#She can't change the future for ANY of them

[quantumtardis]

I saw this comment summarising of some of the info gleaned from leakers (I never saw that stuff, so I can't vouch for the accuracy of this):

First, the season was originally meant to have Ruby stay as the companion, concept art for Lux episode even shows Ruby in place of Belinda. It was Ruby who Poppy called "Mum" when they met her in Space Babies, and Doctor's specific quote was "I wish we were your mum and dad", not just him, so the connection would've been a lot better and make more sense if she had remained instead of Belinda. There are also some theories about not just Belinda being stand-in for Ruby, but also the baby god of wishes, according to the theories it was supposed to be revealed that the whole Season 1 mystery behind Ruby (and 73 Yards/the random snowing) was that she was the God of Wishes herself, which would've tied up both seasons at once. It is unknown if the God of Wishes part was true or not, or what the exact reason for Millie leaving was. Secondly, when the episode was originally shot back in 2024, Ncuti had not yet decided to leave and he even teased in an interview that they'd be filming Season 3 in 2025, that part of the interview ended up being cut from the broadcast, and nothing was mentioned in regards to Season 3 again ever since then. In February of this year, there was a random out of nowhere reshoot happening of the finale, which we now know to have been for the last 20 minutes of this episode (You can see some changes in the actors appearances like Ruby's hair in the later scenes) due to Ncuti's decision to depart, presumably because of the uncertainty of the show's future, they filmed the regeneration scene without any actor being chosen for the 16th and they toyed with the idea of just ending the episode without showing who he regenerates into and leaving it open ended. Billie Piper was approached and signed on only in the last month or so and her head was digitally placed onto Ncuti's body. The original ending for the finale had the whole team celebrating their victory in a club, with the camera panning over to show Susan standing and watching them from afar, wearing the grey outfit that she was wearing in the Unleashed episode after the Interstellar Song Contest episode. This is basically just my summary of all the various different posts and comments that were made by insiders and the infamous leakers who leaked 99% of the season correctly. The original ending thing is even confirmed by Disney+ who accidentally published a photo of Belinda and Doctor dancing in a club way after the info about it was posted by the scoopers.

After sleeping on "The Reality War", I've come to a sort of verdict on it: I don't think this episode can be properly judged without acknowledging the behind-the-scenes issues that heavily impacted it.

Specifically, Gatwa's decision to step back due to the postponing of a formal renewal of the show.

This image has been kicking around. It's a promo image from "The Reality War" of a scene that isn't in the final episode.

It's known that reshoots for the S15 finale took place in February. Based on what the rumours and leaks say, the episode originally had a totally different ending, involving that dance party. I've also heard speculation that it would have set up Poppy as a plot hook for the next season, and there would have been a cameo from Susan Foreman to set up the plot about her return that RTD has been teasing from as early as "The Devil's Chord".

It's clear that RTD and co. were expecting the renewal to come much, much earlier than it did, and that waiting until after S15 had broadcast was not actually the original plan at all. Gatwa gets fed up because he doesn't want to put his career on hold like this, so RTD quickly concocts a new ending with a regeneration.

Poppy was never, ever intended to be turned into Belinda's daughter in the original ending, but whatever RTD had planned for her, he clearly felt it would only work with Gatwa, and so he hastily wrapped that up while also setting up a regeneration. (Incidentally, this also may have left answers to the Belinda/Mundy resemblance hanging.)

As for the Billie Piper of it all? The reshoots being almost last-minute meant RTD didn't really have time to do a full-blown casting for a new Doctor, and he clearly decided to go for shock and spectacle (for reasons that have yet to be determined). I suspect he decided on this rather than a mid-regeneration cliffhanger as a way to have a more decisive cliffhanger, hoping that people will want to know why this happened.

I will also add that Piper probably isn't playing the Doctor: no official source up to and including the episode credits have referred to her as such, and the regeneration itself also looks off.

Although RTD bears some of the responsibility for the messy way things went down, he doesn't own all of it since the lack of decision on a renewal was clearly the inciting incident here. I do hope that someday we learn what the original ending was – it doubtless would have fit the story better. And it would have fit Belinda better as well.

At least we got Jodie Whittaker in a scene not written by Chris Chibnall. The way Thirteen is written there tells me that RTD hasn't completely lost his touch.

[kpop-ruins-our-lives]

Bet - Choi Hyunwook scenario (Angst, smut, some fluff) Part 3

Summary: Choi Hyunwook was a so called "bad boy" in school, has his group of friends and always makes trouble. Even though you didn't know him personally, you just want a minute to feel, to take this man and infact you did get lucky. Sometimes taking a bet just to feed your pride is not a good idea.

PART 1 / PART 2 /

Members: Choi Hyunwook x Reader Genre: Angst, some fluff, smut Warnings: mature language, smutty moments (fingering, boob play, sexual content, Intense make out sesh, raw sex), some minor things Word count: 4466

The next morning, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of last night’s memories settled deep into your chest. The events played on repeat in your mind—the way Hyunwook had taken care of you, the way his presence had lingered so close, and most of all, the way his lips had pressed against yours, deepening into something far more meaningful than a fleeting touch.

It wasn’t just the kiss that made your heart race, but everything leading up to it—the stolen glances, the quiet moments of care, the feeling of being completely seen by someone you had spent so much time arguing with. The realization hit you like a wave: there was no denying it anymore. You had fallen for him, despite everything.

And yet, despite the undeniable warmth of the memory, a sharp pang of embarrassment crept up inside you. What did I even say last night? Did I make a fool of myself? Your fingers tightened into the soft fabric of your pillow before you let out a muffled scream, burying your face into it. A mix of emotions swirled within you—excitement, nerves, uncertainty. You had been vulnerable in front of him in a way you never expected, and now, the reality of those moments made your heart pound with both thrill and dread.

Jieun walked into the room, eyebrows raised as she caught sight of your dramatic display.

"What... exactly is happening right now?" she asked, arms crossed.

You turned your face slightly, peering up at her before groaning.

"I think I have feelings for Hyunwook," you admitted reluctantly.

Jieun’s reaction wasn’t the one you expected—no teasing smile, no excited questions. Instead, her expression darkened with concern. She sighed, sitting down beside you.

"Y/N, I know I can't change your feelings, but you know how Hyunwook is. The faster you let go, you will not get hurt." she said making your heart sink up.

"Why are you so negative, maybe he has a soft spot." you said

"Why are you so naive Y/N?" was all she said before standing up.

"You know, Jihoon is part of that group, maybe he's I don't know trying to "use" you or something." you spoke up making Jieun turn around.

Jieun’s expression didn’t change.

"Jihoon is different, though," she insisted. "He’s not like them. He’s not like Hyunwook, Taewoo, and Minho." Her words left a bitter uncertainty hanging in the air. The morning quiet was filled with uncertainty and tension as you both tried to make sense of your feelings and the future ahead.

That day in school you did everything in your power to avoid Hyunwook. You planned your escape routes carefully. You took the longer way to class, stayed close to Jieun, kept your head down when you passed through the hallways, and even pretended to be incredibly invested in your notebook just to avoid any chance of looking in his direction.

Hyunwook wasn’t oblivious. He caught on quickly.

The golden hue of the setting sun bathed the school entrance in warm light as students trickled out, their voices blending into the background. You walked beside Jieun, mind preoccupied with avoiding Hyunwook at all costs. The entire day had been spent dodging him, refusing to acknowledge his presence, hoping that the weight of last night’s embarrassment would fade if you just kept your distance.

But as you stepped out of the school doors, there he was—leaning casually against the wall just outside the entrance. His posture was relaxed, yet his gaze was sharp, unwavering as he watched you approach. You barely had time to process the realization before he shifted slightly, stepping forward, and blocking your path.

"Wait," he said smoothly, his voice calm yet firm, his eyes locked onto yours.

Jieun stopped beside you, brows furrowing slightly at the sudden interruption. Hyunwook glanced at her before offering a polite nod. "Jieun," he said, tone steady, "Can I talk to her for a minute?"

Jieun looked between you two, her uncertainty plain. You swallowed, feeling the tension coil in your stomach—this was exactly what you had been trying to avoid.

You exhaled, knowing that running away wasn’t an option anymore. The afternoon breeze carried the promise of a conversation that could no longer be avoided.

Jieun gave you one last look before nodding and stepping away, leaving you alone with Hyunwook. The moment she walked off, you instinctively looked everywhere but at him, feeling the tension coil tight in your chest.

Hyunwook let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

"So," he said, tilting his head slightly, his eyes practically gleaming with amusement.

"Are we acknowledging that you've spent the entire day avoiding me?"

You pressed your lips together, refusing to entertain his teasing.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you muttered, focusing on a spot behind him instead of meeting his gaze.

Hyunwook smirked, stepping a little closer—too close. His presence was overwhelming, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, making your stomach twist.

"Really?" he mused, voice slow and deliberate, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Because I think you know exactly what I’m talking about."

Your breath hitched slightly when he leaned in just a fraction more, his voice dropping to something dangerously soft.

"You’ve been running away all day. Not even subtle about it, either," he mused.

"Every time I was near, you suddenly disappeared. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were embarrassed about something."

Your cheeks burned instantly, but you refused to admit it.

"I’ve just been busy," you lied, crossing your arms in a weak attempt to look unaffected.

Hyunwook scoffed, clearly unconvinced. His gaze roamed over you, studying you like he was dissecting every little reaction, every nervous shift in your posture.

"Right. Busy," he echoed, then casually leaned against the wall beside you, angling his body toward yours as his smirk grew.

"You know," he drawled, lowering his voice just slightly, "You said and did a lot of things yesterday and were so confident in yourself."

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head toward him, fully scandalized. "Hyunwook!" you hissed, glaring, but he only laughed—a deep, warm sound that made it even worse.

"Oh, come on," he teased, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. "You’re acting like it never happened. But I remember it clearly." His eyes flickered with something unreadable.

"And I know you do too."

You hated how your heart betrayed you at that moment—how the mere mention of it made your mind replay everything all over again. The warmth of the kiss, the way his hands had lingered, the way you had let it happen without resistance. And worse, the fact that he knew it affected you.

"Can we not talk about this?" you grumbled, trying to move past him, but he effortlessly blocked you with a casual step forward.

He grinned, looking way too satisfied.

"Oh no, I think we should talk about it. Especially since you’re acting like you didn’t enjoy it."

You shoved at his arm, only for him to let out another laugh, stepping back with ease but still watching you with that same teasing glint in his eyes.

---

The evening air was cool as Hyunwook and the boys gathered around their usual spot—an old bench near the basketball court where they wasted hours talking about nothing and everything. Taewoo leaned back, tossing a small rock between his fingers, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

"So," Taewoo started, voice edged with amusement.

"Are we gonna talk about it, or are we just gonna pretend like nothing happened?"

Hyunwook barely looked up, exhaling slowly as he scrolled through his phone. "Talk about what?" he asked, uninterested.

Taewoo scoffed, turning to Minho and Jihoon for support. "The bet. You never finished it."

At that, Hyunwook finally lifted his gaze, but there was something different about his expression—less smug, more restrained.

"I'm not doing that anymore," he said casually, like it wasn’t even worth discussing.

Minho raised a brow, clearly intrigued.

"Wait, you’re just backing out?" he asked. "Since when do you—"

"I said I’m not doing it," Hyunwook cut in firmly, leaning back against the bench, crossing his arms. He was calm, sure, but his tone left no room for argument.

Taewoo grinned knowingly, shaking his head.

"Damn. You really are getting soft, huh?" He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"She fell for you, but I think you fell harder."

Hyunwook clicked his tongue, shaking his head with an exasperated scoff. "You guys are so dramatic," he muttered.

Jihoon, who had been mostly silent, glanced at him. "But you care about her," he pointed out simply.

"That doesn’t mean I like her. She’s—" He hesitated for just a second, then shrugged it off. "She’s different, yeah. But I’m still the same."

Taewoo let out a low chuckle. "Still the same, huh?" he echoed.

"Still the guy who doesn’t do feelings, doesn’t do relationships, only messes around, jumping from girl to girl? You sure about that?"

Hyunwook sighed, stretching out his legs.

"Positive," he said, confident but unreadable.

The boys exchanged glances, but none of them pushed further. The truth was, no matter how much Hyunwook tried to convince himself that nothing had changed, something had. He felt it in a way that last night hadn’t been just some passing thing—but something that lingered, something that meant something.

But admitting that? That wasn’t happening—not tonight, not ever. So instead, he leaned back, cracking open a drink, pretending that none of it mattered more than he wanted it to. And for now, the boys let him pretend.

---

For the next few days, Jieun begged.

Every morning, between classes, after school—she was relentless. "Please, just come! You don’t even have to talk to him," she whined, grabbing your arm dramatically. "I just—ugh—I need you there. You know, moral support?"

You knew exactly why she wanted you to go. Jihoon. The way her eyes lit up whenever he spoke, the way she pretended not to care when the boys teased them. It was obvious, and you couldn’t deny that seeing her so happy made it harder to refuse.

So, against your better judgment—and knowing you'd have to deal with Hyunwook—you agreed.

Every meet-up was just effortless. It felt right. Whether it was grabbing food after school or spending weekends at the river, the dynamic had subtly shifted into something easier, warmer.

Jihoon and Jieun, to no one's surprise, flirted often, their casual teasing becoming something of a playful spectacle for the group. Whenever Jihoon leaned in too close, throwing in an exaggerated wink, Taewoo, and Minho wasted no time in teasing them mercilessly.

"You two gonna keep playing this game or admit something?" Minho joked one evening.

Jieun only rolled her eyes, acting unimpressed, but Jihoon smirked knowingly, tossing a casual, "She’s already obsessed with me."

Jieun scoffed. "You wish."

The group erupted into laughter, the teasing lighthearted, the atmosphere easy. It was different from before—less tension, fewer games, just the natural rhythm of friends who had somehow become closer despite the chaos that had started it all.

---

At Taewoo’s house one evening, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Outside on the patio, everyone was gathered together—laughing, teasing, and sharing playful banter under the soft glow of string lights. The night was filled with easy camaraderie, and as the group mingled effortlessly, an undercurrent of tension buzzed between you and Hyunwook.

You excused yourself and slipped away from the patio to the quiet refuge of the kitchen. You moved slowly between the cool tiles and the hum of the refrigerator, and you poured yourself a drink.

But Hyunwook wasn’t content to let you be alone. You felt his presence before you saw him—a subtle shift in the air, the soft sound of footsteps behind you. Leaning casually against the doorway at first, he offered a teasing smile as he watched you pour your drink.

The playful murmur of voices from the patio seemed far away compared to this charged moment in the kitchen. But Hyunwook’s teasing only grew bolder. He circled closer, lowering his voice.

"Why do you always act like you don't want me, us? You are hot and cold like each day Y/N." His words, laced with both frustration and longing, hung in the air as he reached out and gently, but firmly, grabbed your wrist.

The unexpected touch sent a jolt through you, and despite your best efforts to remain composed, your heart raced. Hyunwook pulled you slightly closer, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. There was a charged silence between you—a moment when words were unnecessary, replaced by an undeniable yearning.

Before you could muster a reply, he closed the distance. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate as if trying to erode every barrier that had kept you apart. The kiss spoke of everything you had both been denying—a mixture of frustration, desire, and an unspoken plea to let go simply. His hands roamed gently, his fingers tracing along your skin as he pulled you in with a fervor that compelled you to surrender to the moment. Maybe you really should just enjoy the moments you can have with Hyunwook and not always pull away or something like that. You know you have feelings for him, but you try so hard to throw them away because that is- That is Hyunwook. A guy with not many feelings.

After what felt like an eternity of breathless intensity, he slowly pulled away, his gaze searching yours in the quiet aftermath.

“Just let it be Y/N. Come on, we can have fun all the fucking time. Us.” he murmured, a hint of a challenge threading through his words.

“Enjoy these moments… as if you don’t want this any less than I do.” His tone was both gentle and insistent, urging you to abandon your reservations.

In that private space away from all the playful chaos of the party, everything was stripped down to raw feeling. The kitchen, with its hum of appliances and soft light, had become the stage for a moment of truth—a moment that carried the promise of what might be, if only you dared to let go fully and embrace it.

You let out a breath and quickly placed your hands on his shirt, tugging on it, pulling him in. Kissing him was addicting, was something you want to do all day and every day, not wanting to stop. This was it. Your guard was down. You let Hyunwook manipulate you in a way to fully let yourself to him.

His hands slid down your waist, grabbing onto your ass, squeezing it. Your tongues explored each other's mouths.

"I fucking hate you, you know that right?" you pulled away, looking up at him. A small smile at the corner of his lips formed. He looked around before his eyes lay on yours.

"Oh I know," he said.

---

Over a few weeks, Hyunwook and you slipped into an unspoken routine—meeting in places where time seemed to stand still, where no one else could interfere. It was never planned, yet it always happened, like gravity pulling you toward him.

Some meetings were stolen in hidden corners of the school—behind the gym lockers, in quiet stairwells, or even in the empty library aisles when no one was around. He’d catch your wrist as you walked past, pulling you into a secluded spot where his presence would swallow up all hesitation. The tension was always there, thick and electric, lingering between you like something unsaid. He wouldn’t speak immediately—his eyes would scan your face, reading every tiny shift in your expression. Then, as if reaching some silent conclusion, he’d step closer, crowding you against the wall, his fingers grazing your skin as if testing your reaction.

The nights belonged to you both in secret, too. You met behind the convenience store near school, a place dimly lit by flickering streetlights, the hum of passing cars in the distance. He leaned against the wall, watching you with that unreadable smirk, waiting for you to close the space between you. When you did, his hands would find your waist, slow and deliberate, pressing you against him as his lips captured yours. These moments were always heated—filled with urgency, restraint slipping away with every press of his mouth.

Each kiss carried a different intensity. Some were slow, teasing—his lips barely brushing yours before pulling away, waiting for you to chase after the warmth. Others were desperate, hands tangling in fabric, breaths merging as if trying to consume every bit of closeness while it lasted. But always, his touch was firm, confident—whether it was gripping your waist, tilting your chin up so he could deepen the kiss, or sliding his fingers down your arms with quiet reverence.

There was no label, no discussions about what any of this meant. But every time you found yourself with your back pressed against a wall, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, you knew: whatever it was, it was undeniable.

---

The night was calm, the soft hum of the city beyond the dorm windows barely noticeable against the stillness inside. You lay in bed, half-asleep, the quiet soothing after another long day. The sheets were warm against your skin, and for once, you thought you'd finally get a peaceful night's rest.

Until you heard it.

A quiet rustling—just the faintest shuffle near your window. Your breath hitched as you sat up slightly, heart pounding for a moment before a familiar voice whispered low from the dark corner of your room.

"You're terrible at locking windows."

You nearly jumped, eyes widening as Hyunwook emerged from the shadows, his usual smirk playing at his lips, his hands resting casually in his pockets. He was inside your dorm room. At night.

“What the—” you started, but he was already moving closer, unbothered by the fact that sneaking into someone’s dorm wasn’t exactly normal behavior.

“I knocked,” he said, voice low and teasing. “But since you didn’t answer, I figured you wouldn’t mind a guest.”

You glared at him. “I was asleep!”

He sat at the edge of your bed like he belonged there, completely at ease. “Yeah, I could tell,” he mused, eyes flickering over you with something unreadable.

“You talk in your sleep, you know."

You groaned, grabbing the pillow beside you and smacking him with it, only for him to laugh quietly, the sound melting into the night as if it belonged there.

“I hate you,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“You say that a lot,” he said, leaning back on his elbows, watching you closely. “Yet here we are.”

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how intimate this moment felt—him, in your room, at night, with no one else around. Just you two, the quiet pressing between you.

“What do you want?” you asked softly.

His smirk faltered for just a moment, replaced by something softer, something less guarded.

“Nothing. Just... Wanted to do this” he said

You barely had time to respond before he moved in one swift motion on top of you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he shifted closer, his body heat pressing into the space between you.

His hand grazed your waist first, slow and deliberate, before trailing up to cup your face. You inhaled sharply as he tilted your chin slightly, his touch firm, controlled, yet undeniably gentle.

One of his hands slid under the fabric of your shirt, resting just above your ribs, his fingers warm against your skin. The kiss grew heavier, more intoxicating, the silence between you breaking only for the occasional shaky inhale.

His lips ghosted along your jaw, trailing downward, lingering against the sensitive spot near your ear.

Then he pulled back, and you watched with careful eyes. His hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it to the floor. You evened the score, taking off your shirt and discarding it on the floor. Then, with your eyes never leaving him, you unclipped your bra, slowly revealing your bare chest to him before you discarded it on the floor as well.

And Hyunwook couldn’t help himself. His eyes drifted down to your chest, darkening at the sight of you, and then his hands were on you. But his touch wasn’t rushed. It was soft and slow as his fingertips glided across your skin, tracing your curves. 

You sucked in a sharp breath when his fingertips brushed over your nipples.

Hyunwook's lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you nearly sighed at the way his breath tickled your skin.

"In case you need another reminder—" he whispered, squeezing your thigh. He rolled his hips into yours, and that was when you felt it: his hardened length dragging against your clothed center— "I really wanted to fuck you for so long."

He sank lower down your body, his body between your legs, and you felt your core clench at what this position entailed.

"This OK?" he questioned as his fingers curled under the hem of your sweatpants.

Holding your breath, you could only nod. Hyunwook only grinned.

That was all it took before Hyunwook pulled your shorts down your legs, tugging your underwear down in the process and leaving you bare to his eyes.

Hyunwook leaned down kissing your neck, and proceeded to kiss your neck slowly, grabbing onto your breasts. His body lowered down and he couldn't wait to taste you.

His tongue moved onto your now exposed rosy-pink clit. The bud was poking out as Hyunwook lavished it with tongue strokes, alternating between gentle and firm, rapid and slow movement over the surface, and breaking from this to suck your clitoris, increasing the sensation on this delicate spot. At the same time, one arm snaked its way up your body while the other hand gently teased the entrances to your pussy and ass.

You couldn't help but moan and buck your hips upward while Hyunwook's tongue did wonders on your cunt. He tongue fucked you to a powerful orgasm.

"Fuck Y/N." Hyunwook groaned.

His eyes met yours then. He kept his eyes on you as he gave his leaking cock a few pumps. Hyunwook crawled back over you, caging you in with his body. 

"Hyunwook-"

"I'm right here baby-" he hummed as he leaned down to press a single kiss on your lips. His eyes never left your face even as you felt the tip of his cock line up with your entrance. It seemed he wanted to watch you as he sunk into you inch by inch, and you had a hard time not clenching at the thought. 

You felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.

Hyunwook loved the way you looked while he fucked you. The moans escaping your mouth, you biting your lip. The warmth of your naked body against his.

With a soft moan and a whimpering shiver, you moved your hips so the pressure was just right.

"You are so bad and that feels so good," you whispered

You were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper.

The morning light crept softly into the room, illuminating a gentle scene that contrasted the wild night before. Hyunwook, still shirtless, and you, nestled beside him in your favorite well-worn pajamas, your hair a little tousled as if echoing the memories of last night.

This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips. He gave a few smaller, but hard thrusts, still moaning silently before he licked his lips, swallowed, and quickly pulled out, cumming all over your stomach. Hyunwook nearly collapsed on top of you with another low moan as his orgasm consumed him.

---

Hyunwook gave you a few long kisses on the lips, pulling your body closer to his. Just as Hyunwook and you savored the calm morning intimacy, the door creaked open unexpectedly. Jieun’s presence broke the reverie, and you both jerked up in alarm. In a flash of humor and embarrassment, you and Hyunwook scrambled to cover yourselves with the nearest sheet. The cool fabric was quickly clutched around you both.

With wide eyes and a half-suppressed grin, Jieun paused in the doorway. She quickly covered her eyes with her hand.

"Jesus Christ you guys, like get a separate room or something," she spoke, laughter filled the room.

"Oh like you didn't have fun last night?" Hyunwook winked jokingly

Jieun laughs, shaking her head.

"Okay, okay... I see you Choi Hyunwook..."

"Anyway... Please get dressed, I need to get to bed, It's been a long night..." Jieun smiled covering her eyes again, shutting the door behind her.

"Imma go to the bathroom," she added and quickly closed the bathroom door behind her.

Hyunwook and you shared eye contact and laughed. He was the first to move. He shifted to the edge of the bed, his bare feet quietly padding across the cool hardwood floor. You just watching him with a growing sense of admiration. With deliberate and graceful movements, he lifted the shirt off the floor, the fabric catching the light as it slipped through his fingers. Standing up fully, he paused, almost as if savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment before the memories of last night mingled with the calm of the new day.

Hyunwook’s eyes twinkled mischievously at you. Leaning in just a bit closer, he broke the comfortable silence with a teasing remark that drew a small, amused smile from you.

“I suppose from now on you’ll keep these windows wide open, won’t you?” he joked, his voice low and playful as his gaze never wavered from yours.

"I don't know, I will maybe lock my windows from now on." you teased

"Hm, after last night, they will be open wide, just like you were yesterday."

"Hey!" Your cheeks warmed with a mixture of playful irritation and undeniable attraction

While the present is carefree and nice, a quiet question remains in your head about whether the fun might one day just end randomly, that he would change his mind. For now, though, the joy of your moments together is all that matters, and you both savor the simplicity of being in each other's company.

[de7ieee4]

Warning: A sad De7 lore drop !!!⚠️

Happy Pride month to my favourite people on the internet 🤗🏳️‍🌈 You all deserve a break of whatever you are going through. Stay strong people ✊️

Also there is something I wanted to share for a while and I thought pride month might be the best to bring this up (at first I wasn't sure if I could ever bring this up here but what do I have to loose really?). Hey, I'm De7. I'm a girl and I'm Bi. That doesn't mean anything to you and I know none of you care but it was a real struggle to admit that to myself for a decade now. I still can't even believe I'm actually writing this and it feels weird tbh😭

Ever since I first found out I could have feelings for girls I freaked out sm and flipped around my thoughts with "am I a lesbian or just confused?". Since my childhood my family would tell us kids how disgusting the lgbt community is but in my head I never actually saw anything wrong. Just people being people, different from us? Sure! But just people. Yet whenever they would talk bad about them I never had any other choice but to join cuz otherwise they'd suspect something (wich my sis and cousin did recently actually but after convincing them, never believed that again, but my sis reminded me at that time that she can't stand gay people and that she'd break contact with me if i was "one of them" wich really hurt) You probably would say something like "leave you're family" but that is easier said than done. I don't wanna loose contact with them since I love them all and all those good memories I had with them will never be forgotten (like future bdays and christmas I will loose forever). But I know that they wouldn't change for me or love me if I told them (they'd fs abandon me) but that is my reality and our culture and I'll have to live with this till who knows how long. For now it's fine since I also like boys soooo atleast I have a options yk💀

I can't ever deny the fact that I had girl crushes tho since Deniale is a river in egypt.

Sorry for the yappings. I didn't write this to get sympathie or pity. Just letting out something that I never could with friends and family.

I don't even wanna know how'd they react if they found out about my Sonadow drawings bruh😂

My life is messsyyyyyy🥀🥀

Anyways thanks for reading and I'll see you on the next part of Sonadow Olymipics

[just-honey-dewd]

Oh I've been speculating everything in s1 except for episode 5.5 is post-Yingdu atp, I covered it in this post

Yeah no these inconsistencies can't really be explained, especially since it seems to me S1 and Yingdu arc are meant to flow into each other. I hope the show covers the discrepancy on the Emma case specifically, that April is September theory feels like it's onto something with the way everything else in s1 takes place in the later half of the year.

I think what bothers me about the 2018/2019 thing is that in the Dou Dou case's depiction of events, Qiao Ling seems far too... calm? She's hanging out with Xu Shanshan even though Cheng Xiaoshi is overseas in the one place she was so adamant he shouldn't go to. That's not enough to judge her behaviour, but then they see Cheng Xiaoshi (from the future) and Qiao Ling doesn't give chase. It feels like the most retroactive retcon that the aforementioned trip Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang were involved in was the Yingdu trip. Doesn't help either that there was barely any breathing room to show Lu Guang ever interacting with Xu Shanshan and Dong Yi to justify being in contact with the former.

S1 makes it seem like Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang knew each other at least a few months longer (enough to be in the same friend group) before they made that trip together. But Yingdu arc basically shows that they were functionally new friends and roommates. I considered the possibility that Vivian's case and the roommates situation happened sooner than usual (but then Cheng Xiaoshi asking Lu Guang to investigate Cheng Weimin's photo requires that Vivian's case happened as it did, and Cheng Xiaoshi finds the letter because he's finding clothes for Lu Guang to lend).

Up until Lu Guang passed out from his fever, he was operating with the goal of keeping events going as they were meant to. So... straight up, either Shao Yuanyuan could've done a lot more to the timeline rather than Lu Guang, and-or some of the inconsistences are not by design.

Never considered Li Tianchen and Cheng Xiaoshi's powers working that way... I figured that certain abilities are incompatible with each other since for these specific abilities, Li Tianchen needs to maintain his grip on the person to possess them, while Cheng Xiaoshi's powers rely on being able to move without physical restraint. I figured the kidnapping plan would naturally lead to Li Tianchen strongarming Cheng Xiaoshi to use his abilities to change his and Xixi's fates (or take his abilities through a fatal power transfer). Lu Guang would be more susceptible to Li Tianchen's powers because activating his abilities wouldn't require the displacement of his physical body.

Cheng Xiaoshi's abilities with Li Tianxi/Qiao Ling's seem compatible enough since the former dives into the person who took the photo, while the latter can possess the memories/spectate the subject featured in the photo. I'd assume one way to try a combined ability use would be to clap while both look at the photo? Cheng Xiaoshi would navigate in the body of the photographer, while Qiao Ling could have greater access to the feelings of whoever was featured in the photo (which may or may not include the photographer but Cheng Xiaoshi would cover that blindspot) -- and this shared empathy can be shared between the duo?

I already have a rough idea that Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling would basically only attempt this because they want to understand Lu Guang and his memories, so they basically use their powers in this specific manner to possess his feelings to learn the truth? But otherwise, the utility of this combo is pretty limited to short-ranged accessibility of understanding someone inside out-- which is kind of invasive and wouldn't be used so fragrantly? I don't see it being very resourceful to incorporate into their time agent business, but it'd be a cool concept to explore to figure out mysterious power users specifically.

Ngl, in Cheng Xiaoshi's shoes I'd just accept that Lu Guang's powers might as well be divination and he just knows the right words to coax a response out of people XD

Fr tho, Lu Guang's sick at that point, so it could've passed off as delirium and good intuition. That message wasn't even that helpful since going through the scenes again, the owner brings it up naturally.

I think among the revelations Cheng Xiaoshi experiences within the span of a summer, I wouldn't blame him for just not questioning the only person willing to help him make sense of the situation.

https://www.tumblr.com/psychopomp-namine/770464414021337088/i-am-sooo-excited-for-yingdu-arc-specifically?source=share

sorry if it seems like i'm ghosting but I've been seeking for discussion on this specific scene from s1. i've never fully delved into it, but i kind of just left it as a "CXS was having a panic attack" moment until I could personally reconsider it again.

yingdu did not explain anything about this to me. i am still befuddled, perhaps even more so. cuz these s1 basketball flashbacks seem more irreversibly connected to LG's version of events to me??? CXS still remembers they met and bonded fast at a basketball court -- but also this CXS is meant to be the same one in yingdu, and his meeting with LG was not like s1e5's flashbacks. what if LG and CXS being connected during dives allows the slightest bit of connective memory merging? considering that the first flashback to their basketball meeting was triggered by "what does basketball mean to you" and we transition from that flashback to LG's pov afterwards. [i think it's appropriate theming in that scene to assume that both CXS and LG had thought about their first meeting instead of just LG]

what if CXS indirectly shares LG's version of history when they're both indulging in the same memories during dives? and since CXS was in an especially nostalgic state during the basketball game, the moment he felt that he directly endangered an important node -- he felt a visualised sixth sense that LG perhaps feels every time he knowingly diverges from a node.

LG already diverged from the basketball meeting, so that flashback he and CXS might've shared led to a distortion in CXS's brain while he's panicking over changing events. The LG distortion image might be CXS feeling the effects of a memory that never was, in relation to panicking that he's rewritten the timeline.

Cuz that memory is a rewritten node, incompatible with CXS's actual memory.

link for reference. and the mentioned distorted image:

also, no worries, nobody cares about people going through old posts on tumblr lol

I agree that the distorted image is definitely a reference to lu guang changing the timelines by going back to the basketball game in yingdu. he is, himself, the changed element

sidenote: I think I will politely disagree with your statement though that S1 cheng xiaoshi is meant to be the same one from yingdu. what yingdu established is that some events of S1 happened at least twice, but it's not made clear (afaik) if all S1 episodes specifically are post-yingdu or pre-yingdu. my personal interpretation is that it's a mix of both, just because there are some inconsistencies, the biggest one being that cheng xiaoshi in S1 was not aware of what would happen if he clapped by himself (without lu guang) into a picture, which is something he should've known already from the start given that's how he discovered his ability in yingdu. S1E9 is supposedly his first time trying it, and we even get a flashback of cheng xiaoshi asking lu guang what would happen if he ever clapped by himself. which, again, he should've already known. it's like the one thing about photo diving that he should know firsthand without asking lu guang. there's a lot of little flashbacks in S1 that puts into question of whether or not the scene we're watching is from the yingdu timeline. but we do know though that S2 events occurred after yingdu, so the last few episodes of S1 that lead to S2 should also be post-yingdu.

the S1 basketball scene flashback might be closer to their pre-yingdu meeting than the yingdu one. in my opinion, yingdu!lg would not say, so nonchalantly, "it's just a game; why take it so seriously?" (paraphrasing), even if he was trying to go for the "unaffected, cool kid" look. he could be "sticking to the script" but given his intense reaction after diving, idk,,, he seems too shaken up at that point. I think the distorted image is more for the audience and less about cheng xiaoshi actually experiencing a glitch in his flashback

but time and by consequence memory does seem to be already fucked up in link click, so it would be cool and I wouldn't be surprised if lu guang's memories of past timelines can bleed into cheng xiaoshi's somehow. that would be fun. I would love to see this happen more in canon

bonus: glad that the distorted image from the basketball scene makes more sense now. still don't know what the weird glitch sound was from the S2 finale though. it could be nothing, but I sure hope it's something lol (if you're region blocked from the video, the sound happens around just before 6 minutes into the S2 finale)

[turkwriter]

Those five or so seconds where young Ahsoka is watching Anakin walk through the smoke and her expression becomes horrified as he transforms into Darth Vader for just a moment as he and the rest of her Squad leave her behind, alive but alone-

[fromtheseventhhell]

I don't think anyone who believes Arya is focused on revenge has ever actually read her chapters, it's just been one long game of telephone where people repeat a take they heard so they can pretend they know what they're talking about

[novococain]

🦴

[justworthlessreblogs]

waffleverse but combine it with another one of my favorite series

pekorin is here because there’s only 8 official members of the kirapati staff in waffleverse and i needed 9 for the meme. explanations for my reasoning are in the tags

[traegorn]

while i completely agree with your assessment of realistically what a trump vs harris presidency will look like, i think the issue me and a lot of other leftists have is that there is no need to tell people (and effectively tell harris) that oh ofc we are gna vote for her despite these issues because trump is THAT bad and if you say you don't want to vote for her because her party is pro-war, pro-genocide, then you are condemning americans to a trump presidency. we know trump is worse! i don't want him to win AT ALL, but why would harris even consider even changing the language she is using (i'm looking at the absolutely stupid speech she was giving in michigan, given the large arab & muslim-american population there and given its a battleground state) if she thinks she is going to win on a not-trump basis? i know who i'm voting for on nov 5th if it comes down to it, but we need the democrats to THINK they are going to lose until the very last minute, we need them to feel like they can't just rely on being the lesser of two evils if we want any chance of a shift on palestine. because they very well might lose, for this exact reason (and i'm speaking again more to the votes of the arab & muslim-american population which is far more demographically meaningful than the votes of leftists) and if that happens, they have no one to blame but themselves.

So I'm going to tell you something important: You don't have the leverage you think you have.

Political campaigns are a machine that's been operating the same way for a long time on the Democratic side. The Republicans may have abandoned a lot of the old ways of doing things, but the Democratic party hasn't. And you've got people running these campaigns who are steeped in the "wisdom" of how you win.

And when a block of voters says they're not going to vote for their candidate, they tend to believe them. So they decide to go court the people who they think will vote for them. That's why you've seen the Harris campaign trying to court moderate Republicans who might be iffy on voting for Trump a third time.

Right now one of the reasons Netanyahu is refusing to commit to a cease fire is because he thinks Trump can win. If Trump wins, he has no reason to ever agree to one. One of the reasons he thinks Trump can win is because the polling is so close.

If you want to know why they've gone to the right recently, it's because they think they've lost the left. And since a lot of those leftists are claiming there's a line in the sand that they don't have the power to appease (because -- again -- they can't get Netanyahu to do shit right now), they're going to go for the centrist Republicans.

Also, there seems to be this weird notion that the only way to move the Democrats is during the election. That's not how you move people. You keep pressuring them during their term and it works. Like Biden is continuing to work on forgiving student debt even though he doesn't have an election ahead of him. Because they know that what he does reflects on the future of the party. Voting doesn't end this game, it's the start of it.

But none of it will matter if Trump wins.

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[quitedisastrous]

i wouldn't mind going on t i think. it would be cool

[lilacgaby]

katsuki wasn't an overprotective boyfriend type.

he believed that excessive rules in a relationship stemmed from insecurity, and insecurity is not something the future number one hero should suffer from.. at least excessively.

but a lot of his principles changed when you two got married and discussed boundaries. but all that was thrown out the window when you got pregnant and he discovered..

he was a bit of a helicopter husband.

and that was putting it lightly. you'd get a text every hour asking where you were. another text asking what you ate and encouraging you to eat more. a call every patrol where all he wanted was for you to put your belly close to the mic so he could speak to the baby, before he was usually interrupted by a villain. "sorry kid, wait up. gotta beat this extra into the ground-"

"who are you even talking to man?"

it got significantly worse when you'd been called in as support for a particularly dangerous uprising of villains.

forget morning sickness— he was going to throw up worrying about you.

against his orders though, he dragged you off into a cleared area, and sat you down on a beam from a destroyed building. he had to, ignoring your protests and the yells for him to stop and go assist other heroes, he genuinely couldn't focus with the thought of you in the back of his mind.

"stay here." he ordered, hands on his hips after he fixed and laid you down against the wall, ignoring your crossed arms and annoyed expression.

"it's literally my job to just stay back and assist. i don't get why i can't be over there in the radius of my quirk."

he let out a deep sigh, "they need you over there but i need you here. fuckin' safe and sound." he got down onto one knee to be eye-level with you.

"i know you want to fight, but can't you just get that it's different now?" his gloved hand found your stomach mindlessly, as if for emphasis. he gently rubbed around, like he was looking for the baby.

"you can't be mad at me for caring. i'd be an ass if i just let you stay there."

begrudgingly, you rolled your eyes and uncrossed your arms. well, more like he pulled them apart.

"not mad. more like.. mildly annoyed."

"mildly." he laughed under his breath, "you can be any level of upset. long as you keep your ass here." he got up, stretching his neck as he put his gear back on.

"don't you dare move, i'll be back as soon as i kill this dipshit."

"i thought you said no cursing around the baby."

he only shrugged. "eh, censorship is for nerds."

but even with all this, you couldn't get this man to admit he was overprotective. even as he sat across a interviewer, with them retelling the actions that he'd done that day, he held a neutral expression.

"i wouldn't call myself an overprotective anything. im just really fucking good at everything i do, so to some losers it might look like a lot."

"but aren't hourly calls a bit much..?"

"again. losers wouldn't get it."

type of guy to say "we're pregnant" instead of "she's pregnant".. helpppp

[psychopomp-namine]

I actually have a fic idea but lc is a show that's like. you will never ever have all the information and context until the end. and I am a writer who writes best and more confidently when I have all the info and context at my fingertips. so now I'm just like 🧍‍♂️

anyway. ramble in the tags

[aperrywilliams]

Glowing (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: The team has been out on a case for about ten days now. You're not with them this time due to your 21st-week pregnancy and doctor's order not to go to the field, and you miss your husband, Spencer, like crazy. When they come back, Spencer can't stop looking at you and your recent baby bump. To say it makes him feral is an understatement, and he wants to show you how marvelous you are despite your insecurities about your changing body.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Spencer and Reader are horny AF. There is a lot of teasing, heated kissing, heavy making out, oral sex, PIV sex, and breeding kink (a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy). Reader has some insecurities about her body.

A/N: This idea was requested a while ago. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get it done. But here it is! Someone asked for horny!future!dad!Spencer? Well, you’re welcome.

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You can't say you are thrilled about staying in Virginia when all of your team is fighting crime on the other side of the country. Not when it has been ten days since they are gone. Not when you haven't seen your husband that long because he happens to work on the same team.

It's not that you had another option, though. Considering you are almost in your 21st week of pregnancy, your doctor advised you to take it slow on the job. That means being on the field miles away from home became a big no, and this time, you had to settle for nightly phone calls and daily texts with Spencer.

So it doesn't surprise anyone to see the happiness on your face when Hotch calls around midday, announcing that the case is over and they are flying home.

Penelope, always the joyful human being on Earth, immediately got on board with Rossi to host a gathering in his mansion once they were back tonight. Of course, Rossi agreed. Virtually no one can say no to Penelope.

"Okay, mama-genius," she says after ending the call with David. "We have a party tonight and a lot of things to do."

You may be worried about what 'a lot' can imply, but it is just a saying. Penelope will do most of it anyway, claiming you can't do any strenuous task so as not to bother baby-genius. Since the moment you and Spencer told the team about the baby's coming, Garcia baptized you all: papa-genius, mama-genius, and baby-genius. You find it the cutest thing in the world.

Walking through the supermarket aisles, you get everything you'll need: snacks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, and all the stuff. And with the cart full, Penelope sends you home to get ready.

"But Pen, you need help to set all this up."

"Don't worry, honey. I already have Anderson waiting for me at Rossi's. The benefits of having a spare key," she proudly says, dangling her keychain full of keys. "Now go! Go to get ready for your man. I know you have been missing him like crazy."

She is not wrong in the slightest, so you don't fight her. A bath sounds nice right now, and with all the pregnancy going on, you'll need the extra time to get ready.

-

Ten days have been torture for Spencer Reid. It's the longest he has been apart from you since you guys discovered you are pregnant. Sure, phone calls and texts help, but it's not enough. Not to the overprotective Spencer, anyway. It's not that he doesn't trust you; he does. But his mind always works in overdrive, and he worries more than he should. Not to mention, he has missed you like he hasn't seen you in months.

When Rossi tells the team the plans for the night once they arrive, Spencer is a bit disappointed. He would have preferred to go straight home to be with you. But when JJ assures him you will be there, his apprehensions change to anticipation.

The kind of anticipation that keeps him anxious until everyone arrives at Rossi's past 8 p.m. They were a little bit late for the estimated time, but the traffic was hell today.

A happy Penelope opens the door before Rossi can reach his key.

"Welcome home, mon amis."

"My home, you say?" the old man corrects, no real annoyance in his voice.

"Share is care, so our home is," Garcia retorts, effusively hugging every team member crossing the threshold. The last one is Spencer. "Your woman is waiting for you," she whispers to him after almost crushing him in her embrace.

Spencer practically runs to the living room, where you are greeting everyone. His eyes nearly can't give credit to what he sees. Of course, he knows how you look. He has known you for years and has memorized every detail of you: your height, the way your head leans when you're listening to someone, the color of your eyes, the way you smile, your expressive hands, and every curve of your body. But today? Something looks different, alluring, magnetic, and so entrancing.

His brain has a suitable explanation for it. Sure, when you haven't seen your partner in days, you tend to enhance every detail you love about them. 'Love hormones,' others would say. But no, this is more than psychology and chemistry.

Pregnancy has made changes in you. It was expected, and Spencer knows that, but reading it in a book is way different than seeing it for himself. Sure, there were the headaches and the morning sickness in the early stages. Adding the mood swings and fatigue. But nothing prepared him for the body changes. And not in the bad way people must think, all the opposite. To Spencer, pregnancy has made you the most sexy woman in the world. And after ten days of being deprived of those changes, to him, all come at once. Your breasts got bigger, and you definitely started to show more. The sundress you're wearing just enhances those details, and Spencer feels like he can faint right there.

When your eyes meet across the room, his breath hitches; those eyes he loves so much are glowing and chanting a spell Spencer won't escape from. Not that he wants to, anyway.

Shameless, you leave your conversation with Prentiss and Luke and run to your husband, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I missed you," you murmur into his neck. Spencer hugs you back and closes his eyes, relishing how good you smell and how good it is to have you in his arms again. "We missed you," you add.

The mention of your unborn child melts Spencer on the spot. "I missed you both, too," he manages to say, reluctantly parting from your embrace to look at you and get lost in your eyes again. "I love you," he whispers, leaning to capture your lips with his. And just like that, the anti-PDA, Spencer Reid, indulges himself in kissing you in front of everyone.

The teasing from the team around is only background noise, and neither Spencer nor you are very concerned about it. Not until you involuntarily tug his hair, and Spencer needs to do everything in his power to stop the groan threatening to escape his lips.

Parting and clearing your throats, you both try to regain composure. All the team's eyes are on you, but the only one who dares to point out the obvious is Rossi.

"I have a guest room upstairs, at the second door down the hall."

The comment causes the team to laugh and you to be mortified.

"Sorry," you both mumble, a deep shade of crimson adorning your cheeks. Grabbing your hand, Spencer pulls you to a corner. You're still in sight of the people but far enough to talk and not be listened to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He points to your baby's belly. It's not an accusatory question, more like an excited one.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I would have liked to be in a more private setting, but I wasn't going to miss being here and waiting for you at home to show you."

Spencer's hand rests over your now prominent belly and rubs soothing patterns there. "It's amazing," he admits. "How are you feeling?"

You let out a content sigh, feeling the warmth emanating from your husband's palm to your lower stomach.

"Much better now you're here."

"They haven't done much trouble, have they?"

"Nah. Behaves like an angel." And it's the truth. The second trimester has been much better than the previous one: no morning sickness, less fatigue, and it has been great.

There are other 'issues' though. The boost of energy has been paired with an increase in your libido that sometimes is very hard to control. The times Spencer is around, having sex can be enough, but with days passing and with the tenderness and care Spencer has been touching you, it's getting hard to satiate your most primal needs. You know he does it because he doesn't want to hurt you, but even if you have assured him you won't break, he hesitates nonetheless.

And now, after all these days without him, you are sure another touch from him, even the most innocent, will set your body on fire. You are sure this night will be excessively long.

Spencer's thoughts are not very different from yours. The moment he sees you in your sundress walking to him was enough to make his mind wander.

"OK, mister. Enough lovebirds' moment for now. The girls need their time, too." Without warning, Penelope grabs your hand to lead you to the group where Tara, Emily, and JJ are.

You can only shrug to Spencer as Penelope drags you from him. Spencer gives you a reassuring smile. It's fine; you are both adults, he reminds himself. How can it be so difficult to keep his hands to himself for a couple of hours?

Easier said than done, he'll realize.

Neither of you can't help the stolen glances across the room or the subtle smiles you share as you talk to the team at different spots in the house.

Spencer doesn't know if he can control himself much longer. You look stunning and tempting, and his mind starts to fill with unholy things he wants to do to you.

"Reid?" Luke's worried voice gets him out of his mental predicament.

"I - uh. I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

"Are you alright, man? You seem distracted."

If alright means extremely horny and with an incipient boner tightening his pants, then yes, he's more than alright.

"Yes. Yeah. Uh - I'll grab some water. Excuse me, I'll be right back."

The trip to the bathroom is quick and mildly effective: Splashing cold water on his face and reciting the Declaration of Independence in his mind, Spencer regains some composure and gets back to where the people—and you—are.

The night continues in the same way. It's not like you are openly teasing him, but Spencer can't help himself.

The last straw comes when you're in the backyard talking to JJ and Emily, and you're laughing so hard that your body jolts, making your breasts bounce a bit, exposing more of your cleavage. It's not that evident to anyone, but for Spencer, who has been gawking at you all night, it is clear as day.

He wants you, and he wants you now.

Spencer sets his glass of water on the table and strolls where you are. Giving JJ and Emily a tight-lip smile, he leans to whisper something in your ear. The girls can't hear what it is, but the flush in your cheeks should give them an idea.

"Yeah, it's kind of late. And yeah, I'm feeling a bit tired," you tell Spencer, now looking at the girls, not wanting to disclose what Spencer actually said.

"Sure, carrying a baby Reid must be exhausting," Emily teases, gaining a roll of eyes from Spencer.

"Go, guys. Don't worry; I think I'll leave soon, too," JJ says, and you nod gratefully to avoid making more uncomfortable the moment.

With a tight grip on your hand, Spencer walks with you to say goodbye to everybody. Then, no later than that, you hop on the Uber, already waiting outside Rossi's.

-

All the ride home, Spencer's hand rests firmly on your tigh. His eyes can't peel off of you. All of you. It's like he hasn't seen you in months and wants to memorize each feature. You look back at him with a mix of amusement and self-consciousness. The lust is all written on his gaze, but there is something more, too. Love, longing, reverence. It's like there isn't anything else in the world but you.

The thought only fuels how much you love him and, of course, how horny you feel. Is it hot in this car, or is that just your idea? Why is the ride taking longer than you would like? You're about to huff in protest when the vehicle stops at your destination. Thanks God!

Spencer never falters his grip on you all the time. You can feel him everywhere: on your hand as you take the stairs, on your lower back walking down the hall, on your shoulder when you fish the key in your purse.

As the door shuts behind you, Spencer's lips are on yours in an instant. Kissing you hard. Like he's a drowning man, and you are the air he needs.

"God, you don't know how hard it was to control myself," Spencer mumbles, now peppering wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

"Hard, uh? Well, I guess I have an idea," you say, palming him over his slacks, making him hiss.

"Don't tease me, please," Spencer growls between kisses as he walks you both through the apartment to your bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your path.

"I'm not, baby. I promise I'm not. I'm as desperate as you are." You're not lying. Your body has been on fire the whole night. You want him as much as he wants you right now.

When your legs hit the bed, you're both only in your underwear.

Spencer breaks the kiss to look at you. The bedroom is only lit by the hallway lights. He reaches for the nightstand to switch the lamp on, but before he does, you stop him.

"Can we just-" You don't finish the sentence, but Spencer understands what you're asking for.

"Yeah. We can, of course. But what's wrong?"

It's not the first time you have sex with the room's lights off, but those times, neither of you has explicitly requested it. You usually don't have trouble with Spencer seeing you naked, but since you got pregnant and your body started to change, you don't feel sexy, and it is mining your confidence. Spencer's suspicion goes in that same direction.

"Nothing," you say, pulling him to kiss him again with the same passion as before. Spencer almost surrenders at your doing, but he stops.

"Hey," he whispers. "Talk to me."

You sit on the mattress, knowing you have to tell him what's bothering you. He sits by your side, patiently waiting for you to collect your thoughts and choose your words.

After some seconds of deliberation, it is you who switches the lamp on. Standing from the bed, you plant yourself in front of Spencer.

"What do you see?" you ask, with your hands on your hips.

Spencer's eyes rack your body from head to toe, especially double-taking your lower stomach, where your pregnant belly is. The answer is obvious to him.

"My perfect and sexy wife, standing almost naked in front of me, trying to kill me because I can't touch her yet."

You roll your eyes, huffing. "Spencer, be serious, please."

"I am! Baby, I don't know why you could think I'm not being honest with you."

There is a scold on the tip of your tongue, but you relent, changing it for a deep sigh.

"But look at me! These-" you say, eyes darting between your breast and the skin of your stomach. "There is no chance this is sexy. I'm bloated half of the time; my skin feels gross, and the stretch marks are more every day. And my tits! God, if I unhook my bra, they are going to fall to the floor!"

It's true, your body isn't the same as it was a couple of months ago, and it'll probably continue to change as the weeks go by, but for Spencer, that doesn't make you any less attractive or desirable—quite the opposite.

"Hey, look at me, please," Spencer asks in a soft voice. You do as he says, now feeling more exposed in front of him. Spencer notices and takes your hands to bring you closer to him.

"You know you're carrying a human being in your womb, right?" he asks, tracing soft patterns with his finger over the skin of your arms. "That makes your body not look or feel the way it usually does. But it's perfectly natural, and I'm sure you know that." Spencer stops to kiss your stomach. "What you don't seem to know is that every change makes you more perfect than you already are. Love, you are perfect for who you are, and your body is perfect because it's yours—stretch marks or not, breasts enlarged or not, swollen or not."

"You have to say that," you complain with an adorable pout, and Spencer chuckles.

“I have to say that because it's true. Did I lie to you before?” You shake your head no. “Exactly.”

He pulls you to him so you can sit on his lap. Your arms rest loosely around his neck. He looks up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

“Love. You look amazing. Gorgeous. And so so sexy. I have been craving to touch you all night, renegaded to only see you from afar. That's torture,” Spencer says, lips hovering over your jaw before trailing down loving kisses—the feel of his wet lips pushing your heart rate to go up.

“You don't know what you do to me, do you? All these days thinking about you, what it's like to have you in my arms, what it's like to be able to kiss you, to smell you.” Spencer says, his fingers dancing over the patch of exposed skin of your breasts still clad in your bra. His lips sucking on that special spot on your neck. You can't help the nasty moan that leaves your mouth.

His eyes search yours for permission when one of his hands rests on the clasp of your bra. You nod, and he unclasps it, revealing your full breasts to him. You swear you hear him whimper at the sight, just as you feel him twitch beneath your thighs.

“Fuck, darling. They are so perfect. So round, so full, so soft,” Spencer praises as his mouth latches to one of your nipples and, with one hand, squeezes the flesh of your other breast. “I couldn’t stop all night thinking about doing this. Claiming these perfect tits.”

“Spencer, fuck!” you moan when he sucks harder. “Yes!”

“So sensitive. These tits are all mine,” Spencer mumbles as he switches his mouth from one nipple to the other.

He keeps lapping, swirling his tongue, sucking. It's like he can't have enough of it. And you can feel it in your bones.

'Extasis' keeps it short to explain how you feel right now. Just with the use of his mouth, Spencer is already pushing you close to the edge. In the back of your mind, you can hear his voice explaining how nipple stimulation can produce orgasms. You didn't think it would be possible at the time, but now you're nearing experiencing it.

"Spence, please. Just -"

One of his hands travels south, leaving goosebumps in its wake until it reaches the waistband of your panties.

“Tell me what you need, baby. And I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to touch me,” you mewl, your voice cracking with desire.

“Here?” Spencer teases, trailing feather touches across your inner thigh. His mouth marks your neck, his favorite spot on you.

“More. Please, don’t make beg,” you plead. Spencer’s smirk could tell he was not done with the teasing. But in all honesty, he doesn't know how much he can contain himself.

“My baby is desperate already. Let's see how much.” A hand sneaks under your panties, and the slick pooling there tells Spencer everything he needs to know.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. It’s all for me?” He cockily asks as his fingers tease your folds. You gasp at the contact of his fingers on you.

“For you only. Spencer, I’m yours. Always.”

“And I am yours. No matter what. I love you so much,” Spencer says, now claiming your mouth with a searing kiss. It's like he wants to devour you whole, beyond the physics laws, if it's possible.

You let yourself go, kissing him urgently, your fingers tangled in his hair, giving experimental tugs, which Spencer rewards with grunts of pleasure.

You don't realize when you start rocking on his lap, seeking more friction from his fingers.

Spencer continues his assault on your center, alternating the thrusting of his fingers in and out with rubbing against your clit.

"Oh, God!" You whine, not fully believing how good it feels.

“So good, my love. So so good,” Spencer chants. His free hand on your back, maneuvering to lay you down on the mattress without stopping his ministrations in your pussy, and latching his lips to the crook of your neck. The new position allows him to reach deeper inside you with his fingers, massaging that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Right there! Oh, please.” You are on the verge of falling, your body surrending to Spencer’s experimented touch. He knows your body better than you.

Your moans go straight to Spencer’s cock, twitching inside his boxers, rock-hard and screaming for attention, but he has a mission before ever thinking of his pleasure. He needs you to come on his fingers first.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?”

“Yes! I’m so - so close,” you cry.

“I can feel you clenching on my fingers. That's it. Let go, my love. Cum for me; let me feel you,” Spencer encourages, and it's the last push you need. Your vision goes white, and your body starts to shake. The coil snaps and flows your body with waves of pleasure.

“Fuck! Yes!” You cry as your orgasm travels through your body. “Spencer! Yes!”

Spencer doesn’t stop the in and out of his fingers, still rubbing your clit, at a slower pace, helping you to ride it out. His breath is hot on your neck, mumbling praises of how good you are, how much he has missed you, and how good you feel around his fingers.

When the aftershocks subside, Spencer carefully retracts his fingers, sucking them clean before passionately kissing you. You can taste yourself on his lips, fueling the desire to have more of him.

“I missed you,” you say, still breathless. Spencer lies on the mattress by your side, stroking your cheek.

“And I missed you. Both of you,” he says, now rubbing a hand over your belly. You let out a content sigh. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. We can just prepare to go to bed.”

Your head snaps up in an instant.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No! We’re not done, mister. We have a lot of days apart to make it up to.”

Spencer laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Start with those boxers. Get them off,” you command, kneeling on the mattress and suddenly feeling a rush of adrenaline. Spencer pulls his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. It's hard, red, and already leaking precum. And your mouth waters.

“Like the view?” He teases.

“Very,” you shamelessly reply, gawking at the way his cock twitches under your gaze. You position between his legs. He is at your level sight with his elbows on the mattress. You wrap a hand around his shaft, giving a light squeeze, as your other hand looks purchase on his thigh. Spencer hisses at the contact.

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reminds you, knowing this position could be uncomfortable for you.

“Oh, yes, I have to,” you counter. “I have been thinking about sucking you off for weeks, Spencer. Weeks!”

Spencer laughs at your dramatics, but still, he reaches for your chin to tilt up so you can look at him.

“Just let me know if it's too much, and we can stop, okay?”

Did you mention before about how careful he has been treating you since you discovered you were pregnant? Yes, you did. And here is a reminder.

“Okay,” you reassure him, giving an experimental lick at the tip. The salty taste just encourages you to lick the underside, from base to tip and back and forth. Spencer’s moans are music for your ears. You lower yourself now, taking him in your mouth—inch by glorious inch.

There is something special about giving Spencer head, and it’s beyond the sexual component of pushing him to orgasm. It's about the way he surrenders to your touch, the way he is splayed over the bed at your mercy. The way he trusts you in such a vulnerable position. He doesn't rush you; he’s pliant at your pace because he knows you know how to pleasure him.

“Fuck!” he groans when you go deeper. “So good, baby. You take it so good.”

As him with yours, you relish on his praises. He never stops complimenting you and vocalizing the way you make him feel. Evidence of how much you like it is the pool of wetness forming in your center just hearing him moan and talk.

With renewed vigor, you keep bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue, and extracting the more nasty and sexy noises from Spencer’s lips.

“Just - just like that. You are doing amazing.” His hands rest over your head, but he doesn’t push or pull; he just grounds himself in the midst of the pleasure cloud he is in.

But when that knowing coil is forming on him, Spencer knows he needs you to stop, or he won’t last much.

Gently, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back. You understand the signal and release him with a pop.

“What is it? You don’t want to?” You ask, licking your lips full of fluids of both of you. Spencer is panting, shaking his head no.

“You were amazing, but I don’t want to cum yet. And I want to cum inside of you.” The admission makes the heat in your body rise.

His hand caresses lovingly your cheek as you’re sitting on your haunches on the mattress. Spencer sits with his back on the headboard, raking your entire naked body from head to toe. His eyes are full of adoration.

Leave it to Spencer to look at you like you were Afrodite's incarnation, even with your grown breasts and bloated body.

“What?” You ask, giggling out of nervousness. Years with him, and that piercing gaze still makes your heart flutter.

"Marvelous. So beautiful. The most gorgeous. Perfect.”

Before you can protest the overflowing compliments, Spencer's hands cup your face to pull you into a deep kiss. You kiss him back with urgency, straddling him. Spencer’s hands go to your waist to keep you in place, where you belong, on top of him. From that position, you can feel his cock twitching with want.

"Spencer-" you mumble in his lips, almost like a whisper.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asks, focusing on how you start swaying your hips, making contact with his hardness, and settling him on fire.

“I need to ride you, now,” you plead, and Spencer can’t say no to you even if he tried.

“Then ride me. Take everything you need from me,” Spencer says, leaving the grasp of your hips so you can lift yourself to position his cock at your entrance. You start to sink and you both are gasping for air. It feels so good. You feel so full with every pull and push of your core into Spencer’s cock. It's a sensation that never gets old.

“That's it. You are doing so well. Take your time,” Spencer reminds you, but you have been craving him so much that you don’t have patience anymore. Spencer's hands come back to your hips, and yours rest on his shoulders for balance. With a last bounce, you’re full to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You hiss. The stretching is a mix of pain and pleasure that’s driving you insane. Spencer’s concerned eyes seek yours.

“You okay?” He asks, his gaze now raking your body, looking for something that can tell him about your discomfort.

“Yes! I’m okay—more than okay,” you assure him. Then you remember there is something he needs to know, something you need from him.

"Spencer, look at me," you demand, and he does what you ask.

"Yeah?" he pants, eyes mapping your face for any sign of what you want to say.

"I want something. Better said, I need something,” you pant, feeling already the urge to move.

"Okay, whatever you need. I'll give it to you."

"I need to feel you. All of you.” Spencer nods.

“You are feeling me now, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Spencer. I’m talking about being rough. I need it hard. Please, baby, don't hold back."

“Oh.” Realization hits him at the same time you clench around him. “Fuck. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Love, I promise you, you won’t break me.”

Spencer looks still hesitant.

“Please, don’t deprive me of you. I need to be consumed by you. I need to feel you everywhere; I need to be reminded I'm yours, and you're mine. Remind me you’re the only one who can have me like this. Remind me who put this baby in me.”

The way Spencer’s cock twitches inside of you and the groan escaping his lips is enough for you to know he got the memo.

His eyes darkened even more, and you could swear you saw a smirk on his face.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, do you?” he says, thrusting up so you can feel him deeper.

“Ah! Show me! Give me what you think I deserve, please,” you beg, and for Spencer is the last straw. With both hands on your hips, he starts to bounce you up and down. Your hands rest on his stomach as you try to catch a rhythm. It starts messy and frantic, and you can’t care less. You’re riding Spencer, and that's what matters.

“So tight. I don’t know how I can fit here. Feels amazing.” Spencer's voice is strained, breathless.

As you gain more control over your movements, the grinding intensifies. Every part of your body is on fire. The bounce of your breasts makes Spencer feral.

“These tits. Are mine. All mine,” Spencer chants, hands squeezing them. “You’re mine.”

Damn right, you think. You are his. Every part of you is his, in the same way you are claiming him as yours right now.

Not fully satisfied with touching, Spencer leans forward and captures one of your nipples with his mouth, one arm around your waist to help you as you keep riding him.

“Fuck! Spencer!” You cry when he sucks harder. Tugging his hair, you speed your rhythm, feeling the coil forming, a new orgasm approaching.

At some point your legs start to falter, the exertion making them cramp, but you don’t want to stop. Spencer notices, though.

“I’ve got you,” he says, maneuvering you on your back without pulling out. Now he’s on top, and your legs over his shoulders. “That’s better, uh?”

You nod eagerly. “But don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t.”

With this new angle, Spencer thrusts deeper and harder. It's all you have wanted for weeks. The sinful sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, and you can respire the smell of sweat and sex.

“Yes! Just like that!”

“Oh, so you wanted it harder, uh? My sweet, dirty thing,” Spencer coos, head nestled in the crook of your neck. You feel his hot breath, how he’s panting while giving you precise and deliberate thrusts, in and out, in and out.

“Spence, I’m close,” you warn, and Spencer doesn't halt his movements, leaning a bit back to look at you.

“Me too, baby.”

You are a sight to behold. Your messy hair, sweat sparkling on your skin, eyes full of lust, the moans leaving your lips, tits bouncing with every thrust, and that bump, where your baby is. Spencer still can’t believe it's real.

“You’re so gorgeous. You look so good, pregnant with my baby. Everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Yours, always,” you half-sob, half-moan. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel it in your bones. Spencer knows exactly how to get you there. He’s almost there too.

“That’s what you want? That I keep you nice a knocked up all the time? Do you want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes! All the time. Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you nice and full.” Spencer vows, kissing your calf and sneaking down his fingers to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Oh, God.”

You’re on the verge of falling. The wet sounds your bodies are making, the panting and moans, Spencer’s words, everything is pushing you to the edge.

“Come for me, come on my cock,” Spencer demands, and it is like your body has to comply because as the words leave his mouth, your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

“Fucking shit! Yes!” You scream, feeling your body trembling with pleasure. Spencer’s pace keeps, now chasing his own end.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, losing some rhythm. “So good for me.”

You can feel him twitching inside with each thrust as you clench your walls, still riding your high.

“Spencer, please. Cum inside. Fill me up, baby. I need it so bad,” you plead, and Spencer loses it. After a deep thrust, he grunts and stills inside, spilling everything he has. You feel his warmth filling you up, a content sigh leaving your lips.

For a few seconds, you both remain still, panting and trying to catch your breath. Spencer is the first to react. Not pulling out, he lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging them gently while he peppers your neck with kisses. You giggle, still drunk of post-orgasmic hormones.

“You did so good, my love,” he praises. Your hands cup his face so he can look at you.

“I love you, Spencer. I missed you so much,” you declare as you lean in to kiss his lips. Spencer reciprocates immediately. This kiss is sweet, not rushed, but takes your breath away as all Spencer’s kisses do.

“I love you, too,” he mumbles on your lips. “And it was torture being away from you for so many days. But I’m here right now; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, because tonight I’m not done with you yet.”

With the whimper that escapes Spencer’s lips and the twitch of his cock still inside of you, it’s clear he knows exactly how the night will go from here.

------------------

[housemdork]

just some hilson thoughts in these trying times

all of these things i think about constantly & fondly and exist in my mind as true canon:

house has been interested/obsessed with wilson since the second he saw him; the divorce papers ordeal combined with wilson looking like he did in 1991 sent the bisexual alarm ablaze.

only someone as repressed and clueless as wilson could take "you were the only person who didn't bore me" as a purely platonic statement.

relatedly, i think he was very convinced throughout their time together at the new orleans medical conference that wilson liked men, and only during some horribly awkward flirting attempts house witnessed from afar did house realize that either A) wilson is unfortunately straight or B) he's repressed beyond belief. being so good at reading people, i bet house accurately picks up on the latter.

house playing instruments for wilson is one of their most significant forms of intimacy.

paradoxically, since wilson is very gentle and hands on with just about everyone else in his life (patients included), he never crosses any physical barriers with house as a sign of respect for his boundaries. this goes pretty unnoticed by house until someone points it out - "aren't you guys really close? he's never even given you a pat on the back?"

they don't smoke together very often but they used to and wilson gets incredibly giggly every time, which house loves to see. wilson gets paranoid about drug testing, which sparks an argument about vicodin and double standards. wilson loses the argument every time.

wilson kissed house when they were high exactly one (1) time several years before canon. wilson was so blasted he's convinced himself it was a dream, and house always kept it in his back pocket as a desperate "gotcha" moment for the future. but the memory is too sacred and tender to ruin it by being petulant, so he never brings it up.

HOUSE IS A YEARNER. AT HIS VERY CORE, HE IS A YEARNER. WHEN ALL OF HIS BULLSHIT IS STRIPPED AWAY, HE YEARNS! wilson is better at shoving everything deeper and deeper than house.

through some grand scheming alongside cuddy, it was actually wilson's idea that they have adjoining offices, but he and cuddy worked together to make house think it was his idea and that, by getting the adjoining office, he'd won over the 2 of them.

cuddy is the only person who ever broaches the topic of house's feelings for wilson while she and house are dating. knowing them both as well as she does, she can see some sincerity there. she asks house about it and eventually gets a clipped but genuine answer: "i mean...yeah. sure. but that minefield is so sensitive that even looking at it too closely will start a chain reaction. so no thanks."

thirteen instantly picks up on house and wilson's "deal." like she can't believe it's not outright and obvious to everyone else.

SEASON 8/POST-CANON SPOILERS

i don't think house and wilson die simultaneously. whether out of reverence, grief, or masochism, i think house would try to live without wilson even for just a few hours. then he would be fully in touch with the human experiences he's always avoided/felt alienated from. it would be the final challenge for his atheism to conquer.

while holding fast to the fact that they've never slept together and never will, they get increasingly intimate with one another in those last 5 months. they share a bed, keeping mostly to their respective sides of the mattress, but really ramp up the whole "no social contract" thing. sometimes hands wander and they wake up with gentle touches on their sides, shoulders, etc. house is preparing to lose the only person who even understands his kind of intimacy, while wilson, being someone who seeks it out, struggles with this new arrangement, and all they have is each other atp!

they change how they describe their relationship to strangers while they're on the road. one day they're business partners, another day they're married, then on a first date, then professorial colleagues, then third cousins (wilson hates that one), etc., etc.

even more so than house, wilson likes that he can finally shed off layers of his old identity and feels more authentic than he ever has while road-tripping with house in the end.

i'll probably come back to this list and keep adding but there ya go, those are some of my thoughts :)

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

m. list|prev|next

"Three things don't play about myself, my money, or my man. Mention one of them and best believe I'm gon' be at your head." 'Neva Play' by Megan Thee Stallion ft. RM

Divider Creds: @selysie , @lil-liaa and @bernardsbendystraws

This plot was inspired by @niwaart, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, and esp @coldilikeit

Oh crap, I'm still here.

Despite what manhwas tells you, being sent back in time is not fun. There is no technology, no social media, and I'm being literal here. I've regressed, and the social standards are so goofy. I shouldn't complain too much; I got a high title for reincarnating.

This sucked. I thought that was all a dream yesterday, this can't be happening to me.

Well, I have 500,000 gold coins, which makes me one of the richest people in the world.

Imagine this currency: copper, silver, and gold.

Since I've woken up, I might put the plan that I had in my mind into action.

Let's see if this is just like the movies.

I clapped my hands, and my magic started working. It was getting me ready, brushing my hair, changing my clothes, and applying skincare!

Why did I struggle so hard with the maids yesterday if it was this easy?! I guess that part was on me, but let's be honest, I did no wrong, so that mistake didn't happen.

A person knocked on my door, opening it to see a butler.

"Pardon me, princess, but I had been misguided by the other employees here and have arrived late, from today onwards, I'll be your butler."

I looked at him up and down, almost having a stroke, tell me why he looked like Aldira. My secretary? Though I did tell that biggie if I was going down, he'd come with me.

"No offense, you seem diligent at your job, but why am I not having a maid?"`

"All the maids were too afraid to become your personal assistant, and I took the position, I hope you don't mind that"

Damn, why are you so blunt?

"Your name?"

"Aldira's, Your Highness."

The way he carries himself and how he acts, on top of that, the name, why if I didn't know any better, he sounds just like my Aldira in my past life.

No, that is absurd.

Aldira's POV

For the longest time, I've had only one friend stick to me since we were at least teenagers.

My parents were strict and expected nothing but the best from me, from my grades to my activities and the future path that would await me.

My parents were at best middle class, and that I'm grateful for, don't get me wrong, but if I wasn't as intelligent as I was I would have never gone to Gotham Prep, got in with a scholarship, and excelled.

Unlike those dramatic shows or novels, I was not bullied for being the smartest in the school or being too poor to be one of them, instead, I would be what students admired and compared to.

Many people talked about me positively, and I carried an image that was something every parent would want.

But every time I checked the scoreboard, there was one person behind me in terms of rank, [name] Wayne. Though she went by [name] [last name] for some odd reason, one I would not figure out until later on.

The way we went was goofy, it wasn't cliche or anything. We had been invited to the same study group and my parents believed it would be a good opportunity to build connections with the upper class.

The study session turned boring quickly though and I was left doodling to myself while everyone was studying or asking me to help until I saw a pencil tap my journal making me lift my head to face her, [name].

"You read 'I Became the Male Lead's Adopted Daughter' too?"

That shocked me, how did she know that... is she a stalker?

Her eyes kind of pointed to my phone where the notification of a new chapter upload of the said manhwa popped up.

"Yeah, you read these types of stories too?"

"Sometimes."

And we hit it off from there.

"Can you believe some of the girls are saying we're dating?" I sipped on my black coffee as she drank her matcha latte.

"Wasn't it Parcilla, the girl who has a very weird crush on you?" She questioned me, making me nod.

"You biggie, that means I might be the next target to be bullied because of your fan club, nah, I'm too amazing to be the one bullied."

I slapped her upside the head from that comment.

Don't be fooled though, because behind her laid-back personality, she had a huge ego that could make anyone want to beat her up, she just never expresses it so she's easily likable and I enjoy that personality of hers.

Flash forward and we both have jobs and have monthly meet-ups.

I was busy typing away for my report on a report for my job as manager of a high-end company, of course, I couldn't complain. The salary was good, and I was able to save up for my family to get out of Gotham and head to another part of the world, they urged me to go but then I wouldn't be able to hang out with [name] which I know was a stupid reason but long-distance relationships were neither of our thing.

"Ugh, at this point these imbeciles won't give their report in time for our next meeting and we'll have to push it back to next week or something," I grumbled before hearing the timer go off indicating it was time to take off our face mask.

"Why don't you come and work for my company?" I heard her get up.

"Work for your company?" I repeated.

"Yeah, I mean it's non-profit, comes with many benefits including good insurance that fully works and not half-assed you, and it's triple your pay rate." My eyes widened at that preposterous claim.

"Besides, I need an assistant or secretary, it'd help me a lot." I went over to her and stole the tea that she made and took a sip.

"Fattie."

"IT'S TEA!"

"MY TEA THAT I MADE! YOU SAID THAT YOU DIDN'T WANT ANY!"

And I agreed and they're not lying when they say working together makes or breaks a relationship, as our friendship just grew even more.

Then one day on our hangouts she recommended a new novel to me.

"'I stole the loving family of the Villainess'? Now... the girl I know has no good stories at the moment, but what is this?"

"It's so bad that you want to continue reading the story. And I'm also a little biased since one of the characters has my name."

"No way."

"You want to bet?"

So I read it. And wow, she was not kidding. Also, how the hell did they incorporate her bearing a saintess into this?! As if it wasn't absurd enough...

So, while texting her what she wanted to eat while heading to our shared apartment, an out-of-control truck hit me and before I knew it I was in the story.

Talk about cliche and I arrived at the scene when [name] would shove Serena off but [name] was acting out of character making up some new dialogue, great, it's an even bigger cliche, someone reincarnates into the Villainess, bet she's going to end up forgiving everyone that was rude to her though.

Typical.

After the party and everything, Alfred, our head butler, asked us which one of the maids would volunteer to be Princess [name]'s new assistant. Since no one was going for it, I applied. I mean, the pay rate was great, and I've done my fair share in the retail industry, I know how to deal with goofy entitled customers.

So, why does she seem so familiar? I can't put my finger on it.

What if that's my [name] from my other life?

No, that's absurd and too fictional to work.

Heading to the dining room with my butler close behind, I eventually arrived.

"You're finally here big sister!" Serena's voice interrupted the wholesome family in front of me. Seems everyone had their fill already.

"You're late. Again, how disappointing." Palmola's voice was a sharp knife cutting through the silence that had developed.

"Well, I won't ruin your moods for too long, I have an appointment that I can't miss, so I'll just take this." I whisked away my breakfast and called for my new assistants to prepare a carriage for me.

"And where exactly?" Bruce demanded.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know you cared about where I go and return from." I scrunch my face before heading off.

"I am your father [name]."

"Your majesty, the only people in this room who are talking are the Emperor and a princess, not father and daughter."

Aldira opened the carriage door, allowing me to step in before going in himself.

"May I know where you're headed today, Your Highness?" The coachman asked.

"The mine at WestFord."

"The mine that has been empty for years? Why, my lady, why would you ever need to go there?

"Exploring."

I'm taking a gamble on this and meeting John Constantine before purchasing it.

I sent him a letter before heading to bed last night and got a reply.  

'It would be an honor to sell this cavern to you, Your Highness.

Sincerely,

Duke Constantine.

Well, it was more detailed than that but that's the premise of what he wrote back.

Stepping off the carriage I arrived at the cave. I noticed the Duke.

"Your Highness, how are you doing this fine morning?" He reached out a hand for me to shake.

I took it, his grip firm before I pulled away as did he.

"No need for small talk, it seems this cave would be fine."

"Your Highness, don't you think you're being too rash?! We haven't looked yet!" Aldira came in front of my face frantically.

"I have a hunch. But do me the honor of looking around before I seal the contract."

He didn't need to hear another word before rushing in, before coming out and began making calculations with his magic.

"At best this cave should settle for 45,000 gold, right Duke Constantine?"

"Indeed, young man, Your Highness, would you mind that price?" He asked me before I nodded.

Pulling out a contract, we both read the terms and conditions before signing our names, making our names and the contract glow, making the contract finalized with no loopholes and in no way to break it unless both parties agree.

"What powerful magic you have, unlike the rumors."

 I shrugged, fanning myself, “There are things many people didn’t know about me, but what does it matter? Why should the public know anything about me?” I questioned the Duke.

He chuckled to himself before shaking his head.

“No, not at all, Your Highness, everyone has things they’d like to keep to themselves after all. May I inquire if you will attend today’s coming-of-age celebration at the Acentro Twins?” The last event we went to that became a topic that’s still being talked about most times [P!name] would stay home while the rest of her family went, worsening her reputation.

Which doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t that make it better?

This world is so hateful of my girl.

“Indeed, it would only make sense to. Well, if that’s all I should be off, I have no time to waste, after all a lady needs her time to get ready.” I walked back to the carriage, and Aldira followed me close behind.

The Marquis family, the Acentro. Known for being great in the business world, and even better for their swordsmanship abilities. Recently, the daughter of their house decided to go against society's customs and do archery. But that got overshadowed by the canceling of my engagement.

She and her brother are both very cunning and intelligent, from what I heard, so their coming-of-age ceremony will be huge, last I checked. It would be good if I made relations with them. 

“Aldira, you'll be attending the ceremony with me, no?” 

He looked away from the windows and nodded, “Yes, your highness.”

I just can’t shake the feeling that he’s from another world like me, my Aldira.

“Aldira, you seem to know a lot about business, where do you come from?”

This seemed to catch him off guard as he didn’t respond right away like he usually does.

“Somewhere far, is all. One that is rather advanced but I think it’s gone now.”

“Have you ever heard of someone named ‘Batman’? Silly, right? But that weird name just came to me.”

Batman, Gotham’s vigilante superhero. My good-for-nothing father slowly started acknowledging me after I left the manor. It’s quite uncanny how, in both lives, I still have him as my father, though that could be said for my entire family in this world except my Palmola and Serena.

That made him shocked, eyes widening, looking into mine, like he was thinking over something.

“Are you [name] [last name], Your Highness?”

“Depends, will you still make me coffee in the morning if I confirm that I am, my dear secretary.” 

At that, he practically lunged at me, wrapping his hands around my waist, his head laying on my lap, this would be a terrible position to be in. I patted his head and was also relieved about the revelation, but it was kind of obvious.

“Holy crap, this was not a cliche I expected.” He pulled away, holding onto my shoulders.

“Tell me about it, do you think there are other reincarnations in this world?” He shook his head.

“My system tells me that I’ve located the only other reincarnation in this world, I knew it was you, I just didn’t know it was my [name].” 

“System?” I asked.

“Yeah, did you not get one, I have one that shows my stats and has a quest for me to do.” This is too many story plots for me to handle.

“No, this is crazy, anyway of that system getting us home, though?” Aldira shook his head at that, making me slouch in my seat. 

I scoffed, “This has been one crazy day that I did not expect.”

“Your Highness, we have made it home.” I heard the coachman announce. Aldira helped me down. Back in this miserable place, right after I left it in my previous life. Thoughts and prayers in the chat guys. 

I decided to take a fat nap, setting an alarm before waking up to this monstrosity.

Maids running around like there was a killer on their backs, and were getting outfits and attire ready, crazy how I got no help at all though. By the time I got myself ready and was finishing the touch-ups on Aldria’s, I spotted my family in a family set of clothes all matching.

It was expected though so nothing I should worry about. 

“Wouldn’t this just cause more scandals for you [name]? We’re matching right after your broken engagement.” Aldira scolded me but didn’t back away from receiving my help.

“Don’t kill the mood, Al, just look at how cute we are matching.”

He could only sigh, massaging his forehead, but behind that was a small smile.

What could interrupt this wholesome moment, how about the buffoons behind me?

"Don't you think you've done enough damage to the family, imagine? First the engagement and now your outfit? Matching with a common servant?" Damian scoffed.

"It's called, My entire family decided to choose an outfit and left their 4th princess out of it, but still included the peasant girl. Or did I leave the part where I had a matching outfit?"

"We didn't- I just- You shouldn't speak to your little brother that way, young lady, have some etiquette.'' Palmola inquired.

"Right. My brother."

Barbara coughed into her fist.

"Well, we'd like to inform you that Serena might just be attacked riding alone so she'll have to retake your spot.

"That's fine, I wasn't planning on going in a carriage anyway, too bumpy for my taste, and wouldn't want to leave Aldira alone." I pinned our matching jewelry on his suit and brushed dirt away from his outfit.

"Anything else?" I turned to face them. Some looked hesitant but Palmola took the lead and left. Walking with grace to the carriage.

"How do you feel about teleportation? I'm not one to be late to an event."

"Would love to try it, die wanting to try it, let's do it." Aldira bluntly stated.

"If we die, you can't blame me."

"On second thought-," I snatched his hand before we got teleported.

Arriving at the front of the line, I fixed my outfit.

"That was not bad, great even." No side effects, why yes, magic truly is a blessing phenomenon. Aldira also looked fine, so it seemed I managed this spell just fine, but is anyone surprised? It's me, after all.

The guard standing there nearly jumped out of his boots and bowed lowly. "Welcome, Your Highness! Ehem, Entering her Highness, Princess [name] Wayne!"

"You see that, Al? Even in this life, I'm too important and pretty to ignore."He deadpanned at me.

"That's because you're a very, and I mean very controversial princess. In a bad way. Remember how the original princess got executed because she was rude to the peasant MC?"

"That's why I hated the novel so much, duh. I still can't believe we're stuck here," I was exasperated.

The murmurs that were once stuck in regular conversations go into gossip, between the fact that I arrived without my family once again, and that my attendant wasn't a female but rather male.

I arrived before the twins and got my gift from my special storage.

For Artemis, a bow and arrows, and Apollo, a lyre.

"What an incompetent girl! The gifts are switched." A woman scoffed

"A woman holding a bow, please, what a mockery." A man grumbled.

The twins examined the gifts before looking back up at me.

"A bow?" Artemis grinned at me with a raised eyebrow.

"And a lyre?" Apollo added.

"Indeed, I hope you guys enjoy it, I picked it based on what I believed would suit you guys." I curtsied before going down to the ballroom.

"They play a huge part in the novel in the business industry, not only that, Artemis is known for being the best huntress of the time and years later, with Apollo also being skilled in the music industry and known for understanding how to use a bow and arrow to.

Why, it'd be a shame if we let this opportunity slide to not get on their good side and eventually have them cooperate with us, my dear Aldira." Aldira only gave me a plate of food and started making one for himself.

"Yes, while you're acting like a mastermind over there, honey, how about we eat food before I pass out from the amount of stress I've accumulated." I took his and my plate and put it away on our separate table.

"Can't, dancing in a few moments, can't throw up on the dance floor, and you, being the lucky guy of the night, are joining me."

"We didn't know how to dance back at our high school dance." I flicked my hair back and accidentally hit him in the face.

He coughed out some of the hair from his mouth and squinted at me.

"Our 'dances' that we did were scandalous for their times and even more if we do it here." He's so dramatic.

"Announcing the Waynes, the moonlight of the kingdom!" that door entrance guy announced.

"Look it's Serena, her outfit makes her look so different but she fits right in!"

"I want that outfit too! So chic and cute!"

"She might as well be the fourth princess rather than-"

"Shh!"

Aldira takes another bite of his food and can't help but grit his teeth. This world was just like the last one he was in, how he was still mad when the oldies from their modern time switched their tone on you once you built your multi-billion company on your own.

Before his attention was snatched away by you again, like always uncaring, which was one of the reasons he had admired you, not only because you were his friend.

"That's what makes it fun, Al, don't be a party pooper." Just then the orchestra started, I dragged him away from the food he just got for us and reached the dance floor.

It was just slow steps, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm.

"Look, isn't that her?"

"Dancing with... a butler."

"Do you think..."

The chorus soon came along and I was twirled a few times by 

Aldira, before gliding in between his legs and making a swift recovery, twirled some more before he dipped me to the ground, our faces close, our bodies closer to each other and the song finished.

(Dance scene summed up, creds to the idea: @randomlyappearingartist)

"See, I told you this was fun." He could only sweatdrop and sigh before pulling the both of us up and escorting us back to the food.

"D-Did you see that?"

"Didn't she just divorce Prince Connor?"

"You don't think..."

"What other reason, and the look she gave that servant."

"There's no mistaking it."

I finished my food and stretched out of  tiredness, "Man, I wonder what got this event in a stir..." I mumbled.

"We have to schedule a meeting with the twins soon, by the way, I have to get them into my business if I want it to blossom." Aldira nodded before telling me that he was off to get more food.

"Well, I'm going to the balcony, I was feeling claustrophobic with the amount of people crowding the room.

I was on the balcony waiting for Aldira to come back soon after grabbing another plate of food. Behind me was an approaching Grand Duke of the North with signature black hair and red eyes. His outfit's color base was black with red being the secondary base, gold details that showed off the title and golden buttons, a fur coat surrounding his neck, and the cape down to his heel.

Grand Duke Isnwalt, Onyx Isnwalt. He played a major influence on the world, both feared and respected, but didn’t become a main lead but rather just an important figure in the world. I think Serena interacted with him once but her love interest got jealous and dragged her away from him, and he didn’t think much of the interaction other than that it was weird.

“What do I owe the pleasure of meeting the Grand Duke of the North, Sir Isnwalt?” I turned to him and curtsied. 

“Right now you and that butler of yours are the talk of the ball, with your dance moves from earlier, surely you would know why I approached you.” He swirled his champagne in his glass, and a deep chuckle accompanied his words.

“Why I wouldn’t say the dance was all that interesting.” I tilted my head back at him. He put his glass down on the balcony ledge and focused his attention back on me, both of us just staring back at each other before he finally spoke.

“That butler of yours… he’s interesting…” I had to turn away and let out a little stifled laugh. Never saw that coming.

I heaved a deep breath in before turning back to him.

“I-is that so?” I pinched my thigh from laughing again.

“Indeed, not like any other person I’ve ever met, would you mind letting me meet him?” Maybe it’s the way he’s so straightforward about it, or maybe it’s because he’s so serious about it, but it’s making me laugh. But I can’t- I have to hold it in.

Be who you are for your pride~

“I’ll have to think on that, Grand Duke Onyx” I spread my fan out placing it in front of my face. “For you see my butler is very important to me and we have so little time to be separate from each other as he’s such a hardworking servant to me.”

Just then, with great timing, I would say Aldira's showed up, and the Grand Duke approached him, holding his hands and giving the kiss to the tip of his fingers before staring at him.

I took a sip of my champagne, basking in the romance.

"Oh..." Aldira looked shocked before quickly pulling away. He awkwardly laughed before pulling away.

"What the hell.." Aldira scrunched up, making Onyx chuckle in a deep tone, and, what hold on is that blush coating his cheeks?

"You're not like anyone I've ever met before, you're... different, (fine shyt) darling. And you smell rather... sweet."

Wait hold on...? Smell? I feel like I'm forgetting a huge thing about this novel.

Aldira shivered from hugging himself and turned to look at me for help, making me step in.

"Aldira, This is Grand Duke, Onyx Isnwalt. An influential personal worldwide who has contributed very much to our kingdom, and has been labeled the lady and gentleman killer."

He was jaw dropped before whispering in my ear.

"Man idgaf about who he is, I'm getting harassed."

I pulled out my fan, which was my new favorite thing to do now, and whispered back.

"I understand and was going to ask for business cooperation and use you as a guinea pig, but we don't have to... unless..."

Onyx coughed into his fist, making both our attention go to him.

"Dear..."

Aldira hesitated before replying. "Aldira..."

"Aldira," He said slowly before smirking to himself.

"May I have the honor of inviting you to dinner with me? Tomorrow at the Brits Restaurant, anytime you'd like.

"Look, I appreciate the gesture-"

"50 gold as compensation for your troubles"

Aldira hesitates but his greed overcomes his thoughts and he accepts.

I felt like I was interrupting something until Aldira turned around and tugged on my sleeve. "Can we go now?" I smiled and nodded before going to the break room.

"So, how was that?" He deadpanned at me.

"Not fun." He laid his head on my shoulder but then we saw a woman with pink hair looking lost.

I approached her, making Aldira's sag down.

"Are you lost, miss..." 

“Oh! Starfire, Princess of Tamaran.” I curtsied that she was Dick’s fiance.

“Prince Richard's fiance.” I stood up and looked at her.

“You know him?”

“I am a citizen of Wayne's Kingdom.” I played it off.

“My escort and I could take you to him.” Aldira stood up and walked next to me.

“We can?” I elbowed his stomach.

“Yes, we can.”

As we made it forward, you could see the picture-perfect family, a girl in the center of their attention laughing, with a cute little giggle.

“Ehem” I coughed into my fist.

“[N-name] I wasn’t-” Serena started… I think she has the wrong impression on why I’m here.

“Not you, you” I directed my attention to Dick

“Your fiance has been waiting for you, big brother.” 

“Big brother? But he only has four? And if you're not the three I've already met you must be the youngest... however, you’re not the blonde girl with blue eyes." Starfire asked, though not in a mocking way but geniuen curiosity.

This was a major plot point in the future that [name] goes batshit crazy on.

However, I could feel my eye twitching, it's laughable how they treated her despite her position it's almost like they forgot who decided to shoot the load creating her, and if weren't for the fact she was got embarrassed everyday it's the fact that those incompetent nincompoop contributed maybe it's the fact that they favored a peasant over her.

It's hard, not to feel a little annoyed by the display, almost enough to chuck glass on the ground and shove it down their throat till you shred their voice box.

...

But I could never do that, I'm too nice, too kind.

Some were waiting for the drama to unfold, what's next would [name] grab Serena's hair then leaving one of her family members to take Serena side like always, throw a tantrum, or something most.

Others were excited to gossip about the scandal of this entire event.

Most were watching with interest.

Then [name] made a move, slowly turning around and slightly titling her head.

“What did you just say?” [name] directed her attention to Starfire.

Most were sweating, some were ready for the inevitable…

Anyway, this is more of a filler chap. Then anything but hey we got some new characters! Might make something that has face claims for my ocs, idk.

Did you like? 😏

Spring Break has arrived so guess who will be working their booty off (probably).

Anyway taglist. Hopefully I didn't forget or mispell anyone.

Also, send in a request in stuff and hopefully I get to them!

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