained as you speak. “you don’t need my help? well that’s certainly a different tune than the one you were singing when you came to me in the middle of the night, asking for my help. and even then i gave it unbegrudgingly. you’re so stubborn, nadia! you’re so ridiculously naïve that you can’t even see that not everybody’s against you. so your sisters acted like every older sibling the world over, and excluded you from a few games. you carry grudges as if the world’s out to get you and nobody seeks to help you. you’re such a child! why—” your screaming cuts off at the sharp crack.

• you cry out at the sudden flare of pain. nadia’s also a lot stronger than she looks— i mean, she’s a master sword-fighter. and so, you stumble backwards into the marble table opposite her desk, turning away from her to catch your breath, your figure shaking with quiet sobs. everything seems to fall away, and you hold your arms around yourself in a poor attempt to keep your paroxysms of sobs quiet.

• nadia is completely silent. the jarring force snapped her out of whatever tired grumpiness she had been wallowing in, and now she’s just looking at her hands, a look of absolute horror twisting her features as she takes in the hand, resting palm-down on her knees, that she used to— to— she can’t even think about it. she has betrayed your trust, used your relationship, built on a foundation of love and mutual respect, to hurt you. it’s as if she’s seeing the world through a haze of disbelief. she’s taken advantage of your love for her, she’s physically violated you, and the thought of that leaves her physically ill. hot tears drop steadily into her lap, as she turns her hands over, and her eyes widen even more, if possible, with horror. blood glisters thickly on her index finger, coating the closest section to her palm where a golden ring sits. the countess of vesuvia never takes her rings off during the day, and she’s snapped out of her daze by the quiet hiss that comes from where you stand.

•when the first tears stream down your face, you hiss at the sharp pain, touching your fingers gently to your face and wincing as they come into contact with… is that a wound? you stare at them as they come away a deep, garnetine red. your hair is sticking to the blood running down your face from the wound. you sob dryly as the pain sets in, and by the gods it stings. it seems that even the air twists into your opened skin, burning sharply. you’re so lost in the mist of disbelief you barely notice when nadia comes up behind you.

• “my love?” her voice comes, softly, and you stiffen as she lays a hand on your upper arm. she withdraws it quickly as her voice breaks. “please, mc. say anything. look at me, i beg of you.” you don’t say anything for a minute before you inhale softly and turn to her.

• something in nadia breaks. she lifts shaking fingers up to her mouth as your eyes meet hers, and she takes in what she’s done to you. she’s sliced your upper-cheek open from just short of the bridge of your nose to almost the edge of your face. and the cut is deep. bruising spreads around it, in the shape of her hand, and she lets out a sob before dropping to her knees, taking your hand in hers. “by the arcana, mc, i am so, so sorry— i don’t know— i can’t— please, my love, i am so sorry,” she presses her forehead to your hand before you start to cry, sinking to your knees as well and burying your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking. you hiss softly as you draw your hand away and it comes away a glistening, wine-dark red.

• you flinch away from her as she comes to envelop you in a hug. “don’t. please,” you say softly, pulling yourself away from her. you leave bloodstains on the floor. her eyes hold inexplicable sorrow and remorse in them, as she nods haltingly, her heart breaking as she realises— you’re… afraid of her. later, she’ll bury her head into her pillow and sob her heart out but for now, she needs you to know to not be afraid of her. she loves you, you know that— and you need to know she’ll never violate the trust you put in her again.

• “mc… please. i’m so, so inexplicably sorry for what i’ve done to you. i promise it will never happen again.” her voice is soft, and she speaks to you as if you’re a wounded deer she’s found in the palace gardens, her voice breaking as she lets you see that she’s approaching you, her arms in front of her as she holds them out softly when she’s quite close to you.

• you look at her, meet her eyes with yours, and slowly settle into her embrace as she lets out a quiet sob of relief, burying her head in your hair. you pull away with a quiet gasp of pain when her hair meets your wound, and she cups your face (your good side) softly, stroking your cheek with her thumb as you close your eyes and she moves closer to you, giving you the time to pull away before her lips meet your forehead and she kisses you there gently before pressing one just above your cut and pulling you back to her, minding your cheek. you cry softly into her chest, and she does so into your hair. the two of you stay there until the blood starts to dry on your cheek and she stands, helping you up.

• “i’m taking you to the infirmary, dearest one.” “but… nadia.” you gesture to the state you’re in with a raised eyebrow. blood stains your collar and had dripped down your cheek in steady rivulets— and now your entire cheek is coated in blood. the cut itself is deep and thorough, splitting the skin so that the flesh beneath is easily visible, and the black, blue, and red flesh around your cut in the shape of nadia’s hand is enough that there is no room to doubt how your injury happened. “i’m your partner. there’s nobody else that would have done this— your entire court will know.” you look at her gently. “i can hide this.”

• and yet again, nadia’s heart is absolutely crushed. broken. shattered. “my heart, you should not have to hide what i have done. we’re going to the infirmary.”

• the entire way there, nadia weathers the stares and whispers with, for once, a bent head. you tighten your fingers around her hand— you know how important the favour of the court is. when you finally arrive, and you have to explain, haltingly, how you were injured, nadia gets a few looks of unbridled disgust as your injuries are treated. you squeeze her hand every now and again, and she looks at you gratefully. her eyes darken as you bite your lip roughly when the antiseptic meets it, your eyes watering as she strokes your hand, never taking her eyes away from you.

• afterwards, will absolutely doubt herself as a leader and a partner. no matter if you forgive her, no matter that the bruise fades and the wound heals, she’ll still always linger on your scar when she’s kissing your face, she’ll still murmur “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, darling,” into your hair for months after.

• if anyone is so much as even vaguely disdainful towards you with respects to your scar, you’ll literally have to talk her down from having them thrown out/arrested. you forgive her, and she loves you with all of her— but when dark feelings surface now there’s absolutely nothing you can do that will even get a shadow of a rise out of her. is just calm and collected. never so much as raises her voice at you.

• will 100% look at you as you sleep and hate herself for harming you in any way.

hope you enjoyed the angst fest!! these were so long— but i’ll do the next four periodically:)

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal��doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

[ziltoidcoffee]

Thinking about Daniel and Terry in a long term relationship, maybe married, and running into Kumiko. Terry getting jealous and insecure. Daniel's never seen Terry seriously worried that Daniel might leave him for someone else. How would that play out?

(Sorry for the delay, anon! I liked this prompt and wanted to give it my full attention. Hope you enjoy!! It's like 90% fluff...)

Terry is strangely quiet for most of the ride back to their hotel.

Daniel doesn’t notice this at first. He spends most of the taxi ride lecturing him about Okinawa and his first trip to the island. They just returned from meeting up with Komiko who showed them around Tomi Village, which has become so vastly different in a little over a decade.

He was a bit worried about Terry meeting Komiko seeing as Daniel often called her his first “real love,” but his husband has already met Ali and Jessica, the latter whom he only crushed on. Terry didn’t act any different around them, informing Daniel afterward that he never saw them as competition. He was certain Daniel would never leave him for them. His confidence was both charming and annoying.

But when his husband met her, he wasn’t his usual braggadocious and talkative self. Terry let Daniel and Komiko chat most of the visit while remaining tense at his side. He claimed to be tired when Daniel asked him what was wrong, but even as they checked into the hotel, Terry was short with the desk agent. Usually, he was overly friendly with the staff, almost more than Daniel most of the time.

On the elevator ride back to their room, Daniel tried to fill the space, telling Terry he wanted to drop by his favorite temple tomorro. His husband simply nodded. “That’s fine,” he declared, and Daniel frowned, concerned once again over his silence.

Only when they are alone in the suite with the door shut does Daniel finally address Terry’s behavior. “What’s going on, Terry?” he asks, hands on his hips. “Why have you been giving me the cold shoulder all day?”

Terry glances up from where he’s sitting on the bed, toeing off his designer shoes. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says despite his frown. “I told you—I’m tired. We walked around all day and just got off the plan yesterday.”

Daniel takes off his jacket and moves to stand in front of him. “Bullshit,” he snaps. “You’re never like this—all quiet and weird. Something’s clearly wrong. You’ve been acting like this since we got to the village.”

His husband’s jaw sets. “You’re wrong,” Terry argues.

He narrows his eyes at the older man. “I know you, Terry. We’ve been married for ten—”

“Twelve,” Terry corrects, and Daniel rolls his eyes.

“Okay, we’ve been married twelve years. You don’t think I know when you’re hiding something?” Terry snorts, almost smiling. “Excluding that shit you pulled in '85.” Daniel frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Speaking of…you promised you wouldn’t lie to me ever again after that. So why are you lying now?”

Terry’s frown returns. “You’re being dramatic, Danny,” he scoffs.

He can recall Terry’s bright smile an hour before when they were trying on kimonos at a store in town. But then he remembers the hunch in Terry’s shoulders when Daniel and Komiko hugged, the strange tension under his smile as they reminisced about Daniel’s first visit, and most importantly, the tightness in his husband’s grip of their hands under the table.

Daniel’s jaw almost hits the floor. “Dramatic?” he gasps. “No, I’m not! You’ve been acting distant and cold ever since—” We met up with Komiko is what he was going to say but cuts himself off as something clicks into place in his mind, a bright flash of understanding illuminating his confusion.

All the pieces of their interactions fall together to offer such an obvious conclusion that Daniel can’t believe he didn’t realize until now. “Terry,” he says with a smile, moving to sit beside him on the bed. “Are you…jealous of Komiko?”

Terry’s shoulders stiffen instantly, but he laughs and leans back against the pillows behind him. “Why would I be jealous of her?” he asks, pulling on Daniel’s arm to bring him closer. “I’m the one married to you.”

“And? That doesn't mean I’m jealous of her, Danny,” Terry counters, still trying to drag him against his chest.

Daniel allows himself to be tugged near but stays upright to meet his eyes. “You are!” he shouts, pushing at Terry’s chest playfully. “You’re actually jealous.” Terry’s eyes narrow into a glare. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not that shocking. You’re always jealous! Remember that time at the park? You almost snapped that guy’s wrist for touching my shoulder.”

The strength of Terry’s pull on his arm increases until Daniel is unable to hold back any longer, falling onto his husband’s chest. “Hey!” he shouts, trying to wiggle out. But when Terry pushes Daniel’s head against his chest, the sound of his rapid beating heart becomes clear, and Daniel can only go still in shock.

“You so are,” Daniel chuckles, resisting the heave to lie down. “This is just the first time your jealousy is actually warranted—well, not really. But it at least makes sense. Komiko and I did date, and she was my first love. So I guess if you add that—”

His husband takes a breath above him. Then after a second, he admits, “You’re right. I’m jealous.” Daniel opens his mouth to gloat, but Terry continues. “Like you said, she was your first love, and when I met her, I could see why. She is kind, beautiful, and shares a history with you I do not have. And while I have many weaknesses, she has plenty of strengths. More people would approve of you being with her than me.” Daniel’s heart skips a beat. “I may be jealous of the guy or girl who tries to dance with you in the club, but I’m never actually worried you’ll leave me for them. With her, however, I realized you have every reason to.”

After a second, he sits up to meet Terry's eyes, and his husband lets him, loosening his grip. “You’re right,” Daniel declares as Terry’s eyes widen. “I did love her. Once. She’s a great gal, and she’d make anyone happy.” Daniel grabs his husband’s hand to lace their fingers together, and their matching silver rings shine under the light. “But I’m in love with you. I married you, and I will never leave you...uless I die first."

Terry’s mouth quirks up into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I love you too.”

With a grin, Daniel reaches up to run a hand through his husband’s hair. “So stop being jealous cause we’ll meet my ex-boyfriend Chozen tomorrow too.”

“What?” Terry snaps with a grimace.

Daniel laughs almost to tears and spends the next five minutes convincing Terry he is indeed joking.

[nightferns]

The Third Variant to the SootCraft Fundy and Wilbur family drama that Maybe Accidentally Started it

So yesterday me and @bigbraveboop came to the conclusion that C!fundy had an arc in early early L'manburg that we were kinda unaware of. And it cracks the case of... how the family drama started. And also is why is this exists

C!Tommy was the catalyst of the c!Fundy | c!Wilbur family drama in S1 and i promise i have proof

all /rp

So what does Fundy repeatedly say is his biggest gripe with Wilbur currently and multiple times after his death? Well:

“You were there for me for a very very long time and then when i needed you the most, you skedaddled fuck the out of my life and died. Because of what? L’manberg’s causes, huh? You thought that was- You thought that was justice? You thought that was good for me? You left me, man.’

“The dad that- my dad that exploded himself for the sake of a country, just for that country to be demolished in future hands?-"

“He put me to priority number 2, man. He put me in the second place.”

So its about L’manburg being more important than him to Wilbur.

Now lets dig deep, where did that insecurity start? Why did Fundy arrive at this conclusion? Why did he feel like this in the first place about his position in L’manburg and his Father?

We kinda assume it was always there or was because of Wilbur actually prioritizing L’manburg over his son/being negectfull. But no! Fundy was very confident in his realtionship with Wilbur and his position in L’manburg at the Start and we see tha change so!

I want to argue that this insecurity... didn't come from Wilbur or any of his actions or lack thereof. Not directly.

“Wilbur? I dunno, Wilbur’s a man of chaos, alright- due to the lore of the server, Wilbur may or may not have been the father of our nation, but- that doesn’t mean he’s for everything I do. That doesn’t mean he stands behind me, alright? Not necessarily...not necessarily.”

This is the first instance of Fundy doubting his connection to Wilbur helping things, i'd argue it still was a part of a lighhearted bit that isn’t to be taken too seriously in the context of the larger story but i realized something that made me change my mind, i mean it is still a lighthearted bit but it connects to a certain quote from uncle Innit:

“What would father think?”

And then that got me thinking and:

Part 1 aka Early L'manburg Fundy had different feelings towards Wilbur than Civil War Fundy

So how did Fundy act towars Wilbur early on?

Fundy: "Don't speak to me ma- hey that's fucked up don't talk about that. That's-"

Tommy: "Listen Th- you gotta kn- you gotta know you don't speak to the boss's son like that. Nevermind about- about the boss's wife to the boss's son in front of the boss's right hand man! You really gotta- You really gotta read the room Thunder."

Fundy: "Yea you don't. You don't."

JM: "fine ok let him do what he wants to do, i just don't wanna hear about it [..]"

Tommy: "Listen to me Fundy- Listen to me Fundy- he didn't mean that- he's just a bold man- he had- he had a little-"

Fundy [turning to JM]: "I will tell on you."

Tommy: " NO no no no Fundy- Fundy He had a little flirt with Dream- he had a little flirt with dream, he's- he's a- he's really new, he's learing his boundaries, he's over stepped them, alright, listen, but you don't have to tell Will, you don't have to tell no-one. "

[To JM] "Thunder you need to to calm your fucking- holy shit."

"-Please, please give him a rest."

JM: "no i- im sorry, im sorry, i'm sorry Fundy"

Fundy: 'I don't want this behavior again, alright."

JM: "no i wont- i wont-"

Fundy: 'Don't talk to my Dad OR my salmon Mother like that ever again, i will tell on you, keep it in mind. I have privilege to speak up against-"

JM: "i understand."

I will come back to the i have a privilege line later but first, from this we see Fundy being confident that Wilbur would take his side because he is his son. He is the “i will tell my parents about this” kid, alongside that he doesn’t feel like he has no imput in decisions, he doesnt feel insecure here he is in the position of power. 

So again when did it appear?

Well,

Fundy: “I may or may not have scammed a bunch of people, including all of L’manburg people, um…”

Tommy: “You scammed L’manburg members?!”

Fundy: “But here’s the thing – I’m willing to pay you a part of the profit if you help me out here!”

Tommy: “Fundy…okay, can I tell you what’s happened from my point of view? The son of the President has gone around scamming the other presidential members, and as the Vice President whilst the President’s not on, this is my duty to make sure that this doesn’t pull apart L’manburg. And what you’re saying – what you’ve essentially just said is, ‘hey, can I bribe you?’“

Fundy: “…Can I?”

Tommy: “Jesus Christ…No, okay, we need to settle this now, ‘cause I mean if this happens on my turf, I’m gonna fucking take the blame from this from Wilbur, alright…so listen, Fundy, under no circumstances can you bribe anyone!”

Fundy: “I got two Netherite scraps?”

Tommy: “Okay, okay – explain to me what’s happened, please.”

[Fundy explains the conflict]

Tommy: “What would father think?”

Fundy: “Well, he always – he always sides…by me…obviously.”

Tommy: “Would he though? I mean, you’ve gone against the other members of the nation he fought to build.”

Fundy: “Well only because my loot has been stolen! Alright?”

Tommy: “This sounds petty, Fundy.”

Fundy: “Okay, okay, I can word this differently in my favor.”

Tommy: “No, okay, no – you’re not meant to say that out loud! Okay, I’m gonna ask Tubbo what’s happened, and then from there on we’ll – but please do not do any – we can’t have L’manburg falling out over this, alright?” 

So here we see Fundy the president’s son being put in comparison to L’manburg the nation the president built for what Wilbur would prioritize for the first time, and Tommy sows the seeds that maybe L’manburg matters more to Wilbur than him, that Wilbur would choose the nation. this is also first time Fundy has been sort of excluded from the Whole of L’manburg.

and we see Tommy’s words affect Fundy,

Fundy: “We gotta list everyone who’s against me:”

“I killed Tubbo twice, I stole his bow. Tubbo’s probably against me.”

“Tommy has always been against me from the start.”

“Sapnap is against me because I killed his animals and stole them.”

“Punz is against me ‘cause I stole his bees.”

“Eret is against me ‘cause I went after Karl.”

“Karl’s against me ‘cause -- I just realized I’ve made a lot of enemies...I just realized I don’t have many -- I don’t have many allies on the server. There’s not many allies.”

“Who’s neutral? Niki! Niki is with me! Niki is friendly.”

“Wilbur? I dunno, Wilbur’s a man of chaos, alright...due to the lore of the server, Wilbur may or may not have been the father of our nation, but...that doesn’t mean he’s for everything I do. That doesn’t mean he stands behind me, alright? Not necessarily...not necessarily.”

“Quackity? Quackity’s definitely not -- no, listen, Quackity’s definitely not for me, okay. I called him a whore. There’s definitely -- there’s definitely many things Quackity has against me.”

so here is my argument... Fundy’s insecurity started with Tommy.

Part 2 Development Of Those Feelings (Uncle Tommy you’re not Helping)

Fundy, growing disillusioned with Wilbur and L’manburg, lead to this one coversation between Fundy and Wilbur,

Wilbur: Well the uh- the ballot entries have closed now.

Fundy: Who's in it?

Wilbur: Well it originally was just gonna be me and Tommy, me and Tommy tired to do it so- tried to do it so we will be the only ones running, then suddenly out of nowhere Quackity joins and enters himself on the ballot-

Fundy: Ok.

Wilbur: -so it's me and Tommy against Quackity and someone else.

Fundy: Who's someone else?

Wilbur: We don't know yet, he hasn't announced,

Fundy: Wait then- oh, so it's just a random… sneaky person who put himself in the ballot not announced who he is.

Wilbur: yeah, yeah. I mean if you wanna try and convince Quackity that you wanna run against your father.

Fundy: Yeah ok.

Wilbur: Wait, you- you wouldn't though. 

Fundy: What if i win? What are- what are you gonna do?

Wilbur: Well then you'd be Vice President.

Fundy: but-What if i win?

Wilbur: Why do you want power in L'manburg so much?

Fundy: Why do you want power?

Wilbur: Because- i led the revolution, i'm your…  i'm your president.

Fundy: That's history.

Wilbur: Wh- d- Do you not think i-  i'm suitable to run for president?

Fundy: I think you are, but i think I am as well.

Wilbur: I don't know man. I don't- i think- i think you- i think you'd be s- i think you'd be getting into a fight you wouldn't want to start with me. You've only been on the positive side of me, you've only seen my nice side, because y'know? being my son you get- you get special- y'know? You won't ever see me going against you.

Fundy: Wait so you're a biased person going for presidency.

Wilbur: Biased to my son? Yes. But, if you're gonna run against me then i'm changing, i'll- i'll go guns blazing.

Fundy: I'll have a word with Quackity.

Wilbur: Fundy i…  i've got- i've got- i've got a bad feeling about this. I think you're just gonna… you're just gonna get hurt.

Fundy: That will happen-

.

Wilbur: Fundy yeah- Yeah someone in my chat just pointed out, Fundy you started the civil war.

Niki: I mean technically Sapnap started the civil war.

Fundy: I mean- i mean technically- Yeah y' know, technically- and i'm gonna win it! It's fine! I mean what does he have on me, really?

Wilbur: I thought it was you fighting Tubbo?

Fundy: what?

Wilbur: I thought civil war was you and Tubbo?

Fundy: No, Tubbo's just a prick.

Wilbur: Sapnap's not even- not even part of L’manburg how is it a civil war?

Fundy: I don't know you brought it up!

Wilbur: Tommy told me- Tommy told me it was Tubbo and Fundy.

Fundy: Yeah no Tommy is a little bit delusional.

Wilbur: I think i've spoiled you.

Fundy: How?

Wilbur: I think you need to learn some manners.

Fundy: I dunno- power seems nice.

Wilbur: Fine, you can run against me, it won't end well for you but you can give it a go.

Fundy: Like i said i'll- i'll have a word with Quackity i'll think of my actions, see what will happen, i'm not saying necessarily that i'll go against you, then again i'm not standing beside you because you may or may not be the father of L'manburg 

Wilbur: And you! The father of you!

Fundy: That's irrelevant. To-

Wilbur: No it's not irrelevant! It's very relevant to this!

Fundy: I don't-  i don't think that's relevant to presidency

I’ll talk over Wilburs pov here in a little bit but focusing on Fundy, 

He wants to run, other than everything we established before here Fundy wants to run to prove himself to himself, and we see the other part of this conflict more internally is,  

(“[..] may or may not be the father of L'manburg- “ , “ That's irrelevant.” )

 Well, here is the insecurity about Wilbur choosing L’manburg (here his position as president) over Fundy, the being second place to L’manburg part matters here becasue i think this is where Wilbur and Fundy fundamentally clash, so Fundy doesn’t want for it to matter to Wilbur, he doesn’t want for his position as son to have any influence over Wilbur here beacuse of this fear that that’s why he may be in the second place.

now let’s move on to,

Uncle Tommy ‘helps’

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

Tommy: “I just, I – yeah. You’re stinky, you’re shitty, the fur that’s sewn onto your skin, I look at it and I go (retching sounds) And whilst you’re a lovely guy, you’re actually not, you’re really…and all the viewers are like ‘oh no!’ But they can’t smell you. I can! Holy shit, you know? I mean you know, Sapnap…”

Fundy: “I showered two hours before the stream…”

Tommy: “I know, and that’s what makes it so remarkable, how you smell that terrible.”

Fundy: “I used coconut oil…it smells good…”

…

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

Fundy: “Being neutral is – is asshole?”

Tommy: “Yes. Come with me, Sapnap. Yeah, I’ve denounced you – well no no no, you were challenging him. You were challenging him.”

Fundy: “Denounced to what?”

Tommy: “I just – it’s just a formal way of saying you suck.”

(Tommy and Sapnap leave)

Fundy: “…They are mean…They are mean! Why are they so mean? That is so mean…”

Fundy: “Listen, it is one thing making fun of a person’s appearance…it is one thing making fun of a person’s blindness, but hey – don’t fucking make fun of my coconut oil! Listen dude…that shit smells tasty! That smells good! Man…that’s…god…coconut oil, man…dude.“

…

Fundy: “TNT their houses? That will just prove their point, chat. That will just prove their point. That will just prove their point…they’re just mean. They’re so mean. But it is okay, chat. It is okay. The reason why it’s okay…that’s actually true. Why is he talking to the enemy? Wait…wait a minute. Wait a minute! So let me get the story straight real quick.”

 “Chat…just hold up a second here! Hold on a second! So Tommy is demoting me, right? And he’s saying you’re only in L’manburg because of Wil. So Tommy says…in theory, he would kick me out if he had the chance. But considering that, while he’s together with Sapnap…it leads me to believe…Tommy wants to destroy L’manburg!”

“Why would he do that? Why would he team up with Sapnap? He had no correlation with this conversation at all. What was the reason for that?”

“…Do we have another traitor in our midst?”

…

Fundy: “Listen, Tommy, here’s a really interesting theory, alright…here’s an interesting theory, Tommy. I got a little theory on my mind! Listen, boy, we’re part of L’manburg, you and me. Wil as well, Tubbo, all of us, alright? And we’re supposed to be a union! Now here’s the thing! Here’s the thing. If you said, due to Wilbur I’m still basically part of L’manburg – in other terms saying that if it was on your hands you would get me out of there, right, why would you excessively bring Sapnap, out of all people, for that conversation alone?”

Tommy: “Shall I explain to you? It’s because, Fundy, we fucking need votes, Fundy. We need votes! This Quack City guy, son of BadBoyHalo? He’s just – he’s just, like, oh my god. We needed votes. And listen, Fundy–”

Fundy: “You basically just lost my vote, and I feel like that’s your purpose!”

Tommy: “You’re in L’manburg! You vote for us already – you vote for your own father, don’t be an idiot!”

Fundy: “I feel like you’re trying to bring us apart, Tommy. I feel like your goals are not supportive towards L’manburg at the moment…”

Tommy: “From my perspective, Sapnap hates you, Fundy. Sapnap hates you. And if I go listen, if I had to tier list all of the members of L’manburg, Fundy would be in D tier. He needs to hear that.”

Fundy: “…Tommy, are you Eret?”

Post the court debate Fundy was more decided on running on his own,

“Honestly, I feel like everything just needs to change. Honestly, I feel like neither of the parties have done enough right to deserve leadership, to deserve presidency in the first place. I feel like a lot of shit needs to change.”

Fundy didnt want to endorse any of the parties, SWAG2020 was endorsed by Dream, and he belived POG2020 to be corrupt because of the bribing Karl situation, so he was more keen on running on his own, and then came the public denouncing situaion.

Obviously Fundy was hurt by this, especially considering Sapnap was his enemy, and Tommy’s words didnt do Fundy’s and Wilburs already shaky relationship many favours, but his behaviour both pushed Fundy futher away from the POG party, and started Fundy’s ‘traitor Tommy’ theory that he shared with Niki after which the Coconut2020 party was formed.

Part 3 Wilbur is a oblivious dumbass but it makes sense now.

now lets look at Wilburs pov of things, which means we are coming back to the privilege line,

Wilbur: I don't know man. I don't- i think- i think you- i think you'd be s- i think you'd be getting into a fight you wouldn't want to start with me. You've only been on the positive side of me, you've only seen my nice side, because y'know? being my son you get- you get special- y'know? You won't ever see me going against you.

-----

JM: "no i- im sorry, im sorry, i'm sorry Fundy"

Fundy: 'I don't want this behavior again, alright."

JM: "no i wont- i wont-"

Fundy: 'Don't talk to my Dad OR my salmon Mother like that ever again, i will tell on you, keep it in mind. I have privilege to speak up against-"

JM: "i understand."

So coming back to this quote, i belive Wilbur didnt realize Fundy had these doubts about thier relationship, because he was used to Fundy sharing his problems with him, and he was left kinda drifting in an ‘why is my son suddenly against me now??’

Wilbur didnt realize Fundy’s feelings about him had changed, as in Fundy no longer WOULD come to him if he had any probems, because Fundy used to come to him with problems, ("I will tell on you.") But Tommy’s first comment knocked him down and the debate and the Sapnap-Tommy situation had as well and the denouncement, (which Wilbur also knew shit about) because he was already insecure about his place in L’manburg and Wilbur. AND he wouldn't come to Wilbur like he used to because Wilbur was the point of his insecurity even if he wasnt the couse of it.

So we see Wilbur kinda be sad and confused and misstepping becasue of that,

Wilbur: I don't know man. I don't- i think- i think you- i think you'd be s- i think you'd be getting into a fight you wouldn't want to start with me. You've only been on the positive side of me, you've only seen my nice side, because y'know? being my son you get- you get special- y'know? You won't ever see me going against you.

Fundy: Wait so you're a biased person going for presidency.

Wilbur: Biased to my son? Yes. But, if you're gonna run against me then i'm changing, i'll- i'll go guns blazing.

Fundy: I'll have a word with Quackity.

Wilbur: Fundy i…  i've got- i've got- i've got a bad feeling about this. I think you're just gonna… you're just gonna get hurt.

------

Wilbur: Tommy told me- Tommy told me it was Tubbo and Fundy.

Fundy: Yeah no Tommy is a little bit delusional.

Wilbur: I think i've spoiled you.

Fundy: How?

Wilbur: I think you need to learn some manners.

Fundy: I dunno- power seems nice.

Wilbur: Fine, you can run against me, it won't end well for you but you can give it a go.

-----

Wilbur: Wait, look who’s coming, look who’s coming.

Tommy: Uh oh!

Wilbur: My son. My boy.

Tommy: Your ex-son.

Wilbur: Yeah. Well, I mean, he’s still my son in blood, but, he’s just…

Tommy: You should put him up.

Wilbur: What d’you mean, put him up? What, for adoption?

Tubbo: For adoption.

Tommy: Yeah. You should see if Big Q will adopt him.

[They discuss Fundy’s Twitch Prime cape. He runs up on stage, to the microphone, and starts punching the air. He’s not in the same vc as them.]

Wilbur: What’s he doing, what’s he doing- what is this? What is this bit? What is he doing?

Tommy: What the fuck are you- no.

Wilbur: He’s just not- he’s not- he’s really upsetting me.

Tommy: Just- just- he’s not President is he? He’s got no manners, he has no manners. No etiquette.

Wilbur: Look, he’s supposed to be my son.

[Wilbur types in chat: “fundy talk to me” and Fundy immediately leaves the game.]

Tubbo: He is trying.

Tommy: Tubbo, you’re gonna get murdered, my friend.

Wilbutr: He said, he said, “I am here for the Presidencialcy-” He just left.

Tommy: And then he- [sighs] I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.

W: I don’t- I- It’s really sad, like I… Honestly, I- when he turned around to me and he said he wasn’t gonna vote for me, and then he decided he was gonna vote for the opposition, and then he decided he was gonna run against me, that was- one of those was the straw that broke my back. I’m not sure which one- I’m still contemplating which one was the- are you listening?

[Tommy has jumped off the podium to join Tubbo in the audience.]

Tpmmy: Yeah, I’m going down to Tubbo, I just- I’m just letting you vent, Wilbur, I want you to have time to vent.

Wilbur: Yeah I just- I miss me son! I miss me son! I miss when he was my boy! Do you remember when he was my boy?

Tommy: Yeah, I’m not really good at handling… People who are emotional.

Wilbur also didn’t know anything about the denouncement situation,

Sapnap: “Will you continue to have your son banished from L’Manberg if I vote for you?” 

Wilbur: “My son. My- My son. Look, we’re talking about politics here, I don’t want to talk about my family, if that’s alright. … I would like to say, thank you, Sapnap, for the question, I very much appreciate it, but I’m not gonna be fielding responses about my family situation, thank you.” (Alivebur)

*Wilbur proceeds to step off the podium and cry*

Wilbur: “Fundy...!” 

Besides that  fundamenatally Fundys and Wilburs views about the presidency oppose eachother,

“Tommy, I’m- I’m- I’m- I don’t know what to do, Tommy, I’ve never not been President.”

Fundy sees Wilbur and L'manburg as two separate things that he has to unfiairly contest with and for 

1. for Wilbur because of his fears, for a place among L’manburg members

2. Because He wants to prove himself to himself. he needs to know what Tommy said, isn’t true/he can thrive regardless without his fathers support he can still be a  great member of L’manburg and even a president

Wilbur sees himself as inherently connected trough L’manburg with everyone to the point that he thinks that without his position he cant do anything for his loved ones/ he wont be usefull. he thinks of l’manburg as something he does FOR all of them including Fundy.

“My son… My son is tearing down the walls, in front of me! My son is tearing down the walls in front of me! The walls I built to keep him safe! I promised him this world, Tommy, I promised him this world.”

----

 “Fundy was the closest thing I had to something I cared about in L’Manberg, when it all began. You know, when it started, the closest thing to anything I cared about was Fundy. Fundy was my, he was my, he was my boy! My rock!”

----

Ranboo: "I don't know if they actually needed me, but I was there.(about his work in the NLM cabinet)" 

Wilbur:"I know that feel." 

This why Fundy and Wilbur clash fundamentally here,

Fundy: Like i said i'll- i'll have a word with Quackity i'll think of my actions, see what will happen, i'm not saying necessarily that i'll go against you, then again i'm not standing beside you because you may or may not be the father of L'manburg 

Wilbur: And you! The father of you!

Fundy: That's irrelevant. To-

Wilbur: No it's not irrelevant! It's very relevant to this!

Fundy: I don't-  i don't think that's relevant to presidency

Part 4 Tommy WHY? (he is propably protective and and a tiny bit jealous )

----

Tommy: “Hey, you know about Fundy’s little rebellious stage he’s going through?”

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

----

Tommy: “Shall I explain to you? It’s because, Fundy, we fucking need votes, Fundy. We need votes! This Quack City guy, son of BadBoyHalo? He’s just – he’s just, like, oh my god. We needed votes. And listen, Fundy–”

Fundy: “You basically just lost my vote, and I feel like that’s your purpose!”

Tommy: “You’re in L’manburg! You vote for us already – you vote for your own father, don’t be an idiot!”

Fundy: “I feel like you’re trying to bring us apart, Tommy. I feel like your goals are not supportive towards L’manburg at the moment…”

Tommy: “From my perspective, Sapnap hates you, Fundy. Sapnap hates you. And if I go listen, if I had to tier list all of the members of L’manburg, Fundy would be in D tier. He needs to hear that.”

----

Wilbur: Wait, look who’s coming, look who’s coming.

Tommy: Uh oh!

Wilbur: My son. My boy.

Tommy: Your ex-son.

Wilbur: Yeah. Well, I mean, he’s still my son in blood, but, he’s just…

Tommy: You should put him up.

Wilbur: What d’you mean, put him up? What, for adoption?

Tubbo: For adoption

---

Wilbur: He said, he said, “I am here for the Presidencialcy-” He just left.

Tommy: And then he- [sighs] I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.

W: I don’t- I- It’s really sad, like I… Honestly, I- when he turned around to me and he said he wasn’t gonna vote for me, and then he decided he was gonna vote for the opposition, and then he decided he was gonna run against me, that was- one of those was the straw that broke my back. I’m not sure which one- I’m still contemplating which one was the- are you listening?

[Tommy has jumped off the podium to join Tubbo in the audience.]

Tommy: Yeah, I’m going down to Tubbo, I just- I’m just letting you vent, Wilbur, I want you to have time to vent.

Wilbur: Yeah I just- I miss me son! I miss me son! I miss when he was my boy! Do you remember when he was my boy?

Tommy: Yeah, I’m not really good at handling… People who are emotional.

Besides Tommy genuinely wanting to get more votes during the dennoucemnt situation, his seconddary motive was well, he was protective over Wilbur, he noticed that what Fundy did during the debate hurt Wilbur, and kept acting bitter towards him from then on. ( “ I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night.” / And then he- [sighs] I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.”  )

the he a was tiny bit jealous point IS more up in the air but we can compare this to how Tommy acted towards Ranboo just after leaving prison, when he learned of the c!beeduo marriage.

Quotes from @/kateis-cakeis, @/findingjoynweirdstuff, @/ace-enderchest and my own transcripts, thank you guys!

[finelinevogue]

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

[literaila]

a void on your side of the bed. 

loki x gn!reader 

summary: loki is feeling lonely. and guilty about that. 

here was the thing:

loki tried not to ask for too much. he tried to be the perfect partner, the perfect person just for you.

he didnt complain when you wanted to sleep in, or when he was supposed to make you breakfast (he enjoyed doing that). he wasnt upset when you asked him to ‘clean up’ around the house, or when you refused to buy him any more ice cream.

he tried to eliminate any problems-- never been done before by the god of mischief --he might cause before they even appeared, and tried to give you anything and everything you might want.

it wasnt a hard task, actually. he liked the feeling in his chest when you smiled at him, when you were grateful for his help or when he surprised you with something that made your life just a little bit better. he liked taking care of you, causing less trouble than before.

but. it was really hard not to complain when you werent paying attention to him.

when you needed space for just a bit too long for his liking. when he felt like an interruption every time he attempted to make any small talk with you, and you sighed-- almost reluctantly --before turning to him.

he knew you were busy, and he knew that you wanted to get as much work done as you could during the day. he just didnt like it.

he didnt like not conversing with you during the day, not cuddling with you on the couch during lunch while you snacked on something beside him. he didnt like leaving you alone until it was nine o’clock at night and you looked like you were contemplating murder.

he felt lonely. and he just missed you.

and, gods, he was really trying not to complain.

he was really trying not to make this a bigger struggle for you by stealing any of your time. he knew how hard you were working, knew that it drained all the life out of you by the end of the day, knew that the last thing you needed was him telling you that he was upset.

he was used to not sharing his emotions, to building up walls and keeping all his thoughts locked in. but usually, he didnt have to do that with you.

it was all looking up for loki when the week was coming to a slow end. friday night, he felt excited to get you back for at least two days, to steal all the time he could from you before you got annoyed of him. he got his usual smirk back when you came out of your office friday night, giving him a soft smile as you headed to the bedroom.

this was it, he knew. tomorrow morning, he wasnt going to let you leave bed until at least noon.

he fell asleep that night, arms tucked around you, lips smiling against your head, with thoughts of the next day filling his dreams.

so, when he woke up in the morning, colder than usual, a void where you were laying in his arms, it wasnt surprising that he was feeling more upset than before.

disappointment was a violent emotion.

still, he walked out of the room with some hope left, that maybe you were just drinking coffee and eating breakfast while you waited for him.

that hope disappeared when he heard the familiar click-clacking from the room you had proclaimed was your office.

you were working. again. and loki was alone. again.

he felt a groan building up in his chest, a terrible feeling filling him as he listened for your breathing. he knew it was madness to miss you this much when you were only a door away, but he wasnt used to spending days away from you.

he reminded himself that you were right there with a bitter laugh.

he was trying not to be angry or disappointed with you, he knew that it wasnt fair to put you at the end of the blame when you didnt even know how he was feeling and that it wasnt fair for him to want you to stay with him of every second of every day. to ask for so much.

he turned toward the bedroom again and tried to drown his emotions in reading.

it wasnt really working, but at least when he was this far away from you he didnt feel like you were ignoring him.

at around noon, after hours of re-reading the same chapter over and over again and illusioning himself as his brother and throwing a fake hammer around, he finally decided that you needed lunch, at least. he decided that bringing lunch was a perfectly acceptable thing for a significant other to do.

(and hopefully, it wouldnt annoy you too much)

“my love,” he called, knocking on the door. “i’ve brought you sustenance”

you replied a quick ‘come in!’ and loki put a smile on his face, walking in the room deviously and grinning down at you in your chair.

“thank you, loki,” you whispered, kissing his cheek when he leaned to place the plate on your desk, rubbing a hand down his arm when you looked back at the screen in front of you.

loki tried not to preen too much at the touch.

“how are you, love?” he asked, bending down to stare at the screen with you. he didnt understand anything about it, but it was still fun to pretend. to include himself with you.

“oh, tired,” was all you said as you leaned over to type something yet again. loki frowned at your words and focused his attention on your face instead.

you looked perfectly normal, perfect and normal, he supposed. your eyes were bright and your face was blank, but still, loki was worried over your words.

“maybe you could take a break for lunch then?” he asked, bringing a hand to your face and tracing your jawline with his thumb. he was trying to sound casual, to not let the hope that you might concede slip.

“i wish i could,” you sighed and looked over at him with a smile, taking the hand that was on your face and placing a gentle kiss on his palm. he froze under the attention. “thank you, sunshine, for lunch. i adore you,” you kissed him again, and turned away.

his hand was still in the air, left behind.

your words were sweet. exactly what loki wanted to hear, really, but he heard the unspoken dismissal of his presence. he knew this was your way of asking him to leave, even if you didnt realize it.

he wanted to plead with you to let him stay.

he stood up instead, not letting the sigh escape his lips in the room with you, and headed toward the door. he touched the doorknob, feeling all the emotions building up in his chest. making their way through his body like a stampede.

it was all very much for him. this disappointment that he could barely hide anymore. the loneliness he knew he had to return to in the other room.

before he realized it, the words were slipping from his lips.

“have i done something wrong?” his usual teasing tone was there, his usual indicator for dramatics, but when you looked at him the look on his face was much more serious than his tone.

you frowned immediately, and loki scolded himself. “quite the opposite really, sweets. you just brought me lunch?”

“right, of course.” he nodded to go, but you stopped him.

“is there something wrong, loki?” you were turned towards him completely, concern tainting both your face and your tone. loki felt terrible like he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

he tried to put on a smile. “no, darling.”

but you werent easy to trick, he knew, and you scowled at him. “loki.” you were staring at him with your intimidating eyes now, only slightly soft because you were worried. even to a god, it was scary.

reluctantly, he nodded. avoiding your eyes now.

“come sit, sunshine,” you said, gesturing to the couch next to your desk. loki could hear the concern more now, stronger. he winced and took a seat.

after a few moments of silence and loki looking at the wall with furrowed eyebrows, you spoke first. “whats wrong?”

he sighed, feeling silly. you were supposed to be working and he was interrupting that with childish emotions that he could deal with himself. but still, he couldnt help but feel grateful at your asking.

“we havent been spending as much time together recently and..” he stopped, still avoiding his eyes to run a hand through his hair. “i suppose i’m feeling a bit..excluded? or maybe lonely?” he winced, sighed, looked like the perfect definition of regret. “i dont know” he said, almost silent.

but while loki was feeling ridiculous, you were looking upon him with something similar to horror in your eyes. terror at the thought of hurting him.

you were well aware that you’d been working more, the exhaustion every night made sure of it, but you hadnt realized that it was taking a toll on loki too, that he was... missing you while you were preoccupied.

you hadnt even considered it, really, when you longed to go watch a movie with him or have dinner together. your clinginess wasnt surprising, but loki?

he never seemed to mind space.

your brain took a few seconds to process it before you could speak again. “i’m so sorry, loki.” you were already pleading with him, begging for forgiveness.

how could you have disregarded him so much this week? you felt disgusted at the thought.

loki’s head snapped up in shock. he thought you might be tired with his admission, maybe even upset. not... regretful? he didnt expect to see this look on your face, one that was so disappointed, so loving.

“i didnt realize that you might be feeling lonely also, which is completely unthoughtful of me, i just thought that maybe-” you were gesturing with your hands, looking around the room rapidly as you used all your breath.

“you arent upset?” loki asked carefully, interrupting your rambling.

you paused, then blinked, looking at him curiously. he was serious, that much you could tell. he had that same frown on his face. you blinked again.

“upset?” you repeated, astounded. “why would i be upset?”

loki was just as confused as you now. he scratched his neck, looking down. “because i’m getting in the way of your work, interrupting you, being troublesome?” he said it as if he was trying to ring any bells in your head. he seemed sure of every word he spoke.

all you felt was more horror.

“your emotions are not interruptions or ‘troublesome’“ you mocked his accent, mostly with anger at yourself as you scowled at the floor. your words were harsh, but loki didnt flinch away. he still didnt understand.

“they aren’t?”

your eyes snapped up to his, guilt pouring from them. immediately, you jumped up from your chair, coming to sit next to him and taking his hand in yours. his face relaxed a bit at the feel of your touch. “of course they’re not, loki. if you’re upset i want to know. you and your feelings arent burdens on my day, i love you!” you promised him with strong eyes, with a strong grip on his hand.

it was probably the most important thing in the world to you that he knew this. that he didnt feel unwanted again.

“i love you too” he answered, quickly, before he even had the chance to think over your words.

he almost smiled when he did, proud of himself, of you, for seemingly no reason. you loved him.

it was nice to hear.

it was also nice to hear the softness in your voice, the sweet words, his name. it was nice to be sitting next to you.

he was hit was a sudden burst of longing, this time for something different.

he wished he would’ve talked to you days before, wished there was more he could do. if that had happened, he might’ve saved you both from some unwanted feelings. might’ve kept you from the sorrow that you still had on your face.

you were still upset, he knew.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so busy. that i havent spent enough time with you,” the words fell from your lips before you could stop them, despite the happy look on loki’s face. you still felt horrible, guilty for making loki feel anything but joy.

“its okay, darling, i know you have a lot of work to do.”

though his words were sweet, they only made you scoff.

“thats not an excuse.” you insisted, scowling again. “i havent been taking care of you,”

loki, who no longer felt disappointed or lonely, who was enjoying just the sound of your voice and feel of your skin, frowned with you. he didnt like the pain in your voice, the anger he could hear.

he really wasnt upset anymore, never upset with you, to begin with. he was only glad that you knew he’d missed you and that you seemed to feel the same. he was happy to see you away from your desk.

his brows furrowed.

then he smiled again, leaning in closer to you with an idea.

he lifted your face towards him with gentle fingers, admiring you before he spoke. “i know how i’d like you to make it up to me,” he said, smirking at you.

it was a familiar look. one you hadnt seen in far too many days.

“you do?” you asked him, forgetting your guilt for a moment while he stared at you.

he nodded, staring down at your lips. his damned smirk was glued to his face now, distracting you from anything besides him. “i rather think you’ll enjoy it..” he assured.

and then he kissed you, and guilt was the last thing on your mind.

the thing was: loki was already the perfect person for you.

*

[h2bakugou]

🍀 hello! I have a suggestion

How would the class 1 a boys react to you both getting recognized in public as "the secret class 1 a couple?!" And seeing it on the news or social media, Before yous are dating. Hope this makes sense 💖

a/n: hi!! this is super cute! i decided to do a bunch of the boys from 1-a, i didn’t get to do all of them, but this is certainly a cute idea!!

headcanon: them reacting to news of being a couple before they’re actually a couple

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

It happens during a training battle with class 1-B. 

It’s just a little get together, the two classes joining for some competitive training.

You’re working with Bakugou since he tolerates you the most, which he would gladly chose you over Beavis and Butt-Head Kirishima and Kaminari.

He also has a crush on you but that’s a secret teehee.

You got one on him too so don’t act all innocent.

But of course, Monoma happens to be one of the members of the group you face off with.

He’s just messing with you, teasing you. Calling you pet names like Angel or Honey.

He’s doing it ‘cause it clearly pisses Bakugou off.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners, flirting with your significant other.” Monoma apologizes as he slaps Bakugou’s shoulder, activating his quirk.

“We’re not dating!?” You yell as you charge at the blonde that isn’t your crush.

“So you mean the entire class has been lying to me?” Monoma pouts.

After training, Bakugou asks you out, stating he’d been thinking of doing it sooner but he had been caught up with staying top of the class-

He was most certainly jealous.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

HIS MOM. PLEASE. IT’S HIS MOM AND ALL MIGHT THAT ARE LIKE YOOO CONGRATS ON yOU TWO GETTING TOGETHER.

Like legit, Deku’s in some parent-teacher conference and All Might is like ‘many things are blossoming, such as young love.’

And his mom is just like ‘finally you and y/n got together, about damn time.’

And Deku’s just like ????? IM SORRY????////

Literally races over to you and is like

“They think we’re together-”

And you’re just like

“Well damn we should be” *lip bite*

Deku blushes but asks you out on the spot so he doesn’t have to explain to his mom that it wasn’t like that.

Lowkey he had the biggest crush on you and was just really nervous that you were too occupied with studies to even notice him.

His mom is so proud of him, probably throws him a party or something for your first official date- please i love her 

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tell me why I think this fool finds out about the whole ‘secret couple’ thing from Dabi-

It’s just so bad that it’s absolutely perfect.

Tell me that this crispy ass patchwork villain would not take every opportunity to tease Shoto.

“So you came here to fight me with your true love? Perhaps romance isn’t dead.”

Literally about to light his ass on fire and Shoto’s just frozen-yeah go on laugh I know you want too-and just stares at this dude like??? 

come again? pardon?

Deadass looks over at you and just raises an eyebrow.

“I think he thinks we’re a couple.” You fill in the blanks and Todoroki eventually nods.

“Well yes, they are indeed my true love, but I think this might be a bit extreme for a first date. Perhaps when we’re done beating your ass, I can take them out for dinner.”

chivalry isn’t dead *heart eye emojis*

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Honestly with the flirty comments you litter under each other’s social media posts, google probably be recommended y’all relationship stuff, those little heart lamp message things, matching necklaces, technology was dropping all the hints.

No but Kirishima probably just assumes you’re together when Kaminari brings you along to one of the mall trips they usually go on.

“Dude you finally asked them out, sick, took you long enough.” 

Cue red Kaminari. Man is a tomato. Like he just turns to you shaking throwing a thumbs up.

“Awe, you like me?” You give him a hug and kiss his cheek, shoving your hand in his.

“Yeah, totally, I mean who wouldn’t.” Kaminari is back to being smug, he’s got a pretty person’s hand in his own he is now taken JSFSJFJ

He will literally be in debt to Kirishima for getting the two of you together. Like he’s deadset on somehow repaying Kirishima.

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

Two words. Katsuki Bakugou.

Kirishima is super sweet, like I just see him doing a bunch of really nice stuff for you, helping you carry things to your dorm, or like maybe doing your hair if you asked.

Bakugou is extremely observant and will just watch how y’all act but like he’s finally so tired of watching you act like a couple. He knows you two have to be a thing so why hasn’t Kirishima mentioned it.

WHY IS BKAUOGU MAD THAT KIRISHIMA IS LIKE NOT SAYING HE”S TAKEN DUDE FKSFKSJI JUST KNOW HE WOULD BE SJFSKFSJK

“We get it you’re together! Just cut the sappy shit already!” Bakugou snaps randomly one day because you’re just sitting in his lap because all the couch seats are taken.

Your cheeks burn and Kirishima’s face turns the same crimson color as his hair.

“Dude we’re-”

“Friends.” You finish, but there’s a hint of sadness.

“You certainly don’t act like. Fucking ask each other out already goddamn.”

Do what he boss says.

Kirishima brings you pretty flowers and asks you out, literally taking you on a date when you say yes, god he’s so sweet love him kiss kiss.

»»————-　★　————-««

tenya iida

»»————-　★　————-««

Honestly, I think Aizawa’s gonna just have to lecture Iida on social cues. ‘Cause Iida may seem like he’s just being a good class rep, but walking you to and from class, carrying your bag, and tucking hair behind your ear are most certainly beyond what classifies as ‘class rep behavior.’

A bunch of students from class 1-a are gonna be really suspicious, whispering around, making plans to try and catch it happening.

Sure enough, Iida’s carrying your bag as you walk back toward the dorm building, your pinkies just barely touching, before you finally heave a sigh and interlock yours with his.

Kaminari can’t hold in his excitement, congratulating the navy-haired class rep on scoring such a hottie.

“I’m confused, you’re congratulating me-”

“Because you finally asked (y/n) out!” Iida just turns red and stares at you.

“No no, I think you may have misinterpreted!”

“Really? On god? Just like that?” You pout, lowering your head.

“No! I...” 

Iida quite literally has to prove he likes you by kissing you in front of the class. Guess it’s not really a secret anymore.

»»————-　★　————-««

hanta sero

»»————-　★　————-««

Much like Kirishima, Bakugou and/or Kaminari and/or Kirishima play a big role in ‘exposing’ the two of you.

Late nights in each other’s dorm playing video games?

Wearing each other’s sweaters?

Picnics and walks together?

Yeah try convincing off-brand pikachu, red robin, and the fitness gram pacer test you’re not together.

the fitness gram pacer test bit sounded much better in my head but i didn’t really have any other funny nickname for bakugou other than johnny test which made about as much sense as the fitness gram pacer test.

“Yo we’re going to the mall!” Kaminari is the first to spill the plans for the weekend.

“Oh shoot alright-”

“I meant us. Don’t you have a date with (Y/n)?” Kaminari points to the rest of the group, excluding you and Sero who sat side by side, under a knitted blanket.

“Uhm, Kaminari we’re-”

“Oh no, I know you like them.” Kaminari leans in really close to Sero’s face before squishing his cheeks and turning him to face you.

“I’m so sorry.” Sero whispers to you.

You roll your eyes and lean over, planting a kiss on his cheek, earning a few cheers from Mina and Kaminari who pretty much played matchmaker.

Sero takes you out on a date when they plan to go to the mall, but it was really all a ruse to spy on you on your date.

»»————-　★　————-««

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