#this man definitely needs his skills updated

[katfreaks-hidyhole]

The newest member to the +10 club, Ashnard the Mad King

[savanir]

DP x DC ficlet

is it even a ficlet anymore, this thing has gotten incredibly out of hand...

So a while back I saw this

and I picked the Green Lantern one and then just kinda wrote a full fic so...

It had been a good party, official yes but despite that still festive enough and with just a bittersweet hint. as all good meaningful parties should be like, unless you’re looking to get absolutely shitfaced.

But hey Rowan deserved a proper sendoff for making it to this point and not dying in the process. Hal is going to miss the old pilot though.

"Hal, I got something for you, before I forget"

"Hm, what is it"

The old man puts a small intricate glass model of a f16 fighter in his hand.

"Back when I started I was given this for good luck and protection"

Rowan presses it down firmly and stands there all official like "may it grant you both as it did for me"

They both stand there for a second before laughing.

“Feel free to shelf the whole luck thing, what’s really important is skill and experience. Still, knowing you, you can definitely use the protection ”

Hal grins, "Thanks, I'll keep close"

"You better, the sentimental value is sky high" Rowan slaps his shoulder with another laugh.

Good lord what a dork.

The old retiring pilot wasn't paying attention, too caught up in everything else but Hal saw the faint and brief green hue coming from his hand.

In a panic he slammed his other hand over top. Completely missing the quietly whispered "protect"

Too busy cussing out his ring in his head, he swears that thing is trying to out him on purpose sometimes.

This time it wasn't the ring though, so it's a good thing it's an inanimate object and can't be upset at how wrong Hal is being right now.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah! Let's get back to the others"

The evening ends uneventfully.

---

It's really only until quite a bit later that things start to happen.

"Green lantern" its batman's business voice.

Both Hal and John look up.

"Jordan" ah shit.

"I'll catch you up later" and he leaves Hal behind, traitor.

"What's up spooky"

"You need to update your file, it is missing critical information, and on that note I wasn’t aware that the lantern suits grant you intangibility now"

"I... what..? It doesn't? What are you talking about spooks"

"Hrn" Batman pulls up a screen and shows him footage of the latest fight, in it you can clearly see something was supposed to hit Hal but went right through him "You're telling me you didn't know or notice this?"

Hal just looks kinda sick. That would have been a bad hit and he just straight up didn't even notice.

Batman just kind of silently looks at him and he must have come to some conclusion because the next thing Hal knows this comes out of his mouth.

"I've already ran your blood through the lab, it's not a sudden emergence of a meta gene so it's either from the lantern corps or you've otherwise externally been affected by something that's causing this"

Hal closes his eyes and internally counts to ten, it doesn't help.

Batman takes his silence to mean he can keep talking. The man is on an unusual roll. Hal would have been ecstatic if he didn't hate the topic quite so much.

"It would have been best if it had something to do with your ring however you seem to be completely unaware and I've also noted that the green of your ring and the green glow that comes with the density shifting are different"

He has examples with corresponding color codes, Hal is so tired.

“let's set a time frame…” Batman pulls up some documents and graph on the screen “seeing as you are unaware of this development I will set the starting point of this potential change as of now to right after the last time you have been known to be hit in a fight and before the first known instance of you being able to density shift, that leaves us with a full month.”

Hal really, really does not want to be here anymore.

“In this month you have not gone off planet so whatever caused this is on Earth” Batman pauses for a moment, “has anything significant happened during that time that springs to mind now?”

“no, nothing significant has happened during that time, frankly it’s been a very pleasant uneventful four weeks in which I finally managed to catch a break and it figures something crazy has apparently happened anyway”

Hal rubs his face with both hands, “but right now I couldn’t tell you what, anyway, does this have to be a bad thing? I for one am very glad that hit didn’t actually land”

“So far only Superman has had the privilege of having sudden emergence of new powers work out for him” Batman huffs, “it would be best to monitor this carefully, if anything springs to mind do not hesitate to inform me, the sooner this is figured out the better”

“awww you do care” Hal is using humor cope, sadly it’s Batman, so it’s not very effective.

“Jordan” now Batman sounds tired, he’s not the one with random surprise density shifting, Hal understand that Spooky’s crippling chronic paranoia must be exhausting but right now he’s the one freaking out considering this is apparently not a meta gene related development, it would have been so much easier if it was, oh and about that, just how and when did Batman get his blood exactly? he would like to know now.

---

sadly he does not get to know now. or anytime soon (or ever). it’s chaos right after, because of course it is.

knocked out of the sky and lying amongst the rubble, if their enemy spots him he’s in bigger shit than he already is, but he can’t fucking move and the next thing he knows he’s invisible.

and there is just nothing enjoyable about it.

Barry doesn’t know that though, “that was something else, just one moment and schwup and you were just gone, some sort of green lantern light bending? he looked right through you, thank god he did too” 

shit shit, “no that was..." it was like he just ceased to exist, movies and books and whatever other media always depicts it as such a cool thing but frankly it was terrifying. And he would prefer things that are terrifying not to happen to him, for obvious reasons, “honestly actually it’s complicated, stealth tech” Grade A bullshit.

“well it’s awesome”

“it was useful just now but not really my style you know” 

Barry slings his arm over Hal’s shoulder and gives him a one armed hug, “everything worked out” Hal can feel some tension flow out of his friend, “well! better get busy cleaning this mess up” and with a blink he’s gone.

Hal does not want to talk about this with Batman, but knowing him, he probably already knows anyway, it would be less of a headache to go to him than have him go to Hal. 

Hal wants to enjoy whatever this is, he really does, but he doesn’t know what caused this, he doesn’t know what triggers the new abilities or whatever they are, he doesn’t know what effects this shit is going to have in the future, he just doesn’t know anything, normally he doesn’t mind not knowing some things, he’s fine leaving the knowing to the people better suited for the more complicated knowing, but he would very much like to know more about this please.

---

Then they face off against an enemy and in the process Hal drains his ring completely and the next hit is going to be bad, so what will happen? Will he somehow go intangible again? Turn invisible and use the confusion to evade and attack?

No

Apparently this time he just gets a glowing green dome shield. Something very normal for him to have and use, if only it came out of his ring that is.

Nobody notices that something is wrong, nobody besides Batman that is.

"That's three new abilities that only appear during life threatening situations"

Hal has actually seriously gone over that month by now, but nothing, no answers. He's physically fine, mentally a little damaged but nothing new there, they all are. Every test he begrudgingly went through answered nothing. He was fine. Whatever was going on actually had nothing to do with him.

And at the same time it had everything to do with him because this is only happening to him.

As usual (by now) he takes out his little glass fighter jet and runs his thumb over the wings. It is soothing strangely enough. Like a stim toy.

"The last thing to try is a thorough examination by someone from the justice league dark"

Hal groans, magic, ok then, "Alright let's get this over with. Who knows maybe I'm just haunted"

It turns out he’s not haunted, this is a good thing... supposedly, Well let’s just say that Hal would have not minded being haunted or something if that meant it could be fixed, or just explained.

It doesn’t really need to be fixed, whatever this is has been very helpful after all, but he would do basically anything for an explanation right about now.

“you are not haunted or otherwise magically compromised, but I do sense faint traces of energy from the infinite realms” Zatanna is a godsent, finally something to work with.

“from the who whats?” Hal is worried, the occult field is definitely not his area of expertise. He's a space cop, not a space demonhunter… oh that would be pretty cool though, with like a hood and twin cyber crossbows, maybe he should incorporate that somehow.

“the infinite realms… have you recently been in touch with any death related realities?”

Well there was that time when he got booted to the death universe and he died and then he was a black lantern but he got better, that’s all very much very behind him.

She better not be about to tell him that stuff still has lingering consequences.

oh god dammit that’s exactly what is going on isn’t it?

"How recently?"

"In the past week?"

"Oh, no" Hal would have known if that was the case, death stuff tends to be hard to ignore.

Zatanna frowns, that's probably not a good sign.

"But you said I'm not compromised right?" Right now what Hal wants to know the most is if this is changing him. Cause it tends to be bad for him when that's the case.

"No this is just lingering traces of something or someone else using their powers near you"

???!!??!?

"What are the infinite realms?" oh hey there Batman, was wondering when you would show up again.

"It's the afterlife, or... more like a collection of all afterlives. The infinite realms is very literal in their naming. It is home to powerful dead entities. As a general rule magic users are discouraged from interacting with it.

"Hrn"

"What did you say happened to you so far Hal?"

"Uhm, density shifting, invisibility and then a green dome-like shield, a lot like my own energy constructs"

"that sounds like pretty standard stuff for a realms being"

"Soooo what, did one leave the afterlife and decide to follow me around or something?"

"I cannot conclusively say, I can only say that you've been close to one using its abilities"

Batman folds his arms over his chest, "We shouldn’t form theories on these findings alone, Zatanna are these realm beings dangerous?"

"Hard to say, they come in all manner of forms, some small and harmless and others on the level of world destroying gods."

Great great great, awesome, well it’s probably safe to say that whatever decided to stick around Hal isn’t small and harmless, cause small and harmless doesn’t sound strong enough to casually turn him intangible or invisible… he could be wrong though.

“I do advise caution, beings from the infinite realms also have the ability to possess someone, they call it overshadowing”

Batman’s lips thin and Hal tenses up, mind control of any kind is always awful.

“I’ll place a ward on you, as a precaution” energy starts to gather in her hands.

Batman moves for the door, “we might need to look into a way to force this being to reveal itself, it would be best if we could convince it to return to their realm”

“Well I mean-” Hal starts, “like I get that, but they have been a great help so far” 

“they are a security risk”

“I’m just saying, I am grateful that they kept me from being confined to the medical wing for who even knows how long, who knows they might just be shy, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to become our ally, like Deadman. instead of telling them to leave. just cause we don’t understand how they work yet doesn’t mean they are bad and should be booted out of our reality”

Batman narrows his eyes at Hal and turns to Zatanna who is finished with placing the ward on Hal, “Zatanna please send me all you have on the infinite realms, I will do my own research” and with that he sweeps out of the room, very dramatic.

“Ass” Hal whispers under his breath.

“He’s worried”

“well he’s being a dick about it, as usual” Hal’s fingers find his little plane once again “... hey do you think they could communicate through one of those oejah boards?”

Zatanna snorts, “it’s Ouija- and please don’t”

---

No information from the JLD has been useful so far in coaxing the realms being to reveal themselves and for the most part things just go on as usual.

“Whoever they are, they followed me when I went off planet and it might just be my imagination but I had a feeling that their stuff was a lot more… potent? out there? I don’t know it was kinda strange, it just felt stronger”

“but they didn’t reveal themselves to you?”

“nope, they must know that I know now too, so they have decided to just… go on as they always have I guess”

“hrn” Batman is leafing through files, because of this whole mess he’s uncovered hidden government organizations targeting occult entities as well as inhumane laws that stand directly opposed to the meta protection acts.

Why is he working with paper regarding this matter? Well it turns out there is a infinite realms being that can possess electronica and it was only because of the protections the JLD had put in place on the Watchtower that the entity didn’t overtake it in its entirety.

Watching Constantine freak out had been mildly entertaining but Zatanna had once again reminded Batman to be very careful, Batman had begrudgingly admitted he had made a slight misstep while digging for answers… in his head, not out loud, god forbid.

“this whole thing is turning out a lot bigger than we thought huh, good thing we are dealing with it now” Hal stretches his arms above his head, “anyway I am going to go grab something to eat”

“the rapport-” Batman doesn’t bother looking at him.

“yeah yeah” Hal doesn’t either while walking out of the room, dismissively flicking his hand, “don’t worry about it spooky”

Hal takes his little plane out on the way to the cafeteria and fiddles with it in his hand, once there he puts it on the table next to Barry before getting himself something to eat.

They catch up, Hal complains (bitches) about Batman, others come and go, Zatanna quickly checks up on the ward she placed which makes Barry raise an eyebrow at Hal, “Ghost protection”

“... no such thing”

Zatanna glares.

Hal can see them both gearing up to start the magic is just science we haven’t fully scienced out yet argument again, “alright! I’m full” he stands up, “if you need me I’ll be writing that rapport, later” and gets the hell out of there.

It’s when he has just reached his preferred spot to work on the boring paperwork stuff when the alarms go off throughout what he can only imagine must probably be the entire Watchtower.

It seems like something triggered all of the JLD’s defenses in one go.

Impressive, but also very worrying.

The rapport is going to have to wait.

People are gathering in the meeting room and Batman is already taking the lead, “status”

“as of a couple minutes ago there was a build up of as of yet unknown energy which then burst in the cafeteria knocking out Flash” Martian Manhunter says, “Zatanna says we are most likely dealing with another being from the infinite realms”

Superman groans, this means he’s out.

It’s a good thing they now have defenses against overshadowing though. Being effectively trapped in a space station (because currently the thing is on lockdown) where literally anyone could suddenly actually be the enemy is the kind of situation a whole slew of horror movies like to be about.

“We will need to be extremely careful while finding and then dealing with this entity”

It has certainly been quite some time since the Watchtower got directly hit like this.

Hal pulls out his little plane.

or, he would, if he still had it.

thoroughly distracted now he suddenly realizes it’s no longer on his person.

Spooky is probably not going to like it if during the infinite realms attacker hunt he takes the opportunity to look around for his missing little fighter jet.

well what he doesn’t know won’t harm him.

His plan of looking for the plane while looking for the ghost is working out well enough.

In fact it is working out so good that he finds both at the same time.

At that point Hal had started wondering if maybe Barry had picked it up for him at the cafeteria before the attack happened and that the little thing was now in the medical wing with him. 

That turned out to clearly not be the case once he found the tiny thing glowing green and floating in the middle of the hallway.

“alright ghosty, that’s really important to me and I would like it back undamaged”

the tiny plane turned to now point directly at him, hmm, yeah that's not creepy at all.

 “... please don’t launch yourself at me” he foolishly says which of course means that’s exactly what it does next.

He uses his ring to construct a net with a pillow inside to catch the tiny jet, completely forgetting that it’s overshadowed and can thus easily just go intangible and right through his creations.

Instead it hits him square in the chest, rather painfully he might add and then just stops glowing and drops, making Hal scramble to not have it fall and shatter in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

immediately all the sensors stop detecting the presence of a realms being and the alarms die down.

Whatever was in the Watchtower has left the building.

or…

Hal looks down at the tiny plane in his hands, his talisman of protection and has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey there little guy, might want to explain yourself?” he says to the tiny jet.

It vibrates in his hands.

“... yeah I figured, shit”

---

“I say just smash the bloody thing and be done with it, preferably that takes care of it once and for all” Constantine glares down at the tiny jet.

Hal is almost halfway over the table to shield the little thing, covering it from Constantine’s sight with his hand, “don’t you dare” he growls.

“it would be best for everyone involved, for all we known you could have gone full liminal what with how long you’ve been carrying the blasted thing around”

Zatanna is going over the little thing with her own magic, “it’s trapped”

“In that case just straight up trying to murder it would be the worst thing to do” Hal glares at Constantine some more. Who clearly doesn’t give a shit, figures, all stressed out about dealing with things from the infinite realms but whenever he feels he has the upper hand he’s more than happy to go full nuclear.

“it would be best if we had a way of figuring out their intentions” Batman looks down at the tiny jet impassively.

“Well, another reason to just carefully release this creature instead” Hal responds.

Zatanna’s magic fades away, “I would say that the fact it’s been protecting Hal for as long as he has it is a positive sign”

“hrn, but now it has gone and knocked Flash out, so what does that say” Batman huffs, “it’s too risky”

“Constantine and I will set up everything we can so it won’t be able to escape or try anything dangerous” Zatanna stops looking at Batman and turns back to the tiny plane, “if it turns out to be malicious we could simply banish it back to the realms, killing it would be rather stupid, we do not know what kind of connections it might have within the realms, we might accidentally anger something far worse with such a rash act”

Constantine groans but accepts Zatanna’s reasoning, Batman nods as well.

It’s only then that Hal moves out of the way.

Any plans of attack or banishment fly right out of the window once the two magic users are done and a young boy manifests from the tiny fighter jet.

Hal pushes Constantine aside to get to the boy’s side.

“Jordan, are you insane! Get back here!” 

“Hey, kid, can you hear me? please open your eyes, slowly, take your time” 

Batman has also moved forward much to Constantine’s frustration. Don't these two morons get that their protections won’t do shit if you just casually stroll into the circle?

Batman is mostly concerned in being able to step in should the boy prove to be a hostile entity anyway, but at the same time… well, that’s a child.

The boy kind of dazedly opens his eyes, looks at Hal and then seems to become aware of his own arms and hands, after opening and closing those a couple times he looks back at Hal and lets out a breath that can only be described as relieved and promptly passes out into him.

Well, Hal figures that settles it then. He doesn’t know shit about looking after a kid, and definitely not one who is probably quite dead, but this one is his, back off Batman.

they all startle rather violently when rings of blinding white light pass over the boy and suddenly the kid in Hal’s arms is a bit warmer and seems to have a sluggish pulse and also his clothes are different and his hair is now black and-

Hal is up and moving towards the medical wing before his mind catches back up with him. He can hear Batman behind him, it seems like Constantine and Zatanna aren’t moving after him as fast.

Well anyway his life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

[keferon]

Blurr's public presences is spotless -- held aloft as a pinnacle of humanity, unreachable by anyone else. But, outside the public eye...he's still human.

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

It's only when Blurr is sure he's alone in the office that he allows himself to relax.  He turns off the TV broadcast spouting out statistics about how fact his mech can go and how many new recruits have signed up for the program under their latest drive.  He silences the radio, that was giving an update about how the mecha program benefits communities too – how just the other day, Blurr had stopped to help a family get their kitten out of a tree and still been speedy enough to save the day afterwards.

Blurr sighs and slumps into his office desk chair, casual grin sliding off his face.  He stretches out one arm to sweep away the pile of newspapers neatly stacked in the center of the desk.  The action papers the office floor with headlines and photos – his own name and face staring back at him.

Blurr.  Blurr.  Blurr.  Blurr. Blurr…blurr…blurr….

At least he's never in danger of forgetting his own name, he thinks sardonically.  Not with someone saying it every few seconds he's not alone.

Not that it matters really.  Publicity stunts.  All of it.  Meaningless.

There've been countless attacks in recent weeks Blurr knows, even if he can't hold on to the exact number.  Countless actual mech pilots on the front lines. 

Blurr knows because he watches them hurrying through the hangars each day, grim looks on their faces.  He feels a twinge of guilt that he doesn't know any of their names.  Doesn't even know for sure that they're the same people, though he's fairly certain they must be.

Not that it really matters.  He's not really one of them.  Never has been.

And it's not like he's alone in not knowing their names.  The media doesn't seem to know or care who's actually saving everyone's lives.  The boss doesn't seem to care either, so long as the world isn't ending and money is still flowing into his pockets.

Blurr should care.  He should.  They're the ones actually fighting for humanity – the real heroes.  Not Blurr.

But some days, some days it's all just a bit too much.  Because if he cares, he has to admit the truth.  And if he admits the truth, then he's no longer the shining, perfect icon of humanity everyone expects him to be.  So the façade remains unbroken, even as Blurr chafes underneath it.

He wants to be more.  Misses the thrill of the actual race.  Not just the stunts the boss schedules him for, where he runs a set distance through a controlled environment under spotlights and cameras.  Give him the wind whipping through his hair.  Give him the intensity of competing against the best of the best – human ingenuity and improvisation put to the test as they were pitted against an equally intelligent opponent in a lightning-fast test of skills.  He misses the adrenaline rush of the race.  Misses knowing that each time he finished he had done something few others could – and that it was something that mattered.

The boss assures him that what he does does matter.  That the program wouldn't – couldn't exist without him. 

Because they need that good publicity. (Blurr still feels like he should be doing more.) 

They need the money he brings in from donors.   (The boss at least, definitely wants the money.  Though whether he needs the money, Blurr finds questionable every time he watches him keep a check for himself that's substantially larger than the one Blurr walks away with.)

But at the end of the day Blurr can't argue that the boss and the money don't keep the program running.  And if he has no regrets that he still hasn't learned his bosses name, well….  The man acts understanding every time he's around Blurr, but Blurr can tell that that's all it is – an act (and he would know).  And if Blurr himself lets his confidence cross the line into arrogance and acts just a little bit more dismissive than he has to around the man, he doubts many would blame him.  The less time he has to spend with the boss the better.

Even if the boss seems to think the opposite of him.  He'd given Blurr a private radio the day Blurr first signed on to his contract, all in the name of being helpful.  Anything Blurr needed, anything at all.  Blurr has gotten the feeling though that it's as much so that the boss can keep track of Blurr as his investment.  He uses it more to call on Blurr – for anything and everything any time of day or night that might get a boost from a little extra star power.

Speaking of…Blurr's radio crackles to life.  "You have an appointment in engineering in five.  Be there.  Find someone else to assist you, I'm busy.  Over and out."  The radio dies as suddenly as it came to life.

Blurr sighs again, picks up his coffee cup from the desk and downs it in one gulp.  He kicks the newspapers into a corner of the office and shrugs on his coat.  The smile slides easily back onto his face as though it had never been out of place as he steps forward, opens his office door, and wanders out to find someone who might be able to help him find engineering.

“He misses the adrenaline rush of the race.  Misses knowing that each time he finished he had done something few others could – and that it was something that mattered.” ANON YOU ARE KILLING ME. BRUTALLY MURDERING WITHOUT ANY MERCY AND IM NOT COMPLAINING EVEN IN THE SLIGHTEST /POS

[rileyslibrary]

Synopsis: A new lieutenant comes to your base—a hot one. Ghost isn’t happy.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,334

Notes:

I haven’t thought of a title, so I’m replacing it with a picture of Ghost’s expression that perfectly captures the fic’s concept. Let me know if you think of one.

Platonic fluff, duh.

Warning: Lots of swearing ahead of you, British slang as well. Told you, he’s not happy.

UPDATE: there’s a Part 2 now. Things get messy.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The rumour mill went into overdrive as soon as the ‘new guy’ arrived at the military base that morning. A former special ops legend with impressive credentials; what’s not to love?

But it wasn’t just his military skills that had everyone talking; it was also his appearance. Rumours of his Adonis-like looks had spread throughout the base, and everyone was dying to catch a glimpse of him. Even the mess hall was dominated by talk of his stunning looks.

What did you think of him? Well, you prefer to take such things with a grain of salt and not put too much stock in them. After all, beauty is a matter of personal preference, and no single definition applies to everyone. So you wanted to evaluate things for yourself.

Okay, fine. Yes, the rumours were true—the guy is exactly as they described him.

The new lieutenant stands tall and proud in front of the line you’ve all formed, his wavy hair coiffed into a deep side part with a thick fringe swooping over one eye. His chiselled jawline is accentuated by a short, perfectly groomed beard, and he gives everyone a brilliant smile as if he’s auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. His voice is booming and almost comically enthusiastic as if he were trying to engage a class of children. He gives orders by pointing at soldiers with gun fingers and winking, causing some of you to stifle giggles.

“All right, soldiers, pay attention!” he says, clapping his hands like a cheerleader. “Today’s tasks are routine: cleaning, organizing, equipment repair, and inventory taking. And, hey, if we pull this off, I’ll buy everyone a round at the local pub! How does that sound?”

Some of the soldiers exchange skeptical glances, wondering if this guy is for real.

But Ghost? Oh. My. God.

Ghost’s agitation becomes too hard to hide as the new lieutenant speaks. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, moving frantically as if eager to be anywhere but here. His eyes keep rolling back as though they’re searching for some leftover patience in the depths of his skull. You keep staring at his crossed arms. They’re so stiff that his muscles must ache from the effort. It’s as if he’s trying to keep them in place, so he doesn’t unleash them and back-slap the hot lieutenant’s pretty face. That, or he’ll let out a primal scream any second now.

“Y/N,” he turns to face you, and you stand at attention, “you’re on border patrol with me today-”

“Y/N is staying with me at the office today,” Ghost opposes him. “There’s a lot of paperwork that needs to be done.”

“Can’t you get someone else to fill out the paperwork?” the man asks, shooting Ghost a wink and a grin.

“Can’t you get someone else to help you with border patrol?” Ghost winks back at him and turns to face you. “Y/N, on your feet, c’mon,” he says, walking towards the building.

You exchange glances with the new lieutenant and shrug. This is too awkward.

“WHENEVER YOU’RE READY, SOLDIER,” Ghost commands, and you dash towards him, brushing past the new lieutenant, who also happens to smell amazing. Of course, he does.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today, Lt.?” You whisper as you run behind him, “where’s the camaraderie we discussed during yesterday’s briefing?”

Ghost shoots you a glare over his shoulder. “Just trying to keep my paperwork safe,” he mutters.

“What’ll happen to the damn paperw-” you proceed to ask, but then evaluate his words; you’re the paperwork.

At the office…

He’s reticent as he sits on his desk—not like he’s a social butterfly any other day, but today, he seems angry. Almost hostile. His eyebrows are tied together, his restless leg syndrome is back, and he takes too many cigarette breaks compared to what you’re used to. He answers your questions with one-word statements when—and if—he acknowledges your presence. Yesses and nos are all you’ve been getting since you entered the office, with the occasional “tsk” he might utter while he looks at his papers.

“Pass me the stapler.” He commands.

“Magic word, Ghost.”

“Pass me the fucking stapler, please.”

You slide the stapler over to his desk. “You’re rude today, Mr Riley.” You comment, turning your focus back to the laptop’s screen.

He doesn’t reply in the form of words. Instead, his feelings manifest themselves by aggressively stapling the papers together.

“Perhaps you’d like me to ask for the stapler by winking at you?” He finally mutters under his breath.

“Like the guy that came in today?” You scoff.

Oh, you have his full, undivided attention now. He turns his chair towards you and leans his weight on his thighs as if you’re about to tell the most exciting story.

“What do you think of him?” He asks.

You flick your wrist dismissively. “I don’t know him well enough to form an opinion. I prefer to reserve judgment until I get to know someone.” You give him a pointed look, hoping to convey your message without having to spell it out for him.

“He’s a fucking bellend, I’ll tell you that much.” He mumbles in response. Guess the message got lost in transit.

“Come on, man!” You shout and punch your fist on the table, “it’s obvious that he’s got you rattled.”

“He’s not rattling me!” Ghost protests, but his defensive tone betrays him.

“Sure, he’s not,” you reply sarcastically, “that’s why you’ve been chain-smoking and stapling papers like you’re trying to murder them.”

Ghost lets out a deep sigh and rubs his temples.

“Is it his looks?” you ask.

“No, it’s not his looks,” Ghost rolls his eyes, “I’m much better looking than him, that’s for sure.”

“Are you...I don’t know, intimidated, maybe?” You shrug, “because you’re worried he might take your place as the top dog around here?”

He looks at you incredulously. “What are you talking about? I’m not worried about that.”

“Sure, you’re not,” you smirk. “That’s why you’ve been acting like a total jerk all day.”

He looks up and sighs. The poor man looks like he desperately needs an ego boost. Beneath Ghost’s tough facade there’s Simon, after all. And Simon is a human being with the same insecurities and worries as everyone else.

“In any case,” you say, trying to comfort him, “nobody takes such douchebags seriously in the army. And I get it; the guy’s trying to make a good impression and all, but, my God, he needs to chill with all the...” you start winking and pointing gun fingers left and right.

He’s so happy he lets out a sharp chuckle. “He’s a fucking nobhead, isn’t he?” He asks, “trying to take charge and acting like he knows everything.”

“Indeed,” you reassure him, “and that cologne, I almost fainted as I passed him; how could you stand beside him for so long?”

“Don’t ask.” He shakes his head.

You reach over and give his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, Ghost. You’re the most respected operator here,” you say, giving him a small smile, “just do me a favour and give the guy a chance; he has so much to learn from you.”

He nods. “I wanted to neck slap him so hard,” he mumbles, “knock his pretty white teeth out.”

“Which are fake, by the way.”

“Are they?” He asks, shocked.

“100%.” You reply with conviction as if you are the guy’s dentist.

“I knew it.” He yells, slaps his hand on his thigh, and turns his chair back to his desk.

You look at him from the corner of your eye. He seems much more relaxed now. Hopefully, he takes your advice to heart and proceeds with the same resilience and leadership he does on the battlefield. Or, maybe, you temporarily diffused a potential conflict, and the captain will have to get involved pretty soon. Who knows. At least he feels confident in himself now, and the guy’s teeth will live to see another day.

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

[railleriee]

Top, Bottom, Switch? - BSD Men

Hello! I'm back. (finally) I've been back on my bsd brainrot. I can not get enough of them. That being said, enjoy these Headcanons of some of my bungo stray dogs favs! ( I plan to update my layout soon! Any ideas would be appreciated! )

Characters included: Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida, Ranpo, Poe, Akutagawa, Atsushi.

Reader is non-gender specific!

Warnings: Mention of sex, bratty characters, kinks, whining, etc. (Let me know if I missed any! )

Dazai: 

Switch, a preference for top. 

I feel like when he was laying low for a year or so after leaving the PM he got around a bit. 

He’s been with multiple people and he’s definitely well experienced in bed. 

Dazai loves having power over others, resulting in his need to be a top. 

HIGH stamina, multiple rounds. 

Sex with him is wild, he’s very experimental. 

Rarely ever gets romantic during sex. 

On occasion he’d love to bottom! 

Definitely a bratty bottom, really into overstimulation.

Loves being teased in public, such a big turn on for him. 

Always down for quickies anywhere. 

Chuuya: 

Switch, reference for top. 

He’s definitely not as experienced as Dazai, and hasn't had the chance to get around a ton. 

He claims to know what he’s doing but definitely needs advice/teaching when it actually comes to it.

I like to think he’s surprisingly soft when it comes to sex.

Slow and gentle thrusts, poor baby is afraid of hurting you. 

When he’s on bottom, adores being ridden. 

He’s so sensitive and whines a bunch, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

Prevent him from touching you, it’ll drive him mad. 

Kunikida: 

He’s a top. 

I’d like to say he’s a switch but I can’t see him being on bottom. 

He’d be way too embarrassed to even admit it if he wanted to try it. 

He’s very straight to it, minimal teasing, although will take the time to prep you as needed. 

First few times were definitely awkward, although the more used to it he got, the better it got. 

Handsy. 

Hands are roaming every part of your body, he’s surprisingly skilled with them as well. 

Definitely into more sentimental sex, not into spur of the moment sex. 

Wants to make it as romantic as possible. 

Loves making you feel good <3

Ranpo: 

Switch, preference for bottom. 

He’s adorable, loves to be on bottom 

He’s lazy, and wants to do as minimal work as possible. 

BRAT! 

It’s so easy to break the poor boy, purposely misbehaves because he loves how possessive and angry you get.

He turns into a brainless mess who can’t even speak :-((

Babbling incoherent words while letting out whines. 

Begs! Deny him an orgasm and get the most precious mewls out of him. 

Very lazy if he tops, he whines and makes exaggerated sighs the entire time. 

Poe: 

Bottom, you can't change my mind.

Nothing screams bottom as much as this man. 

He’s very submissive in bed, always behaving. 

Melts when called “good boy”.

He doesn’t make a bunch of noise, but if he does he’s definitely whiny. 

Very shy! 

Reassure him, tell him how pretty he is and how he’s doing such a good job. 

Sex with him is always different. 

Experimentalist. 

Although shy, always willing to bring up new ideas and try them!

Akutagawa: 

Another bottom. 

This boy has never had sex a day in his life, so when you first did, he was clueless. 

Didn’t even know the aspect of top and bottom. 

When educated on it, he wasn’t sure what to do, although did as he thought pleased you! 

Him being on bottom is like stress relief for him.

He’s always trying to please, so someone else is pleasing HIM? He’s signed right up. 

Doesn’t make much noise, maybe a few grunts here and there. 

His entire body is sensitive, shivers anywhere you kiss him. 

Secretly adores marking. Loves having a reminiscence of the night before! 

Some of the PM notices said marks, although he never elaborates on his sex life to anyone. 

Atsushi: 

Switch, no preference. 

Where do I even start with him? He’s such a sweetheart. 

Soft and caring during, willing to try out anything you suggest as long as he doesn’t think he’d hurt you! 

Gasps a ton. 

Easily flustered, tease him during work and watch his face heat up! 

Stumbles over his words when teased. 

Like kunikida, he’s not into spur of the moment type sex. 

Into sentimental and romantic sex :-)) 

[redrose10]

This was a request for cop Yoongi from @maryhopemei. I already had something similar drafted so I continued that. I hope it’s okay! I’m working on the requests that I have so I should start getting them out as I get them done.

<Bonnie and Clyde>

Cop Yoongi x Female Cop Reader

Warnings: Guns, violence, gangs, hostage situations, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood and murder, swearing

*******************************************************

Sitting in the crowd watching the newest graduating class of the police academy made you feel proud of course, but it also filled you with dread because you knew one of the rookies was going to be your new partner. You tended to work better alone and you definitely didn’t want your partner to be some newbie that was just going to get in your way.

The captain had dropped the bombshell on you last week. He was kind enough to let you choose your new partner which you promised to advise him of your choice after the graduation ceremony. As you scanned the recruits you thought back to through your options:

Jeon Jungkook: Age 26

Top of his class in physical activities, definitely had the body of a cop, would be your first choice to have next to you in a physical altercation but since you were in narcotics you wanted more brains than brawn.

Park Jimin: Age 28

Didn’t look like a typical cop but maybe that was a good thing. Aced all of his verbal and written tests. You’d spoke to him a couple times and he seemed too sweet so you knew he’d get eaten alive in your line of work and you didn’t want to be responsible for that.

Min Yoongi: Age 31

His superiors noted that he had all the skills necessary to make a great cop but seemed to hold back. He was quiet and mostly kept to himself but was very observant. He didn’t look happy to be there just like you... That was your guy.

So after the ceremony you let the captain know that you’d chosen Yoongi as your new partner much to his surprise, but he obliged and said he’d have the paperwork entered right away.

The next morning you walked into the narcotics department ready to start the day when you ran into your new partner, already making himself comfortable in the desk right next to yours.

Trying to be polite you introduced yourself with a handshake, “Hi, My name is Y/N.”

For a moment he stared down at your hand like he was pondering if he should shake it before he ultimately took it in his, “Yoongi”.

Captain Cho called an emergency meeting wanting to provide some updates on the big case you all were working on.

In the meeting room you took a seat next to Detective Kim Namjoon, one of the few people you trusted.

The walls of the meeting room were littered with photos and drawings, some scribbled with notes.

Captain Cho pinned a new photo onto the wall, “This is Jung Seo Joon. We have confirmed him to be the newest member of Saaghan as he was just recently initiated. He is the third addition this month so we have reason to believe that Kim Myung is planning an attack and trying to beef up his team. We need all officers to be on the lookout and prepared for anything.”

You took in the photo doing your best to memorize the man in front of you.

“Y/N and Yoongi please stay back. I have some things to discuss with you.”, Captain Cho announced before dismissing everyone else.

“Y/N, please get Yoongi caught up on everything with this case so far. Then I want the two of you to head to this address and scope it out. We have reason to believe that Myung hangs out here.”, the captain said handing you a piece of paper.

You nodded before stepping aside to let the captain pass.

Once back at your desk you grabbed a bunch of papers, “So we’ve been working on this case for several years. Have you ever heard of the Saaghan gang?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “I know more about them than you could ever imagine.”

You bit your lip trying not to say something nasty back. This is exactly why you liked to work alone.

“Okay fine. Let’s just go scope out this location then since you’re already up to date on everything.”

You didn’t even wait for him before storming off to your assigned car.

The location was a small kbbq restaurant on the other side of the city in a run down alleyway. Definitely not somewhere you’d expect a wealthy gang leader to hang out.

“There he is. That’s are guy.”, you whispered after seeing Myung walk out of the restaurant followed by six men in suits.

Yoongi’s hand tightened around his gun, “We should just kill him now.”

You shook your head, “Are you crazy? We’re severely outnumbered. They’ll definitely kill us.”

“If you were a decent cop we could take them right now.”, he scoffed.

“And I’m being a decent human being by not killing YOU right now.”, you mumbled getting an amused laugh out of your partner.

It was a few months later and you and Yoongi were finally starting to warm up to each other a little. His sarcastic remarks started becoming funnier and less annoying to you. You brought him coffee in the morning and he bought you lunch in the afternoon. One day he even dropped by your apartment to bring you soup and medicine after you had called in sick.

He also started following up on the case more and more. He provided lots of good intel on Myung and his gang which you desperately needed. You felt like things were going in the right direction and you were happy to have him as your partner.

Then one night Namjoon stopped you in the hallway and invited you back to his desk.

“Y/N I want to talk to you about Yoongi.”

“Okay?”, you questioned confused.

“I just…I…something seems off about him.”

You were feeling a little defensive about your partner/almost might be considered a friend/very secret take it to the grave crush.

“What do you mean?”, you spat.

Namjoon adjusted his glasses, “Y/N I’m not trying to be disrespectful I promise. It’s just… don’t you think it’s a little weird how he knows so much about the case already? He’s pointed out high ranking members of the Saaghans before we could even attempt to yet somehow Myung always happens to escape as soon as we get there like he knew we were coming. And Jin said he walked in on him getting dressed the other day. He said he has a tattoo…THE tattoo.”

You felt your heart skip at the mention of the tattoo. It was confirmed that all members of the Saaghan Gang had the same tattoo. It was a part of the initiation. All official members had a tattoo on the left side of their chest. A tattoo of a snake curled around a demon, the official symbol of the gang. It was a very distinct tattoo and every artist in the country knew not to tattoo it on anyone that wasn’t official.

You scoffed, “So we’re going by he said she said now? Maybe Jin was mistaken. Besides he shouldn’t be creeping on other officers while they’re changing. That sounds like an HR issue.”

Namjoon sighed getting frustrated, “He wasn’t creeping. It was an accident and why would he lie about something like that? Look Y/N…I know he’s your partner and you guys are getting close but I’m just saying to be careful and keep an eye on him.”

Wordlessly you got up and exited his office feeling angry and hurt but also a little unsure at the same time.

You spent the next few weeks trying to get a glimpse of Yoongi’s chest without making it obvious.

You suggested working out together which he surprisingly agreed to until you suggested swimming as an option. He said he preferred to work on weight training instead of cardio.

You “accidentally” spilled a cup of coffee on his shirt before conveniently pulling a spare out of your backseat. He thanked you and grabbed the shirt before walking into the nearest convenient store to use the restroom to change.

You invited him over to your apartment for dinner and drinks. You poured him shot after shot. You also had a few yourself to try and calm your nerves. Before you knew it, he had pinned you down on the couch, his mouth leaving marks on your skin as his hands roamed underneath your shirt searching for your bra strap.

You were hazy with lust. You wanted him and you were shocked yet excited that it seemed like he wanted you too. Forgetting about the reason you were even in this position to begin with you reached for his shirt and started unbuttoning it. You got three undone before he stopped you and pulled away.

You panicked thinking maybe you misread the situation.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. We’re both drunk and I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you and we’re co-workers on top of it. I don’t want anything to be complicated between us.”

Before you could reassure him he grabbed his coat and stumbled out of your apartment leaving you feeling all different emotions that revolved around more than just a tattoo.

After that night the two of you remained on a strictly partner/co-worker relationship. The coffee and lunch breaks stopped. You didn’t speak unless it involved work related discussions. You were hurt and disappointed and maybe a little bit heartbroken.

Then one evening Captain Cho called an emergency meeting.

“We have received reliable intel that Myung will be meeting a new supplier at this abandoned factory located at the port. We need to dress and be ready to move out within the next fifteen minutes to meet him there. Everyone have your eyes and ears open. No one goes in alone and no one gets left behind.”

You and Yoongi loaded into the waiting van as it began the hour drive to the location. Namjoon who was sitting across from you gave you a smile and a light squeeze to your knee knowing that you still got a little nervous during raids like these. Yoongi grumbled about something when he noticed you two but you didn’t care enough to clarify.

The van pulled up to the location and you and the rest of the team exited and quietly made your way to the warehouse. You followed closely behind Yoongi up several flights of stares. Suddenly Yoongi stopped after you heard talking. Peaking around the corner you saw Myung and some other man having an altercation.

Unfortunately at that same moment your radio went off. You had forgotten to silence it, a rookie mistake. Myung shouted something and next thing you knew four men with guns were shooting at you both. Yoongi was trying to push you back as gunshots continued to ring through the air as you did your best to fire back while also ducking for cover.

Captain Cho was shouting over the radio for everyone to retreat and abandon mission. Myung took off running with Yoongi closely behind ignoring the captains orders and forgetting about the no one alone rule so you were forced to also chase after him.

“Yoongi stop!”, you shouted dodging a bullet.

“No I’m gonna kill him. Once and for all.”, he gritted through his teeth while reloading his gun. Captain Cho was demanding for your return but you couldn’t let Yoongi go alone.

“Y/N go back to the base. I don’t want you to get hurt.”, Yoongi said.

You shook your head, “No I’m not leaving you.”

Out of nowhere you felt someone shove something hard into the back of your head.

“Myung you fucking bastard. Back away from her. Now!.”, Yoongi hissed with his gun drawn in your direction.

“Or what?”, Myung spat, “Are you going to kill me? Have me arrested? Don’t you remember our little agreement Yoongi? Did you suddenly stop being a gangster and become a bitch of a good cop?”

You were confused by what he meant by all of that but the cold metal pushed into the back of your head was making it difficult to really think straight.

“Myung if you let Y/N go unharmed…I’ll…I will let you go free and take the blame for everything.”

He chuckled, “No no no Yoongi. That’s not how this works. I make the deals now. Not you.”

Yoongi looked above before turning his attention back to you, “Y/N, on the count of three run.”

You shook your head too afraid to move.

“1…2…3!”, he shouted. You tried to move but your feet were frozen. You heard two gunshots go off. The grip Myung had on your body softened as he dropped to the ground besides you and laid lifeless in a pool of his own blood.

You heard commotion above you and you turned to see Namjoon running down the stairs with his gun still drawn. You looked in front of you and saw Yoongi on his knees grasping his arm as blood was quickly soaking his shirt.

“Yoongi!,”, you screamed running towards him thankful he was wearing a bullet proof vest even though he had been shot in the arm by Myung just before Namjoon had shot him.

Namjoon called for medical attention which quickly arrived and you helped Yoongi over to the waiting ambulance.

You were talking to Namjoon as the medics removed Yoongi’s shirt even though he tried to fight it.

And that’s when you saw it. The tattoo on the left side of his chest clear as could be. You didn’t even excuse yourself from Namjoon instead choosing to storm over to Yoongi as the medic was stitching him up.

He refused to make eye contact with you until the medic was finished wrapping his arm up and left you two alone.

“Y/N let me explain.”, he said with his hands reaching out for you. He was cut off when your hand slapped across his cheek leaving a red mark.

You were fighting back tears as you bit your lip, “How could you? You’re one of them. I trusted you Yoongi. Namjoon tried to warn me and I didn’t listen to him.”

He shook his head, “Y/N listen to me. It’s not what you think. I am a member but not like that.”

You scoffed but stood silently otherwise waiting for him to continue.

“My father owed Myung a lot of money. He couldn’t pay him. One night he came to our apartment with two of his men. They…”, he took a deep breath. This was clearly hard for him to say, “They demanded the money and when he couldn’t pay them Myung killed my father. I was hiding in the closet. I was twelve years old when I watched that evil excuse of a man murder my father. Myung had his men stalk me for years. He would never kill a minor. Then when I turned eighteen he started demanding I repay my fathers debts. Of course I didn’t have the money. One night he had his men kidnap me. He told me that I either repay the debts or he would kill me right then just like he had done to my father.”, Yoongi took a shaky breath before continuing again, “Out of fear and desperation I offered him a deal. In exchange for not killing me I would work for him. To my surprise he accepted it. Over time I earned his trust and his respect and made it to a high raking position in the gang. But…but the entire time I was plotting a way to get him back and avenge my father’s murder. So when he came up with this plan to have someone infiltrate the police to get intel I volunteered. I had to do little things like let him know when we were coming so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. But now…I got him killed. That’s all I wanted and now I can move on knowing my fathers murderer is dead….and I can get this stupid tattoo removed. I’ve always hated having this disgusting ugly thing on my body.”, he said pointing at the ink.

You were left speechless. You took a few moments to to collect your thoughts until you heard Captain Cho demanding everyone return to the van immediately.

“Yoongi…I…I’m sorry you went through all of that.”, you whispered reaching for his hand, “Umm but Myung’s men will try to avenge his murder too. Once they find out you turned on him they’ll come after you. You’re in danger Yoongi.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine Y/N. I’m going to quit the force and I’ll move far away. But you need to distance yourself from me. They’ll come after you too if they know that you are important to me.”

“Yoongi you can’t leave. You can’t leave the force. You can’t leave me.”, you begged.

“Y/N I need to. For your safety. I love you Y/N and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You didn’t even fully register what he had just said to you said before Namjoon walked over and interrupted you, “Listen guys, Cho is ready to loose his shit. We need to go. Hey… where did Yoongi go?”

You nodded before looking around in a panic realizing that Yoongi had disappeared. You looked through your surroundings but it was too dark and you couldn’t see him anywhere.

Dejectedly you followed after Namjoon unsure of what would happen next.

It had been twelve months since you last saw Yoongi at the port. He vanished without a trace. His apartment was left untouched. He never officially resigned from the force but just stopped showing up so they were forced to fire him. You woke up every day hoping you would get some kind of a sign that he was okay. You knew that Myungs men had set their focus on finding him just like you had expected they would. It was hard for you to hear about it but it motivated you to capture every single one of them.

On a Wednesday morning you walked into work feeling exhausted and stressed. You placed your things down on your desk before getting called into Captain Cho’s office.

He handed you a piece of paper, “We got a call from an anonymous informant. They said they have specific details about the whereabouts of Jung Hoseok, the new leader of Saaghan.”

You nodded, “Okay should we get a team together?”

The captain shook his head, “The informant demanded you come alone. He said if you had anyone with you he’d refuse to talk so you’re going to be wired but you’ll go alone. We’ll have backup holding back a few blocks away.”

You nodded nervously but agreed to go.

When you got to a similar kbbq restaurant as before you walked inside to find it completely empty. The elderly woman behind the counter greeted you and directed you to a small room upstairs already knowing who you were there for.

In the small room Yoongi greeted you with a smile. He was dressed in a suit minus the jacket, his hair was much longer than the last time you saw him and he had a noticeable scar going through his right eye.

“Y/N, how have you been?”

“Good, and you?”, you responded still in shock at seeing him.

He nodded, “Great actually, especially now that you’re here.”

Yoongi walked over to you slowly and began pulling on the wire that ran along your body. Of course he knew it would be there. In one snap he disconnected it.

“I know we don’t have long until your team swarms the place now so I’ll make this quick.”, he said putting his jacket on and then handing you a loaded gun. “Run away with me Y/N. I’ll take care of you and provide for you. I’ll keep you safe and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“Yoon-Yoongi I can’t do that.”, you stuttered.

“Yes you can Y/N. If you want to be with me like I want to be with you then you can. You know that we can’t be together like this. A cop with a gangster. It’ll never work.”

You shook your head, “But you’re not really a gangster. We can explain what happened. Sure you’ll probably have to do a little jail time but if you agree to provide info on the gang members I’m sure they’ll reduce your sentence significantly. Then we can get you protection and everything.”

He cocked his gun hearing your fellow officers pull up, “You’re right Y/N…I wasn’t a real gangster…but a lot has changed in the last year.”

He walked over to the window and pushed it open before tossing a large duffel bag onto the roof of the building below. Then he turned in your direction. He held his hand out to you with a smirk, “So what do you say Y/N? Want to be the Bonnie to my Clyde?”

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part seventeen

authors note: hi! this one isn't as long as some of the most recent, but it is fluffy! well, for the most part. next one will probably be a lil longer and def not as fluffy.....

also, ya'll fake asf for not telling me i put 'simone' as reader sister's name when it's 'bianca' at the end of the last update. i may or may not watch crime docs sometimes while writing......

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 5k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @msbigredmachine @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

You don’t typically get nervous.

It’s just not a trademark of your personality, but for this….for this, there’s definitely a fair amount of trepidation. For one, outside of the fact that most of your favorite outfits suddenly seem too unflattering or fit a bit too snug. For two, you can’t seem to get your hair to cooperate with the same updo you’ve done since you were in your teens.

Not to mention the fact that you were so in your head about this damn lunch during your shower that you weren’t paying close enough attention as you were shaving down there and nicked yourself. On a fucking lip of all things. So now you walk with a bit of limp because that fucking cut keeps brushing, burning, against your underwear.

Truthfully, all of this just feels like a sign that you shouldn’t be doing this. That you should text Bianca some excuse as to why you can’t make it to lunch.

But, it’s the image of Callie’s sweet, smiling face and ardent excitement as you told her Bianca was coming in town and bringing Taylor that you realize you can’t do that to her. She’s so excited about seeing and playing with Taylor again that it feels almost cruel to take that away from her.

So pushing aside your injured pussy lip, crooked bun, and unflattering outfit, you do what needs to be done for the sake of your daughter.

And yourself, really. 

Of course, you got Callie ready before yourself, as she’s much much easier. So, it’s nothing to grab her once you’re done overthinking to head out and go. But not before snapping a selfie of the two of you and sending it to your close friends story and Joe. Cause God forbid this man learns what Stories are and how they work. 

You may not be thrilled with your appearance, but Callie is just too cute to not photograph.

You two arrive at the restaurant before Bianca and Taylor, which you’re mostly grateful for. It allows you to work through the remnants of your anxiety and catch up on a few texts. The first thing you have to reply to though is Joe who texts you in response to your snap.

Joe: Why does it go away so fast?

Joe: Just text me the photo.

His messages make you laugh aloud, forcing you to smack your hand over your mouth not to draw attention to yourself. Joe’s paltry skills with social media, or just Snapchat, really is both comical and sad as hell.

You shake your head, typing out your reply. 

You: babe, how many times do i have to tell you? just screenshot! 

Joe: That’s too much work.

Laughing again, you see Callie briefly look your way before she focuses her attention back onto her tablet. She’s been using it a bit more often than you’d like, but considering everything ya’ll have been through the past couple weeks, it’s hard to put limits there.

It is something to be mindful of though.

Hell, maybe she can help her dad learn a thing or two about how to work technology. 

You: i’m signing you up for some type of tech class or shit for your birthday, cause this is ridiculous. 🥴

Joe: Lol.

A thought then crosses your mind as you shoot him another text.

You: what do you want for your birthday, btw?

You: and remember, only one of us is rich. 🙃

Back when you and Joe were dating, the most he’d get from you is a birthday text or maybe some baked goods if he happened to be visiting near the time of his birthday. But, this is obviously very different. You’re now in a committed relationship, about to move in together to raise your daughter.

And with all Joe has done for you these past months, both financially and emotionally, it would be almost criminal to not get him something.

Of course, you also know that your man is just about as stubborn as you are, hence your expectation that he’ll simply say nothing or find some bullshit reason why you shouldn’t or don’t need to.

If only you actually planned to listen to him. 

And it’s also only March, giving you like two months to wear him down into just accepting your gratitude. 

Joe: Just say yes when I ask.

Reading his message makes you frown, your nose turned up in confusion. What is he talking about?

Joe: That’s all I need. All I want.

He’s successful in providing a nice distraction, sure, but this man is also confounding the fuck out of you. He’s always on some elusive, coy bullshit. 

You: what? what kind of man code speak shit is that? yes? yes to what? anal? 

You: we been over that shit. you’re too big. i’m down for anything but that.

Then again, Joe does have an uncanny ability to make anything feel good. And comparing a sexual experience with Amir to Joe is literally fucking apples and oranges. Much like his wrestling persona, Joe is on some ‘god mode’ type shit when it comes to sex.

Joe: Shut up. You’re gonna make me hard in this fuckin meeting thinking bout that pussy….

Naturally, you angle your body away from Callie a bit to ensure she has absolutely no way to see your phone, to see that message that has you pressing your thighs together. It’s definitely been too long since you’ve had him inside you, and him being nasty right now isn’t helping that. 

You: stop being nasty, please. callie is literally sitting next to me, and i don’t feel like soaking my panties.

You don't need your daughter knowing her parents are freaks.

You: i’ll see about when’s the next time we can come visit though 👀

Joe is hella deep in WrestleMania season, so it’s virtually impossible for him to get away, hence you needing to be the one to take her to go see him. Granted, you’re also busy as hell, trying to wrap up things at home, gradually transitioning to the house in Florida.

The house that you and Joe now officially own, because true to his word, as always, your name is on everything. You attended the signing with him which made it official. It’s also when you got to see just how much Joe spent on said house, the number nearly making you pass out in your seat.

Even more, to speed up the process and ensure you could move in much sooner than what’s typical when buying a house, he paid over the asking price. 

Cash.

It’s most definitely not possible to love this man more than you already do.

He follows up with another text shortly after, respectfully changing the subject in a way that makes you smile warmly. 

Joe: Don’t be nervous. 

It’s a bit unreal how good he is at reading you, even through texts.

You: lmao how’d ya know?

Joe: Cause I know you. 

Joe: You two already connected before you even realized who she was. Lean into that. Try to take your father out of the equation. This is about you and her. Not him.

Reading over Joe’s message once, twice, three times really does something to help your anxiety. He’s right. If you had never even known who Bianca really is, you guys would probably be even closer now, chatting it up frequently. There’s so much more potential there than there is danger.

You: thank you….i love you ❤️

Joe: Love you too, baby. Text me when ya’ll finish. 

Switching threads, you send out a few more texts and work out a date and time with Kaylah for her to accompany you and Alexis furniture shopping when Callie’s sweet, excited voice pulls you from your phone.

“Taylor!” Callie swiftly pushes her tablet to the side and climbs off the bench you two were waiting on when she sees Taylor’s smiling face.

“Callie!” 

It’s with an absolutely full heart you watch the two run to meet each other for a big hug, embracing like they’ve known each other for years.

Like they’re family.

“Hey….”

Your attention switches to Bianca who’s standing just a few feet away from you, clearly torn on whether to offer her hand, initiate a hug, or what.

Remembering Joe’s words of wisdom, you take a deep breath and hug her. “Hi, Bianca.”

You can literally feel the anxiety melt off of the both of you as you pull back and see she has unshed tears in her eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

You’re able to offer a smile, a genuine one too, especially as you glance over at the girls who are now sitting on the bench, looking and talking over Callie’s tablet. “I think it’s worth it just for that alone.”

Bianca looks and laughs. “She’s been asking about Callie.”

That dims your smile a bit, a strange sort of sadness. “Callie has been asking about her too.” You feel bad depriving the girls of seeing each other, scheduling out this meeting so far in advance, but it wasn’t entirely of your choosing.

The past three weeks since you found out Joe literally bought a house for three of ya’ll has been filled with nothing but preparing for the move. Working as much as you can, trying to transition your students as best as possible. Trying to figure out who to hire to move you all, flights back and forth from your town to Florida as you work on things for the house like getting the lights and water turned on and in your and Joe’s name.

Just a lot of shit.

So while you weren’t itching to pencil this in ASAP, you also would have been okay if it happened a bit sooner and closer to when you finally responded to Bianca’s text.

The four of you are escorted and seated in the restaurant, you and Bianca having Callie and Taylor sit in the booth across from you. 

This isn’t a conversation they need to overhear, not that they’d want to. They’re in their own little world.

After ordering and making small talk over your meals, Bianca is the one to make the first move. “I guess it’d be remiss of me to not start off with the big elephant in the room.”

There’s an unfamiliar sense of anxiety that starts to stir in your stomach, but you push it away, joking, “just one? I think we have a couple.”

She laughs and then starts off with, “I remember that day, you know.” Your confusion must show because she adds with an almost gentleness. “That day in the police station.”

And the anxiety is back, your eyes dropping to the plate of food as you try your best to keep your shit together. “Oh…that.”

“This probably sounds crazy, but….there was something about you that seemed familiar almost. But when I asked dad who you were….well…..”

“What did he say?” A part of you wants to know, but a large part of you doesn’t. So whether she answers or not, both are okay with you. 

There’s clear hesitation but she still answers, nonetheless. “He just said you were a troubled teen.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Typical. That man is bottom of the barrel trash, and if not for Bianca probably thinking decently of him, you’d say as such. “Of course he did.” 

“When I first asked him about you, he lied. He said he had no idea who you were, but I refused to let it go because…..because I could see the hurt in your eyes that night. I knew there was a story there, and I wasn’t going to give up until he came clean. And when he did…..” She shakes her head, tapping her fork against her plate. “We haven’t spoken since.”

That surprises you. You’d take a guess that Bianca and that man were close, or at least semi-close, so the fact that they haven’t spoken…..you feel bad. Not for him. Fuck him. But for her. “Bianca, regardless of what happened between me and….him…that shouldn’t get in the way—”

“I always wanted a sister, Y/N,” she interrupts, and you can hear the emotion arriving in her voice. “I begged my parents for years when I was a kid for them to give me a sister. And he knew. They both knew about you. They knew about you, and they kept us away from each other. He kept us away from each other.” She angrily wipes at her eyes. “I–I don’t know how to forgive that.”

Her emotions and feelings are valid. You feel the same way just for slightly different reasons, though forgiveness isn’t even something you’ve thought about. There is no forgiving that man for what he did.

But, just because that’s your story doesn’t mean it has to be Bianca’s.

“You need time to sort through it all,” is the best guidance you can give her. Anything more would be the emotionally blind leading the emotionally blind. “The same way I needed time before reaching out to you.”

She nods, sitting on your words. “And I really do appreciate you giving this a chance, Y/N.”

You’re starting to as well, but before things can move forward, you feel the need to set some ground rules. “I’m open to this….to getting to know you more, to letting the girls continue to know each other more, but…..I have a stipulation.”

Bianca swallows. “I’m listening.”

“Anything I share with you regarding myself and my family, I need it to stay between you and me. Your husband is fine, but your parents and brother…..I don’t want them knowing anything about me and especially my daughter.” Fingers nervously tapping against the table, you disclose, “I just had a really messed up situation happen that I’m still trying to fully process, so I’m even more protective of Callie and myself at this point in my life. And I like you, Bianca, but this isn’t something I can compromise on.”

“And you shouldn’t.” Her initial response surprises you a bit. A part of you was worried she’d try to convince you that you should at least be open to the possibility of getting to know the rest of the family. But given she’s not even speaking to her parents right now, your stipulation must not be a hard sell. “I completely understand, and I’ll respect your wishes. It’s probably better this way, actually.” 

Her agreeing and being respectful really means a lot to you, and you express as such. “Thank you, Bianca.”

Her smile is warm and welcoming as the both of you happen to glance over at the girls at the exact same time while they’re in the midst of a giggle fest. It makes you laugh as she asks, “so, you mentioned something about moving?”

“Yeah, umm, we’re moving to Florida with Callie’s dad.” For a brief second, you second guess telling her this information. Second guess how much you want to disclose. But, you decide that if Bianca is willing to meet you halfway, you need to do the same.

“Seriously?” you nod. “You know we live in Florida too, right?”

Yes and no. You remember Bianca telling you she lived further down South, but it isn’t until this very moment that you recall Bianca lives in Florida. You ask where and realize she’ll only be about 45 minutes out from your house.

Callie and Taylor are going to love this.

“So…..” She starts off, facial expression giving away that she has a question she’s burning to ask but is trying her best to keep to herself. “Callie’s dad…..”

Instantly, you’re laughing. It’s comical seeing her try so hard to be respectful. “You wanna know how we met.”

She releases a heavy sigh, planting both hands on the table. “Girl, you cannot just have Roman freaking Reigns fine ass be your man and daughter’s father and not expect me to ask.” Your laughter increases as she adds on, “respectfully, of course. I’m happily married. But, I still have eyes.”

Fair. Very fucking fair. “It’s….a bit of a complicated story.”

She darts her eyes over to the girls who seem like they’re still only in the first stages of play. “I think we have time.”

She’s not wrong.

Leaning a bit closer to her, extra mindful of your volume, you start of this wild yet epic love story. “So it all started at a Smackdown show….”

—------

“Alexis, why the hell is your mugshot your instagram profile pic?”

It’s a question you never thought would leave your mouth, nor something you thought you’d ever see. 

You still feel bad about that, about Alexis getting arrested for assaulting Mariah. Granted, it’s obvious Alexis doesn’t. Not one bit. She’s said as such to you, that she would do it all over again, arrest and all.

And it does help, slightly, that just as she predicted, the DA chose not to pursue the case on the grounds of lack of evidence. How much of that was Alexis being rich working in her favor vs there not being enough concrete evidence to sustain a case is beyond you. Regardless, you’re just happy she’s not in any major legal trouble because of you.

She looks over and flips her recent sew–in over her shoulder. “I look cute.”

She’s not entirely wrong, but Alexis looking amazing at any point and time isn’t a hard thing in general considering she’s naturally fucking gorgeous. “It’s a mugshot, Alexis.”

“And? Booking or not, I look cute.” You can see her observing some of the living room sets you two pass while making your way back to Kaylah and Callie from your bathroom break. Your bladder has been freaking irritating, with you needing to pee more than usual. And of course, Alexis couldn’t turn down an opportunity to snap bathroom selfies. “What about this?” 

Sliding your phone back in your purse, you see it’s a bedroom set, immediately reminding, “I’m waiting for Joe, Lex.”

“Girl, isn’t WrestleMania in like three weeks? You can’t wait that long to get a damn bed.” Before you can protest, she lifts an acrylic stiletto nail to silence you. “How you gonna be sleeping in a million dollar house on a damn air mattress, Y/N? You suck at this rich bitch shit.”

“I’ll be fine. We just need to get Callie something today. That’s the priority.” And it’s the truth. Callie having at least the essentials in her room is why you’re perusing this fancy ass furniture store in the first place. “As long as my baby is good, I’m good.”

“Whatever, but do you at least like it?” Her question is valid, so you observe the bedroom set. It’s a seven piece, dark wood, silver accents. “It is nice. Looks like something for a man too.”

That’s the thing though. You feel a bit wrong buying a bedroom set that’s for two people when only one is present. Joe made it clear he’s cool with whatever you get, but considering he’s paying for it, he should have a say.

Alexis then points out. “It even includes a full body mirror that way ya’ll can watch yourselves fucking.”

“Alexis!”

“What?” She smacks her teeth, hand on her hip. “Is it a lie?”

Your mouth opens and immediately snaps shut. She’s right. It’s not a lie. Joe loves making you watch him fuck you, finger you, eat you out. You name it. And it’s not like you object either….

But, that doesn’t mean you need it pointed out in a damn furniture store.

“Let’s just get back to Callie,” you murmur, certain that your cheeks are tinged red. Thank black Jesus for melanin to hide embarrassment in moments like this. 

Callie spots you before you can even catch her attention. “Mommy!” She runs over, taking your hand as she guides you over to a display. “Look!” Immediately, you can understand why she wants you to see it. 

It literally looks like something out of HGTV magazine. White bedroom pieces adorned with pinks, purples, yellows. All of Callie’s favorite colors. The bed is actually a bunk bed that’s designed like a castle, the larger bed on the bottom and the spiral staircase leading up to the second bed a bit smaller.

It’s so excessive and so Callie.

Kaylah comes beside you with a knowing smirk. “I think she’s found the one.”

“Can I get it mommy, please!” Callie is peering up at you with those big brown eyes, holding onto your legs. “We can ask daddy!”

That last part makes you chuckle. You already know that man would have his card out by now, signing for the transaction. Whatever she wants, he makes it happen.

You do ask though, looking for a price tag or something. You know it’s gotta cost a pretty penny with how excessive and grandiose it is. “How much is it…..”

“Who cares?” Alexis suddenly sounds, walking over with an annoyed expression. “You know Joe is good for it. Time to pull out one of those fancy new cards he got for you.”

She’s referring to the new set of debit and credit cards in your wallet, all the result of Joe adding you on as an authorized user on all of his accounts. For some reason, you’ve hesitated to actually use any of them, regardless of the fact that all of the shopping you need to do is for the house you’re all living in together.

Kaylah gently bumps into your side. “You already know what he’d say.”

His deep voice is in your ear as if he’s standing beside you. My little girl gets what she wants.

“Girl, he’d be at the register by now.” You laugh, looking down and bopping Callie’s nose. “Daddy already said you can get whatever you want, Callie Bear” Wanting to be sure, you lean down, asking, “is this really the one you want?”

“Yes!” She cheers, jumping up and down and hugging you. “Mommy! I’m gonna be a princess!”

Rubbing her cheek, you lean over to kiss her forehead. She’s not entirely wrong. Especially when she sees the surprise Joe is working on for her new bedroom.

Feeling slightly ganged up on but also content with making a purchase that will make your little girl happy, you stand up, announcing, “then let’s get it for you, baby.” Callie continues to celebrate at the pending purchase of her new bedroom set as you grab your phone to check the time. The OB-GYN happened to have a cancellation today, which works perfectly cause the initial appointment they gave you wasn’t until the end of April. So, you snatched it up. “Come on, let’s go use one these fancy new cards.”

Alexis nods with such pride, giving a fist pump and high five to Callie after Kaylah does the same. “Let’s fuc—”

“Alexis!”

—---------

After purchasing and arranging an expedited delivery date for Callie’s new bedroom set, the three of you head back over to the new house. Kaylah leaves shortly after, needing to go pick Ellie up from school. 

But Alexis stays and keeps Callie company while you shower and get ready for your appointment. Callie asks if she can come with you, and you explain that you’ll come right back home after, which seems to somewhat settle her. But, you can tell she still doesn’t like the answer. 

It’s something you make a mental note to discuss with Joe. 

She’s been asking a lot of questions like ‘when are you coming back,’ and ‘can i come with you?’. 

You’ve noticed an increase in her separation anxiety since the whole DCFS nightmare. Not that you can blame her. You also have a small amount of anxiety any time you have to “leave” her, a brief irrational thought that they could take her away from you again.

Yeah….definitely something to discuss with Joe.

The doctor’s office is only about a 15 minute drive from the house, which is super nice and the office atmosphere is automatically welcoming. Right off the bat, you feel comfortable. Approaching the receptionist who offers a kind smile, you provide your first and last name, explaining you’re here for a new patient appointment.

She types on the computer, asking in a kind voice, “were you able to fill out the paperwork?”

“Uhhh, no, I’m sorry. We’re in the process of trying to move here, so I’ve been back and forth, and it just slipped my mind.” You’re probably offering more information than what’s necessary, but as someone who gets heavily annoyed when people don’t follow through on tasks, you can understand if there’s irritation on her part. “But, I came a little early to see if I can just fill it out now?”

“Of course, honey.” Her voice is honey sweet as she rolls in her chair, grabbing a clipboard that has paperwork attached. Handing it to you, she explains, “just answer as best you can and be sure to signature and initial when it asks for either. If you don’t finish by the time they call you back, don’t worry about it. You can finish it with the nurse.”

“Thank you so much.” As she hands you back your drivers license and insurance card, you place both back in your wallet and find an empty seat in the waiting area. Using the pen attached, you start to complete the paperwork, unsurprised by how thick the packet is. Specialty doctors typically have a lot of information they need. Unfortunately, some of it requires you to pull up your phone to log into your MyChart. This makes the process take even longer, so much so that you’re only about halfway done when an older black woman, probably around your mom’s age, calls you back.

Seeing so much melanin instantly puts you at so much ease. You can see why Kaylah highly recommended this practice. You haven’t even met the doctor yet, and you’re already sold. 

The nurse, Helen, as she introduced herself makes nice pleasantries with you as she takes your blood pressure before directing you to stand on the scale.

It’s one thing to suspect that you’ve gained weight but another to actually have it confirmed. And that’s exactly what the scale does.

It’s nothing major, but definitely something to monitor. You’ve never been super anal about your weight, but you also know you have to keep an eye on it, to some extent.

Helen takes the incomplete paperwork from you, kindly explaining that she can just take the information from you verbally as she types it into the system. You’re grateful because your hand is already cramping.

Her questions are mostly easy, some requiring you to use the MyChart as well as dig deep into your long-term memory to retrieve those long forgotten tidbits of information.

But, it’s one question in particular that changes everything. 

“And what was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

Naturally, you unlock your phone again to open Flo, but your finger is hovering over the pink icon when it slams into you. A whirlwind of little things that create a much bigger, life changing picture.

Nausea. Vomiting. Emotionality. Breast tenderness. Weight gain. Frequent urination.

No cycle.

“Oh my god…..” Your phone drops in your lap as you bring your hands to cover your mouth, eyes wide and focused on nothing in particular. “Oh…..” How you didn’t put the pieces together much sooner is a bit beyond you. A large chunk of it, you’d guess, was because you chalked it all up to the high stress you’ve been under the past few months. Many people would react the way you did, but this isn’t just that.

It’s more.

So much more.

Helen is suddenly crouched in front of you, hand on your knee. “Is everything alright, baby?”

Watery eyes snapping to her, you nod fervently, starting to wipe at the tears that have already started to spill. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just—” You get choked up, releasing a perfect mixture of a sob and laugh. “The last time I was in this position, I sat in my doctor’s office bawling my eyes out because I was so scared and nervous and just not in a good place mentally. But now…..” It’s hard for you to fully explain all of the wonderful emotions coursing through your body. “I’m doing the same thing but for entirely different reasons.” Your hand goes to your stomach as you look up and tell her with the happiest voice. “I’m pregnant.”

————

It’ll take a couple days for the results of your pregnancy test to come back, as explained by Dr. Young, whom you already love and trust to assist you through your pregnancy. 

But, you don’t need test results to confirm what you already know.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that you’re pregnant, and that thought alone is enough to bring you to tears. It’s why you’ve been sitting in your car for almost half an hour just crying. Tears of joy, of course.

The first and only thing you want to do is call Joe. You want to tell him with everything in you.

But…..

You can’t.

Not yet anyway.

He was deprived of so much with Callie, lost out on so many special moments. You can’t do the same with this pregnancy. You need to make this as special for him as possible, from the moment he finds out to the moment he holds this new baby for the first time.

It’s why you know that you can’t tell a soul. Not Alexis. Not your mom. Not even Callie. 

Joe was the last to find out before, but he’ll damn sure be the first to find out this time. 

It’s also why you make the somewhat difficult to keep Callie out of the loop too. A part of you thinks it could be sweet to have her help you break the news to him, but you also don’t want to deprive him of telling Callie with you.

So, you decide that this has to be a solo venture.

The first thing you need to figure out is the timeline. Figure out when you can go see Joe to tell him in person, because with WrestleMania right around the corner, there’s no way he’ll be back here before then. You and Dr. Young predict you’re about 10 weeks along, which means you’ll be hitting three months in less than a month. That works out good, because you were about four months pregnant with Callie before you started showing, so there’s some grace there.

Granted, it is a little odd that you’ve already gained the amount of weight you have given you’re not even three months along…..

The phone ringing pulls you from your thoughts. The ringtone tells you it’s Alexis before you even look at the phone. 

It takes a second for you to gather yourself, knowing her perceptive ass will pick up on something right away if you don’t. Three deep breaths help you to feel adequately prepared before you hit answer. “Hey girl. I’m on my—”

“I swear to God, Y/N, I’m literally going to kill that bitch! I don’t even fucking care anymore! I’m going to prison!”

You’re used to Alexis being dramatic and over the top, but there’s an unfamiliar level of alarm in her voice. “Lex, wait, slow down. What are you talking about?”

She pauses on the other end of the phone. “Fuck. You don’t know yet, do you?” She curses. "Damn, I figured you did by now, considering my phone has been going off with notifications from all the major news outlets the past hour."

Your throat suddenly feels dry. “Know what?” She doesn’t say anything, so you snap, “know what, Alexis!”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone followed by her directing, “go to TMZ. Right now.”

Your panic instantly melts away. Alexis and her damn obsessiveness over pop culture. 

Sucking your teeth, you laugh and shake your head. “Girl, you are so dramatic. Had me thinking something happened.” Switching to speaker, you open up your browser and start to type. “This better not be about the housewives, cause…..” Your voice stops and stomach drops when the splash screen loads, allowing you to read the headline.

A headline that includes a picture of you and Callie. 

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: WWE SUPERSTAR ROMAN REIGNS LONG-TERM MISTRESS AND ALLEGED LOVE CHILD 

Click for pictures and videos! Read the scathing story and watch the exclusive tell all interview with mistress childhood friend!

[cuttleimagines]

𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚞𝚛'𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝟹 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚜:

𝚃��𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝™ (part 1)

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝟹𝚊𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚕

Contains: Astarion, Halsin, Gale, and Wyll

Warnings: 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢/𝚗, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘

Have more headcanons? Let me know in the comments!

Like what I write? Tip me on ko-fi! ⚔️

Halsin:

Halsin’s the outdoorsy BBQ dad who takes you on family camping trips.

You learn all of your life-saving skills from daddy Halsin. How to build a campfire from scratch, how to safely put one out, how to pitch a tent, how to fish.

A particular core memory you share with your dad is when he brought you to the lakeside, teaching you how to skip rocks across the calm waters.

“Look for flat rocks, little one. The ones you can run the pads of your thumbs over.” Halsin hums, the rocks crunching under his shoes as his eyes scan for the best rocks to gather for you to practice with.

His strong arms give the best hugs, and his broad shoulders are the best to lean on when sitting down next to him.

You already know all the moms simp over him when he shows up for school gatherings 💀

They see how attentive he is, how he’s always at LEAST 10 minutes early to your recitals, games, award ceremonies, fundraisers, you name it. He’s always willing to volunteer if the school staff need an extra pair of muscles too.

Since he volunteers a lot, he starts to become pretty popular amongst your classmates too. Definitely the cool dad without trying to be the cool dad.

Probably one of the coaches for the local little league

Mans has an affair with his grill. That thing is his BABY. It’s sacred.

Your weekend evenings are filled with the cool summer evening air against your skin and the faint scent of bug spray and the smoke from dad’s grill, playing with your yard toys.

He’s happy to have helpers as long as you ask! He’s a very patient teacher. He’ll pass you a turning fork and a meat paintbrush to perfectly cover the meat in his homemade BBQ sauce that was passed down for generations.

“Look at you, making dinner all by yourself!” He’d let out a hearty laugh, a proud smile on his face as he eats with the rest of the family, the small glow of a latern on the table outside illuminating his face. “It tastes better than I usually make it. Well done.”

He can hike like a motherfucker

There is not one trail this man has not conquered. His favorite is always one closest to the waterfalls wherever you all camp.

You are his pride and joy and he shows it. A HUGE sucker for you but he is firm with discipline. Refuses to hit you, only believes in consequence with experience.

Will 100% put you in the timeout corner. Is not fooled by toddler crocodile tears.

He has expectations, but he’s such a caring dad to the point where you don’t really see them as annoyances or burdens.

He’s a listener. If you’re going through something, he’ll listen and carry it out. Helps you in all the ways he knows how.

Puts a LOT of trust in you, highly suggest you don’t break that trust as you get older and become more independent.

Hyper-protective but not in a helicopter parent way. Just pls always give him frequent calls and updates whenever you’re out otherwise he will worry.

His texting style is very brief but you can tell he cares lol

“dad I’m going to my friend’s house and staying the night.”

“👍❤️” “Stay safe. Call me when you get there.”

Idk if I stressed this: DAD BEAR HUGS !!

Dad Song™️ that reminds you of him: You’ll Be In My Heart - Phil Collins

Wyll:

Wyll’s the nostalgic workaholic, attentive and caring dad who taught you life lessons that you’ll think about for the rest of your life.

He’s very very passionate about helping as many people as he can and saving those who need it the most, so I picture him being gone a lot due to work.

He probably travels a lot and you were mostly with your other parent while growing up.

However, when he is home, I cannot explain to you how amazing of a father your dad is.

Like, I can picture your other parent getting so fed up with all the responsibilities of holding down the fort so long without his help, and when he walks in the door, all of that tension is just gone.

He’s a movie dad, probably knows all the classic films and wins all of the trivia games when it comes to 60s - 2000s movies.

(No, seriously, never bring this man to an Olive Garden or a Chili’s to play the trivia games on the little iPads. He’ll win every fucking time.) 💀

That also means frequent movie nights when he’s home!

Imagine being cuddled up with popcorn, laying beside your dad on the couch while he makes side commentary on the plot that makes you laugh.

If you show him a movie or a song, he’s very attentive and will ask many questions, such as “Who’s this actress? She’s really talented” or “When was this made?"

When you were a baby, he'd be the type to sway with you in his arms, singing to one of his favorite songs as it played on the stereo in the morning

Occasionally, he still does it. He gets really happy if you learn the lyrics and sing with him. 😭

Being active is a big, big thing for him. Please, play outside. Be a kid. Don’t be cooped up inside. He HATES that.

He’s gonna encourage sports, as long as you stay up-to-date on studies and try your best.

I don’t see him getting upset if you have grades below an A. Just as long as you’re passing and trying your best, he’s happy.

However, if you have a goal to get into a competitive school, he might push you a little.

“The hardest steps are always the first ones. After you pass that, you will sail.”

Whenever anyone at the school is giving you shit, please, please tell him. He'll be so heartbroken if his baby doesn't come to him with their problems. ☹️

I don’t think it’s a surprise that he’s not going to swear in front of you, or encourage drinking or sneaking out of any kind.

He volunteers a lot at your school events, similar to Halsin. They have frequent conversations together, bonding over their little bundles of joy. 😭

When you get older, he’s teaching you everything he KNOWS about adulthood

Shows you how to do your taxes the DAY you turn 17 so you’re a year ahead and don’t have to pay anyone, takes you out to practice driving a lot, helps you move into your college dorm.

“Are you positive you have everything you need? I know I’m not here frequently, but I’ll drop my duties if you need anything.”

I think for your 18th birthday, he gets matching tattoos with you and lets you pick out the design/the words.

He flaunts it a lot, regardless of whatever it is.

You’re his BABY!! He’s so proud to be your dad 🥹

Dad Song™️ that reminds you of him: Love Will Keep Us Together - Captain & Tennille

Astarion:

Astarion is 100% the "don't tell your mom" dad who lets you get away with murder.

Astarion never pictured himself as someone who would be having children. He didn't even think he'd be a good father. So when you were born, everything crashed around him, and all he could see was tunnel vision when your tiny hand held his finger. 🥹

However, please keep in mind that he has no idea what the literal fuck he is doing when he's getting into the whole "dad" thing. Whenever you spit up, start bawling, or shit yourself he just holds you up like "What the fuck do I do?"

This slowly fades as you get older and he goes from holding you like a fragile piece of glass to hoisting you up by one arm like you were a sack of potatoes.

Encourages mischievous behavior. If you want a cookie before dinner, you get one. If you want to watch TV past 9:00, he won't tattle.

Whenever you're young, it's a little difficult to get along with your dad, surprisingly, but mainly just because he doesn't know how to properly play with you and give you the one-on-one you need. But trust that he'll be there. Just distant.

As you get older, though, he finds it easier to relate to things with you, and you grow closer. Especially when you start learning how to gossip. God, he loves that. Tell him what that one bitch told you in the hallways. He's the BEST at talking shit.

"Honestly, darling, you need to use that backbone I gave you. The best way to piss somebody off is to act like they can't touch you. Come on, practice on me. Tell me my mother's a whore."

Yeah, you get in trouble quite often. You're Astarion's kid. Who's surprised?

However, your little eyes light up whenever the teacher threatens to call your father. That man is your lawyer in the principal's office.

He is the school board's worst nightmare. It's so good. 🤭

"So what if they put gum in her hair? Honestly, though, have you SEEN her? She needs some color in her hair, I think. I believe they were helping her, personally."

I'm sorry but if you stay at home a lot of the time and you're in your teens, he WILL give you shit for it.💀

You always remember seeing him sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as he stares at you with that raised eyebrow.

"It's a Friday night. You have friends, don't you? Sneak out every once and a while. Be a kid, for gods sake."

Although he's incredibly relaxed about you partying and staying out late, you'd better CALL him if you get in trouble. He always stays up to make sure you get back home safe.

One memory you always hold onto is your dad always having a hand on you in public. Whether that be on your shoulder, absentmindedly twirling your hair, hand on the small of your back, or just holding the cloth of your shirt. NOBODY is touching you. ‼️

Surprisingly, he’s a dad who prioritizes safety beyond everything else. Look both ways, carry pepper spray at all times, always carry cash, never have your phone below 20 percent out of the house. More importantly, CALL him if you’re walking home alone so people know not to fuck with you.

He has your location on and checks it frequently, but don’t worry, he’s not anal about anything as long as it’s in character for you.

Because of this, you have the best street smarts out of all your friends.

He's an absolute NIGHTMARE at your school games. Talks shit to all of the parents on the other side and is the loudest when it comes to calling out the refs for bad calls.

“Double dribble?! Where?! How about you double dribble on this dic—“

He's gotten escorted out of the gymnasium a few times. 💀

When you get older, he becomes someone you confide in a LOT. And he’s going to be there for you, no matter the circumstance.

Overall, he just wants to give you a better life than he had. He's the most loyal father EVER.

Dad Song™️ that reminds you of him: Renegade - Styx

Gale:

Like Astarion, Gale is also a "don't tell your mom'' dad, but for very, very different reasons.

He's just a sucker for you, honestly. Can't say no to your big puppy eyes that you got from him.

I don’t think it’s a surprise that Gale’s secretly always wanted to be a father. That man gets off on sharing his knowledge. Passing that down to a little tiny Dekarios running around the house is right up his alley.

Gale just absolutely loves being a dad.

He loves playing pretend with you, getting to see how your little mind works while he crawls on the floor pretending to be a horse while you ride on his back.

Playing hide and seek is his favorite because you giggle so loudly and hide in such an obvious spot every time. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“Hmm… Where could that little rager have run off to…? I wonder~” He’d grin, staring right at the blanket you had so deviously hidden under.

Gale would buy those math flashcards to teach you times tables when you’re way too young for it.

You don’t care though because you get to spend time with your dad and his frustration’s funny when you just stare blankly at him.

Another thing he loves to do is read to you. You know those preschool teachers who show the book around and make little voices for the characters? That's him.

As you get older, you learn what to go to him for.

If you fake a sickness because you don't want to go to school, he's coming to pick you up. Even though he's very well aware that you're faking, and you're gonna get an earful of a lecture about it, he's always there if you need him.

He'd take you out for ice cream and while you're stuffing your face, he has the most disapproving look on his face.

"You know, you can't expect to get good grades if you've got chocolate ice cream in your stomach while the other kids are getting fed important information, sweetheart. Are you listening to me?"

As you get older please be gentle with him because he still sees you as a freshly wrapped-up newborn. It breaks his heart whenever you get in arguments when you reach your rebellious hormonal teenage persona.

Despite your issues with your dad being a little overprotective with high expectations, he's such a teddy bear and you grow a big soft spot for him as you get over your rebellion.

He's very easy to make laugh if you pull pranks on him. If you hide behind one of the doors and scare him, he's so animated it's great.

"I'm getting old, you know! You'll make my heart stop one of these days!" He'll joke, laughing through his rapid heartbeats.

He always has photos of you as a baby and insists on taking photos at all your big moments. Your graduation, he's first in line to take a picture with his baby. Damned scholarships can wait. He's the one who raised you.

Posts pictures of you all the time with witty captions and might throw a baby photo or two in the mix for a bit of nostalgia.

"Still terrorizing my wallet after all these years. I am a walking piggy bank. 😂 Love you, you hellion! Happy birthday. 🥳" Posted with a picture of you as a baby with one of those boujee toy kitchen sets right next to a picture of you getting your first car.

He's so posh about his cooking and will insist on eating at home ALL the time. You started to grow sick of it but after moving out you missed home-cooked foods so bad. Everytime you visit, you INHALE your dad's food.

Wears a "Kiss the Cook" apron, plays music whenever he grills.

Speaking of grilling, all the dads get together to grill once every few months but Astarion doesn't participate and just brings his family there for the free food because he can't be asked to cook. 😭

Dad Song™️ that reminds you of him: Dream On - Aerosmith

[littlejuicebox]

Little Lockpick.

Okay this is the last addition for the weekend.

My ADHD hyperfixated on Dadstarion and now I need to focus on my big girl life and job for the week.

Definitely didn’t mean to go this crazy on the writing but hey, when inspiration strikes. 🤷‍♀️

I really need to update these headers at some point. Problems for future Gina.

Summary: Toddler Gale has developed new magic skills and wants Papastarion to open a lock NOW. Right now. Tav has some interesting news after an appointment.

Tags/Warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, fluff, idk what else?

*

Astarion is in his office, trying to work, which is almost impossible with Gale sitting on his lap. The toddler is fiddling with something in his small hands as his father reads over a scroll for the second time, trying to focus on the words. It’s become increasingly difficult to do so as frustrated huffs and grunts escape the almost-three-year-old.

“Daddy! Help!” Gale exclaims, pulling Astarion’s attention from the scroll and down to the little silver-haired boy. The toddler is shaking what’s in his hand up at his father, nose crinkled in displeasure.

“Hmm…” The elf murmurs, taking the little toy — if you could call it that — from his son. It’s a small padlock. The toddler had been trying, quite incessantly, to open it for nearly half an hour. It was enough to keep Gale pre-occupied while his mother went to her appointment, but now the toddler is getting frustrated and his father knows there will soon be a melt down if the issue isn’t remedied.

“Little prince, where did you find this?” Astarion asks while handing the tiny metal lock back to Gale. The silver-haired boy climbs off his father’s lap. Uncoordinated legs take him over to the bookshelf along the office wall, and he points to the bottom shelf.

“Found here! Right here.” The toddler babbles, crinkling his white eyebrows at his father, wondering why the older man is asking him such a silly question. Gale is growing more impatient, upset that Astarion simply isn’t doing what he asked and opening the lock. But no, daddy insists on asking him these questions instead, “Why daddy? Why? Open it!”

Tiny fingers grip the loop of the lock again, trying and failing to release the mechanism with sheer force. The child’s two little arms aren’t strong enough to pry open the lock. Gale is growing more and more frustrated. Red patches flush across his cheeks as he grunts, compelling Astarion to move from his chair and crouch in front of the toddler, intending to placate him.

“We need a key to open the lock, Gale. I was hoping there would be one near where you found the lock but I don’t think—“ The elf starts, but he’s cut off by a high pitched wail escaping his son.

“OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!”

The little boy is throwing himself on the ground now, still gripping the offending toy. Fat, frustrated tears are falling from his gorgeous green eyes. He’s practically the spitting image of his father, and even in his tantrums he is a beautiful, adorable thing. But Astarion begins to panic, knowing Gale needs to calm down, he needs to calm down before—

The toddler shrieks at the top of his lungs and a powerful gust of wind comes from nowhere, knocking Astarion onto his back and sending a flurry of papers shooting off the desk.

It’s ironic, Astarion thinks, that his son is named Gale and the first spell he can unintentionally cast is a gust of wind whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. The elf is groaning in pain as his eyes clamp shut; he is trying desperately to regain his composure before he addresses the toddler. These terrible twos have been… well, terrible. Astarion’s patience is running thin.

He remembers his wife’s coaching. Deep breath in, long exhale out. The poor little prince doesn’t know any better.

The wind scares Gale into silence. He doesn’t yet understand his powers, and when he sees his father knocked prone on the floor, he starts crying again. They’re sticky, snot-filled, guilty tears, this time. He doesn’t understand how he conjures the wind, but he does know that the damage is his fault. Despite his current tantrum, Gale is an overall empathetic and sensitive boy, and the vision of the damage he’s done worries him.

“Sorry, daddy!” The toddler gasps through choked cries, sitting himself up and bunching his hands in tight, worried fists which he brings to the sides of his face, “I a bad boy!”

Astarion rolls himself up to a sitting position and scoops the child into his arms with a belabored sigh, “You’re not a bad boy, Gale.”

He soothes the child in a soft coo as he rubs small circles on the little boy’s back. Gale’s small body continues to wrack with sobs as his father places a kiss on his crown of silvery curls and whispers, “You’re just an exceptionally powerful one. But you get that from your mother, little prince.”

The elf stands, taking his son with him in the process as he walks out of the office, headed towards the bedchambers and still rubbing the little boy’s back as the toddler begins to calm down.

The papers will just have to be cleaned up later.

*

“Again, again, daddy!”

When you find your husband and child, they are both laying atop your bed, facing away from the door. Gale is giggling incessantly and clapping his hands together, asking his father to repeat something.

“There you two are. What are you doing?” You ask as you enter the room, one hand on your stomach. You’ve just come from an appointment with Jaheira.

The two men turn their heads and grin at you practically in unison. It makes you chuckle. It’s truly startling, how similar they are from their looks to their mannerisms. You catch sight of Astarion’s old lockpicking kit between the two of them, and your eyebrow cocks curiously.

“Are you really showing our toddler how to pick locks, Astarion?” You ask as you make your way to sit on the bed with the rest of your little family.

“Yes. But it’s a bit of a story, love. I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Your husband responds, handing the padlock and one of the tools to Gale, where he attempts to mimic the previous motions of his father. His tiny tongue sticks out as he focuses.

Astarion moves to kiss your cheek and then lightly brushes his fingers against your abdomen, subtly greeting the growing life inside, “How did the appointment go?”

“Good…” You murmur in a long, drawled out way. By your tone and the large grin spreading across your face, your husband can tell something is up.

His eyebrow cocks as he assesses your face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind your eyes. Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t bad news, and the knot in his stomach he’d constantly carried prior to this preliminary check-up is starting to finally subside as he analyzes you.

It took a long time to conceive this round; you two had nearly given up. When you finally missed your moonblood, both of you were waiting with bated breath for the first month. This experience was a sharp contrast to Gale’s conception, which happened easily, by accident and without much thought. Both of you had been emotional, nervous wrecks up until now.

“What is it, darling?” Your husband asks, smiling despite himself, simply matching your energy.

“Jaheira is almost certain it’s twins, Astarion.” You respond, and then you’re laughing as you watch your husband’s face turn from shocked to excited to worried to overwhelmed all in the span of a few seconds.

“Twins?” He asks, dumbly, trying to process the new information. A hand comes to rake through his curls as he exhales through the shock, “Love, we might need to hire some more help, I know you said you didn’t want to, but—“

“Yes, I was thinking the same. Especially if they’re also going to show Gale’s same penchant for spells.” You agree, and at the mention of your son’s name he perks up and grins at you, proudly showing you the lock, “Speaking of which…”

You reach into your robe pocket and retrieve a small beaded necklace before patting your lap, and beckoning to your son, “Come here to me, my little love.”

Gale obliges happily, crawling over to settle in your lap. You kiss the crown of his head and then clasp the small necklace onto the toddler. Astarion is watching you curiously, his head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to grasp the necklace and examine it. The toddler sure does love that lock, he’s barely acknowledging either of you as you speak around him.

“It’s a dampener,” You explain, “I was telling Jaheira about the recent development. She gave me this. It won’t completely take away Gale’s powers… but it should help to reduce the strength of his spells until he learns to control them himself.”

Astarion nods with a relieved sigh, “Good. If I’m being honest, darling, I was worried he might accidentally hurt you.”

You nod knowingly and then groan as your stomach begins to growl. The appointment took a bit longer than you thought; it’s past your usual lunch time. You begin to stand, pulling the toddler in your arms with you as you say, “Now how about lunch in the sunroom? I’m starving.”

Astarion hums in agreement, “Go on, my love. I’ll grab the food and join you two in just a moment.”

You nod and carry Gale out, singing softly to the little boy as you head to the sunroom, leaving Astarion to gather his own thoughts for a moment.

The elf throws himself back on the bed with a groan, running his hand through his curls once again. Twins.

Twice the joy. Twice the work.

Astarion cannot help but to laugh, and then smile, even though he knows the next few years are going to be hectic. Perhaps more hectic than he’d imagined. Before long he’s rolling off the bed and headed to the kitchen, planning to prepare a platter of sandwiches and tea for himself and his two — four — little loves.

[jaylver]

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE — P.SH (TEASER!)

SYNOPSIS: Having a one night stand wasn’t your forte, but with the help of adrenaline, and most definitely not alcohol, you managed to rope yourself into one. Worst part of all was the fact that you didn’t even know his name! The only distinguishable part of him was his blinding white hair. You figured you will never see him again after, but you were so wrong. Your friend practically set you up for failure after convincing you to take her place on a blind date to try and drive the guy away, only for it to be the one you slept with, who also happened to be your mother’s best friend’s son that you met right before that. 

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!sunghoon x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, comedy, slice of life, angst

WARNING(S): profanities, slight violence, suggestive content (no smut), drinking, partying (subjected to change)

RELEASE DATE: (estimated) 8th September 2023 / (latest) 15th September 2023 / 11.30 pm GMT+8

AUTHOR NOTES: send in an ask/comment to be added to the ongoing taglist! will be closed before the release date (when i update it). after the last jayke fics being filled with angst, i've decided to go back to my roots and write something more light hearted.

TAGLIST (CLOSED!!!!!): @1800-beomgyu @yawnzshit @shinrjj @skzenhalove @taekwondoes @lalalalawon @ce1ight @enhacqke @winteringdream @strvlveera @rikisly @rikakhai @renchai @sievenderz @fariylixie0915 @enhastolemyheart @ckline35 @imhuh @yenqa @jayfrvr @tobiosbbyghorl @liikno @vizstars @kells5595 @addictedtohobi @rikisly @luvkpopp @delulu4-life @leep0ems @moonlighthoon @internet-folks @flwrshee @beansworldsstuff @bitehee @asyleums @luv4cheol @yur1a1 @dammit-jjk @kjrcrz @jhopesucker @enhaz1 @lilriswife4life

© jaylver all rights reserved.

THIS SHOULDN’T BE HAPPENING TO YOU NOW, BUT IT ACTUALLY WAS. 

Never in a million years would you have expected yourself in some random guy’s bed, naked and a throbbing head reminding you of last night's mistake. Blacked out, you were too drunk to even remember making a callous decision in fucking a guy’s name you couldn’t even remember now. Wow.

How did you even manage to bring yourself into this situation? Well, a frat party might explain it. Letting Wonyoung and Yunjin drag you to their favourite frat party was already the first mistake, but when you discovered good booze and consumed too much of it, you ended up wandering off and found a hot man, not turning back, instead you ventured into his bed. Horniness along with a pinch of alcohol could really cloud someone’s mind and awareness, unfortunately you could prove that fact since you were a victim of it. 

It was currently 4 am and the man you fucked last night was dead asleep with his back facing to you while on the other hand, you were wide awake, swallowing whatever information you got from last night. You remembered him as a charming, flirty, funny white headed man who had a big dic—heart—excuse you, that was equally respectful and polite. 

He was just as handsome, gorgeous and breathtaking as his personality. Bright eyes, pale skin that complimented his hair, a pair of dimples that had you swooning, and legs long enough to outshine a professional model. Hell, how was he not a model in the first place?

Whatever happened yesterday night stays in the depths of his bed. Period. Though you couldn't deny his … skills, and you wouldn't mind another night with him, yet something in you was rejecting the idea of seeing him again and determined to have him remain as a one night stand.

Frankly speaking, you didn't want to leave this bed of his at all. Was he a morning stay in bed cuddling type of person? You wouldn't know and you're scared to know. What if he kicks you out? You needed to save yourself the embarrassing walk of shame in the morning, so instead, you slowly slipped out of bed, making sure he was still sound asleep before scurrying out.

The clothes scattered on the floor were unsurprising. You picked up your undergarments and the skimpy black dress you wore, pulling it on quickly as if your life depended on it. You weren’t cold hearted enough to leave without saying nothing, that was too low. Taking the nearest piece of paper you could find, you wrote down a few words of farewell and thanked him for the night, cringing all while you wrote it. Gosh, this was shabby but it would have to do.

Rounding your things up, your handbag and phone in hand as you buckled your heels strap, you quietly and sneakily exited from his dorm room, thankfully no signs of his roommates were around. Now, the problem was walking back to your part of the dorms in the cold of the night. Exciting, wasn’t it?

The moment you got back, the dorm was silent and dark. Wonyoung was asleep in her room, but Yunjin was lying on the couch with her hair in a mess and you knew she was going to have the worst hangover in the morning. You crept past her sleeping figure and went into your own room, letting out a sigh of relief before dropping into the comforts of your bed. Never again.

. . . to be continued !

[lainiespicewrites]

The Atreides Era

Part 1

Buried in the sands

A/N: Hey everyone! obviously not my normal content! I've been working on updates on that as well! This is part of a writing Collab with my best friend @hey-its-roseaurum! We've both broken out of our comfort zone writing fics for each other's fave comfort characters. She will be posting about Sherlock so my Henry girlies definitely go check it out! I'll add the link once it's posted!

So I guess without too much warning here is my best effort at a Paul Atreides x OC fic

Summary: Paul Atreides and OC (Matar) and the other Freman are still fighting the Harkonnen in the spice fields. After almost losing his friend in battle Paul makes the decision it's time to go south. It's time to meet with the Emperor. His decisions will change the fate of his friends and the planet of Arakis. Paul knows this. He's seen it. But... at what cost?

Warnings: Description of battle, death, slight angst.

2k words

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It’s early that much is clear. The sun's intense heat has not yet started pouring over Arrakis, disturbing Matar’s peaceful sleep. What did disturb her was the amateur sand steps of the young man outside her tent. And the sound of his voice calling for her in a harsh whisper. Matar stirred with an agitated grumble, sitting up slowly and blinking her eyes to adjust to the soft light of dawn starting to creep in from the open flap of her tent. 

“What do you want, Paul Atredies?” She groaned. The footsteps outside her tent halted and were followed by a soft chuckle. Crouching down in front of the tent Paul popped his head in sending Matar a cocky grin. 

“Not Usul? Have I managed to offend you again already?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. Matar stares for a moment, watching his face and the loose wave of brown hair that’s fallen into his eyes. Interesting how they’re still so gray, his eyes, as long as he’d now been exposed to spice. Matar blinked the thought away, what did it matter? Paul Atriedies could have glowing red eyes and she’d pay no mind, he was a pest. A pest, who was her friend, one she’d grown fond of. But still a pest. 

“You’ve come to me, Paul Atriedes before the sun is fully awake. This better be important.” Matar answered him, falling back against her pillow. 

Paul was not discouraged by his friend's lack of energy or enthusiasm, crawling into the tent in the corner across from his friend still giving her the same dopey grin.

“How’d you know it was me?” He spoke softly now. His tone was now more gentle and letting Matar awaken properly before he poked at her further. 

“You walk like an elephant, I could hear you coming from miles away,” she answered him. 

“Hmm I suppose I do,” Paul agreed nodding. “Then we need to practice before we go into battle!” Paul's exclamation caused Matar to sit up. Now she was fully awake.

“Battle? What are you speaking of Usul?” The boy's smirk faded. His eyes are more serious now. 

“We got word more of Harkonnen moving in on the spice fields. They’re placing their harvester as we speak. We’ll need to move in on them quickly.”

Putting the moment of banter behind them Matar quickly composed herself. Pulling her hair back she tied her long dark hair into a tight knot. She swept her hand around her tent for a moment and found her head scarf to keep her safe from the day’s intense heat. Taking in a deep breath Matar’s eyes once again settle on the man sitting across from her. 

“Is Chani aware?” She asks. Her voice is smooth and calm. While she had not expected another fight. Or, ambush rather, against the Harkonnen. She was always ready. For those who control the spice control the universe. A mantra the Harkonnen were always chasing.  Neither Matar nor Chani, Matar’s closest friend, would submit to that fate. 

Paul’s eyes shift to the ground as he shakes his head.

“No, I figured it should come from you. She’s one of our most skilled fighters. Chani doesn’t trust me. It has to come from you, Matar.” a breath of silence falls over the two of them. For a moment. Matar thinks to be offended by this. Paul Atreides is only here to use her as a messenger. The thought is gone as quickly as it develops. There is no time for emotion. No time to dwell on the man who has shown up unannounced. 

“I will see her now. Go, gather the others. We’ll need to move before the sun is at its highest point. “ She said.  The man nods. But catches her wrist before she can leave the tent. 

“Matar, I- I’ve seen… something. You in battle and you…” He pauses. They lock eyes. The visions. One of the many reasons Stilgar and the other southerners believe the young Atreiedies is the Messiah. Matar, Chani, and a few of their kind believe it all to be a load of shit. 

However, the fear in his eyes at this moment cannot be ignored. “Please,” He pauses again emphasizing his words. “Be careful out there.” Matar doesn’t say anything. Holding his gaze she nods letting him know she understands whatever he’s seen has frightened him. He lets her go and the two of them leave the tent.  There’s a warm light over their camp. Many of the other Freman have started to gather in a common area. 

Paul and Matar walk in opposite directions. But before Paul is out of earshot Matar stops and calls for him. 

“Usul!” She calls. He turns back to her with a look of concern etched across his face. “Whatever you saw,” she pauses. “My fate is my own to make Paul Atreides,” 

Paul gives her another soft smile. He looks like he did when she first saw him this morning. Innocent, and childlike.  There’s a stirring feeling in her gut.  She has no time to address this. They have a planet to protect. 

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

Chani is awake and preparing for the day when Matar finds her. 

“Bit early for you isn’t it?” Chani asks with a smirk. 

“Funny,” Matar recants quickly, “I got a visit from Lisan al Gaib this morning.” Better to get to the point quickly. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve started to buy into this Messiah facade?” Chani questions. Eyeing her friend with a curious expression. Matar scoffs

“Why do I sense you’re already feeling hostile this morning?” Matar says, “Of course, I don’t believe it, I believe what I can see Chani. And what I see is that Paul Atreides has helped us successfully fight against the Harkonnen attacking our spice fields. 

“There’s another harvester?” Chani asks although it’s clear she knows the answer already. 

“He doesn’t believe you you trust him. But I know that you will protect your family.” Matar says. 

“I don’t trust him. But I see what he’s done. And It can’t be ignored. Believe me, I have tried. “ She pauses with a smirk. “And as long as I’m fighting beside you, I’ll always show up for the fight.” 

“Don’t be soft,” Matar teases. Smacking her friend on the shoulder. 

“It’s you who’s gone soft Matar. Don’t get so close to him, his mother can not be trusted. She seeks more power than anyone should hold.” Chani warns

“We are not close, But I believe he could be a good ally, and that woman can burn for all I care. Now come, we’ve got to prepare for an ambush.” She smirks as she and her friend set out to join the other soldiers. 

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

Silence.  Nothing but the sound of the wind stirring the sand. A maua’dib, a small desert mouse, could be heard skittering across the sand dune. Unsuspecting of the unrest that is soon to occur. Matar’s eyes scan over the top of the dune, zeroing in on the harvester only feet away from her and the others. Paul and Chani have, for the time being, come to a truce and have gone undetected underneath the foul piece of machinery. Matar and the others are waiting for their signal. This is when they will move in. 

A loud blast breaks the silence. A shot attacked the Harkonnen craft surveying the harvester and the security. The signal. The others jump to their feet. Stilgar and his men attack the security with daggers. Slicing into them and killing them before the intruders even see the Freman warriors coming. Matar takes a shot at the harvester aiming for one of its claw-like pillars. The blast hits but it quickly gains her attention. She makes quick steps and rolls out of the way as a Harkonnen security tries to land an attack. He misses. This was a fatal mistake for him. Granted he was always going to die. Another Freman soldier stabs the Harkonnen before he can advance any closer. Matar locks eyes with the person and they nod at each other before they continue their battle. She stands, once again aiming for the harvester. This time she aims right in the center. Fuck it. No more time for games. Time to blow this thing up. Taking one last look to be sure her friends will not become casualties she takes the shot. She doesn’t watch it land. Matar is pulled back by another Harkonnen. He has a dagger held to her ribcage. She barely hears the sound of the explosion over her heart pounding in her ears. At least she landed it. One last explosion before the bitter end. She twists to break the hold but the man has a tight grip on her neck. Fuck. 

He lifts the blade ready to plunge it into her chest. And then. He goes limp. His body falls to the sand. Matar sucks in a deep breath. Finally, she turns. Paul’s eyes are wide as they search her for injury. 

“Are you?” He begins. She holds up her hand to stop him. 

“Do not fuss over me, I am not dead,” she tells him. With one last thud. The final Harkonnen is dropped to the ground. Someone, Stilgar likely, calls for the rest of them to gather quickly and evacuate the area. The Freman army and their messiah head back to camp. However, halfway back Paul stops them. 

“Gather your things. This is the last time we fight the Harkonnen like this. Tomorrow, we go south.” He states. Chani and Matar exchange a look. 

“Paul Atreides we cannot…” Chani begins to protest

“I will not continue to watch them abuse this planet. I will not wait for the emperor to make his move. We are going south. And we will take on the emperor.” He states again. 

The rest of the Freman army cheers. Paul Atreides, once again is fulfilling their prophecy. But Matar. Feels like a dagger has been stuck in her side. He once told her, He wished nothing more to be equal to her. But he couldn’t mean that. Not when he was headed south to possess more power than any person should ever wield. 

The Freman army arrived back at camp. Some celebrated. Some dressed wounds from the day's battle. 

“He’s a good fighter, but I knew he could not be trusted,” Chani says absentmindedly. The girls are both watching Paul off in the distance while Stilgar celebrates their success.

“Do you have to be right about everything?” Matar questions. 

“No, just tends to pan out that way,” Her friend says before wandering off to her own tent. Matar sighs finding a seat and taking out her dagger sharpening it with a stone.  After a few moments, she feels a presence and then there is someone sitting beside her. 

“Matar,” Pauls voice speaks. 

“I don’t wish to speak to you Usul,” she says, continuing to sharpen the blade. He ignores her grabbing her wrist and pulling her attention from the dagger. 

“You almost lost your life today.” He says. Matar shrugs. 

“I was protecting my people Paul Atredies, it’s what we do,” she responds. 

“Maybe, but I have lost far too many people I care about. You will not be next Matar.” He says.

“Paul,” Matar begins. 

“Going south, I’ll take control. I can protect you and protect us all once we’ve made an attack against the emperor,” he argues. Matar is stuck. She is angry. She doesn’t want this. She opens her mouth to recant. To tell him he is wrong. Nothing comes out. She pauses again. She’s quiet for a while and then.

“Usul. You told me once. About these…oceans, on your home planet. Describe them again.” She requests. Surprising Paul and herself. 

“Caladan is covered in oceans and water. They are… as blue as your eyes.” He smiles at her. “As deep as them too. There’s no end even as you look at the horizon. They go on forever.” He explains. 

“I still… do not believe you Paul Atreides,” Matar answers, ignoring the growing warmth in her face. 

“You will,” Paul says without thought. 

“We, shall…”

“Lisan al Gaib, Come” Stilgar calls, “There’s much to do before our journey tomorrow. We must prepare!”

Matar lets out I sigh. 

“You’re celebration awaits Paul Atreides.” she says. 

“Matar,” He says softly. 

“I will see you at dawn…Lisan al Gaib.”  a moment of hurt flashes in Paul's eyes but it’s gone before Matar can register it. They both turn and part for the evening.

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

A/N: This is Part one of ? We're still discussing the terms of this collab LOL

IF you'd like to be added to a tag list for this story please let me know! I know for my followers that read my Henry fics this is a bit different but I hope you enjoyed this too. If you decide to give it a read :) Thank you all. Dont forget to check out @hey-its-roseaurum Sherlock fic!

Tag list:

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood@gummydummy19@deandoesthingstome@shellyshellshell@mary-ann84@starfirewildheart@foxyjwls007

[leeyanyanyaaan]

Sett x Craft Store Owner!Reader

28 / 11 / 2023

hiya!! welcome to part two of my heartsteel x reader "creatively charmed" series!!! again, i know that name needs workshopping LMAO. i actually wrote sett's part around the same time as i did w kayn's and that's how i came up w the idea to make it a whole series w all of the characters :D unfortunately, i have to go on hiatus so there wont be any updates for a while :( nonetheless i hope you enjoy ^^

It all started when Sett's mom asked him to run an errand for her and grab some yarn from her usual craft store

That happened to be run by your family. 

As you can probably expect, love and skill of the arts and crafts run in the family. For one of your parents, it was needlework and fashion, for your other parent, it was the more practical hands-on crafting; as their child that grew up learning them all, you were a jack of all trades.

Anyways, Sett happily obliged, heading to your store to buy what she needed, but realized upon entering that he had no clue what he was supposed to look for, despite the list giving him the specific yarns she was looking for

Your parents were temporarily out of town, so it was only you manning the store. When you notice his presence, you welcome him. Sett lights up and approaches you for assistance, which you gladly do

Once he got what he needed the two of you make your way to the cash register. You decide to start a conversation by complimenting his beanie and the craftsmanship of it

Sett grins and proudly declares that his mom made it for him, his ears twitching from underneath

Your eyes widen in realization, and ask him whether his mom was the regular vastayan customer you were thinking of, to which he visibly gets excited about and eagerly confirms. You smile, thinking how cute the buff man's love for his mother is, and continue talking about how you enjoy seeing her as a regular customer in the store

This conversation lasts for quite a while until Sett's mom calls him asking about his shopping, reminding him that he was still in the middle of an errand. He sheepishly tells her that he'll be right over with everything she asked for

When the call ends, you hand him his mom's reusable totebag that held all the purchases as he thanks you for your help. Before he runs out the store, he tells you his name and asks for yours, which of course you were happy to tell :)

From here on out, expect Sett's visits to be more frequent. He asked his mom to call him if she ever needed anything more from the craft store… and then eventually, just asked to do any errand for her in general. He wasn't subtle about wanting a reason to see you, but I mean hey, he does something to help his mom and gets to talk to you at the same time? A definite win-win for him

Also, yes, his mom did figure out about his crush on you. She hasn't outright said that she does, but she does subtly tease Sett from time to time, reminding him to be on his best behavior/remember to be a gentleman or fixes up his appearance before leaving the house. Since she knows you as the owner's wonderful and hardworking child, she already has a good impression of you and quietly approves

Once he finally builds up the courage to ask you out, also expect for it to come with a heartfelt handmade craft of his for you <3 eg. oragami bouquet, crocheted article of clothing etc.

[mhaikkun]

CRIME CITY

definitely gonna clean this post up once I have all my character profiles confirmed and make a more formal story introduction, but I thought I'd do a fun little update on all the characters we've met already as well as a general overview of the plot!

crime city follows winter, florist by day and ruthless murderer by night, in a city ruled by criminals each time the sun sets. the mayor? law enforcement? decorative. useless.

in order to achieve his own goals, child prodigy-turned-crime lord winter lies, steals, and kills — and, when the occasion calls for it, enlists the help of the many outlaws on his list of acquaintances.

but winter, too, is being hunted.

here are the current cast:

WINTER (THE RAVEN)

there are only three things anyone can ever claim to know about him: one, he always smiles; two, he is always dangerous; and three, he always wears black. is he mourning someone?

revered as "the king of hell," this strange ghostly man hates rain, doesn't drink, and used to be a detective.

BRENDOLINE BARBARA (THE LADY)

the mayor's daughter. frustrated by her own powerlessness and the facade of her father's position, she became a vigilante. winter must be destroyed, and, as the saying goes, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

how hard can it be when you find yourself falling in love with the man you want to kill, and who wants to kill you?

GIOVANNI MERCURO (THE SNITCH)

a croupier who runs the "snake eyes" gambling house, giovanni will glady offer you valuable information — that is, of course, if you can win against him. if he likes you enough, maybe his sleight of hand will come in handy for your pickpocketing needs.

believing it to be the height of carelessness to be complacent and predictable in a city crawling with vermin, he refuses to be consistent. he never wears the same hairstyle twice, never plays the same game twice, and never sleeps with the same person twice.

ASHCROFT (THE SNIPER)

a hitman for hire with the air of someone who used to be noble. rarely getting jobs due to his exorbitant prices, when he's out of money and out of work, he plays the saxophone on street corners and in bars for loose change.

as far as assassins go, he's pretty resourceful. after all, his sax doubles as a sniper rifle.

FALK (THE BLOODHOUND)

hates tardiness and thinks dogs are annoying and difficult. he does not appreciate the irony of his criminal title.

once a military man, an inflicted injury forced him to develop his already keen sense of smell into the formidable skill he has today of hunting people down using only their scent to compensate for his impaired vision.

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.  

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.” You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

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[verdemoun]

What if Mac and Davey survived their respective deaths (blood loss/freezing and beating)? I know theyd both be pretty screwed after going through that but still-

Also my headcanon is that before Kieran, one of the Callenders was the gang’s stable boy, so would that change things for Kieran?

When they go to put the coins on Davey's eyes, he splutters, says 'i ain't dead yet, bastards' and proceeded to lay there looking very close to dead for the rest of the Colter chapter. John gets some company while he's recovering from the wolf attack. And first time Davey can stand he's straight back to 'we need to find Mac', arguing the gang are more than fit enough to ride back into Blackwater.

Horseshoe Overlook happens as normal, except with Micah seeming extra annoying after his rescue because he now has the echo-chamber support of Davey 'yeah let's just ride back into Blackwater! We got Sean, didn't we? The money and Mac can't be that hard to find.'

Davey is also definitely not above egging on Bill when it comes to tormenting Kieran, because a) he doesn't need a reason to hate an O'Driscoll and b) maybe if Bill has a new toy he'll stop hanging out with Mac so much when they get Mac back.

Arthur, begged by Abigail, takes Jack fishing. Instead of a couple of men showing up dressed like they was from the city, a very bloody, black and blue with bruises Mac Callander calls to them from over the river, and is so weak he nearly drowns trying to wade through the knee-deep water to them. Sorry Jack, you're not escaping traumatic fishing trips.

Mac doesn't get the Sean Macguire miraculous recovery. It's slow, and torturous. Grimshaw, Strauss and Swanson speak in hushed tones about the possibility of needing to amputate his arm: a displaced fracture making Mac scream in pain at the slightest movement. And they've seen Mac walk off being shot before. To see him this physically broken is sickeningly wrong.

Davey's off working every job he can to get the money for better medicine, stronger drugs: definitely not because he can't stand seeing his brother in that state.

Bill doesn't leave Mac's beside, telling him he's gonna be fine, updating him on what's happened since Blackwater. John got attacked by wolves, they ran into the O'Driscolls and picked up the Adler woman with that mad look in her eye, killed some O'Driscolls, picked up a scrawny little O'Driscoll crybaby named Kieran, but he saved Arthur's life so he's paying off his outstanding debts to society looking after the horses.

Mac scoffs, but softens a little hearing the horses weren't neglected in his absence. Mac Callander is a certified horse girl, and with only limited social skills without a few beers in system, the horses had been part of his responsibility. When his babysitters let their guard down he immediately hobbles his way over, and his precious chestnut Tennessee walker Mace nearly tramples Kieran in the process of trotting over to greet his rider.

While tossing a few threats in and scaring the hell out of one Kieran Duffy, who still found a way to be intimidated by a man who looked on the verge of passing out from walking a dozen yards, Mac takes a seat on one of the many rocks in the clearing and starts correcting Kieran's horsemanship. Don't walk that close Baylock unless you want to die. Brown Jack needs to be fed separate because he's a bully. Old Boy's skittish on his left side, but if you approach from the right he'll let you catch him and then hitch him to a post for brushing.

Horsegirl to horsegirl communication takes over. Kieran recognises one of his own: only someone who loves horses would bother knowing all the gang's horses names, and their quirks. Mac is pleasantly surprised how little he needs to correct about Kieran's horsemanship, scrutinizing the polished saddles and admitting he did at least as good a job as he would.

Mac is respected enough within the gang that when he barks at Kieran to get something to eat, because he needs his strength up if he expects to take care of the horses on his own, no one challenges it. The only things Mac knows is robbing, shooting, and being an overprotective big brother. Two of those are off the table for the forseeable future, and with Davey sneaking off with Micah at every opportunity all those big ol' protective instincts are now being directed at fellow horsegirl, Kieran Duffy.

Bill has his Mac back and chills out. Davey ends up going to the Downes Ranch instead of Arthur. Kieran gets an honorary place as fill-in Mac, which gains him a smidge of respect. No Horsemen Apocalypse, no Arthur dying, Davey shoots Micah for being a rat but passes away peacefully surrounded by his found family, and by 1907 Bill and Mac have taken over Hanging Dog Ranch as actual ranchers with Kieran still a stableboy because Mac never recovered enough strength in his arm do it all on his own. Rip Davey you had to die for science.

[wordy-little-witch]

I have the wildest soft spot for omegaverse stuff done well, specifically with worldbuilding and nuance and dynamic takes so here's mine:

((For context, platonic Shanks and Buggy))

Roger's crew was mostly Alphas and some Betas, so when they took two Pups on (one from infancy, one later on), they weren't really expecting much. Then Shanks presented as an Alpha. Oh, they think, okay that checks out. Might need to start looking into giving the boys their own rooms, but things are chill for now. Not much changes beyond Shanks trying to cuddle Buggy a little bit more than usual. Red's pretty even tempered, as far as Alphas go! This is gonna be fine-

And then Buggy complains of a stomach ache.

They don't realize at first what it is. Crocus does note that he has a slight fever, Roger is a bit more frantic in his general smothering habits, and Buggy's even allowing it, but they just think the poor dear is getting sick again.

That night, Buggy shakes Shanks awake. He's flushed and lightheaded and everything hurts, he's not okay, he needs something and he doesn't know what, his bones are itching - and Shanks pulls him into his bed, into a hug, and Buggy burrows closer, whining, a soft sound Shanks has never heard quite like this, but Buggy is upset, and he smells distressed, he's scared so-

He yells for dad, and Crocus, Roger and Ray come running. They all panic because Buggy is absolutely presenting, but that is a HEAT, and they're NOT EQUIPPED FOR THIS, Crocus sends Ray to update the course to find the closest possible docking spot, he tries to pick Buggy up, pull him away from Shanks, and Buggy growls. Everyone freezes, and Roger reaches out to pet the blue haired boy's head, earning a tiny chirp even as their junebug clung to his packmate harder. Shanks cuddles him back just as tightly, and Buggy squirms until he can grab Roger's sleeve, tugs as he blinks up at the man with pleading blue eyes.

Crocus admits that his familiarity with omegan health is lacking, it being a rather small field of study officially. He's not entirely sure what he can do, especially given Buggy's natural health issues they've already determined and his Devil Fruit. It's a learning curve. But the first Heats are typically the worst - more painful, overwhelming, etc, as they are essentially a biological startup sequence. Things shift, move, activate, and the first can often lead to heatsickness - given Buggy's general demeanor already, that's a higher concern.

As it is, it becomes smth of a chaotic frenzy of trying to keep a hormonal firecracker both calm and resting. This is not made easier with Buggy's clinginess, nor his odd skill in simply disappearing because he got bored, came back to the Nest to find someone missing (they went to search for him), and now's he's sniffling and everyone is trying to avoid a sobbing clown.

Now for context, Alphas, Betas, Omegas - these are all secondary to your primary genders. The primary is the general default of genetics and are multifaceted. Your secondary is a mix of genetic and instinctive reaction to thing, or rather how your brain is hardwired to respond to external stimuli. You can transition either or both, and some can change secondaries without intervention. Typically changed secondaries happen in adulthood and are either a bit of clownfish type biology bullshit or a result of a sudden, stark paradigm shift.

Buggy never really had much reason either way to change much - he's always been fairly serious about very specific things, and while being an Omega - the ONLY Omega at that - on the crew was a point of insecurity, he never really thought the instincts that came with it were bad. ((He also didn't think to hate THAT bit, he hated other things about himself)).

But yeah, Buggy being an Omega. I dunno. I just very specifically love that take.

Also Buggy's crew being aware of his designation makes me so happy. Like. He'd definitely be the type to not give a flying fuck about gender, assigned or otherwise, sexuality, race, whatever the fuck. He values what you HAVE, not what you ARE, and I think he'd be adamant on that with his crew. Sexism, misogyny, racism, trans or homophobia is stomped out faster than you could blink. And if he catches wind of a question of consent, he is handling that matter PERSONALLY.

((Bonus points, by and large, most don't know Buggy's secondary bc he uses scent patches and doesn't fit the stereotypes. There's theories, but the main one is him being a Beta or a weird Alpha, Omegas and Piracy are not a concept which go hand in hand very often to the public eye.

Cross Guild was formed with that little tidbit unknown, and it led to some very silly hijinks and shenanigans))