#except the baby boy i looked at him and i said you will thrive and you will flourish and you will be a baby

[304wv66]

HELLO EVERYONE I HAVE NOT DRAWN AT THIS BARE MINIMUM CALIBER SINCE LAST YEAR BUT WE'RE SO FUCKING BACK BABY

anyway here are some of my ocs in their first iterations with the original drawings and their current iterations

[hexiewrites]

I’ve been thinking a lot about late-deafened Steve, and what that actually would have looked like. Because the thing is: I love this head cannon. Boy got bashed around so much, ESPECIALLY on his left side, theres no way he didn’t come out of that with some long term damage. And I’ve been thinking about what that means for him, when his hearing starts to go, and how isolating that would be.

Except. Then I keep thinking about Robin.

Give me child-of-Deaf-adults Robin. Robin whose parents met at Gallaudet. Who were confused and upset when the doctor said, relief clear on his face, oh thank god, how lucky, your baby is normal, she can HEAR. Robin who grows up a in a Deaf home with a Deaf family. Who learns ASL before she learns English. Who never learns to be quiet because at home it doesn’t matter, so she can blast trumpet all day long to no complaints, and forever feels uncomfortable in places where she has to try to keep it down. Robin who grows up learning ASL and English and thrives, loves the way her brain works when it’s parsing languages, and starts teaching herself French and Spanish too, blasting day time Spanish soap operas constantly whenever she’s at home, shouting along with the screen. Robin who interprets for her parents, taking on burdens no seven year old should when she’s the one who has to tell her mom the cancers back. Robin who, four years later, gets to tell her dad that the surgery worked. The cancers gone. Moms gonna be ok. Robin who, at eleven, doesn’t know the sign for remission but she signs CANCER-one hand eating at the other like the disease that almost took her Mom-and signs FINISH, signs NONE, signs MOM-OKAY, MOM-SAFE, and is glad her dad can’t hear how loud her sobs are because even she’s embarrassed at the noises she’s making. 

Robin who doesn’t quite fit at home, the loud little girl in the odd quiet house (not that her house is ever quiet: if you dont realize you’re making noise you don’t do anything to tamper it), and who doesn’t quite fit at school, when she shows up in kindergarten signing instead of speaking and all the other kids make fun of her for years, call her spazzy Buckley and imitate the signs, crude and heartbreaking and she can’t even cry here because everyone can hear her. Robin who teaches herself to speak without signing, sits on her hands and tries not to internalize the hatred, but her fingers still twitch constantly along with the words. Robin who thinks she’s never going to fit in, and tries to separate out the two different parts of herself because it’s easier, most days, to pretend to be “normal” even though that feels wrong too.

Give me Robin, who knows Steve inside out and who knows what it looks like when someone can’t hear you but pretends they can. Robin who clocks Steve immediately, even though he tries to brush her off like he’s been doing to everyone. Robin who finally takes him home to meet her parents, explaining it all in the car (into his right ear, which is better than the left though still starting to fade). Robin who gives Steve the gift of understanding and hope for the future. Who holes up with him and teaches him sign, slow at first (because Steve has never been good at grammar, and he constantly furrows his eyebrows despite her pleas that eyebrows are important in ASL and he needs to use his face more or he’s going to confuse everyone, it’s the visual equivalent of lilting your voice up like every sentence is a question and it’s weird, Steve!) and then faster as he starts to realize how useful it is, starts to bring her lists full of signs to learn, starts to lean on and cherish the experience of this new way to communicate. Robin, who helps him practice lipreading even though she’s terrible at it. Robin, who finally convinces him to get a hearing aid and lets him sob into her shoulder when the doctor says it’ll help for a few years, but long term there’s probably nothing they can do, and then tells him to buck it up because there are way worse things than being a little deaf and besides, now the Buckleys will just have to adopt him for real because they did always talk about adopting a deaf child or two, if there was ever one in need.

Give me CODA Robin, whose never felt like she belonged until she nearly gets murdered by Russians with her best friend. Who brings Steve into her life, shows him Deaf culture, gives him a place where he fits. Robin who finally realizes that this is her place too, and it’s so much sweeter for getting to share it with the people she loves.

And then, after, give me Eddie knocking on the Buckley door and begging to learn ASL too. Give me Robin’s mom, somehow roped in to teaching him and the party, as they try to learn in secret to make Steve’s life easier (and their own, because ASL is god tier for pulling pranks from opposite sides of a high school cafeteria). Give me Dustin, excitedly telling Miranda Buckley to FUCK-OFF every week for months because he thinks he’s saying THANK-YOU and she finds it too funny to correct him. Give me Eddie trying to surprise Steve and ask him out on a date, but instead of signing HUNGRY, WANT YOU&ME GO AFTER WORK? he signs HORNY, WANT YOU&ME GO FUCK?

And give me Steve, who thinks about it for a long minute (partially because Eddie totally botches the grammar, but partially because he looks so hot, standing there nervous and trying to communicate with Steve in a way that will make him the most comfortable) before he smirks and signs back YEAH, and takes Eddie on the best goddamn first date of his life. 

[theemporium]

hi love! i love your slumber party idea :) can i request 💰 with luke hughes where once he signs his contract he wants to buy everything for his love? i feel like at the first sign of his own money he would want to buy everything they ever even mention about wanting. thank you so much!☺️🩷

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Maybe it was stupid for someone so young to have access to such large sums of money.

That was not to say it wasn’t deserved, because it was. Your boy was one of the best upcoming players in the sport, alongside his brothers. He was signed onto one of the best teams, he was proving every day why they chose him and he was thriving in his place in the big leagues. There wasn’t anything about Luke that said he didn’t deserve the money he was being paid.

Except for his money spending habits: the biggest one being the fact he couldn’t seem to keep it in his bank.

“Luke.”

“Baby.” 

You stared at the box he had placed at the foot of your bed just a few minutes ago when you had buzzed him in, so lost in finishing up the last few bits of your paper that it didn’t even occur to you why he was taking so long to climb a few flights of stairs until he walked in with the massive box in his hands. And if the look on his face was anything to go by, you knew it was something he knew you were going to dispute. 

“Do I even wanna know?” You asked with a heavy sigh, looking at the box like it was about to burst into flames. 

“Listen,” he started as he began to crawl towards you on the bed, reaching for you when you were finally close enough for him to trap in his arms. “It’s for a good reason.”

“You say that about all the presents you buy me,” you grumbled at the boy, though you smiled at his attempt regardless. “Luke, honey, I don’t need all these gifts.”

“Yeah, but I can buy you them now,” he said in an excited tone, like a little kid on Christmas morning. “I have the money to spoil you. I have the money to give you whatever you want.”

“Luke,” your eyes softened as you reached for the boy, your palm cupping his cheek as he leaned into the embrace. “I don’t need any of that. You’re enough. You were enough then, and you’re enough now. I don’t need some expensive gifts to know that.”

“But I want to give you them,” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to your open palm. “And plus, this one is kinda selfish.”

You raised your brows. “How so?” 

“Your ass is gonna look great in that dress,” Luke replied, trying to act cocky and unashamed but it amused you at the way his cheeks flushed pink when he spoke.

“There are many ways you can see my ass without having to drop your paycheck the day you get it,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Luke grinned innocently. “C’mon, we can go out for a nice dinner and have a nice time. Maybe come back here, see how easy that dress is to get off for four hundred dollars.”

You blanched. “Four hundred!?” 

Luke looked sheepish. “It would look really pretty on you, babe.”

“You need to be banned from spending money unsupervised,” you muttered as you leaned forward, pecking his lips. “But thank you, baby.”

He grinned. “Any day.”

“Not any day,” you glared back at him. “No more spontaneous gifts, okay?”

“Sure, let’s say that.”

.

[redheadspark]

Hiiii can I request an az x reader or cassian whichever u want, they have a baby like 5 months old baby and they live in a cabin in the mountains by the lake and one day as yn and the bby are outside in nature a threat appears and there is a bit angst but ends up happy??? Thank u so much❤️

A/N - I LOVE this for my Alec series! Sorry, it took some time to write, but I hope you like it :D. This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Split

Summary - Cassian stops a potential threat against Alec.

Warnings - Angst with a slight mixture of fluff

"I'll be right inside if something happens or if he needs anything or wants—"

"You go, babe.  Alec and I are fine.  Right, kid?"

Alec giggled as Cassian tickled his side, Nesta saw how comfortable Cassian was with Alec as they were perched on a large blanket right next to the lake.  With a kiss on Alec's head and a light kiss on her mate's lips, Nesta walked back to the cabin to get to work, leaving Cassian and Alec out by the lake to enjoy the sunshine.  

Although you were more than capable of having your son with you, you know Cassian wanted to give you and Azriel some time alone and a mini break.  Not that Alec was a time-consuming toddler, he was rather easy.  Rhysand has even joked with you and Azriel that Alec was easier to handle than Nyx was as a toddler, but he meant well.  

It was a warm day, quite warmer than usual in Velaris since the warm winds were now in Night Court.  Tension between Night and Autumn Court was only a pinch better.  Ever since Elaine and Lucien got married in a beautiful wedding in Night Court and held its reception in Autumn Court, both Rhysand and Beron were trying to make amends and head in the right direction. However, the main snag in that relationship was Eris, still in hot water since the comment about Azriel and his family.  His duties with his father and as the Prince of Autumn Court diminished as punishment, commanded to be in stone silence during Elaine and Lucien's Mating Ceremony reception.

You and Alec stayed in Night Court during the reception that was in Autumn Court, a compromise you and Azriel made together since Elaine and Lucien wished for your family to be at the Mating Ceremony.  Tension was still high for the Spymaster, and his son would not be caught in the crossfire when it came to Eris and his threats.  It was a good enough plan, both yourself and Azriel didn't wish to make waves or cause chaos showing up in another Court with Alec exposed to others.  When Azriel showed up to the Reception with Cassian and Nesta, Eris seemed rather peeved at the absence of yourself and your son.

Much to his dismay, but much to the amusement and satisfaction of Azriel.

Since then, you and Azriel made your lives normal for Alec.  He was talking wildly now, though it was a few words here and there but willing to learn more.  Cassian has offered to babysit him more and more since there was less of a need for him at the Illyrian camps.  His soldiers were getting along quite well and thriving without him, his captains were exceptional leaders and the arguments were now at a minimum.  It left Cassian to have more time with his family, particularly with his nephews Nyx and Alec.  Both boys loved and adored being with their Uncle Cassian, the fun and lively Uncle who would play with them for hours on end and never get tired.  It paired well with Aunt Nesta, who would read them bedtime stories and give them lots of snuggles when they were sad. 

Today was Cassian and Nesta's day to watch Alec.  Rhysand working at the River House with Azriel on spy information he received from Spring Court.  Feyre, with Nyx in tow, asked for your assistance at the Community Center back in Velaris since you loved working alongside the locals and the needy.  With Elaine and Lucien enjoying their newlywed life in their little cottage along the Night Court countryside, Cassian and Nesta were on babysitting duty.  

Neither Nesta nor Cassian said anything, but they looked forward to watching Alec, as they did with Nyx.  To them, it was almost a practice for them when they wished to expand their family.  Nesta was not ready for a babe just yet, but she told Cassian she was open to the possibility of the future, which made Cassian's heart soar. He would wait years, long years, however long it took for her to be ready for motherhood.  Even if maybe down the road she didn't want that life anymore, Cassian didn't mind at all.  Her happiness, for all she endured, was his priority now.

"Alright, you wanna watch your uncle organize his blades?" Cassian asked playfully, Alec grasping the stuffed owl that his Aunt Nesta gave him and watching Cassian with wide eyes while Cassian rolled out his blades carefully on the blanket, "Don't worry, kid. You'll hold one of these in no time, but maybe not for a hundred years or two if I know your dad,"

"Dada!" Alec shrieked at the mention of his father, and Cassian laughed.

"Never thought I would live to see the day that the Shadowsinger fathered a child…no offense," He said to Alec, who was snuggling with his owl and watching a bumble bee hover by on a massive flower, "You know I love your dad like a brother…well, he is my brother.  But he's still a mystery, even to your Uncle Cassian,"

He went to work on his blade, getting out each one to inspect them and see which one needed maintenance,  He could hear Netsa working inside the Cabin, looking over some ancient books that Rhysand gave her to other information to use for their security in Night Court.  Nesta and Rhysand's relationship was better than ever, both having respect for one another and love for one another as in-laws.  Rhysand enlists Nesta to help in research since she traded most of her powers to the Cauldron to save Feyre and Nyx from death.  Nesta admired Rhysand for being a great mate and father, no longer having that grudge or chip on her shoulder.  

Cassian could see and feel high hopes for his mate.

Minutes went by as Cassian was going over every weapon, seeing his nephew out of the corner of his eyes walking around on his wobbly legs and exploring the shore of the lake.  His wings were growing inch by inch,  still against his backside while his raven black hair was a bit longer with thick waves and half in his face to cover his bright blue eyes. Things felt calm in the area, almost a bit too calm. Although there was magic instilled around the cabin and the area, Cassian knew better than to not have his guard up.  No matter if there hasn't been a breach of security or a threat against Night Court, there could still be a looming threat that can start small and then explode.  

He heard Alec walking along the grass, pausing in his weaponry inspection to watch his young nephew tread his way over to the end of the grass that led to the tall trees and the dense forest behind them.  Cassian never once had to fear or worry over a certain area in Night Court, not even close to the Mountains and near the Illyrian Camp.

But something crawled under his skin, almost licking at his spine and sending almost a warning signal to him

He paused, placing his daggers on the quilt again as his eyes moved to Alec.  His nephew was babbling to himself, reaching out to grab tuffs of grass in his fingers as the wind was picking up.  He could pick up a few familiar scents: the crisp pines from the forest, the sweet grass, Alec's scent on the lotion Nesta put on his skin, and even Nesta's scent that was laced in pomegranate.  

But there was something else…something bitter and crisp.

A flicker of movement in front of Alec, almost too quick amongst the dark trees that were swaying in the wind.  Cassian's eyes saw it though, a snap of a twig and another flicker that was over to the left. It was no animal, not even deer were that fast or slick.  Cassian's intuition and his Commander side were activated now as he was still watching his nephew look at the grass between his finger and attempt to nibble at it.  But then the soft sound of something brushing a tree alerted Alec, making him stand up straight and look in that direction.  Cassian saw how alert he was, even as a babe he stood still like a grown Illyrian.

His wings, though tucked in tight, showed some flickerings of…..shadows.  Cassian then knew that Alec's own shadows he got from his father were alerting him.

Something's wrong

"Cass?  Babe, how's going out there?" Nesta asked as she was coming out from the cabin with a washcloth between her fingers.  But she saw her mate crouched down a bit, reaching for one of his daggers, and his eyes trained on the forest in front of Alec, who was whimpering a bit from his mini set of shadows that were now along his backside.  Her eyes were on alert now, staring still in worry as Cassian gripped a dagger tightly in his hold.

Don't move. Cassian said in the bond to Nesta, sensing her fear and concern as his eyes were on the forest again.  He was looking for the slightest movement amongst the dark branches and trees, knowing fully well that someone or something was there and so close to Alec, let alone the three of them in a secluded cabin.

When I tell you to, get Alec and get inside. Lock the door and do not open it unless it's me.  Cassian commanded Nesta in his mind as his dagger was gripped hard in his grip.  He was still searching, looking through every leaf and pine needle for a sign that his instincts were not wrong, that he was in fear of something that was indeed there and in front of his nephew in plain sight. 

He then heard it, a low growl of sorts that seemed animalistic.  Cassian threw the dagger instantly.  The dagger flew past Alec's head, not close to hitting him but enough to leave him shaken as it launched into the pit of the forest.  Cassian heard a yelp and a thud.  He hit the target.

"NOW!" He yelled, grabbed another dagger, and started running towards the threat.  He ran past Alec, who was whimpering in fear as Cassian knew Nesta was bolting towards Alec and scooping him up in her arms.  Cassian didn't even have to look to know that Nesta was sprinting to the cabin with her nephew tight against her chest and locking the door behind her as he made it into the forest.

He could smell the blood as soon as he went past the first line of trees, and then he saw a body hunched over in the dirt and gasping for air as the dagger he had thrown seconds beforehand was sticking out of his chest.  Cassian felt anger boil in him as he saw that this was no Night Court citizen, nor was it an Illryian Solider.  He could see light hair, dark clothing the fae was wearing, even the weaponry strapped to his hip as Cassian grabbed the back of his head.  He yanked his head back, eyes going wide in anger and rage seeing the auburn hair and the bright eyes.

Autumn Court.

"Where is he?"

"The master bedroom,"

Rhysand and Azriel entered the cabin in haste, Azriel leading the way as he was looking for his son with worry his shadows flicking in anger and Rhysand looking over at Cassian.  Cassian was remaining calm, sitting at the dining room table with his hands laced together and brows knitted together.  Nesta had Alec in the master bedroom, calming down with ease for the past few minutes while Cassian got in contact with Rhysand and Azriel about the close attack.  He knew Azriel was not going to be calm when it came to his child, let alone Rhysand.  Even Cassian was trying to calm himself down from going out to the fae who almost killed Alec and strangled him to death.

Instead, he tied him to a tree out near the lake, keeping the dagger in his chest for him to bleed out slowly.

A bundle was wrapped and in front of Cassian, his eyes drilled on the bundle while Rhysand walked over to him with his wing ready on high alert.  Cassian could hear Azriel cooing and calming his son down, he knew Azriel was going to think twice about doing something to the fae with Alec in his arms.  It was a safer bet for Azriel to hold his baby than to go out and kill the fae slowly and with pain.

"Rhys," Cassian said in a warning, Rhysand walking over to him and standing next to him in front of the table as Nesta walked out of the bedroom now, looking more somber and a bit relaxed now that her nephew had her father, "He had this,"

He gestured to the bundle, both Nesta and Rhysand looked in confusion as Cassian then reached for the top of the bundle to remove the fabric.  Once he did, Rhysand's eyes went wide, and almost looked disgusted as the sight of a dagger was seen.  Laced in orange and red gems along the hilt and handle, the steel did look rather too pristine and delicate.  Cassian's eyes looked over at his High Lord, his face filled with anger and rage as he spoke.  

"An Autumn Court Blade," Rhysand grimaced.  

"You smell it too don't you?" Cassian asked in a low tone, Rhysand bitterly nodding his head as Nesta looked at her mate in confusion.

"Smell what?" She asked, her voice low and almost quivering.  Rhysand and Cassian locked eyes, both of them remaining far too calm for the situation but they too were beyond angry.  

"It's poisoned," Rhysand hummed, Nesta gasping and covering her mouth in shock.  Cassian was shaking his head slowly, closing his eyes, and feeling bitterness deep inside of him that was also laced with guilt.

"I didn't know he was there, I didn't realize…" Cassian was muttering feeling like he was spiraling downwards since he was only thinking of how close Alec was to being hurt, let alone killed.  If he was a second late, or a pinch too slow…

"You saved your nephew," Rhysand said to him immediately, placing his hand on Cassian's shoulder as he gave him a hard look, "You saved his life and you went with your gut.  Alec is safe, you three are safe, and that's because of you, Cassian.  Don't you fucking dare think less than that, understand?"

Cassian looked up at Rhysand, knowing that he was telling him the truth.  Cassian always hated putting himself down and thinking he should have done better, he's done it in the past so many times.  He would hide it with his jokes and banter, but he wanted to be perfect at times and prove himself.  To hear from Rhysand that he succeeded, to know that he saved the life of his brother's son, was worthwhile.  

"What about his mother and Feyre?" Nesta asked the pair of them, to which the front door opened again.  You came running through, eyes wide and frantic as Feyre was right on your heels. You slid to a halt, seeing the scene in front of you: Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta sporting looks that were mixed in shock and anger, a dagger sitting on top of a bundle of rags.  Your heart was beating rapidly and your mind was spinning over time.

"Where?!" You asked in a breath, Nesta knowing full well you were talking about Alec. She took your hand and led you to the bedroom, Feyre gliding over to her mate and Cassian as Rhysand took in a long breath to mostly control his own emotions.  

"High Lord Beron needs to know this," Rhysand said aloud in the room, though Cassian shot him a look, "Those daggers belong to his high fae security and high ranking personal.  It's not an Illyrian blade, and if he did this...."

"You think it was him…or a certain Prince with a Vendetta?" Cassian asked in a lower tone, Rhysand's let eyes darted to him immediately as Feryre looked worried.

"Eris wouldn't!  To kill a child, a baby?!  That's a death sentence, going against his father and this Court!  He would be a fool to be behind it—"  Feyre started to explain as Cassian gently interrupted her.

"Respectfully, Feyre, he's always been a fool.  And if it's him behind this after all…nothing is going to hold back Azriel from tearing him limb to limb, or his mother.  I won't hold either of them back, nor will your mate,"  Feyre's eyes shot to Rhysand, who was looking at the dagger again with a new heat of anger and rage in his eyes.  Rhysand knew Cassian was right in that statement.  If Eris was behind this attempt to harm or kill Alec, there was no force in Night Court, or beyond that, that would stop Azriel from killing Eris immediately.  

"There's something else too, with Alec," Cassian explained, gaining the attention of the High Lord and Lady, "I saw shadows on Alec, along his wings just like Azriel.  Small, but they were there.  He's a Shadowsinger, like his father,"

"That makes him a bigger target now," Rhysand said in a tremor, the mood once again looking and feeling a bit grim with this new information.  Azriel was the only Shadowwinger known, no other Court had one or knew of one except for him.  He was coveted by other Courts and their High Lords for centuries to work for them, yet he remained with Night Court and his family.  But now to know his son had his gift, it made his safety far more imperative.  

Once word got out, the Courts will come for him.

Azriel came out of the bedroom, Cassian shooting up from his spot in the dining room and looking rather concerned at Azriel as he was approached by the Spymaster.  Was Azriel going to hate him for almost having Alec in danger?  Would he be angry at Cassian for the close call?  How was he going to react as he stood in front of Cassian with a stone face?  Cassian was about to say something to him, almost trying to explain it himself what happened. 

But Azriel hugged him tightly, fiercely, as a brother would for another brother.

Cassian was in shock, but he hugged him back as Azriel was clinging to him and not letting him go for a long moment.  Azriel was never one to be a hugger unless he was deeply and intensely moved by something.  Cassian felt almost like collapsing, feeling that hug to his core as Azriel pulled away and stared at him with his hazel eyes. 

Cassian knew that look on him since he had seen it.  He saw it the first time they met as children and he took Azriel to meet Rhysand, he saw it when he taught Azriel how to fly to get strength in his wings.

A look of gratefulness and love.  

"You saved my son," Azriel said calmly, though there were tears in his eyes as he stared into Cassian's soul, "Cass…I can't thank you enough for saving my boy.  My world—"

"Hey, It's okay," Cassian urged him as he clasped Azriel on the back of his neck, feeling Azriel trembling as he gave him a nervous smile, "Az, I would do anything for him, for any of us.  You guys are my family, okay?"

Azriel nodded, and although he seemed calm in front of Cassian, he knew the wheels turning in Azriel's mind.  He remained calm in the moment, but deep down he was in a rage.  The kind of anger that seeps in the pours and is almost like a poison to snuff out.  Alec's life was almost taken in a split second, and there was no way and no force that was going to stop Azriel, or his mother for that matter, from inflicting harm on those who tried to take their son.  

Azriel moved away from Cassian, walking back to the master bedroom with Rhysand and Freyre in tow.  Cassie stayed behind, grasping the back of the chair and letting out a massive sigh of relief as Nesta left the room.  Cassian could hear the group chatting together about what happened as she closed the door and walked to Cassian with worry in her eyes at her mate and his condition.  Cassian's shoulders felt heavy and his mind felt like it was in a fog, all that adrenaline was gone and he could collapse at any moment.  

So Nesta hugged her mate tightly, Cassian digging his face in her hair to inhale her scent and be centered again.  There was peace again, his heart slowed down and his mind was back to being at ease with the calm words from Azriel and his mate holding him close.  In his mind, he was thinking of what he did wrong and how he should have stopped the threat sooner.  But to the others, he saved a little boy's life.  

His eyes looked back to the dagger that was still on the table, and he felt his heart falling to his stomach at the sight.

It was a sign of conflict that had just begun.

The End. 

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams

[kaciidubs]

hi hi hi!!! today i offer to you: inexperienced!puppy!chan who's so so so eager to learn everthing you teach him. like imagine teaching him how to fuck you properly and he excels at it but in true chan fashion he has NO idea how crazy he's driving you. like imagine him burying his fingers deep into you, finding your sweet spot without even trying and moving his fingers in such a way that has your toes curling and back arching. and then he asks in the most sweet and innocent voice, "is this how i should do it? am i doing it right?" also puppy!chan (or any kind of chan for that matter) THRIVES on your praise so call him your good boy once and he's doinh everything you tell him to. like just imagine training puppy!chan how to pleasure you and he takes in that information in SO quickly and applies it so quickly too. i'm just–yeah🥴

Hi hi, my darling! Puppy! Chan gets my gears going, but inexperienced puppy! Chan?? Yeah, this is a need. ❣ Word Count: 1.8k ❣ Warnings: Puppy Switch! Chris, Switch! Reader, fluff, smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, guided sex, praise, open ended ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Puppy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Love

Chris was a pleaser in every sense of the word, and you were no exception - if he could do something to make you happy, he'd do it in the blink of an eye.

So, when it came to the concept of being intimate with you, he was more than willing to start from ground zero; learning what touches made you shiver, where you liked being kissed, and how he could get you to melt into him without even getting your shirt off.

Through this experience you happened to learn that he was very eager to be bossed around - brown eyes watching you intensely as he listened to every syllable that left your lips, directing his body to do as you said like the good boy he was.

Of course, he had needs of his own - ways he wanted to see you fall apart that haunted his waking thoughts like a beautiful nightmare.

"I... I'd really like to finger you, love."

You had to stop yourself from lovingly laughing at his timidness, clocking the blush on the tips of his ears from a mile away - ever the earnest lover.

"Okay, baby - want me to show you how?"

With his eager nod more than sufficient for confirmation, you tossed your phone to the side and began setting the stage - your bed - for his personal lesson.

"I'm sure you don't need a formal introduction to my pussy, do you?" You giggled as you laid on the bed, a pillow propped under your head for support as you watched him wiggle his way between your spread legs.

If there was a way to describe his face during moments like this, it would have to be awe inducing - no matter how many times he'd seen you naked, intimately or in passing, he looked as if his world had stopped and you were the only person that mattered.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as slightly faded orange curls brushed his forehead, "No, I don't." Parting your folds with his index and middle, a shiver ran down his spine at the faint shine of your arousal, "Hi, beautiful."

Within your time together, he was considerably acquainted with your cunt - keeping his head between your legs for so long you could still feel the phantom touch of his tongue days later - but he was insistent on taking things slow so he could treat you the way you deserved when he had the proper chance to, and you weren't complaining at all.

Where he wanted to learn how to pleasure you in ways that didn't directly involve his dick, you wanted to see just how well he would put his lessons to use down the - unknowingly short - line.

It didn't take long for the slow, languid curls of his tongue, and the subtle pressure of the tip of his nose bumping against your clit, to have you melting like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

"Y-You can start using your fingers if you want, baby," You breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp earning you a low groan in return.

Chris pulled away a second later, looking up at you with lust blown eyes, "Are you sure?"

"If you don't use yours, I'm gonna use mine, Christopher."

Taking your threat to heart - and pocketing it for a future session - he dragged his index finger through your spit-slicked folds before gently prodding at your slit.

"Tell me-"

"-if it hurts, I know - it's just the first finger, it'll be fine."

And you were right, his finger parting your walls with ease due to how wet you were already - the both of you letting out matching sighs of relief and awe.

"You're so warm." He seemed to talk more to himself than to you as he slowly pumped his finger in and out, eyes trained on the way his skin shined with your arousal.

If this were the past you would've been embarrassed from the intense stare and almost curious prodding, but with Chris things were different - you welcomed the curiosity sprinkled into his tone, and the awe that sparkled underneath the warm adoration he exuded.

"You know," you hummed, easily catching his attention, "instead of using your index finger, you can use your middle and ring fingers, puppy - it's more comfortable that way."

Nodding dutifully, his finger left you slowly, only to be brought up to his mouth and slip past his plush lips.

Sure, you've seen him lick your arousal from his lips plenty of times before, but watching the pure euphoric flutter of his eyes as he sucked his finger clean had you clenching around air - he was going to be the death of you, and you could only imagine how it would be when you two finally took it to the next level.

He released his finger with a satisfied moan, "Have I ever told you how fucking delicious you taste?"

A teasing smile curled your lips, "Hm, once or twice."

"Well let's make it three times," bringing his hand back to your pussy, he traced his fingers around your entrance once more, "you taste delicious, baby - I don't think I can survive without it at this point."

You wished you could attribute the roll of your eyes to his dramatics, but as his thick, knobby fingers stretched your walls, your head fell back against the pillow as a moan floated past your lips.

Even with just two fingers he was able to reach spots you could just barely get to on your own, and this fact alone had you twitching in anticipation.

"Should I..." Chris licked his lips, mesmerized by the snug fit on his fingers within you, "Can I keep going?"

"Yeah, yeah- god, it feels amazing already."

Soon his fingers were gliding in and out of you at a decent speed as he got used to the motion, going faster as your breathing picked up before slowing down just as your moans became frequent - continuing this dance of push and pull that kept you in a delicious limbo.

A particular curve of his fingers on an outward drag had your hips jolting, a shocked gasp breaking through a breathless moan.

"Oh- Fuck!"

"Are you okay?"

Your eyes snapped open, looking down to shoot him a confused look until you were met with innocent worry - he hadn't done it on purpose.

"I'm- I'm okay, you just- Ah!"

Despite his apparent worry, the movement of his hand didn't stop, and you were yet again subjected to the graze of his fingers against your g-spot.

"I found it, hm?"

You could only reply with frantic nods, melting against the sheets as he kept his pace steady with the occasional curl of his fingers to keep you on your curled toes.

"B-Baby, faster."

"Faster?"

Feeling the bed shift slightly, his lips left a fleeting kiss on the inside of your thigh before you felt his body partially hover over yours; lips now seeking home on the crook of your neck.

This reprieve was short lived as his rhythm sped up without warning, your back arching as moans vibrated your vocal chords. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the t-shirt he shockingly kept on, gripping the cotton in your fists.

"O-Oh my god, Chris!"

His panted breaths rolled along your neck while muted grunts caught against your skin; the sounds of your breathless moans and slick squelches of your arousal filling his ears.

"You can- Fuck- U-Use your thumb to rub my clit, puppy."

"Yeah? But I won't be able to go as hard..."

"It's okay - please, I just need more, baby."

Pulling his head from your neck, he took in your fucked out expression as he stilled his hand to press his thumb against the small bundle of nerves, rotating in small circles just like he usually did with his tongue.

When you flinched he pulled away, the beginnings of an apology forming on his lips until you stopped him in his tracks.

"No, no - you're doing great, Channie, just - not too hard, and move your thumb a little to the left."

He nodded, adjusting his thumb with a tilt of his head, "Right here?"

A small giggle escaped you, "My left, puppy."

Noting the blush darkening his ears, he made the change yet again and the result was more than he could've ever expected; your pussy clenching around his fingers as your eyelids fluttered, a familiar haze fogging your eyes.

"Like this?" He mused, curling his fingers in a 'come hither' motion for additional stimulation, "Am I doing it right?"

You keened, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as you nodded, "M-Mhm, you're doing s-such a good job, puppy- Oh, fuck- you're amazing, baby."

His heart swelled at the praise - much like his dick currently confined underneath his boxer briefs - and he focused his efforts on adding minute thrusts of his hand while keeping up the flicks of his thumb.

Unfinished sentences fell from your lips like breaths of air, a jumble of praises and half-baked thoughts breaking up whimpers and moans that you had no intentions of holding back.

"You're so pretty like this," he breathed softly, drinking in the furrow of your brow, the faint glisten of drool at the corner of your lips, "fucking beautiful, baby. You're squeezing my fingers so tight - you're close, yeah? Gonna come for me?"

You made a noise, something you hoped was a sound of agreement underneath the endless whimpers of his name.

Chris leaned down to brush his lips against yours, a soft, tender motion that had your heart soaring and your orgasm rocketing you into outer space without so much as a warning.

Your back arched as you pulled at his shirt - at this point, you'd be surprised if it hadn't torn from the force - as your cum soaked his fingers and the curve of your ass.

His hips bucked against your thigh, moaning against your mouth as he fingered you through your high with gentle strokes.

It didn't take long for you to come back to your senses, a breathless laugh shaking your shoulders while you released your death grip on his poor wrinkled shirt.

"You... You are way too good at that," blinking up at him, you narrowed your eyes playfully, "are you sure you haven't fingered anyone before?"

That wonderfully high pitched, squeaky laugh escaped him, "I swear I haven't!" Slowly pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, he made a show of licking the pads, "I guess I'm just a fast learner, you know?"

Grabbing his wrist, you slipped those same fingers into your mouth, moaning at your taste around his digits and licking them clean before releasing them with a soft pop.

"In that case..." You lifted your leg slightly, brushing your thigh against his hard on with a sly grin, "Can you teach me how to use my hands?"

[unedited]

[theres-a-tvjoe]

Nice Guys Throw Punches - SFK/DRW

Well, here’s the fluffiest, most protective!Danny that’s been stuck in my brain for days. Big thanks to @ofthecaravel for freaking out with me eeeeee here we go.

READ ON AO3

-

Wanted: Have You Seen This Man? He’s actually just a really nice guy.

That’s what Danny’s poster had said. And he is. He is a nice guy, has on more than one occasion been called a gentle giant (mostly by Josh), fills his role as band mediator with ease, and has always been a lover, not a fighter.

But, he supposes, exceptions are always made. Which is what got him to where he is now, sitting on the bumper of an ambulance next to the festival beer garden with a broken nose and split knuckles.

He swears he’s a nice guy.

One Hour Earlier

It’s not surprising that Lollapalooza is packed to the gills with drunk and high festival goers. It’s the nature of a festival to be a sprawling bacchanalian free for all, really. That’s why the Kiszka brothers thrive at festivals and why Danny always feels like he’s herding kittens trying to keep all three of them alive.

“Thanks,” Danny says, nodding to the bartender in the beer garden before wading his way back through the throngs of people, holding the two bottles of beer a little higher to avoid being jostled by someone telling an overenthusiastic story.

They’d played earlier in the day, a riotous set that went off without a hitch and left them all in a post-show euphoria that was only briefly interrupted by showers and changing clothes before continuing on now.

“Beer delivery,” Danny chirps, sidling up behind Sam and moving his boyfriend’s chestnut hair to one side of his neck. Sam is mid conversation with Jake and Josh, the three of them talking completely over each other. Danny presses the cold beer to the sensitive skin of Sam’s neck, grinning.

Sam squawks loudly, immediately turning and swatting at him.

“Asshole,” he half shouts, trying in vain to pinch at Danny’s sides while the taller man evades his efforts. “That’s no way to treat the love of your life.”

Danny hastily apologises to the group of girls he bumps into trying to avoid Sam’s punishment, looping an arm around Sam’s waist and tugging him close, a beer still in each hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still grinning.

Sam makes a grab for Danny’s backwards hat, missing when Danny makes a bite at his arm. “You are not, you unrepentant frat boy -”

“Am too, and if I’m a frat boy that makes you -”

“Alright alright,” Josh says, clapping his hands. “Enough, children. Daniel, give the baby his beer before he gets cranky.”

Danny laughs, not letting Sam go but handing him the beer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I hate you,” Sam says, leaning into him.

Danny grins. “I know, baby. Drink your beer.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Jake rolls his eyes. He takes a pull of his own beer, shaking his head fondly.

It’s been over a year now since Sam and Danny had made it official - it being them, of course, and their decision to finally end everyone’s collective ‘will they, won’t they’ misery. Happy tears were shed by parents, hollers and hugs were given by siblings. But Sam had been deeply offended when literally no one was surprised by their announcement of a relationship, and had pinched Danny’s nipple right through his shirt as revenge when the taller man had shrugged and said ‘that’s fair, it was a long time coming’.

“It’s really packed in here,” Josh says, looking around them. More people are flooding into the beer garden, musicians and festival goers alike, and it’s making personal space significantly harder to come by.

They’ve melded with a group of other players, conversation flowing easily and laughter loud. Danny is regretting his choice of a white t-shirt, knowing that the chances of a spill are getting higher by the second but it’s worth it to watch Sam’s face light up as he tells a story.

As if on cue, Sam gestures broadly with his hand and accidentally catches the drink of a passerby, knocking it against their chest.

“Oh shit,” Sam says, turning. “Sorry man -”

The man hisses angrily as he peels his wet shirt away from his chest. He’s about Danny’s height but twice as broad, bald headed and skin going pink with anger. Danny frowns, not liking the way the man’s mood has shifted so quickly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” he spits, throwing his now empty cup onto the ground and shaking the spilled beer off his hand. “Fucking - my shirt is ruined .”

The unexpected anger draws the attention of the twins and the rest of the group, eyes widening in surprise at the outburst.

Sam winces, obviously feeling bad. “It was an accident, man, I’ll buy you another drink -”

“Shut the fuck up,” the man snaps, finally looking up from his shirt to fix his angry stare at Sam.

“Listen, he said he was sorry,” Danny interjects, brow furrowed as he steps between Sam and the man, hands up between them. He wants to keep the peace, to get this asshole on his way as fast as possible, but something isn’t sitting right. His heart is beating faster now, the tension palpable. “It was an accident, it happens. We can find you another shirt.”

The man snorts, looking Sam up and down before turning to fix his gaze on Danny.

“You know, I saw you two earlier,” he says, sneering. “Looking awfully cozy. Maybe if you knew how to control your bitch this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What the fuck,” Jake says, automatically stepping closer to Sam. Josh circles a hand instinctively around Sam’s wrist, anchoring him to the spot.

“Hey, fuck you man -” Sam starts, brows dropping in anger as he moves to step forward only to be impeded by Josh.

“See?” the man laughs, the sound grating and mean. He pokes a finger into Danny’s chest. “Maybe I should take him off your hands, teach him some fucking manners -”

Danny isn’t sure when he drops his beer, but somewhere between the bottle leaving his hand and it hitting the ground, he makes a choice.

No one talks about Sam that way, not while Daniel fucking Wagner walks the earth.

He reels back and throws a hard punch, fist connecting solidly with the man’s face in a loud thud. The garden immediately erupts into chaos, people stumbling backwards from the fight to get away from the crossfire. Josh yanks Sam back as the man retaliates, grappling Danny to the ground as they both throw hit after hit.

A few others jump in to try to break it up, but it’s violent.

What feels like an hour is only a minute, maybe two before security is rushing in and pulling the two men apart. There’s blood in the dirt and Danny has never been so angry in his life.

“Let me go,” Danny demands, struggling against the hold of two security guards. The other man is yelling obscenities and slurs while being forcefully escorted from the tent, and Danny takes some satisfaction from the split lip he’s sporting. “I’m - Jesus, I’m not going to go after him, let me go.”

“I’ll get the medics,” one of them says, speaking quickly into the radio on his chest before striding out of the tent. The security guard lets Danny go, telling him not to go anywhere until the medic arrives.

The entire garden is a mess of activity and chatter, the energy thrumming with nerves and surprise. Danny’s ears are ringing and his heart is pounding out of his chest. The adrenaline is still thrumming at a million miles an hour through his veins, and he barely registers he’s being spoken to until there are gentle hands on either side of his face.

“Daniel,” Sam is saying, sweet face creased with worry. “Hey, look at me.”

“Medic is over here, come on,” Jake is saying, hand gentle on Danny’s upper arm. Josh is shooing people out of the way, already explaining everything that happened to the paramedic.

“Hey man,” says the medic, getting Danny’s attention. “My name is Noah. Looks like you got into a bit of a scrap, hey?”

Danny shakes his head, but immediately winces as pain shoots through his face.

“I’m fine,” he croaks, but the words come out a little slurred. Suddenly Danny is very aware of the blood in his mouth.

“Here, let’s sit him down,” Noah says, helping Jake seat Danny on the bumper of the ambulance, the back doors wide and a medical bag opened.

Sam is pacing back and forth, continually running his hands through his hair. Josh is off to the side, on the phone with management already while Jake confers with security again.

Noah makes Danny follow a pen with his eyes, checks his pulse, and listens to his heart. He carefully tips Danny’s head back, helping him hold an ice pack over his nose.

“Well I can tell you one thing,” he says good naturedly. “It’s a good thing you guys already played your set, because you’re going to be hurting once that adrenaline wears off.”

“Already there,” Danny says, the words coming out like he’s got the world's worst cold. Everything fucking hurts now. His knuckles are aching and his head feels like one giant bruise.

“Yeah,” Noah sighs sympathetically, jotting something down on his clipboard before pulling out a few butterfly bandages from his bag. “A broken nose is no fun. But it’s not crooked, so that’s a small victory.”

That seems to stir Sam from his pacing, nearly skidding to a stop in front of Danny.

“What the hell were you thinking, Daniel?!” he bursts, every inch of him seeming to vibrate with anxiety. “You’ve never made a fist in your fucking life and you decide that testing it out on a man twice your size is the way to go?”

Noah bites his lips together, giving Danny a ‘you’re in trouuuuuble’ look as he pulls the ice pack away gently.

“We were the same height,” Danny protests weakly, wincing as Noah carefully places a butterfly bandage over the split skin on the bridge of his nose.

“No, shut up,” Sam says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Just - why, Daniel?”

Danny frowns, confused by the question.

“What do you mean, why?” he asks, dutifully holding still as Noah continues to work on cleaning him up.

Sam rolls his eyes, but he looks dangerously close to tears. Danny’s heart aches in his chest, and he wants to pull his boyfriend closer.

“I mean why,” Sam repeats. “Why did you start a fight?”

“He started it,” Danny protests, wincing as Noah cleans his knuckles. “I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him talk about you like that, Sam. I didn’t even - I didn’t even think about it, alright? I just did it.”

Sam seems to deflate a little at that, jaw working stubbornly.

“Well it was fucking stupid,” he says, scuffing at an errant pebble with the toe of his sneaker. “Now you look like a sad raccoon with your -” he gestures to Danny’s face. “Black eyes and shit.”

“Cute look,” Danny says, not bothering to fight the fierce wave of fondness welling inside of him for his boyfriend. Only Sam would manage to express fear and concern as a truly bizarre insult. “What a weird way to kick a guy while he’s down. How about a ‘thanks for sticking up for me, Danny’ or an ‘I love you, Danny’?”

“I love you Danny,” Josh says, pocketing his phone as he comes to join them. He swings an arm around Sam, pulling him in for a tight hug despite the younger man fighting it. “This little rat bastard of a child is just trying to pretend he’s not scared shitless because his boy got hurt, isn’t that right Sam?”

“I am not scared,” Sam says, shoving Josh away. Jake rolls his eyes, moving to sit next to Danny on the bumper of the ambulance. “I’m pissed off, he could’ve - he could have died! And then we’d have to get a new drummer, okay, and that’s just a pain in the ass -”

Noah gives Danny the all clear, and he stands. He has no doubt he looks like shit, shirt stained with blood, eyes blooming black and blue, knuckles and nose bandaged.

“Sammy,” Danny interrupts him gently. “C’mere.”

“No,” Sam snaps, crossing his arms and resolutely looking at the ground. “You’re gross. You’re all bloody.”

“Sam,” Danny repeats. He opens his arms, waiting patiently.

Sam doesn’t last another five seconds before he’s throwing himself into Danny’s arms, hiding his face in Danny’s neck.

“Why would you do that?” he whispers, and Danny can feel the tremble in Sam’s willowy frame. “You - you got hurt, Daniel, okay? Why -”

“Because I love you,” Danny murmurs, pressing his lips carefully to the top of Sam’s head. “And I figured one of us was about to throw a punch, so better me than you. That face of yours is our moneymaker.”

Sam laughs wetly, sniffling a little against Danny’s neck. He pulls back, wiping roughly at his eyes.

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s smiling now. Danny smiles back, even though it hurts.

“Alright, cut it out,” Josh says, voice suspiciously choked. “If you start crying, Jake’s going to cry.”

“Yeah right,” Jake says, but his sunglasses have been firmly placed over his eyes. He turns to Noah, clearing his throat. “What’s the verdict? Hospital?”

“If you want to, but you don’t have to,” Noah says, zipping up his med bag. He strips off his gloves, giving them all an easy smile. “It’s not a bad break and nothing is crooked. So as long as you keep icing it and go easy, you shouldn’t have an issue. Obviously, if you start bleeding again or notice any changes in your vision or headaches, go right away.”

“Roger that,” Josh nods, reaching out a hand to Noah to shake. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem, guys,” Noah says, shaking each of their hands (Danny’s very gently). “A great set, by the way. Now get out of here, go rest.”

“You heard the man,” Jake says, standing and gesturing for them to get a move on. “Let’s go.”

-

The ride back to the hotel is longer than expected with a stop at a pharmacy for some painkillers and ice packs, but they’re back and getting settled as the sun is sinking below the horizon. Showers are had, painkillers taken, and room service on the way.

Sam is fussing with the pillows on the bed - trying to get them to an appropriate height for Danny to be propped up while he sleeps - when there’s a knock at their door. Danny goes to answer, waving Sam off with a gentle reminder that he can handle opening a door with a broken nose.

It’s Jake and Josh, unsurprisingly, the two of them standing in the doorway expectantly.

Danny opens the door a little wider with a huffed laugh, welcoming them in.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” Jake says, peering around the corner at Sam with an amused smile. “See if you need anything.”

“We’re good,” Danny says gratefully. “Thanks though. How much trouble did I get us into with management?”

Josh waves him off, blowing a raspberry. “Nothing for you to worry about, Danny boy. We told them of your heroic act in defence of Sam, it’s all fine.”

Danny lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, relieved.

“Thanks man,” he says. “Really appreciate it. I didn’t mean to make such a mess of things.”

Jake pins him with a gentle look. “You didn’t make a mess of things,” he says, voice a little softer like he doesn’t want Sam to overhear. “You went to battle for our baby brother. He’s lucky to have you, Danny. We couldn’t ask for a better man for him, I hope you know that.”

Danny feels like he’s been winded, the words so achingly sincere yet so simple in a way that only Jake ever manages to pull off. He blinks a few times in quick succession, surprised by the sudden burn of tears.

“I’d do anything for him,” he says simply, voice wobbling because there’s nothing else to say. It’s Danny’s foundational truth. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Sam.

“We know,” Josh says, smiling and squeezing Danny’s arm. He clears his throat, looking around the corner at Sam. “Good thing, too,” he says, louder. “We were worried no one would take him off our hands, you know. He’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Huge,” Jake agrees, nodding seriously. “We really can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice. We thought we’d be stuck with him forever.”

“Oh my god, can you two leave,” Sam shouts, brandishing a pillow like he’s going to march over and hit them. “I have to tend to my injured boyfriend, go be annoying somewhere else!”

Jake lifts his hands in surrender, smirking as he backs away towards the door.

“Be good, kiddos,” Josh chirps with a wink. “No strenuous activity!”

Danny laughs, shaking his head as he bids them both goodnight, locking the door behind them. He pads back into the bedroom, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, reaching out for Sam. He pulls him to stand between his knees, looking up at him. He rests his hands on Sam’s hips, thumbs brushing the soft skin just under his threadbare shirt. “I’m sorry I scared you today.”

Sam swallows, lifting a hand to tug at one of Danny’s damp curls.

“Yeah, well,” he says softly, smiling a little. “It was also pretty sexy of you to defend my honour like that.”

Danny smiles, squeezing Sam’s hips. “Yeah?”

Sam snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. You barely made it out alive.”

Danny barks a laugh. He slaps Sam’s ass teasingly, pulling him closer and tugging him down into his lap.

“Screw you, I was winning,” he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear as the smaller man settles in his lap.

“Oh, is it opposite day?”

“If it is then I really hate you,” Danny quips, smiling up at him.

Sam rolls his eyes, hands so careful when they cup Danny’s face. He leans in and kisses him gently.

“I hate you too, Daniel Wagner.”

[neonscandal]

So, if you asked to write your top 5 fav characters each from JJK & BNHA, what genre will you put them (or you agree that they should be in shounen)....

My asks are getting funnier. 🥰 As always, thanks for asking, lets dig in.

Look at these knuckleheads.

JJK Top 5

I've seen people make really funny observations about how every character in JJK belongs in a different universe but was shoehorned into a horror battle shonen and it delights me to no end. I'm not sure if Gege Akutami actually penned characters that are typical of other anime genres, in a sense, but do believe we all collectively just want our faves to have better odds of survival. At this point, Gege looks at fan polls like a dead pool. I think a story where characters are so obviously not meant to be there would be hilarious if done intentionally, camp even.

Satoru Gojo - The duality of a man who is "The Strongest" in universe while maintaining a girly pop facade to circumvent feeling othered by his strength? Two of my favorite things about Gojo are that he is 1) traumatized 🤪✨ and 2) down astronomically for the days he spent with Suguru Geto. Put this man in a shonen ai, stat.

Nobara Kugisaki and Maki Zenin - Yuri. I feel like I don't need to explain myself here except to say that I put them as one item on the list because I didn't want a list of 6 (I have so many faves). Both iconic, both bad ass. No notes. On the other hand, I would never want to rob Maki of her revenge story so... grain of salt if she stays in universe.

Kento Nanami - I was going to say "this man wants to be in an office sitcom so bad" but, truthfully, would not find the overdone gags and antics palatable. Nanami deserves to rest at an even, dulcet tempo. Traumatized in his youth, he really only returns to jujutsu because office work is unfulfilling but imagine if he were in an office shojo with a found family that he had to provide for? I'm not saying this anime is particularly good but plop him in something cozy like "The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague" but with the home life of "Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid". He'll work for the money because it provides for someone else, you know? Let him suffer fools in peace.

Yuji Itadori - Sweet baby angel. Yuji follows the "best of both worlds" phenomenon that we see in other horror anime like Chainsaw Man, Tokyo Ghoul and Attack on Titan wherein he is both human and curse (avoiding further spoilers). But his disposition, his resilience, his pure physical prowess before he ever ate Sukuna's finger? Put this boy in a sports anime and let him thrive. While he'd absolutely body in a fighting sport, what if he was plopped into "Blue Lock"? Sports anime with a dash of horror aesthetic. He'd crush while being as upbeat and hilariously chaotic as Bachira.

Suguru Geto - Baby Girl is one of the most compelling villains we have. I'd say across multiple anime, honestly. He's what happens when a good person, someone who aims to be so morally upright, is faced with the reality that being good actually guarantees you nothing. With someone so unwavering, someone who can't live in shades of grey like Gojo, he can't bend. So he breaks. Honestly, it adds a layer of complexity to the overall story where... can we really, as the viewer, fault him? I feel like he wouldn't have this evolution anywhere else and that there's something to be said as to whether Geto was always doomed by the narrative.

There's never not been a good time to celebrate this frame, honestly.

BNHA Top 5

What's cool about BNHA is, it is authentically a shonen manga/anime while subverting a lot of it's tropes. BUT, we see this really interesting progression in the art that drifts into horror. Not aiming to spoil anything that's to come in season 7 (body horror, it's body horror. Bones better come through) but you see the beginning of it with the change in vigilante Deku's appearance. If Horikoshi felt inclined to do a horror anime post-BNHA, I'd definitely read.

Katsuki Bakugo - Hilariously, Bakugo wants to shonen so bad but is actually so damsel in distress/love interest coded that it almost undermines his role as Midoriya's rival. Almost. Shonen, shonen ai, I don't think he's out of place in either.

Shoto Todoroki - Todoroki's entire personality and character arc being so intrinsically linked to his family is honestly so amusing given the universe. Like, people have real life superhero powers but awful parents are very much still a thing. So it's interesting to expose the complexity of their family dynamics in tandem with the overarching story because, in every way, the Todoroki family are very much members of the Have's of BNHA society but they are still hopelessly miserable. TBH he could be in a slice of life just experiencing and resolving family trauma. "Kotaro Lives Alone" comes to mind.

Shouta Aizawa - I would cast Aizawa in "Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan" but he wouldn't have the decency to show up to work without a sleeping bag. I'm not saying it wouldn't look out of place in universe but do better for the kids. Joking. He's honestly both the perfect teacher but also a big ole hypocrite. He condemns Midoriya for his recklessness and self-sacrificing (re: breaking bones to use his quirk) but didn't think twice about hacking off his own leg, logical though it may have been. I know All Might is cast as the quintessential mentor in the shonen dynamic but Aizawa is the real MVP when it comes to mentoring and guiding the Class 1A competently. Shonen all the way.

Izuku Midoriya - I can't say Magical Girl Anime, I can't say Magical Girl anime. I appreciate Midoriya's similarity to eponymous crybaby hero Sailor Moon, tbh. She too was OP and with the fate of the world on her shoulders, just saying. He falls in line with the shonen trope of eating something and powering up (re: JJK, One Piece, Attack on Titan) but has emotional range that is not typically seen in shonen which, honestly I love. He is masculine while still being aggressively expressive (even if he struggles to articulate his feelings). His character and subsequent development is another way that Horikoshi subverts shonen tropes and I can't wait to see how his story wraps up.

Dabi - This crispy piece of bacon is a walking, talking and dancing personification of resolute rage. He is quite literally a vendetta held together by staples. Later chapters especially, he just gets unrelentingly grosser and more unhinged and it's both disgusting and emotional. To be honest, between him and Shigaraki, they are undeniably horror fodder by design. In fact, the reveal that he was a little misogynistic extremist radical was particularly wild of Horikoshi. Like, basically if he hadn't self destructed on that mountain he'd have been some incel plotting violence on the deep dark web? I'm trying to think of what to plop him into (maybe not his charred body but just his general... maliciousness, conviction and extremism). I feel like something horror, psychological with a sprinkle of thriller? What comes to mind is a dark series on my TBR but the name escapes me about a kid getting revenge one by one against sadistic bullies though its unclear where Dabi falls on that spectrum.

[masterwords]

snow day

Summary: The first snow of the year in Chicago falls on Hotch's birthday, and he's tired of being lonely so he goes out and enjoys it.

Pairings: none (future hotchgan)

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: nothing really, it's soft. some mentions of chronic pain and loneliness.

Notes: Comfortember Day 2: Sweater Weather & HOTCH'S BIRTHDAY! Epic combination baby. A few months in to WITSEC and he's tired of being sad and lonely. This might be the nicest fic I have ever written for his birthday guys. WHO AM I? I have another birthday fic planned for posting later this month that is even NICER...I think I'm broken. LOL

**

Two months. It was the longest Hotch had gone without work in his adult life. To say he was losing his mind was an understatement. He spent a lot of time on the balcony fiddling with his plants, the first of them having been a small potted boxwood from his handler, Tim. They weren’t exactly friends, but Tim knew a thing or two about how this went and how idle hands lead to breaking rules, so a plant it was. Keeping Hotch busy would make Tim’s life easier. Giving him something to care for, something he could look at and watch grow. It had been unseasonably warm in September and October, but now that November was turning the page things had begun to frost and his plants needed to be moved inside. He’d started with the one, and now he had what amounted to a small army of green things with leaves and flowers and dirt to play in. He’d never figured himself for a gardener, but then, he’d never figured himself for a man who would have to be on the run either.

His chair, though, he kept that outside even once most of his plants were inside. It was just him and his arborvitae that he planned to decorate for Christmas. There was a little basket he kept beside the back sliding glass door full of big, warm blankets so he could still sit out on the balcony and read with his morning coffee or his afternoon tea. It was the little things, Tim said that to him too. Tim was proving to be a good ally at the very least, he’d seen enough of this to know how it went and how it would destroy a person if they didn’t find ways to adapt and maybe, given enough time, even thrive.

A body in motion stays in motion...and so on. He’d begun to feel an ache creep into his bones, age peeking in at the edges. The years of damage he’d done to his body catching up to him in ways he didn’t much care for. A stiff back one morning, sore knees the next, a three day stomach ache that had him wondering what he’d eaten that he could no longer tolerate. It never amounted to the same foods twice, it was just his body now. Taking morning walks seemed to help alleviate some of the moans and groans, the creaking joints and persistent headache but some of it was simply unavoidable.

And some days, he found it hard to even get out of bed. There really wasn’t much reason for him to. Jack was more than capable of getting himself up and out the door (and since they’d arrived in Chicago, he rarely allowed his father to involve himself in any of it) so some days he let it get the best of him and did his best not to feel guilty over it. Without a job or any schedule to adhere to, he had all the time in the world to sleep. He remembered Derek saying a desk job would kill him, and he wondered what he would have to say about his new sedentary lifestyle. Derek never hated to say he told you so.

If Jack didn’t hate him, he might be able to handle it with a little more grace than he was. But Jack wouldn’t say more than two words to him, and as he woke on his birthday he had little to no hope that he’d hear anything out of the boy except maybe “what’s for dinner?”, which was about the most words Jack ever said to him consecutively.

He could feel the gnawing pain in his lower back before he even moved and knew it was going to be a rough day. Another year older.

The forecast had predicted snow on his birthday, the first real flurries whispering the night before. Hotch watched it from his bedroom window while Jack slept and wondered what they would wake up to. Snow covering the rough edges of the city might make Jack smile and soften up a little. He’d always loved snow. The park nearby had a hill that neighbors swore was the best for sledding, and he found himself wondering if Jack was too old to find that fun. He kind of thought he’d still like it, to be honest. If his body could handle it.

Snow was still flying when he woke on the morning of his birthday, blanketing the city and drowning the sounds of cars and trains. Everything was quiet and serene, like living in a snow globe. When he finally managed the fortitude to get out of his bed, he pulled on two sweaters, buried his feet in wool socks and slippers, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled out of his room. Jack was still fast asleep but he would be awake soon. Hotch went about making a small pot of coffee, his morning ritual, and headed out to the balcony with the steaming mug in his hand. The same as ever. He was a man of routine, and a little extra cold wouldn’t deter him. It wasn’t as cold as he’d expected, but still after about fifteen minutes he found himself getting chilled and needing a top off on his coffee. His breath floated in front of him in cloudy little plumes and he smiled watching the city come to life on the sidewalks below. Children skidding down icy shoveled stairs, plowing through mountains of snow, throwing snowballs against their parents wishes. Cars warming up a little longer than they had before, people with ice scrapers and big knit caps and warm gloves. The whole world had changed overnight.

His little arborvitae even had a little snow cap of its own.

Jack got himself up and ready for school while Hotch sat outside, and as anticipated, he didn’t stop to say anything more than “see ya later” before he was walking out the front door. Hotch watched him walk down the sidewalk toward the school a few blocks away, watched his footprints lead away from the apartment like a little trail of breadcrumbs. Nearby Tim’s car cruised slowly forward, trailing Jack as he went. Their security detail wasn’t around all of the time, but he insisted that Jack be watched during his trek to and from school. He didn’t worry about himself, he would go and take his walks and grocery shop without anyone keeping an eye on him but Jack was to be watched anytime he was on his own. It was a comfort, being here, able to watch. Knowing that Jack made it safely. (It occurred to him that it would be easy enough for Jack to disappear, to not stay at school, to slip out from his grip...he just trusted that he wouldn’t. He had to.)

With Jack at school, he contemplated the trajectory of his day. He could lay around with his heating pad on his back and think about getting older, how he missed everyone he loved and was entirely alone now. How he would have received text messages and cards by now, would be at work in his office hoping no one made a big deal of it being his birthday...and now he wished just to hear it from one person who remembered him. He could do that, or he could toss back a handful of whatever pain killers he had on hand, put on his hiking boots and wool pea coat and head out into the first snow of the year. Bundle himself up tight for a trip out to see this sledding hill for himself, a little birthday treat maybe. A brisk walk through the park to loosen up stiff joints, suck fresh air into his lungs, set his mind right.

The first option was tempting, but he went with the second option. He had to. If he ever hoped for Jack to come around, to come back to him, he would have to pull himself out of this hole. He would have to engage with Chicago and lead the way for his son to do the same. They could make a life here. It wasn’t ideal, and they would miss the people they loved, but they could do it.

Listening to the snow settle in tree branches, squirrels and birds little chirps echoing in their new surroundings, he felt a sense of belonging. Like this place wasn’t so alien. He’d been in this park before, years ago with the team. Derek’s family had invited them all out for a big picnic to celebrate his mother’s birthday. There was a little gazebo set near a playground with public use barbecue grills and they’d made good use of it. Looking around, he recognized the street that Derek grew up on and felt a little thrill of danger knowing that someone might recognize him. Danger or hope, whatever it was sparked heat in his chest and he smiled. The world had gotten brighter overnight, and more beautiful. Or maybe he was just opening his eyes again. Snow made him feel hopeful. The sledding hill was waiting patiently for the kids to get out of school, only a few people trudged up and flew down, it was mostly fluffy and untouched.

“Hey mister!” A little boy was calling to him, hailing him to where he stood at the base of the hill. Younger than Jack, the boy was either home schooled or skipping and Hotch didn’t much care either way. It wasn’t any of his business what the kid was doing, but he was waving him over and grinning like a mad man and something about it Hotch found irresistible. “You want a ride? I’ll rent you my sled for a buck!”

“Only a buck huh?” Hotch asked, plunging his hands into his pockets. There was a pill bottle, some coins, a few sticks of gum, cherry chapstick and finally a small bundle of bills. He came up with a five dollar bill and shrugged. It was worth five. “Here go you buddy.”

“Damn. Thanks mister!”

“Are you out here all day hustling?” Hotch asked, inspecting the sled while he spoke to the young salesman. He wasn’t keen on renting something that was going to kill him but it looked like it was in good shape, no cracks anyway. His body was in worse shape than the little plastic sled.

“A man’s gotta eat,” the kid replied with a cheeky grin. Hotch couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, the kid was sending off enough mixed signals to confused his senses. All children profile as sociopaths, he remembered teaching plenty of people that, and the truth of it was here right now. He was well dressed but he had a street smartness about him that gave Hotch pause. He supposed growing up in a city like this would change a kid. It certainly had Derek. (He was thinking about Derek a lot the last few days, something about being here, living in the place he grew up maybe. He didn’t know.) “You look sad. Why you look so sad?”

Hotch glanced up at the boy and searched his features momentarily. “I’m not sad.”

“Yeah? Coulda fooled me. You look like someone pissed in your cheerios.”

That made Hotch chuckle and he stood with the sled in his hands. “Today is my birthday and I’m a little lonely I suppose. Maybe I’ll be able to get my son to come back later with me. You think he would?”

“He would if he knew what was what! I’d go sledding for my dad’s birthday if he asked. My dad ain’t got no time for sledding though. Your kid’s lucky. You gonna be okay mister? Not gonna break nothing? I ain’t got no insurance.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not that old.”

The sled was light, easy to tuck beneath his arm and trudge up the hill. It was steep and fast, wide open, murder on his knees and back but once he got to the top the view was spectacular. It was taller than he’d thought from the bottom. No trees, no rocks, no real danger. Just Hotch and the snow, and his new friend Max at the bottom inspecting his crisp new $5 bill.

Sitting on the sled, he crossed his legs and tucked his jacket in before pushing off and letting his weight carry him down the hill. The wind whipped him in the face, his hair blowing all over the place. He could feel the shock of ice in his nose, snow spraying up in waves around him as he paved the way for other sledders later. More than once a spray of snow caught him in the mouth as he smiled. He skidded to a stop at the base of the hill with a sore lower back and a smile plastered on his face. Max, tucking that bill into his pocket, extended his hand and helped Hotch up like a little gentleman.

“Want another ride? You overpaid and I don’t got any change.”

“No, thank you, that was worth every penny. Keep the change. A man’s gotta eat.” Hotch smiled and brushed off the sled before setting it back down where Max had been keeping it during his sales pitch. The legs of his pants were soaking wet, coated in snow, and there were chunks of it melting inside of his boots. By all rights he should have been freezing and miserable, but he wasn’t in the least. He was happy. “Speaking of eating – where’s the best place to get something hot around here?”

“Lem’s. No way anyone’s better than Lem’s. They got the best ribs in the city. Tell ‘em Max sent ya.”

“Are they going to spit in my food?”

Max laughed and shook his head like Hotch was the most ridiculous man he’d ever met. “Nah! They’ll hook you up. Happy Birthday old man!”

Hotch shook Max’s hand and made his way down the street slowly, taking in his surroundings. He wished he had someone to share it with, someone who would call and quietly wish him a happy birthday. This was the first time since he was 16 that he didn’t have a card or a call from Jessica, the first time he wouldn’t get that obligatory birthday message from Sean, a long drawn out card from his mother reminding him how long it had been since he’d been home to visit. He ordered himself a hot chicken sandwich on white bread drenched in a spicy house sauce and a family sized meal of ribs and all of the side dishes he thought he could carry to share with Jack for dinner. As a quick afterthought, he bought another chicken sandwich and walked it back to Max.

“Mister Hotchner, you already overpaid for the sled. I don’t need your handouts.”

“Call me Hotch, and it isn’t a handout. It’s my birthday, and I wanted to thank you for giving me a special gift. I haven’t been sledding in years, and you’re right, I was a little sad earlier. Then you showed up. If you’re going to be out here all day, you should have something hot to warm you up. Make some money, kid.”

By the time he got home and shoved dinner into the fridge, he was ready for a nap. It was still a couple of hours until Jack would get home from school, he was freezing and sore. He draped his wet coat over the back of a kitchen chair, threw his snowy clothes into the wash, and slipped into his sweats ready to sleep. A hot shower would have been nice but he didn’t think he could stand long enough to enjoy it, not yet. For the first time in weeks his mind felt as tired as his body, and while he was sore from his adventure stomping and playing in the snow, he felt good. With his heated blanket on high and his heating pad tucked against the deep ache in his back, he fell fast asleep.

He missed Jack’s walk home. It was the first time since being in Chicago that he hadn’t watched Jack’ come walking down the street, hoping that he’d look up at the balcony and wave. He was out cold. Dead to the world.

The sun was sinking beyond the city skyline when he woke up to the sounds of Jack playing a video game a little too loud in the front room. Those first person shooter games were so noisy. Often Jack played with headphones on, but Hotch thought maybe he was trying to wake him up this time. He hoped so, anyway. With some considerable effort, he made his way out with a blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, still working off the chill from earlier.

On the counter, beside the chair he’d draped his coat over, sat a cupcake with a fat yellow candle poking out of the top. Just a Hostess cupcake from the bodega on the corner, the little chocolate ones with the swirling white on top, the wrapper already discarded. “Happy Birthday,” Jack said, putting his controller down and turning around to actually look at his father. Hotch smiled, his cheeks warm, pillow crinkles still dancing in little lines over his flushed skin. He couldn’t help the tears that burned in his eyes and he tried to blink them away.

“Thanks buddy,” he whispered.

Hotch showed Jack the dinner he’d gotten for them and told him about his day, the adventure he’d had. Jack could hardly believe it and listened with a look of intense confusion at the idea of his dad out making friends with street smart kids and sledding in city parks. After they finished eating and Jack declared that they had to get food from Lem’s at least once a week from now on, Hotch cut the cupcake in half and shared with Jack.

“Dad,” Jack said. “I can’t believe you went out and did all of that without me.”

“There’s more snow in the forecast this weekend. Lets go buy some sleds and maybe we can make a day of it.”

“Only if we can eat lunch at Lem’s.”

“Absolutely.”

After they finished their cupcake and making their first official weekend plans since arriving in Chicago, Jack even consented to sitting at the rickety little card table Hotch found at an estate sale for a dollar and putting together a puzzle for an hour before resuming his video games. Hotch lay on the couch with his heating pad and a book, but mostly he just watched Jack play his game and didn’t even mind when the kid started explaining every detail to him. He listened intently, happy to finally be let back in.

All in all, it was the best birthday he’d had in a long time.

[lonerswhimsie]

My Pleasantville Rotation Round 1 Summary

I think I’ll do some Sims 2 story summary once in a while because it makes me enjoy my gameplay more and keep my blog active. Don’t worry, it won’t be too often and flood my blog, I promise! ✒️🛣️

🍁 Lothario-Goth Household (Cassandra, Don, Victor, Nicolo, Tuxedo🐈‍⬛)

Cassandra Goth finally gets married to Mister Lothario, they have two beautiful children, both male. Their name is Victor and Nicolo, after their great-great-grandfather and their grandfather. But oh no, don’t get it wrong, she hasn’t tamed the playboy down at all. He still has a wondering eye, only his new fatherly duty delayed him a little. He’s still a great father after all.

💵 Goth Household (Mortimer, Dina, Gabrielle, Olivia)

Dina finally got a hold of her bag, but for extra security, she decided to have a baby with Morty. Wait, but I thought you had Gabrielle AND Olivia? Yeah... Olivia is an oops baby... Oops… Oh well, extra secure I guess. But Dina isn’t so fond of child care, so most of the work falls on Mortimer. He’s not complaining tho, he loves them. And remember when I said Lothario still has a wandering eye? He comes to visit Dina every day! So scandalous.

🎀 Girlies Household (Nina Caliente, Kaylynn Langerak, Peek-a-boo🐹)

After getting fired from “The Pleasant Housewreking Incident”, Kaylynn finds comfort in Don Lothario. He knows about the incident from his wife and suggests she move in with Nina (his other fling), she’s been looking for a new roommate after her sister moved out. So Kaylynn did, and they’re so compatible it’s awesome. But this still isn’t a life Kaylynn wants, so she keeps working and saving money so she can move out and start her own family soon. Oh, what about Nina? Yeah, nothing much, she’s happy with what she has now. But she does become a dancer, a girl gotta pay bill somehow.

🏠 Pleasant Household (Daniel, Marry-Sue, Angela, Lilith)

Marry-Sue caught Daniel cheating on her with the maid, but luckily she got a promotion that day so she didn’t have a mental breakdown. Well, I guess luckily for Daniel too because, in the end, he manages to climb back into his wife's bed. Poor Lilith still lives a miserable life, but she plans her escape with her law job. She wants to be a lawyer/judge and get justice for every mistreated teen. Go, Lilith!

🧓🏻 Oldies Household (Herb, Coral, Buffy🐕)

Both Herb and Coral go back to pursue their dream job, what are they gonna do in their free time if not more work? Herb works in music and Coral in oceanography. That’s not the most shocking, they start having polyamory relationships with none other than Kaylynn Lagerak! Oh my.

🍼 Broke Household (Brandi, Dustin, Beau, Skip Jr.)

Brandi popped out her unborn baby, it’s a boy! So she named him Skip Jr. She always loved babies but WATCHER this one she swore was a devil reincarnate because he’s so difficult! He says no to everything, making Brandi not want to have any more babies EVER. So Homegirl starts focusing on feeding her family instead, sadly she gets fired from her first job tho. But the kids (except Skip Jr.) seem doing good, Dustin found his love in drawing, and Beau in cooking!

🎨 Dreamer Household (Darren, Dirk)

Nothing happens much tbh. Darren guy still in love with Cassandra, oh, Dirk won’t do his homework anymore. If he keeps it up he might not be able to go to college. But hey, at least Darren and Dirk are really close now.

🌾 Burb Household (John, Jennifer, Lucy, Paul)

Nothing much happened in this household, except Jennifer thrived in the business career... and other oops baby. Hey, but at least this one is long-wanted by his dad. Can’t say he’s been taken care of so well though, his father is busy gardening.

[seriouslysnape]

Roughed Up

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,524

“I don’t mind a night to ourselves,”

A disgruntled, painful groan escaped the Gryffindor boy underneath you as your hands applied pressure to a rather tense area on his back. He took a sharp inhale at the feeling of your wondrous hands rubbing his sore, battered muscles, only to let that same breath out once your hands moved on to the lesser problem areas. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You apologized for causing him discomfort.

“Not your fault. It feels good and bad at the same time.” He replied, his voice strained and slightly muffled in the pillow below his head.

If someone had told you that you’d be spending your Friday night massaging achy knots out of your boyfriend’s back, you probably would have laughed in their face. It was rare for both you and Harry to spend your pre-weekend evening in your dorm. You almost always found something to occupy your time on a more productive day. However, tonight would have to be an exception.

Harry had taken a nasty fall off of his broom earlier in the day during Quidditch, and while you hadn’t been around to see it, you had been told it wasn’t a pretty landing when he hit the ground. Thankfully, his injuries didn’t extend much past a few scrapes and bruises, but he had landed flat on his back, which seemed to take most of the impact. Madam Pomfrey had looked him twice over to make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt, checking for anything from broken bones to internal bleeding. Pomfrey had tried to heal him up with magic, but Harry had denied it since Pomfrey’s healing methods sometimes hurt worse than the actual injury. When she gave him the clear to leave, he came straight to you. He knew it had to have been a pathetic sight the way he hobbled to your dorm, barely able to hold himself upright from all the lingering pain in his core radiating to his back.

Based on the way he had greeted you though, you wouldn’t have even guessed that he was uncomfortable. His grin was blinding as he entered, mainly because he knew he was going to milk this as much as he could to get a little extra tender, loving care from his favorite girl. You had helped him out of his robes, wincing when you saw the multiple large bruises scattered across his body that had already begun to purple. Even his legs had taken some damage when you had helped him shimmy out of his pants. You left him in just his boxers, helping him into your bed and ordering him to lay on his stomach to avoid aggravating his back further.

You had hoped that maybe he’d begin to feel better after lying down for a bit, but after an hour he was still struggling to get comfortable. You took it upon yourself to straddle his back, lathering your favorite lotion onto your hands to provide him some relief. Your hands trailed, kneaded, and rubbed in all the places that hurt him the most. His noises were comical, sometimes coming out as a pitchy whine and others as a low rumble. He was beat, literally and metaphorically.

“And just how did you fall off again?” You asked for clarification. 

Harry was very skilled on a broom, and it wasn’t everyday that he fell off. 

“One of the bludgers blindsided me. I never saw it coming,” He explained, “Well, I did when it hit me.”

You chuckled at his joke, letting your thumbs work at the muscles in his shoulders. The room smelled of Eucalyptus and lavender from your lotion that you had rubbed into his skin, two smells that Harry loved endlessly. You didn’t know this, but sometimes Harry would put a bit of your lotion onto his wrist so he could smell like you. It reminded him of you when you weren’t around. The feeling of your hands attempting to rid him of his irritation was heavenly. Despite his pain, he was happy as could be. 

“Pomfrey didn’t find anything wrong?” You questioned.

Harry shook his head.

“Nope. She just said I’d be sore tomorrow, more than I am now.” He replied, already dreading how he’d feel in the morning. 

Your hand movements slowed to more of a caress, your fingers and palms beginning to cramp from all the rubbing. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m glad you’re okay.” You spoke gently.

Harry went to turn, prompting you to raise your hips to allow him to flip over completely. He carefully sank onto his back, sighing at the new support that your mattress was giving him. He put his rounded glasses back on, smirking at being able to see you much clearer now. 

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I bet you didn’t count on your Friday night being spent like this.” He remarked.

You shrugged, leaning down to leave a sweet peck on his lips.

“I don’t mind a night to ourselves,” You hushed out, your lips just brushing over his; “Just you and me with nothing to do sounds awfully enticing.”

Harry hummed in content and agreement. Harry was obviously extremely popular at Hogwarts, and sometimes it was hard for him to find time to be alone with you. He was always being needed for something, and sometimes he wished he could just have peace and quiet for a while. It seemed now that his wish might be coming true.

“Oh, darling, there’s nothing in the world I’d rather be doing than being here with you,” Harry mewled, “My pretty girl…”

His hands trailed away from the tops of your thighs, snaking underneath your skirt and resting on your hips. His fingertips wrapped around the sides of your knickers, his grin spreading wider when he felt the lacy material. He looked up at you expectantly as he tugged at the sides of your panties.

“No, Harry. You’re hurt, baby.” You reminded him, refusing his advances.

His eyes widened and he gave a sympathetic pout, jutting his lower lip out in protest.

“I’m not hurt! I’m just sore!” He argued.

“Harry, you fell OFF of your broom. Look how roughed up you are.” You said, pointing to one particularly nasty looking bruise just below his ribs.

“I’m feeling better...honestly.” He claimed, but avoided eye contact with you.

You knew he was lying, a devious sneer appearing on your face as you rolled your hips forward, jostling his body in a way that sent a wave of sharp pain through him. He yelped at the less than pleasant sensation, not even trying to play it off.

“That’s what I thought.” You answered, carefully moving off of him and the bed.

Harry scrambled up when he realized you were getting up, his arm wrapping around his core instinctively when he agitated it from moving so quickly.

“Where are you going? Please, don’t leave.” He blubbered, struggling to stay up on his knees that were sunken into the mattress.

You laughed lightly, looking at him with a warm smile on your features.

“I’m just going to my desk. You need to rest.” You told him, motioning towards your workspace on the other side of the room.

“But baby,” He whimpered, “I’m hurt. Come lay with me. Please?” He requested, holding his arms out to you.

“I thought you were ‘feeling better’?” You chided, putting your hands on your hips.

He groaned, throwing his head back in distaste.

“[Y/N], please come here,” He asked again, “Pretty please?”

You laughed again at the sight of him so needy for just even an ounce of attention. He was always so clingy behind closed doors, one of the many things that you liked about him that you kept private. His flushed cheeks and ruffled hair was honestly an adorable sight. You couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay, I’m coming.” You alerted him.

Harry’s eyes brightened in victory, yanking back the covers and making room for you to snuggle in bed with him. You were careful not to press yourself against him too hard, but he didn’t seem too concerned. He peppered you with kisses, all over your face and neck. He was so excited to just be with you that he could hardly contain himself. You giggled under his touch, squirming when he kissed and sucked on areas that were your sweet spots. He thrived off of your joyful noises and being in your presence. It always made him so happy when you were happy. His attack of affection paused when he pulled away to look at you, your smile fading into a worried frown when you thought he might’ve hurt himself more.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

In reality, he just wanted to look at you. He wanted to study your eyes and hair and all the things that he loved so dearly. He saw his future every time he looked at you. He saw his purpose for living when he looked into your eyes. He saw his life with you. He wanted to spend every moment of every day with you and no one else.

Because you were his forever.

“Yeah. I’m absolutely perfect.”

[mmollymercury]

For the character ask game, Camilo ☺️

YAYY I GET TO DO THIS AGAIN!!

seriously ppl I love talking abt my hcs, don't be shy to ask me abt them😭💕💕

Camilo

⚧ - Pronoun hc: he/they. This is basically canon lol. If u didn't know, before the movie came out and press was asking questions abt it. Ppl used 'they/them' pronouns to refer to Camilo in interviews 💕 also... the fact that so many nb ppl adopted him... I mean, it shows guys. Birds of feather, innit.

🏳️‍⚧️- Gender hc: non binary💕💞

🏳️‍🌈- Orientation hc: idk abt this one, I've never really thought abt it before. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

🌌- zodiac sign hc: Camilo is a December baby, I'm pretty sure.... Sooo that'd make them a capricorn??? I think😶

🧠- MBTI/Enneagram hc: based on my researchhhhh (but as I've said before I'm very new to this stuff lol) he'd be a ESTP

Some things that helped me come to this conclusion:

Camilo is very extroverted. He does have moments were, if you look carefully, he kinda shrinks in on himself and resumes the 'dinosaur posetm', also known as Bruno's constant state- but despite this, he thrives on attention, I mean look at this pose:

You can practically hear him saying 'look at meee'. Next, I believe they'd make decisions based on the reality of the situation and speak very literally about things, example:

"Err, not if we don't have a house."

He does not entertain the option of that changing right away. He's focused in the now and is trying to get that dealt with first.

He's very confident but he also hides behind other people's faces, literally. I do imagine him to be quite popular in his own right but still, he's very closed off with his emotions and only thinks about catering others, that's literally his gift. So he neglects himself emotionally and pretends he's okay behind his happy demeanour. He's a devil and is the epitome of a little shit. But it's tough love sometimes, they do truly care💞

Now, this section, I like to call: no (with one exception)

❤- OTP hc: 🚫

🧡- Everyone I ship with this character: 🚫

💛- Brotp: Probably him and Mirabel, they're the best of friends💕💕. BUT DONT GET IT TWISTED, THIS ISNT ROMANTIC U FREAKSS😤😤😤🚫🚫🚫

💚- Notp: everything lol (not hating on oc x canon btw, u guys do your thing, I'm just talking abt canon x)

💙- Crossover ship: 🚫

💜- Crossover non-ship relationship I like: mhhhh never really thought abt it. I think Camilo would absolutely roast any person from my other hyperfixations lol

📖- AU I'd like to see them in: modern AU,,, again... Let's face it, he'd be a youtuber who'd make insane, chaotic vlogs with thumbnails on par with drew phillips:

❤🩹- Angsty hc: He lies about how he feels for the sake of others, just like the rest of the family; also uses humor as a coping mechanism. He often worries that people only see him as the people he can be and don't really care about him. Also, I think they'd definitely get paranoid about their appearance and question if this is them or just another shape shifted creation. I think he'd have moments of losing himself and shifting as other people to cope with stuff. He isn't really in touch with who he is because of this. He's got trauma, poor thing🥺🥺🥺

💖- Happy hc: He played with dolls as a kid, due to getting them as hand-me-downs. When abuela gifted him a stereotypical 'boy's toy' he used it to play with said dolls. Like: if it was a football, he'd turn it into 'circle world' and the dolls would play on it lol. Before he forgot him, he used to fall asleep to Bruno rocking him in his arms🥺🥺

😋- Funny/stupid hc: When he hiccups, it sometimes can trigger his shapeshifting. Sometimes, he'll transform into someone and try and keep the clothes that come along with them. It never works.

🪞- Appearance hc: I'm not sure what to put here lol, let's just say: I think he'd eventually ask to get his ears pierced. He was always jealous of how the girls got them done when they were little.

🥖- Food hc: THIS SHIT EATS LIKE IT'S HIS LAST DAY ON EARTH, ALL DAY, EVERYDAY. he's got one of those 'food critic' palletes, there's basically nothing he hates, he loves all flavours AND LIVES for the experience of all of them. He eats everyone's left overs, without leaving a crumb; first thing he does when he and Mira come back from school is complain about being hungry, Mira then says: you literally ate on the walk home bro-

I agree with the headcanon that shapeshifting into all these ppl, wears him out and that's why he's so hungry, however, I also think it's more than that: he just has a naturally fast metabolism and looooves food🥰, cos I like to think he still acts like this when the magic is gone. The family call him a human trashcan lol.

🛌- Sleep hc: he sleeps like he's been hit by a car, snores like an engine and drools all over his pillow.

🏡- Domestic hc: he has the best relationship with Pepa 💕💕😭 he's a momma's boy 💕, Julieta gets annoyed of his eating habits but she's grown to make extra of everything, just for him💞 I think she'd also let him eat the parts of a meal no one else really wants, before she serves the whole thing, for example: like the legs on a chicken, my mam used to do this for my sister lol x

He likes having a jokey, bickering relationship with Félix. They don't actually fight or anything but he'll make play insults like: "old man" and "grey hairs" just to have that playful back and forth banter. They'll both be laughing, knowing there's no malice behind the words🥰

🗡- Badass hc- He'll shapeshift into a bully's mam to get them to back off. Also he just hates on bullies in general, often crossing a line and being a bit of one himself, when trying to defend ppl.

❓- Anything else you want: this boy would watch dragrace, come on now-

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[evita-shelby]

Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter 16

Tw: mentions of ptsd symptoms

She’s clutching to him like he might disappear. There was a tremor when she pulled him into a hug when he returned, and it hadn’t left yet.

Eva has steady hands; he knows because in their two years of marriage her hands have never shook when she is patching him or any of the boys up.

“Polly said your hands were shaking the entire time.” He rubs circles on the hand he’s holding reminding her she’s safe with him. Nothing else exists, but them in this bed.

“When Gabriel died, I had a vision of him surviving the battle, but my hands started shaking and then I saw him in the pile of dead soldiers.” She tells him closing her eyes to focus on his heart. It was comforting for her, to know he was alive and with her, she had said when he asked her about it. “It goes away, don’t worry about it.”

“I didn’t die, it happened almost exactly like you said it would. Churchill isn’t an idiot.” He brings his lips to her ear and says it quietly. Things go better when only Eva knows about them. “The grave was already dug, and the third man was Churchill’s man.”

“Churchill will use you again,” she warns.

“I know, but we’ll survive like we always do.” he assures her.

Charlie is born in September 1st at a hospital because Eva fears she might die with her boy like Felicidad died with her little girl.

He came three weeks earlier than he was supposed to, but her baby is healthy and thriving by the time spring comes around the following year.

“We never married in the church.” He brings up when the attend mass at the renovated church they technically own. Her grandparents had been 40 when they gotten their proper wedding in the chapel at their remodeled hacienda in the outskirts of Xalapa where the Rileys still live. Eva and her siblings had been born there before her parents got the villa by the beach, never did she think her wedding would have to be in another chapel on a different continent.

“Neither of us believe in it anymore, so what does it matter?” she asks quietly. Polly wanted them to appear as godly people, but they’ve only attended enough services to give the impression the new owners aren’t atheists.

They had married in a courthouse, her wearing a simple white dress with Esme’s veil and Tommy in a new suit with a red rose pinned on his lapel. The party had been huge, but except for her Smith relatives and the sailors on their ships no one from her family had been present. She didn’t mind, Eva had always dreaded big occasions with the whole family present. They were great fun, and she loved her family, but they could be a lot. Especially now that Abuelo Pato had died at the ripe age of ninety-eight.

She’d have to deal with her aunts and uncles disapproving about her marrying a gypsy gangster, with them complaining about England and its bland food and with Antonia showing up with Francisco.

“We can’t baptize Charlie if we weren’t married in a church.” He points out. They needed to baptize Charlie, force him into Sunday School and do all the necessary rites they had to suffer through to keep up with appearances.

“We can postpone it until we are married.” Eva sighs, now she’d have to plan the wedding party she never wanted. “We can baptize Charlie in September on his second birthday, so it doesn’t look like we were trying to take the spotlight from him.”

“You aren’t too keen on marrying me again, love.” He teases her and if they weren’t holding a baby who could wake up any minute, she knows her husband would’ve done something sacrilegious.

“Not excited to have my family here, some of my relatives are still angry they weren’t invited to the first wedding and others only know you as a gypsy gangster. If there’s no fistfights by dessert it will be a miracle.” She tries to focus on the sermon.

The last time they came they forgot to say ‘Lord hear our prayer’ after the first three short prayers during the Prayer of the Faithful. Tommy had been too busy telling her of all the filthy things he wanted to do after mass and people heard her moan quietly when his fingers gave her a preview.

Hence why she brings six-month-old Charlie to church now. Charlie is also a convenient excuse to leave early. Until disposable nappies are invented, Eva and Tommy will never get caught lying about why they left early. Only once had Charlie actually shat during mass.

“January 5, 1924. Enough time to get your family here and to plan the weeding.” Typical of Tommy to have everything planned out when something needs to happen.

“What’s happening, Tom? Why do you need the wedding to happen that day?” she asks and wished they could leave again.

“Tiago was contacted by his Russian friends, he said they needed someone of my specific skill set. Job won’t begin until then and we needed a cover big enough to hide it.”

--

December 1923

“You plan on wearing white?” Ada asks as if she couldn't believe Eva would really get a snow-white dress inspired by Princess Mary’s dress.

“It's my first wedding, and hopefully the only one, I don’t care if people judge us for it. Besides we are legally married, so it's not as offensive as many will think it is.” Eva hates the drop waist, makes her look fat.

As if she hadn’t spent nearly a year working off the baby weight. She was a vain woman, forced to conform to western standards of beauty and wearing makeup since she discovered it covered up her freckles. Tommy didn’t care about the stretch marks nor the imperfections that she hated so much. He was good man despite all the blood on his hands.

“The veil is lovely, the people who worked on it must be cursing you.” Ada looks at the mostly hand embroidered Mantilla that had been in the Arambula family since the reign of Emperor Maximilian of Mexico.

“Its tradition that everyone who marries into and out of the family wears it, brings good luck too, no one in our lineage has divorced.” Eva’s face won’t be covered, only women who haven’t fucked their groom are to have their face covered. With a boy of one, it be stupid of her to play the coy virgin. “Of course, some of us rarely live long enough to get to that point, but the veil is beautiful, and my family is still not over the fact that they got a phone call instead of an invitation three years ago.”

“How many of them are hopping on a boat and coming here?” Ada asked flipping through a magazine. She was interested on the mythical Riley Arambula family ever since handsome and cultured Tiago Ulysses Rosales-Riley had arrived to jumpstart the London offices.

“Two of my mom’s four brothers and their wives; three of my five aunts; six or seven male cousins and four are bringing their wives; ten female cousins and most are single; assorted grandchildren of my aunts and uncles’; the maid who used to work for my parents and partially raised me and a chef that will infiltrate the Mexican Embassy. Half the bridal party won’t speak English and the other half will want to wear their dress uniforms especially Cousin Alejandra who was a captain in the rebel army.” Even with breaks and a glass of water earlier she feels tired from saying all that.

“So, they won’t mind us being what we are.” Ada nods. No normal person could handle a family of criminals and communists, but a family of traitors and rebel leaders might. One saw their service for the King as awful and the other agreed but held onto proudly to their status as rebels.

“Aunt Olivia might, she’s stuck up because her husband is a very rich banker, her daughter is an actor and my aunt used to be friends with late President Diaz’s youngest daughter. But my ninety-year-old grandmother can get her to shut up if she begins talking out of her ass, never gotten over her family joining the rebels.” Oliva de Souza thought too highly of herself thanks to her very much being raised on the lap of luxury in Mexico City and then marrying a rich banker ---who had been bankrolling the rebels until the very end.

Now she and her husband, Aurelio de Souza Comonfort ran the SRA Office in New York after having been exiled from Mexico. Almost everyone had been exiled from the Capital or completely exiled from Mexico. Once the Rileys held every major port or beach, but now only very few people remained in their original port of Veracruz. SRA was now international and boasting of a small but growing fleet of cargo planes in New York.

“Will your brothers and the rest of the family mind my relatives wearing their dress uniforms? Tommy says they won’t, but I really need them to at least pretend it's fine.” Eva hated this wedding; it had all the problems she had wanted to avoid.

“It’s not a British military uniform nor German, they’ll shut up once they see its a woman wearing it. The wedding will be perfect, and you should enjoy it.” Ada recites the same words she had said the billion times she has asked that in the past year.

---

January 5th, 1924

The wedding day comes and if Tommy hadn’t done his husbandly duties the night before and this morning, she would be cursing him for choosing such a cold day.

They were not a cold weather people. Mexico was subtropical, they were never meant to see snow that didn’t melt an hour later.

She doesn’t like the pageantry, reminds her of all the pageantry in Mexico City to keep up the pretense the federalists were winning. Eva had no father to give her away and too many uncles willing to fight the other to get the honor. In the end its her grandmother Dominga who will give her away while her uncle Jack walks her down the aisle.

“Harry wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass if you had gotten married by the church.” her uncle tells her as he drives them to the church outside the estate grounds.

“I know, uncle, but Tommy feels guilty for ‘denying us the wedding you deserve’.” she imitates her husband and Jack laughs. “I told him not to complain when Tio Pato and Tia Olivia start fighting in the middle of dinner.”

“I know about the job, who do you think is smuggling the Russians here, kid." he doesn’t confront her, more like reminds her that not everyone here is under false pretenses.

“Good because the man you brought isn’t the real one. Can I count on you to turn a blind eye while they kill him?” she asks him as they arrive at the church.

“Where did Harry go wrong with you, sweet girl?” he sighs, but agrees to help. “I should’ve taken you with me to Poplar.”

“Too late for that now, uncle.” she says as he helps her out of the carriage.

[capseycartwright]

we're staying at your parents house, and it's bad timing, but let's make-out and risk getting caught. we're grown adults after all

ao3 link

It was probably a bad idea, Eddie realised – everything with his parents, it had been sort of complicated, in the end, when he’d come out to them. They hadn’t exactly been homophobic, but they’d definitely been surprised, and it had taken them a few months to not be deeply weird about it all, but when they’d realised Buck was there to stay, they’d come around – especially when they realised just how happy and settled Christopher was, and how happy Eddie himself was.

All of that being said – making out with his boyfriend in his childhood home was probably not a good idea. They were in Texas, for Sophia’s daughters christening, which had been an experience in itself. Buck hadn’t grown up going to church – and described his parents as WASPs, and definitely not Catholic church goers – and so Buck had been deeply weirded out when Eddie’s mother had thrown a fit when she discovered Eddie hadn’t been to confession in years.

Explaining the finer points of Catholicism to his boyfriend had been a mental trip – and Buck hadn’t exactly been sympathetic to Eddie’s plight, thinking it was utterly fucking hilarious that Eddie was getting dragged to confession because he was the godfather to Sophia’s new baby. Buck had even gone as far as suggesting that Eddie could confess about all the sodomy (“Jesus, Buck, don’t use that word.”) he gets up to these days, at which point Eddie didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about the fact Buck was sleeping on a blow-up mattress on the floor of Eddie’s childhood bedroom.

Eddie’s parents had a rule – no sharing a bed until you’re married. It didn’t matter that pregnancy wasn’t much of a problem, with him and Buck – no, Sophia and Adrianna had kicked up a fuss because their boyfriends hadn’t been allowed to share the guest-bed until they were married, why was Eddie different?

Except –

Except that meant it had been days, since Eddie had been able to get his hands on Buck, and he as desperate to touch the younger man – Buck thriving amongst the Diaz clan wasn’t helping matters either. Buck had taken the initial odd few stares in his stride, being his usual charming self, wearing his best suit to the church and letting Christopher explain how mass worked to him, taking an excessive amount of photos of Eddie holding the newest Diaz (well, Johnson, technically) and winning plenty of brownie points from Sophia and Adriana as he entertained all of the kids at once.

Sue him, Eddie had a competency kink.

“We’re definitely going to get caught,” Buck breathed against his mouth, letting Eddie shove him up against the wall of the laundry room. He was still wearing his shirt, a crisp white one that emphasised every one of the ridiculous muscles Buck had, his tie long since discarded and the top few buttons open and Eddie wanted to fucking devour him.

“I don’t care,” Eddie panted against Buck’s mouth, kissing him furiously, enjoying the way Buck melted in Eddie’s grasp. Even now, after so many months together, getting to kiss Buck whenever he wanted was the greatest thrill of Eddie’s life. He was so convinced, for so long, that he wouldn’t get to have this, that he and Buck would never have their moment – and now, they had forever.

It made Eddie the luckiest man alive if you asked him.

“Are you getting off on the idea of being caught?” Buck teased, and Eddie couldn’t stop the way his face flushed bright red. “God, you are,” Buck was definitely teasing now. “Are we living out a high school dream of yours here, Eds? Getting caught making out with a boy when you thought your parents weren’t home?”

Eddie glared at him. “Do you want me to puncture your airbed?” he threatened, only half meaning it.

“I’m kidding – mostly,” Buck said, looping his arms around Eddie’s waist, making it so the other man couldn’t move away. “I think it’s cute. I’m glad you’ve got the confidence to do this here,” he said, the words meaning more than Eddie could ever possibly express – for a while, he’d wondered if he’d be able to do this at all, bring Buck to Texas and hold his hand in front of his family and be unapologetically in love.

“Stop being sappy,” Eddie said gruffly, leaning in to press another biting kiss to Buck’s lips. “Now hurry up and kiss me before someone notices we’re gone.”

“Too late,” and God, could Eddie not have five minutes alone to make out with his boyfriend before his annoying little sister appeared?

Eddie told Sophia exactly that, his sister simply grinning as she passed her daughter to Eddie. “Just be glad it was me, and not mom,” she grinned. “She’d never get over her – Eddie, her baby, her only boy – his virtue, gone!”

Buck grinned wickedly, speaking before Eddie could smack him into the next century. “Oh, that’s long gone,” he reassured, Sophia snorting in response.

“I think we’re going to be good friends,” Sophia grinned, taking Buck by the elbow. “Come on – let’s have some wine and gossip about Eddie.”

“You’re really – you’re really going to leave me here literally holding your baby? Your child? Light of your life?” Eddie called at his sisters back, looking down at his niece. “Well,” he sighed. “I guess it’s just you and me, sweetheart. How do you feel about getting a drink? A beer for me – some milk for you?”

Eleonora gurgled in response.

“Either you just farted, or you really love me,” Eddie tucked her into the crook of his elbow. “I’m choosing to believe it’s the love, sweetpea. Come on – let’s go find your cousin, he’s so excited to get to hold you.”

send me a kissing prompt

[rae-ha-writes]

More - Park Seonghwa

Y’all I thrive at writing angst, it takes up a lot of my writings that I have stored. Any who~~~~

Warning- ~colorful language~

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

It’s our year and a half anniversary, it was the only day both of us were available to spend the whole day together. Why am I still sitting in this fucking restaurant? I have successfully finished one singular glass of wine over the last hour and forty-five minutes. As the lovely waiter comes to check on me again, I stand up throw a good amount of bills on the table then leave. I am pissed off and equally as hurt. When my phone goes off I answer it without looking at who it was.

“Hello?” I say bluntly into the phone.

“Hey! We were wondering where you were, we all wanted to watch some movies. Seonghwa-hyung said that today was your only free day for a while,” Mingi sings into the phone and I can’t help the crack in my facade.

“I’m heading home right now, I’ll be there soon. Go ahead and start the movie I’ll stop and get some soda,” I crack a tiny smile as I talk to Mingi.

“Okay! Can’t wait till we get to get scared because of these lame movies!” He all but screams into the phone, I chuckle a little before he hangs up.

My arm goes back to my side and my shoulders slump, I’m holding back tears at this point. I wish I meant more to my boyfriend. I wish Seonghwa would give me a little more love at this point. I sniff before I enter the nearest store and grab some drinks, then head straight home.

When I walk through my front door I can hear everyone’s laughter in the living room so I quietly make my way to them. When I get to the door way, I see they chose to watch some SNL until I got here. Mingi hears the slight rustle of my bag and snaps his head to me then leaps up to engulf me in his arms.

“AH! I missed you SO much!” I smile into his chest and wrap one arm around him, finally he lets me go.

“Hey baby can I-” before Seonghwa can say anything I’m moving away from him and into the kitchen to grab some snacks.

“I’ll get some of the snacks for you,” as soon as I turn away from them the smile drops from my face.

No one notices the way I cut Seonghwa off, except him of course, but he didn’t think anything of it. He goes back to sit among the boys again.

I come out with the snacks and quickly fit between Mingi and Hongjoong, ignoring the way Seonghwa is looking at me from the far side of the couch. Mingi quickly puts on a funny horror movie that has him and Yunho gasping and yelling to scare everyone else, they even make Seonghwa jump from what I can see from my peripheral. For me, I just sit there spacing out for the majority of the time. As the movie finishes I start cleaning up and taking things to the kitchen. I walk over to Seonghwa and his eyes gleam up at me, I glare at him and pick of the bowl in front of him. As I walk past him, he gets a whiff of my perfume, weird it’s the one I wear on special occasions only. Why oh why would I be wearing it today?

When I enter the kitchen, he follows me. I just put everything in the sink to take care of tomorrow at some point and I rinse out some glasses.

“Hey, are you good? We haven’t gotten to talk yet today,” I scoff at him and turn my head to the side slightly.

“Hm, wonder why that is. Have you checked your phone lately?” I say with fake innocence.

“No, I’ve been pretty distracted.”

“Hey Y/N! We’re heading out, we’ll see you later.” I hear Hongjoong yell from my doorway, I turn and head towards them to say goodbye. As I pass Seonghwa he starts reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“Get home safe. I’ll let you know if I find any more cheesy horror movies,” I smile and give every one of the boys a hug then close the door to welcome silence.

I walk back into the kitchen to see Seonghwa’s phone laid out in front of him, while he grips onto the counter so hard his knuckles are white.

“Why didn’t you tell me when you got here?” He says lowly.

“Because I figured if it was worth your time you would’ve realized it on your own. Not like I didn’t try and contact you while I sat there alone.” I walk back to the living room and start putting all the pillows and remotes back in their places, Seonghwa’s hot on my heels.

“You couldn’t have pulled me aside and told me?” He’s starting to get a little louder.

“Why would I do that when you invited all of the boys over? Without even asking me, might I add,” I scoff and start heading towards the bedroom upstairs.

“I would’ve left them all at the studio!” He yells once we enter the bedroom.

“I don’t see why you’re losing your cool about it. I deserve to be mad,” I spin around to face him. “I was the one who was left alone in a restaurant. I was the one who made the reservation last week because I was SO excited to spend my day off with you. I was the one who looked like a crazy person sitting, drinking wine alone! I’m the one that always gets the short end of the stick!” I can’t help but yell with how hurt I am.

“You could’ve called me Y/N,” he says under his breath.

“Are you kidding me?!” He snaps his head up to meet mine, “I called you ten times Seonghwa, ten damn times! You were here with everyone else! You have no excuse for this at all.” He looks down at his feet when I finish speaking. There’s complete silence.

“I wish I meant more to you,” I mutter as I sniff and wipe at my eyes to keep the tears from falling. He snaps his head up at stares at me. “I wish I meant more to you so that you remember plans we make. I wish I meant more to you so that you don’t break a promise you make to me,” several tears are now cascading down my cheeks. “I wish I meant more to you so that you actually love me.” I say as I finally look him in the eyes.

“Don’t say that, I do love you. You mean the world to me!” He says as he steps closer to me.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten so excited about something and then you fall through on it, on plans and dates we planned together,” I wipe at my jaw to get rid of the gathered tears. “But this one, this one hurts the most. Not just because of how I looked and felt, but because you were so oblivious.” I quickly change my clothes while he just stands there and watches me in silence.

“Baby,” his voice is weak and shaky.

“Your apologies mean nothing to me right now. Truth is nothing good is going to come out of you sleeping in this room with me. Please go downstairs or to another room.” I say as I curl up under the many blankets on our shared bed.

“Please just-” I cut him off.

“Just leave me alone like I have been for the majority of the day. You did so good at it earlier, I don’t understand how you’re struggling now,” I turn so my back faces him. “You can’t leave this house but please just go sleep somewhere else. I need time right now.” I say as I’m now shakily sobbing into my arm.

He takes several shaky breaths and his heart breaks, knowing he’s the reason for this hurt, he’s the reason for your tears. He takes one more deep breath.

“Okay, I’ll sleep in guest room down the hall,” he stops at the doorway. “My door will be open and so will my arms for whenever you allow me to face you. Goodnight.”

“Night,” I say bitterly.

He closes the door, closes his eyes as several tears now trail down his face. He presses his back against the wall opposite of the bedroom and slides down to the ground.

You’re left in the bed you share with Seonghwa, but now alone. You can’t help the thought that keeps running through your head, I wish I meant more to you.

   rae-ha-writes please do not copy my work

[olivyh]

TWST FAMILY HCS PT 1) Heartslabyul

Riddle:

-We all know his mother’s personality (cough cough garbage), but I think that she acts that way behind closed doors and is professional and cares a lot about her public appearance, which is why Riddle was so nervous to come out about the things shes done.

-I think his mother is a little taller than him, maybe 5’5, 5’6. Shoulder length red hair thats almost always tied back in some way.

-I think he gets his short gene from his father, who I think acts like the king of hearts from Alice in Wonderland, but less stuttery and more on the timid side. I don’t think he and Riddle talk much aside from when they have to be in the same room as one another

Trey:

-I picture Mama Clover being on the shorter and more heavyset side, with lighter green hair (with grey streaks because managing a popular bakery and watching over her children has to take a toll) and dark brown eyes (you know the kind that makes people look like baby deer?) I think she’s quieter and kind, giving out free cookies to kids who might have a tighter budget or who couldn’t get what they want. Despite that, she’d be on the stricter side when it comes to her children, making sure they don’t eat too many sweets or hurt themselves in the kitchen

-Papa Clover is on the more carefree side. He’s the one who mostly runs the kitchen of the bakery. I like to think he’s an artist (bc designing cakes is IMPOSSIBLY HARD) and often sketches his wife and kids when he has the time (theres an old sketch of mama clover rocking baby trey still hanging in their hallway). He’s where Trey gets his prankster side from, often spraying the kids with the hose from the sink or clapping flour all over them

-Trey’s younger brothers, who I like to think are twins like tweedle dee and tweedle dum, act just like them. They’re mischievous and love to hear stories from all over the place, often interrupting one another when they they to retell their own. They’re likely somewhere around ten-twelve, since I think their parents would have wanted time with just Trey before having more. The two are practically inseparable, except in the kitchen. The kitchen turns into a war zone whenever the two are involved, and often Trey or his mother have to step in. They inherited their mother’s green hair and brown eyes.

-Baby sister Clover is the baby of the family, ranging at four to five years old. I think she’s the one who’s most like Trey personality wise, often acting like a “mini-mom” to her older brothers. She’s stubborn, and knows how to use her cuteness to her advantage. I mean, how can anyone turn down her with her baby fave and eyes made bigger by her comically large glasses (are they even hers???)

Cater:

-Papa Diamond: An oldie at heart. Has no idea how technology works and often struggles with basic phone protocol. He tries to get involved with his children and their fast paced life, helping Cater and his sisters with whatever trend they need hik for. No matter what, he’s their biggest fan and will print out his favorite pictures of them from their magicams. I think he had brown-ish hair before it all turned grey due to having to raise three children on his own (including two Cater-like personalities). I’d say he’s on the taller and more heavyset side.

-Oldest sister Diamond: The straight laced and mature one. She tries to act like shes so much older than she is, and insists that her decision to major in photography is not at all based off those pictures of magicam models. She does partake in teasing her younger brother when she can, though, critiquing him on his angles and choice of filter (she really wants to help him grow his magicam account but is afraid to say it without hiding it behind teasing). She has bright orange hair that she often wears up, though when it’s down it goes all the way down her back. She’s also taller (5’7-5’8 ish)

-Second oldest sister: The wild card. She is a social butterfly much like her younger brother, but cranked up to a ten. She is impulsive which ends up in a lot of late night tears with her sister while Cater tries to fix her failed bangs (“they made it look so easy online!”). She often sneaks out to take walks through the nearby city at night, thriving in the busy streets and the bright lights. She takes pictures to show Cater so they can go to the small spots she finds in the morning (even though all her photos turn out blurry or smudged- she got the gene from her father). She has short chopped orange hair, that often has little accessories or chunks dyed different colors.

Deuce:

-Mama Spade: The love of my life, the apple of my eye, the sun to my moon, Mama Spade. The sweetest woman you will ever meet, always looking out for her son and his friends. Even when he was hanging with a bad crowd, when one of his friends needed a place to stay because something happened at home she was the first to take them in. She seems like the kind of person to love animals (despite being upset about not being able to take care of one), and often sends Deuce small magicam posts about animals doing cute things. He got his love of chickens from her. She is probably around 5’4, and has the same coloring as Deuce, with dark blue hair that goes down her back (with a few grey streaks, making her hair look like the sky with shooting stars) (god i love her and she’s not even shown in game)

Ace:

-Papa Trappola: A gruff man, who stands at the same height as his son. He’s like one of those men you meet outside a 7-11 and they’ll tell you their life story for a slushie. Definitely has had a rebellious youth that shaped him to be a little rougher, which got him in trouble, but otherwise deeply cares for his wife and children (even though he shows it in weird ways- like when one of them mentions they like a certain food he’ll drop a whole container of it on their beds and leave, acting like he doesn’t know where it came from) He definitely looks like Giulia’s (i butchered that) dad from Luca.

Mama Trappola: Remember what I said about Luca? Yeah, she looks like Luca’s mom in human form. She’s a stern and strict woman, often scolding her boys and husband for bickering. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and can and will snap at anyone who threatens any of her boys (it’s terrifying to see a short, stout redheaded woman charging at you). She’s very affectionate when she’s not scolding them, often smothering her sons in hugs and kisses, making obnoxious noises while doing it.

-Big brother Trappola: Cockier than Ace by a mile, and won’t hesitate to be blunt about whatever’s on his mind. If you want the truth, he’ll give it and then some. He’s a lot more level headed than his brother, brushing off arguments and snide comments like it’s nothing. He’s a very talented magician, serving as a role model for his younger brother. He looks the exact same as Ace but with hair that is kept more neat and being a few inches taller, almost at the six ft line