boobliz

[skeleton-in-a-hoodie]

I think DDMG Splinter is a lot more single minded than 2012 Splinter, but his way of thinking and problem solving is also slightly to the left.

So, like, if one of the 2012 Turtles are hungry, their Splinter will make them a cup of tea and a snack. Maybe he'll cut some fruit up and get them a glass of water, or he'll see if they've got any left over pizza.

If the DDMG boys mention being hungry, there's a 50/50 chance that DDMG Splinter will go to the kitchen or disappear outside for half an hour and come back with a dead rabbit he's just caught.

Which tbh isn't so bad when they live at the Lair, like it's weird, but papa isn't human anymore and this is probably normal behaviour for a ghost/ demon thing. Plus they know Splinter tends to have a one track mind, so most of the time it's just a case of if they want chicken for dinner making sure they specify they're going to buy it, and no Splinter doesn't need to steal a chicken from a local farm.

That kind of mix up might actually be how they got their chickens. Like one day Splinter came home like:

Splinter: I HAVE GOT A CHICKEN!

Leo: Oh where did you - IS THAT STILL ALIVE?

Splinter: YES. YOU SAID YOU WANTED CHICKEN FOR DINNER.

Leo: I meant from a supermarket!

Splinter: ... AH

Splinter: ... I DO NOT REMEMBER WHERE I GOT THIS

Later on Donnie gets back from April's, sees a random chicken walking around the house, and decides he's not gonna ask.

When they still lived at the Children's home, Splinter bringing them dead animals to eat probably did cause some problems every now and again. Like the staff would be more than a little freaked out if they opened the window and saw someone had left a dead rabbit on the boy's window sill, even more so when they see it's already been cooked.

This is probably something else about DDMG Splinter that'd horrify 2012 Splinter.

[pomefioredove]

Ngl I want a sequel to bad ending 'yuu gets sold' series

Cause imagine the boys go to NBC just to find out that yuu is actuality doing great, better than great, even better than the time they were doing in NRC

I like to think that Rollo is legitimate a nice person when you remove the hatred over magic type of stuff

He deffo makes sure that yuu is well fed and clean (let's be honest, not something that yuu always has in NRC) plus treat yuu greatly

rollo fans who are starving since everyone stopped talking about him after november I'm here for you. I see you. take my hand

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending

summary: yuu transfers to NBC type of post: fic characters: rollo my beloved additional info: yuu is gender neutral, implied romantic ^_^

It had been a long six months for everyone at Night Raven College.

The departure- and subsequent absence- of their beloved Ramshackle prefect was very much felt.

Days were longer, nights were darker, the first year class itself felt empty.

"At least they're not dead," was the consensus.

Of course, you continued to communicate with your friends- it wasn't like you completely dropped off the map, although Noble Bell College had a stricter policy about phone usage.

You even sent some letters back and forth, yours filled with updates and mementos, theirs with pictures of all you'd left behind.

Did you miss NRC?

Well...

You missed your friends.

But Crowley? The overblots? Being everyone's personal therapist?

...Yeah. You could live without that.

Noble Bell College may have been more exclusive, and more strict in their code of conduct, but it was more peaceful, too. Smaller, less students, and much less reliance on magic, so that you and Grim could be whole students independent of one another.

The curriculum was much different than NRC's. Less of an emphasis on a personal connection to magic, and more on tradition, ritual, and history. There were few times when you'd have to sit out a class, or watch your friends have fun from the sidelines.

If anything, Rollo made a point of including you.

A part of it may have been personal pride- after all, he just couldn't resist showing you how much better he is.

But he also had a vague idea about how stressful your life at NRC really was, and how isolated you felt, despite being surrounded by people. It was his duty, in a sense, to rectify that.

Even if it meant you had to sit through his lectures and recitations of the traditional magic laws.

...Though, even with his intense adherence to tradition and structure, he made quite a show of being kind to you.

Despite his best efforts to claim fairness and righteousness, it was no secret to anyone that he favored you. You quickly became the only person he spent his free time with (not that he was particularly social in the first place...)

And... it was nice. Is nice.

He holds himself to high standards, and expects that of others; he's cold, harsh when he feels it necessary, and repressed in all ways imaginable.

And yet... well, there's no sabotage, no swindling, no scamming, no manipulation to make petty ends meet.

Rollo, as a person, is both confusingly complex and reassuringly simple. You know as much. He sticks to routine, to rules, to tradition. He's diligent in every sense of the word, and highly respected because of it.

And when the eyes of the other students are turned away, he treats you with a sort of gentleness that you'd become wholly unfamiliar with at NRC. Like a porcelain doll, like something precious he desires to wrap in cotton and silk and store somewhere safe.

You wonder if his behavior towards you is at all connected to the very reason he risked his status bringing you here in the first place... but you don't dwell too long. He's as mysterious as anything.

When your former classmates come to visit over break, it's like they're meeting an entirely different person.

"Happy to see us, eh? You're like, glowing," Ace smirks.

Deuce elbows him in the ribs for that comment. "What he meant is that you look great. I mean, really! You've been sleeping more?"

You nod. "Lots, yeah,"

"Weird, I woulda guessed they'd been working you to the bone. This place is all "no funny business", right?" Ace shakes his head.

You laugh, walking alongside your former fellow first years in the streets of Fleur City, the very ones you'd become so accustomed to in recent months.

"I've actually been doing well with my studies. I think I've finally decided what I want to do after graduation,"

"Oh, that's great!" Deuce says. A lengthy pause follows, much to your confusion- it's as if everyone has something they want to say, but won't be the first to say it.

Epel clears his throat. "You been 'doin alright?"

"Um... yeah. I have,"

"Cause... you know, if anyone was giving you trouble, we'd give 'em what for!"

You chuckle. "I'm fine, really. People here are pretty nice..."

Again, that same silence follows. Epel, Deuce, and Ace look between each other, as if daring the other to say the next thing.

This time, you take the initiative.

"Listen. If this is about Rollo, he's fine. I'm fine. He's been nothing but helpful,"

The tense silence breaks and Ace sighs, shaking his head. "You can't blame us for being worried,"

"I mean, this whole situation has been really shady. Everyone at NRC has been worried sick..." Deuce says. "We just wanted to make sure..."

You smile. "I appreciate it, but you really don't have to send in a rescue party. I've been... I've been really good. Happy. And I miss you guys to pieces, but I've felt closer to home here than anywhere else. Does that sound strange?"

A short pause follows. Deuce is the first to speak, his voice sounding strained. "Not at all. We just want you to be happy,"

You can tell he's trying really hard to sound positive. Epel, on the other hand, doesn't sugarcoat anything.

"You really won't come back with us?"

You smile again, though this one is wholly apologetic. "No, I don't think so,"

The three are quiet for another moment, and then seem to drop the subject. The rest of their stay goes by smoothly, even with all the strained moments where you can tell they have something to ask. You assume they've already figured out the answer.

The day trip is over by sundown and you return to campus just before curfew, taking a seat in one of the cozy (though currently empty) lounges by a familiar face.

"They're gone?" Rollo asks, not bothering to look up from the textbook he's perusing.

You watch him carefully, and think it's best not to mention you friend's attempt to bring you back with them.

"Yes, they're gone. We had fun, nothing happened,"

"Good," he says. A brief silence follows before he speaks again. "I do trust you. But-"

"You don't trust them. I understand. If I were you, I suppose I wouldn't, either. But I'm fine,"

"When are they coming back?"

"Two months. They're taking the weekend. Might bring some other people,"

Rollo hums a note of acknowledgment, fingers rolling around the pen in his right hand. The book is still open, though he's looking ahead now. His face is flushed.

You know he's unhappy with it, but he won't say anything. You're grateful he likes you enough to let you rub elbows with people he despises. Especially after all that's happened...

He stands, closing the book. "Very well. Let me know what day so that I may adequately prepare myself. Good night. Be safe,"

And with that, he takes his leave.

Ever distant. Ever polite. One might mistake the way he speaks for coldness or resentment if you weren't so familiar with his mannerisms by now.

You turn to look into the lounge fireplace behind you, watching the flames flicker and die until all that remains are soft, glowing embers, the same shade of red that burns on his cheeks when you look at him.

[ellecdc]

hey, love! sooo i have a request (and im more than willing to wait for it, absolutely no rush). i'm having surgery in a couple weeks and it's nothing like life threatening or super serious but it's still a little scary and it's something that's going to make my very stubbornly independent self need to be dependent on other people for like two or three months. so i was wondering if you could do stubborn/independent reader in recovery, being taken care of by remus and or regulus cause i know they'd be very sweet and maybe a bit too helpful, like maybe reader even tries to do things that they aren't ready for yet because it's frustrating needing to rely on others but theres reassurance that it's fine to need help and it's better to take the help in order to have a quicker and better recovery. wanted to keep details vague so you can work your magic but i hope at least a little inspiring

lot of love!!! 🫶🫶🫶

best of luck with your surgery, love! hope it all goes well <3

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who is recovering from surgery not at all gracefully

CW: reader is stubbornly independent, discussion of surgery/post-op aftercare/stitches and incisions, fluff and comfort

By some absolute twist of fate, you’d actually been left alone for the first time in nearly five days.

You were unbelievably thankful for your two sweet, sweet boyfriends and the amount of care they treated you with.

But however thankful you were for your two sweet, sweet boyfriends, you were also quite fed up with their coddling. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was that finally got them to leave you alone; it could have been your sharp tone when you told Regulus you didn’t want your pillows fluffed again, or the withering glare you gave Remus when he poked his head in to ask if you needed “anything else at all, sweet girl”, but you were almost certain it was when you finally dissolved into frustrated tears.

And so, five days after your appendectomy, you were finally, blissfully alone. 

You had tissues on the bed beside you, the largest bottle of water Regulus could find on the bedside table, your books, the TV remote, and some crisps at your disposal. 

It was heavenly.

But you know what would be even better? Ice cream. 

In the two days you spent in hospital following your procedure, Regulus had to have spent nearly half your monthly rent on food, snacks, blankets, and other “post-surgery supplies” - which included the largest refillable water bottle you’d ever seen in your entire life. 

It also included ice cream. 

And while the boys had left the majority of your post-surgery supplies within your reach upon their retreat from your bedroom, ice cream could not, for obvious reasons, be left in your bedroom for your easy access.

But what were you going to do? Call them? Ask them to come bring you ice cream? And have to live with their smug ‘haha, see, you do need us’ faces? Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. 

It had been four days since your surgery which left you with perhaps nothing more than a few teeny incisions along your stomach that they slapped a measly piece of tape over to keep shut - like hell that was going to slow you down. 

So, you pushed your blankets off yourself with minimal effort. You took a deep breath and held it as you swiveled your hips so that your legs were hanging off the bed, letting it out as you twisted your torso to realign your body correctly. Not so bad, right?

You braced yourself again as you slid slowly off the bed, once again letting a lung-full of air out as your feet hit the ground.

Feeling quite chuffed at your accomplishment and unjustifiably confident that the hardest part was now over, you started on your task of retrieving ice cream. 

You reminded yourself as you shuffled down the hallway that the doctor had said that walking each day was in fact good for your recovery, though you were certain that supporting yourself along the wall and unsupervised isn’t exactly what she had in mind when she gave you those instructions.

No matter, you were completely capable!

So capable.

The most capable.

And a measly case of stairs wasn’t going to change that. 

You tried to recite the aftercare instructions the doctor had given you prior to being discharged, though you were admittedly still feeling a little drowsy at the time and it had been Remus who took dutiful notes as Regulus packed your bag.

Staring at the case of stairs that threatened your master plan of retrieving your well-deserved ice cream - in your most humble opinion, you did sacrifice an organ for it - you decided that if you couldn’t remember the doctor saying no stairs, that stairs were probably fine.

Likely fine.

Mostly fine.

Except the very first step you took had you flinching at the sensation of the tape tugging uncomfortably at your skin.

But once your other foot joined your first on the step, the feeling went away.

Okay, see? That was fine.

Not so bad.

Now you just have to do that… thirteen more times.

Thirteen…that felt like a lot.

But you weren’t supposed to look at obstacles in terms of wholes; you just needed to look at the next step.

Which was exactly one step.

You had already taken a step! Surely you could take one more!

Except a small whimper escaped your lips as you took your next step, your second foot joining the first rather quickly and clumsily in a hasty attempt to relieve you from the tugging of your taped up abdomen. 

You had managed to wash, rinse, and repeat those steps for exactly six stairs before you started to wonder if the ice cream was really actually worth ripping your stomach back open. 

You were eight steps away from the lower level of your townhouse, and six steps from the upper level where your salvation came in the form of your bedroom. 

You had three options here:

1) Continue in your trek down the rest of the eight steps to your ice cream - dreams of ever returning to your bed be damned 2) Retreat to the safety of your bedroom and figure out how to haul yourself up onto the mattress  3) Ask for help 

Still feeling rather petulant over the fact that you were very close to having to live through Remus and Regulus’ “I told you so” faces, you opted for option two, and pivoted on the stair in an attempt to retreat back to your bedroom. 

Which would have been fine if the action of lifting your leg didn’t actually leave you feeling like the rest of your organs were about to spill out onto the staircase (which was very dramatic considering you weren’t even sure you could fit your own finger into the tiny holes dotting your abdomen if you tried; but that’s how it felt, okay?) 

So, in the face of failure, you opted to choose a secret fourth option:

4) Sit on the staircase in defeat and accept your fate (death, probably) 

“I’ll check, but if she throws a book at my face, you’re in charge of dinner.” You heard Remus call as he rounded the corner and started for the stairs. 

You had your forehead resting on the spindles of the railing and watched as Remus made it up the first section of stairs to the landing before pausing when he turned and noticed you.

“Dovey! Are you okay?” He whispered in abject horror, bending down (causing his knees to crack audibly which made you feel even more wretched for worrying him) as he considered you.

“I’m fine.” You whined, hoping to gain some sympathy in your current state.

“What are you doing here?!” He continued, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder. 

“Wanted ice cream…” You admitted rather reluctantly; shame prickled at your skin as Remus paused in his movements and his expression shifted from worry to one of shock. 

His mouth flattened into a terse smile. “You’re kidding me.”

‘I really, really wish I was’ you thought to yourself.

Apparently, your response read loud and clear on your face as he let out a tired sigh. “Reg!”

You felt your own expression morph from shame to one of betrayal. “Now, why would you do that!?”

Remus barely had a chance to roll his eyes at you as Regulus appeared around the corner. 

“Mon Dieu! Ce qui s’est passé?! Are you okay!?” He exclaimed as he spotted you sitting dejectedly on the stairs. 

“I’m fine.” You answered at the same time Remus replied “She’s stuck.”

“What were you doing?” Regulus asked again, looking between you and Remus in bemusement. 

“Being a brat.” Remus hissed quietly; his tone bordering frustration in a way you weren’t accustomed to being directed at you even as his touch remained loving and dutiful. 

Horrified, you felt your sinus’ fill painfully as you hid your face between the spindles of the railing, blocking both boys from your view. 

“I’m tired of being useless.” You whispered; your voice pinching audibly as your words nearly got stuck in your throat. 

Remus let out a sigh as he let his one hand slide from your shoulder down to your hand, and the other rubbed at your knee affectionately. 

“You’re not useless, mon amour; you’re recovering.”

“From a pretty major surgery, at that.” Remus added, earning him a derisive scoff from you.

“It’s not major surgery! It’s  a very routine procedure and it barely left a mark on me.” You spat; recounting the doctors words from before your surgery nearly word for word. 

“Ça suffit. An entire organ tried to kill you, amour, and it had to be removed.” Regulus offered.

“It was a stupid organ that we don’t even use anymore.” You added petulantly. 

“And it was ripped from you nonetheless, dove. Listen,” Remus continued, taking your chin in his hand and directing your eyes back to him. “I know, I know you hate feeling reliant on us, and I also know that we like letting you rely on us perhaps a bit too much.” He paused to raise his eyebrows at you and you took in a shuddering breath. “But I think right now is one of those times you have to let us.” 

You let an embarrassing sound escape the back of your throat as you tried to avert your gaze, but Remus strengthened his hold on your chin. 

“You have to let us, baby.” He whispered again. 

“My love, if you insist on doing things before you’re ready, you’re only going to hurt yourself which is going to mean you have to rely on us even longer.” Regulus continued as he sat beside you on the step, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and trailing his finger down your neck. 

“You wouldn’t want that now, would you?” Remus asked teasingly; one corner of his lips tilting upwards and pulling at the scar that you loved to watch dance across his face when he was most expressive. 

You lifted your hand to run your finger along it, delighting in the slight blush that flooded Remus’ cheeks as he closed his eyes and relished in your touch. 

“Qu’est-ce que tu voulais?” Regulus asked you then.

You let out a sigh in resignation and tilted your head to rest on Regulus’ shoulder. “Ice cream.”

Your head jostled from the gentle chuckle that left Reg at your admission as Remus beamed at you. 

“Well, why didn’t you just ask?” He teased as he stood quickly - telling yourself that you weren’t jealous at all by his ability to move quickly and freely. “Wanna help our princess back to bed, my love?” Remus asked Regulus who was already standing and offering you his hands. 

They both helped you stand and allowed you a moment to catch your breath and confirm you were alright before Regulus moved two steps below and got into position to give you a piggy-back-ride.

Remus waited until the two of you got to the top of the stairs safely before hurrying to the kitchen to procure your long awaited ice cream. 

What would have likely taken you all day (had you been successful in your venture) took Regulus and Remus perhaps six and a half minutes before the three of you were propped up in your bed, each with a bowl of ice cream as Remus queued up your favourite movie. 

“Merci, amour.” Regulus whispered into your hair before pressing a kiss to your head.

“What for?” You asked.

He smiled softly at you as he examined your face. “For letting us love on you.” 

“It really is our favourite, you know?” Remus added.

And fortunately for you, you did know.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Short Shorts & Long Hair 2

Summary: Spencer and his physical therapist enjoy their new relationship.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x PT fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, suggestive content & conversation, alcohol consumption, feelings talks, trying on clothes in front of spencer, drunk sexual advances (not acted on)

Word count: 9.7k

a/n: i am so so so sorry this took me forever to get out -- honestly it has been done for over a week i just couldn't decide if i wanted to add more or not :/// i like where it leaves off though!

main masterlist part one

Additional warnings: oral (male receiving)

Spencer was immersed in his work, his focus completely on the files spread out in front of him, when a familiar voice cut through the usual hum of the bullpen.

“Can you point me to Doctor Reid, please?”

His head snapped up instantly, the sound of your voice pulling him from his thoughts. There you were, standing just a few feet away, looking absolutely stunning in your work attire that was professional yet irresistibly appealing. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of you, his surprise evident on his face.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, a mixture of delight and shock coloring his tone. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled warmly, holding up a couple of bags filled with what looked like takeout containers. “Bringing my two favorite geniuses some lunch,” you said as you walked over, the easy confidence in your stride making Spencer’s heart race just a little faster.

Before Spencer could respond, Derek Morgan’s voice rang out from across the room. “Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Derek asked, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he leaned back in his chair, clearly amused by the unexpected visit.

Spencer felt a flush creep up his neck as he turned to face Derek. “Uh, yeah, of course,” he stammered slightly, trying to regain his composure. “Derek, this is Y/N, my—well, she’s… she’s a physical therapist.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he caught onto the hesitation in Spencer’s voice. “A physical therapist, huh?” he said, clearly intrigued. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Any friend of Reid’s is a friend of mine.”

You chuckled, extending a hand to Derek. “Nice to meet you too, Derek. Spencer hasn’t mentioned a thing about you.”

Derek laughed loudly, clearly amused. “I like you already. I hope you give him a hard time.”

You smiled, relishing the easy banter. “Every chance I get, but for now, I’m here to make sure he’s well-fed and not skipping any meals.”

Spencer, still a bit flustered, managed a smile as he glanced between you and Derek. “Thanks for the lunch, Y/N,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with appreciation. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his heart flutter. “Besides, I needed an excuse to see you.”

Derek let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the interaction. “Reid, you’ve been holding out on us,” he teased. “How come you never told us about your very generous, very attractive physical therapist?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, the rosy hue spreading across his cheeks, but he couldn’t help the small, shy smile that tugged at his lips. “I, uh… she’s not my physical therapist anymore,” he admitted, his voice faltering slightly.

Derek’s smirk widened, sensing an opportunity. “No? Then what is she, pretty boy?” he asked, his tone teasing but curious.

Spencer paled at the question, his mind racing for a response, but before he could stammer out an answer, Penelope’s voice cut through the tension, saving him from the awkwardness.

“Y/N! What are you doing here, gorgeous?” Penelope exclaimed as she entered the bullpen, her vibrant presence instantly lightening the mood.

You turned to greet her, grateful for the timely interruption. “Just bringing some lunch for my favorite geniuses,” you replied with a bright smile, embracing Penelope as she reached you.

Penelope grinned, giving you a quick hug before turning her gaze toward Spencer and Derek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, isn’t this a delightful surprise! You boys better be on your best behavior—Y/N’s practically family now.”

Spencer let out a quiet sigh of relief, silently thanking Penelope for diverting the conversation. He wasn’t sure how he would have explained what was happening between you two—mostly because he was still figuring it out himself.

—

At your regular wine and painting night, you and Penelope had indulged a little more in the wine and a little less in the painting. The vibrant colors on your canvases were more the result of playful brush strokes than any serious artistic endeavor, and the conversation had turned increasingly lively.

“So… how is the good doctor between the sheets?” Penelope asked, her eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and wine-fueled boldness.

“Penny!” you admonished, feeling your cheeks flush as you playfully swatted at her arm.

Penelope pouted, clearly unbothered by your reaction. “I need details! He won’t tell me anything.”

You sighed, trying to figure out how to navigate this without giving too much away. “There’s not much to tell…”

Penelope’s face fell, her concern evident as she leaned in closer. “Oh no, are you two not doing well?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious.

“No, no, nothing like that,” you quickly reassured her, waving off her worries with a small laugh.

“Then what?” Penelope’s intoxicated brain wasn’t quite catching the subtle signals you were sending. She looked at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

You hesitated, biting your lip before finally mumbling, “We haven’t even kissed…”

“WHAT!” Penelope’s outburst was loud enough to draw the attention of the entire room, heads turning to look at you both.

You quickly reached out, grabbing her arm and whispering urgently, “Penny, shhh!”

Penelope clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she realized she had caused a scene. The other attendees slowly returned to their own conversations, the moment passing, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction.

Penelope leaned in closer, her voice lowered but still insistent. “How have you not kissed yet?” she whispered, her curiosity undeterred by your attempts at discretion.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the question. “It’s just… complicated,” you explained softly. “We’ve been trying to figure things out, and we haven’t rushed anything.”

Penelope’s expression softened, her earlier excitement replaced by understanding. “You know, there’s no need to rush,” she said gently. “But when the time feels right, just go for it, okay? Spencer’s a good guy, and he really likes you.”

You nodded, appreciating her support despite her earlier outburst. “I know. I really like him too.”

Penelope smiled, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Then it’ll happen when it’s meant to. But if you need a little push, you know who to call.”

You laughed, the tension easing as you clinked your wine glasses together. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but the words Penelope had spoken stayed with you, a reminder that sometimes, it’s okay to take the first step.

—

“Knock knock, doc,” you called out teasingly as you knocked on Spencer’s door. It was your first time at his apartment, and you could feel a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. You’d seen him in so many different settings—at work, in the PT room—but this felt different, more personal.

On the other side of the door, Spencer was trying to calm his racing heart. He had never had a woman in his apartment who wasn’t a family member or a coworker, and the thought of you being in his space made him both anxious and thrilled. He took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Hi, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft, a shy smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but notice the way he still managed to be a little shy around you, even after all those months of physical therapy and now a month of casually seeing each other. It was something you found endearing, a reminder of just how sweet and genuine he was.

“Hello, Doctor,” you replied with a warm smile, stepping inside as he moved aside to let you in.

Spencer’s apartment was exactly what you’d imagined—cozy and filled with books, papers, and little pieces of his life that reflected his brilliant mind. There was a slight scent of coffee lingering in the air, and the space felt inviting, even if it was clear he hadn’t had many visitors.

“Sorry if it’s a bit… cluttered,” Spencer said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he watched you take in your surroundings.

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you reassured him, turning to face him with a genuine smile. “It’s very… you.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. “I’m glad you think so. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea sounds great,” you said, following him into the kitchen area, where he began to fuss with the kettle and tea bags.

As he busied himself with the tea, you couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of contentment. This was different from any of your previous encounters—more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just about seeing each other in public or sharing a meal; this was about being in each other’s space, learning more about each other in a way that felt deeper.

“So,” you said, leaning against the counter as he waited for the water to boil, “how come you’re still a little shy around me after all this time? I thought we were past that.”

Spencer glanced up at you, his cheeks flushing slightly as he shrugged. “I don’t know… I guess I’m just not used to this kind of thing,” he admitted, his honesty making your heart flutter. “I’ve never really done this before—having someone I care about in my home. It’s… new.”

You smiled, touched by his vulnerability. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m really glad to be here. And there’s no need to be nervous.”

Spencer’s smile grew a little more confident as he poured the hot water into the teapot, the steam rising between you. “I’m glad you’re here too,” he said softly, meeting your gaze with those warm, earnest eyes that had drawn you in from the beginning.

You settled into the couch beside Spencer, the two of you sinking into a comfortable rhythm as you sipped your tea and chatted about everything and nothing. The atmosphere in his apartment was cozy and relaxed, a perfect backdrop for the easy conversation you were sharing. 

But there was something on your mind, something that had been lingering ever since your talk with Penelope. And now, sitting here with Spencer, the time felt right to bring it up.

“So, Doctor,” you began, a teasing lilt in your voice as you turned to face him more fully. “Can I ask you an awkward question?”

Spencer froze for a split second, his cup of tea hovering just below his lips. He glanced at you, a mix of curiosity and trepidation in his eyes. “Oh no,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the slight edge of nervousness creeping in. “I suppose you can.”

You took a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. “You like me, right?”

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard by the directness of your question. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he nodded. “Ye—yes,” he stammered, his voice a little higher than usual.

“As in,” you continued, keeping your tone playful to ease the tension, “think I’m pretty, want to date me, take me home to meet your mom?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and you could see the color rising in his face, turning his cheeks a deep shade of pink. “Uh huh,” he managed to mumble, his gaze flickering between you and his cup, as if he was trying to find a safe place to look.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him, but also a bit of frustration at the unspoken distance that still lingered between you. “Then why haven’t we kissed?” you asked, your voice softening as you leaned in just a little closer.

Spencer’s face turned so red so fast that you almost laughed, but you held it in, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already did. He set his cup down carefully, his hands suddenly feeling very empty and unsure of where to go.

“I, um…” Spencer started, his words stumbling over each other as he tried to form a coherent sentence. “I just… I didn’t want to rush things… or make you uncomfortable… I wanted to do it right…”

You could see the earnestness in his eyes, the genuine concern that he had been holding back, and it melted your heart. But you also saw the nervousness, the self-doubt that had kept him from making a move, and you knew you needed to reassure him.

“Spencer,” you said gently, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. The touch seemed to ground him, and his gaze finally settled on you, his expression softening as he realized you weren’t upset—just curious.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to be careful,” you continued, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to be so afraid. I like you—a lot. And if you want to kiss me… well, I’m ready whenever you are.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation or uncertainty. When he found none, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know if… if you felt the same way.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for this man who was so brilliant, so caring, and yet so unsure of himself when it came to matters of the heart. “I do,” you assured him, your voice just as soft. “So maybe we should stop overthinking it?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, tentative smile, and he nodded. “Maybe we should.”

And with that, he leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you. When his lips finally met yours, it was gentle, almost tentative at first, as if he was still worried about getting it right. But as you responded, kissing him back with all the warmth and affection you’d been holding onto, Spencer relaxed into the kiss, letting himself finally savor the moment he’d been waiting for.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, the awkwardness and uncertainty from before completely melted away. Spencer’s face was still a bit flushed, but now there was a light in his eyes—a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and a touch of amazement. “That was… that was really nice.”

You laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Yeah, it was,” you agreed, feeling a warm glow in your chest. “And you know what? We can do that again anytime you want.”

Spencer grinned, looking like a kid on Christmas. “Really?”

“Oh, doctor. You’re too sweet, really,” you replied, your heart warming at the sight of his pure excitement.

And with that, the two of you settled back into the couch, this time with a newfound closeness that made the night feel even more perfect than before.

—

After you left that night, Spencer couldn’t shake the new sensation that had taken root in his gut. It was different from anything he’d felt before—intense, almost overwhelming. Of course, he’d been aroused before, but never by the thought of someone he could actually touch whenever he wanted, someone who had explicitly told him so.

As he lay in bed, replaying the evening in his mind, the memory of your kiss and the warmth of your body next to his fueled that unfamiliar feeling. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—it was the knowledge that you wanted him too, that you were there for him in a way no one else had ever been.

His breath quickened as the sensation grew, spreading through him like wildfire. Without fully realizing it, Spencer found his hand sliding down his body, reaching into his own pants. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, a thrill of anticipation building as he prepared to explore this new, intoxicating feeling.

For the first time, it wasn’t just about curiosity or need—it was about you, and the desire that had ignited between you both. And as he began to indulge in that sensation, he allowed himself to get lost in the thought of you, embracing the closeness he had longed for and now had the freedom to explore.

—

Penelope had extended an invitation to you for a team night at the bar that Friday, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. Meeting all of Spencer’s close friends felt like an important step, one that you wanted to approach the right way. But before accepting, you decided it was best to check with Spencer first.

You dialed his number, feeling a flutter in your chest as you waited for him to pick up. It didn’t take long.

“Hello?” Spencer’s voice came through the line, a hint of warmth already in his tone.

“Hey, doctor,” you greeted, smiling to yourself at the familiar sound of his voice.

“Y/N,” he responded, and you could hear the smile in his voice too, making your own grin widen. 

“So… Penelope invited me out for drinks with your team this weekend. Is that okay? If I come?” you asked, a touch of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Spencer replied quickly, his tone reassuring. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you know, I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a bit silly for even asking but needing to be sure. “I didn’t want to intrude or make things awkward.”

“Y/N, it’s totally fine,” Spencer assured you, his voice gentle. “I’m really glad you’re coming. The team will love you.”

“Okay,” you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “I’m excited to meet everyone. And to spend more time with you, of course.”

“Me too,” Spencer said softly, and you could practically feel his smile through the phone. “It’s going to be a great night.”

—

Spencer wasn’t expecting a knock at his door after work on Friday, so when he heard it, he was momentarily confused. But he answered the door anyway, curiosity getting the better of him. When he opened it, he was surprised to see you standing there, looking a bit flustered.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice laced with surprise.

“Hi,” you greeted, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to just show up, but…”

“But…?” Spencer prompted, his concern quickly shifting to curiosity.

“I don’t know what to wear tonight,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and full of affection. “You didn’t want to ask Penelope?”

“Oh god,” you groaned, suddenly self-conscious. “Do you not want me here right now? I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“No! No, you’re not intruding,” Spencer quickly reassured you, shaking his head. “I just… I don’t know how much I can help you with that.”

“You can help me plenty,” you replied, your tone more confident as you stepped inside.

Spencer closed the door behind you, still smiling at the unexpected turn of events. “Okay, well, what are your options?”

You sighed dramatically and dropped a large bag onto Spencer’s floor with a thud, causing his eyes to widen in shock. “I have a few things to try on,” you announced, your tone light but your expression determined.

“I see that,” Spencer replied, still processing the sheer size of the bag. His mind was already spinning with the thought of you modeling different outfits in his apartment, a scenario that both thrilled and unnerved him.

“Should I change in your bedroom?” you asked, already heading in that direction.

“Mhm, yeah, that’s fine,” Spencer managed to say, though his voice was a bit distracted, his thoughts lingering on the image of you stripping down in his bedroom, even if he wasn’t going to be in there.

But then a sudden realization hit him, and he panicked. “Wait!” he yelled, his voice more urgent than he intended. But it was too late. You had already disappeared into his bedroom.

Spencer rushed down the hall, his heart pounding. When he reached the doorway, he found you standing there, holding up the one thing he had desperately hoped you wouldn’t see: a framed photo of you.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, turning to him with a curious smile, the photo held gently in your hands.

Spencer felt his face flush with embarrassment as he looked at the floor, his hands fidgeting nervously. “Penelope gave it to me…” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You studied the photo for a moment, recognizing it as one from a team event Penelope had captured—a candid shot of you laughing, completely unaware of the camera. It was one of those moments that felt so genuine, so full of life, and it surprised you to see it framed in Spencer’s room.

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth rather than the teasing he had expected. “It’s so sweet that you kept this.”

He finally looked up, his expression a mixture of shyness and vulnerability. “I didn’t know where else to put it,” he admitted, his voice still quiet. “I just… I like having it around. It makes me think of you.”

Your heart melted at his honesty, and you stepped closer, still holding the photo. “I’m glad you kept it. It means a lot to me.”

Spencer’s eyes softened as he met your gaze, relief washing over him. “It does?”

“Of course it does,” you replied, setting the photo down carefully on his dresser. “It’s nice to know you were thinking of me.”

He smiled, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “I think about you a lot.”

You returned his smile, feeling a wave of affection for him. “Good. Because I think about you a lot too.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, then, with a playful glint in your eye, you broke the silence. “Now, how about you help me decide what to wear tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, the earlier awkwardness dissolving completely. “Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

And with that, you returned to your bag of outfits, searching for the first look. Spencer tried his best to focus on giving you his honest opinion, but with every outfit you modeled, the room seemed to grow warmer, and his pants became more uncomfortable with every bit of skin you revealed.

Each outfit was stunning, and Spencer found himself more captivated by you with each one. But when you finally emerged in the last outfit, he was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you. The outfit was perfect—elegant yet bold, with just the right amount of allure. He could barely find the words as he watched you give a playful spin, the fabric hugging your curves in all the right places.

Spencer coughed, trying to regain his composure. “That—um, that’s the one,” he managed to say, his voice a little strained.

“Really?” you asked, a pleased smile spreading across your face as you noticed the effect you were having on him.

Spencer nodded, his mouth suddenly dry as he watched you. “Yup,” he thought to himself, "I’m dead."

You laughed softly, clearly enjoying his reaction, and Spencer couldn’t help but think that you were more than ready to meet his team—looking as stunning as you did. But what he hadn’t expected was just how much he wanted to keep you all to himself, if only for a little longer.

—

“Woah! Pretty boy found himself a pretty girl,” Derek exclaimed as soon as you and Spencer walked into the bar, arm in arm. His voice was full of good-natured teasing, but there was genuine admiration in his eyes as he took in your appearance. “You clean up nice, Miss Therapist!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both flattered and a little bashful under the attention. “Thanks, Derek,” you replied with a smile, feeling Spencer’s arm tighten around yours in a subtle but protective gesture.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, but there was a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you by his side, and seeing his teammates’ reactions only made it sweeter.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you teased back, your voice light and playful as you settled into the lively atmosphere of the bar. It was clear that you were comfortable, quickly warming up to Spencer's team. 

But Spencer, who had been enjoying the moment just seconds before, suddenly felt a pang of something he wasn’t accustomed to—jealousy. He stiffened slightly, the green monster of jealousy rearing its ugly head as he watched you banter so easily with Derek. Rationally, he knew there was nothing to worry about, but seeing how well you clicked with everyone else made him momentarily insecure.

As you continued introducing yourself to the rest of the team, you must have sensed Spencer’s unease because you glanced back at him, catching his eye. When your gaze met his, the jealousy that had been bubbling beneath the surface started to fade. You gave him a warm, reassuring smile, your eyes sparkling with affection.

“Can we get a drink, doctor?” you asked, your voice sweet as you directed your attention back to him.

“We?” he teased, raising an eyebrow, though he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

You blushed, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “I don’t want to leave your side,” your breath warm against his skin.

And just like that, the jealousy was gone. Spencer felt a wave of relief and affection wash over him, the insecurities he’d felt moments before dissipating. You didn’t want to be anywhere else but with him, and that realization made him feel more confident and secure than ever.

He smiled, his heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and happiness. “Then let’s get that drink,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you headed toward the bar, ready to enjoy the night together, side by side.

—

As the night wore on, you found yourself listening intently to the team, who seemed all too eager to share some of Spencer’s more memorable, and perhaps a bit embarrassing, moments. Spencer sat beside you, a slightly apprehensive look on his face as the stories began to flow.

“You know, Spencer’s come a long way,” JJ started with a grin, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at him. “But I’ll never forget the time he tried to impress us all by downing a whole shot of whiskey in one go. He spent the next hour trying to convince us that he didn’t hate it, even though his face was bright red, and he looked like he was about to pass out.”

Emily burst into laughter at the memory, adding, “Oh, and then there was the time we had that karaoke night. Spencer swore up and down that he wasn’t going to sing, but after a few drinks, he got up there and belted out the most enthusiastic rendition of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ I’ve ever seen. The best part? He knew every single word.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I was coerced,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a good-natured pat on the back. “We’ve all had our moments, kid. But remember that time you went undercover at that poker game? You were so nervous, you almost gave yourself away because you kept quoting statistics about the probability of certain hands.”

The group erupted into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in, imagining Spencer trying to maintain his cover while rattling off numbers. Spencer, though clearly a little embarrassed, was also smiling, appreciating the camaraderie despite being the center of the stories.

“Hey, it was relevant information!” Spencer protested, his cheeks still tinged with pink.

You leaned into him, grinning as you said, “I think it’s cute. You just wanted to make sure they were all well-informed.”

Spencer sighed, but there was a smile on his face as he looked at you. “I guess if you think so, then it’s not all bad.”

Everyone exchanged knowing looks, clearly pleased with how much you seemed to appreciate Spencer’s quirks. 

JJ leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Just wait until you hear about the time he got locked in the evidence room with nothing but a box of donuts and a rubber chicken. Now that’s a story.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he quickly cut in, “Okay, that’s enough! No more embarrassing stories for one night!”

You laughed, squeezing his hand under the table. “Don’t worry, Spencer. I’m enjoying every minute of it.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance from you and his team. Despite the teasing, he was surrounded by people who cared about him—and knowing that you were part of that made the night feel all the more special.

—

Emily, her tongue loosened by the liquor, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “So, do you ever get super hot patients?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the question, glancing over at Spencer before replying, “I mean… I got Spencer, didn’t I?”

The group erupted in laughter, but none louder than Spencer, who blushed furiously at your response. His face turned a deep shade of red as he buried it in your hair, trying to hide from the playful teasing. The sight of him trying to disappear was met with even more amusement from everyone at the table.

“Ohhh, pretty boy,” Derek chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “What did you two get up to during those private sessions?”

Spencer groaned, clearly mortified, while you simply chuckled, enjoying the lighthearted moment. “Just some very professional physical therapy, of course,” you said with a wink, playing along with the teasing.

Emily laughed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Well, whatever you did, it seems to have worked wonders. Spencer’s never looked better.”

The group continued to joke and laugh, the atmosphere full of warmth and camaraderie. Despite the embarrassment, Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling incredibly lucky to have you by his side, even if it meant enduring a little teasing from his friends. 

You leaned closer to him, whispering softly so only he could hear, “Don’t worry, Spencer. I think you’re the hottest patient I’ve had.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but the smile on his face showed just how much your words meant to him. The night continued with more stories, more laughter, and a growing sense of connection that made Spencer feel more at ease than ever before.

—

As the night began to wind down, the lively atmosphere in the bar was gradually giving way to a more subdued, tired vibe. The laughter had softened, and the conversations were growing quieter. You noticed Spencer leaning in closer to you, his presence warm and familiar, but there was something different in the way he moved this time—something more deliberate, more intimate.

His hand, steady yet gentle, found its way to your inner thigh, just beneath the edge of your dress. The touch was subtle, but the electricity it sent through your body was anything but. You felt his fingers dance dangerously close to your panties, a teasing reminder of the tension that had been building between you all night.

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Do you want to get out of here?” he whispered, his voice low and laced with desire and anticipation.

The combination of his touch and the way his words sent a thrill down your spine made your heart race. You could barely think, barely breathe, and without a second thought, you found yourself nodding—perhaps a bit too eagerly, as you felt like a bobblehead. But you didn’t care. All you knew was that you wanted to leave, to be alone with him, to let the night take you wherever it was meant to go.

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with your response. He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, the look he gave you full of unspoken promises. He didn’t need to say anything else—the two of you were completely in sync.

You both quickly made your excuses to the rest of the team, who were too absorbed in their own conversations to notice much. And then, with Spencer’s hand still resting on your thigh, you slipped out of the bar together, leaving behind the tired vibes for the promise of what was to come.

The night air was cool and crisp as you stepped outside, but the heat between you and Spencer was undeniable, crackling with anticipation. He kept his hand not on his cane on your hip, guiding you through the quiet streets, and you knew that whatever happened next, you were more than ready for it.

—

The moment you stepped inside Spencer’s apartment, the door barely clicked shut behind you before he was on you. His hand found your waist, pulling you close as his mouth captured yours in a kiss that was as urgent as it was deep. It was as if all the tension, all the unspoken desire that had simmered between you all night, finally erupted in this single, intense moment.

You responded just as eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him. The world outside his apartment seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, and you found yourself clinging to him, needing to feel every inch of his body against yours.

Spencer’s hand roamed from your waist to your back, pulling you even closer as he kissed you like a man starved. He broke away just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this all night.”

“Me too,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. Without waiting for a response, you captured his lips again, this time with even more intensity.

You barely made it past the entryway, stumbling together toward the living room, neither of you willing to let go long enough to think about where you were headed. All that mattered was the feel of his mouth on yours, the warmth of his body pressed against you, and the electricity that crackled between you with every touch, every kiss.

Spencer’s hand slipped beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your ass, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound spurring him on as he backed you up against the wall, his lips never leaving yours.

“Spencer,” you murmured between kisses, trying to catch his attention as his lips continued to explore your neck. “Mmm, Spencer—wait.”

He finally pulled away, panting, his eyes dark with desire. “Yeah?” he asked, clearly trying to understand why you’d stopped him.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing for reasons other than the passionate kiss you’d just shared. “I just—well, we’ve been drinking,” you said, your voice hesitant.

Spencer nodded, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “I know.”

You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “Don’t make me say it,” you whispered, not wanting to dampen the moment but needing to address the concern that had surfaced.

Spencer really pulled back then, his expression shifting from desire to confusion. “What?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

You met his gaze, feeling a mix of vulnerability and care for him. “Are you a virgin?” you asked softly, the question hanging in the air between you.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, realization dawning on him. “Is that what this is about?”

“No!” you quickly reassured him, but then added, “Well, yes. I don’t want your first time to be when we’re both intoxicated. Especially with your leg—I don’t want to hurt you.”

Spencer’s expression softened as he began to understand the depth of your concern. He reached up, gently cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek in a soothing gesture. “Y/N,” he began, his voice filled with warmth and understanding, “I appreciate that you’re thinking about this… about me. But I want you to know that I��m not rushing into this without knowing what I’m doing.”

You started to protest, your worry still gnawing at you. “But—”

“Just listen,” he interrupted softly, his voice steady as he leaned in to kiss you, a kiss filled with reassurance and longing. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he continued, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I know what I want.”

“Spencer…” you whispered, your heart aching with how much you cared for him. “I can’t have sex with you when we’re drunk. Not now.”

He held your gaze, his expression unwavering, and nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, his voice gentle and full of respect. “I understand.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he valued your feelings just as much as his own desires. It was in that moment you realized just how much this man meant to you—how much you both meant to each other.

“I want it to be right,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your emotions. “For both of us.”

Spencer smiled, a tender, loving smile that made your heart swell. “And it will be,” he promised. “When the time is right. I can wait, Y/N. We can wait.”

You nodded, feeling a profound sense of relief and gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time with the knowledge that you were both on the same page, both willing to take your time.

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and for the rest of the night, you simply held each other, content in the knowledge that what you had was special—something worth cherishing and protecting. There was no rush, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that when the time came, it would be perfect.

—

Spencer woke up the next morning to the gentle light of the early sun filtering through the curtains. The first thing he noticed was the comfortable weight on his chest—a soft, warm presence that made his heart swell with contentment. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked down to find you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your breath soft and steady.

A smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled, your face relaxed in sleep. He couldn’t help but notice the small spot of drool on his shirt where your mouth rested, but instead of feeling anything but affection, he found it endearing. The fact that you were so comfortable with him, so at ease, made him feel a deep sense of warmth and happiness.

Careful not to disturb you, Spencer shifted slightly, realizing that his leg was properly elevated, a pillow supporting it in just the right way. He hadn’t remembered doing that, but the thought that you had taken care of him, even after everything, made his heart swell even more.

His gaze shifted to the glass of water sitting on the nightstand beside him, another thoughtful gesture that you had left for him. It was such a simple thing, but it spoke volumes about how much you cared.

For a moment, Spencer just lay there, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms, of waking up to this kind of peaceful morning. It was new, and it was wonderful, and he realized that he could get used to this—waking up with you, taking care of each other, sharing these quiet, intimate moments.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light so as not to wake you. You stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him, and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Even in sleep, you sought him out, and that simple act made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

“Spence?” you whined quietly, your voice still thick with sleep as you shifted slightly against his chest.

“Yeah?” Spencer replied softly, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“You’re so comfy… so warm,” you mumbled, your words slurred as you burrowed deeper into him.

“I’m glad,” he chuckled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket covering you both.

A moment of quiet passed before you asked, “Did I drool on you?”

“Yes, you did,” he answered, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Ughh, that’s embarrassing,” you groaned, trying to hide your face against him.

“I think it’s cute,” Spencer reassured you, a smile playing on his lips as he held you closer.

You sighed, your voice softening even more. “I really like you.”

“I really like you more,” Spencer replied without missing a beat, his heart swelling at the simple honesty of the moment.

“Nuh uh,” you mumbled, your sleepy defiance only making him smile wider.

“Yuh huh,” he countered, his voice light and teasing, feeling a sense of giddy, light-hearted joy he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

You let out a small, contented sigh, your hand resting on his chest as you settled back into the warmth and comfort of his embrace. “We’ll have to settle this later,” you whispered, already half-asleep again.

Spencer smiled, his heart full as he whispered back, “I’m looking forward to it.”

And as you drifted back to sleep, Spencer lay there, feeling lighter than air, the weight of the world replaced by the simple joy of having you there with him, in this perfect, quiet moment.

—

Later that morning, you found yourself in Spencer's kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. You leaned casually against the counter, watching him as he focused on making your cup just the way you liked it. There was something so endearing about the way he moved, so intent on getting it right, that it made you smile.

“Do you remember last night?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer glanced up at you, a small, knowing smile on his lips. “All of it,” he replied confidently.

“Seriously?” You raised an eyebrow, half-impressed, half-incredulous. “You drank a lot.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he poured the coffee into a mug. “Eidetic memory,” he reminded you, his tone light. “It doesn’t just go away.”

You couldn’t help but grin, leaning in a little closer. “So you remember trying sooo desperately to get in my pants?”

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his face flushing as he turned away from the coffee pot. He shot you a look of playful exasperation. “Do not say it like that.”

You laughed, delighted by his reaction. “But it’s true!”

Spencer shook his head, his lips twitching with a smile despite his embarrassment. “I was trying to… be intimate with my… lady friend,” he said, the words coming out a little stilted as he tried to sound casual.

“Lady friend?” you laughed, raising an eyebrow at his choice of words.

“Yup,” he replied, trying to muster up some false confidence, though his cheeks were still tinged pink.

“Is that what I am to you?” you teased, leaning in closer, your grin playful.

“Special lady friend?” he suggested, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

“You scared of something, Doctor?” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him just a bit closer.

“Not right now,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice matching the way his eyes softened as he looked at you.

“Then ask me,” you prompted, your voice dropping to a gentle whisper.

Spencer took a deep breath, his hand coming up to gently cup your chin, his touch tender. He looked into your eyes, trying to muster the courage to be vulnerable. “Y/N, will you be my bestest friend?” he asked, his tone light but serious.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his words, and the humor drained from your face. “No, jerk,” you said, pushing him away, your playful mood evaporating as frustration and anger bubbled up inside you.

Spencer’s eyes widened, confusion and concern flashing across his face. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

But you were already stepping back, feeling hurt by the way he had sidestepped what you thought was going to be a genuine, heartfelt moment. “I thought you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend, Spencer,” you said, your voice tight with emotion. “Not just your… your ‘bestest friend.’”

Spencer’s face fell as he realized his attempt to be cute had backfired. “Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, reaching out to you, his eyes full of genuine remorse. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You allowed yourself to be pulled back into his arms. “I shouldn’t have joked in such a serious moment,” he continued, his voice soft and sincere. “I’m sorry.” Then, with a hopeful glint in his eyes, he asked, “Y/N… will you be my girlfriend?”

You tried to keep a grumpy expression, but it was hard to resist his earnest gaze. “And your bestest friend?” you asked, your voice carrying a hint of playful irritation.

“Ideally, yes,” Spencer replied, his tone gentle but hopeful.

You couldn’t hold back a smile any longer. “Yes, Spencer. But you’re on thin ice in the bestest friend department.”

“Noted,” he nodded seriously, a smile tugging at his lips. “How am I doing in the boyfriend department?”

You pretended to think for a moment before leaning in closer, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Well, I have an ache I need looked into. Can my doctor boyfriend check it out?”

“Of course,” Spencer said, his voice taking on a playful tone as he leaned in as well. “What hurts?”

You smiled, letting the moment linger before you pointed at your lips, your eyes sparkling with affection. Spencer grinned, closing the distance between you, and pressed a gentle, tender kiss to your lips.

“Anything else hurt?” Spencer asked, his lips barely brushing against yours, his voice low and filled with teasing and tenderness.

“Nuh uh,” you murmured, enjoying the closeness. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eye, you added, “But I might need to give you a physical. It seems like there’s something I missed in our last one.”

Spencer pulled back slightly, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he glanced down. The moment he noticed the tent forming under his sweats, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, realization dawning on him.

“Uh,” he stammered, clearly flustered, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, finding his innocence utterly adorable.

Spencer chuckled nervously, trying to regain his composure. “I guess it’s a good thing that wasn’t there during my last physical,” he said, his voice tinged with playful embarrassment.

You threw your head back in a laugh, the sound filling the room. “You’re right, that would have made things a little awkward.”

“And now?” Spencer asked, his voice softening, a hint of shyness creeping in as he looked at you with a mix of anticipation and curiosity.

“Now…” you murmured, dragging a finger down his chest, feeling the way his breath hitched at your touch. “You should get off your leg; you’ve been standing for a while.”

Spencer couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at the change in direction, but he knew you were right. “Right, yeah,” he agreed, using his cane to walk over to the table and sitting down carefully. “Can you bring me my coffee, please?”

You smiled, taking in how sweet he looked as he tried to hide his disappointment. “Hmm, in a minute,” you replied, your voice holding a hint of something more.

Before Spencer could process what was happening, you were lowering yourself to your knees between his spread legs, your hands gently rubbing his thighs. The careful, tender way you touched him made his heart race, and he found himself holding his breath, unsure of what to say or do.

You were generously careful not to put too much pressure on his bad leg, your touch light but purposeful. Spencer’s pulse quickened, the intimacy and tenderness in your actions overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Y/N…” Spencer breathed, his voice full of awe and desire as he looked down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. 

You met his gaze, your eyes filled with warmth and affection as you asked softly, “Is this okay, doctor?”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard before admitting, “I’ve never done this before.”

You nodded, your voice gentle and reassuring as you pressed a soft kiss to his knee. “I know, I know,” you whispered, giving him the space to decide. “Do you want to? We can stop right now, no pressure.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, overwhelmed by the care in your voice and the sensation of your lips on him. “I want to so badly,” he finally breathed out, his voice shaky with desire. “If you stop right now, I might cry.”

“Mmm,” you hummed with a playful smile, “you’d make a pretty crier.”

Spencer’s eyes snapped open, and he felt a sudden rush of heat in his stomach at your words, the unexpected compliment sending a thrill through him. “Jesus, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with surprise and longing.

“Can you lift your hips, lover boy, or do you need to stand?” you asked, your voice light with teasing affection.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I think I need to stand…”

“Get up then,” you instructed, a playful glint in your eyes.

As Spencer stood up, you couldn’t resist giving his butt a gentle smack. The action made him gasp, and he turned to playfully glare at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “What has gotten into you this morning?” he asked, amusement and bewilderment in his voice.

You grinned like a devil, your expression full of mischief. “Nothing yet,” you replied, your tone suggestive and lighthearted, leaving Spencer both flustered and intrigued.

His mouth opened and closed for a moment, caught off guard by your boldness. But he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the warmth in his chest growing as he realized just how much he enjoyed this playful side of you.

You pulled down his sweats slowly, your fingers brushing against his skin as you went, and you couldn’t resist placing soft kisses along the newly exposed flesh. As the fabric fell away, you realized there was nothing underneath, just bare skin.

“You sleep commando, Doctor?” you asked with a teasing lilt in your voice, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him.

Spencer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, clearly embarrassed. “I had been drinking,” he stammered, trying to explain away the situation.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your lips curving into a playful smile as you continued your gentle ministrations, enjoying the effect you had on him. The sight of his blush only made the moment sweeter, knowing that he was letting you in, vulnerability and all.

Once the offending material was pooled around his ankles, you took Spencer’s hand, guiding him back to the seat with a gentle but firm touch. He followed your lead, his breath hitching as he sat back down, his eyes locked onto yours. The room seemed to hum with the tension between you, every movement deliberate and charged with anticipation.

“This is so unsanitary,” he muttered, a flicker of his usual nervousness cutting through the haze of desire.

You paused, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him, your fingers still resting lightly on his thigh. “Do you want to stop?” you asked, your voice low and steady, giving him every opportunity to back out if he felt uncomfortable.

“God, no,” Spencer breathed, the words escaping him before he could even think. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with longing and vulnerability, and you could tell that despite his nerves, he was fully present, fully committed to whatever came next.

With that reassurance, you leaned in closer, making sure to hold his gaze as your hand traveled up his thigh. The connection between you was electric, each second stretched out, full of unspoken promises. You kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly lowered your mouth, the heat of your breath teasing his skin.

Spencer’s breath hitched again, his hand instinctively tightening its grip on the edge of the chair. The vulnerability in his gaze was matched by the trust he was placing in you, and you could feel the weight of that trust in the air between you. 

You moved deliberately, never breaking eye contact, letting him see every intention behind your actions. As your lips brushed against his skin, you could feel the shiver that ran through him, the way his muscles tensed in anticipation.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you pressed a kiss to his head, your touch soft but charged with all the emotion that had been building between you. Spencer’s breath caught, his body responding immediately to the intimate contact. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, wanting to see everything, to remember every second of this moment.

The sensation was overwhelming for Spencer, a powerful blend of pleasure and intimacy that he had never experienced before. The way your tongue traced patterns up his cock before your lips sucked him down sent Spencer spiraling. His mind, usually so sharp and focused, was spinning, struggling to keep up with the flood of emotions and sensations coursing through his body.

He couldn’t help the deep whine that escaped his lips, his breath hitching as he felt your lips move against his skin. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his head when you pulled up while your hand kept the pace was so intensely real. He had read about intimacy, studied the science of it, but nothing could have prepared him for the actual experience, the way it felt to be so completely vulnerable and yet so utterly safe.

His thoughts raced, a thousand ideas and feelings swirling in his mind, but they all came back to one simple truth: he wanted this. He wanted you. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life. The logical part of his brain was still trying to process it all, trying to make sense of the overwhelming flood of sensations, but the emotional part of him had already surrendered, fully immersed in the moment.

“Y/N…” he breathed, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of everything he was feeling. He wanted to say more, to express how much this meant to him, how much you meant to him, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. 

You looked up at him, your eyes full of mischief and your lips stretched around his girth as you bobbed your head. You could see how much this was affecting him, how deeply it was resonating within him. You held his gaze, your touch firm and stimulating, letting him know that he didn’t have to say anything—he just had to feel.

And feel he did. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on high alert, each one attuned to your touch, to the way your hand moved with your mouth, the way your tongue pressed against his skin. It was intoxicating, overwhelming in the best possible way, and he found himself leaning into it, letting go of the need to analyze or understand, and simply allowing himself to experience.

“Y/N…” he said again, his voice louder this time as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, Spencer’s mind went blissfully blank. There was nothing but the sensation, nothing but your mouth and hand on his cock. Licking, slurping, rubbing. 

Spencer let out one final cry before he was filling your mouth with his warm, salty cum. You hummed around him in appreciation, the vibrations making him whine pitifully. Spencer thought it was over when you pulled off, but then you stuck your tongue out, showing him his milky release sitting there before you closed your mouth and swallowed. 

“You’re insane, woman,” Spencer whispered, his voice still shaky from the intensity of what he had just experienced. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath, his mind reeling from the sensations still echoing through his body.

You grinned up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “I’m your insane woman,” you replied, your tone playful yet filled with a warmth that made Spencer’s heart swell.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the combination of your words and the aftermath of what you’d just shared making him feel like he was floating. “That you are,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. 

There was something about the way you looked at him, something that made him feel more grounded, more connected than he ever had before. It wasn’t just the physical connection, though that was incredible—it was the emotional bond that had deepened between you, the way you seemed to understand him on a level no one else ever had.

Spencer chuckled softly, still processing everything. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. 

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, the gesture full of affection and promise. “We’re both lucky,” you whispered against his lips, and in that moment, Spencer knew it was true.

There was no rush, no pressure. Just the two of you, together, in a moment that felt like it was just the beginning of something even more beautiful.

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[impishjesters]

jax with a fem! rabbit reader pregnant of his litter of 6 bunnies (3 boys and 3 girls) and everything went well with y/n and the lil bunnies who are at the moment blind, hairless and deaf...

warning(s): it's honestly just some soft new dad Jax note(s): Since they aren't actual bunnies I didn't really include the blind and deaf part, but they are very much hairless. They are baby-sized though, I blame a fanart I saw once with Jax and his lil mini-copy babies and had to draw inspo from it. Also not mentioned but Jax was just being a lil shit, some of the kits do take after you. A/N: You can't tell me Jax (even as a joke) wouldn't try and name his kids after himself in some horrible manner.

Exhaustion still rang high even after a quick nap, popping out six babies would do that to you you suppose. You’d caught a decent glimpse at all the kits when they were cleaned up but once everything was done and clean and you were taken care of, you conked right out.

You woke to hushed whispers and a few cries, no doubt one of the kits being fussy. If anything you are amazed Jax has kept them so quiet—that or you were in a deep sleep. Probably the latter.

“Who’s being fussy?”

Jax mumbled a silent ‘fuck’, he didn’t mean to wake you, even if it wasn’t directly him who woke you. “I got ‘em, babe, you just rest.” He scooped up the fussy kit in question, giving them a gentle rock to try and soothe them.

“They’re probably hungry..” You moved to sit up and Jax rushed over to shove pillows behind you. “Hand ‘em over…”

He hesitated, so far it was just the one, but if they kept crying it was only a matter of time before the others did too. Jax carefully handed the kit over and simply watched you begin to breastfeed like it was nothing—not that you didn’t have practice with someone on your—

“I can practically hear you staring at my chest.” You gently ran your finger over the kit’s cheek while they fed, finally having a moment to really look over your little munchkins.

They looked like an exact copy of Jax, sans the thicker coat of fur, but you already knew they’d have to grow into it. Lightly tinted lilac skin and cute little ears tucked away, and if their eyes were opened there was little doubt they’d also have his eyes. “I carried these suckers for months, don’t tell me they all look like you.” You teased.

Jax snickered, perching himself on the edge of the bed to watch the two of you. Fuck, he was not prepared for just how beautiful you looked with his offspring. Sure you looked amazing when you were pregnant, that big ol’ belly was something he could see you wearing again in the future, but now? There was something breathtaking about seeing you holding a baby, his baby. And there were six of those little boogers.

“Sorry toots, these handsome genes are just too strong.” He ran a hand over his head, swiping his ears back before they sprung back up.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “that would be my luck. At least I didn’t get rug burn.”

The two of you share a quiet giggle at the joke before the kit pushes away from your chest. You burp the kit and not a moment after Jax takes them from you, laying them back down with their siblings.

“So I know we were struggling for names… and since they all took after me. I thought we could name them all after me.”

Coming up with six names had been a difficult task, but you did have a list—he was just being a little shit for the sake of seeing you smile.

“We are not naming our kids ‘Jax’.” You know he’s kidding but that doesn’t make the image any less scary, or stupid. Imagine Christmas with six little Jax’s and trying to differentiate all those damn presents.

He scoffed playfully. “Nah, there can only be one Jax. I was thinking Jaxson—” you let out a snort, “then there’s Jaxica, Jaxcella—”

“We are not naming them like that, oh my god.” Jax sat beside you with a playful pout and threw his arms carefully around you. “There will be no Jax-themed naming, at least give me one thing since they all look like mini yous.”

“Fiiiiine..” he groaned. “Guess I could be persuaded to let you name them all.” You lay your head on his shoulder, looking up at him curiously. “For a kiss.”

“Really? Our children’s names are on the line for a kiss? Avoiding years of future bullying by having the same Jax-themed names all boils down to one kiss?” What a goober. “You drive a hard bargain. Deal.”

The smile on your face is all he really needs, seeing you exhausted and stressed earlier made him annoyed for you. The nurses were stupid and making you more stressed than you needed to be—being a pain in your ass was his job, not theirs. Hell, he nearly decked someone earlier for upsetting you.

You nudged your face against him, he’d spaced out, and if you knew this man you knew he was no doubt thinking about something unnecessary. “Whatever it is isn’t important.”

“You’re very important, and so are those six little wrinkly nuggets.” he huffed. Leaning down he kissed you, it was gentle and sweet, like he was afraid of hurting you. Cute.

“That’s right I didn’t get to see, was the doctor right?”

“Three boys and three girls.”

You let out a groan, picturing all the future sit-downs and explanations you’d have to give to the girls and boys about heaven knows what. “You potty train the boys, I got the girls.”

“Deal.” He quickly spat out.

The two of you sat there quietly, just watching six little chests rise and fall until Jax cleared his throat catching your attention.

“I know it’s a ways off, but wanna really embarrass the kids by you giving the boys the sex talk and I’ll give the girls the period talk?”

You slapped his chest with your free hand, the other coming up to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you are awful.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” he hummed.

“We’ll see, periods can be embarrassing and sensitive I don’t want you—”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not actually gonna be a dick, sheesh… I’m wounded you’d think I’d mess with my own kids—”

“You would.”

Jax pouted, giving you a little playful shake before dropping the topic as a whole. Yeah, he’d definitely prank his own kids—but that wasn’t until later on, he had to soak up all this cute baby shit for now.

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

A Second Chance, A Father's Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna X Reader)

This is part of my Royal AU, the first I'm writing for it, there may be inconsistencies between each different fic set within the universe including but not limited to which damn clan does Sukuna belong to, but I'm sure it'll be fine :))

also i hope the family tree kinda makes sense, i can make a separate post showing the different clans and their family trees if needed

Warnings: mentions of an affair, brief mentions of abuse but nothing explicit

Word count: 3.1k

When the boy first showed up everything had been good, a new son had been born into the Itadori clan, the royal family was stronger than ever. This boy threatened to bring all of that down simply by existing. Jin Itadori was not known for his mercy, often ruthlessly leading swathes of knights into battles and leaving none alive, but this boy was no ordinary enemy. His own son, illegitimate, but still his flesh and blood. His wife said nothing when he brought the screaming baby into the nursery that was only meant for one, placing him beside Yuji in his large crib.

Kaori Itadori simply accepted what had been given to her and raised the boy as her own, despite the neglect and clear favoritism shown from Jin to his alleged twin sons. The two were almost identical despite the fact they had different mothers, which was how the lie was able to be carried so easily through their lives. Ryomen knew, he had always known, and he’d hated almost everyone for it. The only people he couldn’t truly even pretend to hate were his adopted brothers, and he let everyone know this vehemently, shirking his duties and often hiding away from elaborate dinner parties or balls he did not want to attend.

Yuji’s heart broke for his brother, and of the five Itadori boys, only the eldest Choso knew of the predicament underlying the twins. The youngest, Eso and Kechizu, were born one after the other, three years apart, with significant health complications and therefore rarely appeared in public. The elder three were fiercely protective, especially Ryomen who’d had a taste of his father’s neglect and despised that Jin had turned it on his youngest sons. None of the three wanted to burden their younger brothers, they’d been told that the pair might not live to become adults, so they had always made sure the boys were well fed and happy.

Ryomen suffered in silence. His teachers could not quell his anger, the best sorcerers warned of his growing cursed energy levels, but nothing was ever done. Nothing really could be done. By the time he turned nineteen he was undoubtedly the strongest of the Itadori boys, and his father was adamantly trying to wed him off to a different kingdom. Ryomen didn’t care, the faster he got out of Khoccadia the better in his opinion. He spent his days training in combat with the knights, including the captains of both the Shadow and Blood units, Megumi Fushiguro, and Takuma Ino.

Megumi Fushiguro interested him, the man was his age, his twin brother’s personal bodyguard, and he had the inherited cursed technique of the Zenin clan, the royal family of a neighbouring kingdom. His unit, aptly named the Shadows, were a small close knit group of Shikigami summoners, led by a wielder of the undisputed king of Shikigami techniques. This made him both an outsider and a refugee, having been forced to prove his loyalty a thousand times over, including regaining the trust of the royal family after his technique was revealed during an attack on the kingdom where he had to unleash his power to protect Yuji.

The other captain, Takuma Ino, wasn’t as interesting or close to him, but still a formidable ally and opponent, having first trained under the royal sorcerer Kento Nanami, before his technique proved to be more useful on a battlefield than overseeing curses. Ryomen often found himself sitting with the pair post-sparring, looking out over the training grounds within the castle walls, and asking himself where he would go if he decided to run. He knew he wouldn’t get far, his cursed energy was much too unique, Nanami would be able to find him with no trouble. His only way out would be this arranged marriage, and he had to be sure it was far far away from here.

This is what eventually lead to Jin Itadori hosting a ball and inviting many of the leaders of nearby nations to attend with their daughters, royal, political, and otherwise. Few invites were sent out past the neighbouring nations, but Ryomen had to be sure, so he had insisted under the cover of lies that his father’s orders had the invitations sent further. When the day of the ball arrived, Ryomen was reluctantly dolled up in a luxurious maroon suit, his hair styled with earrings and cufflinks to match. When he met up with Choso and Yuji, he saw they were dressed similarly to him, but Yuji’s suit is a deep pink and Choso’s a dark purple.

“Don’t we just look a treat,” Ryomen huffed, reaching up and adjusting Yuji’s collar slightly. “They were chosen by mother,” Choso looks away and Ryomen finds himself almost apologising. It wasn’t her fault, she was a victim of the system just as he was, but he shakes it off. “You okay?” Yuji mumbles, giving his brother the same outfit once over. The twins had always known what would make each other look the best, Ryomen let him fuss with his hair a little before swatting his hands away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here so I never have to see him again,” He growls. Choso checks his watch as they approach the upstairs entry to the ballroom, the laughter and chatter behind it dying down as someone announces their arrival.

“I hope you find someone,” Yuji squeezes his hand for a brief moment before Ryomen can pull away or protest, dropping his hand before the door swings open and the three of them are revealed to the eyes below. Choso in the centre with his brothers flanking, there are smiles of all kinds as they descend the stairs. Some genuine, some scheming, others that don’t quite reach the eyes of their owners.

Ryomen Itadori doesn’t get nervous, but in this moment he finds his eyes searching for Kaori Itadori. She returns his gaze from her place on the ballroom throne and nods once. This party is for him, it’s his ticket out of here, and it almost feels to him like she’s lending him her strength. The strength to do what she never could. When the three of them reach the bottom of the stairs, his brothers disperse into the crowd to find dance partners, and Ryomen finds himself alone surveying what he can see. The only clan tattoos he recognises around the edges are those belonging to the Zenin clan, the Gojo clan, the Kamo clan and that of the Creyarean district, which is a political power and not run by a royal or empirical clan.

There are a few tattoos he does not recognise, he assumes from further out on the continent, and one in particular draws his gaze. A kindly looking couple, king and queen, with matching filagree tattoos over their facial features, most prominent on their jawline, cheeks, across the nose and in the centre of their foreheads. No other family has tattoos that bold, the closest in comparison is the Kamo clan with a jagged X over the right eye, and he finds himself curious as to their origins. “Brother! I’d like you to meet someone,” Yuji’s voice suddenly cuts into his wandering thoughts and he scoffs, “Leave me alone Yuji,” He grunts, but his brother barges into his space, his mouth right next to his ear as he utters the words that could be Ryomen’s salvation.

“Her family comes from miles away, three kingdoms over!” Yuji hisses. His gaze flits to the girl who stands holding Yuji’s hand, looking like she’s just been dragged at a brisk Itadori walk across half the ballroom (Which she had been). His brother drops her hand as he steps back and presents her, “Allow me to introduce Y/n L/n, of the Iqorian Empire,” Unmarried, she does not bear her parents tattoos, but there are two thick black bands around both her wrists which could be a hint at early clan tattoos that don’t decorate the face.

She curtseys and he feels his demeanour soften slightly, taking her hand which still hovers unsure before her to press a light kiss to the back of it. He keeps his face painfully neutral as he studies her features, her e/c eyes traveling back up to meet his. “Lovely to meet you, Miss L/n, Ryomen Itadori,” He introduces himself politely, though he knows that she must already know who he is, given his brother has a tendency to babble. She uses her free hand to fix her h/c hair before giving him a polite smile, “Some party your parents cooked up, is the potential marriage for diplomatic purposes?” She asks. He clenches his jaw slightly, his gaze scanning the crowd as he instinctively pulls her slightly closer.

His father’s face is dark and sinister, his eyes locked on Ryomen but his mind elsewhere, “You could say that,” He replies, “But I would say it’s freedom,” Her eyes widen and he steels himself, she must be able to sense the years of neglect and abuse on him, he knows he reeks of it, but if she does she doesn’t mention it, “I see,” She murmurs, “Well, would you like to dance?” He looks at her like she’s grown an extra head for a moment, but Yuji punches his side and he blinks, “Yes yes, of course, that would be nice,” His words drift away and he becomes eternally grateful for the dancing lessons Kaori forced him to endure as he leads the girl out into the centre of the dance floor.

The night passes by quicker than he would have liked it to, despite stepping into the ballroom like a caged wolf with the taste of freedom on his tongue. He comes to learn from the girl his brother introduced to him that the royal couple he didn’t recognise, with the outlandish filagree tattoos, are her parents, and he is hooked from that moment on. You of course know there is something he is hiding, but his sudden interest in your clan tattoos brings a soft smile to your face as you look over to your parents. They seem to be overjoyed that you’ve caught the attention of the Itadori son up for grabs, but you know there’s more to it considering the fact that he should be the second in line, and yet is being married out of his family into another.

“I am certain we will be seeing one another again, Miss Y/n,” He murmurs as he presses one last kiss to the back of your hand, his fingers tracing one of the black lines on your wrist. You grab his arm before he can turn away, “Ryomen,” You murmur in response, “Sir, are you in trouble here?” He does not reply, his gaze is hard, but you feel a lack of response is enough for you to fill in the gaps.

He’s not welcome in his family, and you’re determined to get him out and then find out why, even if it means ruining any diplomatic relationship Iqoria could have with Khoccadia. You omit the fears you hold close to your chest when your parents demand to know how your night went, they were watching and already knew you were the only one Ryomen Itadori spent his night with. This is a golden opportunity, he is already well known throughout the continent as the strongest Itadori son, he would be a priceless addition to any family, and nobody else seems to be questioning the fact his father doesn’t seem to want him to stay.

A foolish decision, considering the fact his cursed energy swamped the entire ball from the moment he entered the room, just barely discernible from that of your parent’s royal sorcerer, Satoru Gojo, who came to meet with other royal sorcerers in attendance. You are reunited with Suguru Geto, your personal guard and the Captain of the Iqorian Guards, after conversing with your parents. He escorts you back to the room provided to you within the Itadori’s castle for the night, “I take it the night went well, your highness?” He asks as he follows you in.

You find yourself unable to respond, chewing on your thumbnail as you sit at the dresser, leaning your head on your free hand. Lost in thought you don’t hear him approach until his hand is on your shoulder, “What ails you my lady?” “He’s tormented,” You murmur, “Prince Ryomen, he’s trapped, and something is very wrong with this family,” His face reflected in the mirror is one of soft confusion, and you find you can’t hide anything from him. He’s trained you your whole life, and you trust him sometimes more than you trust your parents, he’s like a second brother to you, “I asked if he was in trouble, and I fear a lack of response or denial is enough to ascertain the danger, I must marry him if he is to survive with his humanity intact,”

Geto frowns and grips your shoulder slightly, “I will call for your maids, this stays between us,” He announces, “Sleep well your highness,” “Where are you going?” “To let your parents know I am in full support of this marriage, he’s incredibly strong after all,” His face is sly as a fox and you find yourself speechless, “He’ll be a great asset if we give him the chance,” Once he is gone you find comfort in the knowledge of his support, thus allowing you to slumber in peace.

When the morning arrives, you find yourself swept up in preparations for the wedding, which you find after questioning the closest maid is to be held that very day. His father must be desperate to get rid of him before he becomes a problem, and you’re more than willing to let Kaori Itadori and her maids along with yours fawn over you and dress you in the finest white dress you’ve ever seen. You’re understandably nervous, your parents dropped by only once that morning to tell you what you already knew about the conversation they shared with Ryomen’s parents, but they also said once the wedding was over you’d be leaving for home almost immediately.

This was, surprisingly, not the most shocking thing you’d heard all morning. It fell just behind the fact that it would be Geto and not your father who would be walking you down the aisle, a few of your closest maids acting as bridesmaids. This is to go along with a Khoccadian custom involving the parents of both spouses, while also incorporating the ‘giving away’ portion from Iqorian marriages. Ryomen’s mother wraps her arms around you quickly outside the throne room before she pushes a bouquet of red roses into your hands, tears in her eyes, “Take care of him,” She whispers, her eyes intense and so full of sadness you think you may cry too. You nod, words escaping you as you turn to the throne room, the music floating out at you different to the wedding music back home.

It dawns on you as the doors open to reveal you to the crowd that you don’t know Ryomen Itadori. You don’t know his favourite food, you don’t know his favourite hobbies, you don’t know what he likes in a partner, you don’t even know what his relationship with his brothers is like. It’s too late to wonder, as you clutch the bouquet in your hand and link your other arm with Geto who has just appeared at your side. His presence helps to calm your nerves, but you’re still antsy as you approach the front of the room where Ryomen waits for you, looking equally antsy but for a different reason.

You know he wants out, and you’re his ticket, you just have to get through the next hour of formalities. The crowd is never truly silent during your ceremony, there’s always a low hum of chatter, but it doesn’t disturb or deter the continuance of the ceremony. You can feel Jin Itadori’s eyes on you almost the entire time and you endeavour to ignore him as best you can, focusing on the feeling of Ryomen’s hands in yours. You take the time before and during vows to study his face, the way he scrunches his nose sometimes or crosses his eyes to make you smile. It works, and he squeezes your hands to add reassurance to the moment, until finally you’re pronounced as husband and wife, and without even a second thought or hesitation he pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re breathless, your hands clutching his biceps, barely hanging onto the threads of your discipline before he pulls you into him for a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He mutters against your ear, kissing the side of your head as the crowd cheers and his words are lost in the cacophony of sounds. You let your eyes speak a thousand words as you meet his gaze, smiling softly before finally speaking, “You’re safe now,” His shoulders relax as the two of you turn to walk back down the aisle. Once out of the throne room, his brothers are there to greet him, and Yuji hugs him tightly, “Brother…” He murmurs, “Don’t forget us, you understand?” He grips the back of Ryomen’s head and presses his forehead to his twins, “Promise me?”

Ryomen blinks sadly, “I’ll come back for you,” He whispers. The two younger boys crowd between the twins and Ryomen holds them, the taller one seems quite physically weak, and the shorter one has not opened his eyes, but he holds them close. “How does Ryomen L/n sound?” He asks softly, “Fitting?” Yuji smiles, “For you? It’s perfect,” Just before the two of you can be whisked away by your maids, he grabs his elder brother’s hand, “Choso,” He forces the man to look him in the eyes, “Look after them, don’t let them end up like him, or me for that matter,” He growls, “Swear on your life,”

Choso nods, “I swear on my life,” Ryomen nods one final time, “I hope we’re all better people when we see each other again,” He says, words meant only for his brothers that you catch while ushering your maids away from the moment. His hand on your back is the only warning you get before he’s nudging you along the tidal wave of people who head to the main entrance.

A grand exit, the staircase long, carriages await at the bottom, and Ryomen’s freedom. A price paid a thousand times over, a dream finally allowed to come true, and a man desperately clinging to the bare threads of his humanity. The world gives him a lifeline in the form of a girl second in line to her kingdom’s throne, and he finds he remembers why he endured staying alive all those years. His real family, his only family, his brothers - and maybe even revenge.

twins sukuna/itadori lives rent free in my head because of this app so here's my royal spin on it :) I hope you enjoyed

part 2 here!

[sassycheesecake]

Part 2 of Osamu helping Atsumu asking you out 🥰❤️

Here’s part 1:

Osamu should win an award for being the most patient man in Japan.

No wait.

For being the most patient man in the world right now.

The other day his brother ruined his chance of asking you out and now he is trying to help Atsumu win you over.

It’s almost been three whole weeks and Atsumu chickened out every time you would be nearby.

And each time Atsumu had a different excuse for his brother.

'I remembered that I had class duty'

'(Y/N) is in a bad mood'

'I forgot ta copy my homework off of Akari'

'I don’t look my best today'

'Uhh stomache'

'The stars are not in position for this today'

And Osamu had enough.

It’s gotten so bad, that Atsumu even dreamed about talking about you and since the blonde is right above the gray-haired twin in their shared bunk bed, Osamu needed to shove his pillow over his ears in order to get some sleep.

So the next morning, when Osamu packed his lunch for school with bags under his eyes, he sees Atsumu trotting down the stairs, still half asleep.

The Opposite Hitter watches as Atsumu munches on a piece of toast, getting crumbs all over the counter, pissing him off.

"Ya ready ta ask (Y/N) out today?" Osamu asks while closing his bento box, moving onto the next one to pack lunch for his brother as well, since Atsumu is incapable of making food for himself.

Next thing he knows, Atsumu is choking on the toast.

Osamu waits for him to calm down, staring blankly at his brother with his gray eyes.

Atsumu looks at his brother with an incredulous look on his face and he has tears in his eyes from all the coughing.

"What?!" The blonde sputters.

"It’s been three weeks, Tsumu. Get a move on before someone else does." Osamu explains as he packs lunch for his brother.

"But I-" Atsumu starts but Osamu pushes him against the closed fridge door with his forearm against his throat and finally snaps.

"Okay, listen here chickenshit. I’m fed up with yer whining. Yer goin' ta (Y/N) today, tell her how ya feel, kiss her an' lemme have some goddamn peace and quiet, ya hear me?!" The gray-haired twin has a raging fire in his eyes, not caring that he almost blocks off the blonde’s airway.

Atsumu nervously gulps and nods.

When lunch rolls around in school, Osamu almost drags Atsumu into the direction of your class room, when the twins see you standing near the open window, talking to Suna and Ginjima with your back turned towards Osamu and Atsumu.

As Osamu turns around to look at his twin, it’s like the Setter is frozen with fear.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" Osamu hisses at his twin nods his head into your direction as you’re continuing to talk to Ginjima and Suna.

"I can’t." Atsumu pales and takes a few steps back.

"Tsumu I swear ta the Gods, if yer not goin' ta ask (Y/N) out right now, I will ask her out!" Osamu growls, fed up with his brother being a scaredy cat.

"Ya wouldn’t dare." Atsumu growls right back at his twin.

"Depends on how this will go. Either ya ask her out, or ya will attend (Y/N)’s an' I’s wedding in the future." The Outside Hitter threats him.

"But yannow how much I love her! How could ya do this ta yer own flesh and blood!" Atsumu gets louder and the conversation is starting again to gain looks, including you as you look at them in confusion. Suna starts to smirk and gets his phone ready to record it.

Osamu feels the stares and gets behind Atsumu to push him forward.

"GO!"

"Fuckin' fine!" Atsumu hisses.

Nervously gulping down the big lump in his throat, Atsumu makes his way to you with shaky steps.

"(Y/N)? Can I talk ta ya for a second? Alone?" Once he reaches you, he finds his voice back, staring at Ginjima and Suna, hoping they get the hint and leave.

"Uhm…Sure. I’ll see you guys later." You bid farewell to the boys, telling Atsumu that you can talk in the empty classroom.

Ginjima looks very confused at Atsumu’s behavior but before he can question it, Osamu pushes his teammates into the direction of the cafeteria. Suna sighs and puts his phone away, following them to get some food for himself as well.

Back to you, you make your way to your assigned seat and sit on the table, due that your height is not the tallest, your feet barely touch the ground. As you face the nervous Setter, he closes the classroom door for some privacy.

Once he sees that you are sitting on your desk he makes his way over to you with slow steps, pausing to stand in front of you, leaning against the chair behind him a little bit.

"Listen (Y/N), 'm incredibly sorry for the way I was actin' the other day towards ya. I had a shit day an' didn’t mean ta let it out on ya." The Setter starts by apologizing to you first, face full of regret and sorrow.

"A shit day? Atsumu you told me that I 'should go and talk to my crush' instead. I just wanted to know if you were okay that day. You looked incredibly upset, like someone didn’t hit your sets right, causing your team to lose a game." You frown at him in disappointment and a little bit of anger.

''I-I know! It wasn't your fault, I promise! Well I mean it sorta was-" Atsumu rubs his neck, getting more and more keyed up.

"You're telling me I am responsible for YOUR asshole behaviour the other day?!"

This is outrageous!

"No no no! That came out wrong... What I meant was, that I was pissed more at myself cuz ya said ya have a crush already on someone else and it made me really mad…" The blonde looks like a kicked puppy and his cheeks are starting to redden a bit.

"Why would me having a crush on someone be something you’d get mad about?" Being absolutely flabbergasted, you don’t understand his reaction at all.

Unless…

It's like a sudden flash of realisation hits you.

OH. That's why he was so upset.

"So you got mad because you like me?" You try to tease him but it seems that it’s making Atsumu even more nervous.

"No! Wait- I mean yeah! Yer puttin' me under pressure!" He starts to get louder and in return, you get louder as well.

"It's either yes or a no Atsumu. Do you like me or not?? I am getting mixed signals here!"

"Yer yellin' is makin' me nervous!" His face starts to get red and you don’t know whether it’s embarrassment, fury, annoyance or something else, you can’t exactly pinpoint it.

"Atsumu, for once in your life, just restart that brain of yours and use it for something useful!" You start to get frustrated with his logic.

"Like what?!" He yells right back at you, getting frustrated with women's logic.

You get down from your desk, with your fists reaching for the collar of his school uniform shirt, pulling him to slam his lips against yours.

The sudden gesture causes the blonde Setter's brain to malfunction, causing an error in his nervous system, eyes staying wide open.

Once you're realizing what you are doing, you snap out of it, not knowing what suddenly came over you. Atsumu was blabbering nonsense and it seemed like the only logical thing to do was kiss the second-year.

When you pull back from the kiss, it's like Atsumu is in a daze. A confused, yet happy one.

"Oh.My.God. Atsumu, I-I don't know what came over me! Let's pretend this never happened! This was a mistake. I can scratch out the idea of having a chance with you-" You ramble on, starting to get into a panicked state that finally snaps the Setter out of his daze.

"Whatcha say?" His eyes full of hope.

Confused by his reaction, you’d expected him to be mad or upset but he seems… happy that you kissed him?

"That this was a mistake?"

He pouts at that.

"No, ya said ya didn’t have a chance with me. So yer sayin' ya like me?" His amber eyes shine with exuberance, looking like he is thrilled to bits.

"I-I… well… yes I do." You mumble the last part so quietly, that Atsumu barely hears it but hearing those words coming out of your mouth is music to his ears.

He dare even say it’s better than a no-touch-ace.

Before you can react, Atsumu quickly places his rough hands on your cheeks, pulling you into another kiss, this time more frenzy than gentle.

You don't know how to react but it's almost like a natural instinct to just kiss him back with as much passion that he puts into it.

Tilting his head to the side, he deepens the kiss, the tip of his tongue running along your lower lip and you immediately grant him access.

The Setter's moan is lost in your mouth as soon as his wet tongue caresses yours and his hands wander down to your waist, pulling himself closer to you, feeling the heat of his body against yours is very comforting and in return, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Carding your fingers through his soft bleached hair, you start to get lost in the lust that Atsumu is providing.

All of sudden, the moment gets interrupted.

"Hey (Y/N)? Have you seen- OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY!" Kosaku barges in, immediately stopping at the sight of you and Atsumu kissing passionately.

You screech in surprise, while Atsumu just turns his head to see where the noise came from.

Yet, while you’re utterly embarrassed, Atsumu doesn’t let go of his hold on your waist, looking more annoyed that the two of you were interrupted.

"Ya mind? We’re kinda busy." The Setter says in an aggravated voice.

"Tsumu, shush." You gently push him off of you and hit his arm. He flinches at the violence of you, yet he thinks it’s the cutest thing when you are mad.

"N-No I uh… I was looking for Osamu and Suna, K-Kita wanted a word with them a-about their failed History exam." Kosaku stutters in high embarrassment.

"I think they went to the cafeteria. Send them my deepest condolences because of Kita's upcoming scolding lesson." You give him a small smile while still having a face as red as a tomato.

"T-Thanks (Y/N) will do... I’ll let you get back to it." Kosaku blushes deeply and closes the door on his way out.

"Urgh… this was so embarrassing." You let your heated face drop into the blonde’s chest and it moves with his laughing before he carefully grabs your chin and lifts your face up, making you look directly into his amber hues.

"So… does that mean ya forgive me?" The blonde rubs the tip of his nose against yours, chestnut-brown eyes staring down into yours with love and affection.

"Only if you buy me Dorayaki from the store." You grin at him, which he returns with one of his own before kissing you gently one more time.

"Deal." He whispers against your soft lips.

"So… you admit you were jealous? Riseki out of all people? A first year?" You tease him, as the two of you walk to the 7-Eleven that’s close to the school. Atsumu promised to take you to a proper date, once he gets his allowance again next month.

"I WAS NOT!" Atsumu lies in shame.

His response made you giggle and the Setter can’t help but smile at your reaction, causing him to fall in love with you even deeper, as he pulls you into his side, kissing your temple lovingly.

[luimagines]

Fake Engagement Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Time, Wild and Legend.

Content under the cut!

Time

You sighed and shook your head. This isn’t going to work as well as your thought.

There was very few good to choose from but there wasn’t enough to fill up your entire group. You didn’t want to buy out their entire stock but it was looking more and more likely that either you left to find other options or leave these the locals without food.

“Take all the time you need.“ The shop owner waved you off, albeit suspiciously. He’s been watching you the entire time and it’s making you feel more self-conscious than you’re willing to admit. You can just feel his judgment about you taking your sweet time.

“Ah- thank you.” You can feel yourself flushing as you begin to reach for your wallet. “How much for the carrots?”

He eyes you up and down for a moment before a slimey smile appears on his face. “I’ll give you a discount if you can answer some questions of mine.”

You just wanted to make sure that your boys were fed! This is already taking longer than you’d like. But you can already hear the voices of some of the others if you didn’t take this deal. Besides, it’s just a few questions, right? How bad can it be?

You nod, playing with your wallet in your hands. “Sure.”

“What’s your name?”

You tell him and he smiles wider, leaning on the stall to get closer to you.

“That’s not a local name.” He comments with that same sleezy smile. “Where are coming from? Are you just visiting?”

You begin to feel a little more nervous. “Yes. Just visiting. I’m from very far away. I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Try me.” He smirks. “How long will you be here for?”

“Long enough so we can wed.” Time slides up behind you putting his hand on your hip. “The carrots, my good man?”

The man falters and leans back. “Wed?”

“Yes.” Time smiles easily. “We’re on our way to my side of the family for tradition. But we need food for the road. The carrots?”

The man frowns and pouts, muttering the price under his breath as he starts bagging up as many carrots as he can. 

Time doesn’t seem to hear him. He simply takes a large pouch of rupees and drops it onto the counter, taking the bag away from the man with one hand and pulling you close to him with the other. “Thank you very much.”

He starts to guide you away from the stall, making sure to keep his eyes on the man. 

You slowly begin to relax, leaning closer to Time. He seems to be leading you away with a purpose ad you’re too frazzled from the interaction to care.

“Are you alright?” He pulls away from you, brushing his hand over your hair. “He didn’t try to get any closer, did he?”

“No.” You take a breath. “Thank you. I didn’t know how to get out of there.”

“He was practically on top of half of the produce just to be closer to you.” Time growls. “Who knows what he had in mind. I didn’t trust it.”

You nod, hooking your wallet back onto your belt. “I didn’t even notice.”

Time nods, taking your hand. “Come on. Let’s back to the others.”

Flustered, you follow him without question. It’s only until that you reach the rest of your group that his words enter your mind. To be wed?! Like wedding?! TIME!

Wild

“Do you have a plan?”

“When do I ever have a plan?”

“Fantastic. We’re all going to die.”

“Love the energy. Let’s do this.”

You shook your head and followed the young man. “So if anyone asks what am I supposed to say?”

“That we’re married.”

“Hell no.”

“Ok, then we’re about to get married.” Wild rolled his eyes. “First of all, I would be a fantastic husband, thank you very much. And secondly, that’s the only excuse you can use to get into a party like this and not seem suspicious for sticking to my side like glue.”

You huff and plaster on a fake smile when you reach the gates. The guard eyes you up and down with more scrutiny than you personally think is called for before letting you both inside. You gulp, only to hold on to Wild tighter. “Is this a bad time to say that I hate these kind of parties?”

“Most people do.” Wild takes his hand out of yours, wrapping it instead around your waist. “But we’re here to start a whisper campaign, so we don’t have t be here for long.”

“How come you got in so easily though?”

“Hero and all that jazz.” Wild winks your way. “Rich people want publicity so I was virtually invited free of charge.”

“Does that mean I’ve been charged?”

“Not if you’re my fiancé.” Wild whispers teasingly. He raises his other hand, calling for a few drinks. “Just follow my lead and laugh and my jokes and we’re get out of this alive.”

“Lovely.” You fix your hair and try to act like a happy couple in love. You hadn’t registered just how many people would recognize Wild on the spot. Within moments you were being swamped with more and more people who wanted to talk to him. And you by consequence.

What were you doing with the Hero of Hyrule, they asked. How did you meet? How did you hear of this party? What are you to him?

And thus, your whisper campaign began.

You needed to get enough information out to this gullible people where you would seem innocent and believable and in turn, they would repeat your words in the next conversation.

Wild never once took his arm away from you and you found that your arm was perfectly comfortable being around him as well. With enough time, it no longer felt forced. You were simply having a good time with the Champion next to you as you tricked all these people into helping your next course of action.

“Time to go.” Wild whispered into your ear. You blushed at the close proximity, giving more nosey character the wrong impression.

So when Wild takes your hand and very purposefully drags you away form the party, looking excited at your flustered look, let’s just say that there were more whispers going around the nobility than you originally intended.

Legend

“And when I saw him, I knew that my life would never be the same.” You laughed around polite company. “After an entrance like that, how could it? But then he was just so charming and sweet, we decided to keep in contact.”

“Meaning, they found my workshop and visited every other day with sweet treats and flowery words.” Legend speaks up as he takes your hand. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to ask my beloved a question. Excuse us.”

You nod and allow yourself to be led away by the hero. He looks calm and collected, however, you’re nothing but a nervous wreck. And when he eventually pulls you both around a corner, your fears are proven true. 

He spins on his heel and whispers harshly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Talking to people.” You whisper back just as harshly. “Like you told me to! What was I supposed to say? They think we’re together!”

“I heard that part!” He snaps. “And you just went along with it?”

You flick his forehead, trying to keep your voice down. “What do you want from me?! It’s not like any of them are ever going to see us again! We have to blend in and not look suspicious! We might as well give them half of what they want while the others get their job done.”

Legend groans. “Really? That’s it? Don’t you know what this means? They’ll talk all about the two of us. Word will spread and until we can get out of this town in one piece, everyone is going to think we’re together.”

You fail to see how that’s such a bad thing to be honest. It’s not like anyone would care that much about either of you. And it’s not like Legend is the only hero these people know about.

Legend however, seems to be growing only more agitated. “I can’t believe you! Or this! Why do I always get dragged into situations like this?”

He looks down, seeing something on his boot. He kneels, muttering to himself. After a beat he holds out his hand, still on his knee. “This is outrageous. Can you hand me an earring? I need to fix this real quick.”

You go to reach for one of your without question just as someone turns the corner. You can’t be found out. this is too crucial for anyone t be out of place! Thinking on your feet, you gasp, covering your hand. You cry out and jump on Legend. “Yes! I will!”

The poor unsuspecting soul flusters greatly before giving a polite clap and a congratulatory bow. “Happy tidings to the both of you!”

Legend puts his hands on you, steadying you before you both fall over. “Ah- uh- yes! Thank you! Sorry. I wanted it to be private.”

“Right, right, of course.” They cough before the scurry away- most likely to tell other about what they had just seen.

Legend’s eyes twitches and he throws you off. “When this is over-”

“You owe me.” You say cheekily, kissing his cheek for good measure. “Well, hubby, let’s go back to the party. It’s a shame we don’t have a ring.”

Legend groans louder, standing up. He takes your hand, taking a ring off of his finger and putting it on yours. “I can’t believe you did this. This was not in the plan.”

“Come on Vet~” You giggle, letting him do as he pleases. “Improvise a little. With this going around, everyone will ignore whatever Hyrule and Wind are doing.”

“You better be right.” He pulls away, admiring the ring for a moment before he gives you his arm to take.

“Rule number one.” You take it with a grin. “I am always right.”

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire - Part Three

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; references to violence; references to infertility; references to spousal abandonment; strong language; period-typical misogyny; references to and non-explicit descriptions of past experiences of psychological abuse, sexual assault and non-consensual sex, and of domestic violence; abusive and derogatory language; smut; PiV sex; fingering; technical infidelity; angst.

Use of the Irish language with translations as needed.

Important A/N: In one section of this chapter, Reader recalls exactly how badly treated she was by her husband before he left. This means brief discussion of psychological, physical, and sexual abuse. I have tried to handle these issues as sensitively as possible and without gratuitous detail or description. (I am writing as a survivor of emotional abuse, and I want to express my gratitude for the vital advice and support of other incredible survivors, including of other forms of abuse experienced by Reader in this story).

Further A/N at the end of this chapter.

Taglist: @grogusmum, @insomniamamma, @yourcoolauntie, @tessa-quayle, @julesonrecord, @agentjackdaniels, @iamskyereads, @trulybetty, @pedrostories, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @katareyoudrilling, @perennialdoll247, @joeldjarin, @sunnywithachanceofjavi, @tieronecrush, @javierisms, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @rhoorl, @red-red-rogue, @survivingandenduring, @khindahra, @love-the-abyss, @fictionismyreality, @imaswellkid, @gracie7209, @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse, @novemberrain221, @schnarfer

(FYI taglists haven't really been working for me of late so please do follow my writing blog if you want to stay up to date!)

Réaltín snickers as you tie her up hastily outside your little cottage, adrenaline coursing through your body. It doesn’t take long to throw a few things in your leather saddle bags: some clothes, your sewing kit and a supply of fabric, the money tucked under your mattress. It’s not much, but it might be enough to get you out of here before he comes looking.

You wrap your best shawl around your shoulders and go outside to check on your little milk cow, safe in her stall. She blinks her big brown eyes at you, kind and trusting, and you rub her muzzle affectionately.

Cáit, your nearest neighbour, peers through the window when she hears Réaltín trotting up the lane. She’s waiting at the door before you’ve pulled up, sensing all is not well. You spill out your excuses. 

“It’s family matters. All happened very suddenly. I can’t say more, but I’ll be back as soon as I can - will you look in on my cow, make sure she’s fed? You can have whatever milk she’ll give you, of course.”

Cáit nods, though she seems a little sceptical. “You’re sure you’re alright, a stór [sweetheart/treasure]?” 

You bring the shawl around your head and mount Réaltín again. “I am. Thanks, Cáit. I’ll see you soon.”

It’s only when you’re halfway to your parents’ smallholding that you realise you can’t stay there, either. In your panic and haste you hadn’t thought it through. If Searlas wanted to find you, it would be the first place he came looking. 

Dusk closes in, and slate grey clouds gather overhead. The heavens open and your tears start to fall as you bring Réaltín to a halt on a quiet lane.

Gró stirs his little bowl of vegetable and barley stew, lifting out pieces of carrot on his wooden spoon before dropping them back in the bowl and giggling at the satisfying plop they make. 

His father shakes his head. “Ná bí ag súgradh le do bhéile.” [Don’t play with your meal.]

The little boy is the first to spot the horse arriving out of the darkness, pointing to the window. Din looks out cautiously, dark eyes surveying the small area outside the cottage illuminated by the candlelight coming from within. 

Nothing.

The knock on the door is hesitant, and Din silently gestures to his son to stay put as he answers. 

She’s soaked to the skin, red woollen shawl weighed down with rain, eyes reddened and fear written all over her face. 

It is all Din can do to stop himself reaching out and pulling her close to him, to comfort and reassure her, to make sure she is alright. Instead, he simply stands back and beckons her inside.

She babbles her explanation: the errant husband returned, in the army, her worry that he would seek her out. 

“I’m so sorry, Din, I… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

She’s shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s the cold rain or her panic that’s doing it. 

Before Din can speak, Gró has materialised at her side, and reaches up for her hand. His big eyes look up at her with the kind of affection Din has only ever seen the boy show to him, and at times to Peigí. 

She looks from Gró to his father and back again. And then she breaks down.

“There isn’t much left, I’m afraid. But you’re welcome to it.”

Din looks from the cooking pot to you, sitting in a chair by the hearth with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as your shawl and outer bodice dry out. 

“If you’re sure?”

He nods and ladles the stew into a bowl. You accept it gratefully, realising that it had been many hours since you last ate. It is a simple meal and all the better for it, the steaming broth warming your bones and the vegetables and barley filling your empty stomach. 

Din sits in the other chair and scoops Gró up into his lap. The little boy smiles in your direction as you eat, and you notice he’s wearing the little shirt you made for him. You summon up the words, speaking hesitantly.

“An mhaith leat do léine, Gró?” [Do you like your shirt, Gró?]

His enormous eyes light up and he nods enthusiastically, turning round to look up at his father and laughing delightedly at hearing you speak his language. Din ruffles his son’s fair hair and smiles at you.

“Thank you for mine, too. You didn’t have to. I’ll make sure you’re properly paid.”

You nod towards the bowl of stew. “This is payment enough. Once my things are dry I’ll get going. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you out. I panicked, and -“

Gró sighs and nestles in against Din’s broad chest, trying to keep his eyes open but losing the battle against sleep. Din stands, carefully shifting the little boy in his arms and gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the loft. 

“Stay.” 

“I’ve already outstayed my welcome, Din, I don’t know what I was -“

“Stay.” He repeats the word, half-order, half-plea, as he stands at the foot of the makeshift wooden ladder leading up into the loft. 

You nod, watching as the blacksmith expertly ascends with his son in his strong arms, a lantern in one hand. Din is wearing a sort of woollen jumper over his old shirt, and you can’t help but notice the stretch of the knitted fabric across his broad back and shoulders, the way it draws the eye to the muscles of his chest. 

An unexpected wave of pleasure ripples through you. You shake your head, as if trying to rid your body of the feeling.

While Din tucks Gró in, quietly humming to him, you rinse the bowls from dinner and tidy up the main room of the cottage. There’s what looks like a settle bed against one wall, and what you presume is Din’s bed against the other, near the back window: a basic frame, simple bedclothes, a trunk at the foot of the bed. 

“So you’ll stay?”

You turn to face Din, speaking in hushed tones as he descends the ladder. “I will stay for tonight.”

He looks at you, dark eyes hooded and serious. “You should stay as long as you need to. You are afraid of him, and I presume with good reason.”

“He might not even come looking for me. He’s gone so long, after all. But -“ You pause as the traumatic memories of the past swirl in your mind. “But him reappearing like this, and in uniform… He is not a good man.”

Din tilts his head and looks at you. You are grateful that he doesn’t pry further. “I can keep you safe here. He’ll never know.”

Before you can protest, he’s crossing the room and pulling out the rectangular, boxy bed frame from underneath the settle and rummaging in a small cupboard for blankets and pillows. “You can sleep here, if you’d like. Or in my bed, over there. Either way, I’ll sleep in the back store, or the forge.”

“Absolutely not. That back little room is too cold, too small. And the forge is no fit place for someone to sleep.” You help him arrange the bedding for the settle bed. “I grew up sharing a one-roomed cottage with my entire family, Din. This is no hardship at all, nothing irregular, as long as you don’t mind.”

He shakes his head and retrieves a half-burned candle from the mantle above the hearth, lighting it from the small lantern before handing you the lamp. Din leaves you to get ready for bed, taking the candle and going to change in the back store so that you have privacy. He calls out to you, checking that he can come back into the main room. 

“Come ahead, Din.” 

Tucked into the settle bed, you can barely make out his silhouette as he comes into the room. His solitary candle illuminates his strong profile as he gets into his own, wooden-framed bed across the room.

“Are you comfortable? Warm enough?” His voice, soft and low, carries in the quiet.

“I am. Thank you for this. I am so grateful.”

“Sleep well.” 

Lights extinguished, you can hear Din shift in his bed and his breathing enter a slower, steady rhythm as sleep descends. 

You lie awake in the dark, thoughts racing. So Searlas had fought for something - for his king’s shilling, no doubt, and they were only too desperate for men to fight in the wars against France. Searlas had spat bile and vitriol in ‘98 about the United Irishmen and the Defenders, the groups that had led the rebellion, blaming dangerous French ideas of liberty, equality and fraternity for poisoning people’s minds. 

It made sense, now, that he’d have abandoned you to take up arms against those ideas. But you knew Searlas too well for it to be a moral crusade, or a stand taken on principle. Most likely, he’d spent the intervening five years doing as little as possible for as much reward, and probably whoring his way around Europe.

You try to push him out of your mind as you seek sleep, your brain seeking comforting thoughts and images until it settles on the recent memory of a pair of sparkling brown eyes, looking at you in the firelight. 

Searlas’s hand is rough around your arm, and you know you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. He drags you away from the fair and along the back road from the village, muttering abuse as you jog along trying to keep up with him. 

“I saw you talking to him. The way you looked at him, the way you whored yourself around him. Filthy slut that you are.”

“Searlas, he’s my second cousin, I haven’t seen him in years…he’s family, I was talking to family!”

He pulls you harder to him before knocking you, deliberately, into the thorny hedgerow that runs along the dirt road. 

“Watch yourself. You should be more careful of your footing. Stupid bitch.” He hauls you up and pushes you roughly along the road. 

“When we get home, I’ll show you what happens when you act like a common whore in front of the whole place.”

“Searlas, please, please don’t, not again…”

“You’re a fat, useless, barren slut.” He spits the word at you. “And you’ll take your punishment from your husband.”

You have learned since the first time he “punished” you this way that crying out, or crying at all, only prolongs the agony. So you try to will your mind out of your body as your husband pulls your legs apart and pins down your arms, spitting insults as he forces himself on you.

You are not really here. You are in the back field, in springtime, with wildflowers in bloom. You are looking at the slate-grey sea, wind whipping at your face and hair. You are not really here, not really at the mercy of this cruel and violent man.

Sometimes, you try to focus on the words of the songs of liberty you know, the poems that sing of a dream of freedom.

You are not really here. You are free. 

You wake with a start and for an instant you can’t remember where you are. A sickening panic thrums through your body and the sides of the settle bed feel like they’re closing in on you.

You sit up and turn your head only to be greeted by a pair of big dark eyes, staring intently at you over the edge of the bed. Gró smiles widely and begins chattering away, unaware that your addled brain is unable to keep up.

Din’s broad figure emerges from the back room, carrying a pot that he places on the metal crane over the fire, to warm its contents. He tuts when he realises that Gró is by your bed.

“Ná bac léi,” he says, somewhat sternly. “Tá sí an-tuirseach.” [Don’t disturb her, she’s very tired.]

Gró turns and reveals your head and shoulders, visible over the edge of the settle bed. 

“You’re awake. I’m sorry, I hope he didn’t wake you. He’s young, he is curious.” 

You shake your head and reach for your shawl, wrapping it about you. “Not at all. I… I woke by myself.”

Din beckons to his son and leads him by the hand in the direction of the door that opens onto the forge. “We’ll leave you for a bit. There’s some warm water in that pot over the hearth, if you want to wash. And a basin and rags, on the table.”

“Thank you, Din. I’ll be glad to make some breakfast once I’m dressed.”

He inclines his head towards you and carries the little boy into the forge. 

While Din works and Gró helps out around the forge, you busy yourself with cleaning, mending, and preparing meals for your hosts, by way of a thank you for their kindness. The cottage is well-kept and tidy - an indicator of Din’s meticulous nature, you muse - and doesn’t require more than a little dusting and sweeping to get it ship-shape again once you’ve pushed the settle bed back under the seat. 

The midday meal is simple - floury potatoes, piled high in a bowl, and served with butter, milk, and a little salt for Din. Gró eyes up the fresh pot of jam you had brought in your saddle bags, but his father’s wagging finger dissuades him as he eats his own little bowl of potatoes. Sitting at the wooden table, sharing the meal with them and listening to the chatter between father and son, you feel that familiar pang of loss, of yearning for what might have been. 

You distract yourself by thinking about the evening meal. 

“I can stay and make something for the supper, later,” you announce, as Din lifts his head and meets your gaze with those penetrating dark eyes. “And then I’ll leave you. I can’t abuse your hospitality any more than I already have.”

The blacksmith shakes his head as he peels another potato and dips it in the golden-white liquid in his bowl. “At least wait until you know it’s safe to return.”

You know, deep down, that it’s still too soon to know. But you also know that the smith and his son are already just about able to feed two people, let alone three.

Din turns to his son and ruffles his hair as Gró closes his eyes in delight. He whispers to him and the little boy grins before hopping off his chair and racing out to the back field, whooping and laughing to himself.

His father stands up and begins to help you clear away the empty dishes. 

“You - you were unsettled in your sleep, last night.”

You keep wiping down the table. “Was I?”

You can feel Din looking at you. “You were. And this morning. You sounded upset.”

“Probably just a bad dream.”

Din sighs and hesitates before asking the obvious question. “Was it about him?”

“It was.”

Tension crackles in the turf-scented air of the cottage. For an instant you think about telling him everything: every fist, every bruise, every torn garment, every time your husband used and violated you in spite of your protests. 

The image of Din wrapping you up in his strong, protective embrace floats into your mind, unbidden.

He breathes deeply. “He hurt you.”

“He did.” You finally look at the blacksmith, whose soft, compassionate expression comes as a surprise. “I felt more of his fist than his lips, I suppose you might say. But that was better than -”

You inhale sharply, summoning as much courage as you can bear. It is difficult to know how Din will react. But there’s something in your gut that tells you he can be trusted, unquestioningly.

“It was better than the alternative. When he…forced himself. On…on me.”

You stare down at the floor and feel heat rising in your cheeks. You have never told another soul about this, and are unsure why you’ve unexpectedly chosen this stoic man to be the first to know.

The silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sounds of your breathing and the crackle of the hearth. 

When he eventually speaks, Din chooses his words carefully. “You have to stay out of reach of a man like that. If you could even call him a man.” 

He picks up his leather apron and the grey fabric he uses to cover his nose and mouth while he works, and opens the door into the forge, pausing for a moment as he looks back at you.

“Stay. Please. Until you know you’re safe from harm.”

You wake before him the next morning, stealing out of the settle bed to dress in the back room, before quietly putting on water to boil for breakfast and freshening up. There is still some milk in its heavy, lidded container and you pour it into an earthenware jug before setting it on the table.

You hear a stirring from the other side of the room as Din lifts his head from the pillow and yawns, somewhat startled at the sight of you. You bite back a giggle at his skew-whiff bed head, the wavy brown strands sticking up this way and that as his eyes adjust to the light.

He smiles and shakes his head when he realises you’ve prepared breakfast.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I was awake, and I wanted to. I have to find some way to return your hospitality, after all.” 

Din discreetly reaches for the pair of breeches folded neatly near the end of the bed, and you instinctively turn away as he slips them on before getting out of bed and climbing the ladder to the room above, where Gró is already happily babbling away to himself. 

The blacksmith and his son head to the forge after eating, after you refused their offers of help with clearing up after the meal. As you wash the dishes in a stoneware basin, using some of the leftover hot water, you find yourself slipping, once again, into a fantasy of this being your life: this happy, safe domesticity, away from harm and mistreatment. 

The memory of the soft smile that had appeared on Din’s face that morning, when he saw you preparing their meal, enters your mind. You close your eyes, a rush of warmth and something like desire coursing through you.

“No.”

His eyes, now, warm and kind and so inviting as they looked at you. The glimpse of tanned skin under his nightshirt.

“No. It cannot be. No.”

You open your eyes and delve deeper into the tepid water, scrubbing the plates and mugs clean and resolving to leave today - just as soon as you could be certain no danger awaited you at home.

At mid-morning, the sudden sound of a woman’s voice inside the cottage is almost enough to make you drop the bundle of clothes you’re carrying inside from the washing line.

She’s small, with an unruly mop of wild auburn curls, and a demeanour that indicates her wiles and toughness.

Peigí. It seems strange to see her here, away from her yard full of half-mended carts and spares.

She doesn’t spot you at first, too busy hauling in a milk can and a couple of baskets filled with random packages wrapped in brown paper. Food, you guessed.

“Only me, lads! Came by with milk and a few bits and pieces I have going spare after calling into the village, I know a growing little chap who’ll eat them right up, so he will. D’you know they changed the coterie of redcoat bastards at the barracks, Din? And one of them’s a local lad, fecked off and left his wife there a few years ago and now he’s back and he’s going mad looking for her and -"

The woman finally looks up and sees you standing near the hearth. 

“Oh. Oh, lord bless us and save us!”

“Hello, Peigí. I’m sorry, did I give you a fright?”

She rounds the table to get a closer look at you. “God almighty, girleen, it is you!” She pauses and takes a step back, concern written on her expressive face. “Did… did you know about, er, him? Reappearing, that is?”

You nod. “That’s why I’m here. And by the sounds of it, that was the right thing to do.”

She turns her head quickly towards the door that leads to the forge, as if half-considering whether to summon Din to find out what, exactly, the wife of the prodigal soldier is doing lying low in his house. 

“You’re not… ye aren’t… you and himself, are you…” 

It’s pretty clear what Peigí is thinking, and you can’t exactly blame her. An anxious wave crashes through you, as you realise that your choice of hideout may well lead the community at large to suspect impropriety - on your part, of course. 

“No. And if anyone else suggests that, kindly correct them on my behalf.” You put the bundle of clothes on the table and fold your arms. “I had nowhere else to go that he wouldn’t suspect. I came here in a panic. Din and Gró took me in and fed me.” 

Peigí lifts the baskets onto the table, a sympathetic expression on her face. “Well, your instincts were right. Your husband - not that he should really claim the title, given how long he’s been gone - has been out to your smallholding looking for you, and to your parents’ place, and he’s been asking around for you.” 

She takes a few of the packages out and arranges them into little piles. “Look, I don’t know your business but I’m guessing you have a good reason not to want to see him again, for being so frightened that you’d flee your own home. So you can trust me, I won’t say a word.” The earnestness of her expression and the kindness in her eyes tells you that she means it. 

“Thank you, Peigí. I’d intended to go home later today, I can’t outstay my welcome, but…”

“But I’d give it another little while,” she finishes. “Until he decides you’re not worth the bother.”

The door from the forge opens and Din’s broad silhouette appears, face still covered with the grey cloth. “Peigí?”

“The one and same, Din. Brought you and that lovely little lad some bits and pieces. Now, where’s my darling boy?”

On cue, Gró tears in from the forge, little bare feet racing across the flagstone floor to greet Peigí with a tight hug as she sweeps him up into her arms. He immediately starts chattering away to her, pointing from his shirt to you excitedly. 

“Well, aren’t you a lucky little chap, having new friends to make you clothes and everything!” She swivels around to face Din, his son playing with Peigí’s curls. “You don’t need to explain why she’s here, the poor girl. And she should stay put, in my opinion. Provided that’s alright with her hosts, of course.”

“What have you heard?” Din’s voice is cautious.

“Only that he’s been sniffing around the place and asking questions. Nobody knows she’s out here, though.” She ruffles Gró’s mop of fair hair. “You know me, Din, I know everyone and I hear everything. And I’ll be out here quick as anything, the minute I know it’s alright for her to go home. That alright with you, girleen?”

“If it’s alright with Din.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “It’s fine with us. We will keep you safe.”

Peigí looks from you to Din and back again, eyes narrowed and one eyebrow arched, before setting Gró back down on the ground. 

“Right so, I’ll be off. See you next week, Din - if not before.”

You keep telling yourself that you’ll soon be able to go home. But, with every day that passes over the course of the next week without a visit from Peigí, a new, more uncomfortable feeling grows inside you.

I don’t want to leave here.

You settle into a comforting, reassuring routine: a little housekeeping and cooking, mending and sewing, playing with Gró, occasionally helping Din with checking the list of items left for repair. Gró alerts you if anyone comes down the lane to the forge, giving you time to scramble up the ladder to the attic and hide. It’s not that you expect Searlas himself - more that you fear he’ll find out if anyone from the locality spots you in the cottage. 

You notice Din smiling more, these last few days. Sometimes, you catch him looking at you, eyes kind and warm. And he, in turn, has caught you looking at him.

By night, you sit by the fire together for a little while: you with your mending or knitting, talking, sometimes - and more you than him - but sometimes simply being in a companionable silence that doesn’t demand interruption. 

This evening, he descends the ladder from Gró’s sleeping attic, candlestick in hand, and sets the light back on the mantel. The flickering flame throws shadows here and there, the brighter light of the fire illuminating Din’s profile against the whitewashed walls.

He joins you, sitting in one of the sugán chairs in front of the fire. He silently watches you, taking in your nimble fingers as you darn a pair of socks by firelight.

“You have a nice voice,” you say quietly, not even looking up from your work.

“I…” He seems a little taken aback. “Are you making fun of me?”

You look up, surprised and a little hurt that he’d think that of you. “Of course not! I heard you singing to the little lad and it was nice. It’s a compliment, Din.”

He looks sullenly into the fire. You reach over to pat his arm, to offer a little more reassurance and kindness, but he pulls away suddenly as if your fingertips were aflame. You jerk back your hand just as quickly. Had you broken some sort of rule?

“I’m sorry, Din, I didn’t mean to - I meant no harm.” You cast your eyes down again towards the stockings.

“It’s only that I’m not used to it.”

You look up quizzically. “Not used to compliments?”

He meets your eyes and huffs a laugh. “Well, that’s true too. But I mean I am not used to being touched. At least, not by anyone other than my boy.” He looks away again. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Let’s call it evens, then, will we?” You yawn softly and let the darning rest in your lap. “I think it might be time for bed.” 

You go through the evening routine established with quiet ease over the past few days: packing away your darning while Din smothers the fire and pulls out the box-like bed frame of the settle bed for you, setting out the few meagre cups and plates for breakfast on the sturdy wooden table while he retrieves pillow and blankets for your bed. 

“There might just be enough jam for Gró to have for breakfast,” you tell him, peering into the bottom of the last jar you’d given them. Din stands beside you at the table and smiles. 

“He makes light work of it, I’m afraid.”

You shrug and place the jar on the table, resting your hands lightly on the edge. “I’m glad. It’s nice to make a child so happy in this world.”

For a moment, there’s no sound except the occasional crackle of the candles and the rain beating its steady rhythm against the walls and windows of the little cottage.

Din rests his own broad, calloused hands on the table. With trembling fingers, he places his right hand gently on the back of your left. 

He doesn’t look directly at you, instead stealing the odd glance as he tries to gauge your reaction. You turn your hand over so that your palm is touching his, letting your fingers intertwine with his long, thick digits as you softly squeeze his hand and turn to look at him.

His hands are still shaking a little, but his impossibly dark eyes are warm and wanting as they look intently into yours. 

He moves a step closer. He brings the back of your hand to his lips. You exhale a little, a breath tinged with pleasure and surprise, and your fingers seek out the rough stubble on his jaw. He lets go of your hand, gently, and traces his fingertips across your cheek with surprising delicateness.

His kiss is a little awkward, at first, as if he’s afraid you might disappear entirely as soon as your lips meet. When you lean in and reciprocate, though, he responds in kind: strong arms pulling you close as he kisses you hungrily, moaning into your mouth as you wrap your arms around him.

And then it’s over. 

He breaks away, breathing shaky, body almost trembling, face turned away from you. 

“No. We can’t. You’re… you’re married, it’s not the way to - I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laid a finger on you.”

You walk quickly to the settle bed, keeping your back turned to Din. “I’ll go in the morning. I’ve exploited your kindness for far too long as it is.” 

His own bed creaks a little as Din sits on it and sighs. “You won’t be safe. I can protect you, here.”

“I’m a married woman, Din, remember?” You fling a pillow down onto the straw-filled mattress in frustration. “So I shouldn’t need you to protect me. And I’d obviously only be a temptation. A harlot.”

You pick up your nightshirt and shawl and cross to the door that leads to the tiny back room, so that you can change for bed. You keep your face turned away and your eyes trained on the flagstone floor. That way, at least, he won’t see your tears.

“The thing is, Din,” you say quietly, as you pause in front of the simple wooden door, “over the last few days - in all the time I’ve known you, indeed - you’ve been more husband to me than he ever was, in the ways that really mattered.” 

“Mo chuisle.” [My darling]

His voice, soft but pleading, cuts through the stillness like a prayer. When you turn to face him, he’s standing by the side of his bed, big dark eyes threatening tears of his own, beautiful hands twisting and rubbing nervously together. You’ve never seen him like this. 

“Say it again.” You move towards him, shawl wrapped around your upper body.

“Mo chuisle.” He takes your hand and you instinctively move closer, leaning in to feel the warmth of his broad chest. Slowly, cautiously, Din’s strong arms reach around your body to hold you to him. 

You stay like that for a few moments, listening to his heart beating, learning the notes of his scent: fire and metal. His large hand caresses the back of your head, his lips find your cheek with soft, lingering kisses.

“Let me keep you safe, mo chuisle. Here, with us.” 

You look into his dark eyes, mapping the laughter lines around them and the contours of his nose, his mouth, his strong jaw. 

When you first met Din, you weren’t sure if he was a handsome man or a striking one. You were wrong on both counts. 

He was a beautiful one.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds, before your lips meet his again. Slow caresses give way to more urgent, hungry kisses, your hands holding Din’s face as he holds you tight, feeling the softness and contours of your body under the layers of wool and cotton in your garments. 

You stay like that for a little while, lips and tongues blissfully moving together and hands roaming over each other’s body, exploring these strange and enticing new territories. 

Din trembles under your gentle touches, the feeling of someone else’s tender caresses almost overwhelming after so long alone. For the first time in your life, you know what it is to be held and cherished with care as he holds you, seeks out your softness and your warmth, presses his lips experimentally to the fragile skin of your neck and décolletage, and sighs with pleasure. 

His mouth moves gradually lower, and you loosen the neck of your blouse and undo your light wool bodice to grant him greater access. Those long, thick fingers, marked and calloused by his trade, trace the line of your breasts under your short linen stays.  

“Oh.” He exhales the word, closing his eyes as his fingertips press lightly into the soft flesh. 

“Din…”

Din’s dark eyes flick open and meet yours, his sadness palpable. “I’m sorry, mo chuisle, I’ll stop.”

You murmur a silent prayer that he won’t think less of you for what you say next.

“Din…don’t stop. I - I want to. I want you. I want you to have me. Please.”

He flushes and looks away, still holding you close. 

You speak softly but firmly. “I know that’s very forward of me, Din, but…” You run your fingers idly through his hair and he leans into your touch. “Why did you turn away?”

“Because I’ll be a disappointment to you.” His eyes meet yours again, dark and sad. 

“It has been a…long time.” He looks embarrassed, colour flushing his cheeks. “I…I’ve lain with, well…once or twice…but I…It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t -”

“If you don’t want to, you know that’s perfectly fine.”

“I want to. I want you.” He pulls you tight to him once more, and brings his hand to your breasts, gently kneading the flesh and slipping a fingertip here and there under your light stays as he sucks your neck and pulls your bodice open all the more. 

“I won’t hurt you, my darling,” he murmurs.

“Oh, Din, I know. You never could. Let me undress for you, a stór, hmmm?” 

Din looks on as you discard your bodice and your skirts, followed by your woollen stockings. You undo your short stays, leaving you as naked as you’ve ever been in front of another human being for a very long time: just your pale, light shift, undone over the décolletage and stopping just at mid-calf, the outline of your body entirely evident in the simple, thin undergarment. 

His dark eyes appraise you, mouth slightly open. The width and curve of your hips. The thickness of your thighs. The little protruding pooch of your belly. The line of your shoulders. The gorgeous weight of your heavy bosom.

“Oh, mo Dhia.” [My god]

Din hastily takes off his knitted pullover and undoes his breeches and stockings, and soon he, like you, is standing barefoot on the flagstone floor, dressed in just the creamy-coloured linen of his undershirt. He closes the short distance between you, caresses your cheek with one hand and reaches for the other, holding it gently. 

“Please take me to bed, Din.”

It’s strange, at first, to nestle beside him in his bed, to smile at each other and giggle quietly as you map each other’s bodies with roving fingers, curious lips, and wandering eyes. 

You are no virgin. But this has some of the sweetness and curiosity of a first time, or at least how you had once hoped a first time would be. On your wedding night, Searlas took your virginity and shattered your romantic delusions, adding insult to injury by checking the sheets to see if you’d bled.

It’s different tonight, here in the blacksmith’s bed. You are both a little awkward, a bit hesitant from your years alone, the time spent seeking a kind of release in your own hands, the years that passed without as much as a loving touch from someone else. 

The feel of another now, at last, sets you trembling. Din’s breath hitches when you caress him through the thin linen of his undershirt, and when you reach under his shirt and wrap your fingers around his cock he moans so loudly that you have to put a hand over his mouth, for fear of waking the little boy soundly asleep on the floor above.

You stroke him for a little while, hand still gently pressed over his lips to stem the flow of grunts and moans that threaten to spill out. 

“I’ll stay quiet if I’m kissing you, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your hand.

You smile and move your palm away, and Din swiftly finds your mouth again as his hands grope your breasts. It’s exquisite torment - the sheer pleasure of his strong, broad hands being on you, his soft, warm mouth meeting yours, while the ache between your legs grows more and more insistent. 

You take his hand and gently guide it under your chemise and between your folds. Din’s eyes widen. 

“Ever touched a woman here?”

He shakes his head. 

“Would you like me to teach you?”

A slow, entranced nod of agreement. 

You bring his long, thick pointer and middle fingers to the sensitive little nub you’ve learned to massage when you needed release in your years alone, guiding Din’s motions as you teach him what you like. What you need. 

He’s a quick learner, enraptured by the little whines his fingers start to pull out of you and the way your hips buck in response to the careful touch of his hand. He reaches for your breasts with his free hand, fondling them with endearingly clumsy enthusiasm while he continues to finger you. 

“You’re wet,” he grunts into the side of your neck, fingers now tracing around your entrance as he explores you for the first time. 

“For you,” you whisper, close to coming. “Because I want you to have me.”

Din’s kiss tips you over the edge and you whine against his broad chest as pleasure courses through your body. He looks astonished. 

“Good?”

“So good, Din,” and you return his kiss, still stroking his cock. “You learn fast, a stór.” 

His eyes are dark with desire and want as he plays with the hem of your chemise, hitching it up over your thighs. 

“Can I have you, mo chuisle?” His voice is hushed, reverent, almost; his face open and genuine as he gazes into your eyes. 

You nod and sit up, casting off your shift before helping him out of his shirt. Your fingers trace over the marks and scars on his body, lips pressing lightly to them, to the strong, beautiful muscles of his arms and torso, to the side of his neck. 

With his pointer finger, Din draws soft lines and circles down your breasts and around your nipples, before gently bringing his warm, plush lips to each one in turn. Strong arms wrap around you and ease you down onto your back as his mouth continues to explore your body. He strokes his cock and moans softly as your hips buck up towards him, marvelling at the way you are responding to his touch. 

He is a beautiful sight, nestled between your legs: broad body above yours, hands and lips exploring you, eyes blown completely dark with desire, and hard cock pressing against your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a long, deep kiss.

There is no moment of doubt in your mind, no worry about how this lovemaking is “wrong”, by virtue of the legal status that still binds you to a man who never held up his end of the bargain, nor had any intention of doing so. 

Nothing in your life, you realise as you reach down to help guide Din inside you, has ever felt so right.

He takes you slowly, gently, biting his lip as he sinks into you and bottoms out with a groan he desperately tries to suppress as he adjusts to the feel of your wet, warm pussy. 

He opens his eyes and caresses your cheek, smiling softly. “Mo cailín álainn. [My lovely girl.] Is this - do you like this?”

The feeling of his heavy cock pressing, filling, stretching you so beautifully is a revelation, a far cry from the pain and abuse that characterised your previous experiences. Suddenly, you understand why other young couples you’d known had been so desperate to go to bed together.  

“It’s just perfect, a stór. And for you, is this - does it feel good for you?” 

Din breathes your name and closes his eyes for a moment. “So very, very good, mo chuisle.” With a gentle kiss, he begins to move his hips as you whine softly at the gorgeous sensation. He moves slowly, at first, his sheer pleasure as he drags his cock in and out of you written all over his face and in every pant and whispered gasp of your name that issues from his soft lips. 

Your knees hitch instinctively, your body acting on your innate need to take him even deeper inside of you. Din’s broad, calloused right hand finds its way to your hip, making you cry out as his fingers sink into the soft flesh, while his left eagerly gropes and massages your tits. 

“That’s it, darling,” you purr into his ear, urging him on as he starts to fuck you harder and faster. “Yes - yes, Din, there - that’s…oh, god…” His eyes widen as he watches your head rolling back in ecstasy. He buries his face against the velvet skin of your neck, kissing and licking and nipping you until you’re stifling your moans against his dark, wavy locks. 

“My good, good girl,” he whispers, moving his lips to your tits and muffling his grunts and groans against your body as his rhythm starts to stutter and falter. He’s close. “Where, love?”

“Inside me,” you hiss, “finish inside me.”

He comes hard, moaning into his pillow as he spills his release deep within you. You trail your fingers through Din’s damp, mussed-up hair and kiss the side of his head, over and over, until he pulls out and flops back beside you. 

You turn to face him, chuckling softly at how wrecked he looks. “You’re very good at that, you know. Not bad for a man who thought he was going to disappoint me.” 

Din grins, wraps an arm around you, and pulls you in for a long, slow kiss.

Dawn reaches its gentle rays into the little cottage and finds two lovers still tangled together, naked beneath the blankets. 

Din wakes you with kisses: to your lips, your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. You nuzzle against him, still basking in the warm glow created the night before.

There’s a certain sadness in his kind eyes. Regret? 

“What is it, Din?”

He looks at you, reluctant. “I just wish you were mine, mo chuisle.”

In that instant the warm glow is gone, replaced by stark cold. He’s right. You’re not really his. You can’t be. 

But, says a little voice inside you, you are. What else are you, if not his?

You kiss his cheek and reach for his hand. “I am yours, Din. Don’t you remember what I said last night? I’m yours - and you are mine - in all the ways that truly matter.”

Further A/N: With thanks to @agentjackdaniels for her astute observation a long time back about the similarity between mo chuisle and mesh'la!

A settle bed was a common piece of furniture in eighteenth and nineteenth-century Ireland. Essentially, it was a kind of high-backed bench with a deep base that could be pulled out to act as a spare bed. A sugán chair is a traditional Irish form of domestic chair with a woven straw seat and wooden frame.

[marclef]

What’s the relationship like between Peppino and Fake Pep? I wonder what its like to be friends with a literal clone of yourself…

hoo boy, it's a very interesting thing indeed! (and something i'm WAY too enthusiastic about sharing my ideas about hehehe 👀💧) especially when the clone of yourself is completely different from you in morals, tastes, actions, interactions..... just about the only thing that's similar is looks.

that's not to say that Peppino and his Fake don't get along though! it's gotten... better since Fake Peppino first showed up at Peppino's Pizza and then refused to ever leave. at least Fake Peppino has no desire to kill Peppino any more, he's a fellow Peppino and that would just be rude! not to mention how he regrets trying to kill him before... but it's all fine now!!

Fake treats Peppino with a decent amount of respect, part of it just because he considers Peppino a friend now, and part of it being how badly Peppino kicked his ass for things in the past. there's still an awful lot of things Fake Peppino does that makes most normal people uncomfortable... Peppino included. making inhuman noises, hiding in cramped spots just to jump out and spook you, eating things that definitely aren't meant to be eaten... Fake's fairly comfortable in his new home, and while Peppino feels a lot better about him, there's still times that it makes him feel a bit... anxious.

seeing something that once tried to kill you and still acts very off sometimes, acting as if you're a dear friend and snuggling up to you like a beloved family dog, that IS a little bit... uncomfortable, to say the least. but at least things could be worse... Fake could still be trying to kill Peppino like he was made to do.

there ARE a lot of things that Fake Peppino does though, in attempts to actually benefit Peppino. whether or not these are ACTUALLY good things is very debatable. clearing out any pest that make their way in is pretty nice at least, but then there's the more... questionable things that Fake does to try and help. for example, Fake doesn't tolerate any kind of rudeness towards Peppino or his restaurant. he still considers himself a Peppino in a sense, and sees the pizzeria as both Peppino's AND his own, so insulting either of those is the last thing you want to do.

do NOT ever behave in an unruly manner, or say rude things about Peppino in his pizzeria. you never know who might be listening...

... or that it might be the last mistake you ever make. be wary while making your way home after that... there might just be something that's tagged alongside you.

.... it IS a little worrying to Peppino that most rude customers never seem to show up again... but maybe they just stuck to their word and left? surely that's the explanation for it... Fake Peppino does look rather well-fed today though... but ah well... at least that's less angry customers to deal with?

but see, Fake Peppino DOES genuinely care for Peppino's well-being now! and Peppino, though still fairly wary, is at least thankful that he's not a threat to him. so while it's not exactly the most comfortable life, at least Fake doesn't cause Peppino any trouble... not that he knows much about.

but it WOULD help him feel a bit better, if Fake Peppino's instincts would stop acting up from time to time. there's only so many times that Fake's "kill and/or eat Peppino" brain instincts can kick in before it starts getting real uncomfortable. but at least he's not ACTUALLY trying to kill Peppino... it just tends to be that from time to time, Peppino might find himself getting licked or gently nibbled on. a wee bit unsettling when it's meant to be a clone of yourself doing that.... at least he's not really eating you??

so... uncomfortable at times, but could be worse! Fake Peppino can be fairly handy to have on hand too, a nice helper for cleaning and keeping watch! just.... don't worry about where some of the ruder customers have been going... i'm sure they're just fine.

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

Epic: The musical game - more in depth

Me and my new mutual @mariylle have been talking and came up with these ideas for an Epic: The Musical gameplay

Ok, so to start off, this isn't the dating sim version. That'll be further talked about down the line. My ideas are red, Mariylle's are purple

Troy Saga

So basically, my idea was us from our universe, being sent to Ody's to make sure they all actually get home safely. We grow up alongside Odysseus, Eurylochus, and Polites and signed up for war with them.

Some things in the game would be inevitable. Like even if the crew didn't open the bag, Poseidon would have found them and sent them away from home anyway. So, some things could come out better but some things, like any good tragedy, would have to happen regardless.

In regard to the Troy Saga, all events happening in that are inevitable. Including the Infant incident. Y/n knows Zeus made him do it and if y/n were to step in they'd just piss of Zeus and cause more problems later on.

Imagine talking to odyssues after he dropped that baby 😬😬

To be clear, Prophet y/n is a soldier too. (side idea: y/n could have had hurt their head badly and therefore our powers don't work all too well afterwards. Hence why we see certain events but not others. This could be a way of letting inevitable events happen)

2. Cyclops saga

Y/n would probably stop Polites and Ody from going into the cave by telling them it's a trap or tell them to just quickly get in the cave, get the sheep, and get out, NO TALKING!

But they can't kill the cyclops until they get out of the cave. Or at least stop Ody from doxing himself.

One funny option should be smacking the sh*t out of Ody before he says his name (just for gags). Fully animated and everything!

But the other options should be talking Ody out of it not killing Polyphemus to the BEST of your ability. You have to be mindful of whatever text option you choose ensures the safety of the crew AND you.

If we keep the "game 1" options, you have True Endings and Good endings depending on your text. The true ending leads to the next game but Good Endings mean, for that game, you get to go home.

And the worst part is you can't even explain WHY you just b*tch slapped the king. The game should hinder you from saying anything OR you could tell him that you "dreamed" of that cyclops being Poseidon's son and therefore Poseidon coming after he's told what happened. You could be an onboard prophet if you will.

(I imagine getting the entire crew's reaction after we just slap the hell out of him. All of em are just flabbergasted

I'm sure eury would slap you too, or even kill you for such disrespect but I'd love to see it! It'd be funny!)

I like to think we should be given a chance in each saga to stop a certain event from happening. If we don't manage to get a good ending (going home) the game will continue on to the next one which would be Ocean saga.

I forgot to add but Polites should be saved in this level/game

3. Ocean saga

If you make it to Ocean saga you should be determined to keep the bag CLOSED by any means necessary. If Odysseus manages to trust you enough, he'll give you the bag so he can sleep.

So, Prophet! Y/n would be the one staying up for nine days and then when we're tired Odysseus will take it.

I was also thinking, if we don't get Odysseus to trust us in time, he'll fall asleep, and we grab it to keep it safe.

I imagine Y/n getting fed up with the antics and is just like "LOOK YOU GREEDY MOTHER F*CKERS! I WAS NOT SENT HERE JUST SO YOU ALL CAN GET YOURSELVES KILLED. WE ARE GOING HOME AND SO HELP ME ZEUS IF YOU ALL KEEP TRYING TO GET THIS BAG OPEN, I WILL RESORT TO BRUTE FORCE!"

Yes, that would be a text option.

In other words, y/n is just like a tired dad dealing with idiot sons. If we don't choose the option to fend off the boys, the bag at some point will be opened by Eury.

When Eury opens the bag...there should be a full animation of our character either cussing him out in full tears, fighting him like, literally FIGHTING him, or slapping him across the face.

Another option would be to tell Odysseus that SOMEBODY (we won't tell its Eury, we'll pin the blame on another crew member) will open the bag and we'll keep it safe so he can sleep.

A funny gag would just be us fending off crew members while trying to keep the bag closed.

imagine y/n chasing him all over the boat back and forth lmao. And the crew, including Ody, are just starring in pure disbelief.

"YOU OPENED THE BAG! YOU JUST HAD TO DIDN'T YOU?!!"

Or another option would be to keep quiet take the blame for it opening (y'know, for Eury fans)

4. Circe saga

Now, you would try to warn the men as best you could to NOT eat the food. I think it would be really angsty if you can't tell them why and all you can respond with "Just- just DON'T! I have a bad feeling about this!" Or "Just because she's a woman doesn't mean she has our best interest at heart."

"Don't go in there, she'll turn you all into pigs. Let me talk to her and just explain that we mean no harm". And then you would talk to Circe about everything, Including the pig thing. I'm sure she would be shocked as to how we know this, but we can tell her we are a future-seer who was sent to this world to ensure this crew gets home safely. We were "sent by the gods to undo catastrophic events" if you will.

"So, please just give us non-pig transformation food and...can you help us get to the underworld?"

Keep in mind, you don't remember much about the prophet except Odysseus is supposed to see him. And you got hurt during the war, so your memory is still a bit off.

5. Underworld Saga

If we, prophet! y/n, make it to the underworld saga our character should feel a little distraught and hopeless. Because no matter what we did we still ended up there despite all our attempts not to. Insult to emotional injury is if we didn't save Polites and see his spirit.

6. Thunder saga

We still do not survive the thunder saga. But I also kinda like the idea of Zeus being like "Hmm. You're not supposed to be here. You can stay. I'd like to see what you'll do."

Yeah, what if Zues KNOWS why y/n is there but also knows that we failed to do our task, so keep us alive just to let us live with the fact that we didn't stop anything from happening no matter how hard we tried.

Miscellaneous ideas

Another cool idea I had would be Y/n being a god themselves but a small scale one. Our power/strength can only do so much, so our power maxes out quickly.

Hence why some events would happen, and others wouldn't. We would have dealt with the cyclops but too tired to stop Poseidon.

One life changing event per game. It's a limited recourse and you can't wear yourself out

IMAGINE ZEUS GAVE YOU THE POWER. Like he notices you've been dropped in and is like "hmmm. How can I mess with mortals today? APOLLO give this man the power to change destiny, even just the slightest."

But we would use all of our power to save the men in thunder saga. Imagine an epic battle between you and Zeus. Like, imagine he's about to zap everyone into dust but you catch the lightning and absorb it, then using it against him.

If you play your cards right, and not get hit so many times, you'll save the crew and yourself. But if you get hit a lot, you'll only be able to save the crew and not yourself.

But this sounds like a whole other game LOL but semi-prophet y/n in a dating sim would still be so fun. It's like "which route would you like to take"

Absolutely! It could be a cute cartoon style while dating one of the boys but turns into 3D fighting style sequences for the canon events.

Amazing. Star stunning. Nothing I love more than dating sims with a hidden element to them (horror or action)

I think the time between after the war and before leaving on the boat should be when we can start dating them. Because all of you are done with the ten-year war in troy and are about leave. I think some moments before "Open arms" should be moments where we talk to our lover as well.

-

Text is from other post:

A Tragic Tale Dating Sim

First off, Odysseus would be off the table (that man loves his wife). As well as Eurylochus because he's married to Ody's sister, Ctimene.

HOWEVER, they could be dateable, but you guys would have to be already married. You are married to Odyssues and platonically or romantically married to Penelope/ You are married to Eurylochus and platonically or romantically married to Ctimene.

(I don't think the sim would/should delve on whether you platonically or romantically married their wives. It should be up for interpretation by the player)

Some others would be Polites (of course), Perimides, and Elpenor just to name a few.

Seeing as Ody had 600 MEN in his crew, you’ll have to a male player for this sim, if that wasn’t obvious.

You guys could already be in an established relationship (either private or public. Though with Perimides' character it might be private) and are so gushy over each other it’s sickening. They are simps for you like how Ody is a simp for Penelope.

Idk, reblog with your ideas (And before anyone comments, yes, a dating sim would be pointless but Tragic tale dating sims aren't common and one in Epic style would be interesting...and sad)

And yes, like in the musical, you die with them. I'm not sure if you should die with the others if you chose the "Married to Odysseus option" but...wouldn't it be more angsty if ya did?

I female version could be where you play a nymph on Circe's Island. And from what I've read in this post with ideas from Mariylle.

So, I think the romance would be short lived I suppose? OR this could be a wlw situation with Circe or the other Nymphs.

But another version would be where you are a female sailor on Ody's ship and end up at Circe's island. I think it would be kind of difficult . for you to romance the ladies. I don't think female sailors were allowed back then either.

So, a storyline could be you were a nymph that was friends with Ody since childhood. And because of that (and probably your navigation/fighting skills) he let you on the ship because it's always been your dream to travel.

Then you come upon Circe's island, but you don't know what happened to the other men until Eurylochus comes along and spills the tea.

You attempt to convince Circe yourself to let the boys go/or distract the other nymphs so Ody can talk to Circe himself. A later option would be to stay with the Nymphs because Circe wants you to stay where you belong.

it's the first time you've come upon other nymphs (besides your mother of course) so of course you'd want to stay. And what if after you stay and "a few years pass" and Ody comes back to the Island...but only to tell you that your other childhood best friend Eury and the rest of the crew is dead. He just wants you to come back to Ithica for the funeral.

He conveniently leaves out how they died. You, the nymph, grew up with Ody so you know he's leaving something. You are given the option to ask but he will just deny it/reflect it.

And like... knowing your friends died it's not even like you really want to know right now anyway.

Yeah, being told they died is already a bit much. But on the bittersweet side, you get to meet Ody's son, Telemachus, because the last time you saw him was when he was a baby.

Ody's mom is dead too and she was like an aunt to you so...yeah, more trauma.

Your nympha mom is still up and running though, she is Ody's mothers age but physically only looks 40 or 50.

-

This is all we have so far let me know what ya'll think.

[fizzigigsimmer]

To B With Love: The One With The Honey Moon

I had a lot of fun learning about 19th century San Francisco and thought folks might like to see where Steve & Billy spend their bonding retreat.

If that interests you at all, more beneath the cut.

(Cow Hollow 1870)

Bordering the marina district on the bay, Cow Hollow is still a neighborhood that exists in the city today, and parts of it can be seen in The Princess Diaries, which is irrelevant but dear to me.

When the first settlers arrived with the gold rush it was called Spring Valley, known for the numerous freshwater springs that fed into the fertile lagoon, as well as for grassy meadows and sand hills inhabited by wildlife. All those grassy meadows were great for farming, and the area came to be known as Cow Hollow after its many immigrants took to lucrative dairy farming. The price of milk was high in the city at that time and a local farmer could easily support a family on dairy production.

Cow Hollow (Chinese vegetable farm 1883)

Its main thoroughfare, was until the early 20th century an unpaved road which linked the developing city with the Presidio. As San Francisco rapidly expanded the area prospered and became a fashionable district for Prominent San Franciscans. They came and built their fancy houses and shops and businesses followed them. From about the 1860s to the late 1870s there were your standard gentrification tensions between the farmers and the fashionable set, which ended when the city banned cows in the area in the 1880s, effectively ending farming in the area for good.

Cow Hollow (The Attorney General's private estate ensconced by trees)

Perhaps in defiance people continued to call it Cow Hollow, and good on them for that.

This neighborhood makes a lot of sense to me as a place Steve's cousin would have picked to hide him, as it is "comfortable", but not as congested as the city proper as well as close to the bay if a quick retreat is needed by boat.

*Bonus view of the Golden Gate strait from the Crissy field shoreline 1870

The same view in 2015

The house Billy & Steve stay in is described as an octagon shaped cottage, with a cross gabled roof and wrap around porch. Octagon shaped houses were a hot fad for "forward thinking individuals" in the 19th century that started with this doctor who published a bunch of papers, detailing his research into the human body and how the enlightened individual could use their environment to live their best life. Apparently, the flow and function of the octagon shape was superior in his book. Anyway, thanks to him and the trend setters we now have a nice collection of historical houses with this quirky, not all that functional shape. There's a full list online but I'll just include a few that were built around the 1860s

(McElroy House - San Francisco)

(New Jersey: super cute but I can imagine the tiny, weirdly cornered rooms just by looking at it)

(San Francisco: some modern updates obviously but I love the roof work)

(Not sure where these are)

And the one I used a direct reference for Steve & Billy's little retreat.

I love the gables, the porch, just everything. I can picture it on a hill with a view down to the bay, and I loved the idea of them being able to just follow a road to the sea.

That was the first image that came to my mind when I was outlining - the boys hand in hand on their way to the beach. Disheveled, not quite 'done up' all the way but no one to see them if they did. Just being young and starry eyed for each other. Frankly they deserve it after all I put them through lol.

[danganronpa-shipping-galore]

✨Danganronpa "As a Ship" New & Improved Edition #6 ✨

(WARNING: This post discusses the topic of drugging at some point, which may be disturbing or triggering for some readers. Proceed with caution.)

Canon Fueled Facts:

They don't interact at all in canon.

Bonus material:

In UTDP, Teruteru compliments Hifumi's 2D erotic work saying it would be exciting to read, and brings him easy-to-digest foods for pulling all nighters. Hifumi asks in shock if Teruteru is his wife, prompting Teruteru to question if Hifumi is not interested in boys' love and expressing his surprise. Hifumi becomes horrified, asking why Teruteru would think that about him, but then enjoys the food prepared for him.

In DRS, their first interaction sees Hifumi having a discussion with Teruteru about manga and how cooking and food can play a part in some and how he could lend him some of his favorites including erotic works, which piques Teruteru's curiousity. Teruteru says he would gladly lend a hand and accept the position of eroticism supervisor, but Hifumi says that it's *his* role.

Their second interaction is during Hifumi's swimsuit event when Teruteru is in wonder of the sight of Hifumi's Princess Piggles swimming trunks. At first Hifumi mistakes it for Teruteru being in wonder of his body, saying that not even the great connoisseur of eros can withstand the appeal of his body. Teruteru says that his body is nothing new but his swimming trunks is a work of art. Hifumi compliments Teruteru's taste, proudly shows it off saying that it's one of a kind and of his own creation. When Celeste comes by and Teruteru goes along with her name-calling, Hifumi acts in disgust. When Teruteru says he thought Hifumi would have his back, Hifumi says that two dimensions is where he draws the line. When they are off to get things for Celeste, Teruteru remarks that he and Celeste have a strange relationship, giving him a cookie (due to Teruteru's FTE and other events in bonus modes, it's possible that the cookie contains some kind of drug in it.) When Hifumi explains it, Teruteru gets out of his answer that he seems to be getting something from it, Hifumi laments that putting it that way makes him feel flustered and uncomfortable. Teruteru says delightfully that he's never heard him talk about anyone that way before.

Headcanons:

Teruteru always makes sure that Hifumi is well-fed, and recoils when he finds out all the "low quality slop" he usually eats

Not many people respect Hifumi for what he does, but Teruteru is one of the few people who does. He even helps him out with ideas for his upcoming work and watches his favorite anime with him.

They are not afraid to read erotic material together that Hifumi worked on.

Teruteru acts like he is outgoing and charming, but deep down he is an awkward dorky person just like Hifumi, making their love life awkward and dorky.

They are the only people who truly understand one another.

Beneficial Similarities:

Their passion for erotic subjects could also easily translate into any possible relationship they could have.

They are both creative and driven in their own rights.

Complementary strengths:

Teruteru could get Hifumi out of his shell and explore more possibilities. To encourage Hifumi to do so, he often uses good food/beverages as bait.

Hifumi could further introduce Teruteru to the world of fictional creativity and encourage him to see the world from a more intuitive lens.

Main Struggles:

They are both faint hearted when confronted with stressful situations, so it would likely be hard initially for them to commit to their true feelings and a relationship.

Teruteru's flirting with many people could bother Hifumi, which could also cause problems to fully commit to a relationship.

It's strongly implied that Teruteru sometimes puts drugs in his food to get people feeling *really* good, which is a very unsafe thing to do and not suitable for any kind of healthy relationship. *IMPORTANT NOTE:* The only way for these two to have any sort of healthy romantic relationship (this applies to anyone being paired with Teruteru), is if Teruteru is portrayed in an AU setting where he does not act on his sexual advances without consent, or if he gets serious help and realizes the severity of his inappropriate behavior.

Expressing their love:

Their way of flirting would likely be referencing characters or objects (mostly food), and making innuendos.

Hifumi would express his love in creative ways. Such as writing poetry, making him a character and/or love interest in his works, or thinking up a story *for* him.

Teruteru would always provide Hifumi with what he wants or needs.

Tropes:

Friends to Lovers

The Underdogs

[honoviadakai]

Foods I think Team Urameshi enjoys 🍜 😋

This post is kinda inspired by/a continuation of this post I made about Hiei so please enjoy my thoughts on the rest of the team’s taste in food!

Yusuke:

If the live action did nothing else, it definitely established that Yusuke’s a ramen guy 😂

He likes both the instant stuff and the traditional kind but the latter is his go to if he can afford it

The instant ones are good but they doo remind him of his childhood when either his mom didn’t have enough money to feed him properly or she was too intoxicated to feed him properly

He also really likes American food

If you get him a good burger, some fries and some soda, he’s your friend for life

He LOVES a good cheesy pizza! The greasier and cheesier the better

Honestly he just LOVES heavy, greasy, heart food

It makes him feel full and weirdly energized

He could eat an entire family bucket of fried chicken by himself, sides and all, and feel pumped up for a good workout 🏋️‍♂️

He also loves spicy food

His spice tolerance is average but he genuinely likes the burn 🔥

If he sees a spicy challenge, he’s gonna do it just to see how far he can go

He’s currently at a level 7 out of 10 on the 🌶️ meter

He’s also very open to exploring weird food combinations and food from other cultures

This includes food from the demon world

He actually kinda likes food from demon world, he just feels like it could use some more spices

Catch him trying Nutella and bologna because Chu swears that the last time he went to the human world he tried it and it was delicious

…he actually tried it…and he liked it…

9 times out of 10 he’s gonna try and actually like the cursed foods you recommend to him

Kuwabara:

He’s a big sandwich connoisseur 🥪 🧐

He just likes how customizable and portable they are

Honestly he likes meals that are not only balanced, but a comfort to the soul

So things like stews, ramen, soba, curry and pasta dishes

One of his personal favorites things to both eat and make are bento boxes 🍱

He loves making them for his friends and family for a number of reasons

For one, it’s his way of making sure his loved ones are eating enough

Some of his friends come from low income households that don’t always have enough money for food

He made sure that whenever they hung out, they were always well fed

He also learned how to make bentos from his mom and sister

He really enjoyed the cooking lessons and he enjoys the warm fuzzy feelings he gets when he feeds his loved ones

The one food he won’t make or consume is anything spicy

He can’t handle spicy food and doesn’t feel confident enough to properly make a spicy dish

Honestly he can’t eat anything spicier than a jalapeño

But he will try to beat Yusuke and Hiei in spice challenges

…my boy never wins and I don’t know why he thinks he will at this point 😂

Kurama:

Like seemingly everything else about this guy, his palate is very refined

He likes expensive things like lobster, caviar, and liver tartare

Part of why he likes it is Yoko has expensive taste and old habits die hard 😂

In Yoko’s correct opinion, if you’re gonna feed him, you might as well break out the good stuff

The other reason is that a lot of these foods have very strong flavors and he enjoys that every now and then

That by no means mean he hates “Lowe quality” foods

He use to eat McDonald’s as a kid

He liked it

Still eats it from time to time

Not as often as Yusuke does, but like…if friends invite him out for a burger, he’ll eat it

Big enjoyer of fruit, grows it himself actually!

The fresher the better 😌👌

He loves ice cream! 🍨 specially strawberry, vanilla and most fruity sorbets

He actually has a bit of a sweet tooth tbh

Thank his mom for that cuz she’d give her baby boy sweets if he looked at her with his big puppy eyes

Mf didn’t even have to say a word

She’d either buy them or make them for him

Even into his adulthood, he can demolish a tray of cookies and macaroons on his own

The difference is that as a child he didn’t care about his weight or how much sugar he’s eating

As an adult, he absolutely cares because he wants to stay in shape and also his body is technically human so he doesn’t wanna deal with diabetes if he can avoid it

Now he also technically grew up with demon world food when he was Yoko

Demon world food is whatever you can find that’s edible

So usually it’s other demons and edible plants/produce

Some of which does that pretty good

But a lot of it is more for survival than taste

He’s absolutely had to eat a bug demon before and not only did it look gross, it tasted gross!

But it was either that or starve…

And believe me…he did debate it…but food doesn’t always just die for you so…🐛🐛🐛

Boy was he grateful that humans in Japan eat some of the best food he’s ever seen

Human food has also made Kurama appreciate the artistry that can go into food

When he sees the chef went out of their way to make the food look like a literal work of art, he’s always so amazed!

He actually has a hard time eating something if it looks super pretty

Expect him to take a few pictures before he eats btw 🤣

He also has an shockingly high spice tolerance

He can eat authentic Thai food without sweating

But certain peppers will automatically have him on his knees

He can and has grown his own peppers to see if he can make spicier peppers than what’s available

He has, but internet trends make people competitive enough to dethrone him by next week 🤣

Hiei:

Oh this guy ain’t picky

Honestly he’ll eat burnt food if he’s hungry enough

He can also eat 10xs his own body weight

Want proof?

Togashi himself knows this little gremlin is a bottomless pit of angst and hangry

He could easily eat you and 12 of your friends out of house and home and still have the audacity to wonder why ya’ll stressed 🙄

Hello grew up in an environment where food was not guaranteed every day so any food he got, he wasn’t wasting a crumb

Even if he’d been given a giant demon bug leg, best believe he’s eating it

Waste not want not as they say

The only food he’s very sus about is mushrooms 🍄

Especially when talking about demon world mushrooms, a lot of them are very hard to identify wether they’re poisonous or so he tends to avoid them

Unless Kurama is there to tell him it’s poisonous or not

He’ll never admit it out loud but he LOVES human food so much!

It’s so flavorful!

His favorite dishes are meaty rice and noodle dishes

Honestly any dishes with meat are an instant hit with him 🍖

But his all time favorite dishes are the spicy ones

The spicier the better 🌶️🌶️🌶️

His spice tolerance is otherworldly

I’m 99.99% sure he could eat lava and not react

To this day, Yusuke and Kurama are trying to find a dish or pepper spicy enough to make Hiei sweat

They so far have not been successful 😔

Honestly not sure they will succeed any time soon

Mf pops Carolina reapers into his mouth like popcorn 🍿 🌶️

[slashers-sister]

What if you just kidnapped adopted an animal?

How would your brothers react?

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE AS YOUR FAMILY LETS GOOOOOO

(I FORGOT, MARTHA IS THE CHICKEN 👆)

(Don't worry, I'll write more later, I'm just lazy and it takes a while for things to flow, you can request stuff if you want👍)

Note:

No animal death! Roadkill mentioned, but not actual descriptions of animals dying of your wondering!

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Drayton

(Raccoon/trash panda)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Goodness. You are practically begging your older brother day and night. He's getting annoyed. The twins used to do the same thing. Quit givin' him flashbacks of the twins annoying the hell out of him!!

"Sister, Darlin', the only ray of sunshine on this god forsaken farm. Please. We are not getting a dog."

"I don' want a dog! Brother please he's right-"

"For fucks sake I said no!"

"...right outside."

"What?"

Then you showed your lovely little friend. 'Bark'. He was caught in a trap, and had been cowering in fear. All the loud noises scared the poor raccoon kit. Man you definitely scared the crap out of bark at first!..

N' till you fed it. Then he disregarded everything, you where so sweet!

"Kiddo. Please explain how you.. no, don't. I don't even wanna know. Please understand we CAN'T keep it. So don't name-"

"His name is bark."

~Long pause of silence.~

"...yer gonna whine and cry till I say we can keep it, aren't ya?"

"He likes blueberries."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Well, unannounced to you, that's no longer just your raccoon. He grows fond of it. It'll help him collect eggs out of the chicken coop.. it's definitely quite a nice cooking buddy.

Drayton even made him a little hat for Halloween, Drayton had to sew up everyone's clothes every once in a while. You of course helped make the little tie.

Yes, that's right. A little red tie.. and tiny chef hat.

Drayton made sure that little chef hat fit perfectly.

He had help around the kitchen, surprisingly Bark was quite a helpful boy. He would understand the difference between words. Sadly often getting sugar and salt confused, there both white, give him a break.

He doesn't mind Martha, including even stealing an egg for her to try and hatch. And even went outside to steal some berries for her.

Bark was a bit of a thief, sometimes you'd get little presents.. Nubbins knife.. Maybe one of Chop-Top's CDs.. Drayton's favorite ladle.. definitely has stolen knives and other sharp objects for you to use.

Bark was treated like a little prince, being snuck little food scraps.. either from you or Drayton. And it sure didn't mind eating human, heck. When you got a bit older, he screeched when someone got inside the house.. 'How dare they get inside the house!! Who the fuck are you! FUCKING OUT YOU- oh hi Chop-Top!!' kind of attitude.

Have you thought about putting him in a show about raccoon cooking? Yes.

Was it made up by you?

Yes.

Will you admit that? Probably not.

Of course, you see Bark as not only your best friend, but your pet.. you both get in trouble equally.

Bark was definitely part of the family now, the most protected 'coon in all of Texas.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Chop-Top & Nubbins

(Coyote.. except there's 4.)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Well. Their plans where definitely.. cut short? No ruined in all honesty. You where outside at 2 am, feeding your new friends. Your new dogs.

..You mistook them as dogs.

Or maybe you refused to think they where anything else.. I mean they where so friendly!

You named them already. Josie, Cutler, Terry, and Michael. You know Josie has a cut in her ear, and Cutler had strawberry blonde fur, and white paws. Terry was the definition of midnight. You could only see his eyes. And Michael was named Michael because of those.. black beady eyes. How cute.

..Who would've guessed they eat human. Scavengers to the fullest.

Meanwhile, Chop-Top and Nubbins where planning to sneak out, probably to go mess some shit up, and make someone's day tomorrow horrible. By accident they caught you taking care of your four.. dogs. Oops?

"W-what the ff-uck are you doing up at t-two am?!" Nubbins said, half-yelling half-whispering.

"Uh.. well.. uhm.." you said quietly. the coyotes began growling. They haven't met the twins or any of your family yet.

Chop-Top immediately tried to get to you, thinking the coyotes where growling at you. Cutler snapped at him.

Chop-Top grabbed the coyote by the scruff of its neck.. you calmed down Josie, Terry, and Michael. And immediately grabbed Cutler out of Chop-Top's hands!

"The hell?! It was growlin' at you! What the fuck are ya doin'?" Chop-Top said.. man if the commotion didn't wake up Drayton, the yelling would.

"Cutler wasn't growling at me! They're not used to you guys.. this is why I feed em' in the mornin'..

"Y-.. you w-what. How l-l-long have ya been d-doin' this?!"

Nubbins was extremely confused, wouldn't they have realized this by now? They're pretty damn smart.. then again they did eat tide pods as a kid so.

"Well, Terry was first, than Cutler, then Michael, than Josie, and I think-"

"Ya fuckin' named em?" Chop-Top said, almost confused. There where 4, how could you remember all of them? "A-and how long have you b-been f-f-feeding them?!" Nubbins said after a second..

'Jeez, gimme time to answer'.. ya thought.

After a moment of calming down the coyotes, you said, "Well.. It's been a few months.. and I did name them. ~You explained how you told them apart.~ and I feed them because they gimme little things!"

You showed the twins your other bracelet. You had two, one you and your family shared, the teeth bracelet Nubbins made everyone, and your other one, it was old, and had little feathers, beads, some string, and a few other things on it.

"Ya realize Drayton is gonna have your ass- ~Nubbins elbowed him really hard, they are trying to curse less, plus having a baby sister made them all sort of realize they need to have a less "fuck around and find out" attitude.. you where their only sister.~ I mean.. your gonna get in trouble when Drayton finds out."

"If he finds out."

Yep, definitely their sister.

"What? What do you mean 'if'?"

"If. If he finds out."

The twins kind of stare at ya. Wow. You take after them a scary amount.. That's a bad thing. At least for Drayton.

Immediately you pull them over to the spot under your window, which is where your coyotes decides to mostly hide off too.. you had put a bunch of brush in the way to hide them. You kept showing them your coyotes.. Josie really liked Chop-Top! And Michael really liked Nubbins! Of course Terry and Cutler were not as happy that the twins are well. Your brothers.

But they still didn't bite them. The twins shared all the times they captured animals.. and tried to keep them as pets. Surprisingly only 2 out of the 9 died of starvation. Drayton had made them take the animals back out.. but the twins were going to keep these coyotes.

If that includes getting hit with a broom, or depending potentially shot, so fucking be it. Granted they won't get shot, Drayton loves them even if he hates them at the same time. But your partly the unspoken favorite like Bubba.

In the morning, well. Shit. Shit indeed. Drayton was pissed. Obviously.

Too bad, ya are keepin' the coyotes.

And he of course asks how you'll feed them..

You take them to the barn you are pulling your older brother along sort of forcefully, to show that they'll follow you anywhere.. and come out with an arm, and fucking YEET that shit across the yard.

(Excuse my 2018 language)

And everycoyote went after it! Josie needed some assurance that yes, you can go get it, but they did! And man! Did they tear that arm up. They where scavengers, they were hungry. And they brought you back the simi-clean bone.

Bubba was honestly giddy about the whole situation, signing "They are just like dogs"

You got to go to town that day! The coyotes stayed in the bed of the truck, and sat peacefully. You got them all collars.. and food bowls.

The twins got to help pick out the tags for them! You picked out a star for Terry, a heart for Michael, and the twins picked a flower shape for Cutler, and a plain circle for Josie. Cutler got a dark blue color, Josie got a pink color, Michael got red, and Terry got green.

It was a nice day. And an even nicer day when you got back to the farm, to show you can practically sick your little puppers on victims.

Nubbins favorite picture is still you, his twin, Drayton, Bubba, and the puppers over a freshly dead body, laughing as the coyotes destroy the victims face.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bubba

(He signs, I just make it dramatic)

(Snake)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You'd think he had a heart attack when you came in with your snake.

No no, it's not that's it is a snake.

The problem is that it's a cottonmouth.

Wrapped around your throat.

After a moment you heard thundering steps you guessed it was either a REALLY pissed off Drayton', or one happy Bubba. Ya hoped it was the second one. He ran up to you signing quickly. Almost too quick to understand.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to pull it off?! Why do you even have it?!"

You couldn't make out the 17 other questions.

"No, no, Snappy isn't choking me, he's actually quite sweet!"

Spoiler, you've taken care of this snake for 3 or 4 weeks. Naming him included. You thought Snappy was a good name because of how he would snap at you when he first saw you.

"You named it? Why? Why is it wrapped around your throat?"

"Because he got tired, and I move a lot faster than him. Plus I wanted to get him some water."

"What"

His confusion is obviously known, and a bit funny. You explained you found Snappy trapped and almost being eaten by a few owls. Those owls became lovely stuffing for pillows, and now you have a cottonmouth that won't leave you alone.

Bubba did not trust this snake whatsoever. What if it hurts you? It's a snake. He literally had to throw them across the yard like a bad Frisbee.

Snappy liked him tho! Throughout the day Bubba tried to stand near and close to you. Snappy kept thinking that was an invitation to keep trying to crawl on his shoulder.

Haha. No.

He was holding himself from throwing it. Technically everyone was. Especially Chop-Top. Man he hated snakes. Especially after time in Vietnam.

Drayton said it wasn't allowed on the floor, near any food, and nowhere near Grandpa. And especially not anywhere it can cause trouble!

Nubbins was indifferent. It's. A snake. Yippers.

Get it far away from him this instant.

Chop-Top was 🤏 close to finding a new creative way to plan a snakes murder.

Grandpa used to have to deal with snakes all the time, he ain't excited. As long as you're happy tho.

Throughout the next few days it kept slithering towards Bubba. Snappy really likes Bubba in general.

You are so lucky he's your brother. He would've killed it by now if not. Snappy and Bubba got along better after a while.. Snappy was a nice company while chopping up bodies.

It's not like you had too many people to scare with your new snake. Snappy really likes human tho. You had a few bites on your arms, not deep, but the poor boy accidentally did bite a bit hard. Ya should've fed him breakfast!!

Bubba wasn't always within your vision.. none of your brothers were. You often fend for yourself, it ain't too hard, if ya need food ya just go inside and take whatever is in the fridge.

So having a friend was nice, And Snappy loves you, otherwise he would've bitten you and your brothers in their sleep.

That would be a lovely lecture in hell as you get bitched out by Drayton for letting Snappy bite everyone >:(

So you may or may not have gotten him a cage- well sort of. Kennel. One of the old ones in the house when you guys used to have a dog.

Snappy acted like a dog, tail wagging included.

(more like half of his lower body?)

Your brothers were a little worried that your lack of human interaction was taking a toll on you, you already talked to yourself a lot.. and sometimes accidentally answered yourself! And now they can't tell if you're talking to Snappy, or yourself.

Drayton and Bubba, heck even the twins surprisingly were able to teach you some things,

Usually you'd rather run around and help around the farm, not learn. Cannibal children are feral, ya can't do much to keep them contained.

They are lucky they scared you enough to wear shoes! You didn't want to step on a scorpion.

With the few things they taught you, you made many hats for your snake. Snappy wore each one with pride.

Your favorite is the little plushy knife Bubba helped you make for Snappy. Snappy indeed loves it too!

Everyone slowly warmed up to Snappy. Including Bubba. Who now carried him around like a little ball of spaghetti.

He secretly fed him scraps off of the butchering table.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bonus:

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Grandpa

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Nope, get it out of the house.

No butts, get that ------ out of the house now.

Don't make him get your older brothers.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The END WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

TOOK ME TOO LONG TO WRITE THIS

Am I proud of it? Yep

Am I sad I lost all my ideas for Drayton? Yes.

Thank you for reading regardless! <3

[sharonisthebettercarter]

I mean, Billy Butcher has been deflecting, especially in season 3. It's a cruel irony because Billy faced violence and abuse since childhood, but it didn't make him more protective of other children nor empathetic of SOME supes, I suppose in some ways he's detached from them, sorta like turdlander, that exposure to violence and malice so early in life... a disturbance to his mind. Sure he shows small tingue of guilt more than creeplander does, but I think there's just too much at stake for billy to risk attachment.. and what has attachment brought him anyway?

he's actually a pretty common statistic for the society we live in. capitalism is... fucking awful~<3

he's ableist racist trash, of course he's not gonna give a shit as long as he chooses to remain ignorant, arrogant, and blame the supers for their blood instead of the fucking entity that made them.

the whole time if people haven't fucking noticed:

for billy it's been, "homelander, homelander, some random supe killing~, but oh homelander~<3!"

BUT FOR EVERYONE ELSE IN THE BOYS, IT'S BEEN:

"VOUGHT. LET'S TAKE DOWN VOUGHT."

it is BILLY that veers them towards the reckless killing and hyperfocuses the operations on homelander. and it shows, exponentially how much of an addiction and obsession (to the detriment of everyone else) he has in season 3, where he's fed up with 'managing' the right way and having to listen to hughie when it comes to holding supes accountable.

people seem to keep forgetting that scene with raynor but she said it perfectly, "you should be terrified of what can happen if you push him too far." but billy does not care *because* he doesn't care about anyone else, he just keeps pushing.

people keep acting like 'homelander must be stopped' and i'm like... 'okay, do you mean the FUTURE version of him that goes berserk???' cause all i see right now is someone who is at the verge and needs *serious help* as well as a self fulfilling fuckin' prophecy being pushed by those around him, *especially* billy.

he is a ticking time bomb, but he hasn't gone off yet. and the fact that people want to fight that with more explosives to 'destroy' the bomb thinking there won't be collateral *instead* of fucking diffusing it i--

homelander more often gets judged for what he *can* do rather than what he *has* done, and that's not to minimize what he has done, that's to say that he's still in a place where he *could* get treatment and maybe get better but most people... do not give a shit because of what he *could* do in the long run, and in all honesty, kinda not really all that fair?

and then the second hughie finds out about neuman? he panics and pins her as a bad guy *because* she is 'the head popper'/a supe

i want to take a second to point out that while i don't think her intentions are necessarily 'good' and that she's getting desperate, we still have no clue as to what the full scope of her own plans actually are.

and watching back the scene where she 'blows up congress', i noticed something, she seemed scared. almost like she was having a panic attack or flashback or some kind of ptsd episode after seeing vogelbaum, which i just would not be surprised had that been the case. but she *looks* like she *lost control* for a moment and then picked it back up after the fact. and homelander points it out, 'you're not his daughter, you're his weapon' and he's right.

i would wager (what am i sayin', pretty fuckin' sure here) that some if not most of her kills (including raynor) were for the most part on orders for stan edgar's plan *before* homelander hijacked the situation. but to put it bluntly, vicky is also stuck in the vought cult and also a major victim of circumstance. she's a brutal assassin too, but that is exactly what the supes are trained to be. because they are vought's new marketed weapons and they are seen as exactly that by the company itself.

stan lied when he claimed they were a pharmaceutical company. they are a weapon's company.

but going back to billy,

as far as guilt goes, of course homelander isn't gonna show any, he has no understanding of what he would even feel guilty for

"Evil is knowing better, but willingly doing worse."

finally took the time to look up that quote and it's by philip zimbardo.

if we go by this (which i am a firm believer in) and make this our standard for evil in its *purest* form. many characters in the story do this and are capable of it to some degree, and plenty are also not. but~

none moreso than billy.

AND

with exception to homelander.

this means that within context, homelander is the only character that is truly *incapable* of committing *true evil* because he has *no understanding of the moral question*. it's sort of a defaulted thing, but think of it like judging a hippo, a highly aggressive and territorial animal, for killing a person that wandered into it's territory. the hippo is responding within reasonable *nature*, so it hasn't technically committed evil, even if it's caused harm.

it's a fucking hippo, the humans wandered into its territory, it's just gonna do how hippos do! WE are the ones in the wrong here if we refuse to understand that!

likewise, an actually more apt comparison for homelander would be an abused zoo or circus animal, plainly because *he has never once been treated as a human being or been presented with the moral question* and quite the contrary, i actually think vought made an effort to ensure he *didn't* understand these things in any sound capacity to ensure they could maintain control of him, or rather, they deliberately screwed up his ability to analyze things and think critically *as a human being/from a human perspective* because it would be inconvenient for them (also honestly, i feel like if someone took him to a zoo, he'd go berserk and release all the animals--)

and we see this in different instances. of course there are moments where the boi is super mean spirited or bullying someone, but it's not just because he can or wants to, it's because *that's what was done to him and he knows no different*, he lived through nothing but cruelty so that is all he knows and it's his *normal*. couple that with being brought up to believe the beings around him are somehow 'lesser' or that he is 'not one of them' and it causes a whole mess of problems...

billy is the exact opposite of this. he is *fully aware* of the moral question, *fully aware* of what he is capable of and what he does and how it affects other people. *fully aware* of cruelty AND kindness, has experienced both and even given both. hell, he's even fully aware of how to emotionally manipulate people *with* his own emotions and situation and any *guilt* he feels. and i've said it before, and i'll say it again.

HE KNOWS BETTER. he just CHOOSES to do worse. and he even knows *that*. billy is evil and chooses to be while homelander has never had that chance to learn that there's even a difference.

and then billy goes and makes it worse because he also *weaponizes* what he's learned and what he's been through. so you're definitely right about that last bit.

there is too much at stake for him to risk attachment, that's why he also *detaches* himself from people (like ryan) or stabs them in the back to pursue what will inevitably eventually destroy him and everyone else.

if i'm completely honest? i think the self awareness in how evil billy is ends up being part of his game. there is a huge part of him that pushes because he *wants* to lose, the part of him that's *not* evil, feels guilt, and *wants* to stop himself but can't. and that would be the point he turns to outside sources to fulfill that need and self punishment

i think part of why he pursues homelander isn't because *he* wants to stop or destroy homelander, but because he believes homelander may be the only thing that can stop and destroy *him*.