#why did *I* have to be the one who came up with work arounds and ways to avoid doing this to other people when no one else does it for me?

[cursedcola]

Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try. Physically...and personality. Masterlist: LinkedUP Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: House-Wardens Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal) A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm.... Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.

Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.

In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.

After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.

Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.

How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.

He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.

He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.

"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.

Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.

Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.

Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.

Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.

She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.

That’s the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.

Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.

His necktie. Gods he’s raised a little thief.

For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.

Definetly her mother’s daughter, he thinks.

It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.

Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.

Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.

He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.

She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.

Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions. "....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.

"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"

"You?” She cut in, “Yeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."

Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.

"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."

Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.

At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.

Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.

Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.

In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.

"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"

Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.

He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.

His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.

"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"

Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.

The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins. Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.

"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.

"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.

Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.

Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.

Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.

Except it would be inevitable.

Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.

"Papa...did I do something wrong?"

He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.

Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight. She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.

It was funny, until it wasn't. "Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."

He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.

Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.

So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.

And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.

"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.

Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.

Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.

One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.

And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.

One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.

His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.

He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.

Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.

A medical marvel. That's what this child was.

Not a miracle. Not a blessing.

A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.

There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.

And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.

The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.

It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.

Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.

It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.

He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.

"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."

Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.

Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.

"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"

That got him to scoff.

"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."

"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."

"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."

Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.

You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.

Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.

He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.

Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.

Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.

Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.

"Baba?"

Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.

Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).

"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."

His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.

"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"

Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.

The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.

Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.

His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.

"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.

Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.

Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.

"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"

"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."

Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.

Only two of those three succeeded.

"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"

There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on. "You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.

"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"

Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.

Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.

He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.

"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."

And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.

He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.

and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.

"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "

"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"

Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?

No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.

When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.

Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.

Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.

His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.

He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.

The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.

Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.

Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.

"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."

Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.

"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."

The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.

"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.

"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."

He didn't wait for further inquiry.

"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."

His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.

"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.

On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.

The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.

"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"

The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.

After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.

Although, he wasn't entirely content He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.

"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."

And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.

Maybe.

If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.

Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.

Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesn’t like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.

**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms

Yet you do, and now he’s got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. He’s on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged

Until he learns that you’re with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -

She inherits his genius.

Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.

Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idia’s daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetected…and your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your family’s apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX ‘lively’….haha…yeah

No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.

But let’s not derail. Even if he didn’t want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.

It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.

Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him she’ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -

“MAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDY’S BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!”

Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldn’t. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.

Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.

“Nonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!” He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, “Look! Look I’m not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -“

And then she did.

The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game who’s been training for this moment for decades.

He should have known.

Honestly. Idia can’t even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.

He is the one who created this monster.

Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.

He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.

“Your her father, not her friend” his mother said.

“It’s bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - don’t you dare get lenient with her at this age” you warned.

“That child scares me” he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.

“Hwee hee hee! I’m glad you think so, daddy,” she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, “hehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?”

Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.

“U-uh…yeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and I’ll put an order in.”

He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if father’s were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didn’t seem important

As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.

No. He wasn’t that bad….was he? Did he even want to know at this point?

Boom

“DADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!”

No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.

He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.

He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.

Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.

A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.

In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.

Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.

And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.

Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.

“Father?”

Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleus’ study. He needn’t look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.

Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.

No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.

None had permission for such rudeness.

No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebek’s care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first prince’s personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.

Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.

“Hm? You look troubled, my son” Malleus met his eldest’s rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didn’t bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.

His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleus’ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.

“Because I am troubled, father” he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.

“Oh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such matters” - to anyone who didn’t know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.

Yet it was merely a father sulking for his son’s attention, in his own prideful way.

“That’s precisely the issue,” his son huffed, “with all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! It’s disruptive!”

Malleus merely turned the page in his book, “and whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?”

His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.

“What else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,” Malleus looks up from his ‘reading,’ and gestures to the uniform his son wears, “What else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldn’t dare to deny my entry.”

“Father - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -“

“They looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -“

“They were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.”

The boy’s composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.

Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his son’s explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.

So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.

“You��d be foolish to assume she didn’t try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.”

At that, the lamp ceased it’s flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teen’s cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.

"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.

"You know with certainty that it was."

A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? “Momma’s boy”? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.

The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.

After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.

“I’m sorry for not writing home…or visiting…I hadn’t thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.”

“Distance?” Malleus balked, “Distance from your family?”

He couldn’t understand why his child would want distance.

How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.

His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.

Whatever explanation for his manners didn’t matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?

Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.

“Yes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-“ he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldn’t be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, “- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I can’t eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our family’s standards, if I am homesick all the time!?”

It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleus’ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.

The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.

It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasn’t pushed away.

“You are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.”

[womanofwords]

Next is batfam x neglected clone reader superfam.

Back when Dick was Robin he and Bruce broke into a lab and in it was a clone of Batman and Superman (trying to make the ultimate hero). It was only a toddler then and they couldn’t let it stay to be turned into a weapon so they took it home.

They called Clark to let him know and yeah he has his reservations about clones of him. But this one’s still only just a toddler a little mix of him and Bruce. He’s ready to just take the child home but Bruce convinces him not to. That he has better resources and (at this point Clark and Lois aren’t together yet) Clark is always busy between reporting and hero work.

So Clark leaves raising them to Bruce but visits as much as he can. But he visits less and less as he gets busier trusting Bruce to care for their child. But in that time Dick left (not really liking that this sibling got to be a mix of his adoptive father and pseudo dad) Jason came and eventually died and Bruce began to wallow in his grief.

Little SuperBat loved their family and tried to cheer Bruce up but he gets angry that they seem to not care that Jason is gone (they care, a lot. But they’re putting their grief on hold to try and cheer up their dad). This is when the neglect really starts.

Of course Tim joins, Jason returns and all the other batkids follow. But they’re all following Bruce’s lead and the only ones who (should) remember that they’re a clone are Bruce, Dick and Jason (Tim was smart and discovered it on his own at some point in time). It’s when Damien attacks them and they try defending themself that they punch Damien (not even that hard) and Bruce pops off on them for “attacking him”. That they’re wrong cause they “could have killed him” with their “super strength” thus revealing their a clone.

Only Bruce doesn’t know they have super strength because they never showed signs of Clark’s abilities. He tested for a while when they were younger but stopped. They went through gaining and navigating their powers alone (afraid of Bruce’s no meta’s rule).

“But why not go to Clark?” well because Bruce is a control freak who during him yelling at them after Jason’s death, denies them going to visit Clark since (I believe that) Clark and Lois would (or could) have either just gotten married or had Jon on the way. Bruce basically projecting that they’re starting their own family and wouldn’t want a clone.

Angst all around as clone!reader is basically bullied by the entire family. Especially Damien who loves to tout about how he’s the only natural born child of Bruce not a “cheap failed experiment”.

Reader quietly leaves wanting to be alone goes to Mt.Everest. Meets Papa Clark again cause he thought someone was stuck crying on Everest and needed rescuing. Turns out it’s his baby and they’re crying in pajamas on the world’s tallest mountain. Listens to their woes and is furious. He asks why they didn’t come to him and they repeat all the things Bruce and the fam would tell them. How they’d risk exposing him cause they look so much like him and Bruce, how he was starting his own family and they would get in the way.

Clark is furious, but his baby needs him first. Takes them to meet Lois, Jon, Conner and his parents. They all adore clone reader. Lois and Martha Kent are upset that Clark never told them but even more mad Bruce said the things he did to keep clone reader home. Especially since she missed her own father’s wedding and the birth of her brother.

Some way some how the batfam discover clone reader is missing (choose however you want. personally my bet is Damien torments them when he’s bored and discovers their gone because of it). It takes them a while but discovers she’s with Superfam. Cue crazy yandere custody battle in costume and out of it

Great idea, but no thanks. Way too angsty for me. There are so many times I can make myself cry while writing, and I know I will be floating out of my house on a river of my own tears if I ever wrote this. I'm passing on this for the sake of my own sanity.

[babydoll372]

Babies

Pairings: older!emily prentiss x younger!r (Emily is early 50’s and R is around 26)

Word count: 1977

Warnings: angst, kidnapping mentions, mental exhaustion, age gap, breeding kink, slight belly bulge kink, mentions of masturbation, slight oral (r receiving), intersex!emily, p in v, cumming inside

Emily got on the jet to head back home, quickly wiping her eyes before anyone could see her emotions. This was one of the toughest cases she faced, and she knew it would be the moment Garcia mentioned there were children involved. It brought out this deep maternal side of her she never really got to use considering she spent her prime years working herself to grey hair. Now she was in her early fifties with only dreams and regrets of the life she could’ve had compared to the one she did. She loved her friends that she called family, and she loved her beautiful girlfriend, but there was just something missing.

JJ sat across from her and tapped the table, making Emily zone back into reality as she was faced with the blonde woman who held a concerned gaze.

“Hey, you okay? I know this case was..rough, trust me, it was on all of us.” JJ said, trying to coax her friend into talking but Emily scoffed under her breath.

“I’m not a mom, it shouldn’t affect me this much.” She looked up when she heard the other woman’s laugh, as if the statement was absurd.

“Are you serious? We just saved multiple innocent little kids under the age of ten from being slaughtered to death. They will never be the same again, Emily, and you are allowed to mourn that for them.”

“…I just wish I could’ve protected them more, I don’t know. I know we protected them, I know we saved them from literal death, but I just wish I could’ve done more.” Emily said with regret, looking out the window as she leaned her head back on the chair, not wanting to face the tightness swelling in her throat.

“We all do. But there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop him from taking those kids, you saved them..give yourself some credit, okay? Don’t beat yourself up over what you couldn’t have done and just think about going home and finally getting some rest.” JJ said to lighten the mood, adding a small chuckle at the end as Emily followed, but she wasn’t finding anything funny. She just wanted to be with you, you knew how to make her feel okay. Her friend was trying her best, and she was doing a good job, she’ll admit, but all Emily needed right now was you.

And when the BAU Chief got home that night she knew you’d be asleep, but yet she was still holding out hope that you were somehow waiting for her, fully awake and ready to care for her needs. It was selfish, maybe, but she needed to be right now. She entered your shared bedroom and found you peacefully sleeping in one of her old band t-shirts and shorts, making her smile at the sight. She did everything as normal, showered, got dressed, brushed her teeth, all before lying in bed behind you and wrapping her arms around you. She thought she could wait until morning to talk to you, but she proved herself wrong when she broke out into a gutterful sob, her body shaking as she clung onto you tightly. You slowly arose, turning around to face her as you went from barely awake to concerned in mere seconds.

“Hey, hey, Em, talk to me, what’s going on?” You worriedly spoke, sitting up right as she followed, and one hand fell on her lower back as the other came to her shoulder. “Why don’t we take some deep breaths together, okay? Breathe in…and breathe out. Follow me, baby - breathe in…and breathe out…” You repeated this for a few minutes until her sobs turned into gentle cries, her chest now slowly rising and falling at a normal rate.

“Are you ready to talk or do you need some time?” She shook her head no and didn’t say anything else, and so you presumed she wasn’t yet ready to speak. “That’s alright, I can wait. I’ll just tell you about my day, hopefully that’ll get your mind off of things. Well, first I woke up with a text from my awesome girlfriend and that made my whole day better. Then I got up and went to the store and guess who was working there? Sam! Remember him? From the gym? He was that guy who- never mind, it doesn’t matter. Anyways, I was shopping as usual when I realized, I forgot my wallet! So then-“

“I want a baby.” She cut you off, yet you could almost not make out her tiny, whispered voice that was held with a shakiness.

“C-come again?” You stuttered, almost sure you heard the words correctly but not wanting to get your hopes up.

“I said: I want a baby. I’m getting old, Y/N, I have spent my entire life just working and working and I always thought, ‘oh, I’ll have one eventually’. I can’t keep waiting, I-..I need one and I need to have one as soon as possible.” She glanced up at you and slowly sat up, gulping nervously in fear of how you’d react. When she saw a smile break out on your face, she let out a breath she was holding.

“You have no idea how badly I want a baby with you, Em. But-“ She shook her head and cut you off.

“No, no, my love, there’s no buts! Let’s just have one!”

“But we’re not even married.”

“So? Y/N, I swear to spend the rest of my life devoted to you and only you - well, our baby too. We don’t need a stupid license to be happy, all I need is you and our baby!” You sighed, unable to resist her tempting gaze as you obliged, giving her a small nod to which she quickly pounced on you, laying you down on the bed and making you yelp, only to be cut off by her lips connecting with yours. She was smiling against you, feeling as if her dreams had been achieved. She pulled back when her oxygen was low, cupping your cheeks and staring at you with the utmost gratitude.

“When are you ovulating?”

“Uh, yesterday.”

“Okay, good, we’re still in the perfect timeframe.” Emily muttered as she lowered her boxers and hurriedly pulled off her shirt before doing the same to yours and glancing up at you for permission before your shorts were removed. She trailed kisses down your neck to your chest, licking your nipples ever so softly as she heard a sigh of relief and felt your hand fly to her hair.

“Mm, you’ll look even more perfect - these breasts swollen and heavy, leaking so much..” She chuckled, clearly aroused at the thought. You felt your nipple being playfully tugged by her teeth, and she spent a few more minutes gathering your deepened satisfaction before approaching your cunt. Two fingers were used to gather your slick, creating a lubricant for herself. Her tongue found your clitoris, and her free hand found her cock, stroking her length into further erection. She was powered off of your moans, working to get you off, and she knew she was doing well when she watched your head lull back and heard your whispered repetitions of her name. She watched your fingers tease your nipples, missing the way she was doing so earlier, and she couldn’t help but groan into you.

“Just like that..fuck, I need your cock, Emily, I need you to fill me up.” You pleaded, and she didn’t waste any time in giving your sensitive bud one last kiss before pulling away, and then lining up her penis with your hole. You bit your lip as she slowly entered you, your hand clasping tightly with hers for support. She leaned down to kiss along your neck, sucking along your pulse points to leave generous marks.

“There we go, you’re okay..you’re alright, sweetheart. You let me know when you’re ready for me to move, okay? There’s no rush.” Emily assured you, and you nodded to her words. You were generally a bit tighter than most so she’d have to go easy with you considering her girth, but you would always communicate your needs properly which she loved. And when she got the approval, she slowly began thrusting in and out, causing moans from both of you.

“I’ve thought about you all fucking week, Y/N. I didn’t want to bother you, but I just couldn’t fucking stop…” She whimpered, remembering all the nights she spent in her hotel room with her hand around her throbbing penis, and her lips uttering your name as her orgasm would erupt. She couldn’t entirely blame herself though, she was faced with one of the hardest cases and was desperate for your soothing attention, and her mind only steered her differently when night rolled around.

“You’re never a bother to me- oh, shit! I- I mean it, don’t you ever think you can’t call me.” She nodded, her mouth lifting into a sly grin as she thought of future possibilities. Her hands fell to your thighs as she tried to keep them around her hips, forcing a new angle to be created as she heard a loud, deep moan come from you.

“Right there! D-don’t stop- don’t you dare stop!” You cried out, gripping onto the bed sheets beneath you for dear life, your jaw slacking open as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. She had found it before, yes, but it always made you feel such deep pleasure when your girlfriend's dick repeatedly thrusted against your g-spot.

“Yeah? You close already, huh? You gonna let me fill this tight little cunt up with my cum? You gonna let me make you a Mommy?” She knew the answer to that, of course it was a yes. Of course you wanted nothing more than to be filled with her semen and have her babies, but seeing your desperate nod only turned her on more. The bed shook beneath the two of you, the wall faced brutal abuse from the headboard hitting it repeatedly, and the sounds of your skin clapping together mixed with your sweet juices splashing against her length filled the room. She pressed a hand down on your stomach, watching as the just noticeable imprint returned and disappeared with every thrust she made.

“You see that, pretty girl? You see how deep I am inside you?” You looked down, groaning deeply at the sight.

“Fuck, you’re so big…please, baby, I want to feel you filling my womb up with your cum! I need it- I need your babies…” It was like you ticked a switch inside of her and she grabbed your knees, placing them together and hovering them over your chest as she could feel her balls slapping against your skin with every movement.

“Mhm, I’m gonna cum for you! And I- I need you to do the same for me too, okay? I want to feel it, baby, let me feel you cum around my fucking cock like the dirty girl you are- that’s it! Oh, you’re such a good girl…such a good little girl.” She grunted out, and seconds later she twitched as her semen spilled deep inside of you, filling your womb with every last drop she had. She loved feeling your release envelope her dick, it ensured her that you were just as pleased as she was.

“You think I got you pregnant?” She asked breathlessly, breaking the silence as you scoffed lightheartedly.

“After one go? We’ll need at least a few rounds before we can even consider it.” She smirked at your response, grabbing a hair tie from the bedside table and putting it on as she put your legs back around her waist and positioned herself correctly.

“Then I guess I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”

[jaesblogstuff]

You know where home is at, don’t you now. (RAWR)

⸻

You don’t text him. You just show up.

You knock twice, the way he taught you, before slipping into the apartment like it’s your own. It isn’t. But that’s never stopped you before. Nothing about this should work. But here you are.

Same black hoodie. Same Glock under the pillow. Same grin he doesn’t bother to hide when he sees you in that skirt.

“Thought you had plans with your man,” Simon mutters, kicking the door shut behind you.

“I do,” you say. “They just changed.” He laughs once, low and sharp. Pulls you in by the waist and slaps your ass like you’re late to something.

“He know you wear that shit for me?” You hum against his mouth. “He don’t need to know everything.”

Simon Riley came from chaos. He never hid it. Said he was born somewhere hot and broke and loud. Said he had a couple acres out there, some fake papers, and a name that didn’t exist on any real record. Told you in that lazy, deep tone, like it was nothing. Like surviving shit like that was just how it goes.

“Heartbreakers,” he called them. “Women like you.”

But you were the one who stitched him back together. Drove him to court dates. Held his phone when he couldn’t stop shaking. Slept beside him when he woke up screaming from the past. You took him to Belgium once, just to say you did. Showed him a world where no one knew what he’d done. Or who he’d killed.

You made him feel safe. And that’s dangerous. Because now he needs you. And Simon Riley does not like needing anyone.

He doesn’t say much when you push him back onto the mattress, straddle him with nothing on under the skirt. He just grips your hips and grinds up once, slow and cruel, watching your mouth part around a breathless little sound that isn’t a moan but close.

You ride him until your legs shake. Until the room smells like sweat and smoke and that damn hoodie is halfway off and his tattooed arm is flexed around your waist. Until you’re ruined. Gutted. Fucked open and sore. And still, it’s not enough.

Later, when you’re on your back and the sheets are wet and the cigarette’s burning slow in his hand, he doesn’t pass it. Just lets it dangle from his lips while he stares at the you from the chair.

“You still fuckin’ him?” he asks, casual as sin. You don’t answer. Not right away. Just stretch like a cat, long and slow, letting him watch every inch of you shift under his gaze.

“Why?” you murmur. “You jealous?”

He scoffs, eyes half-lidded. “Nah. Just like knowin’ who I’m takin’ it from.” And maybe that should sting. But it doesn’t. Not from him. From him, it drips like honey. Dark, possessive, and thick with truth.

You slide off the bed, sore between the legs, and you make him wait. You don’t speak. Don’t ask. You just start to crawl. Palms to the cold floor. Eyes locked on his knees. You move slow, deliberate, like every step is a confession. A promise. A surrender.

Simon watches, legs spread wide, smoke curling around his face like a crown. “You done actin’ like you got options?” he mutters, voice rough and low. You smile up at him, teeth bared like a threat. “You scared I might?”

He leans forward, catches your jaw in one hand, thumb pressing against your lip. “Nah,” he says. “I know you won’t.” He slips two fingers into your mouth—down your tongue, past comfort. Until you gag just enough to make his eyes gleam.

“That’s my girl.”

And God help you, but you like the way that sounds. You always have.

You crawl into his lap, straddle him again. The cocky tilt of your mouth dares him to keep playing. “I didn’t fuck him,” you finally answered. “But you were thinking it.”

Simon doesn’t even blink. Just grips your waist like a man anchoring himself. “I was thinkin’ you’ve got a smart fuckin’ mouth for someone who crawls back to me beggin’.” You laugh, breath hot against his cheek. “That's why you kept beggin’? Couldn’t take not having me?”

“Beggin’?” He grabs your ass, lifts you, and drops you on his cock in one rough motion that punches the air from your lungs. “Sweetheart,” he growls, deep and close, “I own you.” And the sick part? You love how true that feels.

You fuck like it’s the last time. Like this is a war and he’s claiming the only piece of ground that ever meant anything. Your body is his battlefield, and he doesn’t just win—he conquers.

“You like when I crawl to you,” you whisper. Simon grins. “I like remindin’ you where you fuckin’ belong.”

You bite his shoulder. “Then remind me.”

He flips you, fucks you harder.

And you never forget.

[ddlydevotion]

THE MAN NEXT DOOR

Being the object of Remmick’s desires…

currently listening to: Man Next Door by Massive Attack

a/n: I deleted the last fic I wrote for him since I wasn’t too happy with it but I decided to give it another shot. Also, I’m not a Sinners blog so I won’t write for Remmick all of the time 💌. Also, these are headcanons!!

When it came time for Remmick to finally turn you, make you his for eternity, he cradled you as if you were a fragile lamb. He didn't hide the fact that the process would hurt, but he wanted to diminish the pain as much as he could. He swayed you back & forth in his arms, cooing at you and whispering words of reassurance, rubbing your back with a large hand. y'a did good, sweetheart. real good. It's over now his buttery voice whispered to your aching form.

It didn't take all that long for you to find out what Remmick truly was. He was your neighbor, he lived further down the dirt road but close enough that you'd still be considered neighbors of some kind. It was the coldest night of September when he first knocked on your door under the guise of just wanted to introduce myself! It'd be rude for me to live so close and for us to be strangers. It was a sweet sentiment, yet you couldn't help but notice the fact that your all-too-nice neighbor only ever came around when the moon decided to take over for the night.

now, why do you only ever come around when it's night out? Does work have you out all day? your smoky voice questioned him. Let's just say you got your answer by the end of the night.

Remmick put in the work to get to know you before he revealed his true intentions, I mean, you knew he was interested in you because of how obvious he made it, but you surely didn't know that his skin burned when he walked underneath the sunlight. He listened to every little thing that you told him and hung onto it, storing it for future reference. Anytime that you opened up to him about past trauma, familial issues, work stress, or life in general, he'd react as if he was the one being negatively affected.

Y'know those videos where people are poking fun at attentive listeners for their facial expressions? They're talking about Remmick.

At times you'd feel as if he was the only person who truly understood you. Who you were, who you wanted to be, what you wanted, why you wanted certain things. Something deep inside of his rotten soul wanted it to be that way. He not only wanted to convince you that he was the only one who understood you, but he wanted you to believe it.

The amount of eye contact this man makes is insane. He'll give you the most heartfelt compliment and keep direct eye contact with you the entire time. He wants to make sure that you heard him and are registering his words.

Well, aren't you pretty? You are, why are ya lookin' at me like ya don't believe me? Oh, c'mon, look at me. You can't get all shy now, it's too late for that.

you're a whole lotta woman, ain't ya, darlin'?

(nsfw) Remmick drools like a damn hound when he finally gets his hands on you. His crimson red eyes focus on the sight of your flushed pussy making a creamy mess on his fingers, the noises of your sensitive center sucking his fingers back in makes him groan and let out a guttural fuck look at you, baby. His strong, unforgiving hands grip your thighs, wrapping your quivering legs around his waist. The feeling of his bulbous tip teasing your aching clit makes you keen, a strong hand grabs your cheek, look at me, sweetheart, he orders. yeah, just like that, want'chu to look at me when you cum.

we already know this man was stalking you like it was his damn job before he stepped foot on your porch. Thanks to his invasive habit, he knew incredibly intimate details about you before he even uttered a word to you. He knew what you wore to bed, how you touched yourself to fall asleep easier (just me? okay so y'all hate me.), he's become familiar with the friends you have come around, the music you put on before cooking dinner/cleaning, he picks up on which dresses of yours are your favorite.

He knows far more about you than the so called "friends" he sees you bring around & hears you speak to over the phone.

When the two of you were just getting to know each other, he decided to do his usual nightly visit to your house. Unbeknownst to him, you'd just started your period that exact night. You were left curious and a bit upset when he scrambled out of the front door while hurriedly saying oh I just gotta go, sweetheart. I forgot to do somethin' back home. It didn't take long before you finally found out why he left in such a hurry that night.

[withahappyrefrain]

wanna give bob sloppy head that has hum questioning his entire existence

Look, It's what he deserves

"Please Bobby?" He wanted to take you out on a lovely picnic date in a nice secluded spot. Bob was trying to be romantic.

What he didn't account for was that you would be ovulating at the time.

"Darlin, it's alright. I can wait until we get back in the car," He tries to assure you. Tries not to jerk his hips when your lips trace over the denim covered bulge, "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," your chin is laying on top of his poorly hidden erection. With those doe eyes, you look so innocent, despite your intentions being the exact opposite.

Bob Floyd has pretty good restraint. Except when it comes to you.

Which is how he finds himself on his back, the soft fabric of the picnic blanket providing comfort, the sun shining down on a beautiful spring day. Not that he could focus on the picturesque view of nature.

No. Bob's eyes could only focus on you and the way your mouth worked his cock. What you couldn't reach, your hand was covered, stroking in tendam.

Then there were the noises. God, the noises you make. Little moans and grunts that dribble from the corner of your mouth.

Bob had always known he enjoyed giving. Going down on his partner was a pleasure. A chance to make them come completely undone. His past relationships had thoroughly enjoyed this aspect of him, but it was never truly reciprocated to the same degree. It didn’t bother Bob, not greatly. For one, he was big. Going down on him required acceptance of a sore jaw. The other was that he truly enjoyed it, truly got off on getting his partner off. Don’t ask him to count how many times he came while in between a pair of legs, the number was embarrassingly high.

Yes, a blowjob was nice every now and then. But it wasn’t something Bob expected. He came to accept it would be a nice, albeit rare, treat.

Until he met you.

Size wasn’t a deterrence. The man made you see stars with just his tongue. In your mind, it only made sense to return the favor. Getting adjusted to the sheer size of Bob Floyd took some time, but you were certainly up to the task.

Besides, it was so fun to watch the usually well composed and calm WSO come undone. If only his fellow pilots could see him now; perfectly gelled hair now curly due to tossing his head from side to side against the blanket. A flush of red that started from the top of his head and ran down to his chest. His rich baritone voice reduced to strangled groans and whines.

Smiling to yourself, your tongue trailed down his hard shaft, starving off his impending orgasm. Bob always took his time with you, so why not do the same?

“D-darlin, p-please.” Who could think of coherent sentences when your tongue was playing around with his aching balls? Christ, he didn’t even get why others were into that until he met you.

You hummed, playing innocent, “You want something Bobby?” His lithe hips spasmed as you increased the pace of your strokes.

“I….” If Bob wasn’t careful, he was going to ask you to marry him instead of asking to come, “Fuck!” A swear! From Bob Floyd! Always a feat.

“Later. When we’re in the car. First, I wanna feel you come down my throat,” was all you said before returning your mouth to his cock. Swallowing Bob Floyd whole was nearly impossible (despite what romance authors say), but you did your best, nose almost reaching the dark hair that dusted the area below his stomach.

Feeling your throat constrict and squeeze around him, Bob could only throw his head back to let out a deep, strangled groan that had him thankful for picking such a secluded spot. His hands fumbled towards your shoulders, gripping on for dear life as your sinful mouth continued its actions.

Bob tried to be considerate and most of the time he succeeded in that regard. His hips jerked upward entirely on their own and normally, he would apologize for it.

But then he felt your throat tightened, heard you gag on his cock and Bob lost all control. All he could focus on was your mouth and how good it felt around his cock. How were you even real? How was it possible he had you, a fucking goddess, on their hands and knees in a park, making him feel fucking incredible?

Perhaps he and Nat didn't eject that day and Bob had found his way to heaven, now coming down a beautiful angel's throat. That was definitely not mentioned in Sunday School.

You took all he had to offer, delighted in doing so. The way his hips squirm, unsure whether to jerk towards or away from your mouth. Digging your fingers into the flesh, you guided his hips towards your mouth, deadset on continuing until he verbally objected.

Least you could do for the guy who made you squirt for the first time.

[loovser]

the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all - chapter 4

synopsis turns out the cute guy from the cd store is actually… a girl

wc: 3,3k

cw: feelings all over the place, love you jesse and dina, ellie’s trying hard… my pookie. mentions of weed, cursing, lila is now kinda cool, angst, fluff and oh my god the ending just made me crazy and dizzy aaaand don’t kill me.

ellie fucked up. she knows that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. for what it’s worth, it hurts even more to know that she put you through all of this. it was wrong from the start. a misunderstanding that she should have solved as soon as it came to her knowledge.

but how could she? when all she thought about was you. how everything felt so easy with you. for once in her life, someone was really seeing her — and it was you. she wanted that. desperately.

she was selfish. but the way you flooded her with so many feelings — it overflowed. and you got swept away in it, too.

it’s been a whole day. she hasn’t seen you around campus. not even in your classes — don’t ask her how she memorized those. but she wasn’t sure if she should look for you. well, she knows she should give you some space. but still, she already craves seeing you. she misses you, misses talking to you.

her mind is stuck on the way she touched your face. the way you were so close to her. how you looked at her. she messed it all up. and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. the solution she came up with — staying in her dorm all day — isn’t really working. it was just making it worse. she wants to go home to joel, but he is out of town. she knows that, if she calls him, he will go back instantly. that’s why she doesn’t. suck it up, ellie.

she tried calling you when you left. no answer. she tried contacting you, it hurt to see your old conversations. she wonders how it feels for you. probably worse. it confirms her suspicions when you leave her on read — every message she sends is totally ignored, just like the ones she’s sending right now.

ellie Do Not Answer (2:54) talk to me… im really sorry

ellie Do Not Answer (2:54) i miss you

no answer. you lock the screen, fighting back the tears. you’ve already cried too much over this. it feels so… embarrassing. you feel so dumb. how could you not recognize her? the way she sounds, the way she moves. it’s all so… ellie. you should’ve known better. but at the same time, how could you doubt anything about her when you connected so deeply in such a short time.

when you found out, you were so hurt. you felt betrayed. it pained you deeply, how you felt like you were being played. how she was making a fool out of you. did she laugh about this to her friends? did she think you are stupid, just as you feel? was it a dare? some kind of twisted joke? one of those bet things from crappy rom-coms?

deep down, you know that she must have had a reason for it. if she’s really anything like she was showing to you, there’s no way she did that because she was trying to hurt you. it’s so confusing how your thoughts oscillate between thinking about her feelings and reasons or just sticking to yours. like you are on a damn seesaw, feelings tossed up and down, again and again.

you missed all your classes today. your friends were texting you like crazy. leah even mentions ellie — as the quiet girl who sits next to you during VFX classes. saying something about how she went to all of your classes, looking for something and how she finds it weird. you snort. she’s such a loser.

and you are crying again. because, even if you try not to, you miss her too. you miss talking to her about songs, about you and about her. just… about everything. you weren’t even talking for that long, but you already knew so much about each other. except her real identity. the damn seesaw.

what are you supposed to believe? was she being herself around you all the time? even during texts? she did mention her roomie was a bitch when you thought she was miller and it turned out to be true. she also told you that she didn’t go to college, which she does. sharing fucking classes with me, yeah — surprise. i get it now.

it is too much. even more when you think about having to see her again. you have a fucking project to finish together, or you will fail the class. you can’t fail it. even if you want to change your partner now, you’ll have to talk to her at some point.

which is bothering her too. a lot. but not for the same reason as it’s bothering you. she definitely wants to work on it with you, but she gotta make things right first. somehow… there has to be a way you can forgive her. even if you don’t want to be friends — or whatever it is that you were — with her anymore. at the very least, she just… really wants to finish this project with you.

she opens her spotify, to check the playlist you made her and- oh my fucking god.

it’s gone. deleted. as in: doesn’t exist anymore. she feels like crying, again.

she needs to do something to fix it. anything. whatever it takes.

meanwhile, all you want is to rot in bed all day. or even better, all week. it’s funny how someone you’ve known for less than a month can have such a huge impact on you. well, at least talked to for less than a month. because really, she’s been around for a while. and it’s not like you haven’t noticed her before. you just haven’t really seen her and you wish you had before all of this happened. things could be different, no lies to hurt you in the process.

but it didn’t happen. and still, your heart flutters when you remember the moments you shared together. the way her calloused fingers felt so soft on your cheek. how her green eyes sometimes flicker with this hazel shadow when the sun peeks through the cd store’s window.

how you would do anything to see her flushed cheeks underneath her face mask while she flirted with you. or how pretty she must have looked when you could hear the smirk in her voice. somehow it makes you feel relieved that miller and ellie are actually one. the same. how all your worries were never really a problem because you were not confused between two people. in reality you were falling for the same one, all sides of her. of ellie.

you unfollowed her on instagram and deleted the playlist you made her earlier and you kind of regret it now. even if you never felt anything close to what you feel about her, you always had in mind that it is never a waste to feel. whatever it is that you are feeling, just feel it. but it’s hard when you don’t even know what you are feeling. you are sad, disappointed, embarrassed. but you are also relieved — and missing her.

gladly, a knock on your door gives your tortured brain some rest. you sigh, not really knowing what to expect when you make your way to open it. when you see jesse and dina there you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. maybe you should just answer her and actually talk about it like grown-ups do.

“what the fuck..” you murmur, curiosity getting the best of you. they are her friends after all.

“hello to you, too.” jesse chuckles and dina elbows him slightly, flashing you a sheepish smile.

“we have a delivery for you!” she adds, taking a little zipbag full of weed from his jacket’s pocket.

“um… i don’t remember buying this”

“that’s cause you didn’t.” the guy deadpans.

“it’s a gift!” dina barges in. “from ellie.”

“oh…” it’s all you manage to say. of course it’s from ellie. is she really trying to buy me with weed right now?

you blink, staring at the bag. they stare back at you, waiting for your reaction. you sigh as the silence stretches just enough for it to get awkward, grabbing it from her hand gently. taking it to your nose, you don’t even need to make an effort to sniff it. this is not your usual. it’s the more expensive one. some really high quality shit.

“wow. she put some effort into it, didn’t she?” you bite back a smile.

“yup. made her pay full price because of the bullshit she pulled-“ dina smacks his arm to stop him from talking any further, earning a loud ‘ouch!’ from him.

“can’t really pass free weed now” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but by the way they smile you know they can see right through you.

“i guess you can’t” she chuckles. “what you can do, tho it’s showing up to the college’s rooftop tonight.”

“that would be great, yes, dina. great idea! like, you could just go up there at 8 p.m. sharp.” jesse adds and you can’t help but laugh at how they are really doing this right now.

“you’re good friends, y’know? i’ll think about it.”

“okay, yeah… keep playing it hard to get like we don’t know you will be there… can’t fool us!” he jokes, pulling dina together with him so they can leave your apartment’s door.

leaving you there, the damn gift weighing heavy in your hand — and on your heart. how much money did she actually spend with that? it makes you feel bad, somehow. you know she hurt you and you know she knows it too. your heart clenches at the thought that she must be suffering with this whole thing, too.

yet, she’s been reaching out to you, from the moment you left her dorm. she’s been trying to fix it, in some way. you never expected someone to care about you that much. your friends never did. even if you know she’s more than that. or was. it’s been a whole day and she is still doing what’s in her power to try fixing the mess she created. thinking about you, about things you like.

and all you can do is sigh because you know jesse is right. if you didn’t want to forgive her, not even a little, would you have accepted her gift? you know the answer to that.

thinking about what she could do to fix everything with you wasn’t easy at all. ellie had to literally sit down on her bed and write down a lot of ideas — 43 to be exact. and most of those were shit, like finishing the project all by herself so you wouldn’t have to do it.

where’s the fun in that? she would save you from seeing her again, yes. as she had in mind that you absolutely despised her at the moment, it would be a huge favor to you. but complete torture to her. and she still wanted you to like her again, so this idea had to go.

the atmosphere in her dorm was pretty shitty. she couldn’t hide the fact that she was crying to lila, which made the girl stare at her for, like, 50 minutes. non-stop. without saying a word, too. not that ellie was expecting her to, it was just… weird as fuck.

but then “what’s with all this crying today? you are freaking me out”

the cinnamon-haired girl looked up at her, furrowed brows and face drenched in tears. “you are such a comforting presence. fucking hell”

and lila giggled. like it really amused her. this fucking girl… “sorry. it’s just that i’ve never seen you cry in my whole life. does this have anything to do with that girl that was here yesterday?”

as ellie cries harder at the mention of you, her roomie nods, understanding. “right, so what happened? if you want to talk about it.”

honestly? ellie did. and she is glad that they talked because, after calling her a dumbass and many other things, lila actually gave her good advice. which helped her think about the two ideas she hoped would work because she couldn’t afford to actually lose you.

after a few hours, the first step was done and she couldn’t stop smiling and feeling the little feeling that was now blossoming on her chest: hope. after reading jesse’s text, telling her you accepted her gift.

which explains why she is now kicking her feet on the bed, giggling and ignoring how much of a fool she must be looking.

lila raises an eyebrow at the sudden happiness, contrasting to the conversation they had earlier. “whatever it is you are doing, never do it again.”

she rolls her eyes, still smiling “she accepted the weed!”

“who the fuck would deny free weed? anyway, i’m out again. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” she shoots a smirk in ellie’s direction — teasing, but there’s something in it that makes ellie want to vanish into her bedsheets.

you’ve already tried all the clothes in your fucking closet and nothing seems good enough. you hate this feeling of having to go somewhere you don’t know what to expect or what to wear to. you don’t want to overdress! or underdress! dina and jesse could have hinted you what to wear.

sighing, you wondered if ellie was going through this too — yes, in fact she changed her clothes four times before her friends dragged her out of her bedroom or she would be late. you just couldn’t stop thinking about her. like you’ve been doing all day. and all week.

yes, you are, indeed, still very sad and embarrassed. but a lot of other feelings are there too, making sure you can feel all of them at once. how thoughtful. the human mind is so great.

finally, you settle with an outfit that you like and feel comfortable in, too tired to keep overthinking everything. today was… draining. you just hope whatever it is that waits for you in the rooftop doesn’t make things worse. but something tells you it won’t.

as you leave your apartment, the cold breeze makes you shiver slightly. winter is almost coming, which makes you happy. you love everything about it, snow, the holidays, hot chocolate with marshmallows, boots, beanies. it’s just a very cozy season to you.

the way towards college is soothing, even if your heart drums in your ears loudly in anticipation. you really hope you can see ellie soon, even if you are afraid to do so. you live near the campus, so it doesn’t take too long until you are quickly climbing the stairs, aiming for the main building rooftop.

what you do realize is that the building is way more packed than it should be. as you reach the 4th floor, your eyes catch this big poster that you seemed to ignore before. you had to double check to know if you were seeing it right. the words ‘talent show’ written on it in big, bold letters. what the actual fuck.

you had totally forgotten that this was tonight. that’s because you didn’t really pay attention to these things, normally. and you don’t see why ellie would, either.

she’s nervously bouncing her knee as she seats on the parapet next to the stage. well, it is a small one, really. built exclusively for this event. she didn’t know that so many people would be there when she submitted her name last-minute. but now it’s too late to back off.

and when she sees you arriving the rooftop, searching for her, she knows she did the right thing. you don’t look at her right away. but then you do. and she’s already with her eyes locked on you, a soft smile on her lips. ellie couldn’t be more relieved to see that you actually came. that you are there, staring at her and she almost giggles when you bite back a smile. oh, you think you are so smooth.

you clear your throat. you are sad and mad and disappointed! act like it, damn. but it’s hard when you see those green eyes you like so much. you find a seat, one that is close to the cute stage. you wait for her to come and sit down next to you, furrowing your brows when you see her grabbing her guitar — which you haven’t noticed before, too lost on her pretty features — and walking to the stage. no fucking way.

there’s something else you notice now that you let your eyes roam through her figure. she’s wearing a deftones t-shirt, short sleeved. her tattoo on display. some grey loose jeans and all-stars. just like she would dress if she was at one of her shifts on firefly. but she’s not wearing a face mask and her mullet is down.

it’s her. really her, not hiding, not trying to go unnoticed. it’s like she’s telling you that she won’t be someone she’s not anymore. she’s being herself, not college ellie, not miller. just ellie williams.

your heart nearly stops. she’s all you can see, like there is just you and her there. you don’t even pay attention as someone introduces her as the first one to perform. you miss how the boy says that she actually asked to be the first one. she wanted to be there when you arrived at 8 o’clock.

and she is. sitting down at the center of the stage, her gaze never leaving yours. that you don’t miss. not even the tiniest moves she makes, you catch them all. your attention is solely on her, just like she craved it to be. it’s overwhelming. all ellie wants to do is close the distance between you. but she takes a deep breath, striking the first chords as she starts singing.

“talking away. i don’t know what i’m to say, i’ll say it anyway.”

it takes your breath away. her voice is so beautiful. you always thought so. how it would send shivers down your spine every time she talked. but hearing her sing? a whole other level.

“today’s another day to find you. shying away… i’ll be coming for your love, okay”

everything else have turned into white noise. it’s just you and her. she is not just singing to you, she is singing about you. you sit there, hands clutching the hem of your jacket, feeling your chest tighten with every word.

you don’t know what it is. maybe it’s the fact that she keeps looking directly at you the whole time. or how the lyrics sound so genuine coming out of her lips and carving your heart deeply. permanently. or if it’s how pretty she looks in the dim lights of the rooftop.

you just know that, in that moment, any doubts you could ever had about her are long gone. buried, forgiven.

because no one has ever made you feel so special and so cherished before. not like she’s doing right now.

the way you smile at her and the way you look at her are enough for her to keep singing ‘take on me’ by a-ha without any struggles. it’s coming from the bottom of her heart and all she feels in this moment is you. all her eyes can see is you. all her heart craves for is you. it’s always been you.

and it’s always been her. no matter what came with it, a boy’s name or her discreet persona in class. it was her all along.

she is the one you’ve fallen for.

posted earlier cause you asked here you go!! so… next chapter is also the last one. tell me what you are thinking i love to read your comments!

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thank you for the support babies, hope you enjoy it!

@marirxse @yashirawr @vahnilla @liztreez @hyperbabes @lybbay @coeurcanelle @desiretolive @b1uecatt @moonystoes @eriiwaiii2 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @uraesthete @machetegirl109 @snuffphiliaa @robinphobia @na0koz @ellies-real-wife @vivzzi @wtvm0m0 @lesoulew @violetszn

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift - Part 8 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: swearing, kissing, some hints at depression, ghosting??, little shit yoongi if you squint, talk about feelings A/N: THANK YOU!!! This is a shorter one but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I am so excited for the next few parts of this story. I am so gleeful with all the love this is getting! Enjoy the read! :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 8

“I nearly did.”

“Kiss you.”

“I still want to.”

Those three sentences are stuck in your head like a cassette tape stuck on a loop. 

Four days have passed since his late night confession, yet you’re unsure of what comes next since he’s gone radio silent. Hence why you’ve kept this entire thing to yourself. You try not to let your overthinking brain hurt your feelings by thinking he regrets even saying those words. But why else would he go completely silent? If not regret. 

You haven’t been doing much past going to school and working, going straight home whenever you were done. And even at work, no more being walked home by Yoongi these last few days. 

Picking up your phone from the desk, you stare at the last text you sent him.

Sunday 1:14 AM Things don’t have to be weird…we can just let it go, okay?

You hadn’t expected him to suddenly have what felt like a change of heart the moment he spoke those words. You remember muttering something and suddenly apologies came out and he was a stuttering mess, hanging up the phone. You had tried calling him back minutes after recovering from the suddenness of the moment but his calls went directly to voicemail. You try not to remember how it felt for your heart to clench and drop when the realization hit. 

And since then, silence.

Absolutely nothing. 

And it looks like he’s told nobody, because Eunji and Jungkook have gone on their date and are going on a second one tonight. And seeing any of the boys around school hasn’t been in any way awkward. Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook have all been friendly, confusing you even more. 

You stare at the message longer than you should. 

Then you toss your phone down on the desk, looking up to the turnstiles where the last of the students leave. 

You scuff the carpet with your shoe, pushing yourself up as you do your final tour of the library. You hate being at work recently, your poor heart always expecting or hoping for Yoongi to show up with a tangerine. 

Going through all the floors and every aisle, you’re met with emptiness and quicker than you had hoped for, you’re back to your desk. Right on cue the security guard shows up and you politely smile, bowing as you take your bag and discarded phone, leaving the building. 

Your face down in your phone, looking at a cute selfie your friend and Jungkook send you on their date when you hear someone running behind you. You snap your body so fast you’re scared you’ll fall but the sight of who is running immediately straightens you out. 

You don’t know what you expected when you saw Yoongi again, but relief wasn’t it. He looks like he’s sprinted all the way over here, like it was a last minute decision but there he is.

His black hair sticks to his skin and you’re not sure whether or not it’s sweat or wet from a shower. His chest heaves, leaning on his knees as he catches his breath and eyes pleading with you to stay put. You see it in his furrowed eyebrows and the rapid blinking as he holds his chest. 

“Hi…”

You squint at him, head tilting sideways. Hi? Really?

“Hey.”

He straightens himself up, slowly walking over to you but stopping a few feet away and you hate how your chest tightens in anticipation. You’re still so glad to see him even though he’s left you confused, and hurt, just a little. 

“Can…can I walk you home?” 

His voice sounds so uncertain, so unlike the way he has been with you these last few weeks. He’s clearly expecting a resounding no, even maybe for you to yell at him but you don’t do yelling. 

“Sure.”

You chastise your mouth being faster than your brain, and he comes to stand next to you as you begin the journey back. It is awkward and quiet, Yoongi’s hands are in his pockets, and you can tell he’s opening his mouth and closing it over and over, choosing his words carefully. 

You don’t even notice as you’re walking that he’s no longer by your side until you look to your left, frowning and twisting around to see where you’ve left him standing. He watches you, catching up and standing a few feet away.

“I did want to kiss you.” Your eyes widen, lips parted as you gasp softly. “I still want to but…but I fucking chickened out ‘cause,” he scoffs, “how could a girl like you want a guy like me? And then because I didn't want our first kiss to be in your room with our friends just on the other side of the door. I–I wanted to–to savor it and not run the risk of having to wait until the next time I could kiss you and I know this is just a pathetic excuse to explain why I ghosted you, and I swear, I–I feel like shit for it because you don't–”

Your legs are faster than your brain, and his mouth, because you close the distance between you two so fast, grabbing his face as you stand on the tip of your toes to be able to reach him and you press your lips to his. 

Time stills, and neither of you respond to the kiss. There is no way that you made a first move like that because it is so unlike you. Yet here you are, Yoongi's face in your hands and your lips on his. 

You feel yourself tip forward, losing balance but instead of collapsing into him and making the both of you tumble, you feel his hands caging your ribcage and tugging you snug against his body, stabilizing you. And that moment is when you feel his lips move, trapping your upper lip between his as he inhales from deep in his chest. His lips are warm and soft against your slightly chapped ones, but he doesn’t seem to care one bit. 

You can feel the blood rush through your veins, letting go of his face and wrapping your arms around his neck, one arm resting across his back while you bury your other hand in his hair. 

There is nothing tentative about the kiss, neither is it heated. No, it is tender and exploratory, there is no sense of urgency and the kiss is unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had. Responding to the kiss, you let him set the pace as you tilt your head. 

He must sense how you’re craning your neck to kiss him because he lowers his stance, your heels meeting the ground as Yoongi hunches lightly to make sure you’re comfortable.

You both get lost in kissing each other, forgetting about the world around you until you hear giggling. It doesn’t startle the two of you apart completely, but enough so that you pull away from each other. You take a quick glance to see a group of younger girls giggling and blushing as they look at the two of you. You start smiling, looking to his chest and hiding there as he pulls you closer. 

Your chests are heaving, his heartbeat loud and scattered under the hand that now rests above it on his chest. You feel butterflies dancing around your belly, and you aren’t sure if it’s from kissing him or because you haven’t kissed or been kissed in so long.

Oh, who are you kidding, it’s him. It’s Yoongi.

You timidly look up at him for the first time since you made the move and he’s already looking at you, lips parted and the corners of his lips curling up.

You huff the smallest laugh, “What?”

Yoongi shakes his head, licking his lip, “That was the most effective way somebody ever shut me up.”

Oh, the nerve of him…

You pinch him and he winces, whining but he doesn’t even try to step away from you. No, instead he tightens his grip on your ribcage, prompting you to gasp at the feeling. 

“We still need to talk…” Your tone is serious, but there’s an edge of softness behind it. And you know that kissing him definitely has softened the hurt, but not made you forget it. 

Yoongi glances around and nods, cupping your cheek sweetly, “You’re right…We do need to talk.”

After a short walk you find yourselves at Han river, sitting on a bench overlooking the river. 

The silence is comfortable once he’s returned with some food for you two to snack on, quietly having a late night snack before you’re about to have what you suspect might be a very emotionally loaded conversation. 

“So…” your eyes meet, “why did you call and hang up?”

He inhales so deeply, you think he’s hoping to stop breathing for a moment, “I…I did mean it when I said I chickened out. I let relief over your text take over and I called you, but the moment I said that I wanted to kiss you…the confidence?” He gestures his hand plummeting. “And then, then I let my brain take over.”

“What do you mean?” 

He breathes out, “I’m self-deprecating. I will forever encourage and support my friends, but the moment anything good happens to me? I convince myself with reasons why I don’t deserve it, with reasons why…” he looks at you, embarrassed, “...you wouldn’t actually want me.”

“So…even though we had a moment in my bedroom and I sent that text and you called me, you still didn’t feel like it was genuine?”

He looks pained as he considers his next words, “Can I be completely honest about where my brain went?” You nod and he sighs. “After I said I still wanted to kiss you, my brain went back to that moment in your room and all of a sudden? Any confidence I had about the way you might feel towards me just twisted into something…awful.”

He lets his words hang in the air, letting you process as you nod softly, “Awful like…” you glance up to the night sky, “...’there’s no way she could like me’ awful or…”

He looks down, embarrassed and hiding his eyes behind his bangs, “...or ‘maybe I was led into believing she could like me and in reality only wanted to fool around, and then she’ll stop wanting to be around me once she gets what she wants’…”

Your heart breaks at how the mind works sometimes, how it hurts even your own self, “...because a part of you is that scared that these last few weeks, these last two months, have been some kind of trickery?”

He grunts, “It’s so fucking stupid…” he rubs his temple.

“No, no!” You reach for his forearm, squeezing it gently. “It’s not stupid. You…Sometimes you can’t help how mean your brain can get…”

He looks up at you from under his bangs, watching your face carefully, “I don’t actually want to believe that stuff, I swear…I felt like such an ass and once I got out of it this morning I realized…I immediately hated how I must have made you feel…”

“It sucked.” You confess, not wanting to shy away from the feeling of it. “I thought I must have done something wrong.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, fuck, I never wanted you to think that.”

You smile softly, slipping your hand into his and lacing your fingers with his, “I know, I understand better now.” Your thumb gently begins to rub back and forth over the back of his hand.

You both stay quiet, holding hands and admiring the night view of the Han river.

“I’m sorry for these last few days. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I know it won’t be some overnight change, but…I’d like to think I’m a decent listener. When those dark thoughts come into your mind? Try and talk to me. Mhm?” He nods, watching you carefully.

You catch him glancing to your lips, and when he’s caught in the act you start smiling. Before you know any better he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You shift your body towards his, kissing him back softly before pulling away, catching the way he follows your lips, “We should probably also talk about this…”

He starts grinning, nodding and leaning back, “I suppose we should…”

You’re giggling as you breathe out, “So, if you hadn’t had those awful thoughts…what would you have done after that phone call?” 

“I was already halfway dressed and up to come see you…” he admits. 

“Really?”

He laughs, “Yeah.”

“That probably would have been one heck of a kiss too…” You catch the blush creeping up his neck, making you snicker. 

“Yeah, well, our first kiss wasn’t too bad either, no?” 

First kiss. 

“So,” he looks at you when you tug on his hand, “if that was our first kiss, and we just had our second kiss, does that mean that there’s gonna be a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh–”

Yoongi playfully kisses your lips, pressing peck after peck and prompting laughter out of the both of you as you pull back, “Yoongi…” His face loses all hint of playfulness to be replaced by tenderness when you say his name. “What…what does this mean?”

He sighs loudly, pretending he hasn’t thought of an answer yet, “I know exactly what this means…” You can feel how nervous he is based solely on how sweaty his hands are, hoping that your presence is enough to comfort him. 

He leans in, kissing the corner of your mouth softly and pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, “It means…let me take you out on a date.”

You giddily smile, biting your lower lip, “That’s gonna be a yes.”

A/N: We now have a kiss and a planned date! I know this definitely shorter than the last couple of chapters but the last thing I wanted to do when we got close to this is delay it any longer. I hope you all enjoy it! We're just over the halfway mark! :D

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon @niieceyy @this-most-assuredly-counts @ronaa33 @yoonminv @meghanacloud @petroogorodnik @existentialzaddy

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce Wayne sat in bed, awake, counting sheep, currently at five hundred.

Bruce (gritted teeth): 501 stupid sheep, 502 stupid sheep, 503 stupid sheep... Who came up with counting sheep? This doesn’t work!

Hatman (Australian accent): The repetition and countin' make you bored and annoyed enough to fall asleep. Doesn’t work for everybody.

Bruce looked around his room, darkness surrounding him until he saw a tall shadowy figure wearing a wide-brimmed black fedora.

Bruce (stammering, confused): Who… what… who are you?

Hatman: Me? I’m the Hat Man!

Bruce blinked a few times, checked his pulse, slapped himself in the face, and confirmed three times that he was still awake. The hat man waved with his shadowy hand.

Bruce (of all the things he could ask): How are you talking when you're just shadows?

The hat man’s shadow shrugged. Bruce decided that asking questions about how a shadowy man wearing a fedora with a Kiwi accent was real was rather pointless, especially since he was living in Gotham, knew Constantine, and was friends with Zatanna.

Bruce (asking instead): Why are you in my room?

Hatman: I invade people’s rooms and stand in one spot to scare 'em. I’ve been followin' ya for a few years. Ya just haven’t seen me 'til now, so that’s nice.

Bruce (raising an eyebrow): Nice is an odd word to use in this situation. When did you… first appear in my life?

Hatman: Remember wettin' the bed 'til ya were thirteen?

Bruce (mortified): Yes.

Hatman: I started around that time, and ya got used to avoidin' sleep and probably thought I was in ya head. I usually like to feast on people being scared of me, it’s a tasty little meal, but ya always intrigued me.

Bruce: Seeing as my sleep is worse than an insomniac’s, I could understand that. Plus, I’m Batman.

Hatman: Wow, you do say that as a defense. Let me try, why do I like to stand in the darkness of a room? I’m the Hat Man.

Bruce (approving nod): It works.

Hatman: Thanks!

Bruce: No problem… Fedora Man. Um, are you going to attack me or drain my life force? Because I’m not in the mood for that.

Hatman: Nah, that’s not what I do. I just stand here.

Hatman cleared his 'throat'.

Bruce: That’s it?

Hatman: Yeah… and scare people, feast on your fears and nightmares. Most of that is caused by me standin' here. I’ll head out in a few minutes.

Bruce (accepting this, since it’s not the worst thing he’s dealt with): Yeah, okay. I owe Clark a hundred bucks. Are you one of those sleep paralysis demons?

Hatman: Mmm. Yeah and no.

Bruce: And I owe Diana two hundred bucks and a phone. Thanks for that.

Hatman: Hey, mate, it’s not my fault ya made poor bets. Mind if I ask some questions that’ve been on my mind?

Bruce: Questions from a shadow formed into a guy wearing a fedora? Sure, go ahead.

Hatman: Did ya hear McDonald’s brought back the chicken tenders?

Bruce: I had no idea. I don’t usually eat at McDonald’s. Some of my kids, who I hope you’re not haunting, enjoy that fast food. Are they good? I… asked the man with no mouth.

Hatman: One of my clients has been eating them like crazy. Says they’re the best. I won’t disclose if your kids are ones I watch.

Bruce: One of them looks similar to me, with a white streak in his hair.

Hatman: Jason? Yeah! He tried shootin' me once, nice kid, otherwise.

Bruce: Good to know. Got any other questions?

Hatman: Do they actually make the mcnuggets from pink slime?

Bruce (resigned to having a bizarre conversation): No, that’s a rumor. McNuggets are gross to me, but most of it’s real chicken.

Hatman: You would look down on McNuggets, rich kid.

Bruce: That’s not... Why does everyone say that? I like certain items on the artery-clogging menu, the nuggets aren't one of them. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, but the tenders were actually pretty good when they were first on the menu.

Hatman: Yeah, mate. Try them when you go and tell me what you think.

Bruce: I will, possibly remember that... Hat Man. How much time do you have left?

Hatman: Five minutes. This has been cool chattin' with you. You’re just as interestin' as I hoped.

Bruce (prideful tone) That’s to be expected. Any other questions?

Hatman (talking quickly): A few that you can answer quickly, Batmite?

Bruce: Finally left me alone.

Hatman: Selina or Talia?

Bruce: Selina, but I did love Talia.

Hatman: Does that clown fellow know ya Batman?

Bruce: Yes, but he pretends I don’t know he does.

Hatman: What’s your favorite thing in the Star Wars films?

Bruce (eager): Okay, this is complex, I can explain in the next five minutes.

[arisewanekosuki]

If little helper reader had a dendro vision is she compatible at every team comp of dendro like on burgeon, aggravate, bloom, and hyper bloom?

Like for example with Kinich and Emily being burgeon, she gives them up a buff on em(or anything you want in general) making their reactions deal more dmg

Also the little headcannon about little helper reader thinking that every guy likes lumine

I wanna see it on Kinich and ororon hehe

Someone already asked what if she had vision and I answered that I can see her having dendro one! Also here I wrote how her abilites would work, based of her elemental skill she would be compatible mostly with bloom, hyper bloom and burgeon teams.

------ The first thing Ajaw did after learning that Kinich got a crush on you was to just tell you about it. He really wanted to see Kinich being embarrassed or even rejected by you, but what he didn’t predict was that you… just won’t believe him. Of course this didn’t stop him and he continued to tell you about it every time he saw you. After some time the self proclaimed Almighty Dragonlord started to get irritated by it… Your accusations that Ajaw lies or when you didn’t see that Kinich clearly is looking only at you drove him insane sometimes. So one day the pixelated Saurian shouted when you were alone with them. -"How can you not see that this guy has a crush on you?!" You were stunned, Kinich was a bit nervous. Will you finally realize? And if yes, will you accept his feelings or reject them? You sighed, suddenly looking irritated. -"Ajaw... I think you're the blind one, Kinich clearly has feelings towards Lumine!" You said making two boys silent. Both of them were stunned by your declaration. The Saurian Hunter knew what would happen soon so before Ajaw could offend you in any way he locked the little Saurian away. You pouted. -”What’s wrong with him? He spent all the time with you and didn’t realize about your crush on Lumine? Ah but don’t worry I won’t tell her so you can still surprise her!” after the last sentence you innocently smiled. Kinich couldn’t help but ask you where this idea came from. -”May I ask why you think so?” -”Hm? I mean Lumine is the Hero of Natlan and you two get along very well!” Kinich only sighed.-”I respect Lumine, but she is not the one who caught my attention.” -”Oh? So… is it Mualani?! You two have known each other for so long!” Kinich now wonders if it’s some kind of price he has to pay for loving you, but no matter the cost, he won’t give up.

Romance and romantic love is something new for Ororon. For a while he wasn't even sure about his own feelings towards you, Granny Citlali had to educate him about them. And yet after Ororon was sure that what he feels towards you crosses the line of friendship, he had doubts whether to tell you about them or not. It was his first time after all so he wasn’t sure how he should approach this matter. He would give you his best vegetables and if there is anything you needed help with, he would offer his assistance without a second thought but even he realized this is not enough.  He decided to borrow some romance novels from Granny to ‘educate’ himself about flirting. The day came when he could try something from those novels. He visited your Teapot and it seems you were alone at the moment in the room. You two talked a bit, Ororon was hyping himself up to do what he planned and then. Thud! His hand slammed into the spot close to your head, he caught you between the wall and himself. He saw you being surprised, that was his chance! But he couldn’t say anything, suddenly feeling too shy. He took a step back and turned around, hiding his blushing face and murmured “I’m sorry”. -”Don’t worry!” You came and patted him on the back “But next time please warn me when you plan to practice how to woo Lumine ok?” His ears perked. -”Woo… Lumine?” he turned and looked at you with confusion written on his face. -”Yes! I will gladly help you win her heart!” You said with excitement in the eyes. -”Ah…no.. I mean… I wasn’t..” he wasn’t sure what to say, something like this never happened in novels he read. Before he could clear the misunderstanding you started to tell him many plans how he can approach the Traveler and court her. Ororon didn’t want to interrupt you, you look so cute when you get excited, but he thinks he will have to ask Granny Citlali for help in the end…

[marymary-diva17]

Human wife shenanigans

Having a human mate who is also a dream walker could be special. There is so much to learn about their world and cultures. That was something that many navi had to know right away when they had become mates with the ones who came from the skies.

Y/n “ …….” You are collecting data in the forest, as you are not entirely alone. As your baby son had come as well, refusing to be left at home with any caretakers.

Y/n “ Look over there noaw there are a family, of viper wolves over there.”

Noaw had smiled and pointed towards the viper wolves. He even made the viper wolves' growls, which had you laughing. 

Y/n: “ It seems like you have been listening to your father's stories very closely at bedtime or when he has you for the day.”You kissed your son's forehead, making him smile brightly and clap his hands. 

Y/N: “ You are such a cutie pie like your older brother. Now, let's see what else we can get into before your dad comes looking for us.” You soon placed Noaw back down in a safe spot as you started collecting more data and sharing it with him. 

Y/n “ You know, baby boy, I had a day like this many years ago with your Uncle Jake and Uncle Norm with grace. Let's say trouble had found us. Which led me and your uncle Jake to have a run-in with some viper wolves, and soon enough, I met your aunt Neytiri and dad.”

Noaw “ Sempu.” Noaw had also started laughing and speaking gibberish as you soon kissed his forehead. You soon left him there as you climbed the tree to gather the flowers you had seen. Noaw watched you while looking at other things as well. 

Y/n “ got some.” you had been able to grab some flowers. 

???? “ Noaw, there, baby brother. Where is Mom? " Spider had come by to pick up his baby brother. 

Noaw, “Mama. " Soon, he pointed up towards you, and the spider looked up and saw you as you smiled towards him. 

Spider: “Hey, mom.”

Y/N “ Hello, sweetie; I will be down soon. Just get some flowers.”

Spider: “ Cool, but I don’t think Dad will be happy about this, seeing how he has been asking you to take it easy since Noaw was born.”

Y/N: “ Yes, I know, my boy. There's no need to worry; I will be down right away.”

???? “My sons, there you are.” The boys soon turned their heads to the left to see their dad, Tsu’tey, come over. 

Tsu’tey: “ I had a feeling you two will be out here with your mom, speaking of her where she is.” Both boys had become quiet, as none dared to say anything about you in the tree. 

Spider: “ She is collecting some plants and data, Dad. She asked me to watch over Noaw for a while.”

Tsu’tey “ Did she yanwtu.” Tsu’tey soon looked around but couldn’t see you, as he soon looked up to see you in the tree. 

Tsu’tey “Ma y/n, why are you up there.”

Y/n “ The betterment of knowledge and beauty of pandora.” Tsu’tey soon sighed as he looked at you and his sons. As you made your way down the tree, once you were close to the ground, Tsu’tey grabbed your hand and helped you the rest of the way down. 

Tsu’tey: “ I felt you were not going to take it easy fully.”

Y/N: “ I was taking it easy, but now that our Noaw is older, I have decided to do more work.”

Tsu’tey: “There are times when I worry more about you than about our kids.”

Y/n “ My dear husband, I’m just doing what I usually do, even before I become a mother.”

Tsu’tey: “ I shall support you no matter what happens, ma y/n, but you still need to be careful when you participate in these shenanigans.”

Y/n: “ Well, my dear husband, you should have gotten used to shenanigans by now.” You soon kissed Tsu’tey, catching the man off guard as you walked towards your sons. 

Y/n “ Now come on, boys. Let’s get you home while your father follows after and tries to see if we shall do anything human-related.”

Tsu’tey: “ I love you and our kids being humans, and I shall always love that, but there is so much I still need to get used to as well.” You soon laughed with the boys as Tsu’tey soon caught up with you, and they headed home together after gathering everything. No matter how many years go by, your shenanigans will always catch your husband off guard. 

[multiversefanfics]

Down In The Dumps

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Warning: mention of a bad day, not being good enough Summary: Joaquin came home to find you in bed, in the dark, and upset. Word Count: 903

It was one of those days, you didn’t feel like getting out of bed, you didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and you definitely didn’t feel like eating. Nothing helped, well the only thing that could help was Joaquin, but he was on a mission and who knows when he’d be back.

You rolled on your side and stared at the wall, the same wall with a picture of you and Joaquin hanging on it, the only thing keeping you sane and grounded. Joaquin was your kite string, letting you fly as high as you wanted, while also still keeping you safe. He didn't push, if you weren't ready to talk about it, he would wait and lay with you until you were ready.

Joaquin walked through the front door, everything was still. He looked around, usually, you're in the living room watching a movie surrounded by a bunch of pillows and blankets. He frowns and drops his stuff by the door. He walked up the stairs, looking around, taking in the darkness that surrounded him. He pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight, finally walking into your shared room.

"Baby?" His voice was soft, he turned the flashlight off and climbed in bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your body.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You just stared, you couldn't bring yourself to speak. You wanted to, so badly, but nothing came out. You didn't want to shut Joaquin out, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you were feeling.

"Baby, are you okay?" He kissed the back of your head, holding you tighter.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. "I feel like I'm not good enough for you."

His heart shattered, his chest ached, he turned you over to face him, leaving several kisses all over your face.

"Oh, my angel. You are more than enough for me, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don't know where I'd be without you." He placed a soft kiss on your forehead "What's got you feeling like this?"

You inhaled sharply, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks, soon you broke down into a full blown sob. Joaquin rubbed your back soothingly as you buried your face into his chest.

“Let it out, baby, I got you.” He whispered into your hair.

“I got you” echoed in your head, and you believed it. Joaquin always had you, no matter what, he was always there to pick you up and you were extremely grateful for him. You calmed down, and started to tell him why you were feeling the way you were, truthfully you didn’t have an exact answer or reason it’s just the way your mind works sometimes.

Not knowing why you felt this way scared you more than knowing. You tried your best at everything you did, but after a while you slowly gave up on being the best and focused on being you. Some days it helped to talk about it, while other days you just wanted Joaquin to hold you in silence.

Joaquin knew today was one of those days he sits and listens, sure he could reassure you, like he’s dying to do, but he knows right now your mind wouldn’t let you believe it. So he holds you, rubbing your back while you tell him what’s going on inside your brain. When you were finished you instantly felt better, no more tears, no slight hiccups from the sobs that left your mouth, but no smile either.

“I love you so much, angel.” He kissed the top of your head “I want you to call me next time, even if you just need to listen to me breathe.” You nodded against his chest, placing a soft kiss on his chin.

“I know this is bad timing, but I really gotta pee” You giggled and released your grip of him.

You watched as he ran to the bathroom he left the door open and started peeing

“Joaquin! Close the door.” You playfully covered your eyes, peeking out a little just to get a good look at that thang

“I wanna make sure you don’t go anywhere!” He quickly finished and washed his hands, before climbing back into bed with you.

He cuddled up to your chest, looking up at you. You smiled down at him and wrapped your arms around him.

“Feeling better?” He nodded against your chest

“I’ve been holding that in since the jet” You ruffled his hair into a funny messy style.

You laid there listening to him talk about what happened on the mission, how Sam basically slammed himself into a brick wall and got his ass handed to him by whatever the hell they were fighting. Honestly listening to Joaquin talk was like music to your ears, he had a way with words and he always made his stories seem so upbeat and funny even if he was getting beat up.

Joaquin knew you were feeling better when you started making jokes about him not being able to fly straight or telling him you could beat him at arm wrestling. You were laughing, like really laughing to the point where you snorted and Joaquin is just staring at you in admiration. You were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he was determined to do just that.

A/N: i hope you guys like it if you want to be tagged in future fics, comment here

Main Masterlist - Joaquin Torres Masterlist

Taglist: @cherryresidence @sidkneeeee

[darkmatilda]

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which spencer can’t believe he ended up in an art class, you can’t believe you ended up in an art class, and neither of you can believe you both ended up in the same art class

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, banter at its finest <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.2k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request marathon masterlist

Spencer never considered himself particularly talented in the field of art.

His biggest problem was that, while creating, he had trouble switching off and simply focusing on what he wanted to express. When he painted, images of Van Gogh, Picasso, Dalí crossed through his mind—their characteristics and information about the movements they represented—and he would immediately start wondering whether what he was creating truly fit into expressionism, or maybe leaned more toward fauvism. No one should be surprised that he did much better with technical drawing.

He once talked about it with JJ—the topic came up when Henry talked them all into a group drawing session. What he said then somehow stuck in his friend’s mind—enough that for his birthday, she decided to give him…a pass for creative art classes.

He kept postponing going until the very last moment. However, the deadline for using the pass was approaching, and he felt a little guilty about potentially wasting the gift from JJ. So, one Saturday, he physically forced himself to go, even though there were dozens of other things he would have preferred to do in the meantime. In fact, on that particular day, he even had more desire to do laundry than to play at being an artist, but he knew that if he didn’t go then, he wouldn’t get around to it anytime soon—and the pass would expire.

So, he found himself in the painting studio, the entrance of which he could spot even before stepping inside thanks to the glass doors—beige walls, student easels arranged in a circle, a crocheted orange rug on the floor, and plenty of flowers and other props seemingly designed to spark their imagination. Taking in the room with his eyes, Spencer opened the door, allowing a woman who had arrived around the same time to pass in front of him.

Without a thank you, she crossed the threshold confidently, brushing past him—but before she fully entered, Reid widened his eyes…recognizing her.

"What are you doing here?"

His, well... acquaintance from work (the one he'd once ended up in bed with, went on an undercover mission with, and even saved a cat together, but  couldn't spend more than five minutes with each other without at least once threatening each other's throats, so overall, they didn’t get along that well) reacted similarly, though with a more outraged expression on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she put her hands on her hips.

Unconsciously, he glanced at her outfit. The dress code for the class was to wear something you wouldn’t mind getting dirty, so she had veered a bit away from her usual stylish outfits, wearing something much simpler. But that wasn’t why he didn’t recognize her—her attractiveness was unmistakable, no matter what she was wearing, she still looked just as good. It was simply in her.

She sounded outraged, but he didn’t feel guilty, because he felt the same way. The purpose of these classes was relaxation, clearing the mind, releasing stress...which was impossible when they were both within a mile of each other.

"I asked first," he stated.

She sighed in irritation, then quickly forced a wide smile onto her face. It looked terrifying, just so you know.

"I'm spending my free Saturday afternoon," she explained stiffly. "And you, Doctor Genius? Did you get lost on the way to a chess tournament?"

Reid snorted.

"If I had the chance to be at a chess tournament right now, trust me, I wouldn’t be here..."

"You two for the painting class?" A woman who must have been the instructor caught their attention.

She kept her hands clasped in a basket-like gesture, quite friendly, though her expression showed concern. Some random duo had just started arguing at the entrance to her studio. Who knows, they might be some vandals…

"That's right," his acquaintance said, completely changing her tone when she wasn’t talking to him. As if she were making an effort to emphasize the difference. He already felt like rolling his eyes—and they had met, what, maybe... eighty seconds ago?

"Oh, in that case, welcome to the creative art class. My name is Carla, and I’ll be leading it. It’s best if you just take a seat, and I’ll explain more about what we’ll be doing shortly..."

They arrived as two of the last people, so the only available seats...were right next to each other. Their exasperated sighs synchronized almost perfectly, and they exchanged glances that weren’t any more enthusiastic. Maybe later they could switch seats with someone, or maybe they just wouldn’t talk...

He spoke to her a minute after they sat down on adjacent stools.

"Are you here out of a passion for painting, or out of a passion for making my life miserable with your presence?"

She slowly turned her head in his direction.

"You might not be aware of it yet, but my presence is the brightest point of your miserable life."

"Oh, you're right. Bright from radioactive radiation—"

"Excuse me, could you please not talk to me for now?" she said intentionally louder, drawing the attention of everyone present, including Carla, who had just been explaining some introductory topics and what they would be doing. With feigned concern, she continued, "I'm trying to focus to understand the basics."

Spencer pressed his lips together, feeling the weight of so many unfriendly eyes on him.

"We know each other from work," he added, sliding his finger between them.

He didn’t want to be seen as some creep, harassing a random woman!

"This is the first time I see this man in my life," she lied without hesitation.

A bit of sarcasm crept into her voice, confusing everyone around them. Carla ran her fingers through her platinum, short hair and cleared her throat before continuing from where she had been interrupted.

They were kind of being jerks—both of them. The bickering and snide remarks were fine when they stayed between the two of them, not when they involved over a dozen other people. Strangely enough, she seemed to come to the same conclusion—when he caught her gaze again, there was something in it that looked suspiciously like a proposal for a ceasefire. He gave a barely noticeable nod in return.

Carla kept talking for a few more minutes before suggesting they start with a few simple exercises. As she launched into the basics of color theory, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he’d regressed all the way back to a crib.

“I get explaining the fundamentals, but this is…” he muttered under his breath.

He didn’t expect anyone to hear him.

But of course—she did.

"You don’t get to talk," she replied, just as quietly. "You’d probably say the same thing during a lecture on quantum physics."

"If that lecture started with explaining what an atom is, then yes, I absolutely would—"

“And now that you’re familiar with the basics,” Carla said, shooting Spencer a meaningful look that clearly suggested he should, kindly, shut up. He did.

“I want you to try a little exercise. Mostly for fun—because that’s what we’re here for, right? You’ll be drawing portraits of each other, in pairs. Or at least, you’ll try. A few classes from now, we’ll do the same thing again and compare how much you’ve improved…”

Reid glanced around, hoping to catch the eye of someone willing to team up. But everyone had already paired off—almost instantly, like they were afraid of ending up with either of them. The two of them, constantly hissing at each other like stray cats, radiating more hostility than friendliness. Honestly, he couldn’t blame them.

So they were left with no other choice but to sit across from each other and start drawing.

He actually decided to take the assignment seriously. Better that than the realization he'd wasted his entire afternoon on something completely unproductive.

Glancing at the woman across from him—already hard at work, barely sparing him a glance—he spent a moment just studying her features. Analyzing the proportions, tracing imaginary angles across her face like some kind of invisible protractor.

At first, purely out of spite, he planned to exaggerate that perpetually annoyed look she wore like a second skin. But she kept smiling while she worked—so absentmindedly, so genuinely—that he found himself accidentally transferring that softness onto his sketch without even thinking.

He was only halfway done when a small giggle reached his ears from across the table.

She had set her brush down and was staring at her work, visibly amused.

“You’re done?” he asked, incredulous.

Was he really that easy to draw?

“Almost,” she replied vaguely, leaning over the canvas to add a final touch. Then, biting her lip, she studied it a moment longer—before finally presenting it to him with a proud little flourish. “Voilá. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…Doctor Spencer Reid.”

He was silent for a moment.

“…What is that?”

“It’s you, silly!”

The sound he made was somewhere between a scoff, a snort, and a defeated sigh. He’d actually tried…

“Are you fucking serious…”

Her laughter.

“I swear, you’re the most insufferable—”

More laughter.

“—spiteful, venomous little—”

Her laughter only grew louder with every word, especially as her eyes flicked back and forth between the portrait and his very unamused face.

“How’s it going over here?” Carla materialized beside them, clearly drawn over by their very audible presence.

She glanced at Spencer’s portrait and gave a small nod of approval. Then she turned to look at hers—and her lips parted in stunned silence.

The figure on the canvas bore only a vague resemblance to Spencer. The oversized brown eyes were exaggerated into near cartoonish black holes, like twin collapsing stars. His hair had been rendered into a wild mess of scribbled brown, aggressively unkempt.

Beyond that, his body had been minimized to Lego-figure proportions while his head—a massive balloon-shaped monstrosity—was adorned with stress veins sketched on either temple.

The cherry on top? A single, disproportionately large hand raised with one finger pointed dramatically upward, as if delivering an unsolicited lecture.

A speech bubble floated from his mouth containing just two words:

Um, actually…

“I’ve always had a passion for comic art,” the artist of the masterpiece finally explained after a short silence, nodding with mock seriousness.

Carla tapped her chin thoughtfully, then gave her some kind of critique—though Spencer had stopped listening. His attention drifted back to his own work. The portrait wasn’t finished yet, but it did resemble her—he’d actually tried, unlike some people in the room.

On a sudden impulse, he grabbed his brush and with two swift strokes, added a pair of curly mustaches and a full Viking beard to her face.

Her eyebrows shot up.

Carla wandered off to check on another pair.

“Wow, I’d be such a hot guy,” she said, dramatically sighing as she pointed at the updated painting. “I wouldn’t be able to walk ten feet without getting hit on.”

“And are you now?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Twelve, last time I counted,” she replied nonchalantly.

Honestly, he was inclined to believe her. Before he could rush into a response, however, she suddenly straightened up on the wooden stool, as if struck by some sudden idea. From her pocket, she pulled out an intensely red lipstick, and to his utter bewilderment, began applying it to her lips.

“I’m leaving my signature,” she explained, puckering up and blowing him a kiss. Then, she kissed the corner of her painting, leaving a bright red lipstick print. Without missing a beat, she took it off the easel, practically shoving it into Reid’s hands.

“Here you go. If you ever go bankrupt, you can sell it. I won’t be offended.”

Spencer stared at the lipstick mark on the painting for a moment before shifting his gaze to her face, which still radiated so much self-satisfaction. He sighed, giving in, and a fleeting, amused smile appeared on his lips.

“Do you think it’s worth that much to pull me out of debt?”

“People don’t pay for art. They pay for the artist’s name,” she said, casually folding her hands over her knee in a comfortable pose. “So yes, that’s exactly what I think.”

On Monday, Morgan asked him what he had been up to over the weekend, and Spencer, adding a fifth spoonful of sugar to his coffee, shrugged and replied nothing interesting.

[tobiosbbyghorl]

Hyper & Chill | psh

act 46: workplace revelation

The company’s annual Christmas ball was one of the most anticipated events of the year. It wasn’t just a party—it was a night of glamour, celebration, and, apparently this year, a night of revelations.

For months, you and Sunghoon had been keeping your relationship lowkey, careful not to draw too much attention at work. But despite your best efforts, your colleagues had started piecing things together.

It began with small things—Sunghoon’s overly professional demeanor toward you (which, ironically, made it more obvious), stolen glances during meetings, the way you always managed to leave the office around the same time.

And then there was the bracelet incident.

One of your colleagues had caught a glimpse of the delicate silver bracelet you always wore—one with your initials intertwined with Sunghoon’s. When they asked about it, you had laughed it off, but the knowing look they gave you afterward told you that the suspicion had only grown.

Then, to top it off, HR had spotted the two of you together at the park one weekend. There was no mistaking the way Sunghoon’s hand lingered at the small of your back or the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching.

When HR eventually asked about it, the two of you had exchanged a glance before deciding to just admit it.

To your surprise, they merely shrugged. “As long as you keep things professional in the workplace, it’s not a big deal.”

With all the signs pointing toward the inevitable, you and Sunghoon figured—why keep it a secret any longer?

And what better way to announce it than at the most extravagant event of the year?

—

The venue was breathtaking—a grand ballroom adorned with twinkling lights, crystal chandeliers, and a towering Christmas tree that cast a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests.

As expected, Sunghoon arrived in a perfectly tailored black suit, his sharp features even more striking under the ambient lighting.

You, on the other hand, wore a stunning white gown that complemented his ensemble, the contrast making you stand out even more when you stood side by side.

And that was exactly what shocked everyone.

The moment you both walked in together, arm in arm, the entire room froze.

Whispers spread like wildfire.

“No way—”

“Are they… together?”

“I knew something was going on!”

Sunghoon, ever the composed one, simply smirked, guiding you further inside with a quiet confidence that made your heart flutter.

Minseok, however, wasted no time making his way over. “Wait, wait—so those marks on your neck from months ago—they were from her?!”

You nearly choked on your champagne. “Oh my god, Minseok—”

Sunghoon only grinned. “Who else would they be from?”

Minseok groaned. “Damn, now I owe Yuna twenty bucks. She bet you two were dating, and I said no because you were too good at hiding it.” Sunghoon shrugged. “Guess she knows me better than you do.”

As the night went on, the initial shock turned into excitement.

People came up to congratulate you, others teased you for keeping it a secret for so long, and some even admitted they suspected it all along.

By the time the Mr. and Ms. of the Night winners were announced, it was almost unsurprising when your names were called.

“You guys have to do a dance,” someone in the crowd shouted as you and Sunghoon were crowned.

And so you did—slowly swaying together in the center of the ballroom, his hand warm against your waist, your heart pounding at the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

“Guess we’re official now,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled, leaning in just enough for only you to hear. “We were always official, Lolove.”

—

The night had been full of laughter, teasing, and finally embracing your relationship openly.

But the best part?

The real celebration began once you got home.

Sunghoon barely made it past the front door before his lips were on yours, his hands finding your waist as he backed you up against the wall.

“You looked too good tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

“You didn’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Park,” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled lowly before lifting you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you straight to the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

What followed was a night of slow, passionate love—where he took his time exploring every inch of you, whispering sweet nothings against your skin, showing you exactly how much he adored you.

And as you lay tangled together afterward, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back, he kissed your forehead and murmured—

“Merry Christmas, Lolove.”

You smiled sleepily, pressing closer. “Merry Christmas, Hoon.”

️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

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[johanna-swann]

Post 8x16 thoughts nobody asked for:

Starting with the positives: The episode was solid and it did make me quite emotional. I really liked the flashbacks and ghost!Bobby. It would've felt incredibly weird if we'd just never got to see him again and I miss him so much already. Bobby is probably my favourite character on this show. Was. I wonder if there are going to be many more flashbacks in the last two episodes.

Kenneth Choi FINALLY got a plot that actually revolved around his character again, not Maddie. It wasn't about her trauma or their marriage, their child, their future as a couple, it was about Chimney as an individual outside of his relationship with Maddie. (It's been 84 years, etc.) He did such a good job too. Chimney is usually the peacemaker, now he's the pot-stirrer. A few lines seemed somewhat over the top and illogical: On the one hand he insists he blames Bobby for giving up on finding a way out and that he doesn't really blame himself (he wishes Bobby had lived, he thinks it's unfair he got to live and Bobby didn't, but he doesn't believe it was his fault), then again he says stuff like "I already killed my last Captain". Idk, seems like they were forcing the drama here a little. But all in all I'm glad they focused on Chim again for once. They already gave us a very beautiful Buck&Chim scene and I hope they follow up on this a little more.

Athena being a little all over the place yet still trying to stay on top of things and doing her lone wolf thing was very in character. (Also a great opportunity taken with the fight between her and Chim.) I kinda wish she had gone to someone and admitted she needs help/comfort/support instead of everyone having to chase after her, but oh well. Her scenes with Hen and her kids especially were amazing.

On to the questionable stuff: I did not expect there to be a time skip this big (Hen back at work? Chim back at work? Maddie much more visibly pregnant? It's been a month at least I'd guess, but it kinda worked.) and I didn't expect the funeral to just be a montage at the end of the episode. Look at all the trucks and ambulances, the street had to be closed down, there were dozens of extras and everything. This must've cost the show a fortune AND it got spoiled weeks and weeks in advance. For an end of episode montage. Not worth it, very much not worth it. No wonder this show has budgeting issues. Who needed this? We already know Bobby was a hero. You don't have to convince us by squeezing a few more trucks and engines in one frame in a montage at the end of the episode.

In general I wish we'd got a little less pizzazz around the funeral and instead a little more focus on the characters. Athena and Chimney got their chance to shine and it looks like Hen will battle her grief through the Captaincy question next episode, but between the burning water and end of season earthquake disaster - when will the other characters have time to grieve? Bobby's mother was there, but she didn't have a single line. Buck was... extremely well put together (for now). Eddie had very little to do in general.

Also, why did they bring back Gerrard AGAIN only for him to play grumpy but sympathetic grandpa AGAIN? He got to show more of his grief than Buck, Eddie, Ravi, Maddie, Karen, Tommy or Hen. Why do they keep bringing him back and why do they keep writing him as a bit of a drill sergeant, but otherwise harmless? That is the same guy who called Tommy a fairy to his face last season, right? At least this time they confirmed upfront a different Captain will be taking over soon and I guess we should be grateful Brad was only there as a foto on that shrine.

The episode also didn't answer any of the burning questions that still remain with other loose ends. Like what will happen with Eddie? He was barely in the episode, he came to LA alone and had next to no dialogue. It was impossible to read the vibes here one way or another. I still have no clue whether he'll move back during the finale or leave the show after season 8.

They still didn't adress the Bucktommy situationship. And let me be clear, I didn't want or expect a full love confession / reunion or confrontation / closure subplot, but they didn't even exchange so much as a glance. Buck voiced his intention to call Tommy, talk things through and apologise for lashing out in 8x11. 8x16 is over now and they still haven't talked even though we had a few time skips and months have gone by. They're not only dragging this out for us as the viewers, a huge amount of time has also passed in universe.

Again, there are only two episodes left, both of which seem to have big emergencies and there is a lot of ground they still need to cover. We need an answer to the Eddie question, they need to make a decision about Bucktommy one way or another, they need to name a new Captain, they need to let the other characters grief, Maddie needs to give birth at some point (they could let this happen between seasons, but why would they?), there will possibly be more flashbacks and they only have ~90 minutes for all of it.

So yeah, 8x16 by itself was fine, love how they involved Peter Krause and Athena working through her grief by working a case was interesting to watch. But I'm growing more and more agitated about the things they haven't addressed yet.

(I mostly worry about Buck's plot(s) tbh. For Hen they already confirmed she'll have to think about stepping up as Captain. Maddie and Chim will have a second child. Athena and Chim had a lot of screen time this week. The Texas arc is almost over, they can just have Eddie move back and give him a bigger plot again next season or give him a heartfelt goodbye and be done with it. All of that seems manageable even in 2 episodes. But Buck has two big unfinished businesses NOW that are somewhat complex and I hope to god they don't plan on dragging them into season 9. They already didn't let him have feelings about Maddie's abduction in a way that was absolutely ridiculous and only made an off-handed "oh he handles it rather maturely" comment in an interview to explain it, if they now also gloss over Buck's grief and have him handle losing Bobby "maturely" then I will lose it. Also they either need to give us at least a hint at a Bucktommy reunion or finally let Tommy go. I can't handle a second summer break like the last one.)

[rosierin]

i used to love him | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) talks about her feelings towards suna, from childhood to current day.

suna's pov here

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

I used to love him.

Not in a way you plan for. It just sort of… happened.

It was cute, honestly. Innocent. Simple. The kind of thing people call puppy love. At least, that’s how I’ve always seen it. Loving him came as easily as breathing, or blinking. It was quiet but constant—something that made the world feel a little brighter. Something worth waking up for. A little secret joy that sat behind everything else, like music playing faintly in the background of a really good day.

I think it started when we were around ten, in elementary school.

We were kids who got along without even trying. The ones who sat in the corner at birthday parties, trading sweets instead of dancing. The kind that didn't need to fit into larger friend groups. We were happy so long as we had each other, perfectly content as just a little duo.

Rin didn’t talk much—still doesn’t, actually.

He was my opposite in every way.

Quiet. Aloof. A little standoffish. I’m pretty sure people called him “the weird kid,” which—yeah, he kind of was. He never really made the effort to make friends. Usually ate alone during lunch. Would rather work solo than in group projects.

I don’t really know why I approached him first… I guess I must’ve found him mysterious or something. Like maybe he was just pretending not to care, and I wanted to see if I could crack it.

I still remember our first proper conversation.

We were sitting next to each other during lunch, and I noticed Pokémon Platinum poking out of his backpack. I’m pretty sure I went into a full-on tangent that day, rambling about how Sinnoh was my favourite region and which Pokémon were criminally underrated.

I always laugh when I think about it. He must’ve been like, “Who the hell is this nutcase and why is she all up in my face?”

But I mean—he couldn't have been that bothered since he sat through the whole thing. Nodded along. Never looked away. Even at the time, I remember being weirdly struck by how good he was at eye contact.

He couldn’t have been that shy, then, I thought.

And clearly he wasn’t as anti-social as everyone said, because after that? We were inseparable. I’m not sure how it happened—though I’m almost certain I planned it—but before long I was going to his house nearly every weekend. We’d play DS together. Have sleepovers. We'd even share a bed.

He wasn’t chatty like me. But that never bothered me. I was more than happy to do enough talking for the both of us. I think even as a kid, I liked his silence. It meant I could ramble about whatever I wanted without worrying if I was being too much.

Rin never made me feel like I was too much.

Never told me to be quiet. Never told me to go away.

And somehow, despite being nothing like me, Rin quickly became my favourite person.

I remember sitting by the school gates before class, tracing patterns into my shoelaces while I waited for him.

Even if he was late.

Especially if he was late.

Even when he was sick, I’d wait for at least an hour, just in case he'd show up. (I sound kinda crazy now that I say it out loud.)

I always gave him the green highlighter. I think I told him it didn’t suit me. Told him it matched his eyes. (It did. I've always like his pretty eyes.)

Everyone called us a duo. Not in a weird way—more like we just made sense together. Wherever one of us went, people expected the other.

And honestly? I liked that.

I liked when teachers asked, “Where’s (y/n)?” or “Where’s Rin?” whenever one of us was missing.

I liked being his other half. Loved being his person.

And maybe that’s where it all started.

In the little things. The small, unnoticed spaces where love begins to grow—before you even have the words for it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I think I really knew when we were around thirteen, in middle school.

I started getting nervous around him—even though I never had before. And for the stupidest reasons, too.

My hands got all fidgety and clammy when we talked. My words jumbled. I noticed how close we sat. I noticed the way our hands brushed when we walked side by side. The way his arm felt warm when it pressed against mine during class. I noticed how much I noticed.

Rin's always been big on eye contact when he talks. It’s something I love now. But at thirteen? It was terrifying. I used to look away when he held my gaze too long, like I was going to combust or something.

It was that kind of crush. The teen rom-com kind. The hair-twirling, feet-kicking, doodling-his-name-in-your-notebook kinda love. Sweet, harmless, a little naïve.

I remember doing some pretty cringe stuff. Like trying to mould myself into his exact type.

If he complimented another girl’s outfit, you better believe I’d show up the next week wearing something eerily similar. Oh—he liked a certain perfume? I ordered it off Amazon that same night.

There was even this one time he mentioned he liked the “sporty girl” archetype in anime. And after that, I wore a ponytail. Every single day. No exceptions. Sometimes I’d even throw on a dad cap on weekends, just to really play the part.

It was embarrassing, honestly. And so painfully obvious. (Even though thirteen-year-old me probably thought I was being subtle.)

And yet, Rin never said a thing. Nothing changed. He never pulled away... but he never leaned closer, either.

I’m almost certain he knew. He had to know. I guess he just didn’t see me that way. Which was totally fine, for the record. No pressure. So I kept smiling. Kept laughing at his jokes. Kept pretending I wasn’t in love with him.

And for the most part? That was fine by me.

I was content loving him quietly. Just appreciating his company. Daydreaming in secret. Hoping, a little—but mostly just accepting whatever it was we had going on.

And eventually… it started to fade.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We started high school at fifteen. Same school, of course.

Choosing a high school was, at the time, the most stressful decision of my life. I genuinely thought if I made the wrong choice, I’d ruin everything. Like, full meltdown. I cried twice and made it everyone's problem.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn’t that deep.)

I considered just staying local. The town school was fine. Definitely the safer and easier option. But then Rin got scouted by Inarizaki’s volleyball coach, and that was it for me. End of story. Because going to a different school than Rin?

No way. That was... unequivocally, out of the question.

Going to a different school than him wasn’t just unappealing—it was impossible. I’d told him back in middle school that I’d follow him wherever he went, and I meant it. (I don’t think he believed me at the time, but he should’ve known better.)

My parents weren’t too fussed about it. In fact, when I mentioned Rin was going too, they were relieved and said something like, “ Well if Rin’s there, we know you’ll be fine.” Which… fair enough. They trusted him almost as much as I did.

Still, moving to a new region, staying in dorms, living away from home for the first time? It was a lot. I was excited, but also terrified. Everything was new and unfamiliar—new teachers, new routines, new slang I had to Google in secret.

But Rin was still Rin.

Still my person. Still the one I sat next to during orientation. Still the one I went to when I got homesick.

We weren’t just fine. We were solid.

We had different classes, sure. Different schedules at times. But it didn’t matter. We still ate lunch together. Walked back to the dorms together. Watched anime on his laptop together. Nothing between us had really changed. And that alone made everything else feel manageable.

It wasn’t long before I started watching him play.

Volleyball had always looked good on him. His movements were sharp, calculated and effortless. Watching him on the court made me feel oddly proud, even though I had nothing to do with it.

Eventually, I asked to meet the team. I always saw them after practice so I figured, why not? He agreed, of course. Told me they were all "pretty cool".

That’s when I met the Miya twins.

And honestly? My first impression? Pretty 50/50.

I'll let you guess which twin was my favourite.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn't Atsumu.)

Atsumu was loud, cocky, and honestly a little insufferable. He was your typical jock. A frat boy in the making. At least that's what my initial thoughts were. I'd later realize he's far too much of a softie for that kind of debaucherous lifestyle and actually cares about his education.

Osamu, on the other hand, was far easier to talk to. Calmer. Less... in your face. He still teased and was competitive like his brother, but he was a lot more grounded and mature. He actually listened when people spoke. He was a little more serious. A little more thoughtful.

He reminded me of Rin in some ways—same sense of humour, similar "vibe"—but I could tell he was just as hot-blooded than his twin, just better at hiding it.

I liked him straight away.

But Rin? Rin was still the one I looked for.

Still the one I cheered for during practice.

Still the one who made everything feel like home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

By the time we were sixteen, something shifted.

It didn't hit me all at once. Nothing like that. No sudden realisation. It was... more of a slow build.

I think it started when I stopped waiting for him after class. Not because I didn’t want to—but because he stopped expecting me to, I think. We were older now, and maybe I just didn’t know how to ask if he still wanted me there. I think a small part of me was afraid he'd find be overbearing.

So… I found new people to walk with. I sat with the twins more often. Got to know them more. I found out Osamu was a massive foodie and a true sweetheart, and that Atsumu was actually just a massive poser—a big, fat jerk, yes, but one with a big heart for those in his circle. A circle I had somehow managed to weave myself into.

I was starting to learn how to hold my own in a school that didn’t revolve around Rin.

And it wasn’t about replacing him. Oh no—definitely not that.

He was still my safe place. Still the person who knew me best.

But I was starting to feel like… maybe I could be my own person too. I’d always been more of a social butterfly, but ever since I met Rin, my circle had mostly revolved around him. So making new friends felt really nice—refreshing, even.

I got close to the Miya twins pretty fast—faster than Rin did, actually. They were impossible to ignore. Loud, chaotic, but strangely grounding in their own way. Osamu was calm and dependable, with a wicked sense of humour once you earned it. We had our own inside jokes now—mostly at his brother’s expense.

Speaking of the latter—

Things got... strange between us. Well—not strange. But at some point, our bickering didn’t feel like bickering anymore. It felt like something suspiciously close to flirting. He started it, of course.

He was so not my type. Funnily enough, if I had to pick one of the two, it’d be Osamu. So imagine my confusion when I started to realize I had feelings for Atsumu.

I think it’s because he challenged me. Pushed my buttons. Pulled things out of me I didn’t know were there. He made me raise my voice. Made me dig my heels in. Made me fight for my space in a way that was oddly exhilarating.

We were fire and fire. Burned too bright on some days, but we always came back.

He was never quiet like Rin. Never still. Never easy.

But with Atsumu, I didn’t feel like I had to wait.

And maybe that was easier than reaching for someone who never reached back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were seventeen when I realized I wasn’t in love with Rin anymore.

And it didn’t break me. It didn't make me feel particularly sad.

It just… passed. Quietly. Like something I’d outgrown. Like a sweater that didn’t quite fit the same, no matter how much you used to love it.

I still loved him, of course. I don’t think that part ever changed. But it wasn’t the breathless, giddy, daydreamy kind of love anymore. My love had settled into something softer. Like nostalgia. Like home.

Or at least… that’s what I told myself.

We were eighteen when the four of us moved in together. It felt like a natural next step—me, the twins, and Rin. Like starting a new chapter of a story we were all co-writing.

And then came New Year’s Eve.

Rin's house was quiet. The twins were back in Hyōgo. His parents were out. We were alone in his room, lights off, movie forgotten, fireworks going off in the distance like the climax of some cheesy shōjo anime.

And then… he kissed me.

No warning. No build-up. Just—one second we were sitting side by side, and the next, his mouth was on mine.

And I froze. Not because I didn’t want it. Just… because I didn’t understand it.

Because for one awful, beautiful second, it felt like everything came rushing back. Like my feelings had been waiting. Like they’d never really gone away at all.

I kissed him back. I kissed him like I’d always wanted to.

My hands in his hair. Chest pressed to his. His breath in my mouth.

And then his hands slid to my waist. He climbed on top of me. And I let him. I let him kiss me harder. Let him touch me. Let myself get swept up in it—drunk on him. On the weight of his body. The way he whispered my name. The way he called me beautiful like I was truly his to admire.

I think I was panting his name by then. I think I forgot how to think.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that—that’s when the confusion hit.

Because I didn’t know what I was feeling. Didn’t know what he was feeling.

What made him do it? Why now?

Surely not love. He’d never hinted at anything like that before. He’d never looked at me like that. Never touched me like someone who’d been waiting.

So was it lust?

And if it was… That stung. More than I thought it would.

I didn’t feel it that night, though. Not right away. That hurt only came later—once the adrenaline wore off. Once I was lying awake and remembering every second. Every sigh. Every touch.

But in the moment?

I was too busy getting lost in him. Too busy writhing beneath him. Too busy hoping—just for a second—that maybe I was wrong. Maybe it did mean something.

And then I panicked.

Because it was too fast. Too much. Too not us.

And I knew—deep in my gut—that this couldn’t be the way our story played out.

I didn’t want to be a one-night thing for him.

Didn’t want to ruin what we had just because my heart got caught in the crossfire of something he didn’t mean.

So I pulled away.

Didn’t say a word. Just let the moment pass.

And we never talked about it again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I thought maybe he regretted it.

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Or maybe I’d imagined the whole thing meant more than it did.

It didn't help that he never brought it up. Not once. Still, he never looked at me any differently. But he never asked if I was okay, either.

And yeah… maybe that hurt a little.

Was it embarrassment? Was I a mistake? Was it just lust, some throwaway moment he didn’t want to acknowledge?

I didn’t know. Still don’t.

So I let it go. Buried it deep. Filed it away in that part of my brain labeled: “Don’t think about this unless you want to overthink yourself into insanity.”

I decided to move forward. I started laughing more. Smiling wider. Let myself lean into other people.

I grew closer to Atsumu—not to replace something I lost, but because he was there. Steady in his own chaotic, big-hearted way.

He made me laugh. Gave me hell. Challenged me. Made me feel seen. With him, I never had to guess. Never had to read between the lines or sit with questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask.

(Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time. But that’s a whole other can of worms.)

Sometimes—just sometimes—that night still comes back to me.

His hands. His breath. The way he said my name like it meant something.

And I still don’t know how to feel about it.

It’s probably nothing.

It’s all in the past.

And there's nothing weird about it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were nineteen when I started realizing how little I thought about Rin in that way anymore. Like—actually, this time.

Not because I didn’t care. I still care—very much so. I guess I just... stopped expecting anything to happen entirely.

He was still Rin. Still steady. Still there. Still my best friend who I deeply cherish and always will.

But whatever we used to be—whatever I used to feel—it's settled into something quieter. Something softer and easier to carry.

He never brought up that kiss. Not once. Never looked at me differently. Never made it weird. Just… carried on like it hadn’t meant anything. Like we were the same as we’d always been.

And eventually, I guess I believed him and moved on.

Even now, nothing’s really changed.

We’re almost done with college. On the cusp of whatever comes next.

Atsumu and I aren’t a thing. Not really. But there’s something there. A flicker, maybe. Or a fire I’m still figuring out.

I’m happy, though.

No, really—I am!

I’ve got three best friends. A home that feels like mine. Days that make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

Rin’s still a major part of my world. Still close, in that comfortable, familiar way. Still easy to be around. Still my best friend that I'd do anything for.

It’s rare—but sometimes, I wonder if he still thinks about that kiss.

Even rarer—but sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve let it happen.

I wonder if I ever really fell out of love with him… or if I just learned how to live without hoping.

But most days?

Most days, I don’t wonder at all.

Most days, I’m okay.

And that’s more than enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He’s looking at me now.

I smile—out of habit, mostly. But it’s real.

He smiles back, like always.

And for a second, something in my chest stirs. Something old. Something that used to ache.

But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just… there. A quiet flicker of something that once mattered a little more than it does now.

I blink, and it’s gone.

Whatever it was—it’s not ours anymore.

Maybe it never really was.

And maybe I’m okay with that.

I’ve got my little home. My little family. A life that’s messy and chaotic and warm in all the right ways.

I’ve got the twins and their bickering. I’ve got Rin and his quiet, grounding presence.

I’ve got love, just… not the kind I used to dream about.

And honestly?

That feels more than enough.