#what will i do to make everything worse for them i wonder

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

everytime i read this series i feel like im entering the battlefield 🚬😮‍💨my annotations below hehe ⬇️

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

ur writing has such PERSONALITY in it, i swear to god when i read this in beta, i was so in awe

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

this parallels perfectly to the first chapter where topper called rafe when reader was leaving, so not only is this paragraph giving us an at-point breakdown, but it's referring evidence that topper would slip and tell rafe

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

their lives are so intertwined that reader doesn't know who to turn to when she needs independence 😭 oh curse rafe and his big dick

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

this specific paragraph i wanted to highlight because i thought it was so descriptive and imaginative, but simplistic in a way that didn't feel like it was purple prose.

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

the last line EATS BITCH IT EATS

 “You should sit down.”

oh suck a dick

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

in love to hate omg

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

THIS IS SO COLD BUT IT SHOWED HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO WELL, HOW INTERTWINED THEY ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

i would crashout

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

hm.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

they're so toxic and dynamic and i love them

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

that stopped me cold i had to write something in my diary

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.  "Yeah? Get in line."

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I'M LISTENING TO BAD OMENS BY 5SOS AND IT'S AT THE BEATS AND WHILE I READ THIS, IT FITTED PERFECTLY OHMYGOD

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

i wanted to highlight this specific paragraph because i adore the writing, something about it made me feel every single atom of the scene

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”“And what?” you interrupted.“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”“You’re not coming in."He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

HE DIDN'T EXPECT THAT SHIT NO NO

“Yeah, I got someone.”

that's right baby tell em

💌 — ugh, something about this part has been so dynamic, in the way it's constructed, the way it flows so naturally, the way the dialogues are so emotionally-charged but bounces off one another seamlessly. it was like i was watching a perfectly-curated film, where the dialogues were performed by seasoned actors. i love love their arguments. i love how intense it always gets, how they have this push-pull against each other, this hate-love, this line they can't even comprehend nor define. and i love how you written it so beautifully, that you communicate the intensity and depth of this relationship but aggression, tension, and hurt.

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Seeing all this stuff on Cat König and Horangi being complete assholes just makes me wonder how they’d act if they saw their caretaker just..genuinely upset..like when they’d usually be yelling at König for eating all the food or at Horangi for being a little destructive goblin their just nowhere to be found, and of course they get confused because come on..the person who’s always yelling just goes silent out of nowhere? So when they look for them they find them just in their bed, completely covered up, not moving, and that just makes me wonder how they’d react, would König go for the sit on them till they suffocate and have to move..Horangi with the constant baps..or would they actually try to give them little head buts or just lay by them? I don’t know it just seems like an interesting scenario to me ever since I kept seeing all this stuff on this topic.

I think Horangi would be the first to notice, but König would be the first to actually check on the reader. Not that Horangi doesn't care, it's just when he notices what's going on he feels so bad that he doesn't know what to do. When König notices, he makes a plan.

König would be eerily silent. Normally he's so anxious that he always has his claws out, making little tippy taps as he scurries about. For this one moment, he's calm and prepared.

He ever so gently lays down beside you as close as he can to you. Maybe he might lay on you if he thinks that would be good for you, but I see him more as the type to lay down by your side and lay his chin on his paws. He'll swish his tail over top of you and press in close.

It takes a second for you to notice. At first, you're too miserable to move, but you remember your therapist told you to pet animals when you're distressed, so you figure you might as well.

As soon as you start petting König he lets out the most glorious purr. For a cat with such pathetic crackly mews, the purr he lets out is so deep and rich you'd think he was replaced by a fake. He rolls into you and burrows into your arms. He tries to rub his face against yours and tries to pull you in close to his side.

As soon as Horangi notices that König hasn't been punted to the other side of the room, and rather that König's actually helping, he's in on it too.

He comes up to your other side and curls around you too. He's purring too, bright and comfortable. He's a bit more playful and energetic in his affections. He's rolling over to let you scratch his belly, but then he grabs you with soft paws and licks your hand. He's a giant sweetheart about it all. Unlike König, who's all snugggles, Horangi likes to lick your fingers, hands, your face if he can get close enough.

If König isn't there to give Horangi the ques, it takes him a bit longer to figure out that he needs to get out of his own head and help out. He's scared to reach out. You can't blame him. I know you might want to, but he's scared to make it worse.

He can't leave you to suffer forever though. It isn't that long before he's trepiditiously padding over to your side. He sits by your head and just watches nervously for a moment. He hesitates, but he does do the little nervous batting. He tries to get your attention as carefully as he can.

When you turn over, his heart breaks. If König were here, he'd know what to do. Horangi tries his best to figure out what he can do.

Soon, he's pulling a König move, something Horangi never does. Horangi's an independent cat. He doesn't like being picked up, he doesn't like being held. You can hold König upside down, but Horangi doesn't really like to be touched too often.

When you're sad and broken, he pushes all his pride aside and crawls up to sit on you. He's not a crushing weight like König, he's just a warm little blanket. He sits on top of you and he purrs.

It doesn't make everything go away, but feeling Horangi reach out to you first, it melts your heart. You can't help but smile when you reach up a hand and Horangi shoves his face into your palm. He's desperate to see you smile just a little bit more.

Both cat hybrids genuinely care about you. They can be menaces, but they're good men. They love their owner (König a bit more possessively than Horangi) and both of them want to see their owner happy. They'll do what they can to make you smile when you're feeling down, no matter what.

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 6/?

Some light word-building, and a try at explaining a little with reader's thinking/worldview. And of course, a soulmate :3 Next chapter in about a week(+/- a day)! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 2506

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It’s been a week since you saw either of them. 

Your soulmates. 

You don’t like them being that, you could call them something else you suppose. But calling them their names all the time is more of a mouthful, and though you gave them nicknames before you learned their names, giving them new ones seems worse than just calling them what they are. (Even as much as you hate it.)

The ache in your shoulders and upper back has settled to a near permanent thing now, only fleeting relief for the for the briefest of moments if you massage the area. 

You know why it doesn’t fade, but you don’t want to admit that to anyone, especially not Evelyn when you visit her for a check up, this time at home in her and Olivia’s apartment.

You wonder how many other people have to bring brownies to their doctor appointments as you ring Evelyn’s and Olivia’s doorbell outside the building. To be fair, not everyone else’s doctor works as a veterinarian and has a wife that would kill you if you didn’t bring them (not really, but sometimes you think Olivia is certainly capable of doing so). 

Said wife is the one who buzzes you in, and greets you in the hallway just outside their front door with an enthusiastic yell of your name, and a hug that makes you let out a small grunt of pain that you try to hide in favor of hugging her back with the arm not currently holding onto the strap of your backpack.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re a wounded man, come in, come in, Evelyn is just setting up.” Her beautiful dark and curled hair bounces as she heads to the kitchen, and you follow her after making sure the front door is closed behind you.

The kitchen table is covered in towels, towels you know are specifically for this purpose, since none of them are the cute patterns Olivia loves. You also know that underneath there’s cling wrap covering the table, for cleanliness and just in case. It hadn’t been often you had been on this kitchen table instead of the clinic table, but the procedure Evelyn has around it isn’t unknown to you. A lot more organized than what Wade’s and Logan’s had been. 

You banish the thought of them from your mind as you put your backpack down, dipping your hand inside to fish out the box of carefully wrapped brownies out, and present them to Olivia. She gasps at you, almost yanking the box out of your hand with how fast she takes it.

“Sometimes I swear it’s like you are my second soulmate.” Your stomach swoops at her words, and you make a face. She knows and disagrees with your view on soulmates, so you know it’s a friendly jab, and normally you wouldn’t have cared, but this time it hits something you don’t like.

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes at her, focusing on Evelyn instead as Olivia goes to put her treasure away. “Ready for me doc?” Seems to be the perfect time to ask that question as Evelyn puts gloves on and pats the table. 

“Up you go.” You do as asked, hoisting yourself up. You take your shirt off, balling it up, putting it under your head as you lay down, getting comfortable. “Feeling fine?” Evelyn starts to peel your bandages off, slowly and carefully.

“Yeah. They seem to be doing fine, in my non-medical opinion.” She hums, and you know she’s taking your words into consideration, but it won’t really matter much before she has had a look herself. You let your eyes stay open, watching the ceiling as you hear Olivia putter around the kitchen, and feel Evelyn poke around your wounds.

Nasty couple of things. Well, they had been. You have been surprised nothing had gotten infected, you had no idea how well Wade took care of his swords, how nasty or not they were. But well, to be fair to him, if you had gotten an infection, your makeshift bandages would have been just as likely a culprit.

“Looks like you won’t die anytime soon, but they’ll still leave some nasty scars behind.” Evelyn offers, seeming to be done with her inspection of you, as she changes gloves, and starts applying new bandages. You shrug, you figured out much. Nothing cuts that deep without leaving behind a mark.

Well, unless you are a super healing mutant. Even after you had tried multiple times. Both with a katana and a gun.

Should you even feel bad for hurting your soulmates like that when it was done when in panic but with the knowledge it would heal? And you got more permanently hurt?

And to be fair, Wade had knocked you out before you ever hurt them after realizing they were your soulmates, so it wasn’t like you hadn’t been hurt, but you shot them both. Caused them more pain.

So maybe you are all a little beyond messed up. 

Made for each other, like that soulmate shit implies.

You shake your head at that thought, dispelling it into the ether, which gets you a weird look from Evelyn as she finishes with your bandage.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just haven’t been sleeping right.”

“Chest pain?” Her hands hover near your chest, but move away as you shake your head.

“No, shoulder and upper back, think I’ve accidentally pulled something.” She frowns.

“I thought I told you to not work out or put unnecessary strain on your body as you heal.” You know what it’s from, and it’s definitely not that.

“I haven’t been working out or lifting anything heavy, I promise. I’m just an old man.” You joke, she rolls your eyes at you as you sit up, taking the glass of water Olivia offers you.

“Let me know if it keeps up, and I’ll see if I can’t figure out what it is, and get you something for it.” She can’t know and won’t be able to get you anything, but still you nod.

“Am I allowed to put my shirt back on Doc, or do you just want to ogle me some more?” You joke, this earns you a slap on the shoulder by a now gloveless hand just after Olivia hands you a chocolate chip cookie. 

“Thought you were making pasta?” You get off the table and take a bite out of your cookie as Olivia smiles at you, and Evelyn starts cleaning up.

“I am, but good patients get rewards.” 

“What am I, five?” You joke, Olivia reaches out as if to take the cookie out of your hand, you take a step back. “I prefer your cookies over any stupid little toy.” Olivia’s smile is bright, and if you weren’t gay and she didn’t have a soulmate, she could have been your type. She turns around, planting a kiss on Evenlyn’s cheek as she passes her on her way to grab ingredients for the dinner she is going to make for you all.

You lean on the kitchen counter and munch on your cookie, mindful to stay in the background and out of the way for them both as they move around each other with ease. Evelyn cleaning up medical supplies and the makeshift sickbed, Olivia starting to cook dinner.

You don’t want to bring up your soulmates with either of them, since you know their stance on it all is opposite of yours, since they are themselves soulmates. You’ve had plenty of arguments about this both drunk and mostly sober. You think soulmates make one vulnerable and just bring misery in the end, they think it brings strength and that you should enjoy what good you can have in life.

So you know they would just tell you to go to your soulmates, and be with them. 

For the rest of your life. 

Ugh.

You’re fine on (mostly) your own, thanks.

—---

This time, when the universe decides it’s time for some light fuckery, it’s Logan. On his own. And it’s not while you are working. 

Not that it makes it any better.

You are taking it slow, the bar you find yourself in isn’t the fanciest thing, which suits you perfectly. The tables are mostly clean and the floor has seen better days, but they have several types of beer on tap and in bottles, a pool table, and even two shuffleboards. All in all, very casual, somewhere you could sit alone, or join a random group playing one of the games. If money sometimes exchanged hands, both between players and spectators, nobody gave a shit.

You had been a few times before, always enjoying yourself. You’re not even drinking this time, sticking to soda as much as you want to have a proper drink. You had just needed to get out of your apartment, and though you long to feel the burn of alcohol pass over them, you know it won’t heal any faster, so if you can just keep from drinking for a little longer, you can get back to the normal state of things quicker.

Well, as normal as they can get after the universe decided to change the core of your life. You were not one for company, at least not permanently.

Currently you are sitting at a table, watching two long bearded and bald men play pool, making snide comments back and forth. You had made a bet on the man with the scarred ear, but he is losing, pretty badly.

Oh well, 20 bucks isn’t the end of the world.

What kind of feels like it though, is when you spot Logan walking into the bar. He’s wearing normal clothes this time, just some jeans, boots, and a green flannel. He glances around the bar, you duck your head in the hope that he doesn’t see you.

You don’t hope for long though, as a very full glass of what looks like whiskey is sat down next to your soda, and the chair on the other side of the table becomes occupied.

“Logan.” Your uttering of his name in greeting is icy, your name falling from his lips are decidedly less so.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, feeling your shoulders ease up. Which annoys you so much, he’s just arrived, and he’s already making you feel better. You want to go, to leave, even as your loosening muscles reminds you that staying for a little bit will stave off side effects of your unfortunately shared bond. 

“Drinking.” He grunts, taking a sip of his glass. You roll your eyes and look at him for a few moments, head swirling with thoughts. You settle on one, just to have something to say as you stall and try to figure out how much time you need to feel more than just a little less shitty, though you can’t help but be actually curious as you ask.

“Can you even get drunk with your healing shit?” Logan frowns, and you wonder if that’s his default. You don’t ask about that though.

“With some effort.”

“Why the fuck even be in a bar then?” Your tone is still not kind, even as you  feel your shoulders ache just a little bit less, like you had just massaged over a good spot. He shrugs.

“Company I guess.” It’s your turn to frown.

“I have no interest in being company. Get away from me Logan, or I will make you go away.” You know you should stay close longer so you can also stay away longer, but you are still stubborn, not wanting the fuckery that is soulmates. 

At least if you just stay in the same room, it should help, you think. 

You hope. No need to stay close in the slightest. 

He takes you in, quickly glancing at you from top to toe.

“I -“ You don’t let him speak.

“What did I just say Logan?” He scowls at you, you glare back at him, but let him speak when he opens his mouth this time.

“I don’t like it.” Logan reluctantly admits as the scowl stays on his face. “This being the way we are going about things.” He clarifies.

“Though shit.” He tilts his head at you, scowl turning into more of a squint.

“Are you always this combative?” You feel like a street dog on high alert, barking in warning. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Look-” And when barks don’t work……

“You had your warning.” You say as you grab your knife from your left leg. You stab it into his hand, aiming for the skin between where the claws go through his hand, hitting the jackpot as red seeps around the knife and the tip of it burrows into the table. Seconds later there is warm and sharp metal pushing your chin up. You grin and waggle a finger at him.

“Nah ah, mortal, remember?” You twist the knife around once for good measure, making him grunt in pain, and then pull it out of his hand. You already know you are banned from this bar for life, but you don’t care. His claws retract, this time you realize it actually makes a sound. Huh.

“So you are always this combative.” Logan grits out between his clenched teeth, as his hand heals itself, leaving behind nothing but the blood that spilled out where you stabbed him.

“Fellas, time to go.” A bouncer suddenly stands in front of your table now, a t-shirt with security over his chest in big white letters. He’s huge, towering over both you and Logan, arms ready at his sides, eyes flicking between the two of you. You see Logan seize him up, and for a moment you wonder if he is going to fight the man, but his eyes go to you as you get off your chair.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” You put your knife away. “Again, fuck off Logan.” You show him the finger as you walk out. He’s just steps behind you, clearly no longer welcome in the bar either, but he keeps his distance as you both go out of the door. 

You have no idea where he's going, and you have no plans now, so you start walking in the direction of home.

After gaining some distance, you look over your shoulder. You don’t want to be followed. Logan is standing just outside of the bar, looking at your retreating back, but he takes a step forward as your eyes connect with his. You show him the finger again as you disappear around a corner.

You rub your forehead as you are out of sight, annoyance cursing through you. You think some of it might be his.

Fuck, you wish you could get drunk right now. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be good for your healing. And you have no idea how bad or good your control over your bonds are when you’re drunk.

Just another thing for future you to figure out, you guess.

[fuctacles]

<< 10 | - | 12 >>

Robin finds them sprawled on the grass, resting after their play break. Steve notices her first, his head raising and tail wagging excitedly, though he doesn't move from his spot warming Eddie's thigh. 

"Steve?" 

That's when his friend realizes what got him so excited and he waves to Robin as she spots them in the middle of the yard. Their eyes meet and he knows she's surprised to see Steve in his other form again, but she doesn't say anything. Their werewolf friend yips happily and stands up, away from Eddie's petting to greet his best friend. 

"Hello, Buckley."

"Hello, Munson." She puts her hands on her hips in a perfect mirror of Steve. "I see you two are hard at work?" Robin quickly folds when Steve sits at her feet, his tail moving so fast it is barely visible. She squats down to scratch around his ears. "Hi, dingus."

"Exactly, and we're taking a well-deserved break right now," Eddie says with a smile, sitting up. "The barbeque is out and cleaned up, and we're almost done with the pool and chairs," he sums up their work so far, pointing vaguely to where everything is. 

"Damn, it's like you don't need me at all, huh?" she asks mostly towards Steve with a tilt of her head. He nibs at her fingers in retaliation before trotting away. "Hey, I was joking!"

But Steve picks up the ball still lying next to Eddie's leg and brings it back to Robin. She looks at him in confusion, so Eddie quickly swoops in with an explanation.

"We were playing fetch!"

The yellow, damp ball falls away from Steve's mouth like he might have just gotten self-conscious about the thing. But Robin takes it in stride, grabbing the toy and straightening up. Her friend quickly forgets his inhibitions and straightens up, hyperfocused on her raised hand. 

"Fair warning, I'm not the best thrower. But I guess I can't be much worse than Munson."

"Hey!"

She proves her words seconds later when the ball barely misses his head and Steve jumps right over his body, making him yelp. 

"Jesus H Christ you two!" he yells at them, but is genuinely happy for his friend enjoying his dog form without second guessing himself. 

He idly picks at the grass, observing them and dodging Buckley's shitty aim, wondering how he would feel if he could shift to a creature loved by everyone and with simple needs and ways to express himself. It sounds freeing, but he likes too many things his opposable thumbs can do, like playing the guitar, petting a dog, or playing fetch. 

Does Steve have things he needs his thumbs for? Is he still playing basketball? Maybe Eddie could teach him the guitar. Or Maybe Steve just needs a healthy balance between human and animal treatment. 

Eddie is so preoccupied with his thoughts, that the next ball Buckley throws boinks right off the side of his head. 

Steve skids to a stop in front of him, eyeing the skittering ball like prey, but in the end, jumps up to Eddie and starts licking at the sore spot, while Buckley yells her apologies in the background. 

"Okay, okay, I'll live! It's just a flesh wound!" he laughs, while Steve's hot tongue is ruining his already questionable fringe. The dog boops his cheek with a cold nose and goes to pick up the ball. Eddie takes it as his clue to stand up and fix himself up a bit.

"It pains me to say it, but I guess it's our sign to get back to work," he sighs, dusting off his knees. Steve shows up next to him, eyes huge and the ball between his teeth. "Nuh-uh, man, we can play more later. We gotta finish the yard today so we only have the food to worry about tomorrow."

Steve huffs, the ball falling from his mouth with a sad thump, but he walks away towards the house, bumping Robin's leg on his way to the back door. While he disappears inside, Eddie jogs up to her. 

"Hey," he says again. "I'm trying to help Steve out of his funk." 

Robin raises her eyebrows. 

"How?" she crosses her arms. 

He suddenly feels uneasy, shifting his weight while trying to give his theories and plans shape. There's no one better to talk it out with than Stev's best friend, so he pushes through. 

"Well, he likes how we treat the dog-him, so I think we should treat him more like that on a daily basis. You know, scratches, praises, and shit," he looks up at Buckley hoping he doesn't sound completely insane. "So he likes being human a bit more."

She hums, glancing back at the house.

"You're right," Robin says to his surprise. It's not something he hears often. "Though I think it works best with you."

"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown. 

But she waves him off, turning to where Steve is emerging through the back door wearing loose sweatpants and with his hairy chest on display. 

"Robs!" he greets his friend with a grin, gathering her for a side hug that quickly turns into a friendly chokehold. 

Eddie hopes Buckley can sense his menacing glare despite their roughhousing.

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

[identityflawed]

to every single arcane fan on the planet who is pissed at caitlyn for her actions in s2 act 1, please listen to me:

you are right to be pissed, that’s kind of the point, but hating her means you have to hate��� like every other character. grief is a powerful factor in almost all of arcane and the motives of every character are based in something they’ve lost: whether it’s family, ideals, reputation, land, etc, they’re all dealing with loss and that causes them to act in morally-challenging ways. because that’s what grief does. a loss unthinkable causes actions unthinkable.

caitlyn joins the grief club a bit later than your other main characters, jinx and vi. but unlike jinx and vi, we actually see cait’s actions fresh off the block. the time cuts in act 1 only showed the clean-cut effects of losing their parents on the bridge, and then the new jinx and vi that occurred after the five (?) year time-skip after the explosion in the warehouse. you don’t see them when they’re full of raw grief and terror and illogical actions. you don’t see how severely vi was beaten in prison, how she must’ve lashed out in response to being taken away from her sister, how she continuously made the situation worse for herself because she felt like she deserved it, that she should’ve fought harder, been a better leader and a better sister. we don’t see jinx’s mental breakdowns afterwards, we don’t see how silco grooms her, how he uses her for his literal and emotional goals, how she’s shattered and how she pushes people away because of her own mistakes… but we’re seeing it with caitlyn, we’re seeing the rawness that comes with all of it, and we’re seeing how that impacts the narrative and other characters. people who haven’t grieved don’t seem to understand that it is like containing a storm, and you cannot do it by yourself, all of the time, and sometimes it gets out to other people if they press hard enough.

arcane is very cyclical in the way that all characters follow the same path, over and over again. caitlyn and jinx are following narrative paths, especially when you compare ambessa to silco. i do wonder if jinx knows that silco stabbed vander, that he was the one who ruined everything, hired the goons to jump them and scared her into dropping their haul from jayce’s workshop, etc. i wonder if the reason she continues to spiral is because she doesn’t know, and if caitlyn will get the same treatment with ambessa’s betrayals and her hand in the attack on the memorial.

whatever the case, you cannot defend jinx and hate caitlyn. they are not the same, i understand, but they are both products of massive grief that they blame themselves heavily for.

back to the idea of grief being a storm, because the most common gripe i see with caitlyn is how she promised vi she wouldn’t change, and then changed within a day. this isn’t… this is not an unreasonable course of action from caitlyn, given the situation and how she’s feeling. she is like… at most, a couple weeks out after her mother’s death. it is still an incredibly fresh wound, and she is sort of hinging her entire self-worth and identity on her ability to make the shot that resolves this feeling inside of her. she doesn’t get to make that shot, and fresh off of that miss, that realization that the fight is going to be prolonged and that vi is not as unattached to jinx as she says she is…

both of them made strange promises in that tunnel that they didn’t quite keep. how can you blame vi or caitlyn for picking their family over the girl they met less than a month ago? isha was a wildcard in that fight, but they both knew that caitlyn wouldn’t actually miss the shot. vi didn’t flinch when caitlyn shot 2 inches behind her, vi didn’t flinch when cait shot the gun out of isha’s hand, or the finger from jinx’s, etc, etc. it wasn’t about missing, it was the realization for vi that she can’t just cut herself off from her sister (especially when there’s signs that powder is still in there), that it is much easier said than done. and for cait, it was the realization that vi is not with her. that vi never changed.

that’s kind of the issue. vi didn’t want caitlyn to change, but caitlyn wanted vi to change, and they’re both in situations that demand change and stagnancy, respectively. see what i’m saying? does any of this make sense?

[gabessquishytum]

so I really liked the alpha student dream/omega prof hob 🐺 anon and you did and I accidentally wrote 3k words. very sorry about that?

The thing is, the young man is really very good at this. Hob can feel himself falling for him more each day. Feels his biology work against him every day. That’s the worst thing. Dream is such, such a good alpha: he asks after Hob’s health constantly, brings him his favourite coffee every morning Hob has class, brings him food the day before and after heat leave… and the fact he’s so young and so good at it already makes it all the more impressive! What’s an omega to do?

Stand firm, of course. Hob didn’t get to his age surviving heat after heat on his own or occasionally on beta and omega cock only to succumb to baby’s first attempt at mating. But Dream makes it so hard. He’s so persistent. This habit he has of sticking to Hob right before he takes heat leave is maddening. Pre-heat is on hell of a thing, and Hob’s body can perfectly sense a willing, aroused, fertile alpha right there, and it gets ideas. Hob’s hind brain is compiling a very thorough list of all of Dream’s behaviours that make him a perfect mate, and it’s ruining Hob.

His heats start getting a lot more intense, longer, more painful. He feels empty in ways he never has before during: his hands aren’t enough, his toys, medication… and no one will touch him. Absolutely no one will touch him because Dream’s scent is all over him. Young, strong, possessive alpha. In fact, even Hob’s friends and colleagues don’t touch him anymore. Dream is the only one who still does, and Hob is becoming addicted to it.

Also, has Hob mentioned Dream is gorgeous? A pretty young thing like him, fawning all over an old bastard like Hob… it strokes the ego, it does.

His pre-heats get worse too. His cycle gets shorter, more erratic. He has to ask for more frequent heat leave. Multiple times he gets home from uni on the last day before heat leave with the heavy denim of his jeans soaked through with his own slick. He can only be thankful for Dream’s scent keeping any alphas with bad intentions away while he takes the tube home. He wants to blame his hormonal changes on incoming menopause trying to get him to breed before it’s too late, his brain all too aware of the lack of scent from a pup of his own of any age around him, but he can’t. It’s just Dream. Beautiful, possessive, commanding, fascinating, kind, model alpha Dream.

It gets to the point Hob can barely make it inside his house before collapsing on the floor, hyperventilating and feverish, and getting himself off unable to think about anything but what a knot would feel like… no, what Dream’s knot would feel like. What being pumped full of Dream’s come would feel like. Growing round with Dream’s baby. Letting Dream walk him to the tube the past few months was a mistake.

He’s never seriously wondered about these things before. Of course he’s thought about them, he’s human for fuck’s sake, but he’s never actively wanted them. Needed them. His heats last ages and the faculty is beginning to be unhappy with him, all because his brain is convinced he needs Dream to knot him and fuck him full of pups, and he spends his heats sobbing into the mattress, desperate with unsatisfying orgasm after unsatisfying orgasm.

Dream feels torn about his darling professor, lately. On one hand, he smells almost like he’s his. Dream’s scent on him is so strong that no one will touch him, which pleases Dream to no end. And he smells overwhelmingly of arousal when Dream is around, and Dream likes to think he’s about to break his legendary resolve… But on the other hand Hob looks… worn. Tired. Fatigued. Just, unhealthy despite all the little ways Dream cares for him. And that makes his alpha body itch. He needs his omega (he refuses to think of Prof Gadling as anything else) to be perfectly cared for. But Dream is doing everything he can short of stealing Hob’s keys and letting himself into his house. He follows him around the uni all day short of when Dream has other classes, taking up all his office hours sitting on Hob’s desk, regaling Hob with his best conversation, casually rubbing his own neck and then rubbing that hand on the desk, keeping his scent fresh in Hob’s space while the room gets saturated with aroused omega scent.

Dream flirts his heart out, touches Hob until his hands are batted away and he can almost taste Hob’s slick in his mouth, but Hob never gives in. This only encourages Dream! What kind of alpha would he be if he didn’t love the chase? When he finally gets his professor to beg for his cock (and he will) the victory will be all the sweeter!

So imagine Dream’s delight when, after coming from one of his classes and following a hurried Hob out of his own lecture into Hob’s office, Hob collapses, back to his desk, hands gripping it tight, trembling, shirt spotted with sweat and jeans rapidly going sopping with slick.

Dream just stares in wonder for a good minute, watching Hob with his eyes shut tight, writhing, whimpering and hissing through his teeth as he tries to get himself under control against something that is by definition uncontrollable. Hob puts up a good fight, though.

He’s so strong and proud. Dream loves that about him. Still, he takes the key where Hob left it still in the lock on the hall side and locks the door from the inside. He doesn’t think Hob has even consciously noticed him being there until Dream puts his hands on Hob’s thighs. His thumbs are an inch away from a growing wet spot.

“Are you in heat, professor?” he asks sweetly.

Hob shudders, and shakes his head, and promptly starts hyperventilating. Dream is riveted. Hob feels fever-hot under his palms even through jeans.

“Really?” Dream asks. “Because I think you are.”

He steps fully between Hob’s thighs and bends his head to take a whiff of Hob’s scent. Rich, sweet, fertile and begging for his knot. It’s beginning to affect him, too: he’s already well over half hard, and his mouth is watering. He can’t wait to finally mark his omega.

Hob bares his neck, and whines, and his thighs spasm in such a way it can only mean he’s so wet he wants to hide it but his body knows what’s better for him: the willing alpha between his legs.

“D-Dream. P-please.”

Hob is shaking so bad, but Dream gets the feeling Hob is about to beg him to stop anyway, and he just can’t have that.

He licks a long stripe up Hob’s neck, tasting him ripe with want, and whispers in his ear:

“Please what, professor?”

Hob’s legs give out, but Dream was perfectly ready for that. He grabs him firmly by the thighs and hoists him up on the desk. He lets himself rut against Hob’s soaked trousers just once and Hob’s moan is so so sweet to Dream’s ears.

Dream tuts, and caresses Hob soothingly as Hob half-melts backwards, back on the desk, head lolling off the other side, his throat perfectly on display.

“When is the last time you let a good alpha take care of this, hm?” Dream asks, running one finger at the seam of Hob’s trousers, over his hole and his hard cock.

Hob squirms, and grabs Dream’s wrist, and keeps it there.

“N-Never.”

Dream is struck dumb by that for a second. He’s fully hard so fast he feels lightheaded. Strokes Hob’s cock trough his soaked jeans while his professor sobs in relief under him. He can’t believe his luck, honestly.

“That just won’t do,” he whispers. “A man of your age, with your wealth of knowledge…” He deliberately moves his hand off Hob’s cock and runs both hands under his shirt, rucking it up, revealing a beautiful pelt of silver and brown hair. “…should know the feel of a knot sating one’s heats.” Dream slides four fingers under Hob’s waistbands, trousers and pants at once, and toys with the top button with his thumb. “Why don’t you let your alpha take care of you, professor?”

Hob is crying and bucking up uncontrollably into Dream’s touch, gasping, and looks up at Dream with his eyes glazed over.

“Dream. Please. Please. Touch me.”

Dream preens. Unbuttons and unzips Hob and plays idly with his cock. But nothing else.

Dream smiles.

“I am touching you.”

Hob is writhing and thrashing into it and whimpering and straining his neck, eyes flicking between Dream’s face and all the awards Hob has won for omega excellence in the workplace behind his desk on the windowsill.

“Dream I- I need-“ Hob is so pretty, sniffling and crying and begging. “Please, knot me, Dream, please-“

Dream doesn’t need to be told twice. He bends down to quickly kiss Hob’s temples, presses Hob’s face into his neck and feels him relax under Dream as he takes a lungful.

“I will take care of you now. All will be well,” he tells Hob.

Hob nods tearfully into Dream’s neck and slowly lets him peels his sweaty and slick clothes off of him.

Dream unwraps him like the present he is, calls him beautiful before sliding one-two-three-four fingers inside him, making Hob mewl.

“Shh. You are so wet already. So loose, so ready for my knot.” A gush of slick wets Dream’s hand, and Hob is starting to hyperventilate again “Not to worry. I will please you so well, make you feel so good.”

Hob doesn’t ask him to put on a condom in the brief moments Dream needs to unzip himself, so Dream doesn’t, and sheaths himself inside Hob to the hilt. Hob shouts and Dream groans. It feels so good. Hob is so so loose around his cock, yes, but he’s so hot and slick inside it feels more than perfect to Dream to fuck into him balls-deep. Fast and hard. Hob comes within seconds, and Dream has to put a hand over his mouth so they’re not heard all over the uni any more than they already have been.

“I should think you would like my knot now, yes?” Hob shouts against his hand, still shaking from orgasm while Dream pounds into him, hands fisting Dream’s shirt. Dream smiles. “Would you like that, professor? Being full of my seed? Finally being bred like you deserve?” Hob twitches, raises his head to look between them as he realizes what Dream is saying, then just… drops his head and goes fully boneless under Dream, submitting completely. “Yes. I cannot wait to see you round with my child.”

Dream’s knot swells so fast when Hob comes again around him it makes Dream dizzy. He can see Hob’s mind being blown in real time as Dream’s knot grows and grows until Hob is coming again just from the pressure, screaming his throat raw against Dream’s hand, and then Dream starts coming.

Dream doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his life. He can feel pump after pump of seed shoot inside Hob until Hob is whimpering so pretty and holding his belly, just slightly rigid from the fullness. Dream can’t help it, seeing Hob like that, a hint of how he will soon be when he’s full with Dream’s pups.

Dream bites him.

And Hob buries a hand in his hair and keeps Dream there, ankles locked behind his back.

Dream soothes the bite with licks and kisses, the taste of mated omega- his mated omega almost burning on his tongue.

Easily, he lifts Hob and sits them both on Hob’s chair behind his desk. His sweet older omega shouldn’t be forced to spend their whole tie lying on a desk. Dream rolls his hips slightly with Hob in his lap, soothing him as he whimpers incoherently from Dream being lodged so deep inside him.

“Was I not right, professor? Did I not make it all better?”

Hob nods into Dream’s throat, but for twenty good minutes of their tie doesn’t stop fucking himself on Dream’s knot, cock hard between them, giving himself little almost-orgasms. Dream pets him lovingly the whole time. How incredibly lucky he is, to watch his professor learn how good a knot feels!

Soon, though, Hob is exhausted and frustrated.

“Dream. Dream, I- Please. More. Please.”

Dream laughs softly.

“I need just a moment longer.” He lifts Hob slightly, lets him feel how Dream’s still-too-full knot tugs at his rim, lets him gasp with it. Hob clenches even tighter around him, and Dream smiles. “Certainly, this would be easier if your hole were not so greedy for my knot, professor.”

Hob hides his face against Dream’s neck, ruddy in the face, but Dream deflates enough that some of his come and Hob’s slick leak out and make it easy enough to pull out and push back in even with his knot still up. Dream fucks Hob again, long and slow and properly this time and all the way until he knots him again, until Hob winces and whines and grasps at his own painfully-swollen belly.

Hob even takes a nap while they’re tied, and Dream is incredibly proud of having sated the worst of Hob’s heat so quickly. Once Dream’s knot goes down again, Hob gingerly gets up, gasping when Dream’s come runs down his thighs in thick, slow rivulets. Dream watches him experience this for a moment, then pulls him back down onto his still-hard cock.

“Where do you think you are going, professor?”

Hob gasps.

“Dream- how…?”

“Oh, I am so very young after all, as you keep reminding me.”

He fucks up into Hob hard, as if to prove his point.

“That’s not-“

“Possible?” He smiles, teases Hob’s bite with his teeth and revels in the scent of his omega. ���How curious. I seem to be in rut.”

Hob can feel it, is the worst thing. Can smell it, now his head has cleared a bit. And with every second that ticks by he feels his body grow laxer, the will to leave to let Dream take care of the rest of Hob’s heat at home get weaker. A rut is a much trickier thing than a heat. Shorter, sure, but with no lulls, no moments of reprieve. His alpha needs him, needs him now, and he wants to please his alpha.

“Dream. You didn’t- you wouldn’t- induce it?”

Dream hums thoughtfully, takes out the empty pill box of rut-inducing drugs he took, holds it up for Hob to see.

“I hoped to appeal to your nurturing side. I doubted my omega would leave me to suffer through a rut all on my own. And I was right, was I not? Already I can feel you relax in my arms, your hole loose and greedy and ready to take my knot and my seed for hours.”

Dream can already feel his knot swell up again. It will hardly go down now for the next many, many hours.

“I wasn’t your- Dream, a rut lasts up to two days, the university closes at-“

“But you were. You have been my omega for a while now, haven’t you, professor?” He grins and kisses Hob’s mating bite. Pity about the drugs, they weren't needed after all. But, Dream was always impatient. And they do have the nice perk of keeping Hob on his cock for so, so long. “And that’s too bad. The cleaners and the custodian are terribly gossipy, are they not? What a shame that everyone should know that you are mine. That the famous Professor Gadling is such a good, nurturing, devoted omega that he tirelessly saw his young alpha student through his rut in the very university he teaches at, right in his office… that he is such a willing, eager, fertile thing that he left the room mated and sweet with the scent of pregnancy.”

Hob can’t put up a fight. He is still in heat, and his alpha needs him, and Dream feels so good inside him. He’s never taken care of anyone’s rut before, of course, but it feels so incredibly good to be constantly knotted and bred. His heat barely bothers him, with how well Dream takes care of it.

Predictably, Dream’s rut lasts well into the next morning. Dream is incredibly pleased to dress him, leaving his shirt open enough to show off his bite, the waistband of Hob’s jeans digging into his distended belly. Dream walks him out of the office with a proprietary hand on his shoulder, Hob with face and neck and ears purple from shame, jeans stiff from his slick of yesterday and now his underwear, jeans and socks getting soaked with Dream’s come leaking out of him. And, surprising no one, with his scent the starkly sweet mark of a pregnant omega. It’s a proper walk of shame, it’s just after noon and the university is wide open and there’s people in the halls getting to and from class.

By the next day, everyone knows what Hob has done. No one blames him, though, which is almost worse. Poor omega, he’s a slave to his biology after all. It’s a miracle he lasted this long. It’s high time a good alpha take proper care of him. And Hob… wants to protest. He does, but… it’s so nice, so freeing being Dream’s kept omega. He can still teach, but he gets constantly spoiled by a pretty young thing, complimented about landing such a nice alpha and about being so fertile and glowing. He gets to carry Dream’s pup. It’s really not as bad and constraining as he thought, and he gets to be knotted as often as he likes… with a caveat.

Dream, of course, is a menace and should not have been trusted with his knot near anyone in a position of authority. Hob is constantly horny because of the pregnancy, and begging for Dream’s knot so often and so desperately it really is too easy for Dream to deny Hob his knot until Hob agrees to change a grade here, a grade there, until Dream is graduating with honours doing none of the work except knotting Hob nice and often. Who knew that trying an alpha’s knot was all it took to break Hob’s famous integrity?

-PA

PA ANON FIC!!! WE GET A PA ANON FIC!!!!

I'm so entirely gleeful about this and I can't thank you enough for sharing this and giving me the honour of sharing it with the community!! I've been travelling all day today and looking forward to the moment where I could sit down and re-read this. There are so many excellent details. Dream being persistent and sneaky and a total dickhead, but also being so caring and giving Hob the knotting he truly needed... perfect. I can't blame Hob for giving up either, and I certainly can't blame him for giving Dream such good grades. Cause if he's being graded on his fucking then he clearly deserves to graduate at the very top of his class 😏

*happy horny noises*

[swagglessmoth]

Badly made comic of And So The Moon Wept bc it just finished and I’m devastated

‼️CHAPTER 15 SPOILERS‼️

I wanted to make one more page between the second and third bc pacing, but I didn’t wanna rethink all three of those pages’ compositions. It’s pretty ass bc it’s all sketches, but the last ones came out pretty decent I think👍

(Don’t look at the house too closely, I really didn’t wanna look at a reference so I just freestyled it)

Scrapped versions bc idk

Now that that’s out the way, I’ll start with the ranting, you can leave now this is for me

THE ENDING⁉️ DAMN⁉️⁉️⁉️

I would start rereading immediately to see all the details and analyze the psychology of the ‘tsukuyomi world’ characters BUT I unfortunately have my global exams next week 🥲

Warning for -1000 media literacy‼️ while writing all this I remembered that my memory is bad an my analytical skills are even worse! So be warned :p

BUT ANYWAY!! This was a top tear fanfic, seriously at no point did I consider the infinite tsukuyomi as a possibility. And I think this has to do with the fact that the psychology and individual lives of the characters in this dream were so well developed. There’s so many POVs! And they’re so complex and detailed!! Really makes you wonder if this was really the tsukuyomi or if Kakashi’s consciousness was sent to a different world all together. Which is what makes it so terribly tragic. Kakashi lived so many years in this perfect world just to regain all his memories and find out that it really was all fake, a world made up entirely of his own fantasies.

Oh and what a fantasy it was, getting hit by that boulder and fucking dying! The only reason he got to live was bc of ‘Hound’ (which could be interpreted as his consciousness telling him to wake tf up). Everything felt so wrong to Kakashi not because he noticed this things weren’t right, but bc he was never meant to live in this world. This was the prefect reality for everyone around him, his dream, a world without him (FUCK BRO💔💔💔💔). Which is the reason why I think the characters are so three dimensional in this dream, maybe, idk bro I just made this up.

But even then, things don’t exactly add up (if you think about it they do BUT SHHHHHH LET ME DREAM). Why did some characters suffer so much if this was meant to be a better world for everyone else? Why did Rin’s parent’s die? Why did Sakumo try suicide so many times?

We know Rin’s and Obito’s relationship started declining when Rin didn’t believe Obito when he swore up and down that Kakashi was somehow alive (which IS Hound’s fault in a way, he saved Kakashi and that’s why Obito saw Kakashi sinking into the ground, making him believe that Kakashi didn’t die), but it goes farther than that. Rin’s real problem with Obito was that he was so stuck on his dead teammate that he neglected the rest of his living team, Kakashi was literally everything he thought about to the point it started negatively affecting others (which, yeah him being obsessed is pretty normal considering that Kakashi was part of the reason he activated his sharingan and THE reason he activated the Mangekyo). So what did he do? Go hang out with the one other person who would ALSO only think of Kakashi all day, Sakumo. Obito eventually accepted that Kakashi was dead, but he and Rin never reconnected.

Was this really the perfect ending for them? Come on tsukuyomi, you’re more creative than that.

For some reason I think that the tsukuyomi was freestyling all this. Bc (by my interpretation) the point of Kakashi’s dream was that he died at Kannabi Bridge instead of Obito, period. The rest is extra stuff bc their lives have to go on ig? Or maybe the infinite tsukuyomi is really big brained and depicted a realistic depiction of 🖐️🖐️🖐️HOLD THE FUCK UP I’M DUMB I JUST FIGURED SMTH OUT

Bro this is why I need to reread this instead of talking to myself when I don’t remember half the details in the fic.

OK SO HOUND DID FUCK SHIT UP🔥🔥🔥

I was trying to think why Sakumo would be alive (if my shit theory above was true, which it isn’t but I’m not deleting all that) AND IT WAS BC SAKUMO NOT KILLING HIMSELF IS HIS PERFECT WORLD 😭😭😭😭. The one thing I’m not so sure ab is Kannabi (I bet if I keep writing this I’ll find the answer) bc Obito WAS gonna get hit by that rock, but hey, he entered the dream after the Obito reveal so maybe his consciousness already knew he would survive, so maybe he’d just appear later in the dream idk. BUT BRO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 WAS HE ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO COME BACK HOME TO HIS DAD??? AND THEN HIS CONSCIOUSNESS KICKED IN AND HE SAVED OBITO INSTEAD??!!,.. oh I’m sick, this is so evil

That would literally make everything make sense. He derailed the dream so bad that it fucked everything up, making it no longer a perfect world but more similar to reality. If he really was supposed to die, then why did his death have such negative repercussions on everyone he loves? It that was his dream, wouldn’t it be a better world with everybody happy? He wasn’t supposed to die at Kannabi but Hound appeared and saved Obito from a rock, causing a massive butterfly effect.

Pretty romantic if you asked me, “I would leave behind my perfect world just to save you form getting hurt” like damn, it’s not like he remembered that Obito survived at this point in time, but still STOPP I’M DOING IT AGAIN I’M FOCUSING ON THE DETAILS AND NOT THE BIGGER PICTURE AAAA

El cazador de elefantes by Def Con Dos is a pretty good song, hm

Where was I going with this? Don’t remember tbh

This is kinda long, I’m stopping here. Bye internet void ✌️

[osamusbigtits]

it's an odd day for motoya. he's spending time with osamu and osamu alone. they haven't really gotten much one on one time. typically, suna is with them. suna is the one who brought motoya into the relationship.

but sitting here on the couch, watching a cheesy romcom with osamu, motoya wonders if he's doing it wrong. this whole dating his boyfriend's boyfriend thing.

osamu's been very involved with suna and motoya. and motoya never minds; in fact, he loves the added attention. he's gotten time alone with suna, for then to talk and explore and figure things out.

but motoya isn't quite sure where he stands with osamu.

motoya chances a glance over at the man. osamu sits casually, legs spread and an arm thrown on the back of the couch. he checks his phone with every occasional ping. motoya assumes there's a myriad of things osamu must worry about ranging from his restaurant to his twin brother.

motoya checks his phone to a rather apparent lack of notifications. he frowns.

osamu sits up and stretches. motoya shamelessly watches the flex of osamu's muscles and his eyes dart to osamu's tummy when his shirt lifts up and exposes the skin.

"hungry?" osamu asks.

motoya takes a moment to collect himself. "I could eat," he manages to reply.

osamu hums and stands up. "I'll whip us up something real quick, darling," he says and walks away. motoya's face flushes at the pet name.

motoya brings his focus back to the movie. he gets easily immersed in the story. he loves a good romcom, especially one where the main character is stuck in an internal battle of what man to choose.

"there's a clear answer," motoya mutters to himself as the main character hashes out her grievances to her best friend. "the one tried hitting on your best friend."

"you're so cute," a voice appears beside motoya, making him jump. osamu laughs. "sorry, didn't mean to scare you. here you go." he hands over a plate. some rice with some beef in a sauce.

motoya takes the plate happily, always excited to eat osamu's cooking. "nah, I'm just jumpy," motoya says, brushing osamu off.

motoya takes a bite of food and hums in pleasure as the flavors dance along his tongue. even something so simple can taste so good. it makes motoya a little jealous. his cooking skills extend to basic meals, mostly being able to heat up a frozen meal.

"that good?" osamu asks.

"I don't know how you do it," motoya mumbles, taking another bite. "but everything you make is heavenly," motoya finishes with a sigh.

osamu laughs, but when motoya sneaks a look over, he can sew a faint blush on osamu's cheeks.

motoya hesitates. he should ask osamu about cooking, right? why does this feel worse than a first date?

"what got you into cooking?" motoya asks. he watches osamu as he continues to eat, hoping that it was a good question to ask.

osamu lights up. "my ma always brought me and tsumu into the kitchen. she thought cooking was an important skill, and it turned into sort of a hobby for me. in high school is when I really started to cook on my own and try to experiment," osamu rambles with a smile on his face.

"oh yeah! suna's talked about how you would make lunches for him."

osamu flushes. "yeah, my crush wasn't subtle."

motoya giggles. "still took suna a while to notice, didn't it?"

osamu smiles. "it did."

they lapse into silence. osamu continues eating peacefully, a small smile on his face. motoya sets his plate down and let's his mind wander.

"what are... I mean, how do you feel about... me?" motoya asks. he keeps his eyes firmly on the tv, even as he feels osamu peering at him.

osamu hums, taking a moment to think.

"I think you're cute and I do like the time we spend together." heat rushes to motoya's face at the simple compliments. "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better or even date you. but I want to put the ball in your court. yknow? I never want to force you into something you don't want."

motoya takes a moment to think. he plays with a loose thread on the couch.

"can we?" motoya asks and meets osamu's eyes. "date. I mean."

osamu searches motoya's eyes and for a moment, motoya wonders if he shouldn't have asked. but osamu smiles, soft and warm like the smiles he gives to suna. warmth rushes through motoya's chest.

"I would love to, sweetie," osamu murmurs. he reaches out and takes motoya's hand.

motoya relaxes. "thank god. I was a little scared you hated me and thought I was ruining your relationship," motoya admits.

osamu laughs and wraps an arm around motoya's shoulders. "please. rin and I don't need any help ruining our relationship. besides, you're too adorable to hate."

motoya weakly pushes osamu's shoulder. "you're too much."

motoya smiles as osamu kisses his cheek.

why didn't he do this sooner?

[1moreff-creator]

What are some dynamics (in terms of like, foils/parallels) that you enjoy in DRDT?

you’re staring at a forest and asking me for every tree i like. do you want me to write another 28k word post /lh

I jest, of course, but not about the number of interesting foils in this series. It does a fantastic job tying everyone into several key themes in ways that make their dynamics endlessly enriching for my silly little character parallel-loving brain. So, uh, get ready for a long-ish post?

CW: One mention of self-harm, self-loathing

Teruko-David: I mean, you gotta start at the center, yeah? David’s the closest thing to a “main antag” we have, and it’s no wonder; the guy’s built like a standard DR protag, obviously he’s gonna have a cool dynamic with the actual protagonist. 

These two could breathe a bit weird and somehow parallel each other doing it, that’s how much this foil permeates both their characters. From their fatalistic outlooks on the world (“my luck will always be terrible, I’ll always be betrayed” vs “people can’t change, the world sucks”), the ways they hide their feelings (Teruko was more distrustful than she first presented herself as, but cares about people more than she shows during most of CH2; while David has an entire different persona up to 2-11 and then pretends to be worse than he actually is), the self-loathing (Teruko refuses to think she could be a good person, David has the whole “inhuman” thing going on), down to the oddball sibling figure (Terubro “I know nothing about you” Tawaki vs Diana “I’m not even sure you exist” Chiem).

There’s their feelings about Xander and Min, too, which are all over the place. Obviously we all saw in 2-12 how much the British twink fucked both of them up severely, with Teruko rejecting any positive or yearning feelings she may have had about Xander (you can’t hide the cactus scene from us girl) while David vehemently defended him from any criticism. On the other side, Min is less of a narrative poltergeist (for now; XF-Ture exists), but she still comes up with them, with David calling her pathetic eleven episodes after Min hugs Teruko and Teruko’s internal monologue gives away how much she cares about the Student. 

And these parallels play into their weird-ass dynamic very well, because their beefing is founded on their similarities and their differences, out of projecting their self-loathing to someone similar at the same time they hate each other because of their disagreements on things like Xander. Crazy stuff.

Xander-Min: Mentioning these two second because they’re also Eternal Parallels. There’s almost not a single thing about these two that isn’t somehow reflected on the other. If you projected them onto each other’s direction, you would get no perpendicular component. Get it, ‘cuz they’re completely parallel- That is, by far, the nerdiest joke I’ve ever made, I apologize.

But come on. Their attitudes towards fate (the Rebel fighting it and Min resigning herself to the XF-Ture thing), the whole “holding on to the past vs wanting to move on from the past” thing, the similarities between how they actually feel about the education system (they have issues with it) contrasted with the things they actually do in respects to that (Min is still the Ultimate Student, but Xander dislikes that), their already mentioned contrasting connections to Teruko and David… Just, absolutely everything about them is a meaningful contrast. And it comes into play a lot, with their eternal beef being born largely out of these parallels. They’re awesome.

Teruko-Ace: Pretty topical for post-CH2. Ace’s entire arc is sort of a reflection of Teruko’s, yet taken to the extreme because of one particular point of contrast; Ace feared death, Teruko doesn’t think she can die. But he still basically serves as a demonstration of all the flaws in Teruko’s all mindset; the feeling of unchangeable fate, the complete lack of trust, all the good stuff. It basically allows an exploration of Teruko’s mindset from an outside perspective, which makes it easier to see the flaws in it.

Ace-Nico: Also topical, these recap foils go kinda insane. Their motives for murder, their contrasting talents (love for animals on Nico's side and fear of horses on Ace's), the way they relate to the rest of the cast, Ace's persecution complex vs Nico actively disliking how much Hu defends them, etc., it’s all very fun to see play out. 

Ace-Levi: The one who doesn’t care but protects others and tries his best to be a good person so he can be accepted in society without having issues, vs the guy that acts like an asshole because he’s scared of caring too much and he thinks the only way he can get out alive is by being the only one to survive. This leads to a fundamental misunderstanding between them that causes some of the most doomed yaoi of all time, which is the whole “Levi getting frustrated at not understanding Ace.” 

Arei-David: You’ve presumably watched 2-13, so I don’t think I need to explain all the awesome stuff that’s come from their shared themes of “good people” and self-betterment and all that. Not to mention, David’s little breakdown over Arei trusting the letter of the only friend she had being presumably born from the way he saw Xander as the only friend he had. Shit goes crazy.

Arei-Eden: Recap foils… Good people… The choice to be kind… Etc… Woah :O

Teruko-Charles: Ah, Teru’s recap foil. This one’s basically opposite of Ace’s, where Charles used to be sort of like Teruko acted in CH2, but later became a bit friendlier, if still somewhat prickly. Basically, if Ace highlights Teruko’s character traits from CH2, Charles post CH1 serves as more or less the “end goal” in a way. It goes beyond that, too, with the whole memory issues (prosopagnosia vs childhood amnesia) and, again, mysterious siblings (Terubro and Elliot what are your deals), so it’s always neat to rotate these two in the brain.

Veronika-Levi: We really don’t know too much about Vero, which always makes it a bit harder when analyzing these dynamics, but they already got some interesting points of contrast. Neither of them are particularly concerned about the deaths of the others, at least post-CH2 (Levi doesn’t grieve and Vero actively laughs at Ace’s death), but it comes from almost opposite ends of perspective. Levi doesn’t understand others because he doesn’t feel much empathy (if any at all), while Vero seems to treat the others not as people, but almost as characters to be analyzed (that’s the impression I get, at least), which makes her come off as very good at reading people but also occasionally causes her to see them as sources of entertainment first and foremost. Not to mention there’s also the fact they’re both very different people than they were in the past (Levi was some form of delinquent and now is a good person, Vero used to be outdoorsy and then no longer was). Wow that’s… more than I thought there was- How am I finding more interesting foils just by writing more???

Hu-Levi: I kinda talked about this in my CH2 PT2 analysis so read that ig.

J-Rose: A pair of recap foils who haven’t had too much yet, but a lot of their themes, in particular about fate and privilege and stuff, are pretty noticeable with them, so this is always a fun dynamic to consider.

Levi-Arturo: More recap foils, this one’s fun because of the dead family member :) Also things like their talents being related to aesthetics and both doing the things they do for a better life.

Veronika-Hu: This one’s kinda more hypothetical, since Vero in particular hasn’t had as much direct focus as other characters yet, but that’s part of what makes them fun. Past history of self-harm (even if brought on by very different feelings) is just the first of many parallels they could have, and it’s fun to see the contrast between Hu defending Nico to the ends of the Earth and Vero talking about how much she likes Arturo because of how awful he is. They’re really silly.

David-Whit: All the recap foils are fun, but I've always struggled to see this one in particular. Partly because I feel like I know less about Whit than I know about Mai :v Still, certain things like Whit ignoring anything that upsets him which connects to David constantly lying about his real feelings for his fans, which is probably what leads to David's outburst at Whit in the second trial.

Teruko-MonoTV: Because fate. Really this is here plainly because it’s just a funny as hell dynamic to even consider lol.

Teruko-Mai: Have they interacted? Has Mai had enough screen time to truly determine that this parallel truly exists? Do we even know a single theme that Mai’s character touches on for certain? No and it doesn’t matter! Because these two are clearly connected somehow and the whole “someone dearly loved - someone dearly unloved” thing makes me ill. Mai is getting mentioned in this post and you're not stopping it.

Mai-Whit: Fuck it! “We tend to idolize the dead” dynamic!!! It's very speculative, but this one’s just fun to ponder even if we have even less idea of what could be going on between the two than with Mai-Teruko.

Anyways ready for a few themes that run through a lot of characters?

David-Levi-Nico-Rose: The “feeling disconnected from the rest of humanity’s experiences” gang!!!

Min-Rose-Hu-Veronika-Arturo: The “wants to move on from the past” gang!!!

Min-Arei-Teruko-Ace: The “trying to fix mistakes” gang!!!

Teruko-David-Eden-Arei-Levi-Xander: The “what makes a good person?” gang!!!

Teruko-David-Xander-Min-J-Whit-Ace-Rose-MonoTV-Probably everyone else: Fate!!!!

And there’s more than I’m probably forgetting because I can’t possibly check every conceivable connection between these guys. At least I hope I covered most of the major ones. Thanks for the ask, these dynamics are always fun to think about!

[34saveme34]

Single Wrong Step Away from It - a short smg34 fic

3 has a nightmare but not in the way you'd think. He feels awful about it either way.

Words, about 2.2k I think?

---

He walked down a dark corridor, knowing the sight that would greet him. This had been right underneath the crew’s nose and they were none the wiser. It was an all too familiar man with a television for head, looking at monitors. The room was as dark as his desires. And sinister as their plans, fake as the friendships made along the way, except this one.

“I’m so glad you saw my way, SMG3”

“Well, I oughta” 3 chuckled.

“Especially for the amazing amount of intel you could give me! With the information I possess about SMG4, all because of you, we should be able to take over his channel in no time!”

“And this time, for good, I hope at least”

“You got me this time and I assure you I know how to plan things right”

They shared a chuckle.

“I can almost imagine the face SMG4 will make when he realises that our friendship was anything but real!”

“Oh, you’re truly sinister, SMG3! If I knew earlier we could’ve worked together way way earlier”

“What matters is we’re doing this together now!”

They set out finally, together. They had a foolproof plan. SMG3 knew that SMG4 blindly trusted him at this point, and had him wrapped around his finger. The best possible prey. And 3 was getting ready to pounce.

They were walking in a forest together. Nothing but the sounds of the night with them.

“Hey, 4” 3 called out to 4. The fact that he was called 4 caught him off guard a bit, considering that 3 doesn’t use it for him a lot. It made him smile.

“Yea?”

“I was just thinking…” 3 started, a sort of anxiety making it hard to speak for him. Or at least that was what 4 believed.

“Yeah? I’ll listen, dude”

“I’ve just… I’ve known you for so many years… And you know… we have a lot of great memories together”

“Aaaand?” 4 asked with a smile he couldn’t rub off his face.

“I’ve just you know… realised that maybe… there could be more to it” 3 played being flustered perfectly.

“More to it how?” 4 wasn’t giving it so easy.

“Oh, you’re gonna try and make me say it? Dummy” 3 chuckled.

“Well, would be great if you did… but I think you should know my answer” 4 grabbed 3’s hand.

They both laughed.

“Well… I guess I could say that there’s feelings for you in me that are not hatred or just friends… but something more”

4 giggled.

“Something more you say?”

“I’m not giving you any more hints”

“Don’t think I need anymore” 4 cupped 3’s cheeks.

“Go on then”

4 leaned in, finally giving 3 a kiss. It took one decade and while sweet and lowkey, it felt so earned, so…. So perfect. Such a powerful thing.

“I just wanna say one thing though” 3 said after 4 pulled away.

“Anything” 4 was so lovestruck.

“You should’ve been more careful” 3 smirked, but it wasn’t a nice smirk, it was sinister and  it confused and also scared 4.

“What do you mea-” but he couldn’t utter another word, being clapped together between the palms of an all too familiar TV head man. 3 heard the man’s dark laughter. First there was SMG4. Now there wasn’t. Just in a quick swoop, he was no more.

“Genius!” Puzzles applauded 3 “What a perfect setup to get the perfect rating! I approve of your dedication”

“Only the best from the best” 3 chuckled.

“Now to move on to the rest of them..”

~~~

3 woke up. The events in his mind slowly set in. He felt his chest sink. It didn’t actually happen. He wasn’t even the one being betrayed but somehow this felt worse. So much worse. He got out of bed, going to the bathroom to wash of his dream sins. He wished he never even thought about this. He wished he didn’t have such a stupid fear that would haunt him from time to time.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

“Am I truly good?” he asked himself, inspecting himself. Looking at everything wrong about him. There was a lot. He wondered what would happen if he suddenly ended up going that way… Fame was always something that could sway him. He looked deep in the mirror, deep in his eyes, the red in his eyes. He felt confused by it the deeper he looked. Wondering if there was something in him that could break out and he could ruin everything. Lose everything. Make years of friendship look like a joke. He shed a tear. He kept the rest back. He had an urge to cry but it was hard to get out. He wiped his eyes. 

He went back to bed and laid down, trying to sleep again. But all that would haunt him was 4 in his dream, looking so confused, not even given the right to process that he was betrayed by him. The look of horror on him that he swore he saw for half a second. It was scary.

He turned and turned, everything felt uncomfortable, along with his thoughts. He felt hot yet cold, his blanket felt strange and uncomfortable, his pillow was anything but welcoming and his bed felt like a trap to put him in a cycle. He sighed as he sat up.

He went up and made himself a nice, warm glass of milk. With a bit of sugar too. While warming it up, still all he could think about was the idea that he was really wasting his time and he could lose everything any moment. That he could easily snap back and ruin everything. 

The beeping of the microwave snapped him out of it.

He took it and sat by one of the table, sipping away at it quietly. He looked outside to at least somewhat distract himself. It looked so peaceful outside. After finishing his milk, which he really only made because that would sometimes make him feel better, he instead went outside. Midnight air just hits different…..And it did then as well. It felt refreshing, comfortable in a way. 3 could take in a big breath. Although in the end it wasn’t enough but at least he wasn’t suffocating on his thoughts helplessly.

He looked at the castle, knowing exactly where 4’s room was located. Knowing the layout of the room like the back of his hand, knowing, as he looked there where his bed would be located.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t bother him then, that’d be so selfish.

“Besides, what would I say to him?” 3 thought out loud “Ooooh, SMG4, can you comfort me? I had a nightmare! I sound so stupid right now”

Just after he said that, he saw 4’s face pop up in his window. He froze. Did… Did 4 hear him? Oh god…

He saw 4 gesture him to come in. 3 sighed, he wasn’t escaping this now. He went around, not wanting to crawl through the window so he went through the main entrance then to his room’s door. 4 was already standing in the doorway, waiting with his arms crossed.

“So?” 4 asked as 3 stopped in front of him, not saying a word.

“C’mon dude” 4 asked again “I heard something was bothering you”

“Why are you even awake, it’s like 2 AM”

“Video grind. Regardless, I think you’re awake for worse reasons… Something about a nightmare? That I could, saying it with your words, comfort you about?” 4 said the last part with a small grin, obviously teasing 3.

3 slapped him.

“Shut up”

“Oww!”

“Serves you good”

“I’ll shut up if I can listen to you”

3 stared at 4 unamused before sighing the biggest of sighs known to men, feeling a bit flustered alongside it.

“I just had a stupid dream where I betrayed you with the help of Mr Puzzles and I’m scared it could happen in real life, are you happy? That’s what’s keeping me up”

4 looked at him concerned. 3 felt awful.

“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have told you”

“No… No, it’s okay” 4 mustered a smile “It makes me happy when you’re more open with me”

3 chuckled.

“Rare occurrence, right?” 

“Yeah with how much of a tsundere you are”

“I’m NOT! Got it?? I’m anything but that”

4’s smile fell.

“Sure sure… I’ll believe you.”

“I thought you would freak out more”

“Huh? Why would I?”

“At the thought that I had a dream of betraying you”

“3… did you enjoy betraying me?”

3 thought back to the dream, the whole kiss part flustered him a bit.

“3?”

“Uh- Of course not! Why would I? I may be a villain but I’m not… not…” 

“You’re not what?”

“Not… abandoning you. Not after everything”

4 looked at 3.

“Wow, is that still you, SMG3? I never knew you could be so direct… or that you felt that way about me” 4 teased 3.

3 was almost about to tell him off again, but he stopped himself. He calmed himself down with a deep breath. He firmly but with love grabbed 4’s shoulders.

“Are you trying to make fun of the fact that I care about you this much? I never cared so much about anyone. And I’m scared, I’m really scared I could… hurt you again. Do you know how scary it is, feeling the looming possibility of me backstabbing you?” 3 teared up “It’s so scary. I don’t wanna lose you”

4 didn’t know how to respond. He felt a bit flustered by such an admission of care for him. He knew 3 cared about him but all these words coming out of him directly just put a sort of feeling in him that made it just a little harder to stand and a little harder to think.

“3…I know you wouldn’t…”

“But- but what if I have a weird change of heart? And become what I used to be? What if I go and kill you on purpose? Like I’ve wanted to in the past?”

3’s tears wouldn’t stop.

“I- Listen, 3… I get that you have quite the history but um…” 4 took a deep breath. It was his time to be honest. 

“You… honestly amaze me, 3. For all that you’ve gone through I’m… proud of you? In a way… Yes, you tried to kill me and I’m not happy that happened… I’m not happy about so much you’ve done but… to me, you’ve made up for it… If… if you changing isn’t real then- then is anything real?”

“Eheh, you’re exaggerating…”

“No, dude, I’m serious! At this point- At this point I can’t imagine a world you would betray me in… besides… Mr Psychiatrist degree, isn’t this dream of yours kind of OCD adjacent?”

“Well-” 3 thought for a bit “Hate how you’re making sense there…”

“If you… hate it so much, it just shows how much it’s not what you REALLY want… I’d trust that the last thing you’d ever want to do is hurt me”

3 looked down. He had to take a bit to take the words in. 

“3…?” 4 was concerned with the silence but he didn’t need to be concerned for long as he was pulled into a tight hug. 3 buried his face in 4’s neck, still crying a bit so he soaked 4’s shirt, not that he cared. 4 might have but he didn’t that’s for sure. 4 returned the hug, rubbing 3’s back. It wasn’t always the easiest with 3 but these kind of moments were the ones making it all worth it for 4. He would live through so many murder attempts if it meant he could get more of this kind of 3, a 3 that could be so honest. A 3 that could care so much, so much that he could tear the universe apart. He loved it. Especially because he felt similarly. Sometimes he would remember old times and wonder how they couldn’t have been friends earlier but then realising that what they have now… It’s perfect. He would never even think to wish for anything else.

And they didn’t pull away for a long while, it felt like a waste to do so. A question appeared in 3’s mind that wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Say… 4… mind if I… spend the night here…? It’s cool if you don’t want me to- It is… kind of weird for me to ask to anyways”

4 pulled out of the hug.

“I was actually thinking the same thing. Although I don’t have another bed prepared” 

Silence inserted itself between them as they were both looking at each other awkwardly.

“I knew you were gay” 3 said, quoting the legendary video.

“Alright, that’s it, you’re coming to bed with me”

“Ooooh nooooo, what will I ever doooo” 3 said sarcastically.

“Oh, you know. Sleep” 

As they both laid down it felt a bit too real. Sure, they first softened the tension of the idea with jokes but that didn’t mean it would be easy after.

3 looked at the ceiling then at 4. Then at his hand. Although this all felt weird and he didn’t like being so direct- he grabbed 4’s hand, firmly at that. 4 looked at him. They stared into each other’s eyes a bit before 4 smiled.

“I’m glad to have you in my life, 3”

“Ahem, I’m actually more glad to have YOU in MINE” 3 got competitive about it. They both laughed about it then finally fell asleep.

[ellitx]

Helloooow!

Your blog is like nectar to a starving hummingbird in the deseeeeert there is not enough Venti content on the fanfiction side of this fandom istg so THANK YOU for taking care of us Venti fans!

I read through quite a lot of your works (and Venti centered works in general) and I noticed a trend in all of the darlings either being reserved and shy / standoffish or being gentle and incredibly soft-spoken / naive.

No doubt about Venti actually falling for someone like that since opposites attract, but I was wondering if you could imagine him with a more confident and extroverted darling as well?

A type of darling that has a "so what if people will look on? Maybe they want to secretly join in on being silly, too!"- attitude and is non-flirtatiously playful / witty? And perhaps isn't as easily foiled or can see through people's intentions a little more clearly since she has experience with dealing with different personalities.

Someone who would pull all the other shy people into the dancing circle and is pretty good masking embarrassment / faking it until she makes it!

Would it aggravate Venti even more to get her flustered? Or is that a type of darling he wouldn't even bat an eye towards? What do you think?

Extroverted darling is the type who venti will enjoy having a drink with at the tavern

They’d get along pretty quick if darling is able to give the same energy as venti’s, though when it comes to romance, it would take some time for him to fall for them. If in a scenario, darling was the one who fell first, he’ll immediately notice but won’t say a word. He doesn’t want to presume but he does give flirtatious remarks

But if we’re speaking that he’s a yandere, he would enjoy another bright presence. He’d let you run wild and surprisingly he’s not very restrictive. He still wanted you to enjoy life and be yourself. The thing that makes it frightening for yan venti with an extroverted darling is, well, manipulating your feelings.

And if darling fell for him, he’d definitely take advantage of it. He didn’t missed you were throwing hints at him, but he’s feigning ignorance. He wants to hear you say it to him directly. Even if you joked that you love him or you want spend your life together with him, he’ll take that as a confession seriously and claiming you’re “officially” together.

What’s worse is that if you like drinking and you have low alcohol tolerance, he’ll take advantage of it as well. He puts on the bestest-best friend facade with you. Obviously he doesn’t do anything to you when you were getting to know him. Nothing of that sort you’d imagine.

If you get drunk, he’d carry you home and joked about not reaching his level. When you passed out the first time you were with him, you were on your guard. You woke up with the evening sky greeting you and jolting up immediately, you almost knocked Venti out.

He stayed with you throughout the night, accompanying you back to your home as you thanked him for watching over you. It became a norm for you both that either would pass out and the other would care for them. That’s why you prefer drinking with him. You’re guaranteed he’ll handle you if you want to get yourself drunk and have fun dancing at the tavern when he plays his music.

Everything he does are so normal you don’t even see anything malicious.

He’d bring you to the tavern for a drink, chatting on your way there. But upon entering, all seats were occupied. There must be a celebration and a lot of the knights were inside. You all searched from top to bottom for any vacant seats, but none can be found. You can’t go to cat’s tail because of his allergies, and you aren’t letting Venti steal a bottle. Otherwise, you’d be counted as his accomplice.

When one client finally left, he took the seat and you’re just there… standing. He arched his brow and asked you to sit. You’re baffled by his question until he patted his lap with an almost casual confidence, clearly unfazed by the bustling crowd around you.

You hesitated, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. His suggestion was bold, to say the least, and though you were no stranger to his antics, this felt different. You quickly denied but he just sighed and propped his chin on his palm.

Why would you be so embarrassed? You’ve been friends for a long time and frequently flirting back and forth so how was this any different? Everyone in the town already knows how close you are with him. Even Diluc knows your frequent shenanigans with this bard.

His fingers drummed lightly on the wooden table, tapping in rhythm with the music playing nearby, waiting for you to move. The packed room left little space to move, making it clear that finding another seat was out of the question. Eventually, with a resigned sigh, you took a step closer, noticing the faintest glimmer of satisfaction across his face. He shifted, making room for you as his arms rested lightly at his sides, inviting yet unassuming.

You sat on his lap, trying to keep your composure as he adjusted to ensure you were comfortable. When he called the bartender and ordered your usual drinks, you looked away to hide your red face. Usually, you’d brush it off and come up with an excuse, but your mind was running in miles you couldn’t think clearly. You could feel his breath close to your shoulder, relaxing with you there, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

The music grew louder, voices around you rising in cheer, but you found yourself catching his hand drifting over your thighs. At first you ignored it, thinking his hand was just there to rest. But when you felt his palm rubbing up and down your skin, your cheeks warmed up with your mouth agape.

You wanted to scold him, question what was he doing. As you turned to him and opened your mouth, Charles arrived with your drinks, placing the mugs on the table. Venti thanked him, leaving you a bit awkward when he grabbed his drink. You though he finally stopped, and you weren’t going to bother bringing it up to him— assuming it was just his gesture of concern for his best friend— but his hand returned between your thighs.

His fingertips brushed up against your inner thigh, gliding slowly up. You pushed his wrist, the slightest signal to stop and to avoid unnecessary commotion, but he just drank as his fingers ran close between your legs. You tugged his hand but instead he slipped his finger in yours, twining them in place. His eyes were focused straight ahead, expression completely neutral, and unfazed.

Your were so confused, trying to grasp what had gotten to him. Venti was forward, but not this forward. Maybe it’s a sort of gesture to calm you. You were pretty flustered back there when he offered his lap, and you already knew how touchy he was. But this didn’t seem like…

You grabbed your tankard and took a heavy gulp, pushing down any conflicting emotions. Sure, you like him and even joked having feelings for him, but that’s because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

He loves wine and jokes. He sings for every event and playfully flirts. And you? You love him. That sounds stupid but it's the truth. If only you could muster courage and confess to him. If only you could get on his good side to the extent where you two would have romantic kind of moment without the need for alcohol.

You asked Charles for another glass and you didn’t notice his hands crept under your shirt. You were too drunk to differentiate the sensations swarming over your skin. His fingers stroked along the sensitive curve of your stomach, the other arm firm around you as you glanced at him, he didn't seem bothered. His lips moved as if he was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything when the music was too loud and the knights were clamouring. You simply hummed, nodding along to whatever he was saying.

He offered you another glass and you accepted. The drink was stronger this time, or maybe you were finally feeling the weight of each glass catching up to you. The room swayed slightly as you raised the glass, taking another heavy gulp, the world beginning to blur.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the emotions you’d been trying so hard to drown that made the warmth creep into your cheeks, a sensation almost too intense to ignore. Somewhere deep down, you knew you were pushing past your limit, but here, with Venti’s laughter echoing somewhere beside you, it didn’t feel so bad.

He watched you carefully, concern crossing his usually carefree face as you reached for the next drink. His smile lingered, as he subtly moved closer, reaching out a steadying hand as you swayed again. The tavern lights glimmering above in dizzying patterns. You tried to flash him a reassuring smile, but a small giggle left your lips as you felt something ticklish on your stomach.

You were vaguely aware of his fingers brushing against you, grounding you just enough to stop the world from spinning. The voices in the tavern grew more distant, their laughter fading off. Somewhere along the way, you lost count of how many times you’d tried to quiet your thoughts. You leaned your head against his shoulder, watching his lips move, his voice softer, almost soothing, though you couldn’t make out the words. His breath brushed against your ear and you nodded absentmindedly.

The last thing you felt was Venti’s arms wrapping around you, his voice a quiet murmur lost to the noise as he carried you out of the tavern.

[louisisalarrie]

Hey how are u? I really like your point of view so I want to ask you few things that my brain frequently think about.

I’m pretty sure that sooner or later bbg will be unmasked, so how they will handle this? They created Louis’ public image around this baby. They painted him like the perfect father who obv love a lot his child.

I think that the shitstorm where his fans will throw him in will be bigger than everything. You know what I mean his solo fans paint him like the most loyal person in the world who trust his fans a lot and would never betray them. So I’m quite sure that they will start to throw shit on him, plus they’re so obsessed over this poor baby and I see a lot of them saying that if louis is not the father they will leave him cause he is just a gross person who lies to fans.

So, how will they managed it without throw him into a very big shitstorm? Plus when it will happen definitely all will be connect to the Larry situation so: when they do it, will he do also a coming out?

I don’t see it happen without a coming out, because the speculation would be so much bigger than ever and everyone would start saying that Larries were right since the beginning and that he’s a horrible person using a child…

I don’t know I don’t see a easy happy ending :(

okie dokie anon, im gonna answer this in the best way I know how, and tag it a little differently to usual so everyone knows where to find my theories on how they’re gonna end bbg/what’s the best way to end it without ruining louis’ career. anon, welcome to the show sweetcheeks!

After the absolute shit show of a smear campaign that was pushed onto Louis in 2015, of clubbing and being a gross fuckboy taking a million girls home every night, they had to repair said image when they decided this kid was actually gonna be born (in my theory it was Belfast) because to continue on with fuckboy louis when he has a child on the way further down the pregnancy/child is born, it would’ve looked even more fucking worse for one d’s demographic and louis’ image would be irreparable. His image has always hung off family values and long term relationships too, so it’s not super crazy to think “oh, louis has had his fun and now it’s serious he’s gonna buckle down and be a great dad because of his upbringing/family values and he’s a wonderful guy” etc, ya know? Plus the vast majority of one d fans at the time were Larries, we saw through the bullshit and we saw this behaviour wasn’t louis. Mgmt were like “ok if we’re actually gonna see this through, if there’s actually gonna be a child in the picture, he’s gonna have to be a present and loving dad”. It just would’ve been too off brand for him to not be. Hell, the whole fuckboy Louis thing was off brand for him, but they started that, and then had to fucking fix it because an actual child was gonna be born into this mess.

Anyway so louis’ buzzing (looks like he’d rather set himself on fire) and we get heaps of baby content on Insta/from B and her clan etc to really bring it home that louis cares about this kid. This kid is his life and he will do everything he can to be there for it because he’s a good guy (which like… it this was real, they would’ve covered up this baby real quick and silenced the mother and that’s the biggest fucking fault they made in my opinion, shit makes no sense). So yeah, fake baby, happy dad, family values. Cool, alright let’s go.

You are very correct in saying they’ve made louis being a dad a major element in his image. He’s pretty private otherwise, but boy does he love this kid! Which if we base this on how it was meant to end in 2016 with a DNA test so he’d be out free, which didn’t happen for a few reasons, the kid is now older and a paternity test should’ve been taken far earlier and louis’ trying to figure out himself in a solo career and working hard on music and it’s all too much. Not to mention he signed his fucking rights away to SC and still had to deal with this all. But I digress. They didn’t end bbg then, and he didn’t want such a scandal to hinder the beginning of his career because that’s what he’d be known for when starting out as a solo artist. “Oh did you hear about that dude from one direction? His kid isn’t actually his! Holy shit!” would just be on repeat anywhere and everywhere and something like that doesn’t really die down that quick in the media. It just would’ve jumped him off the wrong way after dealing with the heartbreak of his mum passing etc., so things are a little chaotic for him to deal with that as well. (Then the bbg contract gets amended and SC gives him publicity with the X Factor etc, but I won’t get into the contracts side of it right now).

Cool cool cool. So. He’s gonna look like a shit dude for chucking this baby in the spotlight if he’s known for ages. Everyone’s gonna hate him for lying to them. He’s gonna lose his fans. He’s not gonna be able to promo himself for a while because he’ll be “devastated”. Now, let’s have a look at how this can end with fan and GP sympathy on his side, and how they can spin this in a good way.

Now, hear me out.

We’ve talked about a few ways, but the best way to dig him out of this shit show, is simply to go down the paternity route. It just is.

Situation 1: louis and b go to court over F. this works perfectly in his current no music or tour timeframe. It keeps him relevant in the papers while he’s off, and also gives him the excuse to grieve or whatever. This is 100% the best way to do it but it drags it out so long.

- Louis, who is now on break, wants to spend more time with his beloved son little lad, and wants to take him away from B for a while to live in the UK with him and his family for an extended holiday/spend some quality time. B is withholding his son from him and he isn’t allowed to be with him for extended periods of time because B doesn’t like his lifestyle (partying, smoking, etc.)

Or

- maybe B decides Louis’ doing really well in his career so she wants more child support money. He’s getting older, more expensive, and this was all louis’ doing. He took B home, he’s also a multi millionaire, he should be paying way more than what he is!

- maybe B gets married or a long term serious boyfriend and he wants to adopt F because louis’ lifestyle doesn’t allow him to be present as much as he wants to.

Or something else ridiculous that they go to court over. In this theory, they need to go to court 100%.

So, they’re in court over whatever, and B goes “hey well I was actually sleeping with someone else around that time too, I want a paternity test” (because she never pushed for one because she saw $$$) and louis takes one and BAM, he’s actually not F’s father. Holy shit.

So why did a multimillionaire famous boyband member in his early 20’s who was clearly loving partying not demand a paternity test early one? Well, he never bothered to ask because he trusted B. They’d actually been seeing each other for longer than initially thought (like some articles mentioned back in the day LOL) but didn’t want to introduce her to the public because he knows 1d fans would eat her alive and the whole Larry thing etc., so he trusts her. He’s also just a really good dude, sees the best in everyone, trusted her and copped it on the chin and said well yeah… im gonna help raise this dude because I’ve always wanted a son and I have big family values and I fucked up. I’m mature. I’m a good example of what women should look for in a man.

So then shit… the fans and GP find out and he cops the public sympathy and everyone feels sorry for him. This is heartbreaking, he loves that kid so much and now he’s found out he’s not really his dad. The fans are devastated, the GP goes “well it’s stupid he didn’t get one earlier on but this is still really awful for him, poor guy. He’s too nice for his own good, and he was just a kid. Maybe he didn’t think about it. He’s so brave to say this. Heart on his sleeve” etc etc like it’s really not hard to make the GP and fans feel bad for you, even tho some folks may think he was an idiot for not getting one earlier on (which like.. that’s how it was meant to end but it was extended), everyone who’s scrutinised bbg has thought the same at some point. So, anyway, you see what I mean here? This situation ends with him looking like just a silly loving trusting guy, with a big heart. Solos will eat that shit up. I promise you. Anyway, F fades into the background and we don’t see any more content of him. He just… disappears. No one’s gonna question that. F isn’t his son, and he wants to give the kid and B privacy now. A classic example of being a good guy.

So like, this situation also upholds the idea that he’s straight. He’s had sex with a woman, it’s just this kid isn’t his. Anyway, sorted, case closed and we alll eventually move on. It does drag it out but my god does it truly spin some sympathy for him. But if he wants it over and done with quick, this wouldn’t be the way.

Situation 2: louis has known for a while, but him and B are really good friends so he’s helped raise F and helped with funds because the dad left and he wanted to be there for the kid. This brings out the lying factor though, but he truly does feel like a dad!!! He knows what it’s like to not have a father figure there, he wants to give the kid a good life, he’s taken on the role of his dad and he has the money to support B and F, so why wouldn’t he? You know, he has family values. So yeah, he wasn’t lying out of hate, and F knew all along he wasn’t his real dad either, but he gave this kid a great life. Anyway, B gets married or whatever, louis goes “im still gonna be there for F but I trust this guy and he loves F and my career is taking off even further and I can’t be there for him all the time and this guy really wants to be a dad, I’ll step back”. This also works well in terms of good guy louis, and he loves F so much. Public and fan sympathy, a little anger towards the lying but truly he’s just did what he could. He helped B out and now F has a strong and fantastic father figure in his life. Sorted, done. This can be done through an Insta live or a post of him and F explaining stuff, and F fades from the picture. Still upholds the sex with women, but he did get a paternity test ages ago, he’s just a good guy. Anyway, that also works.

You also have a spin on the above situation too though, to make it easier for a coming out. Louis and B never had sex. He’s just a long term good friend of hers and took on that role. He’s always been gay/he never fucked her. Having this onto it, really leaves it a bit more open ended. This is really the only kind of solution to say “hey I’ve been with Harry this whole time and bbg wasn’t a stunt” ya know? Still believable, a bit more murky, but if done well it ends it quicker than a court case. Still looks good for him. Plus, he can say how long he was with Harry and that they wanted to keep their relationship private because they were nervous to come out and yeah. Cool. That’s also done.

The fans might be angry about that one, but it still swings it well. I don’t think they’re gonna hate him. He might lose a few but… yeah. He’s always gonna when he comes out anyway. Yeah. The above is two birds one stone.

Situation 3: it was all a stunt. they just reveal absolutely everything. That’s it.

He’ll lose the most fans by doing this, but also… he’ll gain a lot of public sympathy. Whatever way they end bbg, he will be on the side of public and fan sympathy. He’s always gonna end up with some kind of hate when coming out, but so will Harry. It just… is what it is. Harry’s process has just been a lot smoother without a kid tied to him. But with the screaming of how shit the music industry is to artists, this will call a lot of attention to it all. Might actually make a change. But again, the hardest.

Now the thing with all of the above, right, no matter which way they take it, is that bisexuality exists. Also, sexuality can be fluid, so maybe he didnt figure out he was into dudes until later on in life and him and Harry reunited and it just kind of happened. He had to navigate queerness in a space of homophobia. He felt fucking lost as hell, and Harry helped him. Also public and fan sympathy, also works. Doesn’t put them from the beginning though, like situation 2 and 3 could, but yeah. The current conversation about queerness and how things can change is important and big right now. People would understand.

Both Harry and louis (more so louis) will and should expect fan and public hatred for lying and queerness. But it’s just something they’ll have to cop. They come out, go into hiding for a bit, and then put out a statement and they’re just gonna have to expect some hate. Hell, Harry already gets hate for queerbaiting. It just always will be affected.

To your last point, about using a kid, if they unravel everything then they’ll just shove that blame on SC etc, they had no choice! For the other situations, it may be a little scrutinised but yeah. He’s either silly and too trusting in situation 1, or does see F as his kid and is proud of him in situation 2. Those situations above are how I see a smoother end to bbg. They’re kind of the only way I see it ending. So, SC/marketing gods, if you’re watching, or if this is you, consider one of the above please and let’s end it fucking now.

So there you have it. These situations might seem stupid, but he comes out of it the most unscathed (except option 3 but again, sympathy from fans and public about being controlled like puppets). And I think in all those cases a coming out will happen shortly after, they kind of go hand in hand. But also they might let it die down for a while before announcing anything, but yeah. Speculation is gonna happen. They can’t escape everything.

Any questions or if anything doesn’t make sense because I haven’t had a coffee yet, let me knowwwwwww

Thanks for coming to the show!

[ssaemilyhotchner]

Hey congratulations on the milestone 🥳

Can I request letter A 🫶🏻

hope you enjoy & ty for participating! 🌹

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: A | prompt: adrenaline | wc: 2.1k | cw: alcohol, mostly just them making out bc Emily doesn't get her way lol | a/n: Post-ep for 7x15, "A Thin Line."

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

--

“Prentiss.”

Without looking up from her desk, Emily simply made an unintelligible noise in response.

“Come on, Emily.” Hotch’s voice was gentle yet insistent. He’d been watching her stare blankly at her after-action report for nearly an hour, her leg bouncing rapidly all the while. Idly, he wondered if she’d even be able to bear weight on the leg and found himself moving in a little closer in case he needed to steady her. “I’m taking you home.”

Emily finally raised her gaze to meet his. “I don’t want to go home.”

He nodded knowingly. He had expected as much, knew what the weight of silence in an empty apartment felt like, especially after a case like this one. “Then let’s get a drink. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Emily studied him for a long while: the strength in the set of his jaw, the sharp angle of his body, his hand heavy on the back of her chair. What she really wanted was to be reckless, anything to stave off the dread that had weaseled its way under her skin. Running herself ragged at the gym, maybe, or getting into a fight, or fucking a stranger.

But, she conceded, in lieu of those, there were worse ways to cap the evening than at O’Keefe’s with Hotch. 

--

From the moment they set foot in the bar, their eyes were everywhere but on each other. Even with the bass of the unrecognizable song pounding through them like a heartbeat, silence pressed pointedly between them as Hotch’s mind raced. As he thought about how everything had narrowed to the sight of her emerging from Hilary Ross’s home, blood snaking bright red down her fingers. As he thought about the way fear had dried his mouth, tasting bitter on his tongue.

She had been quick to reassure everyone that she was okay, of course, a demonstration of overcompensation that had only made him more apprehensive. He knew she could feel his eyes on her during their flight home, especially as Morgan had moved to sit by her, clutching her good hand in apology. He had watched Emily’s lips twist teasingly as she once again assured the other man that San Bernardino was not an echo of that warehouse in Boston just a year before.

He had watched as Morgan rose and returned to his previous seat, and Emily’s careful mask crumpled ever so slightly around the edges.

He had watched as her gaze found his and held it, a challenge.

“I’m okay.”

Hotch blinked in surprise; he hadn’t expected she would be the one to broach the topic. He took a long pull of his beer. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

That earned him a trademark Prentiss glare. His lips twitched at the sight, glad her fight wasn’t gone entirely. “I know,” she replied testily.

“Do you? Because your thumb is bleeding from where you’re picking and I don’t think you’ve noticed.” He watched as she snapped back into her body and reached across their small booth for a napkin to staunch the small crescent of blood. “Your first injury in the field since Doyle, and with Morgan as your partner nonetheless,” he said carefully. “What you’re feeling is understandable, Emily.”

“Hotch,” she warned, before downing the rest of her negroni. “Your projecting isn’t exactly making me feel better.”

He raised his hands slightly. “I’m not projecting. I’m just looking out for a friend.”

She knew he was right, of course; no amount of overcompensating could make her do Morgan’s healing for him, but when she closed her eyes, she could still see the all too familiar look on his face as he registered her injury. She didn’t want to be thinking about any of that right now, though, and she certainly didn’t want the play-by-play of her boss profiling her in real time. 

Emily grumbled something that sounded a lot like who died and made you my therapist then pushed herself up onto her feet. “I need another drink.”

--

“I want to dance,” Emily said, several shots later. “And I want you to come with me.”

Hotch frowned pointedly at her sling. “Emily, you need to go home and rest.”

“You’re so serious,” she whined. “Come on, Hotch. Loosen up for a night,” she said with a devious smile. She traced a slender finger around the rim of his glass of whiskey, toying with the idea of getting him another drink—anything to get the tension out of his body. “Please? For me?”

Hotch eyed her pretty pout warily—he had always been a sucker for her doe eyes, and he was beginning to think she knew—then stood and extended his hand. “One dance.”

“Excellent.”

They both knew it wouldn’t just be one. 

Emily hummed contently as they moved in tandem to the beat of the music. His touch was light and respectful but warm, and she found herself leaning into it more and more. Inhibitions blissfully lowered, she dropped her fingers to the curve of his arm to trace a vein there, causing his hip to stutter accidentally against hers. Her gaze snapped up to his then, and her heart pounded at the look of obvious want in his eyes. Her resulting smile was beatific.

“What’s making you smile like that?” Hotch murmured, the low thrum of his voice only stoking her need.

“Nothing,” she said sweetly, biting her bottom lip and watching as his eyes flicked down to her mouth, then back up.

He chuckled. “You’re not a very good liar when you’re tipsy.”

“But you have to admit, I’m a pretty good dancer for someone who got shot less than 24 hours ago,” she said brightly, before looping her good arm around his neck and closing the space between them—the space he’d been trying diligently, if not half-heartedly, to keep.

“That you are.”

Fuck, she felt good as she moved against him. He vaguely registered the alarm bells sounding at the back of his mind at the heat building between them, but Hotch couldn’t think beyond the fact that this was Emily and she was in his arms, just like he had wanted for years. Every glance through his blinds at her in the bullpen, every cup of coffee delivered to him with a smile, every swish of her ponytail when they were paired together in the field, all of it building and cooling and culminating here.

“You were right, by the way,” he said eventually. She made a curious noise in response, the sound turning into a giggle at the shiver she pulled from him as her thumb traced mindless little patterns at the very top of his spine. “I was projecting. I didn’t want you to be alone this evening…but I didn’t want to be, either. I needed to see that you were okay.”

Emily looked up at him, besotted, then took his hand in hers and placed it over her chest. He clenched his jaw at the action; he could feel her heart, strong and racing at his touch, and was instantly consumed by the need to find every way he could elevate her heartbeat. To feel her heartbeat at every join of her, every join of them.

“Feel that?” she whispered, cutting through his reverie. “I’m okay.”

--

He hadn’t meant to kiss her back. Really, he hadn’t.

One minute, they were dancing, their bodies moving in sync as they toed the line of propriety with stolen touches, a nose against a cheek; the next, she was silencing his laugh by pressing her lips to his, rejoicing at the groan that rattled in the back of his throat as he felt her tongue coaxing his mouth open.

Hotch’s grip on her hips tightened, but the taste of gin and campari in her sweet mouth made him channel all of his restraint and pull away. “Emily—”

She moved her lips to the corner of his mouth. “If you even try to stop this,” she whispered, “I will break your jaw.”

Hotch barked out a surprised laugh. “Sweet talker,” he said dryly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Emily grinned widely. “I like the sound of that.”

As he piled her into the car, Hotch felt a pang of guilt at the victorious expression that had flickered across Emily’s face. He knew what she was craving; she needed a release, she needed him, but no matter how much he wanted the same, he knew he couldn’t follow through. Not tonight.

Finally reaching Emily’s place after much giggling and wandering fingers at stop lights, Hotch watched amusedly as she threw herself onto her couch. “Can I get you anything?” He eyed the Bialetti on her stovetop before sitting down beside her. “Some espresso to sober you up?”

“I’m not drunk,” she countered unconvincingly.

He snorted. “How about a different method? Dave shared a hangover trick with me when I was still fresh out of the Seattle field office. You’d just need amaro, which feels like something Emily Prentiss would keep around.”

She gave a throaty laugh at that and the sound shot straight to his groin. “I do have amaro. You are not the only one Dave has ever plied with expensive alcohol and gotten drunk. But,” she said, holding his gaze, “I don’t want to talk about Dave anymore.”

And at that, she straddled him. 

Hotch’s eyes fell shut at the press of Emily’s body against his. There was something about her that triggered the most visceral reactions from him, his throat constricting and chest tightening as her teeth found the shell of his ear, the sensitive spot right below it. Perhaps it was that he had imagined this so many times before: imagined unraveling her carefully constructed exterior and coming undone to her, with her, imagined finding her pulse point with his mouth and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, only now he was actually doing it and she was whining and it was the most exquisite sound he had ever heard. 

Emboldened by the sear of his mouth on her neck, Emily reached for him with renewed determination and urgency, fisting a hand in his shirt and making to tug it upwards over his head. It was the jolt to the present that Hotch needed, and he forced himself away, panting heavily. He wanted her to keep going, wanted to feel her, wanted to press his mouth to more of her, cut through her anxiety and adrenaline right to the core of her and make her fly apart; but instead he dropped his face in the curve of her collarbone and left a kiss there. “Emily, you have no idea how hard it is for me to stop you right now,” he ground out, “but we shouldn’t do this tonight.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea how hard you are,” she purred, rocking her hips against his and rejoicing in his resulting whispered fuck. “I want you, Hotch.”

“And I want you, too. I have for years.” Hotch smiled a little at the pretty blush that colored her already ruddy cheeks at his words. “But regardless of how eloquently you protest, I’m going to feel like I’m taking advantage of you right now,” he said as she opened her mouth to interject, “and I don’t want this to be something you regret tomorrow morning.”

Ghosting her lips against his in a barely-there kiss, Emily slowly shook her head. “I could never regret this,” she whispered. 

“Please, Emily,” Hotch said a final time, stilling her hand as she tried taking her own shirt off this time. He rose to his feet, Emily still wrapped snugly around him. “Not like this. We need to get you to bed.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time,” she said cheekily; but she followed him obediently, flashing him an inviting smile once she had stretched out across her bed. She watched him hungrily as he raked his gaze over her and swallowed thickly. 

Needing the distraction, Hotch slipped away to find ibuprofen and fill her a glass of water. When he returned, she had dressed down and removed her sling, and was staring at him as if he were stupid, but he just shook his head and sat in bed beside her. “You’ve had a really hard day,” he said gently, running a hand through her silky hair. “When the alcohol and adrenaline wear off tomorrow, I’ll be right here, okay?”

“Sometimes I hate that you’re such a good guy,” she said with a concessional sigh; but when she looked at him, all he saw reflected in her gaze was admiration.

Hotch couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. “I’m sorry.”

Emily laughed then, lolling her head to the side to peer at him with tired eyes. “Thanks, Hotch,” she said softly.

“Of course, Emily.”

She was out in a matter of minutes.

[parker-rose]

oh no, more kevjean 😓

[purpurussy]

.

[gibbearish]

btw its interesting the way james tries to imply that like. well the videos that have plagiarism are the ones our dumb stupid annoying patrons requested about bad topics that didnt deserve to have the effort put in to covering them well so basically its fine. like obv thats interesting on its own but moreso the fact that he doesnt actually /say/ it, or like. give a list of the videos hes referring to, just says "those videos are very clear on which ones they were" i think as a nod meaning like "yknow the ones everyones talking about". unless what hes meaning is that like they put a note in certain videos saying "this video was requested by a patron, we here at james somertom incorporated do not espouse these views" which seems unlikely to me. idk methinks maybe it's because there is indeed a lot more than people think and with all the buzz he's not sure which ones have been discovered yet or not, so putting down a solid list that missed some would look like he was still hiding things whereas putting down a fully sourced list would be admitting to wayyyy more than anyone's found yet