#well i simply would not have been surprised.

[ddarker-dreams]

A Deal's a Deal II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, descriptions of anxiety and emotional/mental manipulation. Word count: 4.1k.

Prev

You met Chrollo at an old hole-in-the-wall bookstore that housed archaic texts. 

There was little information on your condition, but what material did exist hid itself beneath allegory and ciphers. The best leads came from high strangeness circles. They expanded on Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, drawing parallels between historical records across cultures and periods that all implied some system that transcended physical limitations. Whether it came from alchemists like Paracelsus, mystics like Crowley, or authors like William Blake, hints of this system can be found sprinkled throughout history. 

Chrollo informed you that this system is commonly called ‘Nen.’

Before him, the nomenclature eluded you. You simply regarded it as a phenomenon best kept to yourself. The world’s a weird place, filled with inexplicable things that the human mind can’t always comprehend. This handheld device, which you nicknamed Instant Replay, is the foremost example.

You were always aware that you knew things you shouldn’t have. As a child, it perplexed you. Why do people sometimes sound weird? A few trips to the audiologist proved your hearing is perfectly fine. When this avenue didn’t provide answers, you ended up in counseling, where you reenacted the dilemma with dolls. For a while, you insisted that what you heard was real. It frustrated you to no end that the adults in your life either dismissed you or offered bromides. 

As an adult yourself in the present, you can’t blame them for being at a loss. 

You smartened up eventually. What you once blabbed about to anyone who would listen, you kept to yourself. This eased the tensions at home. Your parents seemed happy that the issue had ‘resolved’ itself and you maintained the illusion. Playing pretending could only do so much — the core problem remained. Your mind made the connection that when another was being dishonest, that’s when their voice would sound strange. After you realize that, there’s no going back. The epiphany changed how you interacted with others for better and for worse. 

“You want to get rid of your ability?” he sounded surprised when he asked. 

“How could I not?” you replied. “People lie… a lot. Friends, family, strangers. And, okay, that might not seem bad, but imagine always being aware of it. It— It eats away at you. Wears down your ability to trust. I have to act like I’m none the wiser, knowing full well someone just lied to my face. I don’t want to know! I’m tired of knowing!” 

“You’re unable to control when it’s active?” 

“Instant Replay lets me ‘review’ audio, both in real-time and after it’s been recorded. I have control over the latter, but that’s it.”

Your antagonistic relationship with Nen fascinated Chrollo. According to him, most people were intentional when it came to crafting their Hatsu. There are very few cases like yours where Hatsu is subconsciously given shape and form. You wish your subconscious had created something more useful, like a sword. That would’ve been cool. 

“Could I learn a new ability to oust Instant Replay?” you wondered. 

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Chrollo dismissed. “In theory, it is possible to learn different abilities, although your inexperience would make that difficult. There’s no way to erase an ability either. You can, however, lose access to it. For instance, there’s my predicament, or…” 

He leaned in close and whispered: 

“... Someone could steal it.” 

-

Chrollo looks out of place in your apartment.  

It’s a cozy, lived-in space, full of trinkets that he thoughtfully examines as if he were in the Louvre. Meanwhile, you prepare two cups of tea. Chamomile with honey for you and Earl Grey for him. After setting the timer for five minutes, you realize there’s not much else to do but wait. The silence is unusual and unnerving. Anticipation thrums through the air like an electric current. You feel it coursing through your blood; tingling along your skin. 

The barstool you’ve chosen as your perch groans against the wooden floor as you pull it out.

Chrollo picks up a picture for closer inspection. You crane your neck, curious about which snapshot captured his attention. It’s from a night out with friends. Empty plates and drinks littered the table and each of you crowded in close to fit into frame. Since the restaurant was high-end, you were dolled up, adorned in an outfit that rarely saw the light of day. 

“Swarovski?” He sounds amused. 

“I’ve been known to splurge on the occasion,” you huff. “The necklace was on sale and the earrings were—” 

You cut yourself off, although you’re unsure why. It shouldn’t be a taboo topic. Nonetheless, beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t get the word out. 

“—From an ex?” He offers. 

You nod. 

He returns the picture to its proper place, a cryptic smile on his lips. “So even you aren’t above materialistic impulses, hm?” 

“There’s a difference between rampant consumerism and buying yourself something nice on occasion,” you retaliate, disliking the edge of mockery in his voice. “I don’t need to hear this from the dude wearing a silver Rolex watch.” 

“It’s white gold.” 

You roll your eyes. “A camel through the eye of a needle.” 

“‘First cast out the beam out of thine own eye.’” 

“Do you seriously have the entire King James version of the Bible memorized?” 

“It was one of the most accessible texts in my youth,” he says, his smile softening into something pensive. “The missionaries were far more generous with those showing signs of ‘progress.’ I tried helping my companions memorize the more significant passages, but they weren’t what you’d call ideal pupils.” 

Missionaries? You purse your lips and consider the implications. Had Chrollo grown up in destitution? Come to think of it, you know very little about him or his background. Unlike you, he never volunteered the information. He skillfully maneuvered around any inquiry into his past. The most you’ve gleaned is that he’s a traveling antiquarian who, in pursuit of valuables, made some enemies along the way. 

The shrill shriek of the timer rips you from your thoughts. 

Chrollo accepts his mug with a “thank you” and sits on the rightmost side of your coach. After plopping two ice cubes into your concoction, you join him, leaving ample room between you. The nerves from earlier return. He’s an easy man to converse with, but when his mind is preoccupied — as it most certainly is now — you’re at a loss. Do you try reinitiating banter? Opt for a completely different topic? Or should you let him initiative, squirming around until he breaks the thickening tension? 

“Have I held you in suspense long enough?” Chrollo asks while holding his hand out. A book with a handprint on the cover appears, the pages flipping too fast for you to gauge their contents.

The quality of his aura temporarily stupefies you. This must be the difference between a novice like yourself and a genius. You can muster up enough aura to summon Instant Replay, but that takes considerable effort. To him, managing the flow of aura comes as easy as breathing. You scooch closer to study his technique. How long would it take you to match his expertise? Years? Decades? 

“I’ll get bashful if you keep staring at me like that.” 

“Liar,” you accuse without any real malice. 

He chuckles.

“Give me your hand.” 

Heat rushes to your face as you recall what happened when you last parted. “D-Do I have to?” 

“Yes.” 

Hesitantly, you do as he requests. He maneuvers your hand against the conjured book’s cover. You gnaw on your bottom lip, trepidation brewing inside your soul. You thought you’d feel relieved when this moment came. There’d be some butterflies, yes, but that would quickly give way to relief and exhilaration. The thorn that’s been in your side all these years is finally coming out. Your quid pro quo has reached its conclusion; this is your reward, your ticket to a normal life. 

“I like you too.” 

“I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“It’s okay if you come.” 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” 

“We’ll always be together.”

Yes, people lie a lot. Sometimes, you’re unsure if they’re even aware of it themselves. They lie to you, the people they love, the people they hate, and themselves. Fate decided you’d be made witness to their folly, sewing your lips shut and eyes wide open. The wounds it left behind are intangible and incurable. How do you heal what you can’t explain knowing to others? How do you explain your hesitation, shift in demeanor, and inadequate coverup? 

The sound of Instant Replay whirring reverberates throughout your skull. 

Chrollo speaks your name softly. You startle, realizing that you’re blinking back tears. 

“I—” 

“It’s alright,” he reassures. The words sound crisp — genuine — soothing your budding concern that you’re inconveniencing him somehow. In an instant, the hardcover dissipates, leaving your hand flat against nothing. Chrollo takes the opportunity to come closer. When you don’t protest, he completely closes the distance, until you’re thigh to thigh. 

He smells good. Intoxicatingly so. 

“Show me the ability you despise so much, dear.” 

Dear? You think to protest the emergence of this nickname, yet you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you follow his order, mechanically lifting your arm and summoning your ability much like he had. 

“Good. It’s almost over with,” he brushes the wetness away from your eyes with his knuckles. Your heart leaps at the contact. “Finally, I have to ask about your ability. There are so many possibilities… what to choose, what to choose… ah.” 

With the same hand that wiped away your nascent tears, he cups your cheek.

“Do you trust a man like me with such a dangerous ability?” 

“I have my reservations,” you respond. You don’t miss the amusement he derives from your candidness. “This sounds bad, but… at this point, I guess I just don’t care.” 

For a moment, all is still. There’s no odor of sulfur, maniacal cackling, or declaration that the ritual is complete. You didn’t have to sign a contract in blood or swear an oath to an infernal being. Your overactive imagination ran numerous scenarios through your head. The lack of flair over this life-defining moment is almost underwhelming. You frown, fearing that there was an error somewhere along the way. If there was, he’s given no indication, yet you’ll remain restless until the results are confirmed. 

“Chrollo?” 

“Hm?” 

“Did it work?” 

“It did, love.” 

“Could you, um,” you lick your lips, a motion that draws his attention. “Make something up so I can know for sure?” 

This request amuses him.

“How will you know if I’m being honest to mess around with you or not?” 

At this, you give him a light shove. Given his apparent playfulness, you expected him to move back, but he doesn’t budge an inch. It felt like trying to move a concrete building. 

“Make it an obvious lie, then.” 

“An obvious lie, hm?” He mulls over your suggestion. “Very well. How about this: I don’t want you beneath me.” 

You gape at him, dumbstruck. 

“I find it easy to control my urges around you.” 

He keeps going. 

“I’m unmoved by your beauty…” 

He gently pushes your shoulders until you’re lying down. 

“... Your wit…” 

He hovers above you, tracing the outline of your lips with his pointer finger. 

“... And boundless charm.” 

Chrollo tilts your head up by your chin. “Well? Do you believe me now?” 

Slowly, as if in a daze, you nod. Your heart lurches, the organ beating loud enough to hear in your ears. You feel uncomfortably warm, like your heater’s been cranked to the highest setting. Gradually, the violent joy you expected to accompany your liberation abounds, starting at your chest and overflowing outward. You’re smiling, breathless, your corporeal form barely able to contain the glee. You see your reflection in Chrollo’s eyes. There’s a manic quality to your countenance; you barely recognize yourself. 

You’re free, you’re free, you’re free— 

His lips find yours. Your cognition short circuits, leaving you in a reverie where you can barely understand what’s happening. He handles you so carefully that it’s easy to forget you’re physically trapped. He carries on, either failing to notice your apprehension or disregarding it. 

On some level, you’ve always sensed this underlying attraction. You remained purposefully obtuse. There was too much at stake — jeopardizing your aims for a fling felt counterintuitive. On paper, he’d make for the ideal partner. He’s devilishly handsome, charismatic, and intelligent to a fault. Aside from some dubious morality, you couldn’t ask for a better suitor. 

And still, hesitation prevailed. 

Every now and then, there’d be glimpses of some great, existential threat, beneath the fissures of his porcelain mask. These glimpses gave you pause. You think he could’ve tried harder to hide these damning qualities, yet chose not to. Where’s the fun — the thrill — in always playing nice? You needed his help more than he needed yours. His connections spanned continents, whereas yours were shallow and easy to uproot. 

How many of your convictions would you compromise? 

How far would you let the poison spread to cure another affliction? 

How can you look down on him if you’ve fallen to the same level? 

When he pulls away, you avert your gaze, fearing what stares back. 

“... So you are afraid of me, then.” 

Chrollo lets you wriggle out from underneath him. When your eyes make brief contact, it feels like he’s inspecting you, as if you were a specimen in a petri dish. It isn’t the reaction you’d expect from a rejected man. Nonetheless, you’re on edge and longing for a menial task to occupy yourself with. Recalling the state of the kitchen, you decide that will suffice. 

He remains seated as you wash and dry the implements used to make your tea. 

This uncharacteristic silence unsettles you further. The only audible sound in your apartment is your faucet, the water running over silverware that’s plenty clean. You scrub at it harder, wondering what you should do next. Originally, you intended to thank him for his pivotal role in removing your burden. You never would have made it this far without his assistance. Even with this strange atmosphere, your gratitude remains unwavering. 

You’ll be able to live life like anyone else now. It’s an accomplishment worthy of celebration, regardless of the twists and turns along the way. Maybe he misinterpreted your body language or acted on an impulse. These mistakes can happen when emotions run high. 

Okay, you think, psyching yourself up. This doesn’t have to be weird. I can—

“Have you given much thought over last week’s unpleasantness?” 

Your heart skips a beat and your shoulders droop. 

“I assume you haven’t,” he says. “That’s fair. It must’ve been frightening… I wish I could have spared you such an experience.” 

The appreciation he previously instilled in you desiccates, drop by drop. 

“Will you please get to the point?” 

Under different circumstances, you would’ve been more patient with his preamble, but this is a sore subject. A buried corpse like that shouldn’t be exhumed. His reasoning, though elusive to you now, doesn’t inspire warm sentiments. 

“That incident won’t be the last of its kind.”

You turn around as he approaches, sipping his tea. He leans against the counter and eyes you over the cup’s rim. 

“In truth, we should’ve left hours ago, but I was feeling sentimental.” 

“‘We?’ Chrollo, what are you talking about?” 

“Had it not been for your role in getting my Nen back, Hisoka would’ve killed you,” Chrollo says this so casually that you question if you’re hearing him right. “Now that you’ve done your part, he has a vested interest in doing so.” 

You no longer have a way to verify if he’s telling the truth or not. It’s so stupid, so unfair, that you almost laugh. Instant Replay no longer heeds your call. You surrendered it to a new master, who, before taking it from your willing hands, all but told you he was the worst person you could’ve picked. 

Chrollo continues, “He’s a peculiar case. All he cares about is fighting formidable opponents, and, with my Nen returned, I am one.”

You take a step back.

“That business is between you two. I fail to see how this involves me.” 

“I have preparations to finish before I face him,” Chrollo explains. “He doesn’t feel like waiting any longer. Harming you is an excellent way to speed things along. Even I don’t know what I’d do if you were fatally injured.” 

You shake your head. “I— you’re not serious. There’s just no way. I’m moving past all of this bullshit. Nen, Hatsu, whatever; that has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m done.” 

“I’m sorry, dear.” 

“No, you aren’t!” Your voice raises in pitch, pulled as taut as a bowstring. “You knew, didn’t you? That this would be a problem? Oh, oh, you had to, why else would you have acted all weird when you saw him? Stop looking at me like you care, like you’re sorry, 'cause this is the best-case scenario for you!” 

You pace back and forth, your mind racing. This was a mistake. Walking up to him because you recognized the book in his hands was a mistake. Is he bluffing? And if he is, does it matter? You can’t put up a fight. You don’t think you could even make it to the door. If he was a regular man, you’d have options. You could yell for help, call the cops, and inflict some damage, minor as it may be. All those tactics turn to ash before an oppressive, incomprehensible force like this. 

You snap your head in his direction. “Aren’t you going to say something?” 

“I don’t see how that will help.” 

You prepare to spew vitriol his way, when a dreadful thought shoots through you like a bullet. 

“My family. What about them? Won’t they be in danger too?” 

“They aren’t on his radar.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Chrollo sets the cup down. “The suffering of your loved ones wouldn’t elicit a reaction from me, so he won’t bother. Targeting you is the wisest option.” 

Words fail you. Is this it? The depravity he kept subdued finally let loose, so dense in its quality that it threatens to suffocate you? All you wanted was a semblance of normalcy. Normal relationships, interactions, and problems. Has the path you’ve treaded brought you further away from this humble aspiration? Or is there still a way, some faint silver lining that you must find and latch onto? 

“What about after?” 

“Hm?” 

“After Hisoka is dealt with,” you clarify, tapping your foot repeatedly. “You’re not going to let him live, are you?” 

“That’s rather dark.” 

“Chrollo,” you implore. 

“No, I won’t,” he confirms. “As for what comes next — I intend to persuade you.” 

You regard him with suspicion. His tone and the implications sink into you like a venomous bite. He exudes quiet confidence, indicating that nothing you’ve said will influence him in any meaningful way. Dread sticks to your stomach, making your body feel heavy. You hug yourself, clenching your upper arms with shaky fingers. Any lingering excitement from earlier has vaporized, leaving behind a profound hollowness. 

“I suppose this can go a few ways,” you murmur. “I could cause as many headaches for you as possible, or, I could be decent enough.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“I’d like to have Instant Replay back,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow. “Just for a bit. What? I’m assuming if you can steal something, you can give it back, right?” 

“You’d be correct. Still, that begs the question; what are you intending to accomplish with this little scheme?” 

“Nothing that’ll inconvenience you in any major way.” 

Chrollo falls silent. You dig your nails into your flesh as the seconds drag on, awaiting his verdict. If he had your ability activated, he should’ve been able to discern your honesty. Then again, he’s aware of the workarounds. To ensure your words wouldn’t register as untrue, you had to remain vague and subjective. What you consider an inconvenience could differ drastically from him. 

“I’m sure I won’t regret this.” 

Your eyes widen. That dissonant timbre is unmistakable, he returned your ability! Filled with newfound resolve, you stride toward him, your eyes blazing. This is your chance. You need to make the most of this opening before it’s gone forever. He could choose not to answer any of your questions, but something tells you he won’t, like it’d injure his pride. You issued him a challenge and he’s intent on meeting it. 

“Did you have anything to do with what happened last week?” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Did Hisoka?” 

“No, he just happened to be observing you from afar.” 

“Why?” 

“For his personal amusement, I’d wager.” 

“He’d really kill me just to… agitate you?”

“It’s in line with his character.” 

You swallow thickly and press on. 

“And if you’re wrong?” 

“Then I’m wrong. Regardless, you’ll be alive and well.” 

“Can you win against him in a fight?” 

“Yes.” 

“And if you somehow lose, what happens next?” 

“My companions will hunt him down and kill him.” 

Now that you’ve gotten your most pressing inquiries out of the way, you decide to wade through dangerous waters. Chrollo likely saw the benefit in assuaging your doubt, these next questions provide him nothing substantial. His willingness to humor you is undoubtedly finite. Keeping this in mind, you consider the possibilities. You may never have a chance like this again. Is there anything that can give you an advantage? You’ll take anything, no matter how small, even if all it offers is an illusion of control. 

Chrollo glances at his watch in a not-so-subtle motion. 

“Who sealed your Nen?” 

“Now this is more what I expected,” he hums. His eyes take on a bright, unsettling shade. “An individual with a longstanding grudge. Your paths will not cross, I suggest adopting another plan of attack.” 

He saw right through you. You knew it was a long shot, but collaborating with this mysterious figure would have proven advantageous. They must be powerful in their own right to have bested Chrollo. Should you try pressing for more information? Then again, Chrollo doesn’t seem keen on sharing more, much to your chagrin. 

What does that leave you with…?

“How do you plan on ‘persuading’ me?” 

“You’re better off not knowing until we get to that point.” 

You frown. If that didn’t register as a lie, it must be what he genuinely believes. Curiosity plagues you, dredging up anxiety. You have but a few grains of sand left in the hourglass remaining. It’s suspended midair, poised to drop at the most ill-timed moment. The approach of the end is worse than its inevitable arrival. You now have the chance to hasten its onset, at the risk of being debilitated by the impact. What lows would he resort to? Are you actually better off remaining ignorant?

“Alright, let’s—” 

“Does it hurt to know I’ll never love you?” 

Up until this point, he’s fired back with a near instant response. This time, however, he hesitates, the invasive nature of the inquiry necessitating careful thought. You finally found an effective ‘attack.’ It’s too late to do you any lasting good, but you greedily devour it nonetheless. When dealing with a person of Chrollo’s caliber, it’s easy to forget he possesses the same human qualities you do. You might be unable to stop his heart from beating, but you can make the organ ache. 

“I can live with it, dear.” 

You pinch your eyebrows together, thrown off by his voice’s clarity. Is the knowledge that inconsequential to him? Have you misjudged his attachment? While considering this, you flex your fingers, concentrating your aura there. You can’t repeat his words back since Instant Replay wasn’t recording, but you still decide to conjure it. You’ll record what remains of this conversation to ensure you don’t miss anything else. 

The flow of your aura halts at your wrist, refusing to take form. Frowning, you try again, only to realize he must have reclaimed your ability. 

When did that happen? Was it before or after his response? 

Chrollo says your name, regaining your attention. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Will you do the same?” 

After playing the role of the interrogator, you’re back to being an inmate. You meant what you said — when you said it, that is. This is yet another loophole to subvert Instant Replay. What’s true to you in one instant can change in the next. It’s frightening how fast he’s learned these nuances that took you years to test and discover. He’s already making the most of your ability, turning what was a thorn in your side into a full-fledged dagger. 

“What choice do I have?” 

“There’s always a choice,” Chrollo asserts. “You just have a habit of making the wrong ones.” 

A delirious laugh leaves your lips. 

"... I suppose you're right."

[florestalio]

FATAL OBSESSION — l.hs

even if your best friend seemed to have found the love of her life, the one that keeps her the happiest, while also treating you, and everyone else with respect—you can't help but feel something was... off about him. you didn't dwell on it much—something which proved to be a fatal mistake on your part.

GENRE — pwp, kidnapping au, psychopath au, best friend's boyfriend trope

WARNINGS — DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, noncon, noncon-ish dumbcon, psychopath!hee, kidnapping, character death, gun play, unprotected sex (don't) + a LOT more

WORDCOUNT — est 10k+

NOTE — READER'S DISCRETION ADVISED!!! went a little too insane while writing this. thank you to my bestie sena who always encourages me to write my deranged wip ideas that I get during the most random times—this one in particular came to my mind while I was... studying. no I'm not lying.

RELEASE DATE — TBD.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

teaser under the cut: (teaser wc — 0.6k) (teaser warnings — none)

there was something severely off about heeseung.

your best friend, chaeyoung, had met heeseung—who is currently her boyfriend—at a bar. from what she had told you, apparently she was simply drinking there alone, celebrating her first ever paycheck—alone, since you were stuck at a family event. when it was time for her to pay, the bartender informed her that someone had already paid for her. surprised, she asked about this mystery person, getting directed towards a guy sitting a few seats away from her.

apparently for her, it was love at first sight.

he looked like everything she ever wanted in a guy—tall, dignified and confident posture, rich attire, a good taste in fashion—not to mention how attractive he looked while sipping his drink, a light smirk on the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with hers. he never broke eye contact—not even once, as she walked over to him—albeit quite bashfully.

from what she told you, they talked all night—about their reasons for being in the bar, their hobbies, their backgrounds, their families, and other things that you couldn't really bother to keep track of.

they exchanged numbers, texting each other every single day. eventually, he asked her out, taking her to the most exquisite restaurant in the city, treating her like royalty. according to her, he was the biggest gentleman—a complete green forest, if you will. he always took care of her interests, noticed every single detail about her, and never failed to bring a smile to her face. truly, she was the happiest version of herself while they were dating.

eventually, she introduced him to you, him being an absolute sweetheart with you as well. he made sure not to make you feel like a third wheel, including you in their conversations. it didn't feel awkward for you at all—almost as if you three were a trio of best friends who hadn't met in a while, catching up.

everything was perfect with him. until it wasn't.

you didn't understand why, but for some weird reason, you started to get a certain... vibe from him—even though his behaviour never really changed. he was still an absolute sweetheart, treating chaeyoung like his own personal goddess… yet there was something so—unsettling about him.

heeseung didn't really do anything, but you still found a chill running down your spine whenever chaeyoung mentioned his name. if you saw him in front of you? you bet either your leg or hand would shake uncontrollably, betraying your anxiety.

anxiety for exactly what reason, you didn't know.

you thought it was ridiculous. why would your best friend's more than perfect boyfriend’s mere presence have you shaking like a goddamn leaf? it made no sense at all.

until it did… sort of.

well… heeseung, despite being such an amazing boyfriend, ends up becoming an ex. how? the story behind that is… messy. extremely so.

you see, they had been dating for almost a year. everyone expects a good and memorable gift from their partner for their anniversary, right? so did chaeyoung. she was really looking forward to it too, given how much of a great boyfriend heeseung was.

and he didn't disappoint. he gave her a present, one that was definitely memorable. it wasn’t memorable just for her, either. it was memorable for you as well. was it good? not so much.

[nishikio]

Can you write something about reader meeting Riki's mom and sisters ?? I think it would be super cute

hello anon! Thank u for ur request! I wrote this on the metro so I’m not sure if it feels rushed but I hope you like it!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

࿐ ࿔:･ﾟPairing: riki x female!reader

࿐ ࿔:･ﾟGenre: fluff🤔

࿐ ࿔:･ﾟWarnings: none

──── ୨୧ ────

y/n had met plenty of people in her life but standing outside riki’s family home felt different. This wasn’t some formal introduction or passing interaction. This was his family. The people who raised him, who knew him in ways she didn’t yet, and she wanted them to like her.

riki, of course, found her nerves amusing.

“You know they’re not scary, right?” he teased, hands in his pockets as he leaned closer to her.

y/n shot him a look. “Easy for you to say. You’re already their favorite.”

“I am their son.”

“Exactly, so I have to compete.”

riki rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. Before he could reassure her, the front door swung open, and his mom appeared with a bright smile.

“There you are! y/n, finally, we meet in person,” she said warmly, immediately reaching out to pull y/n into a hug.

y/n stiffened in surprise for only a second before relaxing into it. the hug wasn’t overwhelming—just warm, like an unspoken you’re welcome here.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” y/n said as they pulled apart, offering a genuine smile.

riki’s mom gave her a once-over, still smiling. “Even prettier than I expected. And you carry yourself so well—ah, I love you already.”

y/n felt her face heat up slightly. “That’s really sweet, thank you.”

Before she could say anything else, a small voice interrupted.

“So this is y/n.”

y/n turned her head to see konon leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyeing her with a smirk. Unlike misora, who stood beside her with a more neutral expression, konon had the kind of presence that made it clear she was the older sibling.

“I was wondering when riki would finally bring you over.” konon said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer.

riki groaned. “Can we not make this weird?”

konon ignored him, instead looking y/n up and down before nodding. “You’re cool. I like you.”

y/n chuckled, feeling some of her nerves fade. “That’s a relief.”

misora, who had been quieter, finally spoke up. “I’m curious about something.”

y/n turned to her. “Yeah?”

misora tilted her head. “How do you handle him?” She pointed at riki.

y/n blinked before bursting into laughter. “Honestly? I just bully him back.”

konon cackled. “That’s the only correct answer.”

riki scoffed. “You guys are sick.”

His mom just smiled fondly. “Come inside. We were just about to have dinner.”

As y/n stepped in, konon threw an arm around her shoulders like they’d known each other forever, already talking about all the embarrassing childhood stories she planned to share. Meanwhile, misora nudged riki.

“She’s cool,” she said simply.

riki, watching y/n laugh as she got effortlessly pulled into their family dynamic, smiled softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

──── ୨୧ ────

masterlist

reblog and comment <3

[bestlilithian]

☆ {17942} WHITERABBIT

-my favorite astrological asteroid-

W.R. is undoubtedly my favorite asteroid in astrology, simply because of the insanely potent energy it holds. I would even dare to say that it is within the same ranks as our favorite astrological beasts - Pluto, Lilith, Uranus, Neptune.

Personally, I would describe W.R. as a mix of Pluto and Neptune.

Whiterabbit represents: being drawn into something; finding oneself in a strange, possibly dangerous situation; life-transforming events; fascination; danger; sea-changes, and, yes, drug abuse.

Whiterabbit rules dangerous fascination. It is our darkest intrigues, the kind of curiosity that got the cat killed, a deeply alluring yet eerie energy. It describes where we can get pulled down and lost into a rabbit hole, where we are addicted. It is the thing for which you will walk in places you normally wouldn't go with a gun, that's the kind of pull Whiterabbit has on you.

¿ Whiterabbit dominants ¿

(W.R. conjunct personal planets, MC, ASC, IC..)

- these natives are extremely mesmerizing. they are lethaly persuasive and have a way of drawing people in.

- their world is always at least a little dangerous, and they can never be fully understood. they seek surreal experiences, and may therefore dabble in the use of drugs.

- they may prefer hallucinogens, and even deliriants, something that can give them a truly otherworldly experience.

- they may be fascinated with creepy aspects of life, horror, cognitohazards, mysteries.

- those with W.R. strongly aspecting their ascendant have an uncanny valley beauty, a dangerous, almost addictive quality to their charm.

- they may have obsessions, strong fascinations (different depending on the house and sign)

- they tend to transform other's lives tremendously (for better or worse), and constantly bring life-altering changes to the people in their life, as well as themselves.

- W.R. is prominents in the charts of pornstars and dictators, which is an amusing combination, but a real pattern nonetheless.

◇ Whiterabbit in synastry ◇

- when W.R. is highly prominent in the synastry, you will feel an irresistable pull to them. it does not have to be romantic or sexual, you can even despise their guts, but if your W.R. is conjuncting their personal planets or angles, you will be drawn in and need them like an addict needs their fix. for the charm of the white rabbit energy to be resisted, there needs to be significant self-mastery and personal understanding of the energy, which is why natives with prominent natal W.R. are better at recognizing that magnetic pull when they encounter it, and bending it in their own favour. they are better equipped to handle such intense energy because they've been dealing with it their whole life.

Feel free to comment your experiences, or perhaps some characters you headcannon as having prominent Whiterabbit energy. Here's mine:

( Mads in general has such a W.R. dom appearance and mannerisms. Wouldnt be surprised to find it aspecting his ascendant.)

[quokkaholic]

Aquarium Guy h.j

Warnings/ tags: Pure delulu fluff, gn reader (if you consider guy neutral, which I do obv), little cussing. Minimally proofed

Synopsis: You work for a hobby aquarium store that offers in-home installation. After Han impulse buys a fish tank online, he sets up an appointment with you to help set it up, which leads to many subsequent appointments definitely for the fish and not to have an excuse to see you. (romance anime style with mutual pining and slight angst that could easily be solved by communicating your feelings with nothing but a sweet confession at the end. where all my romance lovers at? 🙋👋)

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝

After loading your supplies into the comically large, industrial strength waggon you have to use to carry all your heavy and expensive equipment and lugging it through the halls of the high class apartment complex, you are out of breath as you press the doorbell outside of the door of the apartment number you have written on crumpled piece of paper in your pocket. The size of the tank and location are all the information you had received form your deadbeat manager leaving you to pack way more fixings than are necessary to ensure the customer had options. The lack of details could very well be due to the customers indecisiveness or simply not knowing enough to have opinions yet, but it's more likely that your manager didn’t even care enough to ask about it. In this job, you are more often than not setting up tanks for people with no experience keeping fish, and many don’t even want to learn; they just want living art in their homes. It gives you a job, but you often end up working with snooty people. You have no reason to expect anything less today. As you wait for the customer to answer the door, you go into customer service mode, thickening your skin in case you are to be barked at and ordered around for the next few hours and going over your script in your head.

A chipper but cautious voice comes from the speaker above the button asking of your identity, and your mind races with uncertainty. Are you at the wrong place? As you reach for the paper with the address in your pocket, you nervously answer,

“This is y/n from The Fish Bowl; I’m here for the appointment booked to this address...”

“Oh shi..” is all you hear before shuffling on the other side of the door, and it is flung open. To your surprise, a breathtaking man in casual attire opens the door completely destroying the image of a crotchety well-to-do you had been preparing for. You’re always a bit nervous about home visits, but the fact that he’s got to be around your age, and his casual demeanor mixed with his kind features, puts you at ease.

“So sorry, please come in! Let me help you.”

“Don’t worry I got it. It's my job” you respond, pulling the cart behind you. The place is decorated simply but it's still homey. He lets you know the tank will be in his room as he leads you there. The space is by no means dirty, but it's obviously lived in, which is honestly nice to see when most of the houses you end up at are sterile and maintained that way as a show of status.

“Sorry it's a mess, I may have forgotten I booked this…” his words trail off with a nervous smile.

“This is NOT dirty; I think your room is very cute and nice, but if you need me to come back another time, that's more than fine. What day would work better for-?” He cuts you off slightly panicky,

“No! No, today is great! Plus you’re already here; I just booked it on impulse and it slipped my mind. I’m sorry, again, but I’m really excited about this!”

“Please stop apologizing! I’m working for you today,” you say as you begin rifling through your supplies, hastily getting to work before you make things even more awkward. Han takes a seat on his bed. You work in silence, removing the basic items to get started with.

“You really think my room is cute?” There's a coyness to his voice.

“For sure! It has a lot of character. I really like that,” you say glazing around the room, eyes landing on stacks of manga, old game consoles, and multiple guitars before landing on the large empty tank resting on a desk along the wall opposite his bed and continuing,

“The aquarium is gonna look really sick in here,” a huge smile spreads across his face,

“That's what I'm saying! My friends think it's just another stupid purchase. I’ll admit, I buy a lot of useless stuff online, but this is not one. It's gonna be legendary.”

Having to help him though the decisions of what style filter and aquascaping he wants, you quickly learn how indecisive Han is. His answers to every question flip flopping back and forth for an eternity with a million questions about your experience and personal tanks and your opinions, often landing on whatever you say you have or like. If he wasn’t so cute and sweet, you’d probably be annoyed by now. His genuine curiosity and lust for knowledge are beyond endearing.

Many of your clients barely speak to you beyond the bare minimum, a lot aren’t even home while you're there, but Han casually lounges in the room chatting away. You can feel him watching your every move; it made you a bit nervous at first, but it quickly became obvious that he is just enthralled by the process, frequently commenting little ‘woah’s and ‘It's just like the video I saw!’

When the set up is done, he helps you fill the tank with water and pack up your equipment. Once the hard work is done, you give him the run down accompanied by the informational pamphlet, and his overflowing excitement is quickly replaced with utter disappointment when you inform him that the tank still isn’t ready, as it needs time to cycle before it's safe for fish. His jaw going slack and eyes bugging when you broke the news.

“I’m so sorry, Sir, I mean, Han,” He had asked you to speak casually with him when he found out you are in fact close in age, causing both your cheeks to slightly heat at you slip of the tongue before you bulldoze right over the awkwardness to continue the conversation,

“My manager should have informed you, I used special substrate and established media in the filter, which should speed up the process, but it could still take up to around 2 weeks,” his big eyes are brimming with sadness, dismay sullying his beautiful face. You just had to do something,

“How about we give it like five or six days and then I can start dropping by daily to test the water, that way we can get you your babies as soon as possible?” at your offer his exuberance returns along with immense gratitude. He tries to be polite and decline your offer, but you can tell it's just a formality, and he's desperate for his tank to be filled. He is a flustered mess when you tell him that what you're offering isn’t a service through your job, but a kindness that you want to provide because he is the best customer you’ve had in a long time, and you are genuinely excited to help him as you enter your personal number into his phone. That evening you receive yet another thanks from Han with details to set up the next time you’ll be over.

Six days later, you are back at the apartment ringing the doorbell. Instead of hearing Han’s cheery voice from the speaker, a more serious and suspicious voice comes out,

“Who are you?”

You weren’t prepared for this. You thought Han would just open the door, as you showed up right at the time he was expecting you. You even got there a bit early and sat in your car to ensure you’d arrive perfectly on time. You weren’t prepared for another introduction; you hadn’t practiced your lines.

“Oh um, I’m the… the aquarium guy?” you stutter out, just trying to say something, so he doesn’t assume you're some freak or solicitor. 

“What?” Did he not hear you, or was he genuinely confused by your answer?

“I’m here to test the water of Mr. Han’s aquarium, he should be expecting me” a faint noise of approval is all you hear in response before a shout coming from the other side of the door.

“Mr. Han-yah, the aquarium guy is here!” the unknown tenant yells naggingly into the apartment. Soon the door is pulled open to reveal Han slightly flustered, assumedly he’d run from his room on the other side of the apartment. He introduced you to his roommate who must’ve been the one you spoke to. He was polite but not particularly interested in making conversation, which you appreciated as you were feeling particularly shy after your interaction through the speaker.

The visit was short. You made quick work of testing the water, putting some water in vials and adding the testing solutions before setting the timers and observing the color changes. The awkwardness that dissipated after spending a few hours together almost  a week ago has returned, maybe even stronger than when you first met as you guys are in that weird phase when strangers become acquaintances. If it weren’t for Han's persistent curiosity, you probably would've spent the whole ten minutes in uncomfortable silence, but thankfully Han’s mind thirsts for knowledge, and he did not allow a single step in the process go by without asking at least one question. Unfortunately, you had to break the news that the tank was in fact not ready, and break his sweet little heart all over again. It hurt to have to break his spirits once again; you warned him that it probably wouldn't be ready for two weeks, but his excitement, and your unprofessional interest in him, has you continuing to show up at his apartment daily for another week, everyday having to crush his dreams of being a fish dad all over again. 

Despite repeatedly dashing his hopes, the visits became something you looked forward to desperately. They were at all hours of the day to meet his complex schedule, but you always made time for him. The quick drive by water tests shifted to prolonged aquaria talks to straight up just hanging out under the guise of work. Even though not all of your meetings were during work hours, a lot of them were; you knew it was wrong to be hanging out on the clock, but one look at Han’s giddy face every time he lays eyes on you makes the guilt disappear instantly. It’s not like you're neglecting any job duties, time you typically would be wasting at the office are now being spent more effectively “building customer relations”. At least that is the answer you had prepared if your manager ever asked what you were doing, but he never did. He could not care less of your whereabouts and was probably happy to have you off his back and out of his hair. 

The day after the levels looked correct you arrived bright and early with bags of colorful fish, you had painstakingly helped Han pick out with the help of Lee know. Even as a three man job, it took hours. After all that you ended up with a selection that looked strikingly similar to the set up of one of your community tanks you have set up at home. Even though Lee know acted uninterested, he sat with Han, watching you work and put the finishing touches on the tank before floating the fish. You all spent time gaming as the fish acclimated to the temperature of the tank. Once the temperature was equalized, you began drip-acclimating them to the water parameters. The drips were excessively slow and some would argue, unnecessary as the fish you all chose were on the hardy side to accommodate Han's inexperience, but you were definitely being extra careful, and not just making excuses to spend all day with them. Han ordered you all food, which you overly thanked him for, but he insisted that you deserved it for all your hard work.

When the fish were added and supplies were packed, you talked to Han about tank maintenance, and offered him the tank maintenance package that your work provides. He seemed extremely on board until he made a joking comment,

“I can’t be a single dad of twenty! You have to help me care for my babies,” he commands with a silly grin.

“Oh han,” you fein condescension “I was promoted beyond sucking up fish poop months ago; I’ll send one of my underlings to do that,” you jest, but it is not as well received as you would have  hoped, Han’s face drooping for a moment before continuing the jesting conversation,

“Underling? What are you an anime villain?”, he asks. You pause for a moment before answering with a mischievous smirk,

“Definitely not…” His acting is on point as he acts out the dramatic reveal of the big bad. The slight disappointment still barely visible in his face as he continues,

“Maybe you could just teach me how to do it myself! I’ll figure out something for when I’m traveling when the time comes; I'll hold off for now. So you just do set ups or..?” 

“Yeah mainly setups and upgrades,” you say trying to maintain familiarity, but it is obvious his mind is slowly slipping somewhere else. You quickly say your goodbyes as it's starting to get dark, and you still have to drop off the equipment back at the office.

The next day, you take some time to yourself and have a bit of a slow morning since you worked late last night. When you arrive at the shop, you settle in checking emails sipping on your fancy latte you actually had the time to make. You deserved a treat. You couldn’t quite pin down the reason, but the day felt a bit lackluster. Maybe you slept weird, maybe it was just one of those days, or maybe you didn’t have a meeting at a cute boys apartment to look forward to. After responding to the miscellaneous messages, you check your schedule to see if your manager booked you out for anything coming up. There were a few installs you knew you had coming up, but a highlighted date for your soonest appointment next week was new. After clicking on it and reading the description, a smile tugged at your lips, your heart raced, and the day seemed a bit less dim. Han was on your books for a lighting upgrade.

You looked forward to seeing him all week. You’ve gotten close enough that you will text about stuff unrelated to work, but neither of you are comfortable extending the conversation, so it usually just starts off with a fish tank questions and goes back and forth a bit before reaching a natural stopping point and then lies dormant until he sends you more questions or update pictures on the fish he insists are your god children, frequently adding that they “miss you very much”.

When you arrive at the apartment you have become all too familiar with, Lee know is once again the one to answer the door, which you have come to realize is the norm, and he shouts that the ‘aquarium guy is back’. He has taken quite fondly to calling you the silly name you gave yourself in a flustered panic, even going as far a s saving it as your contact in his phone. You question if he even knows your real name, yet he treats you like a friend nonetheless. Your lighting install takes little more than an hour, but you end up staying for a few; Lee know cooking you all lunch, before they are the ones who have to cut the hangout short as they have some appointments. 

The next day, you follow your usual routine of checking emails and then schedule to see Han has booked you again to install a CO2 injector. You were very clear in explaining he didn’t need one because his plants are beginner friendly, but you won’t pass on another chance to see him. Despite being more than happy to keep this up, there's a nagging in your head reminding you that it can’t go on forever.

A few days later, you have to go to Han’s house late in the evening, as it was the soonest free time he had that you were available. You offered to push it back a few days, but he vehemently refused the rescheduling. When you arrive, Han is looking a little less put together than usual, sweats and an oversized hoodie with his hair pushed back in a ball cap and barefaced. He must’ve been at practice; he looks so exhausted. Feeling bad for keeping him up, you have to keep reminding yourself that he insisted that you be there. He tried to apologize for his appearance, but you shut him up quickly with a string of compliments that flew from your lips before you could think twice. He just looked so soft and cuddly which is only exaggerated by his flushing cheeks and ears. Yanking yourself swiftly from your admiring trance to avoid getting locked in it for the rest of the evening, you get to work hooking up valves and tubing before dialing in the right amount of gas to be released.

Finally connecting it to the lighting timer system. Usually, you’d take your sweet time chatting Han up while you work or just rush through the install to have more time to purely hangout, but since it was already so late, you opt to work in concentrated silence, only talking to feed Han information about his new system. After double and triple checking that the flow of gas is appropriate and there are no leaks in any of the connections, you hastily gather your stuff hoping to leave Han to get some rest after his ling day. He is already dozing off in a beanbag in the corner, a vintage handheld gaming system resting in his lap still playing idle music. You whisper a goodbye over your shoulder heading out the door, but before you cross the doorway back into the hallway, calloused fingertips wrap around your wrist.

“Wait...” his speech is broken up by a yawn, using his free hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, 

“Let me take you to dinner?” it's less of a question and more of an order.

“Hannie,” a sweet nickname you’ve subconsciously adopted from Lee know, 

“you’re so tired, don’t even try to deny it,” you respond to his ask, accurately predicting his next tactic causing his mouth to close as he swallows his words and contemplates a backup plan,

“Fine, I am tired, but I’m also sooo hungry,” he pleads with puppy dog eyes, dramatically gripping his stomach, trying to pull the sympathy card, but that ends up backfiring, as you’re now concerned that he isn’t taking care of himself.

“You haven’t eaten?! Come on man!” chastising him in a joking tone. His imploring face turns to one of shock as he goes to defend himself,

“I rushed home after we finished to see you! I bet you haven’t had dinner either!” His read is valid, pointing out your hypocrisy. If his comment about skipping out on food to see you wasn’t enough to drain the sternness from your tone, your embarrassment over your sanctimonious scolding was. Sighing, you relent, 

“Fine, but you aren’t calling a ride, I’ll drive.”

Dinner with Han was the highlight of your week. You try not to think about it, but recently he has become the highlight of every week. The conversation is pleasant as ever; Han's silly nature has you sending jokes back and forth filling the nearly empty restaurant with bellowing laughter, even earning some snickers from the older cashier/server you could only assume is the owner or at least related to them. At one point, you even choke on your soda when Han made some offhand, absurd comment causing you to spit the drink, luckily, into a napkin and not his face or food, earning concerned looks from the few other tables and another lambasting from you. He insisted on paying for your meal, making it feel even more like a date, which only made your heart sink more as you laid in bed reflecting on the evening, once the post-date high wore off after dropping him off. There was only one upgrade left that you offer, and you had a strong inclination that the next time you worked, there would be that last appointment made at that cute man’s apartment.

Unsurprisingly, there was a new appointment with the all too familiar address for your earliest availability, but the whole calendar had been cleared after that. You would ask your manager about it, but he wasn’t in the store, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. You asked some of the other aquarium techs, but they hadn’t seen him either. It wasn’t till you entered the customer facing portion of the store and spoke to the cashier that they broke the news that your shit-head manager was finally canned for not completing job duties. While it was long overdue and definitely for the best for the company, you couldn't help but worry that the replacement would be stricter on your scheduling and keep a closer eye on your whereabouts, but that shouldn’t really be a problem after your appointment with Han tomorrow. After a quick phone call with upper management, you realize it actually won’t be a concern at all, as you’ve been promoted, you are the replacement.

You toyed with the idea of cancelling on Han; if you keep pushing it off, there would never be a last booking. You could save the final install for when you were ready to say goodbye, but you knew that day wouldn’t come. Plus if you pushed it off too much, they would probably just give the appointment to someone else so you can focus on your new managerial duties. Han had obviously become more than a client, not even the most delusional, irrational person could deny your growing feeling for him. It would be better to just rip the bandage off and move on. You steel yourself as you ring the doorbell one last time with your stupid cart filled with the supplies for a small brine shrimp hatchery, so he can have live food for his spoiled babies. 

Soon after letting you in, Han had to take a phone call, leaving you alone in his room. You were simultaneously grateful for not having to navigate telling him that you won’t be seeing him anymore just yet and sad that your last hangout with him was sabotaged by some important conversation he just had to have right now when he should be hovering over you gushing about all the documentaries he has been watching or games he's been playing. When he finally enters the room, he finds you gathering your things.

“Damn, you're already finished?”

“No worries, Mr. Han. I’m all done here; you've got the whole shabang. Very jealous. Your fish are very lucky to have you,” you say, trying to cover your sadness with some joking sass, but it comes out a bit more cold than you would’ve liked, returning to formalities trying to solidify the customer and worker dynamic in your mind. The tightness in your chest making your trash acting skills even worse. Trying not to look his way for too long, especially due to the puzzled expression written all over his face as he tries to figure out what has come over you, you keep your head buried in your bag. 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn't have taken the call if I didn’t have to,” he apologizes trying to solve your sour mood. 

“No! It's fine, really! Please don’t be sorry; just feel like I missed out a little…” you confess; you are upset but not at him, and you can’t leave him thinking he had done something wrong. At your words the smile he had greeted you with returns to his lips,

“I’ll just have to bother you extra next time,” he says in a mocking tone. Face scrunching as you search for the words for a moment,

“Like I said, you’ve gotten all the upgrades available…” letting your words trail off, hoping he would put two and two together.

“Oh… well…I think Lee know said he wants a tank in his room for enrichment for the cats, or... maybe we could put one in the living room; that would look cool, right?” He is racking his brain for ideas to keep you around. You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes as you relay the ‘good’ news,

“I’ve actually been promoted again. This is my last appointment as an aquarium tech.” His face drops reminding you of when you denied him fish all those weeks ago, and if you thought it was heartbreaking then, the look on his face is practically earth shattering. He’s done trying to cover his motives, he decides before speaking softly,

“I don’t want to stop seeing you” his words are barely audible. Just as your words shocked him into confession, his do the same to you.

“I’d gladly go back to sucking up fish poop to keep spending time with you,” your admission triggers such a strong grin from him that it pinches his misty eyes causing the tears to gather in the corners threatening to spill down his pink cheeks that match your own. After a deep breath with just the trace of a quiver, he makes a proposition,

“How about you start coming over as my,” he pauses looking for the right word, 

”friend,” he lands on skeptically, like he was planning on saying something else,

“not my aquarium guy?”

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝

A.n- yes is do keep fish, how’d you know? This was inspired by the Han and Bang chan interview on Jaefriends when Han admits to being a big online/impulse shopper or “pushover consumer”. This took me so long to write; smut remains so much easier for me to write. I guess it's easier to be horny and depraved than to be wholesome and vulnerable. will consult the council on this one.

-mo 🐠

pic creds: pinterest x x

Masterlist

[randomfoggytiger]

DD and GA Knew Mulder and Scully Were 'End Game' from Day One

After diving deep into Chris Carter's past statements, and resurfacing with the (predictable) report that he'd planned Mulder and Scully's romantic relationship from the start (post here), I began wondering at what point David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson were aware of this plan-- and to what degree.

My suspicions became peaked while listening to a random David and Gillian interview-- the Kumail podcast, perhaps?-- where he revealed they were directed to look into each other's eyes often and keep in close physical proximity from day one. And while that could be an unsubstantiated claim (GA didn't remember it... but that's also not surprising), it intrigued me further.

From there, I found interviews in Season 9, then Season 8, then Season 7, then Season 6 of David eagerly discussing his thoughts, hopes, and contributions to the show-- particularly with Mulder's family and his relationship with Scully.

Gillian, however, was harder to pin down: she rarely engaged in-depth with interviews, and mostly dodged a declarative answer on the Mulder and Scully intrigue. The most I knew was her comment that it had been (loosely quoted) smart of CC to keep the romance apart as long as he did. But what about earlier?

Well. I'm not finished reading through some chonky behind-the-scenes books yet, but I do have enough to substantially prove (as much as I can at this stage) that David and Gillian knew Mulder and Scully were end game to some degree. Further, that they had fun and felt freedom in not having to explore that side of the characters' relationship... but would have had more fun if their characters had been given anything else to explore, regardless.

1996

In Brian Lowry's The Official Third Season Guide to The X-Files, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson both slip up, just a little.

DD wants to explore more of Mulder and Scully's relationship--

Never one to settle for success, Duchovny-- who continues to play an active role in the series's creative direction, working in concert with Carter and co-executive producer Howard Gordon on certain episodes-- is pleased with the third season but looks forward to expanding the shows emotional range even further. Referring to one of the early second-season episodes, he notes, "I think when we did 'Duane Barry' the show became a really great show, and we maintained that level for a while, but we haven't gone beyond it. I'm waiting to go beyond it. We don't go beyond it technically, but we will go beyond it in terms of character, introducing a personal life of some kind. I think it's inevitable. You have to do it."

--yet dodges away from definitives when the interviewer begins to grill him on specifics--

When it's pointed out that the show's most fervent loyalists, as well as Carter himself, have been especially vocal about not wanting to see Mulder and Scully romantically involved with anyone but each other, Duchovny simply shrugs and says the nuances he refers to don't necessarily have to involve romance. "Give Mulder a friend. Give him a squash partner," he suggests. "It's got to happen. I really don't care what anybody thinks we should or shouldn't do."

GA interests lay in the same direction as her costar's--

Anderson remains more sanguine regarding such matters, though she indicates some interest as well in stretching the characters while understanding that such an evolution must occur within the show's parameters....

"I think it would be an interesting challenge as an actor to see how they react in certain situations-- how they act on a personal level ... maybe have her go on a date, or someone she's attracted to just so see how it affects her relationship with Mulder," Anderson concurs, while adding that she understands the show's parameters dictate that they "not take it to any great detail, or take it any further. Just that sideline would be interesting. It can't just be about extracurricular relationships," she continues. "The show's not about that. That would ruin it."

--but her answer is, unfortunately, never expounded on further.

1997

Vince Gilligan stated in a 1998 interview:

“I had a good time writing that [Small Potatoes] scene at the end where Scully almost kisses Mulder. Of course, it’s not really Mulder, it’s Eddie Van Blundht. Both David and Gillian really enjoyed doing the episode, because it was a change of pace for them, and they have fun doing comedy. But as I recall, Gillian was a little reluctant about the kiss, because she was fearful for the franchise. In other words, she worried that we were taking the show too far...." 

1998

During the press interviews promoting Fight the Future, DD and GA were finally "allowed" to be forthright on their perspectives-- ones they'd held close to the chest since 1996, at least.

July

WILL MULDER AND SCULLY EVER KISS? “I think so,” says Duchovny, who almost smooches with his costar in the movie. “If you tease the audience too long they get frustrated.” Good luck convincing Anderson. “It’s not appropriate,” she says. “The series isn’t about our relationship. If it happens, we should wait until the very last episode.”

November

And here we have absolute proof: Gillian stating that the actors and writers had discussed "from day one" what the show would and wouldn't focus on--

The direction of Mulder and Scully’s relationship is a topic of hot debate. “From day one we’ve been talking about the fact that it just wouldn’t work in the series,” remarks Anderson, “but I’m curious as to how, after the movie and the extra zing that’s in the film and whether it should or shouldn’t influence how we are with each other in the series. If it does, how will it influence the work that we do? I don’t know.”

Duchovny is equally unsure of what’s right for the show. “It’s hard to say what would ruin the show, or what would make it good, without actually doing it. But [a relationship] could be interesting. If we had someone come in who wrote beautifully in that direction I’m sure it would work, but I don’t see that happening.”

CONCLUSION

With that in mind... I can't wait to continue reading the official guidebooks. Many more secrets to uncover.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[waynes-multiverse]

Oh, oh, oh, Beth… I fucking loved this way too much. You have absolutely no idea how much I laughed. My husband thought I was nuts 😂🫶

This series brought me literally so much joy and laughs. You’re simply amazing for writing it 🩵🩵🩵

He’d been de-aged, lost his memory, kidnapped in his car and had her chase him twice, so if anything, this shouldn’t be a surprise. This kind of shit always happened to Dean.

It does! It really does 😂

And omfg poor Sam is scarred for the rest of his life by the lewd images he’s seen. No one should see their roommates in this state, let alone their own brother 🙈 But I laughed throughout his trials (and fails) of text messages to Eileen, although I still believe the woman would have a good, long laugh about all of this, and if anything, would be chiding Sam for not providing her with all the goddamn gloriously embarrassing details 🤣

They were not calling Cas. Keeping Jack occupied was hard enough without another angel not understanding how consequential Dean and you having sex under a curse could be.

Bless him for trying to entertain the angelic toddler 😂

But I had a feeling as soon as Sam send little, naive Jack to check on the lions (in heat) in the den, that sneaky Dean would find a way to trick the poor kid. Oh, well, let the smutty goodness begin 😈🔥

And Jack’s whole monologue about the technicalities of sex just about killed me, jfc 🤣🤣🤣 (Plus that little bonus comedic moment of the kid being turned on by reader was just pure gold)

Yeah. Dean was proud of himself. Oh-ho, yeah, he was, and his smirk only grew wider as Jack’s footsteps trailed away.

You outsmarted a four-year-old, doofus. God, this man 😂

Seeing Dean’s junk, seeing you touch yourself, seeing an old wood nymph cry.

Snorted way too hard at Mrs. Butters crying and imagining Sam’s bitch face when he found her 🤣 He can’t catch a break, can he?

Wrapped in hugs? No. That thing, with its excessive amount of fabric, wrapped Dean up like a chastity belt

The fact he’s wearing the actual fucking purple nightgown throughout all of this hotness just adds an extra layer of hilarity I really appreciate lmao

“And you believed him?” Yeah, Sam was wrong. Cas might’ve been useful. At least he wasn’t so gullible.

True. Sam’s just straight up babysitting one toddler, two horny teens and a demented granny tonight 😂

“So that means Dean just needs to ejaculate inside her?” Jack chimed in before Sam could, seeming very proud of his speculation, and, yeah, that did it. Sam was going to bed. Part of him wanted to know why she’d done it, but he’d had enough.

Dead 💀

Least, it was for you. This all happened because of a stupid spell. Something well beyond your control. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to fuck you before all this. He’d never even made a move on you until now, and now didn’t count.

Why am I getting teary-eyed? 🥲

I’m so glad they worked it out, though. *sighs wistfully* idiots in love 😍💕

And I happily take a fourth serving of snickerdoodles! 🩵

Consequences for Mrs. Butters, though? Let her soak in a bathtub full of Dean’s cum for 24hrs while doing one of those eye doctor letter tests? 🤔 Yeah, that’ll do. I’m sure Sam will go for it at this point 😝

SNICKERDOODLES & SPECIAL SAUCE

Part 3: Good Things Come in Threes

Story Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: 'Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours... or ...Mrs Butters isn't just messing with Dean's underwear drawer. She's messing with your love lives, too. 18+ only

Word Count: 5.7k words (multiple POV)

Tags/Warnings: crack, friends to lovers, love potion, language, dubious consent, pining, eggnog, Mrs Butters is a terrible wingman, SMUT—————————————————————PART 1 || PART 2 || Part 3 || Read on AO3

Part 3: Good Things Come in Threes

…and Dean have been hit by some kind of lust spell, the message read, but Sam hit the backspace, scrapping it all. He tapped that screen almost as fast as your finger had done under your panties when he—nope!! He wasn’t going there.

He couldn’t send a message like that to Eileen, either. It would just lead to more questions, and he didn’t want to think about the situation, let alone go over the details of it all. Didn’t matter that Dean’s arm pumping action was enough to douse any fire, now and in the future.

Yeah. Dean. It was better to tell her about him, so, Dean’s been cursed, he tried, leaving out the part about you being hit with it, too.

Only, what if it got out you had? What if someone let slip what the actual curse was, and how Sam had walked in on you both?

He sighed and erased the text again, typing out, Mrs Butters is missing, instead. It didn’t explain Dean desperately calling him away from their phone call, but it was the truth.

God. Why was this so hard?

Because it’s Dean, he chided.

He’d been de-aged, lost his memory, kidnapped in his car and had her chase him twice, so if anything, this shouldn’t be a surprise. This kind of shit always happened to Dean.

His thumbs hovered over the screen, still contemplating what he should type next, when Jack appeared in his peripheral, popping out from the junction in the long corridor.

He shuffled down the hall towards Sam with a worried look on his face. All that twinkled overhead, lighting up the stray pieces of glitter he’d caught on his forehead and cheeks.

If only the wood nymph had left a trail through the remaining sparkles on the floor. Little heel shapes would be mighty helpful to find her, but no. It’s like she’d vanished into thin air.

“Hey,” Sam said, and hit send. He was quick to add, Dean pissed her off, and sent it straight after. “Any luck?”

He looked up just in time for Jack to step into his personal space. His drained eyes, hopeful and ready to cling to any good news Jack threw his way. Anything was better than the fat-load of nothing he had to show for.

But, “No,” Jack said, brow creasing in the middle in concentration. “And I checked all the closets and opened all the cubicle doors just like you told me to. Maybe we should call Cas?”

They were not calling Cas. Keeping Jack occupied was hard enough without another angel not understanding how consequential Dean and you having sex under a curse could be.

“Yeah. No, ah. You know what?” Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket and rejigged his Taurus in his hand. “Why don’t you check on them? Make sure Dean’s ropes are still tight.” He found Jack’s eyes and gave him his best reassuring smile, ignoring the niggle in his gut that knew Dean was a flight risk and probably busted out already.

“What about you?”

Sam cocked his gun and patted Jack on the shoulder. “She came out when Dean hit the reset button. I’m gonna see if I can lure her out by shutting this place down.”

And with that, Sam left Jack, and Jack headed towards the library, a little apprehensive about going in alone. Being told to check the ropes, even though he could smite Dean if he wanted to, was no easy feat. He respected him a great deal.

He was strong, knowledgeable about the world, and had taught him a lot. They’d even got around to “the talk,” so Jack was also knowledgeable about what was happening in the bunker that night.

Dean’s body, not the spell.

No, Jack had no idea why everything was happening as it was.

Just the physicalities.

He knew all about courting and fucking and the differences and similarities between them. It was all thanks to Dean. They hadn’t covered masturbation because Dean had said, “he was better left on his own there,” but Jack understood the basics of what Dean was going through.

Blood was pumping through Dean’s penis. He’d busted his nut three times (Sam had stopped him on the fourth), and was still erect now. Oh. And in pain. Which was difficult to understand because Jack had only ever experienced an erection when he woke up and it had just gone away on its own.

But he also didn’t sleep much, and he shrugged, considering his options as he walked the halls to you.

He wanted to ask Dean what it felt like. He was curious about you too, but from their talk, he knew not to ask you anything relating to your breasts or your vagina. It was okay to ask your partner, but it wasn’t okay to ask someone you weren’t courting, dating, or fucking.

Right. Yes. That’s definitely what Dean had said.

Coming from the lower levels meant Jack came into the war room via the eastern corridor, on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Besides the vibrant tree, still littered underneath with presents no one was supposed to open yet, it was Dean he spotted first.

His legs, from his calves to his ankles, were tied to his seat and not outstretched, as you’d expect. There was no manspreading going on, as you would say, either.

No. He was far from his usual relaxed self, calling out Jack’s name in irritation. Unbeknownst that his attempt to hide his relief was thwarted by Jack’s keen senses.

Jack rounded the edge of the map table and stepped up the stairs with a patter and a frown. Losing the squeaks his sneakers made when moving from the polished floors to wood always disappointed him.

“Hello Dean,” he said back to the hunter, hand waving in greeting, before setting his sights on you.

You looked no better. Eyes half lidded. Chest heaving. The skin that dipped below the neck of your shirt was lined with sweat, and tracing the curves of your breasts made Jack’s stomach feel funny. It also made his throat dry.

Why did it do that?

He popped his ears. Tried clicking his tongue and swallowing, but neither helped and his voice came out croaky like a frog’s. “Sam asked me to check on you both.” He rubbed his lips together.

“And where is Sam?” Dean asked. His sarcasm wasn’t missed. “Have you found her yet?”

“No. But he’s going to try the boiler room.”

An ominous clank cut Dean off mid eye roll. The lights cut him off, too. Well, the lamps and ceiling ones around the library and beyond in the halls did, but not Mrs Butters’ Christmas tree. It shone brighter. Rivaled only by the baubles, looped, and still blinking, ‘round the balustrades and staircase.

You could hear a pin drop if it weren’t for the train’s whistle and Dean’s groan. “For the love of… What’s he planning to do?”

“Reversing you doofuses letting her out, obviously,” you said with a wheeze, and Jack decided it was time to get to work on the ropes. He did not want to be here any longer than he needed to be.

Dean was angry. You weren’t much better, but you were the best choice to start checking. The low lighting thankfully covered your breasts, but it wouldn’t for long. “She’s nowhere to be found.” He pulled on the ties that held your arms in place. “Sam thought she might appear if he tried restarting her.”

“Restart,” Jack felt Dean’s aura flare. He heard the blood as it pumped through his veins. “Okay, you know what? Jack, you need to untie me right now.”

“I can’t do that, Dean.” He wouldn’t. Sam had told him to check the ropes and make sure Dean was secured, and it was imperative that he did. “Sam said you two needed to stay separated.”

“And Sammy needs your help more than we do. Angel trumps wood nymph.”

“But I’m a nephilim.” And he was very confused.

“Yeah. Okay, sure. Son of Lucifer,” Dean quipped, but soon changed his tone to one of pleading. “Look. We’ll behave, alright? I promise.”

He promised? Dean never promised. At least he never used the word itself. He hadn’t exactly promised when he’d said they’d have the talk, and he’d kept his word then, so maybe it would be okay?

“She’s not looking too good there, Jack,” Dean added, and it was true, you weren’t.

Your breathing was slow and shallow. A sheen of sweat covered your forehead on top of your breasts now, and Jack could feel the heat radiating off of your body.

“Speak for yourself,” you said, but it was so quiet and lacking your usual pep, Jack’s stomach flipped. His mind did, too.

He stood tall and turned to face Dean. His eyes narrowed as they had when he’d questioned Sam’s plan in the first place.

He could trust Dean, couldn’t he?

Yes. Yes. Of course he could, and he nodded. “I’ll go back to Sam,” he said, and without even checking on Dean’s arms, rushed away to the boiler room to help there. Mrs Butters needed to be found, after all.

In his haste to be useful, however, even though he’d been reading both your auras; even though he’d heard Sam’s spiel about how dangerous the situation was; Jack was oblivious to the smirk that graced Dean’s face the second his back was turned.

Yeah. Dean was proud of himself. Oh-ho, yeah, he was, and his smirk only grew wider as Jack’s footsteps trailed away.

He’d been working on the ropes since the moment Sam had left the room. In control enough to know you were off limits, not enough that he could stay here any longer. Nope. He’d been watching your rack, too, though unlike Jack it’d been more than a few seconds, and he was not going there with you. Not when he’d probably come the second his dick got wet.

He had a reputation to uphold. That and you’d never let him live it down, knowing you. He’d be the butt of your jokes for as long as he lived.

So, rather than bothering to talk or check in with you, he let his dick and its needs lead. As soon as Jack left, he got back to it, shimmying his wrists back and forth, only it wasn’t doing much good.

Stupid nightgown. Why the hell hadn’t he put on his jeans and jacket? Oh right. Because then it would’ve chafed. Caught on fire like flint and tinder.

Screw this. The floor was below him and with enough force, he’d break the chair just like he’s done in Texas. Sam and Jack wouldn’t notice that with all the concrete, rebar and wiring layered between them and him, giving Dean plenty of time to escape. Plus, the boiler room was at the other end of the joint.

Perfect!

He tested the waters, pushing his toes into the polished wood below them, and when he was certain he wouldn’t add injury to the insult, he braced himself.

‘Okay,’ he breathed out a puff of air. ‘You can do this, Deano.’

Huh. Deano? Your nickname for him was cute, but why the hell was he using it? He was gonna count to three, but after that he gave up and just went for it.

He gripped the right arm of his seat and swung himself to the left, lifting the leg an inch if he was lucky. Shouldn’t have had that second helping of turkey or ham.

He sighed louder than the first time, eyes flicking to you when he realised you’d said nothing since Jack left. Not even a squeak of surprise at the thump he’d made.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” He had trouble pulling himself away from your rack to your chin. “Sweetheart?” he tried again, and a small choke answered him.

You see, while Dean was doing alright, you weren’t so much. It was bad enough Sam’d tied you up, but leaving you smack bang across the table from him was the stupidest, most inconsiderate thing Sam had ever done.

You were going to kill him. You were no longer sorry Mrs Butters had told you his business. Eileen deserved her privacy. Sam did not.

Just being in Dean’s presence had doubled the pain. You thought it was excruciating before? Hah! Think again.

You’d dropped your head just to avoid his sultry gaze. A mix of concern and dilated pupils you’d mistake for him being high had it not been seeing him equally affected by whatever she’d done to you.

“It hurts, De.”

Your white knuckles and sweaty palms held on too tight to the arms of the chair. Damn. That Pink song knew a thing or two, even if the lyrics and your body had differing opinions.

You didn’t want Dean to blow you one last kiss. No. Oh no. You’d settle for blowing him, or better yet, him blowing his warm breath over you because everything was on fire. The depths of your panties, the worst. The stiff wood under your ass and your pyjama shorts weren’t doing nothing for you. Neither were your knees rubbing together.

“Would you quit it?” Dean growled, and the echo went straight there.

A shiver. A trickle. A shock? Whatever it was, your cooch clenched tight to trap it and you had to stifle the moan you almost couldn’t.

Fuck. Your head wanted to explode. Your front teeth bit so darn hard into the meat of your lower lip, they grazed the bottom set below them.

“It really hurts,” you said again, as if saying so was the magic chant you needed to tell the spell uncle.

“Yeah, well. You squirming like that ain’t exactly a picnic for me, either.”

The gravel in his voice had your head flicking back up. It moved to follow his staring at your boobs.

Your nipples, unlike in the kitchen earlier, were now visible through your sleep shirt. Hard and perky. You’d be insulted, but all you saw besides the lights flashing in the other room was a dick on legs, and what it could do for you.

Those fingers of his, just below the ledge of the table. Those lips, pink and plump, rivaled only by his tongue that swiped over them, could wrap around the girls any day, and, “Fuck.” Your body shuddered through the long squeak it released, elongating the word even further, like a balloon neck still pinched tight.

Nothing. There was nothing you could do to make this better. Had the knots not tied you to the chair, you’d have crumpled in a heap on the floor, shuffling and moaning. Probably would’ve pissed yourself by now.

The pressure was severe enough, and your head dropped once more. Shoulders rising and falling beside your neck as you pulled the air back into your lungs with deep breaths.

“Hey. You okay?”

No. No, you weren’t. Your body needed physical stimulation. You knew it, Jack knew it, and you’d settle for a brush of Dean’s pinky finger against your own at this point.

His fingernail. The hair at the end of his knuckle. The cool metal of his 1911 would get him and you both off if you were smart about it.

So you fluttered your lashes and let the tips fan your cheeks. Your eyes peeked through them with your best wanton gaze. “There must be something you can do,” you said. “If you get us out, I’ll scratch your back, and maybe you can scratch mine?”

Not only did you hope that would get Dean’s attention, you sure as hell fucking meant it.

And you got it.

His cock twitched below his nightgown. A bead of cum spilled out from its tip, and Dean planted his feet on the ground and tried rocking again.

To the left, to the right, adrenaline was an amazing thing. Each new lift of the chair legs had him swinging and swaying, and the floorboards making god-awful sounds. But then inertia gave way and kinetic energy kicked in, and Dean’s right arm and shoulder pummeled into the floor with a thump.

His funny bone twanged. His throat gave a grunt. His dick bobbed up and down. It re-pitched the tent in his purple polyester blend the second he bounced back, tall and proud.

Fuck yeah! He was free, and scrambling on his bow legs to free you, too.

“You really wanna?” His question trailed off as you licked your lips. Your eyes, drawn to the tent of his giant hug.

He’d be insulted, but his small brain and actual brain were fighting for dominance. That moan you made when his pinky grazed your thigh was porn for his ears, and with the added ambiance, your face belonged in one. But did you just?

Wow. Well, if that didn’t do it for a guy (or girl), he had some questions. He’d barely touched you.

Screw Miss January. Mrs Butters could get stuffed like her turkey. He was gonna fuck you if you were going to let him, and his lips found their way to yours, crashing down with force and heat, before you could say no.

They seared, unrelenting, not letting you leave your seat. He’d jump you like a dog, but he wasn’t that far gone. Or was he?

Chuck. Fuck the spell. Mrs Butters had done him a favour. He’d die happy if that’s what this was. Satisfied with the taste of you on his tongue. The power he had over you with just his fingertips.

He just had one question - could he keep it?

No! Absolutely not, if Sam had anything to say about it. This night was the worst.

Seeing Dean’s junk, seeing you touch yourself, seeing an old wood nymph cry.

Oh yeah, he’d found Mrs Butters. Or rather, she found him, having apparated before him the second he shut the power off. She now stood in the corner, cowering, her hoot high in pitch when Sam pulled his gun on her, beady eyes only likening her more and more to an owl as they widened in terror.

You were right about her making a mean Merlin, or whatever his name was, but Sam was at his wit’s end, and about ready to shoot.

“So it was you?” His gaze pierced those peepers of hers back, finger trembling on the trigger of his Taurus. Unaware of what might happen if he shot at her. Very aware not to show it.

He should’ve checked the lore.

But then she dropped her head into her hands, remorseful or conniving, Sam wasn’t sure, and “Yes,” she said. “But it wasn’t supposed to do this…and…and—”

“And what?” Sam’s nostrils flared.

“It’s too late.”

And it was.

Too late to stop you, that is.

Dean had you on your feet and you were walking. Hands grabbing, fingers caressing, your bodies stepping in time like a practiced dance.

Through the halls he led you, lips nibbling and sucking your neck, your collarbone, the top of your cleavage. Wherever he could reach, he attacked, and wherever he went, you welcomed. Your hips and pelvis especially.

Yes, you undulated against him while your hands fumbled with his nightgown. His bedroom door slammed shut behind you, but you were too busy to bat an eyelid. Wrapped in hugs? No. That thing, with its excessive amount of fabric, wrapped Dean up like a chastity belt, protecting him from you and your aching heat from him.

It still burned. Still throbbed. Sweaty palms and fingertips, leaving prints that’d put crime-scene investigators outta their job if they used it for evidence. Not that he cared. He was too busy helping you with your clothing.

Your shirt, your shorts, he pushed you forward and soon had your lust-drunk-ass tumbling onto the memory foam of his bed with a bounce and grin from ear to ear. And when he pulled that lilac monstrosity off and over his head himself, he gave you little warning or vantage to take a decent peek at that part of him. You sure felt it, though.

Dean pinned you beneath him and pushed a knee flush between your legs. Anyone would think you were going somewhere, but you weren’t. Your pussy lips spread open wide, trying to draw him in.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck.

Fuck indeed. It was all too much. The length of him glided over your hip, electrifying everywhere it touched. You’d gone from seeing it, to feeling it, hard, hot and more than ready for you in a matter of hours. You’d tear apart into a million pieces if he didn’t tear you with it soon.

So, without a word, your arm snaked its way between your bodies to grip him, experimenting with a soft tug or two, pleased when he grunted under your touch.

You’d high five yourself, but your hands were busy and you didn’t have the resolve to stop. Neither did he.

No. There was no checking in. No questioning. Who cared if you were on birth control or not? He just pulled up, shifted himself to claim your lips, and prodded your lower ones with his blunt tip.

Your sloppy kisses struggled to return his intensity, more focused on pulling him closer and encouraging him to move by opening your legs even wider, hooking your ankles over his. You really were a floozy, and Dean only exemplified it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I can’t,” he said against your chin, before snapping his hips forward with a groan that rumbled straight up your spine.

Just as his pinky had left your panties a mess, that one thrust was all it took. Your inner walls spasmed ‘round him. The rest of you clung where you could as he set his pace, chasing the high Sam had interrupted two hours ago.

Your muscles contorted; skin tingled. Your back arched off the mattress. But even though you’d just come, your clit, your cunt, your whole being demanded more. Fingers dragged down Dean’s back, scraping, raking down and around to knead the soft flesh of his ass.

“Oh god. Don’t do that. I’m not gonna—”

But it was too late. His mouth opened into a tightened O and ropes of his cum painted your insides. Each throb pulsing against your still clenched walls.

“Shit.” He panted, chest heaving against yours. “I never blow that quick.” He swallowed, then grunted. The primality of it, the sexiest damn thing you’d ever heard.

“Me either.” You huffed. He’d given you two orgasms with little foreplay. Hell, you hadn’t even spoken. That had to be a record for any girl, not to mention he’d come, what, four times himself? The guy was over forty, and still his flesh burned molten hot.

Then again, so did yours.

You let go to star-fish underneath him, rolling your neck backwards into the pillow to draw air into your lungs. “You, ah, you good?” you asked. Though why you bothered when even Dean, with his world-renowned game and prowess, couldn’t break the spell, was beyond you.

“Are you?” He cocked his brow.

“It’s manageable,” you said, which was better than no.

Of course, Dean looked down at you. His eyes searched for the truth. He found it too, when he gave up on your top half to watch between you, drawing another couple of slow pumps in and out.

“Manageable, huh?” He chuckled at your whimper. Even gave you a devious wink. “Think you can manage switching positions?”

Sam wished he could switch positions, too.

No, not like that.

Thankfully, he wasn’t aware of what was going on behind Dean’s door. Well, no, that’s not true. He did. He stood above the evidence you’d left behind in the library, put two and two together, and now stood, staring dumbstruck at the broken seat.

Why did he bother?

“I told you to check the ropes,” he said to Jack, who was looking mighty sheepish. Of course, Sam should’ve known he’d been rather quick returning to the boiler room.

“Dean promised he—”

“And you believed him?” Yeah, Sam was wrong. Cas might’ve been useful. At least he wasn’t so gullible.

He thought.

Honestly, Sam could only scoff. His grin, wide in disbelief, as he stretched thumb and pointer over his eyes.

Blowing his brains out would be easier. Then he wouldn’t have to face your wrath when you realised what you’d done. Screw Dean’s. Though he guessed it was in his best interests to fix things.

“Okay.” He turned to Mrs Butters, cuffed and still looking sorry for herself. Whether the cuffs worked on her was another matter altogether. She hadn’t fussed about them at least. Though her beady eyes still stared into the depths of his soul as if this was all his fault. “Say you did it right. What was supposed to happen?”

“Does it matter? Aren’t you going to stop them before th-th-th-they—”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. Even you said it was too late.” Though she’d made it sound like you were going to die.

He tucked his gun into the waistband of his sweats so as not to be tested. “But if you want to,” his arm stretched out wide in the general direction of room eleven, “Be my guest.”

Like Mr Bean and his incompetence or Mr Magoo, well past his prime, she’d messed up the love potion, not him. He couldn’t be held responsible for what you guys did because of too much henbane from a housekeeper who needed glasses.

Her thrill was less impactful. Her whole body shuddered. The woman, old-fashioned and teetering on sexist, was more disgusted than Dean was going to be once he learned he’d lost his free will to food.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Then sit.” He pointed at her, then at the table. His other hand ran through his hair, waiting as she did what she was told with a slow step and a pout.

“So will it wear off?” Jack asked over his shoulder, and honestly, Sam didn’t know what to say.

He was tired. His experiences with love spells sealed shut years ago for good reason, so unless he looked up the lore or called Rowena, he was leaning along the path of, was it fatal and could it be left until morning?

But Mrs Butters whimpered. “A kiss would have made or broken the spell,” she said.

“So that means Dean just needs to ejaculate inside her?” Jack chimed in before Sam could, seeming very proud of his speculation, and, yeah, that did it. Sam was going to bed. Part of him wanted to know why she’d done it, but he’d had enough.

As much as he hated to admit it, he and Mrs Butters were on the same page as Jack. If her beet-red cheeks were anything to go by, you’d both be fine come morning, assuming Dean had enough juice left.

Embarrassed, yes, and ready to kill Mrs B. But maybe, just maybe, dare he say, you’d be happy about it? He would when she was gone.

Dean was still oblivious to the mystery being solved, still seated in your sweet heat. Sure, he was doubting how much longer he could keep it up, but the squelch was heavenly. You, on all fours before him now, crying in pleasure with your continued eagerness for him to touch and taste you; he wondered if you’d do it again? Or was this a onetime thing?

“That’s it,” he drawled, trying not to let thoughts of what happened next bother him. He watched himself push in and out. Watched his spend and your juices mix and get pushed back inside, too, savouring the sight for his mental spank bank. This one would be a treat.

“Give me another one,” he cooed.

“Listen to your own advice,” you clapped back, and he fucking loved it.

He reached around to your clit and thumbed the now over-sensitive bud, proud of himself yet again when your body betrayed you.

You squirmed on his cock, and he was spilling into you with more ropes of his special sauce soon after. Your sweet pussy gripped him like a vise.

Yeah, that joke was long past its use-by date, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to use it.

He pulled you in close and rolled you over before he could fall on you, exhausted, keeping you flush against him. A sheen of sweat, the only division between. Whatever the old bitch had done, if she was out to get you, he’d deal with it, but he’d also thank her, maybe…it depended on what happened here with you.

“You good?” He cursed the croak in his voice, but if you noticed his moment of weakness, or the repetitious irony, you said nothing towards it, first answering with a contented hum.

“It’s manageable.” You chuckled, wheezing when he gave a soft slap to your ass cheek. “Okay, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

“But you’re still hurtin’?”

“Just chafing.”

You shook your head, and Dean frowned, raising himself on his elbow to lean over you. His dick slipped free, although with the sight of your rack before him, it wouldn’t take long.

“You wanna make a run for the showers? Get cleaned up?” He might even consider getting you ice from the kitchen, though he couldn’t see that helping when he shuddered at the thought of putting some on his junk.

At first you were silent. Eyes refused to look back up at him. He felt your heart pick up its pace. The tightening movement in your limbs and chest, too, before you’d even moved.

“Guess I should get outta your hair,” you said, sitting up, and Dean was foolish to let you. Or maybe just a genius. A stupid one, but a genius nonetheless, recording more footage to his brain for further use, because it looked like he was going to need it.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He stood up, too, not caring that little-Dean was also on display.

He strode over to where you stood, drawing you in with a hand on both hips. His fingers traced the marks they’d left earlier, electrifying your skin all over again.

“No. No.” You took a step back. “It’s okay. It’s weird, right?”

Least, it was for you. This all happened because of a stupid spell. Something well beyond your control. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to fuck you before all this. He’d never even made a move on you until now, and now didn’t count.

But his hands gripped your flesh tighter. Bound to indent the little calluses you’d discovered on his hands the further you got throughout your evening. Your overused cunt even fluttered with interest when he said, “Only if you keep walking away.”

His eyes darted to the floor, and yours followed.

Oh god. You’d left a trail of cum there. One large dollop even hung just below the edge of your slit. Now you really wanted to die.

Your hand tucked down into your folds, slipping through the mess you’d both made. “How many times did you—”

“Three,” he boasted.

“And before we?” Your free hand, not holding everything in, swept the air between you.

“Three.”

Oh god. Even on birth control, you weren’t taking the risk if three times one way and three the other meant making stuff with love. You searched his eyes and found them, still wearing his cheeky grin. “First thing tomorrow, you’re taking me to a pharmacy.”

“Why?”

“To get Plan B.”

“You’re not on anything?” His voice hitched.

“Course I am!” Living a hunter’s life? You’d be stupid not to. “And now that my heads screwed on, I ain’t risking it given the circumstances.”

Dean blinked and flicked his head down. “What? you think my special sauce is extra special now?”

“That’s not funny.”

Fuck! You needed a shower. An actual douche would be better. But unless Mrs Butters’ boys had vaginas and kept them in the infirmary with all the other outdated equipment, one of those was coming from the pharmacy, too.

You looked to Dean in horror, expecting to see mirrored panic. Expected him to at least hide the pearly whites in his mouth, but no, those lips of his flattened into a thin line. One that curled on the end.

“Okay. Would you relax?” he said.

“Don’t tell me to relax. You’re not full of,” you couldn’t say those two words again. Cum seemed worse outside the act. Baby gravy? Jizz? Spunk? Oh god.

“I made it!” And he looked insulted, too. “Look, I’ll take you first thing, alright? But we’ve still got a few hours before they open.”

You didn’t miss the wag of his brows or the suggestive tone that further accompanied the suggestion to relax, either. Typical Dean. He’d just been up close and personal with your cunt, yet he struggled to open up.

“We’re past the awkwardness, don’t you think?”

“Look who’s talking.”

He had a point, but the phrase just brought on memories of babies sounding like Bruce Willis, and that ship needed to set sail. So when those calloused hands of his grazed your skin further to grab the globes of your ass, your body and mind welcomed them. Yup. Floozy.

He pushed you flush against him, much like he had throughout the night. Fingers embedded into flesh from both sides. His lips, no longer tasting of cinnamon and snickerdoodles, pressed into yours with the taste of him and you. The squelch, more delectable than anything made down below.

“I gotta sink right there,” he said between kisses. “Plenty of clean shirts.” He chuffed through another. “Wanna stay the night?”

And what did your floozy do?

Yeah. She agreed.

She didn’t even need to think hard about it. Better leaving hardness to other things. Yes, he was crude. Yes, he liked to wear his underthings inside and out, but the man had already reeled you in with an oversized purple nightgown. And the way he made his special sauce.

Or should you thank Butters for that?

PART 1 || PART 2 || Part 3 || Read on AO3—————————————————————There was another scene on the end there, but it didn’t feel like a satisfying conclusion when I was getting ready to post so I scraped it last minute which means - there might be a part 4? Mrs Butters needs some consequences right?

Leave it with me 😉 Coming next:

To You I Belong - 21/02 🇦🇺🕕

Omegaverse - Soulmate AU - Pregnancy (x reader) Dean isn’t looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to find the one meant for him is on the job. But it’s not the monsters he hunts that you need rescuing from. It’s someone closer to you. (Dual POV) 18+ only MDNI This one is darker than the other things I’ve been posting and might not be suitable for everyone - pls check the warnings in the series Masterlist (link above) final word count unknown 20 parts + timestamps—————————————————————DEAN TAGLIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2

SNICKERDOODLES UPDATES:

@happyfxckinghorrors @bitchykittenconnoisseur

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my work, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

[rekino2114]

I had an idea!

How about the Makima and Male Readers daughter Nayuta au where Nayuta is only a couple months old. What would Y/n and Makima’s reaction to Nayuta’s first words being “mama” and Nayuta hugging Makima immediately after, how would Makima feel? How would she respond to this … love?

This is partially based on that one scene from The Wild Robot (please watch it, it’s REALLY good!) where Roz sees Brightbill hatch and he imprints on her, and Roz feels this unrecognizable feeling of love!

Oh, and P.S. have a happy new year!

You and makima reacting to nayuta's first words

A/n:I haven't watched the movie but since everyone is saying how good it is I might check it out in the future, probably when I get a streaming service

It had been only a few months since nayuta was born, but in these months, you had learned how hard it truly was to be a baby's parents

Nayuta cried constantly, and while sometimes it was pretty easy to understand why, like her being hungry or scared or wanting to pet the dogs, sometimes there was just absolutely no reason why and you and makima had to do everything you could to get her to stop, often lulling her to sleep.

It was the first time you saw makima tired, even fighting devils didn't leave her in that state, she had bags under her eyes and needed three times the amount of coffee she usually had, you were so glad she was on maternity leave because she would probably finger gunned every devil who inconvenienced her.

You tried to suggest using her powers on her, but she quickly refused as she vowed to never use them on the people she loved, and also she literally couldn't since she considered nayuta her equal just like you. You simply smiled and told her you were glad she loved nayuta this much.

She raised her eyebrow and looked at you confused

"She's our daughter, of course I love her a lot"

"I know, and I think that the fact that you think it's obvious that you love her this much is a sign of how much you've grown"

Makima thought about it for a bit and then smiled

"Well that's all thanks to you"

She always said that, and even with how many times you told her that it was because of her, she quickly shut you down. Your love was what gave her the ability to feel love and emotions and made her a true person, so it was just your merit.

Even with all of the downsides, having nayuta is a choice makima never regretted, because there were some moments where she was just adorable, and that made the control devil's love for her daughter grow even more.

One of these moments, a very important one, came on a seemingly normal day. You and makima were watching nayuta crawl on the ground and play with some toys you got her

"Look at her going, she's so cute'

"She is darling. Do you think I should buy her something else to play with?"

"Maybe, she seems to be really enjoying these, though."

"You're right, I'll think about it later"

Suddenly nayuta stopped poking the puppy plushie she had and turned around, crawling toward her mother

"Oh what is it yuta? Do you want me to get you your bottle?"

"Mama"

The word came out so fast that makima didn't even realize her daughter said something, but when she did, her eyes widened, and her mouth shook. Makima was barely actually surprised by anything, and yet this baby uttering those simple four letters did. It surprised her, but it was the best surprise she could have ever gotten

"W-what?"

Before the red-haired woman could react, more nayuta hugged her, well as much as her small body could, her tiny arms barely reached her mother's side but the gesture was still clear and so makima reciprocated and hugged nayuta back

"W-was that her first word?"

"I.....think so"

"Oh my God! That's incredible, this is such a big moment, I'm gonna record it"

Makima nodded but she wasn't fully focused on your words. The warmth she felt in that hug, sure it was less than when you hugged her but the feeling behind them was the same:love

She could feel all the love her daughter was giving to her in that moment, our of all of the words she could have said, she chose that, she chose makima, that was the sign that nayuta loved her just as much as she loved her.

It all felt so incredible, like a wave of pure happiness washed over her entire body and mind and heart, the fact that she could feel all that happiness was already incredible and she had you to thank for that. She was genuinely so so happy she didn't know if she was going to cry or laugh and she just smiled and tightened the hold on her daughter which caused the young half devil to laugh.

Her laugh sounded so melodious to her, it was the same feeling she had when she heard her dear husband laugh, she had made this being happy and she wanted to do it again for all of eternity, she loved nayuta exactly like she loved you, maybe a little less since you were the one who truly changed her so much, but it was still love, love that she was so happy she could feel.

"Are you OK makima? You've been silent for a while"

"Yes.....sorry.....I'm just....having a moment"

You smiled understandingly and put a hand on her shoulder

"It's OK, I understand how you must feel, just know that I love you and so does nayuta, you're an amazing wife and an amazing mom, I'm so glad I chose to live with you"

Makima smiled even wider, all of the love she felt towards you and nayuta was getting mixed in her heart. It felt like she was about to explode from how much emotion she was feeling. Everything in her past, all of the people who only saw her as a weapon and who didn't let her grow a heart, the cruel control devil she was, and everything she planned to do, it didn't matter anymore, it all felt like a weird dream or maybe more accurately a nightmare.

Right now, she was makima, a wife, a mother.........a human, who was surrounded by the two people she loved the most and that who loved her just as much.

She looked up a bit in her daughter's eyes, those eyes that she shared with her, they were accompanied by an incredibly cute smile which warmed makima's heart even more if that was possible.

Looking at those eyes reminded her of something. Nayuta was everything she would have wanted to be, someone who was loved who had a family who loved her and who considered her a person. She was everything you made her feel personified, nayuta was her, the human her, the her that you created, the her that in makima's mind was the only version who existed, the old her is gone and it was never coming back..... all because of you.

She was going to protect and love nayuta forever, whatever it took just like she vowed to do with you.

In this delirious state of love and happiness and thoughts about everything she ever was, is and ever wanted to be makima only muttered a few words, directed at both you and your daughter, the complete truth that her heart had spoken so many times

".....thank you.....I love you so much"

Makima cried tears of joy and hugged nayuta even more, you quickly followed and hugged your wife too.

This hug, no, this love was what makima truly yearned for, a family, people to love, and she was so so thankful that you existed and that you met and that you loved each other and every single little miracle that had happened to you an her, because you gave her that, a family and love, and most importantly the ability to be thankful and to love you back for everything you did to her.

"I love you too makima"

"..........can we stay like this?"

"For as long as you want"

"......thank you.......for everything"

[astrolook]

Decode the Universe: Why astrology and tarot are the ultimate power couple! #1

Hey, my beautiful Lightseekers! The past couple of days have been a bit rough—I wasn’t feeling my best, but I’m finally getting back on track. How have you all been? I hope the stars have been kind to you. Let me know in the comments—I’d love to hear from you! Now, let’s dive into today’s topic.

Whenever I do birth chart readings for people, I always associate their placements with the tarot cards. It helps me to give them clarity and profound insights on what their chart is up to.

Imagine if your birth chart and your tarot deck went on a cosmic coffee date. One brings the big picture—your life’s blueprint, personality, and destiny—while the other spills the daily tea with intuitive insights and unexpected plot twists. Sounds like a match made in the stars, right? 🌟✨

Astrology gives you the roadmap, showing where you’re headed, and tarot gives you real-time updates—kind of like a GPS that also tells you if you need to pull over for a reality check.

Both Astrology and Tarot are like your besties that are brutally honest with you - whether you're ready or not. Astrology gives you coordinates(Your Venus in Scorpio in 8th house explains why you stalk your crush like an FBI agent), while tarot slaps down cryptic messages like "You got the Hanged Man… now figure it out." Either way, you’re left scratching your head, but somehow it all makes sense later.

Let’s be real—neither will give you a straight-up lottery number, but they do drop hints. They won't spoil the movie, but will tease the trailer for it and its our job to decode it.

First of all, CONTEXT IS IMPORTANT IN BOTH ASTROLOGY & BIRTH CHART!

For example, Venus in the 1st house makes the chart holder attractive to the opposite sex. These natives loves massages, hot bath and could be having long hair etc. in general. But what sign is the Venus residing in? What other planets are aspecting the ascendant? Is Venus afflicted? Is Venus aspecting other planets? We have to take everything in account. The result would drastically change in the end.

This is where Tarot comes in and let us know what is happening here. The Empress tarot card - aka the divine mom or the divine goddess of the tarot deck. When she appears in a reading in a strength position, it could represent many things such as abundance, security, fertility, mother earth, even your mother or it could represent yourself as well. It is linked with the Planet Venus.

So Today we will see about which card represent each of you according to your birth date. I'll start this as a series and will post about it in the chronological order. I will cover this topic within a few parts as its tough to cover all of them in a single post. Hope you all stick with me. Lets start with Aries people or who has Aries placements in their birth chart.

Aries : March 21-Apr 20/Aries Placements: Mars/Sun/Venus in Aries

Mars in Aries - The Emperor - "I make the rules. I enforce the rules. You’re welcome."

Mars in Aries people has Big Boss Energy.

Sets boundaries like a pro. Reliable AF.

No procrastination, just action. The way they handle their finances is really a kind of superpower.

Aries Mars people probably invented confidence.

On the flip side, if mars is afflicted, these people could be control freaks and micromanages everything. They love authority... sometimes too much. My way or the highway energy.

Sun in Aries : The Tower - "Everything’s fine—just kidding, total meltdown. Enjoy the plot twist!"

The Universe’s Way of Saying, “Surprise, Sucker!”

The No BS people - That toxic job? That fake friend? That bad relationship? BOOM. Cleared out like expired milk. You didn’t wanna throw it out, but now you have to.

Tough love & if these people lost everything in life, they rebuild it like a boss.

If sun is afflicted, these people can be stubborn and avoid changes like a pro. They simply ignore their problems and hopes it would go away..nope, it won't.

Venus in Aries : Queen of Wands - "I walk in, and the room gets 10 degrees hotter."

Venus in Aries people are magnetic AF. People just want to be around them.

These people are like your personal cheerleader and hotter too.

They get what they want. Period.

Loves cats.

Gets bored easily. Will ghost people without warning.

If Venus is afflicted, these people could be hot-headed. Confidence or cocky? Depends on Who you ask. Could be attention seeking.

Taurus : April 21-May 20/Taurus Placements: Mercury / Moon / Saturn in Taurus

Mercury in Taurus : The Hierophant - "Rules exist for a reason. And yes, I wrote them."

Mercury in Taurus people are a walking Wikipedia.

They give you free life advice whether you want it or not.

They respect their elders and follow traffic rules.

Good at teaching and math too. They may love to read books/articles related to spirituality, religion and astrology.

Could be agnostic or an atheist too if mercury is in retrograde.

The good thing is that these people could be bilingual or interested in learning other cultures and religions as well.

If Mercury is afflicted, they could be stuck in the past or could be judgy AF. Won't follow what they preach.

Moon in Taurus : The Empress - "Life’s a garden, and I’m the queen of the harvest."

These people embodies motherly energy and totally a goddess.

These people love unconditionally and turns Pinterest board into reality.

Invented glow.

Strong leadership skill and can make their dreams come true one day.

Bubble baths are a lifestyle. Skin care routines are a must.

On the flip side, if moon is afflicted, these people could be smothering, overbearing, over-protective, etc or their mother could be having these traits. Could give menstrual issues.

Saturn in Taurus : King of Pentacles - "Success isn’t an option—it’s the only way."

This is a good placement for buying and investing in real estate properties.

These people doesn't like cheap things. Saturn in Taurus people eat like there's no tomorrow. Won't waste food.

Would give you gifts if they think you are worth it.

Loyal and stable like a golden retriever.

On the flip side, these people could be a workaholic and stubborn as a bull. Low-key possessive. Could be calling their partner 10 times a day or actually put a tracker on them. Won't tip extra. Stingy.

I'll write about the next two signs Gemini and Cancer in the next post. Stay Tuned!

[infinitelibrary]

Comfort (a myg drabble)

PAIRING: Yoongi x f. Reader 

SUMMARY: You have had a terrible horrible no good very bad day. All you want is to forget about it. Your boyfriend is there to help you do just that.

WC: 1766 (she just a BABY)

AU: Established relationship, fluff, minor angst?

GENRE: Fluff 

RATING: No restrictions on this one.

WARNINGS: Nothing, really. Maybe one or two curse words, and some feelings of self-doubt / pity, but that's it. Reader's had an awful day.  

CROSSPOSTED: to wattpad, and ao3

A/N: Surprise! This is probably among one of the fastest things I've ever whipped out lol. Honestly I'm not sure how I feel about this. It hasn't been beta read, it hasn't been properly proofread, and I don't know if I like it like it, but I felt compelled to crank this out and so here we are. Please be kind - it's been AWHILE since I last wrote anything to completion lol

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

The chirpy electronic beeping of the keypad echoes down the hallway in stark contrast to your mood as the locking mechanism of the door released, granting you access to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend.  You let the door swing shut behind you as you shuffled in, dropping your purse on the table by the entrance, and leaning against the wall.  Huffing away the few wayward strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face, you bent down to tug off your ankle boots, sighing for what could quite possibly have been the millionth time before sliding your feet into the cushiony comfort of your fuzzy sky blue house slippers. 

The apartment is dark save for the filtered light coming in through the sheerly curtained windows, but you can't be bothered to even turn on the standing lamp in the entryway.  Instead, you make your way almost on autopilot through the foyer and head straight down the hall past the kitchen and the living room, towards the door with a glowing blue stripe at the base.  Normally you would stop by your bedroom to strip out of your work clothes and into some sweatpants and a hoodie stolen / borrowed from your boyfriend but after everything you’ve been through today you simply cannot be bothered.  Carefully turning the knob, you inch the door open slowly, cautiously peeking inside to ensure you haven’t disrupted anything.  Just opposite the doorway you see him:  Yoongi is seated at his office chair with his back to you - true to form, his attention is solely focused on the myriad of rows and musical layers displayed on the computer screen in front of him, his ginger hair floofy and untamed - head bopping slowly in time with a barely discernible beat emanating from his over-ear Sony headphones.

You run your fingers through your hair, gnawing on your lower lip.  As much as you want to go to him, you know better than to disturb him when he’s in the zone - you’ve seen him snap at colleagues and friends when they’ve attempted to interrupt him while he’s focused and in the zone like this.  Instead you turn dejectedly and ease yourself onto the black sectional near the doorway, curling up with your head on the armrest, facing the back of the couch.  You feel the heat of all your pent up emotions and frustrations returning to your face, hot tears welling in your eyes.  Just one more thing that the universe had against you today.  Of course he’d be busy.  He was always busy; ever the workaholic.  Why would he have time for you?  What made you think he’d notice insignificant little you entering his sacred domain? You know this pity party you’re throwing for yourself is unreasonable but after the day you’ve had, you feel absolutely defeated and just want to wallow in your misery, your poisonous mindset grasping at any additional reasons it can to pile on top of the hurt you already feel.  You draw in a shaky breath, trying desperately not to create a disturbance, praying that perhaps just being in his presence will help you feel better.  As the first of the tears escape, and a muffled sob wrenches forth from your throat, you realize your efforts are in vain. 

You hear movement behind you but don’t dare turn around. “Jagi?”His voice registers confusion.  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

You hesitate for a moment, struggling to compose yourself. Clearing your throat, you attempt to steady your voice. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Jagiya, you’re never a bother for me.” The squeak of his chair tells you your attempts at masking your discomfort were pointless; you hear footsteps shuffling, his voice much closer as his hand touches your shoulder to gently turn you towards him. “Hey, are you -” 

You try to hurriedly wipe your eyes but you know it’s futile - he knows. He always knows. You sniffle: “It’s fine.”

“Jagi, no,” he immediately sits next to you and drapes himself over you in an embrace, enveloping you in comfort and warmth.  “It’s okay if it’s not fine.  I’m here now.”  

You turn slightly so you can properly wrap your arms around him, accepting his hug, savoring the warmth of his body through his soft white sweater.  He nuzzles your neck and plants a tender kiss just under your ear.  It may not fix everything, but his presence and warmth and the subtle weight of his body on top of you already seems to do wonders to help ease some of your tension.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he whispers.

“Maybe in a bit,” you whisper back.  “Can you just hold me for a while longer?  Please?”

“Of course. I’ll hold you forever if you ask me to, jagi.” He chuckles softly and you can feel his lips curl into a soft smile against your skin. His hands stroke up and down your arms over the smooth satin material of your blouse. He lays like that for a few minutes, the room silent except for the occasional sniffle from you. Giving you space and time to just be. His warm breath tickles your neck when, after a few minutes, he whispers, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You take in a deep breath and sigh, this time much steadier than before. Shifting slightly so that you can both sit up, you allow him to take a look at your face, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently, his thumb gently swiping under your eyes to dry your tears. 

“Hey,” he chides you, pulling you closer. One arm wraps around your waist, the other curls around to stroke your hair. You drape your legs across his lap and cling to his torso, tucking your head under his chin as he continues, “It’s okay if you don’t. I’m okay to just sit here with you as long as you want me to.”

“I just…everything went wrong today.” You begin, and proceed to word vomit all of the events that had transpired today to bring you to where you are now. Starting from the fact that you arrived late to work because of traffic, having to park in the overflow lot and getting caught in a flash downpour without an umbrella as you made your way through the parking lot, the coffeemaker on your floor being broken to where you had to get the tepid burnt carafe coffee from the office cafeteria, the printer jamming and when you tried to clear the paper jam it spewed ink across your already damp blouse, receiving the completely wrong order from the cafetoria but not having the time nor energy to get it corrected, and finally finishing with your manager berating you at the end of the day for technical issues that were in no way your fault during a key presentation to stakeholders. Through it all, Yoongi remains silent, just listening, saying nothing.  Simply stroking your back slowly, comfortingly, listening and taking it all in, letting you vent.  “I just wish I could erase today completely or slam a reset button somewhere.” you finish wearily.

“I’m sorry, sarang.”  He murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head tenderly.  “That sounds so incredibly frustrating. I’m sorry it was such an awful day.”

Yoongi pulls away gently, tilting your chin up so you could meet his gaze.  “Why don’t you go change. I’ll fix you a cup of tea and we can curl up on the sofa with that one show you like?”  

Your gaze shifts downwards, unsure, and you hear him click his tongue. “Or, we can just sit there for a while, we don’t have to watch anything.  Just change out of your workclothes, come to the sofa.  I’ll take care of the rest.”  Slowly you nod.  As unmotivated as you are, you know you have to do something. And as difficult as it is for you to admit you need to be taken care of right now, you know it’s for the best - and you also know Yoongi is stubborn as fuck and won’t take no for an answer.  

He helps you to your feet and instead of leaving you to your own devices to figure out what to wear, he walks you to your shared bedroom and ushers you onto the bed.  Gives you a kiss on your forehead and tells you to wait there for a moment as he enters the closet and rummages around for a few moments before emerging with a pair of sweatpants and, true to form, one of his hoodies that he knows you love.  “Go ahead and get changed and then meet me in the living room, okay?”

You do as he asks, and when you enter the living room you see that he’s already set out a bowl of your favorite snacks - honey butter chips, injeomi turtle snacks, and some of those little red bean paste filled mochi balls that you love.  Your favorite blanket is folded and neatly draped across the armrest, and the TV has been switched on, your guilty pleasure Netflix show cued up to your favorite episode.  

In the modest kitchen just past the living room you see Yoongi pouring the contents of a teapot into two small teacups.  He arranges them on saucers on a tray, which he then carefully brings into the living room, placing them next to the snacks.  Surveying his handiwork, he nods to himself, satisfied that everything looks the way it should.  He turns and sees that you are still standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching him.  “Hey.” his voice softly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Come. I got you.”

You barely register yourself moving closer to him, stepping into his embrace.  He rubs your back gently for a few minutes, kissing your temple softly just before he pulls back, easing you to sit on the couch in your usual corner.  Draping the fleece throw carefully over you, he then takes one of the cups, handing it to you before taking one for himself and curling up carefully next to you under the blanket.  You lean in next to him, slowly sipping your tea and feeling the warmth of the soothing herbal concoction course through your body.  He starts the program on the television, and as you tuck yourself up against him, you feel the stress and tension of the day ebb away, silently grateful to have such a caring and thoughtful partner to help you decompress after such an awful day.  

[kerryshifting]

hey I'm the same anon who asked about merlin dr ideas and though I don't have any official shifting plans rn im getting back into my harry potter obsession (6th grade me would be proud) and ig I'm looking for ideas cus I'm not too fond of scripting original new families idk why but I might try it ig anyway I'm open to any ideas this goes for both marauders and golden trio Era (i will definitely be scripting out alot of the deaths i am sorry I simply cannot allow fred Sirius Cedric and remus to die )

hogwarts script ideas ! pt 1 here.

part i: golden trio era.

( act i. ) for who doesn't want to script a new family.

ONE … DREAMERS, PROPHETS. SAME THING.

malfoy. it's basically royalty. rich, beautiful, almost ethereal. honestly speaking: no matter how much you hate that family, who wouldn't want to be a malfoy? heir to the ancient empire, you were proud of your family… even if sometimes you would secretly disagree with some of their ideals. your mother would treat you as her most precious gift, and your father taught you how to be ambitious and good in politics. your twin (you were I2 minted older!) would never backstab you and betray you. you were living the fantasy of many. except… not everyone would want dreams. not all of malfoys were prophets: it’s very uncommon, and the last prophet of the family happened to be almost 2OO years ago. you were a rarity; able to see the future since you were a kid, the dreams become longer and more vivid with the passing years. you have a big decision on your hands, now: stop and prevent what is coming, or watch it all happen?

TWO … ARE THE RUMORS TRUE?

house of black. after the (disowned) first son sirius went to azkaban, and the death of regulus black … orion and walburga seemed to not have chances of redemption. they were desperate: after regulus' death everything wrong that they did in life slapped them in the face. it was hell. they hated voldemort for what he did to their family, they hated themselves for what they did to their sons. but then, something happened: it was uncommon for a grown up couple like them to be pregnant, but there you were. a third and last possibility. the redemption they asked for. theit third child, and heir of the most noble and most ancient house of black. orion and walburga said fuck you to the ideals that killed their family and had you. loved you, spoiled you… even if you were a bit uncommon: i mean, it’s very rare to see ghosts. your parents decided to keep it a secret from the public (even if there were rumours, of course), because you would have been studied from magiwizards, and they only wanted peace. so, ghosts: walburga started sobbing when you said to her that you can see and talk to your dead brother. or talk to legends in the wizarding world… and even muggles, if you want.

(note: you can script that, since you can also see james potter, he explained the whole sirius-peter thing and that after you told your parents, orion made suuuure to make sirius have a real process, you win the case, and sirius is free)

THREE … RIDDLE ME THIS. (i had to say it. sorry)

riddle / gaunt. well, aren't you harry potter's worst nightmare? child of the dark lord .. you were destined to do something great. you can talk to snakes, and if an immortal man (because of his horcrux) made a child, of course it would have repercussions. your power? enormous. magic? goes insane. intelligence? oh, you are salazar slytherin's wet dream (this is weird, but you get what i mean…).

( act ii. ) for who wants to script a new family.

ONE … WHAT IS THIS, A FANFICTION?

from muggle to fucking legend. you are an avid harry potter reader. really. you love harry potter… so imagine your surprise when, after an earthquake, it's 1994 (or the year you want to shift in) and suddenly you are a fucking wizard. everyone is telling you that you are the child of the 29th pureblood family, but you have no idea what the fuck they are talking about. now, you are rich.. and you go to hogwarts. really cool. oh— and you know everything; everyone assumes you are just a prophet who can see the future. you are like a legend at hogwarts, now. but then, when people start asking you things you never read in the book, and you guess it right… you start to realise that everything you say just become reality. not in a manifestation way… more like magic. it’s kind of insane. chaotic. legend!!!!!!

for now i don't have many originals idea for this… check pt1 tho!!

part ii: marauders era.

ONE … A CLASSIC.

you weren't part of those families that could have been distinguished from the rest by the size of their house or the richness of their ancestors: indeed, they did not distinguish themselves at all. they were one of the many middle class families, lived on the pounds, shillings and pences they earned every day and the two parents tried to raise their three childs as better as they could. the eldest, instead, stood out very well from the rest of their neighbourhood, because of a very particular thing. it didn't happen often to have a witch/wizard in a muggle family, but yours discovered the existence of magic when young you received your letter for hogwarts school of wizardry and witchcraft at your eleventh birthday (and they all were amazed!). a lot of changes came with the 70s. everything was happening everywhere and at all once, but as one of your parents said everytime you thought they couldn't do something: nothing is impossible! and you all tried to keep up with the rules and the people of the wizarding world ⸻ even if, you soon learned, some of the wizards and witches weren't very welcoming.

TWO … CHILD OF WHO!?!?!?

grindelwald. a name that makes everyone shake in their boots. well, look you being there: put under a spell by your father (the dark wizard!!!!) before he got defeated, that makes you unable to get old – almost like stopped in time, like in a coma, you were discovered by the ministry of magic… and there you are. at first, no one knew what to do with you; you not only seemed to be powerful, but you were also a metamorphmagus, they were scared of you. you were just a child, of course… but what if you were like your dad? well, fleamont potter thought that the way his colleagues were acting was absolutely ridiculous. so, he and euphemia adopted you, and james (adopted brother who fortunately has the same age as you) would absolutely burn the world for you. like. real sibilings bond!!!!!!!

hope this helped in any way! <3

[secretly-tword-obsessed]

Deja Vu

Hello Gigglers!

This is a Hwang brothers fic, as requested by @ryoko-loves-roses and @stay-123

Hope you enjoy!

Summary: An aggressive clash between brothers takes a surprising turn when In-Ho is reminded of his brother's peculiar weakness.

This is a TICKLE FIC! Not your thing? DNI.

"Why would you do this?!", Jun-Ho cried out, not knowing if his older brother was capable of processing the desperation of his words through that stoic demeanor and blank expression.

"I was desperate", In-Ho responded matter-of-factly, "I needed the money".

"Don't bullshit me!", Jun-Ho yelled back, trying but failing to repress his raging temper, "I mean why did you become the leader?! The one in charge?!"

"The Frontman", the elder brother corrected him simply, saying this expression in English, which made the whole situation feel all the more off-putting to the younger cop.

They were standing right outside the game building, face to face, amongst the trees. Jun-Ho's team of policeman, as well as Gi-Hun's trained army of loan sharks, were currently raiding it, stopping the games and rescuing the remaining contestants. But Jun-Ho felt the need to confront his brother personally - a need that was mutual.

Jun-Ho had always remembered his elder brother as gentle - he'd always admired him for how calm and collected he would be, even when things didn't go his way. He had also seen in In-Ho's genuine care for others and concern with his little brother's wellbeing. And behind all that stoicism, there was a touch of sensitivity that only a brother could pick up on. So how In-Ho could possibly do something so vile was completely beyond him.

"Why?", he repeated, trying to fight back tears, unable to prevent his lip from quivering.

"I did ask you to join me", In -Ho said, as if he hadn't heard his younger brother's pained query, "And you refused".

"And you fucking shot me!", Jun-Ho snapped back. This was when his tears finally began to flow. His own brother had tried to kill him - that kind, loving figure who he'd always looked up to and who thought would never hurt him had attempted to take his life.

With that remark, he noticed In-Ho's eyes flash with what was either a sudden realization of his failure to protect the games from infiltration or a genuine feeling of guilt at what he had done to Jun-Ho. Jun-Ho hoped it was the latter, but feared it was the former.

"I know I shot you, and I apologie", he responded steadily, as if Jun-Ho had simply accused him of stealing his shirt for a job interview, (a crime they had both committed a fair share of times). "Also", he added, "I kept that man who saved you around the island. As soon as I recognized you, I kept him stationed, ready to rescue you if anything went wrong. I also aimed at your shoulder so it wouldn't be lethal".

This made Jun-Ho's heart sink a little. It was a sink of both disturbance and hope. Was this true?

He was taken out of his thoughts by In-Ho's completely unexpected chuckle of amusement, "Of course, with you, having your shoulders targeted has never exactly been a walk in the park either". In-Ho reached out to grab at the right shoulder of the man who was standing in front of him, pinching it gently, causing Jun-Ho to squirm, flinch and let out a weak yelp.

The Frontman smiled genuinely at his younger brothers reaction, as if it gave him fond memories - "Huh, just as bad there as you used to be I see?"

The tone was teasing, and Jun-Ho couldn't help but blush. This was just how In-Ho used to behave when they were younger. Ever cheeky, always striving to mess with his little brother, to playfully exploit his weaknesses.

"Hey", In-Ho continued, "Since you asked me a question, I guess I'll ask you one back. Than we can trade answers. That's only fair, isn't it?"

Jun-Ho didn't know what to say, his grief steadily returning as he remembered again that they weren't just young brothers having a fun skirmish.

"Okay", he responded.

The Frontman smirked, "Okay, so you want to know why I became the Frontman, so I may as well ask you, why did you become the hero?"

Jun-Ho was a bit taken aback by that question.

"You could have left me here", In-Ho continued, "You knew I wasn't in danger. You could have let me keep running the games. But no, you were determined, desperate even, to rescue all of the players. Why? A sense of duty? Your cop instincts kicking in?"

Jun-Ho just sighed, "You know why I had to try and stop these games. Their innocent people In-Ho, just like you were when you played". Realizing that he had addressed his brother by name, his heart skipped a beat. It only reminded him that this wasn't just some criminal, it was his blood relative. They shared a generational name.

"Okay", In-Ho responded, "I'll accept that. Now for my motives. I wanted to lead the games because they had given me a lifechanging opportunity. Heck, they had saved my life. I had nothing, and than I won, and had everything. I wanted to give others like me a second chance. And, if not, I wanted to put them out of their misery - be a mercy killer".

Jun-Ho couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What, so you're a fucking charity worker now?!"

At this In-Ho's expression hardened a bit, "Oh come on, you haven't even tried listening to my side of the story. Why wouldn't you trust me? I'm your brother!"

On the word 'brother', he reached his hand behind Jun-Ho's back and scribbled at the middle of his left shoulder blade, making the younger squeal and jump.

The Frontman chuckled at his brother's flustered attempt to regain his composure. "Wow, I really thought this sensitivity would have faded with age", he mused.

"This is no time for messing around", Jun-Ho responded sternly, a slight shake in his voice.

In-Ho recognized that tone. It was the voice and facial expression that his little brother had always wore as soon as he found out that his mean big brother was about to tickle him to pieces.

"Your'e right, this is no time for messing around, you really need to take this seriously", the elder responded, giving his brothers' side a quick finger taser.

This made Jun-Ho buckle backwards with another squeal. "See!", In-Ho continued with a feigned tone of revelation, "You really need to stop making these funny noises and pay attention to what's at stake here!"

Again, the Frontman lashed out at his little brother, but this time Jun-Ho dodged and ran. In-Ho just grinned evilly, this all bringing him a sense of Deja Vu from his childhood. Despite being smaller and sixteen years younger, Jun-Ho had never gone down without a fight. He was too prideful - and ticklish - to just let his brother win.

"Oh Junnyyyy", In-Ho sung, pacing slowly behind him as he ran.

Meanwhile, Jun-Ho was dashing through the shrubbery. He too was getting a sense of Deja Vu. But he wouldn't be caught, not this time. He needed answers, not bonding time. Such revelries could wait until after his brother had given him an explanation, after Jun-Ho had forgiven him, if he ever could.

That was when he slipped. His leg got caught on a branch and down he went.

In-Ho chuckled - how predictable. This was always how it would go. In-Ho would never waste his energy running, as it was inevitable that Jun-Ho would lose his balance and trip at some point. Than In-Ho would seize the opportunity, sprint toward him, topple on top of him and win the chase.

"Honestly", In-Ho said with a sigh of fake resignation, crouching down on top of the younger cop, "You never learn do you?"

Jun-Ho smiled despite himself, the anticipation driving him mad.

"There's that smile!", In-Ho remarked, "You should have greeted me like that brother, it looks so much better than that scowl of yours-"

Jun-Ho was about to respond, when In-Ho started sliding his fingers up and down his belly. The thin cloth of his shirt provided little protection, and the helpless man just bit his lip and squeezed his fists into balls, refusing to let any laughter escape.

"Awww", In-Ho said in mock disappointment, "You used to be so ticklish here. Shame, I guess you grew out of it because your such a big strong police officer".

Jun-Ho's face went red. Part of it was because of the agonizingly gentle tickles he was receiving from his elder brother - those fingers driving him absolutely mad. It was also out of embarrassment and frustration that their vital conversation had been taken completely off course. But it was also because he felt sheepish about the fact that he may have been enjoying this, just a little. He had never told his older brother, but he'd always secretly loved these moments of playful affection. Of course, In-Ho could figure this fact out easily, and it only motivated him further.

"Hmmm, I remember that you used to react really badly to this back in the day-"

With that, In-Ho squeezed the flesh of Jun-Ho's knee. The younger man cried out at the unexpected change of spot and, when the Frontman just kept squeezing, he couldn't help but dissolve into high pitched, bubbly giggles.

In-Ho beamed - he hadn't heard this sound from his brother in forever. It definitely seemed out of character.

"Oh, so I guess that one still works on you", the Frontman said matter-of-factly.

"Stahahap!", Jun-Ho blurted out, his head shaking a bit, his legs weakly kicking but getting nowhere as In-Ho sat on top of them, pinning him.

"Stop? Already. But little brother, I just started-"

If the deathly ticklish sensations on his knees weren't getting to Jun-Ho, the teases definitely were. He just let his giggles out in disbelief. This is beyond the last thing he would have excepted from this confrontation.

"You know, you sure are helpless in this state. I should have just gotten those guards to tickle you, would have saved me a lot of trouble and ammo".

Jun-Ho screeched as In-Ho reached his right hand to scribble under his little brother's knee, and lifted the left hand to scrape his side, just below his armpit.

"Hehehey!", he cried desperately.

And that was when In-Ho noticed something. Jun-Ho's desperate giggles had seemingly made him forget about what led of to this tickle attack. Or maybe he did remember, but was trying to suppress it. Either way, his younger brother seemed genuinely joyful, which brought a sense of warmth to In-Ho's heart. All he'd seen from Jun-Ho over the past few years had been pain, stress and, more recently, looks of betrayal. But now the man seemed legitimately happy and, although he may have been the ruthless Frontman, In-Ho's big- brotherly instinct remained, making him ecstatic to see his brother cheered up.

"Hey", In-Ho noted absentmindedly, still not slowing his fingers clawing at his victim's knees and sides, "We haven't done this in forever. I really missed tickling the shit out of you".

Jun-Ho went dark red, "Nahahaha!"

In-Ho just chuckled, taking the hand that was scribbling at his brother's side to poke instead, causing Jun Ho's whole upper body to jolt forward before he started contorting his torso in a futile effort to avoid those brutal fingers.

"I used to do this to you all the time when you were little", In-Ho continued, highly amused by Jun-Ho's silly and highly un-cop-like movements. "Remember when you used to come and wake me in the middle of the night, when I was in my second year of cop training and you were in preschool? How you used to complain about nightmares and interrupt my precious sleep schedule?"

In-Ho than squeezed his brother's hip, making him jolt again and let out a piercing shriek.

In-Ho, trying to hide his delight at his ticklish brother's expense, continued his anecdote - "And than I would punish you by scribbling here-" In-Ho crept both of his hands to Jun-Ho's belly - "And poking here" - the Frontman gently prodded the side of Jun-Ho's neck.

All the while, the younger man was collapsing in sweet giggles, even letting out an occasional snort. Why did his brother have to be so mean?

Suddenly, In-Ho withdrew his fingers. Jun-Ho panted a bit, his chest heaving.

"You know, even though I always tickled you whenever you woke me up in the middle of the night, what was always so peculiar to me was that....you kept coming back"

Jun-Ho watched as his older brother flashed him the most evil grin imaginable.

"You kept waking me night after night, even though you knew what was to come. It made me think that you might have....liked it when I tickled you"

Jun-Ho felt his heart leap out of his chest, felt his body sinking into the ground beneath him. Just as he was about to stammer out a response, his older brother went for the kill.

As soon as In-Ho attacked his underarms, there was no going back.

"NOhoHOhoHOHhoho!"

Jun-Ho wasn't one to scream with laughter, but his bubbly cackles kept getting louder and louder, bordering screeches. He shook violently, slamming his fists into the grass below him, his head buzzing with laughter and, as much as he would never admit it, a much missed sense of happiness and comfort.

In-Ho just kept grinning at the sight, trying to make it look like a malicious smirk as to hold back his overwhelming joy at making his brother this carefree.

"Is this how you learned to fight criminals at the academy?", In-Ho teased, "Just thrashing and flailing uselessly?"

Jun-Ho snorted and squealed, "ShuhuhuHUHUhuhut it!"

In-Ho gasped in mock offence, "Why you little-"

This went on for a few more minutes, until the younger cop's giggles went silent. That was when the Frontman let up.

He waited for his little brother to recover - a rather adorable recovery of residual snickers and a lasting grin - before extending his hand to help him up.

Than Jun-Ho remembered what he had been talking with his brother about. And how unnecessary and immature this whole situation was. He shot In-Ho a piercing glare.

Yet, despite how pissed he was, he had to admit that he was feeling a little better. Maybe this was exactly what he'd needed to regulate his terror and rage - it would be best to hear his elder brother's story with the most open mind possible.

Hope you enjoyed!

[majoryeager104]

don’t know if you would relate but-

Reader with a cuteness agression, just sitting with her boyfriend (whoever you wanna write about) and then just bite

man I should really write my own stuff im getting too lazy

okay bye bye !

Gahhh I love this omg <3 thnx for the request

I feel like Keigo would have the best reaction to this XD

Keigo Takami

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

It had been a long day. Between work, and constant media attention, and the looming threat of chaos brought by the league, everything seemed so on edge sometimes. So much so that an evening like this with your boyfriend was beyond warmly welcomed.

The two of you had carved away some free time, so exhausted that any idea of a fancy dinner or other such plans were out the window before the were even offered. No, the two of you had promptly decided to spend a relaxing evening on the couch, watching tv with some takeout that Keigo had picked up on his way back from patrol.

You were sat next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder with his wing draped over the back of the couch, relaxed and eating when he giggled about something on tv between bites. You looked up at him, watching his expressions. He was just so cute when he laughed, not to mention his perpetually messy hair. He looked so goofy and adorable. When didn’t he?

Meanwhile, Keigo was minding his own business, letting out a laugh every so often but mostly just munching contentedly. He didn’t notice you looking at him, but he did notice the sharp and sudden bite to his shoulder. His feathers puffed up and he choked on his food, looking down at you in surprise “what the heck babe”

You said nothing, your teeth still on his shoulder as your open mouth curled into a grin. He smiled too, setting his food aside, yours as well, before tugging you off and pouncing on you himself. You squealed in surprise, laughing as he bit your hand. “Ah what? You can dish it but you can’t take it?” He laughed, his wings curling around to leave a playful smack on your face, a few feathers falling to the side.

This little back and forth lasted a few minutes, simmering down into a cuddle session. The long day had certainly gotten to him, and he lay on top of you, wings splayed out, playing with your hair mindlessly as his eyes got droopy. You cupped his cheek in your hand, and he tilted his head to kiss your palm where he’d previously bitten you. “So what was all that for again?” He chuckled, looking up at you

“I just thought you looked really cute” you shrugged, carding your fingers through his hair. He laughed, tilting his head to your touch. “And so you attacked me?” He asked, a wide smile plastered on his face “Yes” you replied simply, kissing the top of his head. He hummed, laying his head back down. “Seems like a reasonable excuse. Guess this means I get to bite you every time I see you” he joked, and you snorted “better not” “wanna bet?”

and suddenly you were play-fighting again

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[tangleweave]

Sigyn passing the buck on sharing her history isn’t unexpected, and Eddie gives a somber nod as she admits how difficult it is for her to share. No surprise there. Most people who’d survived the initial Snap had found the world all but impossible to navigate without the support of half (or more) of their family and friends. How had the Snap worked, anyway? Had it truly been random? Could there really be any telling that, on such an unprecedented scale? Half the universe’s sentient organisms, wiped to ash in the blink of an eye… and of the survivors, how many species had been decimated beyond any hope of repair? How many had gone extinct? Conjecture would chase those questions until the end of time – but the truth was, quite simply, no one would ever really know.

He laces his fingers around his drink and rests his elbows on the table while hunching forward; the posture is perhaps a bit gauche, but the hunkering is indicative of how protective he is of his own personal details. But even though she’s not ready to talk, the fact that she’s invited him to do so tells him that she’s far more ready to listen now than she’d been a short time ago.

“Tell you what,” he says. “You’re not obliged to share anything with me you don’t wanna. You’re a private citizen all your own. I’m not the type to drag someone’s personal details kicking an’ screaming out into the limelight. Just know that my ears are open, when you’re ready to put ‘em to good use.”

Then one side of his mouth quirks up, and he bobs his head again. “A’ight, so I guess we’ll get started with me. Or, umm, Us.” He shrugs and pops up his thumbs for emphasis. “Pronouns get confusing sometimes with Us, but just think’uh each of Us as a separate he/him, an’ when it’s the big toothy hybrid guy folks get twitchy over, that’s a They/Them. More on that, I guess, in a little while.”

He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “An’, uh… I don’t really know where to begin with it. Few years ago, I was really down on my luck, lost my job as a journalist in New York ‘cause I did something really dumb. Lost my fiancée, too, ‘cause – well, ‘cause of a lotta reasons, but mainly, she figured out we just weren’t right for each other, an’ didn’t really have the eyes to see it ‘til she saw what I looked like when I was down an’ out. Unlucky in work, love, money… pretty well lost everything, an’ I went to church. Not for Mass, it was in the middle’uh the week, didn’t even go to confess, I just sat in the pew, stewin’ about everything that had happened in my life ‘til then.”

He unlaces his fingers from the drink, and instead begins to gesticulate with his hands as he speaks. The words are flowing a little more freely now. “At first, I thought I was sittin’ down to have a quiet little chat with God about what I was supposed to do with myself. Like, was this all supposed to be part’uh the plan for me? Is this what He had in mind? Was this supposed to be that whole ‘the Lord giveth an’ the Lord taketh away’ schtick? ‘Cause what the Lord tooketh away… it’s the sort’uh peace you don’t get back. Not the same way. Oh, maybe I’d luck out, get another job, another partner, another chance to build up to what I used to have – but I’d never feel secure in it, never again. Like when God an’ the Devil decided to gamble over Job’s unwaverin’ faith.”

Then he brushes his hand through the air. “Well… my faith, it was waverin’ pretty bad. An’ suddenly I realized I didn’t come to that church to ask what the plan was. I went there to ask if it was okay for me to just, uh… cut things short a little ahead’uh time, if you get my drift.” A wry, pained smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “An’ what was weird about that was, right when I was askin’ for a sign that there was anything worth stayin’ for… the church bells started ringin’. Wasn’t even on the hour. They just started bangin’ away outta nowhere.”

Twin creases form between Eddie’s eyebrows, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes as he seeks out the words to define the memory… and realizes it’s not something he’s really told anyone else. “So I get up, an’ I go over to the altar rail, right? ‘Cause that can’t be just any coincidence, I’m there in the sanctuary, there’s no one else around that time’uh night, just me an’ God, an’ I just, I kneel down an’ just, I wanna know, what is it, if I’m supposed to be here, what is it He needs from me? I mean, the bells are ringin’, there’s gotta be more if I just got it in me to see it or hear it, maybe the Rapture is on the way, I dunno, but… just gimme somethin’, anything.”

He stops short and comes back to the moment, his eyes flickering at her from across the table. Another wry smile crosses his expression. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t God makin’ the bells ring. It was someone else… someone who had all these incredible gifts, an’ then got one more after it all, in the form of a Klyntar, whose only crime was doin’ exactly what He was created to do. Bonding. But His bondmate, he, he didn’t appreciate what a gift he’d received. Didn’t recognize Him as a livin’, breathin’ being who needed him, needed the bond, to survive. But learned that loud noise… like church bells… would hurt Him. So right in that moment, right then, when I was askin' for a sign to live...?”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I didn’t understand until We found each other in that church… how fragile an’ precious life really is. I was lookin’ for a reason to keep livin’ mine, while He was strugglin’ with every last trace’uh energy He had left to hang on to His. We found each other. An’ as scared an’ hurt as We both were? It was like this moment of… understanding. There wasn’t anything but just cling to each Other like wreckage in a storm. An' We've never let go since.”

He draws in a deep breath, expels half, and lets the rest out in a shuddering chuckle. "Actually, this is the first time I can remember sayin' all this to someone who wanted to know... and who actually might understand any of the nuance. Most folks don't know or understand about symbiotes."

Sigyn holds back a laugh at his analogy on opinions. It’s not the worst one she’s heard, but it’s still funny to see him struggle. In a way it’s actually, dare she say… cute? Eddie seems to be an awkward one, but she finds it oddly comforting.

However, her head cocks to the side at his extended silence and scrunched-up face. She can only assume he and his Klyntar must be arguing inside his head, and it makes her wonder just how often it happens.

In the minute amount of research she had done on the Klyntar, she never heard of them being… Friendly. So seeing something that proved to be different, or at least appeared that way had her intrigued.

The goddess offered a sheepish smile to the barista as Eddie walked off before quickly following him, having to albeit run just to keep up with the taller man.

She gives Eddie a quick nod as she slides into her seat, taking a long sip of her drinking, humming as the warm liquid spreads across her body. How she went this long without noticing how cold she was amazed her. But then again, her late husband was a frost giant… so it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to it.

Sigyn’s eyes widen at Eddie’s forwardness. So, he just wants to go ahead and get into it, huh? That… surprises her. Most people want to avoid these conversations, so the fact that he’s so willing to listen to her pour her heart out is strange for her.

“I’m really not sure my story is something you want to hear… it’s long and dark, and honestly really hard for me to share.”

This takes her back to the time during the blip. There was many a time when Sigyn tried to attend the support groups Steve hosted. So many times she intended to speak, to talk about what happened, but the words just never left her mouth. The only person she ever felt comfortable talking about everything to was Thor, and he wasn’t even on Earth at the moment.

“Why don’t you tell me about your friend… We’ll work our way to my drama later,” She says, wanting to avoid opening up in a public place, for she knows the moment she starts is the moment she starts crying, and then she’ll never stop.

[regenderate]

by the way i've been going through rtd's non-doctor-who work and the first thing i watched was queer as folk and i have to say. there's a lot going on in that show but my main takeaway is "it's extremely obvious that the guy writing this really wants to write doctor who." there are ten episodes and of those i believe seven mention doctor who in some capacity. the theme starts playing in the middle of gay sex. k-9 is there. the character responsible for most of these references breaks up with his boyfriend because the boyfriend can't name all the doctors. at the end he has a couple lines where i was like "wow this sounds like something the doctor would say" and then the next lines out of his mouth were about doctor who. all of this is retroactively much funnier now that rtd kickstarted a 20+-year-long reboot for the show

[kelocitta]

There is currently a rather large discussion ongoing about the RW fandom behavior, drama, etc. I am not going to talk about the specifics of whats happened for a number of reasons. But what I do want to say is that if at any point you've harassed people over it, whether that be through anon asks or public posts- you did nothing but damage the ability for people to correctly process what is happening. You contributed nothing but harm to an already delicate situation. It does not matter what "side" you were on and I will not tolerate further interaction with me or my work if I found out you did such. If you let your personal hate for anyone boil over into threats, wishes for long term harm and petty comments meant to contribute nothing but slander or mental distress for the individuals involved who were already distressed (or acting irrationally) you did nothing but make it harder for people to process their emotions, thoughts and behaviors constructively. Regardless of who you think was in the right, who fucked up, whatever. It doesn't matter if they deserved it, or earned it, or if its an eye for an eye. Its difficult enough as it is to think clearly when presented with any kind of stressful situation and heckling people does nothing but make it worse and harder for them to explain themself in any capacity. I don't want you anywhere near me if you think that is an acceptable way to act.