#This is new kinds of low jfc

[latoyalestrange]

THE FOOL

p .pascal x f!oc

jfc you guys. im so sorry for the delay, truthfully i have been so sucked up in work and my other hobbies that its hard to get to writing, especially at stuff this length. i hope the length of this one kind of makes up for it and also that i can get the next chapter out sooner.

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: Naela is nervous for the season premier. It ends up going swimmingly, but the celebration is ruined during the after party.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Angst, self esteem issues, violence, hurt/comfort, toxic bf, blood, sexual tension, mutual pining, toxic relationship, jealousy, hot bloody face trope, not edited

Taglist: @marvel-sw-lover , @lokislittle , @red-red-rogue, @babukat , @joels-darlin , @weho2kcmo , @violac0la , @poodlebae , @darleneslane , @absssposts

comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

CHAPTER NINE -- GRAND PREMIER

The weeks leading up to the release of the first season had Naela incredibly high-strung. Between the fan accounts posting edits of the little footage they had, and the constant questions from news outlets, she couldn't get Pedro out of her head no matter how hard she tried. Everything was Pedro this, Narcos that. Josh wasn't on social media that often so it wasn't hard to keep it all from him. Knowing it would upset him, she held it in and pretended it wasn't happening.

That was, until the premier. Luckily, Boyd was nice enough to invite Josh to the after party, although he wasn't psyched to be barred from the event. A part of her wished Boyd hadn't been so kind as she was putting the finishing touches on her look in the mirror.

Her signature scarlet color draped over her frame in a silk slip-dress that stopped just above her ankles. A teasing slit trailed up her leg, showing off her favorite feature: her plump thighs. She twirled her hair into a curly up-do, thinking it was a crime to hide the low back of the dress. Normally, she preferred a glowy, sheer makeup look but tonight she would be a flash-photography spectacle. She needed full-coverage, a dramatic eye and the perfect glossy lip to tie it all together.

Looking in the mirror, she could hardly recognize herself, but in a good way that made it impossible to stop smiling. She felt more confidence than the last four weeks combined since leaving Columbia. Seeing the look on Pedro’s face when she opened the door made that feeling skyrocket as well.

His eyes instantly lit up, darting up and down her body as he took in the sight. He too was dressed to the nines, a perfectly tailored black suit jacket covering his broad shoulders, accompanied by matching slacks and a pop of color in the partially undone dress shirt. His stubble shaped his sharp jaw perfectly and his tossled hair somehow looked devilishly handsome yet so casual at the same time.

“How’d you know I was wearing red?” She quizzed him, pointing at the evidence.

“You always wear red to special occasions. The first cast dinner and the last, you wore red dresses,” he quickly answered without another thought. She squinted at him and looked around for cameras jokingly.

He chuckled at her antics, “Hey, I know you,” he reasoned. Upon joining him in the doorway again, she realized one hand was hidden behind his back. He slowly drew it out, revealing a small, light blue bag.

No. No fucking way.

“I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but I knew you liked gold instead of silver, so,” he shrugged casually, his smug expression contradicting his nonchalant tone. It was her turn to pick her jaw up off the floor as she recognized the logo on the bag, Tiffany & Co.

“Pedro, you have to return that,” she shook her head, a protective hand over her heart and the other covering her mouth.

“At least look at it,” he started, holding the bag out further. “You know you want to, c’mon.”

She sighed, glaring at him with a smile on her face before taking the bag and pulling out the matching rectangular box. He instinctively took the bag out of her hands to allow her mobility as she excitedly opened the gift.

Inside was a gold necklace that carried a dainty pendant, which apon further inspection, was a lowercase ‘p’. She looked up at him, a playfully unamused look on her face.

“Gotta make it seem real, right?” His smirk quickly turned to a smile at her inability to be angry with him.

“Right,” she agreed sarcastically before gently lifting the expensive piece of jewelry out of it’s box. Pedro took both in his hands, slipping the container into the bag and unclasping the necklace. He motioned for her to turn around, and she obliged, shivering at the feeling of his hands ghosting over her neck. Once she felt him secure it, her hand darted up to the pendant, feeling it between her fingertips as she turned to face him again. She couldn't fathom being able to just drop that much money on a necklace for someone you're not even dating.

“Thank you.” She admitted sincerely, almost making him melt with her doe-eyed expression. “Next time just get me sunflowers,” she added teasingly.

“Noted,” he played along, chuckling as he let his hand rest on the door frame.

She blinked, struggling to form words for a moment as he loomed over her with a smug look in his eye. "I-- um, just need to put on my shoes."

"Sure," he nodded, holding the door as he followed her into the living room. He noticed the strappy nude heels laid out perfectly next to the couch. She fell onto the plush cushions and one leg over the other, attempting to get the best angle. She tried to fasten the tiny buckle for a few unsuccessful moments before Pedro started toward her.

"You don't have to--" Before she could finish, he had already stooped down on one knee, a flippant expression on his face. He held out one hand, silently urging her to let him help. She rolled her eyes and tried the clasp again, only to find his hand sliding under her knee and gliding all the way down and holding her ankle gently in his grasp.

He furrowed his brow at the puzzle on the side of her shoe for mere seconds before securing it and placing her heel comfortably on the floor. He waved for the second half of the challenge, and this time she gratefully allowed him. Soon, he was straightening his spine and offering his hand once more, this time to pull her to her feet.

"All set?" She glanced around the room, looking for her purse until she spotted it on the kitchen counter. She quickly threw the small, faux leather bag over her shoulder and let Pedro lead her out of her apartment. She locked the door behind her and locked eyes with a grinning Pedro before following him to the elevator.

The only comparable experience to being on the runway that Naela had was when haunted houses used those strobe lights. It was almost disorienting, especially with dozens of people shouting for her attention. Holding tightly onto Pedro's muscular forearm and the encouragements he whispered in her ear were the only things keeping her grounded.

"You look so pretty."

"I'm gonna step forward so they can get some of just you, okay?"

"You're doing a really good job."

"Almost done, hermosa."

Once they reached the end of the photography portion, they separated to talk to a few of the interviewers. Pedro stopped at Vanity Fair, while Naela continued until she saw a younger woman with The New York Times. She honestly reminded Naela of herself, with her curly brown hair and tan skin, and she found comfort in that.

"Naela Rivera, just the girl I wanted to see! Morgan with NYT, so nice to meet you," she blurted out enthusiastically, extending her hand in greetings. Naela enveloped her soft hand in her own and smiled brightly at the woman.

"Nice to meet you too!"

"I won't take up too much of your time, you have so many people to talk to." She paused to laugh with her. "I just have three questions for you, Naela."

She nodded at the woman, giving her consent.

"So, I think what is pressing on everyone's minds is how you got your name! It's so beautiful!" Naela palmed her chest and smiled humbly.

"Aw, thank you-- the name itself has a bunch of different origins, but pretty much everywhere it means 'winner' or 'strong'." The woman nodded along with her, listening intently.

"I think we could all definitely say that you are a winner, Naela. You just landed this huge role, and on top of that you're dating Pedro Pascal! I don't think there's a woman out there that doesn't want to be you or be with you!" Naela laughed on the outside, but she desperately wanted to tell everyone the truth about Hollywood. For the sake of her career, she fronted with a dashing smile.

"Thats very kind of you," she added calmly.

"Now, I won't ask you about Pedro, I'm sure everyone bugs you enough about it," Thank god. "But I do want to know, what does your future look like to you-- do you think you'll stay with TV, maybe move to movies, or possibly delving into the music side of things." Naela scoffed playfully at the thought of her trying to write a song.

"Definitely not music, but I'm open to exploring new roles-- I'm really excited to."

"Yes, I think everyone is excited to see you in more projects too-- with just the small clips we've seen, you've gotten so much positive feedback!" Naela nodded, although she was mostly unaware of the comments left by fans. She tried her best to stay off of the internet these days.

"Well, Naela Rivera, thank you so much for stopping to talk with me, I just have one more question before you go-- I've got to know who you're wearing." Morgan offered her the microphone as Naela frantically searched her mind for the answer.

"Oh, my dress?" She asked, glancing down at the shiny fabric to try and regain her memory. "Ralph Lauren, I think!" She answered not-so-confidently, making the interviewer laugh once more.

"You look gorgeous, Naela. Have a wonderful night!" Just as they were finishing up, she felt a strong hand gently tug her away. She looked up to see Pedro smiling down at her.

"We don't have to do another one if you don't want to," he reasoned, as if he could sense she was ready to go inside. Naela shook her head and smiled bashfully, averting her eyes to the crimson carpet beneath her heals. Pedro reassured her it was okay before leading her through the back entrance of the theater. The inside was essentially a larger, more grand movie theater with security. Only a few people, of with Naela didn't recognize, were scattered in the seats. Pedro knew exactly where to go, leading her to the reserved part of the theater and stopping at their names, which were of course placed next to each other. Their seats were only a few rows back from the front and in the dead center of the isle.

The two sat mostly in silence as the attendees slowly trickled in, all dressed in semi-formal attire with a few sore thumbs here and there. Just before the designated start time, Boyd arrived with Joanne in tow and their respective plus one's. The group stayed standing to greet one another for a few moments before they noticed the sudden shift in the lighting. The spotlights at the edge of the stage lit up the area as the director, Tom, walked out. Everyone took their seats before he started.

"Welcome, everyone! Thank you so much for coming out, the support here and everywhere has just been so overwhelming," he paused for a bundle of applause. "I also want to thank my incredible crew and cast; you guys are what made this possible. Special thanks to Boyd, Pedro, and Naela, our main characters. They worked so, so hard on this, and trust me, it was a lot," he added, half-joking. Another round of applause, this time directed at the trio in the center of the theater. Those close enough congratulated them. Naela couldn't stop blushing between the praise and Pedro's thigh resting against hers.

The rest of the event went swimmingly; luckily the most the audience saw of Naela and Pedro was a steamy make out scene. However, the night was far from over. She was excited for the afterparty, but more so nervous because her boyfriend and Pedro would be in the same room, which was a recipe for chaos at this stage. She was going to do everything she could to keep the peace and make sure everyone had a good night. Except for herself, apparently, because that meant she was glued to Josh's side for most of the night.

Around an hour in, Josh already had a few too many. He was lounging on Boyd's couch as if it were his own, opened beer bottle propped up on his knee as he reclined. Naela's arms were crossed as she sat next to him, sober and bored out of her mind.

"Hey, I have a good idea," he proposed sloppily, slurring his words as he turned to face her. Naela raised her brow, urging him to answer with a fictitious interest. "We should get out of here." He bit his lip and let his eyes fall to the valley of her breasts. She tried to hide her disgust as she gently pushed him away.

"No, that's not a good idea," she answered simply, keeping her tone as gentle as possible. His face twisted to anger as he scoffed and downed the rest of the bottle in one go.

"Fine," he spat as he rose from the couch and walking through the glass doors to join the other half of the party outside. Naela sighed and rolled her eyes. She just hoped he wouldn't be too much of a bother without her to supervise. Free of her restraints, she rose to her feet, heels clicking against the wood as she made her rounds, looking for one familiar face.

When the only place left to look was outside, she felt a gentle tug on her forearm. The corners of her mouth turned up expectantly, but she was left disappointed when she was met with a woman she didn’t know.

“Oh! Hi,” Naela started politely, noticing the bright smiles on the woman and her friend’s face.

“Hi, Naela, right?” She nodded instinctively, but her expression faltered when her eyes darted to the woman’s hand that dug her phone out of her purse.

“Can we get a picture?” Before Naela could respond, the two woman took their positions on either side of her. They posed and before she knew it, the flash was going off and the photo was over.

“Thanks so much! Hey, do you know where Boyd is? We’d love to meet him.” Naela was starting to wonder who let them in.

“Um—“

As if he sensed the trouble, Pedro joined them, placing a comforting hand on Naela’s shoulder.

“Mind if I borrow you for a second? Cool.” Without letting her answer, he lead her in the opposite direction, back to the living room. She joined him on the empty space her and her boyfriend left moments ago.

“Some might consider that rude, Pedro,” she scolded with an unconvincing smile.

“I don’t care,” he shrugged, chuckling a bit at his harsh honesty.

“Thank you,” she added sincerily, squeezing his firm bicep for a bit longer than she should have.

“Sometimes you have to be rude to those people. If you keep letting them overstep your boundaries, they won’t stop.” He took an indulgent sip from the plastic cup in his hand as if what he was saying reminded him of something he’d rather forget.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she prodded as she shifted in her seat to face him more. With her entire body turned toward him, he had her full attention.

“I am,” he responded simply, taking another sip. “It happens to everyone. After my season of Game of Thrones released, a lot of people asked to put their thumbs on my eyes like this.” He demonstrated, turning his wrists so his thumbs were pressing into his eye sockets. She giggled at the pose, but continued to listen.

“At first I let them, I thought it was cool— but then one day, I got really bad pink eye.” He scrunched his nose with disgust as they felt a mutual cringe.

“Aw, no.” She mirrored his expression, sticking her tongue out at the thought of a dirty stranger’s hands on her face.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Probably shouldn’t have been doing that in New York, of all places—“

His sentence was cut short of whatever caught his eye. Naela didn’t notice at first, but Pedro’s smile had entirely dropped. She followed his gaze to see that Josh had suddenly appeared, standing just a few feet away from the couch. He stepped even closer, an unreadable look in his eye. Naela’s heart quickened as her entire body tensed in his presence.

“Hey, babe….what’s going on here?” he asked knowingly. He wasn’t yelling but Naela could tell he was more irate than she’d ever seen him. That coupled with the liquor had her heart racing.

“Nothing, we’re just talking—“

“Just talking? He sure showed up pretty quick when I left.” He took another step forward, his voice growing in volume with every sentence.

Pedro raised a protective hand in front of Naela, “Hey, man, let’s just calm down, okay?”

“Calm down? You need to calm down off my woman!” Although it made no sense, in his drunken state, his loud babbling was starting to attract the attention of the other partygoers.

“Josh, please—“

“Josh, please!” He whined mockingly at her. Pedro’s jaw clenched as his fists tightened at his side. “I don’t want to hear your whore mouth—“

“Okay, you’re done!” Pedro shot to his feet, using his hands to push John away from her. “Get the fuck out before I call the police,” he added in a low, but booming voice. They had the entire room’s attention now, much to Naela’s dislike. She followed the two, staying a safe distance away while begging them to stop.

“Sure, call the police instead. If you were a good enough man for Naela, you’d fight me!”

As if it flipped a switch it Pedro’s brain, Josh’s words suddenly alleviated any desire he had to diffuse the situation. He was no longer playing defense.

“Really? Cause I didn’t have to do any of this! She came to me, John!”

Josh’s face twisted up like Naela had never seen. His nostrils flared, his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed. There was a brief moment of silence before Josh drew back his balled fist and drove it straight through the side of Pedro’s face. Naela shrieked, covering her mouth instinctively. Pedro stumbled back a bit, but regained his balance fairly quickly, touching where he felt the burn of a tiny cut on his cheekbone. Josh stood there, seething, before Boyd and a few of his other male friends finally arrived to remove him. They roughly grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the front door, which wasn’t far away from where everyone gathered in the living room.

“Naela! Naela!” He called out hoarsely. They let go of him once they were in the doorway. He straightened his clothes before waving her over.

“Lets go Naela,” he demanded. She stood stunned for a moment. If she went with Josh, it would surely be hell when they got home. The rest of her contract would be hell, in fact. If she stayed…she would be alone. But maybe being with Josh was becoming scarier than being alone.

“No,” she answered simply. She glanced over at Pedro, a small streak of blood falling down his cheek. Somehow, he looked relieved.

“No?!” He called back, looking just as angry as before.

“How fucking dare—!” The men that still guarded him finally pushed him all the way out, shutting the door behind them before he could finish. A small group of a people clapped for his removal, but Naela hardly noticed as the party slowly resumed. She froze for a moment, entirely shocked that Josh would cause a scene like that. She folded her arms protectively in front of herself, trying to breathe and slow down her heart rate. Putting his injury aside, Pedro stepped toward her, giving her a comforting smile before engulfing her in his strong arms. She finally felt like she could take a full breath.

“I’m sorry," she muttered into his chest, lazily hanging her arms around his waist.

"You don't have to be sorry." He let his chin rest on the top of her head as she relaxed. Not wanting to intrude, Boyd gave Pedro a thumbs up, silently asking if they were okay. Pedro nodded, continuing to hold Naela as long as she wanted him to.

After a few moments of deep breathing, she withdrew from him to take a look at his face. She raised her hand, turning his face and wincing as she did so. She could swear his face had already started to swell.

"Here, I'll clean that up for you. Come on." She gently led him to the guest bathroom he was in just moments before and began rummaging through the cabinets and drawers.

"Should've guessed Boyd wouldn't have a first aid kit," she admitted, chuckling awkwardly and breaking the uncomfortable silence. Pedro huffed, his smile slowly returning.

"Towel and some warm water would do just fine," she reasoned as she took a cloth from the stack next to the sink and damped it in the sink. He leaned onto the counter, anticipating the pain. Once she could see the steam coming from the water, she rang out the excess and put the warm towel on his cheek. It was his turn to wince as it stung his small, but still fresh wound.

"I know, I'm sorry," she whispered, her focus locked on his cheek as she dabbed the cloth. Once the sharpness subsided, he allowed his hand to fall on her waist as she stood so close to him. He knew in his heart that it wouldn't be the right time for a while, but he was at least thankful he was allowed to touch her like this again. Once his face was clean, she folded the towel over the wrack next to the shower to dry. He still let his weight rest against the counter as he smiled contently at her. She mirrored his expression and joined him on the counter.

"Thank you," she added sincerely.

"I'm just happy you didn't leave with him," he admitted, the corners of his mouth slightly falling to give her his signature doe eyes. She shifted her gaze, trying to hide the way that look made her feel. Before she could retort, he gasped lightly, as if something suddenly popped into his head.

"You can't go home tonight, can you?" Seemingly, she hadn't thought about it either, as she looked surprised as well.

"No, you're right. I can't," she echoed, searching her mind for a solution.

"What a shame," he added sarcastically, a knowing smirk returning to his face. "Guess you have to come home with me."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I guess so."

Naela soon realized that Pedro was being incredibly modest about his apartment. It wasn't huge, but it was nothing short of luxury. Modern appliances and interior, scattered with bits of his personality in the decorations. Movie posters and various sports memorabilia lined the walls, along with sizeable DVD and record collection in the shelves on the other end of the room. She didn't look around for too long, though. Before they could settle in, she was already rummaging through his freezer for something to put over his eye. She found a bag of frozen peas pretty quickly, and instantly handed it to him to press over his eye.

"Thank you," he groaned, already feeling some sort of relief from the cold. She sighed, a pained look on her face.

"I'm just so sorry, Pedro--"

"Ah! No more of that." He raised his hand, warning her to stop. "This was not your fault."

She sighed, "It kind of was, though." She quickly started to spiral, listing her regrets over and over. "If I hadn't kissed you--"

"I would've kissed you anyway. I wanted to. You just did it first," he admitted. Naela sighed and let her shoulders drop again. Their eyes lingered on one another for a moment before Naela couldn't suppress her laughter anymore. There they were, having the most honest conversation ever, and yet he had a bag of frozen vegetables over his black eye. He shook his head and joined in. He knew how ridiculous it must've looked.

"You promise we're okay?" She needed to know. She was undoubtedly alone now, and even if she wanted Pedro, they both knew she needed to heal.

"I promise," he reassured her.

reblog if you made it to the end!

[sensei-venus]

Jfc! The og alpha Cobras with the omega read 🥵🥵🥵🥵 I'm trying to go to sleep but now all I can think of is being their pretty little omega 😩

May I ask what is it like when their pack omega goes into heat is very whiny snd needy, asking them to make the pain go away, make it all better

(Unedited)

One of them most likely tracks her heats, some of the other guys just completely forget or don't pay attention. Dutch and Johnny won't notice until they get a good sniff of her pre-heat scent. Bobby and Jimmy are usually the ones who end up tracking her heats.

None of the boys actively try to get her to go onto heat suppressants. They really do leave that up to her to decide if she wants to go on them. They do voice the fact that she always has them, five alphas that’s are will to protect and take care of her during her pre-heats and heats. She will never feel alone or feel like she will actually get harmed or hurt during her heats.

They know the minute she starts going into heat just from her scent and the way she starts acting. She gets more clingy with all of them, rubbing up against them, hugging them more, sitting in their laps during lunch and outings, more kisses to their necks and faces. As soon as she starts showing signs of her heat they start going on lockdown and start planing for the next week or so. Making sure they have a place to stay for the week so they can take care of her.

Most of the time they are all there during her heat, all of them partaking in sex with her together. But sadly sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way they want and it’s only one or two of them that can be with her though her heat. It’s never a throw in the face kind of thing with who gets to spend time with her during her heat.

“Please! Please it hurts guys, make it stop.”

Dutch traced his fingers over her dripping folds, the tips of his fingers ghost over her hole. He smirks up at her as she lay on top of him. He kissed up her neck, licking at the bond mark he had given her a while back. New fingers pushed against his own on her bare flesh. Thick fingers pushed into her needy hole as Dutch workedhe own fingers over her wet folds.

“Man your so wet with slick babe, your pussys drooling for us. You want your alphas to take care of you?” Johnny's voice was low as he whispered in her ear from over top her. She whimpered as his fingers started to thrust in and out of her. His knuckle brushed against her lower lips with every thrust in.

“Can I get in first?” Tommy piped in, fisting his own cock from the sidelines. His knot starting to firm up with every stroke.

Jimmy rolled his eyes as he played with Readers tits. His big hands groping the soft flesh of her big tits as they hang. His fingers pinched at her hard buds.

Bobby smirked as he licked over her shoulder and played with her other tit. His other hand ghosted over the fat of her belly and between her legs, his fingers seeking out her swollen clit. She moaned and slumped down onto Dutch. He smirked as he sucked a bigger hickey into her collarbone.

“No. She needs to be knotted by the head alpha first. Get that tight little pussy stretched out. From the looks of it, we might be here for quite a while with the way she’s looking. And this pussy is tight. Needs a lot of stretching on my knot before we can get her all nice and ready to breed comfortably.” She bit into the thick flesh of her neck and she squealed. Her hips thrusting back onto his fingers, fucking herself on his thick fingers.

It was going to be a long week

[panpanpanini]

detco salt. moonlight sonata remake rant below

forewarning that i am a staunch funi-dub enjoyer and fell in love with this show in the first 50 episodes (and still consider the early show to be superior)

-

broke sequence and watched detco episode 1000/1001 yesterday, and not to be a negative nancy but jfc i think i would've been pissed if i had tuned in to watch that on premiere day.

maybe i set myself up for failure expecting anything more (especially given my very low ceiling for ridiculous anime shenanigans) but for transparency's sake i watched the tubi dub (👎) with my brother, since we grew up watching and loving the funi dub version. ooh man did we think it sucked

remaking moonlight sonata at this stage in detco is only a good idea on paper bc it's sentimental. that's literally all it has going for it though. it didn't hold a candle to the original, not even close, not in translation/writing or voice acting, not in animation or color or background or music direction. it was so so bad, the kind of bad that cuts so deep disappointment turns to insult. rigid and stilted, environments feel sterile and vacant and weirdly huge (this is a uniquely me criticism of modern detco lol, absolutely fuckin MASSIVE environments), all sense of small town superstition and tension are gone, no time is spent even acquainting with narumi and so i felt nothing when his identity and status as the killer is eventually revealed, let alone when he self-immolated. and coming off of that, conan himself barely feels like a character. the funi dub does a stellar job of cementing shinichi as the overarching narrator of the series both in writing and in the decision to dub conan's inner monologue with his "true" voice, so while the tubi dub is already at a disadvantage in that regard there's next to no framing of the situation by him otherwise and it just kind of feels like we're flies on the wall in the most boring way possible. this isn't to say the original, subbed or dubbed, is a masterpiece of high art or anything, it just knows what it wants to do and it does it well enough to get you invested in it. there's a reason it's an iconic case, right? in the remake, you just don't get the sense that conan is invested in the case or moved by any of the ominous circumstances at all. it's so fucking weird because he should be the audience surrogate for these cases and instead it's flat and the opposite of immersive. maybe it's harsh of me to say but dare i say it's incompetent. absolute night and day compared to the original, even if you remove the dub variables.

speakings of dubs. i don't know any japanese so i have no meaningful input as to whether or not the tubi dub is a more """accurate""" translation than the funi dub but i'm firmly of the opinion that 1:1 translations belong exclusively to subs. there's way more at play in a dub than just "accurate translation" and i can't fucking tell you how awful the tubi dub is all around. it's just so wooden. i'm sure the cast are capable actors and the rigid writing was more than bogging them down but every time a name was said i made a face. every time a character spoke like a wired informant i made a new one. have the writers ever heard real people converse with each other before? does whoever was in charge of voice direction know what good performances sound like? nobody talks to each other the way the people in this dub do!! christ on a stick

(as an aside, people have pegged my criticisms of anime shows as 'expecting too much realism' but in my defense [1] detco likes to treat itself as a show that--compared to its other big-name modern shonen counterparts-- exists mostly within the bounds of real-life rules and [2] people talking to each other transcends expectations of realism. the show already expects me to think of it within a certain box and i'll eat my hat if you or other people in your life normally talk to each other like they're wearing a wire, repeating everything that's said to them like someone is on the other side of the glass)

overall verdict 1/10. mid episode for the late 900s/early 1000s era piggybacking mostly off nostalgia and good intentions but horrifically executed outside of that bubble and especially in comparison to its predecessor and the legacy thereof. extremely underwhelming and upsetting thing to put out as a commemorative special. i'm not impressed, but i'm not mad either - i'm just really, really sad

[lowkeyclueless5137]

book 6 is gonna be a h o r r i d time in the reverse brother haunting au. jfc

For both the brother haunting au and the reverse, it's a horrible time for the Shrouds.

Ps: in both cases, their actual overBlot episode is during the 2 Halloween event, which makes the Ignihyde book be the 2nd book. We also get to explore the dorm a bit more too :v

For the normal brother haunting au:

Ortho would be so done and over. Like please end him then and there. He is classmates with VIL of all people! And Idia is just trying to diffuse the situation before his lil hooman brother has a seizure. Like please, he's brimming with anxiety, can y'all act like reasonable beings for like 5 mins???

Idia also being more confident, immediately is able to wipe everyone into their place. Like their parents are off to some more important business and all they have to do is watch over them for less than 24 hours, then everything can get to fucking normal and everyone would be happy and free.

But nothing can be simple when 1 sparkly French IKEA lamp looking ass guy busts in with Epel and Yuu.

Like in the king of Blots Au, Grim is the one that stirrs up the chaos, this time sensing a blot stone that was out of an experiment and transported around. In here, the whole situation drives poor Ortho to the point he cries his eyes out because 'WHY can't you just not act like entitled bastards for a bit?! I don't wanna do this yet you blame me for it?!'. This also touches a very low spot for Idia, who absolutely hates to see his lil brother crying. Cue threatening these mfs to cooperate and catch Grim before he decides to open the gates of the underworld and throw them in there to rot with the rest of the Phanthoms.

Bad part is that these bitches don't feel any kind of remorse for making Ortho cry. Like when the Shroud parents return(they immediately hurried back to STIX, so they came a few minutes after our guys left) and find this absolute mess, with their youngest still sniffling a bit, oh it's a whole shitshow. Mrs Shroud wants to decapitate those guys and Idia actually hypes her up. Mr Shroud is the reasonable guy who firstly calms down Ortho and makes sure that at least the boy is well and no one was severely hurt. The damage was out of both brothers's control, so neither get grounded. Instead we get a nice lil family time. :3

Now for the reverse brother haunting au:

Idia in here has a bit of more calm to him. Ortho tries to convince his brother that since in the end they will erase the memory of these guys, maybe they should try and attempt to bond a bit.

Well Grim goes hairwire and shit hits the fan. Unlike Ortho in the og au, Idia is filled with rage since really, these guys are testing his patience. Ortho, poor Ortho, gets so overwhelmed and worked out about it. Like they were supposed to have a sum nice time and now they are arguing while Grim is rampaging through STIX. Like please stop it.

And this is when Ortho cries, this time out of his robotic eyes real human tears pouring out. The others try to brush it off as being a malfunction of the robot, but Idia immediately fusses over his little brother, trying to make him stop crying. This, of course, brings in more rage to Idia, to the point his whole hair is red and BOI is he ready to tear a new one to these bitches. How dare they disregard his brother while in his home?! Like at school Idia would give it a pass, maybe get annoyed at worst, but here? Here he lives. This is basically his house. And even in his own home these guys don't give a damn about his wish to simply acknowledge Ortho as a person? Nah. He's not having it.

So he speaks his mind. He is doing his best to hold his crying brother, covering Ortho's ears while he yells at the rest for being reckless and pieces of shit in general. He went through the same procedures as them. He was in a similar position of subjects, but every procedure was told in advance and in detail, yet still, they are entitled enough to act like this?! To make Ortho cry and disregard the very serious situation at the moment?! Idia tells them that maybe his parents aren't around here, but he's in charge now and maybe he'll just go over a notch and lock up these guys until the whole things is settled. Ok? No more Mr nice guy, you either listen to him and help contain the rabid Grim or you get cuffed and locked until this whole ordeal is over.

To rub that salt into the wound, after this whole fiasco, Ortho is enrolled as an official student at NRC, which means he has the right to be considered someone. He has every fucking right to be respected and Idia would rub it in the faces of the STIX incident group.

[donnerpartyofone]

Does anybody remember several years ago, while the MCU supremacy was still on the rise, when people briefly complained that Marvel movies were either imitating or actively ripping off fan fiction? Like obviously there were development executives who figured out that fandom was happening, and that fan-created content offered an easy reference guide for what kind of thing would best separate fools from their money, and some fans were reasonably annoyed by being exploited and condescended to like that? I guess whatever outrage popped up then was defused by the pleasure the target demo felt when they saw approximations of their own work brought to big-budget life by no less than the Disney corporation (and to a lesser degree the US military-industrial complex for which it stans). Too bad though, because now the fans who fed the success of the MCU and neo-Star Wars stuff have to deal with the irony of Disney attacking them for copyright infringement--not that that stops any of those people from continuously defending their abuser whenever anyone suggests that it's just a greedy corporation that chews up its underpaid employees to churn out formulaic garbage whose main purposes are securing subscription fees, and templating the production of overpriced merchandise.

But uh anyway, the reason I'm thinking about this now is because of corporate ads I see that utilize actual fan art. It's so crazy what they choose! Recently there was an ad for some Marvel thing that I first assumed was just some tween's blazed post for their little webcomic or whatever; the graphic was really crude and nothing about it stood out, so I was stunned when I finally looked at it long enough to notice that it was a piece of fan art that had been commissioned or acquired to promote some new Marvel show. Now I'm seeing that Teen Wolf ad every four or five posts, and I had that same experience where I went from thinking it was just some random crappy fan art, to realizing that it was crappy fan art offered to me by MTV to get me to watch a professionally-produced television series based on a successful existing property movie based on a TV series based on a popular film (JFC!). The art tells you absolutely nothing; it's just two generic white guys standing stiffly in front of a jeep. There's no style or flair, and it's like...well I remember being at the age when I drew like that, like I was competent enough to draw proportional bodies, but I had a hard time with things like fists, upturned faces, differentiating one character's features from another, and just getting a figure to look like it was standing naturally. So there's this kind of rigorous boringness to the image, and if it weren't for the corporate logos, I'd never have guessed that it wasn't JUST a cruddy no-reason drawing of two anonymous guys. The kind of thing somebody drew just to practice drawing clothes, or cars, or whatever. Not much going on. (Shouldn't there at least be a werewolf or something??)

What I mean to say is that it's interesting what a dysfunctional relationship large scale entertainment companies have with the fans they rely on. Like, the corporations know enough to take their cues from fan content, so we get movies and shows that are patterned on shit from AO3 and we get ads featuring actual low level fan art...but that seems to suggest that the companies think that fans are more interested in fan content than they are in the source material. Is this actually true? Maybe! I'm an outside observer, so I really have no idea if the average fandom member actually prefers awkward drawings and jerkoff prose written by 12 year olds (or people who write like them), to whatever professional comics/movies/shows that stuff is based on. They might genuinely prefer the former by now, or they might just not see any difference anymore. But the choice of fan art for these Tumblr ads is really shocking to me. It's like the marketing people decided it was a good idea to pander to fandoms by using their own content against them, but then they were too afraid to use anything with real personality, and they definitely weren't going to use anything really homemade-looking. So, they just went with something that wasn't too good, and wasn't too bad, either. The graphics chosen don't look remotely as good as some of the stuff that turns up regularly on Tumblr Radar, and are also not as interesting as the truly raw, perverted children's fan art that circulates here all the time. Personally, I think they should go with the latter, and start buying up seriously primitive kid drawings and disgusting fetish art and all that real deal fandom shit that makes fandom so repulsive to the rest of us. If corporations wanna pull that "we're just like you" trick by feeding fan content back to the fans, they should really lean in. Get all that popular rapey, incest-y, queer baiting, mpreg weirdness into the ads and just watch the money roll in.

All that said, I do feel concerned about corporations making a product out of fandom to be sold back to the fandom itself--and assuming that we're ALL potential fans and stans--because I think it identifies a mistake being made re: what professional production should look like. And I don't mean to suggest that "outsiders" don't make great art or write interesting stories ("outsider art" is a suspicious label anyway but you know what I mean); any time something truly inspired and original emerges, it doesn't matter where it comes from. But as a consumer, when I'm asked to pay full price for something, I expect it to be made with a greater level of talent and sophistication than what it takes for a young amateur to get a lot of notes on Tumblr (or wherever) from other young people exactly like themselves. Like I remember being a kid and drawing loving portraits of Fox Mulder, Over and Over and Over Again...but if I spent my precious allowance on the latest X-Files comic and found that the inside looked just like my sketchbooks, I would have felt pretty disappointed. If those comics were advertised using that type of art, I would have felt sad and confused about why a comic based on my favorite popular TV show was no better than what I make for myself in my school notebooks. And it would have been fair for me to feel personally ripped off, too, considering the fact that I made that kind of art for free, and now I was paying some entertainment company to sell it back to me.

As an adult horror fan, I'm part of a community (whether I like it or not!) that produces tons of fan content, and also lots of deeply homemade cinema. Some of it is made with real ingenuity, but like, that makes up a predictably tiny minority of what's out there. Once in a while I see a new-to-me title for rent on a major streaming platform, and after I've paid a normal-movie amount of money to satisfy my optimistic curiosity about it, and I find out that it's just, you know, a no-budget ripoff of EVIL DEAD shot on an iPhone in somebody's mom's basement...then I feel pissed off. And I have a right to feel pissed off! Context is important, and part of the context of a movie is where it is offered, and how much you pay to see it. Like, the world has a seemingly endless supply of shot-on-video movies about vampires starring suburban douchebags in wraparound shades and vinyl clothes from Hot Topic, drooling and slurring around mouthfuls of plastic fangs...and don't get me wrong, those guys have a right to make those things, but if I accidentally paid $20 to see one of them in a theater that was otherwise showing what I will shamelessly call Real Movies, I'd be mad. And more to the point, if I had shed the blood sweat & tears required to make a Real Movie myself, which is an almost miraculous feat even for something that comes out bad, and I saw my title on a marquis next to one of those mall goth camcorder movies, I'd probably feel like I failed somehow.

I'm thinking of something I saw recently about a new author who debuted on the NYT best-seller list, who had been plucked from fan fiction obscurity by the business minds at a mainstream publisher. Obviously the execs realized what kind of traffic fan fiction did online and figured they could just skin and repackage that shit as an original romance novel--and they were right. There was nothing apparently special about the book except that the author enjoyed some preexisting fandom community recognition, and the book fit with preexisting fic formulae. The article that described this event included a writer's statement that was itself incredibly primitive, basically saying (inarticulately) that they felt like they had no idea what they were doing but their editor was really helpful in hammering their raw, amateurish writing into something recognizable as a book you'd see in a real, normal bookstore. And like, you can really imagine what happened there, when you read that. And I don't think that should be happening.

I'm sure that for some people, writing and drawing fan content is a great gateway to perfecting a craft, along with formal education, studying lots of different kinds of art and reading lots of different kinds of writing besides the one thing that's your favorite, suffering regular rejection letters and painful criticism, seeking mentorship with experienced pros, gaining your own professional experience, and just plain old making sacrifices and putting in the hours. And that's fine. But, I just don't think publishing houses and production studios with even a modicum of reach and power should put a cap on quality at "rando who gets a lot of traction on deviant art dot com". Call me elitist all you want, I don't think we should put grownup price tags on shit kids make for free to amuse each other. I don't think we should suggest to creators and producers of all kinds that nobody has to try any harder than that. And we shouldn't suggest, by proxy, that audiences don't deserve any better than that, either.

[spacerhapsody]

Tag game: Answer these questions, then tag 9 people you want to get to know better.

@writingowl1985 tagged me, and in the spirit of New Year's resolutions and everything I actually didn't save this as a draft and forgot about it for 5 to 50 business days for once. Anyways, thank youuu 💜

3 ships: Luffy/Zoro (One Piece), Adam/Vincent (Polizeiruf), and the never-ending Dean/Castiel hell :')

and I accidentally got back into Marco/Ace (One Piece) a couple of days ago (get yourself an OTP where one half died 10 years ago and the other one is such a minor character that he shows up/is mentioned about twice per decade)

First ship: Good question. I was convinced it was one of the 1000 anime ships that happened around the same time, and low-key it probably was Yamato/Sora from Digimon (I still see them together at some point, but not as endgame anymore), but I just looked up the timing and the first one I was really intense about might actually have been Buffy/Spike from BtVS?

(And then I discovered you can also ship gay non-canon ships and it was OVER, lmao)

Last movie: Poltergeist (the 1982 version, actually for the first time, and while I was very disappointed on the horror front, I really want more families portrayed like this again. They actually have fun together and genuinely seem to like each other?? Wild.)

Last song: Here to Mars - Coheed and Cambria (that Marco/Ace fanmix is going to be the END of me)

Currently reading: The Science of Cooking by Stuart Farrimond, and I finally picked up Greywarren by Maggie Stiefvater again today, after I've put reading more than the first few pages of that one off for months now because I'm afraid I won't like it, and that would kind of break my heart because Ronan Lynch is my son.

Currently watching: One Piece (only about 200 more episodes until I'm up to date!!)

Currently consuming: uuh water?

Currently craving: a proper vacation. Also, after I had access to one over the holidays, a fancy bathroom, this was so nice :'))

tagging (as always, feel free to ignore this if you don't want to/have already done this): @hazelestelle, @haemoglobinheights, @digimochi, @mscalifornication, the next goddamn spam/porn blog that follows me because jfc

[lunisway]

04/07 + 08 +09/24

Sorry for being awol the last few days, I was super tired and exhausted. I think the starvation is getting to me. I do constantly think I eat too much by having lunch, but I just can´t stop. So I´ll try minimize the kcal I have.

I´ve recently discovered spinach with ranch as a meal and I fucking love it! Next I´ll maybe try arugula or something to mix it up.

So here is Sunday:

We had Taco Bowls at my job (well as of now I am still volunteering, but they offered me a job for 29$/hour!!! as soon as I get my paperwork fixed) and I took a tiny bit, which I was okay with. I walked a lot that day and organized a COD tournament there for all the people we support and it went great! All in all the mood was super nice. T and me then proceeded to get some steaks to grill, but holy shit! I never realized Ribeye had so many kcal! Next time we grill I will pick something less heavy. Still eating the Couscoussalad, which turns out is actually a Quinoa salad, because I picked up the wrong box from our pantry - ooops. Oh well, we still liked it a lot and it just is so filling! I was still below 1000 kcal so I guess I can live with it.

Here is Monday:

I was sooo surprised by my intake today! I thought it would be far more, but apparently pork loin is pretty low kcal! The Quinoasalad is still kicking and making us happy. Work was dope! I am making actual friends and it makes me so happy and fulfilled. Maybe I will make a career out of it after all, instead of going to law school. We´ll see. I am getting to a point of exhaustion with not eating lunches, so I will allot myself 150 kcal for that! Today I had leftovers of the taco bowls for lunch. Also I´m pretty sure one of my colleagues has an ED. She looks amazing tho! Gotta get back on the workout train soon.

And now to today:

I am pretty okay with today. I shouldn´t have had the waffle, but I couldn´t resist. It smelled sooooo good! My own baking is my goddamn downfall. I felt like I was eating all freaking day. Need to be better. Also 2 tbsp of walnuts contain a whooping 103 kcal?! Sure an hell not going to be okay with that! Tomorrow I want to cut up some ham with spinach and use tortilla chips instead of walnuts. Maybe use some carrot? We´ll see, but spinach salad seems like a good safe food for lunch. Also one of my colleagues offered to go to zumba after work together tomorrow right across the street! I am STOKED. Finally some adults who are dope and not poisoned my hubbys jealous, toxic ex! Like I ever did anything to her lol. All I did was be kind and understand up to a point. I never said anything to her JFC. Whatever, she can eat dirt. I hope she´s miserable with all the shit she´s done to me, but I´ll get to that another day. Today was good. I snacked but oh well. I´m trying to convince T to work out with me now! If not I´ll just do a home workout by myself. I can highly recommend Growwithjo. 2 years ago I had lost a bunch of weight with her workouts already and now I´m back baby!

Baby C is currently the cutest fucking baby kitten I´ve ever met. So much better than T´s former cat lol. I mean I seemed to be her favorite person since she always just wanted to cuddle with me and lay on me but still.

Also some exciting news: The Quinoasalad is done for! we got like 10 or 11 portions out of it, so it has even less then 180 kcal lol.

The plan for the next few days:

-Homemade Tacos (with homemade nachos and tortillas)

-Lasagna soup

-Salmon Pasta Salad with Lemon-Herb Dressing

T really appreciates me cooking and making our foods at home to be healthy and keep everything clean and support him by keeping our home life in order! I love how T always tells me I´m such a better cook than his ex. She apparently sucked at the whole wife thing... Couldn´t keep the house clean for the life of her and just being a slob in general and it gives me such a pleasure whenever he remarks how much better I am at that * laugh*. Like who needs to be reminded of personal hygiene on a regular basis?

[lawluenvy]

Y'ALL I JUST HEARD FROM MY PHARMACIST (WHO I USED TO WORK WITH WHO IS A FRIEND LMAO) THAT MY BIRTH CONTROL NO LONGER REQUIRES A DOCTOR'S SIGNATURE AND CAN BE PRESCRIBED BY HER/PHARMACISTS INSTEAD!!!!

THIS IS LOW KEY THE BEST NEWS

i think insurance still partially covers it??? barely. cuz patriarchy still reigns so i'm still paying mostly out of pocket

BUT THIS IS CERTAINLY A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION!

OH MY FUCKING GODS!

now if only my ssris were like this and didnt need to be renewed every three months jfc... if they arent working anymore i'll fucking tell you smfh at least make it a year like wtf do you think is happening in the world that i would magically no longer require medications just to get out of bed on this godforsaken planet???? ARE THINGS GETTING BETTER?!?!?

NO!

NO THEY ARE NOT!

AND THEY PROBABLY WONT IN MY LIFETIME

IF EVER AT ALL IN THE HISTORY OF CONSCIOUS-KIND!

depression is forever when you're trapped in the cursed timeline that's just how it is

[phibixm]

so it's not news, but it sucks how if your income is below a certain threshold (150% of the federal poverty level I gather) you are actually disallowed from receiving government assistance to pay for a real health insurance plan, and are instead forced to accept the shittiest health insurance that exists, for free. Practically no providers accept the shitty free insurance, and APPARENTLY some will not allow patients to pay out of pocket if they admit to having the shitty free insurance, instead refusing to see those patients at all.

SOME PEOPLE have money hanging around that they can't declare as income and need to see a psychiatrist, which they are willing to pay out of pocket for with their money they have, but have been denied care due to honesty about health insurance coverage. (It's me, I'm the people.)

In lieu of paying out of pocket, I would prefer to pay a monthly amount for real insurance so the psychiatrist I want (and probably other doctors! when will I next get a pap smear??) will see me instead of refusing to do that, but real insurance companies will not allow me to pay some portion of their usual premiums with government assistance, as they do for those with incomes between 150-250% of the FPL, instead forcing people like me to go with the shitty free insurance, or POSSIBLY pay the whole premium and just not declare income?

I haven't gone too far down that road, but it does seem like if I wanted to pay without assistance, with the money I have, no one would stop me. I'm tempted! Probably wealthier brats than me do it all the time. But could the insurance people not offer the same level of assistance to people with below 150% of the poverty level as they do people in the next tier up, if free is too low for them? Like, obviously that wouldn't solve the overall problems (don't @ me) but if a person WANTS to pay more for a better insurance plan, LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE, they should be ALLOWED to. And having the shitty free insurance is actually worse than not having any at all when providers will deny care because of it, instead of allowing the option to pay out of pocket. jfc. like not even letting me pay up front.

The lack of autonomy is hitting me really bad. And like. I know my "I have money so let me pay" is a position of moderately evil privilege, and I am pissed off about the lack of wealth-having workarounds to my own situation, but this shit is literally killing the people who never have those kinds of options. Instead of a way to provide free health care to the poor, medicaid is functionally a black mark notifying health care providers when a patient can't afford their services. Among other potential fixes (don't @ me), it should be illegal for any health care provider to deny care to any patient because of what insurance they do or don't have. Like, charge me whatever you want after the fact, I don't give a fuck, but refusing to see me at all??? Ugh. Obviously we all know this already, I'm just real pissed off today.

[nctdeeznutz]

The Sun Sets Better With You

Author’s note: This is my first time posting my own work on here....A little nervous. I just hope my imagination was accurately described during the smut. To think this started because of Taeyong and his sunset lamp light that he uses in some of of IG stories. Because in my story he’s just a bottom!b*tch. He honestly will be the death of me. The OC has the restraint I WISH I had for this man jfc. PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE!!!! 

Warnings: dirty talk, oral, (self)handjob, unprotected sex (wrap it up like pig in a blanket, yall. frfr), established relationship, descriptive usage of lights and shadows, just pure, filthy, unruly, and insatiable sub!Tae, OC is kinda domish (if you squint one eye just a wee bit)

Sneekie Peekies👀: He smiled from her question and his own ministrations causing him to shiver. It felt too good to finally be seen. The look in his eyes was so intense but his eyelids laid so low. Almost making him look sleepy. “Tell me I look pretty in our new light.” His demand was soft but so loud.

“Izzy~! It’s here! It finally came!” 

Taeyong busted into the shared bedroom of he and his girlfriend’s apartment. There was a small box in hand from what his girlfriend, who sat in their bed, could see. He vigorously shook the package above his head like an excited child. Unamused she looked up from her laptop.

“Whatever it is…I’m sure it’s broken now.” It was so sassy. Izzy just looked back down at her laptop screen continuing her work. Pursing his lips with force and squinting his eyes.  

“It is not broken! Just watch…” To prove a point he stomped across the room. There was a bedside table sitting to the left of Izzy. Taeyong stood hunched over the box in pure concentration as his eyebrows furrowed together mumbling to himself. His mouth formed a thin line that slide to the left of his face while pushing his lips outward. He was cute as he tried to get the tape off the box. He was always very careful for some strange reason about opening all of his packages. 

Fixating on lights and colors was a hobby of his. Ambiance was just something he had an eye for. It got him the job he had been hoping for at G&J Entertainment as their light show specialist several years ago. He loved his job. Taeyong encouraged himself to always work on his craft, even at home. The lighting in their home was picture worthy. Straight out of a Pinterest post. It was something he loved to do; Izzy got to be enchanted by the different colors and patterns that danced around her ceiling. Everyone was happy. She did like his eye for colors and detail. When he saw this sunset light lamp on Amazon he was enthralled. The orange hue was something he knew would look great against her soft flesh. Bring out the yellow undertones in every curve and bump. The product was so small but had so much potential. His mind immediately imaged how it would look in their space. On them. Together.

“Prepare to be amazed…” Taeyong said aloud but more so to himself as he unraveled the cords to the electronic.

“Amazed? How can I be amazed when you keep buying lights? Our bill was $379.68 last month. Lord, help me. If you bring another light into this house I’m going to skin you alive and wear you for Halloween like a latex suit.”

The man was too stunned to speak. “That’s kind of sexy.”

His eyebrow arched as he thought about his lover in a latex suit. That thought scurried away when he registered her tone. Big eyes were wide as he stood there with his shoulders hung over. Slouched and obviously sad.

“Did you have to remember it down to the cents though?” He groaned. “That was one time!”

“It’s been climbing but now it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Don’t ruin this for me.” The “me” in his beg was drawn out which caused him to drop his shoulders as low as he physically could, the box in hand dropped onto the floor with his arms. “I thought this was a safe space.” His faux cry reached her ear but not once did she did stop clicking.

“Send it back.” She deadpanned.  With slight force the laptop closed. This was not something up for discussion right now. It was the truth. She shifted picking up her laptop to finish her work in their shared study room. Before she could get too far his comment made her stop.

“But it has fifteen different settings.” To the left of his head was his arm raised at a 90º angle with the small remote between his fingers and thumb, loose wires in the other. On his face was a still a pout.

“Now.” Still unamused she walked past him.

Three hours had passed since then. She had heard him grunting in annoyance at the light fixture and the overpriced, weak wifi. Something was off when she really began to listen. Silence in the house was not unusual but Taeyong has been quiet. Too quiet. Izzy’s project has come to an end and she was hungry. Lazily, she walked down the hallway to their bedroom. There was a soft red tint that changed to orange. Figuring it was the light that he just bought she shrugged it off. The door swung open with little force as Izzy pushed herself the rest of the way in. Nothing could have prepared Izzy for what he was doing. The orange sunset lamp reflected off of him and the white bedding. Taeyong’s hair was in his eyes but they were shut. Silver-ish hair looked orange only for a second before it flashed a soft purple and blue light. Blue light radiated off of his sharp features making a shadow under his jawline. His cheekbones, nose, and lips were illuminated. His dewy skin made it look as though he wore highlighter. He looked beautiful. She almost forgot what he was doing before a hand slid up onto his neck. The hand came across the width to grasp it firmly. Izzy’s breath caught in her throat. She could hear a consistent slight slick as he worked himself.  

“Tae?” She sounded curious and soft. Taeyong moaned; his eyes still closed. Two brown eyes watched his hand slide from around his own throat to collect some oil that had been applied to his upper body and spread it to his privates. His muscles looked even more sculpted. The way his triceps moved under his smooth skin made her mouth go dry. The veins in his forearms showing. Pink to purple hue of light bounced off the oil. Four soft steps were taken. Only a few more to go as she grabbed the bed post to get a closer look.

“How long have you been doing this?” Izzy noted that she sounded so breathless. As if she was the one touching herself in the middle of their bed. Finally Taeyong opened his eyes to make eye contact with her.

“So long. For so long. I’ve been edging myself…waiting for you to find me.” Her brain trying to process what he said had put her brain into overdrive for a moment. It left her with one question.

“Why?”

He smiled from her question and his own ministrations causing him to shiver. It felt too good to finally be seen. The look in his eyes was so intense but his eyelids laid so low. Almost making him look sleepy.

“Tell me I look pretty in our new light.” His demand was soft but so loud. “Look. Look at the wall.” Izzy’s eyes watched his head drift to the right. What he saw made his own breathing uneven.

“Izzy?”

Stuck. Izzy was stuck. Her eyes were the first thing to move then her head followed. On the wall was the shadow of his body’s outline.Taeyong moved his head back to its original position. The round of his forehead, point of his nose, curve of his lips, and bumps of his Adam’s apple making a hill on the valley of his neck.  She let her eyes travel lower past the plain of his toned chest and stomach to the hard on in his hands. The sight she’s been teasing herself with this whole time. In the shadow she could make out the knuckles of his hands at the base of his dick. The ridges created a contrast to the smooth curved black figure. Slowly the top hand slid up, circling around the tip only to come back down to meet the other again. To her left Taeyong was releasing moans that made her core pulse. He did this multiple times. After those strokes he intertwined his fingers together, wrapped his palms around either side of his dick, and connected his wrist. The shadow of his muscular leg combined with the flatness of his resting other leg, created a triangle against the wall before he brought his other leg up. Only his shoulders and flats of his feet touched the bed as he began to thrust into his hands. Hips touched his hands with relaxed, even strokes. Izzy was dazzled by the performance before her. The dampness in her pajama shorts was unwavering. She wished his delicate hands were her own. Her immediate grip on the bed post kept her grounded as she blinked a few times then he called her name again.

“Izzy. Tell me. Please.” By now, she was standing next to him. Her figure in the light now. The light is no longer the color it once was. It has changed to the original setting to start all over. Seemed like Taeyong figured out how to put it on some sort of repeated cycle. Orange and Yellow. His dick looked stiff and red. Past his privates was his abs, chest, neck, and finally his face. He looked at her with expectancy. A pink tongue coated his lips. Now they glistened just like his upper body. So tangible. Silently, her hand closest to him reached out to graze his thigh.

“So pretty, baby. You look so pretty.” That compliment sent Taeyong to jerk his dick a little faster. Silently, Izzy undressed. To say that he was excited to see his girlfriend going along with his antics was an understatement. It made his finger tips tingle. He grabbed the remote to set the light to his favorite just to sit it back down. Eagerly he got up to touch her naked frame.

“Why haven’t you kissed me if I look so pretty? You know I’m doing this for you.” Her and her mate saw eye to eye. His pouty lips looked so enticing. She felt his hands skirt along her hips to remain there; he pulled her body against his. Naturally, the exposed skin collected some of the oil from his body. Izzy could feel it pressing into her pores. They're foreheads touched but no lips connected fully. Just a few grazes here and there. They were teasing each other. Izzy smiled into the kiss. Only because Taeyong cracked first. She could feel him press himself into her like a puzzle piece. The kiss made him whimper. Long awaited intimacy that he had been craving since he started this game. He felt like he deserved it. He had been so patient. Soft smacks of kisses could be heard in the silence of the bedroom. Taeyong needed more. So he took the lead to pull her flat against him. They casually fell onto the bed in their heated kiss.

“You’ve been here stroking yourself this whole time…hoping for me to come back from the study. It’s only fair I get a chance to get pleasure too.” Izzy took advantage of the oil and used her thumb to subtly flick Taeyong’s nipples as she pulled his earlobe into her mouth. His hips ground up into nothing hoping for something.

“Anything. Anything you want.” Pale fingers gripped the comforter under him while his hips never stopped grinding up. His girlfriend looked down. Slender gold-ringed fingers braced themselves on the sides of Taeyong’s head instead his nipples.

“If you don’t stop thrusting like that you’re going to come. Calm down.” Her tone was soft. Her warm lips caressed his own from left to right. She did not want to pull away from him completely. All Taeyong could do was nod his head. Their breaths calmed down.

“Get comfortable on the bed, baby.” Taeyong rearranged some pillows to lay in the top middle of the bed. Following his lead Izzy kneeled over him. Her knees inched past his shoulders, ears, and stopping then the tips met the top of his head. From above Taeyong was so pleased. His pale hands slid upward to her hips that followed the same trail back down. With ease, Izzy lowered herself over his mouth. The heat that escaped his open mouth made her stomach bubble with anticipation. Eating pussy was one the things that he was best at. If Izzy were too look back on all of her exes Taeyong still took the crown. He did it with so much passion and confidence. He knew he was good too. She could feel it in the way his mouth greeted her clit much like it was doing at the moment. Lips kissed hers with slow appreciation. All Izzy could do was grip the headboard, moan, then look down at her boyfriend. Deep, determined eyes met her lust filled ones. The technique had changed to his mouth suctioned around her clit with his tongue pressed right against it. Somehow he managed to make a pulse like sensation that made her so wet. Izzy’s back glistened with sweat. She was so hot from being on top; it took a lot of effort to control her stability while her abdomen shook with pleasure. Loud slurps followed by obnoxious eating noises only made her more weak.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” Taeyong, who sounded intoxicated, questioned. Izzy stopped to open her eyes. When she looked down, Taeyong was giving her this stare all while he licked his lips.

“Maybe even come around me? Because I want you to.”

There was a strong grip on her ass as he spoke. He was right. She was more than wet enough from the prior show then the immaculate head had kept her on the edge long enough. Without a word she scooted back to sit on his lap. Taeyong placed himself with his back rested against a pile of pillows. Izzy’s thighs on either side of his. Straddling him. Her lean thighs always fit so perfectly in his hand so that if he wanted to grip them with force, the skin would bulge beneath the pressure. Making the prettiest impressions. So warm, so soft. With her right hand she rearranged their genitals so her lips were spread over the underside of his hard-on. Her wetness smeared as she began to rock back and forth. Every once in a while her clit would rub the tip. Taeyong was enjoying this dry humping all too much. His focus was on the way his penis was now glistening. Thrust so eager that they would falter past her pussy. Izzy moaned. Two grinds later when Taeyong’s tip caught Izzy’s hole on his thrust up. He did not push all the way. The enjoyment of sliding into Izzy was that it should be done slowly. He felt everything clenching and pulling him in. Soft and wet. It evoked a carnal desire to be so sub. Izzy was fully seated on him now. Not moving, just feeling his length hard inside of her. Her nails dug into his ribs as she leaned forward to kiss him. To his surprise she brought her hips up, rolled around the tip, and fully sat him inside her again. Taeyong’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. The toes on his feet bending with restraint. Then her thrust became more persistent. The muscles in her ass, hips, and lower back flexing beneath the skin as she rode him. This was his favorite. Her chest grazing his as she proceeded to rotate her hips. Giving his tip attention that caused his chest to move in a way that looked shaky. His moans went higher in pitch. Her hips swiveled in a slow melodic pace. Her touch was a contradiction. The way one hand had a stronghold on his shoulder and the other in the back of his head, gripping the patch of silver hair there. Taeyong closed his mouth trying to swallow whatever saliva had accumulated. Though it was not much because he was breathing through his mouth rather harshly. Everything just felt so good. Every time his girlfriend brought her hips forward her walls would grab him in a way that made his mouth fall open again. Caramel skin in the light of his sunset light lamp took his breath away. Looking up at her with his mouth open, eyebrows slightly raised, and eyes so glossy. They shimmered when he looked at her. The different hues of orange and yellow made her look celestial. If he looked to his right he could see the shadow of their figures on the wall adjacent to him. He looked absolutely fucked out. Both of his hands gripped her ass to press his hips into hers.

“Please…” Taeyong leaned forward. He honestly couldn’t tell if the pull was from her gripping him harder while riding him faster or the sheer weakness he felt from all pleasure. Either way he was addicted. His mouth lingered on the area where her neck and shoulder met. Slowly, he opened his mouth, letting his tongue lick the area with hunger. Finally letting a low whimper out. His hips stuttered in her. Although he danced, for some reason, he couldn’t help but to give stammered pumps while she expertly swiveled hers.

“Fuck…Izzy—“ Taeyong felt dizzy. He was so hard and on the edge. She could tell. What Izzy loved the most was to watch him fall apart. He wasn’t coming but she drooled over how easily he got worked up. Similar to a loose string in the stitching of a fabric. So easy. He had always been like that. She smiled to herself as she pulled him closer to her chest. The feeling of adoration and pride seeping from her sweaty frame. It felt good to put in this hard work for the reward to be a whimpering boyfriend who is eager to please. Allowing him room to breath but cradling him so closely, she slowed her hips again. This torture continued as Taeyong ate it up.  The way she held him and whispered praises in his ear was forbidden. 

Taeyong felt his head gripped by the top of his head and chin. Moving shadows on the wall came into view. It’s not something anyone would make out immediately but it did look like two people intertwined. The height advantage his girlfriend’s head displayed over his, her head hung back and her open mouth made a gap in the outline. The loose curls in her head that bounced as she worked him to completion and the outline of her back along with the curve of her ass was all on display. His eyes and head rolled back again. Silver hair that was once covering his forehead now split down the middle. Allowing Izzy to see his face fully. His eyebrows were raised higher than before as he took a deep exhale.  

“B-Baby. Baby… Stop.” His chested heaved to gather some oxygen from the deep exhale he blew out earlier. Izzy, who was still looking at her boyfriend, smiled. Hunched over she kissed up his neck only to top it all off with a lick from his collar bone to his chin. He shivered and laughed. Hands moved from her ass to her face. Taeyong was the best kisser. Always a quick leaner. He took Izzy’s breath away every time. They're lips locked with slow, intimate kisses. Sometimes his tongue would slip into her mouth grazing her tongue to slip out of her mouth again. Izzy groaned with impatience.

“You wanna know what I think?” She asked in between wet, plush kisses. Affected by her words Taeyong briefly let his imagination run free.

“God,” he exhaled. Taeyong’s lips ghosted over Izzy’s. Hands on either side of her face kept her still so she could feel his lips move while he spoke: “I’d let you do whatever you want to me. I just want to be your good boy. So, please. Let me be good for you…” Everything he just stated came out in a hushed, used whisper. Too fast. Too desperate. He couldn’t help it. With another loud deep breath he kissed Izzy hard. Lips messily slid together with immense amount of primal want.

“I haven’t said anything yet, Tae.”

“Let me cum for you…” He managed to let another plea let loose. Their kiss and closeness encouraged them to began rocking again. Lightly his hips rocked up into her warm heat. Every thrust meeting her grinds. He was so deep in her. As many times as they have been intimate Taeyong could never get used to Izzy riding him balls deep, lingering kisses on his neck, and telling him he deserves to come. Truth be told he does. Letting her drive the boat was something he preferred. Being used, grabbed, bitten, and anything else under the sun just so happened to be something she found out he liked. 

She angled her chin upward as she looked down on him. His balls tightened. By now, Taeyong’s legs were extended outward, a basic reaction when he gets close to coming. Every once in a while he would flex his butt muscles to emulate some form of undulation. The tension in his muscles only applied more pressure toward his orgasm. Her walls gripped him a few more time so he held his breath. A vein in his neck grew in visibility the closer he got. He was holding back. Trying not to let feeling to the orgasm completely sweep him away in the waters of euphoria to later drown.

“‘m so cl-ose.” Eyes closed. Lips dry. His Adam’s apple bobbed with need. Taking advantage of his eyes being closed Izzy leaned forward to grip Taeyong’s chin.

“Open those pretty eyes of yours, baby.” Izzy’s tongue peeked from her mouth and traced the small circular opening of her partners parted lips. Taeyong’s big, round eyes landed on Izzy. She felt like a star. “I want you to look at me as best you can while you come. Can you do that for me?” His eyes just followed her every movement. There was no response but she knew he was going to do it.

“…gonna make…make me come s’hard- Oh shit.” Naturally his breaths became deeper and deeper. The grip on her hips had tightened. With two more swirls of her hips, his orgasm had hit him hard. Taeyong had managed to uphold the eye contact but only for a second. He most certainly was not looking at her directly. One of his eyes managed to roll in a different direction. His pupils had almost rolled past visibility before his eyes fluttered closed. His mouth released the longest, loudest moan accompanied by a drawn out “fuck”. He was breathless. His body was completely locked up as he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm. He could not control the shake of his right leg or the jerking of his abdomen.

“You ride me so good…” He chanted absent-mindedly.

Mindlessly, his hips still stuttered into her heat. The combination of him coming and his thrust had her come undone with a shudder.

“God damnnit.” Proclaimed his tired girlfriend. Izzy was out of breath; her thighs burned. It was all worth it to see him with his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Taeyong laughed to himself as he hugged her. She stayed in his lap while he rubbed circles into her lower back.

A single kissed was placed on her neck before he spoke: “So, we’re keeping the light?”

[captainsimagines]

traitor

Summary: It was only one night, no strings attached, just two friends working through their grief together. Steve went to live his life with Peggy and within two weeks of returning, he peacefully passed. Unimaginable things happen everyday, jokes have negative consequences, and protection doesn’t always protect from the possibility… the possibility of carrying a child. He would have stayed if he knew, everyone agrees with this, so why is the world calling Steve Rogers a traitor?

One-Shot (with a happy ending)

Pairing(s): Avengers x Fem Reader; brief Steve Rogers x Fem Reader

Warnings: Unexpected pregnancy; serious talks about abortion; brief mention of suicide (if you squint); mentions of Endgame deaths; strong language; minor descriptions of actual birth; ANGST but with a happy ending! This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 6,600+

A/N: So, Olivia Rodrigo’s album just came out and dude, jfc every song is magical. like... wtf. This is essentially a ‘song fanfic’, but ehhhh not quite. The lyrics don’t match the fanfic lmao but the melody does??? idk this is a shit ton of angst, be warned. It was from a request I got a while back, so this is kind of a request fanfic. 

~

Up until the moment Steve pressed his soft lips to yours, you were certain you had never experienced such a wonderful sensation of magic. You had been witness to actual magic, to beings from other worlds, and yet Steve’s gentle touch was enough to erase any other image, to completely overpower your senses, a kind of magic that dug deep into the trenches of your heart and settled in its new home. 

No, you and Steve were not a couple. There were some flirty remarks over the years, some fantasies that lay dormant, but there was never the craving to actually act upon them. But when half the world disappeared and the remaining Avengers came up with a plan five years later, the loss of a teammate prompted the sudden push of two touch-starved individuals. The rest of the team had gone to sulk in their own corners of the compound, some hard at work at constructing the final piece to the puzzle, and you and Steve ventured off to the kitchen. Two cups of tea each, silent but heavy tears mixing in with the sugar and milk. 

You were the first to break, shoulders crumbling and knees rocking under your weight. You fell to the floor, sobs and hiccups forming into a full-blown attack, your hands scratching at your neck. Steve fell beside you, pulling you into his chest and rocking you back and forth. He cried too, the final words of his best friend ringing in his ears like a dreaded song on repeat. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. 

Time was irrelevant, you had enough of counting time, estimating it, time-traveling through it. If you could sit there all night, all week, another five years huddled close to Steve Rogers, then so be it. 

‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ you had sobbed. 

‘I can’t believe it either. I can’t,’ he had cried back. 

You had simply lifted your head and turned his face toward yours, searching his eyes for any hesitation before you had leaned in first. He had returned the intimate gesture almost immediately, gripping you tightly. Tears dripped in between your moving lips, sobs caught inside breathy moans, grips becoming tighter and tighter as each of you shared your first time together. No other partner up until that point had ever pulled such a pained but grateful cry from your throat, no other human being had ever made you feel so safe and peaceful. 

The final battle was over, you had lost yet another teammate, but the world had a chance to start over. And Steve had pulled you aside a few days before he returned the stones, letting you know that he wasn’t coming back the same man. He had been so scared of telling you, of possibly betraying you, but when your palms cupped his cheeks and you gave him a kiss on the lips with a soft whisper of ‘Be with her. Cherish her. Be happy. We’ll meet again’, his worries instantly shattered. He could only rapidly nod his head, grabbing your hands that were soaked in his tears, and kissing them until he said his final goodbyes. 

And he returned such a different man, but with a smile you had never quite seen before. Yes, he was older and you only had a few seconds to actually process that, but he was happy. He had been happy. He finally lived the life he deserved. 

Sitting in that pew two weeks later, both sad and happy tears streaming down your face, you felt at peace for the first time in a long time. You simply gripped Wanda’s hand as they carried the casket down the aisle, a sad melody drowning the church. 

`

The first round of sickness hit you the day of the funeral, but you obviously didn’t think much of it. It was the fits of sadness and grief, the hot coil in the middle of your stomach, you thought. It had to be. It wasn’t until your breakfast was regurgitated into your toilet only a few minutes after enjoying it that you were suddenly worried. 

You sneaked to some liquor store a subway ride away, careful of not leaving a trail. This was embarrassing, it was insane, it couldn’t possibly be real. You gave the cashier your money and ran to the stall provided, peeing on the stick the best you could before placing it on the dirty sink in the corner. You patted your hands on your thighs repeatedly, careful to not touch any other thing in a goddamn liquor store bathroom. 

‘Friday?’ your voice was so defeated, tears already stinging your eyes.

Your little bluetooth sprang to life, ‘Yes, Y/N?’

Your bottom lip was trembling wildly, hands now shaking. ‘Can you stay active with me while I read the results? I can’t… I can’t be alone right now.’

‘Yes, Y/N. Anything you need, I’m here.’ You sobbed openly, thanking her under your breath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to contact anybody else?’

‘I can’t face them. I can’t face them if it’s positive, Friday.’

‘Okay, it’s alright,’ her voice was so delicate, so quiet and reassuring. ‘Just keep talking to me, Y/N. I think the results should be ready now.’

You inched closer to the test. ‘I’m scared, Friday.’

‘I know,’ Friday sighed, ‘But you will get through this. No matter the result.’

Grabbing the small device from the sink, you swallowed so much saliva that it actually hurt. The plus sign was so clear, so evident in its visibility, and your ears only registered the loud cries escaping your painful lungs because Friday was practically yelling in your ear. 

‘Please, calm down Y/N! Your heart rate is too fast-” she was stuttering, an AI was stuttering. ‘I’m calling for help. You need someone to be here with you. I’m sorry.’

It took ten minutes. Ten minutes of banging outside the bathroom door from the cashier, ten minutes of blurry vision and a strep throat. Sam broke through the door as quickly as he could, eyes flying around the small bathroom until he saw you huddled in the corner, a pregnancy test clutched in your small hand. He crouched down beside you, hands extended but not exactly touching you, and eyes trying to lock with yours. 

‘Y/N, Y/N?’

Just the sound of his voice, the voice of someone who didn’t need this added pain in their lives, it was just too much. Another weight added to your shoulders. 

‘I don’t know why,’ you choked out, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sam’s face contorted into a pained expression, eyes brimmed with salty tears. ‘What are you talking about? No one is blaming you for anything. You’re safe, I’m here.’

You shook your head violently, ‘I didn’t mean to.’

But as quickly as those words left your mouth, the pounding in your head had become too unbearable. You collapsed into Sam’s arms. 

`

You woke to a single doctor who was monitoring your vitals. She was just sitting beside your bed, clicking random buttons on the screen in front of her. You whimpered slightly, the bright lights temporarily blinding you. The doctor quickly stopped what she was doing and removed the tube from your nose, allowing you to breathe on your own. You ignored the weird scratch that caused, and asked her the question you needed to have answered by a true medical professional - not a liquor store device. 

She confirmed what you already knew. There were no ‘congratulations’ or even ‘I’m sorry’s’, just the fact that you were pregnant and it was very early on. There were still options for you, it was healthy so far, you were healthy so far- 

Wait, options? 

The team were all huddled outside, nerves all over the place. They didn’t know what was going on. Sam knew but it wasn’t his information to pass on. It wasn’t until Bucky’s angry demeanor actually turned violent, a hole forming through the hospital wall. You were all on a private floor, completely displaced from the reality down on other levels, so any freak-outs were only slightly justified. Slightly. 

‘Sam, you gotta tell us. I made a promise to Steve, Sam! I promised to take care of her!’

Bucky’s words gripped Sam’s heart in a metaphorical vice. ‘She’s gotta tell you guys, man. It’s not my place.’

You had curled in on yourself, the doctor’s words echoing louder and louder. 

‘Abortion is an option. At this rate, it would be quick and safe. I can promise you that. It’s your choice.’

You wanted to die. You wanted the world to swallow you up and bury you alive. You wanted to disappear. If you had died in the snap, this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened. 

The ride back to the compound was a quiet one, with Sam driving you and the radio on low volume. 

‘Are you going to tell them?’

You bit your lip, ‘The doctor said I had options.’

Sam’s breath hitched and he tried to mask it, but you had heard it. You felt guilty, disgusting, like you betrayed Steve and the rest of the team. They had just lost him, you had just lost him, and you were carrying his child. And if Steve would have known, he would have wanted it. He would have encouraged you to have it, he would have been so happy, he would have been such a great fa-

‘The choice is yours, Y/N.’ He glanced over at you, ‘Can you at least tell me who the father is?’

The wrecked sobs were like second nature now, choking you with their strength. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Sam pulled to the side of the road and quickly took off his seatbelt, sliding over in the connected front seats to pull you into his chest. ‘Shh, hey. We are not going to be mad at you. Everything’s going to be okay. It may not seem like it now but-’

‘Sam!’ you cried, clutching his shirt in a tight fist. ‘I swear it was an accident! Steve didn’t know! He didn’t know, I swear he didn’t know!’

Sam’s mouth dropped open, an almost embarrassing noise of surprise sounding from the depths of his soul. He ran his hands through your hair, eyes rapidly searching for a single viewpoint. But he couldn’t focus on any one thing, not when you were shuddering against him and apologizing nonstop. 

Steve didn’t know. 

`

The team had reacted in a similar manner. They so desperately wanted to wish you a congratulations, it was the norm for this kind of thing. Especially with such a rough few years - bringing life into this world could be considered an ultimate blessing. But this was Steve’s child, his baby, his only baby in this timeline. It was a part of him, something he had unknowingly left behind. 

The team took a few days. The pain of losing Natasha, of losing Steve, of losing Tony. The gift of life. It was just too much. 

And you found yourself in front of Wanda’s bedroom door, hands clutching your night robe closed and knees wobbly. She brought you tea, she laid underneath the covers with you, she spooned you until you stopped crying. 

‘We weren’t together.’

‘You weren’t?’

You sat up, muscles straining due to your thousandth crying session that week. ‘No, it was one time. It was a mutual thing. We just… felt safe. And we made love.’

Wanda shut her eyes briefly, only to open them for two parallel tears to slip. ‘That sounds beautiful.’

‘We used protection. It really was an accident.’

Wanda interrupted, ‘No, don’t try and justify yourself. It happened. It’s done.’

You whimpered, reaching out to grab her hands. ‘I feel so guilty for even talking to you. I don’t know how you did it. I’m so selfish to be pouring all this on you-’

‘Hey, hey,’ she whispered, ‘But I am the only one who can truly understand. I have lost more in my lifetime than anybody ever should. But I am going to help you get through this, Y/N.’

You pulled her into a hug, ‘I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.’

Wanda slowly pulled away, eyes cloudy and touch of red twinge flying in her irises. ‘Alright. I won’t leave your side. No matter what you decide.’

` 

The chair was cold, the room was cold, no matter how inviting the hospital tried to make this room. It was decorated in the most neutral colors, so delicate in its designs, pamphlets and books scattered on every available surface. It was made to make the pregnant person feel secure, to feel comfortable in the hands of their doctor, but it just made you sick. 

And when the doctor asked if you would like an ultrasound first, that it wasn’t actually necessary for you to view it, you found yourself saying yes. You were at six weeks, it would be there. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, because even if you were strong enough to do that, she wasn’t. But she was here to hold your hand. She would hold your hand no matter what. 

It was the size of a grain of rice. That fuzzy, white figure off a little to the right of your uterus was the size of a grain. A literal grain of rice. The monitor shifted and the doctor cleared their throat, the slimy device absentmindedly being circled around your lower abdomen. 

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered, eyes locked on the place the doctor had their finger. Wanda brought her hand up to her mouth and looked away. 

That’s when you heard it. 

The steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat. 

Your chest started heaving, tears staining your cheeks as you listened to the beautiful sound. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor mumbled, ready to pull the monitor’s plug to end the live video but you gripped their arm before they could. 

‘No, no!’ you yelped, the heartbeat still sounding, so early in its actual life that this was for sure Steve’s child. 

You turned to Wanda, face contorting into one of agonizing regret. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Steve.’

Wanda gulped and took in a ragged breath, ‘Y/N, Steve’s not here.’

‘No,’ you whined, head turning back to look at the monitor. The monitor with yours and Steve’s child on it. ‘This is the only real part of him we have left, right?’

Wanda opened her mouth but shut it again, unable to formulate a proper response. 

‘This is Steve’s child,’ you stated, sucking in a breath through your sobs. ‘This is my child.’

` 

The team was alerted of your decision the minute you walked into the common room. They had known what you left for, dread itching in their souls and morals twisting greedily, but they hadn’t stopped you. They couldn’t do that to you. 

‘Hi,’ you mumbled, placing your things on the counter. Everyone kept their heads down, lumps growing in their throats as each second passed. ‘I’m okay.’

Clint was the first one to speak. ‘Did everything go well? Did they hurt you?’

You smiled with your teeth for the first time in weeks, ‘No, they didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me.’

For a few seconds, no one caught on to your words. But Bucky was the first to register them, to etch them deeply into his brain, to stand from his seat and walk to you cautiously. ‘You decided-?’

You smiled wide now, happy tears falling over your strained cheeks. ‘I’m having a baby.’

The team erupted, cries and cheers deafening you. Bucky stumbled over and hugged you close, arms wrapped over your shoulders and face buried in your neck. He had to bend his knees to keep that position. He weeped into your shoulder and thanked you repeatedly, his own body rumbling with broken sobs. You held him close, fingers digging into his shirt and the skin of his back. 

‘We promise, Y/N,’ Sam said off to the side, waiting for his turn to hug you. ‘We promise to take care of you and this baby.’

A few more long-awaited congratulations were shared. ‘Guess I’m on desk duty for the next nine months, huh?’

Bucky held you tighter. 

`

The first four months were certainly eventful. Wanda insisted on taking pictures of you every few weeks. She had you model with a nice tight shirt to show off your growing stomach, different props in your arms as the weeks passed on.  Flowers, sporting equipment, random Avengers inventions, signs that read the number of weeks you were at. You even did couple shoots, with your teammates posing behind you with their hands on your stomach and an equally bright smile.

She had them printed out and framed, the compound common rooms now littered with random photos of you and your growing child. It was like a timeline, a museum considering you would catch someone inspecting the photographs. This time it was Scott, casually eating his cereal and balancing it in his hand as he walked the hallway. He had this silly smile on his face the whole time, milk dripping from his bottom lip. In his photo, he was posed behind you with a giant smile, back arched and head thrown back while you were trying your best to arch your back as well. And then he saw you watching him, eyes falling from your face to your stomach, and that silly smile growing wider. 

Happy insisted on doing yoga with you every other morning, his chosen playlists actually Tony’s. Half expecting the songs to only emit the essence of rock and roll, you were surprised when the playlist only contained acoustics. Happy winked at you, ‘He was a man of taste, Y/N. He, too, had those sad driving songs.’

Peter was hesitant to visit at first. He was still mourning Tony, as you all were, and seeing everyone again was certainly a hard thing to do. But he managed, and the moment he saw you there, trying to balance a plastic bottle on your tiny stomach, he burst into a fit of giggles. 

‘Oh, oh! I almost got it!’ you encouraged yourself, stomach not yet protruded enough to quite get it. 

Peter rushed over and caught the bottle as it slipped, ‘You’ll get there. How do you feel?’

You grinned at the kid, ‘Like I’m pregnant.’

Peter chuckled, ‘I wouldn’t know, so.’

‘It’s weird,’ you admitted, turning back to your abandoned bowl of fruit. You popped a piece of pineapple in your mouth, ‘But I just remind myself that they’re gonna be an angel when they come out.’

‘All slimy and angelic.’

You swatted at Peter, ‘They’re healthy. That’s all that matters.’

Peter placed his hand on your stomach, half-expecting something to happen. ‘I can’t believe you’re having his baby.’

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. Steve should be here experiencing this. ‘Me neither.’

`

The next month had come so quickly. Your friends - your family - made sure to keep you occupied. Whether it was to shop, to nap together, to eat together, to exercise together, anything, they were by your side. It was so overwhelming at times, but not wanting to scare anyone, you took time for yourself whenever you could. You’d settle in your room, in a nearby cafe, in Natasha’s room, and just sit and breathe. With one hand on your stomach, you couldn’t possibly fathom the luck on your side. It always tore your heart in two when you realized Steve would never meet his child, absolutely mutilated it. But the realization that this child was going to have such a massive family, your family, uncles and aunts who would die for the kid - that realization was sometimes too much. 

The thunder from outside startled everyone. The quiet night everyone was having was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a certain god, hair now cut and beard trimmed, running into the common area. He was practically hyperventilating, his quick pace halting as he scanned the room. ‘Is it true?’

‘You got my message?’ Wanda asked, shutting off the water from the sink. 

‘I’m sorry, I was away. I just got the message and-’

Thor lay his eyes on you, your obvious stomach, and he started crying softly. ‘It’s true?’

You smiled at him, opening your arms for an embrace. But Thor fell to his knees in front of you, forehead resting on your stomach. ‘This is a miracle.’

‘It really is,’ you laughed, wiping away a few stray tears. ‘The condom broke.’

Laughter sounded almost instantly. 

Thor looked up at you, eyes red and eyebrows furrowed. ‘He didn’t know?’

You shook your head, ‘No, Steve didn’t know. I promise.’

Thor nodded, believing you. He stood slowly, encasing you in a tight squeeze. He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him, but he did seem to be drinking less. ‘After so much loss, the Heaven’s send us a gift from a beloved friend.’

`

Bucky seemed to be the happiest. Although he shared your beliefs that Steve should be here to experience this, to cherish this, to be the father he had deserved to be, Bucky couldn’t help but feel grateful that you decided to keep the baby. He knew he needed to stop relying on Steve to fix his mind, this he had to do on his own, but the bundle of joy inside of you just added to his undying love for his best friend. This was a piece of him, a true half of Steve’s heart that would soon be breathing air and opening its eyes. 

He was currently laying beside you, just woken up from a nap and lazily drawing circles over your clothed tummy. You were still asleep, deep breaths a little ragged since you were twisted slightly to your side. You had given up trying to sleep on your back nowadays. 

‘Hey there,’ Bucky whispered, a funny smile forming on his face because he can’t believe he’s talking to your literal stomach. ‘You know you’re a miracle, right?’

There was no response, obviously. But Bucky just positioned himself to lean on his elbow, temple resting in the palm of his hand. ‘We’re going to love you so much. Steve would have loved you so much.’

He placed his metal hand on your stomach, careful not to apply so much pressure. He was hesitant though, the metal hand now from Wakanda but still something he didn’t entirely trust. Still, he rubbed smooth circles on your side. ‘I already love you so much.’

Kick.

Bucky widened his eyes, a hitch in his breath. Was that real?

‘Did you just respond to me?’ Bucky asked, a little laugh escaping his lips. ‘Should I say it again?’

Nothing happened for a long while. He switched hands, rubbing a little deeper now. It was a free massage for you, anyway. 

Bucky bit his lip and looked up at your face, still peacefully dreaming. He leaned closer to your stomach and repeated his earlier confession. ‘I love you.’

Kick. 

Bucky shot up from his spot on the bed and covered his mouth, a loud laugh accidentally escaping and startling you awake. 

‘W-What?’

‘They kicked! They kicked!’

‘Seriously?’

Bucky was shooting through the stars, because even though it was a long shot, he felt like somehow Steve was telling him he loved him back. 

`

Sam’s leg bounced madly as he watched the doctor slick up the generator. You repeatedly tried to calm him, tell him that it would be quick and simple, and there was nothing to be worried about. 

You were six months now. Belly now protruding to the point where you could only see the tips of your toes when you glanced downward, and the baby was positioned farther into your back. If anything, you were having a giant freaking baby. He was a product of a super soldier. 

You remembered having that scary conversation with the doctors, your whole family beside you as they heard and relayed the information. 

‘Your baby is perfectly healthy. The serum isn’t affecting it. His lungs are forming less quickly than the other organs but there’s no serious worry.’

Bucky had literally cackled at that, confusing everyone in the room. ‘Steve and his shit lungs.’

But now you were finding out the sex. Only one person was allowed in the room this time, and Sam had literally begged you with his eyes to choose him. 

‘Are you two ready?’

You each nodded at the doctor, waiting for the monitor to spring to life. After a few seconds, the heartbeat was detected. You gripped Sam’s hand in yours, a quiet ‘thank god’ passing through his lips. 

Then the giant image of a literal baby appeared on the screen. It was so surreal. It resembled a quick sketch, like one Steve would have casually drew, and you couldn’t help but imagine him drawing that very image from memory. 

‘Y/N, I-’ Sam cleared his throat, smiling at you. 

‘Would you like to know the sex of the baby?’

‘Yes, please,’ you answered, gripping Sam’s hand harder. 

The doctor moved the generator a few times more, hitting the spacebar on the computer to capture the image. ‘Congratulations, you’re having a boy.’

You shuttered a tiny laugh as Sam flew out of his seat, arms extended upward for a moment before he brought his hands down to kiss them over and over. 

‘I’ll print this out for you,’ the doctor smiled, leaving you and Sam to celebrate. 

`

Everyone had gathered later that night to find out the news. You had printed enough copies for everyone who wanted one. Bets were placed, a multitude of gifts already mounted in online shopping carts. 

‘Don’t keep us waiting!’ Rhodey shouted, champagne bottle at the ready and propped up on his thigh for when you made your announcement. 

Sam was standing beside you, a massive grin plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and urged him on, telling him that you were fine with him saying it. Sam didn’t need to be told twice. 

‘It’s a boy!’

Pop! Drinks were poured and hugs were shared, with even Friday coming over the monitor to congratulate you. 

Even in the midst of all the excitement, you felt a little empty. But you enjoyed your pre-baby shower, happy that everything was so unbelievably working out. 

It was midnight when you alerted Friday to call Happy to your room. You needed a ride. 

Happy was slightly irritated at being woken up, but once you told him where you were heading, he obliged. The ride was silent, comfortable, with Happy glancing at you once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

You walked across the grass slowly, hands resting on your stomach and just a little waddle in your walk. You flashed your phone light over the headstones even though the headstone you were looking for was in a secluded area. Happy trailed you, keeping a respectable distance. 

You stopped in front of the small building, the fence somewhat blocking your path. But there was no security around, and even if you were caught on camera, your face let everyone know who you were and your connection to Steve. You had no worries. 

You broke the lock easily and opened the door. It was almost entirely marble, a good deal of Steve’s actual aesthetic. So simple, not overly patriotic, and secluded. He had refused to be buried in Arlington. 

You sat on the bench provided, the three names in front of you standing out like they were begging to be read out loud. So you complied. 

‘Sarah,’ you muttered, smiling as the name rolled off your tongue. ‘Thank you for sending everyone a literal angel.’

You muttered his father’s name as well, but felt no personal connection to it. You spent at least ten minutes building up the courage to utter his name, to say his name in front of him again. He was buried right underneath your feet, his name the only thing for you to see. 

‘Steve,’ you sighed and rubbed your stomach. ‘Steve.’

You sobbed silently and watched as the tears fell on top of your resting hands. ‘I don’t regret it.’

You were met with silence. ‘I don’t regret any of it. God knows why he did this. But you lived your life, and I just can’t believe I have to bring life into this world without you here.’

‘It’s a boy, Steve. A lovely little boy.’

You brought your hand up to your mouth to bite the side of it, throat clenching. ‘Everyone is so happy. I am, too. I promise you.’

You lowered your hand back to your stomach. ‘I just wish that you could feel that happiness.’

The moonlight moved slightly, shining on his name brighter now. ‘He’ll know about you, don’t worry about that.’ You laughed. 

You didn’t want to keep Happy waiting. You stood from the bench slowly, feet sore. You walked closer to him, wishing you could easily bend down and give him a kiss. But you physically couldn’t right now, so you blew him one instead. ‘Thank you.’

`

Somehow the rumor got out that an Avenger was pregnant. And when Wanda was seen outside without a large stomach, all fingers were pointed at you. 

The news went ballistic, most positive and raving, while others pondered just who had gotten you pregnant. You had been seen with everyone in paparazzi photos, so no actual conclusion had been made. 

Until a picture of you at Steve’s gravesite was leaked. 

It was constant bombardment, timelines were stitched together, magazines and their headlines were having a field day. Rhodey had tried to cancel these news stories, to threaten lawsuits, but to no avail. The world was now cursing Steve’s name - ‘how dare he leave her while pregnant?’, ‘how could he leave her pregnant and for another woman?’, ‘did he even know?’

The team had done everything in their power to try and clear yours and Steve’s name, but no one was having it. Steve’s love story was now tarnished, with many calling him a traitor and a deadbeat. It was no use. 

You struggled to climb the stairs, inwardly cursing the staff for not installing a ramp instead. The flashes were blinding, the lights were hot, and the various microphones placed on the stand were comical. 

Everyone hushed, looks of sympathy and pity slapping you in the face. 

‘I know what you’re all thinking and what you’ve all been saying,’ you started, eyes wandering to the far corner of the room where your team were huddled. ‘But I need to clear a few things up.’

‘Steve didn’t know.’

The crowd erupted, questions flying at you like fast bullets. They were silenced after a few moments. ‘We shared a moment with each other before we brought everyone back. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after his funeral.’

The crowd murmured amongst each other. ‘He told me he was planning to stay in another timeline. To live his life. I encouraged him. He did not leave me alone and pregnant. He truly didn’t know.’

You finished, they didn’t deserve a deeper explanation. You ignored their calls for questions, some even trying to crowd you at the doors. But you pushed through them, cradling your stomach with a newfound sense of pride. 

`

It was time. 

You sat up in your bed and quickly wiped away the hard crusts from the corners of your eyes. You sat there for a few seconds before you felt another harsh twinge. ‘A-ah!’

You didn’t know why you paused, legs now thrown over the side of the bed. They felt like menstrual cramps, it could be false labor. You let out a heavy breath and pushed yourself up, legs wobbly. But the moment you did, it was like something snapped. Your legs were wet and a tiny puddle had started forming on the floor. 

‘Friday!’

The lights in your room turned on immediately, ‘Y/N, is it time?’

You moaned at the uncomfortable cramping, ‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘I’m waking and alerting the team right now, Y/N. Sit back down, please.’

You listened to Friday, sitting at the edge of your bed for a few moments before you realized you had to pack a bag. You shuffled across your room and grabbed the duffel bag Scott had left for you a few days ago. You packed a pair of socks, sweats, underwear, vaseline and your toothbrush, hairbrush, and phone. You zipped your bag just in time for both Bucky and Sam to throw open your door, Sam struggling to put his shoes on and Bucky slipping on a jacket inside-out. 

‘Y/N, is it really time? Are you ready? Are you okay?’

You ignored the cramping in your back and laughed at them, ‘Yes! My water broke, I’m in pain, it’s time.’

With both Sam and Bucky at your sides, they held onto you as you all stumbled down the hallway. Thor was already waiting with the elevator open, the biggest smile on his aging face. 

‘Wanda and Bruce are preparing the room. Scott already called the doctor. Clint’s in route,’ Bucky reassured. The three men huddled into the elevator with you, all instructing you to breathe and to squeeze them if you needed to. 

But even though you were in pain, albeit not as extreme as it was going to inevitably get, you were so incredibly happy. They were all so loud, so chaotic, and you were as calm as a cucumber. 

The elevator dinged. ‘Good luck, Y/N,’ you heard Friday call after you. You pinched your eyes closed, the thought that Friday was ultimately a part of Tony’s consciousness - Tony was wishing you good luck. 

The pressure in your hips was starting to build and you didn’t know how long this would actually take. Some people had quick births, some people lay in labor for hours, some for a day. But it seemed like this was going to be pretty quick, because your next scream was completely involuntarily. 

Bucky winced, leading you to the bed Wanda had just lay sheets on. ‘You’re doing great, Y/N. Absolutely perfect.’

You laughed at Bucky and gripped his hand in silent thanks before slipping into the bed and trying to get comfortable. Before you could truly feel like you made it, like the first hard step was done, you sat up quickly. 

‘Wait, wait! Nat’s sweater! I was gonna wear Nat’s sweater!’

Thor was already out the door, ‘I’ll get it! Don’t worry!’

You smiled at the ceiling, beads of sweat now rolling down your forehead. ‘Oh, this hurts!’

It was an hour. Once you shimmied into Natasha’s purple knitted sweater, you lay there trying to control your breathing. Everyone had piled into the room one right after the other. The room was big enough, spacious enough for even Bruce to roam freely. Although you were in an immense amount of pain, you still focused on your team. 

Scott was on his third cup of coffee, sipping excitedly as he conversed with the others. Bruce was constantly checking your vitals and wanting everything the doctor was saying repeated. Wanda was beside you, a hand gripping yours and the other running ice chips along your lips. Bucky was on your other bedside wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts because it still smelled like him. His logic was that if he was wearing something of Steve’s the first moment he held your baby, then the first thing he smelled would be the remnants of his father. 

And Thor was practically speechless, silent in his own little corner and feeling like the god’s really did bless everyone in this room after such turmoil.

Clint arrived with Peter trailing behind him just when the doctor instructed you sit up - you were at ten centimeters. 

‘You gotta push, Y/N! You gotta push when the doctor says push!’

You yelled until your lungs gave out, head almost rolling back but Sam held it in his palm. ‘C’mon, Y/N! You’re doing great!’

You usually had perfect pitch when you sang, never faltering when it was time to hit a high note. But your voice was cracking at the most unusual times, throat rubbed raw as you felt your hips splinter open. 

‘He’s crowning!’

Wanda traded places with Sam real quick, deciding that she wanted to see the baby when he was finally out. Bucky had a death grip on your hand, tears flowing freely and a smile to match Thor’s. 

‘Push, Y/N! Push!’

‘I’m-I’m! I’m sorry! I can’t!’

The doctor was working her hands around the head, trying to ease the baby out easier. ‘Trust me, Y/N. One more big push and the shoulders will be out. That’s the hardest part.’

The doctor’s words were starting to drown out, and your head lolled back again. You felt tiny smacks on your cheeks, ‘C’mon, Y/N. You can do this. Everyone believes in you. You’re so goddamn strong, Y/N!’

That was Bucky’s voice. Bucky. 

You opened your eyes, delirious for a second. ‘Steve?’

Bucky whimpered and nodded, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing kisses all over. ‘He’s here. I feel him, Y/N. You can do this.’

And you could feel him. You could see your family but you could feel him. It was so light, like a gentle whisk across the cheek, a promise that this truly was a miracle. 

You screamed as you pushed under doctor’s orders, feeling numb and abused but satisfied. His shoulders slipped out and along with them came his arms and torso, legs and all ten toes. The doctor caught him quickly, lifting him up vertically to let you see him. He was already crying. 

‘He’s here!’

You sobbed and smiled widely, laughter rattling your chest as the team bombarded you with quick hugs. Sam remained at your side, his eyes motioning for Bucky to go see the baby. 

‘Who’s cutting the cord?’

You looked around the room but you knew. You answered the doctor’s question. ‘Bucky.’

Bucky was truly confused. Not because of your decision, but because he couldn’t possibly be worthy of this. His hands, those hands that had killed so many people involuntarily, had almost killed Steve, those hands were now gripping a pair of medical scissors to cut the symbolization of new life entering the world. He turned to you for permission one last time, before he gripped the cord in his hand and cut where the doctor pointed. 

His shoulders felt a million times lighter. Like he was set free all over again. 

They cleaned the baby up quickly and swaddled him. The doctor placed him in your arms, all warm and utterly safe, to look back up at you with the same blue eyes as his father. 

You sobbed happily, brushing your fingers delicately along his pink cheek. ‘Hi. Hi there.’

He was no longer crying, just staring up in pure astonishment at the various faces staring back at him. 

‘Y/N, he’s beautiful,’ Clint said, tissue already in hand. 

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ you spoke softly. 

‘Do we have a name?’

It was like everyone said it in unison. ‘Steve.’

You snuggled into the bed and Natasha’s sweater, somewhat aware of the doctor still fixing you up down there. You would try feeding later, but for now your newborn needed to be passed around the group and be awed at. 

You carefully guided him to Bucky, holding his head gently in your palm. Bucky took him, arms instinctively curling in the correct position. Once Bucky had him in his arms, it was like everything that happened in the world was worth it. Absolutely everything. 

Bucky watched in fascination as the baby curled deeper in his chest, little fist clutching Steve’s sweatshirt. He took the sweetest little intake of air…

`

xxMoni

[adhdeancas]

wait so fellow adhder I'm I think that actually all of the TFW are actually ND. Cas has autism, dean has adhd, and hear me out, Sam has ocd. the intrusive thoughts? obsessive behavior? eating and acting clean literally to a point where it is inconvenient for everyone involved? I think he is obsessing over being clean and fresh (compared to demon blood and souless Sam, sleazy and nasty Sam) also I have a few reasons for thinking dean us adhd but y do u think so sorry I'm rambling

let’i’ve been waiting all my life for you to come into my inbox and talk to me about this

of COURSE TFW are ND!!! of course!! and yes, yes, we all know Cas has autism I love my autistic angel and i love the hc that Sam has ocd because it does fit really well!

(sectioned all of this out because it’s better for adhders to read, you get it)

his ocd directly bleeds into his poor self-esteem like you said with the demon blood! he feels the need to be pure and even though he canonically knows that these things (like eating clean, running, etc) can’t help his problem, he still tries because he kind of... has to. 

also OCD is often connected to a need for control, and the physical state of sam’s body is the one thing he has control over (which is also where we get into eating disorder territory). Sam has had so little control over his life, especially growing up, and for most his childhood, he didn’t even control what he ate (with Dean making/buying his meals). SO once he gets out of that environment, he hyperfixates on this new freedom!

we can also go to the hand pressing with this. a literal compulsion that even after the effect of the pain wears off once the hand heals, he still does it as a grounding method. nonsensical compulsion to calm anxiety? yes OCD 

can also be linked to childhood trauma but what ND can’t be amirite

emotional regulation once again - remember Angry Boy King Sammy? So angry he doesn’t know what to do and can’t control it and feels like he’s gonna explode with the rage?

intrusive (sometimes violent) thoughts are a huge marker for OCD and Sam’s obviously sometimes come from Unnatural means but they are also a part of him and kind of always have been

religious themes are also huge in OCD which Fits and makes me EMOTIONAL Sam I’m so sorry he spent his whole childhood feeling unclean and unholy and Fixated on that to the point of praying to a God his family didn’t believe in just so he could be Clean fuck

also i think it’s really interesting and cool that of the two brothers, Sam shows the most obvious signs of OCD even though he is canonically the messier brother and the brother not worried about IRL germs (i know the writers didn’t try to do this but i don’t care they didn’t play into the OCD means i must germex! trope)

AND ADHD DEAN!!! 

let’s first look at the obvious: Dean is highly skilled in combat, even though he hates physical exercise. Why? ADHD brain tied up with anxiety is hardwired into flight or fight, not sit and focus on one thing. it’s constantly picking up on threats and peripheral vision and all that shit 

he also has a spotty history with books! like i’ve said before, not shit writing, this is Dean’s ADHD. Dean as a kid read some high-brow books and he still does occasionally but he doesn’t nearly as much as an adult because it became much harder!! and because he just couldn’t devote that much attention, even as a kid, to things that he wasn’t really interested in! This is why he hates research

he’s known far and wide for his impulsiveness, his knee jerk decisions. it’s part of what makes him a good hunter and part of what makes him human disorder incarnate - It’s ADHD

Low frustration tolerance and rejection-sensitive dysphoria! Dean has a really hard time regulating his emotions and especially anger - especially especially especially when he feels like he’s being rejected or abandoned. it’s literally his worst fear 

^^^^ rejection-sensitive dysphoria also plays into his low self-esteem (god poor kid to have RSD in an environment growing up where Everyone Was Constantly Busting Each Other’s Balls and couldn’t be emotionally available to also tell you they actually love you), high self standards, and social anxiety (he’s a bullshitter, his chameleon charm is also a symptom of his social anxiety and RSD) 

also Dean has lots of sleep problems both ways and complicated relationships with motivation and inner restlessness versus a yearning for stability 

comfort items / food!! now i can’t find the research on this so forgive me because i know i’ve read it somewhere that ADHDers tend to gravitate toward familiar things or foods! (like Dean’s burgers and his car / motels that are all basically the same) it is a very ND thing in general as well

along that line, ADHDers tend to have sensory processing issues - it’s why Dean has an Outfit Recipe of the same types of clothes that he sticks to - also why he delights so much in sensory stuff like magic fingers and the Dead Guy Robe

(((jfc i thought of this point while writing out the last one and then forgot it and had to stare at the screen for a minute, now I’ve forgotten it again while writing this thank you adhd))) AH YES! auditory processing! Remember how we make fun of Dean for his lame comebacks? Remember how we make fun of him for his buffer speed in The Scene? baby that’s because it takes him five extra seconds to translate those words let alone RESPOND

not to mention people with ADHD often have much higher rates of anxiety/depression (duh) and substance abuse (yes)

lmao in researching this the article I was looking at says that lead exposure as a child can lead to ADHD and jfc you KNOW those shitty motels had Exclusively Lead Paint smh

BUT ONE OF MY FAVORITES of course has to be that Dean gets along so well with autistic Cas!! as an adhd dude with an autistic best friend, WE DIG! adhd and autism go so well together because we can get each other in ways that others just Can’t. adhd and autism have a lot of overlap/similarities in brain function and shit. 

tend to eschew social conventions and be much more straightforward/want that in others

they can both have the tendency to fidget and depending on upbringing mask that for some people - which also leads to being social chameleons

they both have comfort items / foods that NT find really strange or childish in my experience

sensory disorders!!! cas with his ONE OUTFIT and Dean with his different colored ONE OUTFIT 

Anyway i’m in love with this and i have so many thoughts but here are a few of them thank you very much for this ask i love that you came to me 

[fangorl-trash]

In the Dark

The Mandalorian x fem!Reader

Summary: you and din have an intimate bonding moment...in the dark.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: SOFT. SHY. MANDO. uhh... slight mentions of a dark past, but it’s vague af, like not even warning worthy BUT JUST IN CASE LOL. curse words. there’s no smut, but if yall want a part 2, lemme know ;) if i forget anything, lemme know lol

A/N: first of all, this gif makes me FEEL things jfc wow i adore din. secondly, hi there lol! this is definitely a self-indulge piece lmao, but i hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! i can promise there are no season 2 spoilers, cause i’d like to think it takes place between the two seasons. aaaand this was all based off a brainrot hour i had (you can read it here, if you really want!) so...yeah lmao. Enjoy y’all! :)

The night before was just like any other night. Chuckles and giggles and stories whispered and shared back and forth. Hands itching to get closer, to connect wholeheartedly, but never having the courage to do so. The calm before tomorrow’s storm of bounty hunting.

A small, yellow-tinted light above the shared cot illuminated the two. She thought he looked like a guardian angel, the way it shone off of his armor dully. He thought she looked like a goddess, the soft light giving her a halo.

They were hopelessly in love.

Y/N and the Mandalorian. A dynamic duo, of sorts. Two different puzzle pieces from two different puzzle sets, yet they somehow fit together perfectly. She loved him for his tenacity, his fierceness in battle, and his big heart he only showed to her. He loved her for her kindness, her empathy, and the way her eyes sparkled when he came back to the ship after a long day.

They were hopelessly in love with one another, yet neither has said it. Maybe to both of them, saying it was not enough; the actions and moments shared between the two was what truly defined it all. The way he purchased antique books for her to read, because she mentioned it once. The way she grabbed extra blankets from the closet because he got cold at night easily.

The night before was just like any other night. It was calm and quiet and pleasant; almost too pleasant for Din’s liking. In the line of work of a Mandalorian, pleasant never lasted long. But Maker, he swore that time stopped when he saw you that next morning.

When he looked over to see your sleeping form, his breath hitched in his throat. The yellow light above you was dim, but showcased your features brightly and beautifully. You laid on your side, arm tucked under your ear and other hand laid at your side. Your hair fell over your forehead and cheeks.

You looked like a dream.

His gloved hand reached out and tucked a strand or two behind your ear, so he could see his beautiful girl. After all you’ve been through...you were still Y/N and Din. Din and Y/N.

A feeling of gratitude overcame him suddenly as he gazed upon your angelic form. You deserved everything good in this world. The prettiest of jewels, that sparkled in the starlight. The largest of feasts with your favorite intergalactic meals and beverages. Whatever novel that you craved to read next.

He would go to the ends of the galaxy for you. Anything to see that smile.

He prayed everything he did for you was enough, even if it was all so small and minute. You deserved so much better than what he was giving you.

His gratitude took a negative, insecure turn. He knew what you really wanted, what you really deserved that he couldn’t give you: physical love. He can’t kiss you. He can’t hold you. He can’t look in your eyes and tell you how much you meant to him.

He thought of himself as selfish. He wanted all of those things and more. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to look in your eyes, and your eyes only. He wanted to hold you close without beskar separating you. He wanted to feel your skin against his fingertips, because holy fuck, you just look so soft and so fucking warm.

With a soft sigh, his leather-clad fingertips brush down your cheek and over the curve of your arm. Dank farrik...what he would do to hold you. Hold you properly.

Something clicked in his brain all of a sudden. Why is he being such a pussy? He’s THE Mandalorian, for Maker’s sake. He knows just the solution.

~~~

That night, you dreamed of your past life. Before you met Din. Before you both met the Child. Though your dream wasn’t a nightmare, it was still dark and dull. You honestly couldn’t wait until it was all over.

And then you felt lips on the inside of your wrist. Slightly chapped and slightly wet, with small hairs tickling you as well. A gentle hold on your fingers. The kisses slowly trailed up the inside of your forearm, curving against your elbow before continuing their trek up the rest of your arm to your shoulder. It tickles, you thought, shifting under the stranger’s hold.

Your eyes fluttered open with a soft groan. A blanket of pitch black overwhelmed your vision. Panic struck your heart. What in the world is going on right now?

“Good morning,” a voice spoke, breath fanned across your exposed shoulder. Shy, but certain. A low grovel, but not due to a helmet’s voice amplifier.

“D...Din,” you mumbled, fingers grasping his tightly. Your heart skipped a beat at the feeling of...of him. “Wh-What...what’s going on? I-I can’t see.”

He took a pause. “I turned off the lights.” Another pause. “I just...wanted to...”

Even though his voice trailed off, you knew exactly what he wanted to say.

This was new territory for the both of you. Neither of you were scared, per say, but...nervous, cautious. Your voice and your actions matched how you felt. After you sat up and crossed your legs, you reached out with your vacant hand on bated breath. “M-May I?” You requested quietly, hesitatingly. Your eyes scanned about, but you couldn’t find him within the dark ahead of you, even though you were barely a foot apart.

You learned that in certain situations Din’s silence meant yes.

Your fingers made purchase with his bicep, but you backed away just as quickly as you touched him.

Okay, so maybe you were scared. Just a little.

You both sat there silently, slowly counting the moments before one of you made a move. The ship thrummed around you two, but the blacked out bunker was quiet overall. After the bounty hunter released a shallow breath, he lifted the hand that held yours, bringing it to his cheek with a Din-like grace and sureness. A smile stretched both of your lips at the feeling; the feeling of you actually touching. Wholeheartedly Connecting.

His stubble was a pleasant surprise. It felt scratchy under your soft fingertips, but it felt...it all felt like home. Your fingers cupped the back of his neck tenderly, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. His own fingers brushed against your left upper arm and shoulder delicately, feeling your goosebumps rise slowly as he brushes against the strap of your tank top.

You shuffled a bit closer to Din, now in between his open and bent legs. You didn’t know you were holding your breath in until you let it out, shaky and soft. His own breath reached your forehead, delicate and quiet. Your other hand lifted up, hand finding its place on his chest. Once again, you were pleasantly surprised to touch his bare skin; soft and warm to the touch. Your fingertips yearned to travel, and before you could stop your curious thoughts, your middle and ring fingers brushed against a rough scar. It was a jagged, diagonal line, only about three inches in length. Dry, scabbed-over skin, a story untold. You suspected he had battle scars galore, but actually feeling one was...shocking.

The reality of this man’s career suddenly hit you like a shot from a blaster. This man...this man that you loved.

How many of these untold stories were near deaths? How many stories would have ended without Din back in your arms?

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat before your fingers continued their journey, a confident spark behind their actions. They ventured across his beautiful canvas, blindingly mapping out the divets, marks, and bruises of his skin. Your hands gripped and caressed at his shoulders and arms, your fingers brushed against his cheeks and jaw. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and the banging of his heartbeat. You couldn’t help but smile at that. Other than the fingers on your arm, Din remained unmoving under your touch; if he was being honest, he had no clue what to do.

You finally smiled as you felt his hair, fisting tufts of it gently. It was coarse and curly, but you didn’t mind. “What color is it?” Your voice was hoarse, crackling softly in the dark room.

“Brown,” he said after a moment, a small smile of his own. His own fingers made their way up your arm, past your shoulder, and cupped the back of your neck like you did to him. His pointer finger rubbed back and forth in a small motion, a small habit the bounty hunter grew over the months. It was...very different, to feel you under his touch like this. He’s held your hand and stroked your hair and cupped the back of your neck tenderly, but..touching you this way was new territory for the Mandalorian. It was scary, in a way, especially for him.

He ventured on with a brave face.

His other hand found it’s way to your calf, slowly and carefully kneading the skin. You wondered if this was the first time he’s...he’s felt skin since he was a child. You wondered what he was thinking in the moment, if he thought you were beautiful or not. You dismissed those thoughts to the best of your ability. This was your moment, and you’ll be damned if your own brain ruined it. His hand cupped the back of your knee, his whole chest craning down to press a sweet peck to your knee cap. His eyes closed for a brief moment, embracing the feeling of your skin on his lips in the brief moment they were in contact. A shiver ran up your spine; now you remained unmoving, frozen solid by Din’s hot, pillowy lips against your skin. His hand then trailed up the outside of your thigh to your hip. He skirted over your cotton shorts to your waist, gently caressing...you.

He thought you felt enchanting under his touch. You were absolutely perfect. And he loved you so much.

Nerves pierced his heart. His small smile fell. He lifted his hand to cup your other cheek, both of his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. Your hands stopped in their tracks, the nape of his neck under one palm and his right shoulder under the other. “Can I...may I...”

You didn’t let him finish. The way you leaned in was carefully calculated, nerves an underlying color of it all. Din sat straight-backed, unmoving once again. He was so scared to mess this up for you. I mean...your first kiss shared. He imagined how much that meant to you. It meant a lot to him, too.

You proceeded to lean forward until your lips were pressed against his as your eyes fluttered close. Just as quickly as you two connected, you were apart once again. A small and short kiss, a test for you both. Din leaned forward this time, without anymore hesitation, capturing your lips as he pulled your body into his.

You weren’t surprised Din’s first real kiss was going to be...well...Din-like. Methodical. Purposeful. Caring underneath all of the layers. You were surprised at the fact that Din’s first kiss felt...like destiny. Like this moment was written in prophecies years ago, and it’ll be written in history texts for years to come.

You were surprised because his lips moved against yours like he knew what he was doing.

Your arms found their way wound around his neck, and his wound around your waist. His kiss was patient and sweet and really fuckin’ good. His mustache tickled your top lip, but you didn’t mind one bit.

Right before he pulled away, his cheeks quirked into a smile against your lips before falling to their neutral state.

“I, um...” you began, eyes sparkling in the darkness. You wondered if his baby browns shone the same way, tracing your figure in the darkness. Even though you had so much to say, your voice became stuck, lodged deep in your throat. Tears sprung to your eyes.

He did this for you, didn’t he? He turned off the lights in your guys’ bunker. He took off his helmet. He...he kissed you. Dank farrik, he just kissed you. And he let you touch his hair and his face and...him.

Even though the pair of you weren’t doing anything particularly sexual, every bit of this moment that you shared in the dark felt more intimate and vulnerable than you could ever hope for, dream for, ask for.

The cotton in your mouth expanded slowly, ridding you silent and helpless in the arms of the man you loved. Of the man you would sacrifice everything for. Does he feel the same? Would he do the same for you? A tear tugged down the apple of your cheek as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him tighter. You sniffled softly as his hands caressed your back and hips.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He questions, holding you close to his chest. His right hand rubbed small circles in your back and he sat patiently awaiting your response, but the cotton continued to expand into your mouth.

“I...I, uh...” You begged the cotton to be rid, you prayed for your tongue to move and say the words. The three words that have been dancing around the two of you day and night, for months now, being said over and over again in your mind.

Somehow, Din knew what you were going to say. He was positive you could hear his rapid heartbeat, but if you did, you didn’t show it. He craned his neck down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then, he leaned down to your ear and kissed your lobe, his breath hot against your skin. The lumps in your throat melted away.

“I love you,” you finally said.

The buzzing energy in the bunker seemed to still and quicken all at once. The humming you heard before silenced. Din pulled you closer to his chest, his arms tightening their grip around you. He didn’t say anything for awhile; you were sure he fell back asleep, leaving your confession unheard.

“I love you too,” he said.

You couldn’t see his eyes or his mouth forming the words. But you could feel his love, feel his dedication for you. Under his fingertips, in his arms. It was all love for you. Tears returned to your eyes. You hugged him even tighter, burying your face into his shoulder even more. Anything to bring him closer to you. Anything to feel him more.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours. You actually fell back asleep, filled with more content and love than ever before. Din put you back to bed quietly and carefully, tucking you under the wool blanket you pulled from the closet the night before. He lifted one hand to cup your cheek, craning his neck to plant a lingering kiss on your other.

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to get back in his armor. He wanted to lay here, beside you, mask off and lights on. He wanted to see your smile as his eyes reached yours. Responsibility tugged at his heart and his brain. He knew what he had to do, what he was born to do, even if he hated it in this very moment. This is the way.

When you woke up again, you were alone in a dimly lit bunker. A hefty sigh fell past your lips. Maybe it was all a dream. You touched your lips with the pad of your fingers as your eyes fluttered close. You thought to yourself, if it was a dream, then why did his lips feel so real?

You changed into your normal garb and climbed out of the bunker. After lacing up your boots, you climbed the ladder into the cockpit. Like every morning, the Mandalorian was at the helm and the Child was in his designated seat. Din pressed buttons and steered the Razor Crest stoically, and the youngling played with his small metal ball. You approached the child with a smile and a pat to his head, in which he gurgled and grinned at your touch.

You then walked over to the Mandalorian’s right side, boots slowly and softly padding against the metal floor. His head remains forward, even when you place your left hand on his shoulder. Cotton fills your mouth again. What are you even supposed to say?

It takes you a moment before words form on your tongue. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I...I care for you...a lot. I...I love you. And I appreciate you. Thank you.”

His head turns now, looking right at you. You wondered if his baby browns were looking into your eyes right now, calculating what to say and what to do. Din lifts his left, gloved hand to your cheek. Underneath the leather, you can feel his warm, delicate touch that you were able to feel this morning.

“Anything for you, my love.”

[vtforpedro]

health/medical update

thank you all for your comments on my last post. I'm sorry I didn't reply, but they meant a lot to me. it's kind of blahhh being told you probably need brain surgery so I was digesting that. and digesting the appointment at the big neuro hospital shortly after! that was an appointment a long time coming, jfc. I brought along a copy of my diary of symptoms, but going in alone is still not great. anyway, I met the doctor and she was pretty nice. I started telling her my story and all the things I've been experiencing for over two years and about halfway through she was like 'ok! so I'm not an expert in IIH' 🙃 like I specifically made sure I would see an expert in IIH because I have fucking IIH. but she said something shocking right after. shocking in that I've not experienced it from any other doctor before and shocking in its simplicity 'but dr so and so is! so tell me the rest of your story and symptoms and I'll go grab him to go over it all and bring him in here' like whaaaAAAAAAA a doctor immediately admitting they don't know the answers so they're gonna get someone who does? RIGHT THEN AND THERE? insanity. bizarro world. it shouldn't feel that way, but unfortunately, it does. still, I was thrilled by this lmao we finished with my story and symptoms and meds, she did a typical neuro exam, then went and grabbed him. he came in, was really nice, holy shit intelligent, and yeah, an expert in IIH. he spent 35 minutes in the room with me, the other doctor, and my mom was on the phone basically he said 'yeah babe you've got IIH let's diagnose and fix ya' (but more professionally). I do have to get the LP because just in case it isn't IIH, which it totally is because I have almost every single symptom and he agrees, but he said he'd treat my migraines regardless. probably botox injections every three months, which are incredibly helpful for migraines from what I've heard my shitty ass neurologist was titrating me up on the med that helps IIH but I didn't take the higher dose in the morning mostly because 1. the scary ass MRI report about significantly decreased spinal fluid (neurosurgeon was like yeah ok but not really you're fine) 2. if I'm gonna get an LP, do I want to go up on the med that has already given me relief and get like a false normal reading? he said 'you're very intelligent' sksksksk and preferably he'd like to do LPs before the med for that reason, but I'm on such a low dose it should still read high regardless as far as brain surgery goes! the first doctor I met literally blinked and reared back when I said my neurosurgeon said I gotta get a shunt in my brain cause it's the only treatment for IIH she said no????? we have so many more things we could try first and you are SO YOUNG. so apparently shunts are life-long. I thought they could come out if there was no need for them anymore, but guess not. she said that they get infected, they break, they need replaced, they don't last long (eight years on average for adults but that's average. brain surgery over and over again is a Scary Thought) the other doctor said the exact same thing. they're like some people just need LPs regularly (1x a year, 4x a year), some are good on low doses of the med, some are good on extremely high doses. IIH is a finicky bitch and affects everyone in wildly different ways. he said he can't say I'll never need a shunt, but definitely not right now I told them 'yeah I was kind of hoping more weight loss and a higher dosage could be tried first???' and they both said YES so brain surgery is off the table and I'm kind of mad at my neurosurgeon for scaring the shit out of me lmao I told my mom I wonder if he said it as a dramatic fear tactic to make me get the LP and then would've been like 'oh nah you don't need surgery' after but 😒 fucking doctors this dr I will be seeing now complimented me numerous times. like what. that's new too. me knowing anything about the condition I have was intimidating to my neurologists, which is super hilarious and depressing looking back. he liked that I did tho. he said it was smart

to look for an emergency ophthalmologist when my eyes went batshit and to do it again or go to the ER if they do it again lmao but he said the fact that there's no swelling on my optic nerves yet means I'm probably not at risk of going blind anytime soon I have tons of visual disturbances which is exhausting and stressful, but as long as I am vigilant about the warning signs and get this LP and maintain a dosage of the med that makes the symptoms better, I should be ok that way? god hopefully. the alternative is terrifying I may also just have these symptoms forever. a lot of times this shit never goes away, which is also terrifying and I can't live like this for the rest of my life even if there's slight improvement. so I just have to hope this plan works for me anyway so I wasn't even halfway through writing this and had planned to complain that medical offices are still gonna medical office b/c I haven't been called about scheduling the LP or any other referrals he put in when they called me to schedule the LP lol now it's scheduled and I'm gonna have a cry after this they said I might not be able to do conscious sedation, which is weird b/c two neurologists said that'd be fine, but I literally have no idea how I am possibly going to get through it without any aid. you have to relax so they can do it properly or they won't be able to and I will absolutely not be able to relax. I have severe medical trauma and have worked up so much fear over this procedure that??? there's just no way. they asked if I could take an ativan beforehand since I'm on it already and I'm like buddy I've been on it so long it does not do what you want it to do anymore lmao so yeah. no idea how I'm going to avoid a panic attack because of IVs first, getting into the CT room, The Procedure. like good fucking luck to y'all and to me x_x sorry for rambling. I'm so fucking tired and my head is getting bad again. I had a brief respite of not feeling like I'm dying constantly but it's coming back now. super scared I'll be in a 'respite' period in a month, when the procedure is, which would mean a lower pressure reading. please cross your fingers for me weird to hope I'll be in incredible agony that day but I do hope so lol this is the most positive this experience has been with doctors and a plan moving forward. and he did say he'd treat me anyway if the pressure is normal because I have migraines regardless. so some tiny glimmer of hope I never ever trust first impressions with doctors anymore after the last two years of my life, but I hope this works out. donno what I'll do if it doesn't thanks for listening. love you all so much and I hope you're well. take care <3

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Revelations: XIV

Part Two: Steep to the Freezing

(A/N) hey hey, ho ho, im off tomorrow because of snow! anyway, I’m still working on requests. Sorry I’m slow, I think I’m just a perfectionist. I love all of you sm. and google docs is being an ass so i had to copy everything word for word here so if there’s spelling mistakes, its because i am anger. I have over 40 pages of this bitch and i legit have to just. copy them onto tumblr dot com like a savage. guess i could always make a new doc but jfc can my low attention span handle it? anyway happy sungay, please pay patronage to ur local sapphic goddess by gaying over at least one woman today. This chapter is short bc it’s kind of a filler chapter but the next one has fun, sexy fighting xoxo

♫ ♫ ♫

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Hella flashbacks this round; Graphic Depictions of Death Bro, like fr fr i’m not kidding this time; I put most of the warnings in CH1 so they’re mostly the same.

Pairing: Diana Prince / Wonder Woman x F! Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,815

Total Word Count (so far): 15,110

Synopsis (of this chapter): Pieces of the past slowly fall into place; you’re starting to feel some real confusing emotions about Diana; you meet Diana’s Goth Himbo friend.

| I | II | III | IV | more coming soon |

ma’am who gave you the RIGHT

"She's clearly a metahuman," Bruce drawls, as if the information may as well have been exposed on a neon sign above your head. You'd think a guy so rich would be cheerful, but Bruce Wayne is anything but. The guy is practically the poster-child for brooding, despite being a fully grown man. "But she's definitely... weird."

"Gee, thanks," you gripe sarcastically.

"I'd need a DNA sample to-"

"No!" It comes out unbidden, harsher than youv'e spoken before. It makes Diana and Bruce look at you with blatant surprise. Your heart is hammering in your ears, a wardrum to the tremble in your bones. A fear so sharp, so natural, they may as well have been threatening to cut you open without anesthetic.

You aren't quite sure what caused the gut-reaction. It was so sudden, it surprised you as much as it had them. It's a feeling so intense, so immediate, it's indisputable. A repulsion that makes your entire body want to curl into itself - so tight into a coil that you turn into nothing.

Diana places a hand on your shoulder; the action is so natural, so instinctive, neither of you really register it. "That doesn't seem to be an option," she informs Bruce with a tone that leaves little room for argument.

Bruce sighs. "Well, do you at least know what the facility was called, or who ran it?"

You pause, thinking hard despite the panic that had scrambled your thoughts into incoherency just moments ago. The fear is still gripping your chest, but with Diana beside you literally expelling support, it's a little bit easier to sort through the mess. "I think... I think I saw, 'A-R-C' a few times."

"ARC?" Bruce repeats, a scowl taking place over his features.

"You've heard of them?" Diana inquires curiously.

"I have..." Bruce confirms, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Well, they're listed as a DNA research facility, but a few tabloids-"

"I thought you hated tabloids?" Diana chuckles.

"I do, but" he clears his throat, "when tabloids talk about things like the CEO going on tangents about angels and demons being on Earth? I consider myself a little bit invested."

"And you know the CEO?"

"Not personally, no," Bruce shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But I know his name. Doctor Phillip Richman. He's got very little documentation outside of his doctorate - a practical ghost in the system."

You think Diana asks something like, "How is that possible?" but your mind is suddenly disconnected. It's like the name has broken through something in your mind, flooding it with memories that don't quite feel like your own. As if you were watching them from afar.

- - - -

"Oh, little one," the man kneels down until he's eye-level. The October air has brought an early chill of the oncoming winter, meaning your thin clothes provide little protection against the wind-chill. Your skin is red and raw from it; cracking in some places, bleeding in others. "You're all alone out here?"

Shyly, you nod. You are alone, yes. You always have been.

"Don't you have a mommy and a daddy?" He asks, something like concern in his voice. Even this young, it sounds off; like he's trying to make himself sound empathetic, but there's something else hidden far behind his words.

There's an intensity in his eyes. Something hungry that, honestly, scares you at first, but you've never experienced such kindness from a stranger before. "No," your tiny voice is just a squeak, tightened by the chill and by the emotion that's suddenly gripped you.

The man nods, seemingly thoughtful for a moment. As a child, you can't help feeling special when a grownup talks to you - especially when you've had so few be as kind to you as this stranger is.

"My name is Doctor Richman," he introduces slowly. "I help little boys and girls like you all the time." He holds his hand out for a shake, like you're a grownup too, so you take it without hesitation.

"I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, (Y/N)," Doctor Richman stands, but doesn't release your hand. "How would you like to come be my very own assistant?"

"You're going to take me home?" It's achingly disbelieving. Eager to escape a life on the streets, this man’s every word is something to take as seriously and literally as Gospel. 

“I am,” he confirms, a smile on his face once more. It’s bright, deceivingly so - as if you’d make his entire world by saying yes.

As a seven year old, such a smile is enough to make the worries evaporate. This is a stranger, yes, but he is offering you a life better than you’d ever experience like this. Your ‘yes’ is easy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not regrettable. 

- - - -

Someone is calling your name. Reality finds its way to you with a harsh rush, your hand clutching Diana’s like an anchor. You’re trembling, breathing erratic.

“What happened?” Diana asks worriedly.

“I-” your throat tightens. “That was him. He- I was-” you’re struggling to speak and breathe at the same time. The emotions are so confusing, so overwhelming, that your abilities to think and speak halt entirely. 

“Breathe, darling, breathe,” Diana urges, her fingers combing through your hair with one hand and the other squeezing you gently. You feel her concern as sharp as a knife.

“I was... I was just a kid when he- when-” you explain meekly, shame washing through you. How could you have been so stupid? Don’t all kids have that natural sense of stranger danger? “Oh, god- I just let him take me...”

“I assume, then,” Bruce speaks up, interrupting your spiraling and reminding you suddenly of his presence. “‘AOC’ could be ‘Age of Capture’.”

You wince, stomach turning. “I was so stupid-”

“No,” Diana interrupts sharply. “You are not stupid. You were a child. Seven years old. You could not have known better. You should never blame yourself for the trauma that was forced upon you.”

“Diana is right,” Bruce affirms, though consoling doesn’t appear to be his strongsuit. He’s trying, at least, and that you can appreciate. “And that means that if you were filed as missing, we could locate some relatives of yours.”

You look down at your hands, forcing your fingers to loosen from Diana’s just a bit. She hadn’t complained about your unusual strength, but you still felt bad for somewhat crushing them. “I don’t think so,” you say quietly. “I didn’t... I didn’t have parents. I don’t even know my last name.”

Diana’s heart breaks; you feel it through your empathic bond in a violent wave. There’s a tenderness, too, in the way she curls her fingers in your hair, that keeps you from speaking out about not needing her sympathy. You sink into the feeling of her, a moth drawn to a flame. 

“I understand,” Bruce’s tone takes on a surprisingly genuine softness. “I’ll see what I can do. maybe contact Victor for this one.”

“Let me know,” Diana implores gently. Bruce nods and stands with a sigh.

“See you soon, ladies,” he nods curtly and makes for the door.

Long after he leaves, Diana fixes you with a cautious expression. “Are you alright?” 

You nod numbly. Diana, naturally, does not buy it. She doesn’t even need your powers to see right through you.

“Come on,” she pulls you to the couch in her living room. You sit down reluctantly, nervous of the close proximity of her. “You’ve told me a lot about what’s happened to you,” Diana begins slowly, “but you haven’t said a word about how you feel.”

You gape at her. “I- how I-?”

“Friends hare things with each other, like feelings,” Diana explains, that smile on her lips that could honestly make you do (and admit to) anything.

You open your mouth, then shut it. You aren’t sure how you feel, to be honest. It’s impossible to articulate. If only you could just show her....

Wait. Maybe... maybe you can?

It’s one of those things that feels natural, much like flying; as if you’d done it so many times that the action is second-nature. Something as obvious as the fact that, just a day ago, you’d been dead. You reach out and offer your hand, palm facing up.

“Can I just show you?” You ask timidly. 

Diana eyes your hand skeptically. “Will this be like what you feel in others?”

You shrug. “No idea. Probably.”

Diana, in that split moment, decides it’s worth a shot and takes your hand. You close your eyes as the rush of energy floods your whole being. It’s like a dam has split apart, your powers frighteningly out of your control. Rivers connecting, becoming singular. Each emotion is passed between you, slowly, purposeful. You try to convey the fear you have; that not knowing is the worst part about all of this. The way your body - and mind - seem to know things that you don’t. Your very own body is the enemy.

Diana inhales sharply, shock reverberating through the bond. This is how you see me? 

You nearly jump back at the way the thought transfers to your mind. How did you do that? 

You’re doing it, too. You can imagine the smile on her face, but her image in front of you is blurred by whatever it is that’s passing between the both of you. as if some switch had been flipped, each emotion is passed between you wordlessly, seamlessly, purposefully. 

Diana jolts back abruptly, the lack of contact feeling like cold, bitter winter. you open your eyes to find that she’s looking away tearfully.

“I’m sorry,” you fold your hands in your lap, focusing hard on the way your fingers lock together. “I thought it would be easier to...”

“It was,” she confirms, clearing her throat and wiping at her eyes. “I apologize, I just- it was very beautiful.” Her smile is genuine, brilliant, beautiful. “Thank you for showing me.”

“But you’re crying.”

“They’re happy tears.” She explains. “That’s all.”

Do eyes have so much fluid that they simply must leak for every emotion?

- - - -

“Where will you sleep?” You frown when Diana leads you back to her bedroom. She’d meant to go shopping after Bruce had left, but you’d seemed so shaken up and honestly what you’d shown her left Diana a bit rattled herself. So, she opted for staying inside with you - at least for the rest of today. 

“My couch is comfortable,” Diana assures, but you shake your head.

“I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed, Diana.”

“What do you suggest, then? Would you like to share?” It’s a bit teasing, but you immediately nod.

“Better than you hurting your back, and you obviously won’t let me sleep on the couch, so...” You cross your arms, giving her an expectant smile.

Diana tosses her hair over her shoulder with a throaty chuckle. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Great,” you uncross your arms and bounce a bit in place. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept alone before, anyway.”

“Oh, really?” The teasing edge of her voice makes you blush.

“I mean- I think... well, it was a large place... I wasn’t the only one there, clearly.” You cough awkwardly. “And... you make me feel safe.”

How could Diana possibly say no to that?

You still aren’t used to how nice her bed is. The softness of it, the warmth. You curl into it with a sigh, the blanket deliciously cozy. Diana lays on the other side of the bed, watching you with a dazed expression.

Once you’re finally settled in, and you catch onto her watching, you ask, “What?”

“Nothing,” Diana’s soft smile makes your body thrum. “Nothing at all.”

- - - -

She comes in spring, when life around the facility is flourishing. The woods surrounding the area are teeming with wildlife, all of which are perfect subjects for experimentation. You hated hurting the animals, but if you didn’t obey, they would do far worse to you.

You can tell, instantly, that she is unlike the others. Most kids they bring in have the same emptiness to them. From years on the streets, years with abusive families, mostly everyone comes here just a little broken.

Not her.

She’s a spitfire of a girl, spewing curse words you’ve never even heard before as she twists in the iron grip of the guards. Maybe it’s the dark waves of her hair or the piercing blue of her eyes that catches your attention, but the moment she has it, you know at once that she will never lose it.

Her anger rolls off of her in waves, cataclysmic. She is a walking hurricane, but you’re inevitably drawn to this disaster. You introduce yourself, that first day, but she ignores you. For days, no matter how hard you try, she doesn’t so much as spare you a glance when you’re in the mess hall or recreational rooms.

It isn’t until she returns from one of the experiments, looking shaken and lost, that she finally lets you sit beside her. She lingered on the edges of the training room, back against the wall. You told her of how you’d come here, how it might seem bad but it isn’t always terrible. She doesn’t share that opinion, of course, but your presence eases the pain, after some time; you feel happier, too, as hours bleed into days into weeks into months. Less like you’re just taking it day by day, surviving, and more like you’re actually alive. 

“One day,” she promises, “we’re gonna get out of here, and I”m gonna show you the world.”

And you believe her.

- - - -

Diana wakes to your body shaking in silent, wracking sobs. You’re at the very edge of the bed, as if putting space between you and Diana would compensate for your inability to sleep or calm down. It’s obvious that you’re trying to hold back on the emotions spilling from you, but it’s equally obvious that it isn’t working. 

The brunette turns over, reaches out silently before hesitating slightly. She doesn’t want to make this worse for you, doesn’t want to cross whatever boundaries lay in the empty sheets between you. Instead, the idea of reaching out with a feeling comes into her mind. Could she focus so hard one a singular emotion that it would pull you out of this? There’s no harm in trying, she supposes. 

It works; her concern and patience burst through the dark waters that had taken over your mind. A hand reaching, grasping, pulling - you breach through the surface, gasping for air. You turn over to face her, eyes wide and cheeks wet with tears.

Diana doesn’t even think twice before opening her arms invitingly. The question isn’t so much asked, as it is felt, and you wiggle into them with little hesitation. You curl into her embrace, letting the spring of her presence melt away the bitter winter of your terror. She begins to rub slow, soothing circles on your back, not speaking a single word.

She won’t ask, and you know she won’t despite the curiosity burning within her. 

“How can I be so sad,” you ask in a hoarse, broken voice, “over something I didn’t even know I’ve lost?”

Diana’s spirit seems to mirror the sentiment; pain reverberating off of her. “Loss is loss, I’m afraid.” She answers wisely, her own heart clenching. 

“When will it stop hurting?”

“When you are able to let go.”

You bury yourself in her shoulder, hearing the distant thundering of her own heartbeat. It’s so fast - is she alright? You attempt to search for the answer, but a yawn makes you lose concentration. 

“Is this okay?” You inquire sleepily.

“Of course it is,” Diana hums, sounding a bit tired herself.

You sigh, wrapping one of your own arms around Diana’s waist. She’s so pretty and soft. Why is she letting you do this? Why is she so kind? There’s something familiar about this feeling, something so, so important it almost keeps you up. Sleep conquers all, in the end, coming all too easily in the arms of this gorgeous woman who saved your life.

- - - -

Diana had left you alone in her apartment while she found you some proper clothes. “I can’t keeping calling out of work,” she’d said, “and you can’t hide in here forever. You have to experience the world!”

The idea of it is daunting, admittedly. you’ve felt somewhat cooped up in here, but not in the way you felt trapped in the Facility. That place had felt wrong, more of a prison than whatever it was meant to be. Being in Diana’s apartment, though, felt like safety. You feel nothing short of content to remain here, so long as Diana is with you. 

But now that she isn’t, you feel sort of... lonely. You keep looking at the clock to see how long she’s been gone. Half an hour gone already, and she’d said it would be two hours. Piece of cake.

The city beyond the windows is a wide landscape, a vast maze ready to explore. You imagine experiencing life out there, wondering what normal people are like and how you’re going to pretend you’ve been walking among them your whole life rather than experimented on like a lab rat.

With no memories, you’re suddenly itching to make some new ones. The mindless television doesn’t help much; after she’d taught you how to use Netflix, you’ve spent too much time watching action movies where the heroes always win and the bad guys go away forever - or, at least, until the sequel.

Approaching the hour-and-a-half mark without Diana, you start to zone out. Something happens on the TV, but you aren’t exactly sure what it was. The memories crawl from the shadows, as always, when you least expect them.

- - - -

“Please, don’t do this!” You beg, struggling against your restraints. The tank surrounding your head lets out a low hum, water beginning to spill out of the tubes on either side. It rises quickly to your chin. “Please, please, please-”

“Relax, D-14. You’re one of our best. You should handle this test no problem.” The nurse assures, the water quickly rising past your lips. You try to adjust your head to avoid the inevitable, but it’s useless. “You’ve survived every other.”

It isn’t quick, and it isn’t painless. It hurts, it burns, your lungs ache. And then, there is nothing.

When you open your eyes again, it is to a dark world far from the one you’d just left. You take slow, deliberate steps down an invisible path that calls to you. Your bare feet find it without thought, the sound of water echoing around you like a cave. You see no others, but you can feel them. There is pain, and there is suffering, but there are others.

Darkness. It’s the darkness that scares you most. There are creatures there, waiting, watching. If you step off the path, they will surely devour you.

Out of nowhere, you see a woman up ahead. She wears a beautiful white gown, golden wings folded against her back. Her skin is smooth and dark, amber eyes full of mirth when they meet yours. A merciful smile pulls at her lips as she reaches for you, fingers touching your cheek with the tenderness of a mother.

“It isn’t your time,” she says, but her mouth doesn’t move. Even so, the words reverberate into the vast nothingness all around you.

“I can’t go back there,” you rasp. “Please-”

“You are more important than you know,” the woman frowns, the expression looking incredibly out of place on her delicate features. Silver hair spills over her shoulder as she tilts her head sympathetically. 

How can I be important if he keeps killing me?” 

“You,” her hand falls to your shoulder, squeezing it softly. “You are unlike the others. He does not know what he is toying with, what cards of fate he is pulling for himself.” She pauses. “And he does not know who you are.”

“Who am I?”

Her smile widens. “You will know, one day. But today is not your time.”

She leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. Once more, you’re blurring through realities - crossing boundaries that feel both familiar and foreign. 

You wake up to the water draining, your lungs burning as you sputter for air. The machine is humming again, but you pay it no mind. Everything is removed slowly, piece by piece. 

“Alright, D-14,” the nurse picks up a clipboard, flips it to the first empty page. “State your name, your age, and what you witnessed ADE.”

- - - -

Diana finds you curled into a ball, one of the blankets she’d left on the sofa for you wrapped tightly around your body. You look so achingly small, she nearly drops the bags to run to you. She sets them down as gently as she can manage, locking the door before slowly approaching you. She walks with cautious purpose, as if you were a wild animal on the verge of running.

You didn’t hear her enter, but your attention hones in on her presence when she lays a hesitant hand on your arm. You uncurl yourself to face her. 

“What’s wrong, sweet one?” She asks softly.

You shake your head, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing.”

“You are an awful liar.” Diana notes, sitting down on the floor so that she can meet your eyes. “Come on, spit it out.”

“I died before, too,” you whisper. “A lot of times, I think.”

Diana’s fear spikes between you. “What?”

“I think... I think that’s what ARC does. It kills people... and brings them back.”

Disgust and fury radiate from Diana in a headed flame. “Why would they do that?” She demands, unable to hide the raw anger from her tone.

You shrug, but the action is sort of jerky when you’re still laying on one side. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But I think it’s why I’m... y’know,” you gesture vaguely to your body. “Like this.” Powers that had seemed like a blessing, ones that you enjoyed using, suddenly feel... wrong. A great burden forced onto your shoulders.

“Do you think that’s how you died the last time?” Diana asks, hand drifting down to your own. You let her toy with your fingers, reveling in the unidentifiably tender emotion that flows from the contact.

“I don’t think so,” you say at last, shaking your head. “I don’t- I don’t think they meant for that to happen.” You sit up slowly, exhaling a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I was supposed to come back. I have to show you something, but- just- don’t, uh, freak out, okay?”

Diana frowns skeptically, moving to join you on the sofa now that you’ve given her the room to do so. You turn away from her and carefully ease down a shoulder of the gown she’d given you. You hear her soft inhale, feel a spark of something heated igniting within her not unlike the prior softness, but she quells it as you reveal your upper back.

Where your wings would join is a vicious looking scar. With a jolt, Diana realizes it’s the entry point of the one on your chest. It looks oddly like a compass, the center of it being where the bullet must have entered. Diana reaches out to it, in awe of the way it seems branded into your skin. The scarred tissue isn’t raised, as most would be of such severity. It’s smooth to the touch, shiny, as if were some kind of eternal symbol of your unintended survival.

You look over your shoulder at her, suddenly dazed by the gentleness of her touch. There’s that heated something again, an emotion that makes you want to squirm under Diana’s dark gaze. Her plump lips are pursed thoughtfully, fingertips just barely brushing the sensitive skin of your scar. You’ve felt this heat before, this... want. You just can’t remember when or where or whom, but you know this feeling.

Your lips part, your body slowly facing Diana’s once again. The scar on your chest looks like the sun, also embedded in your skin as if to forever remind you of your damnation to this world. You think her eyes dart downward, but you aren’t sure if it’s at your scar or something else.. “Diana-”

A knock at the door makes the both of you leap apart. You both wear incredibly guilty expressions, though you aren’t really sure why. You adjust the gown again before standing and taking the bags Diana had brought home while she answers the door.

“Bruce, hi!” She greets, sounding a bit strained.

“Did I... interrupt something?” Bruce inquires as you scurry to the bedroom.

You don’t hear the conversation, but you feel Bruce’s amusement and Diana’s embarrassment echo through the halls. You aren’t sure where to put the bags, so you just carefully set them down by teh door and return to the living room with flushed cheeks.

“Well, Vic pulled through. We infiltrated part of ARC’s computer systems, but a lot of it is encrypted. He’s still working on it,” Bruce explains, clearing his throat to clear the tension between him and Diana, who is glaring at him as if looks could kill. 

“What did you find out?” You ask timidly, unsure of why you feel like you’re on the edge of something dangerous. 

“ARC researches near death experiences,” Bruce follows you and Diana to the seating area; Diana sits close enough to you that you can reach out if you need to, and Bruce takes one of the free armchairs. “According to their data, thirty percent of those killed in controlled environments gain unique, superhuman abilities. Most of them can talk to the dead, or otherwise contact the ‘other side’ if you want to believe that.” Judging by his tone, Bruce does not. “And less than two percent of that thirty percent gain what Richman calls the ‘Seraph Gene’.”

“G-giraffe gene?” You mutter, confused. Diana hides her snort with a polite cough while Bruce groans.

“Seraph Gene. Angels.” He huffs. “Vic is working on those files now, seeing as that’s likely where your information will be, but it’s not easy.”

“So, you really are an angel?” Diana grins, trying to make light of the situation.

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Bruce hums thoughtfully. “Richman is looking for the Ideal Angel. One that’s immortal with healing capabilities. She’s got the wings, sure, but she’s not like you, Diana.”

“We don’t know that,” Diana points out. “She still doesn’t know all of her powers, and she didn’t die in a controlled environment the last time.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue. “Well, I wanted to give you an update on that.” He stands, then pauses. “Oh, and another thing: they’re looking for her. They’re combing surrounding cities as we speak. Whatever she is, she’s important to them.”

The fear that tears through you is only doubled by Diana’s. Her hand finds yours, the only thing keeping you from outright spiraling, a determined scowl on her face. “Let them come. They won’t lay a finger on her.”

Bruce raises his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to warn you. If we need to get the League together for this-”

“Yes, that is a wonderful idea. We absolutely should.”

Something tells you that, by the sag in his shoulders, Bruce isn’t accustomed to working with others. He probably hates it, and that’s not surprising from your very few interactions. “Alright, I’ll keep you posted, then. Be careful, you two.” He gives Diana a meaningful look that makes her cheeks erupt in a deep blush. For some reason, this annoys you - which is very unusual, because under any other circumstances, you’d love to see Diana blush.

Bruce leaves you and Diana in aching silence. You keep looking at her like you’re expecting her to explode, but she seems lost in thought. You give her hand a squeeze, pulling her back to the present.

“Those scars...” Diana begins slowly, quietly.

“The last time I died wasn’t controlled. They didn’t think I’d come back at all.” There’s a raw edge of sadness in your voice.

“That must be why they are after you,” Diana nods, squeezing your hand tighter. “Whatever brought you back, must be what Doctor Richman is looking for.”

The thought makes you shudder. Not only from fear, but from anger. A surge of fierce protection and loyalty to whatever it was that brought you back. “They can’t have it,” you growl in a tone very much unlike your own.

“We’ll never let them.” Diana agrees solemnly.

- - - - (Next Chapter) - - - -

Tags! (almost forgot aaa) @nobody13​ ❤ @fireflyglass ❤ @swords-are-cool​ ❤ @artapdarkstr ❤ @aznblossom​

[daincrediblegg]

ALPHABET HEADCANONS: JACK O’NEILL

A/N: This is it!!!! I’ve caved!!!! I need more content for this man and I’ve gotta create it myself, so enjoy these unprompted lil nuggets of fluff! And don’t forget my ask box is always open for more!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jack is super fuckin affectionate, but he’s more of a… show don’t tell kinda guy. He’s got a bit of a hard time necessarily talking about how he feels- usually deflects things with humor. But he shows it in other ways. In warm touches, in playful side-eyes. Unrestrained by being professional he will hug you all the fuckin time. No shortage of funny little pet names either oh my god it’s like he comes up with a new one every fuckin dAY. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Jack O’Neill is a really good best friend ok. You’ve seen how he is with the rest of SG1. The dude has so much chill (unless it’s a life-or-death situation obviously), is always inviting you to go fishing. He’s REALLY good in tough situations simply because of his sense of humor and general chill attitude. GREAT at reducing anxiety like guy is a human valium- always knows how to distract anyone before their brain goes into some sort of head-spiral about anything. Loyal as SHIT when you’re in with him he’s pretty much ride or die for you even if you don’t agree with him on everything he would still probably take a bullet for his best friends. Also the biggest hype man- whatever you’re good at he has 100% faith in you to do it right and will always shut down negative thoughts about your abilities. 10/10 on the bestie scale tbh the man is a LIFER.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s actually, perhaps surprisingly, a really snuggly guy when you’re in a relationship with him. He may be… a little touch-starved since the divorce, and kinda misses it, so expect an arm draped over your shoulder or around your waist whenever you’re in a room together, and to be damned near joined at the hip when you’re not in public. The man is an actual living cuddle bug and he’s so sweet jesus. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

At one point in time he’d have liked nothing more than to settle down, get a dog, just enjoy being retired, but honestly he doesn’t mind that that ideal is a little further away than he thought now that he’s in the Stargate Program. He likes what he does- as stressful as it is sometimes, but there’s never a dull moment. That’s for sure. He’s very good about cleaning and keeping things tidy generally (it’s that military training hard at work), but cooking??? Eh??? He’s passable, can make some basic stuff and ofc he loves to grill (expect very charred meat) but… just don’t ask him to cook anything too elaborate (like… this is a dude who thinks beer is a good omelette ingredient jfc do not let him near a stove for anything more elaborate than a fried egg he’s a fucking gremlin man). 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Quickly. And probably succinctly. The only time he’d really get blunt about something is if he had to end it with his partner for some reason. Just to spare himself and his partner the pain. It’s not without emotion though. Oh no. He may move on from things with relative ease- more likely than not without malice for the other person, but he’d never leave anyone without saying a proper goodbye if he’s the one who has to end it. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Probably not too quick. He’s not even sure he really wants to get married again after how everything with Sarah went down. He’d have to be pretty crazy about someone to want to try all that again, but if that happens… then maybe he won’t be thinking about it like that. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

H-… have you seen this man??? How tender he is with his partners??? It’s unbelievable that a guy like him has the capacity to be as gentle as he is but it’s breathtaking, and it’s only a glimpse of what he’s capable of. He may be a military man- but doing what he does requires much more care and dexterity than people think, and his touch only serves to show as much. This is the guy who holds your face or tugs you closer when you kiss him. This is the same guy who can diffuse bombs and wield a firearm like an extension of himself and handles you with the same amount of reverence and care if not more. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Oh he loves hugs. Loves them. May not do hugs quite as often as he might like actually. Hugs his close friends plenty and especially when they need it, but hugs you even more. He’s a really good hugger too. They’re just encompassing and strong and warm and if you’re not careful you could get addicted. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He waits on this one. For like… a long while. He probably knows it deep down long before he says it, probably won’t really admit it to himself for a long while even when he realizes that’s what he feels. But one day it probably just… slips out. Unprompted. And it’ll shock you both, but one thing’s for sure; he means it with his whole chest and nothing less. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh you have no jealousy troubles with this man. He’s an adult, and he recognizes that he’s not the center of everyone’s universe and that people can have just friendly relationships with other people of the gender they’re attracted to. He wouldn’t be in any kind of serious relationship with someone he didn’t trust them implicitly from the start. The man is truly a champ at being chill as hell. If he ever does feel it you’d probably never fuckin know it either. Guy can keep that shit close to his chest if he wants. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Warm, enveloping, grounding. The kind that make you feel like you’re sinking into something solid, that nothing could hurt you. If he’s kissing you he’s taking his time. Holding you close. Meaning it. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

ARE YOU KIDDING??? HE’S FANTASTIC AROUND KIDS!!!! EARTH KIDS?? ALIEN KIDS??? THEY ALL LOVE HIM!!! HE IS JUST DAD SHAPED!!!!!! TO EVERYONE!!!! He’s… not sure if he’d ever want to try to have another kid of his own, maybe, but he has SERIOUSLY considered adopting some alien kids in the past at MINIMUM and probably would if he wasn’t always going off-world.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

A lot of groaning, at least when he wakes up at first, probably some sleepy kisses while resisting the temptation to uh… get frisky before work. But he’ll get up, clean up, shave and do his silly little crossword (and he DELIBERATELY puts in wrong answers for funsies I know this in my heart). Most days he probably eats breakfast at the base, but on his days off he would probably take turns with you making breakfast- makes egg and bacon smiley faces when it’s his turn (and the occasional beer omelet if he’s feeling lazy). PROBABLY would pick up donuts for the weekend too. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Usually with a couple of beers, snuggling up under a nice flannel blanket and watching The Simpsons, or whatever else is on TV. Maybe some take-out from one of the usual places (I’m convinced he’s got like 5 or 6 places in town he’s a regular at that he goes to on rotation) . Probably gets a fire going if things are getting chilly up in Colorado. Just likes to settle in and maybe pass out on the couch a lil. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s a low and slow kind of guy. Both for his own emotional well-being and for his partner’s. He’s got some pretty nasty demons in his past, and they overwhelm even him sometimes.  He knows that it’s important to talk about it, and while if he really loves someone he won’t mind sharing these things with them… it just takes time for him to work up the courage to face them again himself and put it all into words. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With a partner, he’s just about as far away from easily angered as a guy can get. He’s actually very chill with the people he loves. There’s sincerely so very little that you could do that could piss him off to the point of losing his temper- and even then he’d never shout at you or anything- that’s the kind of shit he has to do and see enough at work, and he pretty explicitly never wants to cross that line with someone he’s in a romantic relationship with. And even if he is angry for some reason he’s never really angry at his partner- at least in affairs of the heart he pretty much always remembers the love he has for you comes first and foremost. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Believe it or not he actually is *very* good at remembering things about people. He may be one whole dumbass, and can’t do math, but that’s because most of his brain capacity is taken up with things about the people he cares about. Probably knows you down to your favorite food- enough to know to bring it to you to cheer you up, or suggest watching your favorite movie when you get home after a long day. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He probably remembers the moment you met the most clearly- the moment when you were suddenly in his life even though he didn’t know what you would end up meaning to him down the line. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Jack is honestly the kind of guy who would rather die himself than stand idly by and watch someone he cares about die. This man would take a staff blast and so much worse for you and that’s a guarantee. But when he’s down that means he’s a little more vulnerable. He really appreciates it when he knows someone is gunning to keep him alive too. To know that despite his bravado and despite his own hero complex someone’s just as concerned with his livelihood. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He’d put a little effort in. He’s more on the low-key side, not as big of a fan of grand gestures, and of course sometimes the job gets in the way of putting plans into motion (and he’d need a partner who’d understand that), but if that does happen he inevitably finds a way to make it up- sometimes even ahead of time if he has even a shred of warning about some kind of impending earthly peril. But when he plans something it’s usually very sweet, and far from an unfun cliché (but at least one time for valentine's day you *will* come home to rosepettals on the floor leading to the bedroom to find him in some silk boxers on the bed because of course he’s the gift). But usually things with him are… I don’t wanna say spontaneous because he does usually have at least a little bit of a game plan, but he’s all for improvisation and just loves getting swept up in doing whatever with you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I wanna take some time to call him out thoroughly on the fuckin beer omelets thing my guy do you???? Have taste buds???? Listen. With other shit in there I might understand. Beer and cheese is a good combo. But???? JUST BEER IN YOUR EGGS AVAJSFHR!!!!!! Of all the stuff you’ve done in this whole series this is probably your greatest war crime and I’m gonna fucking invoke the 3rd amendment for it. Oh also his fridge is nasty and full of “science experiments” (which like... same) but guy I get why you always be getting take out now jesus fucking christ.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not overly. You’ve seen how this man dresses. He has his little inexplicably fashionable moments, but by *far* he’s more concerned with practicality at least where his attire and physical appearance are concerned. That being said, if you compliment him on like literally anything he will get a major confidence boost about it and will try to do it/wear it more. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

No… and yes. With all he’s seen and been through, he knows not everything is certain, not everything is meant to be and nothing is forever. But at the same time… he feels just a little better off with you around. He feels this kind of thing with everyone he’s really close with in their own unique way. He really doesn’t know where he’d be without the people he cares about who care about him back and can’t imagine a scenario in which he’d feel whole as a person without them coming into his life at the time they did. And you’re absolutely no different. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

So we know Jack has like the biggest fuckin sweet tooth. Pie, Cake, Donuts, ice cream, all of it. There’s always sweets in the house. And if you *make* some for him??? He will automatically love you forever. Also would probably be ok with you feeding him sweets. Warning tho: He’d probably do it back and get it all over your face and whoops now you’re making out covered in frosting and bits of cake and the only way to clean up is to lick it off each other’s faces oh no oh dear. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Petty, pushy people. Just doesn’t have the time. Jack can honestly vibe with just about everyone, even people who are wildly different than him, but the only thing that’s really an outright nope for him is people who are so wrapped up in petty problems they can’t see any kind of bigger picture. Or people who are just generally *too* pushy or overly dramatic about every little thing for little to no reason to the point of being just plain childish. He can handle just about everything else but that??? Nope.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Kinda sprawls out a lil in his sleep. Typically a stomach sleeper but shifts to his back sometimes (especially to cuddle). He’s always at least touching you in his sleep because no matter how much or little he just likes knowing you’re there.