#you know he was trying to convince himself and then she's just like I know you are I don't need convincing I'll convince YOU

[soleilapproves]

Can I make a request for a pregnant y/n? Like jjk men and y/n get to the hospital when she goes into labor and they’re only expecting one baby but she ends up having twins? I’d love to know their reactions 😭🩷

Girl, realistically, I don’t think that’s possible with ultrasounds and stuff.

BUT, for the sake of the fic, let’s just say that you’re in a time period where ultrasounds don’t exist and physicians rely on taking your pulse or something to see if you’re pregnant or not.

cw: pregnancy, small descriptions of birth

Nanami is always a level headed and cool man. So when you popped out two kids instead of one, he had the most calm expression ever, only stroking your cheek and cooing in your ears about how well you did. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying his best not to rip his own hair out. The house was only ready for one baby—one nursery, one nanny, one chest of clothes. Now he was going to have work just as hard to set up the same for another baby in a very short time. You don’t notice his hand trembling when the midwife tells him that there’s another kid in the equation, his main focus would probably be on making sure you’re feeling better considering that you’re in the most overwhelming phase of being a new mom. All in all, I think he’d be very scared, but he’d face this change head on and would try his best to be a good dad to both his kids (all while freaking out on the inside.)

Gojo would be elated! Double the trouble. While you’re in pain, moaning and crying while pushing out the afterbirth, Gojo is already giggling over his new children, both annoyingly being the spitting images of their father. The nurse would probably yell at him to settle down because he’s being a nuisance and send him out for being annoying, not gonna lie. But who can blame him? He’s just so excited to take both his babies home and shower them with all the love and attention in the world. There’s no doubt that you’re nervous and scared after birthing twins, you aren’t even sure how you’ll nurse them or give them attention at the same time, and seeing this, Gojo vows to make your life easier with the babies. The nannies would often complain that Gojo leaves them no work because he’s always enthusiastic to look after his little ones.

Out of all the JJK men, I think Toji would have the worst reaction. He would be freaking the fuck out and would not be shy about it. He’d be clutching on to your hand to prevent himself from fainting after the midwife yells that there’s another one coming. It’s not that he exhibits weaponized incompetency, he’s just genuinely scared of messing up twice the amount now. He’d definitely be insecure throughout the first month though, wondering if he’s even blessed enough to deserve two little angels and a lovely wife. But that doesn’t stop him from trying his best. He makes a LOT of mistakes, but he’s always ready to learn, albeit, he’s a sloppy student, but he tries and that’s what matters. The kids also say dad first so he feels like he did something right after all.

Geto is a certified twin dad. It was on his resume when he started dating you. He is not scared, and is in dad mode the second you both find that you’re carrying. So imagine his delight when there’s two babies instead of one in the cradle, both looking like they’re the most precious things on Earth. Very overprotective, especially two times as much since his babies are so beautiful, he would not let anyone in a three feet radius of his children during the first month and it took a lot of convincing to let him loose and decrease the requirement to two feet. They’re the apples of his eye and so are you. He’s surprisingly good at dividing his attention well so nobody feels excluded. He made you feel safe and secure since the beginning, constantly reassuring you that raising twins is light work. You wouldn’t know if you’d still have your sanity if he was not the father of your children.

Sukuna makes you want to smack his face while giving birth. While you’re there, having the most uncomfortable and painful time, Sukuna is laughing to himself while holding both his babies to his chest, all four arms supporting them. He begins to yell about how he has two heirs now and the midwife smacks the back of his head so he’ll quiet down. Too bad he can’t kill her because she helped deliver his tiny demons. He had already started imagining what he’d teach the kid when he found out that you were pregnant, but now that there’s two kids there’s going to be twice the fun. He imagines teaching both his kiddos how to fight, maybe if they have too much energy and are annoying him then he’ll make them spar with each other. He laughs to himself menacingly and you try not to worry about what the man is planning. He also does not clean dirty diapers and does not make you do any of that either. Will probably force you away from the kids if he has to because the poor servants can handle it. He just wants to you to remember the fun parts of parenthood.

[revelboo]

God hi I know it SUPER isnt gonna happen like this obvs but I'm just imagining EIA Shockwave Staring at the Two Sparkbonds in the human and is like Quiet and somehow figures out the second is Megatron and he doesnt say SHIT and is just like "Uhhhh yeah. Human's fine. Soundwave, please stay back so we may talk" and Sounders just like "Mkay" and so Star and the human leave and stuff and Soundwave is like "Query: What is it that Shockwave wishes to tell me" and Shockwave is just like "Bestie idk how to say this but I think Lord Megatron is what the humans call a homewrecker." And Soundwave has to play. SO cool about everything.

🤣 Shockwave is just assuming the other bond is Soundwave’s and he just can’t understand the appeal- thinks they’re both deviants. I’ve started going back trying to add warnings to the first chapters of everything, so folks don’t get surprised if the run into my stories in the wilds of Tumblr

Psst psst @thegarageafterdark aka Storm is one of my writer buddies who convinced me to even consider Transformers smut back in the day and she’s started a Tumblr. She does fated mates Transformers stuff for Bayverse and G1

Everything Is Alright Pt 129

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Wincing as Shockwave just stares at you, you’re not about to admit the other bond is Megatron’s. Can’t imagine the Decepticon leader would want that to get out. And Soundwave rescues you by reaching out to run a servo affectionately against your cheek. Making Shockwave stare at him instead, antenna back. You’re pretty sure the scientist just thinks you’re all three a bunch of freaks at this point. If he realized Megatron was also involved, he’d probably literally blow a gasket. “If a spark was to form from a full bond-” Starscream begins and Shockwave growls.

• “Illogical,” Shockwave snarls, turning away with his scanner, studying the readings. Wings lifting in affront, Starscream growls back at the scientist. Not liking the other mech’s dismissive tone. “No sparks are possible with an organic,” Shockwave adds, tone almost angry. Like the very fact that he wanted to spark you is deviant. That he wants you is obscene. Tempting him to lash out at the bigger mech to defend you. Except you might get hurt if he does, worry for you chaining his temper. But it’s something he can’t forget or forgive even if they will need his skills eventually.

• Servo trembling where he’s got it against your cheek, Soundwave wants to take you from Starscream. Press his face against you to feel the beat of your heart, your warmth. Unable to really believe that he can have this without risking everything else he has. And the Seeker scowls at him when he gives in and cups his hands around you, lifting you close. “Little one.” Just needs to hold you, to ground himself in you, because he can repair that broken bond now without any guilt. Can really have everything.

• Gently pinned against his battle mask, you’re aware of the way Shockwave stiffens. Apparently not liking the display of affection. Or you. Pretty sure that he has some sort of issue with you in particular that you can’t figure out. Maybe he’s just xenophobic? And nobody has answered your ‘how long do Cybertronians live’ question which is beginning to worry you. There’s a niggling little worry in the back of your mind about that. Because you’d been in Star and Megatron’s memories and there’d been a lot to parse through, but no real concrete sense of time. Startling when Soundwave retracts his mask and brushes his mouth against your body, apparently not caring about Shockwave watching. Had he been really worried about how long humans live?

• Wings flicking as Soundwave rubs his face against you, venting softly, Starscream wants to be angry still about you and the communications officer. To resent that you love him, too. To ask who you love more even if he’s terrified of what your answer would be. Reminding himself that you’d chosen him. Bonded fully to him. No one can take that from him. “We got our answers,” he mutters, because as entertaining as watching the scientist’s obvious discomfort watching Soundwave is, he wants some quiet time with you. Wants to talk without Soundwave or Megatron listening in. Pretend it���s just you two like it had been back then when he was happiest. Figure out this new dynamic with the other two. His new Trine.

• Following Starscream out into the hall, he’s aware that he’s getting looks. That most of the Decepticons aren’t used to seeing his exposed face. Or it could be you as he nuzzles against your body to make you squirm with breathless little protests. And he stops short when the Seeker stops, wings lifting before Starscream starts laughing. Leaning, he looks down at Rumble and Frenzy and the little human they have in tow, Rumble’s arm around them. “Oh. Hi, boss,” Rumble says as Frenzy tries to pull the human into his arms. Head lifting to stare at Thundercracker, the Seeker carrying plastic boxes full of stuff, his wings flaring like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. And you’re twisting to look too as the other human notices you and waves. “So, we need our own habsuite,” Rumble adds as Starscream keeps laughing.

Previous

Next

[arcaneorphic]

Yours, Always

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Pregnant Wife! Reader

Genre: Slice of life

Summary: Snapshots of Remus and his wife's life as they welcome a new member to their family.

Word Count: 2683

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus stared dumbly at his wife for a moment—perhaps a moment too long, if the slight tremble of her bottom lip was any indication. He could see the tears well in her eyes and for a moment all he could do was look at her. The weight of her words settled heavily in his chest, pressing against his ribs, but he shook himself free of the stupor with a sharp inhale.  

“No, no, no, dove, I just…” His voice was quick, urgent, as if he could undo the second of silence that had stretched too long between them. “I was surprised, that’s all.”  

He moved without hesitation, ignoring the familiar protest of his joints as he closed the space between them, wrapping her in his arms. She was warm, solid, real. His hands splayed against the curve of her back as if to reassure himself that she was there, that this moment was happening.  

They hadn’t exactly been trying, but what else could they have expected? Rabbits they were, truly. A wry sort of laugh caught in his throat at the thought. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there, breathing her in.  

“I’m happy,” he murmured, soft but certain, as if willing her to believe it as much as he needed to. “I promise.”

And he was—beneath the slight panic, beneath the breathless, dizzying realization that their lives were about to change—incredibly happy. He loved his wife more than words could ever hope to capture, more than he had ever thought himself capable of loving anyone.  

And somehow, somehow, he had convinced her to marry him.  

More impossibly still, she had stayed married to him. Two years, as of last Friday.  

His arms tightened around her instinctively, as if holding her close might ground him in the sheer wonder of it all.

It was surreal, really.  

It didn’t feel like that long ago that Remus had resigned himself to a life spent alone—save for the steady, unwavering presence of his friends and the fleeting, hollow comfort of one-night stands (which he still cringed at if it was even so much as alluded to).  

Back then, love—real love—had felt like something meant for other people, something he could admire from a distance but never truly have. He had convinced himself he was fine with that, that it was easier, safer. It would have been selfish to condemn someone else to a life with him, a life marred by the ever present looming danger of the beast that lay just beneath his surface. 

And yet, here he was. Married. In love. And standing at the edge of a future he never dared to believe he could have.

Before this, before her he had thought the idea impossible, laughably so, but now? As he held his wife there was no other outcome, was there? All roads, all broken bones, all self-sabotaging habits, and bone-deep loneliness lead him here. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

In the passing months, a new version of Remus seemed to be uncovered—the hovering husband. If he had to endure another knowing look or remark from James, who had been the first in their friend group to marry and have children, he would lose it. Not actually, because despite James’ teasing and claims that ‘You’ll see. All those times you lot took the piss, you’ll see why I was the way I was’ Remus knew that he had a point. 

He hadn't expected it, hadn’t realized just how instinctual it would be; this constant need to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was comfortable, to anticipate her needs before she even voiced them. It wasn’t annoying—or at least, he hoped it wasn’t—but he couldn’t help it.  

Every time she so much as sighed, he was there, asking if she needed anything. Every time she shifted in her seat, he was ready to fetch a pillow. He caught himself watching her when she wasn’t looking, memorizing every small change, every flutter of her fingers over her stomach, every absentminded hum that let him know she was there, she was okay.  

And if he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night just to listen to the steady sound of her breathing, well… no one had to know.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── 

“Here, dove, let me.” Remus reached for the box of packed clothes, his fingers brushing against hers as he attempted to take it from her grasp.

Ever the planner, she had already begun clearing out their shared closet, making space for the new clothes she needed as her body changed. It made sense—of course it did—but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of her lugging boxes around while he was right there to do it for her.

His concern was met with a familiar, exasperated sigh. “I’m pregnant, Rem. Not made of glass.”

Remus winced, fully aware of how overbearing he must have seemed, but that didn’t stop the way his hands twitched at his sides, itching to help. “I know that,” he said, though the way he hovered suggested otherwise. “I just—there’s no need to strain yourself when I’m here.”

She leveled him with a look. Pointed. Unyielding.

“You do realize that I carry this baby every second of the day, right?” she said dryly. “You can’t exactly take that from me.”

Remus opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, brow furrowing as he tried to find a way to argue without sounding even worse.

Instead, he sighed, relenting. “Alright, alright. But at least let me carry the heavy stuff?”

A smile ghosted across her lips, amused but indulgent. “Fine,” she allowed. “But only if you stop looking at me like I might crumble at any moment.”

Remus bit back a guilty smile. No promises. He takes the box from her hands, purposefully brushing their hands together in a silent apology. 

“Sorry,” he hears her say softly as she follows behind him as he goes to store the box. “I know you’re just… helping.” 

The regret in her voice made his heart ache.

His girl—his beautiful, intelligent wife—had been caught in the relentless tide of hormones and mood swings, and he knew that she hated feeling out of control. She was always so steady, so sure of herself, and now? Now, there were moments when her emotions got the best of her, when frustration or sadness crept in without warning, leaving her raw and exhausted in their wake.

And the worst part? There was nothing he could do to stop it.

He could only be there, hold her through it, remind her that it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere. That he loved her, even when she snapped at him for hovering, even when she got teary-eyed over things she would normally brush off.

“I know it’s frustrating, dove,” he murmured as he set the box haphazardly on their bed. He brushes a strand of hair from her face. “But you don’t have to be sorry. Not with me.”

Her lower lip trembled, and without a word, she melted into his arms, burying her face against his chest. He held her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, hoping—praying—that it was enough.

“I don’t know why I’m being so short with you,” she admits, her voice wavering in a way that makes Remus want to fall to his knees. “It’s like… I know when I’m doing it, but I can’t stop it.”

Her brows knit together, frustration warring with guilt in her expression, and damn it, he hates this—hates that she feels the need to explain herself to him, as if he’d ever hold it against her.

“Love,” he breathes, cupping her face with careful hands, his thumbs brushing against the apples of her cheeks. “You don’t have to explain it to me. Never to me.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, but he isn’t done—not when she looks like she’s one more intrusive thought away from crumbling.

“Your body is literally growing a person,” he reminds her, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s bound to come with a few… hiccups. Not to mention you’re carrying my kid. Little bugger’s probably already taking after me—moody, stubborn, a bit of a menace.”

That earns him a soft huff—not quite a laugh, but close enough that he takes it as a win. She sniffs, shaking her head. "Oh, definitely stubborn. That much I can already tell."

Remus grins, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "See? You don’t stand a chance. It’s not your fault, it’s ours—we’ve created a tiny menace, and now we just have to deal with the consequences."

Her lips twitch, fighting back a smile, and when she finally leans into him, resting her forehead against his chest, Remus exhales, relief settling deep in his bones.

"I love you," she murmurs, voice muffled against his shirt.

"I love you too, dove," he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "Always."

“I just don’t want you to think I—” She says after a moment of silence. She swallows hard, glancing away, but Remus doesn’t let her.

“I know,” he says firmly. “And I don’t.”

She stares at him for a long moment, searching his face, and whatever she finds there must be enough, because her shoulders finally relax.

“Okay,” she murmurs, voice still small but no longer breaking.

Remus presses a kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Okay.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

If Remus was bad, his mother was worse. Not that he could really blame her—not when this was her first grandchild, not when she had spent so many years worrying about whether Remus would ever let himself have this kind of life. And certainly not when his wife refused to let him.

“She’s excited, Rem,” she reminded him for what had to be the hundredth time, watching in amusement as he pinched the bridge of his nose while reading the latest letter from Hope Lupin—this one detailing her thoughts on nursery colors, prenatal vitamins, and the importance of playing classical music to the baby.

“I know she’s excited,” he sighed, dropping the letter onto the table. “I just wasn’t expecting her to be… this involved.”

His wife snorted, resting a hand over her growing bump. “Remus, she’s knitting an entire wardrobe for a baby that isn’t even born yet. You should’ve seen this coming.”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She wants to come stay with us for a month after the birth.”

“And?” she said, arching a brow.

Remus spluttered. “And? Dove, we will have a newborn—I think that’s enough chaos without my mother hovering over our shoulders every second of the day.”

His wife just gave him a look—the kind that told him she had already made up her mind and that he’d best get on board. “Rem, she raised you practically on her own. I think she knows what she’s doing.”

Remus groaned again, flopping back against the couch. He knew she was right—of course she was—but that didn’t mean he was ready to surrender.

Still, as his wife reached over and laced her fingers through his, he sighed in resignation.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if she starts critiquing my diaper-changing technique, I'm kicking her out."

His wife only laughed. "Sure you are, love. Sure you are."

In the end, Remus was glad his mother was there.

He would take every bit of her fussing, her hovering, her insistent need to tidy up and make sure they were eating properly, if it meant easing his wife’s load. The birth had been long, it had been difficult, and even now, days later, Remus still felt the lingering fear clawing at the edges of his mind. He didn’t know what he would have done without another pair of hands to help keep him, his wife, and their home from falling apart.

He had anticipated the care their newborn would need. He had braced himself for sleepless nights, for endless cries, for the overwhelming weight of responsibility that came with holding something so small and fragile in his arms.

What he hadn’t anticipated—foolishly so—was the care his wife would need.

She had always been so steady, so sure, so insistent that she would be ‘be just fine Remus’. And Remus, against his better judgment, had let himself believe her. But when she wasn’t fine—when exhaustion stole the light from her eyes, when the pain left her trembling, when she blinked back tears she wouldn’t allow to fall—Remus felt like the world might end. She was, she is, and she would continue to be—the love of his life until the moment he took his last breath. And likely even well after that.

There was no universe, no version of himself, where she wasn’t it for him. No force of time or fate could unravel the way he loved her, the way she had settled so firmly into every fiber of his being.

He hated feeling useless, hated that he couldn’t take the discomfort and exhaustion from her, couldn’t erase the toll that carrying and delivering their child had taken on her body.

So he did what he could.

He helped her sit up when her muscles ached, massaged the tension from her shoulders, and made sure she had food and water within reach. He held her when the weight of exhaustion and shifting hormones became too much, when the tears came without warning and she could do nothing but curl into him and cry.

He didn’t try to fix it, didn’t tell her to stop, didn’t offer empty reassurances. He just held her, pressing slow, steady kisses to her hair, rubbing soothing circles into her back until the sobs faded into soft, hiccupping breaths.

He woke with the baby before she could, careful and quiet, shushing her protests before she could push herself up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, brushing his fingers gently along her cheek.

“Sleep, dove. I’ve got them.”

The days blurred together, the way they did when sleep deprivation and the chaos that accompanied the arrival of a newborn took hold.

Time lost its structure, marked only by the rhythm of feedings, diaper changes, and the soft, drowsy moments in between. Morning and night bled into one another, exhaustion settling deep in Remus’s bones, but he hardly cared.

Because in between the haze, there were moments—precious moments.

His wife, half-asleep, cradling their baby against her chest, humming softly under her breath. Tiny fingers curling around his own, impossibly small and impossibly perfect. Late-night whispers exchanged in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, where love was spoken through touch more than words.

It was chaos, yes. But it was theirs. And Remus wouldn’t trade it for the world.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

"Thank you," he had whispered into her hair one night after returning from putting their child back to bed.

Time had passed far too quickly. One day, they were bringing home the smallest, most fragile thing to ever grace the planet—tiny fingers, sleepy yawns, and a warmth that settled deep in his chest every time he held them. The next, they were wrangling a two-year-old with boundless energy and an undeniable streak of mischief, one that had clearly taken after their father.

There was never a moment of peace. Their little one was always running, always climbing, always finding new and inventive ways to nearly give Remus a heart attack. And as exhausting as it was, he wouldn’t change a second of it.

Because for every near disaster, there were sticky-fingered hugs and delighted giggles. There were quiet moments, like now, when he could steal a breath with his wife and hold her close, even as the knowledge settled in his bones—this wouldn’t last forever.

Their child would keep growing, keep changing, and one day, they wouldn’t need him in the same way.

So Remus clung to this moment, to her, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple as he murmured once more, “Thank you.”

Masterlist

[zeroseuniverse]

Please do a part 3 to Never Asked, this is so wholesome 😭😭

More member interactions or something angsty with fluff please 🥹

Thankfully I thought ahead this time!! It's already written!!!

You Never Asked III

Word Count: 585 Summary: You all know the story by now right? Pairing: Jongho X Fem Reader

Part I Part II

Navigation

Jongho should have known.

The moment his members met her, he should have known that they would take it too far.

It started off small. She’d get random texts from Wooyoung asking, “Are you feeding him properly? He gets cranky if he doesn’t eat.”

Then San started sending her videos of Jongho singing with captions like “Your man is talented, you’re welcome”.

But things escalated when Seonghwa personally invited her over for dinner.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jongho muttered as she stood outside their dorm.

“I want to,” she reassured him, grinning. “They’re fun.”

Jongho just sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

The moment she stepped inside, chaos erupted.

“You’re finally here!!”

Wooyoung practically tackled her in a hug. “We missed you!”

“You saw me last week,” she laughed.

“Too long,” Yunho declared dramatically, pulling you into a side hug.

Jongho crossed his arms. “She’s my girlfriend, not yours.”

“Are you sure?” Yeosang deadpanned. “We might like her more.”

Jongho scowled. She just patted his arm.

Dinner was surprisingly peaceful—at first. Seonghwa had cooked, and everyone was on their best behavior… until Mingi leaned forward, setting down his chopsticks.

“So,” he began. “When are you two getting married?”

She nearly choked.

Jongho did choke. “WHAT?!”

San nodded thoughtfully. “Good question. Do you want a spring wedding? Fall is also nice.”

“Guys—”

“You should have a destination wedding,” Wooyoung suggested, already invested. “Hawaii? Greece?”

“STOP,” Jongho begged, face burning.

 However, she was thoroughly entertained. “Hmm, I do like Greece.”

The room exploded.

“OH MY GOD, IT’S HAPPENING.”

“LOOK AT RINGS WITH US.”

“I’M GONNA CRY.”

Jongho groaned, dropping his head onto the table as his members fully planned their wedding.

She just smiled at him, squeezing his hand under the table.

If he was stuck with these chaotic men forever, at least he had her to suffer with him.

—-

Jongho was convinced.

His members weren’t just close to her now—they were trying to steal her.

It had been a few weeks since the Great Wedding Debate (which, to his horror, had resulted in a shared Pinterest board Wooyoung had made for their “future venue aesthetic”), and things had only gotten worse.

At first, it was just them texting her for “updates” on Jongho, which was already ridiculous.

Wooyoung: Has he been drinking enough water? He’s stubborn.San: Tell him to stop pretending he doesn’t like hugs.Yunho: Does he smile more with you than with us? Be honest.

But then? Then they started inviting her places—without him.

Jongho scowled as he stood in the dorm, arms crossed, watching her slip on her jacket. “Why are you going out with them?”

She gave him an amused look. “Because they invited me?”

“To lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Without me?”

“Yep.”

Jongho turned toward his members, who were suspiciously avoiding his gaze. “Really?”

“What?” San blinked innocently. “Can’t we just hang out with our friend?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung smirked. “We love her.”

Jongho glared. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“She’s our family,” Yunho corrected.

Seonghwa patted Jongho’s shoulder. “Get used to it, kid. You’re dating one of us now.”

Jongho groaned as she tried (and failed) to hide her laughter.

“I’ll be back soon,” she reassured, pecking his cheek before heading for the door.

The second she was gone, Jongho turned to his members, voice dangerously low.

“I hope you all choke on your food.”

They just cackled.

Because Jongho might have been her boyfriend…

But at this point? You were a part of their chaotic family.

[kxtsukixoxo]

pro!hero dynamight is known for his explosive nature, fans second guessing if they should really approach the hothead. is it really surprising when you aren’t scared of him?

𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 ᥫ᭡ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩 ᥫ᭡ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

“okay so let me get this straight”

mina exhaled, “you met her KID. HER CHILD BAKUGOU. but you dont think she likes you???”

katsuki chewed on his bottom lip, frustrated. frustrated at mina, frustrated at the conflict in the predicament he’s in, frustrated at himself.  

“listen, i don’t wanna fuck it up”

mina sat back down on her chair and looked at eijiro, signaling for him to take over the conversation, eijiros chewing came to a halt, he put his sandwich down and cleared his throat. “listen bro, i really don’t think she sees you as just a friend, she trusted you with her kid” eijiro reasoned out, making valid points to which katsuki noticed. 

“maybe because im a pro, and she knows she can trust me?” katsuki scoffed. mina sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb, “i give up!!” she took a long sip of her coffee, recollecting herself while denki and sero looked at each other dumbfoundedly. 

sero exhaled, “from what you’ve been telling us, i really believe she likes you bakugou, even if it’s just a bit, it’s something you can work with” “i don’t need ta’ work with anything!” katsuki snapped, “she’s strictly just a friend.” he crossed his arms against his chest. 

the signs were there, right infront of him. clearer than the sky that morning. why would he invest in a safety seat for kenji? sure the guy had to cash to blow. clearly, katsuki was trying to convince himself and not the others around him. everybody that surrounded him, knew that he had the fattest crush on you. the first person to pick it up, was izuku. the green haired boy noticed it the moment he saw his hotheaded childhood friend smile at his phone, in all his years that he’s known katsuki, there were a handful of times that he actually smiled, yet with you it came naturally and frequently. though the two of you are just friends right? grinning to himself, izuku knew where this was headed. 

katsuki, drove home that day. conflicted with the thoughts that filled his head. he knew he liked you, so why did he deny it? he knew it the moment he let you in, and he confirmed it the second he smiled around you so freely. 

truth be told, katsuki was scared. he knew he could trust you, but the fact he let someone in so easily, frustrated him. he could easily lose you, with the pressure his work brought onto him, with how fragile you were, compared to him. katsuki could deny it as much has he liked, but he was filled with fear, he was scared he’d lose you over one small careless mistake. 

‘if you’re so scared of losing her, then don’t give her a reason to leave asshole’ the voice at the back of his head nagged him. the boy survived a war, hell he fought in it, at the age of 17. so why did a woman, bring so much of fear in him? 

‘that’s what love does to you bud’ 

“i’m not in love idiot!” katsuki bursted out, in the middle of a street, everyone turned around to look at the hothead argue with himself. “what’re you looking at nerd!” he screamed at the civilians watching him, they scurried to continue what they were doing before katsukis public outburst 

it hadn’t even been five hours since his public outburst and clips were already trending, katsuki huffed and puffed

‘this is all her fault’

he groaned as his phone lit up, his PR manager had rung him for the 50th time already.

“you finally picked up” 

katsuki grumbled “make it quick” 

“im guessing you’ve seen the clip”

“no shit sherlock, it’s everywhere” 

“well as much as you don’t care about your public image, you need to turn their attention towards something else” 

katsuki sighed, there was no point in opposing, “what do i need to do” 

“attend an interview”

fuck. 

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 -

@rinkomei @qyuin @kalulakunundrum @amayaaaxx @lotusstarr @mona345 @aryuunachigiri @emmaafinchh @haruesme @nottherealslimshady @taxavoider @gomu-gomu-gojo @your-mum3000 @slutlight2ndver @citruki @d4rlinx @bangersplusmash 

[djarindroid]

Resurfacing

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: After Su-Bong's last visit will you ever see him again?

Warnings: mentions of drug use, brief mentions of gore

Word Count: 1,951

Comments: Apologies if there are mistakes, I've tried to proofread but I've been super ill this weekend and I'm a bit out of it 🤧

<- Part Four

You told yourself you did the right thing. He wasn’t himself, and letting him stay would’ve made things worse. You were protecting him as much as yourself. He had to understand that, didn’t he? 

Still, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that it would be okay, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling that had settled over you the moment he walked out the door.

The worst part was you didn’t know if he regretted it, or if he even remembered what happened.

In the cold light of day, you couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant. Maybe he didn’t mean any of it. Maybe it was just the drugs talking. It had felt so real- the way he looked at you, the sound of his voice as he called you baby, the touch of his hand on your cheek. Was it real? Or just another night he’d forgotten?  

The thought made your stomach twist with uncertainty.

You forced yourself to go to work the next morning, unsure if it was a blessing or a curse. The distraction helped, but every few minutes your fingers twitched with the urge to check your phone, to see if he’d called - to see if he cared.

He hadn’t.

You tried to push it down, to focus on anything else. The rhythm of work, the chatter of customers, the busy routine. But the pit in your stomach didn’t ease.

Your boss must have noticed because, as the rush ended, she pulled you aside.

‘Are you okay sweetheart?’ She asked gently. 

You plastered on a smile. ‘Yeah, I’m just tired.’

She didn’t look convinced. ‘You’re quieter than usual today.’

You paused. You weren’t the type to just spill your problems to someone, but your boss had never been anything but kind. And maybe saying it out loud would make it feel less like it was swallowing you whole.

‘It's just my…friend. He left on a bad note yesterday and I haven’t heard from him at all today.’ You were careful to keep the details vague.

Your boss leaned against the counter and hummed knowingly. ‘The friend that walks you home?’

You nodded.

She gave you a small understanding smile. ‘Sweety, maybe you need to reach out to him first. I’ve been around long enough to know that if someone matters to you then it’s better to talk it out.’ She continued, placing a warm hand over yours. ‘Call him. Otherwise you’ll worry yourself sick.’

Her words stuck with you through the remainder of your shift. By the time you left you were done debating with yourself. The second you stepped outside, you pulled your phone out and clicked his contact.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Voicemail.

You lowered your phone slowly, staring at it as if that would will him to answer. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he didn’t- … No. No more excuses.

You called him again.

Ring.

Ring.

Voicemail.

This time the rejection settled in you.

You gripped your phone so tightly that your fingers ached. The cold air nipped at you, but you barely noticed it compared to the hollow feeling taking over.

You shoved your phone to the bottom of your pocket and forced yourself to keep walking. You weren’t sure if you’d try again tomorrow.

Deep down, you wondered if he’d ever pick up.

The next few days blurred together, work, home, sleep. You’d tried calling again to no avail. Each time you were met with the same voicemail message, it felt like he’d built a wall between you. 

Eventually you stopped trying. Slowly, beginning to accept that maybe this was his way of saying goodbye without actually saying it. It hurt more than you’d care to admit, how easily he could just block you out.

Your apartment started to feel too big without him. You never realised how much he made himself at home. The way he took over your couch, or raided your fridge with no shame, or leaving half finished energy drinks on your table. Now it was back to being just you, and it felt lonelier than ever.

You spent evenings curled up on your couch, catching yourself glancing at the door more often than not, half expecting him to just show up. But he never did. 

You crawled into bed on the fourth night of no contact, emotionally exhausted, but sleep didn’t come easily. Thoughts of Su-Bong mixed with memories of the games circled around your mind, no matter how much you tried to push them away.

And then, at some point, your exhaustion won and darkness swallowed you whole.

At first there was nothing. Then the distant sound of screams filled the space around you. The air was suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight. 

A flash of movement caught your eye. Someone was there. A voice rasped out your name, it sounded oddly familiar. You tried to move towards it but the ground gave way beneath you. You fell hard, landing in something warm. When you looked down your breath hitched. The green numbered tracksuit clung to your body, soaked through with blood.

Piles of bodies surrounded you, their lifeless eyes staring straight at you. You tried to scramble back but something latched onto your ankle. A cold, lifeless hand. 

Panic surged through you as you kicked and thrashed but more hands reached out for you, dragging you into the darkness with them.

There was no way out.

You opened your mouth to scream…

And suddenly awoke with a jolt. Sharp breaths came quickly, your trembling hands gripped at your bed sheets. 

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might break your ribs. You knew it wasn’t real, but the echo of the screams still rang in your ears. The panic still clawed at your chest.

Without thinking you reached for your phone, calling the one person who would understand what you’re going through. It didn’t ring long enough for you to even doubt whether he’d pick up.

‘Hey?’

At the sound of his voice you froze, fingers tightening around your phone. For days your calls had gone unanswered, you’d come to expect the sound of the voicemail. But now his voice sent a jolt through you.

‘Su-Bong?’ Your voice was quiet and disbelieving, as if you’d imagined him answering. 

There was a brief pause, you heard him shift and take a breath, then he was suddenly more alert. ‘What’s wrong? You okay?’

The concern in his tone shocked you almost as much as the fact he’d answered at all.

You tried to steady your breathing before carrying on. ‘I just, it was…’ you suddenly felt stupid, embarrassed that this was the way you two were finally talking again. ‘It was just a nightmare, I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.’

‘I’m coming over.’

‘No, you don’t have to-‘

‘I’ll be there soon.’

He ended the call before you could question him.

You stared down at your phone, breath still coming too fast. A cold sweat coated your skin, the fear still lingering. The images from the nightmare stayed sharp in your mind, refusing to fade completely.

But now something else was added to your nerves. Su-Bong was on his way over.

After the way he’d left. After four days of nothing.

Would you both pretend like nothing happened? Your heart continued to pound for a different reason now. You had no idea what to expect when he showed up. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it because before you knew it there was a light knock at your door.

You felt unsteady as you made your way to the door. You simply stared at it for a moment, your hand hovering over the handle, The last time he’d been here he’d disappeared without a word. But he’d actually shown up. He was here. You unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Su-Bong stood on the other side, looking slightly out of breath and as though he hadn’t slept much either with tousled hair and a hoodie thrown on haphazardly. He kept his distance, the space between you felt heavier than it should. 

Neither of you spoke at first, but his eyes searched yours like he was looking for something, like he was waiting. The memory of your last conversation clung to the silence. Now here he was, in your time of need. Like that last time hadn’t happened, like he hadn’t ignored your calls. Your throat felt tight. Should you say something? Should he?

Then, softly, he asked ‘You okay?’

You wanted to say yes, it was just a stupid nightmare, and apologise for calling him. But standing there, staring into his eyes the truth slipped out before you could stop it. ‘No.’

His expression shifted, but he didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you, firm but cautious.

He held you tightly, grounding you but there was something else. He was being careful, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold you like this. It was in the way his fingers hovered briefly before tracing soothing circles across your back.

His breath hitched when you clung to him. Gripping his hoodie like it was a lifeline. His touch became more sure, his warmth fully enveloping you. You finally felt safe as the memories of the nightmare began to fade away. 

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘I’ve got you.’

A shaky breath escaped you, and suddenly the weight of everything crashed down onto you. The nightmare, the four days of silence, the games. Your fingers curled tighter into his hoodie as tears stung your eyes.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it was useless. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and then another. 

Su-Bong must have felt you shake, because he shifted slightly, pulling you closer. ‘I’ve got you,’ he repeated gently. 

That was all it took, your tears fell harder, there was no hiding the way your shoulders trembled or the way your breath stuttered against his chest. Su-Bong held you through it, continuing to rub slow circles across your back.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there before the tears slowed. But after a while your legs began to feel weak, noticing this Su-Bong gently guided you to the couch. He gestured for you to sit down, waiting until you did to settle beside you. 

‘You wanna talk about it?’ He asked.

And for a moment you weren’t sure if he was referring to the nightmare or to the last time you saw him. You knew you should probably talk about both, but not tonight.

Tonight you just wanted to enjoy the comfort he’d brought you, so you shook your head and remained quiet. 

‘Alright.’ He didn’t push. Just settled back into the cushions, like it was a normal night. As if everything between you wasn’t a mess of unspoken questions.

After a beat he reached for the tv remote, flicking it onto a random programme with the volume low. It was a distraction. A kindness. You focused on it for a while, letting it drown out the remaining thoughts.

Minutes passed before you realized he had draped an arm across the back of the couch, close enough that if you leaned just a little, you’d be against him. You hesitated for only a moment before shifting toward him. He didn’t react at first, but then you felt it—the way his fingers curled slightly, barely brushing your shoulder. A silent reassurance.

Neither of you spoke after that. You didn’t need to, not yet.

For the first time in days, the pressure in your chest eased.

-> Part 6 coming soon Series Masterlist

Taglist:@andersonslove @fallout-girl219 @olasz-2003 @l5byrinth @hotdxdragon @cherrypied0lly@nicklet94 @learninglinesintherainn @tebteb @lotsa-juicy-shit @onecojg @the-iridescent-phoenix @red22wolf

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found, Part 6

A/N: I’m so sorry for vanishing for so long there! I’m going to try to be more active and definitely won’t just vanish off the face of the Earth again. Chapter 4 certainly gave me some motivation though, thankfully! Other parts here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5!

_________________________________________________

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when his eyes opened again, startled awake as he felt you shift in his lap. Your small eyes were still closed and your chest rose and fell with each breath that left your mouth.

As much as he wanted to let you and the others rest for longer, he knew that he couldn’t. In a place like this, anxiety and paranoia was the way you survived.

Gently, he nudged Crafty and Bobby to stir them awake. The bear flinched upon waking, to which he felt guilty for being the cause of, while the unicorn simply stretched as their unconscious state was disturbed. After muttering an apology to both, he turned to look down at you and carefully nudged you with just enough force to wake you.

Your bleary little eyes opened in a panic, clutching onto him tightly and balling your little fists with handfuls of his fur.

He watched as your heart quickened and could see how heavily you started breathing in an instant. “Kid, you’re okay. It’s just us, you’re safe. I promise.” DogDay’s voice was laced with sadness but his tone was strong and in your moment of fright, that was what you concentrated on.

Slowly, as your eyes focused and you were able to realize where you were then your grip lessened substantially but refused to let go. CraftyCorn placed a hoof on your small back, feeling your heart still race due to your moment of panic before.

“Poor thing.” Their voice was somber and sullen, sharing DogDay’s unspoken sorrow at just what you had been through before being found by them.

The red bear was quiet but gently placed a hand on your leg and allowed her eyes to soften for just a moment, trying to spare you from the melancholy air that settled in the room.

After a moment of hesitation, you removed a hand from being bundled up in DogDay’s fur and placed it on the back of Bobby’s hand. Your breathing wasn’t quite back to normal yet but had slowed, a positive sign for all of them. 

The unicorn had stood and walked over to the door, listening quietly for any sounds that might’ve been alarming. Wordlessly, the orange dog made a mental note to thank her for it later.

Allowing you to calm down for a few more minutes, he gently helped you stand before rising himself. He offered a hand down to Bobby BearHug, who accepted it and pulled herself onto her own feet.

With the way your eyes darted between all of them, it was clear that you were confused and didn’t understand why they were all so quiet. The two joined Crafty by the door while you followed closely behind. While staying close to DogDay, you also turned and looked up at Bobby, reaching out a hand.

The red bear seemed puzzled for a moment but met your hand as you held it out to her. Your hand was dwarfed compared to hers, but that only convinced her to be even more ginger with you.

As you squeezed her hand firmly and turned back to look at what Crafty was doing without letting go, she realized that you were holding her hand. At that moment, she felt as if she might’ve wept. From joy, sadness, or a longing for how things once were, she didn’t know.

DogDay was about to speak when he turned around and looked between Bobby and you. For a moment, he lost any semblance of words as he met her gaze. There was a warmth in her eyes, a vibrancy that he was afraid that he would never see again.

There was hope. Not a hope dimmed by falsehoods or built on an unsteady foundation that would topple with the slightest breeze of challenges not yet faced. But a true hope. A hope that there was a chance for a better future.

He cleared his throat for a moment, allowing himself to focus on the situation at hand. While he was welcoming of optimism in the best of times, he knew that he needed to be realistic and not allow his mind to wander to scenarios that might not occur.

Shortly after he had cleared his throat, the others as well as yourself turned to look at him. 

“We should get going, I fear we might be cutting it closer than any of us would like.”

DogDay looked between each of the remaining Smiling Critters and nodded, a certainty in his gaze as he opened the door and waited several long moments. His plush ears shifted in tandem as he pushed the door open further and stepped out into the hall, his form tense and alert as he gestured for the others to follow after him.

You clutched Bobby’s hand as she let you leave the room before she did, but made sure to remain close to you. The air was tense and you could pick that up even without a word being spoken, to say that you were afraid was putting it mildly.

Your other hand grabbed onto the arm of the red bear, wanting her to stay close to you. Crafty had since followed after the others and closed the door of where they had previously been hiding out.

They walked over to you and Bobby, placing a hoofed hand on your shoulder as the two of them essentially hid you while the leader made sure the area was clear. He was nearing the end of the hall by this point, looking over his shoulder at the others every now and then while his senses remained on high alert.

However, when the orange dog stopped suddenly before he had the chance to check the winding wings of the orphanage. His nose caught the scent before he heard a sound, the smell of lavender mingling with horrid chemicals that stuck to the walls like mold.

His fur bristled and immediately he turned to look back at the others that shielded you and the panic etched in his features made his permanent smile falter. The last thing he cared about was drawing attention to himself at this moment, the only thing he cared about was the safety of those that remained under his care.

“Get them out of here, now!” The desperation in his voice rang out in the halls as he shouted back at the others, the sound of large footsteps following the sudden announcement of their position.

Crafty was the one to pick you up in an instant, the tone in DogDay’s voice was enough to send the two of them running. He looked back at you as the others ran, stumbling and trying to not trip down the debris filled hall.

The last thing he saw of you before the three of you was your hand, outstretched to him as a frightened cry left you. It sounded much louder in his ears, a heart wrenching sound really, but he had far bigger issues than the desire to be by your side.

It was exactly why he braced himself as the footsteps grew louder as CatNap rounded the corner, barreling into him in the process as he darted into the hall. The impact sent DogDay stumbling, sliding into a quadrupedal defensive stance as his orange fur bristled and his hackles raised.

“You,” The word sounded almost accusatory as it left the cat’s gaping maw, the red smoke unfurling from his Cheshire grin and creeping slowly across the rotted wooden flooring. The sickeningly broken sound of the cat’s voice matched that of the decayed state of the Playcare, fitting for the one who had once been the attendant.

DogDay remained in his defensive position, snarls leaving him with a ferocity that even he wasn’t aware he possessed. His body was lowered and his ears were as far back as they could go, his tail tucked between his legs as he glared at the purple cat that stood before him.

He was fully prepared to stall for time, to allow for the others to get as far from here as possible. “Do you not see what that thing is doing to your mind?” He growled, eyes watchful of the other’s body language as the words left him.

At any other time, he would’ve never dared to challenge CatNap or the word of his “god” but this wasn’t just any time. The red smoke inched closer, spreading out amongst the floor as the cat took a step toward him and his claws pierced the wooden flooring, a clear sign of his intent. 

The leader flinched, backing away hurriedly but he hadn’t been able to move fast enough, the claws of the cat raking across the right side of his face in his retreat. They left four jagged marks in the flesh across his eye, tearing through fur and drawing blood upon making contact.

DogDay wavered for only a moment, the warm metallic scent of blood rivaling that of the suffocating red smoke as it ran down the side of his face in steady streams. A grunt left him as he shook his head, the crimson liquid falling to the floor as loose orange fur gathered near his forelegs.

His vision was blurred through his injured eye but he had familiarized himself with the building enough to traverse it regardless of his newly garnered setback.

Before CatNap had the chance to land another blow, he flung open a nearby door and hurried in, pulling a nearby locker down to block it to allow for some time to be bought.

His eyes searched the room for anything of use to defend himself, ignoring the toys that remained plastered to the floor in a pile of dried blood or the cribs that were overturned and long since abandoned, he finally found something of use.

Thankfully, it was a larger room and would keep him from getting pinned in a small and confined space. He had taken notice that the hall directly outside of the room he had entered was closed off with a pile of boxes and other miscellaneous junk. 

As CatNap clawed at the door and peered into the room, DogDay knew that he needed to find something to defend himself and fast. The wooden bed frames wouldn’t be effective nor would a crib. Blood still ran down his face and matted his fur from the lacerations caused by the beast that had nearly knocked over his haphazard barricade by this point.

There was an iron radiator in the corner but it was far too close to the door, a growl of frustration left him as his luck was dwindling and he was at a loss. Frantically looking everywhere and shaking his head to try to avoid the red smoke from affecting his mind, it was then that he noticed a metal bed that had been tucked into the far corner of the room.

It was rusting and falling apart but happened to be exactly what he needed. Scrambling over the splintered wood, dismantled toys, and shredded pictures of the children who once inhabited these halls, he reached the frame. Ignoring the fact that one of his hands was slick with his own blood, he grabbed onto a piece of the headboard that had broken over time and pulled.

The metal groaned in protest, creaking heavily but refused to give way immediately. However, he pulled once more, shifting his lower body to allow for him to use more of his weight as he yanked, forcing the bar to snap from its already deteriorating position amongst the others.

At that same moment, the door behind him had fragmented from the force of CatNap’s body slamming against it as the locker fell away helplessly to the floor. DogDay reacted quickly this time, swinging the bar with the full extent of his weight and putting as much force behind it as he could.

The pole made direct contact with the cat’s head and a sickening crunch echoed throughout the room, a heavy thud following shortly after as CatNap collapsed in a heap before the dog’s feet. He knew he wasn’t out of the clear though and didn’t take time to worry about the wellbeing of his assailant. 

The leader stepped over the body of the cat, the blood trailing down his face in steady streams and leaving red droplets in his wake on the rotting flooring. He stumbled slightly, adjusting his hold on the pole to use it as more of a crutch in the moment as he steadied himself.

It was firmly planted on the ground beside him as he scanned the room for anything useful, sticky red tracks already matting his orange fur. He needed to be quick, he knew that. Which was exactly why his attention was focused on finding something to stop the bleeding fast.

Wiping his eye with the back of one of his hands as he desperately tried to stop the blurring of his visions before he finally noticed a piece of fabric. It was just a glimpse, an edge of what seemed to be a bedsheet or a blanket.

It was stuck under a mess of broken beds and toys but it was better than nothing. Still leaning on the metallic piece of what once was a bed now turned crutch, he approached the mess of debris and reached out to grab the corner.

Glancing over at CatNap, who thankfully still seemed to be unresponsive, he set the metal pole down beside him and then lifted some of the larger pieces up to reveal more of the blanket.

It was dirty and covered in stains, several of which were a brownish red color that he had unfortunately become far too familiar with, but it would work for the purpose he needed it for. He realized that it had been white once and was covered in a myriad of paw prints that were all sorts of colors, almost in a sort of rainbow pattern.

A somber realization but a sobering one, he needed to regroup. DogDay wasn’t on his own, he had people depending on him. Crafty, Bobby, and you. This wasn’t the end, certainly not now. 

He tore at the fabric, ripping it into a strip that was thick enough to cover the wound and to tie it as a makeshift wrap. It wasn’t great and certainly wouldn’t be sterile but it was all he had at the moment.

It would have to do, for now. His sun pendant was a firm reminder of his dwindling time, the quiet sounds of protest it made against the metal clasp as it swung from his movements was enough to draw him out of his thoughts.

He wrapped the temporary bandage over his right eye in an attempt to staunch the bleeding before his attention shifted to the next task at hand, getting out of here in one piece.

With the way the floorboards creaked behind him and the presence that he felt approaching, that suddenly seemed like it was going to be a lot more challenging.

_________________________________________________

Taglist: @urminebutidontwantyou @rabiddogmax @jelapos @bloobewy @permanently-nothere @chibiduck @dead-sane-stuff

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter Seven

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 3715 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Domestic Dave. Good Dad kink. We like thick thighs in this house and so does Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Mummy is a whole lotta bitch. No use of y/n. Lots of cursing, talk of sex toys, and a bj.

a/n: This chapter features a prompt from @yxtkiwiyxt's Never Have I Ever challenge. The prompt was Never have I ever been to an adult store. I've added a little bit of context to the beginning of this chapter so it can conceivably be read as a standalone, but just makes more sense if reading the larger story. Hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Chapter Seven

Now that Dave had a taste, he was quickly becoming addicted to you. He couldn’t stay away, sneaking down to the basement to spend time with you after Lisa went to bed, coming and going from his office more often than usual, using the private entrance from the garage to enter the house rather than the main entrance. Anything and everything he did was designed to set eyes – or hands – on you more frequently.

However, in front of your mom, he still played the role of faithful, if not loving spouse. It pained him more each day to do so, but he had to be to maintain appearances. There was still too much at stake.

He didn’t miss the pained look that crossed your face sometimes when you’d come up to the kitchen in the mornings to find him seated at the table with your mom and the girls like the perfect little family. Or when Lisa would put her hands on him, trying to snuggle into his side or putting her head on his shoulder while he sat on the couch. It never lasted long, that look on your face or the touches from Lisa since he always pulled away, but the effects lingered.

It hurt Dave for you to see those things, the look on your face, when you did, tore at his heart, knowing how you felt. It was a necessary evil, though, and he convinced himself it was okay because you never asked any questions about his marriage to your mom. You avoided the topic altogether, which suited Dave just fine. He couldn’t have told you the truth anyway. Not yet.

Christmas was particularly difficult, Lisa making a big fuss over him to the point he thought she was putting on a show to make you uncomfortable. All it did was make Dave really uncomfortable. He spoiled the girls, getting them everything on their wish lists and then some. His gifts to your mom were practical and simple, much to her disappointment. He knew you heard their raised voices later that day as she reamed him for the thoughtless gifts.

Dave didn’t give a shit. His mind was focused on you, on making sure the gifts he gave you were perfect. He had two sets – one consisting of candles to give in front of Lisa and the girls and the real, special one to give you in private. He gave you his heart on a string, basically – a necklace with a heart-shaped diamond, which you loved.

Still, he felt like it wasn’t enough, not for what you meant to him, for the ever-deepening feelings he had for you.

That’s why he doted on you whenever he could, playing any silly game you insisted on while sharing a bottle of wine or mimosas on the basement couch after your mom and the girls were asleep. Tonight, for example, the two of you sat facing each other on the cushy furniture, eyes glassy with laughter and a bit of a buzz from the delicious mimosas in your hands, as you declared the latest game.

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever!”

Dave groaned, but he couldn’t deny you, not with how cute and happy you looked, sitting cross-legged on the couch, torso leaning back against the armrest with a half-full glass in your hand. You were incandescent in that moment, smile brighter than the full moon outside, and Dave could do nothing but grin back at you.

“Fine,” he caved, mind whirring for the most salacious topic he could think of. He wanted to make you squirm, but he needed a moment to come up with something. “You first.”

One finger tapping against your pretty lips, you hummed in thought. Smile widening across your face, eyebrows raising excitedly, you settled on something. “Never have I ever�� gone to an adult store.”

Dave’s brow shot upwards, surprised by that confession. He had, several times, and took a sip of the bubbling citrusy cocktail, his eyes never leaving yours. Despite his surprise, your question led him to one of his own, something he was certain you wouldn’t have done. Not if you’d never even visited an adult store.

Leaning forward eagerly, you watched his throat bob as he swallowed, pupils dilating prettily. Tempted as he was to kiss you right then, Dave eyed you smugly instead, awaiting your reaction to what he was about to say. “Never have I ever… used a vibrating cock ring.”

Your mouth dropped open comically as you stared wide-eyed at him, causing Dave to chuckle darkly. Fuck, how he’d like to try one out with you. He nearly choked when you gathered yourself and took a sip of your mimosa, sending a cheeky wink at him.

“Wait, what?” His brain could not compute.

Giggling at his reaction, you shrugged. “What? I may have never set foot in an adult store, but I’ve tried a toy or two before.”

“Fuck,” Dave breathed, a surge of unexpected jealousy sweeping through him at the thought of you trying out toys with any other man.

“Color me surprised you’ve never used one,” you teased. “A man of your experience?”

A crease formed between his eyes as he pouted at you. “Are you implying that I’m old?”

Again, you giggled, the sound warming his insides. He loved making you laugh. “No! I just thought with two marriages under your belt, you’d probably done a lot, tried all the toys, or whatever.”

Dave couldn’t help the frown that made its home on his face, torn between wanting to tell you everything and nothing at all about those marriages. You softened at the sight, reaching across the space between you to caress the line between his brows. “I’m not judging, promise. I’m just surprised. Your cock would look amazing with one wrapped around the base.”

He couldn’t speak with that visual in his head, the blood flowing south stole his ability to form words, and you added in a suddenly shy voice, “Maybe we could go to the store and pick one out to try together?”

Fuck, he loved that idea. Visions of the two of you choosing sex toys together, and then going home to try them out washed over him, taking over every thought in his head. His cock, already half hard from the pleasant buzz of champagne and his proximity to you, was fully hard now, pushing against the confines of his boxer briefs.

Your eyes, wide and full of salacious thoughts of your own, darted downwards to take in the bulge in his sweatpants becoming ever more visible. The tip of your pink tongue darted out, gliding against your bottom lip as you stared, and Dave felt his cock twitch in anticipation.

The electricity between you sparked, but he wasn’t quite ready to give into it yet – the build-up was as fun as the grand finale.

“What else have you never tried?” Dave asked, his voice deep and raspy, cutting the air like lightning.

Arousal was clear in your gaze as you bit your bottom lip in thought. “I’ve always wanted to wake up to someone balls deep inside me. Like, when I’m lying on my stomach, you know?”

“Holy fuck,” Dave muttered. The need, the want, became too much and he yanked you closer until you sat in his lap. Playful conversation turned to kissing and before either of you knew it, you slid to the floor and were on your knees for him.

You gave him the blow job of a lifetime that night. He never spurted that much cum before – so much it filled your mouth and dribbled over your chin. The sight of you with his cum on your beautiful face caused two more ropes to spill from his cock, painting your chest as you leaned back to swallow and catch your breath.

He fell harder in love with you as you stared up at him all blissful and doe-eyed while still on your knees for him.

“Honey?” your mom called as she walked through the front door. The way her voice simpered, you knew she was calling for Dave, not you. She’d been switching back and forth from ignoring your presence to nagging the hell out of you lately. You preferred the former, for obvious reasons.

He grimaced, glancing at you from his spot at the breakfast bar while you helped Alice and Molly with a puzzle on the dining table. With a sigh, he called back, “Yeah?”

Entering the room with a broad smile and a card in her hand, she sidled up to her husband. “Roger and Mary invited us to a last-minute New Year’s Eve party at their house tonight.” Her long, red nails scratched down his back, catching in the fabric of his shirt and you turned away with an uncomfortable shudder. “They invited all of us, though I suspect it will be only you and me by midnight. You wouldn’t want the girls staying out that late.”

She looked at you then, flashing a knowing smirk. “Since you’re obviously not doing anything tonight, you can keep an eye on the girls at the party and bring them home early so Dave and I can enjoy ourselves.”

“Lisa,” Dave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not necess—"

You cut him off, your hackles up from your mom’s attitude. “Excuse me?”  She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point. Of course, you would watch them, for Dave’s sake, not your mother’s. But would it kill the bitch to ask instead of assuming?

Looking at you like you were an idiot, your mom spoke slowly, obnoxiously, as she approached the table. “The girls. Alice and Molly, do you remember them?” She gestured toward the wide-eyed little girls like you weren’t sitting right fucking next to them. “You’ll make sure they don’t get into trouble at the party while Dave and I are busy socializing.”

You wanted to slap her smug face but you swallowed the violent urge and settled on irritation instead. “Right, because I clearly have no life outside of this house.”

Lisa smirked again, patting your cheek like you were a fucking child. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Sometimes you fucking hated that woman. The things you would say if the girls weren’t sitting right there watching everything unfold.

Dave’s eyes locked onto yours, his gaze soft as he jumped in to distract your mother so you could calm down from the rage building inside you. Your mom reached for new levels of bitchiness each day.

“I doubt I’ll make it to midnight myself,” he said. “I’ll probably go home when they do.”

Your mom pouted at that, and you tuned them out as it turned into a hushed argument. In fact, you avoided your mother altogether for the rest of the day, choosing to keep the girls entertained until it was time to get ready for the party. You helped them put on the cute dresses their maternal grandparents gave them for Christmas, curling their hair and sweeping the lightest dusting of powder on their sweet faces because they wanted to look pretty like you.

“See? Just a little glow and you both look like beautiful princesses going to the ball,” you said, smiling as they admired themselves in the mirror.

“This is so cool,” Alice said, turning her head from side to side.

Molly grinned. “We look just like you.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you kissed the tops of their heads, careful not to mess up their hair. Goodness, you loved these girls.

You were quick with your own preparations, adding a little curl to your hair and understated makeup to your face. Opting for simplicity, you went with the trusted little black dress that had seen you through most major events in your adulthood. You were just digging out a pair of heels to wear with it when Dave appeared in your doorway, decked out in a slate gray suit with a dark blue tie, hair swept back off his forehead and a brightness shining in his eyes at the sight of you.

“You look beautiful,” he said in a low, soft voice as he stepped into the room. One large hand brushed down the fabric of your dress, following the curves of your body, and he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead.

“You look rather dashing yourself, Mister.” Your eyelids fluttered shut at the press of his lips against your skin. A little sigh slipped past your glossy lips as you breathed in the rich scent of his cologne.

Dave’s eyes searched yours as he stepped back. “I wanted to talk to you before we head to the party.”

“Ok,” you replied, a hint of worry in your voice as you sat on the edge of your bed. Dave followed, sitting next to you and slipping a hand into your lap to tangle his fingers with yours.

“It’s nothing bad, Firecracker,” he smiled. “It’s just…”

“It’s just the first time we’ll be in public together since things… changed between us.”

His eyes softened, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter. “Exactly. We’ll need to be careful, especially in front of Roger. He’s… not a man whose attention I want on you.”

“Why is that?” you asked, brows furrowed curiously. “Is he a criminal or something? Wait, are you investigating him?”

Dave shook his head, his smile faltering a bit. “I can’t tell you that. Just stay away from him, okay? Anna – the woman from that day in the café – stay clear of her, too. Please.”

You nodded, looking away and muttering, “Of course.” A tug on your hand drew your eyes back to his, and he leaned over to softly kiss your mouth. A hint of your lip gloss lingered on his lips when he pulled back with a grin. The sight broke the tension, and you chuckled, wiping away the evidence with your thumb.

“I wish I could walk into that party holding your hand, not hers,” Dave offered sincerely, lifting your hand to kiss each of your knuckles.

“Me, too.” After a beat, you added, “Maybe someday.”

Dave looked at you with such a soft, hopeful look before leaving the room, it left you with an aching, jealous heart.

This night was going to be torture, you thought.

And it was.

Roger’s house was alive with music and laughter, champagne flutes clinking as guests milled about in glittering attire. The girls ran ahead, already excited by the sight of a variety of desserts laid out in the dining room.

Your mom wasted no time draping herself around Dave, greeting Roger and his wife with an air of effortless charm. You kept to the sidelines, watching, observing with one eye always on the girls.

Seeing your mom and Dave together like this, smiling at each other as they worked the room, his arm around her small waist, the occasional kiss to his cheek from her garishly red lips. All of it fucking sucked to watch and you questioned why you even bothered to come to this party with them in the first place.

A huge part of you ached to bolt, take the girls, and leave the party without any explanation. Observing your mom tangle her fingers in that same shock of hair at the base of Dave’s neck that you liked to play with had you taking a step toward the door.

And then, you felt it.

Dave’s gaze.

It burned into you with a longing so strong your skin prickled with goosebumps. You decided to stay put just so he’d keep looking at you like that.

And he did.

Every time you turned, you caught him looking, his soulful eyes saying everything. He checked on the girls frequently, but his eyes always found you, no matter where you were in the room.

If not for those shared glances, the subtle winks at you, and the quirk of his lips when your gazes locked, you would be dying inside.

You were getting another glass of wine from the bartender the Grants hired for the evening when you spotted a vaguely familiar face approaching your mom and Dave.

It was Anna, the woman you saw in the café with Dave. The one he told you to stay away from.

Her eyes cataloged your mom and Dave with interest, a smirk playing at her lips. She joined the small group they were talking to, stepping too close to Dave for your comfort. Fingernails dancing up his suit jacket, she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

He froze at whatever she said, and a frown marred your brow as your gut twisted.

Torture. This night was nothing but fucking torture.

Suddenly, a presence loomed too close beside you.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to find Roger, his grin lazy, beady eyes scanning you in a way that made your skin crawl.

“It’s a lovely party,” you replied politely, stepping back to create distance between you. Roger quickly closed the space.

“You must be Lisa’s daughter. We haven’t had a chance to officially meet yet. You’re always so occupied… They keep you busy over there.”

You tensed, glancing across the room, but Dave was nowhere in sight.

Roger reached for a stray lock of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. “You know, I see now why Dave keeps you hidden away. If I had someone like you around…”

You jerked back, heart pounding. You did not like where that observation was heading, but a deep, stern voice interrupted the uncomfortable moment before you could react further.

“Roger.” Dave’s voice was ice.

Roger turned, all casual charm, but the flicker of unease in his eyes met Dave’s was unmistakable. He must know what Dave was capable of. “Relax, York. We’re just making conversation. You certainly have your hands full being surrounded by such beautiful women.”

Dave’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “Find someone else to make conversation with.”

For a long moment, Roger seemed like he might push back just to be an ass. But whatever he saw in Dave’s expression made him reconsider any further remarks. With a smirk, he raised his hands in mock surrender and disappeared back into the crowd of partygoers.

Dave turned to you, his breath heavy, his eyes burning with something unreadable. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, though your hands trembled slightly. That man gave you the creeps even without Dave’s earlier warning. “I—yeah. I just…”

He exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I told you to stay away from him.”

You bristled. “I didn’t exactly seek him out, David.”

He sighed, tension rippling through his body. He reached out, hesitated as if remembering where you two were, then let his hand drop. “Just… stay close to the girls and away from everyone else, okay?”

“So, I’m just supposed to babysit and not speak to anyone?” How un-fucking-fair was that?

“Pretty much,” he replied without remorse.

You wanted to push back, to demand that he stop treating you like a fucking child, but your mom appeared before you could respond. Slipping her arm around Dave’s waist, kissing his cheek before turning to you with a sickly sweet smile. His dark eyes remained on you the whole time. “I hope you’re not causing trouble.”

Forcing a tight smile, you snapped, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” before striding away. Both of them could just fuck right off. You were so fucking sick of this party.

He tried to keep his eyes off you knowing what was at stake. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down with this crowd, so he tried. He really fucking tried. And completely failed.

You were breathtaking in that dress. The way it hugged your curves, showcasing the best parts of your body, made his heart thump heavily in his chest. You were his dream woman. How was he supposed to pretend you didn’t exist?

So, he chanced glances more often than he should have. He winked and smiled at you, knowing how hard it was to see him with his arm around your mom. He longed to be by your side instead of hers.

And that smug bastard Roger noticed the looks. Dave knew it was entirely his fault the man approached you. He practically lit a beacon drawing the man’s attention to you with each look. So much for being subtle.

You had Dave York twisted up inside and made him forget the most basic rules of subterfuge.

He intervened when he saw Roger speaking to you and kept an eye on you and the girls until you said goodnight and took them home. When he took a breather out on the patio after you said goodnight, Anna cornered him.

“Roger told me about your sweet little stepdaughter. Tell me, is she your plaything? Is that why you keep turning me down? I know it damn well isn’t your wife, so she must be the reason.”

Dave’s expression darkened. He dealt with enough of Anna’s over-the-top sex kitten act for the job, he didn’t have the patience for it tonight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Anna smirked, twirling the glass of champagne in her hand before taking a long, drawn-out sip. “Oh, relax. I’m just saying… you must enjoy having something to grab onto. She’s a little… thick in places. Sizeable ass.”

“Anna,” Dave snapped, his voice full of warning as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Anna merely chuckled. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, handsome. I’m just teasing.”

“Enough. Contact me when you have something business-related to talk about. Otherwise, leave me alone.” He had enough. Striding back into the house, he deposited his empty glass on a random table and left the party without saying goodbye to anyone, including Lisa. She was too busy paying court to a room full of admirers and he’d had enough of her shit tonight, too.

As Dave walked across the street and back to his home, his phone buzzed, and he hoped it was from you. When he pulled the phone from the inside pocket of his blazer, the message on the screen made his blood run cold.

Unknown Number: I know what you’re hiding.

tbc

Chapter Eight

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sunnytuliptime @vie-is-punk

[plummy-squish]

I just finished the book Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell. It’s about the language that cults will use to essentially brain wash their members (not in the typical brainwash way that you think about). It’s “the technical terms, the redefined words, the shorthand, the clichés, the euphemisms, logical distortions, and so on set members apart from and above their pedestrian neighbors, families, and coworkers". Montell does not necessarily view "cultish" – the "language" she identifies as the set of linguistic tricks cult leaders use to coerce and manipulate members – negatively, but she believes that people should at least be able to recognize it.”

Anyways fucked me up! In the past two days I’m seeing it everywhere, in marketing, in the slogans in my job, in popular work out groups, cliche phrases we all say…… and then i watched the latest episode of severance! I don’t think I’ll watch this show, and more specifically Mr Milchick and other unsevered employees the same.

In this last episode i wanna talk about that acronym ORTBO that they introduced because it’s the most obvious tactic that they used.

“Thought terminating clichés squash independent thinking” -Amanda montell

Episode 4 Spoilers ahead:

O- outdoor

R-retreat

T- team

B- building

O- occurrence

Wtf when have you ever heard this weirdly stated acronym? Well the innies do all the time! So this is normal for them to hear, i mean they are from the MDR department! Macrodata refinement, even with that longer version of the word it still doesn’t feel like a full explanation as to what their job does. But to them because they are introduced to it and taught to not question their bosses for fear of punishment and so they just go with it. Which now mdr has become part of their everyday vocabulary they don’t even question the meaning.

Cut to this episode, our innies are unconesntionally ripped out of their regular office space and put into this isolating harsh environment phrased as a reward. They are told they have been good enough to earn this trip and give it a title, the ORTBO, and they are very lucky to be experiencing this.

Later when they have been walking for a lot time, feeling lost and hungry are a considering eating a literal frozen dead seal because this “reward” isn’t feeling like a reward. Dylan reminds them, they are on an ORTBO and he repeats its vague meaning trying to convince them not to doubt the company. Almost trying to convince himself as well. This is the same Dylan that’s been getting fed incentives of seeing his family on the side and have been told he’s extra special. He has more to loose than anyone else right now and by repeating it is trying to stop everyone from doubting. Aka the orbto is working.

“Creating special language to influence people’s behavior and beliefs is so effective in part simply because speech is the first thing we’re willing to change about ourselves . . . and also the last thing we let go” -Amanda montell

Cults will make up words and introduce them in this way to make a group of people feel connected. Like they have been let into this new group of special workers allowed out side and given a term phrased as a reward to squash any train of thought leading to doubt or questioning. The further they go on this team building occurrence they will understand the reward.

They also use this new group language to make the group feel superior and anyone on the outside intrigued into what people are talking about. Making learning the language feel connecting with others and like you are understanding the deeper meaning. They feel superior and anyone on the outside feels like they are missing something.

Cross fit does this well! They have new work out terms like dms (delayed muscle soreness) so if a CrossFit gym bro is talking to a regular gym bro and uses the term DMS, the regular gym bro feels dumb for not knowing what this is and not keeping track of it. And is now curious as to what CrossFit has that he is missing before he knows it he’s sucked in. (I bet you they will bring back this term later if they can to alienate other employees in other departments)

Um hello even in the way they advertised this episode is using this tactic! They didn’t give us the meaning or context they gave us the word and now we wanna know what this new acronym is in the next episode.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Apple TV (@appletv)

Severance universe has literally created a whole new language to keep certain people in the know and others confused. Watch for it!

It’s not always in acronym form; Sometimes it’s a saying, sometimes it’s just a common word given a double meaning to those in the group and out of the group.

Another day another dollar- something we hear all the time to make us just go to work and endure shit we shouldn’t

Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith- something we would hear all the time growing up as Mormon to stop people from questioning and like it’s bad to have critical thought

Endowment- to people out side Mormonism it means gift people inside it’s a whole secret ritual that you are sworn to secrecy or off yourself before telling another soul

lol my work calls its self a village

Its everywhere! It’s in our marketing! It’s in our gyms! It’s at work! We don’t even notice because it’s working.

“Words are the medium through which belief systems are manufactured, nurtured, and reinforced, their fanaticism fundamentally could not exist without them.”-Amanda Montell

Anyways this book has fucked me up and has made severance even better for me

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ɴᴏ ᴘᴇᴇᴋɪɴɢ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘣𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘢!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘧𝘵. 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯

It’s just after school when Matt finds Goldie by her locker. He can’t help but linger, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to buy himself time to figure out how to say something casually. His feet shift on the worn linoleum, as he half-listens to her talk about her day. There’s a quiet kind of pressure in his chest, like he’s holding his breath, unsure how to let it out.

It’s stupid, really. Why does he feel like this? It’s just Goldie. She’s just… Goldie. And yet, something about the thought of asking her over feels bigger than it should.

Matt hadn’t planned on inviting her. Not really. The thought lingers somewhere in the back of his mind, like a song he can’t quite remember the lyrics to, but it only slips out as she closes the locker door.

She observes him from the corner of her eye… hands in his pockets, eyes on the scuffed tile floor like he’s debating saying anything at all. She doesn’t push, just lets the silence linger, stretching like seafoam thinning against the shore.

"Do you, um," He exhales sharply, shoving his fingers through his hair. "Wanna come over later? For a movie or something. I got ramen. The good kind."

She blinks, not because she’s surprised, though she is, a little, but because the idea of stepping into Matt’s world, past the cliffs and the walks home and the sun-bleached edges of their conversations, feels... significant.

He feels his pulse pick up. Did that sound okay? Was that too much?

Goldie doesn’t say anything right away. She just smiles that small, knowing smile, and it makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t fully explain. He tries to cover it up by looking anywhere but her.

“You got the good kind?" she echoes, grinning. "That’s a big claim."

His mouth quirks at the corner. "Would I lie?"

Her grin grows, and he feels like he might actually be able to breathe again.

“There’s this movie,” he adds, adjusting the strap of his bag, trying not to fidget. “Thought you might like it.” The words come out easier now, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as her.

Goldie’s eyes flick up from the little doodles on her notebook that she drew earlier, interest sparking. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Matt swallows. “You could come over. If you want.”

Goldie smiles, a quiet thing, but she doesn’t make him wait for an answer. “Okay.”

And just like that, the knot in his chest loosens, but the feeling lingers. The weight of what he almost said, of what he didn’t... of what they both probably already know but haven’t said out loud.

And that’s how they end up here, cross-legged on the floor of Matt’s room, the glow of his old TV flickering against the walls. He’s already got water boiling in the kitchen, the light catching on the steam as he rifles through a cabinet.

"No peeking," he says when she tries to glance over his shoulder.

Goldie rolls her eyes but obediently turns away, wandering toward the small TV in the living room. A stack of DVDs sits on the table... old animated films, some classics, a few she doubts would be her cup of tea.

"Alright," Matt calls after a few minutes. "Close your eyes, Goldie."

She laughs. "What?"

"Just do it."

She does, crossing her arms as she hears him moving around, the sound of bowls being set down and chopsticks clicking together. Then, finally:

"Okay. Open."

She cracks an eye open, then the other, staring down at the bowl he’s placed down. Ramen—steaming, golden broth, soft-boiled egg, a neat little pile of scallions. And tucked right in the middle, a slice of ham.

Her breath catches, just for a second.

"Matt."

He shrugs, sitting down beside her with his own bowl. "Thought you’d like some ham."

Something warm settles in her chest, nestled between nostalgia and something new. She doesn't say anything, just picks up her chopsticks and takes a careful sip, the heat curling into her like a tide rolling in.

Beside her, Matt leans back against the couch, eyes flicking between Goldie and the TV screen as the opening credits begin to roll.

Goldie picks up the DVD cover and squints at it. “Sooo what is this?”

Matt shrugs, fighting the urge to say too much. “It’s a comedy. Action. Cult classic.”

Her lips curl into a smile, but there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m interested. But, just so you know, I’ve seen a lot of movies.”

Matt grins, feeling a spark of mischief. “We’ll see.”

Goldie smiles, just a little, tilting her head, and lets the movie play.

As it does, Matt watches her more than the screen, her genuine amusement filling the room like a warm, quiet storm. She doesn’t even try to hide the way she’s leaning forward, completely absorbed by how absurd it is.

When Goldie goes to pick up her chopsticks at one point, her fingers brush against Matt’s. She pauses for a moment, her cheeks warming at the unexpected contact, and she clumsily adjusts her grip, carefully setting the chopsticks back down. It’s a small, almost imperceptible moment, but for Goldie, whose fingers are usually busy with some new craft, it feels different somehow. She gives a quiet laugh to herself, brushing it off, but the flutter in her chest stays with her for a few beats before she looks back at the screen.

The scene on the screen in front of her is so ridiculous that Goldie bursts into laughter, the sound warm and genuine, making Matt feel a little lighter too. Her laughter lingers in the space between them, the way her shoulders shake and her hair bounces slightly as she laughs. He can’t help but chuckle with her, the moment comfortable but a little charged. When they both quiet down, their eyes meet and hold for just a heartbeat longer than usual. Goldie’s smile is small but soft, and Matt’s gaze is steady but not quite as guarded as usual, the space between them feeling a little more open now.

After a particularly ridiculous sequence involving a helicopter being used as a makeshift ramp for a car chase, Goldie lets out another laugh that’s half incredulous, half delighted. She turns to Matt with wide eyes. “Okay. I admit defeat. I did not expect this.”

Matt’s grin softens, his heart skipping a beat at the way her laughter fills the room. “I knew you’d like it.”

Goldie huffs a little, clearly entertained, but there’s something else there now… a shift in the air between them. The movie’s absurdity has somehow pulled them closer, both in their shared enjoyment and in the quiet way they now seem to understand each other, in a way that hasn’t quite been said out loud yet.

Outside, the waves have calmed.

thank u rose for the dividers ! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: ham. second to last fluffy thing before true angst sets in. please send me asks abt these two 🫶🏻

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @shadowthesim237 comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist!

cya next time!!!

[temporarywelcome]

Hospital Visit - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: Your smooth criminal series is actually perfect!!!! Ahh I love the way you write both of them and their dynamics with the team. Obsessed 💕 Request: Kleptomaniac!Reader twists her ankle or like gets hurt due to practices during a dance and ends up at the hospital and worried spencer comes and sees her stealing little equipments again and her trying to leave because she doesnt want to miss her dance. (I really didn't know how to frame what I was thinking but honestly i think whatever you write will be amazing) -anonymous

CW: swearing, a bit suggestive towards the end. Technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series though you don't need to read the other parts to understand!

AN: I'm half Dominican so yes I can poke fun of Dominican people 🙄 lmao this character I created for this is loosely based off of my grandpa-. Also totally forgot the "her trying to leave" part so I might make a seperate fic with that, mb...

_____

Words: 2k

Spencer Reid wasn’t one to leave work early. 

When there was not a case and the Behavorial Analysis Unit was busy at the office, Spencer never left early. For him, that is ridiculous. Other members of the team like Hotch and JJ would have their moments where they would have to dash out of the building with barely any warning, due to little emergencies with their children. It barley happened, but when it did, it was understandable. 

Spencer, on the other hand, did not have children to worry about. He never had a reason to leave work. 

Until his phone rang. 

Flipping it open, his brows furrowed when he noticed who it was. His girlfriend. Her calling him in the middle of work never raised any alarm. She probably just brought him some lunch again, which she did a few days ago. Or some drama happened in a show she was watching and she just had to let it out. Probably something silly like that. 

But, wait! She had said she was going to be at the studio early today to get in some extra practice before rehearsal. So why would she be calling him instead of practicing?

“Hello?” he placed the phone to his ear. 

The voice on the other end answered in panic, “Hello? Is this Spencer?”

That was not his girlfriend. Instead, it was a man with a heavy accent, the genius deduced Dominican. What the fuck was she doing with this guy? 

“Yes, I’m Spencer, as the contact ID says,” Spencer replied curtly, feeling a hint of jealousy brewing within him, “Who is this?”

“I am Flavio!” the man replied confiently, “Flavio Herrera de León! I-”

“-Why are you calling me from my girlfriend’s phone?” Spencer interrupted in annoyance, “Where is she?”

“Oh!” the man laughed awkwardly, “On the floor! I will be taking her to a hospital now!”

Now Spencer was shooting up to his feet, gathering his things as he spoke, “Hospital?! Why do you need to take her to the hospital? Why is she on the floor?!”

“Very bad injury,” said Flavio, “I worry for her,”

Very bad injury?!

“What do you mean by that?!” Spencer mouthed to Hotch a quick ‘I gotta go’, not waiting for an answer as he sped towards the door, “How bad-”

“-Must take her to hospital. Blood everywhere. Bye bye!” And with that, fucking Flavio hung up the phone, leaving Spencer in an even worst panic. Blood everywhere? What the hell was Y/N doing?

Knowing her, it could have been anything. Every possible thought went through his head, every possibility. She was zoned out and got hit by a car. She tried to befriend a dog that wasn’t very friendly. She fell down a flight of stairs. 

She stressed him the fuck out. 

After breaking at least twelve traffic laws, Spencer found himself at the ER, pushing past people to get to the receptionist. “Y/N L/N,”

Not looking up at him from her computer, the woman replied with: “Relation to the patient?” 

Ugh. “FBI. Let me see her,” he waved his badge at her. He knew this was unprofessional and an abuse of power, but this was his girlfriend. The girl he was planning to marry someday. Who he was convinced stupidly got herself into this medical emergency. 

Abuse of power be damned. 

He was led through the ER to her room, bursting in. He was expecting tubes and machines connected to her unconscious form, maybe a cast or two. He was expecting to be completely traumatized by the sight before him.

Not his girlfriend shoving surgical gloves into her pockets. 

Her head snapped into his direction, eyes wide, but when it hit that it was Spencer and not a doctor, she sighed, body relaxing. “Shit, Spence, why didn’t you just kick the door down while you’re at it?” she said sarcastically. 

He did not find her amusing. She didn’t even know if her words registered to him. “What happened?!” he felt like he repeated that quite often today. He cupped her jaw, turning her head in all different directions while looking for any wounds, “That guy said there was blood everywhere! Where are you hurt?!” his eyes went from her face to the rest of her body. 

“He’s so dramatic,” Y/N groaned, “There was blood everywhere because I had gotten a bloody nose from hitting the floor.” She grabbed his hands that were now on her shoulders, bringing them to her cheeks. Her eyes closed and lips curled into a smile, nuzzling into him. “No broken nose,”

“Then why the hell are you in the hospital?” 

“Sprained ankle. Doctor said I won’t be able to dance for about three weeks,” Her eyes opened, meeting his, and all his anger and anxiety vanished. She was okay. She was safe. Not mauled by a dog or hit by a car. 

Safe. 

“Next time you get an injury like this, please call me yourself,” Spencer sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “Your friend scared me to death,” 

“My friend is super dramatic,” she giggled, already sensing his dislike towards Flavio, “He thought I broke my foot and my nose,” 

“Of course he’s dramatic. Birds of a feather flock together,” Spencer tried to joke, hands now resting on her waist, “You know… You never told me you were practicing with this friend. I thought you were practicing alone,” 

“Didn’t think I had to specify,” Yeah, he was so jealous, it was so obvious to her. 

“You should, so in the case you get kidnapped, I would have somewhere to start-”

“Spence!” she gasped, playfully hitting his shoulder, “Not only is that really anxiety-enducing, but I know for a fact that’s not why you wanted to know.” Y/N smirked, leaning closer to him, “He has a wife, Spence.”

“And? People cheat all the time. About twenty percent of married men cheat on their spouses-”

“How little do you trust me though?” she huffed. 

“It’s him I don’t trust,” Spencer corrected himself, “I trust you. Of course, I trust you,” As he spoke, he removed the surgical gloves from her pockets, “Even when you steal all of my things and I have to buy replacements because you lost them after, I still trust you. It’s just…” he trailed off, throwing the now contaminated gloves into the trash bin. 

“Just what?” As he distracted himself with the gloves, she reached out and grabbed a handful of q-tips from the table next to the examining bed she sat on, now putting those into her pockets. 

Spencer turned to face her again, “It’s just that, with this job, I see so many horrible things happen to women. And the thought of something happening to my woman scares me,” His arms went around her again, “Every time I get a case file and see a woman’s body, it occurs to me how easily it could be you,” 

“...damn,” she cleared her throat, looking down, “Gee, now Imma be scared to go outside,” 

“No you’re not,” his hands slipped into her pockets, taking out the q-tips. Spencer always noticed everything. “You’re going to continue being you and I’m going to continue worrying about you every time we’re apart. I do wish you would be more careful. I know right now you were with this guy for work-related reasons and you had to, but at least tell me?”

“Mhm,” she nodded softly. He went to throw out the q-tips, and while he did so, she began shoving gauze into her pockets next. 

“Put the gauze back,” he said firmly, not even looking at her as he disposed of the material. 

“I can’t help it,” a huff left her lips as she tossed the box (yes, she attempted to steal the whole box) back onto the counter. 

“Tell me why you need a whole box of gauze, dear,” Spencer always spoke like that when addressing her kleptomania. Why do you need this object you are stealing? And they both would know she didn’t need it, and she would keep repeating that in her head until the urge (hopefully) went away. 

“I don’t need a whole box of gauze,” she stated the obvious, taking a deep breath, “I don’t need a whole box of gauze,”

“You don’t need a whole box of gauze,” Spencer confirmed, taking her hands like he always did when she was getting her urges, “Or q-tips. Or surgical gloves. What do you possibly need to examine with those, hm?” he said the last part lightly, nuzzling her nose with his. 

A smirk formed on her face as she spoke, “You?” 

“Me? And how would you do that?” 

“Can examine the part of you I love most….” she trailed off, in thought, “Wait, that’s hard. That was supposed to be me saying your dick however is that really what I love most? ‘Cause, like, look at you,” 

She always knew how to make his cheeks burn red. “What else do you love then?” 

“Oooh, where do I begin?” she threw her arms up in the air dramatically, “Okay, let me start with your facial features…”

____

By the time she was cleared by a doctor and allowed to leave the room, Spencer had a good hickey or two (four actually) on his neck and a giddy expression on his face. Once in the waiting room, a man shot up seeing Y/N, Spencer immediately assuming Flavio. 

“Ah, mi flor,” he exclaimed, examining her all over, “Nothing is broken! How good!”

“Yep, all good,” Y/N replied, “Flavio, meet my boyfriend, Spencer. Spencer, meet Flavio, one of my dance partners for my current show,” 

Spencer and Flavio shook hands, Y/N giggling softly at the look Spencer was giving him. Oh, she knew damn well Spencer was profiling the fuck out of him. To most people, Spencer looked like he had a blank expression on his face, but Y/N knew him better. There was something about Flavio that Spencer did not like. She wasn’t sure if it was the simple fact this was a man who spends alone time with his woman, or something else entirely. 

“It is so nice to meet you, Spencer!” Flavio shook his hand cheerfully, “I have heard many good things about you!” 

“Oh, really?” that made Spencer cheer up slightly, “I’m glad to hear that,” he draped an arm around Y/N’s waist. Spencer didn’t look like the type, but he was incredibly possessive, which was fine, because Y/N was possessive as fuck over him. Spencer precieved everything friendly said to her as flirting, though, when someone actually flirted with him he wouldn’t catch it. It was cute, but also frustrating, because then the only way to get these people to leave him alone is a threat or two coming from her. 

Flavio opened his mouth to speak, but paused when his phone rang. He flipped it open, seeing the caller ID. “Ah, I must take this. My girlfriend is calling,”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, “I thought you were married?”

“Yes yes, I am,” the dancer shrugged, “My wife is here. My girlfriend is in la Republica Dominicana,” And with that, he was off, babbling into the phone. 

“I told you,” Spencer rolled his eyes, glaring at Flavio’s retreating form in disgust, “Twenty percent,” 

“You best not be part of that twenty percent in the future or I’ll end up being an unsub your team has to catch,” Y/N threatened lightly, pinching his side. 

“Hey!” he gasped, “What makes you think- wait,” hard stop, “Does that mean you see yourself marrying me someday?”

She smirked, beginning to walk (limp) towards the exit, “Hmmmm, maybe?” 

“Wait! Wait, you can’t just drop that and wobble away from me!” He followed after her, a huge shit-eating grin forming on his lips.

[earlgreylatte]

Overture

A moment you only recall when it’s too late.

Nolan wonders how he got here, married to Debbie, a father to a toddler, and another one due soon. He tried to rationalize it. That he’s doing this so people like Cecil will trust his intentions, so that it seems like he’s integrating himself like Martian Man, that he’s one of them.

That it’s all for the mission.

But he knows that he’s slowly screwing himself over when you toddle to him, chanting ‘daddy’ over and over. When his wife calls him over to feel his second child kicking, strong and firm. When Art, who is becoming someone he genuinely likes, with his wit and comforting presence, convinces him to ditch the white Viltrumite outfit, for something more ‘iconic’, something heroic. Something that isn’t him.

He enters through the back like he always does, leaving the dark night behind, to enter the well lit and painfully warm home he’s called his own for a couple years now. You, who should be fast asleep, call out to him excitedly, waving around a stuffed dog. He picks you up, his hold delicate in a way he never had to be until he came to this planet.

“A new costume? Looks like Art finally changed your mind,” Debbie, his Debbie, comments from the couch, resting a hand on her stomach. “But, didn’t we agree that a toddler knowing her dad is a superhero isn’t a good idea?”

“I thought she’d be asleep, by now. Especially since you talk about how much a bedtime is needed whenever I let her stay up,” He responds, focused on your babbling; you’re telling him about your day. What can a toddler even do that’s remotely interesting? Yet, he’s enraptured.

“She refused to go to bed until you read her another part of your novels,” his wife smiles warmly, “She’s your number one and only fan, it seems.”

“She’s got taste,” he notes, a fluttering feeling in his chest. “I’ll get her tucked in. Looks like she wants to see how Space Rider’s story ends.”

“Make it kid friendly,” she calls as he ascends up the stairs, “And then come back so I can get a closer look at that new suit of yours.”

“What have you done?” You ask, fifteen years old and trying to wash the grime out of your suit in the bathtub.

Mark grins at you while posing in the mirror, wrapped in duct tape, “I’m going to be a hero like you guys, even if my powers don’t come in!”

“You’re still young, and not every Viltrumite is the same,” you reply, draining the bathtub and wringing out the excess water from your suit. “Don’t be in such a rush. You aren’t even thirteen yet.”

“Easy for you to say,” he retorts, “Besides, duct tape can literally do anything! You guys can beat up the bad guys and I’ll tape them up for the police!”

Inwardly you wince at the idea of him going against the maniacs you face every day. But instead you tilt your head in an act of show.

“You could only be a hero to leaky pipes dressed like that. And, it looks like dad just got home, so if—“

He doesn’t let you finish, instead sprinting downstairs.

You finish cleaning and disinfecting the tub, leaving your suit in your room to dry, heading downstairs only for Mark to rush by you, heading up to the washroom. Hopefully he’s patient enough to let the tape soak enough before ripping it off.

“That boy is never getting his powers, is he?” Is what you’re greeted with when you enter the living room, you quirk a brow at your father while your mom only smiles and hooks her arms around his neck.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the superhero, space alien. But even if he doesn’t, we’ll love just as much.”

“And don’t girls normally mature faster than boys or something? He could just be a late bloomer. I got my powers at thirteen so it could be any day for him now,” you piped up.

“Very true, now you two finish up dinner while I untape the boy,” your mom announces passing by you to join your brother upstairs.

You step to join your father at the counter, but falter when his face contorts with frustration, eyes focused on the stairs. He steps forward with his teeth bared like a dog about to attack, ignoring your presence for a moment.

“Dad?” You cautioned, approaching him slowly.

He steps back, the tension leaving him, looking almost distraught. You place a hand on his arm, and he almost crumples, shame filling his face before he hides it with his hand as you embrace him. Neither of you say anything, as he leans onto you before pulling away, a weight in his eyes and his brow still furrowed.

You two silently finish cooking and setting the table.

And when a tape free Mark runs down the stairs with an exclamation of hunger, your mom following behind him, the interaction goes forgotten.

Yes, the moments here are the ones from Eve’s special episode! Wanted to explore Nolan a bit more and his perspective!

Season 3 was so good that I had to make this a series…

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

[deerprynce]

Daisuke and Jimmy’s relationship is so interesting and I don’t see it get talked about nearly as much as some of the other characters. I also see it get misinterpreted quite often.

Jimmy is not outwardly antagonistic towards Daisuke. The only time he gets close to this is during the birthday party. And remember, he lashes out at everyone during this scene. If anything, what he says about Daisuke is pretty tame in comparison to the things he says about Curly or Anya.

His rapport with Daisuke is always somewhat friendly. He has a nice conversation with him right at the beginning of the game, 2 months after the crash, where they joke amongst themselves. Jimmy tells Daisuke to not let Swansea get to him. Keep this in mind for later.

When Daisuke gets drunk off the mouthwash, he tells Jimmy about insecurities that he has presumably not told anyone else. We can say that he’s only telling Jimmy this because he’s intoxicated, but I think it speaks to the relationship the two have.

One thing to note about Daisuke is that he trusts Jimmy, and after the crash he’s basically the only one to do so. Swansea is plastered 24/7 and very clearly doesn’t respect him, and Anya. I don’t even have to explain that one.

But Daisuke still remains by his side, and Jimmy takes full advantage of this.

Let’s check back on that line I mentioned earlier, where Jimmy tells Daisuke to not let Swansea get to him. Jimmy wants Daisuke to think higher of him than Swansea, and presents himself as a kinder individual who Daisuke can trust. It’s a small line but it speaks volumes about their relationship.

We’re skipping forward to after Daisuke’s death (don’t worry, we’ll talk about it). Daisuke and imagery surrounding him appears the most out of any of the crew, mayyybe second to Curly. We see his personal items, his grave repeated over and over in a graveyard, we see him run away from the camera, his face appears when you try to turn around, his body is in a coffin, we crawl through the vent and we see the axe buried in the side of the wall around it.

And it’s because Jimmy feels the most guilt about how Daisuke died. Because it’s entirely his fault and he recognizes it. These hallucinations are purely guilt speaking.

Jimmy knew, on some level, what he was doing.

He knew that he was manipulating Daisuke, though I do think he still liked him at least a little. He knows that this death is entirely on his hands.

Ok, let’s jump back to before Daisuke dies (we’re skipping around like the game now!). This is where that manipulation idea comes into play.

Jimmy doesn’t tell Daisuke what’s going on. Jimmy knows that Anya has locked herself into medical and is going to kill herself. But when Daisuke asks what’s happening (by the way, he asks Anya this question) Jimmy cuts in and immediately brings up Curly. He makes it seem like Anya is going to do something malicious towards Curly and there’s no time and she can’t be convinced and they have to go go go.

And we see why he does this. Daisuke, throughout the sequence where you roofie Swansea, keeps repeating that they should just talk to him. But if they just talk to Swansea and Anya, then Daisuke will find out about the fact that Jimmy raped her. Jimmy can’t have this because, as I said earlier, Daisuke is the only one left who still completely trusts Jimmy. So he has to keep that information from him.

(I want to make a seperate post where I talk about why Anya also kept this information from Daisuke, so i'm leaving this point here).

Finally, let’s talk about the thing Jimmy says right before Daisuke enters the vent. I think that this is the most telling exchange when it comes to their relationship (take a shot every time I say their relationship and you too can pass out in front of utility).

Daisuke is nervous, for obvious reasons. And Jimmy, the figure who has been supportive (“don’t let Swansea get to you”) and friendly, turns around and uses the insecurities that Daisuke brought up previously to coax him into the vent.

When Daisuke is drunk, he tells Jimmy that he believes he’s not good at anything. And right before the vent, Swansea tells him he’s not a good mechanic either. This clearly upsets Daisuke on some level based on his reaction.

This is just a precursor to what Swansea says right before Daisuke dies, but Daisuke doesn’t know that. It’s a topic for another ramble.

Jimmy was present for all of this, and tells Daisuke that he’ll make everyone proud, he tells him everyone is counting on him. He’s using these insecurities to get Daisuke to do something insanely dangerous.

And I think, based on how often Daisuke appears in his hallucinations, Jimmy knew what he was doing. He knew he was being manipulative.

When Daisuke is bleeding out, Jimmy realizes how badly he fucked up. He’s panicked and trying in vain to comfort him, but internally he knows this is entirely his fault.

I see a lot of fan content where Jimmy is outright mean to Daisuke, and that’s just not really how they are portrayed in the game. Jimmy mistreats him, but he doesn’t do it in an incredibly obvious way. And that’s just good storytelling baby.

All this to say that Daisuke and Jimmy are genuinely fascinating and I wish this relationship got explored more by the fandom. There’s so much going on there!

[bellamoooon]

Childhood best friends to lovers, i love this concept a little too much and got carried away lol <33

She’d never know, at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

She’d never know that she was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for hours, that she was like the first bit of light rising up in the morning, that she was like the feeling of warmth when getting praised, that talking to her was like hearing his favorite song for the first time again, that her laugh was engraved in his brain and he could hear it even when she wasn’t around, that her presence radiated light that seeped right into his bones, that seeing her was like a shot of espresso immediately waking every nerve in his system, that her smile gleamed with such brightness it could light up the whole world in an eternal darkness, that her eyes said so much more than anything she had ever said, that she was a perfectly aligned harmony when everything else was out of tune.

She’d never know, but he did.

She lived within him; His whole life had been reduced to her.

“Wow Art, this is really good!” his literature teacher spoke as she read his paper, “y’know, if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out, you could be the next big writer, I mean it.”

For his literature class, as a “creative exploration exercise”—his teacher calls it—they had been assigned to write a paper on someone of something which they could understand as unrequited love, of course he had chosen you, because what better example than you and Art.

You and Art have known each other since diapers due to your parents being best friends from their college days up to the present day, which sort of brought the two of you together one way or another, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would art.

Growing you with you might’ve been one of the best things he has ever been able to experience, he wishes people could actually get to feel what its like to be shined on by your light, for him, it truly is unearthly every time.

Sure, you two had distance shoved in your faces when he went to MRTA, but when he returned home for breaks, it was like nothing changed, it was just you and Art.

And of course as cliché as it may be, the inevitable happened, Art began to fall in love with you.

At first, he tried to convince himself that it was just the affection he had for his best friend, but he had no way to deny it. From the second he stopped just seeing you, but when he started seeing you.

He could try to blame it on his hormones and being a teenager, but everything else contradicted that.

In the summer, seeing you in your two-piece swimsuit didn’t seem the same, especially since you had started to grow into your big girl body, as his nana said.

At Christmas when he saw you walk into the living room dressed as Cindy Lou who from shoes to hair, with a goofy smile, but why did it make him blush? You seemed the same, you did this every year.

Patrick mocked him for having a small picture of the two of you in his wallet, but he didn’t care, whenever he was having a bad day, or missed home, he’d look at the picture, instantly erasing anything that disturbed his thoughts.

But you’d never know that. And he was okay with that. For the most part.

A couple of weeks he went back home for spring break, he was feeing at ease, he’d see his parents, his nana, and…you.

“Artie! My sweet boy!” his grandmother called out as he walked out of the car to the front porch with a suitcase in his hand, and a wide smile. His grandmother ran up to him wrapping her arms around him, her warmth immediately transferring to his skin, he was home.

“Nana, hey, how’ve you been?” he spoke with a sweet tone as he hugged her back. Sure, tennis was his whole life, but coming back home felt like a weight was lifted off his back, he doesn’t have to be THE Art Donaldson, he was just…Art.

“You look so tired baby boy, let me take your bags, go take a shower” his nana said as she shut the door behind her.

“Nana, seriously don’t worry—“

“Will you just let me take care of you while you’re here? You’ve gotta do all this yourself at school, but not here Artie” and well, there isn’t much arguing with nana Donaldson, it’s just how it’s been his whole life.

After his shower, Art walked in his room with a calm breath and loose muscles, how he needed that warm shower, as he walked over to his bag, which was placed next to the window he began to look for some clothes.

He wasn’t one to feel prying eyes on him but by reflex, Art lifted his head as he looked through the window, it was you.

You covered your mouth clearly giggling as he looked down at himself completely naked only covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, “fuck me” he muttered as he looked up once again but now face completely flushed and the tips of his ears burning red.

He waved awkwardly as he pulled the curtains closed feeling flustered, he wanted to get his mind off of her, so he said, how’s that going? Not great.

His nana looked up as he came downstairs with a puzzled expression, your name left his lips.

“What about her?” She asked as she left a plated grilled cheese in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was home for the break?” She laughed, why is she laughing?

“Sweetie, I thought it was obvious, she always come back home for breaks” she shook her head as she smiled playfully, “though, I think there’s something about her being here that bothers you”

“What— no, no, it doesn’t bother me, I just— would’ve expected something else, I don’t know”

“You sure?” She slid the paper across the counter with delicacy, “are you absolutely sure baby?”

“Nana! I told you to stop snooping, come on!” He said taking the paper as quickly as possible, could this day get any worse?

“One, I wasn’t snooping, it fell out of your backpack, and two, Artie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowered his head ever so slightly as he grabbed the sandwich to then take a bite.

“I know.” He said once he swallowed, she leaned against the counter with curious eyes.

“She’s good, she’s smart, and really talented, did you hear she put out a song?” He lifted his brows in surprise, you really had picked music, over psychology, huh…

“Huh…well that’s great, I’m sure she’ll do great with all that” his nana scoffed as she muttered a small “art…” with a warning tone, “what? I mean it”

“You gotta give me more than that after that thing you wrote, Art, I taught you better than this.���

“I just—! I don’t know what to say, Nana, that’s the problem. Not to you, not to Patrick and most definitely not to her” he spilled, fiddling nervously with his hands, “I’d screw our friendship, one sided feelings aren’t worth risking years of trust.”

“Well you never know Artie, sometimes holding onto those feelings is painful, even if something is on the line, it isn’t worth it if you’re hurting” she was right, but Art would never say that out loud, this was all too much for him.

“It’s just…it’s not easy”

“Well my boy, no one said love was easy, and sometimes, just sometimes, the most complicated loves, are the most beautiful ones” he listened intently as he finished off the grilled cheese, she was right, maybe all he needed to do was tell her.

You had to know.

So there he was at 2:34 a.m throwing small pebbles at your window, just like he did years ago to then go the skate park at midnight and sit at the top of the ramps while you talked till sunrise.

“Stop throwing rocks Donaldson, you’ll wake the dog” you came out the door in pjs but wrapped in a jacket, he turned with a confused expression “I came running down when I felt the first two rocks” you laughed softly as you blushed slightly, God you missed this.

It’s like being kids all over again.

“So how’s tennis and all, Mr. Stanford?” You asked as you swung your hanging feet off the ramp.

“Y’know tennis is the same always, trust me, you don’t care” he laughed as he shook his head, “but Stanford is nice, just not the same without you and Patrick on my ass all the time”

“Ah, of course, because that’s the biggest change you’ve had since we were kids up to today” you rolled your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah…” he chuckled dryly as he looked away, could he be more obvious, goddamn.

“What?”

“No— no, it’s nothing” he insisted.

“Art I know you, it’s not nothing, what’s up?” You pushed as he looked up at the sky biting his lip while humming, “Art?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at you again, you lifted a brow silently asking once again, “ah…I— I love you” he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

“I have since the summer you turned fifteen, you just— you kinda started to seem different to me, and I— I fell in love with you.” He sighed, “and I know timing sucks and it’s gonna make things weird, but if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive, y’know it’s been so long—“ his rambling got cut off as your lips crashed onto his almost immediately.

His body tensed up completely, the feeling of your lips foreign to his, but so familiar at the same time, the reality was better than any dream he had ever managed to build up in his mind, your plump lips tasting faintly like cherry lip gloss, he was most likely dreaming, he thought, cause there is no way he had told you how he felt, and even less probabilities of him kissing you.

As you pulled away, he found himself instinctively following you with parted lips and eyes shut, he was so high with your mere presence, a soft giggle from you snapped him back to reality as his eyes opened up slowly, pupils blown, he looked as if he had just seen God.

“…Did you just—“

“Kiss you?” You ask slightly tilting your head with a giddy smile, “seems like it”

You shrugged as you snorted softly.

“Oh.” Oh was the only thing his brain could process for him to say still stunned.

“Okay— so you tell me you love me, but I kiss you and all you say is ‘oh’, I mean—“ you said as you licked your lips as you thought.

“I just— I didn’t think you’d— like…you…like…” he fumbled as he tried to pull a thought out of the back of his brain.

“Art, you’re telling me you didn’t expect me to kiss you, when I’ve literally had this…I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I’ve been as subtle as a marching band” you tell him as a blush creeps up your face while you chuckle nervously.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head with a small grin, he scoffs as he covers his face with his hands, “am I just that dense?”

“Not dense, more like…oblivious” you laugh as he glares back playfully.

Then there’s beat of silence, that moment where suddenly everything had fallen into place, he’s been pining over you for years, and you’ve waited for the right moment for as long as you can remember, but then the question settles in, what now?

“Uhm…art…?” You turn to him with hesitation, he hums in response “what now? I mean, you’re going back to cali after break and I’m going back to New York…”

“Hm…I hadn’t really thought that far into it” he said softly turning to look at you with gentle eyes, “what now?” He asks back softly.

“I— I like you, Art, I’m in it for the long game.” You spoke honestly as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I’ll play the long game. You’re out there, I’m out there too, we’ll see each other in summer, thanksgiving, and Christmas…I mean it, I— don’t just like you.” He confessed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I can do that” you said softly, smiling back at him, letting out a small breath, “long game…?”

Your hand cupped his cheek making him face you, he smiled as he nodded, looking down at your lips and back at your eyes “long game.” He muttered as he leaned in kissing you once again, holding you gently in a fear of breaking you.

That right there. That was it, you were the living proof of unrequited love for him.

[lilyofporcelain]

DWC - 09 Feb - Day 1 - Hypnotic / Star

In the quiet of the Grim and Tonic apothecary, she carefully peered around the various potions, elixirs, tinctures, and other concoctions that Saith so masterfully made. He labelled everything, of course, which didn’t surprise her in the least. How many of these things had been made for others, and how many had he made for personal projects? Rows and rows of bottles and vials sat before her, each in its own perfect little setting. One wrong idle move from her or Toasty having a sudden case of the zoomies, and she could just envision the domino effect of shattered glass and hissing liquids on wooden floor.

A smile hooked its way into half of her mouth as sher head tipped, hair not quite violet curling over her collar. And she’d worried about taking too much of his time away from his work. Or that he would grow bored and listless with her companionship. It was good to see that he kept himself busy. Saith’s background as an informant had controlled so much of him. Belidrae still worried that suddenly trying to acclimate to a life where he no longer had to do that would too much for him. She’d tried to be supportive of him and ultimately, the story was always the same. She only wanted him to be happy. To feel like he was significant. To know that he mattered and that he was important. For things other than his body or dust or thistle.

Are you happy, Saith, with the way things are? This relationship with me. Is it what you really want? Our engagement? I’d be all right if you changed your mind.

Would she, though? Belidrae didn’t think so in entirety. But if things went topsy turvy, which was entirely possible, she knew she’d find a way through it. She always had. In the end, all that really mattered to her was that he found what he was looking for. What he felt like he needed. She knew very well it just wasn’t healthy if he was using her as a form of escapism. She hoped it wasn’t that. If it was, the conversation would be a difficult one to have.

She could hear the soft, raspy ‘miaow’ that came from the siamese kitten who nonchalantly wandered in. Straightening herself up, Belidrae turned her attention onto… Well. She still didn’t know if Toasty was a boy or a girl. Trix had not told her when he gave the kitten to Belidrae on a chilly Winterveil day. Sweeping the kitten up carefully into her arms, she lifted a hand and gently prodded the curious kitten on the nose. “Aren’t you a curious thing,” she greeted her feline friend, a wide smile pulling at her face. “Wanted to come see what Mom was up to, hm? I don’t think your dad would want you in here, but we’ll keep it our little secret.”

Turning her attention back to the rows and rows and rows of Saith’s creations, Belidrae slowly moved down along the shelf and then she paused. There was one he’d been working on specifically for her. More than one, actually. She didn’t know where he’d even gotten the idea for it, but suspected it had something to do with the shade of her skin, something he’d always described as dusky. When he’d first told her about it, he’d described it as a concoction that when ingested would make it look as though constellations spread across her skin.

Belidrae had always liked a starry night sky. Plenty of them she’d spent her time under, even. Did he know she liked them? Had it just been a guess on his part? Leaning closer in to the bottle on display, its label in Saith’s rather picturesque handwriting, she smiled.

“You know, Toasty, you didn’t get to see this, but he made one for me before.”

Her expression was fond. On the night they’d met when he was certain she was divining tea leaves in her coffee, he’d taken her to a beautiful overgrown area with a waterfall and crumbling stone. And there, they’d spoken the entire night. And he’d been convinced that she was an agent of SI:7, something that continued to regularly amuse her. She’d not known it at the time, but his reasoning had been sound. She really was like an informant in her own way. Connections with people, believing those connections were important. Except she’d never been in it for the information. Sure, she’d heard things that otherwise loose lips wouldn’t have freed, but…

Shaking her head, Belidrae freed a sigh, gently squeezing Toasty to her. Saith had taken her back up there. Or rather, she’d taken him.

“It’s where I go when I need a moment’s peace.” She’d told him. “It’s where I go when I need time to think.” And it was as much one of her favourite places to be as the lamppost outside of the city or the river where they had washed Woogle’s clothes together beneath a moonlit sky.

The night she took him up there again, he’d finally completed his constellation potion. Or, rather, what was likely the first version of it. Warned her it tasted horrible. Said it wouldn’t be immediate. She’d grimaced like a child taking medicine that would surely do more good than the taste it left on the tongue. They whittled the time and got lost in conversation. A home in Suramar. His home in Hillsbrad. Futuristic talks of where they saw one another. A seductive dance of words. And she had finished something she started long before then in the Wetlands.

And then she’d glowed just like a night sky glittered with diamonds. Belidrae remembered it all so clearly. In the same way all of her memories of Saith were vivid. Moments in time that were suspended for her occasional perusal. Lightly scratching behind Toasty’s ear, she found herself taken back to those moments that she revisited with frequency. She’d asked him if he could make her something permanent that did the same thing. That she might already have constellations etched into her skin. He’d said it was possible, but as with all of his alchemical things, it was a process.

“How far have you gotten, thas’dorah?”

Looking down to Toasty, she offered a sly smile. “We should probably stop poking around his things, hm?” Although he’d known she was going to. In the city’s tavern, she’d asked him if she could. Her newest garment collection would incorporate all of the different things he’d made. She’d wanted to bring as much attention to his works as she could bring a similar attention to her own.

Making way back for the doorway, she closed it after herself and only after she’d set a rather befuddled Toasty on the ground, Belidrae rested her back to the door. How was she going to emulate the constellations? Imbued cloth, maybe. She’d been able to do it with the fabric that shuddered in light during her testing. But a constellation replica was going to be so much more difficult. Saith wouldn’t have an answer either. He’d admitted rather easily that he knew nothing about her tailoring work or what really went into it.

Rubbing her hands together, her gaze turned sharp and keen. “Well, Toasty, we don’t know until we try, right? Maybe I should make you something to wear. I bet you’d just love that.” Although she doubted the kitten could understand a single thing she said, the fact that she was met by her kitten’s back as they wandered off entirely disinterested in Belidrae’s conversation aloud, she couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be into it. Back to the drawing board, eh?”

She’d figure it out. She always did.

— @daily-writing-challenge

[madwhimsical]

i am still slowly rewatching The Ghost and Molly Mcgee, and like, I know the basic shapes of the arcs, I remember Scratch growing to care for Molly across s1. but the thing about going through each episode with a fine-toothed comb is, i am seeing this shift start to happen in significant ways a lot sooner than I thought it did. Like, in-the-second-episode sooner.

On the one hand, I understand a show needing to establish its character dynamic status quo early on. Episode 1 did a great job of that initial setup, and also preparing the audience to expect a kind of slowburn of Scratch's emotional walls coming down (I'm looking at you, the oblique Scratch-as-Andrea apology at the end of First Day Frights). This kind of vibe continues in Howlin' Harriet, as Scratch invents "safe" reasons for hanging around Molly (e.g. using the camping trip to pad out his scare report). And the show could have run with only this formula for a while: Molly's doing a thing, find an excuse to be on the periphery, grouse about it, but ultimately acquiesce and become invested. In fact, this is pretty much the setup for ep 3's Getting the Band(Shell) Back Together.

But something interesting happens in ep 2's The (Un)Natural. Tammy rips on Molly's lack of pitching skill, and Scratch intervenes (i will refrain from talking here about how protective Scratch is of Molly's feelings already, although it is a catalyst). Crucially, and allow me to continue the softball metaphor here, Scratch approaches clowning on Tammy/the Skylarks in a way that positions Molly and himself as being on the same team.

He's still denying friendship motivating his actions, but Scratch is unequivocally excited about cheating at playing softball with Molly. He outright says, "I cannot wait until the next game when we do it all over again!" And I find this use of "we" significant, because I think this is the first instance he's used first person plural to designate Molly as being part of his personal sphere/plans. Any other time he's used "we" in reference to Molly, it's been more in service of convincing her to exit an activity/situation he'd rather not bother with (hell, he does this earlier in this same ep, to try to persuade Molly to leave the Lemmings well enough alone so he can take a nap). But the guy is having fun alongside Molly here, rather than despite her or at her expense. He's enjoying having a reason to pal around with her, to say nothing of having a kind of blanket approval to be a little bit of a stinker to the other teams via ghost powers. I talked earlier about "safe" reasons to enjoy Molly's company, and i think being aligned against a common adversary accomplishes that for Scratch in that he could plausibly claim he was simply enjoying haunting them. This allows him a freedom to be more openly enthusiastic about the ongoing events without having to show vulnerability regarding his growing fondness for Molly. And across the subsequent games, he looks like he's super enjoying himself, like

He's having a blast, he's being silly! He's doing little antics to get Molly's attention so she can share in his good time! Like, the degree to which Scratch reaches out to Molly this episode is kind of mindboggling for how early in the series we are. I did not expect this level of sincere engagement from Scratch until a while later. And when Tammy jabs at Molly yet again, he invites Molly to give input on how to get back at her. There's another usage of first person plural here, too: "Let's just take this jerk down". He's specifically positioning them together, against Tammy, on Molly's behalf.

I think it's also worth mentioning that by this point, Scratch is legitimately invested in the Lemmings' success, like. He does not want to see them lose this game. And when Libby brings home the win, it's a win they share alongside each other.

Tellingly, as the Lemmings are celebrating their championship victory, Molly and Scratch are situated in the stands, apart from the group. A part of their own team. Molly even echoes this sentiment back to Scratch, vis-a-vis her aim to inspire confidence in the Lemmings: "We did it."

This level of support from Scratch is not consistent yet (he pretty immediately reverts to professing disengagement from Molly and her family in the very next episode), but I was so surprised to see it here this plainly. I guess that's the power of sports!