#which at this point don’t care never see ur father again i don’t know man

[lilgynt]

i’m gonna blow my brothers up with my brain

[kirascottage]

dating jj maybank

jj maybank x gender neutral. reader

word count: 1.8k

cw: headcanons, overall domestic fluff, angst if you squint till ur visions blurry, mentions of poor emotional expression, mentions of sex / sexual innuendos, mentions of fighting / injury, strong pda, kissing, consensual groping, swearing, soft!jj

okay so this is the first time i’ve ever written dating headcanons so i’m gonna try my best

• jj and expressing emotions are a very complicated duo and almost everyone knows it, including you. he knows how he feels for you, and feels it strongly, but the way it comes out of his mouth is like gibberish and completely not understandable. 

“so you know — like — i don’t know, man. i feel heavy for you, like do you feel heavy for me, too?”

“jj, i don’t even know what heavy means in this context and what you’re referring to.”

• but he comes from a good place, and you come to know, learn and love that, because well he loves you, and with jj you just have to infer by his mess of words.

• this boy tries to be as romantic as possible but he’s literally never had a s/o before. the only thing he knows are one nighters so there is a lot that pope and john b advise him on because miscommunication is quite literally the worst. (stated by john b himself)

• for this instance and the sake of the headcanons: you are a member of the pogues, through and through.

• so most of the time you’re together, the pogues are there too. even dates. they love to occupy and jj could shout at the top of his lungs how they are the biggest cock-blockers to ever exist and they would not care. 

• so at that point he doesn’t even try to keep his hands to himself, he will touch you or quite literally make out with you in front of anyone and everyone he can.

• i mean he can get a little protective. (also considering he would never let you around his dad because he wants to protect you and would never let you near anyone that could hurt you) 

• i mean this guy would fight for you till the very end; punches thrown countless of times and harsh words absolutely shouted more times than you could count on your fingers, but no matter how many times you chastise jj, he would never stop to defend your honour because at the end of the night you’re the one playing with his hair and kissing his cuts and bruises.

• especially after everything as well with rafe, topper and the kooks he just wants everyone (including the tourons you see once a millennium) to know that you and him are romantically involved and you are very much taken.

• he even lets the most irrelevant people know the both of you are dating because he loves you that much:

“okay, babe, here me out—”

“jj a whole group of kids just asked me about our relationship! i love you, but the whole population does not need to know that we’re together.”

“obviously we can't tell the whole population! or I would, duh.”

•  even though he could blabber on about everything about you, including what shampoo you use and which perfume of yours is his favourite, affection is more his style: 

• this includes walking around with his hand in your back pocket because wearing anything but jean shorts is really not an option in that heat, (and this does include ass grabbing at every opportunity he can)—

• — his hand gently placed on your thigh while driving / while he’s next to you, interlocking pinkies 98% of the time as you walk together —

• — and peppering kisses is always happening. whether they’re ticking at your checks, suffocating your neck or affectionately placed on your forehead he’s always kissing you.

• other key, and essential, things that come to mind are that his arm is always around you; after everything that’s happened to him he just needs to physically know you’re there and that’s enough to subdue him.

• it’s almost routine for him arm to go around your waist or your shoulder, whether you’re tall or short, tbh he doesn’t really care, his arms and lips are always on you.

• dating jj is dating a teenage boy with absolutely no impulse control and zero control over what he says—

“I mean, dude, if you think about it, why isn’t a banana called a yellow if an orange is called an orange? and why are phones called ‘telephones’ like who the fuck came up with that crap?”

or

“i mean, hey, we could bang out here and it’s not like anyone would know. like jb could be out in the living room and be like clueless.”

“jj, there’s two windows pointing directly at us. i think he would know.”

• —if you don’t understand then he definitely does not either.

• you also flip each other off a lot and people are like ??? but you both are like — fuck you —(affectionate & full of love with my middle fingers)

• one thing he does know is how to flatter you, whether he’s obnoxiously winking at you or bringing you flowers with his tips from work, or he picked them himself, it’s all in the effort.

• any effort from you is like kids getting their favourite toy they’ve been wanting on christmas, for instance: anytime you bring him food, or offer to stay with him at john b’s is like swelling up his heart to the maximum.

• so when he’s not with you, or the pogues, which is rare he is outside. and jj is like diego the explorer he always finds little places just for himself, or for this instance with you.

• so a lot of dates include going to these secluded spots: sometimes it’s a picnic, or a walk, and stargazing is his absolute favourite as he listens to you drone on about the constellations and even just watching the sky with your presence next to him is so comforting and makes him feel safe. 

• of course when the pogues find out they’re brutal with their teasing.

“awww, look at the cute and happy couple!”

“my wittle babies, growing up so fast.”

“god, kie, you make it sound like we’re five?!”

• speaking of alone time, jj loves to cuddle when you guys are alone and that’s one thing he’s not fond of being teased about.

• his head is firm on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and his leg flung over your hips. to him it’s just a perfect way to start and end the day.

• he also loves to watch movies while cuddling and he has a set of movies and their genres completely memorized for the occasion.

• he has such a good memory to the weirdest things. like he can state in the exact order your makeup routine, or talk about all the caves and sinkholes in yukatan but ask him how many states there are in america and he’s completely bummed.

• back to what i was saying, cuddling and movie times together.

• he’s the little spoon i will not argue with anyone about this, especially if something happened that day.

• like if rafe pissed him off, some kooks stepped on his toes, his dad had been particularly agitated that day or he was just frustrated. your embrace is what keeps his together. he just loves the feeling of your arms around him, essentially protecting him.

• and the pogues always get a kick out of it when they see you too snuggled in the morning. they even take pictures, a lot of pictures of everything and anything they can. 

• their fav times to take pictures is when you both are off guard: like when he’s putting his hat on you, he’s sharing his juul with you, you guys are laying together on the boat or maybe your surfing together in the water.

• he’s surprisingly intimate about everything even though they’re such mundane things for him.

• he expresses his love for you by actions rather than words. for example, he has a guitar (an absolutely beat up one with missing strings and chipped wood, but he says it has more character that way as well as your signature on the back of it)—

• —and just strums it for you absolutely whenever and however your mood is because no matter what its always calming. sometimes he even hums a little tune or starts singing a bit.  

• another few ways he depicts his love for you is by shoving his baseball hat on your head (the one that absolutely nobody is allowed to wear) because he doesn’t want you frying in the sun or dying of heatstroke.

• a lot of his tank tops are now yours because they’re so comfortable and you can wear them literally anywhere.

• he shares, only with you but, he shares. his rings are on your fingers, his bandana is around your neck, his boxers are your sleep shorts, and he absolutely eats that shit up.

• he also gets extremely comfortable with you, like even more than john b in a way. example: you could just be chilling, his arm wrapped around your neck and — boom — he’s shoving your face in his armpit and trying to tickle you.

• it gets to the point where the pogues are so used to it and sometimes even they join in because they even like being included in on your affections but would absolutely rather drown than admit it. they love watching their two best friends love grow for each other, and they're happy jj has found sanctuary to love and be with someone freely. 

• speaking of love, jj is also like a puppy: praise, reassurance and kisses are the way to his heart and staying there.

• i’m gonna say it, jj has self confidence and love issues. they are not detectable at all but with his mother gone and the way his father treated him, there’s shit buried in his heart that it takes awhile for him to open up about.

• once he does: he cries, and he cried a lot. but after that it was like never letting go again. he trusts you with his whole heart and soul and he knows you won’t take advantage of that.

• the way you both accept each other into each others lives is so important to him no matter where you live, who you are and what your family is like everything counts for him and that just makes you the person who you are. 

• dating jj can be complicated and messy and wonderful and passionate and relationships aren’t easy but he would def be worth it <3

[morgana-ren]

SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom? 

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that. 

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then? 

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track. 

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him. 

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves. 

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up. 

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right. 

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins. 

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol 

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move? 

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will 

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t. 

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

 ‘Maybe I will.’ 

That’s how it starts. 

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties. 

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils. 

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now. 

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties. 

“Shit-” 

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-”  He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you.  “Yeah- yeah, sure.” 

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.” 

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

[therealvinelle]

What if Bella got possessed by a demon in Twilight? Like pretty standard, The Exorcist type of stuff.

A lot of you anons should just head on to Ao3 instead of my inbox because whereever you went with this fic idea, I’m sure it’d be delightful. Lulzy, but an absolute delight.

Since you say Twilight, I’ll just set the timeline to the beginning of the series, when Bella has just arrived in Forks. She got possessed just before leaving, as Renée wanted to try an ouija board.

So, for the purposes of this ask, demons are real within the Twilight universe. They have to be very few and far in between, though, since humans don’t know about them and they presumably don’t care about following the Volturi law.

Bella is Reagan and the demon Pazuzu has taken up residence within her.

As happened in The Exorcist, this isn’t very noticeable at first. Bella starts saying some messed up things, yes, enough so that the other kids at school avoid her and the teachers give Charlie a call, but she’s not running down the stairs like a spider. Charlie is worried about her behavior and calls Renée about this, but he’s not dialing up any priests just yet.

Well, Bella gets worse.

Edward, for the record, was interested in this delicious smelling girl with the mystery box brain up until she started spouting profanities in the hallways at other students. Not being able to read her mind, he assumes Bella Swan is just like that. There’s no challenge, no reward, nothing to keeping her alive, his only real reason for not eating her at this point is Carlisle. Though his sheer distaste at that vulgar human who dares to tempt him so makes him resistent to drinking her blood, just out of spite. She’s not his perfect damsel with the delicious blood, and that ruins a lot of the appeal. Not all, mind, because that blood is still delicious.

Though it does help when she’s pulled out of school. Edward can pretend vulgar hamburger doesn’t exist, even as he ruffles through her wardrobe for sweaters to huff.

Back to Charlie, whose daughter is now running down the stairs like the spider.

He sends her to every shrink he can afford, has all the doctors in Forks look at her, and none of them give him an answer he can believe. He’s at his wit’s end.

And this affliction, whatever it is, that’s affecting Bella, it doesn’t seem natural, not human. She speaks in tongues, sexually assaults herself (yes, this happens in the movie), growls and hisses like an animal, in every way acts like- well, whatever it is, Charlie’s ability to deny that this his daughter’s affliction is supernatural in origin is growing thin.

But none of the shrinks can help him with that, and Charlie is a “lapsed Lutheran”, so I doubt priests is something he’ll consider all that seriously. He needs occult help, yes, but from someone who will actually help Bella.

His mind turns towards Carlisle Cullen and his children, and how Billy reacted when they moved into town.

Charlie laughed off his friends’ fears then, thought it was ridiculous to believe the Cullens could ever be anything but human. He dismissed their unusual looks as just that, unusual looks, their too-good-to-be-true cover story as them being that wonderful, and was quite happy about it.

That was then, now his daughter is fast becoming proof that the occult is indeed real.

And Dr. Cullen is so very kind, excellent in his work as a doctor and above all knowledgeable.

Say that Billy was right, that these guys aren’t as human as they appear. Well, that makes them the only people in the world, in Charlie’s world anyhow, who might be able to help.

Which is how Carlisle has the town chief walk into his office, tell him his daughter is possessed by a demon, and that Carlisle has to come over and have a look at her.

Now, as I think demons would be extremely rare, we’ll allow that Carlisle with all likelihood hasn’t seen any of these before. Quite the contrary, he was once a man who persecuted women suspected of witchcraft. He understands Charlie a little too well, but is also not touching this exorcism quest with a ten-foot pole.

Except, the chief seems convinced that Carlisle himself isn’t entirely human.

What would a human doctor do?

Carlisle really has no choice here but to come with Charlie. Besides, no matter how one looks at it what Charlie said about Bella is highly disturbing, the girl obviously needs medical attention.

So Carlisle has a look at Bella, and his “ahahaha we’re all human in here” smile quickly stiffens as he finds that whatever’s going on with Bella, it is indeed not human. She’s spitting green goo, talking Latin backwards, inhumanly strong, impersonating Carlisle’s father, and depending on how closely we follow Pazuzu’s actions in The Exorcist she may have killed a man. There’s scars on her body spelling out pleas for help.

It becomes clear to Carlisle that this girl really does need an exorcism. Or something, anyway, this is terrifying new territory for him.

But he has neither any clue nor the authority to perform an exorcism, and he lacks the network to get his hands on a human priest who’ll do this. More, even if humans could help (and considering how misinformed they are about vampires, the odds of that are extremely slim), involving more humans than have already been pulled into this would not make the Volturi happy.

There’s really only one place to go where someone will have the resources to help this suffering human, and that’s Volterra.

There’s a risk that demons are like immortal children and Aro will kill her on the spot, but Carlisle, still spooked from father Cullen’s voice coming out of this 17-year-old girl in the 21st century, has no other recourse.

So he tells Charlie he’s taking Bella somewhere Charlie can’t follow, and it’s likely they’ll never see each other again, even if Bella is saved. Charlie is devastated, but the promise that his daughter could get better means he can’t refuse. Just the fact that Carlisle isn’t entirely human yet benign makes him the best help Charlie is able to get her.

Carlisle takes Bella to Volterra, where Aro puts on his best Max von Sydow impression and says “Ah, demons... I’ve seen this once before, in the memories of a merchant from Ur...”

Knowing Aro while not knowing the lore of The Exorcist well enough to know what to do about a demon possession if you don’t have a Catholic priest on hand, I imagine Aro dresses up in whatever it is that Sumerian priests wore thousands of years ago (he always told Caius those bedazzled costumes would come in handy someday, and look who was right! VINDICATION) and tricks Pazuzu into possessing one of the humans Heidi brought in instead. This human is promptly killed. Ta-da, Aro smiles to Carlisle, he solved the problem!

Bella wakes up surrounded by insanely beautiful people in an underground palace in Italy and remembers nothing. Carlisle gets the honor of explaining to this human girl that she was possessed by a demon, Charlie asked Carlisle to fix it, and now the nice man who makes jingling noises whenever he moves because he’s dressed head to toe in gold wants her to be a different kind of demon because he can’t read her mind.

Bella caught maybe half of that.

Carlisle refuses to elaborate on the “possessed by a demon” part. No, Bella, you did nothing embarrassing, no one thought you were weird. We hardly noticed you were possessed at all!

But he was serious about that last part, Aro noticed she has a special ability so he’d like for her to become a vampire.

Bella, still, overwhelmed, makes a phone call to Charlie explaining nothing at all but assuring him that the demon is gone. She is then made a vampire.

Edward arrives too late to the party, so late that the party is in fact over, as he didn’t believe Carlisle when he said hamburger was possessed by a demon. Now it turns out that the disgusting, vulgar girl was in fact a delicate flower and a damsel in distress this whole time. Except, now she’s a vampire. Woe! Theirs is a love that never bloomed.

Bella has no idea who this guy is, and asks Renata to make him go away.

[sweetsbfreex]

lethologica

when you can’t think of the word for something...like this fic </3

Summary: Harry’s family navigating his impending fame, and the activity of reader and harry making their first belly cast

Warnings: fluff, slight angst?

Pairing: Husband, Dad!Harry x reader 

“Hey! We’re back!” you yelled out, Harry following closely behind you as he shut the door,  carefully slipping off your sneakers. It was pretty late at least for the two of you now. The sun was away, you and H coming back from your well deserved date night. 

At the familiar sound of the slamming door came the different steps of your kids. Shuffling down the steps from your view you could see the face of your oldest ahead of the covey, bolting towards the two of you. The various sounds of ‘mom’,’mummy’, and ‘dad’ spoken out. 

“You guys took forever” Sydnie; seventeen, was the first to say, exasperated as she latched onto you. But was quickly shuffled away by the twins. “Bloo” the seven year old was born a Penelope, but after watching her favorite show Winx Club when she was three. Demanded she be called after her favorite character Bloom, but couldn’t pronounce the name all the way through. If you had called her by official name she wouldn’t respond, going on about her day as if no one was there. And it had stuck since then, forever the stubborn one only to grow into a sweet, shy little girl.

 And Alec, fraternal twins who had just turned seven.

“Careful babies the baby, remember” Harry lightly reminded. With that reminder he had loosened his secure hold.

“Well sorry” you teased, kissing all their forehead quickly “But we bought you guys some food too” you reported, holding up the labeled bag.

They responded with excited statements, as Sydnie took the bag from your hold, running to the kitchen with her siblings. 

“My hugs!” Harry yelled out, hands cupping his mouth then putting his brawny arms out like a plane awaiting their bodies to clash into his. “ought to take away your allowance for that one” Harry teases, fingers stretching out to tickle anywhere they could. 

As a result he got a lively mix of groans, laughs, and pleas.

“Joking” Harry says abruptly, kissing each of their cheeks before conducting all of you to the kitchen, assisting the twins into their own seatings at the kitchen. The light above all of you illuminating the room.

Embarrassingly enough it had been when you were pulling the plastic containers from the brown bag that you realized you were missing a kid. 

“Where’s your brother?” you asked, opening Bloo’s Spaghetti and spreading it on the white plate.

“Talking to his girlfriend” Sydnie air quoted, rolling her father-like eyes.

“Why do you say it like that?” Harry asked, wonderingly his back turned, reaching for the Placemats, setting them in front of each child. Placing one in front of an empty stool for Chase. 

“Daddy, he’s delusional! I’ve told him a million times. She found out his last name, connected the dots, and now she’s interested. I would know it’s happened to me hundreds of times since middle school” she said indignantly.

Finishing the last plate up, from the side of your eyes you could see and sense his deflation at the statement. Always overthinking about their last names and what it would entail as they grow up with Harry Styles as their father. His top five worry ever since the first time you were pregnant. His breaking point, however, had been when Sydnie came home, furious. From a day from school finding out that some girl in her class had tried getting closer to her with ill intentions. 

He could also sense the worry that washed over you, catching your eye to let you know he was fine. 

“He’s old enough to know better. He’ll be fine Syd,” you let her know, reaching your hand to fix the hoodie that overshadowed her precious face.

“I wasn’t, it sucks and he’s not taking me seriously”

“Cause you’re full of it” shifting your eyes to the doorway, the sixteen-year-old walked in towards you. His arm over your shoulders before placing a kiss to your cheek. Then making his way to his dad, who had pulled him in setting a kiss to his temple. 

“You say that but just you wait!” she walked over to him quickly, flicking his the back of his head, shifting her way over to the fridge before he could retaliate. Pulling out a drink and some cups for everyone else, almost bustling into you, as you made your way to the microwave.

“Don’t wish that on your brother” Harry persisted.

“I’m not, but he better not come crying to me”

"Whatever” he paid her no mind, shifting the conversation to his parents. “How was your date?” he asked, setting himself at the island. 

“‘Was fine we went to the arcade, I beat mum’s butt––”

“He’s lying, I beat him at air hockey”

“Just air hockey mum?” Bloo asked, a slight lisp from her missing front teeth. Her attention strayed away while Sydnie placed her cup in front of her, filling it with juice.

“Sadly” you mimicked a pout, Harry smiling with a smug grin. 

“Then went to dinner. Guess what” he exclaimed, directing his energy towards Alec”

“Mummy looked so pretty tonight, some chum couldn’t stop eyeing her. So I had to give him a knuckle” he told the story, raising his fist and mirthfully brought it to Alec’s stomach. Eliciting giggles from his which bounced off to Bloo. The rest of you with gratified smiles at the meaningful interaction. 

“Why are you such a fibber tonight” you urged Harry, smacking his shoulder. 

“I’m not lying” he said, walking to you till he was hovering over your back, trying to annoy you with his insistent cheek kisses.

“Go away” you whined, faking your displeasure, shrugging your shoulders. The kids could note your slight smile except for him.

“Go away” he mocked.

“We all know you wouldn’t hurt a fly” Chase pointed out correctly. Thanking you as you set his plate of food in front of him. 

Harry stood across the herd,resting back against the quartz countertop, arms crossed. Until you cuddled yourself into his side. His arm reaching down so his thumb could rub against the side of your belly. Your arms encircled around his waist, head on his chest.

“Not true” he replied. 

“It’s okay, it’s why I married you” you sweetly said with a smile adoring your face. He could only look down at you with a close lipped smile reflecting yours, his dimple digging deep. Leaning down to kiss you, filling you up with his love for you. 

Both of you had pulled away abruptly from the range of disgusted protests and a slam of an utensil. All except for sweet, shy Bloo. Who had watched with a smile on her face idolizing the love of her parents, swearing it was like the Disney movies. Like her favorite Princess and the Frog.

“We’re trying to eat!” Chase had said dramatically, pasta in his mouth. Sydnie covers her eyes with both hands, while Alec stuck out his tongue finger to his mouth. 

“None of you would be here, if it wasn’t for this” you emphasized, your finger waving between you and H. 

“No duh, you both won’t stop having children” Sydnie overstated, shuddering stagy. 

- 

It was late now, all of you stayed downstairs, more overdue than intended. The twins went down an hour early before the other two. Chase and Sydnie finished their meals for the night and instead of leaving, stayed up talking to their parents.

In your sleep shorts and a light weight tank top, your hands were in Harry’s who was massaging them softly. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked feebly, peeking up at the overly focused man. 

“We’ve had this conversation a handful of times, don’t see why we need to have it again” he replied, glancing at you quickly.

“I know, but it might make you feel a little better” you tried again not wanting to push him too far. 

“I–It’s just” he had to stop for a minute, his throat closing up too much to even speak clearly. You propped yourself up against the headboard, your lower back aching a little bit, adjusting Harry so his red tainted face was laid on your shoulder. 

You could only coo at him, kissing his forehead, while your hand ran laxly on the side of his face. Your fingers brushing against the slight scruff against his cheek. Before moving your arm so your hand could massage his scalp at the back of his neck. Letting your fingers run through his lengthy hair at the same time. Your other arm reaches over to pluck a piece of tissue from the box, wiping under his nose softly. 

“Just want them to have a normal life like you and me, it isn’t fair to them that they’ve got to deal with shit like this constantly because of me”

“Baby don’t say that, regardless of it all they’d still have to go through life meeting awful people”

“It isn’t the same y/n, with people like them they know the reason is because of their stupid last name.”

“H” you start sternly, rocking the both of you slowly “Don’t say stuff like that, you think if they had to choose you wouldn’t be their dad? They cherish you so much. I know it sucks I do, but you’re an amazing dad, there’s no one better for them. They would never hold something like that against you, they love you too much to”

“You’re a brilliant mum too. I’m sorry”

“You don’t need to apologize baby” You stopped rocking the two of you slowly, smiling down at him only to see: glossy somber eyes, a subtle simper, and a hiccuping chest.  

-

“Stomachs getting bigger” he stated, his hand rubbing against your stomach absentmindedly.

“Thank you baby, just what every girl wants to hear” 

“No! Not like that beautiful. Just meant now people can see your pregnant again”

“I’m teasing H, I promise the hormones haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Finally get to sleep with ur boobs in front of me every night” He said smugly, naturally looking at you for his favourable reaction.

“You’re such a child” you return, pinching his arm lightly “You wouldn’t want to put it in the nursery?” you ask.

“Wherever you want angel”

That radiant morning led you to now, an impromptu family trip to Target, the kids getting whatever their hearts desired–– to an extent–– while you and Harry stood here astonished by the arrays of different casting kits. 

You raise your conjoined hands to point your finger at a baby blue box.

“That one? Genie told me that’s the one she bought” you queried.

He inspected it, twisting the box practically reading every word, before turning to look at the ingredients. 

“H you probably don’t know what half of those things are”

He shrugged his shoulder in response, looking at the box one last time. “Sure it was this one?” 

“Positive”

You were both meant to go find the kids until they had bustled around the corner, Chase pushing the loaded cart while everyone walked ahead. At the view of his parents. Alec had run ahead towards the two of you a motor car in his hand. 

“Mummy! Daddy! May I get this please?” he asked, raising the toy above his head. 

“Can I get this too please?” Bloo asked quietly, a lego set sat up in her palms.

“You guys were meant to keep them away from the toys” Harry told the older two. Knowing this would just add to their continual influx of toys. “Yes you guys can, go ahead and put it in the cart”

Alec had done his little dance, skipping his way back to the cart while Bloo walked herself carefully. Placing her set down as low as she could without causing any noise or crushing anything else. 

“You both get everything you need?” you asked, following after the twins along with Harry, placing the kit into the cart. 

You looked down at everything noticing some groceries, a few skincare items, a book, something for their rooms, and other things you couldn’t find that laid underneath everything else.  

“Yep, ready to leave when you are” Sydnie had responded.

“Okay let’s head out, Styles” Harry exclaimed, as low as he could, to not disrupt anyone else, Clapping his ringed hands together once.

“Dude, you’re such a dad” Chase quipped.

“Almost like I’ve been raising kids for seventeen years huh?” He jested back, eyes opening wide in faux disbelief, traveling to bother Chase some more. 

Giggling at the two, you looked down when you felt a body pressing into your leg. Familiar arms around your thigh. A distraught Bloo, looking up at you, her chin resting against your thigh.

“What is it, baby?” you asked, softly, tuning out the rest of your family.

“There’s a lady over there. She keeps looking at us” she informed you, pointing her dainty finger discreetly as she could to the woman at the end of the aisle. 

Being only seven the twins had a mutual understanding on why their dad had to leave at times, but that decreased once more when you had fallen pregnant again. They understood all the rules. 

a) if anyone was ever following, acting suspiciously always let mum or dad know–– if dad was there, definitely dad. b) never talk back to the idiots with the bulky cameras. c) Be careful who you talk to and what you say, some people aren’t always what they may seem. 

“H” you called him over.

He walked over to the two of you, eyebrows elevated in question. His hand instinctively brushing over bloo’s hair.

“Uhm maybe we should send the kids to checkout” you tilted your head backward at the not so prudent woman with the shocked face. Her phone pointing towards the two of you. 

You undoubtedly saw the happiness of his face shift to one of vexation and frustration as he glanced quickly, shrewdly at the woman. He extended his hand out to rub your elbow soothingly, nodding wearily. 

He turned to the kids, masking his face as best as he could. “You guys go ahead and save a spot for us, me and your mum are gonna grab one last thing”

They didn’t care much, just wanting to get home as quickly as they could, Sydnie grabbing both of the twins’ hands. 

-

Harry had kindly walked up to the woman, a displayed smile on his face, asking her to delete whatever she had managed to collect. You watched the encounter from the side, rubbing your belly softly, filled with mild angst. 

She had apologized profusely (the embarrassment seeping in her voice), the kindness in Harry letting her know it was fine as long as he could watch her delete everything. 

From her camera roll, Harry could see a video still of before the kids came, when you and him were looking for a casting kit. And some other videos of the family loitering in the target section. 

He bid her a tight-lipped goodbye, after he kindly asked her again, though it was starting to run low, to go to her recently deleted–– he wasn’t the most tech savvy but he also wasn’t an idiot. Once that was ultimately done, he locked your hand into his. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, securing your other arm up to wind around his.

“Just tired of the bullshit...” he sighed. He was just happy that he was able to protect his family this time. 

You halt him swiftly; he looks back at you in confusion, until you lug him down for as much of a hug as you could. Feeling his shoulders sag in relaxation and his arms winding around your waist. 

-

You stood next to Harry, in front of one of the sinks, reading the instructions. 

“So we start with the lubricant first, use these...” holding up a roll of the plaster tape “dip them into warm water, and just putting them on” you informed Harry of your summary.

He nodded, his lip between his fingers as his eyes roamed over the paper once again. “I’ll go get you a chair, pee before we start” He yelled over his shoulder.

He walked back in, a wooden chair between his hands. Setting it to the floor gently, smiling at you to take a seat. Walking back to the sink,resting his hip against the packet of lubricant in his hand. 

You smiled back at him as you took your seat. Deeming it be fit to wear running shorts and a tank top. Harry only in a pair of his joggers. Surprisingly after four kids, this was your first time trying a belly cast and you were a bit nervous wanting it to look just as perfect as it could–– adding your husband being a precisionist into the mix there was no guessing how this would turn out. 

“Take off your top” Harry said smugly, bringing the white packet to his teeth– side eying you–– while he ripped it off. Turning to start the camera propped up on the counter. You insisted this had to be recorded as a little keepsake for the two of you. 

You could only roll your eyes, trying hard not to feed into his ego. But the heat rising from your neck reported him otherwise. Tucking your arms back in the arm holes and raising the shirt off your body. Your body is bare except for the shorts adorning your legs. 

Ogling at you like a caveman playfully at the sight of your boobs out and about, eliciting quick giggles from you. He walked up to you clasping your face between his palms, pressing your aglow cheeks together lightly–– the white, cold packet sitting against your left cheek lightly. Giving you three earnest kisses to your lips and leaning down in front of you, giving a peck to your belly button. 

He squeezed some of the lubricant onto his fingers, deciding to start under your belly. You hissed at the sudden coldness hitting your skin. 

“Okay?” he asked, eyes a bit wide and mouth slightly open.

“A little cold, but you can continue” you let him know. 

He got at it quickly, once he finished that area he stood up a bit getting the sides of your stomach coated. Once he had finished, you stood up looking in the mirror at the shine of your stomach. 

“Now for the fun part” clapping your palms together sitting back down, wistfully watching Harry wash his hands of the substance. He got the scissors cutting the strips of various sizes. Walking to you at times to make sure it fits properly. 

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I was next to you’ you asked.

Only to be replied with ‘No reason to have you on your feet, if I can walk to you.’ He unquestionably is just a bag of sunshine and everything good in the world.

Filling the sink with warmish water and placing on gloves. Snapping it on dramatically as if he was a doctor in a drama series.  

“Dork”  

He walked over with the first strip in his hand, water dripping behind him as he stepped closer to you. You pulled out your phone quickly wanting to capture a cute picture of this. Right as he placed the first strip you snapped the image. The only thing being seen was your protruded belly and below, his hands placing the plaster tape to your stomach, and a small tuft of his hair from the top of the picture. 

He pulled away proudly, smiling down at his work, with his hands on his hips. “Look at that, looks perfect huh?”

“You’re doing good so far H” you confirmed.

-

It was only fifteen minutes later, half of your stomach–– and that wasn’t saying much.

“Baby it’s fine we’ll just sand it down” you tried to convince H for the last time, but he was stubborn as ever.

His mouth open in excessive concentration, puzzled brows pulled together as he removed the plaster for the fifth time. And from your point of view, you swore, he placed it back on the exact same spot.

“Just wait” he sighed, it wasn’t where he wanted it to be.

“Harry, we’re gonna be forever” you sighed, swaying your feet softly until one of them accidentally knocked into Harry’s leg. He looked down at you, eyes telling you to quit it. 

“See there, you big baby” he grumbled.

“You’ve set it back into the same spot!” you exclaimed.

“No I haven’t, you’re just impatient...sounded a little brit there” he hummed, turning his back to you as he grabbed another slip. 

“Shut up!” 

-

Then there was, naturally, the sudden interruption.

Bloo had stumbled into the bathroom, expressing out about something one of her brothers did when she stopped taking into account, trying to figure out what was wrong with her mum. 

She gasped, eyes wide at the greying stuff. “What’s wrong with mummy?” she asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Turning mummy into a mummy!” He screeched, holding up a plaster strip. 

She brought her hands up to her mouth eyes growing only wider, her lip already starting to tremble. 

“You and your stupid dad jokes” you pulled Bloo closer to you, turning her back to Harry flipping him off behind her head. 

“We’re just doing a cast, don’t worry baby. Remember that episode of Jessie when Ravi got that mask stuck on Luke’s face and ripped his eyebrows off” you explained, She laughed at the connection of the episode. 

“Kind of like that, but without the eyebrows and we’re just using my belly” bringing your thumb to brush her brows up and the corner of her mouth clean. God what were they doing down there.

“Ohh okay that makes more sense.” you smiled back at her. 

-

And Harry who had a bit too much fun when it came to the upper portion of the cast. Acting like Alec does when Paw patrol was on or when Sydnie when her dad allowed her his card to shop. Finding any reason to smooth down the cast with his wet hands. Or taking his time to cover your nipple, using his thumb to level it out. A haughty expression on his face growing the higher he got from your belly button. 

“You’re acting as if we don’t have sex or take showers together” you tell him, popping another goldfish into your mouth (But not the good ones, the disgusting wheat ones Harry urged you and everyone else in the house to eat instead.)

“As if you don’t act like this when I take off my shirt”

He got you there, looking up at you to see you were not going to give him the eye contact he wanted. Your lips closed tight.

He delicately planted the last strip over the top of one of your breasts. 

“Wait, it doesn’t look right” 

“Harry!”

“Just joking y/n, now we wait five minutes and we can pop this off, sand it, and decorate it however you want” he told you, smiling at the finished product, leaning down to kiss your forehead then your lips.

“Wanna do it like this” you twisted your phone around to show him the image on Pinterest. A light blue belly cast, but you wanted it a pretty purple color, that was held against a frame, with butterflies of surveying sizes going across/diagonally the cast.

“However you want lovie” he told you again, pulling your head to his stomach, leaning down to kiss your head. Your arms winding across his waist.

“Thank you” you hummed in satisfaction. 

– – – – – 

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

thank you to the anon who requested this!

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 17 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves, just a reminder that I am still on vacation so the queue is posting this! Will respond to ur taglist requests and messages ASAP love u all :) 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of death, violence, drug use

wordcount: 2k

You and Aaron each read Jack a book of his choosing before tucking him into bed and heading towards Aaron’s bedroom together. Bringing your pajamas into the bathroom, you change and brush your teeth with the door closed, which feels silly, given everything, but you can’t help it.  Aaron slips into the bathroom as you step out, and you sit on top of the covers, hands folded in your lap, anxiously awaiting his return. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks, clocking your anxiety immediately. 

“Nothing, I just feel bad that I got us caught by Jack,” you confessed, looking down at the comforter. 

“I couldn’t be less upset about that,” he assures you, climbing into bed beside you and taking your hand in his. “I mean, he practically told us that he already knew, even if he was a little confused.” 

“That was the other thing-- sorry that marriage and all of that got brought up. I’m sure that was---”

“I’m not upset about that, either.” He interrupts you. “Did I do something to make you think I was upset?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “It’s just kind of early for that kind of stuff, I’m sure it was uncomfortable--”

“It wasn’t uncomfortable. Apparently I’ve done a bad job of expressing how strongly I care for you, and I’m sorry for that.” You go to interrupt, but he cuts you off. “I couldn’t be happier that Jack knows how much I love you. Sharing that with our people-- my son, and our team-- is not something you need to apologize for, or something I’m ashamed of. I’m thrilled to be able to love you openly. No more apologies, okay?” 

Your breath caught just a little, but you hold it together. “No more apologies,” you agreed. “Aaron, it’s such a privilege to be loved by you,” you whispered, needing him to know how much his words meant to you but scared to ruin the moment. Aaron just shook his head, leaning to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he whispers into your hair, and you close your eyes, letting the peace of his touch overwhelm you. 

“There’s one more thing,” you said, after a moment. 

“And it’s not an apology?” Aaron checks. 

“No, it’s not an apology,” you assure him. “I wanted to thank you for sharing those pictures with Jack and me tonight. I’m sure it was emotional, but I was glad to see them. You love Haley so much. Thank you for sharing her memory with me.” 

“She was the reason I got up in the morning, from the day I met her until the day she died.” Aaron tells you, and you squeeze his hand.

“Everyone knew how much you loved her, Aaron. Even after the divorce, there wasn’t a single person at the bureau who knew a man who loved his wife that much.” You assured him.

“But it wasn’t enough. I failed her, and I could fail you too.”

“No, Aaron, no you didn’t. You promised to love her for as long as you lived, and you didn’t break that promise. You didn’t promise her you’d never change, and she never promised you that she’d never change. You both changed, but you never stopped loving each other.” You told him.

“How did you know? How did you know that I never stopped loving her? Didn’t that scare you out of loving me?’ Aaron whispered. 

“Aaron, the way you love her shows in everything you do. You never took a picture of her down, even after the divorce, when I’m sure they were painful to look at. You always let her know you were safe at night, and when she left you, you helped her move and made sure she had everything you needed.” 

“And that doesn’t scare you? That even when she left me, I still loved her?” 

“No, Aaron, it doesn’t scare me. That’s how I feel about you, so I understand.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Aaron says immediately-- how could you mean that? When Haley was so refined, so beautiful, so compassionate, and he was just a man, a man with baggage and trauma and a dark past?

“Of course I do, Aaron. I never told you this, and I might be selfish in telling you now-- but in the weeks after Haley died, I went to bed at night praying that time would move backwards and that I could take her place. I’d do anything to get her back to you, even if it meant that you and I never made it here.” 

“It’s an incredible privilege to be loved by you,” Aaron echoes your earlier statement, and you smile.

When you wake up the next morning, you realize that you’re never going to get a good night’s sleep without Aaron beside you again, and you love him and hate him for it in equal measure. Your anger is quickly forgotten when he rolls over and starts planting kisses across your face. 

“We have to get Jack to school,” you reminded him with a smile between kisses.

“We’ve got time,” he brushes you off. 

“You’ve got time, maybe. My hair is a mess from napping on your couch and I have to do my makeup,” you reminded him, planting one final kiss on his lips before rolling out of bed and heading towards the bathroom.

When you’ve gotten yourself ready for the day, you make your way out to the kitchen, were Jack is sitting in front of a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. 

“Morning, little man,” you said, ruffling his hair and smoothing it back down as you sat in the seat next to him. Aaron crosses the kitchen with two plates, putting a piece of toast with peanut butter and banana slices in front of you, and one on his own placemat. 

“Thanks, honey,” You smile, taking a bite of your breakfast as he sits.

“Dad? Can we go to the soccer field tonight after work?” Jack asks as his father settles in.

“I can’t promise tonight, but we can definitely go this week, okay bud?” 

“Okay.” 

“Finish your breakfast, kiddo, or you’re gonna be late,” you told him, taking your plate to the sink and prepping travel mugs of coffee for you and Aaron, who shepherds Jack through the last few steps of getting out the door. You follow them down to the car and Aaron drives down the road to Jack’s school. You sit in the carpool line for a minute, listening to Jack point out his friends as they walk into the building, before Aaron pulls up to the curb and it’s Jack’s turn to get out. Aaron rolls down the window as Jack collects his things. 

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Hotchner,” a peppy brunette woman who you’re pretty sure is Jack’s teacher ducks down to make eye contact with Aaron through the window.

“Good morning, Ms. Meadows.”

‘Oh, and who’s this?” Ms. Meadows says, taking note of you for the first time. Aaron introduces the two of you, and you notice her looking you up and down, almost sizing you up. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says perfunctorily, turning her attention back to Aaron almost in an instant. “Did Jack tell you about the volunteer sign ups for the kids’ talent show?” 

“He did, I think his Aunt Jess--”

“Oh, that’s right, Jess did mention to me that she’d be here!” Ms. Meadows interrupts. “I guess I was just hoping to get some strong FBI dads in the building to help set up the stage equipment,” she pouts, and you briefly entertain the thought of leaning over the center console and wiping the pleading look across her face. 

“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” Aaron says, blissfully interrupted by Jack waiting to give him and you a kiss goodbye. The two of you kiss both of his cheeks, and he hops out of the backseat and takes off towards the main entrance. 

“She was pleasant,” you note sarcastically when Aaron pulls out of the parking lot.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, looking over at you briefly, his nose scrunched up in confusion. 

“She’s clearly into you, Aaron.” You said, knowing it was obvious and he was just being oblivious. 

“What? No she’s not,” Aaron shook his head. 

“Oh, Mr. Hotchner, please come save me from the Woodbridge Elementary School talent show. I need your big, strong muscles to move all this heavy equipment because I’m just a docile young lady,” you mimicked Jack’s teacher in an exaggerated tone. 

“Now, if she had said that, then maybe I would have thought she was into me,” Aaron laughs at your dramatics. 

“She gave me a nasty look. She doesn’t like that she has competition.” You argue. 

“She doesn’t have competition. I mean, there is no competition. There’s just you, and that’s how I like it,” he said, taking one hand off the steering wheel to grab yours and bring it to his lips. 

Garcia is waiting for you both in Aaron’s office when you arrive at work.

“Is everything okay?” You ask her immediately, feeling Aaron shift his body towards yours.

“I finished digging up everything I could on Josh, if you want to see it.” She tells you both, and you look at Aaron. Truth be told, you don’t really want to know, but being disgusted and informed is probably better than being uninformed and caught off guard. 

“Come on, we’ll go review it in your office.” Aaron said, stepping aside to let Garcia lead the way. Once she is a few paces ahead, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, and you just tell me if you need to take a break, okay?”

You nodded, and Aaron place a comforting hand on your back as the two of you made your way down to the batcave. 

“Okay, so, just going through the highlights,” Garcia starts, clicking at tabs and pulling them up on her assortment of monitors throughout the room.  “Starting a few weeks before you left, I noticed that Josh was calling and texting the same number a lot-- but only when you all were off fighting crime. Of course, I assumed that this absolute peach of a man had somehow conned not one but two women who had to be decidedly out of his league, but it turns out that wasn’t the case. He’s been doing coke, and the number leads to his dealer.” 

“Fuck, again?” You interrupted her.

“He was doing coke when the two of you were together?” Aaron asked, surprised. 

“Not for a while, or so I thought. The coke was what made him violent-- I told him it was the drugs or me, and when he told me that he’d picked me, I believed him.” You explained. “He must have been high when he showed up that night-- he was always an asshole but showing up like that was out of character.” 

“So, with you out of the picture, it seems like the coke usage has increased a lot. Like, from a weekly to a daily thing, a lot. He’s going out at night, racking massive credit card debt. He hasn’t purchased a firearm or anything that indicates that he might be planning something violent, but he’s definitely acting impulsive.” 

“Was he sober or high when he sent the flowers?” Aaron asks. 

“Sir, I don’t think he’s been sober since you took all of her stuff out of the apartment,” Garcia responds. 

“He’s only going to get more aggressive and out-of-touch with reality the longer this bender lasts,” you note, clinically, as if you were talking about a case halfway across the country and as if your future wasn’t hanging in the balance. 

“We’ll keep an eye on it, and we’ll be ready. Garcia, can you print out a full copy of this and get it on my desk?” 

“Are you sure? The full copy is really long, it’s got to be--” 

“I’m sure, Garcia. Thank you.”  

tagging:  @hotforhotchner11      @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @msmarvelsmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie

[fucktheroyals]

You know after reading and reading and reading peoples theories and the meta from before the spn finale aired and the meta writers reactions to the finale I think I have a theory of my own. We don't have any answers tho, so this is pure speculation. If you wanna add something to support or discredit any of this that's cool but there's too many things floating around. Know I dont have proof for this conclusion at all. A lot of what I say is just guesses based on previous facts.

This all came together in my head when I realized how much this finale REEKS of the original producers and who the show was originally for. It REEKS of Robert Singer. Like if the execs started saying they didn't want it, Robert Singer was the one pushing that the story was about the brothers. That kinda thing.

Then, I was thinking of the problems in this episode and it struck me these are all of Supernatural biggest issues and to be honest all of it feels completely deliberate.

Take the sexism for example, Supernatural in it's later seasons largely out grew this, we have Jody, Rowena, Donna, Charlie, Mary, Claire (and even a wayward sisters pilot with MORE women/girls) all making regular appearances. They're mainly good characters and mostly aren't there to hurt our boys. Rowena, of course, is the one outlier being very about herself but it's clear she still cares for them, I mean its part of her development. But they're all real, with character flaws just like everyone else. (And we have Death too and she was POC 😭 THANK GOD)

Now look at the earlier half of Spn, we have Ellen and Jo, who's appearances were far in between. There's Bela in season 3, recurring for quite a bit (5 eps), but she is a character that is only there for herself, definitely not found family (unlike Ellen & Jo), and she's got more episodes in season 3 than Ellen and Jo in season 2 who aren't seen again til season 5. The "fans" send in hate mail after hate mail to try to get these characters off, and eventually they are. Then there's Ruby who's character stayed for a whole two seasons and was a largely recurring character. Why does she get to say so long? She's a plot device. She's supposed to be there to betray Sam. She has to stay (plus Jared obviously likes her). But she's not just a character the writers like writing about. Same with Lilith. Obviously not as recurring but still a plot device. Did they get hate mail tho? You can bet on it. Why? because tHeY'rE gOnNa PuSh ThE bOyS (Dean and Sam) aPaRt ThE sHoW iS aBoUt ThE bOyS oNlY. Without even thinking about the hate mail, just notice how large the difference is from how women are seen in the earlier seasons to the later seasons. Misha got tons of hate mail too for being a character that could split up the boys (probably only being allowed to say because he a man, thanks sexist producers and execs).

Only after Castiel was killed off and then Castiel fans successfully (thank you guys) got him back on the show did the hate mail largely simmer, which means female character's were allowed to stay! Which has lead us to a show with a good amount of female characters. But can you imagine having to kill characters off time and time again because people keep complaining that the show is "only about the boys." Fun times really.

So now we get to this final and we see sexism. But it wasn't just the plain old regular sexism you find in the earlier days of spn. Because now, there ARE women to talk about, talk to. But this episode was DESOLATE women wise, unless they were used for plot (which is also sexist!). Small scenes, they're barely there. Women gets her tongue cut out. Random women from s1 gets killed. Sam doesn't SPEAK of Eileen. Nothing. No mention of any female characters from the boys mouths unless they were from/in this episode itself. That's WIERD. I know we've all said it. But that goes beyond forgetting about characters. I mean its SAM'S GIRLFRIEND for Christ's sake. There is NO REASON they couldn't have said Eileen's name. Notice how Sam's wife is just... faceless. This is literally an age old sexist trope. Like... one of the things about bringing Mary back to life for s12+ is that it takes this trope... of basically a generic mother, and gives her life and feelings, whether you like them or not, they're real feelings. They said Mary isn't just a mom she's a person. Mary's existence in the later half of spn is to fix this kind of female tropes that fall upon her character, to not let these her stay a 2 dimensional character. They said we should know she's more than just the mom who tried to save her kid. Do that is the exact opposite of Sam getting a nameless, faceless wife. The sexism of the old spn wasn't just brought back, it was completely amplified. It wasn't just accidental or some exec "fixing" the story it was DELIBRATE. Whoever wrote that, didn't do ALL OF THAT by accident. Because an exec or a producer who doesn't see the flaws in old supernatural isn't going to write it that deliberately.

Let's bring it back to s10 when Charlie was killed (singer was mainly to blame). Dead in the bathtub, age old classic of burying ur gays. If you were here you know people never let Supernatural live that down. THEY KNOW what bury ur gays means. Hell, Robbie Thompson left because of Charlie's death and you think the writers don't know what it means? I mean both Bobo Berens (especially) and Steve Yockey's careers are centered around LGBT+ storytelling and you think they don't know? They know. They know.

And Dean wasn't just apart of the bury your gays trope, it is so far BEYOND that. Dean being killed on a rusty nail/screw, the tongues ripped out, things that seemed to be meant for other people. Jensen's acting in the last two episodes was giving us "DEAN RECIPROCATES" but no one ever actually saying it. I think it's clear that Dean was killed for being Bi. They didn't address it for a reason, they just silenced him. His narrative was supposed to be about letting him be HIM for the first time, to say what his feelings are instead of having them miscommunicated, and instead of doing that, they just silenced him. And the more we look at this scene the more horrific it gets. The more it's a complete slap in the face and it's supposed to be. Some guy who knows nothing about the LGBT can't write a scene this horrific.

Some guy who knows nothing about Dean couldn't write a scene that deconstructs all of Dean's character development and gives Dean his worst nightmare. I MEAN DEAN WANTED TO LIVE HIS LIFE! THEY DIDNT HIDE THAT JOB APPLICATION (or whatever job related thing that was) IN THERE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES THEY WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST SITUATION. Dean isn't Barney from HIMYM. If you watched HIMYM then you'll know Barney went from being a stereotypical ladies man and treating women terribly to being in love with a women and treating her right and working hard for it. The last episode of HIMYM (why its so bad) Barney's character development is thrown out and he's back to being a stereotypical ladies man. You don't need to know Barney's character very much to do that.

To kill Dean during a hunt his father never finished, to not have anyone at his funeral, to have Dean die young like his life didn't matter. Those are Dean's worst fears and you'd only truly know that if you watched the gin episode in s3, where they are basically laid out for you. You HAVE to know Dean's character to tear him apart like this.

This episode took all the core elements of the show and did a complete 180° the name of the episode itself is "Carry on" and Dean and Sam very much did not carry on. Sam grieving his entire life so that he good get to heaven and see Dean again. Dean being ready to live his life, despite the enormous pitfalls and learning to love himself only to be killed. "Family don't end with blood." Um.... it did in that episode either literally with Dean's death or you know BECAUSE NONE OF THEIR FOUND FAMILY WAS THERE. Not Jack, Not Cas, Not Eileen, Not Donna, Not Charlie, Not Jody, Not Claire... on and on we go. No one was there, nobody was even mentioned. Dean's funeral, no one even called that we know of. It was just Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean. And Bobby. Don't forget Bobby. But yeah Sam and Dean.

That's what the show is about right, the brothers.

Except it's not anymore. It hasn't been for years.

Cas not being there was deafening but it brought us to a major point. Becky. Becky's telling us about the terrible ending.

And many of us are wondering why would they literally tell us this is the worst ending and then... make it the ending.

Now before we move on, it very apparent many of you think Dabb doesn't ship Deancas. And Dabb doesn't care about the characters.

Say what you will about any plot holes in his writing, the point he is VERY GOOD at writing the characters, and giving us good ones.

Why do we know Dabb ships Deancas? (ill say when its cowrote, other wise its not) cowrote ep 8.02 - purgatory "I prayed to you, Cas, every night" "Cas, Buddy, I need you." "I have a price on my head, and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you." 8.08 Hunteri Heroici - Cas helps them hunt! 😊❤ Dean & Cas have a serious convo about why Cas doesn't want to see/go to heaven. 8.22 Dean's mad at Cas. Sam's explanation of why Dean should be easy on Cas: "It's Cas." Dean then points out how he'd knife anybody else if they did what Cas did. 9.10 - Cas comforts Dean when Dean can't take seeing Sam (Gadreel) being tortured anymore. Also tons of Cas. 9.20 (bloodlines) - Canonical couple parallel "I was there, where were you" 9.22 The angels make Cas choose between them and killing Dean and he "gave up an entire army for one guy" 10.09 Claire's reintroduction. Cas heavy ep. DeanCas date. 10.22 THE PRISONER - u know the ep where Dean beats the shit out of Cas but loves him enough to not kill him.

We COULD keep going but I think I've made my point. If Robert Singer is the guy that is like "the show is about Sam and Dean only" Andrew Dabb is the DeanCas shipper. And you could even say a Cas stan.

Notice! How in s13 for SEVEN episodes we have a story that revolves around Dean's grief about losing Cas. Notice! How often the stories in all these seasons have a focus on their relationship. THAT is Andrew Dabb. If it weren't for him doing that, we wouldn't be able to easily say after Dean's lack of a response to Cas' confession, that Dean reciprocates.

To me, when I was (binge) watching s12 for the first time, I thought damn this is really got a lot of DeanCas. So I went to look at who was in charge, who was writing. I saw Andrew Dabb, associated him with Deancas episodes, saw all the new writers, Bobo, and then I saw that Yockey is known for same sex stories and it clicked. Dabb assembled a team to give us Destiel. THAT WAS IN SEASON 12!!!!!!!!

The amount of people saying he's homophobic flabbergast me. Open your eyes! That isn't what's going on.

Imagine making a show and trying to right all the wrongs of Supernatural. Imagine trying to write the greatest love story ever told and you have the entire season planned out for it to end off beautifully, it may possibly be your greatest achievement when it's done and then boom. someone comes in and tells you you aren't allowed to make Dean bi or make destiel endgame, after he was most probably already given the go ahead.

Sure. You could imply he's bi or into cas still in a way. Still make nice-ish ending. just give everyone what the kinda want.

Or you could scrap the last season, nothing close to a canonical bisexual Dean Winchester or Deancas endgame in site. People can be done with it be happy with the show, continue to live their lives in ignorance as to how close they were to Canon destiel.

OR you can lead everyone to the very closest you can get them to what you were aiming for and then show everyone the ugly truth and reality. Light it all on fire. Burn the show to the ground in your wake. Try your darnedest to making these people's (the people saying no) pockets suffer. Show us, the audience, what happened. Show us what this show really is.

I've seen people talk about the ending being changed during covid but I dont think that happened. I think what happened was Dabb already had this season planned out before it even started. Obviously the details were wobbly but it was all lead up to this ending. Destiel endgame, Canon Bisexual Dean, whatever it was. They were ready to write the greatest love story ever told and then someone shut it down.

Imagine the pain that must have caused them to be told no when they already said yes. They must have been so excited to give this to us.

I think someone (some producers) told him what this show is "really" about. The brothers. Can you imagine, after being told no, some kinda bullshit like this is said to you: "Why aren't you bringing it back to the brothers, Andrew? that's what the shows about. What with all this homosexual stuff, you know the audience won't like that. Not really." Imagine the original producers pushing this kind of view on you. "You know when we started it was Sam and Dean. It should end with Sam and Dean." That kinda sounds like someone huh? huh.

So why give us a nice acceptable finale, when you can take every problem Supernatural's had either up front or behind the scenes and create a finale so incredibly bad that people don't want to watch it anymore.

Someone made a good point about how Sam was originally supposed to be the main focus (this isn't to put any hate on Sam or Jared). Dean and Sam are the main characters but Sam was supposed to be the focus and for Dean to have become the focus, must have annoyed the producers because... well here we are. They wouldn't listen to Jensen. The producers liked this ending. Jensen's opinion didn't matter to them.

In some ways, if this is really what happened, it can be seen as childish from Dabb. To hurt all of us like that. Yes, he's hurting the producers, the execs, the cw. But to hurt us? Yeah it stings.

But in other ways, if this is really what happened, this is Dabb showing us the muck and gunk under the shiny surface. The hate for Misha. The hidden hate for Jensen. The underlying sexism. The underlying homophobia. The people REALLY in charge don't care about us, they just want our money. He needed to open our eyes and free us, at least free the people that he was writing for. The people he sees that care about this show.

This is the ending the powers that be wanted and its a big fuck you for a reason. I dont think this is Dabb spitting in our faces for loving this show, I think this is him trying to get revenge for us.

But from here, you can see it how u want it. If this is really what happened, I'm not in charge of your emotions, if you wanna be mad be mad if you wanna be grateful be grateful. And you don't have to believe me either I said this is speculation.

Also, as for all of the rumors like there being shots to the confession scene that we didn't see, which Jensen himself implied, I think that might have been a last ditch effort to canonized DeanCas but obviously it was cut. Like the name change was pretty clear. As for Misha possibly having shot some stuff for 20 I dont know what to tell you. If it's true I dont know where the blame would lie.

I do think however, that if all this was the case, the writers were prepared to become villians here. I mean they told us the writers were villians with Chuck right? So. Who knows what went down so they could give us such a vile ending. It could've been the producers or the writers, who truly knows. I do think tho that people we "trust" did some pretty shitty things to push the narrative in certain directions so now one would see this as the actual ending that was coming.

So again do with my SPECULATION what you will. This was in no way meant to put Dabb on a pedestal or anything. Just meant to give a bit of perspective.

(Also Jensen didn't unfollow Dabb recently he was already unfollowed for years)

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Can I have Present mic, Aizawa, and all might where they learn their young student is fatherless? Like... their father walked out/went to prison when they were young. I'm sorry if this is time consuming, but I can't stop sobbing over my father.

I'm the situation baby but remember it wasn't your fault

I changed it up a little bit with Mics- I hope you don't mind

Present Mic:

• from the getgo something was wrong

• The moment you walked into class he could tell

• You looked like shit

• Dark bags under your eyes, hair messily brushed, just to get it out if your face, and your eyes were a light red.

• You didn't look particularly happy to be there either

• something turns in his stomach, a gut feeling that something really had went down

• And he hated seeing his students upset

• but he was relatively close to you to begin with, his felt different

• He felt like he had to do something

• Everyone settled into their seats as the bull rung but his eyes remained on you

• You honestly didn't pay attention during the lesson

• He could tell as much

• class finishes and the bell rings but you sit still, and it's not until most of the students have trickled out of the room do you start packing up

• He walks over and kneels in front of the desk "You okay there? You don't look so good," he looks concerned and his heart drops when he sees your lip start to quiver

• It takes you 0.27 seconds to break and you're frantically wiping your eyes as sobs wrack your body

• He's got his arms wrapped around you in seconds and you're leaning into his shoulder.

• He isn't sure exactly how long you're crying for but eventually you calm down enough to get out a coherent sentence

• "My-My dad was arrested Friday night. He won't tell me why- he won't let anyone else tell me why and I don't know what else to do," you cry, "I miss him so much and its only been a few days- I don't- I don't have anyone else, Mr. Hazashi,"

• And you're crying again.

• He has you take the rest of the day off, in fact he takes the day with you

• He calls in a sub (you don't know what strings he had to pull for that but you don't ask, at this point you don't care) and you two dip

• He takes you to get food, real food, that'll make you feel better

• He knows that'll help a little

• and after that he takes you to get something sweet- that tends to help mood and blood pressure and anxiety

• So he does his best with you

• He nutures you the best way he knows how

• if you need anything and I mean ANYTHING this man has you covered

• He does his best to step up in any way he can

• first off he extends his assignment deadlines and cancels two tests. Who needs them anyway.

• And you eat lunch in his classroom because he can well tell you don't want to talk to anyone else right now

• He closes it off (seemingly) so in reality its just you and him

• He'll probably tell Aizawa too but on the downlow (just so he knows)

• When holidays roll around, the dorms close.

• In this case- he let's you stay with him. He has an extra bedroom. He doesn't want you to stay in an empty house.

• You also get his phone number (which you gladly use) for anything really

• Bored? He'll deliver some shitty puns.

• Confused about homework? Text him.

• having a mental breakdown? He's got you covered.

• You got memes? Please for the love of God send them to him.

• The dynamic eventually shifts to a VERY father daughter relationship.

• He knows he'll never replace your dad. He understands that wholeheartedly, but he wants you to have someone

• He actually gets a letter from your dad, thanking him for taking care of you

• but he really doesn't mind

Aizawa:

• He had a feeling that there was something going on at home. Or rather, a lack of something.

• He's dealt with it in the oast- with himself and with past students and current ones

• Shinsou

• I mean, aside from that fact whenever parents were mentioned, you'd either stiffen up or wrinkle your nose

• You didn't really like the subject of parents

• There was an essay prompt about parents (nothing too personal) nd you ended up writing it on the extinction of dinosaurs and why God fucked up instead

"It'd be absolutely stellar to see huge lizards roaming the earth and occasionally stepping on people, you know? Jurassic park was onto something."

• Man's couldn't even fail you on it because it was written v well

• Anyway, he doesn't pry too much. He just silently figures it out by process if elimination and pattern.

• He doesn't really care too much

• In the sense if it doesn't define you and he doesn't help you because he pities you

• he helps you because he seems potential

• He takes you under his wing with shinsou

• Yall spend a whole summer training

• And that's when it all came out

• It was an accident really.

• Shinsou was tired, exhausted really

• and when people get tired- that tired- sometimes they spout random shot they wouldn't usually say

• and thats what he did

• he went on about his home life

• and if he could, you could too right?? You could trust them.

• "My dad walked out when I was a kid. Little, like 3. I have a few pictures of him holding me, but I guess it wasn't enough. I don't have any desire to meet him. Not anymore. But it left me feeling like I did something wrong? I guess? Which I suppose is why I train. Because then I feel strong. Which is a good difference from how it usually feels."

• He knew it.

• He called it.

• He was right again.

• He reassures you that you are good enough, strong enough, and his decision to leave had nothing to do with you

• and when he saw you give him a soft smile, he warmed.

• I mean really, it only goes up from there

• he'll deny it, or grumble under his breath, but he seems you two as his own

• Like these aren't my kids but they are my kids

• When dorms close on holiday yall get to stay because that's where he lives too

• Like if you chose too

• he's not gonna force you to stay but if you don't want to go home, you don't have too

• He has that power

• He will buy you food

• all you gotta do is ask

• and he'll roll his eyes and grumble something he doesn't really mean, just secretly happy that you feel comfortable enough around him to ask for something

• lmao family group chat

S: 'Hey Mr. Aizawa I found this cat. Hold on lemme send a pic'

A: 'Dont need a pic. Bring him home'

Y: 'What if he's ugly??'

A: 'gremlin. Bring him home.'

Or

Y: 'Hey I saw this tweet that said 'kids be like watch this and do a half roundhouse spin kick clap and waste my fucking time' and it make me think of you.'

S: @ mr. Aizawa when he has to watch deku do sumn

Y: Lmaoooo like when he threw the baseball

S: LMAOO

A: Me watching you too try to figure out how to beat me in training

Y: Yikes bro

S: That was a rough one

• Does he regret giving you and shinsou his number??

• Maybe

• Not really

• Lmao super secret lunch movie days

• Every week on wendesday yall watch a movie. Usually it takes 2 or 3 days to watch the movie since lunch is only 70 minutes

• @ you accidently calling him dad one day and shinsou snickering but it stuck

• dadzawa lmaoo

Allmight:

• Man's has 2 underlings.

• You and Deku.

• Picked you up when he started teaching at UA

• Ion know let's say one day you popped off bc he said some dumb shit and you were like no sir that's clearly wrong

• schooled him in his own damn subject

• the other kids were like 😳

• what the fuck

• Anyway

• He see's you have potential

• And though he's not the best teacher, you seem to respond better to the way HE was taught

• So tbh its easier to teach you

• 'okay, now I want you to beat the shot out if that wall,'

'Okay lmao bet'

• Midoriya is like, hey mayhaps we should analyze the situation

• N ur like noe

• You just don't give a fuck

• about anything really

• other than moving up the ranks

• But even then- its not a super super big deal, you're just gonna do your best but you aren't gonna stress

• However he noticed a pattern w you (even before Midoryia brought it up to him)

• You don't let anyone in

• Midoryia knows a bit more than the other students but that's really only because he's always with you

• a good majority of the week he's w you

• but its not really a deep connection

• you don't rely on either of them

• You do your best to do things on your own.

• He knows midoryias life story

• he knows why he acts the way he does

• but he doesn't know why you do

• he has a gut feeling it could be the same as midoryia

• I mean he already had one kid who's dad dipped

• he'll surely be able to figure out you too??

• So he makes himself a promise that he'll figure it out and he'll become someone you trust

• And he does just that

• When you tell him about your nightmare of a family history he's like mm, makes sense

• but he's happy that you trust him!!!

• He's a BIG suckered for movie nights

• he's got popcorn, snacks, candy, chocolate, soda- he's prepared

• list of movies lined out all ready

• I lowkey feel like he'd be into lord of the rings or fast n furious

• fast n furious at LEAST

• He's really into American action movies

• and he has no problem sharing those movies with you

• he doesn't have a whole ton of money, like he's not rich, but if you or midoryia need something he's definitely there to get it for you

• even if ur like fam no you don't need too

• he'll buy yell food a lot

• a l o t

• and cards

• when you and midoryia get him a father's day card he thinks he's gonna cry

• You guys also have a group chat

• 'da faemilee'

• Y: "Hey dad do you have milk?"

A: "???? Do I have milk????"

Y: "ya I'm looking in your fridge n ion see any???"

A: "How'd you even get in????"

Y: "Izuku."

I: "lmaoo"

Or

Y: Izuku you dumb bitch I left for ONE day

Y: And you got into a fight with Bakugou

I: He wanted to throw hands. I just did what you would do.

A: He's got you there

Or

A: What do you guys want for dinner

I: Sushi

Y: Chicfila

Y: Izu square up

I: K

Or

Y: Izu is fighting kacchow again

A: Beat his ass young midoriya

Y: Lmaoooooo

[dracosaurusrex]

i love ur writing!!! can u maybe do a hc where its post war! draco x reader where they get married right, then reader gets pregnant with scorpius!! and its like them taking care of him, seeing him growing up and sending him off to hogwarts etc etc yk? also u dont have to do this ofc 🤍!!

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) 🌱 - Headcanon

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Hi nonnie!! I’m sorry it took me a while to get to this. Besides being occupied with schoolwork, I thoroughly had to think about how Draco would be as a father. I hope you enjoy!! It’s a lil long too aha.

PS. Kudos to you if you know where the title comes from aha

When Draco found out you were pregnant, there was no containment to the pure joy he had felt in the moment

Tears of joy brimmed his eyes

Crushing embraces

Playful kisses transitioned to more passionate ones as he poured out his love for you

Despite the years following the end of the war, he still didn’t feel deserving of you

Furthermore, he didn’t feel deserving of parenting a child with you

But one thing he was certain of was that he didn’t want to be anything like his father.

The very thought chilled him and struck fear to his bones

“Draco, you’ll make a great father” you say constantly. Each time you do so wrapping him in a warm embrace

It surprised you seeing him cry for the first time as he cradled your growing bump

“Do you think he can hear me?” He’d ask

You nodding as you wiped the tears rolling down his face

“I don’t want him to grow up like I did.”

“Love, we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t go through any of it.”

More silent tears and kisses to your bump

“I’ll do my best for you and your mother, I promise.”

Him kissing your bump one last time

“We’ll do our best for each other” you reassure

-🌱- 

There’s no end to him showing you how much he loves you.

The morning sickness, weird cravings, the aches and pains—this man spoiled you and made sure you were comfortable as much as possible

Happy wife = happy life

You both taking turns to tell the baby in your womb stories

Draco playing the piano with you and the baby by his side

You’d be cuddling as you both thought of names

Him opting to follow Black tradition and use names from constellations

“If it’s a girl, it should be Maia Altair. Both are the brightest stars within their respective constellations.” He said.

“How about Lyra Celeste?”

“That’s pretty too. Goodness, I hope it’s not a girl. We’d have a hard time choosing.” He says jokingly, making you chuckle.

“How about for a boy?” You ask

“I was thinking along the lines of Scorpius... I can’t seem to think up of a middle name”

“How about Hyperion?”

“Scorpius Hyperion?” His eyes widened for a moment, “That’s perfect.”

He didn’t mind whether you’d give birth to a boy or a girl—he wanted to give his children the best whether that’d be values, or material possessions

-🌱-

Being a private family meant a gender reveal and baby shower with just the two of you.

You hand the photo of the ultrasound to him faced down

“We’re having a boy, Draco.”

Hearts pounding.

Smiles wide

Draco’s sight was transfixed on the small formation printed on the page for a bit before looking at you again

The moment reminded you of the first time you said “I love you” to one another

He presses a tender loving kiss to your lips as you wrap your arms around his torso.

The next couple of months pass quickly

Life is still happy coz wife is still happy

There’s look comprising fear and awe when Draco laid his eyes on the newborn baby boy in your arms

“May I hold him?”

You hand Scorpius to him with tears in your eyes

Scorpius being so small that he doesn’t even occupy half of Draco’s forearm

“Welcome Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, my son” He says softly, tears following soon after yours did

-🌱-

Raising Scorpius was similar to walking on a tightrope, but even if you both fell at times, it was never hard enough to keep you down

He was a sweet boy, an obedient son

He took after Draco’s appearance: platinum hair, pointed face, and he sported a warm pair of grey eyes

But he bore your kind and compassionate personality, which Draco adored

Regardless of how much of your personality he inherited, Scorpius still had his father’s attitude sometimes, much to your amusement and shock

Draco spoiling him throughout his youth

You dressing Scorpius up

Both of you teaching the boy human decency towards witches, wizards, and muggles alike

One thing Draco made certain as a father was to make sure that Scorpius knew he was welcome to talk to his parents about anything

While you’d speak of matters of the heart, Draco would do his best to speak on matters of logic and reasoning

No matter what, you did your very best to make known to the young Malfoy that he was loved.

-🌱-

Time spent together as a family occupied the best memories of your lives

While Scorpius was growing and learning new things, you and Draco were learning (and growing) alongside him

When he was five years old, having finished his daily lessons, he walked  amongst the vast halls of the mansion, knowing exactly where his parents would be

First checks the library to find Draco focused in his study

“Papa?” He calls out with a small voice

“Yes Scorp? Have you finished your studies for today?”

“Yes, father. May I sit with you?”

That was the day that Draco introduced his own passions to his son.

The little boy on his lap looks at the book in front of him with awe as Draco tells him stories of constellations and alchemy

“That’s how we named you.”

“My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” The sound of pride ringing from his little voice strikes a chord in Draco’s heart

He kisses the top of his head

“Yes, we’re are Malfoy’s”

“And mama?”

“Mama, is Y/N Y/M/N Malfoy.” He says with his heart fluttering.

The sound of your name never fails to reduce his insides to mush.

He then removes himself to find you painting the white peacocks that scattered the lawn

“Mama, what are you doing?”

“I’m painting love. Do you want to see?” You kiss his cheek as you gather him into your arms to give him a view of your work

“I want to learn how to do that!” 

“And what is it would you like to paint first?”

“The skies in papa’s books!”

-🌱-

As much as possible, you hid small arguments and issues from Scorpius

You and Draco had established three rules when confronting road bumps in your marriage:

Communicate needs and feelings

Give one another space when needed

Never go to bed with issues unresolved

The openness you taught your son, would be put into practice between you both

Fortunately, you being with Draco for more than ten years meant that you’ve practically seen him at his lowest points

He learned how to be vulnerable to you, and was your shoulder to cry on when needed

Nevertheless, each issue was resolved with a kiss, and something a little more *wink wink* (Scorpius would already be in bed dw)

Draco would catch himself staring at you in the kitchen one day, feeling the same way he would when he’d stare at you in your potions class

The smile you give when you notice him never changed

Scorpius taking note of this calls his dad out

“Papa, why do you love mama?” 

“She’s my best friend, Scorpius.” 

“I love mama too!”

You were the rock to your little family of three, and the older man would wonder how he became so lucky every time he thought about it.

-🌱-

Time flew by real fast in the manor. Before you know it, Scorpius turned eleven, and received his letter to Hogwarts

Robes? Check

Books? Check

Quills? Parchment? Check

Cauldron and other items? Check

Excited and nervous Scorpius Malfoy? Check.

“Papa, mama, what if no one likes me?”

Draco takes the first and last say before you can even open your mouth

“Just be yourself Scorp, and you’ll be fine.”

The platform bustling with sounds of old and new students alike

You see the Potter’s and the Weasley’s from afar and give a small wave

Draco, acting like a git, only gives a nod when you nudge his side with your elbow

Scorpius is the first to move away from his father’s side to introduce himself 

“Hi! I’m Scorpius Malfoy!” He says with a toothy grin

Albus’s eyes sparkle at a new friend, “I’m Albus Potter! This is Rose Weasley! We’re both first years!”

“Me too! Can I sit with you on the train?”

The exchange throws both Harry and Draco into a spiral, leaving you, Ginny, and Hermione thoroughly amused for the day.

“Albus- he”, 

“S-Scor-”

Both fathers are ignored.

But the happy grins they see on their sons faces calms them down slightly

The time comes for the train to take off

Draco wraps his arms around you as you wipe the tears forming 

It was a miracle that the little boy grew up to be a kind, intelligent, and talented young man. 

In that moment, Draco has never felt so grateful for his family

I apologize for the length. It’s kinda chaotic, but I hope you enjoyed reading it hehe. Thank you so much for all your support!

Tagging:

@amithatemo @littlethie @drxcomvlfx @svturtles @stretchyice @xoxohollands @dracosathenaeum @hahee154hq @mushi98 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @beiahadid @Saby06143 @rottenhexrt

[darkmulti]

Firstly, just wanna say that I LOVE UR WORK I FAN READ IT FOR HOURS ON END! U HAVE AMAZING TALENT. Also I was wondering if it was ok, to ask for a Yandere BTS royalty headcon of them impregnating you (Even by force if you tell them you don’t want to have a child)

This is not edited so I apologize for any mistakes.

Thank u bb🥰

Edit: WTF I DONT KNOW WHY THE NAMJOON ONE GOT DELETED😭 I’m gonna kill tumblr. 

⚠️: NON CON! Yandere!BTS, slapping

Seokjin always used a condom. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with him, you simply had each other for your sexual needs. Jin on the other hand was falling for you. He tried to make it obvious but you were still oblivious. It was another night with him. He was in between your legs, doing the dirty. He wasn’t wearing a condom on purpose. You were too needy to even realize. It felt so good because he was repeatedly hitting your gspot. You didn’t realize until hot fluid filled you up. You gasp and immediately take him out of you. “Jin! You’re suppose to wear a condom! I-I’m probably pregnant. No! My moms gonna kill me!” Before you could freak out even more, Jin hugged you and calmed you down. “Your mother won’t freak out when she finds out that the baby’s father is the king.”

Yoongi always gets what he wants. His parents arranged a marriage with some random chick. After hearing about the news, you were a little heartbroken but also relieved. Yoongi has been angrier than usual. He’s been taking that anger out on you for some reason. Yelling at you, aggressive sex, being extra possessive. The man you once loved whole heartedly has turned into a scary monster. Yoongi on the other hand was even more frustrated. He wanted to marry you not some random chick. The only way he could escape out of this marriage is if he gets you pregnant. He didn’t waste anymore time. He ran to your house and explained the situation. You look at him in disbelief. “Yoongi, I want you to be happy with your wife. It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. Your wife will also make you very happy and give you children. You’ll fall in love again.” He looked at you with a bizarre expression on his face. “Are you hearing yourself? You’re just gonna give up on us just like that? Did I ever mean anything to you?” You sigh, “of course you did. But I can’t interfere with your marriage. Your parents hold a lot of power. They can kill my family. I can’t let that happen.” Yoongi was pissed off. You didn’t seem to be sad. Was he just a toy for you? Yoongi didn’t care if you didn’t want to be with him. To save himself from this marriage, he forcefully took you. You tried to crawl away but he pulled you back and slapped your ass. “I’m getting married to you! You’re gonna have my children and we’ll be a happy family.”

Hoseok never forced anything on you. That’s not how his mom raised him. Yes, the husband has power over his wife but after learning what his mother had been through, he hated other men. Hoseok was a gentlemen. The husband every girl wanted. You were his lucky wife. He never brought up having a family, but you didn’t mind. You accidentally made Hoseok jealous by talking to one of his friends. After the event, you both arrived at your shared room and he was all up on you. He wasn’t screaming or anything. He was being possessive. “Have you forgotten who you belong to? Mmh? Let me remind you.” Usually, Hoseok is a soft dom. But tonight he became a hard dom. He had you screaming and crying his name out of pleasure. He kept reminding you that he was going to “pound his babies into your swollen pussy.”

Jimin: You didn’t want kids. They were annoying. You never told Jimin though. You knew that he adored children and you being his wife would have to give him some eventually. But you couldn’t face reality. You were afraid that you wouldn’t have a connection with your kid. You had a rough childhood which is why you did not want kids. You’re traumatized. Jimin was out, seeing how the city was doing. Since he will become king soon, he wants to learn how to improve everyone’s life style. While he was out, a rumour started going around. Apparently you cheated on him with another man. Jimin had noticed that you became distant from him but he still trusted you. But now there are people saying that you’re cheating on him. It all made sense to him now. He rushed back home and didn’t hold back. He yelled at you then slapped you without letting you explain yourself. He ripped your dress off you covered your mouth before taking you. “You fucking slut, I’ll show you who you belong to!” Every time he came in you, you cried harder. “P-please Jimin, I don’t want kids.” He held onto your jaw and looked you right in the eyes. “Too bad.”

Taehyung has been very vocal about wanting kids. You - his arranged wife - weren’t ready for kids. Especially not his kids. Taehyung wasn’t a gentlemen. Well, in front of his mother and family, he was. But behind the scenes he was aggressive with you. He wanted a typical, wife worships husband marriage. You were getting ready for bed when he walked in. He helped you take your necklace off and fixed your hair. His arms wrap around your waist and he placed his chin on your shoulder. “Don’t you think we should start a family?” You quietly whisper a “no” and avoid eye contact with him. “Why not? They’re gonna think that you have an infertility issue. My mother will flip and I’ll have to marry another girl who can get pregnant.” You turn around and face him. “Then marry another girl! I’d rather die than have your baby.” Taehyung slapped you. He picked you up and threw you on the bed. “Why can’t you just obey me for once?! I want a child. You’re gonna give me a child.” You did struggle under him. You kicked, cried, begged, screamed but nothing worked. You didn’t get out of his grip in time. He was already cumming in you. He didn’t stop until he felt confident that you were pregnant. The following week you experienced morning sickness and your period being late, confirming that you were pregnant.

Jungkook: He kidnapped you and kept you locked up in the basement of his palace. He was an arrogant prince and you had every right to call him out. You made him look like a fool and he was angered by it. The following night he kidnapped you and showed you who’s in control. Jungkook could destroy your life in a blink of an eye so you had to obey him for the sake of your parents. After being his doll for god knows how long, he brought you upstairs to his bedroom and had unprotected sex with you. You were too scared and weak to defend yourself. But you did warn him that you might get pregnant. He had the most aggressive sex with you to the point where you couldn’t do it anymore. You cried into the pillow and begged him to stop. His cum was overflowing in you. “Please, I’m gonna get p-pregnant.” Little did you know, that’s exactly what he wanted.

[gubler-me-up]

Unsung Heroes

Request: Hi! I just found your account and I am in LOVE. I know this is a sort of very specific ask, but could you write Spencer Reid dating a masculine/trans masculine person? I think it would be really cool so yeah lol thank u in advance 🥺🥺💖💖 (ur literally so damn talented)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, anon! Sorry it took a long time to get to but I’m glad I’m getting it out before the end of the year. This is my first masc trans reader fic out of two in my requests, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if there is anything I can improve on or anything you would like to see in my next masc trans spencer reid fic that I didn’t portray well here. I did a bit of research to make sure my portrayal was accurate but I am always open to improving my work especially so readers feel comfortable and represented while reading. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! 💕

Couple: Spencer Reid/Masc trans!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None just pure ~fluff~

Word count: 2.5k

————-

You threw on your favourite flannel to complete your outfit. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time to fix your hair properly before Spencer arrived. He might not be a fan of styling his hair but making sure your hair was to your liking was your thing. Especially after getting a fresh cut it was important to you that you made the best of it before your hair started to grow back.

You then quickly checked your beard to see if there were any noticeable razor bumps. You didn’t see any visible ones but the ones below the surface were always the dangerous ones. You ran your hand over your beard to feel for any up and coming bumps. You stopped your finger over a spot that felt tender to the touch.

“Ah, you already feel as if you’re going to be a pain,” you mumbled to yourself.

You heard soft knocks on your door before you could continue your battle with your soon to be razor bump. You grabbed your wallet and keys off of your dresser before leaving your bedroom to answer the door. You opened the door to see Spencer standing in front of you with his hands gripped on his satchel strap and an excited smile plastered on his face.

He gently lifted his satchel to bring your attention to it. You chuckled as you saw how full it looked. You looked at him with a quizzical expression as he started to laugh himself.

“I thought we could read some light literature as we indulge in these breakfast burritos you’re so excited about,” he said.

“I haven’t read a good book in a while let alone encyclopedias,” you chuckled.

“They’re not all encyclopedia’s. Just one,” he said.

You laughed as you closed the door behind you. You didn’t believe him one bit about only having one encyclopedia in his satchel but you weren’t going to overly tease him about it. You were more interested in him trying a breakfast burrito for the first time.

You originally didn’t get the hype over breakfast burritos for a while until you were running late to work one morning and saw a food truck nearby. They convinced you to try their breakfast burrito and you’ve been loyal to them ever since. You knew Spencer was more of a coffee and go person but you thought he might enjoy trying something new.

“We’ll find out the truth after we get something to eat,” you said.

Spencer smiled and nodded as he loosened his grip on his satchel strap. He let his hand loosely fall to his sides. You smirked as you reached your hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it. To say he was forever touched starved was an understatement.

You were glad you could give him something he didn’t already have plenty of in his life. Touching books and case files all day definitely couldn’t give him the physical touch he deeply desired. You were happy every day for the past six months you could be the one to embrace him in any amount of touch. Bonus points for him always smelling good as well.

Spencer pressed the button for the elevator. “Are these breakfast burritos really as good as you say they are?”

“You’re doubting me now?” You asked.

“No, I would never do that. I’m just saying we sometimes have different tastes in things,” he said.

“Oh? What kind of things?” You asked.

“Well, you prefer listening to more contemporary artists while I’m more into classical,” he said.

“Musical taste is whatever though. I can get down to Mozart any day,” you chuckled.

He laughed. “Well, you take your coffee with oat milk and three brown sugars. I take mine black with a little sugar.”

“If you think half the sugar canister is a little sugar then I don’t wanna know what you consider a lot of sugar.”

You both laughed as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into it and you pressed the lobby floor. You looked at him with a smirk before grabbing his chin. He smiled at your touch as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“What?” He asked.

“I think there’s one thing we can both agree we have good taste in,” you said.

You leaned in and kissed Spencer on the lips which you knew he longed for. He didn’t hesitate to embrace you fully into his mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever kissed a guy with softer lips than him. He latched his hands onto your face and started to stroke his thumb against your beard. It ran over the growing razor bump but you didn’t mind if he touched it.

You parted your lips from him before you changed your mind and opted to spend the day with him in your apartment. He chuckled and didn’t move his hands away from your face. It didn’t seem as if the good doctor was quite finished with you.

“You want another taste?” You joked.

He nodded. You obliged and leaned in to kiss him again. You could have him for breakfast all day every day. Since breakfast was taken up by a breakfast burrito with your names on it, you guessed you could have him for lunch instead.

————

You and Spencer had found a rock to sit on near the lake. The park was quite full for a Sunday morning but with such nice weather you couldn’t blame people for wanting to be out and about so early. You watched Spencer carefully as he took his time eating his breakfast burrito. You couldn’t quite tell if he liked it or not based on his blank stare into the water as he ate.

“How do you like it?” You asked.

He quickly snapped out of his long gaze into the water. He looked over at you and smiled but it couldn’t fool you. You knew something was running around that big brain of his and you wanted to know what.

“I like it. It’s definitely an interesting concept,” he said as he took another small bite.

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head in response to you as he finished chewing. You gave him a second to finish whatever was left in his mouth before he started talking. He let out a drawn-out sigh before licking his lips.

“I was going over case files this week and went over this one from a few years ago. This little boy’s family was murdered  and he was the only survivor. Found out he left his aunt and uncle’s house to go into foster care. Apparently, he’s been having a hard time no matter where he goes,” he said.

“Well, from being a human I can tell you family sucks but from working in social work I can tell you the foster care system sucks. It’s hard to look at some of these cases and talk to these children having a hard time for sure,” you said.

“I just don’t feel as if I’m making a difference,” he confessed.

You shook your head in protest. If anyone was making a difference it was Dr. Spencer Reid. You knew how doubtful he could be of his capabilities sometimes but you knew he just needed a little reminder here and there.

“Are you kidding? You’re out here risking your life to catch serial killers every day and you don’t think you’re making a difference?” You asked.

“But it just stops there. The lives ruined never get fixed. The survivors never know a sense of peace. I just help solve cases and then move onto the next thing,” he said.

“You don’t have to deal with the social work or therapy side of these cases because there are people who take that area over for you. You do enough, Spence,” you said.

“And you do the most, Y/N. You’re so good at social work and when you’re not doing that you’re dedicating your time volunteering for homeless youths,” he said.

“It’s easy to volunteer though. Anyone can do it,” you said.

“And here I am not doing that.”

Spencer stared back into the depths of the water as he took another bite from his breakfast burrito. A bigger bite this time. You were honestly impressed. He probably took a bigger bite so he had more time to chew and less time to talk about his worries. A true genius.

You looked into the water yourself. The waves coming in reminded you of what one of your coworkers said to you once. You laughed to yourself which brought Spencer’s attention back to you.

“You know when I first told one of my coworkers I was transgender they asked if my transitioning period felt as if that one scene in Mulan where she looked at her reflection and knew she was supposed to reflect who she was inside and then decided to pretend to be a man to go into war on behalf of her father. I said not exactly and before I could explain to them why their analogy wasn’t really accurate, they hugged me and said they were proud I was able to reflect who I was inside on the outside,” you said.

“The lake reminded you of your coworker’s ignorance?” He questioned.

You chuckled. “No, it reminded me of that scene in Mulan and then that reminded me of my coworker’s ignorance. That being said though they did tell me how a lot of people they know are unsung heroes. I asked what they meant by that and they said unsung heroes are people who are trying their best but aren’t acknowledged or are overlooked by others or themselves.”

“Are you trying to say I’m a little harsh on myself?”

“Just a little.”

He looked back out into the lake again. You could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought about what you said. You continued to enjoy your breakfast sandwich as you let him ponder on your words. Usually it was the other way around and the words you were pondering were a bit more complex but you were nonetheless glad you could get him thinking.

By the time he looked at you, your burrito was nearly done. His whole time thinking he hadn’t taken another bite of his burrito. You didn’t know if you were happy he was about to talk to you about his insights or upset because he made a good breakfast burrito get cold.

“You don’t think I’m an unsung hero do you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think you’re just a hero who wants to save the whole world at once but can barely finish a breakfast burrito.”

He chuckled. “This thing’s huge.”

“And so is the world but just like your bites, you have to solve issues within it in small nibbles,” you joked.

He laughed as he took another bite out of it. He tried to chew it with a smile on his face but you knew he hated the fact it was cold. You laughed at him as he swallowed the remains of his bite. He carefully wrapped his half-eaten burrito before looking at you with a wide smile. You were glad to see him smiling again and the doubt lifted from his face.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“You think I’m right? Say that I’m right again and you might just have to hand over your Ph.D. to me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Which one?”

You both laughed. When Spencer made a joke, it was definitely one for the books. However, when he made a good joke it was one for the history books. You believed the longer you two are together the better his humour could become.

“All jokes aside, I want to spend my free time volunteering with homeless youths with you,” he said.

You looked at him surprised but a smile soon appeared on your face. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his filled with hope. You nodded your head.

“I would love for you to volunteer with me. I think the kids would love learning a thing or two from you,” you said.

“Teach?” You said.

“Yeah. Every Friday we teach youths a different arrangement of skills that will help them in life. It’s a great sight seeing them have hope in their eyes again. I first started with counselling transgender youths in the program and have branched out to other members of the LGBTQ2S+. I now help homeless youths who have been victims of physical abuse. It’s definitely hard stuff to hear but seeing their faces when they know they’re being helped through their problems is the biggest reward I could ever ask for.”

Throughout your whole speech you could see tears at the brim of Spencer’s eyes. He tried to wipe his eyes before any tears could fall out but you already knew you had touched his soft spot. He smiled brightly at you before letting out a soft chuckle.

“I hope they like physics,” he said.

You laughed. “Taught the Dr. Spencer Reid way, I think they will have a new appreciation of the science.”

You both broke out into laughter again. You broke the laughter by kissing him on the lips. You could never get over how happy he looked every time you kissed him.

“I love you, Spencer,” you said.

He grinned. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“How about we get you some real breakfast and head back to my place for lunch?” You said.

You stood up on the rock and placed your hand out for Spencer to use to get up. He gladly grabbed onto it as you hoisted him up. For someone with a Ph.D. in physics you would think that he would have a better sense of how to balance. It was just another cute quirk of his you loved.

“Some real breakfast?” He questioned.

“Yeah, your coffee with a “little” sugar,” you said.

“Ah, my real breakfast. So what’s going to be for lunch?” He asked.

You grabbed his hand to hold as you two walked through the park. You smirked at him as you looked him up and down. He blushed as he let you examine him from head to toe.

“Your encyclopedia’s of course,” you said.

“Wait, what? Why my encyclopedia’s?” He asked.

“Ah-ha, so there are more than one in your bag,” you said.

He sighed. “Was this your way of making me confess that you’re right again?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s no lunch?”

“You’re lunch.”

“Ah, I see you’re on a diet then.”

“You know what? I love that my humour’s rubbing off on you so well.”

“I think it’s a sign we belong in each other’s life for a long time to come.”

You laughed. “I’m not the romantic type but I have to agree.

“So how come I’ve told all my friends from work you’re the most romantic person I know?”

“Oh? I guess I’ll show you how romantic I can be during lunch.”

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512​ @laneybobeczko-g​ @averyhotchner​ @littlewierdalien @cynbx @mggsprettygirl​

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: old friends Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: Your kids openly hate Miya Atsumu and the appearance of an old friend stirs up mischief and unwanted memories of the past. [ft. aomine daiki from knb] notes:

i probably cant stress this enough but thank you so much for all the love T-T it means a lot <3 like 118 followers in a span of two weeks? That’s just shhddhbdbx anyways i hope enjoy another buttload of angst! remember to always stay safe and wash ur hands!!

i find it funny when people point out atsumu to be a player or a fuckboy because this guy looks like a one-woman (or no woman lets be honest) type of person, his whole personality revolves around volleyball i guess and being straightforward to everyone with an idgaf attitude ksksks

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“You haven’t even wiped your sweaty backs and you both think you’re good to go?” you narrowed your eyes at the two boys who sheepishly gave you a smile as you lightly scolded them for not taking care of their health, the boys had decided to join a mini sports club after class where you could play for an hour any sport you’d like in the gym. They had promised it wouldn’t affect their studies. 

Bending down to their level, you signal them to turn around. The pair furrows their brows, not wanting to be coddled by you in public, when you noticed that they were about to complain, you cocked a brow at their actions and tighten your lips. Begrudgingly they slowly turned around, not wanting a lecture from you.

You first wiped Yuuto’s back and handed him a t-shirt he could change on. As you were wiping Youta’s back with another towel, he suddenly spoke out, “Kaasan, that Atsumu-guy’s looking at you again.” he frowns.

Yes, apparently Miya Atsumu had the time to lounge around at a kids sports club and accompany his friend Hinata who would occasionally be there to help around because he was bored and they were ordered to rest (judging from your past conversations with Hinata these days, you noticed that the young man did not know the meaning of what resting was). 

You thought that the little scene at your workplace would be the last time you saw him but these past days, you saw him a lot. It seemed to be getting too frequent to the point where you wondered if it could even be called a coincidence at all, “Do you want me to spike at him, kaasan?” the oldest twin asks as he turns to you, a small pout on his lips.

“Now, now, do you remember the story I told you about the bully last night?” 

“Don’t throw stuff at people?” He blinks innocently.

You let out a soft and gentle laugh, the one only reserved for your boys, “Yes, Yo-chan. Don’t throw stuff at people.” you leaned in to give him a peck on his nose in which he immediately moved away and wrinkled his forehead in disgust.

“Stop doing that, kaasan. I’m a big kid already!”

“Hai, hai.” You patted his head and stood up while handed him his t-shirt, “Hurry along and change now, you big baby.”

Atsumu watches the bizarre interaction from afar, he’s never seen you this soft in public. Even when you were dating back then, the most public display of affection you two would have when you were dating was just you playing with his fingers and drawing small circles on his thighs unknowingly under the table (save for that one time where you wiped blood off his nose in public but then again you guys weren’t dating that time so that didn’t count) yet seeing you laughing, wiping the sweat out of the little boys back, and even giving a small peck on his nose was a very different sight to behold.

Daresay, it suited you.

“You’ve been staring at her for quite some time, Miya-san.” Sugawara comments as he puts the last grade-school volleyball on the cart. Atsumu jumps on the spot and rubs the back of his head nervously making Sugawara laugh in reply, “Funny, isn’t it? Whenever I talk to L/N-san, she’s always like ‘okay.’, ‘that’s nice.’, ‘good.’ yet when she’s with the kids, she’s the softest person ever.”

“Yeah…” The blonde mutters, “definitely funny.”

“Heard from Hinata that you and L/N-san used to be together back in college.” 

That damn orange haired snake-

���Yeah, two years.” Atsumu clears his throat, “We, we fell out of love though.”

‘You fell out of love.’ he corrects in his head.

“Oho,Fates a fickle huh? Anyways, Me and Hinata are actually planning on inviting Y/N and the boys for dinner, do you want to come with us?” 

“I have a girlfriend.” he replies in defense. 

Sugawara looks at him, completely baffled by his reply then immediately bursts out into laughter, “I doubt Y/N would care, really…” He paused, “No offense.”

“None taken.” the blonde deadpanned.

You don’t know why you ended up at a chinese restaurant that night with one kid animatedly chatting Hinata Shoyou’s ear off while the other was openly glaring at Miya Atsumu, “Youta please swallow your food before talking.” you frowned, taking a napkin to wipe the rice off the mouth of the younger twin.

The blonde kept glancing at you but whenever he did, he’d receive a very harsh glare from Yuuto, “Hey watch where you’re looking at, jiji.” Yuuto suddenly spat out loud, catching him in the act this time as he stabs his chicken with a fork.

Sugawara sweat drops at the interaction unfolding in front of him while you try to tell your oldest son to be more kind to the man sitting in front of him, “Yeah. Listen to your mom, brat.” Atsumu frowns, in which the child retaliates with a tongue out.

“Yuuto, eat your food and stop disturbing Miya-san.”

Yet their stare-off seemed to continue as soon as you turned away from the pair  and Sugawara had to intervene before Yuuto would pounce at the professional volleyball player across the table, “You should be nicer to him, Yuuto-kun. You want to be a setter right? He’s a better setter than I am.” Sugawara tries to ease off the tension between the two.

“He’s not,” Yuuto frowns, “I don’t even know why Kaasan says you’re the best setter in the whole wide world, Adler’s Kageyama Tobio’s obviously better!”

You feel yourself freeze up at Yuuto’s innocent babble, Atsumu seems to be taken aback by it too but he immediately regains himself, “Your mom’s got taste that’s all.” He leered at the six year old boy, not daring to back down from the brat’s challenge. Sugawara pales when the tension rises even higher and tries to get Hinata to ease it up but the orange-haired is too engaged into the conversation with the other twin.

“Baby, just eat your veggies and stop disturbing Miya-san.” You snap back to your senses as you evenly try to get him to calm down once again but he refuses, another trait he got from his father.

“Hey troll, the jiji won’t stop staring at kaasan!” he calls for his twin, trying to get him to back him up, “I told ya he was a crackhead!”

Your eyes widen at your son’s attitude and his uncouth table manners, “L/N Yuuto, that’s it!” You suddenly raise your voice, Yuuto’s scowl deepens as he crosses his arms. Everyone in the table turns silent by your outburst. 

Anger, Miya Atsumu realizes how many different emotions you manage to muster out today. It was a lot more than what he had experienced with you, he’d usually take these emotions by crumbs back then since it was rare but it seemed that these boys had it easy with you. You were so open to them, so vulnerable.

“We’re going home right this instant after you apologize to Miya-san.” 

“I don’t wanna.”

“Yuuto…”

“Y/N, it’s alright-” Atsumu tries to ease up the kid's burden, suddenly feeling bad since it was his fault in the first place and the kid was probably just trying to protect you.

“I said I don’t wanna!” The oldest twin immediately stands up and runs away, you grab your youngest son by the hand who was sadly saying goodbye to his idol as you placed the payment for your meal on the table. 

“He’s not usually like this.” You bowed your head, “Sorry Miya-san, I really am.”

He watches you dash away to the direction where your younger son ran off to, Youta trailing behind you as he waved goodbye to his two favorite men and a tongue out to Miya Atsumu, signaling that he too, like his brother, hated him.

“Way to go, atsumu-san” Hinata grimaced, openly judging him for picking a fight with a kid as he munched on his sweet and sour pork.

Later that same evening, you stood outside your sons room, regretting how you handled the situation. Of course, Yuuto was wrong to say that but you should’ve been more mindful with your tone and words. You were their mother and an adult for crying out loud!

“Yuuto?” You knock on the twins shared room, “Baby? Would you mind opening the door for a sec?”

“Kaasan, Yuuto says he don’t wanna!” Youta replies in his older brother's stead.

“Okay,” You calmly reply, expecting that,  “Then can you tell Yu-chan that there's a glass of milk on the counter? I know he wants to drink some after that heavy dinner.”

“He says big boys don’t need milk, kaasan…” Youta paused,  “But he says he’ll drink it later since we shouldn’t throw food.”

“Okay, goodnight boys.”

You slowly head to the couch and lay there, basking in the silence of your apartment and waiting for your son to come out of his room to be ready to talk. As you hear the door creak open, you see Yuuto slowly waddle his way towards the table where his milk was on, “Yu-chan? Can we talk?” you ask, your voice is soft as you slowly made your way to the oldest twin, bending down to his level so you could see him eye to eye, “Oh, baby...Kaasan is so, so, sorry…” You apologized, taking his small hands and resting your head on top of it.

“I don’t like yelling.”

“I know.”

“I had to protect ‘kaasan,” he frowns, his nose wrinkling, “He was looking at you badly.”

“Kaasan deserved it.”

“No one deserves to look at you badly, kaasan!” he exclaims, “You’re the bestest, kindest person in the whole wide world!”

You wondered if they’d still say that when they’d find out you were lying to them about how their father was just right in front of them tonight.

“ ‘Kaasan had hurt miya-san really bad before,” You try to explain to your son in words he could understand and digest as you run your hands through his silky black hair, “That’s why he’s like that…”

“B-But…” he tries to stammer out an explanation but you cut him off with a kiss on his cheek.

“You’ll understand what ‘kaasan means when you’re older,” you smile, slowly standing up and handing him his glass of milk, “Sometimes we hurt people really bad that even saying sorry can’t fix it.”

“W-was it really bad, ‘kaasan?” the boy asks, taking the milk to his small hands and drinking it slowly whilst trying to discern what you were saying. After placing the glass down, he asks,  “Did you break his favorite toy or something?”

“Mhm,” You hummed, picking him up as he stifled a yawn and slowly nuzzled on your neck,“ ‘Kaasan broke something so important, she couldn’t fix it with just saying sorry.”

“Babygirl, aren’t you looking better these days?” 

“You call me that one more time and I swear I’m disemboweling you.” You deadpanned, meeting his dark eyes. Aomine Daiki lets out a boisterous laugh right after when he sees your blank expression, “Still the same as ever, Y/N-chan, you really love breakin’ my heart.” he teased, clutching his heart in fake pain.

“Tch,” You clicked your tongue at the tall basketball player, “Tell that to the women you play around with.”

“I take it the boys are at school today?”

“They begged me to skip it since they heard you were back in japan.” You replied, recalling the twins fake sickness this morning just so that they could see the navy blue-haired giant.

“I’m surprised you even took the time off to see little ol’ me.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“Hn,” He hummed, leaning in closely as he rested his head on his palm, “I got news by the way, I was at our hometown and I bumped into obaasan.”

You cross your legs and lean back on the chair, the mere mention of your mother had you automatically on edge and annoyed.

“What did she say?”

“She asked me a favor,” He shrugged, taking in a sip of his banana milk, “Says that she wants to meet up with you… She mentions that ojisan’s gonna make time too, I think they’re going to try to make amends with you.”

“That’s nice.” You dryly remarked, clearly you didn’t care about their apology or their willingness to ‘talk’ it out.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Daiki frowns, raising his hands in reply, “And judging by the look on your face, you’re not going to see them?”

Flashes of your childhood and the event that transpired six years ago wormed its way back to your head, it had been so long but its had severely affected and haunted you to this day, “I don’t think I’d ever want my kids near them, who knows what they’ll say around them.” you responded truthfully.

Daiki’s gaze turned soft as he noticed how tightly you were holding the coffee cup, “You got overtime again, right? How about I’ll take care of the boys in the meantime? You know how much they love the huge fridge and pachinko machine in my apartment... I’m also sure they miss their favorite ojisan.” 

“Just make sure you hide your porno magazines.” 

“That was one time, Y/N.”

You and Aomine Daiki go way back the tall boy lived right across your house and had been your companion since you were the tender age of six. He knew what went around your house, why you were so quiet and expressionless most of the time. At some point, the tall man tried to cross the line of friends to lover but he was only met with the very familiar blank gaze and harsh words of, “I don’t think I’ll ever see you that way.”

The man had no choice but to accept the scraps he was given, he couldn’t really blame you though. After the messed-up emotional trauma you experienced growing up, he knew you wanted nothing to do with the idea of families or lovers.

Yet one winter night while he was in the middle of his training for the national team, he received a phone call from you with two words he never expected to hear from you at all, “I’m pregnant.” 

It’s been three years since he last saw you that time and he’s puzzled, who took advantage of you? Where was that asshole so he could beat him to a pulp? Why couldn’t the father be a man and face you? He becomes even more confused because apparently you knew this man very well and you had an intimate relationship with him, something he never imagined from you,  “I broke up with him.”

“W-what?”

“I broke up with him,” you repeated, clutching the ultrasound picture on your hand tightly, it probably looked unrecognizable at that point, “I told him I never wanted to see him again.”

“You didn’t tell him?” He bellowed, he placed his hands on your arms and held you while shaking you lightly, “Y/N are you out of your mind? How are you going to raise a kid in this state? You may have graduated early but you’ve got student loans and yourself to fend for! How are you going to do it? Your parents disowned you for cryin’ out loud!”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you mean? Do you want to have it aborted, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

Daiki lets out a frustrated sigh as he lowers his head, realization slowly dawned upon him at that moment, you were running away. Your defense mechanism had always been to run away. Ever since Aomine Daiki met you, he always noticed that whenever you had problems, you’d run towards the opposite direction and never meet them head-on.

They’d pile up to the point that he was worried you’d burst one day.

It had happened once before and it was something he prayed he’d never see again.

“You know you can’t keep running, right?” He manages to croak out softly, looking at you dead in the eye, your face was blank but your eyes held so much emotions in them; grief, anguish, misery, and what pained him the most was that you drowned yourself in these emotions that you probably didn’t know how to express them anymore because you were used to it.

“I can try.”

“You have to tell him, what’s his name? Where does he live? Y/N-”

“Don’t.” You replied, contrasting to the blank tone you were using moments ago, your voice was now soft. He notices that you’re inching closer to him and he observes you as you melt on his arms just like that moment eleven years ago, you’re shaking uncontrollably,  “Please don’t tell him.”

“Y/N-”

“I-I- you-shouldn’t- can’t tell him, please just this one time,” You stammer, begging him with whatever strength you have left, he feels his jacket getting wet. He holds you tight, not knowing what to say anymore, whoever this jackass was, you must’ve really loved him because he’s never seen you this scared before, “just this one time, let me run away from this again.”

Miya Atsumu feels a tick on his forehead when a very tall, dark, and daresay, handsome man appeared to pick up the boys during the club activity today. He wouldn’t openly admit it but he wanted to talk to you after that little fiasco that he had with that brat but when this guy appeared out of nowhere instead of you.

He was beyond annoyed.

He couldn’t pinpoint where he actually saw this guy but he was very familiar.

“Oh, is that Aomine Daiki?” Sugawara gasped, completely surprised by the tall man’s presence.

“Wow, He’s way too tall to be japanese.” Hinata pointed out, “Is he a volleyball player? I wanna match him!”

“Shoyou no, he plays basketball for the NBA.” Sugawara comments, “I didn’t know Y/N knew him, he’s pretty big internationally and in japan too.”

Atsumu clenched his fists as he watched the brats easily cling onto him and ask him if they brought some gifts for them from abroad, judging by their body language, this guy must’ve been with you since the beginning.

“Oh, ninja shoyou was it?” The tall man suddenly exclaims, going up to Shoyou eagerly with no shame, “I watched some of your matches while I was in Brazil! I’m Aomine Daiki.”

Miya Atsumu wished this guy was an asshole but he was nothing like that, in fact, he looked like an excited kid when he started talking to the little orange-head, telling him how good he’d fit in at basketball with his jumps, “You must be the teachers?” he glanced towards Atsumu and Sugawara, the latter nodded but the blonde didn’t seem that amused by him.

“I’m Hinata’s teammate.” he said through gritted teeth, offering his hand to shake, “Miya Atsumu…”

“Nice to meet you, pal.”

“Daiki-ojisan, jiji’s an old friend of ‘kaasan back when she was studyin!” Youta exclaims randomly, Atsumu wants to snap at the brat for calling him jiji once again but he holds it back because he was still at odds with the other one and he didn’t want to strain whatever he had left with the excited one.

Daiki, on the other hand, feels his body stiffen at Youta’s random fact outburst. You had never told him who the father was until today, all he knew was that he was with you in Tokyo university and that you were very much in love with him.

Did this guy perhaps know who the boyfriend was?

“Friend, huh?” He laughs, taking his hand and shaking it, trying to lighten up the mood, “I heard she even got her first boyfriend there.”

The trio fell into silence at what Aomine said while the two kids tilted their heads at the new word they heard. The basketball player felt confused by the sudden silence and when he noticed the red ears of the blonde in front of him, realization finally dawned on him.

“That…” Atsumu clears his throat, ears tinged red by the man’s forwardness, “That would be me.”

Aomine’s eyes widen, no fucking way, “Wow,” he throws his head back, howling in laughter, were you a masochist? How could you lounge around the father of the kids without him knowing jackshit about what happened and still be alright? He immediately regains his composure, this poor blonde bastard was probably confused since he heard you just ghosted him and left him out of the blue, “You definitely get my respect, Miya-san.”

Atsumu doesn’t know why the man in front of him is so amused or why he’s taking out a scratch paper on the kids notebook to write his number on it, “I hope we can be friends, it's definitely an interesting story to hear how you two got together. Y/N never entertained me and I’ve been chasing her since we were thirteen.” he grins, as if he just hadn’t nonchalantly revealed that you had rejected him more times than Atsumu back in college.

The blonde setter is confused as the navy blue-haired man slaps a phone number on his palm, “Call me when you need a drinking company, alright? Let's talk, I’d love to hear how you ended up together.” the smile on his lips turning wider by the minute.

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ;  @svtbitch​  ; @kiyoomile​ ; @lovedanii​ @juno-multifandom​ ; @gyubit17​ ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget​ @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts​ ; @sillykittt​ ; @baejinoffcl​ ; @alluring-akaashi​ ; @bnhasstuff​ ; @jungshookmeup​ ; @intheawks​ ; @bokuakadaily​ 

@misosamu  @Etherynaw  @ryaaaax  [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

[127-mile]

Now that we found love.

Pairing : ceo!Suh Johnny x black widow!Reader.

Genre : Rich!au, friends to lovers / Fluff, angst, smut.

Warnings : non-explicit mention of death, mature content (semi-public sex, fingering, slight dirty talk, spit as lube, slight choking, unprotected sex (use protections kids), come eating), alcohol.

Word count : +10k.

Plot : Yn travels a lot, and in each new city, each new country, she is known for being irresistible and for always getting what she wants. She also lures wealthy people into marriage, just before they meet an untimely death. Johnny is a young and wealthy CEO who decided to enjoy a well deserved summer of freedom. Yn knows him, knows his fortune. She wants him. Terribly.

You can't escape my affection, wrap you up in my daisy chains.

A/N : Hello, and welcome to another collab organized by the wonderful @neo-cult-ure​ for summer. We had to choose a song with the word summer, and I picked Summer Bummer by Lana Del Rey. Please, go read the others writers works, and give us feedback, it’ll be much appreciated. + prompt from idea-garden.

"Johnny, let me introduce you to Yn, she's going to do her internship here with you." Mr. Suh says with a thin smile to the boy who nods his head. He's tall, and handsome although a little uncomfortable in his tailored suit. You know Johnny, you were in high school together and from what you've heard from your friends he's still the same. A very nice boy, with a full wallet. Which is of course a plus.

"I hope you take good care of her, and show her everything she needs to know over the next months or so." once more Johnny nods without opening his mouth, lips pursed. "Perfect! Welcome miss." you smile at the man who takes his leave. Then finally you turn to Johnny once more, your smile is more mischevious now. "Daddy's business eh?" He rolls his eyes, of course he remembers you, too. You didn't have the best relationship back then, maybe because you always had fun annoying him.

He never deserved this kind of treatment, but maybe your problem with dealing with your emotions and feelings was the reason, or maybe because you just liked to draw attention on yourself in the worst ways. "I'm kidding Johnny, I'm here to learn, not to annoy you." He sighs, and you don't know if it's a good thing or not, but eventually he opens his mouth. "Don't worry, everyone has the same reaction when they hear that I work here. Come on, I'll show you your office."

Coming from a person like Johnny Suh, it was to be expected that he would work in his father's company. Such a large, wealthy, and influential company is held for generations, and Johnny being an only child belongs in this place. "It's cool I think, working here. No matter what happens during your school years, you know you have a comfortable place waiting for you, with an office overlooking the city, and a good pay in the end of each month."

Johnny stays silent, and he gets on the elevator. The climb to the 20th floor is silent, and tense. Maybe that wasn't the best way to start a conversation, and start a friendship. But no one can resist your charms, so you know that at one point or another, he'll crack and open up more to you. Being so charming is one of the reasons your wallet looks so awesome at your age, especially for a student. But he doesn't need to know that detail.

Finally, he walks to a room which is large and contains several desks. He shows you one of them. "There you go, this is where you will be." You think he's going to leave, but instead he takes his place behind the desk which is in front of you and only separated by a transparent screen. At least if you're bored, you'll have plenty of time to admire Johnny. "So tell me. What are we doing?" you try to look excited to help relax Johnny, and that seems to work for a second since he doesn't frown anymore. "Not much, we take care of the photocopies, the simple contracts, and if you're unlucky enough to run into an idiot, you'll make the coffee."

Well, you couldn't expect to do anything more interesting. "Good thing, I love making coffee." at least that remark has a knack for making Johnny laugh, and it's nice to hear. To be honest, you didn't apply to do your internship at this company because you dream of running a business that is worth millions of dollars. Rather because you dream of emptying the pockets of the people who work there. You see, you had the best example growing up. Your mother had a knack for bringing different men home over the years, and eventually they all disappeared. And when they disappeared, the house got bigger, and the car more luxurious. It didn't take long for you to figure out what was going on. Your mother was a black widow. And you wanted to be one too.

You grew up in luxury, and you plan to grow old in luxury.

One month is enough to change your relationship with Johnny. You even start to regret having bothered him so much in school, because he is adorable, and he thinks of others before thinking of himself. He is intelligent, and well spoken. You enjoy being in his presence, that's a fact.

And to be honest, if bringing so many men to your feet weren't your main mission for the future, you might fall in love with Johnny. And even with said mission, it's hard for you to resist his charm. Yes, you have a natural charm, but so does he. Besides, you are breathless when you see him, in a costume that costs probably three times your rent, talking to his father.

The company decided to throw a party to celebrate the end of your 3 months internship, so Johnny decided to put everything on his physique. With his black hair slicked back, and the thin glasses that are held by a gold chain around his neck. You shake your head, and you walk into the room where several of your future former colleagues greet you. You smile, and you gladly accept the glass of champagne offered to you. While waiting for Johnny to realize your presence, you speak with several people. Little unnecessary conversations, but after a while you feel a hand resting on your shoulder.

"You are radiant tonight! Excited to leave us?" Johnny asks, and you smile as you face him. Yes, even if the internship is over, Johnny will continue to come and work with his father when his schedule allows it. "Not really, I'll miss seeing you bump into desks and knock down coffees."

Johnny, on top of his 6ft pouts, and you bite your lip so as not to laugh. He's adorable, but you're sure it would be frowned upon to approach him to squich his cheeks. "I am not doing it on purpose !" he finally said with an offended expression. You drink the last sip of your champagne, and you put your glass on the nearest table. "Of course not! But really, I will miss you." it's the truth, you got attached to that big idiot.

Johnny's smile is triumphant and you roll your eyes. "I'll miss you too, but we'll meet again." you don't know when, since you're going to go back to university, and you don't know where you will even be in a few months, but you nod your head. "Of course! You owe me seven coffees, and I intend to charge you for them one by one."

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. You laugh with Johnny as you accumulate glasses of champagne, and when the guests start to leave, you feel good. And tipsy. Johnny isn't in a better shape, he laughs a lot and makes jokes that would be considered inappropriate if they didn't make you laugh so much.

And his hand has found its place in your lower back every time you moved around the room. Eventually it's time for you to leave too so you greet the last guests including Johnny's dad and you leave the building. Yes, you will miss this building with those large windows and the magnificent view they offer over the city. Johnny follows you closely, whispering everything and nothing until he pulls up in front of a car with an engine running.

"You want a ride home ?" He asks, and you nod your head. You've got your car in the parking, but you're not stupid enough to take it with so much alcohol in your body. A chauffeur gets out, and he opens the back door. You wolf-whistle and he laughs. "Well well Johnny Suh has his own chauffeur !"

You sit by the window, and Johnny takes a seat in the middle. His thigh against yours, you let your head fall on his shoulder. It's silent, at least until you open your mouth. "I'm so sorry, you know. For bothering you so much at school." Some people have it nasty, or sad, or even horny because of alcohol, but when it comes to you, alcohol forces you into a guilty mode. And that's not fun. "Eh it's fine, don't feel bad about it. It was years ago." you raise your head, and your eyes meet Johnnys' who is smiling softly. You lean over and place a little kiss on the corner of his lips. "You shouldn't be so nice Johnny."

When the car pulls up in front of your apartment complex, the driver helps you get out without hitting your head or tripping over the sidewalk. You raise your eyebrow, and you watch Johnny for a second. "I will miss you, Suh." you lean over the opened window to kiss his cheek and with those words, you turn on your heels.

The car's door closes, as does this chapter of your life.

Five years have passed since the departure party organized at the Suh company. And boy, things have happened in five years.

First, you graduated. Not that you use those three years of schooling to do something useful, but it is something you can brag about every now and then.

Second, you deepened your work as a black widow. If you initially only used your charms to get money from old people in need of attention, now you get a lot more. You live in constant luxury. You travel the world, you visit wonderful places, and each time, you leave with a little more money in your bank account. A bit more ? Who are you kidding? With a lot more.

Third, you haven't seen Johnny again. Well, you've seen him several times in five years, but not in person. You've seen him on the cover of magazines, in interviews, and on television. Johnny has become one of the youngest, wealthiest, and most beautiful CEOs. Nothing really surprising.

And above all, he has become your next prey.

Normally, you are satisfied with old people who do not necessarily have a family who will worry about seeing him fall in love with a young girl like you. And above all, you don't attack people you already know. But Johnny .. Johnny has something you want. Youth, money. And it's an experience that couldn't hurt you, right ?

If you thought you could have fallen in love with him when you were younger, you have changed now, you have matured and you no longer succumb to the charms of anyone around you. You have nothing to fear.

And summer seems like the perfect time to have him.

Johnny decided it was time for him to take his first vacation since taking over the family business. And fortunately, you had a friend who still worked with the Suh family, ready to give you the information you needed for a small financial compensation. So here you are.

"Keep laughing, and I'm going to hurt you." you mumble while bringing the blanket over your face to prevent the rays of sunshine from dazzling you. You feel movement next to you, and immediately, Ten's laughter echoes right in your ear, which makes you growl. "You little shit!" he laughs harder, encircling your body with his arms and you fidget to withdraw from his embrace, the room is too hot, you don't need that extra warmth.

You stop moving when Ten puts his head on your chest, and you think you can enjoy a few more minutes of sleep, but it is too much for Ten who gets his phone to finish watching the video that clearly woke you up. "Why are you even awake? It's too early." Ten is used to sleeping late, and you don't know why this morning is different. "You were snoring." he deadpanned.

You punch him in the shoulder, and he squeaks before sitting down, rubbing his bare skin. "Why did you do that?" He asks, a pout on his face and you sigh. "I don't snore." you take your phone from the charger and whine at the time on the screen : 7:04am. The jetlag is still rough on you even after two weeks, or is that just you growing older, all you wanted was to spend your day in bed, but obviously, Ten had other ideas.

"What are we doing today ?" Ten asks and you shrug. "You, I don't know, but I have someone to see." Ten frowns, he's annoyed that he's always the last to know about your plans. It must have been 4 years since he joined your little shenanigans after the sudden death of his father, and yet, it's like you don't trust him enough. "I thought we were here to enjoy some time off ? Didn't you say you needed a break ?"

You get up from the bed and laugh softly. Ten is adorable, that's something you know for sure. But he's even more naive, that would make him almost endearing. "Oh, honey. I don't have time for a day off. Maybe in two or three years from now." you never thought about ending your little black widow career. You're having too much fun, and the feeling of having a full bank account is divine. "But you are welcome to leave, if you want."

The subject of his departure is put on the carpet every time you move to a new place, but he never did. He never left. On one hand, he likes the luxury life that you offer him too much, and on the other, he is afraid that you will not let him get away with it so easily because he knows all your secrets. And he's right, you will never let him leave you. Or maybe you will. In a body bag.

"That's what I thought," you say when Ten stays silent, avoiding your gaze. You take your purse, and take out a credit card to throw it on his lap. "Go have fun. Treat yourself, find yourself a cute little thing to bring back home tonight." With these words, you lock yourself in the bathroom for a long shower. The water is hot, and it leaves your skin burning, incredible. When you go out, a towel wrapped around your chest, you hear the water coming from the second bathroom, which means that Ten is getting ready to go out too. It's still early, so you definitely have time to eat breakfast with him before you go looking for your new prey.

"Breakfast ?" you ask when Ten return to the room, with his usual mischievous smile. The conversation already forgotten, and you can thank the credit card for that. Ten likes pretty things, and you like to make him happy, it's a good deal. Together, you leave the house to a small café you discovered the day you moved here. The house offers a magnificent view of the sea. In the height of summer, the heat is overwhelming, so you promise to go for a walk on the beach when the sun goes down. And if you're lucky enough, maybe you won't be alone.

The small town begins to fill with tourists who go to the beach. You stop to admire a few shops, barely listening to Ten, and after a little while, you enter said café. The boy behind the counter smiles at you, offering you a view of beautiful dimples. "Good morning, what can I do for you?" He asks in a soft voice, music to your ears. "Two iced Americano, please." He nods, and he turns to prepare the drinks.

"There you go, enjoy!" He tells you by handing you the plastic cups after you've paid. This is the problem of having a new prey, you have no idea how long it will take before you see them, or before you have the opportunity to speak to them. It's boring to say the least, but it's worth it. Well, you hope that Johnny will be worth it, and if it is not the case, well you'll go to the next one.

You sit by the glass window, Ten facing you. He sighs, and you tilt your head to the side. "A penny for your thoughts?" he shrugs before taking a sip of coffee. "Nothing," Ten begins, "why here? You don't like tourists, and most of all, you don't like the beach." He's not wrong, you have always preferred big cities, the bustle, the constant hum of cars, the smell of pollution and above all, the absence of sand. "Because I had no choice." You shrug and Ten shakes his head. He knows he won't have much more information. He's a good boy.

Once your coffee is done, you get up under Ten's curious gaze. "Okay, I have things to do. See you later? Take care of yourself." You bend down, and kiss his forehead, and like a cat, Ten seeks more warmth from your lips. You go out of the little café smiling at the barista, and you walk to the city center. If the message you received earlier was not wrong, your prey should be around the Royal Albion Hotel. So you go there, your hands in the pockets of your thin jacket, and strangely enough, you see him. That was easy. You could say this is beginner's luck, but Johnny is definitely not the first.

Brown hair covering his eyes, the sun giving his skin a beautiful glow, a camera hanging from his neck. Johnny Suh is standing in all his glory. You approach slowly, admiring the width of his shoulders, and the way the gentle breeze rushes through his white shirt.

You tap your index finger on his shoulder, and you clear your throat to make sure to get Johnny's attention. Immediately, he turns and when his gaze meets yours, a smile lights up his face. His beautiful face. "Oh, thank god! For a second I thought I was wrong, that would have been embarrassing." you say in a soft voice, and Johnny's smile doesn't fade, quite the contrary. The rays of sunshine reflect in his eyes which take on a golden hue. "Yn, what a surprise to see you here, it's been so long!" he hugs you for a few seconds before taking a step back to look you up and down. "What are you doing here ?"

"Oh, I needed a break. A break away from the big city, so what about you? Already tired of being the big boss of the Suh's company ?" you tilt your head, truly interested in what he has to say, well, you already know what he is going to tell you, but it's all in the act. The more genuine you look, the more he will trust you. And trust is what you look for the most when you have a new prey. If it works when you don't know your prey, it should also work when you already know it. And you don't think there's a lot of trust left between you after so many years apart.

Johnny shakes his head, his fingers rubbing his camera. "It is tiring, but I quite like it. I just felt like a break could be good." well, you're glad he decided to do that, it's much easier. Of course you could have waited a few more years, waited for his bank account to be fuller but you were never known for being patient. And you didn't have anything on your to-do list as of right now.

"I understand, you deserve to enjoy a little." he nods, a small laugh leaving his full, rosy lips. "You certainly have things to do, I wouldn't want to bother you." to support your words, you look at his camera, and Johnny follows your gaze, never losing his smile. "I wanted some shots of the beach, and maybe of the old village. But we could meet again later, what do you think?" you see, that's the advantage you don't have with a prey you don't know, it's not as easy to have a date or to strike up a conversation.

"Oh, I'd love to. I've been here for a couple of weeks already, maybe you'd like me to show you around? I know a pretty good restaurant." you tilt your head, your voice is overflowing with sweetness and you are almost sickened by it but it seems to work on Johnny whose gaze never leaves you. "That would be amazing, let's meet here at 6pm?" you nod your head, and a sudden surge of confidence makes you step forward to place a small kiss on his cheek.

You turn to wave at him, and you're pretty sure you see him blush, but it could very well be a trick played by the sun. You keep smiling until you get to the house. You have several hours to kill, you might as well spend them somewhere comfortable. You could have invited Johnny over, but you don't want to risk to get caught by Ten either bringing someone new, or with one too many glasses of alcohol clouding his judgment and stopping his brain to mouth filter to work. Ten has a big mouth, and you really don't want him to spill all of your secrets.

Time flies by, and before you know it, you find yourself waiting for Johnny at the same place you found him this morning. He's right on time, and he's still so handsome. His hair is wavy, maybe from the sea air, adorable. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." is the first thing he says to you when his gaze meets yours and you shake your head. "Not at all, I barely arrived five minutes ago."

The walk to the restaurant is pleasant. Tourists are always on the beach, or already home for a well-deserved shower. Johnny talks about his work, his photographs, the time you were both interns, everything and nothing. It's nice to be in his company, you think, even when the silence sets in, it's not heavy, it's comfortable. Which is rare with you. This is the perks of being old friends.

"Oh my god, I've been talking so much!" Johnny says, sitting across from you in the restaurant. He hides his face with his hands and you laugh softly. He looks like an embarrassed child, not what you would expect from the playboy Johnny Suh. "It's okay, I like hearing you talk!" you smile at him when he finally deigns to show his face, his cheeks a slight reddish tint. "You seem to be really passionate about photography, why didn't you continue in this path ?"

Of course, you know the answer, it's obvious. But you put it down anyway. Johnny sighs, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. "Oh you know, I didn't really have a choice. As an only child, it was obvious that I was going to take over my father's company. I tried to talk to him when I was younger, trying to make him understand that maybe selling the company and retiring would be a good thing, I've never taken such a hard slap in my life." he's laughing, but you can see in his eyes that it's not genuine.

"The idea of being like my father scared me when I was younger. Good grades at school, place in society, a wife and children who will take over when I'm too old to work, a reputation that should not be tarnished at the risk of losing everything. But I think that over time, I got used to the idea." Johnny shrugs, and even though you're here to seduce and manipulate him, your heart hurts for him. Because Johnny is a good person, he deserves to be happy the way he wants. "It's not that bad after all."

You shake your head, you can't afford to have sympathy, or worse, empathy for someone you are going to manipulate and kill. Yes, knowing your prey has many advantages but also disadvantages. You can't afford to be sensitive, and be fooled. "It's sad anyway. Having a child, and not allowing him to live the life he wants, not wanting him to be happy and flourish in the life that he built for himself." Johnny sighs, but before he can open his mouth to answer, he's cut off by the waitress. "It is what it is." he says when she is gone.

"Enough about me, what's up? What has happened in the past five years?" he asks, and you shrug. Of course, you have prepared a speech, the same that you give to all your preys. “Oh, well I graduated, and I realized that wasn't what I wanted to do at all. So I gave myself a year to travel, and to think. I started to get a taste for travelling, for discovering new cultures, so much so that I never stay long in one place. I find small jobs, and when I'm bored, I find my next destination." in a way, you're not really lying. You've spent the last few years traveling, but not for the reasons he thinks.

"But it's tiring in the long run, you know. Not having a place to call home. I know I'm still young, that I can land somewhere, and make a living, start a family, but that's the problem, I don't know where I want to make my life."

Johnny nods, he listens intently, it's like he's drinking your words, and it's genuinely adorable. “I understand,” he begins. "I hope you find the place where you feel comfortable and happy." if he knew this place was going to be his apartment, he would certainly be surprised. But one thing at a time.

"Tell me, heartbreaker, do you have someone in your life? I've read every one of your interviews, and you're still very secret about your private life. Tell me everything." he scoffs, and you put your elbows on the table to get closer to him. You're ready to hear it all, and why would he refuse? You were friends once. "I don't have time for a serious love affair. I have one night stands, but that's it."

You sigh dramatically before taking a sip of the wine. "What do you mean you don't have time for a love story? You don't have time because you don't give yourself time. Maybe that would change if you had someone who was waiting for you at home every nights. Don't you think ? " you ask, tilting your head, and he seems to think about it.

"You're absolutely right. But who would want a man like me? My job is my priority, and it will remain my priority until I reach the age to hand over to someone else." Johnny is really not trying to make an effort. "Listen to me, Suh. You are an amazing man, you are kind, smart and selfless. Your job is your priority because you haven't experienced anything else during the past years. You haven't had the chance to experience love. So of course right now you can't imagine your life without your job in mind, but it will happen, believe me."

The way the dinner turned isn't how you thought it would, but that's okay. You have three weeks to make him fall under your spell, and what better than a serious discussion eh? Fortunately after that, the conversation becomes lighter, and you talk about the memories of your internship. Besides, when you leave the restaurant, you are not yet finished. It is true that there are a lot of things to say.

"Do you remember the departure party, when I brought you home? I was planning to kiss you." He says, giggling. He drank too much wine, and so have you, but it's more visible on him. The tips of his ears are red, and so are his cheeks. It's cute, you can't say otherwise. "Oh yeah? And why didn't you do it?" He shrugs and stops near the beach. "It's your fault! You kissed me on the cheek, you broke the mood!"

"Did I break the mood?" You ask by removing your shoes to put your feet on the sand, wincing at the feeling between your toes, Johnny following you without being asked. "I can't believe it! Say you were afraid of being rejected." He rolls his eyes, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. To be honest, you have missed that kind of pointless little argument that you always had. "Being rejected? Why? You said it yourself, I'm an amazing man."

Using your own words against you is dirty, but you're laughing. You walk towards the water, and even if you can't see him, you can feel Johnny's presence behind you. "You know, if you had kissed me, maybe you wouldn't have to come into an empty house every night."

After that evening, you saw Johnny every day for an entire week. Whether it was to go for a coffee, or to take pictures, you were inseparable. And you found out that he was more than his good physique and his incredible smile. Once again, you found yourself stuck. Because once again, you knew that you could fall in love with him if you were not careful.

When you told Ten about Johnny, he advised you not to do it, not to choose him. He said it might get you in trouble, and maybe even put you in danger and you start to think that for once, maybe he was right. As for the danger, you don't know if you could ever be, but for the problems ... yes. Because it's hard not to get attached to Johnny, not wanting to hear his melodious laughter every day, and to see him smile at every opportunity.

You hate to admit it, but because of Johnny, you were starting to question your black widow status. You are weak. Weak for Johnny. But it's wrong, you can't afford it. You have to continue with your plan. You will seduce him, make him fall in love with you, and you will end up with your name in his will. Too bad if it hurts, you'll get over it eventually.

Ten noticed the change in your behavior. Because normally, in a week, you are already more involved in the life of your prey. But with Johnny, nothing happened. Not even a kiss. So of course, every time you come home from a day with Johnny, he teases you like the little shit he is. You gotta step up your game before you beat Ten's ass.

That's why you decided to invite Johnny over to the house for the first time. The atmosphere will be nice, and relaxed, maybe that will help you to take it up a gear. "I invited Johnny over to the house for dinner tonight, so if you could leave, it would be nice." Ten barely looks up from his bowl of cereal and he sighs. He's spent his week trying not to cross you or Johnny, mostly because he knows you don't trust him. And he is right.

"Okay." He says as he stand up to throw the rest of his milk in the kitchen sink. "I think I can still find myself a cute little thing." at least he's not bored, because he's charming and people have a hard time resisting him. Luckily, he doesn't kill these people, he just spends a nice night with them and lets them go the next day. Unlike you.

You spend the rest of the day preparing for Johnny's coming. You install fairylights in the garden, you put candles on the table and flowers that you bought earlier. It's pretty, and you might throw up. After a long cold shower, you dress simply, it is way too hot to make a fuss.

And at eight o'clock sharp, Johnny knocks on the door. You open, and you are met with a big smile, and a bouquet of red roses in his hands. "It's for me ?" you ask, tilting your head, and he admires the bouquet. "No, for the neighbor, but I haven't had the chance to see her." you roll your eyes and push yourself to let him in the house. Finally, he gives you the flowers, and you thank him with a kiss on the cheek. "I have everything prepared in the garden, so you can go and sit down while I put the flowers in a vase."

He obeys, and finally you find yourself alone in the kitchen. You have to calm your heartbeat, because this boy really knows how to play with your heart strings without even doing anything. You go out, and  sit down across from Johnny who is too engrossed in his phone to notice you. You clear your throat, but it still doesn't help. "Johnny Suh, if you don't put your phone down right now, I'm going to hurt you." he smiles, and he puts his phone on the table, the screen against the wood. "Ah yes, and how are you going to do that?"

You think for a moment, and get up. Luckily Johnny's chair is pushed out, so you sit on his lap without asking his permission. Even though he looks surprised at your bold action, he puts his hands on your waist, probably to keep you from falling. "I do have a few ideas." with your index finger, you trace shapes on Johnny's chest whose breathing quickens slightly.

"Show me ?" if he insists. You bend down, and you grab his lower lip between your teeth to pull on it. He tenses, and when you pull back, you can see him come forward to chase your lips. Adorable. Then you slide your lips down his jawline to bite the skin, and you end up on his throat which you bite down several times, hard enough to leave a mark that will take on a beautiful purple hue tomorrow. Johnny growls, and you smile, proud of yourself. "Like that, I guess."

"Is that the reason you invited me tonight?" He asks in a low voice and you shake your head, both of your hands on his chest. His hands haven't left your waist, and you avoid thinking about the heat they radiate. "Of course not, I intended to wait until dessert to do that."

"You're sweet enough, no need to wait." with those words, he leans in to kiss you, and you sigh against his lips. You underestimated how bad you wanted to kiss him, taste his soft, plush lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the kiss. It's cute and sweet at first, and when you feel the tip of his tongue on your lower lip, you open your mouth and then a battle for dominance begins.

His hands slip under your t-shirt and you shudder slightly. His hands are cold and yet his fingers leave a scorching mark on your skin. It is extremely pleasant. "You're driving me crazy, you know that?" he mumbles against your lips before sliding them down your neck. He kisses your skin, and he bites repeatedly. You purse your lips, but when he bites particularly hard, a moan escapes you and he smiles.

"This is what I was looking for." you answer, already out of breath. With a quick movement, you open his shirt and hear the sound of buttons falling to the floor. "Hey!" he gently hits your thigh and you laugh. He's beautifully muscular, and your mouth waters. Your fingers draw the contours of his abs and he takes the opportunity to remove your t-shirt.

His lips attack the top of your chest without delay and you roll your hips against the obvious bulge in his pants. "Shouldn't we go to your room?" He asks and you look at him with a smirk. "Oh, is the big Johnny Suh afraid of being caught?" you tilt your head, and his response is immediate. He gets up, and you squeak. He puts you on the table, forcing your legs open to get in between. "I'm not afraid of anything."

He kisses your belly, and of course, he bites the skin and you squirm under him. You need more, so much more. But Johnny seems to like to tease you since he takes a long time to unbutton your pants and take them off. "Please Johnny." you whine, and he looks at you, eyes darkened with lust. "What do you want ?" you're used to being the most dominant in this kind of situation but Johnny is impressive, and for some reason you feel intimidated when he's around you. And even more so when he has his hands on you.

"Touch me, please." Johnny scoffs, and he strokes the side of your thighs. "This is what I am doing." you sigh, if he wants to play, then you have to play back when it is your turn to have your hands on him. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his fingers slide down your panties and Johnny notices the wet stain and he bites his lip. "Pretty."

He takes your panties off, and he doesn't waste a moment to collect your wetness on his fingers. You buck your hips, but his free hand pins your down on the table. "No moving. You'll take what I give you." You really wonder what happened to the guy who blushes when you kiss his cheek, because right now he is nowhere to be found. "Come on, don't be a bitch John !" you mutter, and he looks up. "You always have to run your mouth, don't you ?" you feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and he opens his mouth again to talk. "Guess I'll have to put it to use."

You frown, and the thumb of the hand who was pining you down minute ago brushes against your lower lip. You open your mouth and two of his fingers slide inside your mouth. His fingers presse on your tongue and you almost gag which seems to be funny to him. "Good girl. Stay quiet now." The pad of his fingers rub against your clit but before you can try to get any pleasure out of it, the fingers are gone. Not for long because one of them ease itself inside of you and you close your eyes.

Drool gathers on the side of your mouth with Johnny's fingers inside, and you probably already look fucked with red bitten lips and messy hair. "More, more." you plead, but the sound coming out of your mouth is incomprehensible. Johnny seems to understand, because another finger joins the first. He moves his hand slowly, and he is not looking for your g-spot, no, he tries to get you to lose your mind. And honestly ? He is going to succeed.

"Oh, are you crying princess ?" he asks, and you finally feel the tears rolling down your cheeks from frustration. He takes his fingers off your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips. It's absolutely disgusting, but at the same time, it is arousing. "Please, fuck me John." your voice is broken, throat sore, and yet you haven't even put it to good use. "Eager." he whispers.

Yes, you are eager. You need to feel more of him, to feel everything or you'll really go crazy. You sit up on the table, and wince at the wet feeling between your thighs. And was it that hot outside earlier or is it just your inside boiling? Your hands find Johnny's belt, and you drop it to the floor, before unbuttoning the pants. He slides down Johnny's muscular legs, and with a kick he completely take them off.

His cock is straining in his boxer and it makes your mouth waters a little more. God, you can't wait to have it in you. You palm him through it, and he exhales loudly. "You're so big John." of course he smiles, and you take his boxer down. He is thick, and long and you flick your wrist a few time at the head. You spread precum down his lenght, and when it gets too much, Johnny grabs your wrist. "Enough. Lay down."

You lie down on the table, and you try to find a position that won't break your back, but it's difficult. Fortunately, Johnny didn't put you near the candles, or the plates. Johnny spits into his hand to lubricate his cock some more, and you close your eyes when you feel the head against your hole. Slowly, he eases himself inside and you moan lowly. "Oh fuck."

He bottoms out, and he stays still. As eager as he is, he doesn't want to hurt you and you are thankful for that. "Move, please." he doesn't need to be told twice, so he starts to move. It's slow, but soon enough, it's deep and your hands find his arms. Your nails probably leave crescent marks, but you don't care, and he doesn't either because he growls when he feels the sting.

He pulls back until all you have inside is the head, and he slams his hips against yours. The noise you let out is loud, and lewd. Your neighbors probably picked up of what was happening and it makes the all moment way more exciting. His thrusts are more brutal, and you roll your eyes. You can already feel the heat in the pit of your stomach and it is embarassing how quick you could reach your climax but Johnny is good. Yes he is really good. "You're so tight, it's like you were made to take my dick." you moan at that, who thought he would have a dirty mouth.

"Yes yes, just for you." you mumble and his hand finds your throat. He doesn't apply any pressure, but the feeling of his fingers is maddening, like his pace. Your legs are shaking, and Johnny is smiling. He feels how you squeeze around his cock and he knows you're close. He is too, he can almost taste his orgasm on the tip of his tongue. He frowns when your hand lands on the one around your throat, but he quickly understands. "Slut." he presses his fingers to cut your air flow and it seems to do the trick because without any warning, your orgasm washes over you.

You see stars, and you whine because of the oversensitivity but Johnny doesn't really care, right now, he is chasing his own pleasure. When he feels it, he pulls out, which makes you sob. You wanted to feel so full, so so bad. "Later baby." he strokes his cock over your tummy and he cums with a loud moan. Long strikes of white land on your skin.

Johnny stops his movement, and he drops on the chair behind him. He is breathless, his hair stick to his forehead and his chest is glistening with sweat. "Fuck." you sit down, wincing at the pain in your back. You run two fingers through the cum on your stomach, and when you know Johnny is watching you, you slip your fingers in your mouth, licking them clean. He groans, throwing his head back. "You're so fucking dirty, you're going to make me hard again."

"We should shower." you say, and he nods. Before he can run inside the house, you make grabby hands toward him and he rolls his eyes. "You're such a baby !" but he still helps you on your legs and hold you close while you tell him where the bathroom is.

After another round in the shower, you find yourself tucked in bed, your head on Johnny's chest. His breathing is steady, so as yours. You haven't feel so relaxed in a long time, and you know it is the same for Johnny. He kisses the top of your head, a peaceful smile on his face before yawning. "Yes, maybe I should have kissed you that night." is the last thing he says before both of you are too tired to keep your eyes open.

That's what you wanted to hear. You have him wrap in your daisy chains.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you feel is the emptiness next to you, and the coolness of the sheets. For good measure, you roll on the other side of the bed, and you inhale the scent on the pillow. Yes, Johnny did spend the night here, it was not just a mirage. You sit up, a pout on your face. Has he already left? And without a word? Your heart tightens at the idea.

You want nothing but to get some more sleep, to forget Johnny's absence, but voices are suddenly reaching you. You get up, grabbing the first clothes you can find, and walk to the kitchen. It smells like pancakes, and you close your eyes for a second to enjoy it. You have barely entered the kitchen when your gaze falls on Johnny and Ten. They talk while cooking. Ten nudges Johnny with his shoulder to push him off the stove before he burns the pancakes on the pan.

"Good morning ?" you ask, and two pairs of eyes turn to you. Both boys smile, and you bite your lip when you see the marks on Johnny's neck. He is even more attractive in the early morning, which is not fair. "Oh, good morning Yn! Johnny was ready to set the kitchen on fire when I got home, so I'm helping him with breakfast!" Ten says.

Johnny puts the wooden spatula on the counter even though he only used it to hit Ten, and he walks in your direction and you tilt your head. "I thought you were gone." you mumble and he cups your face in his hands. "Why would I have done that?" he leans over and kisses you tenderly. You are not going to lie, you feel your heart racing, but you push this feeling very far. "Can you stop? Not everyone is happy and in love, it's disgusting!"

Johnny laughs against your lips at Ten's words, and he pulls back, taking your hand, and leading you into the kitchen. "Sit down." you take a seat on a stool around the kitchen island, and Johnny puts down some fruit he has sliced, and some orange juice all under Ten's disgusted gaze. "Don't be jealous Ten, you'll find someone as perfect as Yn someday." This hurts more than you would have thought, because you are not perfect, you are not even close. Johnny is just too good.

After that night together, the dynamics of your relationship changed completely. From childhood friends, you became lovers. And everyday you feel horrible. You don't deserve Johnny, he's way too good. And even Ten is catching up on the situation. When Johnny is at home, and he's around, he gives you sideways glances, and when you're alone, he asks you every time if it's a good idea to continue. Yes it is. It's too late to turn back.

Today is Johnny's last day. Tomorrow he will be flying back home, and in a few days he will be back behind his desk running one of the biggest companies. And you see it by the way he talks, the way he's lost in his thoughts, that he's wondering what will happen with you after that. Because he knows what you think about the idea of ​​officially landing somewhere. This is a discussion you must have, and now is the best time.

You walk on the beach with Johnny, your fingers intertwined. And you couldn't ask for better company. "So, did you pack your bags?" you ask, and he remains silent. The beach is almost deserted, except for couples enjoying the last rays of the sun. "John?" you stop, and he follows you, turning to you. "Is everything okay ?"

He remains silent, but he opens his mouth to speak. "Summer relationships often have no future. When summer is over, so does the relationship." his voice is low, and his gaze is on the sand which he finds extremely interesting. "Why do you say that ?" you ask and he shrugs. "That's what it is, isn't it?" you put your hand on his cheek, and he finally lifts his head. You smile softly, his expression is painful, but you intend to make him smile very quickly.

"Maybe it's like that for other people, but that doesn't mean it has to be for us, don't you think?" at your words, his eyes open wide, and you can't help but smile. "You can be the reason I stop running. I can be the person waiting for you at home at night, what do you think?"

Johnny doesn't need to think, that's what he wants. He never wanted something as strong as having you by his side. When he decided to take a vacation away from work, he never thought he would fall in love with someone as surprising and incredible as you. "I think it's a really good idea." he leans over and kisses you. The situation looks really cliché, a passionate kiss on the beach, as the sun sets after making a decision that will change your lives. And yet, you don't mind. And god damn it you wish it was all true.

"Come home with me." he whispers against your lips, and the word "home" is enough to make your heart beat faster. You never thought of having a house, a place where you could be happy, too adamant on working more, but Johnny makes you want that life. It's chaos in your head. On one hand, you feel ready to put an end to your little illegal career, but on the other hand, you don't know if you will end up getting bored of this well-planned little life. You don't want Johnny to suffer when you decide to leave in the middle of the night.

"Okay .." you answer, and Johnny's smile is so beautiful and so bright that you force yourself to put the future in the back of your head. You allow yourself to take advantage of this moment of peace when the world no longer exists. Nothing exists except you and Johnny. Nothing. No one.

You did it.

In the hour following your talk on the beach with Johnny, you told Ten you were going to leave with Johnny. Ten didn't say anything, but you read the many questions he had on his face. Of course, you didn't leave him on the street. You gave him money, enough to live more than comfortably for the next few years, and you said goodbye to each other. Not for long, because Ten decided to rent an apartment near you, at least while he figured out what to do with his life.

As for you, you moved in with Johnny. Of course, he gave you the choice. You could either stay as long as you needed to find an apartment, or you could stay officially. And you chose the latter. Life with Johnny is calm, and passionate at first. Of course, the start of a new love is always amazing, passionate, and raw. This is the time when you get to know each other in every way possible, the time when you see if you are truly meant for each other.

And ... it hurts you to admit it but you and Johnny are meant to be together. A match made in heaven. You have different characters, but you complet each other in a way. Johnny changes. He comes home earlier, and he's a lot less stressed because he has someone waiting for him. And he's never been happier. Everything is perfect.

Except it isn't.

Ten is bored, and so are you. You often find yourself in his small apartment to talk about the years you spent together. And yes, you miss it. Johnny gives you everything you could have dreamed of, but not the adrenaline rush you crave every day. You need this, it's an addiction.

"I can't kill him, Ten. As much as I want to go back to our old life, I refuse to hurt him." you whisper one evening when Johnny had to leave in a two days business trip. "So don't kill him. Spare him." you laugh bitterly. "And what am I supposed to do then?" Sometimes Ten wonders how you managed to last almost two years without him, and when he tells you about his plan, you wonder too. You've wanted to get rid of him so many times, and yet he's the voice of wisdow you need.

Today is the day.

You are in Johnny's arms when you open your eyes. The sun is not up yet, you can see it through the curtains. Johnny's body radiates a pleasant warmth, and it takes a lot to lift yourself off. You watch him sleep peacefully for several minutes, sliding your fingers over his face, as if you want to memorize every detail. You lean over and kiss his lips. Pink and plush like the first time you kissed him.

"I love you."

You get up in silence, and you walk towards the guest room. Johnny never comes into this room, that's why you left your suitcases without being afraid he would find them when he came back the night before. You bring them near the front door, being careful not to knock them, or trip down the stairs. Finally, everything is ready. It is time. But first, you make one last stop by the room. Johnny hasn't moved.

You put a letter on the pillow where you used to sleep. It's the first thing he'll find when he wakes up. You could have texted him before throwing your phone in the trash, but that's more sincere. It is time. You open the door, and you see Ten waiting in a rental car near the house. He goes out, and in silence, he helps you put your suitcases in the trunk.

"Let's go ?" he asks, and you nod. And as the car drives off, Johnny is awakened by the noise. He turns around, ready to hug you back to sleep, but he can't find anyone. His fingers scratch a piece of paper which he grabs. He rubs his eyes with his free hand, and he turns on the bedside light.

"Johnny, I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, and I know that will never change. We will meet again when the time is right, I promise. I'll always find you." Johnny's voice is low, and suddenly, a sob echoes in the empty room. And in the car. The sound of broken hearts.

Another five years passed since you've last seen Johnny.

He tried to contact you, but each time he encountered a robotic voice telling him the number was not available. He tried to look for you, to look for Ten, but each time he found nothing but emptiness. He hired a private investigator, and he was close to finding you, but you noticed him before he noticed you. And after that long, crazy year, Johnny gave up.

On your side, you continued to travel with Ten. He never left you, and you were delighted about it. And also grateful. You don't know where you would be without him, as annoying as he is. But after five years, you feel it, it's time for you to quit. Ten has found love, and he plans to settle down and have a family. And you know love is waiting for you somewhere in an office, stressed and tired from several sleepless nights.

You don't regret anything. You have been lucky enough to travel the world, and have enough money for three more than comfortable lives and not once have you had problems. Of course, you don't know what the future holds for you on the legal side, but you don't think about it. You never thought about the future too seriously, you don't intend to start, not from that side. You have other things to do.

You have to find Johnny.

Finding Johnny isn't difficult in itself, but approaching him is. You can't afford to enter the Suh building, not without an appointment or for no good reason, so you decide to do what you can do best. Walk into people's lives without them asking for anything, but this time with Johnny's apartment. He hasn't moved, probably too busy for that, and it's not difficult for you to open the door.

Nothing has changed. The same photos are hanging on the wall, and it doesn't seem to have taken more than the last time you saw them, and if the apartment had become more cozy when you were there, it's forgotten. No more soft blankets on the sofas, plants on the furniture, flowers on the table. Just a model apartment. Tonight is like waiting for a new prey, you don't know how long you will have to wait before seeing them, how long they'll take to get home.

First you should stop referring Johnny as a prey. This life is behind you, and even if you can't explain it to him, you intend to make him understand too. You prepare the meal, and you set the table. You put out candles, and you sit down while waiting.

It is almost midnight when the door opens. If the living room lights weren't on, Johnny would probably have gone to bed without even having a bite to eat, but luckily he is caught by the light. He walks into the dining room, careful. He frowns when he sees you, but his expression changes to surprise. You get up to take a step in his direction. He's not moving, he's just watching your every move.

"Good evening, Johnny." you say in a soft voice, and you help him to get rid of his jacket that you put on the back of a chair. He remains silent. "I made dinner, I hope you're hungry." he sits on the chair you occupied a little earlier. "What are you doing here ?" he finally asks, and you breathe. You were starting to fear his reaction.

"I told you I'd find you again when the time is right. And it is."

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 12 rewatch thoughts

- I would like to thank them for keeping in din’s harried yet triumphant ‘hAH!!’ when he gets the explosives to stick to gideon’s ship in the ‘hey remember when this happened last season’ section, that was a nice gesture from the showrunners to me personally, I assume

- this episode actually helped me find more enjoyment in the last one, because it’s such a nice reassurance that even though they’re pulling in more stuff from other star wars media this show won’t suddenly stop being its own thing and mando won’t suddenly stop being himself and it’s very comforting to me somehow haha

- the small hesitation before din calls out “do you... do you have the wire?” lol lol lol he’s completely aware of the bizarreness of what he’s doing here but hey being alive is already so damn weird etc. 

the softness of his voice the whole way through and the fact that he never, never blames the baby for not being able to do what shouldn’t really be asked of him in the first place, tho... ;____;  

- the tiny exasperated head tilt din does when he realizes the hatch isn’t going to extend all the way fdslkfhasdlashfs  

- din is looking down at the baby the entire time while greef talks to the mechanics ❤️❤️❤️

(the baby seems pretty drawn to/excited to see greef again and mando seems to notice which is extremely cute. he’s becoming really good at tuning in with the kid) 

he also greets cara baby first in much the same way as he does peli, like he knows what the main attraction here is lol, they do a very sweet bro nod at each other. god I wish gina carano wasn’t so terrible imagine if we could just have this BrOTP without hesitations :( 

I think greef is actually a bit worried to begin with after seeing the ship, he sort of takes din in intently before he huffs a little laugh and grabs his arm. it must be a bit stressful to be his friend and not be able to see his expression right away when you worry something might be seriously wrong haha

- people are finally treating the baby like you would a real baby and it’s such a blessing, everyone talking and cooing at him and baby babbling back

(I wonder if greef has children of his own? he does have an undeniable air of experienced grandpa about him in this episode, it’s adorable)  

- din does so much talking -- unprompted, even! -- these days, it truly is an embarrassment of riches 

- capital E Emotional about this shot with IG-11 right behind din and cara inviting him into the school in front of him. some past carried with us into the future shit going on here  

IG-11′s legacy’s still got our back y’all :’) I swear to god if gideon blows up nevarro at some point I’m going to lose it 

the ‘oh yeah?/that so?’ way din leans his head back after she says “wait until you see inside” is also amazing

- baby reaching out his hand like ‘can have?’ is so polite ;______; he takes after his father (including in the ‘fool me twice, I’ll fuck you up’ department haha. listen you get one chance to be cool about it and then no more mr nice mando/baby)

-

go ahead, kid, make a fuss about it. who are you going to tell, huh? who’s going to believe you? you gonna tell them you got bested by a baby? a magic baby? no? that’s right. I took your dignity as easily as I took your macarons, there’s nothing you can do to change it, and now you gotta live with that. sweet dreams.

(this is a joke. the baby is not evil. I hate that I even have to specify this but I’ve seen some stupid shit in the tags in my time you guys haha) 

- I can’t work out what anything on greef’s desk is supposed to be, but if that’s a computer it’s got to be older than even the razor crest lol

- friends: din yes?

mando: din no, only repairs

friends: din yes please?

mando: ... [sigh] din yes 

he truly has next to no defense against people he actually likes asking him for something huh lol. well a self care co-op mission clearly did him a world of good in this one at least it’s all fine

- “I’m starting to dehydrate, Boss” is an excellent line and delivered perfectly, I cackle every time (”You park your gills right there until I say otherwise” is a good runner up too) 

- it’s so nice to see the small moments of communication between them in this one after mando was so out of sync with the team in the last one (and tbf those guys didn’t even try to give him any pointers at all, they really left him to flounder through the whole thing if you watch it carefully haha)

- the mythrol’s jacket still looks so comfy, I want one

- aaaaah the way din says “I don’t like this” is just so... hnnngh it’s perfect, there’s a vulnerability and openness to it for a moment. greef glances over at him like he hasn’t heard him sound like this before too, which just sells it even more

u ok bro?

you know shit’s fucked up when din djarin expresses an emotion without even being forced to by circumstance (I think what I mean is that it’s actually really rare for him to state how he feels about something just to do it, usually his communication is more practically oriented, more along ‘I think this is the best cause of action because of a and b’ lines, or like when he tells omera he’s grateful it’s... more to inform her of it and make sure she knows than to express himself? but he’s starting to do it more with people he trusts now and it gets me in the heart? man I’m finding this hard to articulate let’s move on lol)

- I really, really wonder about pershing’s position in all of this. his plea for the child’s life did sound genuine -- he did try to guard him with his own noodly scientist body when he thought din was out to hurt him, remember -- but is that only because he knows he’s in deep shit himself without the blood the baby can give? is he maybe not quite cool with whatever gideon has him doing? (he does sound quite strained when he talks about the ‘body’ rejecting the transfusion and the ‘volunteer’ potentially suffering the same fate... hm.)

idk why I want there to be something redeemable in him so bad, maybe it’s just my weird yet enduring attachment to ladon radim in stargate atlantis messing with me they’re kind of similar in some ways (yeah don’t ask me I don’t know either sometimes the heart wants what it wants in ways reason can’t explain)

- tfw ur literally launching yourself across a pool of boiling lava because you’re Dad and your baby’s in danger T__________T he just does not stop running towards that kid for even a single second help

- there’s something so innocently pure and... old fashioned? about the scene with mythrol and greef screaming the entire time they drive off the cliff, it feels like something out of a movie from like three decades ago. that whole segment feels a bit like that, it’s just there to be fun and that’s okay sometimes

- every dog fight in every movie should have a baby nonchalantly snacking on a cookie in them, it elevates the experience immeasurably (he squishes his nose a little bit with the macaron when he misses his mouth at one point, which is more than anyone should be expected to bear honestly)

I love that even all fixed up again the razor crest groans and creaks like an old tired thing when din makes it flip to dive, he 100% did take out a bunch of ferraris in his stalwart morris minor of a spaceship and I treasure him     

- there’s so much life and emotion in din’s voice here I can’t!!!! I simply can’t!!!! imagine if we get to hear him openly laugh one day, would I even survive it??!!!!

 also the kid makes such pitch perfect ‘having my lil nose wiped and whining about it’ baby noises when din uses his cape to clean him up (din does turn the autopilot on before he turns around to deal with it, for those who, like me, worry about these things) 

- between carson showing up and the stuff the droid talks about in the lesson they’re doing quite a bit of outer rim vs. core worlds theme building in this one, I wonder if this is going to ramp up more or what

- god but gideon’s theme SLAPS tho 

he’s probably going to try to fuck up everything I love but you can’t fault him on the tunes he’s going to do it to 

[numbaoneflaya]

Can I get a list of all ur ocs?

Well anon youve done it, you made me make a list of all my major OCS in one place. I hope your happy with yourself. Under the cut for obvious reasons, may link in my blog desc later.

Modern/BTD verse!!

Jilly- Ferret beastkin little creature, was recently turned into a werewolf by vincent as well so she's running around on full moons in a wereferret wolf hybrid creature form. Chaotic and friendly and wants to be everyone's bestie. She has the most energy in the world and is very kind hearted. Banned from most Claires for stealing and from one Home Depot for climbing the shelves. Prone to living life with rose colored glasses on and seeing the best in everything/everything even when there's nothing there. Socialization is a must for her and is why being basemented/kidnapped broke her psych so quickly and developed severe stockholm. Sometimes overly talkative/enthusiastic and can scare people off. Even if she sees someone shes decided shes friends with be noticeably 'evil', will convince herself it must be for some reason/her fault and ignore it.

Ciggy- Undead punk still learning to harness his powers to interact with the world as a ghost. Was sacrificed by a cult he joined for free concert tickets and to get laid. Likes to cause problems on purpose both pre and prior death and he's not above possessing someone once he learns how to. Was called Rooster in high school before he dropped out because he's loud, obnoxious and always screaming. And also has bright red dyed hair. Looking 4 ways to become less ghosty bcs he wants to be able to help raise his infant daughter, whom he died before he could meet. Bit annoying and in your face, likes poking at bruises, his or others. Kind of a sad heart seeking attention through volume and persistence.

Mike: Vampire loser! Sells drugs and lives at raves. Was turned when she was attacked by a coked out vampire (whom she supplied the product to) and has major scarring on her face and chest. Needs a somewhat constant influx of blood so shell sometimes take victims back to her place and chain them up, slowly draining them over time. Feels bad (ish) about it tho so it is possible to survive her if you are nice and or interesting enough. Kind of desperate for a friend and for love. Is a stalker. If she likes you enough/finds you interesting, she might just appear in your house one night and start rummaging through your fridge like nothing is wrong and youve been besties for years. Its best to indulge her and be friendly, otherwise she could turn violent quickly if her feelings are hurt.

Kilaine- Regular human woman, but fucked up. Born and raised by an elite waspy society she had an interest in the human body and pain tolerance since she was young. Quickly learned that these traits were socially unacceptable in most professions, so she became a doctor. The only family she cared about was her younger sister who she lost in a car accident, where they were flipped over and trapped inside while it was afire. While her sister burned up in front of her Kilaine only lost her left arm and had major burns on her body. This tipped her descent into sadism and she is now madly obsessed with bringing her sister back no matter the cost. Rude and offstandish, clinical.

Dragon age verse!

Thurwen- My main Hero of Ferelden with a bad temper and a heart of gold. City elf from the Denerim Alienage, 18 at the start of origins. She's a reaver warrior with a lot of pent up rage which sometimes scares others when she lets it out in battle. Over the years she's grown less moody as she's had to take the role of Commander. Crude sense of humor and violent impulses, very sensitive to the plights of others and tries often to help. Never seen crying in public but only cries to herself at night- major martyr and hanged man complex.

Caz- My circle mage elf inquisitor who was an apostate before the conclave. Blood magic, but make it sneaky. Wary of strangers and new faces, always dealing with the impulse to flee/find a high vantage point. Endless curiosity about the unknown/ the forbidden/ naughty, was supposed to be made tranquil for it but she escaped. Kind of a little creature as well, lived on her own for a while as an apostate in the woods, filed her teeth down to sharp ends to make herself look more intimidating (shes 5 ft tall) and less cute (her elf ears are huge and expressive, which shes embarrassed about)

Dag and Thagna- Carta twins! Professional lyrium smugglers since birth pretty much. Raised casteless in dust town and had to work their way up the chain of command by themselves. Dag is the brother, Thagna the sister. Their father traded them to the carta for drinking money and their mom died in childbirth so they have somewhat of a codependent relationship. Both charismatic and calculating, friendly and agreeable but won't hesitate to put a dagger in your back. Hard to pin down morally or physically, squirrelly bastards.

Reila: Dalish elf who works for the inquisition/ is the inquisitor in some aus. She has an extreme fixation on elvhen history and rebuilding what they have lost. Not a people person, prefers solitude. Takes some time to warm up to shemhlen as she has a hard history with them. Good friends with Caz, who recruited her in the first place. Doesn't understand very many social cues and finds societal expectations limiting and frustrating. Fondness for halla and hooved animals, which she finds graceful.

Elder scrolls verse!

Valkya: Near seven foot nord woman whos over a thousand years old by the events of skyrim. Tall and buff, two handed warrior and compulsive hero there to bask in the spotlight save the day. She was killed at the start of the events of Elder scrolls online and had her soul ripped out and sent to coldharbor and she's just been a pain in the ass about it since then. Her body can physically die and will not regrow pieces. Her soul however will escape and teleport to the nearest source of power where her body will regrow from an aetherial plasm until its whole again. Loud and brash, friendly and jovial. Actually pretty keen especially after centuries of life but prefers to play dumb as it makes people underestimate her. Plus, she really does enjoy mud wrestling and drinking contests and acting generally like a rambunctious frat boy. Ha developed a bit of a substance problem and a problem with acting out, as after being alive so long she would turn to anything to dull the ache inside of her that never goes away.

Espira- My Dragonborn! Redguard from Hammerfell who was briefly in the Ash’abah due to killing undead while protecting her parents water farm as a child. Ran away from them after years and went to Cyrodille, then to Skyrim and was caught crossing the border. Reserved, kind and soft spoken, she's a sword and shield warrior who's committed herself to doing good in the world by helping others. Dislikes killing and anything messy but believes it is often necessary in order to protect the weak. She blacksmiths often to save money on the upkeep of her own equipment, and takes up metal jewelry working as a hobby with the excess material. Prone to trusting others too much and giving too many second chances, as shes always looking for ways to make even the most hardened criminal a second look at life.

Riley- Espiras little brother who she locked in the wardrobe during the event of the water farm attack. In preventing him from doing violence against the undead she kept him from being conscripted into the Ash’abah. He's way more chaotic than his sister, and suffers from a case of little sibling syndrome in which he will often pester/poke at people just to get a rise out of them. Still kind hearted as his sister, he tries to hide it because he believes that the world is a cruel place and the cruel survive. Despite that belief he is often still unable to force himself to be cruel/careless, only making a show of it so that others leave him alone and don't see that he's very sensitive and emotional. Deaf in one ear due to a magic mishap in his youth, he trained and enchanted his most beloved rats to live for years and sit on his shoulder, alerting him to noises he would not otherwise notice.

Felria: Evil vamp :/ chaotic evil dunmer necromancer. Small and devilish and likes dead bodies too much. Manipulative and cunning, she loves acting. She's a trained assassin for the dark brotherhood and is the speaker. Likes dressing up for missions and wearing disguises like its all a play. Loves toying with people more than she loves killing them, will act in ways that cause as much trauma as possible for other people just for fun and she finds the reactions interesting. Considers herself too far removed from most people's perception of morality and of her so it's hard for her to trust someone or see them as worthy of knowing her. Finds the psychology of grief and fear to be interesting and wants to study them first hand. The hero of kvatch.

Herren: Fifty something year old rat woman looking for something to keep her going. Ran away from her wealthy family in her youth when they wanted her to take charge of the household, instead became an infamous jewel thief and swashbuckler. Spent most of her life traveling and stealing and double dealing. She's smarmy and sarcastic, a serial romancer of the highest caliber. Bit of a show off and a hedonist, always looking for the next good party or new product to snort. Her family died off due to the hard times she wasn't there for and she keeps looking for bigger and bigger heists to fill her appetite as she's chronically bored and lonely, though wont accept intimacy and will scoff at it out of the belief she doesn't deserve it. Irresponsible and selfish, lonely and terrified of any sort of commitment. Fun to party with though!

[lovelylogans]

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter one: qualia

qualia: in philosophy and certain models of psychology, qualia are defined as individual instances of subjective, conscious experience. philosopher and cognitive scientist daniel dennett once suggested that qualia was "an unfamiliar term for something that could not be more familiar to each of us: the ways things seem to us.”

JANUS

Janus almost always develops a headache when he has to deal with the latest idiot intern at the firm, but this headache is beyond the pale. Then again, so is this intern. He has never met a uni student that is more destined to become an obnoxiously vocal Tory. It’s like someone granted a novel about Etonian history his wish to become a real boy.

“Out,” he bellows at the intern who has been attempting to stick himself to Janus's side, unable to pick up on the fact that his repeated mentions of his father, you know, the chancellor of the high court, is doing the opposite of impressing everyone around him. 

This intern—Janus is going to make it a point to never remember his name now—has probably never been yelled at in his life. He gives Janus a very offended look, sniffs, and retreats from Janus's office, likely to bother whatever barrister he hasn’t yet told about the blatant nepotism that has gotten him into their office.

Janus puts his elbows on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing slowly in and out. Though the intern has certainly exacerbated the headache at hand, he’s had the headache since he inexplicably woke up at four in the morning. 

He’s taken paracetamol, he’s tried hydrating, and drinking caffeine, and rubbing his temples, and even wearing the blue light glasses Key swears by, but there’s been no luck. His head’s throbbing just as badly now as it did when he woke up from a dream about a strange American wearing a pale brown cardigan and a pink tie.

The man had gone pale and sweaty as if he was ill, leaning back against air, clutching at nothing, like he’d hoped to find someone’s hand to hold, but despite the pain he seemed to be in, he’d stared straight at Janus, beaming and wide-eyed. 

“I see them,” the man had whispered. He’d opened his free arm as if to offer a hug. “Oh, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, my dear. My darling.”

You’re beautiful, my dear, my darling…

Janus rubs at his forehead. If he’d been so beautiful and dear and darling, he would have appreciated being left without this migraine as the price of the compliment.

“You,” he barks at the nearest intern walking by his office—a mousy little thing, a girl who’s swimming in a cardigan that makes his eyes throb with a familiarity he can’t recognize—“I’ll let you assist on this case if you get me a tea with two sugars, right now.”

She perks up. “Really?”

“Right now,” he thunders, and the girl practically squeaks before she heads for the building’s refectory with its in-house café.

Janus tries his hardest not to smile to himself, really he does, but the best part of intern season is scaring the interns. What is he supposed to do, not revel in their suffering?

He’s about to reach for his smartphone resting on his desk when he feels a buzz against his sternum.

He pauses, glances toward the door, before he swivels around his desk chair and opens a lower cabinet as if he’s searching for a file; instead, he reaches into his innermost breast pocket to pull out his other phone. This one is a good deal cheaper than the one resting on the table; that is by design.

He glances at the window to double-check the reflections, that no one is watching him—they aren’t—before he unlocks the phone and looks at the message.

K: jazza, you found anything yet?

Janus scowls at the phone. Honestly.

J: Do you want to get arrested, Key? Because rushing this job is how you get arrested.

K: aint that the reason ur a big fancy barrister in the first place

J: Do they want to put up the rush fee?

He turns back to his desk and manages to get some actual, legal, non-shady work done before the phone buzzes.

K: no.

If pixels could look sullen, these ones do.

J: Then tell them to put up or shut up.

A pause.

J: And don’t text me for inane little updates during actual people’s work hours again. You are specifically only to contact me during these hours for emergencies.

He shuts off the phone and tucks it into his breast pocket again before Key can respond. The nerve of some people. He’ll do the work, fine, but people needed to realize they’d get what they paid for. For the information that Key’s clientele wants him to retrieve, they’ll have to put up quite a bit more cash for him to move at anything beyond a snail’s pace.

A knock at the door. Janus gives the girl his most imperious look. 

“Here you are, sir,” she says, handing over one insulated to-go mug, keeping another one in her hands. 

“Yes, fine, fine,” he says, taking it. “What’s your name again?”

“Emma, sir.”

“Emma,” he repeats. He takes a sip of the tea.

Or, he expects to take a sip of tea. What he gets is a mouthful of coffee. 

Very good coffee, very high-quality coffee, but coffee, and lukewarm at that. He pulls a face instinctively.

“What did you get me?”

Emma immediately looks petrified. “Tea with two sugars, sir?”

Janus frowns at her, then examines the side, where the tea option is ticked off. If they’ve managed to mess up the order, at least they’d given him the good-quality stuff, even if it did taste like it had been sitting on a desk for an hour. He takes another cautious sip.

Tea. Sweetened, hot tea, fresh from the café.

He’s never had a headache this bad before. So maybe he doesn’t know that headaches this bad can mess with his sense of smell. And temperature. Now that he thinks of it, he is feeling really quite hot, even though the building’s air conditioning is blasting.

“...Very good,” he says slowly, and then proceeds to nudge a perilously tall stack of manila files toward her. “Read the top one so you can get reacquainted with the case.”

Emma takes the file immediately, and, just for a moment, just for barely a flash, Janus could swear he’d seen someone walking in the hall in their pajamas and bunny slippers in the reflection of his office windows.

He looks at it more directly.

No. It’s just Emma’s reflection and his. Janus's office, furnished in dark woods and leather desk chairs, his fine suit, the damningly recognizable birthmark and scar splashed across his face.

Janus frowns at himself in the window, turns away, and reaches for his own manila file.

VIRGIL

Getting off the plane from America to South Africa is always an experiment in temperature adjustment. 

He takes off his hoodie in between the shuffle of getting off the plane to going to the baggage claim, tying it around his waist, leaving him just in a purple t-shirt and his ripped jeans. 

It doesn’t help that he’s got a headache that’s absolutely killing him.

By the time he gets there, his baggage is already waiting at the side of a woman with her hair wrapped in a scarf, her glasses resting low on her nose; they look new, and it makes Virgil’s chest hurt—what else has he missed since he’s been across the world?

Virgil’s mother, Andisiwe, beams at him. “Virgil!”

“I’ve missed you, Mama,” he says in Xhosa because ever since he was a child jetting back and forth for school breaks she’s been worried about him losing his mother tongue. 

She laughs, hugging him tight and warm, and he wraps his arms around her in kind, closing his eyes tight. This is the longest he’s been from her since he was born. She’d been in America to teach for a year and a half at Johns Hopkins when she’d met his father, and then Virgil happened. 

He couldn’t have gone back to South Africa with her, a black woman with a mixed-race child, not during apartheid. His white father had had to bring him home to his white wife, and white children, and initiate what would eventually become a long, messy divorce.

But he doesn’t like to think about that, and he won’t, not today, not when he’s finally back here. He’s missed her, and Pretoria, and his jacarandas, and his grandmother’s recipe for coconut pitha, and umngqusho, and proper, African coffee more than he can say.

All he’d drunk in the States was tea because he didn’t want to be reminded of home; he can taste it lingering in the back of his throat, even now.

“Or should I say, Doctor Virgil Wright-Nkosi,” she says, beaming at him wide, and Virgil ducks his head, grinning even through how awkward he feels. 

“I’m a doctor of botany, it’s not the same as you,” or Dad, he tacks on in his mind, taking his suitcase and gesturing her ahead of him; she trades him with a to-go cup of coffee, which he sips eagerly. It’s such a perfect taste of home that he doesn’t even care that it’s lukewarm.

“Quite right,” she says, leading their way through the airport. “Ph.D. is different from an M.D., I’m thrilled my employer has taught you so excellently in your undergrad—”

Virgil laughs, again, but his foot slips on the smooth airport tile, and he looks down instinctively, and his breath catches in his throat, laughter dying in his mouth, freezing where he stands, because if he takes one more step he is going to die he is going to die he is going to fucking die—

There’s this tight feeling across his chest like a band and suddenly he’s not looking down at clean airport tile but he’s looking down at a yawning expanse of air between himself and the ground at least three stories up and he’s standing on a thin metal bar and if he keeps moving he’s going to fall he’s going to die

“Virgil?”

Virgil looks toward his mother, breath seized in his throat, and—

And he’s at the airport again. Bustling crowds, pinging PA system, his mother, a hand reaching toward him in concern.

“Virgil, are you all right?”

Virgil swallows once, twice, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head to clear it; he opens them again.

Airport. His mom. The crowd. And, just a flash, weaving in and out of the people, there’s a big man with tattoos, and he’s wearing bunny slippers. It’s strange enough that it manages to shake him out of it better than any physical gesture could.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds strained to his own ears. “Yeah. Um—jet lag, I think.”

Andisiwe surveys him, before she nods, once, decisively.

“Finish that coffee,” she says. “You know how much worse it’ll get if you let yourself fall asleep now.”

Virgil takes a long pull from his cup—bitter, dark, African coffee. Home. He’s home.

Jet lag, he tells himself. Jet lag, and that weird dream you had on the plane. That’s all this is.

REMUS

“The fucking rat bastard bitch-ass sorry shit-stain of a cunt,” Remus pants to himself, as quietly as he can when he’s heaving for breath and sprinting along the forest floor. Remus wasn’t particularly athletic in the first place—one doesn’t really become a horror author if they’re a star athlete, do they?—but when one is running for their life, things like “stitches in my side” and “is that blood I taste in the back of my mouth” kind of take a back seat to things like, you know, continued survival.

Remus nearly trips over a vine, which he verbally abuses for a few hundred more feet, (“fucking useless pieces of shit fucking—”) before he manages to slip and stumble into the shelter of something like a cave. He checks it—as much as he likes wildlife mauling other people, in theory, it kind of goes against this whole survival thing if he wanders into a cave only to get his throat ripped out by a bobcat.

As he casts back the hood of his jacket and mops his brow of sweat, looking back and forth to ensure he hasn’t been tracked, and his heart rate returns to something like normal, turns his mind back to Miguel fucking Contreras. 

That fucking bastard was lucky he was dead, and even so, Remus might go back and dig up his freshly-turned grave with nothing but his own two fucking hands and he’d gladly break a hundred of his fingers and turn his knuckles into right-angled wrongness just to reach in there and grab his rotting corpse and wring his neck to kill him again.

He didn’t even kill him the first time, that’s the unbearable thing! He’d wanted to kill him and someone swooped in and did it before Remus ever could!

Remus spits on the ground, furious, and even more furious that everything with him is so vital he can’t risk destroying any of it in a rage—his clothes, his last couple testosterone pills, a burner phone he’d stolen off someone who reminded him of his own wretched abuela a couple cities back and kept shut off ever since. She’d been yelling at some homeless kids trying to get some pesos for a goddamn meal, though, so Remus felt as if he’d performed a public service by making her day worse.

He’d managed to snatch her purse and empty it out, too. The kids got a meal, Remus got a meal, everyone won.

Remus chances a peek around the forest once again, just to ensure he hasn’t been tailed, and—

He shrinks back into the cave at the sight of a large man jogging by. He’s very big, very tall, very tattooed, and very confused, by the looks of it. Like he’s sleep-walked miles into the forest and now doesn’t know his way back.

The man pivots on his foot, walks out of Remus's view behind a tree, and doesn’t resume walking again.

Remus's eyes narrow. He tenses his muscles, ready to start sprinting again, but that man had looked rather big and strong, and therefore much more decisively athletic than Remus.

But minutes pass, and the man doesn’t emerge again.

Remus creeps out, just enough to see past the tree, and—

No. The man is gone.

Anyone else might think that they were losing it. Anyone else might think that they were going crazy.

Remis is fully aware that he’s crazy, though, so he shrugs and returns his attention to sorting through his bag, except—

His fingers run through the money he has, and they aren’t pesos anymore. Remus frowns at the sight of the money, holding it up to the meager light to see it.

There definitely isn’t an old white lady on pesos usually.

“The fuck?”

“Erm.”

Remus whips his head around, very suddenly aware that he isn’t in a cave anymore.

He’s in an apartment. A swanky apartment. The air conditioning is blasting—Remus hasn’t been in air-conditioned surroundings for so long, and he nearly melts under the feel of it, cooling the sweat coating his face, running down his back.

A white man lowers his glasses down his nose and frowns at Remus. The way his mouth moves twists up the scar on the side of the face. He’s holding up a handful of pesos.

“Well, first of all, I really need to send a note so they improve security around this place,” the man says in an undertone. Then, “second of all, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to need those pounds to pay for my takeaway.”

Remus stares.

“I’ve ordered Indian food to my office,” he continues, “and I’d think that they’d prefer the national currency in exchange for my food. I’ve been craving samosas something awful.”

Samosas do sound good. Any food sounds good, Remus thinks, as his stomach growls with envy. 

Remus slowly extends his handful of the old white lady money. The white man places the pesos into Remus's hand, taking his money back at the same time.

“Much obliged,” the white man says and disappears. 

Remus blinks down at his handful of pesos, then looks around. No more air conditioning, or swanky office, or promise of takeout. 

He shakes his head.

“If I hadn’t lost it before,” he mutters aloud and goes back to counting his money.

Well. It’s not like Remus's brain is any great loss.

LOGAN

Logan gives a cursory peek through the telescope and grumbles, pulling back and rubbing his forehead. Fantastic. On top of this untimely migraine, his equipment has decided to throw a tantrum, too.

He’s known technology can be fiddly even in the best of conditions. He’s known that cold can adversely affect equipment. And yet, for some reason, it is still constantly frustrating when it does happen. Which in turn is frustrating; he should expect cold conditions to interfere with any equipment that he uses for his space research. He’s in Antarctica. 

Logan makes effort to simply narrow his eyes at the telescope before him, fiddling with the lens. He has half a mind to ask it there, will you behave now? but considering it is simply scientific equipment, it will not answer. Therefore, there is no reason to speak.

Logan rubs his forehead again, and, for the brief moment before his hand obscures his eyes, he sees a flash of something.

Logan squints, lowering his hand. But no, he decides; he just sees snow, rock, the local wildlife. 

But for a moment he could have sworn, while he was looking out at the sea, that he’d seen a large, tattooed man looking out at the sea, too.

No, he decides. It couldn’t have possibly been; this headache, coupled with the general brightness of the world right now, is making him see things.

There is no way he’d just seen, in the midst of an Antarctic island, a large, tattooed man in pajamas and bunny slippers.

ROMAN

Fuck if it’s not early, but fuck if he’s not having a blast.

“Do we wanna run it one more time?!” Roman hollers down from the catwalks.

“I should’ve known better than to give you a fly scene,” María says ruefully. Roman blows down kisses from where he’s strapped in, harness tight across his chest, the camera crew looking dutifully to María to see what the verdict is.

A long pause. She sighs and waves a hand. “Set up for the close-up landing!”

Roman whoops to himself, shifting on his own two feet. He never gets to do stunts, much less stunts like this. All his movies are machismo, punching people and firing guns, and sure, this one is full of all that, but at least this time he gets to spend a day flying around on wires like he’s a superhero.

Which is ironic, considering he’d started his career in movies as a stuntman. But now his pretty face is too high-market-value to risk it doing the thing he’s been trained to do.

But whatever! Today he gets to fly around! Today he gets to throw himself into saying his lines! Today he gets to throw himself into his script and his acting and his costars! 

Today he gets to spend it on set and not lying in bed taken down by this godawful migraine and scrolling through his phone with his heart in his throat to see if there are any developments in the news! 

Today he gets to tell Sasha all about the day he’s had in his usual bright and happy voice! It’s a great day!

Roman shuffles on his feet, waiting for the “action!” to be called when he hears the tell-tale rumbling shriek of a plane flying overhead, and Roman bites back a sigh; that’s going to delay the shoot of the scene for sure while they wait on that, so Roman slumps, looking for something to occupy either his hands or his brain with, but then—

“Quiet on set!” María barks. 

“We aren’t going to hold for the plane?” Roman asks, confused.

“What plane?” María says.

“I thought—” Roman says, and frowns; from where he is in the catwalks, he can’t exactly look up and see the sky, but even then the angle of sound seems wrong; it’s like he’s walking past an airfield, planes taking off and landing all at once.

“Never mind,” Roman calls down weakly. “Thought I heard something, must have been tech stuff.”

María looks up at him, eyes narrowed briefly before she shrugs, and repeats, “Quiet on set!”

Roman shakes out his shoulders, intent on getting into the mind of Pablo Márquez, and out of his own.

⁂

Roman’s got an icepack under his shoulder and on his forehead, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Okay, so, maybe he got a bit too into it today. Whatever. It’s not his fault he’s stuck with a killer migraine, and it’s definitely not his fault that the person who fastened his harness clearly didn’t know what he was talking about; you’d think that now he was the big star, people would be more cautious with him than they were when he was a stuntman, but what does Roman know? He’s just the pretty face.

But whatever. He’s got a breather for a while as his costar shoots a few scenes with her supposed father (a twist of the movie is that her father is not, in fact, her father) and so he’s taking the time to sit and relax.

He’s going to relax.

Really.

...oh, who is he kidding. Roman immediately rolls to grab his phone from where he’d set it on the minuscule table in his trailer, and loads the page to El Universal.

He’s got the search down to a science, really. He starts with the wider, more professional news sources—ergo El Universal—and then gradually meanders his way down, through the magazines, then the tabloids, then the blogs dedicated to the writings of R.J. Duke.

When he’s really desperate, he checks Twitter.

He turns out to be really desperate every day, though. 

He isn’t really sure how not to be desperate when one’s brother is on the run for committing murder.

He definitely isn’t sure how not to be desperate when one’s brother is only revealed to not be his brother under a thin guise that someone might find out any minute.

He absolutely isn’t sure how not to be desperate when any day now, someone will crack it, and they’ll raid his apartment to see if Roman was hiding him (Roman would absolutely hide him if Remus would just come to him) and ask him questions, and how is Roman supposed to respond when they ask him if Remus would be capable of murder, no? Fucking obviously Remus would be capable of murder.

And the thing is, he is desperate. He’s desperate to get news of how Remus is doing, where on earth Remus is, if he’s okay.

And then he wonders what kind of person he is, to be so willing to set aside that his brother might have killed someone. He’d like to think that he’d do the right thing and turn Remus in, but he is also sure that he absolutely wouldn’t.

But the question is, does Remus know that? Does Remus know that Roman would throw everything, everything—his fame, his fancy apartment, his money—just to be sure that Remus was safe, that Remus was with him?

They’d been so entrenched in their petty disagreements over the years that Roman isn’t sure that Remus does.

The thought that his brother might not know Roman loves him is a thousand times more painful than this headache will be.

Remus is his brother. His twin brother, the only person in the world who understands Roman; for all their differences, for all their disagreements, he and Remus have always understood each other. They’ve always been on a wavelength no one else has, in sync and in step with each other. They’d even been born at exactly the same time, by virtue of their mother’s c-section. 

How is Roman meant to just set that aside?!

So he lies on the couch in his trailer, scrolling obsessively through a Twitter search of his brother’s pen name and his legal name and his actual name, eyebrows drawn together further and further.

He’s so lost in chasing down clues, he doesn’t even notice the large, pajama-clad man appearing in his trailer and disappearing again, between five blinks of the eye.

PATTON

The view in front of Patton is crystalline and beautiful, dark gray rock and snow a blindingly clear shade of white and the ocean, constantly shifting between deep, lovely blue and bottle-green depths; ice, and rock, and the sun glinting off the sea and the snow, so bright that it almost hurts to look at it. 

It’s so lovely that Patton would gladly spend all day looking at it, if not for the deep chill working its way into his bones as if he’s been here for months instead of minutes. Which is kind of confusing, but he doesn’t think his flannel pajamas and bunny slippers probably don’t make the cut of approved winter gear, so that might be it.

And also the part where Patton went to bed in his apartment in Auckland because of his blindingly bad migraine, and he has woken up in some wintry wasteland. That part’s kind of confusing him, too.

There’s a particularly sharp gust of wind, and Patton squints, turning his face away and lifting his hand. The breeze lessens, and Patton lowers his hand.

He’s in an office.

A nice office, the kind with hardwood floors that would click under his feet if he weren’t wearing slippers and the big, floor-to-ceiling windows that speaks of a recent, expensive renovation, a door ajar. He walks forward to peek into it—

—and finds himself looking inside of a cramped little trailer, a man flung out dramatically on the couch, one arm over his forehead, not able to cover the anguish on his face, and the other scrolling through his phone.

He takes a step forward, and just like before, without any sense of transition, just one blink and he’s not in a trailer anymore, he’s outside, standing at the foot of a mountain stretching for forever above him, moving quickly on his feet, jogging alongside a hooded man sprinting down a barely-worn path—

He takes a step forward, and his foot lands on the carpet.

“Goodness,” a man says, with a familiar, amused tone. “You’ve been walking quite far, haven’t you?”

Patton looks up to see a man—the parent he’d thought he’d seen yesterday. He’s in the same cardigan and dress shirt, looking rather rumpled, but his tie has, at least, been loosened from around his throat. The lights are off, the only light filtering weakly through the windows. The man is lying down in his bed, looking pale and sickly.

The room would look quite depressing if not for the laptop blaring a cartoon—an American one Patton doesn’t know—and various assorted cartoon art and sculptures as clutter around the room. His duvet has a subtle pattern that Patton, after tilting his head, looks a bit like gemstones.

“...I think so,” Patton says cautiously. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”

“No, it never does,” the man says, smiling. “Even when you’ve walked halfway ‘round the world.”

For lack of anything to say—other than who are you, what’s happening to me, what on earth is going on—Patton keeps quiet.

“I like your tattoos,” the man continues.

“Oh, thank you,” Patton says, twisting his arms so that the cardiganed man can see them, swelling with pride. They are a big part of his culture, his history, himself, after all. “They’re tā moko.”

“Tā moko,” the man repeats as if committing it to memory.

“I’m Māori,” Patton adds because he can place the accent now—American. And, well, nothing against Americans, it’s just that he isn’t sure how much the average American knows about the indigenous populations of other continents.

“Indigenous to,” the man says, and his eyes narrow for a moment. “New Zealand, right?”

Patton nods to the man, before he says, “Where am I?”

“Oh, excuse my manners, please sit down,” the man says, gesturing to an empty spot on his comfy-looking bed. Patton sits. It is comfy.

“I’m just so excited, you see, I’ve spent most of the past day recovering, so you’re the first one I’ve met. I’d expect you to be recovering, too, this is either a fortunately-timed fluke or you seem to be getting the hang of this very fast. Doesn’t your head hurt?”

“Terribly,” Patton admits, then, “First of who?” 

Before the man can answer his question, his brain flashes with images from today—an airport, dark catwalks, a yawning cliff face, that fancy-schmancy office. 

“Well,” the man says. “I’m Dr. Emile Picani.” 

For whatever reason, it feels like he should have known that name already; his name slips into Patton’s mind like a key turning a long-forgotten lock.

“And,” the man continues, “you’re technically wherever your body is now.”

“Auckland.”

“Auckland,” he repeats. “Patton the Māori from Auckland. Oh, how wonderful, I don’t think I know any of our kind anywhere near Australia or New Zealand yet.”

“Our,” Patton says, and his brow wrinkles. “Our kind?”

“Patton, my darling,” Emile says warmly, leaning forward to put a hand on Patton’s. “Have you been walking around in other places? Feeling things that aren’t there, seeing people that aren’t there?”

“Yes,” Patton says.

“Those would be your cluster,” Emile says, and the word buries itself deep in Patton’s heart with an aggressively radiating kind of warmth, instantaneously fond, like he’s loved them all along but just now realized it. My cluster. It may as well be my family, that’s how much love he feels. 

“Your body is in Auckland, still, but right now, your mind? You’re visiting me in Florida.”

Patton can’t help but smile a little. “I’ve never been outside of New Zealand before.”

Emile smiles back at him, warm and comforting, and it feels just as familiar as looking at the face of his father.

“Patton, dear, you are no longer just you.”

REMY

Remy turns from where he’s making a mug of green tea to see that he’s in Emile’s room.

“Babe,” Remy says, reflexive, before he sees the look on Emile’s face; and he understands immediately.

“Fuck, are they still here?”

Emile, still smiling, shakes his head just a touch regretfully. “You just missed him.”

That piques Remy’s attention. “Him? You’ve got a son?”

“He’s not technically my son,” Emile says bashfully; they swap, effortless after so long, and Emile takes a sip of Remy’s green tea using Remy’s hands, Remy’s ] mouth. Remy takes that time to use Emile’s body to settle more comfortably in the bed, and he places a cool, wet washcloth across Emile’s forehead.

They swap back without losing a beat; this rhythm between them has existed for a decade, Emile’s psychic birth isn’t about to trip them up. Sure, it looks different to him than it does to Emile; right now, to Remy, it’s like Emile’s curled up in his Nicean apartment, just at home in France as he is in Florida. To Emile, he knows, it’s like Remy’s appeared in his bedroom, oddly dressed for the Florida spring.

“Your psychic son, then,” Remy teases, then it clicks. “Wait, you’ve seen one of them already? How long did it take one of us to see Harley after the activation—?”

Emile waves a hand in a so-so type gesture. “Linny saw Dalisay and she kind of served as a mentor for her, didn’t she? That was the closest to a non-cluster visit that we got.”

“And that was after three days or so,” Remy muses. “Hm.”

“Yeah,” Emile agrees. “I dunno if it’s a fluke or if Patton’s just really well-adapted for this life.”

“Patton,” Remy repeats. 

Honestly, he isn’t really sure how to handle this; the closest he could get to preparing for his boyfriend’s psychic birth is googling things about being a stepdad, and that’s not even slightly close to what’s actually happening. Bonding with the stepkids can only really happen if Emile’s lucked into a cluster with a Frenchman, Frenchwoman, Frenchperson, whichever.

Emile quirks a brow at him, knowing what he’s about to ask. “New Zealander.”

“Fuck,” Remy says. “No in-cluster education for Patton, then. Do we know anyone there, baby?”

“I’d have to check with the Archipelago, and, well,” Emile says, gesturing vaguely to himself; he’s laid out in bed, and, with the washcloth on his forehead, he really does look quite ill. Out-of-cluster visiting might be too much of a strain right now.

Remy frowns, taking the washcloth in hand and gently dabbing Emile’s forehead.

“Tell me about him?”

Emile beams.

“Oh, Remy, he’s wonderful. Simply fantastic! He’s Māori—indigenous population—and he’s got all these interesting tattoos. I’ve been researching, look,” Emile says, tilting his phone so that Remy can see.

Remy takes it. He sees swirling designs, up and down arms and legs, neatly segmented lines filled with various patterns, a few portraits of tattooed faces.

“—the tattoos themselves have a really interesting history, but I have a lot of reading to do when it comes to the Māori population itself. I've already tried to put a few books on hold at the university library.”

“What’s he like?”

“Big, tall,” Emile says, gesturing vaguely with a hand where the top of Patton’s head would compare with his own. “It’s late there, or early, I think, he was still in pajamas. Bunny slippers.”

Remy smiles at that, knowing for a fact that Emile’s wearing his knee-high muppet socks. “Takes after you, then.”

“Maybe,” Emile admits, then, “oh, all right, probably. We have a lot in common, at least, even if we don’t have any solid evidence on if cluster parents influence the traits of their cluster.”

“Influence, schminfluence,” Remy says.

“But he seems very nice, very polite. Wasn’t too shaken by appearing in America.”

Emile’s brow creases.

“I think he needs a cluster,” Emile says, very quiet. “I think he needs them badly.”

Remy isn’t sure what to say to that, so he puts a hand on Emile’s cheek, attempting to check his temperature.

“Harley should have given us the equivalent of psychic sex-ed,” Remy mutters irritably. Emile’s skin, always soft, is warmer than Remy would like.

Emile yawns. “Not gonna disagree with you there.”

Remy tugs up Emile’s blankets to tuck him in. Emile smiles up at him, a little bashful, a lot sleepy.

“Cuddles?” Emile mumbles, holding out his arms, entreating.

And, well. What is Remy gonna do, not cuddle his incredibly adorable boyfriend recovering from psychic birth?