#these have been sitting in a folder finished for over a year; may as well post them

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 19 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i appreciate you 🩵 and thank you, readers, or your patience.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

Chapter 19: Of Christmas & Chokers

Over the next few days, the comfortability between you and Chan deepens. Whether you’re in the room or out being tourists, you remain almost glued together—holding hands, sitting on his lap, hugging each other, kissing. Your conversations flow naturally and without tension. In an alternate universe, perhaps this would have been an ideal trip for a couple in love. As delusional as you may have become in believing this could be a new normal, you keep one foot grounded in reality. Well, maybe not the whole foot…but at least a pinky toe.

Your days are packed with several activities such as a nighttime ATV ride, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. You both have the time of your life letting loose. Speeding, swerving, screaming at the rush of it all. You’ve never seen Chan smile so much. He is different when he’s free of the responsibility of being Chapter President…he’s carefree. You tell yourself regardless of how this ends, you’ll be glad you at least got to see him like this.

You go to a local amusement park where Chan is determined to make you face your fear of rollercoasters. However, after the second ride leaves you nearly in tears, Chan puts that mission to rest.

You venture back out on the water on a jet ski. Chan lets you do most of the driving that day, but you soon realize it’s a set up. When you’re far out enough from the beach, his hands on your hips find their way between your legs. He kisses your neck and tells you to turn off the jet ski. He fucks you with his fingers until you come, whispering in your ear how hard his cock is and what he plans to do to you later.

One of the days while you and Chan are out, the hotel staff add holiday decorations around the room, including a small, 4ft tree in the corner near the balcony windows. It makes you squeal with glee upon seeing it. You assume it’s all the hotel’s doing. Lee Know wouldn’t have done something so nice. Would Chan? He doesn’t claim it, if he had put them up to it. It doesn’t matter, though, it makes you happy to see and feel more of the holiday spirit.

When Christmas Eve comes around, there’s a break in the itinerary since a lot of places are closed for the holiday. You wind up sleeping in quite late for your standards and when you finally open your eyes, Chan is wide awake in the bed next to you. He’s sitting up, back against the pillows, laptop in front of him and headphones covering his ears. He’s consumed by whatever he’s doing, but as soon as you turn to face him, his eyes shift from the screen to you.

“She has risen,” he jokes, moving one headphone away from his ear.

“I needed that,” you reply, stretching beneath the blankets. “How long have you been up?”

“A while,” he says with a shrug. “Just working on our chapter project.”

You smile inwardly. Typically, his response would have finished with ‘a while’, you would have had to dig and pry for any further information. He, for now at least, is freely providing you with further details.

“Chapter project?” you ask. You recall hearing him discuss it months ago, but never knew what it was.

“Just something we have to put together to memorialize the year,” he tells you. He turns the laptop so you can see the screen. You recognize the sight of a music program with tracks and layers but have no further understanding of it.

“Putting your minor to use?”

“Kind of. It doubles as my senior project for the minor, so that’s a plus.” He starts moving things around on the screen, opening a folder aptly titled ‘Chapter Project’. He clicks on a few files, opening them to show you as he speaks. “I want to incorporate songs I’ve worked on with different things from the other members—Hyunjin’s artwork for example.”

You know Chan is a good student. All of the members are, really, but you know some of them drag their feet and procrastinate until the last minute. You’ve caught Hyunjin, Changbin and Jeongin rushing to meet midnight deadlines more than once.

“Can I hear something?”

You sit up on the bed, back against the pillows like Chan. The blanket falls from your chest, exposing your breasts.

“Only if you put those things away,” he says, looking pointedly at your breasts, then up to your eyes, then back down again.

“What things?” you ask innocently, leaning back against the headboard and pushing your chest out even more.

Seizing the opportunity, Chan leans over and captures your nipple in his mouth. You let out a surprised scream as he bites down around it. You push him away, swatting his arm. You promptly pull the blanket up to cover them before holding out your hand for his headphones.

He hands them over with a smile, and you put them on. He shuffles a few things around on the screen before a video starts. You assume the graphics are of Felix’s design as it feels like something you’d see in a video game. A song accompanies the images and you’re surprised to hear Chan’s voice over a jovial sounding beat, followed by Seungmin, then Changbin. You didn’t know any of them could sing.

The video is only about a minute long but you feel dumbfounded when it’s over. You remove the headphones and pass them back to Chan.

“I like it,” you say with a smile. “It’s…surprisingly good.”

“You underestimating me?” he asks teasingly.   

“My mistake,” you say sarcastically, placing a hand over your heart. “Is that a cover?”

“No, it’s an original song,” he tells you, turning the laptop back so it’s facing him. “Just waiting on Felix to finish rendering the rest of the graphics, then that one will be done.”

“You’re doing more?”

“A few more. It’ll be a mini-album.”

“Do I get a copy?”

“Hmmm…maybe. If you ask nicely.”

“Oh, never mind then,” you say nonchalantly.

Chan turns to look at you, biting his tongue between his teeth to keep from smiling as he nods.

“I’ll remember that.”

You slide down against the pillows, then turn on your side so you’re still facing him.

“I had no idea you guys could sing,” you tell him.

“Participating in choir was mandatory at our boarding school,” he shrugs. “We can hold a note.”

Chan is full of so many surprises. Most of them pleasant, these days. You want to uncover all there is to know about him, but you know you’ll never be given the time.

You cuddle up to him as he puts his headphones back on. You just lay there and watch him work, expertly navigating around the screen as he continues composing the song. You want to ask why he’s not majoring in music. You already know the answer to that, though. The choices for his future aren’t exactly his to make. His parents decided he would major in business, and sadly that’s all there is to it.

Your heart aches for him—you can see the work he put in to make something creative, the passion he has for it. And he can’t even pursue it.

It’s now 11:00pm and you and Chan have just returned to the hotel room. After dinner you both wanted to get out of the room for a bit and ended up at one of the only places open—the Magic City casino. The hours spent there are a bit of a blur. It was news to you that anyone playing at the tables or slot machines could get free drinks, so you both decided to indulge. Being so far from the hotel, though, Chan didn’t let either of you get too drunk.

As soon as you’re back to the room, Chan excuses himself to make a phone call and disappears out onto the balcony. You change into your pajamas—a pair of thin, loose fitting shorts and matching top—and return to the living room. You turn on the TV, stopping on the first channel you see playing a Christmas themed movie to entertain you while you wait for him to return. From all the food and drinks, you start to doze off until the sound of the heavy balcony door opening stirs you.

“Everything okay?” you ask when he comes back in.

“Mm,” is his reply, with a small nod of his head. “It’s Christmas day back home. I’m gonna get changed.”

You can only nod as well. His tone sounds a bit sad so you’re not sure what to say. Maybe he’s missing spending the holiday with his little brother and sister. And that makes you sad. It’s your fault he’s not with them.

Chan comes back into the living room clad in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He sits down next to you and throws his arm around the back of the couch behind you.

All of your life you had never considered yourself to have a one-track mind but now? With Chan? Seeing him in those grey sweatpants puts one thing at the forefront of your mind, drowsiness and sadness pushed aside. You’ve got to get a hold of yourself.

“Should I open the bottle of wine the hotel left?” you suggest.

“Sure,” is his simple reply.

You stand and retrieve the bottle from the kitchen, along with two wine glasses. You pop the cork and fill both glasses before returning to Chan, handing him one.

“You sure everything’s alright? You seem a bit down…”

You don’t want the tension in the air to linger through the night and this trip has built your courage to address him this way.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells you with a soft smile. He clinks his glass against yours before downing his in one go. “You trying to stay up ‘til midnight for your present?”

You take a sip from your wine glass; happy he’s taking the initiative to change the subject to something lighter.

“I don’t see any presents under that tree,” you say, looking in the corner where the small tree is lit up.

“I haven’t put them there yet.”

“Them?”

As in multiple.

He nods.

“Oh no,” you say, a look of panic taking over your features.

You weren’t sure the two of you would even be exchanging gifts. Not only that, but you don’t feel like you truly know enough about him to get a well thought out present. And you love giving gifts. Hyunjin has a never-ending need for art supplies, so you immediately knew what to get him. You were completely puzzled when it came to Chan.

It was only after the staff added the tree that you thought it’d be nice for him to wake up with something under the tree. Being on vacation, though, you were in a bit of a predicament. All you really had convenient access to was the gift shop.

He must sense your apprehension.

“It’s okay if you didn’t get me anything,” he tries to appease you.

When the panicked look on your face turns into a frown, he takes the wine glass from your hand and places it next to his on the side table. He then pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him and cups your face with both hands, stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“It’s fine,” he says in a sharper tone that makes you nod in acceptance.

“I would have never imagined I’d be spending Christmas Eve with you, let alone exchanging gifts,” you tell him, leaning your forehead against his. “From English classmates to this? Never in my wildest dreams.”

“That wasn’t our first class together,” he says matter-of-factly. He leans back against the couch and takes both of your hands in his, lacing his fingers through.

You furrow your brow at his statement. You wrack your brain for any other class you may have had with him but can’t come up with any.

“What? When?”

“Freshman year…Anthropology 101. In the lecture hall.”

You think back to freshman year and the classes you took. You did, in fact, take an Anthropology course. In a large lecture hall with something close to 100 other students, including your ex.

“I always sat in the back—you were always somewhere up front. Being a nerd, I guess,” he teases. You try to pull your intertwined hands from his to hit him, but he holds onto them tighter, bringing them to his chest. “You look cute when you’re focused, you know that?”

Your brain feels like mush. None of this is ringing a bell.

“Do you remember the presentation you did for extra credit? A family heirloom?”

Now that, you do remember.

“You were so nervous, but I swear it made you look even cuter. The way you talked about the heirloom…” he continues. “…your grandmother’s bracelet, I think it was…”

“Yes,” you say softly.

The bracelet your grandmother gave your mother, who then passed it on to you, and one day you’ll give it to your own child. It feels odd to hear Chan speak about it. Something so deeply personal to you. Granted, you did tell an entire class of strangers about it. But the fact that he remembers it, remembers you?

The fact that he’s known of you this long? Why hadn’t he mentioned it before?

“Why don’t I remember you being in that class?” you ask, struggling to process this new shared history and the words he’s just spilled about you simultaneously.

“It was freshman year…plenty of stuff going on and…your ex,” he shrugs.

He hits the nail on the head with that comment. That class is where you met him.

“You know, the first few weeks of the SKZ house before we bring anyone in?” Chan asks rhetorically, “I thought maybe I’d work up the nerve to talk to you while I could…but then he was there. Always sitting next to you. Even with the class we had this semester. I thought again, maybe it was a sign, you know? But he was waiting for you outside the door after the first class ended.”

You feel a pang of sadness, hearing that. Maybe in a different timeline if he had come talk to you, things would be different. You imagine getting to know a bright-eyed freshman Chan, eager and optimistic to take on the world. Maybe he would have opted out of having an assignee if it were possible, maybe he really could have been yours.

“I remember one of the last lectures you came in with your eyes all puffy,” he continues, disrupting that dangerous train of thought, “like you’d been crying. You didn’t sit anywhere near him that day. I always wondered what happened.”

You open your mouth to speak but close it immediately. What can you say to that? To any of this? Had he really paid such close attention to you? All this time?

“He used to treat you like shit, you know.”

At that remark, you set your lips in a firm line. You untangle your hands from his and cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s true, but hearing Chan say it hits too close to home.

“And you treated me any better?”

Chan takes in your closed off body language and a silence falls over you. Neither of you want this bubble you’re in to burst yet. Perhaps he’s regretting saying any of this at all.

“The day you showed up at our house…” he speaks up again after a while, “I felt sick to my stomach, y/n. Like the universe was playing some sick fucking joke on me.”

He places his hands on your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them.

“When it came time to choose assignees, I couldn’t let you end up with anyone else. I’ve never pulled rank like that before as the chapter president, but with you I had to…and I knew Hyunjin would be good for you, too.”

You shake your head in disbelief.

The day in the hot tub creeps back into your mind. When you told Chan that your time with Hyunjin had been great and he replied with ‘I know. I’m glad’. You didn’t fully understand it then. Now, it’s as if Chan knew the emotional rollercoaster he was going to send you on and wanted to make sure you had a harness. Hyunjin.

You let out a low breath and place your hands on top of your head, locking your fingers together. This is a lot to take in.

“So, your plan was to selfishly claim me and treat me like shit?” You ask after a moment.

“I wouldn’t call it a plan,” he says in a sad tone. “I knew that I was attracted to you and after our first few nights together I had to do something to keep boundaries in place.”

The conversation you shared on the beach clarified his drive for the spankings and edging. You understand his reasonings. You know that his sexual desires and fantasies with you are kept separate from his emotional connection to you. However, it’s confusing and frustrating to know he clearly felt something for you prior to you joining the SKZ House and still kept that brick wall firmly in place between you.  

“So, you wanted to fuck me and still treat me like shit then?” You can’t help the bitter edge to your tone.

“I didn’t wanna get to close—clearly I’ve failed,” he admits. “It’s just always been in the back of my mind how long I’ve wanted you and now that I get to have you, there’s an expiration date.”

“What happens when we get back? You start treating me like that again?”

He averts his gaze from you.

“I don’t know how to—” he stops abruptly and shakes his head.

“Chan,” you say softly, reaching out to turn his head back to face you. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to be with you and be genuinely happy in this fucked up situation, y/n. I’m not gonna want it to end…but it has to.”

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest. As much as it hurts to admit, he’s right. You don’t like the thought of having to leave either of them. With Hyunjin, though, you know he will move on with ease which makes losing him slightly easier. Chan, on the other hand, after all the ground you’ve broken, the progress you’ve made…having to throw it all away will be hard. On both of you, you’re coming to realize.

But how else could you have gotten to know him? If you hadn’t shown up at the SKZ house, Chan would have once again had another assignee and not been able to interact with you anyways. Perhaps you both should at least be thankful for the time you’ve been given and enjoy it while you can.

“You can’t go back to being an asshole, Chan,” you tell him softly.

“I know.”

He grabs onto your hips and pulls you closer to him until you’re forced to lay against him. You rest your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You stay like that for a while, the movie playing in the background but neither of you watching it. You want to remember this moment, how it feels to physically and mentally be this close to him.

An alarm suddenly goes off on his phone and Chan quickly silences it. He cups one hand around the back of your neck to guide your head up. His brown eyes bore into yours, still lingering in this shared moment. You hold his face in your hands, staring right back, not backing down. It’s not an intense stare…more like one of silent pleading and unspoken questions. You bring your face to his and place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Wait here,” he says, kissing you once more before sliding you off his lap.

He disappears into the bedroom and when he comes back, heads straight for the Christmas tree. He places two wrapped boxes under it and you mentally kick yourself again. You hadn’t even wrapped his. Even so, you can’t hide the smile that takes over your face at the sight and the thought he must have put into this.

“Should I get yours?”

“So you did get me something?” he asks with a smirk.

“I did…but seeing that,” you say, pointing to the neatly wrapped presents under the tree, “I don’t even want to give it to you anymore.”

“It’s fine,” he says again. “I’ll wait until tomorrow. Come pick one.”

You stand from the couch and walk over to him and the tree. Both boxes are square in shape, one larger than the other. You deliberate for a moment before reaching for the larger one. You sit on the floor and pull it towards you, surprised by its weight. You look up at Chan and when he doesn’t move to join you, you pull on his hand until he sits.

“Did you wrap this yourself?”

“I asked the housekeeper to help me out with it,” he tells you.

“Resourceful.”

He taps his temple with his pointer finger.

You start ripping away the wrapping paper to reveal a white box beneath. You can’t hold back your smile as you pull the top part of the box off. You set it aside and pull out the tissue paper. When your eyes land on what’s inside, your mouth drops.

A folded, white lab coat with your last name embroidered across the breast area sits on top. You reach out and run a finger across the stitching. It feels surreal to see.

“I figured you’d need it when you go off to vet school.”

You look up at him, still smiling. You will definitely need it. Along with several other items you were already wondering how you would afford, without having to ask your parents for even more money. That’s part of the reason you ultimately decided to join the SKZ house and save the money they were sending you. At least the majority of it would go towards the next steps in your education.

“Thank you, Chan.”

It’s a thoughtful gift. And you feel the guilt of your shitty gift building.

“There’s more…” he nods towards the box.

And the guilt continues.

You lift the lab coat out of the box and gently set it outside the box. The next item is a set of black scrubs, your name embroidered on the shirt as well. You left them out of the box and sit them on top of the lab coat. When your eyes land on the item at the bottom of the box, your jaw drops again.

You reach inside the box and retrieve the stethoscope. This was one of the pricier items you hadn’t been looking forward to purchasing. You bring it closer to inspect, smiling widely. You immediately recognize it as one of the more expensive brands. It, too, is engraved with your name around it.

You feel your eyes begin to prickle and you blink furiously, not wanting to cry, but you can’t help it. It’s a thoughtful gift. One that you’ll get to take with you when the year is over. A reminder of Chan you get to keep with you forever.

You slowly raise your eyes to look at him, shaking your head softly.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, “Is it not the right kind? I wasn’t really sure…”

“It is—it is,” you say, your voice cracking. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and clear your throat. “It’s perfect. It’s all perfect, Chan. Thank you.”

“Wanna test it out?”

Your smile returns at that and you nod, placing the ear tubes in your ears and sliding closer to him. He pulls you onto his lap once again, putting your legs on either side of him, your butt resting on his folded legs.

You grab the bell end of the stethoscope with one hand and pull at the hem of his t-shirt with the other, lifting it up. You then place the diaphragm end to his chest and he instantly moves back, grabbing your wrist.

“That’s cold doc,” he says, voice muffled and rumbling through the ear piece.

“Sorry, I’m a rookie,” you reply sheepishly.

You bring the diaphragm end to your mouth and breathe on it to warm it up before placing it back over his heart. The digital reader immediately lights up, reading his heart rate. But you’re not focused on it. You’re looking directly into his eyes, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“Sounding healthy?” he asks.

You nod.

“Well, we should make sure the reading is accurate, too.”

He cups the back of your neck and pulls your face closer, bringing your lips to his. With his other hand, he holds your wrist and the stethoscope in place. You can hear his heartbeat quicken as you kiss. You grind your hips against his, causing the steady thumping in your ear to beat faster. You want to get lost in the sound of his body’s reaction to you.

He uses his hand on your back to assist your grinding, making sure you can also feel his body’s reaction to you.  

Not wanting to jeopardize the safety of your present, you break the kiss and pull the ear tubes out. His hand drops from your wrist allowing you to turn and set the stethoscope neatly on top of the pile of the other presents behind you.

Before you can even turn back around, Chan is changing your position. He holds onto your back tightly as he lowers you down to the floor.

“I won’t write a negative review just yet—but you’ve got some learning to do, doc.”

You like to hear him call you that.

“I’m a fast learner,” you reply.

“Oh, I know,” he says with a wink.

He remains sitting in front of you, his legs still crossed, while you’re lying down. Your legs are draped over his thighs, feet on the ground on either side of him. He pushes your shirt up to expose your stomach and lightly runs his fingers in a zig-zag pattern all the way down until his hand is between your legs. The thin, pajama shorts you’re wearing are a loose fit and don’t do much to keep him out. Not that you’d want that.

He easily moves the fabric aside and his eyes snap to yours when he realizes you aren’t wearing any underwear.

“I only packed so many for the trip,” you laugh and shrug. “I can’t keep messing them up with you.”

He smirks and nods his agreement.

He slides his fingers up and down your slit, teasing your pussy until his fingers become saturated with your slick. He slowly inserts his ring and middle finger inside of you as he places his other palm on your lower stomach. You rock your hips against him in response. He curls his fingers, pressing against your inner walls each time he withdraws his hand, all the while applying steady pressure with his palm.

You can really feel his fingers rubbing against you, and you know he can too. His eyes are on his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, then move up to your writhing body, then your face. A soft smile plays out on his lips as he watches your reaction. He adds his thumb on your clit into the mix and you let out a moan.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes.

You bite your lip between your teeth, arching your back. You’re too caught up in the sensations to formulate a response.

“You wanna come on my fingers?” he asks, slowing them down. “Or on my cock?”

You moan again.

“Both.”

“Greedy,” he says with a soft chuckle, still moving his fingers in and out at an achingly slow pace.

“Mmmm, yes. For you.”

Any part of him you can have.

He moves his fingers quicker, thumb still circling your clit. You sit up a little, placing your hands behind you to hold you up as you move your hips against his fingers.

He arches an eyebrow at this, a devilish smirk on his lips. He withdraws his fingers, and you protest with a whine and pout. He brings his fingers, coated in your slick, to your face and spreads it around your pouted lips. He watches closely as you lick your lips, then brings his hand to his mouth, sucking off the rest for himself.

The sight of him enjoying your taste always sends you off the rails. You grab a handful of his shirt and pull him to you until his lips are on yours. He seems a little startled, but he allows it. You kiss him, taste him, taste you.

Before you can have too much, he breaks the kiss but keeps his face against yours.

“I want you to open your other present now,” he says, lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

“Not in the morning?” you ask, catching your breath.

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I wanna see it on you now.”

He stretches to the side to retrieve the present and you wrap your arms around his waist to keep from falling back. He grabs it and returns to his upright position before handing it to you.

You take the present and rip the wrapping paper, much less delicately than you did the first. What could this be? He wants to see it on you? You’re excited to find out. You toss all bits of the paper behind you without a care until just the box is left. You lift the lid from the box and inside is what appears to be…a collar?

You look up to Chan with an arched brow and he just smiles widely, baring all his pearly white teeth. The part of the collar that rests on the back of the neck is black, with a belt buckle-like fastener. On the front is a thick, silver linked chain (much like the one he wears on his wrist) with a silver heart hanging from it. The heart itself has several tiny jewels spread evenly around it. The way they glitter in the light, you hope its cubic zirconia…but knowing how deep Chan’s pockets go, they might just be diamonds. You bring the heart closer for inspection and see the words 'Good Girl' engraved on it.

You’re not sure what to make of it. Both the cost, the phrase and the gift itself. He wants you to wear this? Like a dog?

He takes it out of the box and drapes it around your neck, moving your hair out of the way so he can fasten it in the back. You look up at him as he hooks a finger through the heart and tugs on it. Pulling, pulling, restricting until it’s taught against your throat.

Oh. Oh.  

“This okay?” he asks.

You appreciate that he’s asking. You’re convinced you’d let him walk you through the street with it, so long as he asks first.

You close the distance between you, placing your lips on his to convey your consent. He tugs a little tighter on the collar as you kiss before releasing it fully.

In the next moment, your hands are on his shoulders, pushing on them until his back is now against the floor. He doesn’t resist at all.

You reposition yourself comfortably on top of him. You put your hands on his biceps, squeezing them tightly before sliding up his arms to his hands. You move them up above his head then lace your fingers between his, holding them in place as you kiss him. You grind your hips into his and he lets out a moan. You feel his hardening cock pressed between your legs. You grind against it more, sliding your clit along his length. Your kisses become quicker, sloppier, as you keep grinding on him.

He tries to move his hands, but you squeeze them tighter. He lets out a grunt and uses more force to break free—reminding you that he was allowing you to keep them there. He sits up and wraps one arm around you, pulling you close as he starts to stand up. You wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He walks you both back over to the couch.

He unhooks your legs and lowers you so you’re standing in front of him. He leans down and claims your lips again, but you want him undressed. You reach for the hem of his shirt and start pulling it up. You break the kiss to get it completely off his head and before he can kiss you again, you push him onto the couch.

You lift your shirt above your head and as you’re reaching back to unhook your bra, you give a pointed look to his sweatpants. He lifts his hips from the couch and pushes them down.

“Does it look good?” you ask, running your fingers along the collar as you kneel in front of him.

He licks his lips in anticipation, “Better than I imagined.”

You reach for his hand and bring it to the collar. He tugs on the heart again, tightening it around your neck. He wraps his other hand around the base of his cock and pulls you towards it. You drop your jaw and take him in your mouth.

He sucks in a breath, watching you lower your mouth on him. He releases the collar and leans back into the couch. You replace your hand with his at the base, stroking his dick as you bob your head up and down.

You alternate between stroking, sucking, taking it out and smacking it against your lips. He moans and groans, body jerking in response to your actions. You love seeing him like this.

You take him out of you mouth fully and continue stroking him, moving your mouth instead to take each of his balls in your mouth, in turn. You glance up to his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he lets out a deep breath.

“So,” you say, returning your attention to his cock, licking slowly around the tip. “You wanna come in my mouth or in my pussy?”

He looks down at you, only able to smile and shake his head at your use of his same words against him. He leans forward and grabs the heart of the collar once more, using it to pull you to him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he asks, kissing along your lips.

You giggle and nod playfully in response.

He leans back, pulling on the collar to bring you with him until you’re forced to stand again. His other hand slips between your legs and he rubs your pussy with his fingers.

“I wanna fill you up here.”

You moan against his lips, and he releases the collar. He lightly pushes against your chest, so you stand fully then motions to your shorts. You turn around, bend over and pull them down. You move to straighten yourself, but he lurches forward to stop you.

He puts a hand on your back to keep you bent over. In the next instant you feel his other hand collide with your ass and you let out a surprised yelp. He rubs the wounded area on the right and brings his mouth to the left cheek, placing a wet kiss to it. You feel his teeth dig into your skin, causing you to gasp. He smacks the right cheek again.

He shifts his mouth to the surely reddening cheek, placing another wet kiss there. It soothes the stinging a bit. He slaps the left check, his palm gripping your ass when it lands. He then immediately slides his fingers between your legs, slipping along your wet slit until they find your opening. He pushes his fingers inside, you don’t even know how many, but it makes you feel full.

“Mmmm,” you moan, pushing back against him.

“You’re dripping for me,” he says, lacing kisses along each cheek.

“Always,” you reply. And it’s the truth.

He takes his fingers out of you and places both hands on your waist, guiding you down to him. He positions himself at your opening and you roll your head back as he slowly lowers you on his cock. You remain still when he’s fully inserted, just basking in the feel of him inside you.

You make small movements with your hips first, moving forwards and backwards.

“Fuck,” he exhales, gripping your hips tighter.

You like the way he sounds when you’re pleasing him.

You plant your feet firmly on the ground, your hands on his knees. You start to move up and down, bouncing on him and drawing more delicious groans from him.

He uses his hands on your waist to lift you higher and bring you down even harder. You cup your breasts, pinching your nipples to add to the pleasure you’re feeling. You don’t know if you’ll ever get tired of his cock filling you up. Though, you won’t exactly have the opportunity to find out.

You try to push the thought aside, but you can feel it distracting you.

Chan notices as your rhythm becomes out of sync with his. He pulls you all the way down against him, then slides his hand up your stomach, between your breasts, all the way to your neck. He covers the collar with his hand and pulls you back against his chest. You keep circling your hips on him, not wanting to lose the momentum.

“You okay?” he asks softly in your ear.

“Yeah,” you reply, but it’s a lie. “I want to see you.”

He repositions both of you so you’re lying fully on the couch and he’s on top of you. He guides one of your knees up and hooks your leg over his shoulder as he enters you again.

“Like this?”

You offer a silent nod, sliding your hands up his bare, chiseled chest, locking your fingers together behind his neck.

He starts moving again and you feel him sliding in and out, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze from his face. His eyes are locked on you too. This feels heavy, but neither of you comment on it. He turns his head to the side to place a kiss to the leg that’s slung over his shoulder, eyes never leaving yours.

Your hands leave his neck to roam through his hair, over his face, touching every part of him you can to commit to memory. You shift your mental focus to the way he feels, beneath your fingertips, his cock inside of you.

You want the Chan you’ve had for the past week for the rest of the time you have him. Open. Earnest. You try to convey this with your eyes as he continues thrusting in and out. He grabs your breast, squeezing it tightly and you part your lips and arch your back in response.

You don’t know if you’ll survive if he goes back to treating you like you don’t matter. You can’t let him do that to you. Can you?

“I know, I know,” he says in response to your unspoken qualms. He kisses your leg once more before releasing it to lay his body flat against yours. He wraps his arms around your head in a hug of sorts, as he continues his deep and steady strokes.

Chan isn’t fucking you tonight. He’s making love to you.

You slide one hand down to where the two of you are joined, finding your clit. He lifts slightly, allowing you more room to rub circles around it.

“Come on my cock, baby,” he commands.

You whimper at his words. Baby.

You rub your clit faster as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, still driving into you as deep as he can. He angles himself so that with each thrust his dick digs against your walls. It’s enough to drive you crazy. You’re whining, moaning, panting.

“Come for me,” he says again. “Come for me baby girl.”

Your hand on his chest goes for his throat. You squeeze your fingers around it and see his eyes darken, but he doesn’t stop you. He moves his hips faster, harder.

“Chan,” you pant, “please. Right there. Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He keeps the same pace, same angle, same motions until you’re arching your back and squeezing his neck, digging your nails into his delicate skin as you come around his cock. He grits his teeth, grunting and pounding into you furiously as he comes right after.

His movements slow as he finishes. You release his neck and wrap your arms around it instead. He lowers himself on top of you, all but smothering you with his weight but you don’t care. This is a happy way to die, if it comes to that.

You kiss along his collar bone as you both catch your breath. His cock keeps twitching inside of you and you clench the walls of your pussy around him each time it does. His body jerks each time you do it.

“Stop, stop,” he pleads, chuckling softly.

You chuckle in response.

That was different. In ways you hadn’t imagined possible with Chan. The two of you stay on the couch, wrapped up in each other for a while longer.  

The following morning, you’re both woken up by a knock at the door. Chan, just as confused as you, climbs out of bed to answer it. You hear him talking to someone and he returns a few moments later.

“Another Minho surprise,” he tells you. “A couples massage.”

“That actually sounds amazing,” you murmur, pushing off the blankets.

You both go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. You put your hair up in a messy bun then go to the living room while Chan lets in the masseuses. There’s one male and one female. After setting up their massage tables in the open space between the couch and the TV, they leave for the hallway allowing you both some privacy to remove your clothing.

Chan watches you undress with a sly smile on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You stick your tongue out at him and throw your pajama shirt at his face, but he dodges it and catches it in his hand. He folds it neatly and sets it on the couch before removing his own shirt.

When you’re both settled on the tables, they re-enter.

“You’re with me, sir,” you hear Chan say and lift your head.

He’s motioning for the male masseuse to come to him.

“I need firmer hands,” he adds.

But you know that’s not it. No other man outside of the SKZ House is allowed to touch you in the way the masseuse will need to. You know it’s because of that. But it still makes you feel warm inside to think Chan personally doesn’t want anyone else touching you.

After the massage, you and Chan shower together then order a late brunch. He opens his present that you are now extremely embarrassed to give him. When he pulls out the pair of neon blue swim trunks with “Miami Vice” written on it, you hide your face, and he immediately laughs.

“These are loud,” he says. “I’ll wear them to the beach tomorrow.”

Next, he pulls out a refrigerator magnet with “Miami” written across it with palm trees surrounding it.

“To be fair,” you say, wanting to explain, “I had no clue what to get you. You’re not exactly an open book.”

“That is fair,” he agrees. He looks at you with a soft smile, as if he wishes things had been different. He kisses your forehead. “Thank you anyways.”

You spend your final two days mostly relaxing and staying close to the hotel. You spend time at the beach again, Chan in his neon blue swim trunks and looking fucking delectable in them.

Getting on the plane to go home, you’re hit with an overwhelming sense of sadness. Chan’s behavior hasn’t changed yet, and you’re praying that it doesn’t. That even though you both know how this has to end; he can find it within himself to not push you out again. You lean on him and hold his hand for most of the flight back.

Changbin picks you up from the airport and Chan rides up front while you sit in the back. He asks how the trip was and you both reply that it was good. He then addresses Chan in Korean and you’re left clueless in the back seat. But whatever is said, you can feel the weight of it from Chan’s reaction. He leans back in his seat, slouches, and runs his hand through his hair.

You try not to think much of it, but it must be important. They don’t typically speak Korean in front of any of the assignees unless it’s about something that, to be frank, is none of their business.

The car ride is over far too soon, and they still haven’t filled you in on what’s happening.

Once in the driveway, you notice a black car parked in front of the house with a Rolls Royce emblem on the front. You immediately furrow your brow, curiosity and anxiety spiking through the roof at this point.

Changbin exits the car first. You remain planted in the backseat, waiting for Chan to say or explain anything.

He lets out a low breath and leans back against the headrest, eyes closed.

“My dad’s here,” he announces.

Your eyes open wide, and even more confusion sets in. Is it an unexpected visit? Is he not happy to see his father?

“You don’t want him to be?” you ask slowly, carefully.

“Well, it’s never exactly a cause for celebration when any of our parents show up,” he says dryly. “Just…stay out of his way.”

Chan opens his door and you follow in suit.

Changbin has pulled the luggage from the trunk, he’s holding the handle to yours and Chan grabs his own. You move to walk past them both, but Chan grabs your arm to stop you.

You turn to face him, trying to read his expression but a mask is in place.

“Chan,” you say, placing a hand to his chest.

A glint, a flicker of something crosses over his eyes and you see your Chan for a split second.

He kisses your forehead.

“After us. And then straight upstairs, okay?” he says softly.

You nod your head and wait for them to walk to the door first.

As soon as you enter the house, you can feel the commanding presence of his father. Your eyes are drawn straight to him on the living room couch, looking all business in a tailored black suit, black hair slicked back.

“Appa.” Chan says.

“Hello,” you say politely with a small bow at the waist.

You know he told you to go straight upstairs, but it would feel rude to pass by without speaking to him.

His father spares half a glance at you before staring daggers at his son.

Changbin heads for the stairs with your suitcase and you follow him. You look back at Chan and offer as encouraging a smile as you can muster. Chan doesn’t turn to look at you. He walks towards his father like a man heading to the gallows and the sight of him like that punctures your already fragile heart.

[ read chapter 20 here ]

a/n: oof. thoughts? feelings? a lot to unpack here. thank you all again for your patience! and sorry the tags still aren't working :(

[sweetlittlegingy]

Mr. Lieutenant Sir

☑︎ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Sweet Nothings Masterlist

☑︎ Pairing: Jake Seresin x Y/n Seresin (Mitchell)

☑︎ Word Count: 5.9 K

☑︎ Warnings: Infertility, IVF, Adoption, Dad!Jake, Teacher/Mom!Reader, Kindergarteners, bad foster parents, child neglect, flirty Javy, protective Jake

☑︎ A/n: Never believe that I'm actually on hiatus, I finished this two days ago. Suprise

☑︎ Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

A giggle leaves your lips as a pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you away from the pile of dishes soaking in the water. The record player quietly plays in the background, and the lack of noise from the living room is a clear indication that Javy either went home without saying goodbye or he’s fallen asleep on the couch. The latter most likely, given how he never leaves without a hug and goodbye.

“Javy fall asleep?”

You get a hum in response, though it’s muffled against your neck as Jake gently kisses along the curve of it. With a shrug of your shoulder, Jake lifts his face and allows you to turn around and face him. You lean against the countertop, while your hands wrap around Jake’s neck and run through the hair at the base.

“Remember when you told me that for share time, Gray couldn’t stop talking about a model airplane he had?”

Your head gently nods as you enjoy the close moment with your husband. Mrs. Adam had gone out and bought little model planes for both twins when she saw the shirts that Jake had picked out. It was the sweetest thing, and you were so thankful that she not only cared but supported you and Jake every time you showed up with something for the twins.

“Well, I talked to your dad last week and asked about the possibility of the class coming to the base for a field trip.” Your hands stop and a smile graces your face, eyebrow popping up in the way of saying ‘oh really.’ “I didn’t want to tell you until I got a yes, but Mav told me tonight that Cyclone gave him the go-ahead.”

“Really?!” Your smile slowly grows, and your mind is already spinning up a plan of how to make everything happen. “The kids would love that, all of them. Of course, I’ll need to send out permission slips and a Friday would probably work be–”

“Sweet Girl, slow down.” The words cut off your ramble. While Jake rubs at your arms in a comforting fashion. “We have time baby; we will work it all out.”

You nod, but your smile remains the same. Since you started teaching you had always thought that it would be fun to take the kids on a field trip to Top Gun. Though the opportunity had never arisen, especially during the first couple of years. You were a new teacher and still wary of your abilities in handling 20 5-year-olds off school grounds. Now, you were more than confident that you could handle it, especially with the parents you knew would be volunteering. Your excitement may have also stemmed from how much you knew that the twins would enjoy themselves.

...

“Eyes on me and clap three times, my little darlings!” Your voice echoes over the busy classroom, though at the request 20 little faces turn to you and clap or snap like you requested. “Very good! Now before you go home today, please give me your permission slips for our field trip this Friday. If you do not have them, come and talk to me.”

Your eyes scan through the classroom, each of your kids happily smiling while they take their permission slips from their go-home folder. Though your eyes eventually settle on Grayson and Madelaine. The pair of them sit quietly together, neither of them moving to take out a permission slip.

They had been oddly quiet all day, Gray was normally quiet though he always talked with you and Laine. While Laine was your little chatterbox in class who talked to everyone, though today neither of them said more than they were requested to. It had been eating away at you since you noticed it this morning and you had hoped that by this afternoon it would be better. Though as you look at them now, it only appears to have gotten worse.

The ringing of the bell pulls your attention back and has you focusing on the whole class again. A small line forms in front of you and your teaching aid Melissa, each of the kids waiting to hand you their signed slip. You give each of them a smile as they walk past and hand you their slip while following Melissa out to the pickup area. You count as they go past and as the last child in line goes out the door, your head pops up after only counting 18 heads.

Your eyes immediately find the twins, who are slowly putting their books away and looking as if going home was the last thing that they wanted to do.

You glance out to the hallway, checking to see if Melissa was going to come to tell you that Janice had actually shown up. Though the hallway is empty, clearly meaning she hadn’t arrived yet. Not worrying about the incompetent woman, you head over to the twins hoping to find out what has been eating away at them all day.

“Hello, my little munchkins.” Your voice gets their attention and Gray gives you a small smile, while Laine looks at you in defeat. You crouch down beside the desks, leaning over to fix the new glasses on Gray’s nose. “What’s going on? Why are my two favorite people so blue?”

You wait for the sassy comeback, though you don’t get one and a frown settles on your face. You rise from them and head back over to your desk, while they both silently watch you.

“I was saving this for a special day, and I think that today is that day.”

You rummage around the desk drawer until you find it. Usually, you would have Mrs. Adams give the children things that you had found for them, but last month you had found an antique children’s book that was in near-perfect condition and knew you had to buy it. The pair excelled in reading, and you knew that they would love to have a book of their own, instead of checking them out from the library.

You turn back around with the leather-bound book, only to find both Gray and Laine leaning over their desk trying to get a closer look. You give them both a smile, before placing the book down on Gray’s desk.

“I found this and knew how much you both enjoyed reading. I thought that it might be special for you, to have your own book that can take you on adventures and to different worlds anytime you want.”

The both of them smile happily, though as Madelaine opens it a small frown settles on her face. She looked toward Grayson who had yet to touch the book and now sported a small glare. Her eyes look towards you and your heartaches at the pain swimming in the baby blue.

“Can you keep it safe for us Ms. Cece?”

Your brow furrows in question, though before you can comment Gray speaks up.

“I got in trouble after my glasses got broken, I didn’t mean to run into things, but it just happened.” His voice is small, and you can barely hear him over the pounding in your head. You were positive that they were talking about Janice and her husband, but your mind was still reeling over the revelation.

“That’s why we don’t get to go see Mr. Jake and his plane.” Laine huffs as she says it and the way she crosses her arms would have made you giggle in any different situation. “They took everything as punishment, even our little model planes.”

It was like everything around you had turned off, and all you could think or see was the twins crying. The pair of them getting in trouble for things that aren’t their fault and how Janice and her husband shouldn’t have foster children at all. It didn’t matter whether they had the twins or any other children, you would be just as mad. They had no right to treat innocent children so harshly. It wasn’t just what you had found out today, it was the buildup of information you had learned over the last 4 months, and you had finally reached your breaking point.

Madelaine’s small sniffle pulls you from your thoughts and the sight before you almost break you completely. You were used to Laine comforting Gray; being the protector out of the two of them. Though now it’s Gray that holds onto Laine’s hands while resting their heads against one another. He doesn’t say anything, but just holds her and provides the safe space they’ve always had. The proximity of one another, their other half that made them whole.

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward to hold the pair. The sniffles subside momentarily as they both look up at you, before crawling into your lap. They both cling onto a shoulder as you whisper sweet nothings and rock them side to side.

“I’m going to fix it, okay?” Gray nods, while Laine clutches on tighter to you. “It’s gonna be okay.” You mutter the words and this time you’re not sure if you’re saying them for the twins or for yourself. The silver lining of your eyes breaks and a few stray tears fall, though you’re quick to wipe them away. You didn’t want either of them to see you cry, the both of them needed a solid, strong pillar to clutch onto in their storm-filled lives.

...

Jake hadn’t made it home yet, and you couldn’t seem to relax. You had been on the move since you had gotten home, tidying up the house, cooking dinner, and starting a batch of laundry, all to avoid the pending conversation that would no doubt be confrontational.

Janice had arrived just as you were taking the twins out, the three of you had stopped crying and knew that someone would be arriving soon. You had asked Janice if you could give her a call tonight, not wanting to have the conversation in front of the twins, and she bitterly told you that you could. Yet here you were, avoiding it. The last conversation you had with the woman ended with you in tears and you could only imagine how this one would go.

You glance at the clock and find that it’s just after 5, Jake would be home around 5:30 and you wanted to be off the phone by the time he arrived. Jake had been more than vocal about the langue lashing he wanted to give them, and you knew if he had the chance, he would jump on it faster than you could blink.

You settle against the kitchen counter, forgoing the idea of sitting, you were high-strung, and staying in one place wasn’t going to happen. You finger ghosts along your contact list until you find Janice’s name, and the small note of foster mom makes you sneer. The line rings quietly, but also as if it was a blaring alarm until there’s a click in the line, followed by a loud what.

“Hello Mrs. Williams, this is Y/n Seresin, the twin’s teacher.”

Your fingers drum against the counter as you wait for a reply, though the only thing she gives you is a hum. Your hand rakes through your hair as you push off the counter and start pacing.

“I was hoping to talk with you about the twins if that’s okay?” The words are barely passed your lips, before Janice cuts in.

“What did they do now?”

Her voice holds such disgust and animosity that it stuns you for a moment and causes you to take a few deep breaths.

“Nothing, they are wonderful in class. I was actually calling about our school field trip this coming Friday.”

 “Oh, so they came to you whining about not going, is that it?”

Her voice echoes through that phone and stuns you momentarily. Though when you hear her yelling the twin’s names, you’re quick to cut in.

“No, they didn’t say anything.” Your tone comes out harsher than you intended, though it does get Janice to stop yelling at or for the twins. “I noticed that they lacked a permission slip and wanted to reach out.”

You fear that the line has gone dead momentarily because the only sound you can hear is your own breathing. You pull the phone from your face and glance at it, to see that it is still on the call.

“Well, this Friday we are going out of town and even if we were in town, I’m not going to come chaperone. Not to mention, you are asking for 15 dollars for shirts. What do they need shirts for?”

You hear the door close and you glace to your side to find a smiling Jake. Though his face falls as he takes in your flustered appearance. You hold a finger up to your lips to stop him from talking, you couldn’t multitask right now.

“I really do think that this would be a great learning opportunity for Madelaine and Grayson.” Jake settles against the counter next to you, as he listens understanding who is on the other line without you having to say. “I don’t think that they should miss out on the experience, ma’am.”

“Listen here, unless you’re going to fork up the 30 dollars and be legally liable for them, not only Friday but the whole weekend, you need to shut up and mind your own business.”

You’re startled at her harsh words and your hate for the twins living situation only grows the more you talk to the woman. Though before you can reply, the phone is taken from your hand by a very mad Jake. Your eyes widen in worry, though he gives you a small smile that is in no way reassuring.

“Hello, ma’am. This is Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin, I’ve heard that you have a few issues with the field trip my wife has planned.” You can’t hear exactly what Janice replies, though you know that it’s not what Jake deems acceptable to hear. You silently watch Jake, though his eyes don’t move toward you once. They remain in a harsh glare, facing the back wall of the kitchen. “Ma’am, I understand that you don’t want to pay the fe–”

Your eyes widen when you hear Janice’s voice echo through the phone. There weren’t main people that cut off Jake and the ridged body language, followed by the small click of his tongue is a clear sign of how little it happened. You would have laughed at how much she screwed up, but you can’t stop the way you grab onto Jake’s hand. Your fingers intertwine to get his attention, and your gaze silently pleads him not to go off on her. You didn’t know what the woman was capable of, and you were already afraid that this conversation would lead her to punish the twins.

“Ma’am, if you would’ve been so kind to not interrupt me, you would have known that I will pay for Grayson and Madelaine. I just need you to sign the paper so that they can go.”

Her voice lowers through the phone, and you catch a word every now and again, as you watch Jake toed boot tap away on your hardwood floors.

“They’re going to be in the safest setting that they have, probably ever been in. Not only will my wife and the other parents be watching them, but I will personally be watching them. So don’t tell me that your reluctance is because you are worried about them. I know what type of living situation you’re providing for them, and it sure as hell isn’t safe in any way, shape, or form.”

...

Jake couldn’t even lie and say that he hadn’t meant for his tone to come off harsh. No, he wanted Janice to realize just how pissed off he was. Pushing off the counter, he couldn’t help but pace, it had always helped him calm down growing up. The feeling of your hand loosening in his hold pulls his attention back to you. Taking a step closer to you, he barely listens to the squawking echoing in his ear and tightens his hold on you before lifting the back of your hand to place a gentle kiss on it. Your eyes watch him wearily before they soften, and your own lips meet the back of his hand.

“Look I don’t care what you think about my parenting.” The words pull Jake’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “I don’t care if the little shits go or not, even if it’s going to be a ‘great experience’. If you want to take them so damn bad, then do it. But I’m not paying for them, and you’ll have to figure out what to do with them for the weekend because we won’t be home.”

The harsh sigh that leaves Jake’s lips isn’t other than that; a smack in the face that the kid's wellbeing meant nothing to their foster parents, and that Jake didn’t know if he could fix it.

“Just sign the permission slip.”

He doesn’t know what else to say and doesn’t leave room for Janice to reply before he hangs up.

...

Jake settles the phone on the kitchen counter, before looking back up at you. Your hands are still intertwined while you cradle them in your lap. A sigh leaves the both of your lips, and a deep ache settles in your chest as Jake pulls you to him. Folding your form into his chest as he places a gentle kiss upon the crown of your head. How were you supposed to take the class on a field trip without the twins, it wasn’t fair.

“You think Mrs. Adams could keep a secret?” The words are whispered into your hair and cause you to pull back from Jake in question. “I mean we need to have a reliable witness for when we sign an agreement to take care of the kids for the weekend. I don’t know if it’s internally legal, but neither is Janice leaving the kids at the house alone.”

“Jacob Seresin, what in the world are you talking about?”

The cocky smirk you fell in love with settles on his lips and has you smiling in reaction, the ache in your chest easing slightly at the idea Jake is suggesting.

“The twins are going on the field trip and then staying with us.” A harsh sigh leaves his lips, and his smirk settles into a harsh line. “I won’t let her ruin this for them.”

Your heart blooms in love, once again left to wonder how you got such a loving and loyal man. Your hand slips from his and rises up to cup his cheek, as your thumb works across the frown.

“I love you.” Jake’s eyes fall on you at the comment, though no smiles are passed between the two of you. Your eyes say enough, together you would jump headfirst into the unknown. “I love you so damn much.”

...

“Javy, honey I love you.” Your eyes look to the pilot, who stands behind your husband while occasionally making flirty eyes with Ms. Reynolds. “But why are you here?”

Janice was supposed you come in today and sign the form stating that you and Jake would be legally in charge of the twins for the weekends, as well as be liable if something happened to them. Mrs. Adams had been easy to convince, going as far as to draft up the paperwork herself. It might not have been “law binding” but it sure did look like something a lawyer would draft up.

“Well Jake told me that he needed back up,” Your husband's eyes flash back over his shoulder and look at Javy in bewilderment. “this Janice lady scares him.”

The words cause you and Mrs. Adams to giggle, but it's Jake muttering that Javy only wanted to see Ms. Reynolds that has the pair of you cackling. The harsh knock against the door has all of your eyes fleeting to Mrs. Adams' office entry, the laughter in you quickly dies down as Janice and Ed Williams glare at the five of you. They each carry a small pack that resembles the totes you had bought the twins at the beginning of fall, though the dirt on them makes you question if they're the same ones.

“Well, aren't you all just peppy.”  The pair of them drop the bags harshly, and the sneer that Janice gives you makes you shrink back slightly into Jake. You weren’t normally scared so easily, but the pair of them made you uneasy. Their eyes hadn’t left you, even when they addressed Mrs. Adams. Though as an arm wraps around your waist, your shoulders drop and relax further into Jake.

“Right, shall we get this finished up? Lunch will be over soon, and Melissa can only fill in so long.”

Mrs. Adams gives you a small smile that has you giggling. You loved Melissa dearly and she was one of the sweet people you had ever met, though the kids also knew how much of a pushover she was and often conned her into playing Heads Up, Seven Up.

“Yeah, we need to get on the road,” Ed answers Mrs. Adams gruffly as he steps forward to snatch the pen off the desk and sign without any other conversation. The topic of them getting on the road doesn’t go unnoticed, but you keep your questions to yourself for the time being.

Janice grabs the pen from Ed, and the smack of her gum has you glaring slightly. Her signature is messy and hardly legible.

“Which of you five are signing?” Janice flicks the pen out, scanning the room with it before flicking it into your open palm. You give her a small smile and thank you, though she only sneers in reply.

Your eyes flitter from Janice and Ed and back to Jake, who gives you a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze. You move to sign the document, as Jake steps out from around you and you can hear him introduce himself. From the corner of your eye, you can see Jake’s hand clasping Ed’s in a handshake and the tight grasp Jake has on Ed is anything up-friendly.

Jake lets go only to slide in behind you and gently takes the pen, as a gentle hand settles on your back before signing. The both of you finish and the weight in your chest seems to lift as Mrs. Adams then signs as a witness and gives you a small wink and smile that makes your own grow.

It felt different, the document signed was so much more than just the twins getting to go to Top Gun. It felt as though something deeper had solidified and now you only had to wait for it to become reality.

Your attention is pulled back to the Williams as they move to leave without saying anything else, though you are quick to ask what time you could pick them up in the morning. Both stop in their tracks and a full laugh is released from each of them.

“I wouldn’t know Ms. CeCe.” Janice all but spits the name out as it were venom. “We’re leaving now, not our problem according to that little paper. Have fun with the little devils.”

You had heard the twins mention more than enough times that their foster parents weren't fond of them, though hearing them talk about the children with such hatred shocked you and angered you went in a way that was indescribable. You're stunned in silence momentarily and by the time you realize that you don't have booster seats for either of the kids, the Williams are long gone from the school.

The defeated side falls from your lips, as you're trying to figure out how you can get two booster seats before the end of the school day while still teaching. Jake's hand rests against the small of your back and the slight movement of it reels your mind back in.

“They didn't give us booster seats. I haven't even gotten anything set up yet for them to sleep on, I was going to do it tonight.” You don't direct the statement towards anyone in particular, but you know Jake will be the first one working to find a solution.

“Don't worry sweetheart, Javy and I will take care of it. We've still got a couple hours before we have to be back. We'll go get everything and drop off the booster seats, before heading back to base.”

The words are muttered against your temple before a gentle kiss is placed. You're quick to bring Jake’s hand resting on your waist up to your mouth, to place a gentle kiss of thanks on it. You glance at Mrs. Adams who gives you a smile before she announces to everyone that Melissa is undoubtedly being manipulated by the children. A round of laughs echoed through the room before you leaned up to give Jake a kiss, placing all the love and thank you that you couldn't say into it.

He gives you a small smile before clasping your cheeks and kissing you on the forehead, turning to drag an unhappy Javy away from a smiling Ms. Reynolds. Before they can get far Javy calls out to have you give Ms. Reynolds his phone number. Jake’s laugh echoes off the hallways before he calls out as well, telling you that he may be a little late getting home tonight.

...

You wave to Mrs. Paulson as she guides Allison across the street. Mrs. Paulson had been the one parent that you could always count on, and once again she came to your aid when she decided to help supervise the field trip. You had met her husband at a parent-teacher conference and had instantly fallen in love with the family. Not only was Allison a wonderful student, but her parents were always open to trying new ideas. She just gotten diagnosed with ADHD this last summer and the Paulson, Mrs. Adams, and you were working up the best plan to help Allison.

You glance across the street once more making sure that everyone has been picked, before turning around to find Gray and Laine lying in the front grass watching the sky. Today was warmer than usual and the 70-degree December weather was quite enjoyable. You see Gray point to the sky, causing you to look up to see what the pair have been intensely watching.

A smile forms on your lips as you see a jet fly overhead, one of the perks of being just off base. You had love planes growing up and were always on base when your father was home, seeing the pair of them just as in love with planes only warms your heart more. Your movement toward the twins has them looking at you as you settle on your back beside Grayson, so he now rests between you and Madelaine.

“I think they're doing drills,” You hum in reply to Gray, waiting for him to continue. “They’ve been running the same pattern since we laid down.”

“See, watch how the two side planes break off and the middle one breaks toward either one.” You glance at Madelaine, silently wondering when she had become interested in planes. “Maybe it’s Mr. Jake. He’s a good flyer, right Gray.”

“Right.”

They both sound so sure of themselves and you giggle at how serious they are. Jake was going to eat this up when you told him, just one more thing to add to the ever-growing ego. You lay with them for a bit, enjoying how they talk about each plane so animatedly. You glance at your watch and find that it's nearing 4:30; the three of you needed to get home to ready where the twins are sleeping.

Home.

The word jars you for a minute and you have to silently remind yourself that it wasn’t the twin’s home. The arrangement was only for the weekend, and they weren’t your children, no matter how much you wished that they were. 

“Alright you two, we need to get going.” You rise onto your elbows and find the pair of them grinning at you. You had talked to them the morning after you called Janice and asked if they would be okay staying with you. You would never want to make either of them uncomfortable, and luckily they were more than excited at the idea of staying with you. More so when they realized it meant they would get to go on the field trip.

...

The car ride home was easy thanks to the pre-installed car seats, which you would have to thank Jake and Javy for. You had given Madelaine your phone when she had asked to pick the songs and unsurprisingly the five-year-old had put on one of your Spotify playlists that she continually requested during art time in class. Both you and Gray were happily surprised at her choice of 80’s hits.

The pair of them had sung the whole way home, putting on quite the show from what you could see in the review mirror. Their little voices filled that small car, flipping between words they knew, to just humming along to the tune.

You pull up to the house, the vacant parking space and dark house confirm that Jake was indeed going to be late tonight. Both of the kids are out of the car before you can even try to unbuckle them. Their eyes sparkle are they look at the white bungalow, bouncing on their toes at the sight of a front lawn and you can hear Gray whisper to Laine, asking if they were actually allowed to play on it.

The question hurts, such a simple request that had no doubt been denied before. Though before you can fall further down the rabbit hole, you grab the twin totes from the passenger seat. You were going to enjoy this weekend, make it the best experience for them both, and not think about everything else.

“Come on my darlings,” You glance at your watch and find that it's almost five. “We’ve got to cook dinner and get your beds situated for tonight, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Both of them give you a massive smile and Gray is quick to latch onto your hand, while Laine walks up the red stone walkway. You knew that Gray got anxious when it came to new ideas and had expected him to be attached to you for most of the night.

Laine, on the other hand, would know the house like the back of her hand by the end of the weekend and most likely have Jake wrapped around her finger. More so than he already is.

To your complete surprise, upon entry into the guest bedroom, you found the white daybed completely set up with the bedding set you had picked up the other day. You and Jake had decided that for this weekend the twins could stay in one room together, you didn’t want to separate them and cause any unneeded stress. While you had thought you would be setting up the room tonight, Jake and Javy must have come by and done it after finding out that the twins would be staying tonight.

“Alright you two, what do you think?” You hadn’t realized just how worried you were about the twins liking what you had picked out for them. You had found a set of light and dark blue bed sheets that you thought would be appropriate. Then found each of them their own special blanket, Gray’s consisted of planes and the Navy emblem, while Lainie’s had turtles and other tropical fish.

You watch the both of them carefully as they walk into the room, taking in the plain white walls and the small book nook where you enjoyed reading. They move slowly through the room, fingers running over the dresser and then stopping at the bed. The totes fall from their hands, and they slowly pick up the blankets, examining the cotton as if they had never had a blanket to call their own.

You don’t move and the breath in your chest catches at the reality that is unfolding before you. How long had they gone unloved? How many nights did they cry wrapped in each other’s arms, the only form of protection they knew? Your eyes are misty, and you wipe at the awaiting tear before it can fall.

“Ms. CeCe, who are these for?” Laine asks with only the tiniest echo behind the words.

“They’re yours,” Your voice catches and causes both the twins to turn around. “I picked them out for you. Do you like them?”

A small hum comes from the pair as they clutch onto the blankets and watch you carefully. You give them a weak smile, though before you can let your emotions overwhelm all three of you the sound of the front door opening, and closing has you looking back out into the hall.

“Darlin’?”

The voice has Laine letting out a small squeal before she races past you, blanket in tow, and makes for the front door.

“Mr. Jake!”

Gray settles at your side, holding onto your hand as the both of you make your way out to the front hall. The sight of Madelaine clutching onto Jake as he holds her stops you in your track, and for a moment you forget that they aren’t yours and Jake’s children. How had they looked so much like Jake, with the perfect dirty blonde hair and the small award-winning smile.

Jake glances up at you and gives both you and Gray a smile before he runs a hand down the back of Laine’s hair. A quiet hello, little darlin’ just barely reaches your ears, though as Laine tightens her hold on Jake, you know you heard right.

“We saw you flying today, Mr. Jake.”

The small voice gains the attention of all three of you, and as you look down Gray only smiles back at you in hopes that you’ll confirm what he’s said. Though before you can say anything, Jake adjusts Laine onto his hip, and he walks to bend down in front of Grayson.

“Is that right, buddy?” A smile forms on Gray’s lip before he gives Jake a firm nod. “And how was I doing? Did I meet your standards?”

Gray nods once again, before Laine looks at him in question then turns back to Jake. “Gray says you’re the best.”

“That so?”

Gray’s hand tightens around yours before a hum and smile break across his face. “The best fighter pilot ever seen.”

You hear Jake’s breath catch before his free arm reaches out to grab Gray. A laugh breaks from Gray and any worry you had of him being uncomfortable around Jake, falls to silent ears. With one on each hip, Jake rises and looks at you, the both of you share knowing looks while the twins laugh.

Life had never felt this perfect. You and Jake had always felt whole like you weren’t missing a part of the puzzle, though an add-on would have been welcomed. But now, you both knew that the four of you were the complete puzzle. That without both Gray and Laine in your lives, a part of your puzzle would be incomplete for the first time.

[drachonia]

𝐟 𝐢 𝐫 𝐞 𝐚 𝐧 𝐝 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 .

Leonardo x OC insert (Julliet)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i've had this sitting in my WIP folder for like..well over a year. decided on a whim to finish it, thanks to @valkyyriia and @natimiles for the encouragement! i appreciate you both very much. i hope you both like this little fic of the boy. <33

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fictional interpretation of a historical figure (ikemen vampire), drac's weird little ideas, william jumpscare at the end.

Parties were never really his favorite, at least aside from the wine and the numerous opportunities to observe something interesting. The young man with ash brown hair drew out a small bit of charcoal and glanced around the room from his place against the wall, eyes scanning the ballroom for a subject to study.

He briefly contemplated sketching one of the pillars to the edges of the staircase scanning from the ceiling to floor. Once amber eyes reached the bottom, they locked with a pair of contrasting burgundy hues that reminded Leo vaguely of blood, cliché as that sounded to him. His lips quirked up as the wide-eyed maiden seemed to start at the realization he was staring at her. Fingers gripped the charcoal as he started to sketch her features, quickly managing to get down the softness of her jawline and the sharp curve of her brows before moving to the intense eyes and looking back up again only to see she vanished from the base of that pillar. His ever-present heartbeat stuttered for a moment, brows furrowing as he glanced around for where she may have gone.

“Are you looking for someone?” A soft voice reached his ears, turning his head to meet those same eyes again, but this time much clearer and closer, “You know it’s impolite to stare. Especially without introducing oneself.” She tucked her boyish fringe behind one ear, a teasing smile on her lips as she curtsied to him, “My name is Julliet, what’s yours?” She looked up to the young vampire, a grin on her lips as her own fangs showed the slightest bit. He hadn’t seen her before now. Was she a new vampire? Just someone he hadn’t paid any mind to? No matter, he was finally close enough to get a proper look at those eyes.

“Leonardo.” He grasped her hand, lifting it and pressing a kiss to the back of it with a smile even he didn’t think he could give. Fingertips brushed hers as he drew back, feeling a faint crackle of nerves. What was this? Who was she? What exactly brought about so much curiosity toward her? Maybe it was because she was an unknown to him, but he could practically taste the freedom she exuded on the tip of his tongue when he breathed in. She gave off a fresh scent, noticeable but not overpowering, like rosehip or sage.

“Well, Leonardo, what are you drawing?” She peered in to look at what he’d been scratching out, only to freeze for a moment, “Is that..?” Her bright eyes glanced up to meet his and felt the blush creeping up his neck to his ears, ready to retort and make an excuse before she quieted his thoughts with a happy smile and a gentle giggle. Leaning on his arm she reached her hand out a breath from his sketchbook, careful not to touch his work.

“It’s so well-done…how did you do all of that so fast? You only looked at me for a few seconds!” Her eyes shimmered in wonder as he chuckled lightly at her pure-hearted admiration. He glanced down at her other hand where it rested on his forearm, supporting her from falling into his side. For the first time, Leonardo noticed how small another’s hands could be next to his own. Briefly he wondered to himself if he could capture the feeling in a drawing or figure a way to better remember it in this irritatingly eternal existence of his.

And he thought, only for a moment, Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she would be mine?

The thought itself caught him by surprise as he returned to his senses, rubbing a hand over his mouth to soothe the sudden ache in his fangs.

Just then, he heard a call across the room, “Giulietta!” He almost jolted at how much the timbre reminded him of his father. A man who resembled the young woman at his side climbed the stairs across the hall from them. He felt her stiffen at his side, “I-I should go before my father sees me.”

“Do you make it a habit to hang around unsuspecting men?” He teased her lightly, “The scandal..!” That light smack to his bicep was every bit deserved.

“Never! You’re the first I’ve gotten curious enough of.” She muttered low to herself, but loud enough that he heard, a boyish grin stretching across his face as he opened his mouth to tease her.

“Giulietta!”

She shrunk away from him, “I should go…”

“Do you think we’ll get the chance to meet again?” The words practically pushed past his lips before he could stop them, not that he would have bothered.

“Maybe.” She seemed to like the idea from the bright smile that lifted her rosy cheeks. Giving a sheepish smile as she darted off to the call from her father

“Giulietta di Cappelletti!”

“Yes, father!”

The name was one he was vaguely familiar with, it wasn’t a family his parents held a high opinion of. He knew as much as he leaned on the railing and continued to polish her portrait. Strange, the name she had given him wasn’t something he was familiar with, but the one his father called was very much Italian.

“Julliet.” He mused, brushing his thumb over the page to mimic the flush on her cheeks in monotone.

In the darker part of the corridor, a young man scratched out his own notes, having been watching like a spectator at a theatre. And the titular words he scribbled with a flourish at the top of his parchment were ‘Romeo & Juliet.’

lace headers by saradika.

[roleplayhonestybox]

Just had the weirdest experience ever of my RPing career.

Dude I’ve been writing with for a long time, probably the better part of half-a-year, just sent me a zip file. Inside of it, it contained one document and then a folder. The document said READMEFIRST, so I did. He also reiterated when he sent it to me to read the doc first.

Let me preface that this guy has been nothing but a gentleman for the entire half year I’ve known him. We’ve vibed together since day one. We’ve never shared photos of one another. He’s literally been my best friend and best RP partner for the span of time. Our writing styles work so well together and I just. I really thought he was awesome. And now, I’m just sort of broken and at a loss as to what I should do.

The document I opened started with a single-typed page. He essentially went into detail saying this was a half-year anniversary gift. I couldn’t remember for the life of me the day that we met, but he remembered, which I thought was shocking. He said that he’d been collecting these for a long time as sort of like a memento/gift of our time together, which I thought was so super cute. I literally thought this man was rizzing me.

He went on about how he loves how open I am, how we mesh, great partner, blah blah blah. All the usual stuff. Says how excited he is for the next six months, and hopes I enjoy.

I open the next folder, and it contains another document and 134 images.

I have my settings to where my image icons are set to small so I just see the file and the name, so I didn’t see the images immediately, but they were numbered 1-134. So, I go to open the document. My brain was on overdrive by this point. I thought he somehow was commissioning people for artwork of our characters (he told me he’s loaded prior and loves to support artists), and I was just so excited.

Open the document. And it’s just. Pages and pages and pages of detailed descriptions of him LITERALLY. GETTING OFF.

It would be, like: “[date it happened] 1. [roleplay excerpt of mine]” and then it would go into gratuitous detail of how his orgasm felt, what he was thinking of, and imagining me as my OC in that instance, and then rate it out of 10.

I only skimmed, but I caught sight of him sometimes going back to previous passages that he denoted as his “favourites”. So he’d go into detail about how different or better it felt.

I thanked the good Lord above that I had my image files small because that meant that I had over 100 unsolicited dick pics (including…him finishing) sent to me immediately. I didn’t open a single file to check and see if it’s not just an elaborate prank because this happened probably an hour ago and I don’t know what to do.

He messaged me about 20 minutes after I said I was unzipping the file and basically said: “Well, what do you think?”

I honestly don’t know what to think. I haven’t said anything back to him, and he hasn’t messaged me, again. I don’t know what to do, either. I really love what we have and our characters. If he would have told me he liked me, I may have felt flattered and maybe beige flags but still, like…he has never once said or done anything out of line. He’s been so patient and great and just. I am literally sitting here in shock.

I even cried a little bit because I just feel?? Extremely violated?? And it’s just so out there and strange and I don’t know what to do. I just needed somewhere to vent. I feel like I have to block him, but now I’m wondering it he’s capable of anything else? I use a VPN and haven’t given him any information that could dox me. And, also thank God that I use a separate account to RP with.

Should I just ghost him? Should I confront him? Should I just block? Should I change my RP account completely? Has this happened to anyone else before? 😭 If anyone has any advice, I will surely take it…

BLOCK HIM. REPORT HIM.

I wouldn’t confront. I would remove yourself entirely from that situation and prioritise your safety.

Please anybody add advice. The mods here are more than happy to try and help the anon if they want to contact us in DMs.

[fangirl-writes]

Ghosts

Steven Crain x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): canon-level things: death, drinking, swearing, etc.

Notes: My yearly re-watch of this show reminded me that I'm in love with Steven Crain. So...have this.

Summary: You’re Steven’s wife, someone who, not dissimilar to his siblings, can feel the supernatural- sorry, the "preternatural". Turns out you’re about to feel a lot.

It’s the books on the shelf that make Steven grimace.

The entire collection of his books are sitting neatly on the top shelf, “Crain” staring at him in big letters on the spine.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I was a fan,” Irene says.

He tries not to hold it against her, but the truth is that it’s hard.

He’s run into it before, a fan trying to slip their way into his books through made up stories or things they’ve convinced themselves they’ve seen.

Things he never has.

“That’s my favorite, the first one,” she says.

The Haunting of Hill House lies in Steven’s hands, the chapter book of family trauma that got his work off the ground.

“Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone at Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes at her perfect quotation.

“I can’t imagine what it was like living there,” she says, not catching the way his express has soured slightly. “The most famous haunted house in America.”

“In fairness,” he says, almost bitterly. “It wasn’t famous when we moved in.”

Memories long repressed peak towards the front of Steven’s mind, but more specifically that night…the last night.

So, he says, “besides, you’ve got me beat.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you actually saw your husband hanging upside down over your bed, you’ve seen more than I ever have. I’ve never seen a ghost.”

He slides Hill House back in its place on Irene’s shelf.

“But your books?” She questions, a wrinkle in her brow.

“Not in Arlington, Denvers, Alcatraz,” he gestures dismissively at the rest of the set. “On the Queen Mary or in Williamsburg. And not in Hill House.”

Irene seems taken aback by this, like someone had just told her her favorite love song was written by someone who’d never been in love.

“The way you write, I just assumed-“

“Other people’s stories,” Steve clarifies quickly. “People like you, Irene. I give them the right voice, that’s all.”

The creak of the front door opening distracts them from the conversation and you step through the door.

“Sorry!” You chirp. “It was open and I didn’t want to disturb the interview.”

“That’s all right,” Steven says. “We’re finished up with that part.”

You nod, walking over and handing him a folder that he thanks you for before sliding it into his bag.

“This must be your infamous wife,” Irene says.

“Oh, yes,” Steven replies, sliding his hands into his pants pockets as he stands back up. “Follows me to every house. Heck, she’s half my research team…I’m the other half.”

Irene chuckles politely and you smile at him.

“Y/N,” you say to her, offering a hand.

“Irene,” she replies, taking it lightly.

Your smile is soft but bright and Steve’s mood is brought back up by your mere presence.

“Well, I hope tonight is a game changer for you,” Irene says, directing her attention back to him.

“How so?”

“Maybe my Carl will finally give you a story of your own,” she says. “You were one of his favorite writers so maybe that’s the reason…for all this.”

You easily see the pessimism rising in your husband’s eyes as he turns his gaze to the ground and sighing before answering.

“You know, I can tell you one thing about Hill House that isn’t in the book.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Irene replies, eagerly moving forward to listen more intently.

You wander around the house, eyes scanning over everything, just as Steven had done minutes prior.

“All those years trying to understand what happened in that house, you know what I never found?”

Your fingers trace over a picture frame, Carl’s photo placed behind the glass.

“A reason.”

Setting the frame back down, you ask, “Irene, may I take a look at the bedroom before he gets set up?”

“Certainly,” she says.

“Thank you.”

Once you’ve made your way up the stairs and out of earshot, Irene speaks again.

“I have to ask,” she says, making Steven look up from his notebook. "Has she ever been to-"

“No.” He replies, harsher than he meant. “No…never that house.”

It's not that he's hiding anything from you, on the contrary, you probably knew more about it than anyone who'd read the book.

And while Steven doesn't believe in ghosts, he believes in you.

After growing up with siblings who are...open to certain things, he took you in stride.

You had a particular ability to know when a place has ghosts. Similar to Theo, you could feel it.

Steven wonders if it was one of the reasons you were drawn to each other in the first place. As if you could feel the ghosts from his past haunting him.

That's why he'd never take you to Hill House, even if you asked.

Because if it was as haunted as his family swears it is, he couldn't expose you to that. It would eat you alive.

"How are your brothers and sisters doing? I wondered since the book..." Irene asks.

His phone rings. It's Nell.

"You know who I wish would write a book? Your dad."

Slightly annoyed, he declines the call.

Upstairs, your eyebrows are furrowed.

You can feel a sort of tugging in your lower belly, like it's asking you to leave the house. To follow wherever the string wants to take you.

It's not Irene's house. It's something else.

“Anything?” Steven asks, making you jump. "Sorry."

You wave a hand. "Nothing…well, not nothing. I can feel the grief in the walls, the bones are aching."

“I’m using that,” he teases, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“I have no doubt. You get your best material from me.”

Steve smiles and kisses you, warmly, and for one moment everything slips away.

His family issues, his trauma never put to rest, the haunting in the back of his mind. It all fades into the background as he takes you in.

Then his phone rings.

It's Shirley, this time, apparently Nell had called her, too.

"I know you don't need me to tell you this, but literally everything is an emergency with Nell," Steven says, adjusting his equipment.

You're sitting on Irene's bed and frown at him.

He gives you a look that reads, 'come on, you know I'm right.'

You get up and leave the room, making Steven huff.

"I know," Shirley says on the other end. "But she sounded rough."

"Shirl-"

"Rougher than usual," Shirley protested. "She said it was about Luke."

"Call Luke."

"I did, straight to voicemail."

"All right, then he sold his phone for cash, or he's still in rehab. Which means we stay out of it."

"Okay-" he sighs. "I can't deal with this right now, I'm working."

"Yeah?" Shirley says, bitterly. "You working?"

Steven stands up. "That's right, Shirl. Something else you wanna add?"

"Fine." Shirley bites. "I'll just handle it shall I? That's why everybody dumps their shit on me, isn't it, Steve? Cause I'm the oldest, it's my job."

Steven looks down, getting increasingly annoyed.

"Oh. Wait. That's you."

"Fine," Steven replies. "I'll handle-"

The dial tone rings in his ear.

"Jesus."

"Tea?"

Steven turns to Irene in the doorway, she's holding two mugs full of, obviously, tea. You're just behind her with your own mug.

"Sure," Steven says, thankful to have the distraction.

"So," she starts. "Does this stuff capture the supernatural?"

"Here we go," you say with a smile, passing Irene to take up an arm chair in the corner.

Irene gives a confused and curious look.

"Don't believe in that word," Steven supplies. "Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"

Irene points to the left and he moves his equipment accordingly before continuing.

"Talking about the word itself, supernatural," he begins. "There's natural phenomena that we understand and then there's natural phenomena that we don't."

He pops the lens cap off his camera.

"Primitive humans used to die of fright during an eclipse, they had no idea what it was. The eye of an angry god, an evil spirit."

"A sign the world was ending," you add, smiling at Irene, who seems to be growing more and more weary as Steven's explanation went on.

"Nothing supernatural about it though," he continues. "Once we understood what it was, well, it was just natural."

Steven stands up, grabbing the mug and sitting himself next to his laptop on the bed. "I prefer preternatural. Natural phenomena that we don't quite understand, yet."

"Makes him sound pretentious, doesn't it?" You ask, smirking.

Steven sends you a playful glare and Irene laughs.

"So does it capture that?"

You tend to Irene after that, taking her into her kitchen to talk about Carl as Steve gets more of his equipment from the car.

You can see him just out of the window, talking to who you suspect to be Luke's rehab center.

And then that feeling it back, that tugging. It's so distracting that it's hard for you to focus on your conversation with Irene.

Thankfully, Steve comes back in the house as a momentary distraction, allowing the feeling to dissipate if only for a second.

You throw a quick, "Got everything?" to him and replies with a "yeah!"

"Sorry," you turn back to Irene. "What were you saying?"

She leaves to stay at a friend's not long after that, trusting you and Steve to watch over her house. And, even though she didn't mention anything, you made sure to let her know you'd be sleeping in her guest room.

You did another walk through afterwards, running your hands along her walls, taking in the pictures that were hung around, the magnets on the fridge, getting a feel for who Irene was, what remnants of Carl she kept around besides his picture.

Something that could be calling him back to the house.

You found some things; an old pocket watch on a shelf, a classic car catalog on the counter. Things that someone wouldn't remember to get rid of after their owner was gone.

A picture of Irene and Carl together almost brings tears to your eyes. You can't imagine losing Steven in any way, especially not in such a horrific way as Carl...or Olivia Crain.

Having a suddent need to hug your husband, you ascend the stairs towards Irene's room.

"I told you there's no reason you and I need to talk," Steven said. "You don't just get to call me and tell me what to do."

You frown. You can't hear the response from the other end, but it's not a friendly call.

"Dad," he says and you let out a small 'ah' to yourself. ' "I'm not-"

He stops and removes the phone from his face, scoffing. "Even home right now."

You stand in the doorway as he sets the phone to the side, contemplation on his face.

"Something about Nell again?" You ask, gently.

He turns to you with a small shrug. "You know Nell."

You nod. "I do. But if you're dad's calling too, on top of Shirley-"

"Nellie's just got something in her head is all," Steven assures. "My dad can go running to her side if he wants, but there's no reason for me to upend this trip because Nell is worried about Luke."

The animosity in his voice is clear.

Steven hadn't gotten along with his family in a while, his father even longer.

You'd barely met the man, though he'd been at every wedding, including yours. You supposed Steve liked it better that way.

No need for his crazy and your crazy to mix.

As if taking your silence as permission, Steven knelt down and began setting up his laptop for the night, the infrared camera showing everything as it usually would. Orange bed, blue wall.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he said, walking over to you, taking one of your hands in his. "We'll check on her in the morning, okay?"

You sighed, brushing his hair out of his face. "Okay."

He kissed your forehead. "Let's both get some sleep. Maybe I'll see my first ghost tonight."

"Wouldn't that be something?"

Steven huffed a laugh. "Yeah, yeah it would."

You squeezed his hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He let your hand drag out of his as you left the room, missing you already. And then he went to lay down.

And woke up at 12:03 a.m. with a gasp, a choking feeling in his throat.

Something that woke you, a floor down, as well.

Bleary eyed, you peered into the darkness as it adjusted, not sure why you were suddenly conscious. And gasped.

In front of you was the dark silhouette of a woman...with a crooked neck.

Nellie immediately came to mind.

You'd spoken at length with her about the "bent-neck lady" that often haunted her.

The chill that ran up your spine making you understand the fear she'd carried for the figure all these years.

Then it was gone, as if in the blink of an eye, leaving an empty room before you.

And the honking of a horn to scare you straight out of bed. You put a hand to your chest and closed your eyes.

Okay, you didn't feel anything different. No presence above you (Carl) or in front of you (bent-neck lady), just the same as before, a house working through the grief of its inhabitant.

You opened your eyes to a knock on the door and Steven came in, "Hey. The horns wake you up?"

Knowing he wouldn't want to have the conversation now, you just nodded.

What Steve didn't know couldn't hurt him.

He sat down on the bed next to you. "It wasn't anything. There's a leak in her ceiling that's dripping water. And the cars outside, well, there must've been a stop sign removed. It was all a nightmare."

"Not to her," you whispered, laying back down.

Steven sighed, laying down next to you. "I know. But isn't this explanation more peaceful? Knowing it wasn't real?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes seeing things like that are how people work through their grief. Ask Theo about it."

He laughed at that. "Yeah, I'm sure Dr. Crain would be thrilled to teach me a lesson."

You shook you head at him, tugging on his arm when he tried to move. "Stay."

Obeying his wife, Steven laid back down and wrapped you in his arms.

Already, you felt safer. And so did he. Like when you were together it was a buffer to everything else.

Whether that was a good thing or not, well, you supposed would be answered with time.

As you suspected, Irene wasn't happy with Steve's explanation, but she understood what he was saying.

"Better than never seeing him again" really resonated and she told you as such when he was putting his equipment back in the car.

So, he signed her copy of Hill House and thanked her for her time.

The book haunted him as much as the house, it seemed. When he presented the manuscript to Shirley she'd responded with a less than polite "what the fuck, Steve."

The anger in that room had lasted for a whole week, not to mention Steve stewing on it himself for nearly that long after. He was never not going to publish it, but he'd be damned if he didn't know what it would cost him.

It effectively burned his relationship with Shirley, something that neither side had made an effort to rebuild.

"I'll write your story," Steven said to Irene. "It's a good story. I researched your house; did you know that it was used as a hospice briefly in the 60s?"

"I didn't," Irene replied, watching as Steven stood to put his coat on.

"I'd like to talk to you some more about your marriage, get some background on Carl. Who he was, who you both were. That's what matters really."

Irene looks at him with curious, almost sad eyes.

"I'll need to take some liberites," he continues. "I always do, but I promise to be respectful. He was a fan. I'll do it in a way he would've really liked."

That doesn't seem to be what Irene is concerned about, though. She says, "you really didn't see anything?"

He smiles at her sadly. He wishes he did. God, he wishes he did.

But instead, he says his goodbye, promises to call her about the interview later, and meets you outside in the car.

You'd been awfully quiet since the night before, noticably tired, like something was weighing on your mind.

"The grief in the house get to you?" Steven asks on the drive home.

"Made me think about how awful it must be," you reply. "To lose a loved one like that."

He catches the way you're talking about multiple things. The subtle hint to his mom. He admires the way you can dig into people like that, but that doesn't mean he likes it when you do it to him.

"You wanna try to call Nell?" He says, changing the subject.

You nod, pulling out your phone to press her contact and putting it on speaker.

It rings for a while and then goes to voicemail.

"Strange," you comment.

"No answer?" Steve asks.

"No. And usually she picks right up."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand. "I'm sure she's fine. You know how Nell is, she probably just missed your call and will be hitting you back any minute."

"I don't know," you mutter. "Something feels...off."

Before he got a chance to ask about that, a call from his publisher, Richard, came through.

He answered. "Hey!"

"See any ghosts?"

You almost laugh.

"I've got a title," Steve says instead. "The Leaking of Walker Roof."

"Anything useful?"

You tune the conversation out, staring at Nell's contact in your phone, wishing for it to ring.

And that tugging feeling was back, like someone was tugging on the invisible string again.

"You know what I could really sell, though?"

"Hanging up now."

You tune back in just to catch the last bit of conversation, Steve's nerves immediately on edge again.

"People wanna know where you guys are these days," Richard says.

"No way, Richard" Steve replies.

"None of your other sales ever topped Hill House," Richard says. "There's so much interest. I mean your dad, your siblings, what the hosue looks like today."

You couldn't help but wonder yourself. About the house, of course. You probably kept more up with Steven's siblings than he did.

"Eh, it looks like shit," Steve mumbles.

"It would sell," Richard says.

There's a silence.

It's so prevelant you begin to wonder if he's actually considering it.

"Not interested," he finally says.

"Just think about it? Please?"

Steven reluctantly agrees before hanging up, slotting you two back into silence for a moment.

"It's not that I don't want to," he says, suddenly. "It's just...that house. It tore my family apart. Then I tore it apart more when I published that book, I just- I can't. I can't do it again."

It's your turn to take his hand and squeeze it.

"I know," you say.

Your magic touch seems to help because he takes a deep breath and relaxes.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"For what?"

He shrugs. "Everything, I guess. That I'm so negative all the time. That I'm failing as a writer. That...that we can't have kids."

The last bit hits you.

You'd had the conversation a long time ago, before you got married, but it still was one of those things that you'd never been able to really talk about again without one of you feeling guilty or angry.

"Well, I forgive you for all those things. And I love you anyway."

By the time you guys get back to your house in L.A., it's dark and you are both tired.

You share the weight of the luggage and equipment and then freeze before you could get to the house.

Because there, standing guiltily on your front porch, was Luke.

He was holding an ipad and a camera.

"Hi Luke," Steven says, in an almost dejected, but not surprised, tone.

"Hi Steve," Luke replies. "Y/N."

You smile at him sadly. "Whatcha doing here, Luke?"

You'd only met Luke a handful of times. He was always in and out of trouble or rehab. He was one of the few siblings you hadn't been able to bond with...well, minus Shirley after the book.

"This isn't what it looks like," he says, tripping over his words and shivering.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks.

It's guilty. He knows it. But he's honest. "Yeah."

Steven sighs, setting down his share of the equipment. "I'll tell you what. I got, let's see...200 bucks here. You hand me that iPad and you can keep the cash and sell that old camera."

You don't like it. It feels like Steve's enabling him, but there's no alternative. He'd just run if you tried to take it, leave if you offered for him to stay. You'd been through it all with Luke.

Which is why the dejection and exhaustion is evident in Steve's voice. "I need the iPad. It stays here."

It's a fair bargain. One that Luke takes as he comes down the steps of your porch to stand eye-to-eye with his brother.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"I know," Steve replies.

They trade, the cash for the iPad.

"It really isn't what you think," Luke insists, eyes passing between you and Steven.

"Good."

And then he's gone.

He hands you the old camera, pockets the cash, and takes off down the street.

You and Steven watch him go.

"Believe him?" Steven asks.

"You know, somehow, I do," you reply.

"Good," he says again, picking the equipment back up and putting an arm around you. "Let's just get inside."

The door's already unlocked, Luke knew where you kept the spare key even when you moved it for the hundreth time, and Steven walks into the dark house first.

He moves to turn on a light and jumps, startled. "Thanks. I needed a good scare."

You’re frozen at the doorway, paralyzed with that sinking feeling.

“Steve,” you manage to choke out, but he doesn’t hear you; he’s engrossed in conversation with-

"Dad send you here?" You hear the clatter of him setting the bags on the floor. "I tried to tell him we weren't home. Did you bring Luke here?"

Your heart is pounding, the sound filling your ears.

"You just stood there and watched him loot me? Christ, Nell."

No. No, no, no, no, no. Not Nell. Please not Nell. You just tried to talk to her. Just that day.

"So, you hit up everybody, drag Luke out, make dad hop on a plane, make Y/N crazy with worry. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Steven sighs at the lack of response.

"Fine." he says. "You got us all listening, what do you want? What's so damn important, Nell?"

His phone rings and your shaking, trying to move but it's like your having sleep paralysis standing up. You're frozen.

"Shit, I didn't give him the address," Steven says, answering the phone. "Hey, I tried to tell you we're-"

There's rough static on the other end and Steve's eyebrows furrow. "Dad? I can't hear you."

"Did you hear me? it's about Nell."

"I know, I just walked in and she's, uh-"

"Nell's running."

Steven huffs. "Shocking."

"She wasn't in L.A., she was at the house. She was at...the house."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s dead... She’s dead.”

The tears spill over your eyes before you even realized they'd been welling up.

You try to call Steven’s name again but you can’t even open your mouth before Nellie is screaming and you’re hitting the floor, the world going black.

The only sound that echoes through the house is Steven’s heavy breathing and his dad's voice echoing from his phone.

"Steve?...Steve?...Steve?"

[hurricanek8art]

Okay, I don't know what's going on with Tumblr and everything has been absolute chaos with my life the past few months, so y'know what, screw it. I think I'm actually brave enough to share some of my art. At least it won't just be sitting on my tablet that way.

This is my Sith Inquisitor turned Force-sensitive Outcast from SWTOR, Roodaka Greatstorm-Kallig. I haven't really plotted everything out with her regarding her story, but she's not my Outlander. She leaves the Empire right after Ziost, after losing all of the family she'd used her Dark Council connections to find and save from slavery, and Lana recruits her to help Sana-Rae run the Enclave about two years before the Outlander (my Knight Aja Verdona) is rescued. She's prickly and petty and spiteful but I love her dearly. And because I've never posted art before, art process and a little bit of character lore ramble under the cut, I guess?

I usually work with lined art/sketches that are admittedly very messy, but when I did the first one back in May I was experimenting with actually rendering/painting, and I saw a fashion post thing that looked like something Roo would wear, so I was mostly just playing around, it's not a solid outfit design for her. It's janky and wonky and oh Lord please don't look closely at the anatomy or face it is not up to my usual standards, but I was so proud of myself for the lighting on this one, as well as how I managed to render the muscle. Like, the lighting! I have no idea what I'm doing but I think it looks so flipping good! And I was happy with how the crackly lightsaber blade turned out—it is supposed to be Aloysius Kallig's lightsaber, meaning it's at least over a thousand years old, right? It should be a little janky with age!

The second one is supposed to be post Fallen Empire, after she's left the Sith and become sort of a wandering Force-user—think Ahsoka as of, well... Ahsoka, but more on the side of Ventress if she'd survived TCW (don't get me started on that choice 🙄🙄🙄). I came into it knowing a little more of what I was doing, but I kinda got in over my head and gave up on the 100% lineless thing, you can definitely tell with the sword/clothes. 🥴 The second piece has been sitting unfinished in my WIP folder for months, so I just said screw it, finished up some details and called it because I am SO PROUD of her face and hands (I DREW A GOOD HAND WITHOUT LINEART WHO AM I?!?!) and how I rendered her skin, I don't want it to live in WIP purgatory forever. You can actually tell that's muscle! And a neck!

I'm proud of how her tattoos turned out, too. I played around with Cham Syndulla's tattoo pattern, turning it at different angles. It felt like a good way to root her in Twi'lek culture despite the Kallig bloodline having been separated from it for so long. She gets the first one to cover up a slave tattoo, and the rest after Ziost to further reclaim her identity and culture, leaving the Sith behind.

I have no idea how to close this post. Um... thanks for reading all this, if you have? I've never posted art before, I'm kinda terrified. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[elismor]

For the fic ask game: 🍡?

@cacodaemonia asked this one as well, so I'm combining the answer.

🍡 Which of your fics was the most emotionally difficult to write?

It's a tie between So Eden Sank to Grief (Fives mourning Echo) and a longfic that is not done and may never be.

So Eden Sank to Grief was written in direct response to someone on tumblr wanting to see clones mourning one another and 5 months after I lost my beloved horse to a broken leg. I tapped directly into my own grief for it and it was cathartic, but also very difficult.

I started the long fic right after the Kenobi series finished airing and did it as a sort of tribute to my fandom friend Alex, who passed away a couple of years ago. We bonded over prequel Obi-Wan in 2002 when we met and spent so many hours talking about how great a series or movie that focused on him would be. It was a gut punch to hear that one was coming out after she was gone.

The story is about an OC jedi who was a friend of OWs and how she dealt with the aftermath of the purge, thinking him dead along with the rest of the jedi, and how they find one another again in a plot that runs alongside the one of the Kenobi series. There is a character that is meant to be Alex (of a sort) because I wanted her to be able to experience it, somehow. And writing it was both joyful and...a stark reminder that part of friendship is loss. So it's sitting in a folder on my gdrive and I have actually been thinking about returning to it, lately. But I just haven't managed to pull that off yet.

Thank you both for asking. I hope I didn't bum you out with my answer.

The list is here if anyone else wants to ask or play.

[unfriendlyamazon]

by any other name (pirate au)

y'all are getting all sorts of things out of my archives but talking to @alectoperdita reminded me of this pirates au i've had sitting in a folder for a long time and i wrote this silly little piece just to kind of play with crew dynamics i guess

no warnings just a silly little scene and this takes place after joey and seto have begun a relationship (and if you like pirates you can read my kaijou scene from my au project a few years back)

It’d been an industrious morning for the crew of the Summoned Skull. Ammunitions weighed and secured, cargo stacked, deck swabbed, and the ship drifted through the open Atlantic, winds carrying half-filled sails south along the coast. A lazy afternoon sun made the brass and wood too hot to work over. Even the terrifying skull faced visage protruding from the bow seemed to wilt beneath the sunlight. Seto lounged on the stairs of the quarterdeck and scraped his sword across the whetstone, enjoying the satisfying metal sound of his work. Beneath him, first mate Wheeler had dropped down onto the steps and swept his fingers through his sweat soaked mop of hair. It distracted Seto momentarily, but he kept his hand steady. Their quartermaster Miss Gardner had stopped her work as well to lean against one of the barrels that Tristan had been trying to move, forcing him to slump against the ocean stained wood. Their surgeon Bakura had taken to lounging on the floor as Duke braided his hair. If the captain minded such a lazy show, he didn’t say anything at all from where he stood at the wheel of the ship. Seto’s eyes drew up to Captain Atem, whose eyes were on the distant horizon. Even in the shining sun, without moonlight or the red of a burning ship reflecting in his eyes, he still managed to live up to the name the Shadow King.

And then, Seto���s cold and calculated tongue said without much thought, “Why does he get a nickname?”

The gathered paused in consideration. Tea shrugged her shoulders and said, “He’s a pirate captain. It comes with the territory.”

“Shadow King’s a little dramatic,” Seto said with a furrowed brow.

Joey huffed out a laugh and dropped his head back to smile up at him. “Like you don’t know anything about that.”

“I only mean,” he said, sliding the stone across the blade, “it seems a little silly for him to be the only one. You’re all pirates as well.”

“You are too,” Duke reminded him. They finished the first braid and twined a red ribbon to cap it with a bow. “I’ve already got everyone calling me Duke Devlin. Hard to come up with a better name than that.”

“It does roll off the tongue,” Ryou said. “I’ve heard several crew members refer to me as the Ghost.”

“I started that,” Joey admitted, raising a hand. “It’s only because you were so quiet when we first took you on.”

“That and you look like a ghost,” Tristan said.

“Fair,” murmured Ryou.

"Joey was Iron Hands on our last crew," Tristan said.

“Only because I beat a man to death with my bare hands one time,” he said. “I don’t make a habit of it.”

“Mad Eyes Wheeler is a better name for him,” Tea said, and she flexed her own biceps in a strong man pose. “I think Tristan would be the Hammer. You hit hard and strong and also you use hammers.”

“I like that,” he said. “Duke’s Duke, obviously, we’ve got Mad Eyes and the Ghost–”

“Hey,” Joey protested, and Tristan ignored him.

“And the lord would be something like Two Blades Kaiba,” he finished.

Seto’s stone slid off the blade. “Why is that the best you can come up with?”

“No, it makes sense,” Joey said. “You carry two swords.”

“Everyone here has a sword,” Seto said.

“And you’ve got two of them,” Tea said. “The logic stands.”

Seto ground his teeth together. “It’s not the most dynamic name.”

“Pirates don’t tend to be very creative,” Ryou lamented. “You’ll note the characters of Blackbeard and Calico Jack are best known for having a black beard, and wearing calico clothes.”

“Mai!” Tea called as the lady herself crossed the deck. “Do you have a pirate name?”

She peered up at them, purple lips pursed, and then she tossed her blond hair over her shoulder as she struck a pose. “They call me Lady Valentine.”

“See,” Duke said. “She gets it. Pick a name that everyone wants to say.”

“Shouldn’t you scags be working?” she called and started up the steps. “Is this the example you set for this crew?”

“We’ve done most of the work,” Joey said with a wave of his hand. “We’re coming up with a pirate name for the lord.”

“Oh, is that all.” Mai stood in front of them, pinching her chin with her thumb, and her eyes narrowed in on Seto. “Have you tried Two Blades?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Seto groaned. He sliced his sword forward, eying down the blade. “It should be something good. Like the Blue Devil.”

Joey snorted out a laugh. “Because you wear a lot of blue?”

“It’s a gentleman’s color,” Mai said. “What about Mad Eyes? He’s got a crazed look half the time.”

“Joey called it,” Tea said.

He cut her a glare. “I didn’t call it.”

“You could be Black Dragon,” Ryou piped up. “Because of the tattoo.”

“Why does he get to be a dragon?” Seto asked, letting his blade drop.

Joey laid back onto the stairs. “You said you didn’t want a tattoo.”

“I think these names have to come naturally,” Tristan said. “You can’t force everyone to start calling you the Blue Devil.”

“Depends how stabby you’re feeling,” Mai said. “But then you just get a name like Stabs.”

“That’s a good name for Duke,” Tea said with a finger snap.

“Then how does he,” Seto said, gesturing vaguely above him, “end up with a name like ‘the Shadow King’?”

Mai twirled her finger in a turn around motion, and when Seto turned his head he jolted back. The captain sat just behind him, crouched forward on the quarterdeck steps, kohl covered eyes staring straight at him. Strands of coiled hair were kept back out to show off his wild eyes and shark’s grin.

“Because I am sneaky,” he said, warm North African accent burning the edges of his words, “and I am quick, and I make people kneel.”

Seto didn’t flinch his gaze from his, and Atem stared him down a heartbeat longer before rocking back onto the seat and laughing loudly. Seto considered he’d spent too much time in this crew, getting to know them as people, that sometimes he forgot about the shadows that attacked his ship and the fire that lit behind them.

“Names come with time,” the captain promised and offered a hearty pat to Seto’s back. “We’ll all hear of the legend of the Blue Devil someday. Now, Miss Gardner.”

She stood straight as he snapped his fingers, and cleared her throat before bellowing out, “What are you doing lazing around here? Get to work, scags!”

They scrambled up to their feet as she thumped the barrel, and Mai made a hard turn back to her work. Joey grabbed Seto’s wrist and pulled him onto the deck, head back laughing as he dragged him off to their stations. Tea’s thumping sent a few more people scattering.

“Alright, Blue Devil,” Joey said. “Back to work it is.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Seto groaned. “All those names are so stupid.”

“I think it might be how you sell it,” he said. He reached up to pinch his cheek, and Seto caught his hand before he could. He brought his hand up, kissing the bruised knuckle, before releasing him.

“Keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” he said and with a smirk added, “Mad Eye.”

Joey yanked his hand away with an eye roll despite the red warming his cheeks. It was satisfying, at least, that he had no response as he stalked off to his own duties. Perhaps those silly names did serve a purpose after all. He’d have to see what else he could come up with, in his own time.

[vanillahigh00]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you for tagging me @hgejfmw-hgejhsf! and @stereopticons! 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

371,166 (I have a couple really long ones)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Want Candy [firstprince, 4.5k, T]

I'll Always Catch Your Glance [David/Patrick 13.5k, M]

You're So Hot That I Melted [David/Patrick 4k, G]

The Ocean Brought Me To You [David/Patrick 39k, M]

If You Asked Me To [David/Patrick 11k, E]

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

100%... may just take me a bit of time.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

TBD.... No comment...

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmm... subject to change this year if I can some of the contents of my WIP folder, but for now I will leave you with because D and P don't start off on friendly terms... I'd Do It All For You [David and Patrick 75k, E]

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not opposed, but an idea to do so hasn't crossed my mind.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have not luckily.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't do it often. I find it very challenging to make sure body parts are doing what they should be doing and what I'm picturing in my head is translating on paper. I wouldn't say I have a kind of smut I've written? If someone has another thought on this, I'm interested in the answer.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be so cool!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! The Purrrrrfect Gift with @edie4711

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

David/Patrick was my first love, but firstprince is trying to worm their way in.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Never say never. Until I'm 6 feet under there's always a chance... Gee that sounded dark.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I can put the ideas together... brainstorm ideas...

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Word choice and confidence.

I will sit there and debate about word choice. I tend to tell versus show I'm working on improving this, but I drive myself crazy reformulating sentences to show versus tell.

I will then sit there anxious once I hit the submit button.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Kind of terrifies me that I'll translate incorrectly.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Schitt's Creek

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I haven't been inspired to write for a new ship.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Well... asking me to pick a fic is like asking me to pick my favorite child and as hard as my kiddos try to get me to claim them as my favorite, I tell them over and over that I will never do that. lol.

So...here's a variety of fics instead that I haven't already mentioned:

The Way He Looked Was Way Beyond Compare [David/Patrick 4k, G] High School Themed. One of my favorite tropes to write.

He's Already Family [David/Patrick 1800, G] D and P's relationship from Clint's POV. Never enough Clint and Marcy Brewer in fic.

Just To Be With You [David/Patrick 5k, T] David and Patrick just want to be alone, but Ray loves to chat.

Lucky To Linger In Your Life [David/Patrick 10k, M] Patrick takes David home for Marcy's birthday before they start dating.

Tagging the following who likely already did this and if you did, I'm sorry?

@hippolotamus @apothecarose @chelle-68 @dinnfameron @demora00 @designatedgrape @hullomoon @indestructibleheart @jettestar @jesuisici33 @leofdaeg-sand @lizzie-bennetdarcy @missgeevious @mudbloodpotter05 @ohhhelloyou @obsessedwithdavrick @statueinthestonetoo @themelancholyvegetable @thinkof-england @this-is-bwr @sspaz1000 @seadeepy @trueillusion82 @vamprayne @wi22iou

[swearyshera]

Thursday asks, part one

There's a limit somewhere, and I think Catra would have been very interested in finding out what that was until the whole reformat thing.

@bike-gremlin Catra thinking out loud there

@tom90deg By all means give it a try! It's also a little more tricky because the resolution of the images changes a couple of times. Once I've finished the series, if you remind me, I'll share the entire folder (won't do it just yet because spoilers!)

He does everything homophobicly

Honestly, no, it didn't suck. Again, I don't know whether it happened to be luck, or the specific church, but religion seemed to be more of a social event/obligation. We went to Church every Sunday, when I was at infant school we went on Wednesday afternoons as well, but it didn't have a huge presence in our lives - I think saying grace before a meal was about the sum total of it.

I live in an area that has a pretty high proportion of old people (a third of the population is over 60) and that was reflected in the congregation. To me, looking back at my experience now, it seems like the social aspect of going to Church was a big factor for people - after the service, we'd go to another building and everyone would spend an hour catching up over tea and coffee. Not to say that socialising was the only reason anyone went to church there, everyone believed in the teachings and did their best to follow them.

But largely, religion was just there. It wasn't used (at least in my family) as a threat, no "God is watching, behave!" or "You'll go to Hell if you do that", nor did it really get used as encouragement - again, we didn't have "You should do this because God will be happier". Maybe that's because of the whole Catholic "You're all shit people, but if you pray enough, God will let it slide when you die" ethos (note: it has been many, many years since I went to Church; that may not be entirely accurate).

My general memory of going to Church is one of seeing people and socialising. I remember bits of how the services went, often the stuff that I guess would seem weird to people - the balls of incense that the priest would swing about, the incessant kneeling (when you came in, there were leaflets about when to sit, stand and kneel) and the call and response stuff. Even a good 20 years on, I can still reel off a 'May the Lord be with you; And also with you; We lift up our hearts; We lift them up to the Lord; It is right to give him thanks and praise' without thinking too hard.

I don't, generally, have a negative view of religion. Obviously, I know there are some people who use religion to harm others in so many different ways, but I know plenty of people for whom it provides comfort and helps them. Horde Prime very much fits into the first category.

[a-cup-of-fantasy]

so, as the next couple chapters for my main @smvillainsweek fic are going to take a while for me to finish, here's a bonus snippet for the free day (though it still fits under the theme of corruption) that takes place between the second and third chapters.

I actually wrote this like a year and a half ago, and it's been sitting in my giant folder of sailor moon wips, and I thought now would be an appropriate point to share it, to tumblr at least. I may post it to ao3 eventually, idk.

(edit: I have now posted it to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50676811)

it's a short kunzoi piece, with implied/fade to black sex, but nothing at all explict. hope you enjoy!

Zoisite marched into their rooms in a huff, only to sigh as he entered to see Kunzite pouring over papers at the table there. “You’re still at it? You promised you’d be done for the day hours ago.” 

There was no response.

“Kunzite?” 

He walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. At the touch, Kunzite whirled around, with his fingers just beginning to spark with the light of a spell and his eyes a dull grey, unfocused. “Hey, it’s just me! All I did was say hi—you’re not usually this jumpy.”

Kunzite’s eyes widened as he took in what was before him. He shook his head. “I’m sorry—I didn’t hear you come in. I must have been more absorbed in the work than I thought. What time is it?”

“Far past time for you to go get something to eat, if you’ve been sitting here since I left you.” Zoisite said, and he sighed, letting go of the snide tone. “Come on, I’m worried about you. You’ve been so stressed the past few days. And what are you even working on that’s got you like this, anyway?”

“I’m looking at the records of who and how many people have been entering the Earth from the Silver Millenium. There’s something—”

“Really? That’s what has got you so stressed you forgot we were supposed to have dinner together?”

“We were—oh shit. That was tonight, wasn't it.”

“Yes, yes it is. Why do you think I’m dressed up like this?” Zoisite turned around, showing off how the green silk of his shirt shimmered in the light, and how it highlighted the embroidery of the floral patterns he so loved. He stopped when he was facing away from Kunzite, and made as if to walk out the door. “Though, I suppose since you’re so occupied with your work, I may as well just leave you to it.”

Kunzite stood up from the desk and put his arms around him. “I’m sorry, love. I got caught up in this, and I completely forgot. Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

“I don’t know…” he said, but he broke off in a giggle when Kunzite began to press kisses to the back of his neck. 

“How about now?” 

Zoisite wanted to melt back into Kunzite’s touch, but he decided he’d play hard to get for a while longer. “I think it’ll take more than a few kisses to get me to forgive you for standing me up like that.”

“What about some pretty words then? Like how absolutely ravishing you look in that outfit, or how incredibly sorry I am to have left you on your lonesome for so long? Or, would you prefer me to get on my knees?” His words were punctuated by kisses, and one of his hands began to slide down Zoisite’s leg as he murmured into his ear.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, you flatterer.” Zoisite turned around and drew Kunzite into a long kiss. “I forgive you,” he said as he pulled away. “But, I’m still worried about you. You’ve hardly been doing anything but work the past few days, and I could have sworn you’d said you wouldn’t be as busy now as you had been recently. What’s going on?”

“Oh, forget about it for now.” Kunzite lifted Zoisite up in his arms and carried him to the bed. 

Zoisite frowned as Kunzite set him down. “I’m serious.”

“Fine. It’s the Moon, there’s something—” He stopped and sighed when he saw Zoisite’s blank stare. “You don’t see it.”

“You’re right, I don’t see it. I don't understand what it is that’s got you so worried.” He looked into Kunzite’s eyes, still the brilliant silver that he’d fallen in love with. “Just… just promise me that you’re okay?”

“I promise.” He started to undo the ties holding Zoisite’s shirt together. “Don’t worry, my love. It’ll be fine. I’m fine. Now, I think there is something far more enjoyable we could be doing, don’t you agree? ”

The caress of Kunzite’s hands on his skin thoroughly distracted Zoisite from his concerns and drove any worried thoughts from his mind, if only for a little while. For, as he lay in bed afterwards, with Kunzite’s strong arms around him, he couldn’t get rid of the sensation that was creeping up his spine, the unshakable feeling that something, somewhere, was going wrong.

[brendaonao3]

Clueless is one of my all time favourite Steve/Thor fics, it's such a fun read and I love the final realisation as it dawns on Steve just how dense he's been all this time, he and Thor make such a great pair in this universe!

Thank you SO SO much!!! I adore Clueless - I had the best time writing it <3

And, because I'll probably never get around to fleshing it out & finishing it, here's the (very very) rough draft/ideas I had for the sequel that's been sitting in my Docs folder for forever - enjoy!

Steve woke up with a large, familiar hand on his dick and Thor's erection pressed against the cleft of his ass – which was pretty much his idea of heaven. He shifted his hips, rubbing against Thor's cock, precome working as a makeshift lube, as Thor started to rock against him, jerking Steve off nice and slow as a counterpoint.  

(slow, sleepy morning sex - Thor's told Steve he had a gig that's supposed to take him to Baltimore for a few days, so this is to 'tide them over' - as if that's even possible) 

When Thor rolled Steve to his back, Steve grimaced. "Really?" he griped. "In the wet spot?"

Thor grinned, wolfish and wide. "In ten seconds, you won't care."

"Beg to disagr – oh fuck!"

Thor smirked around Steve's cock, then got right back to work. Steve grabbed two handfuls of Thor's hair and hung on for dear life.

(Thor then blows Steve when he's all fucked-out and blissful)

"You know, for someone who'd never been with a guy before me, you've taken to cock-sucking like you're getting a degree in it."

Thor grinned, and nipped at Steve's hip.  "What's this degree in, I wonder? Pleasuring Steve Rogers?"

"Maybe?"

"And would you be teaching this class?"

"I could be persuaded."

"In that case, I may have to go for my Master's degree.  And then my Doctorate."

"No objections here..." Steve groaned, head thumping back on the pillow as Thor's lips closed over one of his balls.

Nope, he had no objections to Thor's academic pursuits in the slightest.

***

(Bucky dragging him out for a drink)

"To keep you from sulking," Bucky said.

"I do not sulk," Steve replied, totally sulking.

"Sorry, pining like a lovestruck boyfriend who sleeps on the sofa when Thor is gone because the bed is, how'd you put it, too fucking big without him in it, is that better?"

"Remind me why I put up with you."

"Platonic lifemate," Bucky replied.  "And the BFF code never lies."

"Pretty sure it made a mistake in our case."

"Keep it up and I'm rescinding the offer of you being my kid's godfather."

"You don't have any –" Steve abruptly dropped his mug to the table with a dull thunk.  "Oh my fucking God, Buck, you and Maria are <i>not</i>."

"Fuck yeah we are." Bucky's grin was so dazzling it could probably be seen from space.  "Just coasted through the first trimester, you're the first person we've told outside my mom and hers."

"And your mom kept it a secret from me?" Steve asked.  "I'm insulted."

"Well, we only just told her two hours ago, if that makes you feel better."

"It does. Holy shit, Buck," Steve said, and reeled Bucky in for a hard, back-thumping hug.  "Holy <i>shit</i>! I'm gonna be an uncle! You're gonna be a <i>dad</i>!"

"I know, right?! Fucking crazy." Bucky still looked dazed, but also so lit up from within that it was like he was his own power source. "I mean, who would have ever thought I'd be husband material, let alone parent material."

"You're gonna be amazing," Steve replied, dropping his hand over Bucky's to squeeze his fist.  "You kept me out of trouble for almost 30 years, so I'd say you've got a ton of practice."

"Good point," Bucky conceded. "I swear, you gave me more white hairs than all three of my sisters combined."

"Don't say that anywhere near Becca, she'd take it as a personal challenge."

They both shuddered in unison. "Good point," Bucky said, and rapped on the wooden table for extra luck. Where Becca was concerned, it was needed.

Bucky making some excuse to say he's got to stop by his mom's for something - and Thor's there, with his mom and Steve's mom and all of Bucky's family and Maria and Darcy and Sam and Nat and Clint and Rhodey and Stark and Pepper and -

"What the hell is going on?" Steve asked, looking around the backyard.  "Is it someone's birthday?" He racked his brain, trying to remember if there was a party he'd forgotten, but came up blank. "Is your mom throwing a baby shower already..."

He trailed off as Thor came out of the house, wearing a very nice, form-fitting suit.  

and Steve's very confused - and horny, bc Thor in a suit - and then Thor drops to a knee and

"What the..." Steve managed, even though he had a really good idea about what was happening and <i>wow</i>, holy shit, holy...

"Steven Grant Rogers, I would very much like to spend the rest of my life waking up with you just like we have every morning for the last two years we've been dating. Will you do me the highest honor of marrying me?"

"Really?  You really want to get married?" Steve asked, aware his voice was shaking. "To me?"

"Right now, if you'll have me. You've always said you wanted a small wedding and a big party after."

Right now? All of a sudden, the gathering made so much more sense. The fact that Thor had been paying attention to Steve's ramblings, and had asked everyone here... 

"Yes," he breathed, his heart so full it was bursting. Behind Thor, Bucky pumped his fist and mock-whispered <i>Finally</i>, but Steve could barely hear it over the roaring in his ears.

"Yes?" Thor repeated, like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes," Steve said, surer this time.  "A lifetime waking up next to you sounds just about perfect."

(Bucky became an ordained minister just to officiate)

(Thor and Steve slow-dance after)

"See, I told you all of those dance lessons would come in handy."

"One dance lesson," Steve corrected.  "You gave me one lesson."

"Clearly you only needed one," Thor replied, leading Steve into a turn as easy as breathing.

[theghostpinesmusic]

Sabbatical Project Preface Draft (1/4)

So, I know I haven't been posting any trip reports or jam write-ups lately, and while I sincerely doubt the lack of my words is leaving a significant hole in your life, I wanted to explain why and share something slightly different in this post.

Basically, I've switched tacks within the last month from the "reading" phase of my sabbatical project to the "writing" phase, and while taking an hour of my day to write about something fun online after reading dense theory books for 4-6 hours became a welcome diversion over the last few months, taking an hour of my day to write about something fun online after already writing for 4-6 hours that day is...less welcome.

So, while I have lots of thoughts on my recent trips to the Deschutes River canyon and to the snowy rim of the Mountain Lakes caldera, and there are always more Goose jams to write about, all that stuff's been sitting in my Drafts folder for awhile because once I write for work all day I kind of just don't want to look at screens anymore.

That said, I thought it might be fun to share a bit of what I have been writing lately. I don't have a publisher for this project yet (and may never, who knows?) so there's no legal issue with sharing it for free...and it's just a first draft anyway. I have no idea if there will be a finished project (i.e., a full book) or if it will ever be published, but what I proposed for my sabbatical was that I finish a book proposal by the end of the year, and that typically includes an introduction and two example chapters. So I am writing at least that much, and hopefully carrying on beyond that from there.

For now, what I have is a sort of preface, laying out a little about me and where I'm coming from, including a few gestures toward what the book is going to be about. Again, this is a first draft, and it may well be that none of it will end up anywhere. But for now I'm happy with it and have moved on to working on the first chapter, which is about halfway done. I suppose I'll share that too once it's fit to be read.

I'm breaking the preface into four parts here, just in case anyone actually reads it and doesn't necessarily want to have to deal with one monster post containing all the text. So, here's the first part!

As I sit here at my desk, beginning to write the first draft of a preface for this book about summits and circumnavigations, lines and circles, I can’t help but be aware of one particular circle: Earth’s circle around the sun. My home office – a luxury born of necessity, back when COVID-19 shut down campuses but not classes – has one west-facing window, and there is a brief period of time every clear-weather day – longest in summer, nearly non-existent in winter – when the sun lifts itself above the roof of my neighbor’s house and shines through the maze of coleus standing rapt on my side of the window to heat the northwest corner of this room to an almost intolerable temperature. The air temperature on the bottom floor of my house is currently sixty-eight degrees, and the outside temperature is fifty-five. Out of curiosity, I put a small thermometer on the window sill, directly in the sunlight, and the mercury immediately jumps to almost ninety degrees.

Suffice to say that it’s difficult to sit here at four o’clock in the afternoon on a clear April day and not think about the sun. I am that seemingly rare person who would always rather be a little too cold than a little too hot, but I didn’t put my desk in this corner of the room as some idiosyncratic form of self-flagellation. I put it here initially, during COVID-19 lockdown, out of a conscious desire to be able to see the birds as they sang to welcome another spring, unknowingly, blessedly immune. Post-lockdown, I resumed doing most of my work on campus, but on the occasional day that I do work from home, I find that I enjoy having the sun to remind me of the Earth’s rhythms from the other side of the pane of glass that keeps me sealed in this human-made, climate-controlled room – a room that ostensibly exists to distract and protect me from those very same rhythms.

Today, as the sun shines in through the window, it heats up the wet dirt that my recently-watered coleus are growing in, and, briefly – until my nose becomes accustomed to it – the smell of humus fills the room. It’s a smell that has brought me comfort for as long as I can remember, dating back to my early childhood days in Ohio, playing in the backyard after summer rainstorms that you could almost set your watch by. I’d always imagined this to be an idiosyncratic reaction until I read Robin Wall Kimmerer’s beautiful book Braiding Sweetgrass thirty-five years after those first memories of rain and dirt and learned that the smell of humus releases oxytocin, “the same chemical that promotes bonding between mother and child, between lovers” (236). This is one of those wonderful facts that science can “teach” us but is really just reminding us of something we’ve known all along: of course we’re bonded to the Earth as we’re bonded to our mothers, our partners, our children: it’s the dirt that will embrace all of us last, and most finally, after all.

The very word “human” even reflects this truth, as it originates from the Proto-Indo-European root word “*dhghem-,” meaning “earth.” Thus, we literally call ourselves “earthlings,” people “of the earth,” and yet we still so easily forget the truth of something so elemental, so foundational to our existence on this planet as our relationship to dirt. And, as this corner of my office falls back into shade for another day, the Earth spinning me away from the sun, the sun spinning the Earth toward another Oregon spring – circles within circles – I find myself wondering, not for the first time: why?

[shadowbunnydragon]

Chapter 36 has been uploaded!

YAY! After a terrible heat wave, I am back and feelin' motivated to write! And… so I did! Here is the latest chapter of Found, for your reading pleasure! I hope you like it!

Found (Chapter 36)

by

ShadowBunnyDragon

Kirin was sitting at his fancy desk, scribbling out his signature on some forms, when the door to his office opened on the newly well-oiled hinges.

"Thank you for showing our guest in, Bandile," Kirin said, dismissing his bodyguard without looking up. His smile grew on his face as he heard the sheriff take a seat opposite him.

"So," Dorian said, practically spitting out the word. "Ya said ya had some important information on this Silas fella?"

Having finished the last of his paperwork, Kirin quickly whisked the documents away and into a manilla folder that then disappeared into a drawer of the desk. He looked up to regard the sheriff, steepled his fingers as he did so.

"Indeed I do, sheriff. But first, may I offer you a drink? I just had imported some delightful Kartakkan wine that came from the wine cellar of a rather wealthy aristocratic family that has since fallen into financial ruin. I swear, you can just taste the sensation of impending doom in each sip!" Kirin chuckled as he ran his black leather gloved thumb over his silver human skull cane, the rubies set in its eye sockets twinkling with a dark mischief similar to Kirin himself. Dorian had to suppress a shudder, though his hackles stayed raised.

"No thanks, Mr. Dice," Dorian said with a low growl to his voice. "I'm just here fer the information on Silas Curo. Ya said he'd be comin' fer my grandpup, and I wanna know why."

"… I take it that you've seen the video of him taking the whip to the young master's back, then?"

Dorian's claws dug into the fancy wooden arm rest of the chair. The snow-white law wolf nodded.

"And what of that interesting little docuseries on Petflix? I find it rather intriguing myself, and I was there!" Kirin let out a laugh, the sound making Dorian want to slap the cuffs on the mammal across from him and just look for anything incriminating to charge him with. "That 'Cruelty in Kartakka' episode was rather comprehensive about Mr. Curo's origins, or what scant information there was to be discovered about them. Though I have learned a little bit more in my own investigation…"

"Why even bother investigatin' him? I would imagine a mammal like you would rather he'd just disappear, and stayed disappeared."

"Why, sheriff, if I didn't know better, I'd think you'd thought me a scoundrel." Kirin dramatically draped an arm over his forehead for a moment, clearly enjoying himself. Returning to steepling his fingers, Kirin smiled wide. "I like to do my research on business partners, potential business partners, and those they associate with. Back with some minor dealings in Kartakka, I had some trusted friends do some digging on Mr. Curo. … Some returned with little clues and fragments of clues I then had investigated properly. Others… never returned… at least not alive. Young Mister Sheltly's brother was not the only body to be fished from the canal."

Dorian grimaced. "Any of it of substance?"

"I suppose it depends. As an academic study in the field of psychology, most absolutely. Though it is rather difficult to separate fact from myth. I have hints at his early formative years, but the majority of what I unearthed came from his teenaged years. And what a halcyon time for the young Silas that was! Working as freelance muscle, and quickly gaining a reputation for sadism and overkill. However, he also gained a reputation for killing the very people who would pay him to kill others. He had no support by the time the police picked him up. Then, somehow, he not only survived a rather 'grueling' experience during his imprisonment, but he put on a rather entertaining show for those that were there to witness his skills at survival as well as his sense for blood sport."

Dorian let out another growl, having a good idea that Kirin was referring to his infamous labyrinth.

"From there, he was noticed by a rather powerful patron, the Duke himself, who made Silas his right hand mammal."

"Parts o' that were covered by the documentary. What's this got to do with Marcus?"

At that, Kirin raised a single eyebrow, still grinning like before. "In all cases where he… inflicted harm on others, he always, and I do mean always, expressed great enjoyment from listening to their screams of terror and pain. Taking things nice and slow. And, during his working for the Duke, he seemed to fixate on Marcus and the lovely Rose. When Marcus was publicly… disciplined for his insubordination, Silas relished being the one to mete out the punishment. He claimed he had been wanting to listen to Marcus' screams. Yet, as you had seen for yourself, Marcus proved to be stronger than Silas had been expecting. Not once during each lashing did he let out so much as a single yelp, even right before he passed out from shock and possibly blood loss. As they neared the end of the lashes, Silas was quite annoyed, and even downright frantic since Marcus never screamed. I do believe that he plans on rectifying that."

"And what makes you certain he's here in Zootopia and not dead in some back alley in Kartakka?"

"Because of the dead humans that have started turning up in the back alleys of the Lower Nocturnal District and the Nocturnal District," Kirin said, pulling out another folder and opening it, showing some candid pictures taken of several dead humans. Dorian winced as he looked at them, all of them with their faces twisted into silent, permanent screams. Looking at all of them, Dorian quickly spotted a similarity beyond their species. All of them had a letter S carved into their cheeks.

"And I doubt that yer tellin' me all this outta the kindness of yer own heart."

"Oh, sheriff, how you wound me yet again!" Kirin chuckled. "A number of the humans before you I had dealings with. Others, I can only guess as to why they were specifically targeted. Anyways, sheriff, I felt that being a proud citizen of this fine city, it was my duty to report my findings to the proper authorities. As well as this picture I have of him." From another drawer, Kirin pulled out a snapshot, passing it to Dorian. The law wolf examined the picture, and felt a chill creep up his spine. Here in person, Kirin set off all his instinctive alert signals. Yet this photograph of a tall, possibly six foot, human male with long blond hair, grinning at the camera… it sent a genuine chill of fear up his spine.

"And I take it that if ya knew where he was exactly, ya wouldn't be gettin' me involved, correct?"

Kirin tilted his head and chuckled. "Oh, sheriff, while 'what-ifs' can be rather fun, they aren't necessarily conducive for this conversation. As it stands, there is a very dangerous mammal on the loose here in Zootopia, his presence here is most inconvenient for myself and is especially inconvenient for your happy little family. Being as civic-minded as I am, I have done my part in alerting you to his presence and given you all the relevant background information that I could find. Therefore, unless you have any further questions, I must really get back to work. The date for the opening of the Zoodoo Lounge is ever approaching!" Kirin spoke with a chipper voice that just dripped with a taunting tone.

"… Thanks fer yer cooperation," Dorian said, getting up and not at all surprised to find the lynx Bandile standing silently behind him, ready to see him out. "I'll take all of what ya said under advisement." As Bandile was leading him out, Dorian paused as he recognized two mammals being led in by a large elk dressed in the same nondescript black suit and tie as the lynx was. Dorian paused as he found himself looking at a vampire bat and tasmanian devil, both professionally dressed in pinstripe suits and ties, and both sporting faces he was all too familiar with, due to how often they'd appeared in the news. Egor Ussuri, the District Representative of the Nocturnal District, and Harrison Sarccoson, his Assistant Rep.

"Well now, if it isn't the good sheriff Hunter," the vampire bat said, holding out a clawed hand for Dorian to shake. The law wolf frowned and simply nodded in redturn.

"Fancy meetin' you here, Egor," he said to the district rep. "Mind if I ask what brings you two here today?"

"Actually, we minds it very much," Harrison said, cracking his knuckles as he looked up at Dorian, trying to look intimidating.

"Now, now, Harry," Egor said, placing a paw on the tasmanian devil's shoulder, "no need to get so defensive. Everything our business venture with Mr. Dice is all above board and perfectly legal." At that, Egor gave Dori a wink.

"And what business venture would that be?"

"Why, the special project Kirin and we are working on down in my lovely district!"

"Wait… yer the mammal that owns the land Dice is buildin' his casino on?" Dorian asked while scratching his chin, filing that information away in his mind.

"Of course. The Ussuri and Sarccoson families each own both halves of the land being used for the Zoodoo Lounge! It's some prime real-estate, actually. We were planning on some new condominiums until Mr. Dice invited us up here for a little… get-together that was also surreptitiously his business pitch."

"Ya don't say…"

"Hey, he does, and so does I!" Harrison said with a huff, his Manehattan accent coming out.

"As nice as this chat was, we really don't want to keep Kirin waiting. Although, sheriff, have you given any thought to my offer to 'donate' some additional funds to your department so that you and your deputies can better serve and protect the fine citizens of this district?"

"Sorry, Egor, but as it stands, that would be unethical," Dorian said with a flat tone.

"Hey, what's so unethical about it?" Harrison said, looking like he was about to square up to Dorian. The Assistant Rep. had been known for having a bit of a temper to him.

"Gentlemammals," Bandile said, interrupting the tasmanian devil, who was now eyeballing him. The lynx motioned down the hall. "Mr. Dice will receive you now."

"Have a pleasant afternoon, sheriff," Egor said with an insincere smile. Dorian soon exited the manor and made his way to his cruiser. He had some calls to make.

Elsewhere…

Vanna let out an amused chuff as she read the book in her paws. A Human Study of Non-Human Mammalian Society was the title on the front of the plain-looking maroon leather-bound cover. Dawn had recommended it to her for some of the insights into human culture that she and Zach could use to help better connect with Marcus. And also partly due to the unintentional comedic nature of the project. The documents converted into book format had been written and collected by human scientists and researchers from Kartakka, who had traveled to Zootopia, due to it being an amalgamation of more mammalian cultures and species than most other cities or nations around the world as well as due to the humans to Cavernicia having tapped into security feeds and local internet during the time for their own observation purposes… and later so as to steal cable, satellite, and even internet access.

Despite the general dryness of the writing, the reason the book had been published and was gaining popularity was partly due to the wild misconceptions humans had formed about other species. The secondary reason appeared to be that, due to the isolation of the individual scientists and researchers as they had observed the daily lives of surface mammals, each report soon slowly began to devolve into rather… raunchy observations. Starting with a female human researcher who was watching a logging company at work; she went into great and very colorful detail about an apparently large, muscular reindeer buck lumberjack, having taken very detailed notes about him working shirtless.

The report that followed hers was one of a male human researcher who described how important establishing dominance was for female wolves, and how if a human male were captured, they could play the situation to their advantage, though not in any way to be repeated in polite company. While getting a few chuckles and blushes from other such reports, all of which were censored from the greater human scientific community, Vanna elected not to tell her son about this book. She also made a mental note to keep an ear out for her sister possibly trying to get him a copy as a gift.

"KITTEN!" Vanna looked up to see Zach frantically burst into the living room.

"What's wrong, Goofball?"

"I went ta go check on li'l Rose, and she wasn't in her crib! I dunno how she got out again, but she couldn't have gotten far this time, right?" Zach whined, whipping his head around before running up to the couch and looking under it.

Vanna sighed, and gave her mate a tired smile. She walked over to him and put a reassuring paw on his shoulder, before she planted a kiss on his cheek. "I think I have a pretty good idea where she is."

"Huh?"

Vanna pointed out the window where Marcus was sitting nearby, under a large oak tree that was growing right next to the house. He had apparently fallen asleep in the mid-afternoon sun. And sitting there in his lap, reaching up and pawing his face in pure curiosity, was little Rose, wearing the bright pink legless onesie Zach had dressed her in that morning. The wolf/tiger hybrid cooed and giggled as she pawed her big brother. Marcus shifted a little in his sleep, and encircled his arms around the baby, making her squeal and clap in delight. Her fur pattern was the same orange with black stripes as her mother, with a long sinewy tail that ended in a fluffy tuft. Rose's muzzle was certainly more pointed and wolfish than a tiger's, as were her ears.

"How'd she get outside?!" Zach exclaimed, running to the window and trying to scramble out it.

"She crawled down the stairs, looking for her big brother while he and I were making a late lunch, and made a beeline right for him when she spotted him. He asked me if it was okay to watch her outside for a little bit, and when I said yes, he carried her out there. We both knew that she woulda just performed another one of her escape artist tricks to try and get to him again if we'd just taken her back up to her crib. Besides, she seems a little too energized for a nap right now." Vanna was amazed not only at how quickly Marcus had taken to being a big brother, but also how quickly Rose took to him. It was just so sweet how much he doted on her, and how even when she or Zach couldn't get her to stop crying, Marcus was able to either just by holding her, or even playing a lullaby with his violin.

"Oh… well… ya coulda told me!" Zach huffed and crossed his arms.

"I tried to wake you, but you were out like a light, and I've been checking on them every few minutes."

"Oh… okay, I s'pose," Zach said, sheepishly scratching the back of his head before looking back out the window. "Though, while Rose is still too awake fer her nap, it seems that the same can't be said fer Marcus."

"I think he's been getting up in the night whenever Rose cries more often than we do, just so we can get some more sleep," Vanna said.

"And here I thought that we had him startin' ta understand that he's a pup, not some kinda live-in servant," Zach said with a sigh, feeling a pang of guilt. "He was so proud when he ran up to us and said that he was about to do his laundry… but decided instead to do it the next day."

"I think it stems more from him worrying about his baby sister than thinking he needs to do chores." Vanna's ears twitched as she and Zach turned to look back out the window. Marcus shook himself awake and briefly looked around, confused. Then he looked down to Rose and smiled, scooping her into his arms for a gentle hug. The little wolf/tiger squealed and made a sound that reminded both Zach and Marcus of Vanna making her happy chuff noises.

Zach, now with his tail wagging and a smile on his muzzle, began walking for the nearby door to the back porch. "I'm gunna go relieve our boy from his sentry duty," he said with a relaxed chuckle. Vanna rolled her eyes, picking her book back up. It had been a week since little Rose arrived, and despite being the one to have given birth to her, Vanna still could hardly believe it. She had never expected to find her mate out here in the Northern Meadowlands after she first transferred from the ZPD, nor did she ever expect to find her first kitten either. Looking out the window in the late afternoon night streaming down through the leafy branches above the two, her heart melted as she watched her goofball of a mate and her son doting over her little girl.

Just before she turned her eyes back to the open page, she stopped. She felt something, almost like a tickle on the back of her neck. Realizing that her hackles were raising, she looked around, having the briefest moment of feeling like she was being watched. She looked out the back window, carefully scanning the tree line. She shook her head.

"Ulric's paranoia can be contagious," she said aloud with a chuckle, remembering how the wolf in question had theorized that Rose was actually a shape-shifter from beyond the stars when he'd first seen her. Just then, the doorbell rang, making Vanna jump a little. Walking to the door, she smiled in relief when she saw that it was just Marcus' friends.

"Hi, Mrs. Hunter," Travis said, the deer buck boy looking excited.

"Is Marcus home?" Aiko asked, hugging her big bushy tail to her chest, a blush under the fur on her cheeks.

"He and his father are around back with his new little sister," Vanna said. She winced a little as the energetic grizzly bear with the fauxhawk let out an excited SQUEE.

"OMG! He's already shown us pictures of her," Lizzy said, holding up her phone with a picture of Rose, asleep in her crib. "She is just TOO CUTE!!!" With that, Lizzy began hurrying around the house, accidentally causing Ty to tumble off and onto the grass with an audible OOPH!

"Geeze," he said, getting to his feet and brushing grass off his jeans, "a little warning next time, Lizzy, eh?" The raccoon boy looked annoyed, but quickly had his phone out, tapping away at it. "Hi, Mrs. Hunter, is Marcus home?" he asked, still looking down at his phone. Mina rolled her eyes and reached over to flick his ear with a hoof. "What was that for?"

"Ty, we already asked that, which you'd know if you were actually paying attention," the goat girl said to her brother. Now it was Ty's turn to roll his eyes. Vanna smiled warmly at the young mammals, glad that her silly mate had actually taken the time to start getting to know them… and had only been caught spying on them a few more times recently.

Meanwhile…

"Alright, pups," Vernon said to Alice, Trevor, and Lily as the trio looked up at him from where they were sitting on the couch. Dawn was resting in a nearby easy chair that had been turned to face the couch, her doctor having suggested that as her pregnancy continued onwards, she might need to be put on bedrest. As such, the diminutive ewe found herself spending more and more time laying on the couch or reclining in the big plush chair. Presently, she was rubbing her swollen belly.

"Now, y'all have probably heard about a new Petflix documentary about Kartakka, where yer cousin is from." The trio nodded, prompting him to continue. "Well… while yer Ma and I aren't gunna go into any specific details…" Vernon trailed off, rubbing the back of his head and looking uncomfortable.

"Something bad happened to Marcus," Dawn chimed in. "And the docuseries covers it. Now, we don't want you three watching it anytime soon, because of how… graphically it details some things. We know that you three will more than likely hear bits and pieces of it from your friends, and even possibly your aunts and uncles." Vernon grumbled about that, but Dawn elected to ignore how he was muttering about putting Ully in a headlock for mentioning the Duke while in earshot of Lily. "And, after discussing it, your father and I feel that later on, with us supervising, we'll let you three watch it if you wish."

"Much later on," Vernon said with a note of finality to his voice.

"But for now, we wanted to bring it up so that you know not to talk about anything you might hear in front of Marcus. Doing so could make him… relive certain things that hurt him before. Do you understand?"

The three nodded, looking a little troubled. "What happened to Marcus, Mommy?" Trevor asked. Dawn and Vern shared an uncomfortable look.

"Well… that's fer him to talk about when he feels more comfortable about it. What's important now is that he's safe and a part of our family, and just needin' lots of love," Vernon said.

At this, Lily raised her hand. "Yes, Darlin'?"

"Can we still give Marcus hugs?" Lily asked innocently. Vernon let out a chuckle at that, noticing how relieved Alice looked.

"O'course ya can, Sweetpea. Ya just gotta mind what ya say around him, that's all." There was a sudden noise next to him, and Vernon looked down to see Princess Callibrie curled up around Dawn in the chair. The large kowmodo dragon was hissing contentedly as she rested her head on Dawn's belly.

"Uh… Puppy? A little help? Remember how the last time she laid on me like this, my legs fell asleep?"

"Right… Allie, can ya go and open up a can of lizard food next to her bowl?" Vernon asked, looking towards his oldest pup.

"On it, Dad," Allie said, jumping off the couch and sprinting towards the kitchen. Meanwhile, Trevor and Lily were both snickering as Vernon kept trying to coax the large reptile off the chair and his mate.

"Still better than a dang raven," Vernon said with a sigh, Dawn nodding emphatically to that.

And there it is, folks! Please consider letting me know what you think!

You can read the story from the beginning here at these sites!

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.