#anyway. i'm super bad at actually writing angst. or anything too serious.

[moe-broey]

Me whenever I have to write Lif: I am going to write a guy who is sooooo out of character that he's essentially a new guy now. Sorry. Anyway I think he's infinitely funnier now and I literally have no idea how the fuck to work with "There is no future for us..... the dead....." bc babygirl I don't know if you know this but. You may be dead, but you are very much still here. Everyday you are here day after day experiencing emotions, my guy. You might as well be alive, dorkass.

[winchesterandpie]

Try Again

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 2534

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, for which I will not apologize. A little bit of angst, but a happy ending. Bradley is perhaps overly forgiving, but we'll allow it.

A/N: I'm not entirely sure where this came from. As a quick summary, you were in your grad school program and the danger of Bradley's job was just too much on top of everything else. Then you see him again a few years after finishing your program when he gets called back to Top Gun. Actually, it's probably my own nerves about my grad school that drove this, but it's fine.

Anyways, my first week of being a PhD student has gone well!! I've been super busy, so I'm trying to write around everything going on. I'm definitely slowing down from this summer (not from a lack of ideas) and I feel a little bad. I'll do what I can to write some more this weekend. Hope you guys are doing well!! Thank you for all the love on my fics--you guys are what keep me posting! You all allow my self-indulgence in fics, and I really appreciate it!

You were sitting at the bar when you heard the piano start. Even before you looked at the pianist, you had a guess who it would be so you took a sip of your drink. Looking just confirmed your suspicions. 

Seeing Bradley Bradshaw again knocked the breath out of you. It reminded you of the last time you had seen him.

“Bradley, I… I can’t do this right now.” You hated having to say this to him, especially when he’d just gotten home from an assignment.

“Can’t do what?” Despite his confusion, he was still grinning at you as you walked down the beach. When he saw how serious you looked, however, the smile faded. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen with your experiment?”

You were a little taken aback that he was so on top of your dissertation work even though he had so much going on in his own assignment. “Not exactly… Which is part of the problem.”

“What can I do?” He turned to you immediately, his hands squeezing your upper arms reassuringly.

“That’s the other part of the problem.” You dropped his gaze, unable to handle the concern in his eyes. “I messed up. There was a part of the procedure last week and I was distracted. I didn’t do it right, so now we have to start over.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was distracted because of you. You know my anxiety has been really bad lately and…” you hesitated, fiddling with your fingers, “and it’s not your fault at all, and you’ve been amazing, I just… I can’t. It’s not fair to you if I keep holding on.”

He said your name and the hurt in his voice broke your heart. “We can get through this. Please just let me try.”

“I want to, baby, I just keep getting too worried when you’re gone and I can’t be distracted with my comps exams coming up and then the pressure only goes up from there with my research.” You looked up at him then, hating how his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Worse still was the understanding that was there too. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Bradley tugged you into a hug then. You couldn’t stop apologizing, even as his arms wrapped around you. His cheek rested on the top of your head, and you tried not to cry. “I know, honey, I know. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Bradley.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he assured you, giving you a tight squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And then he had let you go. Bradley kissed your forehead one last time and he let you go. You had never done anything so hard as walking away from him when every fiber of your being begged you to turn back. But you couldn’t.

The pain of walking away from the only person you had ever loved hadn’t really gone away, even now. Seeing him just brought it all back.

You may have broken things off to avoid distraction, but still it lingered the whole time. Quietly, you regretted not sticking it out with him. Now, though, you had no right to Bradley or his feelings, so you finished your drink and asked Penny to settle your tab.

Maybe a small, rebellious part of you that wanted to see him again made you walk slowly, kicking at the sand. If that was the case, it won. You were maybe halfway to your car when you heard familiar footsteps.

“Hey.” The call was quiet, but you could have picked that voice out of the noisiest crowd.

“Hi,” you replied as you stopped and turned to him.

“It’s good to see you again,” he offered.

“You too.” You meant it, however painful. “You look good, Bradley.” He did. If anything, he’d only grown more handsome since you had seen him last, but something in his gaze was wrong.

“Thanks.” He smiled softly at you. Unlike the last time you were on the receiving end of one of his smiles, it cracked your heart further. “You finished your program?”

“Yeah, a couple of years ago.”

“That’s awesome, congratulations!” You saw the way he had to stop himself from reaching for you as his grin flashed brighter but dismissed it as wishful thinking. 

“Thanks.” You grinned in return before silence lapsed between the two of you. You weren’t used to silence with Bradley being so awkward, so you tried to keep the conversation alive. “So what brings you to North Island?”

“They’ve called me and a handful of others back to Top Gun. They haven’t told us much of anything.”

That didn’t sound good. You reminded yourself that you had no right to worry about him anymore and said instead, “Well, at least they’re smart enough to see you’re the best of the best.”

He chuckled as you huffed a laugh. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as claiming to be the best.”

“Come on, you’ve always been good at what you do. They’d better recognize how lucky they are to have you,” you told him. There was too much truth in the words, not just about his newest assignment, and you knew it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying more, biting back the urge to apologize. Instead, you forced yourself to breathe. “So how long are you in town for?”

“One of the details they haven’t told us,” he said, watching you in a way that suggested he knew what was behind your words.

“Price of the Navy, huh?”

“Something like that.” He turned to walk further down the beach and you followed. “So how have you been?” 

You could tell he was probing gently, but you allowed it. “I’ve been okay.” I’ve missed you. “I took a job over here not long ago and it’s been busy.” I’ve been trying to keep my mind off you. “I think I’m getting my feet under me, though.” Means more time I can’t help but think of you.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” You wondered if he heard what you couldn’t say. You wondered how he might reply.

“How about you?”

Bradley didn’t answer right away, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between you. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“About what?” you prompted when he didn’t continue.

“About us.”

You turned to look at him only to find him already looking at you. You tried desperately to quell the flutter of hope in your heart. It was, after all, entirely possible that he was thinking about it because he was angry. The insistent voice in your head whispered that Bradley being angry at you was inconsistent with everything you knew about him and how you split. It whispered that maybe, just maybe, he still loved you like you still loved him.

You opened your mouth to speak but no sound escaped you. The part of you that didn’t want to allow the hope quieted the sound. You bit the inside of your cheek again.

“Is this okay?” he asked, reaching toward your face. 

When you nodded, he cupped your cheek carefully. Without even realizing it, your jaw unclenched, relaxing into the touch that had always meant safety.

“How are you really?” he repeated his question from earlier.

You answered honestly this time, still afraid that you were reading everything wrong, but you trusted him to catch you. “I’ve missed you. Never quite stopped thinking about you.”

“Me neither.” He did catch you. As he always had. “Can we do this? Try again?”

“You mean can I do this?” you asked wryly, shaking your head at yourself.

“Well, sort of,” he huffed a laugh that you joined good-naturedly. “I didn’t want to put it quite like that.”

“It’s a fair question.” You were the one to start walking this time. “I’ve got the anxiety under a lot better control now, so I think so. I mean, I know I’d still worry when you have to leave, but more at a normal level.” Then you hesitated, wondering if you were assuming too much, moving too fast. “Sorry, I… Do you want to try this again?”

“I--”

“Because I would totally understand if you didn’t,” you interrupted without meaning to, nervous about how he might respond. “It wasn’t cool of me to end things the way I did or when I did and--”

“Honey, slow down.” Bradley reached for your hand, pulling you to a stop.

“Right, sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Right, s--” You stopped yourself this time, grinning ruefully at the sand. “Right. Please continue. If you want to.”

“Thank you,” he said, nudging your chin up with his free hand before he continued. “I do want to try again.”

“Even though I gave up on us?” 

“You did what you needed to do. I’ve always understood that.” Bradley’s eyes were so soft it was painful. You didn’t feel you deserved his understanding, let alone his forgiveness.

“That doesn’t make what I did right. I wish…” you paused, yet again wondering if you were unloading too much onto him. Something in his eyes told you to trust him again, so you forced the words past the lump in your throat. “I wish I had stayed. I should have turned back.”

His thumb brushed across the back of your hand. “I’m going to repeat myself for a second here. You did what you needed to do. You did right by what you needed to get through grad school. It’s okay.” 

You leaned your forehead against his shoulder and his free arm curled around you. With his lips pressed into your hair, he murmured the next words as a secret just for you. “You did turn back, you know. Maybe in a little roundabout way, but you came back all the same.”

That was what made you cry at last. At the first shake of your breath, Bradley pulled you fully into his arms. You grieved then. Grieved the life you might have had if you’d stayed. Grieved everything that might have been, everything you might have built with Bradley Bradshaw. And at the same time, you were so grateful that somehow the two of you had found your way back together. Relieved he didn’t hate you. Hopeful for everything you might still build together.

He was crying too--you saw the tears running down his face when you pulled back to look at him. Softly, hesitantly, you reached a hand up to his cheek. You brushed away the tears delicately, offering a small smile. Bradley smiled back, covering your hand with his own.

“I am so sorry for everything I put you through, Bradley. And if you let me, I want to make it up to you.”

“I don’t need you to make anything up to me.” He shook his head, just a little.

“I really, really love you.” You couldn’t help but tilt your forehead to his.

Bradley beamed, the sight warming you from the inside out. “I really love you too.”

“So are we going to try this? Us?” Hope seeped into your tone and you knew he heard it by the light in his eyes.

“We’re gonna give us another chance,” he affirmed.

“I’m not going to let go again, I promise.”

He kissed you fiercely, barely a moment after you finished your thought. Just as well. The moment his lips touched yours, you couldn’t think of anything but him. His hands weren’t even on your skin and they still ignited a fire along the path they traced. You reveled in the feel of his hair between your fingers, pulling a deep groan from his throat that you swallowed gladly. 

You had missed this, missed him. Now, faced with the opportunity to learn him all over again, you took to the task like a duck to water. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, then your collarbone, where he sucked a mark. He was re-memorizing you too, though he clearly hadn’t forgotten how to make you melt.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him back to look at you. He grinned lazily at you, then kissed you again. His mustache tickled your upper lip and made you giggle. This kiss was far too short for your liking, but the way he looked at you made up for it a hundredfold. Besides, you had all the time in the world now.

So for now, you let him pull back and take your hand as the two of you started walking down the beach again. You reached your car too soon, but Bradley only let go of your hand to pin you gently to the side of your car. He smiled softly when you tilted your chin to offer your lips to him, leaning in to kiss you one more time.

“Do you still have my number?” you asked when you broke apart.

“Of course I do,” he assured, reaching for his phone to show you how you were still saved in his contacts. “I do, however, need a new lock screen photo.”

You laughed and the last knot in your chest came undone. “I might have some time tomorrow. I could do with a new picture too.”

His eyes crinkled up at the corners and you wanted to run your fingers over them. You resisted, only for today. There was plenty of time to relearn the feel of his expressions.

“We’ll put it on the books, honey.”

You knew you needed to go, but you didn’t want to leave--not now. He seemed equally hesitant, but he was stronger than you. Reluctantly, he opened your car door, helping you into the seat. You blindly fumbled to turn your car on, unwilling to turn your gaze away from him. He closed the door and leaned against it as you rolled the window down. 

“Text me when you’re home safe?” 

“Always, baby. As long as you do too.”

Bradley tilted your face toward him so he could press a lingering kiss to your forehead. You let your eyes drift closed as you basked in the comfort of his presence.

“Ok, if I don’t let you go now, I won’t be able to.” He murmured the words into your skin.

You hummed in acknowledgment, then in complaint as he retreated. “I don’t want to go either.” You felt the huff of his breath fan across your skin as he laughed lightly.

“I need to get to bed. Training starts early tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both.”

With a sigh, you leaned back into your seat. “Alright, you’re right. I’ll see you soon.”

“You can count on it, sweetheart. We’re going to do something tomorrow night,” he promised as he stepped back from your car.

You backed out of the parking spot, then hesitated, looking at him. Before you could think better of it, you gave him a thumbs up and a salute. He laughed at the imitation, offering a small wave as you finally started driving.

That night was the first time in a long time that you had fallen asleep with a real smile on your lips.

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Hi!

I was thinking here. How long would it take for each single to get over a breakup?

How the Bachelor/ettes Get Over a Breakup

Hi anon! I know originally in my rules I had a no breakup rule but I changed my mind on that. I'm happy to do this, don't get me wrong, but just for future reference for anyone that's requesting something breakup-related it really depends on the details. I still don't do cheating (yet) but that may change. It all depends on the situation.

CW: Breakups, angst, food

Bachelors:

Sam

Sam is obviously heartbroken. I mean, of course he'd be. His (I assume) long-time crush just dumped him. Who wouldn't be crying? Anyways, dude isolates himself from everyone. I don't know how he does it considering he usually dies after two days of no social interaction, but he does. He still tries to act all happy but for the first week it doesn't work.

Elliott

Elliott does what anyone fifteen years younger than him would do and writes angsty poems and journal entries. He really goes into his My Immortal phase with this one. In all honesty, he's just trying to get attention. He's lonely, alright?

Sebastian

Sebastian becomes very outwardly rude for the first week and a bit. He'll easily snap at everyone - even Abigail and Sam - and never takes 'no' for an answer. He gets over it, but for a good while after he is really closed-off.

Harvey

He becomes very serious and focuses more on his work than his personal life. Being a doctor is a good distraction is theory, but not in practice when your main patient is the one that dumped you. There's no chit-chat with him for a good while. Just get in and get it over with.

Shane

Oh boy, Shane. Well, to start, he handles this the worst out of everybody. That self-esteem is right back down to that pit it started at. Although, he can be helped a bit as long as you let him down lightly. Even then, he wallows in self-pity for months and it really starts to worry those around him.

Alex

Alex cries. A lot. I'd expect all of them to cry but he really carries it home. However, that's only in private. It public that arrogant dickhead-ness is dialed up 1000%. He doesn't want anyone knowing how much it hurt him. Especially considering how easy you moved on.

Bachelorettes:

Penny

Penny knows she's the sunshine girl of the town and feels a desperate need to keep that reputation up. She constantly tries to just be a nice person to everyone around her. She really wants to talk to you, too, but she can't bring herself to do it without getting tears in her eyes.

Leah

Leah actually gets pretty angry at herself. She blames herself for not seeing the signs of a failing relationship; especially when she's been in one before. She's easier to annoy, which only makes her feel more guilty. She tries to distract herself with her art, but nothing seems to work.

Abigail

A LOT of comfort eating. She goes ham on whatever's in the house. She's also very easy to annoy. Sebastian and Sam barely talk to her for the first few weeks just to give her some space (they also fear getting their hands bitten off). She can go from angry to crying in an instant.

Maru

Maru focuses hard on her work. She ends up making a lot of cool stuff she wouldn't have made for a long time otherwise. That's not to say the breakup was a good thing. No. Even Sebastian is more open with her because of how bad he feels. Maru dreads work and hates seeing you there because of how awful it makes her feel.

Emily

Emily gets very quiet. You better hope Haley doesn't see you because she's not afraid to pull some hair. Emily pushes away her passions a lot. She even starts questioning her spirituality. Now, keep in mind I know nothing about things like crystals and what-not, but if certain future-telling things like tarot cards predicted true love why is she ending up like this?

Haley

For the first week, Haley gets super flirty with everyone. She's willing to do anything just for the attention she needs. Losing the love of her life had a big impact on her, and she just doesn't want to feel lonely anymore. After that first week she simply goes back into her shell and puts up that mean girl facade again. Alex is the only one who can get through to her.

-~-~-

Hey anon! Thanks for the ask! This was fun to write. I think I'm more comfortable with writing for breakups now but it all really depends on the ask. Remember to get lots of sleep and stay hydrated!

[recklessracoon]

Opinions on Saiki K ships

Involving Kusuo:

Terusai - I think that they want such different things from life that it's hard to imagine them being happy as a married couple. However I think that they could bond over their experiences to become really great friends. That said I think they can have a really entertaining dynamic with how she can't confess to Kusuo outright (because her army of rabid fans would try to kill him) and Kusuo can't reject her outright (because her army of rabid fans would try to kill him). I also like how their feelings towards each other progress. On Teruhashi goes from wondering why won't this guy won't "offu" for her who does he think he is -> self-imposed challenge of trying to get Saiki to "offu" -> realizing it is actually kind of nice to have a guy who is normal about her and can see beyond her persona. Meanwhile for Saiki the progression goes from judging her for being stuck up and arrogant while being incredibly arrogant himself -> trying to make Teruhashi lose interest in him without giving in and "offu"-ing (he's too proud) -> begrudging respect for her commitment to the bit -> wanting to protect and support her because he is increasingly annoyed that other people only care about Teruhashi Kokomi as an ideal and not as a person.

Saiura - I'm not super into it for reasons not entirely clear to me. For one thing I think that Aiura deserves better. Not that Saiki treats her badly or anything but he mostly goes to her when he needs her help with something. Also her feelings for him strike me as unreciprocated in a way that makes me feel kind of bad for her. Mostly though this is just a case of a lot of the fics I've read for the pairing feel kind of OOC. Nopsi's take on the pairing does do a good job keeping them both in character while making it work though.

Satosai - Suffers from the fact that Satou is duller than dirt. It's kind of funny when it's doomed and impossible though. Also I like Oatmealcrisp's takes on the pairing which turn Satou into a paranormal romance protagonist (with the levels of being kind of an asshole that this implies).

Torisai - Took me a while to warm up to this but I can kind of see it now. I like it because it makes Toritsuka (and to a lesser extent Saiki) suffer in an amusing way. I don't get why people write angst of this pairing though.

Kubosai - Don't really ship this myself but I have read enough of it that I'm intimately familiar with the appeal. It's about finally having someone to protect you, to advocate for you, to get righteously angry on your behalf. Or alternately about protecting, advocating for and getting righteously angry on the behalf of someone you love. The nice thing about this is it can go either way though you do get Aren advocating for Kusuo somewhat more often than vise versa simply because Kusuo has a lot of difficulty advocating for himself for reasons that could be a whole post of their own.

Saikai (or whatever Saiki/Kaidou is called) - I dislike this for reasons that are somewhat unclear to me but probably have something to do with the fact that it was *the* big m/m ship in the pre-Reawakened Saiki K fandom. I feel like fanfic authors tend to get Kaidou wrong a lot too. They don't make him cringe enough.

Nensai - This could have been the big m/m ship in the fandom if those early Saiki K fans weren't COWARDS who'd only ship conventionally attractive characters. I'm pretty sure I started off shipping this as a joke but after reading the light novels I'm dead serious about it.

Saikechi - I like this one probably because it has a lot of excellent opportunities for pining and unhinged acts of devotion both of which I am embarrassingly fond of. Some people would object to this pairing on the basis of the lingering trauma from the classroom incident but firstly I don't think that's necessarily an insurmountable obstacle and secondly it adds some spice to things. Anyway I really like Akechi.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

The Lost Children #Writer Wednesday Din Djarin Modern Day Bounty Hunter x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by the amazing @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape (thanks a lot for the hard work of compiling everything each week)

Summary: This a part 2 of a fic I wrote a few months another Wednesday, read it here. After you scape with Din and your child, you try to find a life again even if that means he has to leave you.

Warnings: Language, talking about neglecting children or abandoned kids, guns. This is fluff with angst and Din being a softie but a dumbass expressing feelings

A/N: I'm super tired, so be ready to find many grammar and mispellings I didn't have the time to really read it through.

The lost children

For a bit, that’s what he said, what he promised until you’re safe and settled.

“So you can keep your little kid in the babycare with the rest of the kids while you’re working. One of the cabins to the right of the front office we’ll be entirely yours. We only ask that you keep clean and in a good state”

“Of course” you’re shining, happy and excited

“You heard that Greg, we’ll have a place on our own” your arms hold the baby tightly, rocking him softly until he giggles. When you turn to Din, he can see your eyes glowing, kissing little Greg’s head, you whisper thank you

Thanking him? what for? He just pointed out that small, almost entirely ripped from the wall, announcement of a local hotel in the middle of the woods that looked for personnel willing to work and live in the resort when they were stopping at a gas station.

It is a perfect place to hide and live a peaceful life and let a baby grow up in the middle of nature. Greg and you could be happy. So why is he thinking that he should make up some excuse so you don't stay, so you don’t leave him. He should be selfish and grab your hand and run away again like you’ve been doing for weeks now, but that’s not life for a baby, and you deserve it, leave the past behind. And him, even if he doesn’t want to admit, it’s part of your past of that runaway woman that commited many mistakes.

But Din’s a bounty hunter, his life on the road, from one job to the next would only make you unhappy, and at the end, you would hate him; and that’s it’s not an option.

Nothing has made Din happier than seeing you smile at him, the little comments here and there you tell him praising him and thanking him one, twice, a thousand times for helping you, the way the baby caresses his face with his small hand and those big eyes looking at him intently until he smiles with only those two little teeth. The way you look perfect, almost like a Madonna from the Renaissance, when the street lights hit your face while he’s driving and you hold your baby against your chest, both of you sleeping in the car.

Would you think he’s a creep for staring? There’s a warmth that grows inside him when he stares at you and baby Greg. A warmth he doesn’t want to let go. He cannot offer you a good life and Din doesn’t want to force you to live like he does, just because he’s so selfish to let you go.

“So what do you think?”

The manager leaves them to think about the offert. And Din balances his big body from one of his legs to the other, hands on his hips, he sighs

“I think”

I think you should be with me

I think I should protect you

I think I should protect Greg

I think I want to be with you, the both of you, forever

I think I love you

But he doesn’t say it

“I think you should take it. It is a good place for a kid”

You frown, even baby Greg looks at him puzzled from the crook of his mother’s neck

“Yes, it seems great, quiet...And I like that Greg could be with other kids. But what about you?”

Your eyes look big, pleading, there’s a question, a petion in them but you don’t say it with words so maybe Din is imagining it, he wants so bad that you will stay with him that maybe he’s making that up

“I will go and…”

And miss you

And miss Greg

And be alone again

“Start the business again somewhere else” he shrugs, and he sees the light flicking in your eyes, the idea in your head being shattered, you’ll never ask the question and he will never answer.

“But you can stay a few days, right? Rest, eat properly for once and repair the car”

“I don’t know…”

What would hurt more? leaving already or prolonging it?

“I don’t want to be this direct, Clint...” he likes that you keep using that nickname you gave him when you’re in public. You only use his real name when you’re alone. Making it even more special, it’s intimate, more anything he has ever felt.

“but you need a shower. And I do too and this stinky baby” you bury your nose on little Gregs neck and it makes him laugh out loud that angelic and sweet giggle hits him hard and before he even knows it, Din is nodding

“A few days won’t hurt”

It’s surprising how they fall easily in a routine. How they seem to find a perfect way around each other, a perfect model like the stars and planets always circling around each other and never colliding. You, dancing softly in the kitchen humming while you stir the soup, baby Greg chasing his little frog while Din holds his back so he doesn’t lose his balance

“Hey, you want this?” Din smiles fondly to the baby and with his long arm places the soft toy far away from him “C’mon like before “ his big hands on his side while the babe excitedly starts crawling towards his frog

“Hey! look! he’s getting faster!”

You smile at them, that big and serious man has the proudest smile, so bright and pure watching your baby grow before his eyes.

It’s been almost a week and he’s still repairing the car, or so he says. The manager hasn’t asked any questions and just assumed they are a family. And you must accept that you do look like one, a broken and weird one, but more than anything you have ever experienced.

And you wish he stayed forever that he could be a father to Greg, he certainly acts the part.

“Dinner is ready.”

The scent of the pines, the bugs chirping and the soft crackle of the fire is the perfect lullaby. Your baby has taken the habit of falling asleep against Din’s wide shoulder while the three of them enjoy the small porch outside the cabin.

“I think the car is ready”

The words you fear the most float in the air and you’re almost tempted to ignore them

“Hmm” you don’t face him yet, just look at the trees and try to swallow the pain “And where will you go?”

“Don’t know yet”

“How will I contact you?”

“I…”

“Do I have to search on Craigslist? Some old codewords in the newspaper? How do you even find a bounty hunter?” you’re laughing, but it really doesn’t hide the pain in your tone

“I have a phone” Din rolls his eyes at you but he’s amused, surprisingly he’s smiling more since you met him, he’s not that stern or cold as you pictured him when he caught you

“That would have come in handy when we were lost in the desert”

“I mean a fixed one”

“You have a house then?” you turn to him, lowering your voice midsentence as you see your son sleeping peacefully on Din’s arms

“Sort of”

“I will need you to expand that a little bit more Din”

Din in the quiet of the night, the moon, the stars and the fire illuminating your face he admires you pronounce it: The tip of your tongue showing softly between your teeth and he wishes to see you repeat it one, twice a thousand times.

“My family, my...it’s difficult to explain, anyway, it’s my safeplace, where I go to rest, I get the information for my next jobs, etc”

“Oh...okay, so I call you there?”

“Yeah you could, and write if you want” he offers with pleasing eyes

“Penpals, great” you answer and it sounds more sarcastic that you intended

“You could send me pictures of Greg”

Din lowers his eyes to the soft crown of the baby, that soft place on his head where he smells so sweet and tender. He can believe that he’s going and there will be no nights like this.

“I will do”

Your eyes get teary watching him softly kiss you babe, carrying to his crib whispering sweet words so he doesn’t wake up.

“So I’ve packed many water bottles, and those protein bars in case you get yourself lost in the desert again, cowboy. Sadly you won’t have my unparalleled company” you joke tapping him on his arm

“No, I won’t” Din forces a smile “I...Take care” he awkwardly squeezes your forearm

“You too-Shit!” you scream slapping your forehead “The sandwiches! I knew I forgot something. I made you something for lunch. I’ll be right back”

You press little Greg to Din’s arms before running away leaving them with wide eyes and a confused look

“Take care of you mother, kid, sometimes she can be a lot to handle”

“Hi, Ken” you say breathly as you storm inside the reception and get inside the staff meeting room.

“Hi! Has your boyfriend left already?” He asks while writing something on his agenda

“Not yet” you say looking for the lunch bag you had prepared inside the fridge. You hand stops midway when you heard her voice

It is horrible, we have not consolation, our baby has been kidnapped and we have no information

Her fake cries fill the room, some national tv is making a report on the kidnapping of little Greg. The tragic zoom at her face fades away when they show a picture of your baby.

“Fuck…” you mutter

I need him back. He’s my baby

“He’s not your baby, you bitch” you spat under your breath

“What did you say, hun, you need something” Ken raises his eyes to you, one eyebrow arched, he follows your eyes to the TV

“That baby looks exactly…” and then you know

You grab your sandwich bag and strom out as you did before. Din is holding Greg on his hip while he finishes loading the trunk with his bags

“We’re out of here”

You cry when you reach to him, pushing him away, you close the trunk door

“Wait what happened?”

“No time, let’s go”

How has this man trusted you so much as to run away with you? For all he knows you could actually be a kidnapper, that story about leaving your son with someone you trusted and that eventually you discovered that they were assholes could be fake. But he doesn’t. He runs away, drives and drives without asking a question.

“She had the guts to say it was his son, he isn’t. She barely had it for a few months until I could settle my life. And then she asked me for a crazy amount of money because children are expensive you know I fucking payed for a a new pool in her stupid house, while my son was always dressed in old clothes, too big or too small. They didn’t care for him”

And on top of trusting you, he lets you rant away all you anger

“There’s no way I’m giving him back. I rather die!”

He stops the car, the road again is silent, dressed in the colors of the sunset

“Calm down, you’re scaring him” Greg looks at you with trembling lips not knowing why he should be scared or angry, he just knows that his mama is upset “He will stay with you, I promise”

“The police must be searching for us” your warm tears cloud your eyes

“They won’t find us where we are going”

He ditches the car somewhere and you see him burning it. He carries the big bag on his back and hands you water and snacks from time to time.

“Just a few miles more”

The red stone looks like some ethereal cathedral around you, a palace in the middle of nowhere almost like another world, magical and eerie. If there’re marks or signs you don’t see them, but Din walks among the rock so sure of his steps searching among the labyrinth of rocks. And suddenly…

You hear the soft clicks of many guns' trigger locks going off at the same time. But Din softly whistles some tune and from all over: up the rocks, between them, children come out. Kids, all different from one another, some really young, others tall and weirdly looking teenagers in that mixed age where they are not a child nor an adult and others already grown to be young adults.

“Din” a curly haired girl dressed with camouflage clothes runs towards him with open arms, she has a crooked smile as she has lost some of her front teeth

“Hey, gumball!” Din bents down when she hugs him, her sweet face pressed against his belly

“Who are they?” a boy, holding a shotgun to his side, his face full of red dots, frowns at you

“They’re friends who need help” Din explains raising one of his arms trying to calm down the group

“Are they lost too?” Gumball asks

“Yes” Din nods

“But she’s a mum” some kid screams from above

“Mums can be lost too. C’mon, we’ve been walking for hours, can we go home?” he answers

“Of course, let’s go. Boba will be happy to see you” Gumball grabs Din’s hand and smile widely jumping happily through the stone corridors

“Wait, Din, what the fuck? who the fuck is Boba? What are these kids doing here?”

Gumball fires a concerned look at you

“She said two bad words”

“Gonna let it pass, Gum, she’s a bit scared and tired” Din smirks your way and you question in silent muttering the fuck again and again

“I see you pronouncing it, you know?” Gumball rolls her eyes “No bad words or you pay the price”

“Yes, understood, sorry” you close your lips hard trying not to ask more questions until you arrive home or whatever that is.

After a few minutes of turning left right, left right, right left you’re completely lost until the stone towers open up a way to a plain and on it, a ranch.

Some horses roam around nibbling on the pale green grass that grows on the land. A house on the centre is painted white but the paint looks old and chipped.

Now in the clear you count the children that surround you, ten, ten kids in the middle of nowhere.

“Welcome to the Watch” Din smiles at you, he almost look shy and earning a upset look from Gumball, he releases her hand and holds you with his big palm on your back

“What is this place, Din?”

“Home” he simply answers

The kids run through the porch screaming and opening without a care the door to the house

“Yeah, I heard you, little heathens” a masculine voice screams from the interior

His hard steps clack on the ground and you hear the spurs before you see him arriving with his leather boots, his used jeans and a low cowboy hat covering him from the sun

“I thought something must have happened to you” he says, evaluating Din. His tanned face is covered by a long and twisted scar from his lip to his forehead, he has dark eyes like Din but colder in a way, very deep and when they fall into you, you hug your baby tightly without thinking it

“I see” he says “C’mon on in, that baby can’t stay too long in the sun”

The house is nice, surprisingly tidy given the fact that there are ten kids living in it. The furniture looks like the exhibit of an old auction house, each one of them completely different of style, color or age from the other.

The man that everyone call Boba gives some orders to the group and they efficiently start doing what he asks

“Prepare a room for our guests”

“Bring water and food”

“Prepare some fresh fruit for the baby”

You sit, little Greg with eyes wide open. As any baby he’s absorbed by all the children around him, and he reaches with his little hands trying to grab them

“Little fella wants to play, you can leave him on the rug if he wants to”

“He’s fine here, thanks” you say holding him although Greg is already removing your hands from him wanting to explore

“Boba, we have nowhere to go” Din explains sipping on his cold water

“I guess, you have never brought anybody here” He reclines himself on his rocking chair watching Din intenly

“We need to protect them for a while, until we can find a solution”

“You’ll be safe here, you know that, you can stay as long as you want, just respect the house rules” and he points to a wood board, engraved in them are a few rules

Be respectful of yourself and others

I finish my tasks as promised, ask for help if I can’t

I will not curse

Be clean of yourself and your environment

Protect your family and your house above all

“They seem...pretty logical, won’t be a problem to follow them” you smile uncomfortably

“Well, somebody said you have a potty mouth, young lady. So watch it, but for the moment, you may rest, we will see for the rest tomorrow” He sighs when he gets up and taps on Din’s shoulder before he goes to the kitchen

“Let’s make dinner” you hear him scream, before the rumbling of pans and chopping and children screaming start

“Din…” you say after a moment

“I know you have a million questions”

“Duh!” you laugh nervously

“This is my family, we’re not related by blood but by circumstances. Lost kids, abandoned, neglected; we have a safe place here and in time we go out in the world and make our own life but we always have the Watch over us. A place where we’re watched over, taken care of, listened…” his caramel eyes glow and you see his strong and stern facade crumble before your eyes, in this place he can relax. He feels safe so you can too, right?

“We’ll be fine here” He reaches for you hand, the one that holds little Greg caressing him with your thumb, and covers both of you squeezing softly

We, it’s the second time he has referred to you as a group, you and me and Greg, We.

“We’ll be fine” You smile back, lowering your face, you kiss his knuckles, leaving a warmth there Din will be holding for hours.

You don’t notice, but the whole time during dinner he passes his thumb over that small place of his skin where you kissed him.

(Hey! remember when you read that fic in May? I continued it...so sorry that it took so long, I've taken the liberty of tagging you since you were interested in a follow up from the first one @fangirlalexia @childrenofthewatch )

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

Unfortunately you became the latest victim of “Tumblr just unfollows people randomly for literally no reason”

So I’m following again now!

Húrin and/or Maedhros for the character asks?

-@outofangband

@outofangband Ooof I've been lucky enough that it hasn't happened to me (I don't think? O.o) but welcome back lol! Anyway I'm gonna do them both because they deserve it! (also taking this opportunity to link one of my all time favorite fics "In Equal Measure": it's a Russingon time-travel au WIP and my ultimate place for headcanon theft re: both Maedhros and Fingon.)

How I feel about this character:

Maedhros: My man held Beleriand, the House of Finwe, and himself together, all alone with nothing but willpower and spite, we stan. No but seriously I think he's super cool, and if the Silm is ever adapted (knock on wood) I think that he'd make an excellent main character, given that he's around for most of the important events, and is consistently sympathetic. Yes even during the Kinslayings (to me at least). It's horrific and he becomes a monster equal to Morgoth in the eyes of the lands he once fought so hard to save, driven mad by an endless cycle of failure and loss and an Oath that he's more afraid to break than to keep, and I still find myself hoping for him. I'm not sure how to rank my favorite characters (besides Luthien being #1) but he's a serious contender for second place.

Hurin: :((((( He deserves better. I think the biggest thing is, he just didn't get a chance to heal? He went straight from watching daughter and son's miserable life end to being set loose into a world that largely hates those released from Morgoth, wanders around being miserable and inadvertently helping to cause several disasters, sees his wife die, and then dies himself. Just. There really are no happy endings in the Narn.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Maedhros: Fingon <3<3<3 I'm basic what can I say /j. I don't really have anything original to write about them, I just love their love. And they work with so many tropes too, star-crossed lovers: even complete with a Romeo & Juliet style family feud, slow burn, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, angst with a bad ending, fluff, married, not married, truly the most versatile couple :P

Hurin: Morwen. Tall goth small sunshine is one of the ideal forms of romance (actually wait that applies to Russingon too). Still not many opinions on them, but in a perfect world they'd get to live happily together with escaping sheep as their biggest worry.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Maedhros: Maglor. I really like the headcanon that Caranthir was his actual primary advisor, but even if Mae and Mags weren't the closest during the long peace, I think that they were in Valinor and after the second Kinslaying. There are some things you can't go through without bonding: being the oldest siblings is the less depressing option. That's also the reason I love the eldest-siblings trio (Maedhros, Fingon, Finrod) in Valinor. Also, this is agressively non-canonical, but I stand firm in my belief that if they had met with no baggage attached Maedhros and Luthien would've been terrifying besties.

Hurin: Well thanks to you, the "Screw Morgoth Club". It doesn't quite fit into my headcanons for how Mandos and Mystery Afterlife work, but I adore it nonetheless. Also Fingon, again thanks to you lol.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Maedhros: Hmmm I don't know if it's unpopular or not, but I feel very strongly that post-Angband he would hate to be called Maitimo. It was already a very personal name, but after everything "well-formed one" would probably feel like a cruel joke. And I don't think he ever really liked Nelyafinwe, it being a result of Feanor's feud, then Quenya was banned and Russandol wasn't an option anymore, so he compromised.

Hurin: I don't think about him enough to have opinions >o< /hj. Maybe that he didn't really vibe with Gondolin? I don't know how canon goes re: this, but I feel like lots of people would think its policy of utter isolationism (except when it's convenient to them/divine intervention) was selfish- especially post-Bragollach, when they didn't even bother to send troops. After the Nirn and its fall this view probably softened some, but a 15 year old in a strange place with strange people- beautiful and untouched by a war they refuse to involve themselves in even as their kin are dying- would probably be unsettled at best.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Maedhros: Ok. So I don't actually wish this, for many reasons but partly because it would make the story less interesting, but. That he'd died. Gosh you know it's bad when that's the happy(er) ending. At any point before canon, really, although the obvious options are on Thangorodrim and post-Nirn. I might write something about it one day, but even if everything went the same, things would still be better just because there was one less person commiting violence. Heck, even if things somehow went worse you could make an argument for that. It's not something I think about often, given how absurdly depressing it is (my angst needs happy endings ;-;) but it does pop up every now and then, helped along by one or two aus I foolishly read while wanting to cry.

Hurin: I wish canon didn't happen :( on a more serious note... that he'd been rescued. Even if it wouldn't've helped much, that display of "you weren't forgotten, there is good yet in the world" would make things a little better. And then promptly even worse if canon continued as canon does. (If Morwen rescued him... more Maedhros parallels are tragic tragic chicken soup for the soul.)

[lightupmyass]

Pairing: Professor! Namjoon x College Student! Reader

Genre: smut, slight angst, comedy and some fluff I think?

Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, mentions of masturbation, slight soft dom Joonie, semi public sex, cream pie

Summary: Being the class clown is all fun and games, until you take things a little too far...

Word Count: 4218

You’ve been waiting for this for months. After a boring summer back home, you finally get to come back to school. Most people dread going back, but you loved it. Your hometown was so boring. You loved being at school, seeing your friends, meeting new people. It was exhilarating to you. You fix your hair one more time before grabbing your bag and heading to your very first class of the semester.

As you walk in, you smile wide when you notice a familiar face, and when you catch his eyes, he does the very same. “Yooo, no fucking waaaay.” You laugh, going up to your friend and high fiving him. “That’s my bitch! You didn’t tell me you had this class.” Taehyung laughs, pulling the chair next to him out for you. “Well you didn’t tell me either, man. Bro this is gonna be fucking great.” You smile. Taehyung has been one of your best friends since you started uni, sharing your sense of humor. He was the class clown everywhere he went, and you thrived together. You looked around, seeing a few other familiar faces, but no one you really talked to.

As you and Taehyung caught up, telling each other all about your summers, something else caught your eye. A man walked into the room, his blonde hair slicked back with a small strand falling onto his forehead, round glasses perched perfectly on his nose, and a dark blue button up shirt tucked into black slacks. He looked young, older than any other student, but too young to be the professor. You Tried to ignore him, but watched him out of the corner of your eye, seeing him set his things on the teacher’s desk and grab a marker from the white board.

“Alright, good morning everybody.” He turned to face the class, a small smile on his face, his dimples prominent, giving him an even more youthful look. “My name is Mr. Kim.” He says, writing it on the board. “I am your professor for English 3. Are their any questions before we get started?” He asks. One of the girls raises her hand, and he points at her. “Sorry if I’m being too forward, Professor, but how old are you?”  She asks, smiling at him. “Ah,” he chuckles, “I’m actually 27. I just graduated last year actually so this is my first year teaching.” He explains. Damn, he’s pretty young. “Any other questions?” When he asks that, you get an idea. You nudge Taehyung, smiling as you raise your hand. “Yes?” Mr. Kim asks, pointing at you. “Um yes, I have a question. Do you think busses in medieval times were just very long carriages, Sir?” You ask, Taehyung bursting with laughter the second you stopped talking, a few of the other students chuckling as well. Mr. Kim raised an eyebrow at you, putting his hands behind his back. “Do we have anymore questions about this class?” “Ooh, I have one Sir!” Taehyung raises his hand, a big, wicked smile on his face. “Can we do magic tricks in here?” Mr. Kim looked at him, a small part of his soul leaving his body as he realized what he had gotten himself into. Why did he become a professor? He may never know the truth. “Yes, you can absolutely do magic. In fact, if you keep asking me questions that waste my time and the class's, I’ll do one myself and make you disappear.” A round of ooohs echoed off the walls, Taehyung slumping down in his seat. For once in his life, Taehyung might’ve met his match. This made the young, handsome teacher all the more intriguing to you.

Over the next month you and Taehyung had stuck your claim as the class clowns, as you’ve been doing since the two of my met. You were a chaotic duo that made the best out of any boring lecture. You did ask a few more stupid questions in Mr. Kim's class, but he never acted upon that little “threat" he made on the first day. In all honesty, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. He was funny, sweet, and still super attractive. He was also very philosophical, always bringing up discussions in the classroom that were open for debate, which you gladly joined with complete seriousness. His face when you first spoke without making some joke for comic relief was one of shock, to say the least.

You enjoyed his class very much, but it wasn’t until one night that you really saw Mr. Kim for who he was. It was a night where you and Tae had decided to go out to a little bar that was off campus you two found during your second semester of school. It was quiet, relaxing, and intimate. Not many people from your school come in, so you don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of fellow classmates (which you never worry about anyway but, you know). Tae had left you alone in favor of going home with a girl he had met, meaning that you were sitting at the bar, alone and bored. As you wave the bartender over to ask for another drink, you see a familiar, tall figure slouched on the bar, a big difference from his usual perfect posture, his normally slick blonde hair falling onto his forehead, looking as soft as a cloud.

Curious, you get down from your stool, making your way over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Kim?” You ask, grabbing his attention. He turns on his stool, his cheeks slightly pink as he straightens himself up. “Ah, Y/N. Didn’t expect I’d see anyone from school here.” He mumbles a bit, a slight slur in his voice. He must’ve been here for a while. “Yeah, uh, Tae and I come here a lot. Mind if I sit?” You ask, Mr. Kim nodding. Taking the seat next to him, the bartender brings you your drink. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim? You don’t look like yourself.” You ask. He stiffens up a bit, running his fingers through his hair, the action making his button up shirt tighten around his biceps and back. “Yes, I’m fine. Just kinda, drowning away the work week, you know?” He answers. “I’m sure being a professor isn’t easy. Especially with idiots like Tae and I.” You chuckle, Mr. Kim doing the same. “Nah, you guys aren’t that bad. I actually enjoy some of the things you two come up with. I mean, ‘who would win in a fight between a manatee and a praying mantis?’ like what?” He laughs loudly, making you feel good at the question you asked him just last week.

“I thought we annoyed you. You’re always so serious in class.” You admitted. “On the contrary, you guys brighten my day. Since this is my first year of teaching, I have to try and maintain a strict classroom in order to feel as if I’m actually doing a good job, but its always good to have a laugh every now and then.” He smiles at you, his dimples making your heart flutter. “Why did you become a teacher so early?” The question sneaks up on you, and you’re not sure if it was a good one or not, but you’re curious. “Honestly, I just needed something that would give me money while I wrote my book.” He answers. “Book? You’re writing a book?” He chuckles a bit, taking another sip of his drink. “Of course I’m writing a book. I’m an English major, its not like I can go get a CEO position in a big business with a paper that says ‘I know how to read and write good'.” He jokes, putting a smile on your face. “Well, Mr. Kim, I never expected you to be such a jokester.” You chuckle. “Please, we’re off campus. Call me Namjoon.”

For the rest of the night you both sat there, talking about his book, your childhood, pretty much anything that came up until the bartender called last round and you realized it was almost 4 am. “Oh, wow, I guess we should be heading out.” You giggle, the alcohol definitely running rampant through your system. You take your card out to pay your tab when Namjoon pushes your hand away. “Its okay. I got it.” You thank him, smiling warmly at him. “Are you okay to go home? Do you want me to walk you? Or call you an Uber?” He asks. “Well, we’re going back to campus, so I feel that an Uber would be better. Don’t want anyone to see us and get the wrong impression.” You point out, him nodding in agreement. He walks you outside, waiting with you. “You know, I have always wondered something about you, Y/N.” He says, catching you a bit off guard. “What’s that?” He stiffens a bit, putting his hands in his pockets as he props himself up against the brick wall. “You’re an amazing student, always turn in exceptional work, so why do you act out? Why not just go through school like normal and be great? Let your work and your character match?” The question actually surprises you a bit. “Well, I assume it could be related to the constant need for attention due to the lack of it from my parents, growing up as a middle child in a family of five kids.” You give him your honest answer. “That makes sense.” There’s a bit of a silence for a moment before he speaks again. “Tonight turned out a lot better than I expected. I normally drink alone, but having company was nice.” He smiles. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kim. I had a lot of fun too. I saw you as an actual person for once.” You respond. There’s a moment when you turn to face him, his cheeks still tinged pink from the alcohol and his eyes hazy, his body leaning lazily against the wall. There’s a moment when your eyes meet, and the sounds of the last few people leaving the bar fades away, where its just the two of you, and you can’t help the way your heart races, an urge so strong you want to act upon. However, you don’t even need to, because before you know it, his lips are on yours, heat radiating between you in this moment, this moment of passion, where you forget who he is, what he is to you, where all you can think about is how soft his lips are, how his strong hands grip your waist, and how his chest feels pressed against yours. Before you know it, the moment is over, he pulls away with heavy breaths, leaving you cold with his taste still on your lips. “I-I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. God I’m such a fucking idiot.” He steps back, putting his hand on his forehead as he leans back against the wall. “No, no its okay. I didn’t mind-" You stop when you see him looking behind you, the light from headlights flooding where you were standing. “That’s the Uber.” He clears his throat, straightening himself up again. “Have a good night, Y/N. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” He says, and just like that, he’s gone, walking alone in the shadows in the opposite direction.

Another month passes by. You have to admit, there’s a lot of tension between the two of you ever since that night. However, the kiss has somehow made you even more dangerous to him. Not that he was afraid you’d tell someone, because for someone who was a loud mouth in class, you assured him you knew how to keep a secret. Yet the knowledge that he was attracted to you gave you more power in other ways. You started to dress a little different in class, hoping to tease him a little bit, the kiss making you crave more from him. Short skirts and sundresses were now your typical outfit, and you could tell that he enjoyed seeing them without him needing to tell you anything. Even after your chat that night though, you never slowed down with your stupid questions or remarks, keeping your title in the class. You liked pushing him a bit, trying to see where he’d draw the line. No matter how hard you pushed, he didn’t seem to waver at all.

Class started normally, just like any other day, Mr. Kim calling roll call and Taehyung answering with something stupid. It all changed when Mr. Kim asked “Does anyone have any questions before we start?” and oh boy did you have a great one for today. You raise your hand, the look of false annoyance already washing over his face. You know he loves your jokes, he just has to act like he doesn’t. “Yes, Miss Y/N?” Now is your time to shine. Maybe this’ll be his limit. “Ah yes, Sir, I would like to know, where do babies come from?” You ask, Taehyung immediately erupting with laughter as a few other student giggle, a few others groaning, sick of your bullshit. Mr. Kim nods a bit before responding. “Y/N, I need you to stay after so we can discuss your behavior in my class.” The seriousness in his voice scares you, the only thing able to come out of your mouth is a small “Yes Sir".

The rest of class drags on, the fear of what will happen after class making your stomach hurt. You wonder if you really did it this time, if you pushed him past his breaking point. The moment he dismisses everyone is the moment your heart drops into your stomach, Taehyung patting you on the back before leaving the classroom, leaving you and Mr. Kim alone. “Mr. Kim, I-" “Namjoon. Call me Namjoon now, Y/N. Its just us.” He corrects you, a bit of your worry fading away at the calm tone of his voice. “Namjoon, I’m sorry if I took it too far. I really am.” You apologize, and for once in your life its genuine. “Its alright, Y/N. Come up here.” He says, coaxing you to the front of the room with two fingers. You move quickly, something about the dominance he radiates right now overwhelming you. He gets up out of his chair, walking slowly to the door. “You know how much I enjoy your jokes,” he starts, locking the door, “but there is a limit. However, I do strive to be the best teacher I can be, Miss Y/N, and if one of my students needs help in a certain area of learning, I am willing to teach them.” He says, making his way towards you, the bottom of your ass already resting on his desk. “W-What do you mean?” You stutter, hoping that you understood him right. “Well, you asked me a question, darling. Do you want me to teach you?” He asks, his body now right in front of yours, towering over you as he presses himself against you. You can’t believe this is actually happening. All the tension between you two is at an all time high. You feel dizzy, the need for him to touch you in any way growing with every inhale of his scent, his cologne overpowering your senses. “Yes. Please, Sir.” You whisper.

Without hesitation, his lips find yours, the passion and hunger greater than that night, a newfound ferocity taking over as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands gripping your thighs to lift you onto the desk. His hips nuzzle their way between your legs, your sundress riding up, making it easier for him to press against your core, your thin panties doing very little to conceal it. Small moans leave your throat, instantly swallowed by him, the kiss growing deeper and deeper by the second. Its not until he places his hands on your lower back, pulling you towards him to grind you against his growing bulge that you gasp loudly, tipping your head back and giving him access to your neck, which he gladly accepts, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over he expanse of soft skin. You whine, moving your hips on your own in hopes of getting his attention. He hums against your neck, his hand moving from your back to your front moving your dress to cup your heat and rubbing you through your already slick panties. You’re speechless, the only response you’re capable of being whines and moans as he uses his knuckle to trace over your slit, pressing against your clit every now and then. Finally, you manage to form words, a small “please" escaping your lips. He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he looks down at your legs, slowly moving your dress up your thighs, your panties on full display for him. “And you’re absolutely sure this is okay?” He asks softly, tilting your head up by your chin to look him in the eyes, his other hand still rubbing your thigh gently. “Please, Namjoon. I need you. I’ve been craving you ever since you kissed me. I need you so bad.” You beg him.

“I know, baby. Me too. Seeing you in class every day dressed like this, wanting to taste your lips again, feel you on me, wanting to hold you and touch you and please you. Do you know what I’ve imagined? Hm?” His whispers in your ear, his fingers gently moving your panties to the side. “I've sat in this chair, teaching you and your classmates, just imagining how you feel. How you taste. Been dying to feel you around my cock, beautiful.” You gasp at his words, pure sin dripping from his lips. You can’t deny that you’ve thought about him too, your hand deep in your panties late at night as his name fumbled from your lips, imagining how nicely he’d stretch you out, how his soft lips would feel on your dripping cunt. Yet, as he slowly slide a finger inside of you, nibbling on your earlobe as he does, nothing could’ve prepared you for the feeling of intimacy you felt from him, the way he carefully pumps his finger in and out of you, twirling it around to make you feel all of it as he kisses your neck softly. This wasn’t the normal fucking you were used to. Even though it wasn’t the most ideal setting, you could tell there was something more. He leaned forward a bit, pushing you down to lay on the empty desk, your back arching as his finger reaches a new depth inside of you. His free hand roams your body, pulling the top of your dress down to expose your breasts, the lack of a bra delighting him. Another finger slips inside of you, his pace quickening as he grabs your breast, occasionally pinching your nipple, earning a needy mewl from you.

The way he curls his fingers in you has you losing your mind, your toes curling as your hips squirm, the slick sound of his movements making your cheeks red. His touch is driving you crazy, but you still crave more, the need to be stretched out even more unbearable. “Namjoon.” You moan, reaching down to grip his wrist. He stops, pulling his hand away from as he leans over your body, his clean hand ousting the strands of your hair out of your face. “What is it, baby?” He asks, concern laced in his voice. You sit up, running your hands over his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, the rigid lines of muscles hidden underneath tempting you. Curiosity takes over, your fingers moving to unbutton his shirt, his torso being revealed to you with every button. He stays silent, watching your movements as he rubs your thigh again, eager to figure out your next move. As you reach the last button, you pull the hem of his shirt out of his pants, now seeing the bulge in them properly, your mouth watering in anticipation. You’d love to have it in your mouth, but at the moment, you’re not sure if you have the patience for that. There’s always next time, right? “Need you.” You mumble, unbuckling his belt. A groan rumbles in his throat as you cup him through his trousers, his package a lot bigger than you had anticipated. “Well, I did promise to teach you where babies came from, didn’t I? What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t follow through?” He chuckles, moving your hand away so he could pull his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, the large appendage bouncing as its released from its tight confines. You gulp, wondering if it’ll actually fit inside of you. You’re glad that you’ve been on birth control since you were 15, because right now you need to feel him inside of you.

He kisses you again as he grips himself, positioning himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, beautiful?” He asks, you nodding in response. The second he pushes into you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced. He moves slowly, the burn of your walls stretching around him making you lightheaded, but for him it was completely worth it. You wanted to be consumed by him, happy to let him claim you as his and not caring who knew. He groaned loudly into your ear, gripping the side of the desk as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. You’ve never felt like this before, never been so full in your life, and when he moves to pull back out, you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. “Ah fuck, you feel so good baby. Better than I ever imagined. Fuck.” He almost growled, pushing back into you as you gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. As he starts to set a steady pace, you can already feel yourself losing control. He wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you as he pistons in and out of you, his gentle demeanor now gone as he fucks into you hard, leaving marks from his nails into your skin as you bite his shoulder, trying not to scream. “Fuck. So fucking tight and perfect. So fucking beautiful. Like you were -mmph- fucking made for me.” He groans in your ear, your whole body jolting with each  hard thrust of his hips. “Mm, fuck Namjoon. Feel so fucking good. Fucking me so good.” You moan into his ear, each sinful word giving him more bravado to give you exactly what you two have been craving since the bar. “Yeah? You like how I fuck you? What do you want, baby? Want me fuck you so hard you stumble out of this class room, huh? Want me to cum inside you so everyone can see the little trail of my cum dripping out of your dirty little pussy?” Holy fuck. You have never imagined that your uptight teacher was capable of such words, yet here he was, moaning them in your ear as if you were the only girl in the world as he fucked you senseless. “Oh, shit, please. I want it so bad. Wanna feel your cum. Fuck, Joonie.’ You whimper, your fingernails scrapping against his back. He lets out a loud moan, the nickname not going unnoticed as he grips your hips, pulling you onto his cock as he continues to destroy your insides. You can feel the heat building inside of you, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. All you need is the small push over the edge. You lean back, reaching down between your bodies to feel your clit, rubbing it as he thrusts into you, the contact making you absolutely lose it. “Ah, shit, ah fuuuuck!” You whine, coming undone. It was powerful, washing over and making you see white. “Shit shit shit shit!” Namjoon grunted, pushing into you once more as you felt a warmth spread through you, his hips stuttering as he released into you. There was so much that with every slow thrust, small drips spilled out of you, leaving you a creamy, sticky mess.

You laid back on the desk, putting your hands above your head as you smiled, chuckling a bit at how good you felt. He leaned over you, resting his upper half on top of you as his cock softened inside of you. You wrap your arms around him, placing a kiss on the top of his head as he uses your breasts as a pillow, completely worn out. “Oh my god. That was, holy fuck.” He said between deep breaths, earning a giggle from you. “I know. Fucking amazing. Can’t believe I ever thought my own fingers could compare to that.” You joke, but he straightens up a bit, leaning on his hands, hovering above you. “Miss Y/N, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” He asks, a cocky smirk on his face. “Maybe.” You tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Well then, I think next time you’ll have to show me how you did it so I can guide you properly on how to do it correctly.”

“Yes Sir.”

[chim-chimchii]

Always Loved You (Taemin)

Genre: A little angst but fluff

Warnings: None

Requested: kind of??

Note: @certainhappiness really wanted something written based off of this picture so I decided to write something for her!

. . . . . . .

The sun was setting, causing the natural light that you were using to study, to disappear. You closed your textbook and leaned far back in your chair to stretch your tired muscles. You had been studying since earlier in the day and indicating from growling stomach, you had forgotten to eat. Getting up, you shuffled towards your door but stopped in your tracks when something hit your window. It had to be something small because your window didn't break, but it was noticeable. You waited for a moment to make sure you weren't hearing things, but then something hit your window again. You cautiously made your way to your window and peered out.

Standing below with a sly smirk playing on his lips, was your old friend Taemin. Something stirred in your body and made its way to your heart. It was the old feelings you had for him that were resurfacing. Opening your window, you stared at him in disbelief.

"Taemin?"

He chuckled. "Come down here."

You paused to think for a moment. You hadn't seen or talked to Taemin since the summer before school started before he got with Seoyoon. After he made his relationship official with her, he had changed. He seemed to forget who he was. You were upset when he had gone off with Seoyoon and refused to talk to you. Both you and Taemin had been friends since grade school. So why did he have to forget about you too?

"Please?" Taemin added in a pleading tone.

It seemed as though he needed to talk, to get something off his chest and even though he had changed, you didn't. You were there for your friends when they needed it even if they failed to be there for you sometimes. So, like the good friend you were, you jogged down to meet him.

Taemin was leaning against the passenger side of his car waiting for you. You playfully rolled your eyes at him upon seeing how "tough" he looked with his back resting against the door and his arms folded over his chest.

"Why did you do that?" He asked at your eyeroll.

"Are you trying to seem tough? Because you and I both know that you're as soft as a steamed bun." You explained.

Taemin blinked at you in surprise. He was not expecting to be called out like that. It took him a couple seconds to get over the initial shock of your sassiness. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who had changed.

"Let's go for a drive." He opened the passenger door for you like a gentleman breaking his tough bad boy facade.

. . . . . . .

You found yourself sitting next to Taemin on the hood of his car overlooking the ocean. It felt so lovely to be with your friend again, but in the back of your head, you couldn't help but think about his girlfriend. What would happen if she found out about this innocent outing? You knew it would ruin the atmosphere, but you needed to know.

"So, where's Seoyoon?"

Taemin's body stiffened slightly but relaxed a second later. "We broke up a while ago. I'm surprised you didn't know."

"I don't really pay attention to the gossip that goes around the campus. Plus it really wasn't any of my business. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's not like anyone approved of the relationship anyways." He leaned back and laid against the windshield.

"It's her we didn't approve of." You said, wanting to comfort him.

"Why? Why didn't anyone like her? Wasn't it enough that I liked her? Did my happiness even matter?" He questioned in a frustrated tone.

You frowned and mentally scolded yourself for what you had said.

"Your happiness always mattered, at least to me it did," You turned your head to look at him. "I was just surprised at how drastically you changed when you got into the relationship."

"And how did I change?" He asked.

"Your clothes, the people you hung out with, our friendship." You whispered the last part.

"I'm sorry." He apologized. "I shouldn't have let Seoyoon have that much power over me. I never meant to distance myself away from who I really was, and I really shouldn't have distanced myself away from you." The way he said "you" made your heart race. You obviously still had feelings for him.

"It's okay. We all have those moments where we lose sight of ourselves."

"If it means anything, I think I'm back to my old self but with a new wardrobe."

You eyed his outfit. His well-worn leather jacket, loose black shirt that hung from his body and the skinny jeans that had holes at the knees. You were going to comment on his outfit but your eyes locked with his and he grinned at you.

"Are you checking me out?"

You turned your head away from him to hide your blush. "I like your old style better." You mumbled.

Taemin laughed, which caused you to follow his lead.

"I really missed hanging out with you." You confessed between giggles.

Taemin stopped laughing and gazed at you. "I've missed you too." His tone was serious.

You stopped. "Then why did you stop hanging out with me?"

Taemin sighed and sat up as he ran a hand through his hair. You followed his example and sat up as well.

"Seoyoon didn't like me hanging out with you. I supposed she saw you as a threat."

Starring at him quizzically you asked, "Me? A threat?"

"Y/n, do you not believe that you could be a threat to some girls? You're beautiful, smart, and funny. And I know that those are super cliche things to say, but you really are those and more." He was rambling.

"And that's why I fell in love with you."

You reached over and took his hand in yours and leaned against his shoulder.

"You know I've always loved you too, right?" You whispered. He glanced at with a smile.

"Really?"

You glanced up at him and nodded. "I thought I made it obvious."

"I guess I was just too blinded by someone else to see that you're the one I was actually wanted." He inched closer to your face. "Don't think you need to change yourself just to be with me." You inched closer.

"With you, I don't have to."

Taemin closed the gap and pressed his lips against yours gently.

[iphoenixrising]

For 700 Followers!

Hi babe.

That is terribly angsty and now I’m intrigued.

(Just a note for babe not familiar with No Home for Dead Birds or Fracture: I write a scene in which Tim literally has a gun to head. This is not lighthearted angst, please be warned if you read this.)

**

At one time, his colors had been red, gold, and green.

At one time, he’d been part of something bigger, something important. A legacy.

At one time, he’d been able to fly without being afraid of falling.

Being Robin had been the epitome. Even with all the terrible things he’d endured, all the injuries, all the catastrophes, all the insane megalomaniacal baddies breathing down his neck, he wouldn’t have traded the tunic for anything in the world.

(Dick had known it, had known how painful it was for Tim give it up once his Dad found out.)

He would have died with the R on his chest and never had a single regret.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been Robin forever, and he’d known that someday he would have to give it up and either move on with his life as a regular person, or take on another name, another mask, to keep fighting the good fight.

He hadn’t expected Dick would take it without a thank-you or fuck you to mark the end. That hadn’t been in the plan.

But it’s fine because Dick was the first and Robin had been his anyway, right?

Right.

Wrong.

Staring down the .45 in hand, the gun his father hadn’t had the chance to use to save his own life, Tim Drake wonders how it all came down to this.

(Last one left standing. Of fucking course.)

How it had all come out so badly, how he could barely step foot back in Gotham, how he had to avoid the Manor, the Carriage House, his own family home. How he couldn’t pick up the phone or answer texts coming from his former team. How he could barely keep himself the fuck together now that Bruce was back. How his hands would start to shake when the Manor phone number popped up (Alfred). How his mind’s eye would go back to Dick at the Big Computer in the Batsuit, telling him they were still equals. How he would imagine what would happen if he hadn’t caught himself when that zip line was cut. How he would sit in his safe house, off the Bat radar, and mourn the times when he was actually–

(happy)

–part of a family.

The pictures from an old Vans shoebox, the ones he’d taken back when he’d had the run of Gotham, following Batman and Robin (Jason), are burning in the kitchen sink. He watches Nightwing’s blurry face melt away and pretends there aren’t tears in his eyes.

The old memorabilia from Haley’s Circus is in a storage unit outside the city, along with a box that has his last Robin suit.

The lawyer has strict instructions to deliver the key and a letter to his former adopted father, Bruce Wayne, upon news of his death so anything incriminating can be properly disposed.

(They wouldn’t need any of it anyway. They could just shred all of it and wash their hands of him. The Robin that never should have been.)

A map with all his safe houses would be send to Conner Kent, along with a letter of apology.

His favorite nerd shirts would go to Ives.

The sundries in his Perch would be for Steph, and the penthouse itself would go to Babs in case things in the theatre went sideways.

Bart would get a zip drive with all their old shenanigans on video, the only copies left once his systems uploaded relevant data to Titan’s Tower and his electronic footprint would be–

gone.

The box with the Red Robin costume he wore was already sealed and addressed to Jason Todd. The note on top was short and sweet: You were right. It never should have been me after all.

He’d already arranged for his share in Wayne Enterprises to be returned to Bruce Wayne immediately, handing him his family’s company back without any strings attached.

Months ago, he’d returned The Red Bird to the Cave when he was sure no one would be around to catch him. The implication that Robin would need the car one day right there in the fact he’d brought it back because honestly, it was never really his in the first place.

Alfred would get his pick of antiques from Drake Manor, and the house itself would be given to the city to be used as a halfway home for runaway teens. He’d made sure the funding would be there to run it for a few years. The donation was made in his mother’s name.

The hilt molds to his palm, the barrel glinting bright in the night. To his credit, his hands aren’t shaky when he slides the clip home and pulls the slide back to put one in the chamber.

(The team had been working fine without him for a while now. Even if they did need someone, there was another Robin to join the roster and keep them moving forward.)

An abrupt light in the darkness, his phone screen lighting up with a missed call notification.

Missed call: Dick the OG

Ironic since the last time he’d come this far, it had been him calling out to the last person he thought could pull him back.

(Not this time. He has a new little brother, a new Robin.)

Slowly, without putting down the .45, he presses the ignore when the phone starts buzzing against with another incoming call. He thumbs the button on the side to turn the phone completely off without listening to the voicemail.

The clip makes a difference, but the absurdity of it, of the last time he did this, was when his future self was a murdering, gun-toting Batman, and the only way he could see to stop it was to stop himself.

The press of the barrel is familiar, and not in that soothing kind of way.

He blinks, just blinks, and his face is wet, which is really stupid because no one is going to miss him any damn way.

His chest gets tight when he fingers the trigger guard, giving himself the time he needs to do it right. In the final moments, he inanely thinks about the time he was huddled against Dick, right after he'd almost tried cloning his dead best friends in an insane attempt to bring them back. It's really the last time he remembers being held, being warm, feeling like he still fucking mattered. It was Dick holding him tight with restraining, breathing against the top of his head, fingers buried in his hair.

It's when he could be weak while still in the mask, babbling to Dick about how he can't do this, he can't lose them all. He was crying then, too, when he told Dick about his mom and dad leaving, leaving, always fucking leaving. About how he got used to seeing their backs more than their faces. How he was left standing on his own for too damn long to just let it keep happening. He couldn't keep losing them, couldn't keep seeing people walk away, how it fucking breaks him.

And in the here and now, his chest hitches, eyes fluttering, hand tightening down because he'd said...and Dick had...

"But I'm here, Timmy. I'm always going to be your big brother!"

It had been the last time he'd been surrounded by the famed octopus hold.

(It was the last time for a lot of things.)

He laughed, smothered in Dick shoulder, something further away from a sob. "Then I guess you'll at least never leave me, right?"

"You will never be able to get rid of me. C'mon. We're going the hell home and having a movie day. Screw the Lazarus Pit, Robin. It's time for some R and R."

Dick had half-carried him to the waiting Batplane and talked him down out of trying to use the Pit for his own gain ever again.

The first knuckle rests on the smooth curve, a six-pound trigger.

(In the end, they all leave.)

(Not again.)

Conner's terrible mohawk and leather jacket.

Bart racing Wally at a hotdog eating competition.

Cassie running full tilt to throw herself at him when he'd come to Titan's Tower to ask them for help when Ra's was going to kill everyone Batman ever loved.

Raven nuzzling Gar out of plain sight so no one would think she was totally gone for him.

Jason coming to the Tower, alive good God, and the Robin he used to be super-imposed to be his hero and enemy in the same ghostly figure.

Bruce putting a hand on his shoulder on a ride back to the Cave, chasing the dawn, the Good work, tonight tired but sincere, and his whole body lights up.

His mother looking at peace in her coffin, a lily in her folded hands.

His eyes close on the out-of-the-way safe house, the plain beige walls, stripped and soulless. He keeps the team in his mind, the times he was happy.

Now.

Instead of a resounding boom followed by his grey matter splattering his personality, intelligence, imagination, him all over–

the wall to the safe house caves in under a super punch.

Conner is white as a sheet on the other side, brick and mortar crumbling under his hands. "No! Tim. Tim. Put. The. Gun. Down."

His mouth is dry and his brain pan full of nothing but pain and disappointment.

(But you brought it all on yourself, didn't you? The Robin nobody wanted. The son nobody asked for.)

He isn't numb enough to be calm, cool, and collected. "All...all you have to do–" a hitch in his breathing "–is walk away."

The meta floats in a little closer, hovering over the flooring instead of outside. His hands stretch out, gaze focused and intense.

"Can't do that, buddy. Looks like I should have been more of an asshole after all the League of Assassins shenanigans. Sorry, my bad."

Kon knows he's in trouble when Tim Drake doesn't laugh.

"Tim," he goes to serious in about two point five seconds because the hand holding that shiny automatic tightens enough for him to hear the screws in the hilt strain, "Tim. It's me here, okay? It's just you and me, just like it's always been. We’re besties, whether you're Robin or Red Robin or Tim fucking Drake because that guy is so damn cool." He inches closer, wondering if he's fast enough, wondering if he can really get to Tim in time–

Like the former Robin can read his mind, those violet-blue eye give him a blink.

"I’ve always wondered if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."

“No!”

(...as it turns out, he isn’t.)

[writer-or-whatever]

I'm the anom from the Coffee one, your fic was sweet and amazing thank you very much Rory/Paris: Rory tries to be more sophisticated in one the Weller galas for Paris sake with hilarious results.

Hi, yes, I saw this and was like I know what I’m gonna do and then I proceeded to write all 3,253 words of it instead of reading my middle age lit for tomorrow because i really was not in the mood for old English, tbh. 

Also, just a note, I may have taken the “with hilarious results” and sort of… chucked that bit out the window. I really didn’t mean to; I had a nice, funny, fluffly, fic planned out and then I got to writing it and I was about three quarters of the way done writing it and I was like  what if, instead, I have angst and so I did. 

Oops. 

Anyway, enjoy (or cry your heart out, either way):

[Read on AO3 or FFN]

“Grandma, could I talk to you for a minute?” It was an odd request, not because Rory and her grandmother didn’t get along, but because she hadn’t once, in the two years of Friday Night Dinners, ever asked to talk to either of her grandparents alone. That was usually her mother’s thing, and, at least with Lorelai, it never meant anything good. Her grandmother, however, didn’t ask questions, merely nodded and followed Rory into her grandfather’s study, the closest private space she could think of.

“Rory, is everything alright?” Her grandmother looked concerned, and Rory felt kind of bad for worrying her over something that wasn’t even a problem. Well, something that wasn’t a huge problem, anyway. Just the little issue of her secret girlfriend asking her to come to her family’s super important, super formal, Hanukkah celebration that she had absolutely no idea how to act for.

No big deal, not at all.

“Everything’s fine, Grandma. I was just wondering if maybe you could help me with something?”

“Of course, Rory, but why are you asking me in here and not at the dinner table if nothing is wrong?” Ah, just another aspect of the problem at hand: not only did Lorelai not know that she was dating Paris, but she would be mocked endlessly if she knew that Rory wanted grandma’s help to act like a proper lady and impress Paris’s family, even if they didn’t know that Rory was their daughter’s girlfriend.

“Well, see, a friend from school invited me to an event and I don’t really know how to act at those sorts of things and I thought that you would know but you know mom, she’d mock my desire to learn about proper etiquette until the day she dies, possibly longer. You know how mom is when she sets her mind to something, nothing will stop her, not even death and-”

Emily interrupted her rambling before it could go on for too long, “Say no more, I completely understand. Now this even, when is it?” Her grandma’s interest was clearly piqued now that there was a chance to teach Rory something that was clearly important to her without Lorelai. The fact that it was about etiquette, Emily Gilmore’s specialty, just made it that much better.

“It’s on the seventh.”

“The seventh? Well, that doesn’t leave us much time, but it’ll be alright. So, who invited you to this, again?”

“Just a friend from school.” Rory really, really, hoped that she wouldn’t push any further because they were treading on dangerous ground here as it was.

“Someone whose family you want to impress by showing them that you’re a proper Gilmore? A boy you like, perhaps? Of course her grandmother would push, it’s Emily Gilmore, she’s the queen of pushing for information.

“Something like that.” There, hopefully Rory provided just enough to placate her grandmother’s need for information without actually confirming if there was a boy, which there most certainly was not.

“Alright, well, I’m glad you’ve moved on from that Dean, clearly to someone more suitable since they attend Chilton. How about you come over here a few days this week and we’ll have you all ready for next Sunday in no time.” With that, her grandmother lead the way back into the dining room, quick as you please, leaving behind a slightly grim looking Rory who could only nod her head and think about how, if her grandmother found out about who all this was for, she might actually prefer Dean.

Back at the table, she came face to face with a very curious Lorelai Gilmore, to whom she could offer no sturdy excuse for her talk to grandma.

“So, what was that,” she waved her hand between Rory and Emily, “all about?”

“Oh, you know, just asking grandma if I could come over here a couple of days next week and get a ride to the Hartford Library to get some books for school.” She could tell, before the entire excuse was even out of her mouth, that it would not hold up against her mother.

“What’s wrong with Stars Hollow’s library?”

“They don’t have the book I need, I looked.”

“And what book is that?”

Oh boy.

“I, uh, don’t remember off the top of my head.”

“You, Rory Gilmore, girl who actually likes school and studies for more hours than she sleeps, don’t remember something about school? About books?!” Her mom was in fine form tonight, both dramatic and relentless about something Rory would much rather not talk about.

Great.

“Well, I can’t be perfect all the time, right? Give someone else a chance, eh?” She could tell her mother wasn’t buying it, but, thank God, her grandfather changed the subject to his upcoming business trip to Utah. Her mom went with it, asking what else could there possibly be to insure in Utah other than cows, but Rory knew that this interrogation was far from over.

Mid-afternoon on Sunday the seventh of December found Rory in her grandmother’s house hiding in the kitchen on the phone with Paris. It’d been nine days of hiding etiquette lessons with her grandmother from her mother and hiding the person that was the reason for said lessons from her grandmother. Frankly, it was exhausting and Rory just really wanted to see Paris, formal event and etiquette be damned.

“I can’t believe you accepted her offer.” Paris was laughing at her, which, if it were anyone else trapped in the Gilmore house hiding from Emily and her personal stylist, she would be laughing too. But, it was Rory and Rory would just like some support from her girlfriend, thank you very much.

“Well, to be fair, when she offered it was less like an offer and more like an order.”

“You’re going to show up here looking like a proper seventy year old woman.” Paris was still laughing. “Oh, this is going to be great. You’ll really liven up my spirits; it’s the perfect Hanukkah gift.”

“Keep it up and I’ll bring her along to give you a last minute makeover. Then we’ll match. Won’t that be fun?” Paris stopped laughing, she was pretty sure Rory was serious.

“You’re not serious about that are you?” Oh, she did think Rory was serious.

“As a heart attack.” She still sounded serious, but just barely.

“I take it back,” and, with those words, Rory let out the laughter she had been holding in since she first threatened Paris with an old lady makeover. “Are you laughing, Gilmore?”

“I might be.” Not even two seconds after those words left her mouth, her grandma came into the kitchen. “Uh, gotta go, talk to you later,” and then she hung up on Paris, a thing that was basically a cardinal sin in the guide to dealing with Paris Geller.

“Who was that on the phone?” Her grandmother was looking at her with that look, the one that meant that she knew that Rory was talking to “the gentleman,” as she’d taken to calling the nonexistent boy that Rory was doing all this for.

“Just Paris, I needed to double check about the pages for the reading for history is all.” It wasn’t completely untrue, it was Paris on the phone, just not for information on the history reading.

“I see,” her grandmother said in a way that made Rory fairly certain that she believed that Rory was telling her it was Paris as a cover but didn’t want to pry, “well, now that you’ve cleared that up let’s finish getting you ready, shall we?”

When Rory left her grandparents’ house, she looked like an illustration pulled straight out of a modern retelling of Cinderella, tiara and all. She cannot believe she let her grandmother dress her like this, but there was nothing for it now. She approached the Geller’s house, which made the Gilmore residence look like a humble home in comparison, and rang the doorbell, secretly hoping that the butterflies in her stomach would take flight and take her with them. She was so nervous, what if Mr and Mrs. Geller didn’t like her? After all, they were not the most affectionate people in the world. What if they found out about her and Paris? What if Rory embarrassed herself? There was so much that could go wrong. Thank God the maid answered the door, took her coat, and ushered her inside.

She wasn’t even ten steps into the house when a hand grabbed her from one of the closets in the foyer and pulled her in.

“What the hell?! Let go of me,” She was yelling and twisting away from the hands that were on her arms in the dark closet.

“Gilmore, chill the fuck out. And stop yelling.” It was Paris. Of course it was. She came to see her in her own house at her invitation and she was still getting pulled into closets.

“Oh, hi.” She turned to face what assumed was Paris’s face, though it was too dark to see anything.

“Hi,” She flipped the light on as she said it, revealing the two of them and about four coats in the small space.

The butterflies were back, but this time it wasn’t because Rory was nervous, it was because Paris was fucking gorgeous. “You look nice,” she reached up to grab Paris’s hands from where they rested on her upper arms.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” not only did Paris look nice, but Rory really wanted to kiss her. Unfortunately, Paris chose tonight to actually wear a lipstick that would be very noticable if it were both smudged and on Rory.

“You do too, not at all like a grandmother.” Paris was smiling when she said it, very clearly holding back a laugh over Rory’s early hysterics over being turned into an old lady by her grandmother’s stylist.

“Thank you,” Rory did a little curtsey as she said it, just adding to the princess illusion.

“My very own princess charming, what do you know,” And Paris was leaning in, and, yeah, lipstick be damned because they were kissing and Rory was fairly certain that it was magical and that fact had nothing at all to do with her fairytale appearance and everything to do with the fact that it was Paris that she was kissing, being in love will do that to you. Not that Rory was in love with Paris or anything. Or, at least, not that she’d admit. Yet.

When they broke for air, Rory decided that she needed to point out the flaw in their kissing plan, “What are the odds that we’ll be able to make it to a bathroom to fix this,” she gestured to her lipstick smeared mouth, “without running into anyone and outing ourselves?”

“Very high, the maid knows and there’s a bathroom that’s for the staff three doors down from this one. She’ll give us a knock when all the other guests are here,” and, with her worries cleared up, they were back to kissing.

This lasted for about five more minutes before there was a knock on the closet door, clearly from the maid, since Paris pulled away and straightened up. “After you, her majesty, your public awaits.”

“Har de har har,” but Rory followed Paris out of the closet and into the bathroom anyway.

They got cleaned up and slipped into the midst of the party without anyone noticing, much to Rory’s relief. It wasn’t that difficult of a night, she remember to stand up straight, which fork was used for the salad, and how to politely exit a conversation every time someone asked her if she, a nice young lady, was seeing anyone.

It was all going fine, or at least it was, until the other guests had left and it was just Paris and her parents.

She was going to leave with everyone else, but Paris had asked her to stay for the lighting of the last candle on the Menorah, something that she typically just did with her family. It obviously meant a lot to Paris that Rory be there, and, if she was honest, it meant a lot to Rory to have been asked to stay. They lit the candle, followed the traditions, and everything was fine. Her parents were leaving, on their way to their separate wings of the house, when it happened. Paris turned to her and whispered, “I love you, thank you for coming. And thank you for staying.”

Rory was just about to return the sentiments when, faster than Rory would think possible for the large man, Mr. Geller was there and he was not happy. “What did you say? You love her? She’s a girl, Paris. You were raised better than this. You were raised to bring greatness upon the Geller name, not shame.”

“She’s not bringing shame, Mr.Geller. She’s being who she is, someone who is wonderful and ambitious and driven and intelligent and you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking such a thing, let alone saying it to your own daughter on a night that is supposed to be special and about celebration.” Rory couldn’t help it, she jumped to Paris’s defense, snapping and merciless, even though she knew Paris was completely capable of defending herself.

“It is a shame and she is not welcome in this house until she realizes it.” He turned away, resolute and hard in his decision, while Paris’s mother simply looked on.

“Good. There’s nothing here for me anyway, with parents that love their family name and money than they ever could me.” Paris was angry, and she certainly sounded it, but Rory could also see from the set of her jaw that she was moments away from crying.

“Let’s go, Par. Come home with me.” Rory’s arm was around Paris and guiding her over to the door where they both got their coats and a kiss on the forehead from Paris’s nanny, who Paris promised to call tomorrow.

They drove to Stars Hollow in silence, Rory driving Paris’s car and Paris glaring resolutely out of the passenger side window.

When they pulled up to Rory’s house, Paris finally spoke, “So, how are we going to play this? Poor Paris needed a night away from her parents so she’s spending the night at her friend, Rory’s, house?” Paris basically spat the word friend with more venom than she’d ever heard her use before, even back in their sophomore year when they were enemies and Paris didn’t spend a free minute not tormenting Rory.

“No. I’m going to tell her. I’m going to go in there and say ‘mom, this is my girlfriend, Paris, whom you’ve met, and I love her very much and she’s had a very rough night, can she please crash here?”

“You love me?” The hard edge left Paris’s voice, leaving a soft vulnerable whisper in its wake.

“Yeah, I do. And I’m so sorry that your parents are such homophobic assholes and I know that this won’t make up for it, but I do and I want you to know that.” Just as the last word left her mouth, Paris was kissing her, and it was salty and wet and sad, but it was Paris.

“Okay, then,” Rory said, getting out of the car and heading around to Paris’s side to open her door, “let’s do this, shall we?”

When they got into the Gilmore household, it was dark, but there were lights and sounds coming from the living room, so the tv was clearly on. And, when in the Gilmore house, where you can find a movie, you can find Lorelai, so the two girls made their way into the living room, divesting themselves of their heels in the process.

“Hey, Rory, how was the thing?” Her mom was very caught up in the movie, Casablanca, and hadn’t yet looked at Rory and so she didn’t see Paris, either.

“Not so great.”

“No? Nothing a little classic love triangle can’t fix.” She was still absorbed in the movie, despite having seen it approximately one thousand times.

“Not this time, mom.” That got Lorelai’s attention, alright, because, in the world according to Lorelai Gilmore, there was very little that could not be fixed by Casablanca. She was clearly surprised to see Paris standing there in her living room along with Rory, both of them disheveled and clearly upset.

“What happened?” She made her way off the couch and over to the two girls, Rick and Ilsa completely forgotten.

“Um, well, I went to the party at Paris’s, like I said, and it was fine until after everyone else left. I stayed to watch them light the Menorah because Paris asked me to and then, well, her parents found out about me.”

“Found out that you were there? Didn’t they invite you? Strange people, those Gellers.” At any other time, Rory really would have appreciated her mother’s attempt to make light, but not tonight.

“No. They found out that I am Paris’s girlfriend.” There, she said it. Now all that was left was to see how it went over.

“Girlfriend? Like friend who is a girl or…”

“The or option. Girlfriend as in hold hands, kiss, go on dates, kind of girlfriend.”

“Okay. So they found that out and what? They weren’t happy with it?” Lorelai sounded like she was teetering on the edge of the dangerous kind of angry that she only got when someone did something to hurt her kid, which, in a way, the Gellers definitely did.

“Definitely not.” Rory wasn’t really sure how much more Paris wanted her to say.

“They kicked me out.” Paris, apparently, had no qualms about telling Lorelai the whole thing now that it had been established that she didn’t care about the fact that they weren’t straight and were very much together.

“What’s your address, again, Paris? Tomorrow I’m going to go over there and give them a piece of my mind, I think. In the meantime, you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

Rory couldn’t help it, she practically leapt forward to hug her mother and whispered, “thanks, mom” into the embrace. Hugging one girl clearly wasn’t enough for Lorelai, since she pulled Paris into a hug as well.

Later that night, when Paris had gone to bed in her bed because Rory wouldn’t let her take the couch, Lorelai sat down on the arm of the couch by where Rory’s feet where, as she lay sprawled out on the couch under about four hundred blankets. “So, is this why you and Dean didn’t work out? I thought it was about Jess, but was it because you don’t like boys?” Her mom was quiet, something rare for her, which meant that she was trying to really understand, not make light.

“No. Dean and didn’t work out because I had feelings for someone else, but it wasn’t Jess. It was Paris.” She took a deep breath, “I really did love him, you know. I just wanted him to be happy, but, after a while, I wanted to be happy too. I hated hurting him, but it wasn’t because of Jess. I mean Jess is a great friend but that’s really all he is.”

“So, you like boys and girls?”

“Pretty much.”

“How lucky for you.”

“What?” She didn’t expect her mom to be made about it but lucky? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“You’ve got twice as many fish in the sea, kid.”

“Oh my god.”

〚Consider supporting me through Ko-fi〛

[elizabethrobertajones]

Why do you think that when seemingly funny thing happen, they happen to Dean? Like the fear thing in Yellow Fever or the age thing in 5.07 and 10.12 (both old and young!) or the memory thing in Regarding Dean. I'm sure I'm missing a lot of others (and also the not so funny like the vampire thing in 6.05 and of course Demon!Dean in S10). But I can't really picture Sam on those situation tho, Dean is perfect xD

And this is why Plucky’s is my favourite episode, because the thing happened to Sam and it was also perfect but in a completely different way :P 

If you’ve seen the gifset ever of that con where they were talking somewhat seriously about this, before someone said Sam was the straight man to Dean and then Jared imploded… I mean, I need someone to turn that up for me so I can stick it in the “thanks Jared” section of my massive bi dean meta etc resource… But also they WERE making a serious point before they derailed it :P 

The show has a lot of quietly set in stone dynamics. I mean, well, they’re stuff that can get subverted or a particular arc or season will try to explore things from a different angle, but even when they try to do that they still work within certain rules. 

I should probably just make a gif of it for myself, but my favourite visual for this is in 11x04… actually it’s 2am and I have the Sleep Madness so I’ll just do that… 

It’s such a wonderful image of the 2 of them, with Sam wearing red and Dean wearing blue, and top and tail like that. They’re 2 parts of a whole but they’re utterly different people and they’re often mirror images to each other in ways where when something applies to one, the direct opposite is shown in the other. 

(Sidebar: it’s why I’m so delighted that Sam was like blah blah Cas is family and then Dean was like you may be able to forget Cas but I can’t!!!!1 in 13x03… But on the other hand there are things where the nuances get lost and people make weird wrong assumptions like us having to endlessly prove Dean is the smart one because of the lingering first impression that doesn’t let anyone create any nuance after “sam went to college and dean didn’t”)

Anyway, setting up a straight man and comedy sidekick duo drops that all on Dean because from the first episode Sam’s all serious and has epic angst, while Dean tries to lighten the mood and clearly has the snarky sort of attitude that lends itself towards being the comedic one. Even when they make Dean angsty, Sam is serious and Dean big brother picks on him a bit sometimes (in a nice way) and teases him a lot - this is all broad strokes season 1 characterisation I’m talking about, really. But yeah, even if they go super deep or make Dean super angsty, he’s established as the character who can deal with it. And sometimes dealing with it is shouldering a cracky episode’s concept because they know his reactions are going to be easier to sell the thing.

The other thing is emotional POV and Dean’s largely established as the character who has that. Sam spends a lot of time unavailable as the emotional POV and Dean has shouldered entire SEASONS of it (season 6 especially where he was the ONLY viable emotional POV character for large chunks of it). Emotional POV is not really who the episode is ABOUT but what character is reacting to it and filtering how we should feel about a thing for us. In 6x03 when Cas wants to read the kid’s soul to get info, Dean steps in like wtf we don’t torture kids, but Sam and Cas outweigh him because utilitarian means to an end for the greater good blah blah. It makes it clear if we’d missed it that Dean is the only person whose judgement can be trusted until further notice. So until then, we always have to check in with Dean to get the read on a thing. 

Anyway because Dean is the emotional POV we cry and suffer along with him, but we also laugh along with him.

In 7x14 even when Sam gets a funny episode about him, the clowns aren’t really revealing anything about him - we knew about the clown fear since 2x02, it’s explored before the fight but largely for Dean’s benefit, and Sam getting the crap kicked out of him by clowns makes him a hilarious object for us - the fight scene is ridiculously funny but it IS just Sam having the snot beaten out of him while they come up with creative ways clowns would WRECK you in a fight. Dean gets an emotional showdown with the guy controlling the fears, and is the one who learns a lesson from it, while Sam had never really been set up for anything other than being the centre of attention of all the nonsense because it was really really funny that he was scared of clowns. It’s like the “the ball washer” “the what?” exchange explains Sam’s entire role in the episode. 

(Which was Dean doing big brother teasing but like the entire narrative decided to torture him :P)

And meanwhile when Dean gets the hilarious episodes which turn out to be really really painful, we get deep explorations of his psyche. 4x06 explores his hell trauma and reveals a lot about what he went through, and his fears about what Sam will become (LOVE THAT DABB EXPOSITION :D)… Idk about the old man Dean episode but he had some DEEP scenes with Bobby in it I seem to recall… I think @thejabberwock was probably giffing it recently and putting it on my dash for me to scroll past without really looking the moment I recognised what episode it was :P) but it was an episode that let them sort of relate to each other a bit better I think. Or Dean to feel for Bobby some more. Idk, I think there is a super important conversation between them? This is what happens when you put an episode on your “eeeeh skip it unless you’re being weirdly thorough” list :P

But yeah young!Dean was a massively important Dean episode exploring deep down in his character, but just delivered through silly moments about cake and Taylor Swift and complaining about puberty. Or the CAR THING with Sam where it’s a huge description of their relationship that Dean hops in the car seat even though he might not be old enough to even legally DRIVE her, and then Sam gets in the front seat and Dean just squishes him, hauling the seat forward for his tiny legs to reach the pedals. Like, Sam didn’t argue and it didn’t occur to Dean and they only swapped AFTER this bad dynamic caused a stupid mess and crushed Sam? Hello entire codependency metaphor :P 

(And I don’t think I need to explain 12x11 since it was so recent and so so awful about Dean D: Oh gosh, you could have just given us the Larry riding montage and no episode and that would have been enough :P)

Anyway as the emotional POV this stuff happens to Dean because changes to his self is the plot idea to help with stuff that’s to come or to explain things that already happened in the main plot, or really OTT situations they want for their own sake, that push the boundaries of his character but seem more to do with the main plot unfolding, make sense to explore through Dean, because his emotional landscape is often plot relevant, and the exploration even if it’s wrapped up in a silly concept, usually makes a lot more sense to apply to him because we already have a vast playground of his characterisation to mess around in. 10x12 and 12x11 especially were calling on everything about Dean. I think the writer even went on Twitter I guess when he was writing it and polled everyone on the most Dean-like things they could think of, and clearly got the answers “music, pie, car and girls” because those were the main metaphors of subverting Dean’s character that he offered.

I don’t think this is to reflect negatively on Sam - he gets some fascinating character stuff but connected to the main plot and not delving him in the same way Dean is delved (I think the imbalance and not understanding how they’re written can make people sad on Sam’s behalf he doesn’t get enough development in the same way Dean gets it, which is often by default when we care about character stuff over plot. I also think the writing falls into ruts of this which HAVE favoured Dean and his emotional arcs over Sam’s plot stuff). But Sam can get some incredible character stuff out of the plot things - I think Sam in Berens episodes is a great example because I’m still reeling from 13x03 and the stuff he said to Jack, because that’s all using the main plot to explore Sam - even if a lot of it was saying obvious stuff we knew about Sam, he doesn’t really say it too often and forcing him to say it out loud in episode THREE means the season is going to have to build on that or fail Sam (and he’s so wrapped up in what happens to Jack I can’t see his character stuff connected to that disappearing :P) 

But yeah, him being the “straight man” means that Dean is bouncing off him to be the funny one, and that really reflects on every level of the show, especially when you take humour and replace it with the emotional connection we have to the show in general and humour is just a great way to game that to get the reaction in a positive way, and Sam’s not the serious one so much as he’s dealing with the big stuff, usually, and that can wander off to all sorts of places like his habit of completely hammering down any other feelings to deal with the things that have to be done. Or to do the opposite of scaling up Dean, he can scale down to be the more serious one in a silly episode. Which doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him - all the episodes where he had to deal with something happening to Dean that put him in charge it really messes him up. Or makes him really good at poker that one time :P 

…

Ah, my neighbours have stopped having a 4 way screaming match outside in the street, I’m going to stop typing and go to bed, so no tl;dr here… it’s turning 2am :D