#thanks for the reply though because I rarely get to discuss this show with anyone lol

[5-pp-man]

You know, watching episode 11 of bucchigiri, it was very difficult to see Zabu being beaten like that, poor thing. I wonder how they are going to end this story with just one episode, there are a lot of meaningless things I think I only see three alternatives. 1. an open ending with Matakara and Arajin making peace but going their separate ways (matakara) and maybe a 2nd season with arajin trying to get him to be a honki again. 2. Matakara and Arajin don't make peace and are murdered like Senya and Ichiya and they turn into geniuses and try to fight again like Senya and Ichiya. 3. For me, I most wanted Matakara's brother not to die and return and save Matakara from ruin. What worries me in the end is how they are going to make an acceptable and good ending for Matakara because he did a lot of bad things. What worries me are the consequences. sorry for the text.

Hey anon, thanks for the message! (excuse me for the slow reply)

Zabu getting the piss beaten out of him was definitely one of the most painful (and brutal, I'd argue) fights to watch (so far. 1 ep to go...). Though I don't really agree with the idea that this show had a lot of meaningless things (besides ep 7...), but I see where you're coming from.

I've been thinking a lot about the possible endings too, and after mulling it over a lot, here's my guess; They have a big fight reminiscent of the one Ichiya and Senya had in the past. Senya mentioned in one of the first eps how he never actually became a Honki person, but came the closest out of anyone. I think that fight might've been the final thing those two needed to really become Honki. This, however, didn't happen because of multiple reasons;

The most important bit is that Senya didn't go all out, which is what ended up pissing Ichiya off and making him hold a grudge against Senya. I think this grudge is what made Ichiya become a majin, and Senya's wish to reconcile is what made him a majin in turn (they didn't quite explain this in the show but this makes the most sense to me). Why Senya didn't go all out could have a multitude of reasons, which I'm not getting into rn because this post is already very long.

But back to the final fight. Matakara has Ichiya and Arajin has Senya, and it's been heavily implied that they're gonna get their bodies taken over, either willingly (Arajin, now determined to save Matakara) or through manipulation (Matakara, consumed by the darkness he was trying desperately to flee from). If this show continues with following the Disney version of the Aladdin tale, there must be some sort of wish-fulfilment freedom at the end for the genie(s). This fight will finally be the all out no-holds-barred brawl that Ichiya wanted, and Senya will be able to face him again so he can find out why Ichiya was so mad at him. It's also a chance for Arajin and Matakara to finally throw their frustrations out into the open, and hopefully finally see and hear each other for real. But I also think that the fight will turn them into Honki people. This would not only fulfil the promise between Ichiya and Senya, but also the one between Arajin and Matakara.

Other than that, I have no clue how they're gonna wrap up the rest, or what kind of consequences there will be at the end... or if there will even be consequences. If you've seen SK8 (anime by the same director) you might remember how a certain character was about to be in deep shit, but the power of friendship stopped him right before the damage would be irreversible. I think it'll be the same here.

Sorry if it's not exactly what you discussed, but this is the only ending I could imagine, honestly. And as for Matakara's brother, I've had this hunch that he didn't actually die, since permadeath is such a rare occurrence in these types of animes, and fakeouts are a plenty. But even if he is still alive, the show has made itself clear; it's up to Arajin to save Matakara now.

[jor-elsemissary]

Mionel Headcanon asks nobody asked for but getting anyway

————

What were their first impressions of each other?

“To be honest, I thought Martha was a simple housewife that I could use to manipulate my way into Smallville,” Lionel confessed, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink because of who was sitting beside him. “Boy was I wrong.”

Martha laughed softly next to him and patted his knee in reassurance, “I get that a lot and every person that has, came to regret it later.”

“I don’t,” he says with a grin. “I actually enjoyed being proven wrong by you.”

“Oh? Well that certainly wasn’t the impression I got.”

“And what would that be?”

“That you’re a self-centered, controlling and unforgiving bastard,” she spoke with such honesty and a smile, Lionel couldn’t help but laugh in reply.

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Of course not. But there was a side of you that you rarely showed anyone else.” She squeezed his knee lightly and continued to smile at him.

“Which would be?”

“That you do care.”

“Hmph,” he chuckled. “The children would disagree with you.”

“You’re not seeing the children.”

“True,” he grinned again.

Did they both want children/How many children did they want?

“I’ve always wanted children of my own,” Martha replied with a little bit of sadness. “I almost had one with Jonathan but then I… I…”

Lionel reaches over and took her hand in his and she gripped it firmly, fingers lacing together in gratitude. “I wouldn’t have minded a child with Martha but I know it’s not likely. But if we were to be graced with such a miracle,” he cants his head slightly, “I think one would be more than enough.”

“Or two,” she counters.

“I am too old for more than that,” he bemusedly says.

Who made the first move?

“Technically I tried to but she told me under no certain terms were we going to be anything more than friends,” Lionel shook his head.

“When was that?” Martha curiously asked of him, not remembering when he had tried.

“You had just accepted Jonathan’s seat and I had offered to take you to dinner to, uh, discuss business. You proceeded to tell me to not expect any favors and that we would be nothing more than friends at most.”

Martha furrowed her brow and her expression lightened as she remembered, “Oh yes. I was still mad at you back then.”

“What for?”

“A number of things. Take your pick.”

Lionel winced, “I’m still not forgiven for some of them am I?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

Who initiated the first kiss?

“Martha did.”

“I kissed him.”

“In the middle of a ballroom dance floor.”

Martha elbows him gently, “You didn’t protest.”

“How could I? I’ve wanted to kiss you for years!”

Do they both get jealous?

“I know I had been,” he admits with his head bowed. “I was envious of Jonathan and what he had with Martha. I… longed to know what that was like. My marriage with Lillian hadn’t known anything like that. Now that I look back on it,” here he sighs regretfully, “our marriage was more an arrangement than love even though we didn’t set out for that when we took our vows.”

“I’m sure she did love you,” Martha tried to reassure him.

“I appreciate the thought, and maybe she did but I was too much of fool to see it.” Lionel kept his head bowed. There was too much regret and pain for him to hide it in his expression. After a moment and a shuddering breath, he looks up at the woman he knows loves him, “What about you? Have you ever been jealous of something involving me?”

Martha smiled a little, “Your hair.”

He laughed.

“No, seriously. Whatever you do with your hair,” she reaches up to take a few of the locks between her fingers, “I need to know. Mine is so straight and dreadful all the time.”

Lionel leaned over and nuzzled her tenderly, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair, “I like your hair the way it is. But if you like, I can recommend my stylist.”

“Please do and thank you.” Martha gives him a peck on the cheek and he smiles more warmly.

Do they get jealous easily?

“Sometimes,” Lionel tells with a knowing smile. “Depends on the subject and the mood I’m in. Would I get jealous if Martha spoke to another man? No. She has as much of a right to make friends among men as I do among women.”

“Except you are more likely to sleep with them than I would,” Martha replied.

“Why, Martha, are you getting jealous?” he teased and she smacked his arm.

When one gets sick, what does the other do?

“Give him a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup and tell him he’s not dying,” Martha laughs softly. “He can be a drama queen when he’s sick.”

“I am not!” Lionel puffs at the teasing. “My moans are pains of agony and suffering. I deserve to be coddled by the woman I love.”

“Drama queen.”

He snorts.

“Of course when I’m sick he insists I go to the hospital and he flies in whatever specialist his money can buy.”

“You never know with you,” he defends himself. “The last time you fell ill, you literally died for thirty minutes!”

“You heard about that?” Martha looked surprised.

“When the CDC quarantines the farm of a good friend because said good friend fell ill,” he points out, “it tends to be noticed by a lot of people.”

“I thought the CDC kept it quiet so the town wasn’t set into a panic.”

“I also happened to be there when Lex got the call.” He smirked and she shook her head.

Who is better at giving directions?

“Martha.”

“What? I thought your GPS was superior,” she gives him a look.

“In most cases it is,” Lionel agrees and returns her look with a fond look of his own. “Except for that one time when we went just for a ride south of Granville. The GPS didn’t have a map of the region and you bought a state map from the gas station, insisting you could get us back to Smallville easily.”

“Oh yes. I remember that. You argued with that Indian man and insisted he was wrong.”

“He was.”

Where do they want to go on vacation?

“I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the national parks.”

“Then that’s our next vacation. All the national parks,” he tells her and she looks at him incredulously.

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

How was their first kiss?

Martha glances up at him, “Memorable.”

“Mmhm. We were dancing at a ball,” Lionel recalled that night. He remembered being nervous. “A slow dance and there were one or two other couples on the dance floor as well, so I was very much aware that we were being watched.”

“It didn’t matter in the end,” she continued. Martha blushed when Lionel brought her hand to his lips and he lightly caressed the knuckles with a kiss. “We only had eyes for each other on that floor. His eyes were so… entrancing, I wanted us to remain like that all night.”

Lionel held onto her hand as he spoke again, “She was beautiful and mesmerizing. When the music came to an end, I swear we were all that was left on the floor.”

“We were.”

“It was Martha who drew me close for the kiss,” he reveals and closes his eyes as he recalls it. “Everything stopped in that moment. All I could think about was that she was finally kissing me. It took me a second to kiss her back and every ounce of will power to keep it tame.”

“You considered that tame?” Martha laughed softly.

“It took everything.”

“He did kiss me like it would be his last.”

Who is the most affectionate?

“Martha is,” Lionel said with confidence.

“Oh I don’t know,” she contested with a gentle elbow into him. “You are quite affectionate yourself, just a lot more subtle about it.”

He leans in and gives her a kiss on the temple, whispering softly against her skin, “Perhaps I am, but you have no trouble showing your affection towards me. I, on the other hand, do. Therefore, you are the more affectionate of us.”

Who worries about the other the most?

They both glance at each other, small smiles of amusement on their faces, wondering which one would answer first and who. Martha decides to reply first, “I would like to think that I do, but I have yet to call him up at three in the morning just to hear his voice.”

Lionel chuckles softly, “Yes, but I’m quite certain you don’t go back to sleep afterward because you’re worried about my state of mind. I remember when you were my assistant, you would often chide me for doing something the doctors said I shouldn’t. Like drink alcohol while taking my medications.”

“It wasn’t very professional of me, was it?” Martha winced a little.

“No,” he smiled fondly at her. “But it was nice to have someone care about me for a change. So I allowed it.”

Martha shook her head at him.

What does one do that scares the other?

“He throws himself into deadly situations and ends up in the hospital,” Martha immediately answers with a seriousness that says she does not approve, but Lionel can see that she is not angry with him over it. Exasperated perhaps, but not angry.

“Only because your son tends to get into more trouble than he can handle,” he argues back.

“Lex hospitalized you the last time,” she points out. “So your son gets you into just as much trouble, if not more.”

“True,” he concedes.

“You’re not young anymore, Lionel,” she reminds him with motherly concern. “One day, either my son or yours is going to come home and tell me you didn’t make it.”

“I know,” he reaches and pulls her close into an embrace with him. Martha wraps her arms firmly around his body and rests her head on his shoulder. “I am a Luthor, we Luthors will fight Death itself if we must.” He could feel her quietly laugh against him and he smiles into her hair.

Who wants to cuddle the other longer in the morning?

“Believe it or not, when he discovered how wonderful it is to wake up with someone in the morning,” Martha replies while leaning back into Lionel’s arms, “He initiates and cuddles the longest. I don’t mind it most mornings, but there are a few days when I really do need to get up.”

“The Senate can always wait,” he counters. “Besides, I like having you against me in bed. Feels less like a dream.”

Who is better at comforting?

“She is without a doubt.”

“He awkwardly tries. Heart is in the right place, but I can tell its not something he knows how to do.” Martha laughs softly and holds his arm that is across her with a hand of her own. “But yes, I am better at soothing hurts and fears.”

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon?

Lionel glances down at the woman in his arm, “A little obvious who is what. Though some mornings, I find myself being spooned instead.”

“Only because you’re too busy hugging the pillow instead of me,” she laughs at the feigned indignant look he gives her. “Its true!”

What are their nicknames for each other?

“Leo, now that I know about it,” answered Martha. “But he only lets me use it in private, which is fine.”

“Its a childhood nickname and reserved for those who are my closest friends,” Lionel explained. “Alas I don’t have one for her.”

Who realized they were interested in who first?

“That would be me,” Lionel glanced down at Martha. She was still in his arms on the sofa and rather comfortable where she was too it seemed, not that he minded or anything.

“When was that?” she met his gaze curiously.

“When you strong armed me into helping that boy,” he cheekily replied.’

Martha playfully swatted his leg, “I didn’t strong arm you.”

“You were very persuasive,” he laughed. “Since then, I had spent the time trying to learn about you and push your limits. You met every challenge and what I learned made me even more intrigued and infatuated.”

“When did you realize you were…?”

“In love with you?” Lionel supplied and he rested his chin on her head gently. “I would say probably before that whole debacle with the criminal case against me. You know, I wanted you to come visit me one last time. To talk, of course. I wouldn’t have another chance, or at least I thought I wouldn’t have.”

“Because you were dying.”

“Yes.” He was quiet for a few minutes while he reflected on his time in prison. “Either the inmates were going to kill me or the disease would. But I had hoped you would come and… you never did.”

“I did, once, but it turns out it wasn’t you,” she tells him and he looks at her curiously, wondering what she meant by it. “That crystal you had? It worked. You were Clark and he was you. He called me as you and I came thinking it was you.”

“It… it actually worked?” Lionel looked stunned and then his color drained at the realization of what he had done. “I’m… sorry?”

“Relax,” she tells him and gently squeezes his hand by her waist. “I’m the only one that knows what happened, not even Clark remembers anything.”

He relaxes behind her, a little relieved that he isn’t the only one in the dark about what had happened. “Do I want to know what happened?”

“I’ll tell you another time. Its embarrassing, for you.”

Lionel groans.

How was their first date?

“A date out?” Lionel rhetorically asked and he thought about the first time they had gone out together as a couple. Although their first dinner together had been at the Kent farm, the first time that could actually be called a date had been elsewhere. “I took Martha to a symphony and then to dinner at a steakhouse I am a patron of.” He didn’t mention that it had been the same steakhouse he had lost Julian in front of.

His voice must have changed pitch just enough for Martha to catch on that something was wrong, “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Yes, I’m fine. Just… a bad memory decided to rear its ugly head,” Lionel tried to reassure. He had been worried that same memory would have spoiled his date with Martha but he must have been so over the moon with her to not even consider what had happened years before. He didn’t recall the date being bad or anything. “But our date that night? I had difficulty containing my excitement, so thrilled was I at the thought of you dating me.”

“You were that happy?”

“You have no idea how happy I was, Martha,” Lionel pressed a kiss into her hair. “What about you?”

“I was a nervous wreck until I had a whole glass of wine,” she tells him and closes her eyes at the feeling of his affection. “But you did make me laugh and I was smiling. I had a good time. Good enough that we’re still seeing each other. So you did something right.”

“And I hope I continue to do things right.”

How did they propose?

“Do attempts count?” Lionel asked and started counting the number of times he had tried to get Martha to marry him. “Three, four… six times I’ve asked Martha Kent to marry me and six times she has turned me down. Maybe I’ll get lucky with the seventh?” He looks down at her and she just gives him an impish smile. “Probably not. I’ll get you to marry me one day, even if its on my death bed.”

Martha laughed at him and hugged his arm, “I’m not ready to settle down again quite yet. There is so much to do here in Washington and not enough time.”

He nuzzles the side of her neck softly, “You could always split things with me as my wife.”

“Is that another proposal?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Well that’s farther than I got last time,” he laughs.

Who can’t keep their hands to themself?

“Lionel, hands down,” Martha smirked impishly and she heard Lionel groan behind him.

Who was (insert character)’s first crush?

“There was this guy in high school who I had a crush on as a freshman,” Martha said contemplatively. “Victor Laughlin, he was a senior and baseball jock. Very sweet to me but he already had a girlfriend then.”

“Jocks seem to be your type,” Lionel mentions and upon her curious glance. “Jonathan was a football jock.”

“And you?”

“I wouldn’t have stood a chance if we had been in high school together.”

“Why not?”

“I was the chess nerd.”

“Oh I dunno, I like nerds too. I’m dating one.”

Lionel smiled softly, “I know and I am still debating as to whether I am dreaming or not.”

She laughs again and pulls his arm closer to her in a tight embrace. “What about you? Who was your first crush?”

He was silent for a moment while he debated on whether to reveal it or not, “There was… a brief time I had a crush on Morgan.”

“The crime lord?”

“We grew up together. Did everything together. Got into trouble together,” he explained hurriedly and then took a breath to calm himself down. “He was much different back then. Wouldn’t have stabbed me in the back like he did now. We would have done anything for each other.” He didn’t need to explain what he meant by that, Martha knew of the role Morgan played in his early life. “Never acted on those feelings though.”

“Why not?”

“My father would have murdered me.”

“Oh.” She frowned.

“Yeah.”

“Are you still?”

“Bisexual?” Martha nodded and he gave her a small smile, “Yes. Though there haven’t been any men that have interested me enough to pursue. Most in my circles are… boring. Especially compared to a woman like you.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true though.”

How do they celebrate anniversaries?

“I like to have a small, private celebration at home but Lionel sometimes convinces me a night out in town is better.”

“Only for certain anniversaries,” Lionel elaborates a little. “Though I’m sure once we are married, it will be something grand every year.”

“Like what?” she is curious to know.

“Oh I don’t know,” Lionel smiles playfully at her. “A trip to Paris, perhaps, or the Bahamas. It’ll depend on your mood and when we get married.”

“If.”

“No, its definitely going to be a when,” he chuckles a little.

Who steals the covers?

Both Martha and Lionel point at each other, and then grin in amusement. “You steal them the most,” Lionel accuses her half-heartedly.

“I do not. You’re always taking the sheets.”

“Hmph, I wouldn’t if someone left me some of the comforter.”

“I wouldn’t if you left me the sheets,” she teases back.

“I guess we’ll have to call this a draw.”

Who falls asleep first?

“Martha does. I’m too busy watching her sleep to even try,” he confesses and smiles softly against Martha’s hair before nuzzling her and embracing firmly. He knows he has spent hours just watching Martha sleep next to him, so amazed he was by the fact that she had been willing to give him a chance and slept beside him most nights since.

Who is a morning person?

Martha grinned in response, “That would be me. Farmer and all. It never really went away when I moved to Washington. After twenty-five years of waking up before the crack of dawn, I would be surprised if I did sleep in.”

“I’m a morning person as well,” Lionel added.

“You should see yourself before your first coffee,” she laughed when he gave her a scandalous look.

“I wouldn’t be so grumpy in the morning if I had plenty of sleep the night before,” Lionel leaned down to give her a kiss on the temple. “But someone I’m dating can be quite amorous some nights. I’m not complaining, I love the attention.”

“Good or you’d be finding yourself sleeping with Shelby instead.”

Who is a night person?

“Lionel. I don’t know how he does it, but he can stay up past midnight and still be full of energy the next morning.”

“I am very motivated every morning these days.”

“No, ‘I am a Luthor, sleep is for the weak’ line?” Martha teases.

“There is that too,” he laughs.

Which one makes breakfast?

“Depends on who is staying where,” he explained and gestured a little. “If I’m at the Kent farm, Martha does and if she’s at my place, I do.”

“He tries to.”

“I can cook bacon and eggs, and toast,” he says a little defensively.

“You burnt the toast the last time,” Martha reminded him and he frowned a little at that. She sat up a little to give him a quick kiss. “But I was distracting you at the time, so you’re forgiven.”

Which one bakes/cooks?

“Martha, since I apparently cannot cook.” He catches Martha rolling her eyes at him, “You just said I burnt the toast.”

“Oh hush,” she pats him on the knee. “I was only teasing you.”

Who is more rough with the kissing stuff?

“Lionel.” Martha reaches up to trace the underside of his bearded jaw and she swears if he had been an actual cat, he would be purring with the way he leans into her touch. “But he can be tender with his kisses when he wants to.”

“I’m only rough because I haven’t seen you in days or it’s been a very long evening and you looked fetching in that party dress,” he growls against her ear lightly.

Do they send cutesy or grossly sweet/romantic texts to each other?

“People do that?” Lionel blinked. He isn’t sure if he should be appalled or not by the idea.

“I think it’s something the younger generation does,” Martha clarifies and shrugs a little. “I haven’t done anything like that. I barely can figure out my flip phone half the time, much less one of those newer smart phones.”

Is one more protective than the other?

“I think we both know who is more protective without needing to go into detail,” Lionel says, his voice straining just enough for Martha to pick up on it. She looks up at him a little in concern.

His arms tighten around her and he lowers his head down beside her own, eyes closing as he tries not to remember about Lincoln Cole.

How do they make up after a fight?

“Well it depends on who started it and what it was about,” Martha says while gently caressing Lionel’s hand. “But we both tend to separate for a bit to cool off and if Lionel is at fault, he usually comes back with a bouquet of flowers and lots of chocolate.”

“Martha just comes to my office, regardless of whether I am in a meeting with someone, and just flat out apologizes to me.”

“Only because I know you’ll kick them out and give me your time,” she tells him. “And I’ve only done that once, mind you.”

“I know. Still amuses me though.”

————

Omg I’m done! *falls over*

[cogbreath]

thank u for ur reply!! i always love ur insight :) n ive read the article before LMAO now that was a classic example of his pretty privilege working cus if he didn’t look the way he did, his behaviour would’ve raised eyebrows. but no…he was viewed as a quirky silly guy by his roommate LOLZ. makes me wonder if mohammed atta would be viewed the same way if he were white passing.

anon you fascinate me im very very intrigued by the fact u already know so much abt this... keep sending asks its soo rare that i actually do get to talk to someone who already knows this much abt this. Anyhow I would reason to bet he might have been viewed more sympathetically if that were the case, however, in any case he was arguably more reserved and stoic by comparison so i think even if he was, people would be maybe a bit more suspicous with him, especially cuz fitting in seemed to come more naturally to jarrah for various reasons... atta never seemed to want to fit in more than he needed to in order to stay under the radar. I know that atta and jarrah did also butt heads abt this to some degree, i know that atta was suspicious that jarrah might even give up on the whole thing cuz of how he kept backsliding. I also think a lot of writers can "see themselves" in jarrah while they really cant with atta, he's an unfamiliar personality imo, specifically bc most writers in the anglosphere come from a secular culturally christian perspective. I think they r sympathetic to him because they start to realise that this sort of stuff really is something that "just anyone" could find themselves getting roped into thru means of being radicalised. Meanwhile I think they view atta as someone who already was quite "radical" at least in their eyes. of course, this is just my experience, but I've had many of my muslim accquantinces comment on how its actually quite a shame that atta took the path he did, because they feel he was otherwise quite promising, and might have made a good scholar or something along those lines. So thats the other side of things if you will. I think I can agree with that perspective myself. Of course its important to not get too engulfed in that mindset, because you can't forget they made the choices they did.

But yeah, there are many things about atta that Ive read about that i find to have been equally quirky and silly of behaviors, but i find myself annoyed how writers (even terry mcdermott does it in his book, perfect soldiers. which is a bit disappointing bc hes a writer who i otherwise rlly enjoy the perspective of on this) dont seem to think that way and paint it to be something as flaws or show of bad character when really, personality and behavior quirks have little to do with his actions. Yknow what i mean of course. Demonizing behaviors that have nothing explicitly to do with being a terrorist. You are really fun anon, its fun for me to get to discuss this stuff, the psychology/characteristics/behavior of those involved with the hamburg cell. its fun when i get to discuss it with more than just my super close friends. sometimes i get nervous ppl might think im trying to be a sympathizer/idolizer but i think i make it more than clear its not the case though xP. its undeniable that its a pretty understudied and underdiscussed facet of 9/11. U see it for other crimes and criminals but not really ever on this side of the fence. I feel its a case of dehumanization borne from islamophobia. Easier to get ppl to feel hate when you paint the perpetrators as faceless monsters. If u ever wanna dm me off anon u are super free to. Also, if you have anything to share that is interesting like a video or article or anything like that, feel free to send it! even if i have seen it or read it before, i would be eager to discuss my thoughts and feelings on it.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Well, I think it goes along with Burton's decision to make the movie primarily about Sweeney, himself. The stage show is kind of like "Sweeney Todd + Company"; there are songs by basically all of the named characters. The movie cuts the focus down to its titular character and accomplice, and as a result, I think it has a tighter and more cohesive tone than the stage show, but that's a whole other ramble that I'll hold back lol. It reminds me of what Sondheim said about the plot needing to move forward in a movie musical--it constantly moves in the film with the story being mainly that of Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett, and a movie-going audience might've felt like the parts with Johanna slowed the show down (I'm not saying they'd be right, but I think modern movie audiences are more impatient than theater audiences).

I think there are hints of Johanna's trauma in the movie, like her sitting there alone in tears in the scene when she sees Anothony outside again and throws him a key. But the movie isn't about her, so her role is cut down a lot. I also think "Kiss Me" musically does not fit the tone with the rest of the movie at all. I like "Kiss Me" a lot, I listen to it from time to time, but that lovey-dovey nature doesn't work with the tone of the rest of the film (something like "By the Sea" only works due to the dark comedy of this cannibal singing about this sweet little fantasy lol, and "Not While I'm Around" works because it directly moves the plot forward and there's the dark undertone of Toby innocently singing this song to this woman who's secretly chopping up bodies). I think "Kiss Me" would have felt out of place in the rest of the grim film. I love her harmonizing with the other parts in "Johanna (Reprise)", though, and when I listen to that song by itself, I almost always listen to the stage version.

I think not making her shoot Fogg again comes down to reducing her role in the film; it might have seemed like an out of nowhere decision for her to make given how little we'd seen her in the movie up until that point, you know what I mean? Like, we hardly saw this girl and now she's shooting a guy without hesitation lol. Plus, it could be argued that it's a dropped plot point or even a plot hole that she shoots him and no consequences of that are ever seen in the rest of the show (I know that the show instantly ends when Johanna and Anthony arrive in the bakehouse with the police in the stage show, but a movie-going audience might've been like "soooo what happened with that?" lol).

So yeah, I hear you and I even like Johanna's music in the stage show, but I understand why those decisions were made. This is anecdotal, but when I've had family members or friends see the differences between the movie and film, they typically see Johanna's content as superfluous. Again, I don't necessarily agree with that, I just think that it's a sign that Burton knew what a typical movie audience would and wouldn't go for.

I’ve always hated when Broadway purists disparage the film adaptation of Sweeney Todd not being like the stage show because, well, it’s a film adaptation and not a filmed version of the stage show. Film and stage are very different art forms, and successful film adaptations of Broadway musicals must make changes (Sondheim actually typically disliked movie musicals, but not this one). I can talk for a very long time about why the changes in the film version work so well, but I was pleasantly surprised to see this video did a great job explaining a lot of them in under 10 minutes:

And this comment stood out to me, too:

Just, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I could go on for much longer than this, but I’ll leave it here lol.

The film version and stage version of Sweeney Todd are very different in a lot of respect, but those differences boil down to the differences between the art forms. Burton knew he had to make a good movie. If anyone is going to watch Sweeney for the first time, I recommend the movie first because it’s more accessible to a wider, non-theater audience, but I do think both versions are worth watching, if nothing else, to see how the same story can play out similarly and differently in two separate art forms.

[zerolostwalks]

I was thinking of you and got you this for Reggie/Alex plz and thank

The day was wrong. It wasn’t bad per se, but there was definitely something off about it. Like an itch he couldn’t ignore, the feeling plagued Reggie all day. 

He tried to not let anyone see that something was bothering him. Because, well, technically nothing was wrong or bothering him. At least nothing he could readily identify, and if he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong then it stood to reason that nothing was wrong. 

By all accounts it should have been a great day. 

He had a rare quiet morning getting ready for school. He even had enough time to get a decent breakfast for once-though Bobby and Alex would probably disagree that toasted pop tarts counted as decent. They were a hell of a lot better than his usual nothing. 

There wasn’t anything special or different about the school day either. Sure, he had a little trouble focusing, but he always had issues focusing in school. And in Mr. Esaiman’s class when he mindlessly scribbled in the margins of his notebook because he couldn’t think of anything worth doodling he figured it was because of the weird way Alex started staring at him halfway through class. 

After school,  he continued to ignore the ‘off’ feeling. He attempted to get some homework in the relative peace he’d found at home, both of his parents still at work. 

Eventually as the itch of something being off became more difficult to ignore Reggie decided to head over to the studio.

He doesn’t expect to find Alex already there. Bobby? Maybe, it was technically his family's garage after all. Luke? Frankly, it was odder that he wasn’t there. Almost as odd as finding Alex alone in the studio not at his drum kit. 

But there he was lounging on the couch reading a book, a greasy brown bag and a couple of cups sitting on the ground beside him. 

“Hey,” Alex greets without looking up from his book as he hands over the larger paper cup, which is actually a strawberry milkshake Reggie realizes once he takes it. “Was beginning to wonder when you’d show up here.”

Reggie just stands there staring at the blonde, all his thanks and questions trapped somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Alex seems to hear them anyway and shrugs adding, “I didn’t feel like being at home today and got hungry. Thought one of you goofs would eventually show up so I bought some extras.”

Portions of that were clearly lies. Reggie was really the only one of them that liked strawberry milkshakes. Looking in the brown bag Alex tossed his way he spotted the nuggets and honey mustard dipping sauce amongst the spilled fries, again, items Reggie preferred. 

In fact, the only thing Alex seemed to have gotten for himself, or that Luke and Bobby might have wanted, was the other smaller drink and maybe the fries. 

As Reggie stood contemplating he realized, maybe it wasn’t lies. Maybe Alex was giving him the opportunity to keep pretending there wasn’t anything off about today. 

“Thanks.” he finally managed to chirp, as he sat on the floor leaning back against the couch and began to devour the food. “Whatcha reading?”

Alex smiles over the book, which is clearly a copy of The Giver, but Reggie pretends to not notice, allowing Alex to snark out some form of reply. The off feeling doesn’t fully go away as the two of them begin to discuss the book but Reggie definitely begins to feel more at ease than he had all day.

[honeypiehotchner]

Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources. 

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

[xpeachesncream]

bands | thirteen

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, slight degradation, trouble stirring behind the scenes if you squint, yeonjun and soobin (txt) make an appearance but also as reg 18 yr olds lol

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme​ @min-nicoleee​ @eggbutnotyolk​ @ra-mun-e @miinoongi​ @jimidol​ @ppeachyttae​ @thebeebi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @kooafraid​ @liriaus​ @thisartemisnevermisses​ @ggukkieland​ @preciouschimine​ @sunniejinnie​ @cypheruby​ @cyb3rbab3​ @masterlists101​ @awhnamjoon​ @redhedhoseok​ @wooya1224​ @taeismydeath @jikookiekosmos​ @un2-verse​ @aynsx​ @wearenot7withu​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"BTS' Jeon Jungkook rumored to be dating stripper from nightclub!"

"Jungkook is no longer single, ladies!"

"Jeon Jungkook is dating a stripper? Why the hell is he doing that?"

"Who the hell does she think she is? I bet she's not even pretty."

"Jungkook fell for a stripper? Out of all people? Damn, and I thought he was better than that."

Jungkook has been tired, the rumors constantly being spread day in and day out. But, it still didn't mean he was gonna say shit to prove himself to people out there. He didn't need to give anybody answers. Hell, this was strictly between you and him and that's how he wants to keep it.

Fuck every single one of you who didn't wanna be behind him and support him. Don't even think about calling yourself a fan of his if that's your mindset.

He could truly care less. He was happy and he felt ten times better than he has in a really long time. It's unfortunate how people love to stay narrow minded. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that it was so unfair for you - how they stuck to that stripper image, rather than really getting to know you beneath the surface.

But it's not like anyone else deserved to know the real you, not after all this shit. And he was gonna keep it that way, and protect you.

"Hey, don't listen to any of that shit, okay?" Jungkook says as he meets you in your car in the BigHit building garage. "None of that matters to me."

"I know, but Kook." You look at him. "Your career, BigHit literally might not even want me here and-and—"

"Then I'll make sure they understand it's not an issue, because it's really fucking not." He says, getting irritated only at the thought of the company giving him issues over you. He watches as you slightly frown, causing him to sigh and soften his own facial expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get worked up like that. It's just annoying how people are narrow-minded. This has absolutely nothing to do with you." You give him a small smile. "Come on, I'll walk you." You silently nod and hop out of your car. You follow beside him, your stomach in knots having to meet with their performance director. This meant you'd also most likely run into the rest of Bangtan.

In which happens to turn true pretty quickly.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok says loudly down the hallway as he approaches the both of you. He does nothing besides smile, curiosity definitely filling his eyes.

"This is Y/N. Y/N, Hoseok hyung." He holds out his hand for you to shake, his head tilting ever so slightly because you know he's familiar with your face. He's just trying to remember from where. Or, he has recognized you, but he's trying his hardest not to say anything.

Cause they have seen all of you, especially in that fishnet bodysuit.

"Hi! Nice to meet you! You can call me Hobi for short. Are you meeting with someone?" You nod.

"Yeah." Is all you can reply with as you shyly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Nice, goodluck!"

"Is everyone else here?" Jungkook asks, making Hobi nod.

"Yeah, but they're still running through some stuff in the dance studio. I just ran off to take a break."

"Okay." Jungkook looks at you. "Follow me, he's in one of the private studio rooms." You both part ways from Hoseok, the need to clutch onto Jungkook's arm immensely strong right now. You hold yourself off though, because even with passing a few female staff members, you catch them looking at you oddly with the way you're walking side by side with Jungkook.

Nope. Don't even think about it, Y/N. It doesn't matter.

Jungkook knocks softly on a door, the middle of it being made up of entirely frosted glass so it's difficult to see inside. Their performance director opens the door swiftly and welcomes you in with a warm smile, stepping aside to let you in.

"I've got it from here, Jungkookie. Thank you." Jungkook nods but tries to peek through the door to get one last glimpse of your face before he shuts it fully. "How are you doing, Y/N?" He sits in front of you, leaning onto his knees with his hands fully clasped together.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Good, tired." He chuckles. "Thanks for taking my call earlier and for meeting at such short notice on a weekend. I had a couple of things come up and didn't want to push things off until later." You smile.

"It's no problem."

"Jungkook tells me a lot about you."

"Does he now?" You chuckle and tilt your head to the side.

"Says you're a really good person. Super hardworking. Told me a little bit about your situation with your brother."

"Mmyeah, it's a little complicated."

"It's alright, no need to get into the details." He smiles before letting out a small sigh. "It's incredibly rare for me to hear Jungkook speak like that. In general. He's usually very closed off, doesn't like to let people in much. He really respects you, you know? Cares about you a whole lot." You slightly blush.

"I'm still getting used to it." He chuckled.

"Look, I know you've been worrying because of where you've been and all that, but I want to reassure you that none of it matters. I don't like to focus on all that. You're here as you, not her." He says, putting another pronoun to your stripper persona.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." He nods. There's a small pause before he begins to speak again.

"I could really use some help around here if you're still interested? The boys are becoming a lot for me to handle."

"Ah-uh, yeah! Of course I am." You found yourself stuttering at the sudden offer. Was this fucking real?! "But, you are aware of where me and Jungkook are at, right?" You ask, trying to be completely transparent and honest about their relationship. He nods and waves his hand out.

"As long as you keep it professional here, right?" You nod.

"Right."

"Come, let me show you around really quickly and have you formally meet the boys." You swallowed the lump in your throat. Fucking great. He definitely didn't know they've all seen your titties and pussy out during Yoongi's birthday, and now here you were - about to meet them again in this environment. Hobi was awkward enough even though he tried not to be.

Surprisingly, Jungkook wasn't waiting outside in the hallway like you thought he would be, but the tour commences and the PD is taking you around pretty quickly. You feel even more awkward and somewhat alone [even though you weren't] without Jungkook nearby, but you chug along and say your hello's to the people you're introduced to. He finally brings you into the dance studio, where there's loud ass music blasting, Jungkook, the boys and some backup dancers in front of the mirrors fooling around.

"Aye boys, come here real quick." You and Jimin lock eyes and your body suddenly gets tense. The room feels 10x hotter than it already is, especially when he slowly walks over and clenches his jaw. He is literally seeping with hate right now, maybe actually disgust, and he doesn't even try to hide it. Most of them for sure recognize you, but they seem to brush it off and give you a big wave/smile anyway.

"Last, that's Jimin - Jimin, Y/N." You give Jimin a fake smile, and the only thing his ass can reciprocate is the smallest, tight-lipped smile you have ever seen. You've never even seen your mom do that when she got mad or upset with you.

"Hi." Is all you can say.

"Sup." He looks at you before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Ooookay?" Namjoon furrows his brows as he watches Jimin walk away so rudely. "The hell was that about?"

"I knew that was Kookie's girlfriend! Maybe Jiminie remembers seeing her titties and shit too, needs to walk away before he gets his ass beat by him." Yoongi says lowly behind Namjoon.

"Yeah, like you're any better." Namjoon says, looking at Yoongi weirdly.

"I mean, we did see her practically naked." Jin says, chiming into the discussion.

"I touched her." Yoongi's mouth slightly hangs down. "I touched her."

"Go ahead, say it louder so Kookie can hear you." Jin nods sarcastically. "Go, say it!"

"No, stop." Yoongi's cheeks turn red while shaking his head and laughing. "He'll literally launch me out the window with one hand."

"Good."

"You asked for her to sit on your lap too, bro!"

"I was joking, and it's not like she did it anyway!"

"Whatever, I'm keeping my birthday deep in my memory storage."

"Clean slate for her so it should be for you too, my guy." Namjoon says as he has enough of their conversation.

You look at Jungkook who is silently standing there, looking like a big dork with a huge smile on his face and his thumbs up. You give him the tiniest nod before proceeding to follow the PD out.

"So?!" Jungkook dashes to meet you in their waiting room area, where an abnormally large picture of Jimin posing oddly hung up.

"He said he'll send me all the info and papers and stuff!" You respond excitedly as Kook hugs you and quickly swings you around.

"See, I knew it would work out!" He puts you down. "Are you gonna tell Kai?" You shook your head.

"Not today at least, it's his birthday and I don't wanna take away from that. It's his day." Jungkook smiles at you.

"Text me when you've picked him up? I should be home by then."

"Okay." You blush and back away, making Jungkook look at you with confusion. "I have to keep it professional here, duh."

"Ah I see." He chuckles. "That won't last very long."

"Jungkook." You whine.

"There's a lot of private rooms here and—"

"I'm not listening, sorry. I think Kai is suddenly calling me." You cover your ears as you begin to walk away, giving him one last smile before leaving him to the rest of rehearsals and whatever else they're doing. He laughs to himself as he waves you off, excited to get through the day so he can just spend time with you and Kai.

As the hours go on and it's about time for you to pick Kai up, you quickly stop by the store because you're a procrastinator and didn't buy Kai's birthday gift any earlier. You felt bad you weren't able to find the shoes he wanted, but you at least snagged the video game he had been talking about for a couple of days now. Before walking into the arcade, you made sure to write your birthday card and slip some more money into it before shoving it in your bag to give to him later.

"Your pretty sister is here." Yeonjun grabs Kai by the shoulder as he finishes up a game.

"Yeah, and you're too young for her."

"Age is nothing but a number. It's only like.. 6 years apart."

"Besides, she's taken, dude. Sorry." Kai snorts as he watches Yeonjun's smile fade. "You would have never had the chance."

"You're mean."

"I'm mean, or you just have really high, unrealistic expectations?" The rest of their friends laugh as they follow Kai over to you.

"Hey!" You smile at all his friends.

"Hiiiiii Y/N." They all say in unison, some waving in awe, while the others shyly dug their hands into their pockets. "Birthday boy, you all good to go? Got some good Loco Moco waiting for you."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Happy birthday again, Kai! Get online later!" Soobin yells out.

"Yeah, yeah." He says, waving them off as he follows you out to your car.

"You guys run through the entire arcade?" Kai laughs.

"Pretty much." He sinks into his seat, legs damn near touching the glove compartment with how long he is. "I'm honestly so excited for Loco Moco. It's been years!"

"It has not been that long." You laughed.

"You're right, it's been months." Kai looks out the window. "Wait, you're passing the road to get to our go-to shop though?"

"Cause I found a better place."

"How is there a better place when that one was already supreme?!"

"Hey, trust me on this okay?" You laugh. Kai starts telling you about his day and how so many people he knew from school had been messaging him happy birthday. He truly looked his happiest today and it was all you could ask for. Though at the same time, your heart slightly sank at the fact that he'd be going off to uni soon and staying at the dorms. He was just growing up way too fast, and you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him now before he was too occupied being a college boy.

You slipped yourself past Jungkook's security, parking in the one guest spot they have in the garage that's closest to the elevator. Kai doesn't really question it and hops out anyway, his hands in his pockets as he follows you into the elevator and onto Jungkook's floor.

"You ready, kid?"

"Is this some like, Michelin Star Loco Moco restaurant?"

"Ah, I guess you could say that." You knocked on the door, hearing music playing in the background. Jungkook opens the door and Kai's eyes widen.

"Oh shit, that's Jungkook?" Kook laughs and steps aside to let you both in. "Sis why—what—how come you didn't tell me we were seeing your boyfriend? I look like a mess!" He says lowly.

"You don't!"

"Hey Kai! Happy Birthday!" Jungkook says smiling, making Kai actually blush. He's cheeks are tinted with a rosy color and he suddenly gets all shy.

"Thanks."

"Your brother's tall." Jungkook looks at him up and down.

"Looking at an 18 year old 6 footer."

"Must be nice."

"Go sit." Kai silently nods as he sits awkwardly on Kook's couch, while you go and check in on him in the kitchen.

"Is he always that shy?"

"No. Just with you, apparently. He's not even that shy around girls." You chuckle as he places a quick kiss on your head. "Need my help?" You still ask even though the plates are neatly prepared already.

"Not really." He smiles down at you. "You hungry though?"

"Starving, actually." Your eyes light up at the plates. "Ouuuuuu, yum."

"Honestly, I think this batch might be better than my first."

"Still honored to be your guinea pig." You carry a plate over to Jungkook's coffee table in the living room.

"Oh shit, that looks amazing." Kai says, slipping himself down from the couch to the floor so he could get a good whiff of the plate. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jungkook hands you the remote before walking into his room. "Pick something."

"Here, birthday boy. Help me choose."

"Let's watch Soul on Disney+." At this point, Jungkook comes out of his room with a wrapped present, his eyes locked on the TV.

"Ooh, I keep seeing this everywhere! Niceeeee." Jungkook says, smiling with Kai nodding and already digging into his plate. "By the way, this is for you." You shoot him a look as he sits on the floor by you, watching as Kai unwraps the present. Kai's eyes light up as he sees a shoebox underneath the wrapping, quickly flipping the lid open to reveal those blue Air Jordans he wanted.

"Kook?!" You say lowly, making him smile at you and gently pinch your side.

"Holy shit!" He holds out a shoe, only for him to immediately shake his head and close the box again. "Jungkook, I can't take this." Kai says.

"No, it's your birthday."

"Yeah, but isn't this expensive? You've already done so much for me and my sister, I-I don't want to—"

"Kai, it's cool. If it's one thing you can do to repay me, it's to take my present." You literally want to cry at how sweet Jungkook is being with your brother. He had been good to you, no doubt, but this was one thing you didn't expect from him at all. Quite frankly, you had forgotten you mentioned the shoes to him. The fact that he actually remembered and kept his word.

"Okay." Kai says, gently setting the box down aside before looking at Jungkook with a small smile on his face. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. Like, even with the food and everything. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome." You give him a soft smile before digging into your food while Soul was already off to a start. Kai and Jungkook devour their food together, with you following shortly behind as Jungkook brings over a small ice cream cake from his fridge for Kai to blow his candles on. After the boys had helped themselves to a good serving of the cake, they started getting hyper and pulled up Smash Bros on Kook's Nintendo Switch [as if Kai hadn't played enough games today]. It started to get intense; the boys jumping and yelling everywhere, bouncing off of the walls, with you getting pulled into the competition every now and then. Even though you knew you'd lost over and over again, you happily joined in anyway, seeing how excited your brother was - plus, it was always a bonus to hear Jungkook's loudly obnoxious, nerdy laugh.

"I WIN!"

"Hey, hey, hey. I let you win because it's your birthday." Jungkook said, making Kai laugh as he crashed to the floor.

"Sure." Kai huffed and puffed. "Crap, I'm tired. What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. We should start heading out, bubba." You patted Kai's chest gently.

"What? No, it's late. Why don't you two just stay here?" You suddenly remembered you've had Kai's shit in your trunk since you dropped him off at Yeonjun's this morning. You didn't have any change of clothes, but that could easily be fixed with Jungkook's closet.

"Only if the queen wants, she's driving."

"It's late, baby." Jungkook says to you softly. "No way I'm letting you two head out there."

"Okay." You give him a small smile before handing your keys. "Can you do me a favor?" He chuckles.

"What is it?"

"Kai's duffle bag is in my trunk." He nods and takes your keys.

"I got it. Kai, you can take the guest room or my office room." Jungkook says with his 3-bedroom apartment having ass. "I have my computer in my office room though, and a pull out bed. I don't know how comfy you'll be."

"It's cool, I'll just take your guest room. I always bring my laptop and switch whenever I sleep at my sister's." Kai says getting up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jungkook says, toothlessly smiling at the both of you, completely endeared at how alike you two were - even down to the fact that you both said thank you for every little thing. If this was a result of Kai being close to you and having you as pretty much his mother figure, then Jungkook wouldn't know what to do with his feelings. He felt butterflies every time he thought about how cute and sweet you were, and he was always excited to be around you.

Jungkook does a quick jog to your car, grabbing Kai's Nike duffle from your trunk before jogging back to the elevator and back to his apartment. He walks in to see Kai helping you clean up the remaining dishes in the sink, tidying the rest of the things in his kitchen.

"Thank you." Jungkook says himself, a little unfamiliar with saying such a thing to be completely honest.

"You're welcome." You say softly, wiping your hands on his hand towel. "Off to bed, or are you gonna go online with your friends?"

"I'll see what they're up to, but I'm pretty beat. Today was fun." Kai smiles at the both of you. "I really appreciate it." You ruffle his hair a bit before gently pushing him towards his bedroom for the night.

"Bathroom's right over there, help yourself to anything you need."

"Don't stay up too late."

"Only if you aren't too loud." You gasp while Jungkook laughs out loud.

"Kai!"

"Hey, I'm just being honest. Please remember that I'm right in this room."

"Oh my god, go to bed." You shove him inside the room and shut his door. "Don't even say a word." You look at Jungkook shyly as you hurriedly brush past him to get into his room - even though Jungkook is literally right behind you with those long ass legs of his, making every stride so much easier for him to catch up to you.

"What's your outfit of choice tonight, pretty lady?" He shuts his door behind him as you start to make your way into his closet.

"Hm, I'll just wear this plain black--" You unfold it. "Balenciaga? Okay, I definitely can't just wear this to sleep."

"Why not?"

"Because this is like, name brand and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "Just wear it, babygirl. It's not gonna make much of a difference, you're wearing it either way." You do a slight pout before you start to slip out of your clothes to get into his shirt. You make his way to his bathroom to take a little tinkle when you notice another toothbrush sitting next to his. A pink toothbrush, next to his blue one.

"Why do you have two toothbrushes?" You wash your hands as he comes in to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed.

"That's yours." Your eyes light up at his statement.

"Mine?"

"I figured since you'd be over more, it'd be easier for you." He furrows his brows lightly. "Unless.. you didn't want--" You press a kiss against his lips, his hands resting on your arms to keep you close.

"No, I did want that. Thank you."

"Of course, baby." He pecks your forehead.

"By the way, way to make me look like such a bad sister!" You say as you start getting your toothbrush ready.

"Why? The shoes?"

"The shoes, the Loco Moco, the games, the ice cream cake." You laughed. "I literally got him a video game and some money."

"I mean, he is turning 18. I wanted to help make it as memorable as possible."

"I appreciate you a lot. Really."

"I appreciate you too." Your eyes widen as you brush your teeth.

"Waaaaow, say thaht wun mohr tiyme." You say, pulling a Jungkook while brushing your teeth.

"Eye apprushiate yoh toh." You giggle. The both of you finish getting ready for bed before slipping into his warm sheets. Jungkook never goes to sleep early, however, he makes sure all the lights are off and that the show he's watching isn't too loud. You have no idea what's going on in his show, but you lay on his chest to watch for a little bit until you feel yourself getting a little more sleepy. He's holding you close, his hand brushing through your hair softly, causing tingles to ripple through your body.

"Kook."

"Yes, baby?"

"You make me happy." You say sleepily as you hung him tighter. He smiles down at you, your eyes now shut close as you slowly start to drift into a deep sleep. He presses a light kiss against your head, fingers still in your hair.

"You make me happy too, sweetheart."

[thestalwartheart]

Unpopular Opinion (I think): This is very much a personal preference but I think a lot of 00Q fics/writers make Bond too soft. Not soft in an emotionally available way but soft in a good person way. I just think there aren’t enough fics that really acknowledge that Bond is supposed to be a very mentally and emotionally unstable person and that, objectively, he’s not a good person. Because to me, in canon, he very much isn’t and that’s fine because that’s half of what makes him a compelling character and I feel that a lot of writers kind of just skip over that part. And honestly, I understand, I completely get it, it’s not a easy nor pleasant thing to write but to put him in a romance with Q, or anyone for that matter, I just can’t imagine that story being wholly pleasant. This isn’t to say people should only write bond as a dark, festering character, I have read and loved my fair share of indulgent 00Q fluff with an all too lovable bond but this is just my opinion and after all, this is just fanfiction.

Not me feeling personally victimised on my own unpopular opinion ask. 😂

I'm joking, I really am. This is a great point, and likely not as unpopular as you think it is! I love Soft!Bond as much as anyone, but I can definitely see your point, especially when I consider the wider canon outside of Craig!Bond's interpretation. I'm going to selfishly use your ask as a jumping off point for my own take on this, which might not fit exactly to yours, and people might curse me for, but here you go.

You're right. He's not a good person. Though I think there's this myth around him (in-universe and out of it) that makes people think he is. But a good person would not do what he did to Madeleine in that car in Matera. Nor would they have got themselves into that situation with Severine (I can see why he approached her, I cannot see a good person having sex with her knowing about her past in the Macau sex trade). And he's just fine with killing, I think. It's become rote for him, almost a chore. He would do it for anyone, given a decent enough reason (and sometimes that boils down to 'because M said so').

I can guess at a couple of reasons why he's more soft in fics. I think Craig's interpretation of Bond took him on a journey to at least wanting to be a good person. To claw back whatever lightness was left in him (he'd once talked about that to Vesper, though by the time we get round to NTTD, there are questions around how much of it is left).

It's quite cathartic to explore that in fic, or at least it has been for me, because the minute he realised he wanted to be a better man was about ten minutes before the end of NTTD and we never saw it play out. It's interesting to consider what might have happened if he had that realisation earlier, or to a consider an alternate universe where he got the chance to live with it after Safin's island.

Also, I think it's moral ambiguity is an extremely difficult thing to write well, especially when canon shows so little in the way of Bond's inner life. That's an intentional choice by filmmakers, I'm sure, because Bond isn't meant to be a person, really. He's an idea - stand-in for both empire and masculinity, with all the good and bad that entails. And it does entail both with Bond. That's a really difficult balance to find when you're writing him. And it's not exactly very escapist, is it? I'll confess I find myself rarely wanting to read Dark!Bond fics, though I do enjoy them, because written well, they really fuck you up. When I read fics, I don't often want to be fucked up, unless it's by emotional idiocy, angst, or really, really hot smut :')

Anyway, to conclude, it's only fanfiction. Write him the way you want! But it's fun to consider all angles of his characterisation.

Thanks for sharing, Nonnie! This was a great ask 🖤 Now, discuss amongst yourselves in the replies, reblogs, or in my asks (fuck shit god what am I getting myself into ahaha).

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Look Me in the Heart

Summary: [Mel Edit: I goofed and didn’t put the right summary. I am a fool]

You and Natasha have been together for several years. You want forever, and she’s pulling away. 

Features/Warnings: Angst;

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Notes: This is a request from last year that I finally got inspiration to finish. As always, I’m opening to revisiting fics! 

Request:  “Could I request a Natasha x fem!reader fic please? Like one where Nat x r have been together for years but for the last year or so, R has wanted to get married but Nat keeps saying she’ll never get married. Nat doesn’t pay much attention to her anymore. One day, R, Yelena and Nat meet and Yelena pays a lot of attention to R, making her feel real good and making her blush and giggle every time Yelena compliments her/flirts with her. Nat gets annoyed and calls r out once they’re home (1/2)(2/2) They fight and r tells Nat all she’s been feeling lately. Alone, unloved, just there to be a fucktoy for Nat and nothing else. Nat promises her they’ll get help and they’ll fix their relationship, that she’ll try harder and make an effort. Thank you so much :) xx”

Word Count: 1942

Your fist connected with the bag in front of you. It felt good to release the tension that had been building from everything. Fury was on your ass lately about your mission reports. Steve was on your ass about slacking in your training. And you had been stressed by Natasha’s lack of communication.

You and Natasha had been together for several years, since you’d joined the Avengers, just before the fall of SHIELD. You knew what you wanted, and it was forever with her. The topic of marriage was one the both of you danced around. Last time you had brought it up, she brushed it off. You knew you could live without getting married, but it was something you wanted with her and something you’d wanted for some time. You wanted to be on the same page, to know if it was something to put on the shelf. You’d be okay if it wasn’t something she wanted, you just needed to know and an answer was never given. 

“What’d that bag ever do to you Rose?” Sam asked. You jumped a little before looking over to where he was leaning against the wall. You hadn’t seen him come in.

“Everything, Jack,” you joked. It had been a running joke between you and Sam since a mission gone wrong on the water that evoked the infamous scene from Titanic. You both fit on the door. 

“What’s really wrong?” he asked. You sighed. Sam could read you better than anyone, barring Natasha. It was why you two were frequently partners on mission. You worked well together, seamlessly moving from one mission to the next. 

“It’s relationship woes. We had a...disagreement before she left on her mission. I brought up the big M again,” you explained, moving to sit on the bench as you grabbed your bottle of water. Sam sat down beside you. 

“Eventually you two do need to have that discussion. Is that all that’s bothering you?” he asked.

“I feel like she’s pulling away. You know how my last relationship went,” you told him. He let out a light laugh before speaking.

“Your ex was a piece of work. I know you. And I know Natasha. Natasha is the furthest thing from your ex. Have you told her how you feel?” he asked. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You hadn’t brought it up. You weren’t sure how. You didn’t want to appear clingy. It was one of your fears when it came to voicing your feelings. 

“To paraphrase Jersey Shore, I don’t want to appear like a stage five clinger,” you grumbled. You glared as Sam doubled over with laughter.

“I thought you hated that show,” he said when he caught his breath. You looked anywhere but at him. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t murder you for what you were going to say.

“I’ve been binging it with Barnes and Rogers when we have free time,” you admitted. At that, Sam had completely fallen off the bench laughing. You shook your head at your best friend. If that was the price you had to pay to end the conversation on your relationship issues, you’d pay it. Even if it meant facing the wrath of Bucky for letting Sam know that bit of information. 

You both left the gym, headed for the living room. You knew Natasha was due back that day and that she was bringing Yelena with her. Yelena had met up with Natasha and Bucky on the mission. You liked Yelena, when she’d come around. She had her own room at the compound, but wasn’t formally an Avenger. She liked the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Tony was more than happy to offer her a place to stay. 

You were in the middle of watching a rerun of The Nanny with Sam and Steve when the trio arrived. The three of you had just placed the pizza order, knowing the others would be in and out. You stood up and walked to Natasha, who placed a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“I’m going to go shower before dinner gets here. Save my seat for me?” she asked.

“Always,” you replied. Bucky and Yelena both took their leave as well, all three of them in need of a shower after their debrief with Fury and Hill. You saw the look Sam gave you and just shook your head. Natasha was most affectionate after a mission. But by the end of the evening she’d be shrugging you off. It was a cycle that you had grown used to. You weren’t sure when things had changed. 

Dinner arrived along with a freshly showered Natasha who sat down beside you, one hand on your thigh, itching for the contact. But you knew by the time dinner was done, Natasha would no longer be beside you. That she would come to bed after she was sure you were asleep. Unless she wanted to relieve tension. You felt more like her personal fucktoy than her girlfriend some days. A body to warm her bed and get her off. There were no bedtime conversations. There was no cuddling. No moments that belonged to just the two of you that didn’t involve sex. You hated it. 

You stood and stretched some time after you finished dinner. You felt Natasha’s eyes on you. You knew it wouldn’t be long before she followed you to the room the two of you shared. For once, you were going to turn her down. You set about your nightly routine, taking a quick shower and brushing your teeth before pulling on pajama pants and a tank top. You weren’t surprised to see Natasha lounging on the bed when you entered the room. 

“I missed you baby,” she murmured as you sat on the bed. She knelt behind you, bringing one hand around to trail up your stomach to your breast. You rebuffed her attempt.

“Not tonight, Nat. I don’t think dinner sat well,” you lied. You heard her huff and bit your lip in an attempt to hold the tears at bay. You heard her get under the covers and wondered where things had started to go wrong before getting under the covers yourself, your back turned to her. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Yelena was joining the two of you for breakfast in your room. Room was an understatement. Each Avenger had their own kitchenette and living space with a separate bedroom. It was really like a small apartment. Most times though, the team could be found in the common spaces unless they wanted time to themselves or they were off compound on missions or visiting friends and family. 

You were making pancakes. Yelena had volunteered to help. Nat had left on her morning run and had only mentioned that Yelena was coming over before she left. You felt at ease with the blonde. You doubled over in laughter as she smudged flour on your face after saying you had a spot of flour on your nose. Neither of you had heard Natasha come in until you heard the thud of her water bottle on the counter, startling you.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” she asked, glaring at Yelena. 

“We were just making breakfast, Nat. It’ll be done soon. Why don’t you go grab a shower?” you said to her. With one last glare, Nat stalked from the room angrily. You sighed.

“She loves you, you know,” Yelena said softly. 

“Sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” you muttered. You set about setting the table, pouring coffee for Natasha, made just like she liked it. Breakfast was tense. Yelena threw a couple flirty comments before Natasha’s glare made her stop. She knew when to stop. The tension ramped up throughout breakfast, even as Yelena engaged Natasha in conversation. After breakfast, Yelena excused herself when she sensed the tension had only grown, making an excuse about having promised Wanda she would spar with her. You steeled yourself for the fight that was brewing. 

“Seems like you and Yelena are getting on just fine,” Natasha said, her tone even and her eyes cold. You scoffed.

“Yes, Natasha. We are. I figured you’d want your sister and I to get along,” you replied as you began picking up the dishes to bring into the kitchen. 

“I didn’t mean flirt with her! I know that look,” Natasha said. 

“It was harmless,” you told her. 

“Was it? Because it seems to me that you want to be anywhere except with me these days,” Natasha argued. You laughed. Truly laughed. 

“Oh that’s just rich coming from you. Natasha we rarely share a bed anymore. When we do, it’s a quick fuck. It’s like that’s all I’m good for anymore. Being a warm body,” you cried. Natasha paused. Surely that couldn’t be true. She tried to think about the last time the two of you had gone on a date. The last time you two of you just spent time together. She was drawing a blank. 

“I’ve been busy,” she said weakly. She knew it was a poor excuse. You’d been busy too. But you always made time to see her. And she would just brush you off. Natasha wasn’t so sure she could salvage the situation. She had never been on the receiving end of the disappointed look on your face. She didn’t like it. 

“What are we Natasha? Anytime I bring up marriage you skirt the subject. Say not now. Later. When is later, Natasha?” you asked. You wanted answers. You knew this was going to be a make or break conversation for your relationship. You hoped it wouldn’t be a break. You weren’t sure you could handle losing her, not like this. 

“You know how I feel about marriage,” Natasha replied. 

“Do I? You always deflect,” you said, your voice lowering. You knew the pair of you were on a collision course with the point of no return. You were desperate to reign in your tempers before that point. 

“You want to marry me? After everything I’ve done, everything you know about me?” she asked. Her voice betrayed a vulnerable side of Natasha you had never seen. A softness you had never heard in her voice before. 

“Of course I want to marry you! I want to shout from the rooftops that Natasha Romanoff is mine! My wife, my love. But that doesn’t matter, Nat. As long as I have you, I’m happy. Married or not married, as long as you're mine,” you argued. The two of you stood for a moment, looking at one another. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel her arms wrapped around you. She stepped toward you, gently taking the dishes from your hands and placing them on the table beside you before bringing one hand up to cup your face.

“There is one thing I know for certain in this life. I don’t want to live it without you by my side. I haven’t been fair to you lately. I shut down instead of talking to you and it took until now for me to realize how close I’ve come to losing you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. You took her other hand in yours, squeezing it gently. 

“Then we’ll talk to someone. Because Nat. I don’t want to lose you either,” you replied. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, embracing one another in a way you hadn’t in so long. There were still discussions to be had. But they could wait. For now, you took comfort in one another, knowing that come tomorrow the real work would begin. 

[helnjk]

All I’ve Ever Known - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

last of my oneshots for my showtunes fic list, based on the song All I’ve Ever Known from the musical Hadestown! i’ve had so much fun with this series of fics, i hope you guys have enjoyed reading them xx 

Word Count: 2.8k 

Summary: george finds her extremely intriguing, the way she spends her days drawing and creating art. maybe one day he’ll pluck up the courage to talk to her. 

Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of bullying/exclusivity, stereotypical slytherin biases

lyrics are bold and italicized 

–

I was alone so long 

I didn’t even know that I was lonely

Y/N sat by herself at the end of the Slytherin table, pushing what was left of her meal around her plate. She could hear the different conversations flowing around her, the ones including her fellow housemates moreso, but as usual she wasn’t involved in any of them.

She could hear Malfoy sneering to his little crew about something or other that Potter did to irritate him that day. She could hear Adrian Pucey discussing the latest Quidditch plays they had used at training that day. She could hear a couple of first years anxiously discussing the topic of their exams the next day. 

All around her were signs of companionship and community, yet she was left utterly alone. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why she had been outcasted from her house the moment she got sorted. 

“Isn’t she muggleborn?” 

“What a disgrace to Slytherin.”

“The Sorting Hat’s made a mistake with that one.” 

Over the years, she had gotten used to how those in her house treated her–holding her at arm’s length. She had spent many nights in her first year crying herself to sleep because of how all-consuming the loneliness had been, but now at her seventh year, she was numb to it all. 

She knew who she was: A talented muggleborn witch and a proud Slytherin. She didn’t need validation from anyone else. And anyways, most of her time was spent out on the grounds with her sketchpad or in the Room of Requirement painting. 

Loud laughs from the Gryffindor table spurred her out of her thoughts. The Weasley twins had pranked their younger brother, and it seemed like their younger sister was an accomplice to the crime as well. The rest of the red and gold house was watching on amusedly, no doubt accustomed to similar situations. 

The Weasleys were a well known family at Hogwarts. How could they not be? With their fiery red hair and their big personalities, it was a given that they caught the attention of almost every student. 

Y/N admired how they just fit right in with their house, their second family. Of course, a lot of it had to do with the fact that they were so comfortable with the Hat’s placement. Their whole family was sorted into Gryffindor, she could remember, albeit slightly foggily, the older Weasley siblings in leadership roles when she was younger. 

Her eyes lingered on George’s laughing figure for a second longer than the rest of them. She was always intrigued by the younger twin. They seldom had classes together, but from what she could gather, he was just as observant and perceptive as he was mischievous and quick witted.  

As bodies began to take their leave from the Great Hall, a rough shove to the shoulder nearly made Y/N fall onto the floor. Her eyes snapped up to the offender and she saw the unbecoming sneer of Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were snickering not so quietly behind him as he stared down at her. 

“Whoops,” he jeered, “Sorry to disrupt your staring at the blood traitors and gryffindorks. Maybe you’d be better off with the lot of them.” 

With a huff, Y/N gathered her things and strode out of the hall without so much as a second look behind her.  

It's like I’d known you all along

I knew you before we met

And I don’t even know you yet

All I know is you're someone I have always known

She was drawing again, George noted.

It always baffled him how she was always alone. Usually students at Hogwarts drifted about their days in groups or pairs; it was rare to see someone spend most of their time by themselves. Growing up with 6 siblings, and having a twin, George was so used to the chaos and noise that came with it that he couldn’t picture what it was like to go about your day solo.  

His eyes drifted towards her figure sitting on a blanket out in the grounds. She was blissfully unaware of her surroundings, or more to the point, the person staring at her like a bloody idiot. The weather was slowly transitioning from autumn into winter, and he could tell that she was trying to milk the last few warm days. 

It was no secret to him that she preferred to sketch out in the sunny grounds, but Hogwarts being situated in the Scottish countryside made it so that her window of opportunity to do so was limited.

He was so focused on how her brows furrowed in concentration and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she made a mistake, that he didn’t notice Fred’s many deep sighs. This caused his twin to take one final deep breath and exhale as loudly as possible. 

“What’s got your wand in a knot then?” George asked, taking his eyes off of Y/N and turning to face his brother. 

“Finally noticed that I exist, have you?” teased Fred. 

“Oi, just get on with whatever you want to say!” 

He merely laughed, “If you want to talk to the snake, just do it!” 

George had the audacity to act as if he didn’t know what Fred meant, “What in Merlin’s name are you on about?” 

“Don’t be daft,” Fred smacked him lightly on the back of the head, “You’ve been pining after that Slytherin bird for months, just go and talk to her already!”

“Was I that obvious?” 

With a frustrated groan, Fred shoved his twin in the direction of the girl. George stumbled for a second and checked to see if she had seen, she hadn’t. He sent a glare at the redhead over his shoulder, before dusting off his trousers and donning a confident facade. 

As he strode across the courtyard, his hands grew increasingly clammy and his heart began to beat erratically in his chest. There was no turning back now, though, as he approached the girl. 

His shadow blocked the sun from Y/N’s notebook and she looked up, not expecting anyone to get so close to her. 

“Erm, hello,” George waved awkwardly as he towered over her figure.

She blinked a few times before replying, “Hello. Can I help you with something?” 

“Mind if I join you?” 

George’s question rang through the still air for a moment as Y/N processed what he had just asked. No one had ever wanted to keep her company as she drew before, she wasn’t quite sure how to react. Just before the moment turned even more awkward than it already was, she gave him a swift nod. 

The tall, lanky redhead folded his legs beneath him as he made himself comfortable on the path of grass next to her. He had to stop himself from grinning too wide, “I’ve seen you around, you know.” 

She merely raised a confused eyebrow in his direction. 

“Not-not like I’ve been stalking you!” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling his ears turn hot, “I’ve just noticed you like to draw out here, especially when the weather’s warm.” 

“Oh,” she mumbled, brushing her hair behind her ear. 

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” 

George’s gaze on hers was so sincere, she kicked herself internally for not saying the right thing to him, “No you’re not! Don’t worry. I’m just not used to people paying much attention to what I do. I mean, I’m not that interesting.” 

She felt small under his analytic gaze, but something in her kept her from looking away. 

“Well I think you’re plenty interesting from what I’ve seen,” He shrugged nonchalantly, “Tell me about your drawings!” 

He had said the magic words and the pair of them dove into a conversation. Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement, as she rarely had the opportunity to speak about something she was so passionate about. 

“These look bloody brilliant,” George murmured in awe as he flipped through the pages of her notebook.  

Y/N’s face warmed at the compliment, “Thanks.” 

All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own 

But now I wanna hold you too

For nearly every day after their first encounter, George made it a point to talk to Y/N. Whether it be along the hallways on the way to class, during meals (he would take her hand and drag her to the Gryffindor tables, much to her bemusement), or out on the grounds while she drew. 

Most of the time, he would talk and talk and talk as she listened quietly. A soft smile would always grace her lips as she observed him and how he spoke so highly of his family and how he was so excited for the shop he would be opening with his brother. The tone of his voice and his large grins always made her feel included in whatever it was that he talked about.

“Hello love,” George smiled down at her before plopping down on the soft grass to her right, “Reckon we’re on the last few days of good weather.”

His eyes raised skywards as the overcast clouds floated above them, hers did the same. 

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, sending him a small smile, “We’ve made the most of it, I think.”  

The pair sat in relative silence, as silent as it could be with one of the Weasley twins, as Y/N built up the courage to show George what she had made for him. With a deep breath, she plucked something from her school bag that lay strewn across the grass and held the parchment to her chest.

“George?” 

“Yeah, Y/N?” his eyes trained on her nervous figure and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Everything alright?” 

She nodded her head swiftly, “Yeah everything’s perfect! I just wanted to show you something that I made.” 

Slowly, she smoothed out the parchment in front of them. She observed George quietly as he took in the sketch she had made. His eyes scanned it over once, twice, three times before they met hers again. 

“Is this…” He mumbled, taking the sketch into his hands to look closer.

“You’ve just been so excited about your joke shop that I–I made a logo for you guys,” she smiled sheepishly, “It’s pretty bare bones, but I wanted you to see it. I won’t take offence if you don’t like it!” 

George stared at her, mouth slightly agape. This was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for him, and she did it out of the kindness of her heart. Without a second thought, he threw his arms around her and quickly pulled her to his chest. Y/N let out a little ‘oof’ as she collided with him, heat spreading throughout her body. She was thankful that she was basically smushed on his chest, at least then he couldn’t tell how flustered she got at his display of affection. 

“So d’you like it?” she asked shyly, looking up at him. 

“I bloody love it!” 

Y/N let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding, the pair of them grinning at each other. 

Later in the day, George all but dragged Y/N into the Gryffindor common room in search of Fred. His brother was sat on one of the couches by the fireplace, chatting idly with Lee. The sound of parchment hitting him square in the chest rang through the relatively empty room. 

Fred’s hands immediately held onto whatever George had placed on him, and his eyes lit with joy as he realized what he was looking at. 

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, “Is this what I think it is?” 

George took a seat next to his brother, his hand tugging Y/N along to take the seat beside him, “Yep. Our Y/N here has made us a logo for Wheezes.” 

“This is brilliant, Y/N! Thank you!” 

For the second time that day, she found herself wrapped up in the arms of a Weasley twin. Slightly used to it, she just laughed the show of affection off and patted Fred slightly on the back. 

“Happy to help,” she smiled. 

–

As the seasons turned from autumn to winter, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with the red headed twins. She found their enthusiasm for their joke shop infectious, always chipping in with ideas of her own for products, or sketching up prototypes for them to look at. 

Slowly, her days were filled with laughter and warmth. 

It was a little jarring at first, spending so much time with people who actually cared about her, people who wanted to hear what she said and see what she created. It surprised her, really, how quickly she had become accustomed to being around them. 

After a while, though, she found herself wanting to spend as much time as possible with George. She lived for the routine that they had formed, spending most of their breaks and meals together. 

It struck her on a seemingly ordinary day, the realization that she was falling for him. 

Y/N and George were at a far corner in the library, discussing how the product designs she made could be tweaked a little. He was hunched over the parchment, tracing his fingers over the soft lines of charcoal on the parchment, smudging it just a tad bit and getting some of the pigment on him.

“I love the way you drew…” 

George had said something or other about the design, but Y/N couldn’t focus on anything except the way his arm flexed as he spoke. From the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at him, noticing how the glow of candlelight cast soft shadows on his face. The freckles on his cheeks seemed to dance in the flickering light, and looking at the constellations on his face made her breath hitch in her throat. 

She couldn’t quite place why her heart was raging in her chest, as if she hadn’t spent most of her days with the red headed boy anyway. 

And then it hit her. 

Her eyebrows shot up at the sudden awareness of her feelings for George. Oh sweet Merlin and Morgana, she thought. 

You take me in your arms

And suddenly there’s sunlight all around me

“George!” 

Y/N’s voice rang through the relatively empty hallway as she raced to meet her friend. The friend that she might have been in love with. The friend that she spent hours and hours of her day with, trying to ignore the bubble of feelings that wanted so badly to burst in her chest. 

The redhead who was on his way back up to his common room paused mid-step as he heard her voice. He spun on his heel, turning just in time for him to see her barreling towards him, waving a piece of parchment above her head. 

When she nearly collided head on with him, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and steadied her, “Woah there, Y/N. There’s no need to try and kill me.”

She huffed, catching her breath slightly, “Sorry, I’m just so excited!” 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re excited about, or?” he teased, cocking his head to the side. 

With a grin on her face, she shoved the piece of parchment she was holding into George’s hands, “I just figured out how the general design of the Wonder Witch products should look like! See here there’s a–”

“Godric I love you.”

Both bodies froze at the statement. George immediately felt his whole body get hot, no doubt tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. Y/N’s mouth was slightly agape, her mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts as she tried to comprehend what had just come out of George’s mouth. 

“What?” she asked, unable to form a proper sentence. 

George took a deep breath, there was no going back now, “Erm, yeah. I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N. That wasn’t the way I would’ve preferred to tell you but, I do–I do love you, yeah.” 

“Oh, Georgie,” Y/N whispered. 

Taking her answer as a rejection, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s alright that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want this to ruin–”

Instead of replying, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in a hug, “I love you too, you silly boy.” 

The nerves got the better of her, and her words were slightly muffled as she whispered them into his chest. 

“Come again?” 

“I love you too, George!” 

A wide grin spread across his face as he looked at the girl in his arms. He felt like he could fly with how happy he was. Everything he needed was right in front of him, and he would hold her close for as long as he could. 

–

General taglist: @expectoevans​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @gxthsanrio​ @slytherinscribbles​ @harpyloon​ @nuttytani​ @mesmerisedangel​ @amourtentiaa​ @hufflepuff5972

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @papapapadumb​ @mrs-g-weasley​ @a-castle-of--glass​ @hey-there-angels​

[kaashiboo]

ahah heeeey!!!!! can i request kenma, akaashi and sugawara as best friends with gender neutral reader?

thank you for your hard work i really enjoy reading your headcannons (灬º‿º灬)♡

haikyuu boys as your best friend

┇ kenma, akaashi, and suga

gn!reader

【warnings: none】

➢ general note: ohoho this is a very long one so buckle up!

✎ a/n: aaww this is request is cute! thank you for appreciating my work and i'm so glad you enjoy reading them! take care of yourself!<3

kenma

you've been friends with kenma and kuroo ever since you were a child but you're more close with kenma due to his chill personality.

but that doesn't mean that you're less chaotic

kenma honestly questions himself as to why he's best friends with you

but you're a bit more tolerable than kuroo he guesses.

"say, if i hypothetically and accidentally broke your swi— kenma, you're gonna kill me with your stare." you laugh nervously.

"give it to me." you removed your hand behind your back and gave him his switch with a pout.

"are you mad at me?" you asked, rubbing your nape. awkwardly.

kenma sighed loudly, "yeah."

"oh" your shoulders dropped.

"but it's fine since i already bought a new one. i'm mad because i was planning to give you this one but i guess we have to make someone check it out if it's still repairable." he replied and your eyes lit up in excitement.

"really?"

"yeah."

"but i don't have the money for it."

"we'll make kuroo pay." he shrugged and you tilted your head in confusion.

"eh? do you really think he would agree to that?"

"i don't know. maybe. just do all his work or compliment him everyday, that might work."

"are you two planning on how to murder me?" kuroo appears out of nowhere, ruffling kenma's and your hair.

"yes." the setter and you answered in unison.

people also wonder how you can keep up with kenma but you're honestly one of the people that can see through him and could tell whether something is bothering him.

and he never hesitated to show you what he really feels. if he's mad then you'd let him vent and let out all his frustrations.

and there were times as well where he just wanted to be away from anyone so you gave him space.

but because he finds you tolerable, he begged you to not distance yourself from him.

now, in terms of YOU being sad, we all know he's not the greatest when it comes to comforting people but he would always find a way to cheer you up like offering you to play games with him.

he would even let you do the interior design of his house in minecraft as long as he can see you're enjoying.

just like what others do, he would typically protect you from mobs while you pick up flowers.

but most of the time, you would have a competition on which person could kill as many mobs as they can.

you also would do stupid challenges that you see on youtube.

and late night walks with him are the best since you never had to worry about bothering him when he rarely sleeps early.

let me rephrase that real quick, it's mostly you walking around while kenma sits on a bench,,, still playing.

but he would occasionally look for you to make sure you weren't lost or kidnapped.

you would eventually get tired so you just... lay on the grass and roll around.

kenma puts down his switch, "what are you doing, y/n?"

"i'm bored. you're not even paying attention." you whispered the last part but he still caught it.

"alright, sorry. stand up now. let's go to the convenience store and crash at kuroo's house." he offered and you immediately agreed.

because the two of you never failed to be in the same class every year, your classmates would be confused since you two would verbally fight and give each other a silent treatment and then one second later, you would give him food and he tries to help you beat the level you're currently on with the game you're playing.

and in the timeskip, the three of you have stable jobs like, rich rich rich very rich.

"at this point, we can be your sugar daddies." kuroo jokes but you paid no attention to him as you were still busy processing with what kenma gave you as a present.

literally everything you need for streaming— heck, you're not even sure if you would use all of them.

but kenma still wanted to drag you along with him to do things that he loves

not that you'd complain about it anyway.

"you're helping me set everything up." you finally recovered from your state of shock and pulled kenma up from your couch.

akaashi

and the best 'best friend' award goes to akaashi keiji!

look, just because he's a laid-back person, doesn't mean he's unaware of how to push your buttons.

he would subtly annoy you. so subtle that not everyone could notice that you wanted to murder him on the spot.

"akaashi keiji, i will seriously ki—"

"it's settled then! y/n, please come to my office now." the teacher spoke, making you groan in frustration before standing up but you made sure to purposely step on his foot and he silently winced in pain.

the chat with the teacher didn't take long and when you exited the office, you saw your best friend standing outside, waiting for you with a barely noticeable smirk.

yeah, we might have to take back his award.

you rolled your eyes and walked past him but he grabbed your bag and pulled you back.

"sorry, do i know you?" you scoffed.

"look, i'm sorry. i already told you that you shouldn't sleep in class." he reminded, implying that him dragging you into doing something was a sort of consequence from sleeping in class.

"i know! but you decided to be annoying again and volunteered that i would help with some activity." you complained. he still hasn't let go of your bag but you continued walking which may or may not made it look like you were his pet.

akaashi knows you're not actually mad at him and so he didn't have to bother to apologize again.

"if it makes you feel better, i volunteered first before you. at least we're now both busy."

you didn't respond and continued walking, "where are you going?" he asks.

"home."

"no."

"no?"

"i have practice," he said.

"what does that have to do with me?!" you wailed.

"nothing." you facepalmed and let him pull you to the gym.

the first time you met was during middle school. you were crying because you lost a competition and unfortunately for you, akaashi was the one who won.

he tried comforting you but you pushed him away.

akaashi was persistent though. he didn't want you to stay mad at him and so he bothered you everyday until you finally started to warm up to him.

you sighed for the ninth time. deciding to make a paper plane and throw it to akaashi's way.

it fortunately hit his forehead and he 'tsk-ed' at your action but he continued reading the book anyway.

you reached for the plane, crumpling it until it's round.

"i thought you were gonna teach me?" you question and threw the paper at him, again but lucky for him, he caught it.

he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "how am i supposed to teach you if you keep throwing things at me?"

you see, you're smart but there are certain subjects that you really hate and you coincidentally got sick during a discussion and now you and akaashi are currently studying in the library.

he knows he could have just lent you his notes and you can just take a photo of it but he wouldn't let you do that because his reasoning was, "you'll learn better if you write it down." you've complained to him about it many times and he'll eventually get tired and not give you anything so now you've learned your lesson,

don't annoy keiji.

but sometimes, he's kind enough to cover for you when you're asleep during class and would lie to the teachers by saying you're sick.

which rarely happens since he doesn't always tolerate you so being friends with him feels like having a parent watch you all the time.

"maybe if i befriended konoha then i'm already done with this." you huffed.

"he doesn't have the patience to deal with you, y/n." you let out an offended gasp before throwing your pencil case at him.

honestly speaking, the two of you get along really well. you're more talkative and he tends to listen to your rants a lot.

and of course, he would also share to you how his day went and how he found a new way to get bokuto out of his emo mode.

hanging out with him outside of school can be chaotic at times.

especially if you decide to go to the arcade because expect him to tease you a lot when you couldn't get the prize you wanted.

he would help you though:)

and since you two are a popular duo, you would often get a lot of confessions from boys and akaashi would ramble about how it's a waste of time and that you should focus on your studies.

but he would also reassure you that he'll support you no matter what decision you make.

in conclusion, he's a bit confusing and indecisive but he just wants the best for you but then he would also start thinking that he's being controlling of your own life.

akaashi also can't keep his cool sometimes,

"i can't believe they cheated on me." you hugged your legs closer to your chest as you sob.

his practice was already over but he insisted that the two of you stay at the gym so that you could talk to him about your problems.

"they’re an asshole, y/n." he replied.

usually, he would rub circles on your back when you're crying but this time, he stayed still on his seat so you glanced at him and frowned.

"you weren't even paying attention," you said.

"i was," he stopped typing on his phone to look at you.

"i was just searching up ways how to murder someone without getting caught." he joked and you chuckled.

"just kidding. i was ordering your favorite food. now stand up and wipe your tears. don't let that asshole see you vulnerable. show him that you don't even need him in the first place because you don't need anyone, 'kay?" he pulled you up and nodded at his advice.

"except for me, of course. how else would you be alive if it weren't for me?"

"i have my own parents." you rolled your eyes playfully.

"they don't love you— they prefer me." he teased once again. earning a punch from you.

suga

aDMIT IT, SUGA IS SO FUN TO BE WITH.

like sureeee he would help you most of the time

but he's also the same person that would get you in trouble.

"vice principal, i am so sorry! i didn't mean to knock off your wig! please don't suspend me—"

"it's fine, l/n. just go and don't tell anyone." the old man sighed.

you bowed and left, running to where suga was standing.

you saw your friend biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh.

you glared at him but you couldn't help but to cackle at what happened and now you two are being noisy in the hallway that made others look at you weirdly.

"i told you, he's bald!" he exclaimed and your laugh couldn't get any louder until you start coughing from the lack of oxygen.

"oH MY GOD— DON'T DIE ON ME Y/N," he said dramatically before offering you a bottle of water.

"you're so dramatic, please shut up." you rolled your eyes after drinking.

you and suga have been arguing for a week about how he witnessed himself how the vice principal's wig flew off and it was too good to be true so you didn't believe him.

not until your beloved best friend pushed you to the vp's direction accidentally.

you were taller than the old man so when you bumped into him, you wanted to grab onto something for support but instead, you knocked off his hairpiece.

and suga ran away instead of helping you.

we love a supportive friend.

"well at least he was kind enough to not give you a punishment." suga shrugged and you just nodded your head in agreement.

when you transferred to karasuno during second year, you luckily met suga when you asked for directions.

you two were in the same class so he accompanied you the whole day.

he was very talkative and you loved hearing him talk about volleyball.

at first, you admired him for how approachable and kind he is

but now you just want to kick him.

"i said he wasn't my crush!" you convinced him but suga ony hummed in response.

"but you were staring at him with heart eyes." he quirked a brow.

"i wasn't!"

"you were!"

"i wasn't!"

"you we—"

"suga and y/n, that's enough." daichi sighed. pushing the two of you apart from each other.

"daichi! your vice captain is being annoying again."

"daichi, did you know that y/n has a crush on y—" his words were cut off when you covered his mouth with your hand and he had no choice but to bite your palm and you backed away in disgust.

"i don't like you anymore." you huffed and he just ruffled your hair.

"ah really now?" he smiled but you knew that behind that smile was an evil intention.

"nevermind." you muttered. not trusting your own friend.

oh and your parents adore suga.

like, they know you have other friends as well but suga is the only person they trust to be with you all the time.

and honestly, you agree with them. no words or numbers could describe how much you trust the setter.

despite his naughty and chaotic attitude, he always takes care of you.

kind of like akaashi but he's a bit more loose.

he's very good at giving you advice.

he's also the type of friend that sulks when you miss a game.

like, he would literally ignore you.

and now you're struggling how to make him forgive you.

"kōshi, enough. you've been ignoring me for a week! it was just one game, come on." you persuaded, poking his side but he didn't budge and continued writing down notes.

"i'm sorry for missing your game. i swear, it was an accident! i would never miss your next match again!"

he shifted in his seat and your eyes were filled with hope.

he looks at you with a slight hint of disappointment, "even if i'm not a regular anymore?" the question caught you off guard.

"what do you mean?" he remained quiet and you took that as a sign that he didn't wanna talk and so you impatiently waited for classes to be over.

as soon as you were dismissed, you pulled him out of the classroom to take him to your favorite spot just near the gym.

"i don't like how you're doubting my ability to support you. it doesn't matter what you do— heck, you could even commit a crime and i might bail you out of jail." you uttered. finally breaking the silence that engulfed the two of you the past few minutes.

you struggle with expressing how you feel sometimes and being able to decipher your analogies is one of suga's skills.

"your comforting skill is top tier." he replied.

you know how he would playfully hit his teammates? he'd do the same to you but he would only give you head pats, not wanting to hurt you physically.

and you unexpectedly just learned how to love it.

it somehow inspires you to work harder since he only gives you head pats when you achieve something and it's his way of congratulating you!

he also likes to drag you along with him. he wants to watch a movie? he would buy an extra ticket just for you!

but sometimes, he would whine about being broke when he's with you🤡

would also be ready to make a presentation as to why you are his platonic soulmate.

please just agree with him so he won't be sad</3

last but not the least, gossiping.

literally, the two of you will not call it a day if you haven't talked about any issues at all.

so even if you were sleepy, he would call or text you in the middle of the night and be like, 'tea time?'

aaahh imagine how shock i was when i saw that this was about 2k words overall AHAHA. i know that akaashi's part seems a bit off but honestly i just imagine him being a bit mischevious and more open to people he's genuinely close with so yeah! i had so much fun writing but i feel bad becaue it was so long- anyway, thank you for reading!<3

[twdbegins]

Can I get some age gap Simon smut, like shes want him super rough with her but he think she wont be able to handle, but she takes all that he give her and more, please and thank you, if you can

I KNEW THE DAY WOULD COME WHERE SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS. AMAZING.

__

Rough Encounters

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut.

Word Count: 3,003

“Make no mistake, I’ve seen plenty.”

__

“You’re staring at him again.” Arat said plainly, not looking up from her knife in her hand.

She dragged the blade of her knife along the stick she had picked up, peeling away at the skin on the dead branch. You were leaning against one of the outside walls of the Sanctuary, shifting back and forth on your feet to keep warm. You and Arat were on fence duty, one of the most dull jobs on the planet. You were both trying to entertain yourselves with whatever you had on hand, since nothing really ever happened when you were on a fence shift.

Fence duty was always worse during the winter, because it was always freezing which made standing around watching chained up walkers even more miserable. However, with the dirty thoughts that were running through your mind, you were surprised you weren’t blazing warm.

“Do you think he’s any good in bed?” You asked, not looking away from the man from across the way that you were looking at.

Arat stopped slicing the stick and made a face of annoyed disgust.

“Oh my God. Not this again.” She groaned, recalling the last time you had brought this up.

You laughed at her reaction, removing your gaze from Simon. It was true, and even you wouldn’t deny it, you had the hots for the right-hand man. You had never been drawn to anyone like him before. He was tall, fit, strong, and very charismatic. Not to mention, he was at least 15 years older than you. You weren’t completely sure of his age, but you knew he had to be at least in his mid-thirties. You always ballparked him to be somewhere between 36 and 42, but it really made no difference to you.

“It’s a fair question.” You defended yourself.

She cocked her head at you, leaning forward on the makeshift bucket she was sitting. 

“No, no, no. It is NOT a fair question, nor a conversation I want to have,” She scowled, tossing the stick aside; “You don’t have to see him everyday. I don’t want to think of your weird obsession with him every time we’re in a room together.”

“I’m not obsessed. I just want to fuck him.” You said very bluntly.

Arat let out a shriek and brought her hands to cover her ears. 

“You damn kids and your high sex drives. My God...do you ever think before you bestow your dirty thoughts onto innocent bystanders?” She questioned, her eyes dead set on her feet.

You threw your hands out in mockery, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Arat, I’m closer to your age than his.” You pointed out.

She nodded furiously.

“Exactly! Which is why you shouldn’t want to bang him.” She argued.

You snorted. 

“We’ve talked about sex a million times. Why does me and him bother you?” You queried, a devious smirk appearing on your face; “Do you know something I don’t know?”

Arat slowly turned her head to look at you. She removed her hands from her ears, staring at you blankly as if she were trying to process what you were insinuating.

“Oh, no you don’t! You do not get to make that joke. I have never, I repeat, NEVER had sex with him,” She shrilled; “Never have, never will.”

You laughed out loud, almost doubling over at her urgency.

“I’m the youngest Savior here. No one is that close to my age anyways,” You told her; “But I mean, come on. Have you SEEN him? Those thighs? Those arms?”

She hissed in disapproval, desperately wanting to end this conversation. She leapt up from where she sat, rubbing her frigid hands together.

“Absolutely not. Listen, if you want to get freaky in the sheets with him, then go ahead. If I had a body like yours then I’d put it to good use. Just don’t damage my image of him further,” She instructed; “By the way, it looks like you might’ve gotten his attention.”

You casually glanced over your shoulder to see Simon looking at you with his dark brown eyes. You gave him a flashy grin, which prompted him to make his way over to you. You and Arat still had another hour on fence duty, but she was not going to stick around for this.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” She announced, scuttling away before she had to witness the possibly sinful things about to come out of your mouth.

Simon swaggered over to you, your breath getting caught in your throat. Oddly enough, you had developed a friendship with Simon over the last year. You enjoyed his company, much more than just ogling over him all the time.

“Hi, Simon.” You greeted nicely.

“[Y/N],” He acknowledged you with a grin; “Looks like you lost your partner there.” He said, referring to Arat’s leave.

You shrugged.

“She was cold. I told her I could handle things out here,” You lied; “Mind taking her place?”

His grin morphed into more of a smirk, taking the adjacent spot next to you on the wall. His shoulder just barely touched yours, a flush of heat washing over you. You had to keep it together.

“Since when does Negan put you on fence duty?” You wondered aloud.

Simon rarely ever took a shift to watch the fences, considering that Negan wanted his services elsewhere. You were shocked that he was out here.

“Mark’s sick. I had to cover for him.” He claimed.

“You sure he’s not with Amber?” You chimed.

Simon’s brows raised slightly. Everyone, except Negan, knew that Amber was still sneaking around with Mark even though she was technically Negan’s wife. You had seen Simon cover for Mark before, so you knew this was no different.

“How’d you know?” He asked.

“Amber and I are close. She told me.” 

Amber was one of Negan’s younger wives, but she still managed a relationship with Mark. You always hoped that Negan would never find out. More for Mark’s sake than Amber’s.

“We make sacrifices sometimes.” He said dryly, not really wanting to discuss how he had gone behind Negan’s back.

You nodded, but a sneaky smile appeared on your face.

“You know, Amber tells me a lot about Mark.” You began.

Simon was intrigued to see where you were going with this. 

“Oh, yeah?” He prompted.

You nonchalantly picked at the chipped fingernail polish on your nails, as if you weren’t really aware of what you were saying.

“Yep. I never would’ve taken Mark to be much of a rough lover if Amber hadn’t told me all about it.” You spoke.

Simon stiffened a little. Neither of you had ever really talked about sex. You had mentioned previous partners and things like that, but nothing like this. You noticed his eyes were not on your face. You were wearing shorts, despite the cold weather. His eyes raked over your legs...your hips...your waist. You gave a sultry laugh. You knew he looked at you the same way you did him. 

“You act like you’ve never seen a woman before.” You said suddenly.

His eyes flickered back to yours, feeling his nerves become a little more sensitive at the way your eyelashes fluttered. He chuckled lowly.

“Make no mistake, I’ve seen plenty.” He replied.

You weren’t shocked at that. You had a gut feeling that Simon knew his way around a woman. Still, you faked a stunned look.

“Have you? Hmm...” You hummed thoughtfully.

He raised a brow, turning to you.

“Don’t believe me?” He prodded.

You gave a slight shrug. You knew you could get him riled up enough for him to cave, but he wouldn’t make it easy.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He had to admit, he was shocked that you were hitting on him in such a bold way. He always assumed you’d go for Negan over him. He was thrilled, but he wasn’t going to show it.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” He chaffed.

You pushed your shoulders back a little to stand up a little straighter, but not moving from your casual position against the wall. His voice had lowered an octave or two, which was a little maddening.

“Oh, I think I do.” You returned with the same confident tone.

He laughed incredulously, his eyes darting around before settling back on you. 

“How old are you?” He questioned. 

He knew you were the youngest person at the Sanctuary, so the fact that this encounter was even happening was boggling his head a little bit. You raised a brow and lowered it. You had a feeling this was going to come up. 

“22.” You answered.

He let out a low whistle. It had been a long time since he had fucked anyone that young. The last time he had gotten with a 22 year old was when he was that age. Needless to say, he had a couple decades of experience under his belt by this point.

“So you’re young and eager, huh?” He chided.

You scoffed, a bit offended at his words.

“You underestimate me.” You spoke.

He hummed.

“I don’t play nice. I play rough,” He purred; “You think you can handle that?”

He didn’t think you could. He was seriously doubtful that you’d make it past the foreplay without tapping out. You stood from the wall, standing so close that the tips of your shoes touched his. 

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” You suggested playfully. 

He stared at you for another moment before crashing his lips roughly to yours. He brought his hand up and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He backed you into the inside of the Sanctuary, pushing you up against the nearest wall. His hand was still in your hair, yanking your head back and sucking hard on your neck. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but enough to surely get your attention and send waves of pleasure through you. He growled low in his throat and continued to nip at your neck.

“I can have my way with you,” He announced, his voice muffled in the skin of your neck; “I can make a hell of a lot prettier noises come out of you too.”

“I want to see you try.” You tried to say confidently, but it came out more of a desperate whine.

You let out a surprised gasp when he suddenly kissed you again, nothing short of rough and hot. You let out a hum, and he pulled back and looked at you with so much lust that you felt a shiver travel down your spine. His hands were tight and firm on your waist, keeping you completely pressed against him. His pupils were blown twice their usual size. 

He pulled you from the wall, not letting your lips leave his. Normally, he’d at least make it to his bedroom, but he wanted to see just how risky you wanted to get. He navigated you into the stairwell, somewhere that was somewhat public, but isolated too. 

“You scared Negan’s gonna find us?” You questioned with a sneer.

He stared at you in disbelief. He had to admit, you were holding up better than he thought. He pressed his back against the wall, getting right into it. 

“Get on your knees.” He commanded. 

He was being intimidating, but it was only more thrilling for you. You smirked as you slowly sank to the floor, your knees hitting the concrete. You looked away for a split second to get situated, but his hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes on me.” He said, looking down at you.

You looked up at him, eyes shining with desire and expectation. His gaze studied your every move and expression. You went to quickly put your hair up, but he stopped you.

“Don’t touch your hair.” He said, holding it up himself.

You ran your hands over his hips, trailing to his pants. You unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He sprung forth in front of you, and he moved one hand to the top of your head. You eyed his tip for a millisecond, so quickly that he didn’t even notice your break of eye contact. You left a kiss on his tip, earning a groan from him. 

You put your mouth over his length, suddenly gagging when he shoved your head further into his crotch. He pulled out.

“You better take it.” He said, shoving back into your mouth again.

You were prepared this time, swallowing around him and working through the reflex. You sucked and kissed, a moan escaping from the man above you. His grip was unchanged on your head, but his fingers were stroking gently. His words came out a bit mumbled as he continued to slam back into your mouth.

“Shit...you’ve done this before.” He muttered.

You hummed in affirmation, grinning around him. His hand in your hair pulled your head back and he rocked his hips roughly into your mouth. Then pulled back and rocked into you over and over. You sucked and ran your tongue along his shaft, kissing each time you made your way back to the tip. He was fighting the urge to praise you, but it slipped out. You felt THAT good around him.

“Such a good girl…” He breathed; “You’re so pretty on your knees for me.”

You stopped sucking for a second, offering a praise of your own.

“I have to say, you’re bigger than I thought.” You said, taking him back into your mouth.

He rolled his hips into you again in response, you almost giggled at the way his eyes rolled back into his head. He thrusted a few more times before removing himself from your mouth, watching you swallow his pre-ejaculation. You noticed the fire in his eyes had returned.

He pulled you from the floor forcefully, snatching the zipper down on your shorts. He stopped cold when he realized you hadn’t been wearing anything underneath it the entire night. You fought the urge to grin at his face. His eyes raked over you, he was hungry for you.

“Seems I’ve forgotten something. It slipped my mind, I suppose.” You grinned.

His expression was dead serious, as he pulled you to his half-naked body. You began to unbutton his shirt, whipping it off of him in a flash. He removed your shirt and bra, taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your soft flesh, you held back a high-pitched moan. Which made Simon stop.

“You scared Negan’s gonna hear you?” He mocked; “I want to hear you.”

He took your other nipple into his mouth as you let out a loud groan. He gripped one of your shoulders, spinning you to where you were against the wall. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around him. He licked his fingers, quickly lubricating you. He was moving so fast and so precisely that you knew one thing for sure.

He wasn’t going to go easy on you.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs to hold you steady. He lined himself up and pressed into you finally. Your heart fluttered at the feeling you had been craving for so long now. He pulled out almost completely and slammed hard back into you. He didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size, but it didn’t take you long. You raised one of your arms above your head, pressing your palm into the wall behind you.

“Oh, God. Yes, Simon.” You huffed out.

He knew now that you were much more experienced than he formerly realized.

“You feel so good.” You panted, bringing your other hand to the back of his head.

He held you higher for that, giving him a better angle so he could go deeper. Simon then slid out and slammed in as far as he could, groaning at the feeling and the sounds you were making. Delicious noises were coming from both of you, pure feelings of ecstasy and desire. He began to fuck you hard and fast until the sounds of your cries and his moans were echoing off of the walls. He sucked a hard hickey into your neck, moving even faster at your pleasure filled moans.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know what’s going on in that head of yours,” He grunted; “Wondering what it would feel like for an older guy to fuck you senseless.”

“Please, Si.” You pleaded.

“What, baby?” He purred.

“Harder.” You said, not even able to string a sentence together.

He was totally stunned now, not even sure he had heard you right. He obliged though, pounding so hard into you that you moaned each time he went back in. He’d be surprised if you could even walk tomorrow.

“Is this what you wanted?” He huffed, feeling his release building fast.

“Yes. Oh, fuck yes.” You confirmed.

In response, he rubbed hard circles on your clit. A new round of whimpers escaping your chest. The hot coil in your belly was growing quickly. He could feel it. He sped up his pace, feeling you tighten around him as you released.

He slammed into you again, his cock pulsing hard before filling you completely. He groaned into your shoulder as he came. Your final squeak announced your finish as well, your body going limp around him.

Your mind was reeling. You never thought he’d be able to do that. Your breathings were erratic and fast, as you tried to recover. He rested his forehead against yours. He kissed you lazily, knowing that this wasn’t the last time this would happen.

“I have to admit that you were right.” He said after a few moments.

You looked at him with flushed cheeks, your head in a total fog. You smiled.

“About what?” You wondered.

He kissed you again.

“I totally underestimated you.”

[bokettochild]

Hmmm if you need ideas I always love cultural difference shenanigans so maybe Twilight and Hyrule or Warriors and Hyrule having jarringly different cultures?

I didn't really touch on cultures much, since I'm still learning a lot about the games in general, but here's three boys discussing the educational systems of their respective provinces!

(Asks are open still, if anyone wants a story, feel free to request it! I will try my best! (Crossovers aren't off the table, but I can't promise I'll write them))

From Ordon to Catalia

“So, you’re telling me,” Warriors states disbelievingly. “That you, the Hero of Hyrule, couldn’t even speak Hylian until mere months before you saved the kingdom?”

The traveler nods, a faint flush dusting over his browned cheeks at Warriors’ question.

Twilight shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Who’da thunk it? Chin up traveler, I didn’t even live in Hyrule when I saved it.”

“What?” Warriors turns to him, royal blue flickering with disbelief as he stares from one country hero to the other. “Seriously? Both of you?”

“Well,” Hyrule tugs at one of his curls, eyes glistening with mischief as he speaks. “I mean, Legend saved like, four other countries, and he wasn’t from any of them.”

“But the first country he saved was Hyrule.” Warriors asserts. “And at least he was sent to the other places or something, unlike you two.” The captain stares from one to the other. “Traveling through the kingdom and just happening to run into the Royal Nursemaid?” He turns to Twilight, disbelief still written clear on his face. “And chasing monsters, if I recall correctly. What the heck, guys?”

He can’t help but take a bit of pity on Warriors, the captain has only ever been outside of his Hyrule’s main areas when time traveling, and the poor man clearly has little to no familiarity with the provinces and kingdoms beyond his own home, save for whatever rich and stuffy nobles talk about when royalty from the other kingdoms comes to visit. But even so, Wars lacks the faintest clue of the world outside of Hyrule’s borders, and that's just a little bit sad.

He leans back on the bed that he and Hyrule are sharing, it’s been a few weeks since they were last at an inn and he fully intends on enjoying the plush beds while they can, even if it is a bit too soft for his own comfort. “We could tell you more about them, if you like?”

At his side, Hyrule nods, smile bright if not a bit wistful. “I’m always willing to share about my home.”

Warriors hesitates, caught between disbelief and curiosity.

“I don’t think even Legend has been to Catalia.” Hyrule muses, but Twilight sees the sparkle in Hyrule’s eyes, he’s tempting the captain in a way the both of them know is sure to work.

“That so?” Warriors muses. “Well, I suppose so. Although,” He turns a cynical eye to Twilight. “I’m not sure how much I actually want to know about farm life.”

“Your loss, city boy.” He scoffs in response, a wolfish smile pulling at his features.

It’s nice, he thinks as he leans back further, letting Hyrule pull his thoughts together and Warriors shake off the surprise of their previous words, to just sit and talk with his brothers. Time and Legend have roomed with Wild so he doesn’t have to worry about the Cub making trouble without him there to watch him, and for the first time in a long tie he can just sit down and talk with his other brothers. He doesn’t know why Time let Four assign rooms like this, but he isn’t complaining if the others aren’t.

“Well, what would you like to hear about?”

Warriors frowns, staring at Hyrule for a moment as the Traveler flushes darker under his curls. Maybe the healer wasn’t as ready to talk as he first thought. “How about, your family, what sort of people are they?”

Hyrule stares at the captain disbelievingly for a moment. “You’ve met my mom, remember? And I don’t really remember much of my dad, he went missing when I was a kid.”

“Oh,” Warriors flushes, a strained smile taking over his features. “Right.”

Hyrule giggles softly. “I’m not mad, Cap, just surprised that you forgot. Although to be fair, not many people probably think about it since I look like a Hylian.”

“Yeah, about that, how does that work?”

“Hylian father, I look more like him in this form. We may be from Catalia, but he was there entirely because he was fleeing the destruction of Hyrule. He met my mom in the Aver Forests, where she’d been wandering for the last few years. Great fairies can leave their pools if they so choose, but they do so rarely. Unfortunately, mom had too because of the increase of monsters in Hyrule.”

“What is the Aver Forest?”

“The biggest, lushest forest in all of Catalia!” Hyrule spread his arms wide as if to indicate how big it truly was. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the other side of the lost woods in my time, since it’s so close to the border. It nothing like Hyrule, but it is, was, home.”

“So, did yer ma follow you to Hyrule?”

“Not exactly.” The traveler replies with a small frown. “She came after Hyrule was made safer again. I can’t exactly leave the country freely anymore, so she came to see me. It’s a good thing too, since getting potions is far more difficult than just bathing in her pool.”

“Are potions really that expensive in your time?” Warriors asks, concern flecking his gentle gaze.

“It’s not about the price,” Hyrule frowns. “It’s more that most people don’t know how to brew them, and finding a person who can is difficult.”

“Ah, supply and demand.”

“Pardon, what?” The traveler looks up to the captain in confusion.

“Supply and demand, you know,” Wars states like it’s common knowledge. “When lots of people want something but only a few people can provide it? It’s the reason shops can get away with charging so much for things.”

Both country heroes stare at him.

“Have neither of you ever heard of it?” The captain blinks at them, leaning forwards on his bed. “How is that possible?”

“Not all provinces have a school, Wars.” He replies, chuckling softly at the surprise on Warriors’ face. “For farming communities we focus on animals and plants, don’t need no fancy education to plow a field.”

Hyrule stares between the two of them. “Alright, this might be a Hylian word I haven’t learned yet, but what is a scewl?”

“A what?” Warriors echoes, turning to face the traveler.

“A scewl?”

“A school?” Twilight translates, brow furrowed until the Hero of Hyrule nods in confirmation, after which he relaxes again. “It's a place people go to learn to read and write, and to count and do equations.”

“And here I thought there weren’t any in Ordon?” Warriors teases lightly.

“Get off it, Cap’. We don’t have schools, but we do have books, I know how to read and if I can learn more than I will.”

“Ah, self-taught?”

“Mostly.” He shrugs. “Hylian’s real different from Ordon-Standard, even if they’re essentially the same.”

“That makes no sense.” The captain deadpans, staring at him blankly.

“I mean, even though they have a lot in common, the way people speak and pronounce things, the vernacular and what not, is quite different that Hyrule proper.”

Hyrule blinks at the two of them owlishly. “What are equations?”

A glance is shared between them. “Math.” Warriors answers. “You know, adding, subtraction, multiplication and division?”

The traveler raises a brow, but he's shrinking in on himself in the way he does when he gets nervous. “What are those? Multipulycation and division?”

Warriors stares cautiously at the traveler, gaze gentle but concerned. “Hyrule, do you not know how to do math?”

“Do you know how to count?” Twilight tries instead.

“Of course!”

“Can you combine numbers?”

“That’s counting, but with bigger numbers.”

“Can you subtract it again?”

“Yes.” Hyrule answers slowly.

“Can you multiply?”

The traveler stares at Warriors nervously. “I just told you I don’t know what that is.”

The captain, bless his heart, looks genuinely hurt. “Good grief, what sort of mentor is Legend? Not making sure you know basic multiplication?”

And Hyrule flushes, but his brows furrow as he pushes himself straight, always defensive of his mentor. “He didn’t know, and he’s a great mentor! He’s been showing me how to grow trees!”

“Legend knows forestry?” The captain starts.

“He has an orchard.” Twilight reminds him, light laughter bubbling in his chest at the understanding that crosses Warriors’ face at the words.

“Right.” The captain turns to Hyrule. “How about this, Legend can teach whatever it is he teaches you, but when he’s done with that for the day, you come find me? Math is a wonderful thing, even if it is a tad complex, and it'd be a shame to let you go without knowing it.”

Betrayal makes itself known as Twilight pulls away from the two. “You like math?”

Horror blooms on Warriors’ delicate features. “You don’t?”

“Arithmetic is the bane of my existence and if I didn’t need to know how to count rupees, I would willingly forget it.” Twilight spits out.

“It’s wonderful!” Warriors defends. “Everything makes sense and has a logical explanation! You can count on it having an answer every time.”

One dark brow raises as midnight blue stare back at the captain, unimpressed. “Except when it doesn’t. Except when you have to graph equations but you can’t because they don’t have answers. Except when there’s two missing numbers and nothing fits in together, except when the numbers decide to become letters and you have to spit up the alphabet along with your equations.”

“How much math do you know?” Warriors raises a brow.

“Too much.” He isn’t even ashamed of the shudder that makes his pelt tickle against his cheeks. “Wild is a literal genius at it, and I can’t even number how many time he's decided to use it to explain some hare-brained scheme. Trajectory and angles and-” He shivers again. “No thank you. It’s like he ate a math textbook and just keeps spitting it back up, every time he wants to do something dumb.”

The captain whistles lowly, royal blue eyes sparkling. “You mean he has theories and reasoning behind all that? Dang!”

The glare shot the captain’s way is nothing short of threatening. “Do not encourage him, or so help me, Wars. I can hardly contain him some days as is, he doesn’t need someone else egging him on.”

“Oh, trust me,” Gloved hands raise in a non-threatening motion. “I just want to pic his brain, maybe he can help me tutor the traveler here.”

And Twilight almost asks him not too, almost begs that the captain not, before realization hits. “You know, that is actually a good idea.” He smirks. “I’m surprised.”

The deadpan look he receives is well worth it. “You wound me.”

“Were your skin not so delicate, I wouldn’t.” He returns, smile stretching wider. “But that aside, if Wild is busy tutoring Hyrule, he won’t be off blowing things up, and if Hyrule gets a better education out of it that's even better.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Hyrule answers, eyes lighting up in a way that looks innocent, but considering the kid is Legend’s descendant there’s a very good chance that it isn’t fully. “Maybe he can teach me some tricks while he’s at it.”

“No!” The voices ring at once, but it’s already too late, Hyrule is tapping his chin and muttering low under his breath as a wide smile stretches over his face.

“What have you started.” Twilight whispers, horrified.

“I’m sorry.” Warriors returns, just as grim. “I won’t tell Legend if you don’t.”

[realcube]

LEAVING MIDORIYA

part one (nsfw) | part two 

tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing

honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fiancée who was the cause of all these things. 

this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is. 

it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him. 

where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough. 

midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you. 

you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless. 

no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range. 

one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary. 

now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.

although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea! 

those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing. 

quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters. 

“dynamight! thank you for everything!”

“you deserve to be number one!” 

“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”

the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.

in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”

only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours. 

your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression. 

“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?” 

why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!

“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”

“when?” he cut you off

“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”

the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”

“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.

“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”

your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.

“y’know, dynamight.”

who?

“the number two hero!”

nothing.

“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”

“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.

“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you. 

“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”

“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it. 

“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.” 

there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”

it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”

you shrug.

bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”

“i can pay for my own room though.” 

bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.

he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway. 

and he was half right.

eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship. 

[remsmoonlight]

— title : brownies n’ breaks

— word count : 2.2 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : cooking is your love language and it’s time that you are able to finally make something for Daryl, protected from the high walls that alexandria boasts of are you finally able to bring that vision to life

— warnings : absolutely nothing, except sickly sweet fluff

oooo another daryl request if you’re willing!!! maybe once they get to alexandria reader makes daryl some homemade brownies or some shit because she knows he’s never had much homemade food if any just some domestic cute shit??🥺🥺♥️

          ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested     　/    requests are open   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sweetness flows throughout the air of your new home, sliding into every corner it can find to fill and warm. The smell of domesticy is something you thought perished long ago when the world died, but here you stand.. with a fresh batch of brownies in the oven baking as if life rebooted and got set back to factory settings. You move from the oven, small steps to the door to be able to survey the kitchen area once more, blinking as if to erase it from your vision, to be greeted with the punishing sun and the dirt filled roads lined with ghosts.

A cozy yellow glow is snug in the pit of your stomach as you think about who the sweet bake belongs to, Daryl has been nothing less than golden. From Atlanta, all the way to Alexandria.. he has always been one to step up without even thinking. You’d shared many secluded moments together, talking about your pasts and while he has never explicitly said anything, you have created a picture in your head about what he has gone through. The love not shared healthily to someone who will always put his family first. Even prior to the downfall of society, you loved to cook for everyone you knew.

You settle yourself with a book on the window ledge close to the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Daryl, a giddiness that could be likened to a snowfall of glitter falling gracefully within you.

“ you know, when we finally find a new home. I will make you the best brownies you’ve ever had! “

“ if y’don’t burn ‘em first. “ he replied, the corner of his eyes crinkle so delicately as he chuckles lowly.

“ don’t be so fucking mean! here I am trying to do something nice.. it won’t kill you! “ you argue humorously, your fist balling up to punch his arm with little force.

Laughter and carelessness had been a rarity after surviving Terminus, your focus on trying to find safety.. no matter how much of a dream it may be. The journey to coming to terms with the fading faces and memories of the prison has been a painful one, comfort was not something that could easily be found, yet you found it in the least conventionally affectionate person you knew.

“ if anythin’s gonna kill me, it ain’t gonna be your cooking. “

“ actually, I cook very well. it will be a good day when I finally get to show you. “

An airy smile brightens your features, the burdenless weight unable to keep your lips stuck together. Many memories you have with him are of the fond kind, of course, the course of your bond with him runs deep but never has it been a calm sea. There have been moments where you wonder if it’s one sided, if you are inventing a picture that you wish to bleed through to reality, then you are proven wrong and he does things that you know in your heart are true. It has taken losing friends, a home, finding new hope to strengthen that bond and while you would prefer to take the easy road, you know that nothing will ever split the two of you into shards of glass that will never be able to be repaired. You’re both strong people, but stronger together.

A figure clad in black and covered in grime makes their way up the flawless road to where you rest, your vision could be awful but you can make out his being anywhere. The book you hold is laid to rest, your feet already carrying yourself to the door to meet him. Days had past since you last saw him and you can now feel the chords of longing pulling as you had missed him.

Your hand encloses the door handle, swinging it open to finally land your gaze on his form, feeling as if it had been years you’d not done so, as opposed to a few days.

“ took you long enough. “

“ yeah, yeah. quit your complainin’.  “

You move aside, Daryl taking the cue from you and entering the house that bares no soul at that present moment. Everyone is out with their own agenda or job, leaving you to potter about to your own devices.

Some peace and privacy for even a few hours is something you are thankful for, two things that had been incredibly rare from your journey from Atlanta. Though, the noise that comes with your family reminds you of the moments you couldn’t wait to be rid from as you grew up are ones that you no longer fail to appreciate.

“ did you find anybody out there? “

Daryl shakes his head, you see the trouble that he wears often become even more apparent as it overwhelms his features intensely. Knowing Daryl as well as you do, you know that while he won’t admit it out loud, every time he goes out there with Aaron to find people and finds no one wounds his spirit more and more. While his desire to save everyone is admirable, it’s often a concern to you that it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he’s often met with your comforting energy of it being simply an unsustainable trait.

“ you know you won’t always find people, right? “ you ask him softly, tucking your legs underneath you as you seat yourself on the sofa.

Daryl refuses to sit, it’s a thought that regularly finds itself bouncing around your mind as to why he can’t relax even behind the walls of Alexandria.

“ yea’, still sucks though. “ he wipes his thumb across his nose, an unconscious habit on his part, discussing his thoughts and feelings has never been easy, raised in a home full of toxicity stunted him emotionally, something he still wrestles with when the occasion arises.

“ there’s going to be a day where you’ve gone and saved everyone! there won’t be anyone left for you to bring back! cut yourself some slack. “

Daryl doesn’t respond, knowing there is truth in your words but he has seen so much death already, the world gripped by dark and dim choke hold, a little dusting of life is something that has been lacking since it died. Avoidance of feelings is something Daryl flees to when the conversation gets tough, he can deal with  words full of anger and rage, but topics so delicate still feel so alien to him.

“ wha’ y’been up to? “ the male questions you, seemingly interested in what you have been up to, watching you from the otherside of the room.

As if a switch had been flipped, your eyes ignite with excitement and joy as you have finally been able to fulfil your unofficial promise to him.

“ remember when we were talking about my cooking? when you insulted it? “ the sides of your lips gently lift with a soft innocence, you feel the elation slowly warming the entirety of your body at the simpleness of it all.

“ y’ain’t gone and poisoned sumn’ have ‘ya? “ asks Daryl, turning to face you from across the floor where he stood. His tone holds a ‘ blink and you will miss it ‘ humour threaded into his words.

“ I should have! “ laughing at him, you fit your fingers between his and lead him into the kitchen with you.

Touch is still something that sends an uncomfortable shiver to travel the distance down his spine, but with everything you have been through and all the time you have spent together, touch is something he’d never turn from when thinking of you. Your relationship has been a strange, never formal one, but it is perfect for the two of you. Unspoken words full of warmth and fondness are a solidity in each one’s souls, and while you both never shared the extent of what the two of you have with the group, they have their suspicions and theories. But if they know one thing, it’s Daryl’s affection for you runs deep.

“ brownies! “

He peaks into the oven that you have opened, the rich smell of cocoa and heat baking the treats hit him like a brick, a pit forms deep in his stomach. This is different from past meals beforehand. You had gone out of your way for him, of all people. Never could he mentally grip why you have been so kind and benevolent with him but it’s something he treasures deeply. In the beginning he was more abrasive with you more than anyone else, but it used to be his go to defense mechanism with everyone in your family. Softness never being something destined for him was beaten into him for a young age, learning only how to loathe and to only say words in anger. It wasn’t until you came along and took your time with him did he let you in, something you have been grateful ever since.. especially since you have been able to discover the colourful soul that resides within him.

“ y’didn’t have to. “ he replies, his mouth watering at the mere smell of the brownies that are close to being fully baked.

“ Daryl… “ a softness in your response that is only reserved for him is heavy, your eyebrows furrowing in dejection. You know enough of his history to be confident in your placed hurt for him being unable to experience kindness in a positive manner. Your hand trails up his clothed arm and rests on his shoulder lightly, allowing for him to decide whether or not to accept the physical affection. He doesn’t shrug it off, if anything he leans more into your touch. “ you know I’m doing this because I want to, you deserve something nice! “

“ thanks. “

“ and they’re nearly done, so you best take a seat. “

Daryl follows your order with little encouragement, a smirk that he conceals from your view and sits at the lengthy dinner table. He’s having trouble connecting the dots of the dead walking and civilisation ended and the pure normalcy of him sitting at a dinner table about to eat home cooked brownies. Even back when the world was bustling with life and people working their nine to fives were home cooked meals a rarity.

“ so this is what y’spent your day on? “ he asks as he watches you with a spark of fondness in his eyes as you work in the kitchen.

“ cooking is therapeutic. “

“ y’ a weird person. “ Daryl quips, staring at you right in your eyes. His expression gives nothing away, though his eyes speak a thousand words and paint a thousand colours that you understand fully.

It’s lucky you know him so well to understand when he’s being serious and when not.

“ but you like it! “

The squares of the baked treats are uneven and jagged, your features contorting into a confused frown at how they could so well until the end. You blame the knife for the imperfection and flaws of the appearance of what lays before you, however your heart knows it’s your inability to present your dishes artistically.

“ now I apologise they don’t look good but they do taste good! “

“ y’never have to say sorry for anythin’ “ he thoughtless says, his mind to preoccupied with the food laid before him.

A picture painted by his mind long ago had you as the perfect person, it’s comforting to know the flaws you have are nothing short of charming in your own little way. With the lack of elegance associated with him, his fingers dig into the irregular shape of the brownie and shoves half of it  into his mouth.

You watch him with your breath holding itself, never have you been a person who has wanted to impress but when it comes to Daryl? You find yourself wanting to do that and more.

“ well? “

He nods with his mouth full, unable to formulate his words. His jokes about your cooking being bad have been nothing more than that, jokes. But even as he’s consuming the small squares he’s surprised at how good they taste, better than he could even imagine.

“ ain’t half bad. “

“ in Daryl speak that means they’re pretty damn great, huh? “ you question him rhetorically, amusement dancing on each word you speak as you gaze steadily on his form.

“ well y’didn’t burn the house down. “

Your mouth opens and eyes widen considerably as your expression twists from being filled to the brim of affection to one of shock, aghast at his jovial words. The laughter tumbles carelessly from your lips as you reach across to swat his arm playfully.

“ you are so rude! “

He joins in with your laughter, a sight so infrequent that you wish you could burn the image into your mind with no chance of being erased by time. It’s moments like these, where you truly feel like the only two people in the world, stolen moments you hold close to your heart. You hope that you will reach a space where you both will be able to freely express your feelings, while the mutual affection is known between the both of you, sometimes you want to use words. So he knows, because it’s something he deserves. To know how much he is loved, without cowering away from the subject.

“ nah I’m just kiddin’. thanks, I mean it. “

[shoichee]

Request is about Rakuzan manager, who is a foreigner (from Russia). She is really popular in school, because the Japanese thinks that Russian are very pretty. But she thinks that she has ordinary appearance. Besides she always does her best for the team, tries to be the best manager for them and takes care of them because of her kindness. So Rakuzan boys warm up to her slowly. And Ore-Akashi slowly started coming to his sense (he's Boku-Akashi now), because she reminds him his mother.

Hi hi hi! Even after researching to portray this accurately, I am more vague on the specificality on Russian culture, especially in a Japanese high school setting, in order to make this more relatable and applicable. Still, I took care to implement some core values/general traits you’d see in Russian society // I HOPE I DID THIS JUSTICE;; 

[Rakuzan Manager f!Reader Headcanons]

you’ve always been the center of attention ever since you transferred to Rakuzan, a private school with extremely high standards

not to mention, your aura and looks completely encompasses that perfect “high-caliber student” look that every student wants so badly… so effortlessly? a lot of the students instantly took a liking to you just because of your appearances and how easily you stood out against the rest (especially in a collective society like Japan’s, where everyone is highly pressured to blend in)

but coming fresh from Russia, a society that focuses on individualism, you didn’t really see why everyone would suddenly worshipped you just because you expressed yourself freely… even so, in trying to make friends as a rare foreigner, you made sure to be kind to everyone

you made it out of your own way to always help the student council out with menial tasks, even if you weren’t a part of it, or always reached out a helping hand to other teachers, staff, and peers

so that may have shot up your popularity even more

your altruism easily reaches within earshot of Higuchi, the current 3rd-year manager of the Rakuzan’s basketball team, and he immediately soughts after you to invite you to the position of manager alongside him

after all, he’s going to graduate this year, so he wants to ensure that the team would be in good hands for the subsequent years

still, he’s quite nervous about introducing you to his… superiors, mostly because the team leadership has become quite… scary and strict this year

Higuchi brings you along as he slowly approaches Coach Eiji and the Rakuzan captain, who were both discussing about the imminent future of the team’s starting line and debating whether or not to switch around some players

Eiji noticed you first, and after hearing Higuchi’s suggestion, he immediately recognized you from how much the teachers and his coworkers had been praising you; hence, he has no doubt about you or anything… but he turns to Akashi to hear his input

all the while, the captain has been staring silently at you… and assessing you

“What do you think?” Eiji spoke up, glancing down to the 1st year in the corner of his eye.

“...” Akashi continues to sit with his hands clasped in front of his mouth

“It’d be an honor to become a manager for such a capable team!” you say, putting yourself into a deep bow to try to express your sincerity

“W-Wait, (y/n)-san, there’s no need to go to that extreme,” Higuchi says hurriedly, ushering you up

“S-Sorry, but I believe bows are used to express utmost deference and appeal?”

“Ahaha… only a few cases warrant a bow as deep as that.”

“Right, right! Noted…”

Akashi’s eventual sigh interrupted the both of you as he drops his hands into a more relaxed posture

“She’ll be useful. I have heard about her from other students within the student council. Shōta, you will keep her in line, correct?”

“Of course!”

“Then there is no need for this conversation to go any longer if this is settled with no further objections?” he turns to the coach for any further comments

“Yes,” he nods in agreement. “I hope you know this team expects nothing from the best from you, even if you’re only a manager.”

. . .

so here you are, on your first day as a manager alongside Higuchi, being taught the ropes of your duties: noting players’ favorite snacks and food, making sure there’s plenty of water bottles left, changing towels if needed… these honestly felt like normal chores to you, so you didn’t feel overwhelmed at all

“W-W-Whoa!! Our new manager is a girl?—Ow, Reo-nee!”

“Sheesh, show some respect to the manager! Quit looking at her like that!”

“B-But…”

“Hello!” you waved at them, popping up right in front of them, and Hayama quickly jumps to gain some distance for himself out of shock

“The foreign transfer student?!”

“I’m a new manager here, and I hope we get along!”

“Ah…” Mibuchi turns to you with a hand on his chest and a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement. “I must compliment you on your Japanese. You speak as if you’re almost native—in fact, your way of speaking is more elegant than most people here.”

“Thank you!” you beam at him. “Yes…! I’ve worked to at least become fluent for the JLPT N2, so I’m very glad you complimented me so!”

“Reo-nee, you tell me to back off, but you’re being chummy with her right now! Ei-chan, look! Don’t you agree with me?—Wha, where did he go?”

“Who knows?” Mibuchi shrugs indifferently. “But it’s no wonder that it’s been a lot quieter around… by the way (y/n)-chan, are all Russians as striking as you? It makes me a tad bit envious that such beauty is effortless to you.”

“No, no!” you deny with a laugh. “We’re quite ordinary, you see? I think everyone has their own type of beauty to admire and appreciate.”

“Oh! Beautiful words spoken by a beautiful person! Ah… I’ve been called by Higuchi-san. I must part but I hope you’ll allow me to ask you more questions later!”

as you wave off Mibuchi with a smile, Hayama only frowns at you as he crossed his arms, irritated at the fact that you don’t seem too keen on using honorifics for the upperclassmen:

“Look, you might’ve gotten Reo-nee to approve of you, but don’t think the rest of us will be just as accommodating. We’re serious about basketball, so don’t slack off and bring us down.”

but you only turn to him with a smile before giving a slight bow before replying: “I will put 100% of my time and effort, so everyone can do their best on the courts with peace of mind!”

Hayama immediately gets flustered, not expecting such a warm response to his words and he scratches head and replies loudly, “U-Uh… yeah, just, just don’t screw it up for us.”

the first week of being manager was just like what Hayama spoke about: most of the players were wary of you because you were extremely different in how you carried yourself, or curious about you for that same reason… perhaps you were recruited out of pity?

there were a handful of teammates who were brave enough to ask you questions about your culture or personal background

Eikichi, on one hand, asked about your cuisine and whether there were “big guys” like himself that can be a challenge to his strength (you only laugh at him as you easily answer all of his questions)

“I heard the Russian men are unbelievably strong! *flexes his own biceps* Their muscle masses are rumored to be insane!”

“W-Well… it’s different for everyone, but I agree that we’re very strong-natured and have dignity for ourselves.”

“Ohh, (y/n)-chan… that must be why you stand out so much yourself!”

“Mibuchi-kun, you’re very striking yourself, you know…”

and here is Hayama petulantly huffing all the while, doubting you all the while still

“Here you go again, forgetting to add senpai after Ei-chan and Reo-nee!”

“Why should I?” You tilt your head in confusion. “Whether I add such honorifics or not doesn’t change how much I respect them, Hayama-kun.”

“It’s Hayama-senpai to you!”

“If you’re spending this much time fixated on this, then you can spend that much time practicing and showing me the skills to earn the respect you want! Come on! Chop, chop, chop!”

. . .

“Ei-chan! Don’t you get mad when (y/n) doesn’t address you properly?! Reo-nee, what about you?!”

“Huh? I’d never be mad at someone who doesn’t seem to mind me burping at all, and she never scolds me about this stuff like Reo does—”

“Who wouldn’t?! It’s gross, seriously! While I do not understand her tolerance of your vulgar manners, her eloquence and natural aura is equal to those of Sei-chan’s… so in my eyes, I see no need for her to use such honorifics.”

“HUH?! Reo-nee, but why?!”

his opinion of you only gradually changes when you never seem to snap at him back even though he’s being a little shit when you’re around… you remind him of a motherly figure… but a kind, level-headed one, which is slightly different from the naggy mother-hen (but good-intentioned) vibe Mibuchi gives off

besides, anyone with eyes can see how much you scurry around holding handfuls of towels and bottles for all the players, even for the bench players

people think it’s really odd that you’re so physically close to the teammates, especially when you link arm in arm with them or give little distance when you talk with them; as a result, a lot of speculation of “dating” and “relationships” pop up when your name is brought up

the Uncrowned Kings easily squash those rumors… Akashi’s presence alone is also enough to silence them LOL

Mibuchi is the main guy who always likes to link arms as a symbol of your shared friendship

. . .

it’s an odd relationship between you and Mayuzumi… no matter how much you call out to him, he ignores you, and no matter how much he ignores you, you still treat him the same as ever

“Stop pestering me,” Mayuzumi clicks his tongue, blatantly making the effort not to face you properly, and you finally smile, seeing that he finally acknowledged your presence

“Ah, you’re quite the blunt one, aren’t you, Mayuzumi-san?”

“If you get that, then go away.”

“Well, I can’t! You’re part of the lineup, so I am especially not going to neglect you.”

“Are you this mindless to help people like a saint and then expect everyone to adore you? As far as I’m aware, most see you as some ‘exotic’ curiosity and nothing more. And I frankly love myself too much to be associated with such people. If you’re only here out of pity, beat it. Now.”

“Well, it seems like you care enough to tell me that,” you muse, but your face hardens with a serious glint in your eye. “But heed my words when I say this Mayuzumi-san. I am not doing this to be a people-pleaser. I am doing this for myself and only myself. I want to be a good person because it is a decision I make for myself. When there is a choice of being a good person versus bad, I’ll choose to be the best version of myself at any moment. That is my own definition of self-respect. No way in hell I’m doing this because I feel sorry for you… I will complete my duty with my pride as Rakuzan’s manager on the line.”

he’s stunned at your words, and he instantly relaxes his posture before he turns to continue reading his novel on hand… “I see.”

he actually likes the fact that your culture allows people to be more outspoken about their opinions, since he’s all too aware how the majority of his own peers are constantly worried about collective reputation and doing things for the sake of others

Mayuzumi becomes a lot more… cooperative with you from that point on

he relates to your words of having high self-respect and pride, and he’s pleasantly surprised that you actually know how to hold your own ground despite being very kind // even if he finds it weird that being a manager makes you happy… but since it’s something you do for your own sake, he can learn to respect it; after all, he reads light novels for his own happiness

imagine his unadulterated surprise when you not only brought him bottles, snacks, and a towel (that’s the part he expected from you), you slipped in new issues of the latest light novels within the towel bundle (this is what caught him off guard)

you’re suddenly seen in a good light in his eyes

. . .

it’s been almost a month since you’ve been recruited, and most of the teammates have now accepted you as one of their own, more or less, but something bothered you that you couldn’t help but ask Rakuzan’s senior manager

“Higuchi-san, don’t managers need to do some analytic work for the team statistics? It seems that all we do is mundane tasks.”

“Ah, most of the analytic work is done by Akashi.”

“But why? Does he not trust the managers with this work? Does he see us as not capable?”

“Not exactly… he’s very… particular about ensuring the best possible strategies for victory. So far, whatever he’s been doing has earned him complete trust from the entire team and even our coach.”

“Wow… that’s… a really impressive feat for a 1st year…”

“No one’s really surprised though. (y/n)-san you may have just transferred here so you might not know, but he was Teiko’s previous captain and the main public face of the Generation of Miracles…”

after he finished giving a crash-course on their prodigal status in the basketball world, you’re more fired up to work harder for Rakuzan as the manager

“Besides, (y/n)-san, our main duty of being a manager is to maintain the well-being of our team. All these little things add up, and surely, the team knows to appreciate these gestures from us.”

you actually later approach the Uncrowned Kings to playfully complain about why they didn’t tell you how prestigious they truly were on the courts (after learning about their status from Higuchi)

“Huh? (y/n)-nee, now you wanna show respect to your senpais, huh?”

you don’t miss the playfulness in his complaint as he tries to ruffle your hair… and also the way Hayama has recently addressed you differently

“This is different, Hayama! You have such titles under your belts because of your skills and accomplishments on the court… that is extremely admirable!”

“D’awww, it’s nothing, really.”

of course, they all have pride in their titles, but they all immediately turn the direction of the conversation to Akashi, saying they were nothing compared to him

that only made you more curious about the captain

you actually never made conversation with him throughout the month because you were so busy with your duties and helping out everyone… but you finally decided to try to help the captain in any way

Akashi has been observing you for the entirety of your time in the team… that much is to be expected, considering that he needed to evaluate your performance and compatibility with the rest of the teammates to make sure that there is still unity even with the addition of a new person (after all… as much as he doesn’t want to admit, he is still fearful of the possibility of his team crumbling from the inside again)

the fact that you even got Mayuzumi to approve of you in his own way actually impressed him; even he himself had to be authoritative to get Mayuzumi to be cooperative on the team

it’s the little things you do that reminds him of the tickles of nostalgia, when he first played basketball with his late mother, within his mind: the way you were the only one giving positive encouragement to the players in a club filled with cutthroat competition and perfection; the way you made sure that everyone was calm and collected before they walk into the courts; the way you diligently remember and cater every care package and preference to every unique player, in addition to your minimum duties.

he unconsciously mellows out whenever you approach to him to speak, and he only realizes that fact every time you leave the conversation to continue your next to-do on your schedule

“Akashi-san!”

he turns to look at you impassively, but he stands to wait to hear what you have to say

“Can I help you with anything in any way?”

“Are your assigned duties of manager not enough?” he asks, but he continues to give little away from his blank expression

“No, no, that’s not it,” you reply. “I was wondering how I can extend my hand to also help out the captain of the team as well. After all, it’s important for the managers to care for the well-being of every team member… you’re no exception!”

“Do what you think is best to ensure victory,” was all he said before he left

you’re now confused… did he mean for you to keep up your work as normal? did he trust you enough to let you decide what to do on your own? his vague words certainly threw you in for a loop

still, the Rakuzan teammates were able to breathe easier whenever you were in the same room as Akashi, because there’s always a gentler aura around him when you’re near the vicinity

sometimes his Orekashi side slips out, whether he gives an open compliment to a good play (albeit, delivered in a calm, spartan way) or when he gives an occasional perfect-rhythmed pass that leaves his teammates in a stupor

Akashi’s mannerisms towards you as the manager is as subtle as a speck of dust, but he’s grown a quiet sense of respect for you and the atmosphere you’ve brought to the team

however, it will only be at the final game where his Orekashi side will fully reawaken again

if any student dares to approach you with insensitive questions and comments about your race and culture with stereotypes, they should be expecting all hell breaking loose from the basketball team in 3… 2… 1…