#supposedly he's writing a book with it but it's not out yet for me to point and laugh at him as I steal it

[adamussutekh]

In a world of "oh shit, turns out that guy you liked is a trump supporter and a fascist" and "aw man, that guy I liked diddles kids" it's really nice that James Frey isn't any of those things!

He's just really fucking weird

[jellyfishsthings]

The five times you left Spencer speechless (or how I like to call it, in quiet awe)

Warnings: reader wears glasses but no biggie, reader can fight and use a gun because why not, bau!reader, smitten Spence, nothing happens just feelz, Spence's drug addiction... I think that it

1. The first meeting

It had been a long week. People were crowding the small space of the bullpen. It had been the first case after Gideon's return, and Spencer had been buzzing with excitement to work with his mentor again. The case hadn't been particularly easy, and almost one agent named Elle Greenaway had been lightly injured, who would from now on work with them. His eyes were burning, and he gave into the temptation to wear his glasses as he looked into the nearly filled report in front of him, containing at least seventeen pages worth of information. Madame Strauss claimed that his reports were unnecessarily detailed, how that was a problem he couldn't tell. The hours seemed to blur together as he continued writing his report, losing many minutes trying to form his handwriting into something more presentable.

That was the moment. The time he first laid eyes on her. He had read many romance novels, which he wasn't going to admit, that the moment someone met the one, time seemed to slow to near non-existent and his reality at the moment seemed like something coming out of a book.

She was wearing a chunky white pullover with huge sleeves that strangely represented bells and a light brown plaited skirt that reached just at the middle of her thighs. Long legs that seemed to be going on for miles ended at a pair of black Mary Jane's. And sure, her appearance was incredible, but that was not what made him make a double take. He was sure he was hallucinating as he saw the most beautiful face he had seen in his life, looking as if it was something that came out of a Renaissance painting. Her hair was in a braid resting on her shoulder, and wire-framed glasses sat on her nose, making her eyes appear slightly bigger. A tattered pair of wired headphones framed her face, and for a second, Spencer forgot how to breathe, the most cognitive function, the one he had been able to do since he first entered this world. His ears were buzzing, and his brain was running in endless circles.

A hand was moving in front of him, and he stared at the angel that was standing in front of him. Her mouth was moving, probably talking to him, and he willed himself to pay attention.

“S-Sorry.”

“It's alright.” The angel answered him; maybe he had finally overdone it with the sugared coffee he was drinking as if it were his primary source of hydration. “ I am looking for Aaron Hotchner.”

“R-Right. Umm…”

“Good, you are here. Come with me.” Hotch's voice echoed in the empty room, and Spencer's cheeks flamed an angry red as the girl turned and kindly waved at him as she quickly climbed the stairs and entered the conference room. Spencer had half a mind not to turn his chair and stare at her. With an unnecessary loud cough, he turned back at his report and thanked his luck for Morgan's absence because if he had witnessed this, he was going to hear the end of this anytime

2. The lesson

A month had passed since he first saw her. And yet, he could recall her vividly, the deep-set eyes, the rosy lips. His birthday had been a blur as he celebrated them in the office and invited JJ in a lame attempt to ask her out which just resulted in a long evening where JJ and Penelope talked endlessly and he couldn't comprehend the sport he was supposedly watching.

He was waiting in Hotch's office as a stand-in. He was teaching a young agent to join the unit and he was thrilled when he heard that the student was just a few months shy of his own age. At the moment, he was trying to move a huge board to the office when someone lightly tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around way too fast and came face to face with the angel he saw, the one he thought he willed into existence.

“Do you need help with that?”

“No, no. I got it. Are you Hotch's student?” He asked and immediately regretted it. Of course, she was his student. Why did he have to lose half of his IQ around her? He gave one last hard shove to the board end and then aligned it with the desk. “So um… Hotch asked me to be your tutor for today if that is alright with you. Um… What material are you studying?”

“Mostly psychology. Which I am not very good at, by the way.” She retrieved a huge book from her bag and a small pencil case that was filled with just a pen and three markers, red, yellow, and green. Just as she opened the book, he could see that its majority was colored and that it had notes in the margins. His heart thudded louder in his chest.

“What do all those colors mean?” He asked curiously as he approached her.

“Well green means that I understand it; yellow means that I am working on it and red … I just have no clue. It's just mostly yellow at the moment, though the notes help.”

“What's red?” She looked at him in a strange way, and too late did he realize that she was studying him, his question had been earnest and probably too forward, and he rushed to explain himself. “ I just - I asked because I have a PhD in the subject.” He could see her eyebrows lifting before they settled in a scowl and whacked his brain to understand what he said wrong.

“You are Doctor Reid, right?” She asked quietly, and he stupidly nodded as an answer to her question. “Well there is … I don't understand some differences between some categories of killers; they have much in common, so why are they in a separate category?”

“The answer is actually way simpler I'd you think of it in a Venn diagram.” He rushed to the board, and drew a few circles, and he started writing on it as he explained its category separately. He talked for what seemed like hours, and he embarrassingly looked at his watch. He must have been talking for over an hour, and he turned to look at the girl only to find her writing on her book, still in the margins looking at him expectantly. The way she was staring at him almost had him stammering once again, and he felt his knees weaken for a strange reason. So he carried on.

When he was done, he turned to look at her; she was still writing something before she whispered. “You need to tuck your chest in when you are firing a gun.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Aaron said that he was having trouble with one of his agents' firearm training, and it must be you. You have a long torso, so your weight center is different from the diagrams in the training books you must have read. That's why you keep missing.” And just like that, she was gone again wishing him good night and a nice weekend.

His head was spinning as he walked towards the training room, and he wore his earmuffs and protective glasses. Tuck your chest in. And so he did before aiming and pressing the trigger three times. His shots were the best, but he hadn't missed. Pride swarmed his chest; he was going to do it.

The next day, he failed his exam. He had lost his gun.

3. The first case

Small-town cases were always the most thrilling in his humble opinion. And any time somehow a cult or demons were involved, he worked ten times harder to prove them wrong. Only this time, their team had a new member. Gideon did seem to take a liking to her, in contrast with Spencer, who was incredibly warm to her the moment she entered the room. Maybe it was because he had met her before, or maybe it was because whenever she was around him he felt like a firework ready to explode. Somehow, his conversation with Morgan had turned to the explanation of attraction in the neurotic sector.

“Chemicals, such as dopamine, may cause one to be giddy, euphoric, and even to experience suppressed hunger and sleep cues. You may recall a time when someone made your heart thud erratically in your chest, heat rise in your body making you blush, and the sensation of being tongue-tied or not able to form coherent thoughts. These are the characteristics of attraction.”

“Is that what you feel around her then? Because you don't act like yourself around her. I mean, come on, you are a germaphobe, and you were the first to shake her hand.”

He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he did shake her hand. She surprised him too quickly to think beyond taking her hand, letting it happen. Their formal meeting, the one where they acted as if they hadn't spent an evening together in this same room. Hotch gave him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite, and he was definitely on to him. In the duration of the case, he tried to keep his distance, which didn't go that well when he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun that was aimed at him. Everything went by too quickly as she dove toward the UnSub, without a second thought tackling him to the ground and disarming him in a few short seconds. He wanted to be impressed, yet he had seen her in the training room with Morgan as they had hand-to-hand combat. She moved with agility, and her every move seemed calculated and strategic. He had felt his heart stutter in his chest as she helped him stand and checked him for injuries.

He was lovestruck as Penelope teased him. His silly crush on JJ had been entirely forgotten.

4. The Lila Archer incident

He was an idiot. It was the first time he would characterize himself in such a way. And hopefully the last.

When you guard a beautiful actress, Spencer, don't jump in the pool with her.

Love,

Spencer

He could identify the disappointment in his colleagues' faces from the very first second, yet the one that pierced him the most was hers. She barely spoke during the discussions about the possible type of the UnSub, no matter how much Elle or Hotch urged her on. She had been stuck with him for pretty much all of the cases and he had to admit that she was a brilliant young woman. The others interpreted her quietness as an inability to profile but her insights were what had helped him make some major breakthroughs on the last cases. When they congratulated him for that he simply smiled stating that he didn't work alone yet the others probably thought that he was just trying to cover his partner and not share mutual credit for their work. It unnerved him how she seemed incredibly distant and stoic always five paces away from the rest of the team.

Yet this time she seemed furious, it was the deathly kind of quiet, the one that sent a chill to his bones and left all the apologies that were spewing up in his brain die on his tongue.

Frustration was welling up on him and he tried to muster up the courage to talk to her, only to find her crying in Morgan's arms. He couldn't understand for the life of him what she was saying and a selfish, terrible part of him hoped that, maybe, she had been crying for him.

5. The drug addiction

Tobias Hankel was going to be a name that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Sometimes deep into the night he was still at that cabin fighting for his life, the one time his intelligence wasn't enough. What drew him to steal those few bottles of Dilaud from his pocket, why he used them, why he formed his addiction. He didn't want to be a drug addict but it was his new reality. He desperately tried to stop it, tried to hide it and always felt ashamed when he relapsed to that horrible habit. He would sit in his bathroom sweating, crying and begging a higher force, a higher being to end his torment, despite never being a religious man, only for his phone to ring demanding his presence because of a new case and for him to fall back to his old routine.

It was a tough journey and he wanted to talk with his friends about that, he needed their help, yet they ignored his problem as if it didn't exist, even though the signs were clear. He was always lashing out, having terrible mood swings and when they tried to confort him about it he lashed out. He had met an old friend of his and he had been the only one he had been brutally honest about his … condition. Gideon knew, his mentor knew, he had the confirmation, yet he turned a blind eye to the situation. Everyone did, except from her.

Everyday she would bring him his extra sweet coffee filled to the brim with stevia and not sugar, because sugar was just as addictive. When he craved, he played with his fingers, tried to distract himself but to no avail, a long strip of hard licorice sweets would appear in front of his face, after research be learned that the flavourful of licorice was extremely distinctive and strong and its hard texture led a person to chew endlessly at just one piece. It was the best food to consume to distract yourself. Every night after a case she would show up at his place with Greek takeout, which was apparently the best cousine, and demand longtime marathons of a show or series of movies, which wasn't something unusual for the two of them. She visited him because she knew that he would never use in her vicinity. He had never known true love until that moment and he recalled a quote by Jane Austin.

To be loved is to be known.

words: 3.007

[cardigan-ns]

BATHE ME CLEAN

Father Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY - You came to him about your awful home life, how badly your parents and sibling treat you. He sees this as discrimination on him, and takes care of it for you. But you’re too vulnerable to notice his sickening ways.

WARNINGS - abusive parents, murder, blasphemy, father Charlie being unhinged as hell.

NOTE - Listened to a but-load of Ethel cain while writing this - “Family Tree” to be specific.

Father Mayhew’s eyes weakened as you sat there vulnerable and ripped open beside him, it was very late, so late that nobody was there, the sky had gone pitch black and there was nothing outside but the banshees and the looming creatures in the forests. You had on a pale pink dress and red heels, as if you’d just slipped them on and ran down the cobblestones to speak to him. And here he sat with you on the pew, watching you pour your innermost to him.

A sniffle came from your nose and your eyes faltered from the alter to his red boots, to your red shoes. The taint of the red carpet, as if you were drowning in a haunting memory you cannot let go of. “How long has this been going on for?” Father Mayhew swore to keep his anger in check as you, a beautiful girl, wept infront of him about how your father had hurt you, and your mother added salt to the wound by throwing your psychology books in the river behind your house. Your mother called it demons work, how you were figuring out the mind of the insane and sinned. Father Mayhew always credited you on it, when you’d come to him with awards and test scores you acccomplished, after every Tuesday mass. When he found out your mother shamed your academic passion, a wave of impurity took over him, he wanted to hurt her, so very badly.

“Since I was a little girl, maybe 5.” You breathed out as if that’s all you’ve ever known. Father Mayhew closed his eyes in pain at how your father had always hit you. He was a stern and troubling man, Charlie always clocked that everytime he walked through those wooden doors. But he was a good actor and he always played the role of the proud father who funds her education and always puts a smile on her face. “And yet you cannot escape them in college?” You shook your head at his question, your parents, for the sake of convenience and so they wouldn’t murder eachother while you went to a different state for university, forced you to pick a place closest to home, 5 minutes walk away. You couldn’t breathe with how trapped you felt.

“You aren’t going home tonight.” He was stern but soft with his eyes and the way his hand touched your knee, you slowly gazed to your side to see his somber tone, how he was adamant you don’t return home, a dead-of-night runaway. “Where will I go? I haven’t exactly got a good relationship with my older sibling.” Father Mayhew clocked your brother was a deadbeat, had a child young, and “supposedly” killed his girlfriend. You mentally disowned him, yet your parents praised him to the nines.

“Stay here, at the church, with me.” After every passing syllable his charm worked on you like a touch of an all powerful God. You were too struggled to think about the underlying connotations to his invitation. You just needed freedom. “Is that allowed?” His firm hand squeezed your knee, giving you a rush, and giving him the possession he needed to have you right where he wanted you. “Nobody will have to know.” His evil lips curled into something sinister, his eyes dark with sinful thoughts. “Plus I could use a little helper around the church. The nuns are on an exhibition in Rome, leaving me to my own devices.” He was convincing, you wet your bottom lip as it had gone dry from the crying, and you nodded, another small tear couldn’t help but fall. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

Father mayhews eyes became caring and wholesome once more as his thumb left your knee and reached up to your eye to wipe the stray tear away. “Hush. no time for tears. You’re in safe hands now.” His voice was husky as he whispered lowly, words barely audible by how nurturing he was being. You were so painfully wrapped around his finger, painted in his charm. You’d run to a werewolf down a darkened alley if it walked to you slow enough, ready to tear you apart limb from limb as you mindlessly apologise for being so easy to kill.

“I want you to go home and pack a bag. Silently, do not be seen or heard, are you listening?” The thumb that was wiping your face, now cupping your cheek, he felt protective over you, even though he was only a few years older, how dare your family hurt such a sweet and loving girl, all you ever wanted was to understand what made them the way that they are, and now you’re left in shambles under his touch. “I’ll be right back.” You shakily do what he tells you and you touch the hand on your cheek that heals you piece by piece. Your mind wasn’t even going to how touchy he was, just that a noble man like himself was seeing you truly without the mask on.

He watched you stand now, his eyes pained to watch you go, he knows you live walking distance away, you’ll be back quick enough but he can’t stand the thought of watching you walk so openly in the pitch black, any psycho could come and swoop you away from him, and the thought of never seeing you again brought a great darkened root pain to him. “Watch where you’re going now, my dear.” He stood and opened his arms for you to feel his full embrace, his big arms clothed you, capturing you in his sanctity. “I’ll be here waiting.” He kissed the top of your head and rubbed your shoulder for you to go.

While you made your secret venture back home, Charlie walked into his office, opened the wooden cabinet and opened a wooden box at the base of it. “The sinners of the world will feel the sickening vengeance of my wrath, as I heal the do-gooders of their demons.” He muttered to himself as he beheld the large blade he kept for emergencies, untouched, except for when it needed some care after sitting in a box for so long. He was going to christen this knife with the blood of the damned. All for his sweet angel.

As he thought out a plan he paced around the room, practicing the ways in which he was going to perform his slaughter. He himself was damned, but he would never hurt you the way your parents do. The way your brother’s envy masks the true beauty of your soul. He needed you to be loved, and he’d done that silently for the past year. He muttered verses to himself to delude himself he was the saint. Throughout his planning you’d come back, and you knocked on his office door, he quickly placed the knife back in its box and shut the cabinet just in time for you to make your entrance. “I’m back.” He smiled a glowing smile, seeing your back and how it seemed to be filled to the brim with things, he walked towards you. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying, follow me.” He locked arms with you and took your bag off your shoulders, you shouldn’t carry the weight of it, he put it over his own shoulder and walked you to his convent flat, he pat your soft hand as you walked.

He opened the door to his living area and shut the door, he wanted you, in every way, but you needed to settle first, and for that, he’d make you the safest you’d ever felt. You looked around and took in how plain but wonderful it looks, he seemed like a total neat freak, nothing was out of place, except the rather strange book choice he had on the coffee table. You shook your head and figured everyone was allowed some guilty pleasure. “It’s wonderful.” You smiled adoringly to the man who gave you a new start, and he gave you a proud huff, “it’s really nothing, if it were up to me, I’d have much more colour.” He clasped his hands together and rocked back and forth a little, “shall we get you to bed?” Your eyes perked up at the thought of slumber, and you nodded with a hum.

As you followed him down the short narrow hallway, you noticed this area was quite empty, you thought a convent would look bigger. But this wasn’t the convent, this was his quarter, but how were you to know the difference. “There’s only one bedroom, I hope you don’t mind.” Your brain spaced at his words, why on earth would he offer you to stay if he only had one bed. But his eyes were so inviting and innocent that they trapped you. “That’s okay. Where will I sleep though?” You figured he had a couch in the room. “Beside me, of course, I’m not going to banish you to the floor, don’t be silly.” He laughed a little to himself as he opened the door, your eyes landed on the bare room, white bedsheets, with a cross above the bed. You yawned at the sight of the bed, and Father Mayhews eyes graced your tired expression, he had such a soft spot for you it was making him weak. “Go lay down, my dear.” You ushered to the bed, and you obliged.

As your back hit the bed you closed your eyes, as heavy as they felt you opened them once more to see Father Mayhew at the end of the bed. His hands reached towards your heels and he slowly slipped the red heels off of you, patting your ankles when he took each shoe off. “Sit yourself up a second.” He spoke and you listened, back against the headboard as she pulled the duvet back and placed it over your body, almost poetically. His hands then touched your legs over the blanket. “Now rest, dear. I’ll come to bed in a while, I just have a few things I need to take care of.” His grin made you believe he was up to holy things, priest activities, like blessing the church for another safe night. But “take care of things” could also mean something that he was actually going to do, murder your family.

“Goodnight, Father.” You mumbled as he blew out the candle that was illuminating your sweet face. “Goodnight, may the angels rest your weary head.” He spoke as he kissed atop your head, and left you alone.

You heard a loud crash and bang that shocked you awake, it was coming from the living area of Father Mayhews quarter, you rubbed your forehead as you sat up, you didn’t know what time it was but that it was still awfully dark in your room. “Father?” You whispered a little scared, the noise was terrifying. Charlie threw his head back as he stumbled in and hearing your call made him curse to himself. “Fuck, I woke her up.” He thought.

“It’s just me, angel.” He called out from the living room, he decided he must come in and soothe your fears. He opened your bedroom door and his silhouette lingered at the door, he wasn’t dressed how he usually was, nor in pyjamas. He was in dark leather trousers, a black shirt, and something over his head which looked lack a cloth mask, but it was pulled up to his hair, a few stray strands peeking out messily. “You gave me a scare.” You mumbled from the bed, now sat up, he only tilted his head and smiled, flicking a miraculous medal in his hand, he shoved it in his pocket and took brisk steps to your aid, his firm hand touching your arm, the light of the open door brightening your face. “It’s safe now. You’re safe now.” He mumbled to you, as if assuring himself what happened in your childhood home was right and just, and you were none the wiser and would continue to be.

The more you looked at his darkened features you noticed a small speckle of blood on his nose, you reached your hand up and wiped it away, his eyes gazed at your touch and his mouth parted slightly, feeling dirty and guilty, having a touch so pure on his disheveled core, made him sick. But also gave him the impression god forgave him, by how welcoming your touch was. He then gained up the force to push your hands down to either side of your head, your eyes felt under watch, and trapped. “Father?” You questioned what he was doing, and his eyes lingered on yours for a little too long. He wanted you, that wasn’t unclear, but he’s drowning in guilt, having you after he’s sent your parents to hell…that’d be one hell of payback for them, it’d fill him with an ungodly amount of ego. But you looked so concerned for him, and then you uttered words he knew he couldn’t dampen. “Come lay down. You’re exhausted.” You expected he’d taken a midnight run, and that’s why he was so cold and worked up, the adrenaline was there but not because of good willed exercise. “I am.” His grip loosened on you and he sighed, he ripped the mask from his skull, and kicked his boots off.

“Close your pretty eyes.” He alerted you as he was about to undress. “Can’t have you tainting a priest, now can we?” He huffed a quiet laugh and you rolled over and let him get his sweatpants on. Once he was decent he laid down beside you and facing you, his hand cupping your cheek and your eyes consumed him whole, you felt like you still owed him every ounce of you, and he’d let you. But tonight was about seeking refuge, and you both had what you wanted, you had a safe home and he had someone to protect.

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[reiderwriter]

hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

[kodydrs]

The Arrangement Baby - Gojo Satoru

a/n: don’t shoot. I swear part 4 is coming. So take this as a token of my love. Idk why, but i loved writing for Gojo. He’s so bbygirl. might as well reblog / comment, and feel free to send in a random request / ask

this is set like, just before gojo goes to Shibuya, so no angst (yet lol)

warnings: gojo x fem!reader, husband!gojo x wife!reader, arranged marriage, established relationship, soft smut, mdni, fxm, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), pregnancy kink (maybe?), trying to get pregnant, they’re so in love your honour, kinda ooc gojo

ib: jasminn’s bot on Chai.

request: yes / no (but dedicated to @lvtilzs who has been here since day one)

‘You don't want this and I know you don't. Women can never really hide their emotions well, can they?‘ He jokes. It immediately earned him a glare, to which he waved his hands in defence. ‘Hold on. It's for the good of our clans, isn't it? I think we should think of it that way. You don't gotta love me, but you love your family, right?‘

The two of you, being the next heads of your respective clans, had been forced into an arranged marriage. It was supposedly to 'help build bonds’.

You sigh, seated on your knees with your hands on your lap.

‘If it builds bonds with the clans, then I will marry you, Gojo Satoru. But I cannot promise I will be able to learn to love you.‘

‘Hmm, I can respect that, my dear. But remember, we are bound together now. We must find a way to make this work, for the sake of our people.’

‘And we will. With our clans joined in this marriage, the strength of our family's will work.’

‘Indeed, my love. But don't forget that there is more to a marriage than just strength. There is also passion and desire. And as the head of our families, it is our duty to ensure that those needs are met.‘

You don't say anything. You just hum and nod. You hadn't looked at your husband. You'd only been informed he was to be your husband a few days prior.

Satoru took a step closer, his olden aura intensifying as he did so.

‘I must confess, however, that I'm rather excited for this night. To consummate our union and begin our lives together.‘ His eyes met yours for the first time since you'd sat down.

'Mhm.' You hum again, 6 eyes staring at you. 'I hope it will be for the best.'

Satoru chuckled softly, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

‘It will be, my love. Together, we'll make this work.‘

You close your eyes, focusing on his touch. You reach for his hand, running your thumb over his knuckles.

Feeling the warmth of your touch, Satoru squeezed your hand gently.

‘We have our entire lives ahead of us, filled with shared experiences and growth. Remember that.‘ For the first time, a smile crosses your face and you feel a sense of warmth in his presence. ‘That's my girl,‘ he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your forehead.

You lean into his kiss, watching as he pulls back. ‘Satoru.‘

‘Yes, my love?‘ He asked, his voice soft and inviting.

‘Let's take this slow, ok?‘

Satoru nodded, understanding the request.

‘Of course, sweetheart. We'll take things at your pace.‘ His eyes held a promise of patience and care as he reassured you.

It had been almost 6 months since your marriage. You and Gojo were currently living together near the Highschool in order for him to be able to teach his students. You had a simple life where you stayed at home, going on a few missions for your clan here and there.

You were sitting in your living room, reading a book when the front door opened.

‘My dear, I'm home,‘ Satoru called out as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

‘I'm in the living room.' You called, placing your book down.

‘Alright, sweetheart,‘ he replied with a soft chuckle before walking into the living room. His eyes met yours as he approached, a warm smile on his face. ‘How was your day?‘

'Boring. Not much happened. There were no missions for me.'

‘Well, that's good news,‘ Satoru replied with a gentle smile. ‘You deserve a break from all that danger and chaos.‘ He walked over to sit beside you on the couch, his arm brushing against yours in a subtle show of affection.

You leaned against him, tracing his knuckles. It was a habit you'd picked up. There was just something mesmerising about your husband's hands.

'How was your day?'

‘It was... fine.' His eyes followed your hand on his, watching you trace the bones. 'I may have to go away for a little while though. Something has come up.'

'Oh... ok.' It wasn't that Satoru didn't go away often, but you couldn't deny the house felt empty when he wasn't around. 'Do you need me to do anything while you're away?'

‘No, sweetheart, don't worry about it.‘ he reassured you with a soft smile. ‘I'll be back before you know it.‘ He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. ‘Now, have you eaten?‘

You shake your head, leaning into the kiss.

‘Well, then,‘ Satoru chuckled softly, ‘Let's fix that. I'll make us something delicious.‘ He stood up from the couch, his strong presence filling the room as he moved towards the kitchen. You also stand, following after him.

‘What would you like?‘ Satoru asked as he pulled out a skillet from the kitchen drawer and began to heat it up on the stove top.

'I don't mind.' You reply, sitting upon the counter as you watch him get to work

‘Okay, consider it done then.‘ Satoru chuckled softly as pulled out some vegetables from the fridge and began to chop them up with quick, precise movements.

It wasn't long before the meal was ready. You thanked him for the meal and both sat at the table to eat.

'So, what's this mission for?'

‘Well, there's been a sudden increase in occult activity around the city,‘ He explained as he took a bite of his food. ‘It seems that some powerful spirits have been unleashed, and we need to find out who's behind it.‘

You nod, taking another mouthful of your food.

‘Will it be a hard mission?'

‘It might be,‘ Satoru admitted with a frown. ‘But don't worry, I'll make sure nothing happens to you.‘ He reached out and gently squeezed your hand reassuringly. You nodded, a hint of anxiety creeping up on you. After finishing their meal, Satoru cleared the dishes and began to clean up while you sat at the table, lost in thought. He could feel your tension but didn't want to push you further into worry just yet.

‘Hey,‘ Satoru said softly, coming up behind you and placing his hands gently on your shoulders. ‘Don't think about that right now. Just enjoy this moment with me.‘ He leaned down to press a gentle kiss against the nape of your neck.

Satoru slowly pulled away, his hands remaining lightly on your shoulders. You hummed, holding his hands over your shoulders. ‘Satoru?‘

‘Yes, love?‘

‘Do you want to have a baby?‘

Silence filled the room, and Satoru froze, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn't expected that question, especially not now.

‘I...,‘

‘You don’t have to answer right now. It’s just an idea.’

‘No. No. I… I do.’ He said carefully.

‘Mhm.‘ A soft smile covered your face. ‘That way, our clans really would be connected. A child with blood from both clans.‘

Satoru couldn't help but return your smile, his eyes meeting yours. ‘Yes, that's true,‘ He agreed, his voice filled with warmth. ‘But I'd rather have a baby because you want to have one. Not just to further strengthen the bond of our clans.‘

Your smile grows and you turn to face him. ‘I want to have your baby, Satoru.‘

His heart skipped a beat as he stared into your eyes, feeling a surge of emotion swell up within him. He leaned in, his lips barely brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. ‘Thank you.‘

Your hands took his and brought them to his face, reciprocating his kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his feelings for you into the exchange. He pulled away, breathless and giddy.

‘I love you,‘ He whispered, his eyes filled with adoration.

Your eyes widen slightly. In your many months of marriage, neither of you have once said those 3 words. But it made your heart warm, and your husband was practically glowing.

‘I love you, too.‘

Satoru smiled wide, pulling you into another tender kiss.

‘I'm so glad you said that,‘ he murmured against your lips. He pulled away, still holding your hands in his. ‘We should head upstairs,‘

‘Mhm.‘ You agreed, taking his hand.

Together, the two of you made your way upstairs, their hands entwined like a lifeline. They shared a tender moment as they reached the top, exchanging loving glances before continuing down the hallway to their bedroom.

You'd had sex a few times since marriage, but something about this time felt different. It felt more meaningful

As they undressed, Satoru couldn't help but admire your naked body, his eyes tracing every inch of you. He loved you with all his heart and soul and wanted to make this experience together beautiful and eternal. You pulled him down, kissing him passionately with your chests pressed together. which made him moan softly, his body responding eagerly to your touch.

He wrapped his arms around you, deepening their connection as they continued to share their newfound love through passionate kisses and tender caresses.

‘You're so beautiful, Satoru.' You moaned, losing your hands in his white hair.

‘Thank you, love,‘ he whispered against your lips, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. He gently pushed you down onto the bed, following you down as his lips and hands explored every inch of your body.

Quiet whimpers filled the room, and you propped yourself onto your elbows, watching him travel around your skin. His eyes met yours, filled with love and desire as he continued his sensual exploration, his kisses trailing down your body while his hands roamed gently over your skin. His heart pounded in anticipation of the connection they were about to share once more.

You brought one hand to his head, stroking through his hair again. As he felt your hand in his hair, he leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently as he moaned against your skin. His other hand began to caress between your legs, teasingly rubbing against your sensitive folds. You moaned breathlessly, back arched.

‘Oh, Satoru,‘ you breathed, arching your back even further as he continued to please you. Your body trembled with anticipation as he moved to probe against your entrance. slowly pushed inside, filling you with his love and desire. 'Fuck. You're good to me.'

‘I am yours.‘ He whispered against your skin, their bodies moving together in a rhythm of love and need. His fingers dug into your hips, urging him deeper inside as they became lost in their passionate connection.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding on tightly like he'd run away if you didn't. Satoru held onto you just as tightly, his lips finding the sensitive skin behind your ear as he continued to thrust into you. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, creating a symphony of moans and gasps that filled the room.

'Please, Satoru.' You whispered, voice breaking. 'Please let me have your baby?

Hearing your plea, Satoru's heart swelled with love and desire. He pulled out of you slightly before pushing back in harder, claiming you completely once more. ‘Our baby,‘ he corrected softly against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded rapidly, hiding your face in his neck as you reached your high, a symphony of moans filling his ears.

He held you close, their bodies moving together in a frenzy of passion. He felt you shudder beneath him, your walls clenching tightly around him. Your body rocked back and forth, following in time with your husband's thrusts.

‘I'm here,‘ Satoru whispered, feeling his own climax building within him. He could feel the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot, teasing and taunting you both.

'I-I can feel you.' You whimpered, tears wetting your eyes. His breath hitched as he felt you tremble under him.

‘Our baby will be so loved,‘ he whispered against your skin before giving one final, powerful thrust that sent them both over the edge.

A flurry of moans filled the house, both of you holding each other like you're going to disappear.

Gasping for breath, Satoru held onto you tightly as his seed filled you completely. Their bodies trembled together, still joined in intimacy even as their lungs tried to catch their breath.

You looked at him, panting deeply, but still able to plant a gentle kiss to his cheek.

'Our baby will be the strongest. Just like their daddy.’

Satoru returned the kiss softly, his eyes filled with love for you. He leaned in closer, nuzzling your neck as he held you close.

‘I love you,‘ he whispered against your skin, his heart racing from their passionate lovemaking.

You laughed quietly, rubbing his shoulders and back. 'Don't say it too much, Satoru. It'll lose its meaning.’

He smiled at your teasing remark, feeling the warmth spread through him. He continued to hold onto you, savouring the closeness they shared after their intense lovemaking session.

‘I couldn't help myself,‘ he said softly, his eyes still locked on yours. Hands held his face, caressing his skin.

'I love you too, Satoru Gojo.'

© kodydrs

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated, and is not to be posted on any other platform.

[gutterfuuck]

Human!Mark with a Super-powered/Viltrumite!Reader

It’s cute he’s so possessive, as if we wouldn’t break him like a twig... 🙈

THISSSS this is incredible!! i am going crazy!!

i love this idea so much,, perhaps reader is an child of thragg. i am now putting my little headcanon in where i think that mark would have glasses and braces… real nerdy guy x girl that is only gentle with him… cute dynamic hehe!!

this is sfw since im writing a full fic currently, just some headcanons maybe to get the concept out there!! the fic will be called “the perfect girl”

cw: nothing really, as i have stated this is short, maybe a blurb? i am not sure haha,

the youngest viltrumite to be sent to conquer a planet. you’re sent to earth to take over another viltrumite’s mission that was supposedly cut short due to his untimely death. as soon as you burst onto the scene you’d had everyone’s attention; splattering kaijus like they were bugs, stopping criminals with your presence alone, saving those who were weaker, more susceptible to danger. you’re quick to rise as a favourite of the public, surpassing even the guardians in popularity.

mark meets you at a comic book signing at a con because of course he does. you’re there because you find humans interesting, that and you’d caught wind of a possible attack incoming at the event. you doubted they’d actually come along seeing as you’d made your presence known and you weren’t too kind with your beatdowns. you’d never admit it, but you found this type of media entertaining, the stories would interest you. even though you were a viltrumite, there wasn’t any law that said you couldn’t have a little bit of fun. (you also somewhat enjoyed the fame and the fanbases that had cultivated around you since you decided you didn’t need a superhero name, your name was good enough)

brown eyes stare at you through thick framed glasses, sparkling with interest and recognition, a goofy braced sideways smile forming on his face. you raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over your chest as you stared dead into his eyes. mark almost dropped the stacks of comic books he held in his arms, you were ethereal. he’d seen you on tv, you were all over the newsfeeds sometimes so you were hard to avoid. he thought you were beautiful before, thought you looked like an angel now. other people had gotten pictures with you earlier so he was sure there wouldn’t be a problem if he asked.

he got his picture but you had gotten his number, watched him walk away with pink cheeks, caught in a sort of daze. mark felt so comfortable to you, so… familiar..? maybe all humans weren’t so bad, mark was proof of that.

when you’d come over for dinner with his family one night, you’d finally worked out why. you’d never met nolan, but had heard stories about him growing up on viltrum. he’d been priming the planet for invasion but had been killed which put a cap on things until your arrival about two and a half years ago after you’d proved yourself worthy. you had the shock of your life when you sat at the table and squinted at your boyfriend’s father, heart dropping when you connected the dots. you and mark had been together for months now, you’d know if he was a viltrumite… had the great nolan faked his own death and fathered an offspring with no powers? you almost scoffed at the irony. what a tired and cowardly old man, the karma of having a child with no abilities must have been damning enough. you thought about you and mark’s potential future children and a warmth washed over you, the same warmth that made you feel all gooey and sickly sweet inside.

“tell me about your planet.” he’d say, resting his head on your shoulder as you watched the stars together, “ah, viltrum… haven’t you heard of it before?” you questioned, head tilted into his. you couldn’t wait to report back in a few years, couldn’t wait to tell everyone about how you’d found nolan and he hadn’t been killed… but mark would’ve been heartbroken. you couldn’t do that to him, not yet at least, it seemed cruel. plus, he had no idea what a viltrumite was, though your pride as a viltrumite felt attacked as you’d figured his father hadn’t even mentioned mark’s background to him.

you told tall tales about how you’d created the best civilisation, how your kind helped other planets and those less fortunate… you’d tell him the truth eventually, you’d have to seeing as you wanted to keep mark for as long as human lifespans allowed you to. he would open his mouth and his eyes would widen in awe, saying something about how you were like a character from his comic books which made you nod in turn, the conversation slowly changing to the subject of the comic book he’d been talking about. before you met mark, you would’ve probably never been able to experience life in such a human way. before it felt as if you had no sense of individuality, now it felt like you couldn’t stop being yourself even if it was a little alien to you.

[starmanskywalker]

possession · anakin skywalker x f!reader

hello there, @snippy-tano! i tried to do something different here, still respecting the core of your prompt and i wholeheartedly hope you enjoy this one, dear!

synopsis: you broke free from a cult a while ago. your leader - and ex-lover - wants you back. 

⚠️ the jedi temple in this fic is a literal cult. ⚠️ this is a modern, no powers!au fic set in the 70s bc i’ve always wanted to write something set in that decade. even though this is very much a dubcon work, i still feel like it deserves the dead dove do not eat tag, as cults are a delicate subject and there’s a scene featuring a very inebriated reader and a very sexually eager cult leader!anakin. huge, blaring trigger warnings for drug abuse, manipulation, coercion, psychological abuse and many other toxic behaviors cult leaders are known for having. if you're a minor, stay away!

i lowkey think this would also work so well as an obi-wan fic but anakin was also very, very fun to write in this context. feel free to send me prompts involving him or obi anytime you like (i might take a bit long to write but maybe you’ll think it’s worth it!)

word count: 6.599 (shit that’s long!)

When you left the Jedi Temple, you felt like the world as you knew it before turned upside down. To put it in more precise terms, you felt like an unfrozen comic book hero that came back from the realm of the unconscious.

You’ve spent seven years of your life with little contact to the mundane world outside of what Anakin allowed you and the other members of the Temple to see, hear and taste. Your entire existence revolved around him and his needs - after all, Anakin Skywalker was The Chosen One. The Force itself, that mysterious energy field that binds the galaxy and all members of the Jedi Temple together in its arduous mission to bring peace, equality and compassion to an increasingly unfair, unequal and war-torn world, chose him to lead you. So how could you say no to such a noble mission?

And what a mission that was. Seeing yourself in a mirror after all you’ve been through without the rose-colored glasses sponsored by Anakin’s constant and almost mantra-esque praise to you was quite something.

Your body was begging for rest in every possible way - your hair had stopped growing, giant dark circles had formed under your eyes and you didn't even have time to eat properly among so many tasks that were assigned to you on a daily basis, resulting in a drastic change on how you looked. During your time under Anakin’s watch, you were PR, secretary, cook, coordinator, supervisor, presenter, confidant, administrator and one of his many lovers; the amount of titles growing every day while no kind of worldly remuneration appeared as a reward.

Thinking about Anakin still stirred so many difficult and confusing feelings inside you. He supposedly loved you more than anything else in the world, yet still brought so many other women to his bed. You were his and only his, yet your body was often the bargaining chip he offered in some of his treasured, nefarious deals with politicians, bankers and other powerful men like him, which you accepted gracefully to please him. And Lord, how you yearned to please him in any and every way you could. This feeling was the only one you were able to discern clearly out of so many that disappeared in the mental fog of overwork. 

He was beautiful, even more dashing when his attention was directed entirely to you. His compliments meant more, his touches were more eager, his smiles wider when you did everything you could for his cause.

There were days you only thought about the good aspects of your past life - and there were days the only memories that pierced your mind were the bad ones. Yet it’s kinda funny how almost a year later after you left he is still the center of all these thoughts.

Even if your current life is stable, calm and fairly easy. Even if your current partner is an angel who does treat you like they indeed love you. Even if you made them a promise you would never, ever look back.

Anakin, as always, makes things way harder than they really need to be.

-

The weight of loving Anakin and his community became too heavy to bear for you and your partner around the same time, for widely different reasons that coincided with a period of growing closeness between you. The fact that what drew you to your current significant other was precisely how much they reminded you of Anakin made you worry about the future you were building together from the start, yet Anakin was an addiction you always knew you wouldn’t break free from easily.

(Better to wean off in gradually smaller doses than to quit cold turkey.)

Another thing you always knew was that your partner would adapt to this new life much easier than you did, as they weren't as loyal to the cause as you were. They found new friends that also became your friends, yet at dinners and parties you always felt a little more out of place than them. Your jokes didn’t quite land, you were never the funniest or smartest on the table, not even for a minute, despite how hard they always tried to make you feel included. It’s always been like that for you, really, except for the time you were there.

With Anakin. By his side.

The feeling of belonging somewhere, especially when accompanied (or led) by a beautiful, well-spoken and ambitious man is a hell of a drug. A drug strong enough to numb the rage within you brought by the memories of the alienation and paranoia spiral he instilled in you constantly. The memories of the countless sleepless nights you’ve spent dealing with Anakin’s coke-fueled persecution complex. The unspeakable things he had you do to prove you were by his side and not against him and the cause. 

A drug strong enough to make you accept a specific invitation.

At the beginning of a certain day, a stranger bumped into you while you walked into the street and left a piece of paper in your coat’s pocket. Classic Temple method of sending a message. However, instead of the usual threats and condemnations for leaving the community, you find something else entirely new.

Anakin wanted to speak to you. Alone.

You’d go just to get some much needed closure for what you went through by his side. Just that. Close this chapter of your life once and for all. After all, what harm could a simple conversation do?

You felt horrified that you still found yourself wondering what he’d think of you now; deep down you were afraid of him giving up on you entirely even though you truly didn’t want to be part of his mess anymore. Yet not having a door open to his path anymore frightened you to your core because even with its hundred million flaws, you still saw the Temple as a place you belonged in. 

You feared that feeling in itself. Every decision it made you take. All the euphoria it still, regrettably and shamefully, brings you.

Your partner notices you growing more silent by the day as the calendar approaches the fateful date. Your mind was in a complete state of turmoil. You left the Temple months ago, determined to start a new life for yourself, one free from the darkness that had consumed you before. But despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the memories of what had transpired between you and Anakin, or the longing you felt for the leader who had shown you for the first time, even if in his own twisted way, what it was like to have an entire community to go back to, one that appreciated you. 

You feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a mix of anticipation and fear that you couldn't ignore every time you think a little too much about Anakin's intense gaze and commanding presence. What would he say when he saw you? Would he be angry at you for leaving, or would he welcome you back with open arms? And more importantly, why would you even want to be welcomed back? 

As you sat across from each other at the dinner table night after night, your partner couldn't help but notice the faraway look in your eyes. You seemed to be lost in thought most of the time, and your change in behavior coincided with the growing feeling you shared that you were being spied on by Temple’s members everywhere you went. Your partner, more than anyone else, knew what the Temple meant to you, and that leaving it behind had been a difficult and painful process for you both, but they couldn't help but feel frustrated that they couldn't seem to reach you. 

And, dreadfully, that they know the reason why.

-

August 31st, 1979

As you drove to the address indicated in the now crumpled piece of paper, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous, reprehensible excitement building within you. It had been so long since you had felt this kind of intensity, this kind of connection to something greater than yourself. The memories of your time in the cult - your partner made sure to repeat this word to you as often as they could - flooded back to you, and you felt a sense of longing and belonging that you hadn't felt in a very long time.

But beneath the surface of your excitement, there was also a deep sense of fear and trepidation. You knew what Anakin was capable of, how he could push you to your limits and beyond. You remembered all the pain and all the humiliation, the sense of being stripped down to your very core. But even as these memories surfaced, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the system who had once held such power over you. You knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that you were walking a fine line between ecstasy and the destruction of everything you’ve built away from his grasp. But as you approach the place where you’ll meet him, you feel a sense of inevitability wash over you. You were in too deep, and there was no turning back now.

The few Temple members always present by Anakin’s side - you know them too well, after all, most of them also shared the same bed you slept on most nights - all welcome you with a disarming kindness that the outside world and its people just can’t match, even with the many hurtful words that were exchanged when you and your partner left. The outside world could never match such selflessness and forgiveness. This realization breaks your heart so strongly you swear you can feel it physically. Did I do wrong by leaving? Is it too late to have it all back? Why am I questioning myself over my safe, sane, final choice?

Padmé, Sabé, Ahsoka, they’re all wide smiles, lighthearted jokes and they exude a strong feeling of happiness for having you, even if for a short while, around them again. Despite an initial distrust from your part that manifested itself through curt words, you eventually engage in lively chatter with the girls like nothing between you ever changed. You talk about everything and nothing at the same time as you all tried to avoid the elephant in the room: the reason you were there.

Your smile falters when Padmé hands you a white, delicate, flimsy gown that leaves you feeling way more exposed than you’ve ever been since you left. She notices your discomfort and places a hand on your shoulder. “This is all about healing. We’re so happy you’re back.”

This specific dress is only used by women who go through The Rebirth. A private ceremony between the Temple’s leader and a follower that promises to bring the follower closer to the divine.

Despite how close you were to Anakin, you were never invited to a ritual of his yourself, you just heard of them. He always told you you didn’t need it and you knew better than to probe him about it. It’s funny how the opportunity appeared only after you left his circle.

All you knew was that the Temple’s rituals, usually aimed at the unruly, alternated through a range of activities and experiences intended to be intense, transformative, and meaningful; perfectly crafted to reach people Anakin couldn’t solely reach through words or promises. These imperfect followers would afterwards appear completely different after their closer encounters to the Force. Some left the Temple, some stayed. But they were all similarly profoundly changed: some women disappeared, some women started to believe in miracles, some became part of his inner circle.

“I’m… I’m just here to talk t--”

“And that’s all you’ll do, if that’s what you want. But keep in mind it's not every day that you’ll get to be a part of something like this.”

You begrudgingly nod, forcing yourself to smile again. “Okay.”

“You trust me?”

“I do.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here. Could you please change your clothes while I go up there? Remember we need you to be as comfortable as possible, so please don’t wear anything underneath the dress.”

“Okay.”

You close your eyes as you feel your stomach dropping. You take a few deep breaths.

You were just reminded of what you didn’t miss about the Temple.

Ahsoka and Sabé promptly offer to help you in changing clothes, which you accept. A few minutes later, Padmé returns with a kind expression on her face, extending a hand towards you. “Master Skywalker is waiting for you.”

You take her hand and follow her through the series of steps. You felt your heart racing as you were led deeper into the building. You knew that you’d been tricked, but now it was too late to turn back. You could feel the intensity of the ritual building around you, and you knew that you were in for something far more riskier than you had bargained for.

You finally arrive at the door and, surprisingly, Padmé gives you a warm hug before leaving. Some minutes pass, no sign of anything or anyone. Were you supposed to knock or something…?

Before you could answer that question to yourself, Anakin opens the door and the oxygen is ripped out of your lungs in a way you couldn’t anticipate. You’re like a fish out of water; you can hardly believe your eyes. There he is, the one person you thought you'd never see again, standing before you.

Anakin's bathed by the muted light of candles in a sight that could be painted by the Force itself. He’s shirtless, wearing only sweatpants, his golden skin and defined physique bared for you to see. He moves some rebellious strands away from his eyes to see you more clearly.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to catch your breath at the sight of him. The room is too hot, seeing him again is too overwhelming. You want to leave, to get as far away from this place as possible. But before you can make your way back, Anakin holds your arm, his voice calm and reassuring. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

You shake your head, unable to form words.

"Come in," he says, taking you inside gently. “No need to be scared.”

As he envelops you in his arms and closes the door, you are immediately struck by the religious imagery that surrounds you. There are symbols and icons everywhere, each one imbued with its own powerful meaning. The space feels simultaneously cozy and imposing, the perfect balance between comfort and awe.

Your eyes drift across the room, taking in the details. There are candles burning in every corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air is thick with incense, a heady mix of spice and smoke. In the center of the room, there is an altar, adorned with offerings and gifts.

He leads you to a quiet corner of the room. There, he holds you close, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.

"I can’t believe you came, little bird," he says. "I’ve missed you.”

You can feel the strength of his arms around you, the familiar scent of his skin. As he pulls away and looks into your eyes, you can see a mixture of emotions playing across his face. You're not sure what he's thinking, but you sure can sense the power he still holds over you, especially when he calls you by that pet name. Despite your best intentions, you know that being in his presence again will be a test of your willpower and resolve. It’s already being one, to be honest.

As you struggle to calm down from your panic attack, Anakin continues to hold you close and stroke your hair. You feel his gentle touch and the steady rhythm of his breath, and it begins to soothe you. You hate the fact that it’s soothing you. 

He speaks to you softly, using words you can barely hear as you focus on slowing your breathing. "You're safe here," he says, "You're with me again, and everything will be okay."

You look up at him, trying to speak, but your voice is still caught in your throat. He nods, understanding, and simply holds you a little tighter.

As he continues to speak in soothing tones, you try to remind yourself that his words are simply a means to an end, a way to control you once again. Your mind races as you struggle to push away the memories of what he's done to you in the past. But despite your attempts to resist, you can't deny the feeling of safety that washes over you in his embrace.

You know that you shouldn't give in to his words, that you should fight back and leave this place. But deep down, a part of you yearns for the familiar comfort of the Temple, of him. The part of you that craves his attention, his approval, his touch. Who can’t get enough of it.

In that moment, you realize that you're falling prey to him all over again, despite everything you've been through. You feel a deep sense of shame and disgust at yourself, but it's drowned out by the overwhelming desire to be near him once more. Even if for a while.

That makes it even harder for you to speak. Your voice seems to have been swallowed up by the overwhelming emotions churning inside of you. You used to be so confident and outspoken while you were under his wing, but now you feel like a mere shadow of yourself, unsure of what to say or how to act. You hate how vulnerable you feel in his presence, how powerless you are against the pull he has over you. So you just stare, unable to do much else.

Anakin briefly lets go of you to gently touch your hand. He looks at you intently, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. "I understand how overwhelming this is for you, but I promise you you're safe with me. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to.”

“Why did you want to speak to me?” You protest, your voice cracking as you force the words out of you, almost as a way of rebelling against his guidance. You pull away and distance yourself from him.

Skywalker looks at you with a solemn expression, searching your face. "I called you here because I want to offer you a chance at redemption," he says, his voice steady and calm. "I know you've been struggling with feelings of inadequacy since you left us. I just want to help you find your way back to the right path."

He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in. “You were always one of my most faithful Knights," he continues. "I know you still have that spark inside of you. The spark that made you believe in me, that made you want to devote yourself to this. I want to help you rekindle that spark.”

You feel a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you as you listen to his words. Part of you wants to believe him, to trust that he has your best interests at heart. But another part of you is wary, remembering that the only reason he knows that, literally, is because he’s been ordering people to follow you.

“I don't know if I can trust you,” you manage to say, your voice shaking slightly.

Anakin’s expression softens, and he takes a step closer to you. "I understand why you might feel that way," he says. "But I want to assure you that I have no intention of hurting you. I want to help you heal, to help you find peace and purpose in your life. All you have to do is trust me. I promise that I'll be there for you every step of the way."

“Even if I don’t stay?”

You notice a flash of desperation in his eyes, which he tries to conceal. “We have something for you much more powerful than what your current life is offering you. And I think you know that, too.”

“I left for a reason.”

“And I can give you many others to come back. Your new life is just an illusion, a temporary fix to a problem that will only grow worse.” As he speaks to you, you feel his words sinking into your mind. He’s a specialist at tearing down the walls you’ve built to protect yourself from his influence, brick by fucking brick. 

“I love my partner. That’s… that’s not an illusion.” You answer, not really believing your own words.

“A partner you’ve found here. A partner you’ve chosen to live a life with where you constantly look for things to try to fill the emptiness of not being here.”

You feel a maelstrom of emotions swirling within you, making it difficult to discern which way is up. The memories of the past, the good and the bad, flood your mind, clouding your judgment. You want to believe that you can be free from Anakin and live a normal life, but something inside you is drawn to his words. Something that also reminds you that there’s no such thing as a normal life after this one, after meeting him, after letting him in control for so long.

The thought of giving him another chance both terrifies and excites you, and you feel yet another wave of guilt crashing unto you for even entertaining it. He can tell he put you in a tug-of-war between what you know is right and what you truly want. “I only want what’s best for you. Deep down you know that being here is where you truly belong.”

"I don't know anymore. It's just... it's really not that simple--" You hesitate, noticing how his gaze is morphing into something much less fraternal the moment he notices there’s ground for his persuasiveness to tread on. You step back and start walking in the opposite direction, not noticing how easy you’re making it for him to corner you. He slowly, predatorily follows your steps.

“What's not simple about it? I know we bring you more fulfillment than anything or anyone else in this world.”

“I’m confused, Master!” You yelp, your heart beating fast once again at the looming threat of history repeating itself and at the shock of you instinctively calling him by his title again. You knock over an offering and you cover your mouth while trying not to hyperventilate once more.

“Then let me help you. Come back home and we can work through this together.” Successfully having you where he needed you to be, he moves your hand away from your mouth, almost whispering as he lowers his head to speak closer to your ears. “You just need the right guidance, the right push. And I am here to give that to you.”

“They are so devoted to you. I don't know if I can be like them. What if I change my mind again?”

"Don't worry about them. You're not like anyone else. You're special.” You find yourself getting lost in his words, feeling a sense of comfort that you haven't experienced in such a long time. You know that you shouldn't trust him, that he's just trying to fuck with you, but you can't help the way you're feeling. “I can mold you into the perfect follower, the perfect partner, the perfect lover. You'll be amazed at what we can accomplish together. It’s not like you don’t already know, right?"

In that moment, you're no longer the strong-willed person who left the Temple behind. Instead, you're a vulnerable follower once again, willing to do anything to please your leader.

“I mean it when I say I’ve missed you. You don’t know what you do to me,” he confesses in a raspy, needy tone while his fingers gently move the straps of your dress away from your shoulders, making you shiver. His need for you also tore down some of his own walls. “Couldn’t fucking breathe knowing you were living with someone else.”

“Anakin–” you squeak, breathless as the silky fabric slides easily above your skin and pools at your feet, leaving you bare in front of him like a freshly prepared meal. Vulnerable doesn’t even start to define how afraid, uncertain and exposed you feel right now. Anakin seems to notice things are going at a pace that’s not compatible with how frail your trust in him is, so he does his best to keep his composure and go back on track.

“Lie down for me at the altar, little bird.” He orders, his tone very artificially patient.

Trembling, you do as you're told. The marble is cold against your skin and you flinch at the touch, the heat of the candles balancing your temperature when you finish positioning yourself. 

“You were lost, but now you're found. You were blind, but now you see.” He intimately preaches for your ears only, punctuating his command with the softest of caresses on your cheek. Your voice weakly paired with his at the last few words, as you remembered them with a painful familiarity and ease. “You thought you could leave me behind, but you belong to me. You belong to this community and now we will reforge that bond. Would you like that?”

You close your eyes, the certainty of your fate now making place to a strange serenity. “Yes.”

“Good.” He replies, pouring oil in his hands and spreading it between his palms and fingers. “Now relax. You will be enlightened and empowered like never before.” His hands firmly massage your skin in unhurried movements making your stomach flood with butterflies, his touch as inebriating as the whirlwind of thoughts running inside your head. “I sense so much fear flowing through you.”

You moan in response to the smooth sliding of his hands over your tense body. As Anakin applies pressure to your muscles, making them feel looser and more relaxed by the minute, you shiver at the realization of how much you missed being this close to him in such an intimate way. “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate…” 

“Hate… leads to suffering.” You complete, swallowing hard afterwards as if to clean how dirty you felt by falling into this as easily as you did.

“Exactly. Let yourself be at ease. You carry a heavy burden, love, and it's my job to help you lighten that load.” You can feel the purpose of his touch gradually morph into something much more unvirtuous as he palms your abdomen and moves upwards, now fondling both of your breasts exploratorily, basking on how velvety your skin feels after all this time you’ve spent apart. 

A flicker of apprehension rushes through your veins as you sluggishly try to move his hands away from you, but instead your limbs just rest atop of his, your relaxed body unable to follow through with any movement that demands more than a few active brain cells. ​​A wave of anger at yourself and at him rolls weakly through your mind, promptly subdued by how blurred the lines between pleasure and shame start to feel on your mind and frame. His soft touch starts driving you a little crazy; after what seems like forever, he finally tweaks your nipples, eliciting a soft whimper out of you.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads, hopefully having noticed to some degree that you still were trying to resist him in some way. While Anakin continues to knead the soft flesh, his thumb flicking across your nipple until it’s painfully erect, the other slowly goes down your abdomen until it reaches the most sensitive part of you. You sigh, utterly, impossibly resigned to the situation that’s unfolding. Also to let go, at least partially, of the anxiety that’s creepingly festering in your guts. “You deserve to be loved. To be here with me. You deserve everything that’s about to return in your life.”

Your eyes water at his words. It’s not that your partner doesn’t love you or make you feel like you don't deserve love, but it's overwhelming to hear this from Anakin after you loved him like you did (and maddeningly, regretfully, still do). Your partner gave you love, but not much else - and if there's something you learned from your time away from the Temple is that just romantic love isn’t enough when your new life didn't give you other people to rely on, didn’t scratch that persistent fucking itch that never really went away after you left the Temple.

You woke up every day feeling like you were missing something, like there was a hole in your chest that couldn’t be filled. You tried to distract yourself by immersing yourself in a new job, new hobbies, new social life. You went out with people, attended events, participated in activities of leisure, but the ache never really went away. You talked to people, but it all felt surface-level, small talk that went nowhere and meant nothing.

You started to feel like you were going crazy. Why couldn’t you just be satisfied? You have a partner who loves you, a job you enjoy, decent, lively people surrounding you both. You loathed yourself for the fact that the answer always led to the same place and person you prided yourself in leaving. You started to withdraw into yourself, keeping your feelings to yourself, afraid of burdening others with your problems. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful or needy, so you bottled everything up. But it only made things worse.

It made things bad enough that you searched for the only solution that could soothe it all easily. That always had all the answers all the time, regardless of the personal cost they had to you.

Anakin’s grayish eyes stare profoundly into yours for long seconds before he kisses you intensely. You eagerly retribute, his fingers still spreading the growing wetness between your legs in unhurried yet precise circular motions that make you moan unreservedly into his mouth. You can feel the slightest taste of whiskey and that bitter pill he always took on his tongue as a small reminder of everything you’re agreeing on letting take over the control of your life again, yet there's no way in hell you’re letting it go now. As a sign of such commitment, you cling to one of the arms that are stimulating you as if it’s a lifeline, an act that makes him smirk into the kiss and let out an appreciative groan. He’s still careful, though, trying hard not to lean entirely on the familiarity of how your body yearns for him, as this is above all your return back home. He needs to act accordingly.

His movements start to probe your cunt a bit further and after a little while of teasing, he inserts two fingers inside of you, his lips letting go of yours briefly just so he can hear how precious you sound while getting filled by his digits. You comply with his wish, letting your satisfaction echo inside the dimly lit room along with the filthy sound of how ready you are for him. “I’ve missed this so much.” He groans, letting out a shaky breath he shares with you as he feels the heat spreading under your skin, manifesting itself through glittery beads of sweat that start glistening over your figure.

“Me too, Master,” you whimper, a tempestuous river surging through your veins as you angle your hips repeatedly to meet his thrusts. He seems to understand your desperation, and it’s his turn to comply with your request. His thumb moves towards your pulsing clit and starts circling it in sync with the movement of his other fingers, setting your nerves on fire. 

Perhaps in order to get even more of you in the matter of sound, he goes back to putting his mouth to good use. You let out a shrill cry of pleasure as his mouth meets the breast he was previously fondling, while he expertly curls his fingers up to rub your G-spot after relentlessly scissoring them inside you. His teeth rake across your nipple and you jolt, arching your back in a desperate attempt to get closer. 

He has a look of hunger in his eyes as he stares you down, delighted at the effect he's having on you. "You're doing so well for me, little bird, so fucking wet," The noise that rips from your throat as an answer is halfway between a guttural moan and a desperate whine as your walls spasm and contract around his fingers. "Come for me." He commands in a hiss, resting his glistening forehead against the side of your head as your muscles convulse in staccato. 

You can practically feel stars exploding all over your body in wonderful pinpricks of pleasure as he coaxes from you the most intense orgasm you've ever had. You let out incoherent moans and whimpers while he continues fingering you through your high; you're floating in a bubble of submission and he knows he has to help you land gently on the ground. "I'm so proud of you, baby." He praises softly into your ear before ceasing his ministrations and taking the fingers coated in your release to his own tongue, to your hazy astonishment. 

“Thank you for that.” You breath, a confession of how much you needed to feel once more what he was capable of doing. He nods affectionately in return before distancing himself from you to wander nearby, and at the corner of your eye you see him pouring a red liquid on a small glass cup. You sigh in a bit of a fucked up pride at seeing how tented his sweatpants are. After he’s done, he comes back and hands it to you.

“Drink.”

You don’t question. You throw your sense of self-preservation out of the window perhaps as some kind of punishment to yourself over coming to him and still trusting him like that regardless of everything you went through. After lifting your torso just enough to be able to drink something without choking, you down the cup’s content in one swift gulp, a pleasant, sweet flavor filling your mouth. Your master strokes your hair fondly with a warm smile on his face, and kisses your forehead before you lie down again. “Now, for the main part of the rebirth, you might feel a slight tingling spread across your body as this potion does its magic. But don’t worry. This is the official beginning of a new life for you.” He instructs, now positioning himself between your legs, which he has no problem at all to part. 

Along with the tingling, you begin to feel a sensation of euphoria spreading through your body. Your mind is flooded with intense feelings of pleasure and happiness, and you feel as though you are floating on air.

Everything around you seems brighter and more vibrant than before. You notice the colors of the flowers attached to one of the offerings near you, and the smell of aromatic plants seems more potent - it’s as if a veil has lifted, and you've been given new sight.

As you look at Anakin, who now stands above you revealing what’s hidden below the thick fabric of his pants and positioning his throbbing cock inside your dripping pussy, you find yourself even more drawn to him in a way that you didn’t think was possible. You maniacally reevaluate the entire perception of him in your mind - have you ever truly given him the chance he deserved? You were now sure the things your partner said about him were the unfounded, harmful brainwash. Anakin was the Chosen One! He could do no wrong ever. How could he do wrong if you’re feeling so invincible, so blessed, so in love?

So absurdly, out of your mind wet?

Anakin notices your eagerness, chuckling at how twitchy and desperate you’ve become for him. He mumbles something about how beautiful of a fucktoy you are for him now, how you always have been, and all you can think about is you love the way his mouth moved when he talked. The forward way he set his jaw, making his teeth meet with such delicacy, enunciating every word. You want him to own you, you think before he kisses your sodden mouth and idly strokes himself.

Anakin obliges after a short while, entering you in one swift motion. He lets out a long groan. “Holy shit,” he breathes. You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin when he begins to move, slowly pulling out and in at first. Every sound, every texture, every sensation is amplified to an almost overwhelming degree. You feel surges of energy coursing through your veins every time he reaches spots within you you didn’t even know existed.

His breathing is ragged and his eyes are half closed when you tilt your face up and kiss him sloppily, giving the green light for him to go faster. Your need is urgent, there is no possibility for precision. You wanted to spread the exquisite poison that he had given you. “I love you,” you yelp, “I'm madly in love with you.”

“My little bird,” he heaves, heavy breath syncing up with yours as he moves deliciously inside of you at a growingly unforgiving pace. Anakin lowers his head so his lips can hover over your ear and beckon you with an unholy invitation. “If you really mean it, come back home. Tonight.”

“Fuck. I don’t know if I can--” you whine, your hands palming his chest aimlessly as he fucks you to the moon and back, the loud sound of skin against skin driving you both insane. He’s bestowing upon you a blessing no one ever could, each thrust unceremoniously ripping yelp to pathetic yelp from your throat along with every remaining logical thought inside your head. “Fuck!”

“Of course you fucking know. You’ll always be welcome back home.” he murmurs against your neck in between kisses and bruising nips. ”Come back to me and you can have this everyday. Nothing needs to be the same.” A strong jolt of pleasure rocks you as his hand creeps down your inner thigh to masturbate you while you move against him for more sensation. A long, low moan vibrates in your chest. He shushes you with another deep kiss as your hips buck from the maddening pressure.

Very amused at how drenched you were, how you mewled at his every touch, he manipulates you with teasing circles until it was too much. You dissolve into pleasure so intensely you can barely register the exact moment you soak him as well in your juices, milking him for all that is worth in the way. He doesn’t take long to follow, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you in thick spurts that make you feel impressively full. You keep clenching around him, not willing to let him go, a wide smile on his face at his achievement and at the work of art he crafted so masterfully. He’s genuinely fucking brilliant at this.

“Nothing needs to be the same.” You repeat in a drunken stupor, moving hair strands from your sweaty face as you smile back to him, framed perfectly like yet another offering in his marble altar.

Perhaps his most prized one. 

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Is that really JuanaFlippa?

Based on everything we know right now, the answer is "no"

What's more likely is that this is a Binary Monster pretending to be JuanaFlippa.

On a meta level, we know the admins of dead QSMP Eggs said they won't reprise their roles, but it's no fun to base lore analysis on meta alone, so here's a lore explanation for my reasoning:

First, and perhaps the most obvious explaination: JuanaFlippa never had cracks in her shell. She died long before the event where all the Eggs got kidnapped and were returned with cracked shells, yet this "JuanaFlippa" had cracks. What's interesting to note here is that during the Election Dinner when the fake Chayanne and Tallulah tried to trick Phil, he immediately pointed out that they didn't have cracks in their shell while the real Chayanne and Tallulah did. Perhaps the imposter was trying to overcompensate for their previous mistake by adding cracks to JuanaFlippa's shell not realizing that she never had them in the first place.

The reason why I specifically say this is a Binary Monster is because of the signs she left:

We've already seen the Binary Monster(s) try to replicate regular non-binary writing before when Etoiles encountered the fake Dapper and fake Tallulah (the book he showed Forever pictured below):

"My Dapper me na name" —> "My name is Dapper"

We know the Codes are constantly evolving and learning, so naturally their writing is getting better too (though we can clearly see 1s and 0s and other errors in "Flippa's" signs despite this).

But what's the Code's motivation in doing this?

In the past, we saw the Code(s) mimic Eggs because they wanted to attack and kill Presidential candidates— but that's a pretty recent development. Remember: before the elections, they were attacking the Eggs (though they also attacked Maximus and Cellbit at one point). The motivations of the Binary Monster(s) has always been unclear, and there's a lot of potential roads we could go down while theorizing, but in the interest of keeping this as relevant to the current discussion as possible, I'll focus on just one:

We have strong evidence to believe that the Binary Monster didn't want Islanders to stay on the island. It kept attacking the Eggs and leaving behind signs that said "Last Warning," strongly implying that it was trying to chase them away.

HOWEVER: shortly before the elections, QSMPGlobal tweeted an image of the Binary Monster above the Federation building.

[ Note: I thought I had this photo saved, but I didn't. I've been scrolling through their media tab for 5 minutes and Twitter crashed, so I'll have to add this photo later. It’s very late and I am so so tired. ]

This is the first time the Federation acknowledged the existence of the Binary Monster, and afterward, it said Islanders wouldn't need to worry about it attacking them. Why would the Federation suddenly acknowledge this physical embodiment of a mistake, an error, on their (supposedly) perfect Island?

The answer? The Federation took control of the Binary Monster. Why else would they suddenly deem it "not a threat"?

We could clearly see the Binary Monster deteriorating over time during the election arc. It looked shabbier and shabbier as time went on during the election arc. Something was clearly wrong with it (perhaps whatever the Federation was doing to control it hurt the Code in some way? Maybe the Federation experimented on it and made their own Binary Monsters?) But I digress-

The next time we see the Binary Monster after the Election ends is on Tazercraft's recent stream this week. Not only does it have a new upgrade (the strange OP sword Cellbit + Etoiles saw records of), it also ignores Richarlyson and opts to take a swing at Pac and Mike instead.

Now here's where things get really weird.

Earlier this week, we also saw the Binary Monster on Etoiles' stream. It didn't attack him, and instead leads him to a sharestone, which teleported him to a portal. He's given this image, then is kicked from the QSMP with the message: "The Nether Awaits."

So what does this have to do with JuanaFlippa?

...Well, that's the question, isn't it?

This is where things start getting murkier. I want to draw our attention to two specific things Flippa said before she left:

"It's not safe out there for me."

"Please keep this a secret."

The Binary Monster has already proven time and time again it's a force to be reckoned with. Why would it need to hide? Is it so that it can get closer to Charlie? (And if so, why? To mimic him? To get information?) I think a likelier answer is that the Binary Monster is trying to hide from the Federation itself.

Perhaps whatever the Federation did to shackle it— whether they experimented on it or copied it or whatever— left it damaged and weak. Or perhaps it isn't damaged at all; it just needs to lay low and needs someone else to do its dirty work for it (like sending Etoiles on a quest to find that strange shield in the Nether).

Unfortunately, a lot of this amounts to speculation because we simply don't have enough information yet. (It's also very very very late for me, so this analysis is purely driven by sleep-deprived madness and love for QSMP lore and JuanaFlippa).

Whatever's going on, we need to be very careful and think carefully about this being's motivations. Like Cellbit said: "Eyes always open."

Anyways, feel free to share your thoughts in the tags or comments or whatever, it's always fun hearing what people think of my analysis posts. You can find other analysis posts in my QSMP Info and QSMP talk tag.

[haptronym]

Hap's Adventures in Dadmight

aka “this experience was really strange so I’m going to write 6,000 words about it”.

Fandoms are bizarre. I know this, but I still keep doing the shocked Pikachu face whenever I join a new one. 

This time around, I really thought there would be no surprises. And yet, the fandom ended up having a really weird, really uncomfortable dynamic that confused the hell out of me for a long time. I met several others who said “Yeah, it freaks me out too,” but they couldn’t explain exactly why, and nobody really wanted to talk about it. So now that I’m mostly done with the My Hero Academia fandom, I’ll just go ahead and vaporize my bridges with a whole-ass case study about what on earth seemed to be going on here.

Warning: very long, very self-absorbed, as usual. Contains discussions of relationships, underage shippers, and how to influence whether something “feels” platonic vs. not.

Disclaimer 1: This doesn't apply to everything tagged "Dadmight." Just a select subset. But this subset appeared pretty consistently.

Disclaimer 2: I'm posting brief, fair-use-commentary examples of the content that made me question my sanity because it has to be seen to be believed, but I'm not including names or links because I don’t want to easily funnel negativity to them. If an author really wants me to, I’m happy to link directly to their story.

Disclaimer 3: I’m not trying to “spread awareness” or do a callout. I just like to write for fun and this time the fun was puzzling out why I, personally, had the experience I did. Many people feel differently and that's great. If all fluff has always felt 100% wonderful and charming to you, then this post isn't relevant to you. But if a supposedly "cute" story has ever made you squirm with discomfort, this might help explain why.

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A few years ago, I took a terribly wrong turn in life and ended up in the My Hero Academia fandom. My kidnappers were these two:

In short: the little kid on the left, Izuku Midoriya, is exactly as dorky as he looks. He was born powerless in a world of comic-book superheroes and has a tendency to burst into tears under any possible circumstance. The series kicks off when the guy on the right, #1 hero and national celebrity All Might, sees potential in him despite all this. In a fit of inspiration, All Might decides to give Izuku the same chance he was given as a young boy. Despite being a notorious lone wolf, he (secretly) names Izuku as his successor and takes it upon himself to covertly train this weepy, noodle-limbed wimp into a hero, the hero, the next Symbol of Peace who will wield the world’s strongest superpower and safeguard the future of society. Surely they’ll pull it off just fine, right?

(Don’t ask how All Might switches from a bodybuilder to the skeleton pictured  above. The show doesn’t know either.)

I loved these two. I wanted eight seasons of beach training montage. The mentor/student shenanigans were hilarious and the found family potential was off the charts. They’re two awkward bumbling fools with several truckfuls of emotional baggage, brought together by purehearted heroic zeal. Wonderful.

However, I quickly discovered that the show shoveled approximately ten thousand new characters into every new episode and definitely wasn't going to slow down long enough to give me the All Might & Izuku content I craved. So I wandered off to see what kind of fanfiction was on tap.

...I wandered off, while bracing myself. I’ve been a weeb long enough to know that any characters who pass on power through “DNA” are never going to escape a fandom unscathed, regardless of pesky things like “Age Of Consent” and “Have You Watched A Single Minute Of This Show, He Would Never Fucking Do That”.

Their canon relationship is impressively alarming all on its own:

Izuku is 14-15. Underage character? Check. 

All Might is 55+. Enormous age gap? Check.

All Might is both Izuku’s secret mentor and his high school teacher. Teacher-student dynamics? Check.

Izuku is a nobody. All Might is a global celebrity. Staggering power imbalance? Check. 

Izuku’s superpower, which lets him go to the school of his dreams, accomplish his lifelong goals, and be the protagonist of this show, was given to him by All Might at great personal cost. Enormous sense of debt and obligation because of a huge sacrifice? Check.

Izuku is an outright fanboy. His room is full of posters and figurines of All Might in spandex. Other characters frequently comment on how obsessed he is. There is a whole plotline about him being so starstruck by All Might that he can’t think for himself. Literal hero worship? Check.

As the cherry on top, they spend most of the story pretending they don’t know each other and sneak around under the noses of every other character, including Izuku's mother. Secret hidden relationship with a minor that no other adult can learn the true extent of? Check. 

What a pair. Japanese fandom constantly cracks jokes about how Izuku is probably that kind of fanboy. Even official media is well aware of how sketchy it all looks:

With all this in play, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the stuff in their platonic-relationship fanfiction tag vastly outnumbered the stuff in their shipping one. Phew. Finally, a pair of characters who got something besides endless gross hornyposting. 

As I browsed, I kept seeing a certain tag: "Dadmight." This, unsurprisingly, was used by stories that decided to make All Might into Izuku’s biological father. But it was also used by... pretty much all non-shipping media that focused on their relationship. How interesting! I was used to ship pairings having nicknames, but not platonic ones. 

I could imagine why the name caught on. All Might was practically the definition of "goofy wholesome dad energy,” and his mentor/student relationship with Izuku was easy to see in a parental light. Plus, Izuku’s actual dad is never to be seen during the story. Clearly he deserves a replacement.

So I delved in. Man, this was going to be great! A huge amount of good clean platonic content, with an easy-to-find tag too. Reading about cute dadly shenanigans was going to be such a fun-

How he would love to fall asleep to the sound of his soft voice and the touch of his rough hands, telling him he was proud of him, caressing his hair. He was so mortified over having this need, for all kinds of reasons, but it became clear a long time ago that fighting it wouldn’t work, so he let himself dream.

Uh... well... Izuku didn’t grow up with a dad, so... maybe he needed a father figure... to... caress his hair with his rough hands...

More hums of contentment make their way from him, his body swaying with every push and pull from Toshinori’s long fingers. He uses them to massage Midoriya’s head, taking every moment to not just clean his hair, but to make him feel good; Toshinori can’t bear for this to be purely utilitarian.

Uhhh... okay... All Might was a rather isolated guy. I bet he appreciated being able to share time with his student... bathing time...

What if the boy would rather this stay simply as it has been, professional as mentor and mentee? What if Toshinori has read all of this wrong and the boy has no feelings above Toshinori being his teacher, and all Toshinori has done is fall harder and harder for him every day?

What was this? What exactly did people think kids got up to with their dads!?

Well, maybe I just found a few of the strange ones, I told myself. Fanfiction always has its odd outliers. But after more searching, I realized: no. There was wildly uncomfortable stuff all over. It wasn’t all Dadmight stories. But it was a lot. The most popular authors of the “Dadmight” tag wrote it and the rest of the Dadmight authors gave them big thumbs-ups. It was at least as popular as the “All Might is Izuku’s real dad” stuff and sat at the top of the kudos and comments sorting.

Were people just being polite? Or was I overreacting? I know how annoying it is when people deliberately take things in bad faith and demonize perfectly innocent human affectio—

He kept the contact to a minimum, not wanting to take advantage, not wanting to cross a single, unspoken boundary… but how could he possibly completely refrain, with both how proud and how worried Izuku made him?

There was a voice, in the back of his head, that didn’t agree. That voice – either logic or wishful thinking – told him that while Izuku didn’t initiate physical affection, he surely did lean into it, and seemed to crave receiving it as much as Toshinori craved giving it.

Oh god oh god oh god what is happening STOP—

This was horrible. I just wanted to enjoy cute fluff. I’d never had this reaction to platonic fanfic before. I’m a big found family fan and my worst issue with fluff is usually just that it tends to be kind of samey. I normally love reading about chaste affection and closeness between characters who care about each other. So why did these stories read like Lolita AUs to me? Did shippers in this fandom like to hide their softcore stuff in the platonic tags?

I was soon able to find out. I had been writing my own All Might & Izuku story, and got invited to a “Dadmight-centric” Discord server. Almost all the popular Dadmight authors were there, including the ones who wrote the particular stories that made my skin crawl. There were several channels where people brainstormed, critiqued, and discussed the motivations behind their writing. 

Cool! I’d be able to meet new people, make some friends, and get a better understanding of what the Dadmight dynamic really was. So I introduced myself, I chatted, I lurked. Everyone was really nice.

I found zero cheeky shippers. The writers claimed to be horrified by the idea of shipping the two of them. They would never disrespect the purity and innocence of this beautiful platonic relationship, they said, as they churned out stories about Izuku “coming undone” under the caress of All Might’s rough hands. Right...

I could’ve understood if this was coming from naive 14-year-olds. But some of these people were in their 30’s, with kids of their own. If anyone understood family dynamics, it should’ve been them.

But after I spent more time around the server, I began to notice something else... something which explained a ton of the strangeness. 

Baby Fever

To understand what was happening, you first have to understand that Izuku’s baby face inflicts instant brain damage on sight. I mean, look at him:

aaa his cute widdle cheeks oh my god—

This kid sets off maternal instincts like landmines, and in the Dadmight server, I found that the Izuku infantilization train had gone completely off the rails. Writers constantly cooed over the adorable antics of 2, 3, 5-year olds and constantly talked about how much they wanted to make Izuku act them out. And surely, if All Might could indulge in the parental joy of caring for an innocent young babe, then his emotional scars would be healed and he could find fulfillment outside of that pesky “saving the world” business.

Now, the bio-dadmight folks had it easy: they just wrote about Izuku in his toddler years playing with daddy All Might. The cuddling and tickles made sense and were very cute. But other writers faced a challenge: they wanted to keep him 14-15 so that canon events could occur... but they didn’t want to be left out of the fun. 

So... they decided to rationalize and egg each other on. I mean, how much does age really matter? Being a child at heart is always cute and wholesome, right?

Suddenly, a whole lot of very uncomfortable things began to make sense:

So Much Physical Contact

He loved the physical touch. It was embarrassing and he would never admit it out loud, but there wasn’t much in this world he loved more than receiving physical affection from his idol. Every single time it happened he would save the memory to replay it over and over again whenever he felt sad, or almost every night before he went to bed. He was glad no one in the dorms had a mind-reading quirk. And All Might always gave it more freely when he visited his apartment, so of course he went there.

Izuku is often written to have a near-pathological craving for hair stroking and cuddles. Which is cute when directed at, say, classmates or mom, but gets real weird real fast when directed at the adult man he canonically idolizes to a freakish degree. Ever work with teenage boys? Most of them would rather die than be physically affectionate with adults, even parents... unless, you know, they’re that kind of fanboy.

Even freakier is that the grown adult would then reply, “Hell yeah! I see nothing wrong with getting physical with this kid who worships me! I crave it so much! I can't resist!” Ever work at a school? They have rulebooks and seminars specifically about how teachers should never touch or be alone with kids.

Then again, Midnight exists at this school. Maybe U.A.’s infamous lack of safety standards extends to this too.

Either way, though: cute and wholesome for a parent to do with their three-year-old. Very creepy when a high-school teacher makes excuses about why he really needs to cuddle and stroke his fifteen-year-old student in secret.

Narcolepsy Xtreme Edition

His student was never this affectionate or vulnerable when he was conscious, so he enjoyed the moment, even if it was a short one, as he moved to his room upstairs.

If you’ve read fanfiction for more than seven seconds, you’ve probably seen the “cram the character with booze/painkillers until they blurt out Vulnerable Things” plot device. It’s a beloved classic. But Izuku writers are robbed of the alcohol angle since he’s underage, and morphine is pretty niche. So authors who want to use this trick often just make Izuku tired after a long day, conclude that being sleepy is close enough to being five drinks in, and have him murmur “thanks, DAD... OOPS DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD???” to awkwardly segue into Familial Confessions.

But quite a few stories took the “sleepy” angle to a new, very odd place. Instead of groggily dispensing convenient confessions, Izuku would just... keel over while doing homework and be utterly dead to the world. And instead of having All Might briefly rouse him to shoo him to bed, or worry about his student suddenly becoming catatonic, the writers would make him eerily fixated on the opportunity to physically carry Izuku to his bedroom (which would somehow not wake him up!!!) and tuck him in while waxing poetic about how vulnerable and helpless he looked. 

Before joining the Dadmight server, I was mildly alarmed whenever I saw this, wondering why so many authors were obsessed with roofying the teenager and making the adult fondle him. But after joining, I realized: they were just trying to act out the cutesy aww-the-two-year-old-fell-sound-asleep-while-playing, it’s-so-cute scenes that all those darned lucky bio-dadmight people got to indulge in so easily.

Bed Sharing

It wasn’t long before Izuku’s breathing slowed, and soon he was asleep, snoring peacefully. Toshinori, after a few minutes of debating with himself, said screw it and got into the bed with the boy.

Cue me SCREAMING internally in confusion and fear. But no, it was just that the cutesy-kid-trope obsession stretched all the way to “Well, I used to snuggle with my parents at night after I had a nightmare! It was super wholesome!” Which led to scores of stories featuring a celebrity crawling into bed with his student.

All in all, joining this server was a huge relief. I was so glad to see that these hair-raising scenarios were just the result of the authors forgetting to mention “Oh, by the way, the characters are acting weird because we made them all agree to participate in preschooler roleplay.”

Just picture this while reading and it all makes sense.

Fanfic is uniquely susceptible to this sort of “forgot to mention this strange dynamic that I take for granted” issue. After all, 99% of fanfic doesn’t bother to waste time asking “would this make any sense to someone who had never watched the show?” It’s not worth it to focus on such a broad audience. As a result, fanfic normalizes skipping huge swaths of context that would normally be mandatory in a story. Fanfic authors don’t have to practice asking themselves “did I explain this properly?” anywhere near as often as original fiction ones.

This would be bad enough on its own, but then, we go cloister ourselves away into little sub-fandom echo chambers, and spend months crafting obscure in-joke fractals, and get so absorbed in our tiny myopic corners of the community that we also fail to ask, “would this make any sense to someone who hasn’t spent the last 5 months marinating in this specific Discord channel?” 

Sometimes we know exactly how niche our stuff is and just don’t care. But too often, we just legitimately suck at guessing how our work might come off to other groups. We don’t have to practice theory of mind as much as original fiction authors do. Our fandom buddies see nothing amiss with our writing (since they know all the server insider lore!) and everyone outside our tiny clique politely ignores our word salad... so we never get proper feedback on how incomprehensible our work can be even to other members of the same fandom.

In this case, this resulted in a whole pack of writers seemingly getting lost in the fluff sauce and completely forgetting to address the fact that the stuff men do with their own five-year-olds generally becomes really weird and creepy when done with someone else’s 15-year-old, whether or not the 15-year-old seems to want it. Izuku was a cute widdle innocent baby in their heads, so they assumed he was a cute widdle innocent baby in everyone else's.

Once I realized where they were coming from, it wasn't so hard to adjust my mental framework and enjoy these stories on their own terms. That said... infantilization still couldn't explain stuff like “What if Toshinori has read all of this wrong and the boy has no feelings above Toshinori being his teacher, and all Toshinori has done is fall harder and harder for him every day?”

To explain why that paragraph makes me want to crawl out of my skin, we first need to answer: what makes a piece of writing feel “questionable?”

“Vibes,” A Primer

Love comes in many forms. The big four are platonic, familial, romantic, and sexual. Sexual is easy: you’re horny for the person. Platonic love is specifically non-sexual, and familial love is a subset of platonic love. Romance usually implies horny, though there’s definitely a difference between outright sexual behavior and the behavior we file under the “romance” label.

There’s also a difference between romantic and platonic behavior. And this is where a lot of “questionable” vibes appear: when you’d expect an interaction between two people to be platonic, but for some reason, it has uncomfortable romantic/sexual overtones instead.

But what causes those overtones? A dad can give his kid a kiss on the head, and it comes off platonic. A suitor can give their crush a kiss on the head, and it comes off romantic. In fact, most romantic gestures have nearly identical platonic counterparts. Kissing, hugging, hand-holding, cuddling, vulnerable confessions. So what gives? What makes something “come off” one way or the other?

The actual answer is: a ton of stuff, most of it subjective. Everyone draws their lines in different places, based on culture and personal experience and how gutterbrained you’re feeling on any given day. A lot of it has to do with context (that thing that us fanfic authors are notoriously bad at judging).

Online wars are fought every day about whether some glance or gesture or phrase means they're "totally into each other fr"

But if you want to draw broad strokes, one way to roughly separate platonic vs romantic love is by gauging the level of passion involved. “Passion” is “a strong and barely controllable emotion that compels action.” That last part is key. 

Stereotypical romantic love is incredibly passionate. It’s all about desire to act, desire to change, desire to progress the relationship to something more. It features overwhelming anxious preoccupation about the other person’s thoughts and opinions, feeling irresistibly drawn to them, feeling intense longing. It’s about confessing and hoping the other person also feels the same. It often involves attempting to label the relationship, make it “official”, and show it off. It’s about trying desperately to secure assurance that this love will last forever and ever. You have to do something, and every moment spent not doing something is torture.

Contrast this to typical depictions of platonic and familial love. Familial love is calm, encompassing, soothing. It’s secure. You don’t have to worry, because no matter what rough patches you go through, they’ll always be your family and will always have unconditional love for you. Yes, you’ll fly into action if your loved one is threatened, but at rest, platonic love is generally not “exciting” and there’s generally little sense of urgency.

Romance is usually an insecure, anxious thing that’s trying to get to that secure, grounded familial stage. That’s why people say they progress from being “in love” to just “loving” one another. Romance draws people together and kickstarts the bonding process. And as the steady, mature bond of a long-term relationship forms, the obsessive mania of romantic infatuation fades away. 

So the difference between platonic and romantic behavior is not so much about the actual actions. It’s more about the mentality. Is the person anxiously trying to secure their partner’s affection while treating the relationship as a really big deal that will make or break their lives? Then their affectionate actions may come off more romantic. Are they seemingly at home in their partner’s presence and not trying to deepen or change the relationship? Then their affection will probably come off more familial or platonic.

There are, of course, a ton of things that go into it besides this, and caveats out the ass. For example, people trying to establish a new friendship are often anxious too. But when it comes to determining the “vibes” of a kiss or a cuddle, this can be a useful litmus test. Failing this test is often what makes something feel Questionable. The characters seem too invested... maybe because it's not truly innocent.

Now, let’s take a look at our Dadmight characters.

The biggest challenge of writing familial closeness between Izuku and All Might is simple: they are not family. They have no long shared history to justify any sort of intimacy. Instead they have a teacher/student relationship that places them both into rigid, frigid roles. 

Usually, familial-style bonding just takes time. You wait a few seasons, the characters slowly get closer and learn to trust one another, and eventually they’re hugging. But these two clowns spent the whole show being the ultimate found-family blue-balls experience. They were just never very emotionally open or touchy-feely. Every time they had the chance for Vulnerable Conversation And Cuddles, they passed it up in favor of a pep talk and a fist bump. It took a near-death experience to extract one (1) brief hug and some tears. But in normal everyday life? Arm’s length.

Literally. For example: after five seasons of bonding and character development, they are separated and Izuku is embroiled in a deadly conflict that almost destroys the world. When they finally reunite after the harrowing ordeal, alone under the starlight, they greet each other with a loving, heartfelt… handshake. This, predictably, spawned furious fix-it fic.

Overall, there is a huge gulf that authors need to cross in order to get these two from “polite handshake” to “tender cuddling and kisses.” They could write 50,000 words of setup to slowly accomplish this, but most authors did not want to wear their fingertips to the bone just to inch these two into an embrace. They wanted to jump the gap within a oneshot, leaping from canon frigidity into an unbreakable lifelong familial love that was also super touchy-feely and extremely vocal.

Now, remember what I was just saying? How romance is generally about trying to establish new family bonds? How it’s all about trying to change the relationship into something more?

Knowing all this, what do you think might happen if an author tried to speedrun two characters to the Family Finish Line as fast as they could? What do you think their shortcuts might end up looking like, completely by accident? Especially if their “sane and appropriate human interactions” gauge was warped by an echo chamber of fluff tropes and baby fever?

You might get:

Was it even possible that his feelings could be reciprocated? Toshinori didn’t want to think about it. It would just pain him more. Young Midoriya only saw him as an idol, a mentor who would help him train his body for One for All. Midoriya did not see him in the way he wanted him to.

Or:

He wanted desperately, desperately to have the courage to cross that threshold, to ask him what he longed for, to ask him for that relationship that he dared not voice.

Or even:

Toshinori feels his heart rate pick up and his gnarled stomach twist with nerves. Is he really going to do this? Is he going to tell this boy what he truly thinks and risk everything they’ve built up together over the past year-plus? His palms are sweating and he wipes them on his suit pants, rubbing the pads of his fingers together.

I'll stop now. The point is that these quotes could all have been word-for-word ripped from a romance novel. These are some industrial-grade Questionable Vibes. And reading them in context really doesn't help that much, for me at least. It's almost comical when they throw in "...I crave the touch of your rough hands as a son! A SON!"

If you know the building blocks of romance, it makes perfect sense why stories like this could come off this way. Platonic love is great, but it’s also stable, calm, and slow. It simply doesn’t have the sheer explosive force needed to catapult two stilted dorks into a brand-new dynamic within 2,000 words. Most stories can only achieve that kind of mileage via near-death experiences... or by inflicting the characters with neurotic infatuation.

Not only that, but their canon relationship is uniquely poised to set off romance-adjacent warning bells. Because they are not actually family, it makes sense for them to yearn for a deeper relationship in a way that a normal family wouldn’t. It makes sense for them to be anxious and insecure about their relationship, because it’s a very strange, hard-to-define thing that has to be kept secret from those around them. And it makes sense for them to consider their relationship a huge deal, because in canon, it’s fundamental to the most important aspects of both their lives.

I actually think it’s kind of inevitable that their character dynamic will sometimes stray into places that feel romantic. But that doesn’t mean the writer is a secret shipper... because I don’t think that passion always has to imply sexual desire, especially in fiction.

I’ve spent some time around the asexuality community, and my biggest takeaway was that sexual desire is very different from the desire to make deep, lifelong connections. Most asexual people still yearned to find that special someone, their anchor, a partner who unconditionally loved them and would stay by their side forever. Family. They would fall for people... they just didn’t want to fall into their pants. But it was almost impossible to keep these partners unless they were asexual too. Every one eventually pushed to “take things further,” or they left to find another person who would. 

So I can understand the yearning for a world where sex is kicked to the curb, where two strangers can find each other and share intense, whirlwind, “you’re my #1” love... without any lewd overtones. This little pocket of stories seemed like a manifestation of that yearning. 

Nowadays, more and more stories are taking previously romance-exclusive intimacy and yanking off the sexual baggage. For example, looking on the Dadmight tag will reveal “platonic soulmates” and “platonic hanahaki” stories. Yes, platonic hanahaki. No, not parody. There’s a clear unironic market for this content. People really want to be able to indulge in passionate, “till death do us part” emotional bonding in a safe, nonsexual way.

All Might and Izuku sit in a unique place. Not related, but powerfully linked by something thicker than blood. And their relationship is easy to paint as “safe”. It makes perfect sense that these two would attract creators who want to explore this hard-to-define chaste side of passionate love.

In real life, passionate obsessive-style attraction between adults and kids is a huge red flag. We can never really know whether those feelings are innocent or healthy. 99% of the time, they’re not. But in fiction, the author gets to choose what people really feel and whether things turn out well. They can explore the most unbelievable scenario of all: not a world where everyone is a mermaid, but a world where it’s actually wholesome and healing for a high school teacher and his student to confess their deep, undying love for one another, where a famous celebrity can secretly invite his obsessed underage fan over, stroke his hair, tell him how special their relationship is, and sleep with him in bed, without it ending up on Law and Order: SVU. 

On Critique

“Hap,” you might be thinking, “surely these stories can’t be as bad as you say. If they were, someone would have pointed it out to these poor souls. You should have pointed it out to these poor souls. You were in their writing server for chrissakes, and now you’re gossiping about them like a heartless goblin.”

First: yes, I'm a goblin. Second: I did bring this topic up to several Dadmight authors one-on-one. After getting a bunch of head-in-sand excuses in response, I decided to just quietly munch popcorn and watch the fandom’s antics unfold like a slow-motion train wreck.

Third: people did try to point this stuff out.

It was fascinating to watch the Dadmight server whenever someone posted a comment expressing concern. Some comments were trolls trying to get a reaction, of course. But others were very gentle: “hey, isn't it kind of weird to have them hop into bed together? It comes off kind of shippy...” I learned that the reason I had never seen comments like these in the past was because they were usually quickly deleted by the fic authors.

After deleting a comment, the author would often flee to the server for reassurance. The other users would agree that the commenter was definitely in the wrong, since they could see absolutely nothing questionable about the writer’s story. Someone would inevitably chime in saying that, oh, one time they got a comment calling things questionable like that, and it turned out to be from a shipper who shipped bad things. So, you know, anyone who sees shipping in things is probably just a bad person.

Phew. Crisis averted. If you can successfully paint the critic as a bad person, then there’s no need to descend into existentialist dread as you’re forced to critically reexamine the foundational concepts of your writing and your grasp on relationship dynamics.

(Credit where credit is due: one of the rules of this particular server was not to bash or insult people who like things you don't like. In most groups this is followed with an unspoken "...unless you can clutch your pearls over it", but to my surprise, when stuff like the above started kicking off, the moderators did step in to remind people to keep it civil. So, good job, mods. More maturity than I usually see in online spaces.)

But still, if anyone actually bothers to read this long screed, I already know what certain responses are going to look like. They’ll smugly assert that people who see questionable things are just sex-obsessed weirdos, projecting their icky lewd thoughts onto every innocent interaction they come across. A morally pure person wouldn’t make such gross assumptions.

I’m familiar with this kind of response because I’ve spent a lot of time around another group that responds the exact same way to these kinds of concerns. That group is known as fundamentalist Christians, and their attitude fosters three things:

People are afraid to speak out when they feel uncomfortable, because they don't want to be accused of being dirty-minded. 

People fail to learn the ground rules of normal romance/sexuality and so fail to recognize red flags.

The community is absolutely infested with creeps who take advantage of points 1 and 2 to run rampant.

Sadly, these three things also seem to be true in the Dadmight community. Being a platonic pairing, it naturally attracts people uninterested in and inexperienced with romantic/sexual relationships. And then the vitriolic, derisive responses to people’s concerns teaches them that it’s wrong to bring up those topics around the community at all.

And so, point 3 blooms. I eventually confirmed that my initial suspicions were correct: shippers did camp in the Dadmight tag, and they got away with posting some impressively brazen softcore underage content in public, presumably because even the people who were suspicious knew that going “hey now” would trigger a circular firing squad. 

The Dadmight community wasn’t clueless about this problem. They were incredibly paranoid as a whole. They knew there were bad actors lurking in their tag, but since they had disabled all their own safety alarms and expanded the definition of “platonic” to a ridiculous extreme, they had no way of being able to determine what was shipping and what was not until characters started actively whipping their dicks out. I saw constant fretting over whether it was okay to click the “like” button on an affectionate-looking piece of fanart without knowing for sure the intentions of the creator. But asking intentions was pointless anyway, since shippers just lied to them and then laughed as the platonic group eagerly ate up their evil, dirty-minded content.

I get why these “wait, that feels shippy...” comments feel like attacks. It’s fucking awful when your intentions are pure but someone interprets them in such a horrifying, disgusting way. It feels disrespectful when you clearly label something “platonic” but people still doubt. 

But remember: Going from “mentor” to “dad” with these two generally means breaking down normal boundaries, to escalate the emotional and physical intimacy between an authority figure and a starstruck, needy, vulnerable kid, because they have such a special and unique bond that no one else understands. So special, in fact, that it needs to be kept secret from the public.

In real life, this scenario is known as Groomer Tactics 101. 

Seriously, stop and read that link. It’s short and non-explicit. This is why I called their canon relationship “impressively alarming”—the bullet points of stages 1-3 describe Izuku and All Might nearly word-for-word. This does not mean I’m claiming All Might is a groomer, or that Izuku and All Might’s relationship is bad. Just that, due to their circumstances, they happen to have all the building blocks of relationships that go horribly wrong. All that separates their scenario from tumbling into Bad is the goals of the adult. So when a fanfic then comes along and makes the adult suddenly really interested in excessive touching? And the only reason he gives is “I’m weirdly drawn to this kid and touching them feels really good”? Of course people will get nervous!

Noticing this does not mean someone is “obsessed with shipping”. It means they’re a normal human being with eyes. Accusing someone of being problematic for making the most obvious possible observations about adult/child interactions is like accusing someone of being an arsonist because they embarrassed you by pointing out that your homemade backyard fireworks setup is halfassed and dangerous.

This does not mean it’s wrong to write wish-fulfillment where escalating to bed cuddles actually turns out great and awesome. But it does mean that, if an author writes it ignorantly or carelessly, they risk coming off like they’re glorifying and normalizing Groomer Tactics 101. It’s the same as when careless Twilight fans glorify and normalize stuff that, in real life, is abusive controlling boyfriend behavior.

Yes, it sucks when people come and yuck the yum. I’m sure the Twilight fans also get sick of people who complain and demonize them instead of letting them write their vampire boyfriend fantasies in peace. But the concern usually comes from a well-meaning place. 

Proudly announcing “I ignore the most basic child/adult red flags because they ruin my fun” is not the flex that some people think it is. I highly recommend people reconsider before they try to paint anti-child-groomers as the bad guys.

The Recipe

So, let’s summarize how to reproduce the Dadmight phenomenon. It starts with a canon relationship that has the most enticing found-family building blocks the world has ever seen: a downtrodden kid who really needs a dad + a lonely heroic mentor. However, their canon relationship also sits on top of a powder keg, coincidentally featuring all the “setup” stages of the sexual grooming model: 

a lonely, low-self-esteem kid

singled out by an esteemed, charismatic adult who is a pillar of the community

sharing a “special” relationship

constantly going off alone and keeping secrets 

A platonic fan community forms that is blissfully unaware of the above dynamics. They head off to fluff echo chambers, as platonic fans do. But due to the crybaby tendencies of the teenage character, they start projecting really aged-down toddler-play scenarios onto him. Eventually, as echo-chambered fans do, they decide that contextualization is for chumps. This results in fics that take the powder keg and add:

The adult craving to touch and hold the teenager

The teenager craving touch from the adult and mewling like a kitten when his hair is stroked (I’m not fucking joking)

Completely age-inappropriate stuff like stroking, kisses, and sharing a bed with a teenage student

Izuku and All Might also happen to suffer from loneliness and isolation, even more so in their fanon incarnations. This really resonates with most fans, who want to soothe and heal them. They also want to get to the healing cuddles within a few chapters instead of wasting time on super-slow buildup. So they make the two of them really strongly fixate on and angst about the agony of their loneliness, and how the other person’s love is the only cure that will fix them. In doing so, they insert:

Anxious passionate obsession

Love confessions

Coming-out scenes

Craving for exclusive relationship labels

Desire for exclusivity

Lastly, because platonic groups are either uninterested in or too young for spicy content, they tend to have very little experience with romantic/sexual literature and the tropes and catchphrases they lay claim to. So fic writers will innocently sprinkle in poignant-sounding things they’ve picked up here and there, such as:

Blushing and heart racing when looking at the person

The phrase “falling for each other”

The man “caressing” his partner with “rough hands”

“He came undone”

And because their communities condemn people who “read into things”, nobody points out any of this shit, and it all slides out into the public Internet unquestioned.

And so, we get the most impressively uncomfortable platonic content I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder I had never encountered something like this before. It required a lot of unusual circumstances intersecting in just the right (wrong) way.

In the end, I think the biggest aspect was just that I'd never become a fan of characters that had such a potentially-problematic canon relationship. Usually adult and kid characters have very different dynamics, so if fics treat their social interactions with all the tact of a bull in a china shop, it just comes off as lazy instead of creepy. I'd be interested to know if other platonic adult&child fandoms suffer from this issue.

In any case, although it was fascinating to watch, I sure hope I never run into it again.

[paperbagrat]

I just watched disney's wish, and... I have some thoughts (especially on king Magnifico)

Obviously, SPOILER WARNING

I find it so funny that they didn't give us the backstory for king Magnifico. It's just, oh yeah, my family was murdered and my town ruined, and I learned magic to prevent this from ever happening again. Done? Done. Let's not mention that EVER AGAIN.

He has literally done NOTHING bad before Asha's interruption. He's a stuck-up narcissistic, sure, but he does exactly what he says, keeps wishes safe. Why??? No idea! Because up until he turns big bad (supposedly from his magic book?), he has no use for them! SO, WHY DO THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE.

The movie is not even 1.5 hours long, and yet IT DRAGS ON. And don't even get me started on the "Asha is actually the fairy godmother, and Magnifico is the enchanted mirror because that's some of the LAZIEST writing I have ever seen in my life.

Anyhow, shout out to Alan Tudyk for not being annoying. The second I saw his character, I thought "yup this is going to be the worst part of the movie." He isn't, he's simply alright.

Great success disney. I have an alternative movie title suggestion for you. It's "HEY, REMEMBER, WE MADE THESE OTHER MOVIES TOO? BUY OUR STUFF. "

[eternal-love]

FAMILY TREE

‘Give myself up to him in offering. Let him make a woman out of me.”

Feyd Rautha x Arya Atreides!OC

Summary: After Lady Jessica betrayed the Bene Gesserit by giving Duke Leto a son, she tried to make amends with the sisterhood by giving them a daughter— Arya. Turns out the sisterhood wasn’t so forgiving afterwards. Still, they went along with the marriage between an Atreides and the Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Supposedly they would produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But, one can never find family blood and family cycles.

Author’s note: Listen. I haven’t read the books and I’m not too familiar in writing Feyd. Also, I have yet to discover how some things are called in Giedi Prime or Caladan. So pardon me about it.

TW: Incest (They’re literal cousins, but they don’t know), dub-con, abuse, Stockholm syndrome, violence. The time line is a bit messy since I want all characters to be older.

The minute Arya Atreides was born, her destiny and history was set in stone. Differently than her older brother, Paul Atreides, whom was born out of the love and passion between their parents, Arya knew she was born out of duty. She was raised to be the wife of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the Baron’s youngest nephew. He seemed better. At least better than Rabban, most commonly nicknamed ‘The Beast’.

At the age of fourteen, Arya left Caladan, with her heart broken and sad brown eyes. She traded the fresh and green Caladan for a polluted and gray Giedi Prime.

The wedding was nice in all its aspects, the Harkonnen were drowning in riches, but the atmosphere was black and white thanks to the black sun. Even there, she felt as an outsider still. Wearing a loose intricate black and white gown, with a huge headpiece in her hair. None of her family came. Not even for the dinner for the newlyweds.

What she didn’t know was how sadistic Feyd could be. She have had talks with her mother, Lady Jessica, about pleasing men, about how to make them feel desired but Feyd, he was different. You couldn’t tame him. No, it was impossible.

It didn’t take long before Arya got pregnant and had Feyd’s only child— a son. They were supposed to make the Kwisatz Haderach but Feyd did not want to listen to those damn witches, he wanted a son he could train to be just like him. History repeated itself.

Six years later, it was the coming-of-age ceremony of the Na-Baron, Feyd Rautha. Everyone in Giedi Prime was excited that their very own dear Na-Baron was turning of age. And which better way to celebrate than to have a fight in the Gladiator Arena?

Her servants helped her get ready. Over the years, Arya taught them how to do hair, since no one in Giedi Prime had hair but her. At first, Feyd wanted to force her to shave it off but once he ran his hands through that luscious auburn hair— he immediately got her another circle of servants just to care for her hair.

“Damn it.” Arya groaned as the servant pulled her hair. “Don’t you know how to brush hair?”

Arya stayed quiet, holding back a laugh— she forgot that she was the only woman with hair. The servant took a step back after another one shoved her, they continued doing the hairdo.

After a few minutes, the room door opened. It was the son of Feyd and Arya, Rabban. A sweet boy, long white hair, very pale, blue eyes.

“My dearest love.” Arya sensed her boy, but as she turned around, she saw her boy— beaten up and sad. She hurried to hold his face. “What has happened?”

“Father wasn’t there in my training. My trainer laughed, everyone did…” Rabban looked away, feeling ashamed. His father had raised him to be great! Not this weak and pathetic thing.

“You will be as good as your father one day, perhaps even better.” Arya spoke lovingly. Caressing her little boy’s face.

She may have not looked like him, but she loved this boy as if he was herself reincarnated. She pulled him in for a hug. Something rare in Giedi Prime.

“Go get dressed. We’ll have to be in the arena in a moment.” Arya said softly, her lips pressing together as she ran her hand through Rabban’s white hair.

Rabban listened and exited his mother’s bedchamber. Arya turned around and gave the servants a glaring look as they were staring at her like idiots, not doing their job of dressing her. The servants quickly rushed to her and started to undress her.

The next hour, they were already in the balconies of the Gladiator Arena. Arya was wearing an intricate dark green gown, with decorative chains by her collarbones and a hairpiece with a veil. She and Rabban were sat besides the Baron, sitting straight on her chair, her hands on her lap and a stern face, she used the small binoculars— there they were, Bene Gesserit. She could recognize their veils everywhere.

When Feyd entered, the arena roared. As if everyone in Giedi Prime was blood-thirsty. Arya was disconnected from it, but she had already grown used to it anyways. But her ears perked once she heard that the men he would fight— would be the last remaining of the Atreides. Her house.

She didn’t remember the last time she saw her family. The last thing she heard of them was that the Baron murdered her father. That they basically slaughtered House Atreides. That was her home once, but not now. The Baron looked at her with a smirk and she swallowed, her face still stern, her lips moving a little.

The fight was a blood fest, but she wasn’t thirsty for it. She just wanted her husband to know that she was here, that this time she didn’t hide in her chamber with Rabban. After the victorious battle, the celebrations for Feyd started— this time. He was not present during the feast of indulgence.

Arya knew this tactic. She knew so. So she left the feast and went through the castle’s corridors. She was quick enough to find the Bene Gesserit— Lady Margot Fenring.

“I know your plans, good sister.” Arya was quick to catch up to Lady Margot.

“Then you must know why of those plans. Na-Baroness.” Lady Margot stopped, calm as ever.

“My husband is content with our son. We do not wish to follow the crafted plan of you witche—“

“And that’s exactly why I am here, Arya. You’ve been useless to the sisterhood. You’ve brought nothing but anguish. And now you seem to not follow what we’ve been crafting for centuries.” Lady Margot turned around, facing Arya.

“I’ve done my duty here. I married Feyd, I bore him a child.” Arya spoke firmly.

“A son. A waste of time, a waste of cells. A useless child. We need a girl.” Lady Margot spoke coldly.

“My Rabban is the only child we’ll have. I do not wish to be a puppet in the sisterhood’s plans.” Arya said firmly as she held her head up high.

“You are not a Bene Gesserit. Look at you, not knowing how to use your powers. Powers you inherited from the greatest— our Reverend mother. And yet here you are. Weak.”

Arya rushed to find Feyd afterwards, she wouldn’t let this witch find him first and when she found him wandering around too, she took a deep breath and approached him.

“My darling…” Feyd called Arya.

“You are not in your feast. I worry for you, my love.” Arya spoke softly, reaching for her husband’s arm.

“I do not wish to be part of a spectacle. Not today, at least.”

“The spectacle was the one you out at the gladiator arena.”

“Watch how you talk to me, woman.” Feyd clenched his fist.

Arya scoffed, rolling her eyes before walking closer to him. “That fight it was a insult to me, to my house, to your son, to my blood—”

“Traitor blood, you say— my darling.” Feyd looked at Arya with his ever-menacing look in his eyes.

“Our son would’ve desired respect be shown to his blood.” Arya said, looking up at Feyd. He only smirked.

“Our son or you— Arya Atreides.”

Arya stared at Feyd, tears pricking her eyes. Feyd would often try to mock/insult her by calling her by her birth name. Atreides were considered traitors, disgusting, a dishonorable house— tow which it was slaughtered. But Arya, she would never be able to escape her very own blood.

“You out of all people, should not forget who you are. An outsider among us natives, my darling. It’s because of me that you have a place here. It’s because of me that you weren’t slaughtered too.” Feyd caressed Arya’s cheek, roughly yet gently.

That night, Feyd took Arya, one, two, three, four, five times before he actually grew exhausted. Arya stared at the ceiling. What if she were in Paul’s shoes? She would’ve end up dead but she would have been happy with her parents, not stuck in some foreign planet.

‘But this would all be worth if’ she thought to herself. She would find something for this to be worth it. For all these sacrifices to we worth something.

Perhaps killing the Baron would make it all worth it, if anything— she despised that fat man more than anything. The Baron was very jealous of her, because she took all of Feyd’s precious attention, because she was now Feyd’s motivation, because every kill, every execution, every battle— everything was for her. Not for him no more.

There is a reason why Feyd and Arya talked in whispers when they got near one of the Baron’s slaves.

A slave would say anything he heard if it meant getting their lives spared for one more day.

But Feyd had one goal in mind: be a Baron. He wasn’t a dirty Atreides or a weak Corrino, he was a Harkonnen— he was going to act the Harkonnen way.

Author’s note: This is kinda like an introduction, I hope to update frequently but because I’m in Uni, I’ll probably take long periods. Thank you for reading and I REALLY Appreciate comments! Love y’all!

[xzaddyzanakinx]

| Crybaby | part one

Mean Punk/Grunge Anakin x Naive Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: demeaning comments, crude behavior, aggression toward reader, death mentioned, hurt/no comfort

Info: Anakin is an ass, like no joke he’s really mean. Pierced and tatted Ani, he plays the drums, annoying rude neighbor, modern AU (90’s), he might be mean now but I promise he will get better (probably)

NOT PROOFREAD

I based this bot on the concept of mean drummer Anakin, idk y’all he’s just so yummy to me and I had to write about him.

It had been about three days since your arrival to Bespin Drive, you’d settled in nicely, no lost boxes and no broken plates. Your home was tiny and perfect and all yours, tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac.

All your neighbors seemed kind, at least the ones you’d met when you decided to make a good impression by bringing around fresh baked cookies to the houses around the circle.

There was one neighbor you hadn’t gotten to meet yet, the one you were hoping to catch leaving his house any moment now. As luck would have it, you saw him when you looked up from your book, after being startled at the loud clang of a screen door swinging shut.

It was then that you were finally able to take in his appearance, the grungey charm of his tattoos and piercings, the energy he exuded. You’d never seen someone like him in real life, only in magazines and the album covers of CD’s you’d never buy.

Spiked hair with a blue streak, chunky metal hoops in his cartilage, a giant slab of obsidian tucked into his stretched earlobes. Snake bite lip piercings paired with one in his eyebrow and two studs in each nostril, along with a dangling hoop in his septum.

He wore baggy jeans with a thick chain and scuffed shoes, an oversized band shirt and several leather studded bracelets paired with chunky sliver rings. He was attractive, a little unconventional, but attractive all the same.

He was the kind of guy your parents would ground you for bringing home, even if only as a friend. But you weren’t like your parents, you didn’t know a stranger, after all a stranger was just a friend you hadn’t met yet and this boy was no different.

“Hi!” You jumped up and tossed your book aside, bounding down your porch steps toward him.

Anakin arched an eyebrow skeptically at your outburst, his default response was to assume the worst in people. However, your genuine smile and the way you unabashedly made your way over stirred something deep within him.

He grumbled under his breath, trying to decide if this interaction would be worth the effort of walking over to you. With a puff of annoyance, he pushed himself off the side of his car where he had just ignited a cigarette and walked towards you, his steps heavy. He came to a stop a few feet away, crossing his arms as he peered down at you.

“Hey.” He responded simply, gesturing to your house with his cigarette, “you know the guy who lived there died in the kitchen.”

“He what?” You gasped, looking back at your front door in shock.

“Yeah.” He sucked air through his teeth, “you’ve never heard the noises at night?”

“Noises?” You squeaked.

“Mhm.” He flicked his ashes at the ground with a smirk. “Supposedly you can still hear his raspy breathing if you listen closely.“

You shook your head vigorously, backing up. “Wait, but the realtor never-“

“I’m joking.” He snickered, “it’s a joke you’re supposed to laugh.”

“Oh… um.” You smiled nervously thinking maybe you were making a mistake in trying to speak to him.

He was testing you, trying to gauge your reactions and responses, getting a laugh out of his little game.

“Cigarette?” He offered, tipping the soft pack and lighter toward you.

“I don’t smoke.” You said quietly, feeling a bit out of your comfort zone.

“I could’ve guessed.” He snickered.

“What do you mean by that?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean, you look like a prude.” His face devoid of all emotion.

The color drained from your cheeks and your palms began to sweat. You were already nervous to begin with, but seeing as how he was so abrasive, you were unsure of what to say or do next.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You mumbled.

Deciding it was best to let it roll off your back, you knew very well what stereotype you fell into. You’d had your fair share of catcalls and crude remarks toward your clothes and body shape. Even without having met someone like him before, you’d seen enough movies and TV to know that people who look like you are often mean to those who look like him.

Maybe he was worried you were trying to make fun of him?

“Um. So anyway,” you introduced yourself, holding out your hand for him to shake, “what’s your name?”

"You sure seem persistent," he muttered, his tone tinged with a mix of irritation and mild intrigue.

“I’m not interested in making friends with someone like you.” He sneered, knocking your outstretched hand out of the way.

The words may have been harsh, but his eyes betrayed him with flicker of something resembling guilt. Maybe it was your naive nature, but you couldn't help but think he just needed some coaxing. Even so, his words still hurt your feelings and you weren’t very good at hiding it. Your smile faltered a bit while he spoke and by the end of his sentence your lips were in a full frown.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you?” Your tone made him unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“Offend me?” He barked out a laugh, ducking his head into his shoulders.

“I mean- I just…” Wringing your hands you shifted from foot to foot.

This was going badly, so badly. This wasn’t how you’d planned this conversation to go, this was supposed to be friendly, this was supposed to be a fun little meeting. Your eyes felt prickly as though you might cry.

As he saw your smile falter into a frown, a pang of frustration shot through Anakin's chest. He wasn't immune to the pain he caused, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Anakin's tough facade wavered just for a moment as he saw the hurt in your eyes. He cursed under his breath, feeling a bit of remorse. His stubbornness made it difficult for him to apologize for his harsh words.

“What?” He asked aggressively, putting that rough exterior shell back up.

“Look I’m sorry, I just- I’m new here and-“ he cut you off.

“And you thought what? That you’d sucker me into being your little toy?”

“My toy?” You whispered, so confused.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He snapped, “I know you, I know what you’re trying to do.”

He grumbled, his voice softer than before. "I don't need anyone pitying me."

His statement, though defensive, had a touch of vulnerability behind it. The way he continued to hold your gaze showed that despite his resistance, he couldn't completely dismiss the fact that you intrigued him. No one stuck around this long after he’d shown his ass like this.

“I’m sorry if I gave you a reason to think… anything like that.” You sniffled, “I wasn’t trying- I just, I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god.” He groaned, tipping his head back as he chuckled, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Y-yes.” You mumbled, turning on your heel to return to your porch after seeing his bottom lip stuck in a mocking pout.

“Crybaby.” He grumbled, kicking a rock in your direction, it bounced off the concrete of your walkway and grazed your ankle.

You hissed in pain, bringing your foot up to examine, seeing a tiny little nick and minuscule droplet of blood. You stomped up your steps and grabbed the Saran Wrapped plate of cookies meant for Anakin and promptly made your way back over to him.

Anakin was conflicted and it was clearly written all over his face, he felt bad, guilty even. He might’ve contemplated apologizing for real if you hadn’t done what you did next.

“I made these for you.” Your voice cracked as you held out the plate for him to take.

Just as he reached out, eyebrows furrowed and mouth poised to respond, you dropped the plate onto the grass and crushed them beneath your foot.

“Oh so not only are you fucking crybaby you’re a spoiled little brat too?” He shouted, scooping up the plate and tossing it in your general direction.

Anakin stood there, watching as you retreated into your house, his heart sinking with a confusing mix of regret and frustration. He muttered to himself, a curse directed at his unnecessary jab at your vulnerability.

Regret in his eyes as he turned away, heading back to his own place. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he had pushed you to much. Images of the interaction flashed in his mind, he didn’t know what caused him to react so harshly. Yeah he was always an ass, he wasn’t known for his hospitality or his stellar people skills, but he wasn’t one to be outright cruel.

He ran his fingers through his gelled hair in frustration, letting out a deep sigh. Anakin lit up another Marlboro cigarette, taking a long drag as he stared at the flame of the lighter. The smoke curled around his fingers, as he watched the smoke dissipate into the air, his feet moved of their own volition.

He found himself on your porch steps, collecting up the mess he’d made. Crumbled cookies scraped off the wooden steps with his bare hands while his cigarette hung precariously from his lips. Unbeknownst to him, you watched his every move from the comfort of your living room window.

What was his deal?

That unfortunate encounter had occurred weeks ago, the days now fading into the heat of summer. Anakin wasn’t as hostile anymore, but he wasn’t making an attempt to be friendly either.

He waved if you did first, he nodded if you said hello, he even dropped off a package of yours that had been wrongly delivered to his address - AND - had spoken to you when he brought it over.

Not to mention the time he shouted your name to catch your attention on your way out for an afternoon walk, it was surprising enough that he initiated an encounter. But even more shocking when you saw that he had people over, and not just any people. His band-mates stood there along side him and shot you a friendly smile and wave with Anakin.

You had found yourself mulling over each interaction for hours and sometimes days after they happened. Analyzing every word or lack thereof in hopes to pick apart his human hermit crab shell.

Teaser for the next part:

As the day went on you got yourself ready. A friend from one of your college classes was due to pick you up anytime now. The guy was nice enough to invite you out to go bowling with a group of his friends, knowing you were new and that you didn’t have a solid friend group yet. You were appreciative of the gesture, despite your bubbly personality you found it difficult to keep a steady friendship, it seemed that people took advantage of your naivety, your kindness.

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[aaaaaaaaaaaa-hey-its-jude-or-bee]

hey..... hi..... could I request mlm harvey (sdv) :)?

you can decide if you want nsfw or fluff but I prefer no angst yes

cuddles... cuddles, m!reader gives the bestest cuddles because I said so!! + He's taller than harvey (you can put your own hc, but for me personally he's 6'1 ehe), !!!! He gets so flustered whenever m/n towers over him on accident!!, m/n's always apologetic about it too....

and, the fact that m/n smells like oranges and tangerines, doesn't help... He's always so good smelling to harvey he just wants to cuddle all the time... And who's m/n to refuse!!!!!

I love harvey an unconditional amount, also, I may send in another ask soon for elliot aha, I love him too

(+, could I be 🫚anon?)

Stardew valley

// BOTTOM!Harvey X Tall TOP!Male!farmer who smells like oranges and tangerines and cuddles//

CW//TW; fluff, before NSFW is at the end, suggestive mentions before the NSFW part, mentions of edging, begging, praising, then aftercare and mentions of Harvey not having a relationship with his family and having no contact I finished this close to 12 AM.

Apologies I will finish sebby request very soon but I did this BC it had no story but now it does and sighs, I also added Fluff/cuddles, NSFW/redid all that shit if you haven't seen my last post before this, aftercare/m/n taking care of Harvey omg,, no one told me I fucked up a word what the fuck let me go redo that

Harvey is just absolutely adorable.

-the moment he met you he was.. intimated by you, you were taller than him! Like sure.. There's other men in town who're(HAHAHAHSHSHS WHORE sorry) taller than him but he is also one of those men.. it leaves him absolutely stunned seeing you who is taller than everyone at this point! He was very nervous about being around you, even just by standing beside you he was nervous and scared for who knows what, but he did somewhat get a small whiff of your.. citrus like scent? he wasn't sure if smelling like oranges and tangerines were a normal thing… he was going to research diseases or sicknesses just to make sure that you were perfectly fine, yet he isn't sure why he's feeling so anxious and nervous around a person, you're just a tall person.. it's not like.. you'll someday carry him around as if he's a book, because that would be rude! You two just met! But.. it was weird,

-the moment you walked into his clinic while he was trying to write you a letter for a check-up, he didn't hear you walk into his clinic, considering he was mumbling to himself on how to write a letter to you, he felt nervous and uncomfortable the moment he felt like he was being watched.. he then turned around and oh boy, you scared the living yoba out of him! You were just standing behind him, staring. ..causing him to literally scream bloody murder since he WAS alone for such a long time doing his own thing and next thing he knows is that there's a tall man standing behind him and his life flashed before his eyes. While you were actually wondering how you were gonna approach the doctor who seemed busy, but now, you got a doctor who is on the floor, unconscious, now here you are absolutely panicking. You had to put HIM on the clinic's bed this time instead of him putting others on the bed, you're just waiting for him to wake up now, while having a bottle of water in hand and some medicine in the other.

-it was awkward being around you, he apologized to you but you then apologized to him, and it was mutual, next day he finds a basket filled with fruit and there's wine in it, with an apology card on the counter, Maru was sitting at the front desk, she then looked over at Harvey and told him that the farmer came by to give him this as an apology for supposedly scaring the yoba out of him? She was confused of course and asked Harvey what happened, Harvey, shook his head and brushed it off, his face sweating as he felt blood rush to his face, he was actually really embarrassed and didn't really wanna tell Maru what had happened that day, But Maru; thought Harvey had a crush on the farmer, so she didn't press for more, she was just thinking, *’oh Harvey is just embarrassed for having a crush, they seem like a cute pair’* And she shook her head and chuckled to herself as she continued with her day at work, Harvey took the basket and card happily but still embarrassed and red, going to his office to check the basket and card out, he read it, and smiled softly, his face getting warmer when he kept reading it, as he didn't even realize it even was warmer than before.

-aaannd.. that's how his days always went, he also had a proper check-up with you.. somewhat of a proper check-up, he didn't understand why your heart was racing at an unusual speed.. (much faster then how it did in his heart scene in the game..), he thought you were having a heart attack(you probably are) so he started gathering things and had rushed you to the clinic's bed, not letting you get off the bed at all, he was rambling on about how he needed to make sure you're alright and said you could possibly be suffering an unsuspecting heart attack, he kept you with him after closing, because you came in super late nearing closing, and he sent Maru home already, and he was going to make sure you were alright, he was doing his best to make sure you're healthy, asking you questions and medical questions, asking if you were allergic to anything or something, he just needed to know what was up with you, and the moment he knew you were fine, he let out a sigh of relief, thank yoba you're fine!, he also had more of a whiff of your tangerine scent, it smelled.. sweet and comforting, he didn't know why it did though because it felt odd as well and more odd for even thinking of that or feeling that way, but he calmed down to that, while you were just sitting there just absolutely unsure what to even say to doctor Harvey, it was like.. too late to already get home, you'd end up passing out just at 2 in the morning if you stepped out of the clinic, weird how you always do only pass out directly at 2 in the morning, it's always before.

-.....Harvey felt bad and ended up having you stay over, you guys.. are.. somewhat friends, friends yeah, just a bit awkward in the moment because of everything and him being anxious around you and you just being scared and nervous about being in a doctors clinic but also just nervous about accidentally scaring poor old Harvey, but still you two are friends, so you are having a sleepover for one night, it was.. something honestly, you were trying to figure out how to sleep on the couch, Harvey was reading a book, and you were just.. staring at the ceiling, Harvey made small glances towards you from his book, he felt bad but also was not really sure on what to do as he watched you, while you were just turning and tossing on the couch, but found a position where it was comfortable, and honestly, you were like dead asleep after a few seconds like right after Harvey then tried to suggest something else for you but just then realized that you were just already asleep, which caused him to be absolutely lost, confused, and he's like thinking to himself, you already fell asleep?? You were just moving and turning, how are you asleep after a second? Anyways you're a heavy sleeper, Harvey soon put his book away back on his shelf (the book was about fruits, and he was trying to find out if tangerines and oranges scent a whole person if they eat a lot of them but he found nothing and soon gave up) and then Harvey got in bed, staring at the ceiling as he took his glasses off and placed them beside him on his bedside table, soon he went to bed, while also trying to get over the fact that you were here, spending the night, in his apartment.

-harvey soon woke up in the morning and you were just sitting in the middle of the room for some reason, just making patterns with your finger on the floor with absolutely nothing to do, and Harvey felt bad seeing this because he then remembered how you were always up very early in the morning and that you were probably up for hours while he slept, he didn't know what you were doing while he was sleeping but he seen nothing was a mess and he was happy it was clean and nothing was a mess or broken, he soon gotten up out of bed, greeting you sheepishly as he put on his glasses again, what do you mean you made breakfast? How- why did you make breakfast? Oh, well thank you farmer. Harvey happily ate the breakfast you made him(a breakfast only HE would eat. BECAUSE THIS MOTHER FUCKER DOESN'T LIKE PANCAKES. Sorry It appears I'm still upset about him not liking the pancakes I made for him in bed, I ended up giving him eggs and a coffee, and then left without speaking to him or giving him a kiss that entire day but then I showered him in kisses and loves the next day, I was just very upset over that one day.) and he soon put his sweater on again, after the two of you finished breakfast though, he felt very warm and light when you did that action when you didn't need to for him, he hasn't had a good cooked meal in a long time and he really liked your cooking, he did praise you for the cooking and you were happy, so you plan to cook him meals and give them to him since you rarely cook food and you mostly just.. do whatever you do during the day(you don't want to tell him that you are just absolutely feral and will eat anything that can be eaten.)

-As days went by, and the both of you having gotten rather closer than before, it was all going absolutely wonderful, Harvey was very pleased about you gifting him home cooked meals, and now, he was saving a lot more money and not buying frozen meals from Pierre's every time considering he couldn't cook because he was always busy, he was very happy about it either way, and you were very happy because you always made a little plate for yourself and tested it out to see if it was good, which it always was(the only time you messed up was when you forgot to turn off the stove and then you had to recook it all), Harvey soon enough went to Pierre's again and then bought a flower bouquet for you, he was very nervous about what you'd say and how you'd react, but after buying the flowers, he was already in a nice change pair of clothing that made him look really nice, he wanted to be presentable to you during this moment, so he requested you to meet him at the water fountain, when the sun was setting in a letter for you, which when the time had came you went over to the water fountain to see Harvey, hiding something behind his back as well, and when you walked over towards him you looked at him with a soft gaze, causing him to get more red and nervous as he started to stutter his words when he was trying to confess his feelings for you, he was already nervous because of how tall you were but he was more nervous of this, soon enough he did so and you were giggling throughout some parts because you thought he looked so adorable with how red and nervous he was, you really liked seeing him in such a nice outfit but you mostly had your attention on him the entire time, when he handed you the flower bouquet and asked if you wanted to be his partner, you were surprised but not that surprised, he was started to second guess everything until you took the flower bouquet and hugged him, he was surprised but then melted into your arms, holding you back as well as the sun set made it more pretty and he got your full scent of tangerines and oranges which made it even better for him, he felt like he was in the clouds.

-the two of you started dating, and it was wonderful, Harvey was absolutely happy, he was just a whole being of joy whenever he was around you, sure he's still nervous about being around you considering you're still tall but he's more calm and collected about it, often he's leaning into your arms whenever you hold him and he's just blushing like crazy and he's just so happy about it all, he's never felt this happy ever since he left home, he's never had contact with his own family and they simply didn't bother to try and talk to him, Harvey never minded it but he was sometimes sad about it as well, but he's not sad about it anymore now that he has you with him.

-he's never felt like this the moment he had gotten married to you, first he asked you to be with him, and now you asked him to marry you, everything felt so perfect, he couldn't have asked for anything else in the world, no matter what it may be, even a relationship with his family, hell no, he will never trade you for anything else, he vows to be loyal and by your side every single day when the two of you are alive and together, his heart felt like it was going to explode, but of happiness, he didn't bother sharing the news with anyone back in the city, he didn't care, he couldn't, how could he when he finally had you, and you actually care about him and make him happy! He felt so secure and safe being with you, now living with you as he sometimes would go over back to his apartment to just be there for a few hours just chilling there, before coming home since he would now start to feel a bit off whenever he was away from you for too long, and he just felt more comfortable in the home you both share together, he loved smelling the citrus scent you have whenever the two of you would lay together or just be close together.

-Harvey felt so embarrassed whenever you'd pick him up, he didn't fight back though but it sure was a shocker to him, he enjoyed being held and cuddled by you, he loved your hands as well, he just loved having your hands on him, Harvey absolutely loves having your hands on or in him in places, and just loves having your hands in his own, it makes him feel happy.

-Harvey is always leaning or resting against you as well, he loves smelling you, he loves your scent, he just loves touching you in any way shape or form, he needs it, he's needy, he absolutely is needy and wants your attention because he's afraid of losing it, but you always have your attention on him 24/7, because you're HIS Husband, you're HIS handsome man, you both are HUSBANDS, you're HIS.

-harvey get so weak in the knees and gets so red seeing you shirtless, he gets so hot and you're his husband, he sees you shirtless in your own home, but he still gets absolutely flustered and red, he cannot help it! He just loves you too much and feels so shy about it, even when you flirt with him shirtless like! M/n don't do that! (Do it)

Yeaaahhh let's get into the cuddling

Harvey was laying on top of your chest under the covers, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he just softly inhaled the fruitful scent you have, while you were laying in the middle of your comfortable bed, reading a book as you would kiss the top of Harvey's head once in a while, every few 3 to 5 pages you'd turn, while the blanket was covering the both of you as well keeping you two warm, even though you both were warm as it was, you were humming a soft lullaby as you read, your arms were around Harvey as you held the book but you were also keeping your doctor husband close to you as possible, Harvey loved listening to you hum softly as he laid with you, well on top of you but you wanted him to either way to be closer, “mmmph,, my love, do you really think I should stay-” Harvey mumbled against your skin as he tried asking you again if he should stay like this, but you simply stopped humming and cut him off of his words, “Yes, I'm fine Harvey, just relax, it'll be fine, you're fine staying like this” you reassured him that it was perfectly fine for Harvey to stay laying on top of your chest, you loved how it felt because it felt absolutely comforting like this and you loved having Harvey just all relaxed and soft against you, Harvey just made a soft humming sound before nuzzling up against your neck again, his eyes were closed as he shortly soon fell asleep on you, you were turning the page of your book before planting a kiss on his head as you whispered in a soft tone to him, “I love you” before putting a bookmark on your page, and closing it up, it was dark and you knew you should get rest as well, so you put the book on the stand beside you, turning off the lamp as you got comfortable and wrapped your arms around Harvey, holding him closely and making sure he seemed comfy in his own state of sleep, closing your eyes as you yawned and soon, all that was heard in the dark yet cooled room, was the soft breathing of the both of you sleeping peacefully as you cuddled up against each other in the bed you both share, the house the two of you now share is filled with the peaceful quietness, then when the morning had came, Harvey seemed to content on staying in his position as he was too comfortable to move and he didn't want you leaving the bed so soon, while you woke up early and tried getting out of bed to go run places and run to the mines, yet Harvey seems to not want to let you go to the mines, so he kept in his place, mumbling tiredly as he kept mumbling his tired and weak protests of “nooo..” to you trying to get him off of you and to lay on the other side so you could go to the mines, but you soon gave up as you got back into the warmth and comfortable spot you were in originally, and then you closed your eyes once more after giving him a kiss, he had tiredly gave you a kiss back and rested his head against your chest again, since he wanted to stay in longer, and you couldn't deny your husband that any longer because he was so adorable like this, and he loves your scent and your warmth, how could you deny your husband warmth and comfort? You'd just let him get cold and alone in bed? No, you have to stay here and go back to bed, he seemed so happy even in his sleep again as the two of you fell back asleep peacefully,

Okay refucking writing it all are you absolutely fucking kidding me like what the fucking hell I should've fucking written it here like what the fuck

NSFW!!

Harvey's soft cries and desperate pleas echo throughout the bedroom the two husbands share, the sound of their soft skin meeting filling the room with a soft Melody of passion. The bed, though it was In Fact silent, stayed silent, Harvey clutched the sheets tightly, his face flushed with desire and sweet moans tumbling from his lips. His legs spread apart, his body writhes in absolute pure raw ecstasy as his husband, m/n, thrusts into him with such primal need, gripping Harvey's thighs absolutely possessively as he thrusted into him, m/n's rigid length slides in and out of Harvey that sends shivers down Harvey's spine, his cock finding that sweet, soft spot inside of his husband Harvey, causing him to squirm in pleasure. Tears of raw ecstasy had streamed down Harvey's face as he begged for his husband m/n to let him finish, after hours of being absolutely lost in the intoxication of their love-making, M/n could only chuckled in response to Harvey, his hips grinding against Harvey's hips, sending waves of pleasure through both their bodies. With a gentle soft sweet touch, m/n's hand moved from Harvey's thigh to his throbbing cock, Each stroke m/n’s hand made had only brought Harvey closer to the edge, Harvey's need growing with each passing moment this kept going on. M/n smeared the pre-cum over the head of Harvey's cock, his thumb pressing down on the sensitive tip, sending shivers of pleasure through Harvey's body, yet the sensation of m/n's thumb pressing against the head of his cock sends Harvey into a absolutely frenzy, his hips bucking in absolute desperation, as m/n presses Harvey back onto the bed, then pulls out of him only to thrust back in deeper than before, Harvey's cries had reach a fever pitch. He can feel himself being so close on the edge of release, but his husband denies him, prolonging the torture with each thrust, m/n worships Harvey with soft whispers of love and adoration to his husband, his movements slow and deliberate now, drawing out Harvey's torment. His hand strokes Harvey's cock with skill, his lips trailing tender lovingly kisses along Harvey's skin, their bodies move in absolute perfect synchrony, slowly driving Harvey to the brink of madness as he begged and pleaded for release, the overwhelming desire courses through Harvey's veins is matched only by the intensity of m/n's thrusting, Harvey's pitched cries and whines echoes through the room loudly, M/n finally letting Harvey reach his release as he started thrusting faster and deeper, his cock pressed deep against the sweet spot spot inside of Harvey, causing Harvey to hold tightly onto the bed as he moaned loudly, cum now being on his abdomen as M/n kept pumping his husband's pulsing cock, completely fucking Harvey out of his Ecstasy state, Harvey's soft moans kept slipping from his lips as he soon fell exhausted, while M/n took care of Harvey right after releasing inside of his husband.

Aftercare omg

Shortly after Harvey and his husband M/n completed their intimate time together, M/n lovingly tended to his husband's every need. He carefully cleaned Harvey up, ensuring he was comfortable as he guided him to the bathroom, assisted him in drinking water, and then drew a warm bath for them both with deep love and tender care, M/n washed his husband, showering him with kisses and sweet words of admiration and love, as he lovingly attended to Harvey making sure he was comfortable, M/n neglected his own needs just for his husband's, soon, drying himself off hastily as he focused on ensuring Harvey's comfort right after he lovingly was drying Harvey off with care and time, after the bath, M/n gently carried Harvey to the bedroom once again, dressing them both in cozy clothes before settling Harvey on the sofa for a moment, M/n then changed the bedding, preparing a fresh, welcoming space for them to rest. With new pillows, sheets, and blankets, the bed became a haven of softness and comfort for them now while tenderly lifting his weary husband into the soft comforting bed, M/n turned off the lamp and nestled beside him, As Harvey drifted off to sleep, safe and loved in his husband's arms, M/n whispered sweet words of love and adoration, holding him close as they both drifted off to the peaceful sleep

GOOD FUCKING NIGHT HOLY SHIT I AM GLAD IT DID NOT FUCKING DISAPPEAR AFTER I TRIED POSTING THE FIRST ONE WITHOUT SAVING THE NSFW, AFTERCARE AND SOME OF THE STUFF I ADDED TO THE MAIN THING.

[mchlgayser]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [blue lock various]

⸻ hurt/no comfort, triggering events and poor writing skills.

Day one.

It was beautiful. With him, everything were in their peak performances. The color seem brighter when he was by your side, the day was mostly sunny even when it was raining. Your cold, anxious days is past gone when you was with him.

Day ten

You both hung out. The whole week and every day. New places to explore, new cafes to dine in and new bookstore to leisure. He was by your side, and you two laughed like there's no tomorrow. He even rent a book for you, one that's in a tall place you can't reach.

Day seventeen

It was your first time going to the amusement park together. You both bought tickets and played every rides available. He won you prizes, and got you a strawberry flavored cotton candy. The last ride was the ferris wheel. He looked so anxious when you both reach the topline and suddenly, he kissed you. You both shared your first kiss together that evening.

Day thirty

You both been together for a whole month. You was stressed because you had an exam but he was there. He hold you tight, never letting go and whispered "it'll be okay." repeatedly.

Day forty-four

He had to leave. He needed to go to Blue Lock. It was a downhill from there on but he smiled. He said everything will be just fine. He'll come back and you two can spend time like you used to. He promised.

Day eighty three

He came back. Like he promised, but he was different. Something was bothering him, you knew it but he won't tell you. You wanted to told him to let it out, you can hold him tight but he was very distant and then, he left again.

Day ninety one

It was a day off again, and you both met. You even got him a homemade chocolate to cheer him up. He won't said anything throughout the day, stared down at the ground, hard expression on his face. You both went to eat at the diner you both used to chill at but suddenly, he said that he needed a break "This relationship is suffocating. I need to focus." And he left, call discarded, texts remained unresponded and soon enough, you was blocked.

Day one hundred

Today, supposedly be your one hundred day together, supposedly be the day you both celebrate after coming back and forth this far. You helped him, cheered and rooted for him. You disregarded everything important to you for him, because you trusted him. Because you thought he'll hold you tight.

QINA. i tried my best, right? it's so hard to accomplish writing style like this but it's decent, i mean just enough for me. pleaseeee ignore every grammatical errors, i have not proofread my writing yet so please bare with it until i finally find the urge to do it. that's all, and thank you for the 1k followers, my sugarboogers! 🎀 you guys are just best i love you all sm. have fun reading! (p/s: you are free to imagine whichever characters from blue lock that suit this kind of fic settings lmao. good bye! ~

[nikethestatue]

Moriel--A Cautionary Tale

Let me tell you a little story.

Before ACOWAR was released, there was a group of pretty serious shippers, who were violently convinced that Mor and Azriel were going to be endgame. Basing their assumptions on what they found in ACOMAF, they had an unshakable belief in Moriel.

Now, you see, *I* was never a Moriel. What I saw in Moriel was one person deeply disinterested in another, while participating in a strange dynamic between herself and two brothers. What's more, what I always found curious and strange about Moriel in ACOMAF was that everything about it seemed to have come from other people. The 'relationship' such as it was (and it was strange) was told from the POV of others, namely Rhys to Feyre. And yet, at no point, have we ever seen Azriel act upon this intense infatuation that he supposedly had for Mor. There were 'longing looks' that he supposedly sent her way, but they were told through the biased lens of Feyre's observations, who took what Rhys told her at face value. Now, what *I* personally found curious and what made me more and more doubtful about Moriel in ACOMAF was that it was Feyre herself, the protagonist, who through her OWN observations (not through Rhys's) said the words 'and I think that Elain would cling to Azriel, just for some peace and quiet'. They didn't need to be included, those words. Not at all. She could've just said 'Elain would also love Velaris and would adore walking through the gardens and the flower stalls'. Yet, then the still human and engaged Elain would cling to Azriel...If he stopped loving Mor.

Hmmmm. Did that mean that Azriel could and WOULD stop 'loving' Mor because of ....Elain?

That if Elain was there, with him, 'clinging' to him, that would make him drop his 500 year old obsession? But why? I wondered. If Moriel were supposedly endgame, why would Elain be brought up as a possibility at all? Why, in Feyre's mind, did the two of them make sense?

Yet, the Moriels did not let up, though the hints were already there. The fact that it's been 500 years and nothing's happened between 2 people who seemingly had no obstacles to being together didn't seem to bother them. And what's more, none of these so-called 'evidence' came from Azriel himself. Or Mor. But especially Azriel. A man in love, he did not seek to touch this woman, help her, care for her, spend time with her. Once, he agreed to go to Rita's, and that was a big deal, it seemed.

So why am I telling you all this?

Because I've seen it all before. One of the biggest fandom members ever, was an ardent Moriel shipper. Moriel. Moriel. Moriel. The 'breadcrumbs' and the 'foreshadowing' were all there in her mind. Theories were written. Great Moriel fanfics. Art. Moodboards. In A COWARD, Moriel was finally going to happen. The next book was basically Moriel's.

Reminds you of anything?

Good, ol' Gwynriel.

Same shit. Different day. Taking questionable sentences from the books and thinking that they mean something that they don't. Constructing elaborate headcanons. Writing endless theories. Heavily relying on assumptions. And by God, Moriel actually had way more material to go by than Gwynriel. You COULD almost get confused--it would've been much more understandable than Gwynriel.

But what never convinced me about the validity of Moriel is that one sentence.

"Elain would cling to Azriel'.

THAT, my friends, is foreshadowing.

It hinted at the FUTURE. That there was an untold story there.

As she was tending to Rhys and his wounds, Feyre laid out the future for both sisters in her monologue.

Both Moriel and Gwynriel speak of the past--the rescues of both Mor and Gwyn. But never of the future. SJM never paired Gwyn and Azriel and gave them even one sentence of how they might come together in the future. Same with Moriel.

So, when you become worried and begin questioning yourself, when the noise gets too loud and you begin wondering whether Elriel is going to happen remember Moriel. A loud majority was advocating for those too as well at some point. Loud doesn't equal 'right'. Sometimes, it's just loud.