#but it gets worse when you try to do anything like this to it

[norrizzandpia]

Hi :))

How about angry love confession in the rain with Lando and then a kiss in the rain??!

Olive (LN4)

Summary: After a massive loss, Lando and Y/n find themselves losing sight of the love they once shared. A ghost town in a house they once imprinted their love in is riddled in pain and grief. Right at the edge of the cliff, ready to give up and part ways, an anniversary pulls them back together and reunites them in what they once had.

Warnings: THIS IS VERY TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES, depictions of a miscarriage, language, massive angst, HAPPY ENDING

Note: it is not a very angry love confession im sorry :( but i kind of took creative freedom here! I hope you like it! I also lied THIS IS NOT A TWO PART JUST ONE because it ends positively

I could be a good mother and I want to be your wife. - Not a lot, just forever by Adrianne Lenker

There wasn’t necessarily a moment Y/n could pinpoint as the ending of the love her and Lando had. There were fights they had that could’ve hinted at their falling out, but it seemed as though one day, she woke up and the house they lived in together was just one of ghosts and pain.

The walls that were once filled with laughter and happiness now creaked with silence. This was almost worse than a complete break up. This was hell on Earth. This was living with the man she loved more than anything and knowing he no longer loved her in the way she did, lying to himself to try and salvage something that wasn’t there.

It was almost as if they hated the fact that, at some point, they loved each other. Lando couldn’t dare to look at her, worried if he did then he would realize how much he used to feel for her, and Y/n never spoke unless needed, not wanting to alert him of her presence and see him tense in the way he did.

It was tragic and it was sorrowful and it wasn’t love.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

Y/n set the last box down, staring at the empty room and smiling. His arms surprised her as they winded their way around her waist.

He nuzzled into her neck and kissed softly at the skin, “What a beautiful home for my beautiful girl.”

She blushed, “Lan, it’s your home too. It’s ours.”

She yelped as he twirled her around in his arms, face coming into view and oh so close. He nipped at her nose, giggles ensuing from the two, “Say that again.”

Her arms crossed over his neck, “It’s our home.”

Lando sighed and let his eyes fall to the space behind her, “Three years it took us to move in together.”

She tutted, “Three years it took you to convince me to move to Monaco.”

His dimples gave way and her heart warmed. The deep divots on his skin always peeked out when he was talking to her, she thought of them as a physical sign of his adoration.

She traced over them and Lando stared down at her, Y/n unknowing, as his body drowned in the love he had for her. He wouldn’t want to move in with anyone else. When he pictured his life, it was her standing in this room with him.

Their bedroom.

“How long do you think until a little you and me runs around here?” He whispered, grabbing her attention once more.

Y/n’s eyes lightly fluttered down to her stomach, “Not long I hope.”

A mischievous grin deepened his dimples and she knew what he was going to say before the words even fell from his mouth.

”Want to try now?”

No bed in the room, he dragged her down to the kitchen and set her upon the counter. Their first memory in their house together.

PRESENT

”Excuse me,” She whispered, a slight roughness to her voice only a lack of sleep could explain.

Lando didn’t move.

She huffed, “Lando,”

His head turned and his eyes latched onto the wall behind her, “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “Please move.”

His head gave two glances to the left and right before he shrugged, “It’s a small bathroom, Y/n. I can’t move.”

”You’re standing in the middle of the walkway, Lando. I can’t get through to get ready for bed.” She gave, eyes rolling when he wouldn’t budge.

Lando snapped, “Jesus, Y/n, why don’t you just take your shit down the hall to the other bathroom. Get ready there. Problem solve, please.”

Her eyes turned cold and when he finally met them, he couldn’t recognize the woman he once loved.

“Fuck you. You of all people should know why I won’t step foot in there. You won’t. Why should I?” She said, pushing past him forcefully to get where she needed to be.

He grunted, “Don’t fucking push me. What are we? Five?”

She chuckled, “That’s rich coming from you.”

Lando’s eyes rolled, “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna fucking throw that at me?”

She put her toothpaste against the bristles of the brush and gave him a quick look before going silent and letting the cool mint taste shut her up.

He grumbled, “Fucking silent treatment. Classic.”

Lando slammed the door shut, random mutters of annoyance under his breath as he walked away.

Y/n stared at the white paint as it chipped away, having been slammed many times before. And only when she turned back to stare at her reflection did she notice the tears down her cheeks.

She could leave, there was nothing stopping her, but what she didn’t want to admit was the love still there that she couldn’t let go of.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

”You don’t think it’s weird we’re trying for a baby when we aren’t even engaged yet, right?” Y/n asked as she sat at the counter, the morning breeze coming in through the main bay window and keeping small strands of her hair out of her face.

Lando’s back was to her as he hesitated, “No, I don’t think so. Lots of couples do it.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, “Are you sure? I feel like they’re all at least engaged.”

A plate of pancakes was clutched in his grip when he turned around, a small smile on his face as he looked at her. He set the food down and pushed her hair off her shoulder, “We aren’t other couples, baby. We can do things on our own terms.”

She nodded, “Maybe, but…” She trailed off.

His mouth was filled as he murmured, “But what?”

She poked her food around with her fork when she whispered, “But what if I want to get married?”

Lando stopped eating, practically stopped breathing altogether. He took a few seconds before resuming his prior movements as if nothing happened, “We can talk about it.”

His lack of enthusiasm made her retract into herself. He wanted a baby, but he didn’t want marriage seemingly.

Why?

PRESENT

”So, how are you? I haven’t seen you since before it happened, Y/n.” Her best friend, Carter, asked.

Y/n blinked at the girl across from her, willing away tears, “I’m doing better.”

Carter stared at her skeptically, “What about Lando? How’s he holding up?”

Her mouth moved down a bit and Carter knew. What the couple had been through was hard enough and her worst fear was for her best friend to lose the man she loved to it. They were young, too young, and what could’ve made them stronger only destroyed them.

Carter’s hand reached across the table and clutched Y/n’s when her mouth began to move in a response, but failed.

She took a deep breath, “I’m not sure. We aren’t really talking right now. It’s been hard on us.”

Carter nodded, “Of course, it has. Of course.”

Y/n looked around the coffee shop and smiled at the times her and Lando used to make trips in the early morning just to get the hot liquid. She met Carter’s gaze, “I’m hoping we can somehow make it through.”

The implication of that sentence was shattered, Carter’s eyebrows raised, “You don’t think you can?”

Y/n picked at her nails, “We just had massive problems before it happened and then… Well, it happened, and it was so much to work through. We just crumbled under the sheer amount of shit to talk through. It sounds stupid, I know, for how in love we were. But, by the time we got through the grieving, the problems had been so long suppressed, we just hated each other.”

Carter dipped her head down to catch Y/‘s eyes, “But, what if that was just the grieving. What if you never hated each other and you were both just trying to get through your own sadness. What if you aren’t even done grieving.”

Y/n shook her head, “We’re so far gone, Car. I don’t ever see him even giving me the light of day to talk through it.”

”Lando loves you, Y/n. He always has and he always will. He’s just in pain.” Carter tried, but Y/n snapped.

”So am I.”

A silence passed between them before Y/n dropped her head, muttering an apology for her tone. Carter just shook her head and reassured her friend. Though, in the back of her mind, she noted the way Y/n was behaving. The girl wasn’t the same and with all the loss she was experiencing, Carter couldn’t blame her.

TWO YEARS PRIOR

”LANDO!” Y/n screeched from the top of the stairs, running down them so fast she was worried of tripping.

Lando came running to her, concern evident on his face. When they met in the downstairs hallway and she seemed untouched, he cocked his head.

”What’s going on, baby?” He pulled her into his arms, checking the top of her head for any injuries.

”Lan,” She started, but his eyes were already on the object grasped in her palm.

He had felt it poking against his stomach when he leaned forward to look at her scalp and the infamous color of pink at the tip told him what news she was about to give.

His face lifted, “No,”

She nodded with a smile, “I’M PREGNANT!”

He screamed, a girlish one she giggled at, and picked her up, twirling her around. When he set her down, they jumped around together, laughing and yelping out in happiness.

”BABY! THERE’S A BABY!” He yelled before grabbing her face and kissing her sweetly. He poured his love for her into it, wanting her to know how happy he was to share this with her. He wanted to reassure her that he’d be there every step of the way, that he’d love her every step of the way. The softness of his hands on her body and his plump lips enveloping hers told her what he wanted them to.

When they pulled back, his eyes sparkled and he put his hand over her stomach.

Glistening in his eyes, he stared upon the woman that was the rest of his life and rubbed gently over her shirt, “We’re having a kid together.”

She nodded, “We are, Lan.”

His face nuzzled in her hair when he hugged her and whispered, “I’ve never wanted anything more. I love you so much, Y/n.”

PRESENT

”Your love is conditional, Lando. It always has been and it always will be.” Y/n yelled, anger radiating off her as she stared at him.

Lando’s hands clutched his hair, “You’ve never loved me for who I was, Y/n!”

She went quiet, heavily taken aback by his statement. When she came into this conversation, her only goal was to try and address the problems they’d had before everything they went through. She wanted Carter to be right. For their distance to be just grief and pain, for them to have a fighting chance. But, he only met her with hostility and defensiveness. It was bound to escalate, but not to this. Not to what he just accused her of.

Tears found their way down her cheeks, “Lando, I have loved you since the moment we met. I have loved you for you, not your money or your status. I have loved every part of you with truth and honesty. I have not put six years of my life into you based on a superficial love. You were my everything, Lan.” She got quiet, “I’ve defended you even when you were wrong, celebrated you even when you failed, cheered you on when you didn’t believe in yourself, pulled you back up when you’d fallen down. I have given my life to you. Don’t you dare look at me and tell me I never loved you for who you were. That was all I ever did. You wanted me to move to Monaco, albeit with some hesitance, I did. You wanted me to quit my job so I could come to every race, I was there. You didn’t want to get married, but I did, so we didn’t. You wanted a baby, I did too, and I gave that to you. I’m sorry if my failure in growing her has made you think I don’t love you for you, but some things I just can’t fucking control.”

By the end of her words, she was choking it all out, sobs emitting from her and pain the only thing she could communicate. Her last few sentences were said with screams, right in his face to try and make him hear her.

Hear her, he did, but he produced no response as he stared at her blankly.

Even as she pleaded for him, he couldn’t deliver.

“Fuck you, Lando.” She yelled before walking upstairs and slamming the bedroom door shut.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

”I love you, Lan.” Y/n whispered, his hand clutched in hers as they sat in the examination room.

He smiled at her, his dimples not appearing, “I love you too, Y/n.”

They stared at each other, stress and fear etched into the lines of their faces when the doctor walked in.

The somber look on his face made Y/n sit up, “No,”

He sat down, “Unfortunately, the baby didn’t make it. I am so very sorry for your loss. There was a problem with the-”

”What?” Lando whispered, his grip on Y/n’s hand loosening.

She looked at him as his finger slipped from hers, but he refused to look at her.

“No.” He said, adamant his worst nightmare wasn’t coming true. He stood from his chair, tears in his eyes, before storming out.

The first door slam of many.

Y/n laid still on the table, a hand over her bump and tears down her face, completely abandoned by the man who was supposed to be in this with her.

“I’m sorry about him,” She took a breath, “We really wanted to meet her.”

The doctor smiled softly, “Do you mind if I ask what you were going to name her? Sometimes, in situations like these, I find it’s best to refer to the child by their name rather than something else.”

She shook her head, “I don’t mind.” Her eyes drifted to the door, wishing for Lando to come back so they could utter the name of their daughter together, but he didn’t show.

Tears streamed from her face when she whispered, “Olive.”

The doctor smiled, “What a lovely name.”

The air of the room shifted when the man set down his clipboard, rolling his chair closer and rubbing his forehead.

”Now, we have to discuss the options of stillbirth.”

She was expected to be strong, to talk about what she was most comfortable with when birthing a daughter she would never get to see prosper.

Maybe she could’ve been strong had Lando been by her side like he promised. But he was nowhere to be found.

And that made her hate him.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

The couple stared at the assembly of rocks shoved in the dirt of their backyard, a formation of a heart staring back at them. The memorial of their daughter was the last thing they had which tied themselves to her. Lando stood feet away from Y/n, not having touched her in the week after the news and the birth.

He had been there with her, but mentally, she knew he was somewhere else. Part of her understood, she would’ve mentally placed herself some place else had she not been having to focus on pushing, but she also loathed him for not stepping up and being with her like he had promised.

Part of her didn’t want him to touch her, but the other part wished for him to show any kind of sign of attraction toward her. She felt unwanted and worthless in the eyes of the man that once made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the entire world. The destruction of them laid before them, staring at them so innocently.

Her daughter. Their daughter. The little her and him that was supposed to be drawing on the walls and dropping food on the floor stared back at them in the form of rocks and dirt.

She reached for his hand, it wet from the tears she had been wiping away, but he just jerked his body away and retreated back into the house.

Maybe that was the moment where they genuinely died.

PRESENT

The one year anniversary of Olive and her memory only brought Y/n the same amount of pain it did a year ago. She had anticipated that. This was her daughter. A whole in her heart would always be there in the shape of Olive.

It didn’t matter that it was raining or how cold the day was, Y/n was going to push herself to step outside and visit the rocks her and Lando had planted there all those months ago in an effort to reconcile the pain that harbored within their bodies.

She found the dirt patch and sat in front of it, mud soaking her jeans and water soaking her hair. She felt alive in the midst of the rain, the most she had since it happened, and she laughed.

“Funny how you killed me, but you make me feel alive today.” She whispered, staring at the heart intensely.

She breathed, “I hope you don’t think I hate you. For a moment there, I thought I did. I hate to say it out loud, but I really thought I did. I thought I hated you because I blamed Lando and I’s problems on you. I blamed my pain on you. You brought so much happiness into this home, but you brought so much pain and even after a year, I still don’t know how to deal with it. But, I know now that that was just the grief talking. I never hated you, I just loved you so much and losing you was one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. Living without you, even though I never knew you, has been the greatest challenge of my life. Your father, I hope he’s found some sort of peace in all of this. No matter how much he’s hurt me, not shown up, he deserves so much. I hate that you never got to meet him, know him, be loved by him. It’s an experience, I’ll tell you that. It’s chaos and it’s sometimes anger or sadness, but it’s love and it’s deep love. When you’re loved by your father, and you were, it’s beautiful. If there’s anything I could wish for, it would be for you to be here and be able to describe to someone, like I can, how amazing it feels to be loved the way your Dad loves.”

”Really?” Lando whispered from behind her, his broken voice striking a part of her she forgot was there.

She turned around, looking up at him and smiling softly, “Yeah,”

Lando sat down next to her, the two leaning into each other in the coldness of the rain. Their shoulders touched and it brought electricity throughout Y/n’s body, the first time their bodies had met in a while. Whether it was because he was cold or he craved her like she did, Y/n didn’t know.

“I hate that she never got to experience what it was like to be loved by you.” He murmured from beside her, staring at the rocks like she was.

Y/n softened, “What happened to us, Lan?”

He sighed, “Y/n, you were never a failure because Olive died before we could meet her. I never thought you failed.”

She was getting sick of crying, “But, you left me, Lan. You left me on that table, you left me in this house, you left me by myself, you left me with the memory of her. You left me alone when I needed you most. You never touched me, never looked at me. I know we could’ve been something with her. We would’ve been great parents. That hurts the most. There was so much potential for immense happiness, but it was just taken so fast. I could be a good mother, Lan, and I want to be your wife, but you didn’t show up for me.”

The sound of her sobs broke his heart and he finally let his body succumb to its desires to feel her warmth against his. He lightly let his hand fall over hers, checking to make sure his touch was wanted. When she didn’t fight back, he let their fingers tangle together.

”I knew you would be a good mother. I know you will be. That was never it. I was ashamed of myself. I had felt like I had forced this child on you and now it was like I was forcing you to go through the pain of losing a daughter because of it. I hated looking at you, touching you because it hurt to let my mind wander to its idea that I was the reason you were crying every night and a shell of who you once were. I wanted to fight my love for you because it just made me so angry. I felt like I had ruined the life we were so excited to lead. I had destroyed our hope and destroyed the wants we had for this house. I just couldn’t come to terms with it all without blaming myself and I pushed you away in the process. I hate myself for that, Y/n.” He stated with force. She could tell he was determined to right his wrongs.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, “But, what about not wanting to get married? How come I wasn’t enough to want to marry?”

He shook his head, “That was never it. You were always enough. I just didn’t want you to be permanently tied to me unless you wanted to leave me. I’m always gone and traveling. I’m not a stable boyfriend and you deserve one. I can’t give that to you. I didn’t want you to be officially associated with me in case you woke up one day and decided to find something better.”

Y/n turned to look at him, their teary eyes meeting each other without malice for the first time in a long time, “How come you would think I would ever want to leave you? Plus, a baby? Lan, that would’ve tied me to you forever.”

He nodded, “But, not officially. We could coparent and you could walk whenever you chose. If you walked out, you wouldn’t be faced with mounds of paperwork and custody battles over a kid we both grew. I wanted you to have the option.”

”But I never wanted the option. I still don’t want the option.” She said, her voice firm and knowing.

Lando’s eyes lit up, “You still want to be with me? Even after everything I put you through?”

Y/n’s eyes erupted in fury, “Lando! I love you! I always have and I always will! I wanted Olive with you and I wanted a life with you! Stop, I’m begging you, stop sabotaging us with your fears!”

He smiled at her, his dimples appearing and making her heart soar, and she just huffed, “What?”

He chuckled softly, “I just never expected to be happy you were getting mad at me.”

At his confession, Y/n’s stern demeanor lessened and she caught a glimpse of the man he used to be. Maybe they just needed each other to find who they once were.

Her hand in his, he whispered once more, “I’m sorry for accusing you of not loving me for who I am. That was completely untrue. I’ve never felt as loved by anyone than by you and I’m sorry for suggesting you use Olive’s bathroom to get ready for bed. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it. I’ve fucked up so many times, Y/n. I’ve hurt you so much and I’ve failed you so much. I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I can’t believe I fell short when it was tested. I’ll never let it happen again. Let me show you.”

She nodded, her head falling into the crook of his neck as his arms found her waist, “I’ll let you show me. We’ll be okay and we’ll get through it. I know it now. We’ll overcome this. We have each other, that’s all that matters.”

He pulled back for a moment to kiss her, find her lips when he hadn’t for so long. When they met, the cold water dripping around them, their love was cemented once more. There were still things to talk through, work through, but they stopped deciding to try and do it alone. They had each other, they depended on each other. That was okay.

He slumped back when they separated, in a moment of pure bliss, and her body fell further into him. Completely cradled by him, Lando stared at the small note that Olive’s name was written on, having been put there by Y/n the year prior.

They missed her, they always would, but in front of her memorial, they found each other again. In front of her remembrance, Lando and Y/n were reminded of how much they used to love each other. They allowed their walls to fall and returned to each other in front of their daughter. In a solid and warm embrace, they knew a future together was not over or out of reach.

In fact, it was just beginning.

[alwaysshallow]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRwkJSAt/

Theres one thing Simon Riley is afraid of and it’s his wife Mrs. Riley. The missus got him sweating and clenching his but cheeks. Hands frantically cleaning up his mess and trying to thaw the chicken wings Mrs. Riley told him to do so 5 hrs ago but he forgot.

All it took was Soap’s “hey LT your Missus called 5 times ye missed her calls” for him to fumble his phone😂

i like to believe that in some universes, the scare for simon isn't price or anyone else, but his wife lmao. he's the meanest human in the whole world, but his wife is worse. and he knows it.

you're capable of doing anything - and I mean anything. you once almost shoot him with your rifle for leaving with his friends to drink instead of going to a family dinner with you. since that situation, simon learned weird... respect towards you, and even more affection, if I can say it like that. he's smitten when you're getting all angry:/

his team, however, doesn't know how much you can... do, so I say they're pretty surprised when one time, you literally convince him to do things your way. and no one did that before, not his previous partners/hookups, no one, so when you see their shocked faces, you cant help but laugh.

and yeah, when he misses a call from you... he knows he has some explaining to do.

[moonsaver]

Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

[mariasont]

Office Sleepover 3 - A.H

a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be

i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part two here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras

wc: 4.2k

Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.

Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.

You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.

You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.

But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.

With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"

You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.

"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.

You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.

"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."

"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."

You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.

After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.

"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."

Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."

"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."

That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"

Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.

"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.

"Thank you."

His phone went off. "Hotchner."

Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.

The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."

And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.

You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.

The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.

Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.

You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.

So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.

"Need help?"

"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.

"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."

The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."

"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"

A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.

"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."

Ew.

You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"

His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.

Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.

"That won't be necessary."

The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.

The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."

It really wasn't a question.

The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.

Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."

His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"

But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."

"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.

Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.

The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.

It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.

The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.

It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."

Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"

You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."

He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.

"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."

You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"

The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.

Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."

"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."

His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."

Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.

"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."

"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."

"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"

"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."

You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."

"Because last night—,"

"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."

A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."

"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"

You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

"Well, yeah."

"Screw you, Hotch."

You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.

Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.

Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.

Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."

There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."

Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.

His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.

"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"

You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.

"So, you know what it's like, huh?"

Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.

"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.

You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.

"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.

"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.

"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"

Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."

"Oh yeah?"

You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."

"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."

You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."

"And why is that?"

"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.

His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.

Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"

You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.

"I need a verbal yes or no."

Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."

"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."

"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.

His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.

"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.

You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him. 

His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.

His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"

You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.

A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus. 

"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.

"Is that good, honey?"

Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain. 

A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours. 

"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."

"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."

You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.

"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly. 

"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.

"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.

"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.

"That's it, baby, go ahead."

That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.

You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth. 

Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment. 

He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud. 

You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.

You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.

"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.

"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."

Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."

"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."

"Right."

He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture. 

You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting to dress my toddler in "ugly clothes".

I (35m) and my wife (35f) have this ongoing argument.

For our now 3 -year old daughter, my wife and mother in law always buy the prettiest and fanciest clothes and again and again, I hear the cry "Nooooo, the pretty dress, you ruined the pretty dress, how are we EVER gonna get it clean again". And it's not just dressing her up for weddings and stuff, she is supposed to be pretty EVERY day.

In turn, I get yelled at when they catch me letting her play at the playground or in puddles or at the beach and I don't make sure she stays clean.

And sometimes I just snap and say, she is a TODDLER, all of her friends play in the dirt, I don't always want to tell her No. It's more important for her to have fun, and for me to not go insane, than for her to wear the pettiest dress of the playground.

My wife then says "easy for YOU to say, who's pretty presents get ruined, and/or who has to then hand-wash it all trying to save it? You clean her clothes then!! This is the deal buddy, YOUR job is to keep her as clean as you can, MY job is to dress her and save the clothes if you drop the ball, but YOU just want to let it all fall on me, don't you?!"

To which I stubbornly say, I have an even BETTER idea, instead of ANY of us doing that stupid dance every day, IF we bought her toddler clothes like all the other parents around us, we could just wash and dry it all normally, this is entirely self-imposed martyrdom for no reason. And worse, again, if you get your way, our kid cannot play how she wants to.

To which my wife laments "Well all the other kids look like potato sacks, why do you want our daughter to be UGLY just because YOU are too lazy to do your share hand-washing her clothes AND too careless to keep her clean in the first place. If you were parenting properly, you would help our daughter be pretty".

Some more context, perhaps - things staying clean and intact has always been very, very important for my wife, dirt genuinely gives her anxiety. On the other hand, she also adores beautiful things. She herself also only wears clothes that either need to be hand-washed or at least cannot go in the drier. She feels that this is also what's best for our daughter and will make her happiest (in the long run), and doesn't believe that a child will miss anything if they are taught to "play cleanly". She also grew up in a big city without mud or sand, whereas we now live in a rural area.

So, AITA, for saying I would rather buy our kid "normal" clothes and let her play in the dirt, then help my wife save the pretty dresses?

Currently we live in permanent tension - the clothes are a red line for my wife, playing (by my definition) is a red line for me, and thus the frequent clashes.

[zephyrchama]

Vampire MC part II - with Mammon heads up - this one's a bit angsty and there are descriptions of pain

(intro/masterlist can be found here)

Mammon was having a rough time.

He was put in charge of you from the very beginning. You were his responsibility, his human to watch over. He blew it.

Nobody had been allowed near the castle to see you since the incident. Mammon got his ass severely handed to him by Barbatos every single time he tried visit. So for the last month, the second-born spent his time either locked up alone or out at the casino. Though, no amount of winning hands and jackpots could ease the knot of guilt tangled in his gut. He hardly ate and hardly slept. The Avatar of Greed wanted to see you.

Yet when you finally came home, he couldn’t bring himself to knock at your door. What could he say? Pretend like he didn’t royally mess up by letting you out of his sight?

Despite all you'd been through, you had to be the one to reach out. You tapped on his bedroom door with a hesitant "Mammon? Can I see you?"

There was a thud. He might have fallen out of bed in haste. No sooner had the door swung open than you were in Mammon’s arms. He tugged you into a tight embrace, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Man, I am so sorry.”

He feared letting go, he wouldn’t let you disappear again. It was sweet and welcoming and you felt his heart racing. That's the demon you knew.

Mammon clung to you so tightly. He dug his fingers into your sides in a fervent attempt to be closer, but there was something more. A hot sensation. As if boiling water was seeping through your shirt and dripping down your skin.

You hesitated, wondering if it was all in your head. “Wait… Mammon, that hurts.”

“Deal with it.” A whole month of loneliness, all his regret and despair, was packed into this hug. It was an important moment to him.

As the seconds ticked by, the pain grew. It couldn’t have been your imagination. It was searing hot, like a poker fresh off the flames. You pushed back, squirming in pain and confusion, desperate to suddenly escape his grasp.

“Let me go.” You began to panic. “Let me go, Mammon. Now.” You struggled to get away. Right before resorting to the pact, Mammon dejectedly released you, slowly loosening his hold. He gazed at you, pitifully upset.

“What…? Didn’t you want to see me?” His voice quivered.

You sucked in a sharp breath and winced, too preoccupied with rubbing the pain away to listen. It wasn’t getting any better, but at least now it wasn’t getting any worse. It just throbbed.

To investigate, you rolled up a section of your shirt. Around your waist where Mammon had gripped the tightest were deep red rashes. Such spots had not been there before. You didn’t want to touch them. You were starting to feel lightheaded and thirsty and didn’t want to make the situation worse.

“The hell!? I didn’t do that!” Mammon scrambled to your side, uncertain. Afraid to touch you again. “…did I?”

He wanted to do something, anything, to heal you and make you feel better, but what did he even do? He fixated on his hands, as if seeing them for the first time. Were they the issue? They were well-kept, as usual. His nails were trimmed neatly. His skin was flawless. He hadn’t been cursed as far as he could tell, nor had you, aside from the whole vampirism thing.

He stared intensely. Maybe it was one of his new rings. That morning he hadn’t even paid attention to what he put on, anything had been fine so long as it was attention-grabbing and gaudy enough to make him feel influential. A cheap distraction. Mammon flipped his hands, trying to figure out what was wrong. His face contorted into a loathsome scowl as he realized the error of his ways.

With a barrage of swears, he angrily yanked off every last ring.

“Damn it! Can’t believe I did this!” Some of the weaker stones and bands crumbled to dust in his clenched fist. The rest broke when Mammon pelted them at the wall at full force, leaving dent marks in the paint. He patted himself down, frantically emptying his pockets and ripping off a necklace.

You didn’t like seeing Mammon so agitated. It scared you. “What? What’s wrong?” The demons were terrifying when they got angry.

“Silver.” He practically spat the word out, and suddenly it all made sense. Surely Lucifer warned all of his brothers about this as part of your homecoming preparations. Whether they properly listened or not was another story.

A little silver ring could hurt you that much?

“Oh.” You fell down onto Mammon’s couch, dumbfounded that such a common thing was now so dangerous. You probably couldn’t wear some of the jewelry the brothers had gifted you anymore. You laid your head back. The ceiling lights were so bright and dizzying.

"Hey." Mammon knelt on the floor, hands on his knees, eyes level with yours. Close, but not touching. "Tell me what I gotta do to make this right."

"Right now?" You mulled over what would make you feel better, what could distract from the silver burns and make you feel normal again. "I just want you."

Mammon gently scooped you up with one arm supporting your back and the other hooked under your knees. "I've been waitin' so long to hear that."

His grasp was much more tender and he leaned you against his chest while awkwardly stepping up onto the couch, then turned around to sit and lowered you onto his criss-crossed legs.

You slowly draped your arms around his shoulders, listening to the beat of his heart. Mammon smelled amazing, and not just from whatever scent he chose to wear that day. It drew you to him. You tempted yourself with a closed-mouth kiss to his collar, slowly inhaling the pleasant aroma. This intimacy might be dangerous. You exhaled, keeping your lips locked against his skin as they parted just a sliver.

You felt too shy to glance up and meet his eyes. They were so fond of you, so full of relief and love, even though in that exact moment all you could think of was pushing him down and taking a nice meaty bite.

“Y’know… A lot of people’ve tried real hard to get even a single drop of my blood over the years. A lot of ‘em. For lots of reasons.” He reclined back into the couch cushions, leaning you on top of him with his arms gingerly wrapped around your ribs. Mammon put himself in quite the vulnerable position, neck within easy reach. “I always turned ‘em all down. But this... it’s a small price to pay if I get to hold you like this.”

[barcaatthemoon]

flustered || ona batlle x reader ||

patri decides that she's over you trying to avoid ona when you come back to barcelona.

you hated the circumstances of your return to barcelona. you had spent so much time in london that you had almost forgotten that it was just a loan. your contract was nearly up, and you'd spend the last season of it back in barcelona, where you no longer felt like there was anything for you. it seemed like the team had completely replaced you, including ona.

your attempts at staying in london were futile. they didn't have the budget the keep you there for another season, not when barcelona had made an outrageous demand for money. jona wouldn't play you, so you didn't understand why they were so insistent on you coming back. still, you returned to spain and tried to get back into your old routine.

training was fairly easy for you. the exercises were different, but you went the same amount of days as you had in london. in your spare time, you went to the gym every single day. it was rare for you to stay in your apartment by yourself. occasionally, you let loose with the team on a bonding night, but never for too long.

it was silly, but you had a hard time being around ona and lucy. not a lot of the girls knew how you felt, but the ones who did left you alone. you had followed ona to england, but ended up staying for nearly two years longer than she did. something had happened up there, and it killed some of the girls not to know what it was.

truthfully, it hadn't been anything nearly as serious as you were making it out to be. you and ona had been friends, best friends at that. there had been seedlings of unfriendly feelings between the two of you, ones that didn't get better with the bit of distance between manchester and london. if anything, they only seemed to get worse for you. you couldn't be around ona without becoming a flustered mess.

it didn't help that when your eyes had met, she'd blush and look away as well. some might have taken that as a sign that she liked you back, but all it did was make you nervous. ona could have been a sure thing for you, but you were terrified of the idea that she liked you back. for some reason, you had convinced yourself that it was easier to pine over ona than to actually be happy with her.

"okay, enough of this!" patri shouted as she clapped her hands together. everybody looked over at her, and subsequently you as well. the two of you had been working out together. for the longest time, ona had been your gym partner at barcelona, and while patri was happy to do it, she couldn't stand watching you look longingly at ona from across the gym.

"patri, what are you doing?" you hissed as she dragged you over to where ona and lucy were running.

"both of you, start talking, now!" patri wasn't usually so forceful with you, and you weren't sure what to do except for obey. you hated that she knew how easily you'd submit with a little force, something you would never forgive leila for telling her. "come on now, i don't have all day."

"patri, please," you pleaded with her. unfortunately for you, the woman didn't relent. she only pushed you even closer to ona, who just barely managed to catch you. up close, you could see how flushed she was, and it didn't look like it was just coming from the workout. "ona, are you okay? you look a little…"

"i'm fine!" ona was quick to shout out at you. both of you winced at the sudden increase of volume.

"god, i can't watch this anymore," lucy muttered. she walked away, patri joining her as the two of them complained about you and ona. the look on your face was nothing short of confused. you could have sworn that lucy was dating ona, and the woman wouldn't have just left the two of you like that if it really was the case.

"a-aren't you going to go with lucy? it's not very nice of her to just leave you here. i'd never do that to my girlfriend," you said. ona's mouth opened and closed as the pieces clicked into place.

she had been so confused about why you were being distant. at first, she had chalked it down to you missing your arsenal teammates. however, as the season went on, she noticed how things were almost back to normal. the exception of you being distant with her had ona's mind absolutely spinning. she couldn't remember there being any tension whenever the two of you had last seen each other. if anything, you'd been a bit more affectionate at the last national camp.

"lucy is not my girlfriend. she thought you were at first," ona admitted. "then she thought it was either jana or patri. neither one of them are yours, right?"

"ona, i haven't had a girlfriend in nearly two years. not because i'm like a freak or anything, it's just hard for me sometimes. there was someone i did like at arsenal, but it didn't seem fair…" you trailed off, glad that you had stopped yourself before you said anything too embarrassing.

"fair?" ona asked you.

"it's not fair to be with someone if you love someone else," you said quietly. ona gently cradled your face in her hands as the two of you stood in the corner of the gym. "i went all the way to england to stay close to you."

"i didn't want to assume at first. and then, well, you never said anything. you just kind of got quiet, so i thought you were mad at me." both of you felt like idiots as the pieces fell into place around you.

"you were making me nervous. i couldn't say anything without mixing up my words. i didn't want to embarrass myself or say the wrong thing," you told her.

"you could never," ona reassured you. "can i kiss you?"

"take me on a date first," you laughed. ona sighed and nodded. she began to turn away from you, but you grabbed her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "patri was my ride, so maybe coffee after practice?"

"you can come see my new coffee machine. the girls are all very impressed by it, even alexia," ona said proudly. you liked the sound of that, unsurprised that ona planned to take you back to her place. she knew that you were a homebody, and a familiar place would make you feel most comfortable.

[chilschuck]

anon called him mickie and now i wonder how mickbell would react if his crush started calling him by his first name (since that is only for close friends in half-foot culture) and by a nickname basically. so reader starts calling him mick but sometimes slip in a mickie. and perhaps also the same sort of request for chilchuck? i love them both so much

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ anon this is SO SO CUTE of an idea and i had so much fun writing it!!! i hope it turned out okay and that you enjoy!! <333

— MICKBELL & CHILCHUCK: hcs for calling them by their first name.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! gn!reader.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 761

✦ thinking about this so hard rn…. god bless you anon. this was such a precious idea!!!! hope they turned out okay!! <333

— MICKBELL:

✦ The first time you called Mickbell by his first name, he just about froze on the spot. It was already obvious to anyone that he had developed an attachment to you, and now you were only making it worse.

✦ Since it’s something only close friends and companions do, when you begin calling him Mick, he gets really excited. So you think of him that way? Do you even know the implications of calling him that?? Mickbell can’t help but get a bit excited whenever you call him such.

✦ I think calling him Mickie would be the icing on the cake. This man would literally let out a sound of bewilderment when you first say it, but as soon as you stop, thinking he was objecting to it, he gets upset.

✦ This man is going to crush even harder now, be prepared. You’re giving him hope and also causing him to crave your affections even more. But of course he’s going to act like it’s silly to call him that. He’s not a kid, don’t make him feel like one! (Even if he enjoys it.)

✦ Pair it with touches of softness or endearment, and he’s got those rosy cheeks you love. Not only are you indirectly teasing him now, but he’s going to pitch a fit about it if you stop. Be prepared to shower him in praise and call him Mickie when he does something you should be proud of!

✦ If other members of the party begin to comment on it, he’s going to complain more. Especially if they try to mess with him. So what if you called him something cute like that?? Only you were allowed to do it, though. No one else!

“Hah? Where did that name come from?” Mickbell asked you when you first called him Mickie, raising a brow at your new nickname.

“Thought it was cute, and it suits you. Is that okay? If you don’t like it, I can stop.” You were as kind as ever, making him bite his tongue for a moment before grumbling out.

“‘S fine… I guess it is kinda cute…” The elation on your face at his answer made him a bit too happy.

— CHILCHUCK:

✦ Calling Chilchuck by his first name causes him to stop for a moment, this being the first time you’ve done so. He takes in the implications of that, before shaking it off and continuing what he was doing.

✦ But if you continue to do so, especially with that sweet tone and gentle demeanor, he’s going to choke on his words a bit. It’s been a while since he’s heard someone say his name like that, and coming from you, well… Let’s just say it makes his chest get really warm. (And his face.)

✦ Chil is crushing on you and is going to act the complete opposite, and in doing so pushing you away in the process. Stay by his side through it and continuously call him by his actual name, tenderly so, and he might end up melting a little.

✦ It’s obvious he has a soft spot for you, and now it’s getting even worse with the way you speak his name with that voice of yours. Why were you doing this to him?? Maybe even slip in a soft touch or two and he’s going to leave to busy himself with something before he thinks too hard about it. (That definitely sticks in his head for a while.)

✦ You begin to think he doesn’t like it, but soon he ends up softening whenever you do so. It’s like it pulls him out of his own head a bit… Now he can’t think of you calling him anything other than that.

✦ Definitely enjoys it but won’t admit it when it first begins. Now he enjoys it more than he’ll ever let on. Behind that cynical wall of his is a longing for softness like that, so you’re doing more to him than you think!

“Chil?” You spoke softly as he worked on unlocking something, tools in hand. He just about dropped it for a moment, but managed to stay focused enough to keep control.

“Hmm?” Was all he managed to reply, trying to keep his attention on the task at hand.

“You look so cool like this. Just wanted to tell you.” He could hear the awe in your voice through your words, making his head feel a little fuzzy.

Now he really was going to drop everything in his hands.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <33

[echobx]

Drunk - jj maybank × fem!reader

summary: JJ is taking care of his drunk girlfriend at a party

warnings: pure fluff, JJ PoV

word count: 1.4k

author's note: this was deep in my drafts bc it was originally not a reader fic, but I was never gonna finish it any more than what it is now. I hope you like it.

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I watched y/n get up, her short dress had shimmied itself upwards, and she didn't even try to tug it down. She stumbled forward, and I jumped up and caught her before she could fall, pulling the fabric down just enough to cover her up more.  “Please let go, I have to pee,” she announced but just as I did she started falling over her own feet and I had to catch her again.  “Let me help you,” I said with a smile, and she looked at me confused.  “Just this one time, and keep the hands where they belong,” she slurred. The whole walk to the bathroom she was tensed up in my arms and kept trying to shake me off.  “I can pee by myself,” she sneered as I wanted to follow her in, to make sure she wouldn't fall and hurt herself. “I really shouldn't leave you by yourself, you could get hurt,” I tried to convince her, but she gave me a firm “No” and closed the door. 

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” her voice was quiet and high-pitched.  “No, princess, let's just get you back to the others,” I chuckled and wanted to take her in my arms, but she wouldn't let me. “No touching,” she said and started walking, or more like wobbling over the hardwood floor in her five-inch heels, trying her best to navigate through the crowd.  “Why are you following me?” she asked and turned around to me, and I would've nearly run into her.  “I have to make sure you're okay, I always do that, darling,” I chuckled, but she seemed more confused about that.  “You look familiar,” she mumbled, and I took her hand and pulled her into me.  “Do I?” I whispered while staring at her lips before looking up into her gorgeous brown eyes.  “Very,” she mumbled, the smell of tequila and vodka prominent in her breath.  “Would be weird if I didn't,” I laughed and wanted to kiss her, but she turned her head quicker than I could react to it and I only hit her cheek.  “It's impolite to kiss someone without asking first,” she noted and started walking again. 

The only seat that was left when we got back to our friends, was a single lounge chair and I simply let myself fall into it.  “Where am I supposed to sit now?” y/n mumbled drunkenly.  “Here,” I said and lightly slapped my thigh.  “No, thank you,” she replied in a slightly disgusted tone.  “I can get up and sit on the floor, would that make you feel better,” I suggested while our friends watched the scene and seemed rather amused by it. “I can do that,” y/n said and nodded. I got up and let her sit, before placing myself right in front of her, leaning my head against her legs that she had pulled up onto the chair.  “You are a very persistent young man,” y/n chuckled, and I turned my head to look at her.  “You could say that, yes.” I grinned at her. It was clear to me that she didn't recognize me, too drunk to remember anything that happened to her, and it would be even worse the next day.  “She really had way too much,” John B laughed.  “Bird boy, why is this guy so interested in me? Doesn't he know that I have a boyfriend?” y/n spoke up, and I had to laugh, it wasn't like I would've been able to hold it back even if I had tried to.  “Yeah, I'm thinking the same, very weird of you, guy,” JB played into it and I flipped him off, just to get smacked in the head by y/n.  “That's my friend! Don't insult him!” She glared at me and the rest of the Crew just laughed.  “I will be on my very best behavior, princess,” I whispered and kissed her hand while looking into her eyes.  “I have a JJ,” she mumbled but couldn't stop herself from blushing. “I know, I don't think he's going to mind, actually. Was just a hand kiss.” I winked at her.  “That's not how that works. He's gonna find out and then break your pretty nose, very sad,” she sighed before looking back up at our friends. “He's really good at breaking noses.”  “I believe he's good at other things too,” I said, and she tugged on my hair, her fingers entangled in my strands.  “You have nice hair, mystery boy. Feels nice,” she mumbled. “He's actually very jealous, you should look out, so you don't cross any paths with him,” Pope indulged in her drunk fantasy. “I should take you home then, to make sure that he won't get any more jealous,” I said and got up, holding my hand out for y/n to take, but she refused.  “No, thank you, I have friends who can bring me home. Strange mystery guys don't need to know where I live,” she replied and turned her head away from me.  “Y/n, please, it's better if we go home now,” I tried to convince her, but she was still refusing me.  “I'm not going,” she insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  “I'm gonna go get some food and water,” Kiara sighed and got up while I was still only focused on my girlfriend. 

“Tell me more about him. Your JJ,” I whispered to her, sitting back down in front of her, just this time, so I was facing her.  “Oh, he's the best. I love my JJ,” she sighed and slumped in her seat.  “Why do you love him?” I asked quietly, and she threw her hands in the air.  “I can't explain it.” “Pretty hard to explain, isn't it,” I mumbled, and she eyed me as if she was finally trying to understand who she was talking to, but it still didn't click.  “You can tell us what you love about him,” Sarah suggested and y/n started grinning widely.  “He's very talented, very talented I say. Yes, yes. My JJ can sing and draw and surf and fix things. Very good.” She nodded, and I had to chuckle over how cute she was being. “He's very good at sex too,” she admitted, and I stared at her with wide eyes. “Tell us more,” Kiara giggled and put the pizza and water bottle down by my side.  “Very good at that. Very. Sometimes he does this thing with his tongue-” I jumped up and put my hand over her mouth before she could spill any more of our secrets.  “I think you should try some food before you keep talking, my love,” I suggested, but she didn't seem to like it.  “You can't tell me anything, mystery boy,” she hissed at me. 

“I think we should play a game,” Kiara proposed and Sarah cheered, she was drunk too, not as drunk as y/n but drunk enough.  “I like games. Sit down, boy,” y/n said and pointed at the floor next to her. I shook my head and chuckled, as long as she wouldn't accidentally hurt herself I had to be okay with it all.  “What game are we playing?” I asked and held out the pizza for y/n to take a slice.  “Oh, I know,” John B exclaimed and laid the empty tequila bottle onto the table and spun it. The neck pointed at y/n, who was still refusing to take a slice.  “I dare you to eat a slice of this pizza, y/n/n,” JB said, and I gave him a thankful nod.  “That's a stupid game,” she complained but took the slice either way, then she got up and spun the bottle too. 

We played for some time before Sarah's spin landed on me, and she yelled “kiss y/n/n” with all the strength she had left in her.  I looked up at the girl I loved, but her eyes were filled with confusion, but also curiosity. “He wouldn't mind it, it's just a game, I promise,” I said to her while getting up and then pulling her into my arms.  “Just a game,” she repeated and gazed at me.  With one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek, I let my thumb grace over her lips. “Pretty lips,” I hummed and leaned in closer. I wanted to go slow, savor the moment even though she wouldn't be able to remember it the next day. My nose grazed hers and I could feel her drunk breath tingling on my lips.  Her lips encompassed mine with urgency and care while her hands found their way into my neck. It felt like kissing her for the first time all over again; soft and lovingly.  "You kiss nearly as good as my JJ," she whispered and I smirked. "I fucking hope so."

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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart @princessmaybank

[dira333]

soulmate AU: if your soulmate colors their hair, your hair turns the same color + ATSUMU!!!!!!!!!!

THE WAY I GIGGLED AND KICKED MY FEET OMFGGGGG

for some reason i'm picturing the fic being like a through the years type of thing? where when you're kids your hair is just a normal brown but then in middle and high school it becomes a sort of ombre bleached blonde and it's just your journey with your hair and you wondering why your soulmate doesn't take better care of theirs lol. i also picture it like you see atsumu on tv a lot just because he's a really famous volleyball player and you have a little bit of suspicion but you don't think too much about it because he's really famous and there's no way you would be soulmates with this celebrity (who's known for being boyish and charming and flirty yk).

Let me run from you - Miya Atsumu x Reader

You suppose it could have been worse.

Mukai-chan's hair is a bright red today. Nakao-Kun's lovely black hair has turned an ugly grey color. And Taniguchi-chan chopped off all her curls, not realizing that it's only her hair color that will mark her soulmate.

But you hate it, the garish yellow of your hair. You hadn't mind all the stages before, the dark brown that turned lighter and lighter each month. It had been kinda fun too, not knowing when your soulmate got another chance to see their hairdresser. But now?

You twirl a strand between your fingers.

"You know, it reminds me of gold," Emi, your best friend, points out. "And I could be silver." She points at her own, greyish curls.

You sigh. "That's nice of you. But I think it looks more like piss."

-

"Hey, have you seen that already?" Emi turns the magazine so you can see. It's a poster of some high school Volleyball team.

"What about it?"

"Look at these two." She points at two guys who look eerily similar - well, except for their hair color. "They match. Just like we do."

"Mhm, maybe," you turn your head to squint down at it. "The grey one matches, but the yellow doesn't look as bad on him as it does on me. And who says our soulmates will be related?"

"Excuse me?" Emi scoffs. "Like anything else could be true. You're my platonic soulmate after all."

You snort. "True. Do you want to swap lunch again?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Oh, I made Onigiri last night, do you wanna try the new flavor I came up with?"

-

College is College. Fun and hell at the same time.

"Your hair," one of the girls from your class points out over a cup of something you don't want to taste again. You snort. "Don't remind me. I've tried every toner there is, but I think I need to start at the source."

"No," she starts again, but this time it's Emi who cuts her off, clawing into your arm.

"You'll never believe who I just spotted," she says, voice hushed, breath rushed. "The most beautiful guy to ever exist."

"Oh, so Kageyama Tobio is around?" You joke, but she shakes your arm violently, letting you know this is serious.

"No, no, you don't understand. His hair is the same color as mine. And he's in the kitchen making food, I-"

"Oh, you mean Samu." The two of you turn to the girl. She grins smugly at your now obvious interest in her knowledge.

"He's in my business class. He wants to open a restaurant. He's got a twin brother too. Your hair reminds me of his."

"No way," you wave her off, "If you're talking about the Miya twins you must be mistaken. No way my soulmate could be famous enough to be part of the Miya Twins. He's too dumb to use conditioner."

She laughs. "Oh, boy, are you in for a surprise. I think he's here today. Stay here, I'll get him."

She turns away and you use your chance to grab Emi and go, moving a fast as possible in the direction of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" She asks, clearly confused.

"Getting out of here and making sure you still meet your soulmate."

"But what if that Miya guy is yours?"

"No way," you shake your head, "I didn't struggle my way through school to be the soulmate of some rich dude. That's too cliché."

You burst through the doors of the kitchen, now face to face with a guy you can only describe as handsome. He's got that lazy smile that Emi's always liked best, arms deep in a bowl of dough.

"Oh, hey," he smiles, "If you're hungry there's some chips and dip in the fridge. Pizza is almost ready to go in the oven too."

"This is my best friend," you tell him, pulling Emi out from behind you, "Avid food blogger, talented cook, and pretty much your soulmate. Thank me later."

She squeaks but you squeeze her shoulder and make a run for the backdoor - you're not sure why they're always located in the kitchen but you're not one to complain tonight.

-

You've almost made it to safety, the curb already in sight, when something hits you in the face - hard enough to let you tumble over, and land face-first in the dirt.

"Oh shit! Are you okay?!"

You groan, push yourself up only to come face to face with the guy from the kitchen - no, his twin. The hair color is different.

"Wow," he grins cheekily, "I knew I'm great but that's the first time someone literally fell at my feet."

"You wish," you snarl, "Is that your way of flirting? Hitting innocent girls?"

"You don't look that innocent," he jokes, "But no, I only do that for the cute ones."

"Har har," you sit up properly, and put a hand to your chin where it hurts the most. "What did you hit me with anyway?"

"Volleyball," he offers you his hand, "Come on, let me help you up."

"Tsumu!" Someone yells from an open window, "Hoga-chan's looking for you, she said- Oh, so you found her."

"Found who?" Tsumu, your attacker, doesn't turn around. His stare is a little unnerving. It would help a lot if he was a little less attractive.

"Your soulmate."

[neverevan]

bucks soot covered face coming out has three possibilities:

1. they were kissing for so long buck almost forgot why they were there, so when he realized he just turned around, grabbed tommy’s hand and ran to the room. so tommy didn’t see it to comment on it.

2. tommy pointed it out and buck went “what a hilarious way to come out, mark me up more my beast of a man”

3. like you said, they tried to wipe it, it just made it worse (since it’s covering like half of bucks face, how would a heavy kiss do that?) and buck just went fuck it, this is how i come out i guess.

but tommy seeing it and not saying anything is so unlikely cause we’ve been shown, he’s hella considerate towards buck. he’s very sweet, wanting to take it slow, not pressure him, etc, etc. people do be reaching to make my man (tommy) toxic, wild.

tbh I think he might've rubbed his face into Tommy's like a cat and that's why it looks so messy lmao

but yeah, no chance in hell that Tommy saw and said nothing. the closest scenario I can imagine is him trying to say something, but Buck being the eager puppy that he is just tugging him along because he "already kept him too long" and not letting Tommy get a word in edgewise lmao

but yeah people don't even need an excuse to hate Tommy, they just make shit up when... the thing is, you can just not like the character and leave it at that, you know?

you don't have to come up with outlandish theories and spend time to post about a character/ship you don't like, you can just mute the tag, shut up about it and let other people have fun. of course that'd require people to not be miserable cunts and well... this is still tumblr dot com, after all.

welp, at least it's not twitter, I guess.

[songbirdseung]

beautiful in white / lee heeseung

synopsis: what could possibly go wrong when you take your boyfriend and best friend to dress shopping?

pairing: bf!heeseung x reader, bff!jake, love triangle?

warnings: love triangle, insecurities, tension, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 600

You nervously checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of the white sundress you'd chosen for the family event. It was a big deal, and you wanted to look perfect. You could feel the weight of Heeseung's and Jake's gazes on you as you turned around.

Heeseung's eyes widened as he took in your appearance. "Wow, you look amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Jake nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, you really do. That dress suits you perfectly."

You couldn't help but blush at their compliments, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. "Thanks, guys. I'm glad you like it," you replied, twirling around to give them a full view.

Heeseung stepped closer, reaching out to gently adjust the strap of your dress. "You're going to knock everyone's socks off," he said, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You shared a smile with him, feeling a warm flutter of affection in your chest. "I hope so," you said softly, leaning into his touch.

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing your attention. "Um, yeah, definitely. You're going to be the belle of the ball," he said, his tone slightly strained.

You frowned slightly, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. "Is everything okay, Jake?" you asked, concern lacing your voice.

Heeseung shot Jake a questioning look, his brow furrowing with concern. "Yeah, you seem a little off," he added, his tone gentle.

Jake shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. "I, uh, I was just thinking about… um, the future," he stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You exchanged a confused glance with Heeseung, unsure of what Jake was getting at. "What about the future?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Jake took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Well, I mean, I was just imagining… hypothetically speaking… if, uh, if you were to get married someday," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, his jaw tightening slightly. "Jake, what are you—" he started, but Jake interrupted him.

"I mean, if you were to get married, I can't help but imagine… you in a dress like that," Jake blurted out, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

You felt a knot form in your stomach as the implications of Jake's words sank in. Heeseung's expression darkened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Jake, that's enough," he said, his voice low and clipped.

Jake looked apologetic, realizing he'd crossed a line. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I'll just… yeah," he mumbled, stepping back awkwardly.

Tension hung heavy in the air as an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. You looked between Heeseung and Jake, feeling torn between them. "Guys, please don't fight," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm not fighting, YN. I just… I need a moment," he said, his tone strained as he turned away from you.

You watched him go, feeling a pang of guilt gnaw at your insides. You knew Heeseung was sensitive about the topic of marriage, and Jake's thoughtless comment had only made things worse. "I'm sorry, Heeseung," you whispered, wishing you could take back the last few minutes.

Jake shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking equally remorseful. "I didn't mean to upset him," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You shook your head, offering him a weak smile. "It's not your fault, Jake. I think we just… caught him off guard," you said, trying to diffuse the tension.

Jake nodded, his expression somber. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll, uh, I'll give him some space," he said, edging towards the door.

You watched him go, feeling a heavy weight settle on your shoulders. The excitement you'd felt moments ago had been replaced by a sinking feeling of unease. "This was supposed to be a fun day," you thought to yourself, feeling a surge of frustration.

But as you looked at yourself in the mirror once more, you couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out in the end.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hello!! Do you have any hc's on how Taiju would behave/act around someone he has a crush on, and hc's how he'd react when they confess to him?? Thank you! <3

Ok these are set in the good timeline but here's how I think Taiju would act with a crush + with them confessing to him!

He doesn't actually realise it's a crush at first, doesn't even realise he's smiling more or acting nicer until Koko points it out. 

He doesn't understand why he wants to be closer to you or craves your presence and tries to push these feelings down at the start.

Then to try and balance things out (and hopefully lose the crush) he acts worse then normal. Will glare at you more often and act coldly. 

Eventually Koko and Inui get involved to try and help him get closer to you by coaching him (and because they prefer his moods when you're around).

Suddenly starts hanging out around you more often, sitting next you and just being closer. He goes from avoiding you to being everywhere.

He also does a lot of nice gestures for you, like passes you extra drinks while claiming the vending machine accidentally gave him an extra one (a lie). 

Will glare at any other guy who gets too close

Insists on walking you home often to keep you safe. Though he normally doesn't say anything during these walks and instead lets you talk (his mind goes blank when you're around a lot)

He smiles a lot more often around you, genuine smiles.

Almost forgets to breathe when you offer him a smile back though.

Remembers a lot of details about you 

Is actually very impatient and has wanted to confess to you many times already but Koko and Inui keep telling him it's too soon. So he reluctantly listens to them.

Threatens anyone who he thinks is disrespecting you

If it's cold he'll give you his jacket or wrap his scarf around you without saying a word.

Becomes friends with you first, the progress is slow but he keeps listening to Koko and Inui until one day you confess to him.

He's shocked, this wasn't part of the plan. (Koko and Inui who were definitely eavesdropping are also shocked). He doesn't respond for a moment and just stares at you. 

Thinking this is a rejection you apologise and go to leave, when he suddenly grabs your hand and pulls you into his embrace "where do you think you're going?" 

He's actually into you making the first move.

He confesses his own feelings to you while still holding you close.

It's a good ending for both you and Taiju but not so much for Koko and Inui, who Taiju chases around a bit for wasting so much time, time that he could've been dating you. 

[allyeardepression]

@jegulus-microfic | may 3 rush | words: 1365

hiii! the idea for this one comes from @bey0nd-1he-stars and i really hope she likes it <3 anyway, enjoy;3

tw: implied child abuse in the past

“James, we’re already late, c’mon,” Regulus managed to say between heated kisses. In response, his boyfriend mumbled something he assumed was ‘just one more’.

It started innocently enough—when Regulus and Sirius ran from Grimmauld and came to live with the Potters, James spent most of the nights sleeping in one bed with the two of them. And since sleep always came easier to Sirius than to Regulus, at least half of those nights James and the younger brother spent talking—sometimes about what they were doing that day, sometimes planning a night out with their friends, and sometimes, on worse days, about how Regulus wishes he could still live with his parents, because no matter how badly they hurt him and his brother, they still were their parents, and he still loved them.

On those bad days, James always held the other boy close to his chest, letting him cry and spit out all the pain he had in himself, all while stroking his back in a soothing gesture.

As the time passed and the brothers started attending therapy, James stopped sleeping with them. Instead, every night Regulus sneaked out of his room, going straight to James’ bed. The talks about their friends turned into ones about their feelings. Sleepless nights filled with guilt and fear turned into nights filled with tenderness and small, sweet gestures. And with the end of August, those small, sweet gestures turned into dancing tongues and hands all over each other.

Not much has changed since then—they were still sneaking around to meet at night, coming up with excuses to their friends and professors when asked about why they were so tired or where they were in between classes. There was one new thing, though: before every Quidditch game, they left earlier than the rest of their teams, saying they had to discuss something with Madame Hooch. In fact, the one who had a match that day went to the equipment shed and waited for the other one to show up to give him a kiss for good luck.

Today, even though they both played, was no exception. They met 20 minutes before the teams were scheduled to arrive on the field, locked themselves in a shed, and kissed senselessly.

From behind the closed door, Regulus could hear voices getting closer and closer to them.

“James, I can hear Sirius,” the younger boy gasped, tugging at the other’s hair to pull him away. It worked, if James’ terrified face was anything to go by.

“Shit, we’ve got to go,” James mumbled, putting Regulus back down.

“You don’t say,” replied Regulus, arching one of his brows.

They left the shed together, carrying the big chest with balls inside it as a disguise. After putting it in the middle of the pitch, both of them went to their respective locker rooms, wishing each other luck teasingly.

“Where have you been?” Dorcas asked Regulus as soon as he entered the room. Giving her a questioning look, he went to his locker, taking out his gloves, the rest of his uniform already on him. “I went to Hooch looking for you—she said she hasn’t seen you today, so where have you been?”

“None of your business,” he grumbled in response.

“Oh, so you were with—“

“Shut up.” He practically ran to her, putting his hands over her mouth. “I don’t know how you know, but act as if you don’t know, okay?”

“What will I get in exchange?” She mumbled from behind his hands.

“If you don’t tell about mine, I won’t tell about yours, deal?” Now Dorcas’ eyes went wide, but she nodded in agreement.

***

An hour and a half after the match started, Gryffindor was leading by 50 points, and normally Regulus would be livid because of that, but seeing James smile every time he or one of his teammates scored was enough to soothe him.

The game wasn’t really violent—the buldgers were flying around as always trying to get to one of the players before beaters from their team sent the ball frying to the opposite team’s players, but nothing more dangerous than any other time.

Regulus was lingering over the pitch, looking for the snitch. Gryffindor’s seeker, a third-year girl named Abby Baker, was following his every move, so every now and then he took off, trying to lead her in the wrong direction.

He teased her like this for most of the game until he finally noticed a small golden ball flying just above the girl's head. He took a wide turn in her direction, lying almost flat on his broom and speeding as much as it allowed him. Abby didn’t get what was happening until Regulus passed her by. She was fast, at his tail at all times, yet still too slow to reach the snitch before him.

Regulus was so close to it that he could practically feel the ball’s little wings in his hand when his brother’s voice came to his ears.

“Prongs, watch out!” and then there was a loud thud and terrified screams from the stands. And if Regulus didn't know who 'Prongs' was, he probably wouldn't even bother checking what’s going on.

But it was James.

His James.

As soon as he turned his head to take a look at what was happening, he could feel all the blood rush out of his face. The familiar silhouette of the boy who showed him what a real family looks like and what love really is—the boy who saved him—was falling down at lightning speed, his broom nowhere to be seen.

Regulus didn’t think even for a second that his team would lose or that the whole school would find out about them—he just took another turn, going as fast as he could to not let his boyfriend crush into the dirt below them. It felt like chasing the snitch, only this one was much bigger and still harder to put your hands on.

“James, give me your hand!” He yelled, flying a bit lower and reaching his own hand out for the other boy to catch.

Regulus almost had him, but their palms were too sweaty, and James slipped out, flying down at breakneck speed again.

“Fuck!” the younger boy exclaimed, making a risky decision and flying straight down. This time he caught James hand; he held on to it, but they were too close to the ground to come out of this situation in one piece.

Until they weren’t.

Regulus doesn’t know what happened, but one second he was in the air, hoping for the best, and the next he stood steady on the pitch’s grass.

“What the fuck, guys?!” Regulus could hear Sirius shouting from behind him, but he didn’t care about his brother right now—all he cared about was James.

“Are you okay? Where does it hurt? What even happened?” he was asking, checking every part of his boyfriend’s body to make sure he wasn’t hurt too badly. “Who sent the buldger? I swear I’m going to—“

“Reg, I’m fine. Look,” James said, shaking each one of his limbs and turning his head in different directions. “See? Nothing happened; I just need a new broom.”

“Nothing happened? Nothing happened?! James, you could’ve broken every bone in your body; hell, you could’ve died! Imagine it was you and not your broom, your parents—Sirius—and me! We would all die just from—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” suddenly James’ hands were on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears. When have I even started to cry? “I know you were scared; I was scared, too. But you caught me; nothing really bad happened; we’re both okay.” He pulled Regulus closer, putting him in a warm embrace. “It’s okay, love; we’re okay.”

They stood there, hugging for Merlin knows how long before Regulus realized what they were doing. He didn’t pull away when he said, “You know we’re in the middle of the pitch and everyone can see us, don’t you?”

“Yeah, baby, I know,” James whispered into his hair, still caressing his back gently.

And so they stood there, not caring about the world around them or Sirius screaming about incest—they just hugged, glad they were both okay.

[finisnihil]

Some people need to learn the difference between like/disliking a character on a personal level v. a writing level. I dislike some characters on a personal level but I do love their writing and characterization on a meta level and any of my bullying of them is mostly for jokes. Meanwhile there's also characters who I adore on a personal level but abhor the writing of because it feels like their concepts or potential as a character were squandered.

I've said it before i'll say it again when you let your personal bias on a character infect your analysis of them you get mischaracterization. Part of media literacy is seperating authoral intention from reader response and thinking about if anything about the character or their interactions can cloud your judgement of them on a surface level.

For example, in the 2.1 quest of HSR I saw some Aventurine lovers absolutely jump on a hate train for Sunday because in their eyes, Sunday was villainous for his actions against Aventurine and deserved to be put down for it. But, when you stop bastardizing Sunday in an effort to validate and sanitize Aventurine's motives you see the two are actually equally complicit in hurting the other. Sunday did try to turn Ratio against Aventurine and he did cast the whole Truth or Die spell but when you actually critically analyze Sunday and his role in the interaction he is more sympathetic and he makes more sense.

Aventurine was going into the interaction, an interaction regarding the IPC's increasingly aggressive attempts to recolonize Penacony after losing it as a prison planet, bragging about using the horrific murder of Sunday's sister to exploit him. Aventurine has never once hid his intentions, he's sympathetic but that doesn't change the fact he's trying to rip Penacony's freedom away for the IPC. We've seen what the IPC does to planets, no matter how corrupt the Family is, the IPC will be worse without a doubt. Aventurine is a morally grey character, he took the gamble of lying under the spell and he understood the stakes when he did it. Trying to bastardize Sunday in order to try and act like Aventurine didn’t have the autonomy to fuck around and find out is really disingenuous to both characters.

As for Sunday, Sunday is incredibly sympathetic too. We know he’s under crushing pressure by everyone around him to hide things for the sake of public image and we know he’s sacrificed a ton for his sister. Sunday is reverential of Xipe but we see him being actively wary of the Family. He knows there’s a traitor, he knows the Family is rotting with ill intent, he knows Death is on the loose. Robin and him are doing their damndest to handle these problems within their circumstances and we’ve seen their notes! They aren’t ignoring the problem, they’re even trying to get outside help from both the Astral Express and Aventurine. We see the Lightcone of their childhood in an otherwise clinical and impersonal office, one where he built her a toy stage and became her first audience. He cares about Robin more than anything and you see his rage and grief being suppressed yet slipping here and there and causing him to make sloppy mistakes, such as using the Truth or Die spell to lash out at Aventurine when he feels cornered with no control over the situation. When he confronts Gallagher he finally cracks and just… breaks. You see him lose it to the point he doesn’t even notice Death behind him until it’s too late. Despite being likened to songbirds, Robin and Sunday both died quietly in their gilded cages. They are the canaries in the coal mine.

Sunday and Aventurine are meant to parallel each other, they both lost their sister in a gruesome event outside of their control because they couldn’t protect her. Sunday couldn’t protect her from the cage he let himself be trapped in so she could fly free and Aventurine couldn’t protect her because he was too small and too young and too lucky. One is a younger brother and one is an elder brother.

The only major difference between them is who we experience the story through. Aventurine is our eyes for most of 2.1 so therefore Sunday is the one put in the antagonistic role. Antagonists are characters who’s motives and goals oppose the protagonists. Because of this, we have to flesh out Sunday’s character via subtext because we don’t have the luxury of his POV to be blatant like with Aventurine. If the roles reversed, if Sunday was our eyes, I bet Aventurine would be the one getting the flack instead.

[kinopio-writes]

Hello I was wondering if you would write a couple of head cannons of what Alastor,Husk, and Angel would do if they ever took in a child (like they just found them they somewhat surprised that a kid is down here the kid is also surprised that they're down there, like no one generally knows why this happened)

But like for whatever reason maybe it relates to them how they died, they're always covered in Moss and mushrooms and other forest stuff and always so damn cold, like this poor kid would probably latch onto anything warm if given the chance, also probably have to clean up anything that falls off or cough up from the kid (and of course the kid tries to help clean up because that's a nice thing to do)

But yeah this kid is basically is a pathetic little creature that is trying their hardest

Take your time with these little head cannons I don't want to over stress you 👍

A/N: I struggled with Alastor’s part here. He’s just…not the best parent. I also struggled with the title. I couldn’t just write, ‘reader who’s always cold ’cause they’re always covered with forest stuff’ because it’ll be too long.

Also, I wrote the taking-you-in-their-care part for Angel only. I didn’t include it in Alastor and Husk’s part because I dunno, so they’re pretty short in comparison to Angel’s.

Warnings: A bit of angst on Angel’s part

———

Angel Dust, Alastor, and Husk w/ a Child!Reader who’s always cold

Angel Dust

• Angel will try to find your parents at first

• but once he realized that you didn’t know or have any family you could go to, he was quick to bring you to the hotel, as it was probably the only place in Hell that was safe

• after you two went inside his room, he quickly started to hide his inappropriate items from your sight, shoving most of them in his dressers and whatnot

• he’ll stop midway when you dove onto his bed, wrapping yourself up in his blankets

• it was then he noticed that you were shivering

• “Aw…” Angel’s voice was soft as he clicked his tongue. “Here, I have more for you.”

• you quickly fell asleep all warm and fuzzy that night

• only to have the bed full of moss and mushrooms the next morning

• anyway, about that, it’ll probably make him feel bad for you even more

• it’s even worse when you’re so nice and polite

• your innocence hurts him (It’s old info, but it was said in an old stream that Angel values innocence)

• but, uh, moving on from that, Angel’s fine with you clinging to him like a koala

• he has four arms (six if he extracts the rest), and he doesn’t mind sparing one to carry you and keep you warm all the time

• and speaking of keeping you warm, you two would most likely sleep in the same room and the same bed, so you two get to cuddle each other every night

• if Valentino wasn’t making him work his ass off that day…

• he finds it comforting, actually, seeing you wait for him while you played with Fat Nuggets

• or your sleeping form if he was coming back late

• it makes his afterlife in Hell just a little bit better

• and during those times he does find you sleeping, he takes the time to sit beside you, gently stroking your head as he holds onto the hope that if Charlie’s silly little dream really did work, he can get you a better life up there than anything he has to offer down here

———

Alastor

• well, don’t you just fit right in with the bayou portion of his room?

• he might enjoy watching you struggle to clean up after yourself at first, actually

• if you were a boy (or masc-leaning)

• that also applies to any other gender except for girls (or fem-leaning)

• if you were one, he might be more nice to you

• regardless, Charlie will probably tell him to help you since you’re his responsibility

• so he’ll give you a shadow minion to clean up your messes

• if Niffty isn’t on your tail already

• other than that, he won’t really help

• so don’t even try to cling to him

• he won’t hurt you, but he’s not hesitant to try to shake you off of him

• especially if it’s sudden

• he’s probably not even that warm, anyway

• he’ll also probably try to shift the responsibility of you to others

• by that I mean he just doesn’t take on the role of a parental figure that much (Husk probably looks after you more than him)

• unlike Angel and Husk, he won’t sleep in the same room as you

• the best you’ll get is a sleepover (in your room)

———

Husk

• shit, what do you want him to do?

• he can’t exactly do much about the plants-growing-out-of-your-body predicament

• or about your constant state of coldness, either

• well, maybe a little bit

• he’s quite soft and warm because of his fur, so you’d cling to him a lot

• he doesn’t exactly mind

• he just gives a grunt in acknowledgment and doesn’t even react at all after he’s gotten used to it

• you two would probably sleep in the same room, so cuddles are common

• well, uh, more like Husk passing out beside you is common

• actually, I think you two would sleep in separate beds at first

• the moment you asked if you could sleep beside him for warmth and comfort was when it became routine

• the question is: would he wrap his wings around you?

• ...I mean, if you asked

• he’s really not that opposed to many things

• just ask, and he’ll lazily comply

• you’re probably one of the few people who’d get to see him purr freely (who’s the other few? I dunno)