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doctorbitchcrxft · 16 hours

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Everbody Loves a Clown | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Word Count: 5956

Warnings: Canon violence, canon gore, coping with parental death, clowns lol

A/N: Special treat since the first episode was kinda short! Happy reading, everyone!

The only light in the middle of the clearing in the woods came from John’s wrapped, burning body. You stood wordlessly between Dean and Sam, watching as the pyre burned to ash. Dean stared silently while his brother fought tears.

It felt so odd to have spent so much time looking for John— a man you'd only met in passing during a hunt a little over a year ago— to now be standing in front of his burning corpse. It almost felt anticlimactic if you detached emotion completely from your situation.

On the very real and guttural side of things, though, you knew that having spent so little time with John after looking for him for almost a year was going to take a horrible toll on his boys, especially your Dean.

Sam spoke for the first time in hours. “Before he.. before... did he say anything to you? About anything?”

Dean refused to look at you or his brother, but said, “No. Nothing.”

An obvious lie.

***

Over a week after John’s funeral, you were watching Dean work on his car at Bobby’s. Bobby had been nice enough to let the three of you stay with him while Dean got the Impala back in working order.

Selfishly, every time you looked at Dean, you wanted to come right out with your feelings. Although, he was grieving, and you did not want to take advantage of his vulnerability. You wouldn't want your relationship to be born out of such a terrible tragedy.

However, you would continue to be there for him however he needed, even if that meant sitting next to him in the hot sun silently for hours and handing him a wrench every once in a while. You knew better than to ask if he was okay. You’d lost your father, too and knew he wouldn’t be okay for quite some time.

At first, he’d barely tolerated you sitting next to him. He fought you on everything you tried to do for him, but you got him to shut up after a few days. You knew he knew what you were playing at, and you could tell he appreciated it nonetheless.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as well-fortified against his emotions. You could hear him crying in the next room almost nightly, and it broke your heart. But you would rather Sam cry than build himself up against negative feelings the way his brother did. He was more into the touchy-feely-hug-it-out therapy style, and you were more than happy to give that to him. These boys needed you to be strong for them, and you would happily do so for as long as they needed.

“How's the car coming along?” Sam asked, approaching you and Dean, who was under his car. You sat next to where his boots stuck out with a tool box in your lap.

“Slow,” Dean responded.

“Yeah? Need any help?”

“What, you under a hood? I'll pass.”

“Need anything else, then?”

Dean rolled himself out from under the car and stood up above you. You looked between Dean’s face, set in hard lines, and his brother’s puppy-dog stare. “Stop it, Sam.”

“Stop what?” the younger brother asked innocently.

“Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise,” Dean scoffed.

“Alright, Dean, it's just—” Sam took a deep breath. “We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once.”

“You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” You knew the bite in Dean’s voice was all a mask.

“Don't patronize me, Dean,” Sam returned. “Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”

“Sam, let it go—” you tried, but Dean continued to talk over you.

“Revenge, huh?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it— oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.” He got back down under it.

“Well, we've got something, alright?” Sam crouched down next to you and handed you a cell phone. “It’s what I came out here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this.”

Dean pushed himself out from under the car again and sat up next to you as you played the voicemail. “John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.”

“That message is four months old,” Sam explained.

“Dad saved that chick's message for four months?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam nodded.

“Who’s Ellen?” you asked. “Any mention of her in your dad’s journal?”

“No. But I ran a trace on her phone number, and I got an address.”

***

You and the boys ended up taking one of Bobby’s beat-up minivans to the Roadhouse Saloon; the address Ellen’s voicemail led to.

“This is humiliating. I feel like a fuckin’ soccer mom!” Dean groaned as he parked the car.

“It’s the only one Bobby had running, dude,” you reminded him. You followed the boys into the purposefully dilapidated-looking building.

“Hello? Anybody here?” Dean asked loudly. No response ever came. All you could hear was a fly buzzing and a light popping. You caught sight of a man passed out on the pool table facing away from you.

“Hey, buddy?” Sam said. He turned back to you and Dean. “I'm guessing that isn't Ellen.” He headed into a back room to look around. You walked a little ahead of Dean, only turning around when you heard him say. “Oh god, please let that be a rifle.”

You whipped out your gun and turned to see a pretty petite blonde holding a cocked rifle to Dean’s back. “No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move.”

“Hey!” you said. She looked to you, but didn’t move her gun from Dean’s back. “You shoot him, and you’re dead,” you told her.

“Well, he moves, and he’s dead,” she replied.

“Ladies, Ladies, please,” Dean smirked. “You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…” He turned around fluidly and grabbed the rifle. “That.”

The blonde punched him square in the nose and took back the rifle. You cocked your pistol, catching her attention.

“Sam! A little help, please!” Dean said.

“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” Sam walked out with his hands on his head and a shotgun pointed at the back of him. An older woman walked out holding it. “Sam? Dean? Winchester?” she said.

“Yeah…?” Dean said.

“Son of a bitch,” the woman muttered.

The blonde spoke up next. “Mom, you know these guys?”

“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys,” she answered, lowering the gun and laughing. “Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”

Jo lowered her rifle as well. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Oh, we’re just supposed to be cool now?” you remarked, still pointing your gun at the blonde.

“(Y/N), cool it,” Dean warned. You did as told and slowly lowered your gun, still stand-offish.

“You're not gonna hit me again, are you?” Dean asked Jo.

Ellen handed him a small towel filled with ice.

“Thanks. You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?” he asked as he took it from her.

“Well, the demon, of course,” she stated as if it was obvious. “I heard he was closing in on it.”

“What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?” Dean snarked. “I mean, who- who are you? How do you know about all this?”

The brunette scoffed. “Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once.”

“Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?”

She looked down and softened her voice. “You'd have to ask him that.”

“So why exactly do we need your help?” Dean questioned.

Now you wanted Dean to cool it. “Relax, man,” you warned.

“Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—” Ellen stopped suddenly. “He didn't send you.” She looked frantically between Dean and Sam. “He's all right, isn't he?”

Dean refused to look at her, but Sam answered instead. “No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess.”

Ellen looked sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay. We're all right,” Dean replied.

“Really? I know how close you and your dad were.”

“Really, lady, I'm fine,” he growled.

“Dean, relax,” you urged him quietly.

Sam continued the conversation with Ellen. “So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Well, we can't. But Ash will,” she smirked.

“Who's Ash?” you asked.

“Ash!” she called.

You turned to the man on the pool table as he jerked up and flailed up. “What? It closin' time?”

Sam snorted. “That’s Ash?”

Jo hummed. “Mm-hmm. He's a genius.”

You looked at her, skeptical.

“Sit, please,” Ellen said, and she and her daughter moved around the bar opposite you while you slapped a folder down in front of Ash. He sat across the bar from you.

“You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie,” Dean remarked.

Ash grinned drunkenly. “I like you.”

“Thanks,” the older brother smiled, seeming slightly confused by the drunk.

“Just give him a chance,” Jo urged.

You opened the folder and pushed it toward Ash. “That’s about a year’s worth of John’s work. See if you can make heads or tails of it.”

Ash shook his head as he looked through the papers. “Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this.”

“Our dad could,” said Sam.

“There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean, damn!” Ash’s cadence made you giggle. “They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms— You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me—” he thought for a moment— “fifty-one hours.” He got up to leave, but Dean stopped him.

“I, uh, I dig the haircut.”

He waved his hair around dramatically. “All business up front, party in the back.”

Jo walked around Dean, flirting a little. You could’ve killed her.

He offered Jo a polite smile, but you apparently were not doing a good job of hiding your jealousy.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean chuckled, shooting you a smirk.

You could practically feel Jo checking Dean out.

“She’s looking at you like a hunk of meat,” you replied, talking through your teeth.

“What, you mean, like you do?” he replied, smirking.

“I do not!” You paused at his deadpan look. “I mean, sometimes, maybe, quite possibly, but not right now.”

He nodded. “And you know, I, uh, I appreciate that.”

“Do you really? Sounded like you had a gun to your head when you said that,” you giggled.

He looked back at you sincerely. “You know I do.”

"I do just have... one question, though," you said, unable to stop the words coming out of your mouth due to the sudden, subtle flirting coming from Dean.

He nodded for you to continue.

"I'm assuming you pieced together what I was gonna tell you back at the hospital," you trailed off.

Dean nodded again, the ends of his lips tugging upward.

"You're not... freaked out?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Opposite of freaked out."

You could feel your cheeks heating, and you looked down at the bar in front of you. Dean's chuckle was music to your ears despite the way it spurred on your embarrassment.

Then, Sam approached you and Dean. “A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean asked.

“So, I told her we'd check it out.”

***

Dean continued to grumble about the “stupid minivan” the whole way to your next hunt. Sam did research as you scribbled in your journal. Helping the boys was a task you wouldn't give up for anything, but it was beginning to bring up some negative emotions and memories for you. Journaling was helping to calm the storm inside you.

“You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually,” Sam responded.

“And this family was at some carnival that night?”

“Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals.”

“So, how do we know it’s not some psycho in a clown suit?” you piped up.

“Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course,” Sam explained.

“Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?” Dean mocked.

“Oh, give me a break,” the brunet muttered.

You smiled but refused to make fun of him, because “everyone is afraid of something.”

“You’re scared of clowns?” you asked.

“Yeah, he still busts out crying whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on the television,” Dean told you.

“Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying,” Sam deadpanned.

“Planes crash!”

“And apparently clowns kill!”

"Boys—!"

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean mumbled. “So these types of murders, they ever happen before?”

“Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales,” the younger Winchester explained.

“It’s weird, though, spirits are usually bound to specific locales, y’know,” you said. “So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?”

“Cursed object, maybe,” Dean suggested. “Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them.”

“Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well, blame Sam. It was his idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job.” Dean threw a look to his brother.

“So?”

“It's just… not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt.”

You eyed Sam strangely, too.

The younger Winchester softened. “I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“What Dad would have wanted?” Dean turned his face to Sam.

“Yeah. So?” Sam challenged.

“Nothin'.”

***

You and the boys decided to join the carnival after the second family had been murdered to get a closer look at the happenings during the carnival. “Friends close, freak-shows closer,” Dean had said.

When you entered yet another tent in search of the show’s organizer. You found a man throwing knives at a target; all landing near but not quite on the bulls-eye.

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper; have you seen him around?” the older brother asked.

The man turned around and pulled off his sunglasses. “What is that, some kind of joke?”

“Oh. God, I'm— I'm sorry,” Dean said.

“You think I wouldn't give my teeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?”

Dean whispered to you, “Wanna give me a little help here?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Hey man, is there a problem?” a voice interrogated from behind you. You turned to see a very short man in a red cape.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people,” the knife-thrower said.

“No, I don't, I—” Dean’s gorgeous smile was doing nothing to help him in this situation.

“Hey, buddy, what's your problem?” the short man scowled.

“Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding.”

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The man went to charge Dean.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just— could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?”

You and Sam snickered.

“Please?” you asked.

The short man looked up at you, and his gaze softened. “Sure, sweetheart, follow me.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking back at the boys.

Dean’s jaw was clenched for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. When you asked, he said, “Just don’t like anybody else callin’ you that.”

You smiled lopsidedly. He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

Mr. Cooper met you at the door of his office and invited you in. “You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.”

You looked at the available seating options, and Dean motioned for you to take the normal of the two chairs. You obliged, and Dean stood behind you, forcing Sam to sit in the obnoxious pink chair with a giant clown face on it. He sat on the chair hesitantly and refused to relax into it.

“We've got all kinds of local trouble,” Mr. Cooper continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes, sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas,” Sam responded.

“Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men?”

“Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess.”

Mr. Cooper eyed your group strangely. “You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.”

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” The showrunner pointed to a black and white picture on the wall of a man in a fedora in front of a ferris wheel.

“You guys could be twins,” you pointed out.

Mr. Cooper smiled thoughtfully. “He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else.

"But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Marry this one, maybe.” The man gestured to you. “Have two point five kids. Live regular.”

Dean went to say something, but Sam leaned forward, his eyes serious. “Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.”

You turned to him skeptically, as did Dean.

Mr. Cooper told the three of you to return in a few hours for training, which you were a little surprised by the suddenness of.

“I guess they really are desperate,” you said as the three of you left the carnival holding your uniforms to go change into.

“Were you serious?” Dean asked his brother.

“What?” Sam furrowed his brows at him.

“That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” Dean pressed further at his younger brother’s hesitance. “Sam?”

“I don't know,” he replied.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead, and the fat lady sings ,that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State,” Dean deadpanned.

“I'm having second thoughts,” was all the younger brother answered with.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

Dean stopped Sam. “Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.”

“Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?”

Dean’s voice hardened but remained sarcastic. “Naw, I don't have a problem at all.”

***

Later that day, you returned with the boys wearing a bright red “Cooper Carnival” jacket to begin your “janitorial job.” You were waiting for Sam or Dean to call you to tell you when to meet up with them for further investigation.

Before you had gotten a call from either, you noticed a little girl tugging on her mother’s jacket. “Mommy, look at the clown!” She pointed at something off in the distance.

You followed her line of sight only to see nothing.

“What clown?” the mother asked. “Come on, sweetie, come on.”

You called Sam immediately. “Hey, dude. I got something.”

***

The three of you then chose to stake out the family’s home that evening. Dean had just relayed to you how the blind man overheard him calling Sam about the case and had to tell him you three were writing a book about the supernatural.

“Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown,” Sam snorted.

“I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real,” Dean argued. He pulled a gun and cocked it. You jumped over the seat and shoved his arm down. “What are you, nuts? You’re gonna get us busted.”

“Oh, and get this,” Dean continued. “I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what.”

“What?” you and Sam asked.

“Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager.”

“So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?” Sam questioned.

“Something like that.” The older brother shook his head and sighed. “I can't believe we keep talking about clowns.”

***

You and the Winchesters had been stalking these poor people’s home for hours now. Well, you and Sam had, at least. Dean, on the other hand, was dozing in the front seat. You shook him awake when you saw a phantom clown appear at the front door.

“Dee, look,” you said.

He hummed and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He turned and looked at you when he saw the girl leading the clown inside.

You jumped out of the car and went through the back entrance of the house. You hid around a corner down the hallway from where the little girl and the clown were.

“Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs,” you heard the girl say. At that moment, Sam leapt out and grabbed the young girl who screamed.

Simultaneously, you shot at the clown while Dean cocked his shotgun again. “Sam, watch out!” he yelled.

The clown leapt out the window, turning invisible as it shattered the glass of the front door.

The parents ran downstairs and began shouting at you and the brothers. You and the brothers dropped the girl and sprinted away, hearing the girl whine, “ Mommy, Daddy, they shot my clown!” as you headed out.

***

A while later, you and the brothers pulled off the side of the road and ditched the crappy van Dean had been driving you around in. You pulled the license plate off the back of the van and stuffed it in your duffel bag.

“You really think they saw our plates?” Sam asked you.

“I’m not taking any chances,” you said.

“I hate this fuckin’ thing anyway,” Dean grumbled. He began to lead you and his brother off the side of the road. “Well, one thing's for sure.”

“What?” you asked.

“We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?” Sam suggested.

“I don’t know, man, I’ve never heard of a creature like that. And it’s definitely not a person. I have no idea what the hell it could be,” you huffed.

“Did it say anything in Dad's journal?” Dean asked.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Nope,” pulling out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” you asked him.

“Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?” Sam smirked.

“No way,” snorted Dean.

“Then why didn't he tell us about her?” retorted Sam.

“I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out,” the older brother shrugged.

“Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?”

You chuckled, but Dean simply nodded and looked at the floor.

Sam lowered his phone. “Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap,” Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, god.”

“I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean started walking a little faster. “You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam caught up with his brother easily. “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!” the older Winchester said gruffly.

“What are you talking about?” Sam questioned.

“I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late.”

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?”

You looked between the boys and knew Dean was handing Sam a load of bullshit. However, you decided to stow that conversation until you could get him in private.

Sam swallowed harshly, looking upset. “I'm going to call Ellen.” Sam walked a little ahead of you and Dean on the phone.

While Sam spoke to Ellen, you walked beside Dean wordlessly.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to act like I’m a bomb about to go off,” Dean said.

You looked up at him. “I’m not. I just thought you’d appreciate a little silence instead of me asking you to ‘share and care,’ as you put it.”

He nodded. “Thanks.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, allowing you to support him in that simple way. He rubbed his thumb over yours and continued to walk next to you.

When Sam got off the phone, he turned back to you and his brother. “Wha—” He looked down at yours and Dean’s entwined hands and shook his head. “Nevermind. Rakshasa.”

“What's that?” Dean asked.

“Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited,” Sam explained.

“So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in. Why don't they just munch on the kids?”

“No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?”

“Well, that’s grotesque,” you noted.

“What else'd you find out?” Dean questioned.

“Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects.” The younger brother grimaced.

“Nice,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess.”

“Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81—”

Sam cut his brother off. “Right. Probably more before that.”

“Who do we know that worked both shows?” You raised a brow.

“Cooper?” Sam replied.

“Yup.” You thought for a moment. “That picture of his father looked just like him. Maybe it was him.”

“Well, who knows how old he is?” Sam added.

“Ellen say how to kill him?” Dean asked.

“Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass,” the brunet explained.

“I think I know where to get one of those.”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Before we go stabbing Cooper, I wanna make damn sure it’s him.”

“Oh, you're such a stickler for details, sweetheart,” the older Winchester teased you. “Alright, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper's got bed bugs.”

***

You and Sam followed instructions and went to Mr. Cooper’s trailer. Dean had left the two of you to go find the blind man. Inside the trailer, you didn’t find any bugs he was nesting on. Just a plain, old twin mattress.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a voice called from behind you.

You wheeled around to see Mr. Cooper. “Oh, hi! Just the guy I wanted to—”

“Save it,” Mr. Cooper told you. “Get the hell out of here. Oh, and uh, you’re fired.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

You and Sam dashed out of Mr. Cooper’s trailer and over to where Dean had told you he’d be. When you arrived at the blind man’s tent, Dean stumbled out of the door.

“Holy shit, hey,” you said after he’d scared you.

“Hey.”

“So, Cooper thinks we’re Peeping Toms, but it's not him,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere.”

“Well, did you get the—”

“The brass blades? No. No, it's just been one of those days,” Dean sarcastically replied.

“I got an idea. Come on,” Sam said. You and Dean followed him to the funhouse. As you began to go through, the door slammed behind you between you and the brothers.

“Great!” you groaned.

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled, banging on the door.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N/N), find the maze, okay?” Sam called to you.

“Okay!” you called back. You somehow stumbled your way through the maze and found the brothers. “Oh, thank god,” you sighed.

Sam broke a pipe off the organ a bit ahead of you.

“Where is it?” you asked.

“I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean answered. A knife flew right past your head, clipping your ear. “Fuck!”

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know, Sam, the thing’s invisible!” You jumped up, reached above your head, and grabbed a lever. When you pulled it down, steam poured out of the vent.

“Sam, behind you! Behind you!” you heard Dean say. You began to run in the direction of Dean’s voice through the steam. When you arrived at him, there was a bloodied lump of clothes on the ground with a pipe sticking out from its chest. You turned to Dean who was pinned to the wall by two knives on his arm and helped him free himself.

“You okay?” he asked you.

You nodded as you pulled the last knife out of his jacket.

“I hate funhouses,” he grumbled.

***

You sat next to Dean at Ellen’s bar, and she laid a few beers in front of you. “You kids did a hell of a job.” Ellen nodded at the brothers. “Your dad 'd be proud.”

Sam half-smiled. “Thanks.” He got up to walk over to Ash, and Jo took his place.

“So,” she cleared her throat.

‘Damn, this girl is bold,’ you thought.

“So,” you said.

She ignored you and focused on Dean. “Am I gonna see you again?”

Dean turned to her, surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn't hate it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up from your chair, heading over to Sam and Ash. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you walked away. You knew you had no reason to treat Jo poorly; she was just a young girl with a crush. She had no idea that you and Dean were at all involved. You truly didn’t even know if you and Dean were legitimately involved to begin with.

You noted Ash’s bizarre-looking laptop with exposed wiring and his stack of papers. “Whatcha got there, Pinky?”

He snorted at you. “I’d say I’m a little more Brain than anything, but where ya been? Been waitin’ for ya.”

“What, Ellen didn’t tell you about the clowns?” you asked.

“Clowns? What the fuck—”

You snickered as Dean walked up behind you. “You got something for us, Ash?”

“You find the demon?” Sam questioned.

Ash shook his head. “It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm.”

Dean reached for his laptop. “Do you mind…?”

Ash gave him a look, and Dean pulled his hand back from the keyboard.

You smirked a little at the sight. “Ash, where did you learn to do all this?”

“M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting.”

“No way!” you exclaimed.

He smirked at you and took a sip of his beer.

“Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?” Dean said, suggesting to you and Sam it was time to go.

“Si, si, compadre.” Ash took the beer Dean had placed down and chugged the rest of it.

You followed the brothers to the door. Ellen stopped you before you could leave. “Hey, listen— if you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back.”

“Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish,” Dean said.

***

“So, you get Jo’s number?” you asked back at Bobby’s junkyard. You sat cross-legged on the hood of one of the cars next to the Impala Dean was working on drinking a beer.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, she obviously likes you. Kid was shamelessly flirting with you, so I just assumed—”

“No, (Y/N).” He put down the wrench he was holding. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, okay, I just thought—”

He walked over to you and stood between your knees. He ran his hands up and down your thighs. “I’m telling you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Dean, stop it. You don’t have to come over here and flirt with me just ‘cause I got jealous” you said.

“I’m not,” he assured you. “Look, we haven’t had a chance to talk about everything—”

“And I don’t need us to. I know you need time after your dad—”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you muttered.

“But I have no interest in Jo. She’s layin’ it on a little too thick for my taste,” he smirked.

"I don't know, Dean, your bar hookups always lay it on pretty thick," you reminded him.

"Yeah, guess you're right. But she's not you. So I'm not interested."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get some more beer. You want one?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You headed back inside and passed Sam on the way. You found Bobby inside and began to update him on the situation with the brothers.

“I don’t know, Bobby, neither of them are doing well,” you said. “But it’s Dean I’m the most worried about.”

“Why’s that?” the older man asked.

“He’s just… bottling it up. He wouldn’t even let me sit next to him while he worked on his car for the first week we were here. He’s worrying me.”

“Sounds like Dean,” Bobby nodded. “But I think if anybody can get ‘im to open up, it’s gonna be you.”

You eyed him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s just… different with you. I think he puts up a bit of a front with Sam. But never with you.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep trying.” You grabbed two beers and again passed Sam as he came back into the house with tears in his eyes. As you approached Dean’s car, you heard slamming metal on metal and Dean grunting. You quickened your step to get to him, holding a beer in each hand. When you arrived, you saw him hitting the Impala’s trunk with a crowbar over and over again.

“Dean, what the f—”

He looked up at you and fought back tears. You put the beers on the car behind you and slowly approached him. You opened your arms to him and wrapped them around his torso, and he finally responded by burying his face in your hair. You could feel him still trying to stifle his tears, but it was clear he was unsuccessful. You let him hug you for as long as he needed to.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #spn series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite

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stellas-and-tonitruses · 2 days

Text

these last 3 chapters more than ever have left me wondering about the timeline of spy x family and in particular,

donovan's age.

i'm not going to go too deep into the full timeline because i simply don't think we have enough info to make a real robust timeline, BUT i do think we can very feasibly approximate donovan's age with our current info.

I also won’t be using any precise years like 1964 or whatever bc at this moment in time I find that to be kind of useless, bc the only years we have happen very early in the story in background details and for a lot of those ones, I noticed endo had a tendency to just carelessly put whatever so long as it looked fine from afar, which includes news that were happening around the time of that chapter's release. SO unless he decides to explicitly highlight actual years, I’m not gonna be like “this happened in 1964 and that happened in 1953” and anything of the sort.

now, i shall partake in my least favorite activity.

✨math.✨

so uh buckle up my fellas and feel free to correct me anywhere where i might be wrong bc i am more than aware that math is NOT my strong suit!

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 97, 98 AND 99!

gonna start with the facts!

according to the spy x family EYES ONLY fanbook, henry henderson is 66 years old at the time of the current events of spy x family! in the past three chapters we have learned that there is a 3 year age gap between him and martha, so that would make her 63 years old currently.

as of the events of chapter 99, he is 22 years old (and martha is 19), assuming there wasn't any years-long time gap that was not mentioned within the chapter! which, it doesn’t seem like there were any MASSIVE time gaps, so I’ll be using those ages for calculating.

so, what all this means is that we are (roughly) 44 years into the past at the moment! previous info about the war of loid and yor's childhoods puts it at around 20 years old, so from where we are in the backstory, we still have roughly 20 more years before Luwen is attacked — clearly, because this first war has already ended with donovan still in school.

while we don't have loid's age, we do have yor's, who is 27 years old — meaning she was born around the time of henry being 39 years old, aka clearly neither loid nor yor have been born yet as of the events of chapter 99. too into the past for now!

now, how am i gonna get donovan's age out of all this?

simple! henry's his teacher and has a talk with him after his jail time.

like I mentioned previously, I shall be sticking to 22 for henry’s age here. it may not be fully correct, it may be a year or two off because we aren’t given concrete details on exactly how long he was in jail, so just take it with a grain of salt! it's only going to remain as a rough estimate until we get a definitive answer on donovan's age.

so! henry has a talk with donovan, but the conversation itself, while very important for the plot and especially for our understanding of donovan’s character, is irrelevant for this conversation. no, what's crucial here is what henry is holding. endo even highlights it by focusing an entire larger panel on it!

it's a history textbook for year 7 students!

it being a history textbook is very poignant for the conversation they're having, but the reason this is important to me is because it's very clearly a year 7 textbook.

now, i don't know how much of eden academy's curriculum is based on the uk! but because pretty much all of the architecture of it is based on eton college and endo has literally just returned from a london trip where he showed us he visited a kindergarten, so i think that's grounds enough for me to assume eden academy's year 7 is generally populated by children between 11 and 12 years old. luckily for me, that seems to be the general age for germany's secondary school year 7 too, so even if it's not the british one, it's still close enough!

with all that being said, if donovan is, say, 12 in that moment and henry is 22, that means there is a 10 year difference between the two of them, which, drum roll please, means donovan desmond is 56 years old when our story's events take place! assuming the war of loid's and yor's childhoods took place exactly 20 years ago (when yor was 7 and henry was 46), this would make him around 36 years old when he became ostania's prime minister! it would also mean he had damian at 50 years old, and if demetrius is 12 right now, that would mean he was born when donovan was 44 years old (and his birth would’ve been in the last years of the war).

so, rough events timeline based on all that, focusing on ages!

66 years ago: Henry Henderson is born.

63 years ago: Martha Marriott is born.

~56 years ago: Donovan Desmond is born.

49 years ago: Martha (14) transfers to Eden and meets Henry (17)

47 years ago: Henry (19) graduates Eden.

44 years ago: Henry (22) joins Eden as a teacher, in the same year becomes Donovan Desmond’s (~12) history teacher. Martha (19) graduates Eden and joins the Women’s Defense Auxiliary.

~44 years ago: Martha (~19) is presumed dead. Henry (~22) faces jail time. The war ends, and he marries.

27 years ago: Yor is born. At that time, Henry is 39, Martha is 36, and Donovan is 29.

~27 years ago. [REDACTED] is also born. Same as above, just approximate this time!

~20 years ago: Second war begins. Yor and [REDACTED] are ~7, Henry is ~46, Martha is ~43, Donovan is ~36. Yuri is born.

~12 years ago: Demetrius is born. Donovan is ~44, Yor and [REDACTED] are ~15, Henry is ~54, Martha is ~51, Yuri is ~8.

~10 years ago: Second war ends. Demetrius is ~2, Donovan is ~46, Yor and [REDACTED] are ~17, Henry is ~56, Martha is ~53, Yuri is ~10.

6 years ago: Damian is born (and most other kids in his and Anya’s grade). Demetrius is ~6, Donovan is ~50, Henry is 60, Martha is 57, Yor is 21, Twilight is ~21, Yuri is 14.

5-4 years ago: Anya is born. Damian (etc.) are 1-2, Demetrius is 7-8, Donovan is ~51-52, Henry is 61-62, Martha is 58-59, Yor is 22-23, Twilight is ~22-23, Yuri is 15-16.

1 year ago: Yuri (19) becomes part of the SSS. Anya is 3-4, Damian (etc.) is 5, Demetrius is 10-11, Donovan is ~55, Henry is 65, Martha is 62, Yor is 26, Twilight is ~26.

I HOPE THAT HELPS PUT THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE?? melinda is not included bc we have nothing to go off of for her age outside of purely subjective things like her appearance.

super glad endo included the year 7 thing JAKLSDFKLSD

anyway thank you for reading!!! :DD

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angel-kyo · 1 day

Text

Pay it no mind

Part XX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. mentions of injuries, marriage, and... Huh, that's it.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX

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

“Did you know [name] rejected a marriage proposal from the Zenin?”

Satoru almost spat out the tea he was drinking upon hearing Ieiri’s words. Then he did his best to put on his nicest smile.

“And I thought you didn’t like cracking jokes, Shoko.” He laughed, but in reality, he could not find it funny.

“I wish I were joking,” she said taking her own cup to her lips.

Seriously, it’s not funny.

Why the Zenin? Who among the Zenin? Who was idiotic enough to…?

“I’m not sure of who exactly or why. All I gathered is mostly gossip,” Shoko went on, not allowing any more questions to form in Satoru’s mind. “But what I do know is that the rejection was not taken kindly.”

Of course, a rejection would not have been taken kindly by them, but it still puzzled Gojo, and by the look his friend had on her face, Shoko felt the same way. Was it even allowed to reject anyone from the Zenin?

You did not come from a renowned sorcerers’ clan, for that reason you probably had no one who would fiercely push you into an arranged marriage, but it was also why it did not make sense that anyone related to the Zenin had taken a special interest in you, someone who virtually had not a strong presence in the jujutsu world.

“When?” Satoru asked.

“Weeks ago, maybe more,” his companion stated.

Maybe around the time they started coming back with more wounds than explanations.

That led Shoko to the second half of her theory. Whoever you had made angry, had enough connections to keep stepping on your heels while you were out completing missions.

Shoko started digging into it after the last time you had come to her back from a battle. Your injuries had been bizarre for the simple routine mission you had told her you were going on that night, and after seeing the report of your mission, she noticed the curse you had fought had been misclassified. “That happens sometimes, it’s unfortunate it happened to them,” Ijichi had said, unaware that those misfortunes had been happening a lot with the missions assigned to you as of lately, as Shoko herself realized after looking at all reports from your missions of the last couple of months.

It could be someone from the higher-ups, but if I told that to Gojo, he might just go and kill them all.

Ieiri took a look at him. Judging by the thin line on his lips, he was in deep thought. Contrary to what Shoko had been expecting, she had surprised him, at least as much as one could surprise Gojo Satoru.

You did not tell him that either, huh, [name]?

“Don't think much of it,” Shoko said in an attempt to pull Gojo back to Earth, "[name] did not tell me anything, but if someone is holding a grudge and trying to do a number on them, I think...”

“I won’t let it happen,” Satoru’s voice sounded definitive. "I won't let anything happen to them."

I hope so, Shoko thought.

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Satoru cheerfully exclaimed upon crossing the door to your apartment.

You rolled your eyes in the kitchen. He had been doing that almost every evening when he came to visit you after work, and such visits had not been scarce either.

At this rate, the neighbors are really going to think he is living here.

“That smells good,” Satoru whispered in your ear, one of his arms already wrapping around your waist.

“You are just looking for a free meal.” You laughed and looked at him. “Why don’t you set the table?”

He nodded and was quick to leave your side to do as requested.

As you sat to eat together, you could not help but smile at how domestic it felt to have Satoru dinning with you any other night, even if he would sometimes leave for work or to sleep at his own place, it felt as if he was installing himself in your life more intimately.

You both talked about your day, your students, and overall, what you would be up to the following day. However, Satoru had left out his conversation with Shoko form earlier. As much as he wanted to know the details of what happened with the Zenins and ask why you had not said a word to him about it, he did not want to push for an explanation yet.

Maybe you had been coerced into not talking about it, or maybe you were trying to keep everything still given that the child Satoru (often with your help) was kind of looking after was also related to the Zenin clan, and that had created discord between the Gojo and the Zenin families in the past.

The more Satoru thought about it, the more it appeared to him that the Zenins were trying to bug him with the idea of a marriage. He had always considered you family after all, and of course he would never allow his family to fall into a Zenin’s claws.

***

It was unfair.

It was unfair how good Satoru looked after a shower.

He had taken a quick shower after dinner and changed into the spare clothes he kept at your place.

You were sitting in the living room trying to watch TV, but the man that had just walked in and taken his seat next to you was distracting.

“Like what you see?” he asked without looking at you as he browsed the channels on your TV.

When had he grabbed the remote? And why had you not realized you were staring at him?

“I… Don’t be ridiculous.” You turned your reddened face away from him and stood up. “I’m taking a shower.”

Satoru smiled as he watched you march away. He knew he was good-looking as a fact, but what he truly enjoyed was having that effect on you. It was only fair in his opinion; after all, you had the same effect on him.

Satoru looked at the screen in front of him but did not feel like watching anything, so he turned it off and walked to your room.

He heard the water running when he passed by the bathroom door, and he assumed you were still in there, so he went right to your bed. He sat down and that was when he noticed the drawer of your bedside table had not been closed properly.

He had no intention of snooping, but the cover of the book inside caught his eye, so he took it.

Pride and Prejudice.

Satoru observed it. It was a used copy but in pretty good shaped. His first thought was that you must have obtained it from a secondhand store.

Why would they put the book in the drawer and not on the shelf with the rest of their collection, though?

Satoru knew you read a little bit of everything, but he did not know you were a fan of romance, let alone of Austen, but he would not have teased you for it... Or maybe just a little.

He opened the book on the first page and the hand-written dedication under the novel’s name seemed to answer his question as it read:

"My affections and wishes are unchanged." – I.H.

Satoru immediately knew whom those initials belonged to.

He closed the book and threw it back into your drawer as fast as if it had burned him.

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

Note: This part was initially going to be longer, but at some point, it got divided into two parts. Oh, well... I should get a breather for a couple weeks now that the semester is over, so hopefully I can upload that not too far away in the future.

Thanks for reading!

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #gojo x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo flu #satoru x reader #satoru x you

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thewertsearch · 2 days

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EB: […] i'm not sure if i actually want to encourage you to go off fighting him… EB: because as strong as you probably are, it sounds like he is REALLY strong. EB: and even though you killed tons of people, i think i would still be pretty sad if you died. […] EB: so maybe you should just let us handle it? at least we won't fight him directly.

Well, if you actually manage to destroy the Sun, Jack will be significantly weaker, albeit still threatening.

If we can't convince Vriska to back off, maybe we can convince her to at least delay her attack. Once Jack's no longer a First Guardian, she'll be able to swoop in for a duel she could actually win.

Against Semi-Perfect Jack, I'd give her even odds - but what are the odds if she leaves now? Does she stand any chance against a Jack at the height of his power?

Well, maybe. I know I just joked about her getting annihilated, but Aradia did prove that God Tier powers work on him. Vriska's luck stealing is capable of some pretty astounding feats, but is it really enough to compensate for their enormous power differential? Luck can only take you so far, after all.

I'd give Perfect Jack a huge advantage in this fight, but a Vriska victory isn't completely out of the question, and I can see a few ways she could clinch it.

For example - what are the odds of Jack's Ring falling off?

Is it a million-to-one chance?

Is it a sixteen-million-to-one chance?

AG: You know how I said I couldn't rel8 to the attachment you have for your guardians? […] AG: Well, I guess that isn't completely true. AG: There are adult trolls who we can rel8 to, if we choose to, and if we are lucky enough to discover who they are. AG: 8ut it is not really in a familial sense, at least not socially speaking, the way you understand family. They are more like figures of legend, who are said to have more in common with us genetically than any other troll. 8ut we can never meet them of course. Only look up to them, and follow in their footsteps, 8ecause they died centuries ago.

Wait, so Mother Grubs are sitting on the same DNA for centuries?

I suppose that's why they're ancestors, rather than parents. It's a little strange that Mother Grubs hang onto the same genetic templates for so long, but this is alien biology we're talking about. Anything is possible.

Can the same genetic templates be reused multiple times, then? Can one single ancestor have multiple descendants, allowing trolls to have siblings as well as parents?

...hey, they might even have grandparents! If every troll has an ancestor, then your ancestors will have ancestors themselves, and they'd be your second-order ancestor, too.

AG: I am completely certain it is true, and I know who mine is! AG: I have 8een doing my 8est to honor her legacy for most of my life. AG: I even named my roleplaying character after her!

So this is why she’s so gung-ho about Marquise Spinneret Mindfang. Lay it on us, Vriska!

don't think about baby vriska being forced to kill don't think about baby vriska being forced to kill don't think about baby vriska being for

AG: It was 8efore I ever started gaming, or rounding up other kids to feed my lusus. AG: I was nearing the age where I would 8e expected to feed her.

::::(

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3472 #s128 #BAPY

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fluff-n-cookies · 3 days

Note

Randomly off the bat Dabi, Shigaraki and Spinner (separately) With a quirkless girlfriend Who has an Ex that wants to get back with her, BUT……. The ex turns that “HE BROKE UP WITH HER” because she “had no quirk” and that she was “useless to him”

(Those are the quotes she says to them while telling them the short version of the story) Dabi, Shigaraki, Spinner, deals with the situation themselves.

(I love those boys😍 and I thought it be a good idea story for you, so go crazy and have fun with it😅)

Okay, girlie, while I love the fact that you're sharing this stuff with me, I don't think you read this. the yellow paragraph. I hope you send this request to some other writers, @honeybubblebeeeeee is one of my personal favs. I do however like the idea of a reader having no quirk and being abandoned because of it, so I'll put a platonic spin on it.

AND I ALSO DON"T WRITE FOR SPINNER SORRY!!!

Reader was abandoned by their family after being born to a quirk marriage meant to provide children with strong quirks only for their first child to have no quirk. not wanting their reputation destroyed they abandoned our dear reader at 5 leaving her in an orphanage and a note to near come find them less they wanted a bounty on their head. (reader is now 16)

Dabi likes children, he likes how they have this innocent aura, he likes that they, hopefully, have not gone through the horrors he has. Hopefully. On the other hand, he hates quirk marriages, he hates hero's, in fact, I'd even say he hates fathers in general.

To tell Dabi that your relationship with your father or your mother is bad is to get them at the top of his hit list, VIP shit. Endeavor is just a couple seconds behind them.

but what hurts him more, what hurts him the most is if you actually believe them, if you push yourself through hand to hand combat, sniping, and other such practices not for the sake of improving yourself but to prove to them (not that they care) that you are not useless.

Oh how it pains him, to wake up in the dead of night to see your tear stricken face as you berate a poor punching bag to death on the roof. The wind is cool as you swing, and swing again. It's as if you dance for the stars of the night and the stars alone with not a thought for the trees or the mountains. Only ever the stars.

The sting hurts, the impact of thinly wrapped fists against a leathery wall, but that anger that drains with it is enough to make the pain worth it, is it not?

That anger you feel, is an anger that Touya knows all too well. The type of anger that makes one want to yell of the heavens, yell that they are not a sinner despite being imprisoned in hell. He’ll watch as you swing with fury, fury of not being enough, fury of being thrown away like trash.

one man's trash is another's treasure though, right?

In that case, you're Touya's most darling treasure. Oh the urge to hold you close and tell you everything's going to be okay, as he pets your head, whispering promises of vengeance on your behalf. To give you a reason to smile.

Oh, it's strong.

Oh, the blood he's shed for you.

he won't say anything, if you see him get you water after you nearly faint from mental and physical exhaustion, no you didn't. if you saw him undo the bandages on your arms from training and replace them with new fresh ones, you're delusional. If you saw him stalking your family's socials and calling someone to leak their crimes, shhh, don't tell.

----

"I mean, yeah, you kinda are."

Was his genuine first thought.

I mean, what do you want him to say? that your quirk doesn't determine your worth, like what?

and darling, when I say correct him, I mean correct him, please correct him. Please look dead into his eyes and say "I'm not useless!". for when I say it will escalate, trust me it will Escalate.

this boy has never had a true friend, and on top of that, he was teased as a child for, well being him. So the moment he gets a friend, his heart will swell, for once he feels cherished, and my poor boy, he doesn't show it correctly.

he's just so happy to finally have someone to talk to and joke around with, but doesn't realize just yet what is a joke and what is not. so he'll keep pushing it, it supposedly is an "inside joke" so he'll keep doing it.

So please correct him! tell him that it hurts, and tell him lightly to not risk breaking his heart.

Because he wants to make you happy, he can't stand the fact that you go quiet whenever he calls you quirkless, and that you're progressively distancing yourself more and more. And believe me when I say, it's painful for the both of you.

Please be his friend, and please let him make you happy correctly, you are just so perfect, we can't have such a perfect thing so sad now can we?

---

yeah, done admist some weird shit, and did I mention that I'm a horrible writer?

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bleedingintogold · 2 days

Text

The medic leaned over his captain, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. The man himself was out cold, as he had been for the past day. Tan skin had become a pale shade and a strong body had been reduced to a limp shell of itself. Heavy breathing became the only thing that showed he was still alive and struggling to be.

He wasn't getting better.

The wound had festered and the infection must have gotten into his bloodstream. Medic had been too late to notice and the captain had been too occupied trying to keep as many of his men alive as he could whilst completing their mission. The platoon stopped advancing yesterday when their captain collapsed right in front of them.

But the general had had enough. One man wasn't enough reason to abandon their assignment.

"He can't even sit up by himself, sir! He won't survive if we-" "We aren't bringing him. He will stay here," "With all due respect sir, this platoon needs their medic with them-" "I said that your captain is staying here. Not you," The medic's heart dropped when the general's words started to register. He was being ordered to leave behind his captain. His brother by everything but blood. "Look at him, medic. I doubt he will still be alive by tommorow. You're wasting your supplies," "General! He isn't dead yet! He just needs time-" "Time that we do not have, soldier. We will move by sunrise tommorow. We are advancing without him,"

A small whine answered the general before the medic could, making both men turn to the weak body on the cot. The general sighs as he walks to the young man's side, placing a gentle hand on a too warm forehead. The captain's eyes were hardly open, but he was conscious and had heard the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, son. You were a good soldier and one of my best men. But this mission is of higher importance," "My men...take care of 'em, sir," "I will. For your own good, you need to let go. You don't need to hold on anymore, son. You've done your part," The medic's hand trembled as he watched the two high ranks.

"m' sorry, sir...dying...is not as easy as I thought," "I know. Which is why I will help you. You don't have to suffer like this anymore, son," The general said as he passed the medic a small packet of white powder. "Sir?" "It's cyanide. Mix some into water and feed it to him tonight," "You're...you're asking me to kill him, sir?" "He's in pain, soldier. You're going to do him a favour,"

The captain was partially conscious now but he had seen the powder. Medic made the mistake of meeting the captain's eyes, seeing the fear in them under the haze of sickness. "I will allow you to bury him properly before we depart. Make sure it is done by sunrise," the general said before leaving the tent.

-----

Medic cradled his captain's upper torso, the mixed concoction of poison ready in a canteen. The captain's head laid limp against Medic's shoulder. Medic noticed that his captain was trembling.

No, wait. It was him.

He was trembling.

A weak voice pulled the medic out of his haze. "Medic...I...I don't want to die," a voice he didn't recognize said, soft but shaky. "But...you're in...pain. You won't survive anyway-" "I don't wanna die...please...I'm scared..."

Medic put the canteen down, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his captain. The captain was built bigger than medic, but he seemed incredibly small in his brother's arms. "Okay. Okay. You're not going to die, alright? I'm not...I won't do it," "But...the orders..." "Fuck the orders. I am a medic. Your medic. My task is to keep the men alive, not kill them,"

The captain didn't answer, savouring the warmth of his brother holding him.

#leader whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #leader whump #whump tropes #whump prompt #whump #whumpee #sick whump #team dynamics

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misshoneyimhome · 2 days

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Inexperienced reader seeing him riled up from the game after being out due to injury during the playoffs, and she gets so hot and bothered she would not be able to keep her pussy out of William. After the two of you wake up in the morning, you mount him for your 4th round in the past 24 hours. Your cervix hurt, his cock was sensitive, and you couldn’t take any more stimulation, but whenever you looked at him and saw his beard, rings, and muscles, you couldn’t help but think about your pussy. You're riding relentlessly as William admires your ass as he leans up against the headboard with his hands squeezing your hips as he watches you. Your pace quickens as you approach your climax. You let out a loud moan as he grasps your hips tighter and fucks you with more force. You ride him until you finally reach your climax, and he follows suit and pulls out, releasing his load all over your ass. I apologize I had to share my Sunday slutty thoughts, especially after last night.

Alright, darlings, we're back again 🤍

Truth be told, I found this chapter a bit challenging to write 🌺 Part of me didn't want to use William's difficult times as a source of entertainment, so I want to stress that this chapter is written with nothing but pure love for him ❤️ My heart truly goes out to him, and honestly, I'm just glad he pulled through 💕

Furthermore, clearly I don't know the full details of the situation, so what I've included in this chapter is based on rough information found through social media - Please, don't read too much into it ❤️

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy it 😊

Warnings; where to begin - 18+ smut; fingering - vaginal and anal; *rimjob* (f receiving), anal toy (butt plug); unprotected vaginal penetration (in combination butt plug), protected anal sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), more vaginal fingering; unprotected sex (p in v), cum shot; please, let me know if I missed something;

Word count; 8K+

Combo of other requests: [taste so good] [riled up]

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @Fortheloveofnylander @justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XVII I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️💦🌶️ 🌶️ 🔥

You never imagined your heart could ache this much for a man. After your latest break-up with your ex, you were certain you had built a strong enough wall to prevent anyone else from controlling your deepest emotions. But then along came William Nylander.

William was the most exciting, intense, thrilling, and concerning relationship you had ever been in. The turmoil of your time together was much like to a roller-coaster, with breath-taking highs and gut-wrenching lows. Yet, most days were filled with pure joy. The love between you, the connection you shared, was so profound that you were convinced you could overcome anything together. However, this situation, you had no idea how to navigate.

You had done your utmost to support your boyfriend through everything. Through thick and thin, wins and losses, you always stood by his side. You had learned the hard way what it entailed being an NHL girlfriend, both the good and the bad. And just as much as you relished the highs of the celebrations, you had grown equally fierce and strong to keep yourself steady during the tough times.

However now, you were seeing William at his lowest. The worst you had ever seen him, and you had no idea how to bring him back, how to be the support he needed, the light to lift him. He had always been your rock, the one to pull you out of your darkest moments, but now the roles were reversed, and you felt helpless.

You tried everything: comforting words, silent companionship, even giving him space, but nothing seemed to work. The weight of his struggles pressed heavily on you both, and the feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming. You just wished you could do more, to be more for him.

And it was in this moment of despair that you realised you couldn’t do it alone. William's father had always been his anchor, the solid ground and mentor he could rely on. And knowing William had already had numerous calls with him about his emotional state, you understood you had to call in stronger forces: his family. So, you reached out to his mother, with whom you already had a good relationship, explaining the situation and hoping that their presence and unwavering support would be the key to bringing William back to his true self.

The love you had for him was boundless, and you would go to any lengths to see him smile again, to watch the light return to his eyes.

The Toronto Maple Leafs were heading into the first round of the playoffs, and everyone was beyond excited. Despite the several losses the team had faced in the final games of the regular season, the players did their best to keep their spirits high and focus on bringing their A-game to the first match.

And naturally, they had to face the Boston Bruins—a sworn enemy and one of the toughest teams for the Leafs to beat. Yet, as with most sportsmen and women, the challenge often served as extra fuel, igniting a strong determination to beat the unbeatable.

It wouldn’t be easy; everyone knew that. Despite all players putting in extra effort to train and prepare, anxiety still lingered, the fear of the outcome hanging over them as they geared up to bring their best, knowing otherwise it would be final.

And you did everything you could to be the greatest support for William. You knew how hard he’d worked for this, to play his best in the playoffs and possibly take the team further this season, especially after his contract extension.

You had just had one of the most intense nights together—remarkable, considering how most of your intimate nights were rather intense—sharing the deep connection that had bonded you from the very beginning of your relationship. However, what followed was something you had never seen coming.

The following morning, the atmosphere was different. William was unusually quiet, his face a mask of concentration and underlying tension. You tried to engage him in light conversation, but his responses were short and distracted, and you could see the weight of the upcoming game bearing down on him, the pressure mounting.

In an attempt to ease his stress, you decided to surprise him with his favourite breakfast. And as you moved around the kitchen, you kept stealing glances at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the carefree William you knew. But instead, his eyes were distant, lost in thoughts of strategies and plays.

And when you finally sat down together, you reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Hey, you’ve got this," you whispered as you flashed him a soft smile, your voice filled with all the love and encouragement you could muster. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the man you loved so deeply. But just as quickly, it faded. “Hey, what’s wrong, babe?”

It was the first time you’d ever been this worried about him. The empty look in his eyes, his pale skin, and the fact that he hadn’t taken a single bite of his food had you beyond concerned. You could almost feel your own stomach turn the more you looked at your distraught boyfriend.

And the worst part? He didn’t even say a word. Instead, he just poked his pancake with his fork, letting out a deep sigh.

You reached over, gently placing your hand on his again. "Willy, talk to me," you urged softly, hoping to break through the wall he seemed to have built around himself. "Whatever it is, I’m sure we can handle it together."

But William just let out another deep sigh, rubbing his forehead with his free hand, and you could truly see his distress, something you’d never experienced before with this usually cheerful and strong man. This morning, he just seemed like he’d been run over by a bulldozer.

And knowing William well enough not to pressure him into talking more than he felt like, you let the moment be silent, offering him time and space to breathe, trusting he would eventually talk when he was ready. But he still didn’t say anything. Minutes went by, and only silence hung in the air.

It was almost unbearable. Seeing the love of your life in pain like this, not telling you what was going on within him, what he thought, made your heart ache. You felt your palms getting sweatier and your eyes welling up a little as you awaited his words. But still, nothing.

You only felt a small relief when you watched him take two bites of the pancake, but then he quickly put down the fork and rested his face in his palms. Letting out a deep breath, he hid his face, and that prompted a tear to escape from your eye.

“Willy… what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled into his hands.

“What?”

“I said I don’t fucking know!” he suddenly shouted, looking up from his hands and sitting straight in his chair.

You were baffled. William had never yelled at you like this before, and you didn’t know why he did. You were aware of the pressure he was under due to the impending games, but you also knew he was more than capable of managing the situation. After all, it wasn’t the first time the Leafs had been in the playoffs - in fact, just last season, they even progressed to the second round. So, why William was suddenly furious and behaving in this way caught you completely off guard. And you were unsure of how to respond.

So, you found yourself holding your breath, then exhaling deeply as you maintained your gaze on the man in front of you. You had to swallow hard, attempting to meet his eyes, yet he continued to avoid yours and glanced around. You could sense his frustration. He couldn't remain still, his head moving from side to side, up and down, his hands combing through his hair, and then back to staring out of the window as he nervously bit his lip.

Once again, there was utter silence. Only the faint buzzing noises from the outside world hummed in the background as you allowed another tear to trickle down your cheek. This was unlike anything you had experienced before. This wasn’t one of those situations where one of you was jealous because of an ex or an attractive person flirting. No, this was something different. This was William in anguish and distress, and clearly struggling to cope with it.

And a part of you simply wanted to walk over to the other side of the table, embrace him, kiss him passionately, and let him vent his frustrations on you. If releasing his anger through a good fuck was what he needed, he could direct it towards you. Regardless of any bruises or other consequences he might inflict, all you wanted was to comfort him.

But you sensed that that was not what he required at this moment. So, you allowed him his space. Remaining still in your seat, you simply observed him with a defeated expression, waiting for him to speak. However, the only interruption to the silence was the ringing of his phone.

Releasing another heavy sigh, William answered the call. “Hey… yeah… sorry… Hmm, yeah, I’m… I’m on my way.”

You could hardly find your voice. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him walk away without a word, and once again, you had to brush away a tear. You knew it likely had nothing to do with you. You hadn’t done anything wrong, so you convinced yourself he was probably just frustrated. Yet, as you remained seated and wiped away a few more tears, you felt a pain inside you. Like a dagger to the chest.

Minutes went by after the door shut close before you rose and cleared the table, your movements mechanical. You needed to keep yourself occupied, to divert your mind from the tumult of emotions, and as you washed the dishes, you replayed the morning in your head, scouring for any signs you might have overlooked, any hints to what was truly transpiring in William's mind.

And when the kitchen was all cleaned up, you leaned against the counter, gazing out of the window. You understood the importance of resilience, not just for William but for yourself as well. This wasn't the first obstacle you had encountered together, and undoubtedly wouldn't be the last. You had to trust that your love was strong enough to withstand whatever this was, that you would emerge even stronger on the other side.

Choosing to give him some space, you only sent William a brief text. "Take your time, I'm here when you're ready. I love you." You hoped the message would provide him with any kind solace, even just the tiniest bit of reassurance that he wasn't facing this alone, even if it felt that way to him.

The remainder of the day then dragged on, each moment stretching like an eternity, as you attempted to occupy yourself, yet everything served as a reminder of him. The vacant chair at the dining table, the echo of his laughter reverberating in your mind, the lingering fragrance of his cologne. It all became overwhelming.

And just as hope began to wane, your phone buzzed with a message from William. "I'm sorry about this morning. I love you too. Be home soon."

Relief flooded through you, the tension in your body easing slightly. It wasn't a resolution, but it was a step forward.

However, the days following the morning turned out to be more challenging. And what made it worse was the uncertainty of what to do. Even William himself was at a loss, as he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

All he could articulate was a sense of unwellness. Initially, he mentioned discomfort in his shoulder, feeling unable to engage his physique as usual. But then, there were mentions of stomach issues, or perhaps it was his lower back?

One thing was for sure: you were clueless about what was happening, and you lacked any guidance on how to navigate such a situation. Neither the team's medical staff nor the physiotherapists could provide William with any relief. He was simply in agony, and the cause remained a mystery.

In fact, he was in so much pain that he missed out on the first two games in Boston. Despite attempting to train, hoping to find a workaround on the ice with slow, controlled movements, he still couldn’t function properly. His usual precision in aiming and shooting was compromised, and his body continued to ache.

The frustration was tangible, evident in every crease of his brow - he, a seasoned warrior, found himself side-lined by an invisible adversary. And the uncertainty surrounding his condition only made his distress worse as his customary confidence was replaced by a haunted expression that tugged at your heartstrings.

So, when he phoned after the Leaf’s victory in Boston while his teammates celebrated, expressing his reluctance to join, you took action based on what you believed was best and reached out to the person who knew him best: his mother. And it didn't take long for his family to arrive in Toronto, just before the team returned for game three.

And fortunately, it seemed that their presence brought a measure of solace. Camilla, his mother, with her nurturing nature, immediately took charge of caring for William. And as she prepared his favourite meals, ensured he took his migraine medication, she provided the emotional support that only a mother could offer. Meanwhile, his father and siblings lent their undivided support, engaging him in light-hearted conversations and reminiscing on shared memories.

"Thank you, y/n," Camilla spoke softly as the two of you stood in the kitchen, her words barely audible amidst the distraction of the TV captivating the others. "For reaching out – we all know this isn’t easy for you."

You nodded, offering her a gentle smile as you found solace in witnessing your boyfriend's gradual improvement. "Well, thanks for arriving so quickly," you sighed softly. "I'm not used to this... I mean, I just want to support him so desperately... but I feel fucking helpless," you admitted, feeling the tears welling up again as the depth of your emotions for William overwhelmed you.

"Simply being here means the world, dear," Camilla reassured you. "Trust me – sometimes, there's nothing more you can do, no matter how much you wish otherwise," she added, briefly glancing at Michael sitting on the couch, the man she had supported through the peaks and valleys of his hockey career.

"I know," you almost whispered, your gaze fixed on William. "It's just..."

"You love him," Camilla finished your sentence, offering you a compassionate smile as you turned back to face her.

"Yes, I really do," you affirmed, returning her smile.

"Good – because he loves you too, and you being here for him through it all, that's what he needs most right now."

The sentimentality of the moment was palpable, and thankfully, despite his lack of good sleep lately, you even managed to earn a few smiles from William's lips. You simply made sure to demonstrate that you were still by his side, and he even reciprocated by kissing you goodnight before the day of the third playoffs game, which was to be held on home turf in Toronto.

All of you went about the day slowly and just taking a moment at the time. William was finally eating properly again, and you sensed that his pain was gradually fading, smiles softly curving on his perfect pink lips as he looked at you with nothing but joy.

And before the match, you and William took the dogs out for a stroll to soak in some fresh air, just like you’d usually do before you’d send him off to a game. Meanwhile, his family ensured everything was set for some quality time together, as they were all aware that watching the game from home wouldn’t be easy on William, understanding his longing to be back on the ice. Nonetheless, supporting the team was paramount at that moment.

And as you wandered through the park, William's hand sought yours, giving it a tender squeeze. "Thank you," he murmured softly, his eyes reflecting the gratitude and affection he held. "For everything."

"You don’t need to thank me, Willy," you simply responded, leaning closer to him. "I’m here because I love you. Besides, I've already told you, we’re in this together."

William nodded, his expression softening as he gazed. "I know we are. It's just tough not being out there, you know? Watching the team and not being able to help... it's hard."

"I can only imagine what you’re feeling," you confessed. "I know I don’t fully understand what you’re going through right now, but you'll make it back onto that ice – I'm certain of it – and when you do, you'll be stronger than ever."

A genuine smile graced his lips, warming your heart as the two of you walked alone with the doodles by your feet. "I hope so."

And upon returning home, the condo was infused with the comforting scent of dinner, as his family had prepared dinner, and the atmosphere exuded warmth and unity. And as everyone gathered around the table, conversation flowed effortlessly, and for a moment, it felt like normalcy had returned.

Then, after the meal, as game time drew near, you settled into the living room along with William's family. Sitting next to William, you could sense the tension in his demeanour, his eyes fixed on the screen, every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation.

And as the game played on, the room buzzed with a blend of excitement and apprehension. Every shot, every save, every moment on the ice was observed with held breaths, and William's family alternated between cheering and groaning with each play, striving to maintain high spirits.

"Come on, come on – you've got this," William muttered under his breath as the game drew to a close. However, as the final horn sounded, the score stood at a disheartening 4-2 victory for the Bruins, eliciting deep sighs from everyone.

The disappointment etched on William's face was evident. It wasn't solely the disappointment of his team's defeat, but also the frustration of being unable to contribute. And you knew that no words could assuage his feelings at that moment. All you could do was exactly as Camilla had advised: stand by him and reassure him that regardless of the circumstances, you weren’t going anywhere.

So, as the night drew to a close, you bid farewell to his family, allowing them to retire to their hotel room while you and William sought solace in the comfort of your bed. And amidst it all, you found a glimmer of comfort when William enveloped you in a tight embrace.

"Thank you for being mine," he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"And you’ll never have to find out, Willy," you responded, your heart swelling with love and pride. "I'll always be here. No matter what."

Fortunately, your plan appeared to have worked just as you had hoped. And the following day, William was up and about, eager to give his all and return to the ice as soon as possible.

Perhaps it was the solace of his family's presence, perhaps it was your steadfast support, or perhaps it was simply William being William, pushing himself as he always had. Regardless of the reasons, you remained by his side, and the moment you witnessed his determination to return to the playoffs, you knew he was fuelled by nothing but resolve.

His usual confidence had returned, his gameplay was stronger than ever – just as you had predicted – and as he laced up his skates, William couldn’t shake the thought that he needed to express his gratitude to you once the season concluded. However, that moment was not yet at hand. Right now, he needed to concentrate on the game.

Yet, focusing was easier said than done. Despite William's triumphant return to the game, effortlessly gliding over the ice, the match evolved into a fiercely intense and frustrating contest. Van Riemdyk's goal served as the first setback for the Leafs, yet it paled in comparison to the gut-wrenching blow of the second Bruins goal, scored by Marchand. And to top it off, William's old friend and now rival, David Pastrnak, extended the Bruins' lead to 3-0.

William wasn’t just frustrated; he was furious. Furious that despite giving his all, his heart pounding with every shot on goal, and his adrenaline surging with every miss, he found himself on the losing end. His anger simmered, and he lacked the energy to even attempt to conceal it.

And the dynamic on the bench shifted dramatically when Mitch then voiced his complaint about a missed penalty for the opposing team, asserting that he had been unfairly treated by the referee. William, feeling the weight of the game and the mounting frustration, reached his breaking point. Without hesitation, he delivered a swift remark to his teammate, reminding him of the high stakes they were facing.

"Stop fucking crying, bro!" William's outburst echoed across the bench. "This isn’t junior!"

You had never witnessed William in such a state. While he had been fired up on occasion during your time together, frustrated by the game, this was an entirely different level. Sitting just a few seats away, watching his heated expression on the big screen as the game progressed, you found it difficult to tear your eyes away. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, the tension and intensity of the playoffs were clear.

And, if you were being honest, it ignited something unlike anything else. Whether it was due to ovulation or not, witnessing this side of your boyfriend stirred something primal within you. You found yourself clenching your thighs together in your seat, biting your lower lip as your mind wandered to the untamed fantasies of what he could do to you in such state.

"Hey, are you alright?" Sanna's voice broke through your reverie, concern evident in her tone as she noticed your distracted state.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," you breathed out, offering a smile. "Just nerves from the game…"

Sanna nodded in agreement, sharing the same level of anticipation as the game went on. "Yeah, better get used to it. Nothing compares to the playoffs, believe me," she attempted to lighten the mood with a touch of humour in her voice.

However, unbeknownst to her, your thoughts were elsewhere. You had already witnessed your boyfriend at his lowest, offering him unwavering support and reassurance of your love, promising to face any challenge together. So, that wasn’t it.

No, what truly had your mind spinning, was the arousal stirred within you as you watched him take to the ice once more, utilising his size and strength to navigate through the opposing players. His prowess, especially evident during his penalty in the third period, left you in a state of heightened desire, causing your thoughts to wander into forbidden territory. And you caught yourself pressing your lips together to suppress any sounds that might betray the illicit fantasies running rampant in your mind.

However, as the final whistle blew, you were jolted back to reality, shaking your head to clear the haze of desire. It was then that you noticed Mitch had managed to score a goal while your mind had been preoccupied. Yet, it proved insufficient.

Tonight, had undoubtedly been one of the most challenging experiences you had experienced with the team. And you feared that more such nights lay ahead. The only comfort came during William's post-game interview, where he explained that the heated exchanges on the bench were just part of the game, and the team understood that no one took it personally.

And as William's reassuring words to the press echoed, dispelling any doubts about his relationship with Mitch Marner, your mind continued to replay his earlier display of raw emotion. The way he had unleashed his frustrations had left you throbbing with lust, yearning for his touch. And given the recent lack of intimacy between you due to William's struggles, you were eager to feel your boyfriend's closeness sooner rather than later.

Despite your longing, you made sure not to pressure William. You understood the challenges he had been facing, not only with physical pain but also with his reluctance to seek assistance, so you respected his need for time and space.

What you didn’t consider, however, was that William was yearning for you just as much. He knew his focus on himself was important, recognising his priority was his health. Yet, he also craved for release, and more significantly, he hungered for the euphoria that only the two of you could reach together.

So, as you stepped inside your condo, the air crackled with tension. William quickly closed the door behind you, as he drew you into a passionate, fervent kiss, and his hands explored your body eagerly, grasping your waist and pulling you closer.

"Willy," you gasped into the kiss. "You don't have to... it can wait."

"No, I need you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with longing. "Baby, I need you so much."

You sensed the lingering tension from the game still simmering. Despite the soft words he had spoken during the interview, there was an undeniable intensity of frustration brewing within him, seeking release.

So, you nodded, your breath hitching as his hands slipped under your shirt. "I need you too, Willy," you whispered in response. “You’re so fucking hot when your mad during a game.”

And without another moment's hesitation, William lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his lips never parting from yours. As he gently laid you down on the bed, his eyes smouldered with desire, his touch a delicate yet commanding caress.

In a flurry of movement, your clothes joined his on the floor, and as he hovered above you, his breath hot against your skin, the anticipation surged to almost unbearable heights.

"I've missed this," he confessed, his lips trailing down your neck, igniting a fire within you that had long been dormant.

"Me too," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued his exploration.

He savoured every moment, rediscovering your body with an intensity that reignited the flames of thirst between you. The warmth of your skin against his, his growing hardness against your thigh with each kiss and touch. And you had just the idea of what would satisfy his needs.

William had broached the subject some time ago, before facing his recent injury. However, you hadn't felt ready at the time, and William never pressured you when it came to such matters. You had only done it once before, and he understood that you needed to prepare yourself before considering it again, mentally, and physically. Yet tonight, it felt like the perfect moment to allow him to touch you in that way once more.

Truth be told, the need had been brewing within you too, longing for the kind of intimacy you could only share with him, to reach such heights. So, as you both were entwined in each other's heat, sharing passionate kisses, you leaned back slightly to meet his gaze.

"Willy," you whispered softly. "I want... I want you to... make love to me... the other way..."

"You mean?" William's voice was barely above a whisper, his heart racing with anticipation.

You nodded gently. "Yes... like that..."

William hesitated for a brief moment, wanting to ensure that you were absolutely certain about your request and that it wasn't just about fulfilling his desires. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, yet hints of excitement.

Once again, you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm sure."

With William, you always felt safe, and you appreciated how he always double-checked to ensure your comfort. Yet, in this particular moment, you were more than certain about your suggestion.

So, William then withdrew slightly, the air between you thick with unspoken desire. Slowly, he moved away from you, reaching over to the nightstand where you expected him to retrieve the handcuffs, as he had done countless times before. However, to your surprise, he retrieved a small box, a soft grin spreading across his handsome features.

"I ordered this a little while ago... but I didn’t want to use it, because... you know," William confessed, his voice trailing off as he knelt in front of you, his gaze fixed on you as he placed a small box before you.

His eyes bore into yours as you picked up the box, opening it to reveal the dark blue butt plug, adorned with his golden initials that shimmered under the dim light. A surge of anticipation rippled through your chest, causing your breath to catch slightly. Seeing his initials on such an intimate item filled you with a mix of arousal and profound emotional connection. It was another layer of your shared intimacy, a testament to how well he understood your desires and how eager he was to explore them with you.

"Do you like it?" William asked, his voice low and filled with desire.

And you could only nod, locking eyes with him as you softly spoke. "Yes, I love it."

A soft smile graced his lips, transforming into something more possessive and heated. "Good. Because tonight, I want to remind you just how much you mean to me. I love you so much, baby."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body already responding to the promise they held. And moving closer, William's hands then caressed your skin with a tenderness that left you yearning for more. He set the toy aside for a moment, his lips finding yours in a slow, passionate kiss that left you breathless, making sure you felt completely at ease.

"You’re mine," he murmured against your lips, his hands tracing every curve of your body, igniting a fire within you. "And I’m going to make sure you feel it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as he guided you on the mattress, gently positioning you on your knees and elbows with deliberate movements filled with intent. The coolness of the sheets contrasted with the heat building inside you, and as William's hands then trailed down your back, his fingers slowly grazed over sensitive spots that elicited gasps from your lips.

Your knees sank beneath you and your hips arched into the air, as you felt a wave of anticipation wash over you. Peering back, you watched as William sat up still on his knees, his hand running over the curves of your ass. "Such a nice fucking ass," he praised, his voice thick with desire. "Do you like it when I play with it, äskling?"

You responded with a nod, pushing back against his hand as a silent signal of consent. His palm smoothed over the curve of your cheeks, sending tingles of excitement coursing through your body, and when his finger then very gently pressed against your tightest entrance, your breath caught in your throat. It was a kind of pleasure unlike anything else. And only with William did you feel yourself ease into the moment.

Taking in a deep breath, you concentrated on relaxing your body. And only when William sensed your comfort, you felt the sensation of his hot saliva dripping down your opening before his finger slowly and carefully pushed inside, making your body tremble with pleasure.

"Relax, baby," William encouraged softly. "You've done this so well before... I'm sure you can do it again..."

And as he gently buried his finger inside you, passing through your tight ring muscle, a rush of pleasure washed over you, causing your toes to curl and your fingers to grip the sheets. Paying attention to your soft moans, William then began to work his finger in and out of you slowly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy through your body. And squeezing your eyes shut, you surrendered to the pleasure.

**Then, to your surprise, William gently pulled out his finger, and you suddenly felt the new sensation of his hot tongue against your hole, eliciting a whispered expletive from your lips as you bucked forward in pleasure.

“Oh… oh yes…” you moaned under your breath.

His hands roughly gripped your cheeks, spreading them apart to give him more access. "Do you like that?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he continued to lick and kiss you. "I knew you would."

The work of his mouth caused you to let out a loud moan as your body rocked with pleasure, the sensations coursing through you overwhelming in the best way possible. William then looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with desire as he moved his hand to your face, his thumbs caressing your cheek as he whispered, "You taste so good."

Unintentionally, you pressed your body against him, feeling his throbbing cock behind you, dripping with pre-cum as your eyes locked, and you both knew it wouldn't end there.**

Then pulling back slightly, William then reached for the plug once more, coating it with lube before positioning it at your entrance. "Relax for me, älskling," he whispered, his voice both soothing and commanding.

And again, taking a deep breath, you allowed your body to yield to his command. Slowly and carefully, he began to insert the plug, creating a sensation both unfamiliar and intensely arousing, and the stretch and fullness drew a soft moan from your lips as your body adjusted to the feeling.

"Good girl," William praised, his hands gently massaging your hips as he pushed the plug in completely. "You're taking it so well."

The feeling of being filled, combined with his words and touch, had you trembling with need. You felt your cunt tingling in anticipation, yet you knew tonight you were taking it slow.

William then leaned back on his heels, admiring the sight of you with the butt plug in place, his initials marking his claim on you. And leaning over, his lips brushed against your ear. "How does it feel?"

"A-amazing," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want more."

William’s chuckle was low and seductive. "Don’t worry, älskling. I’m not done with you yet."

He then positioned himself behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks apart for a better view. The sensation of fingers running up your wet folds, briefly stretching your vaginal entrance, sent shivers down your spine. And soon following you felt his hard cock pressing against your entrance, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then with a slow, steady thrust, William entered you, the fullness from the plug in your ass enhancing the sensation of his cock inside you, causing you to moan loudly, your body arching back to meet his thrusts.

"Fuck, you feel so good," William groaned, his pace slowly increasing as he lost himself in the pleasure. "So tight and perfect for me."

The combination of the butt plug and his cock was overwhelming, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. And as your chest was pressed into the pillow below you, your fingers seeking comfort in the sheets and William’s motions quickened, you felt the pressure building inside you. The knot in tummy forming, and your orgasm was approaching rapidly.

“Oh my… fuck… Willy…”

Words were long lost on your tongue. Only the rush of a high taking over as your boyfriend pounded into you from behind, his hands holding you in place as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His cock offered the perfect stimulation of your walls inside you, while the butt plug offered an extra intense sensation.

And as William’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming more erratic, he could feel you nearing your release. "Come for me, älskling," he commanded, his voice strained with desire as he slammed his hips against your buttocks. “Show me what a fucking good girl you are.”

And your body almost instantly obeyed, the tension snapping as your orgasm crashed over you, causing your head to sink into the pillow below you, your fingers clenching the sheet as you cried out his name. Your body convulsed with the intensity of your release, feeling completely filled and utterly consumed by pleasure as your mind went into a blissful haze.

William couldn’t contain his smirk as he felt you clench around him, the sensation of the butt plug touching him inside you driving him wild as well. Yet, he wasn’t ready to finish yet. He knew you wanted more, and so did he.

So, as he sensed you were slowly calming from the intense rush of an orgasm, he then tenderly withdrawing from you, letting your fluids trickle down your inner thighs as you whimpered in pleasure. He returned to the bedside table and retrieved a condom, before wrapping himself up, and then applied an extra layer of lubricant, ensuring your comfort and safety.

Yet just for a moment, while you were still refilling your lungs with air, William paused to admire your body before him. You were stunningly beautiful, and he had to remind himself that you belonged to him. Then, with careful precision, he grasped the anal plug, his initials shimmering as he delicately removed it.

"Oh, fuck baby," he murmured, observing your tight opening ready for him. And your gentle moans only spurred him on, his erection throbbing as he set the toy aside. "Remember, use the safe words if I hurt you in any way, alright?"

You nodded, breathing heavily, as you prepared yourself for what lay ahead. And then you felt it, the tip of his cock pressing against your anus, slowly and very gently penetrating.

"Yes, please..." you whispered softly, clutching the mattress as William tenderly entered you. The blend of pain and pleasure as he stretched and stimulated you was exquisite, and you couldn’t hold back your moans, signalling the pleasure he was causing you.

And William had to release a deep growl of his own, feeling the tightness around him igniting intense arousal within him. But he knew he must maintain control. Though a part of him was still fuelled by the earlier frustrations, urging him to increase the pace, intensity, and depth, he was also determined to make sure your pleasure matched his own. So, with a desire to avoid causing you any discomfort, he moved his hips slowly, allowing his length to glide gently in and out of you.

But it was a lot for both of you to handle. Though the motions were steady and controlled, his thrusts gradually increased in speed, hitting you deeper and overstimulating your inside with every motion. And as you soon sensed another orgasm approaching, you knew you couldn’t hold back for long.

"Willy... oh fuck god... keep... keep going..." you moaned breathlessly, closing your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure almost consumed you. It wasn’t painful in the slightest – just pure, intense pleasure, as William felt nothing but incredible inside your ass, and you could feel how stretched you were.

"Fuck it, baby..." William grunted deeply, unintentionally increasing his speed even more as he pounded vigorously into you. "I can’t... hold back. You’re so tight," he almost spat out, feeling his climax building with each thrust.

His fingers dug into your hips as his pace quickened, and you couldn’t even alert him to your impending orgasm. A rush of pleasure surged through you as your mind blurred once more, your toes curling, and your fingers gripping the sheets even tighter than before. The wave of passion was more intense than anything you’d ever felt before, and as the world around you faded away, you cried out loudly. "Willy... I’m... oh god..."

You reached a peak of ecstasy like never before. Everything from the work of his mouth, the stimulation of the butt plug while he penetrated your cunt, and now, his vigorous thrusts pushed you once again into a euphoric state of mind as he made love to you anally.

However, as much as William enjoyed turning you into a mess below him, he longed to see your radiant face as he reached his climax. So, with as much care as possible in given situation, he pulled himself out, then swiftly turned you onto your back. Leaning over, he kissed you deeply, before guiding his cock towards your anus and penetrating you once more.

Your hands instinctively grasped the back of his shoulders, your nails leaving marks on his skin as pleasure surged through you once again.

"You’re so incredibly beautiful, baby," he murmured into the curve of your neck. "I fucking love feeling you around me... shit... love you so much... baby, I’m going to..."

And before he could finish his sentence, William released a deep growl and spilled himself into the condom.

It was a mind-blowing experience for both of you. The anticipation from the time you had spent apart, the intensity of the game, and the profound connection of your bodies in such an intimate manner. You both needed several minutes to return to reality, and while William stayed put inside you for a little longer, attempting to regulate his breathing, you both simply enjoyed the moment before withdrawing slowly and deliberately then collapsing beside you.

The air hung thick and heavy; the room permeated with the scent of sex. You felt your body tingling from the intense stimulation, your mind still spun in a whirlwind of ecstasy. And it was all worth it.

William had always prioritised ensuring you felt nothing but pleasure under his touch, and tonight was no exception. Even as he gallantly escorted you to the bathroom for clean-up, delicately rinsing your tender skin from the remnants of lube and sweat, in the shower his movements exuded genuine care and affection.

However, despite the gentle caresses and tender gestures, along with soft kisses and a romantic ambiance charged with desire, both of you still found yourselves unable to suppress the lingering mutual yearning.

Hands roamed eagerly over each other as your lips vied for dominance. You felt the hair on his chest beneath your palms, the warmth of his skin scorching against your touch, as his strong, muscle-defined arms pressed you firmly against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His beard was rough and scratchy, grazed against your cheeks as your hands cradled his face, drawing him nearer.

Despite the lingering soreness from your earlier activities, your body throbbed with a craving for more. And William wasted no time in fulfilling your desires. Tracing his lips tenderly along your jawline, he knelt before you, his gaze never wavering from yours. He planted kisses on your lower abdomen, his strong hands parting your legs gently, as his mouth then found your sensitive clit, eliciting electric waves of pleasure that surged through your body.

"Oh yes, mmm Willy," you moaned loudly, your hand entwined in his blonde locks. With your eyes then instinctively shutting, you leaned your head back against the tiles, the cool surface offering a refreshing contrast to the heat building within you.

And it didn’t take long for William to introduce two fingers into the equation, effortlessly sliding them into you. And with expert precision, he stretched your walls once more, bringing you to yet another orgasm. He knew your body like a map he had personally charted, every curve and sensitive spot committed to memory.

So, when it was your turn to reciprocate the oral favour, you did so eagerly. Switching positions, you skilfully took him into your mouth, your tongue and lips working around his already hard cock, as you relished the taste of him while he moaned above you.

And just like yourself, William came harder and quicker than he’d usually do. "Turns out, I'm not the only one who tastes good, baby" you smirked up at him after swallowing his load.

That night, both of you slept deeply, sinking into a peaceful slumber that had been elusive for so long. The stress of William's injury and the intensity of the playoffs had weighed heavily on both of you, and as you were finally able to give into the much-needed rest, William’s arms held you closely to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing.

As the morning light softly filtered into the room, casting a golden glow, you awoke with your naked bodies wrapped in each other, the memory of the previous night's passion still fresh. William’s morning erection stood proudly under the sheets, and as you watched him still peacefully asleep, your own cunt yet again pulsed with lingering desire. Yet, you waited patiently, taking in the serene sight, and reminding yourself that he was your boyfriend, a reality that sometimes felt too good to be true.

Minutes went by, but then William slowly stirred from his slumber, his ocean blue eyes opening to meet yours. He curved a faint smirk that melted your heart and soul all over again, and as his hands instinctively began to roam your naked curves, just as they had the night before, both of you leaned in to share a passionate morning kiss.

No words were needed. Everything in that moment was perfect, as you once more shared the lustful connection between you. Despite the soreness in your cervix and the sensitivity of his cock, the sight of his beard and muscular physique ignited an insatiable desire within you. Just like within William.

So, with sensual motions, you gently pushed him onto his back, climbing atop him, facing away, to align your already wet core with his hardness. And William was quick to respond, sitting up slightly to lean against the headboard, watching you intensely as you lowered yourself onto him, allowing him to fill you up again.

William admired the view of your ass, his hands firmly gripping your hips as you began to slowly rock your hips. And he couldn’t help but bite his lip as he watched your cheeks bounce up and down his shaft, both of you edging closer to yet another climax.

With your hands braced on his thick, muscular thighs, you felt your climax gradually approaching, a moan escaping your lips as you intensified your movements under William’s guiding, tight hold on your hips. Desperate for more, as if you had been deprived of sex for weeks, William began to thrust into you with increased force, his hips slamming upward against you as he too approached a release.

And with his forceful thrusts, he drove you to orgasm, loud moans escaping your lips. As he too got closer to his own climax, with a dominant motions, William then pushed you forward, withdrawing his cock from your cunt before letting out a deep grunt and releasing himself onto your cheeks, marking you as his with his sticky, white cum.

It was another intense moment, your third or perhaps fourth sexual act since the game last night. Both of you were completely exhausted, out of breath from the intensity, yet still found space for soft cuddles.

And as you calmed down from yet another high, William held you close, your eyes meeting in a gentle gaze, sharing smiles and giggles. It felt like falling in love all over again, riding the high of a honeymoon phase as you savoured the moment, holding each other.

William’s thumb softly caressed your cheek, and as your breathing steadied, he broke the comfortable silence.

“I can’t describe how much I love you, y/n.” His voice was raw, low, and husky, his eyes deeply locked onto yours. “With everything I put you through… you still choose to be with me, and I can never tell you enough how much I love you for that…”

“Willy, you don’t need—”

“Shhh,” he pressed his pointer finger against your lips. “You don’t have to say anything, älskling. I just need to tell you that you’re the love of my life. I’m sure of it. And… I know you called my family to help –which I’m really grateful for – but you need to know that you’re truly my anchor. You make me want to be a better version of myself. You make me feel calm, make me feel like a good person, and there’s no way in this world I can ever show you how fucking grateful I am for that. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

You were lost for words. This man kept on surprising you, and you didn’t know how to articulate the fact that you felt exactly the same for him. So, simply placing his hand on your chest, you offered him a soft smile, and all you could manage to say was, “My heart belongs to you.”

#my asks #18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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miss-musings · 2 days

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"Can't You See They're Using You?": The Parallels Between Cid and The Empire as Exploitative Employers in "The Bad Batch"

In rewatching "Star Wars: The Bad Batch" after the series finale, I've realized just how many similarities there are between Cid and the Empire as employers for the Bad Batch and Crosshair, respectively.

I know I'm not the first person to point out how badly Cid used and abused the Batch, even from their very first meeting in 1.05 "Rampage." In fact, @xylionet has a great post summarizing just how much Cid took advantage of the Batch's -- mostly Hunter's -- desperation and inexperience dealing with the galaxy's shadier people.

But, beyond that, the show ultimately drew a lot of parallels between Cid and the Empire as employers, from their attitude toward clones to their manipulative personalities. Even the timelines for the Batch's and Crosshair's employment align very well, even down to the conditions at which they start working for them and why they ultimately reach their breaking points.

Before we dive in, a few clarifications:

I'll mostly be focusing on Cid in this analysis, as I think the Empire's faults are pretty clear.

And, when I say "the Empire," I mean the Imperial officials Crosshair interacts with and takes orders from -- mostly Rampart and Nolan, but to a lesser degree, Hemlock and Tarkin as well.

SHARED TRAITS

Manipulative personalities

From the beginning, Cid did whatever it took to leverage the Batch into working for her.

Once she realizes that they're 1) desperate for information/money and 2) inexperienced/gullible/etc., she very quickly works to get them on her side.

She offers an exchange of information and money if the Batch bring in Muchi, but she neglects to tell them Muchi is a Rancor, probably because she figured they wouldn't have accepted the job if they knew.

As she gives Hunter the information and 30% of the cut, she says that with a bounty hunter after the Batch, they'll need "friends and money -- mostly money." It's objectively not an incorrect assessment, and she offers them more work. Hunter says he'll think about it, and that's when she pulls out the blackmail card. She knows how valuable they are and knows people are after them. If they cross her, she can turn them in.

Cid ultimately uses whatever tactics she has to get the Batch to do what she needs, whether that's sweet-talking or strong-arming or leveraging them (either financially or via blackmail).

Likewise, Rampart especially gets on Crosshair's good side by initially praising him as an experienced clone and elevating him to commander of an elite non-clone squad. He also seems to give Crosshair plenty of clone troopers as well when needed. However, once we get to the Ryloth arc, we see that Rampart is more than willing to threaten Crosshair when he feels like he's underperforming.

Even in Season 2, Rampart continues to play this game with Crosshair by praising him just enough that he still feels valued, while also demoting him and then insinuating that Crosshair needs to continue proving his worth or risk losing his position.

Assigning morally questionable jobs/missions

While this is obvious for the Empire, it's something I don't see talked about much regarding Cid.

Her clients are shady people, and she either doesn't ask her clients a lot of questions or doesn't provide that information to the Batch.

After she strong-arms them into working for her in 1.06 "Decommissioned," she sends them after a tactical droid. The information it has could be useful against the Empire, but it could also lead to the deaths of thousands of clone troopers -- the Batch's reg brothers.

This is something the Martez sisters point out to the Batch, and Hunter says they're "being paid to acquire and deliver," admitting that who the client is or why they want the information isn't a priority. The Martez sisters argue that it should be.

Granted, a lot of the jobs we actually see the Batch doing for Cid are later hand-waved as being a good thing. They deliver arms to freedom fighters on Ryloth, they reunite Ruby with her owner, they free Muchi from slavery, etc. But, there are plenty of jobs we partially see them do or hear about them doing, which could easily have been "bad" things, especially given how shady Cid's clients are.

Arguably, if Cid ever gave them information or the Batch guessed that a given job was a "bad" thing, they could just not do it for her. But, again, she has leverage over them, so I don't know whether they have much of an option.

Dislike of clones

Basically all the Imperials we meet in the show don't like clones.

Rampart pretended well enough in Season 1, but we know from later episodes that he hates them. Nolan is very brazen in telling Crosshair how much he abhors working with clone troopers, saying he "doesn't like used equipment" and that the clones are ultimately expendable. And, obviously we know of Tarkin and Hemlock's hatred for clones.

But, Cid inexplicably hates them as well.

I think she was willing to bring the Batch on because she felt she could use them, but she's very rude Rex in 1.07 "Battle Scars" and apparently didn't like hosting Gregor in 1.15 "Return to Kamino."

She tells Rex and the Batch that she's "done taking in strays," that she's not running a charity, and that her parlor "isn't a clone clubhouse."

She could feasibly have concerns that, if enough clones start hanging out at her parlor, they'd get on the Empire's radar. But, if that was her concern, there were 100 better ways to say that.

We don't get to see her interactions with Gregor, but I don't understand why she was immediately so hostile to Rex. For all she knew, he could've been there to pay her for information or hire the Batch for a job -- something where she would've gotten paid. Shouldn't she have been trying to get on his good side and at least see what he wanted first? But, instead, she immediately and very rudely dismisses him.

Also, Cid has a clone trooper helmet on the wall in her office. (It's on the lefthand side as you look at her desk.) Considering she used to be an informant for the Jedi, I wonder how she got that helmet. Was it a gift? Why would a clone trooper give her a helmet? It seems more likely that it was a trophy of some kind. She seems to have a lot of strange items around her office, but a clone trooper helmet should've been a red flag for the Batch.

Asking a lot & giving little in return

Cid ultimately had the Batch risking their lives for her and her clients, and was apparently only giving them 30% of the payout.

By 1.07 "Battle Scars," they're also in debt to her despite doing at least 10-12 jobs for her. In 1.10, Cid tells them that the Batch needs "a big score for us to be square," and Omega ultimately pays off the debt by hustling people at the strategy game.

So, even if after 1.10, the Batch renegotiated off-screen so that Cid started covering their expenses and that their standard 30% is pure profit, that still seems incredibly low to me. I would think 40-40-20, with the 20% going to cover expenses would be a decent starting point.

But, apparently, they're still doing jobs for her in Season 2 and still only getting 30% -- their standard rate. We're not sure what their success rate is, but they've been able to complete some big jobs for her. They definitely should've renegotiated up to at least 50% or something, especially considering how frequently they were endangering themselves and Omega on these jobs.

With Crosshair and the Empire, he doesn't really have much in the way of benefits, because the Empire ultimately considers all the clones their property.

They were never given a choice on whether they wanted to serve the Empire once it replaced the Republic. They're assigned these dangerous and morally questionable/reprehensible missions. If they question their orders or refuse, they're labeled traitors and arrested; and if they leave, they're branded deserters.

Crosshair at least gets room and board, but he probably isn't getting paid much or at all. Once Senator Chuchi's bill passes in 2.08 "Truth and Consequences," he might be eligible for a retirement/severance package like we see the clones talking about in 2.12 "The Outpost," but he likely wouldn't have a say on when he gets to retire/leave.

Meanwhile, Crosshair and the other clones are risking their lives for the Empire. We see in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone," that the clone troopers are sent in to complete the most dangerous work -- securing Desix and freeing the Imperial governor. But, once it comes to actually occupying the planet, the Empire assigns stormtroopers.

I also always found it interesting that the clone troopers bothered to get Crosshair medical attention in 1.08 "Reunion," but Nolan doesn't in 2.12 "The Outpost." I feel like the clones, at minimum, cared about each other even under Imperial command. But as more non-clones started taking command, they basically said, "Why bother? Clone troopers are a relic of the past, and we have millions of TK troopers who can take their place."

Lack of intel/resources to complete missions

Speaking of 2.12 "The Outpost," we hear about Mayday's predicament: The Empire doesn't provide enough men to defend the oh-so-valuable cargo at the Outpost and doesn't provide the equipment needed to keep their troopers safe. They have to wrap their armor to stay warm; the conditions degrade the sensors; they don't have the tools needed to disarm mines; and so on.

Similarly, the Batch bring up several times in Seasons 1 and 2 that Cid withholds information about their jobs.

Wrecker in 2.11 "Metamorphosis": Limited intel. Huh. There's a surprise.

Maybe sometimes her clients or sources don't give her information as we see in 2.11 "Metamorphosis," but there are plenty of times where she purposely withholds information, like Muchi being a Rancor in 1.05 "Rampage."

Cid was either accepting jobs without much intel because she was getting overconfident in the Batch's abilities, or -- more likely -- she was getting greedy and sending them on as many jobs as possible regardless of the conditions.

The latter seems more likely, especially with how it aligns with how the Empire treats the clones. They're more than ready to put money into the TK trooper program -- and we know from the Original Trilogy that TK troopers are also essentially treated as expendable -- but the Empire clearly doesn't give a crap about the clones, especially after 2.08 "Truth and Consequences."

Ultimately, both the Batch and Crosshair and the other Imperial clone troopers have to make do with the little that their given, despite putting so much on the line for their employers.

“All you’ll ever be to them is a number”

Something I haven't talked about much yet is how Hunter is so prescient about Crosshair being used by the Empire, but doesn't see how Cid is using him and his family to a similar degree.

This is something @xylionet pointed out too:

It’s rather ironic that Crosshair and Hunter are both able to see each other’s situations for what they are, but not their own.

One of the things that hit me during my rewatch of 1.15/16 was Hunter telling Crosshair: "All you'll ever be to them is a number" referring to the Empire.

Admittedly, Hunter isn't wrong. As we see, all the Imperial officials Crosshair interacts with only call him by his CT number, never by his name. (The only exceptions are fellow clones like Cody, Mayday and Emerie.)

And, in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone," when Crosshair asks Rampart about Commander Cody, Rampart acts like he's never heard the name Cody before in his life. He ONLY knows Cody -- one of the most famous commanders in the entire Galactic Army of the Republic -- by his number. Hell, even EMPEROR PALPATINE knew Commander Cody's name in "Revenge of the Sith."

But, while the Empire being a bunch of assholes makes sense, what gets me is that Cid is the exact same way:

She ONLY ever called the Bad Batch members by her little nicknames.

Cid absolutely knew their names. She would have to if she was ever planning to turn them in, as she eventually does. Maybe she didn't know their clone numbers, but she definitely knew what they called each other.

Yet, even in those moments where they came through for her like in 1.13 "Infested" and 2.04 "Faster," she never uses their names as a sign of respect or gratitude. Hell, even after Tech dies, she still only called him "Goggles."

Now, I'm not saying that nicknames are inherently bad. I have plenty of nicknames for people, and vice versa. But, I think there has to be an established relationship first, and then the nickname should be a sign of affection rather than a way to demean someone.

Cid calls the Batch mostly by their outward appearances or accessories -- Tiny, Muscles, Goggles, Bandana, Dark & Broody. (Note: she uses "Dark and Broody" for both Echo and Hunter on different occasions.) It just indicates how she sees them -- not as people but as objects. She's only looking on the surface because that's all she cares about.

“Blind allegiance makes you a pawn”

It's obvious to see that Crosshair's misplaced loyalty to the Empire ultimately made him one of its pawns, to be used and abused.

But, as I've outlined, the Batch was in a similar position with Cid.

Hunter definitely sees that their "mutually beneficial arrangement" with Cid isn't great, but he doesn't really have much choice. They're on their own; they're deserters/traitors; and now they're in charge of a kid and being pursued by bounty hunters.

However, as I'll talk about more in a second, the Batch had several opportunities to walk away from her and try to find some other ways of "making a living." Yet, they continue to work for her despite all the red flags that they definitely see but choose to ignore. This is partly why Echo eventually leaves, because he disagrees with Hunter's decision to maintain this lifestyle rather than fighting for their fellow clones.

While Hunter is arguably the most at fault for letting Cid use and abuse them as long as she does, Cid takes advantage of Omega's loyalty the most.

Even as Omega is trying to convince Hunter and the others to -- and I can't believe I'm about to say this -- pit two crime syndicates against each other just to get Cid's parlor back ... all Cid can say is, "You tell 'em, tiny!"

Twice she asks/convinces her family to stick their necks out for Cid despite all the risks involved, and yet they get little to nothing in return -- including respect.

Despite all the risks they take for her and all the money they bring in, Cid doesn't give a crap when the Marauder gets stolen and the Batch are stranded on the mining planet in 2.09 "The Crossing." That's when the Batch -- particularly Omega -- finally reach their breaking point.

By 2.11 "Metamorphosis," Tech suggests that they only do this last job for her to ensure they leave her on good terms, because she knows so much about them. But, it's clear Omega and Hunter are fed up with how badly Cid used them, which happens to coincide nicely with Crosshair coming to the same realization about the Empire.

Which segues into the timeline analysis:

THE SIMILAR TIMELINES BETWEEN THE BAD BATCH/CID, CROSSHAIR/THE EMPIRE

Reluctant employees (early S1)

As mentioned, the Batch and Crosshair start working for their respective employers because they don’t have a lot of other options.

Crosshair is, of course, practically abducted by the Empire and forced to do its bidding under the effects of the inhibitor chip. This starts in 1.01 "Aftermath."

Meanwhile, the Batch do the initial job for Cid in 1.05 "Rampage." They do a one-off job to get intel on the bounty hunter(s) after Omega, as well as earn such much-needed cash. The Batch didn't really have much of a choice in either finding or working for Cid, because Cid was the only Jedi informant Echo knew how to find, and they were desperate for the intel.

Then, as mentioned, she subsequently uses strong-arming and blackmailing as needed to get them to work for her in 1.06 and beyond.

Falling into a routine (mid-S1)

By 1.07 "Battle Scars," we can see the Batch has fallen into a routine of doing jobs for Cid. As she said, they need money and friends with bounty hunters after them, and they don't really have any other ready sources of income (as demonstrated in 1.04 "Cornered').

Yet, despite all the jobs they've done for her, they're also in debt to her. Meaning, they can't easily walk away without giving her even MORE reason to turn them in, so they have to continue doing jobs for her in hopes of paying off the debt.

Meanwhile, Crosshair and his ES troopers have been continuing to operate under Rampart, presumably carrying out missions under his command. Granted, we don't see any of these except the Onderon mission in 1.03 "The Replacements," but based on how effective they seemed to be in 1.08 "Reunion," I imagine they were doing missions together off-screen.

The first possible turnaround point (late S1)

If we accept the fan theory that Crosshair's chip was removed or deactivated/damaged around 1.08 "Reunion," then Crosshair has regained his free will by the next time we see him in 1.11 "Devil's Deal."

Yet, despite the Empire hijacking his mind and body and forcing him to do all sorts of terrible things, he continues to work for them of his own free will. He has an opportunity to walk away, but he doesn't.

Likewise, the Batch have an opportunity in 1.13 "Infested," after Cid's parlor gets taken over by Roland Durand.

But, thanks to Omega's misplaced loyalty, Cid's blackmailing and other factors, Hunter decides to pit two crime syndicates against each other to get Cid's parlor back and continue working for her. (I cannot emphasize how stupid of a decision this was!!)

Even after Cid's schemes get the Batch in trouble with the Pykes to the point that Omega is taken hostage, the Batch continue to work for Cid. They're lucky this was a "family show," or the Pykes would've definitely killed them or injured Omega or something else just as bad.

If ever there was a time for the Batch to walk away from Cid, this would've been it -- either before the job or after. But, like Crosshair, they don't take the opportunity to walk away.

The second possible turnaround point (S1 finale)

Crosshair had another opportunity to leave the Empire and rejoin his brothers at the end of 1.16 "Kamino Lost." But, instead he decides once again to double-down and stay with the Empire for a myriad of reasons that might have to be its own meta some day. (I touched on it a bit in my S1 Crosshair/loyalty meta.)

But what might be overlooked is that the fall of Kamino was another opportunity for the Batch to leave Cid.

Again, the reason they sought her out and one of the reasons they started/kept working for her was because bounty hunters were after Omega. The bounty was active through 1.09 "Bounty Lost.” At that point, the Batch learn that Lama Su put the bounty on Omega because she's crucial to their cloning operation.

But, as the Batch see for themselves, Tipoca City is decommissioned and destroyed. The Kaminoan cloning facilities are gone. The Kaminoans aren't in a place where they need Omega anymore, because the Empire has effectively ended cloning (at least for military purposes).

So, they could've left Cid after the events of Season 1. Maybe they could've even left her on good terms after saving her ass in 1.13 "Infested." But, they don't.

Starting to second-guess (early S2)

Admittedly, Hunter was never super-comfortable about their arrangement with Cid, but he persisted because he didn't see a lot of alternatives.

But, Omega (and Tech and Wrecker) clearly start to have doubts about working for Cid during 2.04 "Faster." They once again stick their necks out for Cid by offering to clear her debt with Millegi. And, while Cid is grateful at the time, we see later that her gratitude is short-lived.

Based on what Millegi tells them, especially at the end of the episode, it's clear Omega (and the others) are beginning to doubt whether Cid is someone worthy of their loyalty.

Likewise, Crosshair's experiences in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone" start to plant doubts in his mind. He was stranded on Kamino for a month and comes back only to get demoted and sent on a dangerous and morally questionable mission. And while Crosshair and his squad complete the mission, and Rampart even praises Crosshair for it, we also see that Rampart really doubts Crosshair and the other clones' loyalty.

Ultimately, after his experiences with Cody and their mission on Desix, it's clear that Crosshair is beginning to doubt whether the Empire is worthy of his loyalty.

The breaking point (mid/late S2)

As I've pointed out in another post:

Both the Batch and Crosshair fell into a routine that provided them security and stability in an otherwise chaotic time in the galaxy; and both only reached their breaking points when their employers left them for dead.

For the Batch, this is a combination of 2.09-2.11. The Marauder gets stolen while they're on a job for Cid. They ask for her help, and she doesn't readily or easily commit any kind of assistance. They get the Marauder back on their own, and Cid is more than happy to give them another job, framing it as: "Do you wanna make money?"

It's become clear to them that she views them as tools -- only useful to her, not the other way around.

Meanwhile, at the start of 2.12 "The Outpost," Crosshair sees that the Empire has started to retire clones, but at least he's still getting missions.

But, Barton IV ultimately becomes his breaking point when he sees just how expendable he and all clones are. Based on what he said in 1.15 "Return to Kamino," he thought he was "superior" to the other clones, but as Nolan proves, the Empire didn't care either way.

As Mayday points out, the clones sacrificed everything for the Empire while getting nothing in return. Crosshair and Mayday are essentially left for dead, and when they come back looking like absolute hell, Nolan first yells at them for not retrieving the cargo and then tells them to get to work.

As Nolan blatantly tells Crosshair, he and all the other clones are expendable -- only worth keeping around as long as they're useful.

Not out quite yet (late S2)

By 2.13 "Pabu," we can see the Batch has completely cut ties with Cid and are working with Phee instead. Cid leaves them a message, saying that their absence has cost her a lot of money and she once again threatens to turn them in.

Despite emotionally cutting ties with her, they're still physically at her mercy to a degree. Plus, even once they made it clear they didn't want to work for her anymore, she still wants something from them and she's willing to hurt them if they don't cooperate.

Thankfully, Phee comes through for the Batch and introduces them to Pabu -- their future forever home.

Crosshair, meanwhile, is imprisoned at Tantiss. Despite emotionally cutting ties with the Empire, he's still physically at its mercy.

Hemlock offers him a deal: his freedom in exchange for helping him find Clone Force 99. Crosshair refuses to give up his family, even under torture.

Just like the Batch, despite Crosshair's attempt to "walk away" from the Empire, they still want something from him and they're willing to hurt him if he doesn't cooperate.

The fallout (S2 finale and beyond)

Of course, everything falls together in 2.16 "Plan 99," as Cid sells out the Batch to the Empire. The Batch's and Crosshair's former employers temporarily join forces to screw everyone over in the worst ways possible.

Although it was clear to us from the get-go that Crosshair was wrong to trust the Empire, 2.16 confirms to us the audience just how wrong the Batch was to trust Cid. They came to her in a moment of need, and she betrayed them.

Granted, I think this was mostly Hunter's failing, as they never should've gone back to Ord Mantell. I understand they were hurt and desperate to have AZI heal Omega, but Cid told them multiple times she was willing to turn them in. Plus, they just showed on her doorstep after striking a high-level Imperial compound. They knew -- or at least suspected -- that they were already being targeted based on Crosshair's message, but after hitting Eriadu, they would've been on the Empire's "most wanted list."

Jumping to Season 3, Cid's nature is made even clearer as she gives up the Batch a second time.

It's unclear whether CX-2 bribed or tortured Cid -- probably the latter -- but Cid also sold out Phee. And Cid told the Batch she considered Phee a friend. (Although based on Phee's comments in 2.13 "Pabu," that feeling wasn't mutual.)

For all Cid knew, CX-2 could've tortured or killed Phee to find the Batch, and she still gave up the information.

Once again, the Batch's and Crosshair's former employers work together to screw them over.

One last thing I'll add is how the show gave us glimpses of Crosshair and Cid's true colors around the same time. Crosshair is first bribed and then tortured for information about his family, but he doesn't give them up; meanwhile, Cid sells them out after everything they did for her. And, if CX-2 really tortured Cid in Season 3, it just proves how little she cared about the Batch (or even Phee) compared to how much Crosshair cared about them despite everything that happened in S1.

IN CONCLUSION

I want to state for the record that, as frustrating as it is to see our favorite characters allow themselves to be used and abused by their employers, I don't hate any of them.

These characters are human. They're not perfect, and hindsight is 20/20.

I know several people who were hoping that Cid would come through for the Batch, that she would be a true ally even if she was grumpy and rude (and that's putting it mildly).

If anything, I think this all shows just how similar Hunter, Crosshair and Omega are. They share a lot of the same strengths and weaknesses. Hunter and Crosshair see just how terrible the other's situation is, but not their own; and Crosshair and Omega are loyal to a fault.

They all just wanted some security and stability in what was a very chaotic time for the galaxy and their family. I can understand, to an extent, why they made the decisions they did even if I find them frustrating.

If you want to take any of this meta and apply it to your own lives, by all means. Despite what some folks might think, Star Wars has always been political, and I don't want any of you to end up like our favorite Bad Batch characters.

At the end of the day, "The Bad Batch" is a family show with a lot of morals and lessons about the importance of love, hope and family -- whether blood relatives, adopted or 'found.'

But, it's also a show about the evils of political systems and corporate greed, and how the forces around us will profit off our blood, sweat and tears while giving us little to nothing in return.

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fryday · 3 days

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I know the fact that they are such private people and that they like to keep what’s important to them to themselves are some of the reasons why they are still going so strong after 15 years. I actually have so much respect for them for not selling their relationship out for $. But oh my god. How i wish they would just drop a tell all video talking about their thoughts and feelings about each other.

funnily enough i feel like we don't even need a tell-all sort of video for their thoughts and feelings about each other, specifically - i think they already share that with us, very generously, and almost on a weekly basis at this point (with every upload). when you think about it, the only things they've never revealed are:

(1) the specific status they assign to their relationship between themselves (to the public, it's still mainly "friends" and to the more avid fans it's a whole amalgamation of terms and labels and descriptions, mostly thanks to dan in his wad interviews, that in the end all fundamentally just say one thing: that they really, really love each other)

(2) the intimate details of their history; what they were to each other through the eras of dnp, what exactly happened behind the scenes, etc (which is maybe what you mean!)

in that sense, i think a lot of what we don't know is technical. it's factual. we do actually know how they feel about each other: they love each other, and they always have. plain and simple.

if we were to ever get a video like that, i'd almost want it from a "wise older cousin" kind of view. dnp are adults now, and they'll always be the same number of years older than us that they were when we first started watching them, and we're always going to look up to them, even if the way we do that changes as we age. but i feel like they know so much by now, about being in a committed relationship and sustaining it through huge challenges and what it's like to grow as a person alongside another person etc etc etc, and i feel like the advice they could give to the younger generation (especially the younger queer generation) would be invaluable. and really appreciated. (also i just like hearing them talk about important things; they're so intelligent and wise and their typical content doesn't always allow them to express that, and a topic like this, that has been so massive to them + their brand over the years, would definitely let them let it all out).

i'm not sure if this addressed what you meant by "tell all video talking about their thoughts and feelings about each other". hopefully i didn't veer too far off course. if i did, feel free to come back & clarify with me!

but i did have lots of thoughts about this generally. because i think we all started out as tweens and teens looking for a relationship confirmation more than anything, and now the hope is for something v different, i think. at least for me. and i hadn't truly thought about it before receiving this ask. so i'm glad i got the chance anyway!

#but yes pls clarify if this was totally not what you were trying to get at lmao!#sorry if it wasn't #dan and phil #dnp #asks #answered #anon

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cordeliawhohung · 2 days

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Important:

Under the cut, I'm going to be talking about domestic and sexual violence, general unsafe scenarios, and my boundaries regarding my pet!au series (though, this heavily extends to ALL my works) and the expectations i have for people who interact with me through my writing and what is sent to me in my inbox.

While I understand that I write dark topics in many of my works, covering things from domestic violence, to graphic sexual violence; I am still a human being. I know it's easy to pretend I'm just some random person, some faceless creature through a screen, or whatever other way you may perceive me, but please, be thoughtful and courteous of the things you say to me/send me in my asks. It's extremely inappropriate to send me graphic descriptions of things you are going through/have gone through in relation to what I'm writing or what my works have depicted. It's unhealthy for both me and for you to send me unsolicited stories of detailed abuse, especially because I am in no position to help you.

It's normal for writing to illicit strong emotional responses, and I am genuinely so thankful that my writing has been cathartic for so many of you. You are more than welcome to share with me that something I've written has helped you, or touched you in some sort of way: I just ask that you please spare me the graphic details. It is damaging, and I will not respond to those asks and slap such heavy, unfiltered content for others to see.

You may think that you know me, and feel safe enough sharing such intimate details about the darker parts of your life with me, but I ask that you please don't because you truly do not know me well enough to dump anything heavily triggering like that onto me. It's very flattering, and I'm glad I come across kind, and as a safe person (because I try to be!!) but it makes me severely uncomfortable. I simply will not tolerate it.

I do not wish to discourage anyone from sharing their trauma, or experiences in general. Obviously, talking about things can be really healing and therapeutic. I am not saying you must keep everything to yourself and bottle up these very complicated feelings. I just beg of you to please ensure that the person you are speaking with is able and willing to bear the things you're about to share with them; and I am making it very clear that I am not that person. I wish I could be that person for everyone, but I simply cannot. The emotional turmoil, the stress of not being able to help, it's extremely unhealthy for me. Especially when I am essentially coerced into doing so. Share your experiences in a healthy, and beneficial way. Dumping an experience (or several) onto someone who has not had the chance to back out of the conversation is damaging, and something I can't afford and will not tolerate.

If you find yourself in need of someone to confide in, there are hotlines and other mediums of support you can seek. While I'll admit, sometimes hotlines or online help isn't always the greatest, it is certainly more effective than I'll ever be. Here are some resources (I believe based in the USA) if you find yourself needing them.

National Domestic Violence Hotline

RAINN Sexual Violence Support Hotline

It is gut wrenching knowing people relate to Bonnie in pet!au in any capacity, but I ask you guys to respect these very clear boundaries. I would hate to have to stop writing/take down the story because of inappropriate or harmful behavior in my inbox.

#announcement #important #pet!au

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thearchercore · 18 hours

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and meanwhile Charles is calm, probably laughing at all that🤣🤣. This guy is so much smarter than them. People say he's naive but he's the one who most understands how to play this game. Right now he's the calmest person. He is in a team that does not collapse and that supports him, he has a seat for the next few years. He is involved in no scandals and his communication via his networks is perfect. We can criticize his relationship but for the moment the guy is enjoying it without a big scandal and without his girlfriend ridiculing him and dragging him into scandals. We don't say it enough but Charles Leclerc is a fucking genius

to be honest, i genuinely really like alexandra and her approach to being a "wag". she's a private person but only "influences" through her appearances and tiktok account without getting into petty drama. (or she addresses it in a funny way -- like when an hate acc called her outfit repeater and she then used the sound that says "outfiit repeater" on tiktok).

and, at the end of the day, being a girlfriend of an f1 driver automatically puts you on pedestal for getting heat (and especially if you're dating charles of all people). that's what comes with it and it will always attract hateful opinions.

i think what charles managed perfectly is forming a strong support group and close bubble of friends/family that would never capitalize on his presence and he knows he can trust these people so at the end of the day, he's the one playing the game. he's the one who decides what gets posted/how he presents the narrative. he's smart when it comes to his social game and i'm always excited to see what's his next move (even the way he soft launched lec back in january with the vanilla ice cream pic, or how he teased the album). he knows how to navigate in online spaces and how to use it to his advantage and we love to see it

#charles leclerc

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estellan0vella · 2 days

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I'll Take Care of Everything ❀ Toji Fushiguro Masterlist HFBU

The midday sun filters through the windows of your office, casting a warm glow on your desk as you try to focus on the task at hand. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clatter of keyboards provide a familiar backdrop to your workday. You're typing up a report, your fingers moving methodically over the keyboard, when you feel it coming—the hazy fog that signals an absent seizure.

Your vision blurs and the world around you fades into a muted blur of colours and sounds. You stare blankly at the screen, your mind drifting away. These moments, though brief, always leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed. You know it's only a matter of time before your boss, Mr. Tanaka, notices.

Sure enough, just as you start to come back to yourself, you hear his sharp voice cutting through the office chatter with a sharp snap of your name.

"Are you even paying attention to what you're doing?" Mr. Tanaka's tone is harsh, and you can feel the eyes of your co-workers on you as he approaches your desk.

You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of the seizure. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tanaka. I was just—"

"Just spacing out again, I see," he interrupts, his face twisted in a scowl. "This isn't the first time. How do you expect to keep up with your work if you're constantly daydreaming?"

His words sting, each one like a sharp slap to your self-esteem. You want to explain, to tell him about your condition, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak. Instead, you look down at your hands, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but it's clear that your apology does little to appease him.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," he snaps. "If you can't stay focused, maybe you should consider finding a job that's more suited to your... abilities."

The humiliation burns hot in your chest and the tears you've been holding back start to spill over. You stand up abruptly, mumbling an excuse as you rush out of the office. You can't bear to stay another moment under his scornful gaze.

You make it to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall, your body trembling with silent sobs. The walls feel like they're closing in, and the cold, clinical light only heightens your sense of isolation. You lean against the door, taking deep, shaky breaths as you try to calm down.

After what feels like an eternity, you manage to compose yourself enough to leave the bathroom. You grab your bag and head for the exit, not caring that it's still the middle of the day. You need to get out of there, to find a place where you can breathe without feeling judged.

The walk to your apartment is a blur, and by the time you reach your front door, you're emotionally exhausted. You fumble with your keys, your hands still shaking, and finally manage to unlock the door.

Inside, the familiar scent of home greets you, and you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in a cushion. The tears come again, harder this time, as the weight of the day's events crashes down on you.

It's in this state that Toji finds you when he comes home a short while later. His sharp eyes take in your tear-streaked face, the way your body trembles with each sob, and his expression softens.

"Hey," he says gently, sitting down beside you and wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. "What's wrong?"

His voice is a soothing balm, and you lean into his embrace, feeling a flicker of comfort amidst the storm of your emotions. "It's my boss," you manage to choke out. "He... he yelled at me after a seizure. He doesn't understand. He thinks I'm just... lazy or something."

Toji's jaw tightens, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "He said that to you?"

You nod, sniffling. "He humiliated me in front of everyone. I couldn't stay. I just... I couldn't."

Toji pulls you closer, his presence a solid, reassuring anchor. "You did the right thing by leaving," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "You don't deserve to be treated like that."

You cling to him, as he gently strokes your hair. "I just... I hate feeling like this. Like I'm broken."

"You're not broken," he says firmly, tilting your chin up so you're looking into his eyes. "You're strong, and you're doing your best. Don't let that bastard make you feel otherwise."

His words are a lifeline, and you feel a spark of hope igniting in your chest. "Thank you," you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

Toji holds you until your sobs subside, his presence a calming force that helps steady your racing heart. "You need to rest," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Get some sleep. I'll take care of everything."

You nod, too exhausted to argue. He helps you to your feet and guides you to the bedroom, where you curl up under the covers, the familiar scent of the sheets offering a small measure of comfort.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Toji's hand gently stroking your hair, and the last thing you hear before you succumb to the darkness is his whispered promise.

"I'll make sure he pays for this."

The next morning, you wake up feeling drained but a little more composed. The events of the previous day still weigh heavily on your mind, but you try to push them aside as you get ready for the day. You have no intention of going back to the office just yet, but you know you can't avoid it forever.

As you sip your coffee, you hear the front door open and close. Toji appears a moment later, looking calm but with an air of satisfaction about him.

"Morning," he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you admit, though your voice is still a bit shaky. "Did you... did you go out?"

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, but there's a hard edge to his tone. "Had a little chat with your boss."

You blink, a mixture of worry and curiosity bubbling up inside you. "What did you do?"

Toji smirks, but his eyes are serious. "Just reminded him that treating people like shit has consequences. And treating my girl like shit has consequences his tiny dick, small pea brain can't even begin to imagine. He won't be bothering you again."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, but you can't deny the sense of relief that washes over you as you giggle at his wording. "Thank you," you say softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

"Always," he replies, his grip warm and reassuring.

Later that day, as you try to relax and recover, you receive an email notification on your phone. Your heart skips a beat when you see it's from Mr. Tanaka. With a deep breath, you open the email, bracing yourself for whatever it might contain.

To your surprise, the tone is entirely different from anything you've ever received from him before.

Subject: Formal Apology

Dear Y/N,

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to offer my sincerest apologies for my behaviour yesterday. My actions were unprofessional and unacceptable, and I deeply regret the distress I caused you.

I have taken some time to reflect on the situation and realize that I need to be more understanding and supportive of my employees' needs. Effective immediately, I am offering you a significant pay raise and a bonus as a gesture of goodwill. I hope you will accept this as a token of my remorse and commitment to creating a better working environment.

Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to support you.

Sincerely,

Mr. Tanaka

You stare at the email in disbelief, reading it over several times to make sure you're not imagining things. A mix of emotions churn within you—relief, vindication, and a lingering trace of anger.

Toji notices your expression and raises an eyebrow. "Good news?"

You hand him the phone, and he reads the email quickly, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he got the message."

You can't help but laugh, a sound that feels foreign but wonderful after everything that's happened. "Yeah, it looks like he did."

Toji pulls you into a hug, and you melt into his embrace. "You're amazing," you whisper against his chest.

"So are you," he replies, kissing the top of your head. "And don't you forget it."

After breakfast, you find yourself lounging on the couch, scrolling through social media and chatting with Toji. His gruff exterior and no-nonsense attitude often contrast amusingly with his tender, loving moments with you. Today, you decide to push that contrast to the next level.

"Hey," you say, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hmm?" he replies, not looking up from his book.

"How do you feel about a little pampering session?"

He raises an eyebrow, his attention finally shifting to you. "Pampering session? What do you have in mind?"

You grin and head to the bathroom, coming back with a couple of face masks and some other skincare products. "I was thinking we could do face masks together. It'll be fun!"

Toji eyes the colorful packets warily. "Face masks? Seriously?"

"Seriously," you say, holding up a pink packet adorned with cute cartoon illustrations. "It'll be good for your skin, and besides, it's relaxing."

He snorts, but there's a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Alright, fine. But only because you asked."

You sit him down on the couch and start explaining the steps. Toji listens with an exaggerated look of scepticism, which only makes you giggle more.

"First, we need to cleanse your face," you say, handing him a bottle of cleanser.

He grumbles but follows your instructions, and soon enough, he's got a clean, damp face. You apply the mask next, gently smoothing the cool gel over his rough, handsome features. He twitches slightly at the sensation but remains still, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"How does it feel?" you ask, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

"Cold," he says, deadpan. "And slimy."

You laugh, applying your own mask quickly before sitting beside him. "Now we just let them sit for a while. It's supposed to be good for the skin, remember?"

He sighs dramatically but leans back, closing his eyes. "If you say so."

You both sit there in comfortable silence, the minutes ticking by as the masks work their magic. The sight of Toji with a bright pink face mask is both endearing and hilarious, and you can't help but sneak a few pictures on your phone.

When the time is up, you carefully peel off the masks and wash your faces. Toji's skin looks noticeably brighter, and you can't resist teasing him about it.

"See? I told you it would be good for you," you say, gently patting his cheek.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. "Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I love you."

You spend the rest of the day cuddling, watching movies, and just enjoying each other's company. Toji's unwavering support and willingness to step out of his comfort zone for you make you feel cherished and adored. As the afternoon sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over your home, you realize just how lucky you are to have someone like him by your side.

In the evening, you cook dinner together, laughing and teasing each other as you chop vegetables and stir pots. Toji's culinary skills might be a bit rough around the edges, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and a surprisingly good sense of taste.

After dinner, you curl up on the couch once more, this time with a cozy blanket and a favorite movie playing. Toji wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You rest your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

"Thank you for today," you murmur, your eyes growing heavy with contentment.

"Anytime," he replies, his voice a soothing rumble as he holds you a bit tighter. "I'll always be here for you."

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