#he gives such great dad pats im sure

[leeches-drawer]

oh Rex how I love you (he still doesn't know how strong he's truly gotten)

[liveontelevision]

Hi! im in love with your Lucifer fics. You newest one has me gripped and i cant wait for the next part.

You got me brainstorming more Lucifer fics ideas

I was thinking of one where the reader has been helping/supporting Charlie at the Hotel and is almost like a mother/parental figure to her, and when Lucifer arrives he acts cold/mean no matter how much she tries to be polite. But then he warm up to her after see how much the reader really cares about Charlie and then he finally realises hes in love with her.

♡

Thank you! I literally could write about him for hours (kinda have already) and I really liked this prompt, so here's just a lil' something for ya, anon ♡

Honey | Lucifer x Reader

No smut, just some cute fluff here-

♡♡♡

As soon as you arrived in Hell, your eyes were drawn to the drab-looking hotel just up the hill. And you flew to it like a moth to a TV screen. That being said, you've known Charlie and the other residents for as long as you've been dead. They've all seen you at your worst, having to be the unlucky few to explain your death. Although, Charlie's comfort really made the whole being dead thing much more palatable. During this time, while she's supported you, you've seen her through thick and thin as well. Pretty soon, you became an important part of her life, offering a more parental influence when she needed one. You didn't really die at an old age, but a lot went on in your lifetime to give you the maturity to comfort people that way and you were always happy to do it.

Considering your skill set, some of the residents went to you in the same fashion. A little task you took to, just to help out, was fixing up some articles of clothing for people. It was a great mindless task for you to do, considering Alastor wasn't a fan of having phones and TVs in the hotel. So you simply sat, humming a little tune as you fixed up something from Angel's wardrobe.

Your trance was broken, seeing a pair of slender legs in front of you. Following them up, you finally meet eyes with a nervous-looking Charlie. She's fidgeting with her fingers, still trying to find the courage to say whatever she came to you for.

"You need something, hun? You can talk to me, c'mere." With a sweet voice, you patted the cushion on the couch next to you and kept on working. She let out a heavy breath you didn't realize she was holding.

"Soooo... my dad is coming to visit and I - uh.." she still struggled to find her words. Considering you've barely been outside the hotel, you really didn't question how big of a deal Lucifer was. But to see Charlie getting flustered about a little visit from her own father did make you feel uneasy.

"I guess - I don't know, I'm just nervous, is all! It's not that big a deal, I mean, he's my dad, but also.. he's... my dad..?" You nodded your head.

"Seems like a big deal. He's the king of Hell, so it makes sense that you're nervous. Can I help with anything?" Acknowledging her feelings and making sure to keep your tone smooth, you finally set aside the mini skirt you were fixing up to face her.

"Oh! Um - I was wondering if you could bake something for everyone! Niffty's making cookies, but I think dad might enjoy something a little more.." You both thought back on the disturbing display of desserts Niffty had made for everyone in the past, it sent a chill down your spine. You nodded your head fast, taking a hold of her hands.

“Yeah, I'd love to! I'll make sure it's something your dad would like, too! How's that sound?" You absolutely loved to bake, and doing it for other people always made it even better. There was some pressure on you, considering who you were catering to, but remembering that this is for Charlie, kept any nerves at bay. Charlie, who just happened to be shedding a tear or two of relief, gave you a hug that would've snapped you in two if it had gone on any longer. You were used to those at this point.

The day went by fast, Charlie preparing and stressing over little decisions for her dad's visit. You got the OK to bake an apple pie. A specialty you would make when you were alive, you went all out. You'd always make the dough from scratch, soak the apples in a homemade cinnamon butter, and somehow managed to spiffy it up to a commercial extent. You were batting off Pentious and Niffy as best you could until he arrived.

You saw a side of Charlie during that visit that you haven't really seen before. She was nervous, sure, but it was clear she felt so defeated. Each little quip on sinners being hopeless or how Charlie shouldn't even bother in this "whole redemption deal" made you understand her paranoia more and more.

As Charlie introduced each of the staff and residents, Lucifer got distracted by the still steaming pie sitting on the table in front of everyone. He definitely wasn't the only one whose mouth was watering just by staring at it, but he was the one who bit the bullet, taking the first piece. 

"And this is -" a loud hum of satisfaction interrupted Charlie's introduction to Sir Pentious, who looked deflated at the change in topic.

"Charlie! Good golly - This is great!" With another bite and hum, you watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. A little boost of confidence immediately making you giddy.

"Oh! Well, that's good! Because this is our other guest! She made it herself -" Charlie took a hold of your shoulders and dragged you to face Lucifer. You could feel the nervous tremble coming from her hands. You looked up at her for a moment and smiled, placing a hand over top of hers. It really did seem to calm her nerves. And for some reason, he didn't seem to like that. 

"Well - I'll eat anything with apples since they're obviously my favorite. It’s not that special." He tossed the half-finished plate back onto the table and wiped his hands clean. He ignored you.

"U-Uhm.. yeah, that's - that's everyone, I guess!" Charlie stammered, not expecting him to turn such a cold shoulder to you. He spent his time examining you. Considering he didn't even care enough to learn your name at that moment, he sure was taking his time looking you up and down.

"Well then!" He clasped his hands together after finally tearing his eyes off you. "How about a little tour?" He suggested, clearly not invested in the other sinners now. Charlie looked down at you and you nodded, starting to clean up some little things around you. It was a nervous habit you had, but it helped to keep your hands busy and your mind off the insulting interaction you just had to endure.

Charlie took Vaggie's hand and went on to give the tour. Once they were out of sight around the corner, you slumped your shoulders letting out a groan.

"Short king's givin' you the cold shoulder, huh?" Angel leaned on the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

"Right? Okay, glad I'm not the only one who noticed that. Is something wrong with the pie..?" Looking over to Sir Pentious, who was licking the already empty pie tin clean, he quickly shook his head.

"Maybe's got a thing for ya." Angel teased, jabbing you with his elbow. You rolled your eyes, finally taking the pie tin from Pentious.

"He didn't even get my name, I'm sure that's not it. Whatever.. " you grumbled, taking any dishes you could to the kitchen to keep your mind from exploring that option.

The extermination day battle was here. You followed the armies who attacked the hoards of exorcists when they finally arrived. As the battle went on, you hated to admit it, you found yourself in awe watching Lucifer kick Adam's ass. The sight of his wings and the little V thing - and obviously his immense power, somehow managed to make you blush as you were attacking angels. Definitely a new sensation for you, with the bloodlust muddling your other senses, but it was easy to forget about it once the new hotel was renovated and everyone was finally settled in.

As everything went back to normal, you went back to helping Charlie with anything you could, drinking at the bar with everyone and generally things went back to the way they were. There was only one difference. Lucifer made the decision to stay at the hotel. It was commendable for sure, his change of heart to support Charlie through this change, but it only left you feeling conscious about everything you'd do when he was around. The underlying crush didn't help much. Or Angel's teasing about said crush.

You really did try, when you'd pass him the hallway, you'd always send him your most sincere smile. Or when you spotted him reading or working on anything, you'd try and spark any kind of conversation or ask if he needed help. He never needed help. He was always too busy to chat. You honestly couldn't remember a time he looked you in the eyes before. You bit your tongue. No need to worry Charlie, or anyone really, about some feud you possibly made up in your mind.

It was especially important to you to not stress Charlie right now. Starting the hotel back up was a big task alone, but the loss of Sir Pentious weighed on everyone. And Charlie took full blame for it. A late night, where she most likely stayed up to try and find any kind of hope for redemption, any speck of proof to bring sinners in, she found herself burnt out. Approaching the memorial for Pentious, you stood beside Charlie. You found her visiting it every now and then, and when you did, you knew she needed a check in. And you were right. Without a word, Charlie suddenly clung to you. She went on about how it was all her fault. How he was gone because of her. How nothing seems to be working and she's terrified that it's all for nothing.

It took a while for her to calm down, but you would never leave her like this. By now, the two of you had fallen to the ground, sitting on your knees.

"Charlie, you are doing your absolute best. It's okay to cry, you know that. Think of everything you've done for everyone else, I mean - Pen would've never sacrificed himself if it wasn't for his friends." You brushed a tear from her still wet and puffy eyes. "You did that. You gave him something worth dying for." It was a hard truth, but you hoped it was enough for her. She's done more for you than she'd ever know, and you'd do anything to give it back. You didn't realize, but before approaching Charlie, Lucifer was pacing a nearby corridor, battling the decision to go up to her himself. He hadn't said much to her since extermination day, and he had always been nervous about saying something wrong, making things worse. Before he had the chance to muster up the courage, you had swooped in. It confused him. He should've been jealous or hurt, that he wasn't able to calm her down himself. That you beat him to the punch. But he didn't really feel that way, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Was it admiration? Sitting in the shadows until he assured Charlie was taken care of, he went back up to his workshop, flustered for a number of reasons.

There was one moment, where things started to look good. It was a regular night at the bar, you, Angel and Husk had gotten on the topic of your lives, looking at the positives which was a rarity. Charlie and Lucifer were nearby, Charlie enthralled in the discussions of what Earth was like.

"My homelife? It wasn't anything fancy, but.. um.. - oh I had a farm, actually! I ran it with my parents, it was.. nice." You hold onto your arms, a bittersweet smile on your face. With a light bulb going off in Charlie's head, she nudged you with her elbow.

"You didn't happen to have any birds or chickens or ducks - did you?" She hummed. She noticed the wedge between you and her dad, and it hurt her just as much as it hurt you. She's little miss "everyone should get along", of course, this hurt her. You didn't notice, but Lucifer peaked up at you for a split second before distracting himself by swaying the drink in his glass.

"Oh..? Oh! Yeah! Yes, actually! We raised a few ducklings that a neighbor gave us - we got them as eggs, so we got to see them grow up and everything!" Going on, telling a story about how you snuck one into your room to keep it as a pet, only to be scolded for it. You had the whole group in the palm of your hand. Including Lucifer. You met his eyes for just a moment, the twinkle in them immediately drawing you in. With a quick smile, he became flustered. He scoffed, pushing himself away from the bar and leaving. As much as that should've infuriated you, seeing those eyes and the growing redness across the apple of his cheeks felt like a win.

Since the hotel was newer, and word hadn't gotten out about Pentious's redemption yet, it was still vacant beside you, Angel, and occasionally Cherry Bomb. That gave the whole group a lot of time to enjoy the large space in the meantime.

Certain nights, Alastor would play the large, golden, piano that Lucifer had so generously created. This led to Charlie singing along to whatever he was playing, of course, and when Lucifer was in a good mood - or drunk - he would even pitch in. He'd sit atop the piano, his legs crossed, as he hiked the matching golden fiddle to his shoulder and played along. It was truly a sight to see. His skills were unmatched, but it still seemed to melt into the rest of the contributions. It was as if he invented the damn thing (He did).

This sort of became a tradition, when everyone was in a good mood and Alastor wasn't getting on Lucifer's nerves too much, everyone would join in, singing and dancing. It was rare, but Damn was it fun when it did happen. One of these nights, Alastor started off with a song that you knew, and had actually introduced to Charlie. She gasped as soon as she recognized the tune, pulling you close by both your hands to sing along. You had as good of a voice as anyone did, in a musical rendition of Hell, but you mainly stuck to harmonizing little things with Charlie. Swinging around with each other, until you were dizzy and laughing, you noticed that the room seemed a little empty.

Lucifer was seated where he usually was, on his phone. His fiddle was placed carefully at his side, and he was scrolling through his goddamn phone. 

"Don't feel like joining us, Your Highness?" You kept to titles since it was obvious he wasn't warmed up to you just yet. Even after living with you for a month or so.

"Mm. Don't know the song. It's not my cup of tea, just can't seem to get into it." He says bluntly, never looking up to you.

“Oh, come on! Just play along, it’s just for fun!” You slurred your words a bit, whatever you had been sipping throughout the night causing, what you would call, an outburst.

“Hm! Well, I’m not exactly here for your entertainment, am I? God forbid a sinner doesn't have fun in their eternal punishment.” The room went silent. You felt so defeated. You've been trying since the day you met him to try and at least get on good terms with him, but it seemed like he would even prefer a night with Alastor over you. Things like this never bugged you much, you tried so hard to not let it bug you, but when Charlie looked over to you, with those worried eyes, it was hard to keep back the bottled-up disappointment.

With a little sniffle and a quick wipe of your eyes with your sleeve, you start heading back up the newly decorated grand staircase, without a word to anyone.

"Heyyy - Dad..! I think you maybe.. might've... I don't know - hurt her feelings..? Would you wanna - " Charlie carefully approached her father, who immediately lit up and placed his device down when she spoke. "Could you talk to her? Maybe just check up on her..?" She was speaking barely above a whisper.

“You have to apologize. Um.. sir.” Vaggie finally blurted out. His smile was nervous, his eye twitching a bit at the concept. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a sad little laugh.

"Well, uh.. I don't know, Kiddo, maybe she's just tired." He muttered, obviously hesitant at the idea.

"Sounds like the king can't handle a little damsel in distress to me. Would you like me to comfort her, my dear?" Alastor was quick to chime in from the piano bench, offering a sympathetic smile to Charlie. Why did the concept of that make Lucifer’s blood boil?

"Oh fuck you, bambi, I can handle it." With a quick hop off of the piano top, he almost stormed up the stairs to find you. Definitely not what Charlie was hoping to motivate him, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew Alastor had his reasoning for that. She mouthed a little thank you to him, once Lucifer turned his back.

You were ecstatic to learn that Charlie worked an extensive library into the hotel. Walking into its large double doors, you almost struggled to see the back of the room with how full it was. You had a little corner you claimed as your own, leaving one of your blankets draped on the little loveseat there, and setting aside a pile of books you were still working through. It was a great place to calm yourself down after what had just happened.

Hearing heels click against the tile, you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket as you pulled your legs up to your chest. 

"I'm fine Charlie, it's fine.. I just need a second, go back to the lobby." You shooed off the figure with one hand, wiping your face with the other.

"Ahha- Nope! Try again -" with a nervous chuckle, Lucifer greeted you with an awkward wave. Interrupting the silence by clearing his throat, he gestured to the seat next to you. With a quick nod, finally snapping out of your surprised state, you shifted your position to sit beside him. It wasn't exactly a two-person couch. Not for two people who might hate each other, at least. I mean it was a loveseat. He struggled to keep his distance, leaving your legs barely brushing together.

"Soooo.. you, uh- like.. reading..?" He asked after a long silence. You were mainly confused by his words, but simply nodded in response.

“Yeah it's - I-I love it in here.. There wasn’t anything like this on Earth, so this is nice." You managed to speak out, between sniffles. He agreed with a little hum, fidgeting with the ring on his finger.

“Glad you like it. It's uhh - just happens to be my personal collection.” He puffed out his chest, looking at his clawed nails with a little smirk on his face. He had no idea why he thought that would help, but it actually did a bit. when he looked your direction, you were slack-jawed in awe. The sight made him turn a bit red in the cheeks, quickly looking away, he patted the top of his legs to fill the silence.

“That's really cool! I guess it makes sense - considering you're older than the dawn of time- but, still. Thank you, I suppose. For letting me - I mean - us use it.” You rambled on for a moment your words became quieter the more you gushed.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” He asked between laughter. You made him laugh. You hoped he didn't see the sparkle in your eyes at the notion. You stalled, lost in thought, before quickly shaking your head.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the awkward silence sitting a little more comfortably than before. Finally, Lucifer let out a sigh of defeat. 

"It’s my fault, right?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, uh.. I guess so, but.. I mean, I'm kind of drunk so it might be something with that - but I'm fine, I swear." You waved your hands in an attempt to soothe the serious discussion. But Lucifer knew better than anyone what someone holding their true intentions back looks like.

"You're really good for Charlie. I.. I wish I could take care of her. Like you do." He admitted. It surprised you for a moment. Was that why he's been so cold to you? Was there some form of jealousy in there? Or was he really concerned that you would replace him in some fashion?

"C'mon, you're just saying that to make me feel better. I saw you on extermination day, none of this would even be here without that little pep talk, you’ve done more for her than you know, I think. Charlie.. she loves you." The words made him perk up a little. Maybe even a king needs reassurance sometimes.

"Oh- Um.. I guess she does, huh..?" You could hear his smile. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. You didn't even realize you had the smallest smile on your own face. But he did. With another nervous laugh, he hesitates before planting a hand on your leg, just above your knee. No time like the present, you suppose.

"I’m sorry. I really am. For.. everything. You're actually amazing. I-I mean it.." Without a response from you yet, he lets his gentle touch linger a moment longer. You leaned in towards him, the smile on your face turning sly.

"Yeah? You think so? I almost thought you hated me." You were teasing him. He's been so cold to you this whole time, you just had to take advantage of the moment. He turns a bit red, covering his mouth with his free hand as he clears his throat into his fist.

"Of course I don't.." He muttered.

"Soo, would you say you like me?" You drew out your words, walking your fingers up his arm.

"W-What? How - " He clamped his hand over his mouth before desperately trying to rationalize his thoughts, " Of course I do! I just said you're great with Charlie and I -ahh.. I love Charlie, so I like - " He coughs up his words, " - I liked your pie, that you made! And you have a good voice, too, and your little duck story was cute, so - " God bless this man's tendency to overshare when he's nervous. The alcohol definitely gave you the little boost of confidence you needed to question him like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn't notice his reactions to you whenever you weren't paying attention. Or whenever he thought you weren't paying attention. It finally dawned on you that some of those glares might have had some other motivations.

You knew when to reel it in, but considering his hand was still on your leg, he moved it up a bit even, you assumed he was okay with the teasing. Maybe even enjoying it. Delicately drawing your fingers across his jaw, to his chin, you pulled his gaze to meet yours. You could feel his hand tense at every little touch.

"You have really nice eyes, Luci-" He audibly gulped, tugging at his bowtie. "You’ve been avoiding looking at me for months.. I wish you'd look at me more." You almost pouted, your fingers still lingering under his chin. With the slightest movement, he followed your hand towards your face. He took his hand off your thigh for a moment, only for you to take a hold of it and place it on your back. He was the one who pulled you closer at this point.

“Y-you can't just say things like that.. it’s embarrassing..” He muttered, trying his best to not close the gap between your bodies. 

“Embarrassing? I’m not embarrassed, your highness. Are you? Do I.. make you nervous? Hmm?” You placed your hands just above his knees, leaning closer through your chest. Sucking in his lips, he did his best to stay silent, knowing he’d dig his own grave no matter how he answered.

“I just think you’re so pretty, Luci, I can't help myself.” Before he could properly react, you leaned in close enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. Damn, what did you drink? You could feel his hand on your back clenching, either to bring you closer or just out of sheer nerves. With a little hum against his ear, he let out the quietest whimper. It apparently took both of you by surprise, you leaned back to get a look at his face with wide eyes. Meeting his eyes this time sent you both into a blushing, nervous state.

With a deep breath, you cupped his face after brushing some of his golden locks back into place, then gave him the lightest kiss on his lips. You didn't even linger long enough for him to return it, and he was clearly distraught by it. You unwrapped yourself from your blanket, giving a dumbstruck Lucifer another quick peck on his forehead, before standing.

“I’m going back downstairs. Take your time, Hun!” You called out so sweetly as if you hadn't just left him a heated mess. 

Finally returning to the lobby, you walked with your chest puffed out, beckoning for another drink from Husk.

"Did.. did Dad check in on you? Are you okay?" Charlie carefully approached you, and was immediately disarmed by your grin.

"Yup! I feel much better now. He apologized and we had a little.. Discussion. Thanks, hun." You said sweetly, taking a sip of the drink Husk slid into your hand. Angel gave you a dirty glare, and after meeting his eyes you quickly looked away.

"Well great! Where is he? Maybe we can pick back up where we left off!" Charlie clasped her hands together enthusiastically.

"Here! I-I'm here! Great idea, honey, let's keep playing!" He tripped over himself, rushing into the room and hoping nobody saw him re-fastening his tie. Sending him another quick smile, his face clearly hadn't cooled from the past events. He nearly dropped his fiddle, but as soon as he prepared he picked up the same song that was left unfinished moments before.

♡♡♡

I wanted to get through some asks, but I'm still working on Suffer, no worries, my friends

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[rzyraffek]

Hi I was wondering if you could do slashers (RZ Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Sinclair brothers) with a s/o that works and performs with dolphins, sharks, and alligators and has a really good relationship with the animals. like their s/o is like "they're so cute!" And they're petting a shark or crocodile and the slasher is just like "😳"

OMG YES!!! Imma do sharks/alligators cuz dolphins are wacky. She/her, sfw, Request open

Slasners with s/o that befriends wild animals

Jason Voorhees

Guy lives in America im sure there are gators in this lake of his

Imagine, before s/o and Jason became bffs, s/o friends wanted to hang out in Crystal Lake but there where huge alligators there. Imagine s/o just bonding with gators slowly, like giving them lil treats and other stuff

Belly rubs and head pats all the way! Im sure they love it

When s/o and Jason got together, I swear his soul left his body when he saw her walking around gators. This guy just died

I mean im sure he and gators are best pals, BUT THEY USUALLY EAT NORMAL PEOPLE S/O WHAT ARE YOU DOING

NONO ITS WALKING IN YOUR DIRECSION S/O STOP- oh wait you are petting it, aww

"Aww look at this big boi! Soo cute!"

He wants some headpats too pls

Jason, s/o, beautiful beach, sunset, 3alligators chilling next to them. Wonderful afternoon

Bo , Vince and Lester Sinclair

"I swear if it even looks at you in wrong way im skinning it"

"So... your taming big lizards now?"

Vince secretly wants to be aligator dad and have litte gator puppy. Definitely wants to yoink (adopt) one egg and tame it

Lester tried to pick one up and put it in truck once, mostly just to prank Bo. Imagine "lester where is my shotgun🤨" "oh its in truck😈" "hsss🐍" "AAHH HOLY SHIT"

Bo hates it so much, I mean yeah gators look epic and are great if somone tries to escape Ambrose thrue lake. But s/o! My love! They can crush your hand without even thinking about it!! It's an idea for suicide!

Lester agreed to adopt one (due to vincent begging)

Micheal Myers RZ

Aw hell naaah

Man ate a cat once, ya think that thicker skin is going to stop him?

Will have stare contest with the gator

Also if s/o is a professional and works with sharks.. THIS GUY IS OBSSESED WITH SHARKS OMGOMGOGK YAS!!

Especially that its his s/o playing/swimming with the creature... so he is not the only dangerous thing shes dealing with? Maybe that's why she isn't so scared of Myers? He is overthinking sm

Pls buy him hammer head plushie or whale sharks (bro tbh lemon sharks and whale sharks are so cute i have like milion tiktoks of them saved)

Will lisen to s/o mumble and monogluge about difrent kinds of sharks, their behaviours, how they bend with humans and how cool they are!

He finds sharks very funny and goofy, and im sure he doesnt really know how fish breathe underwater.. he's convinced that they just swallow water and that's how they breath

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Judas in the Window (18+)

pairing: priest(apprentice)!chan x fem!collegestudent!reader

genre: ANGST ANGST and smut (mdni), childhood best friends to..?

description: you return home from college, after not seeing your old town for three years. your childhood best friend has been waiting for you.

warnings: no. genuinely so sad. religious guilt, blasphemy ig, slutshaming, degradation (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), desperation, fingering (f. receiving), humiliation, unprotected sex (do not do this shit), brief breeding kink, mentions of past unhappiness, reader has beef with her old self fr, alcohol consumption, pet names (darling, baby, some more i dont recall), LOTS of biblical references, i warned you this is incredibly sad and wether it's a good ending is certainly debatable, reader has both her parents (if u dont, same, just imagine the dad as adam sandler and the mom as gwendoline christie), the dad is the best character x

quotes from my proofreader: "i have a new pair of panties at the ready", "im horny and angry, some say hangry", "AAAAAA"

wordcount: 8.3k

a/n: it is 2:30 am. my proofreader is asleep and i might go crazy if i dont post this now, so if there are any mistakes in the last part i am sorry, ill fix it later lmao

Your room hasn’t changed a bit.

You’re not sure why the sight knocks the wind out of you. You suppose you’d thought your parents might do something with it - maybe give your dad a “man cave” or whatever other pained, heteronormative solution to hating each other. But it’s the same exact thing. Your bed, horrible orange wood, pink princess sheets, and your desk right beside you where you stand in the doorway, all cluttered with glitter pens and marker sets and a small mirror. 

“Isn’t this great, honey?” your mom squeals, old hands squeezing your shoulders. It takes you a second to reply. You’re not even sure you want to step inside the room. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great, mom.” 

“I’m getting dinner ready, you just settle yourself in!” she says, practically vibrating at your presence. She’s so happy, it jabs at your stomach with guilt, that you can’t even bring yourself to enter. You watch her disappear down the stairs, making a funny face when she catches your eye. You half-smile tiredly. Then you’re looking at it again.

It’s like a totally closed off time capsule. Your fingers play with the doorframe, looking at the stains in the carpet, that you vividly remember creating as a clumsy child. You see the stickers on your closet-door, and the faint outline of the stickers you’d taken down. You see toys, whose names you remember, you see terrible drawings over your bed, hung with glitter tape, and you see yourself. The you that you were certain you’d stuck in the dirt and buried. The one you’d worked over-over-overtime to never see again. She was somehow alive and well in this room. A part of you roamed with a horde of anxiety, birthed by the thought that once you entered, you and her would fuse together, and all the flaws you’d had would be reignited, and you would be miserable again.

“You not going in, champ?” you jump at your father’s voice behind you. You turn to see him exiting your parents’ bedroom, taking heavy, loggy steps towards the staircase. You shake your head: “No, I am, it’s just..” you pause and turn back to the room, letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s weird.” 

Your father pauses. He has his reading glasses pushed all the way down to the tip of his nose, so he leans his head back and squints to study you. “Well- well- well, why don’t you just try out for a bit, champ, and if you don’t like it, Uh, well, we’ll situate you on the couch. How’s- how’s that sound?” 

You smile softly. “Sure.” 

“Alright, champ,” he pats your back and finally starts his descent down the stairs. 

You nod to yourself and exhale deeply, face now turned back to the super menacing not-at-all-menacing room before you. Your fears are deeply irrational. You wouldn’t just revert back to your old self. Once you’re half believing it, you finally break the barrier, and take a step inside. 

It’s not so bad after all. Everything is very still. Dust kicked up from your presence slows down around you. You’re standing under the overhead lamp, and it’s not that bad. Not so bad. You drop your duffel bag and sit down on your bed. 

You feel a lot bigger, sitting with bent knees in the plush duvet. You recognize that you can’t be that much bigger than when you last sat here, 18 years old, heading off to college in the big city. And this was the kind of town where neighbors a dozen houses over came to see you off, waving at you with big smiles on their faces, an american flag hoisted up to the blue sky. You remember the grins stretched on their faces, and how you’d been panicked to start the ignition on the car. They’d looked like they were made of wax.

Movement flashes in your peripheral. You turn your head, brushing hair out of the way. The movement is coming from the crack in the curtains. Like Moses parting the red sea, your fingers delicately brush the flimsy fabrics away. You know exactly what - who - you’re about to see. Your heart presses, red and wet, into your throat. 

Chan.

He’s there in the window directly across from yours. You almost don’t recognize him at first. He’s shirtless, pacing around and picking things off the floor, and, God, he’d gotten so big. His arms are so shapely and firm and his stomach is toned and when he turns his back to you, you see how it ripples with muscle, and your mouth is drooping open in shock. 

This is Chan, you try to remember (memories flit of him in his dad’s baseball caps, him on the playground, or on the sandy paths that fade out from the roads on the outskirts of town), but grounding yourself in the memories of him as a kid only serves to hurt you. No, you decide, eyeing his naked torso through the glass, better remember him like this. Like an adult who has faults and wrongs, not an innocent child that you abandon in your haste to grow up. 

He’s looking at you. Suddenly, he’s fucking looking at you. For a moment it seems like he’s confused, maybe fighting with the danger of recognizing you as a real, actual person in the window. Then his eyes are softened and he’s hunched over the paneled window, face split in half as he stares back at you. He used to fit so easily in the frame of that window - now you watch his shoulders press against the framework, unable to squeeze in. 

Your cheeks are burning when you squeeze your eyes shut and smile apologetically. Your childhood best friend who you hadn’t seen in three years had just caught you staring at his fucking abs through his window. You fear he’ll take offense, especially considering how you’d left things off with him, but when you open your eyes, he’s grinning softly and shaking his head. 

He walks away from the small window, and you take this as your cue to leave as well. You fall back on the bed and groan pathetically, body jittery with embarrassment. 

“Y/n, sweetheart! Dinner now!” your mom caws from the floor beneath you and you feel 16 again. This was what you didn’t want. All the power you had accumulated was slipping through your fingers by the minute. 

It’s just five days, you remind yourself. Just five, measly days.

“Coming, mom!”  _____________________________

The fucking bell tower is going. Over and over again and it shouldn’t be this loud, you’re not that close to the church, but it is. 

You lie flat on your back in the smoldering dark, completely still. It’s so loud it feels like it’s coming from inside your head. Like the curved, rusted sides of it are bashing against your skull. You don’t understand how anyone could sleep through this. You don’t understand how Chan could stay here all these years. Maybe that’s just because you couldn’t see yourself here.

You don’t want to think about Chan anymore, but for whatever reason - you can’t decide if it was seeing him (so manly) so suddenly, or if it’s the ever-ringing bell in the distance, like a marker of the apocalypse - he won’t leave your mind tonight. Part of you understood that what had happened with you and Chan was natural, and not particularly anyone’s fault. So why did you still carry the heavy burden of guilt? Guilt that pinched at your nerve endings like the delicate tunes in a children’s music box.

You and Chan had met as children in church. It didn’t take long for you to be best friends. You’d sit next to each other on the neatly lined benches during sermon, then you’d tumble in the grass outside, and then you’d go to his house and play until dinner, after which you’d see each other again, talking from window to window. You spent very nearly every moment with him.

Then you grew apart.

It was a slow death. Seeing each other became a sort of horrific reminder that it was ending, no longer bound by church or friendship, but a mutual understanding. There’d be a sort of solemn silence whenever you locked eyes. Is this the last time? You’d wonder, and the longer it went on, the more you started to wish that it was.

And then it was. 

It was your fault. You were 13 and suddenly you were wearing makeup and your dresses were getting shorter, and you wished you were much older than you were. You started forgetting the principles they’d taught you in church. Or maybe you’d never really learnt it, only tolerated it for Chan. But years passed and by the time you were sixteen, you were being kissed and groped at parties and you were having sex in cars and smearing your lipstick on the rims of shot glasses. 

And Chan was.. Well, Chan. Chan was a skinny, virgin christian. And you liked him, but suddenly there wasn’t much to talk about. From one day to the next, all discussable topics evaporated in your hand, and talking to Chan became a stumbling, bumbling mess. 

After that you were just…. Gone. 18 years old disappearing down the dirt roads in the 2009 Toyota Tacoma, that you’d gotten for your sweet sixteen. Chan was standing on the roadside that day, but he wasn’t sure you saw him. Your wheels kicked up dust and that was all you left behind. A cloud of sand for him to grab at, looking lost in between your tire tracks. At that moment it felt like those last years were two seconds. You just slipped right out of his hands. 

Lying in bed and your heart is so heavy. Maybe it isn’t Chan, you conclude. Maybe it’s what he represented. The face of the church; the face of goodness, of purity; the face of the life you deselected. 

The cry of the bell tower becomes a song in the night. You fall asleep in the devil’s hour. _____________________________

The following day you’re reexploring. The air is dry and the sun beating down on your shoulders. You’re walking through the suburbs and then later the small town square made up of mostly parking lots. You feel peregrine, but trudging through on the pavement, it becomes clear you’re the only one who feels this way. 

Every citizen, every single one of them - in polos, in flower-print dresses, in sandals, in sunglasses - stops you to welcome you back home. They’re shaking your shoulders and they recognize you and can tell you your name and your age, and they say that it’s good you found your way back. Every interaction leaves you more depressed than the last. You’re ducking your head, crumpled up like an unsent love letter. 

Your steps are heavy, your own sandals dragging into the uneven tiles of the square. Then you’re lifting your head from the ground, and your feet have betrayed you. 

You’re standing in the opening to another street of storefronts, and 5 rows of neatly planted trees down, the church sprouts from the earth like a stake. 

It’s not just any small town church. A few steps lead up to a plateau, supported by large, white beams. They may not be Roman, but they’re there, and they’re made of smooth concrete. The building itself is made of red brick, although the color varies and looks dappled. Each side of the church has two stained glass windows, which you remember from your childhood. The door, huge and oaken, ends in a point right beneath a round window, and the bell tower shoots up, a mighty cross at its peak. 

You’re left a little breathless at it. You don’t remember it being so menacing. But there’s also something beautiful about it. How it looks at you like it’ll kill you. And how blunt it is about it. You’re blinking at it and wondering how you got here. It’s as if something’s possessed you, because despite knowing better, you begin to take calm steps towards it, eyes transfixed and soulless. 

You’re walking into the courtyard, gravel underfoot, and then you’re traversing up the steps, fingers barely brushing over the railing. Idling forward, you’re opening the door. 

“And when Mary birthed the-” 

Crrrrreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaak!

Every head snaps towards you, as you’re cracking the door open, and the trance lifts from you. Oh, shit. Your gaze grazes over the stacked benches, smiling apologetically and bopping your head.

You clear your throat. “I’m-” 

You lock eyes with the priest, whose service you just interrupted, where he’s standing before the crowd, bible in hand.

It’s Chan. 

“I’m sorry,” you squeak, voice now much meeker, and you don’t even know what to do, so you just step inside and sit down on the nearest bench. Slowly (and with low scoffs) the sea of heads turn around. One pair of eyes don’t leave you though. Chan studies you for several seconds longer, searching for something in your eyes, but you’re looking away. You just want him to continue. He does.

This is crazy, you think, and you can hardly believe you’re hearing his voice say those words, and it’s him in the clerical shirt. You supposed it made sense. You supposed you understood. But actually you didn’t, not at all. Not when he was supposed to live and change and evolve and here he is years later, dedicating his life to the one and only thing he knows! 

You’re tuning out the rest of his talk, vaguely aware of how his eyes flit over to you a little too frequently. Soon enough you’re absently clasping your hands together in a prayer and then people are lining up to thank Chan for his stellar service. 

You watch them from your seat, debating whether or not to leave without talking to him. Leaving wasn’t a bad idea. You were only gonna be in town for a week more, surely, you could avoid him until then. 

But you know you won’t do that. You want to talk to Chan. You want to feel his hand in your own. Partially you felt like maybe you could save him from just being a decoration to this hellscape for the rest of his life. You’re not sure you could go on living your life, when you know he’s just back here - still here. 

So there you are, planted in the line and hoping to save him from some dull future, and he’s shaking hands and smiling, but you can see how he eyes you, coming up on the line. 

“Thank you, Chan,” you smile warmly, and his hand is grabbing yours and it’s so soft and so big. He’s smiling too. Then you’re coughing and correcting yourself: “Uh- Father. Chan.” 

He laughs at your sputtering, clapping your hand between his two: “Oh, thank you, sister.” Emphasizing with pursed lips and wide eyes. You laugh along a little, but it’s strained. 

His smile fades slowly, and his face relaxes. He wants to say more. His fingers are still pulling your hand to his, and you just keep shaking it, because if you stop, it’ll be weird. Officially. 

“Oh, do you two know each other?” A bobbed woman from behind you in line is purring, unfamiliar hand on your back, and she doesn’t wait for you to answer before she’s talking again: “So, how do you know each other?” 

“Childhood. Friends,” Chan stammers, almost looking at you for confirmation, and you’re nodding along when the woman “ah’s” and “ooh’s”. “Oh, that’s wonderful, you guys!” And then you’re listening to her talk about some trailer down in Cassandra, and how her brother is fixing it up with his old friend, but there’s water damage in the lining of the room, and it’ll mold if they’re not careful, and it’s such useless information, you’re wondering how you’ll ever forget it. 

“Mrs. Lark, uh, I think my,” he looks at you, lips pursed, “my friend here needs to go, so..” 

Mrs. Lark gasps, embarrassed: “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m babbling,” and usually Chan would reassure her that she wasn’t, but he has more urgent matters on his hands. “Good day, Mrs. Lark!” he says and sends her off with a bright smile. There’s a few more people in line and Chan sighs a little. 

“Can you-” he’s a little sheepish, suddenly self conscious about the clergy shirt that grips his neck, “Can you wait? Here? Just until I’m done-” 

“Yeah,” you say. He smiles gratefully. 

Chatter continues behind you with a slight echo in the large room. You wait by one of the stained glass windows, arms around yourself as you stare up at it. Each and every window was a different biblical figure, made up of small shards of colored glass. You always found it strange, looking back, how your small town church had this grand artwork. The eyes of the window peer down at you.

“Judas,” Chan comments, planting himself beside you. His voice echoes slightly in the now empty church. The whole place is both too big and too small for the both of you. “It’s an interesting choice.” 

“What?” 

“Why you chose this window over any other,” Chan breathes, eyes darting down to you, and he’s looking at you very intensely. Then, it dissipates: “I’m also drawn to this one.” 

A pause.

“I wonder why they’d make this,” you quip, feeling small beside him. “I think whoever made this wanted all sides of Jesus’ story illustrated,” Chan says. You shrug. “If it were me, I wouldn’t.” 

Chan tilts his head to the side and looks at you again. Your cheeks burn, so you smile a little cheekily. “Was that not the right thing to say?” 

Chan’s smile is gentle and bemused - almost adoring. “There’s nothing you can say in here that is wrong.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” you laugh and Chan follows along. “Oh, you don’t?” You’re both laughing together, glee filling the crevices of the holy place, while Judas eyes you from the window. Your laughter dies down again, and when the silence returns, your heart clenches nervously. There’s a beat. 

“You keep busy?” you ask and the two of you are now facing each other. He sighs and nods, looking around. “Yeah, yeah, I got a.. Like a church get-together thing in, like, two days. I’ll be.. Preaching."

“Preaching,” you repeat, smile a little too tight. You wish you could say he didn’t notice. “Big Mr. Priest..” 

He laughs: “Technically I’m a priest apprentice,” he says, arms crossing over his chest. You roll your eyes. “So humble.” 

“What about you? Keep busy?” 

“Yeah, college,” you sigh. “You done?” he asks and you shake your head. “I wish.” 

His expression softens until he’s frowning. You want to squirm under his gaze, only because he looks so sincere and worried and you haven’t seen each other in three years. “You look tired.” 

“That’s not-” you begin, covering the slight ache in your heart with a laugh, “I just- Couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I thought living in the big city had you sleeping like a rock when you got to our quiet town,” he teases with a half-smile.

You shake your head, looking upwards at the ceiling. “It was that bell tower, just ringing, all night.” You shrug. Chan’s brows furrow and he looks up as well, as if he’d be able to see it through the tile roof. 

“The…” he trails off, sounding lost, “The bell tower doesn’t ring at nig-” 

Beep! Beep!

“Shit- sorry!” you curse, when your phone goes off loudly. Chan stands still studying you, while you squint at your phone. “I think- I think I gotta go.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he coughs, index finger rubbing over his taut knuckles. You’re pushing your phone into your back pocket again, when he reaches an arm out to you. “Uh-” he pulls back self-consciously, “Would you want to-.. Maybe, come to dinner at my place? Tomorrow?” 

You’re a little taken aback, looking at him with a softly open mouth for a moment. “Uh,” you fight back a wide smile, “Yeah, sure. I’d- I’d like that.” 

“Great,” Chan smiles too and nods. “Just- just at the house right next door, or?-”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s that one. Still,” Chan blushes breathlessly. You chuckle awkwardly. “Okay.” 

“Okay. See you then.”  _____________________________

You’re not sure why the prospect of having dinner with Chan has you so nervous. And it is just a dinner, you remind yourself, as you’re picking out your dress, just two friends catching up. After some 45 minute debate you pick out a pretty sundress.

You’d like to think there’s more to it than just the fact that Chan is suddenly very pretty and muscular. Maybe it’s the chance to make a wrong right. Maybe it’s to find out who this boy is, that was a key part of your life for so many years. Maybe you think you can change him.

Either way you’re just waiting for it all day, ignoring your dad trying to lure you out with trick shots from your garage. “HIYA!” he screams, throwing ping pong balls at your window all afternoon.

At 6:30 PM you’re standing at his door and hoping you don’t look too dolled up. His house also looks mostly identical to your memory of it. There’s something off about it though, and you study it momentarily, only to realize the front garden has overgrown. The grass comes up jagged and sharp, and the bushes bulge over the fence gate, brushing you when you waddle inside. You click the doorbell, wait a few seconds, and then begin to suspect that it didn’t work. Then you knock and you hear him fumbling around inside: “Coming!” 

He opens the door (with some struggle), and then you’re standing before each other. He’s so domestic, in a striped, brown sweater and dark blue jeans, and curly hair is framing his face like a crown. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He gives you a once over, smiling shyly: “You look great.” 

“Thank you,” you bow a little, “you too.” 

Then he’s letting you inside and you’re kicking off your shoes haphazardly, while he fusses back to the kitchen. “I made bolognese, if you don’t mind!” he calls and when you enter into the living space, he’s stirring a pan vigorously. You giggle a little, smile falling at the sight of a cross on the wall behind you. “Uh, yeah, of course.” 

Slurping tomato-sauced pasta and drinking a half-expensive wine that Chan had bought, you two laugh together. You mostly talk about when you were kids, then he’s talking about joining the church and you’re talking about college. 

“Is it hard? Out there?” Chan slurs a little, both of you tipsy and warm from the wine, having moved to the couch after eating. Now, full and face burning hot, you’re looking at each other differently. Chan’s got one arm on the couch rest, the other swirling the wine in his glass. He’s smirking a little and you hate how hot he is.

“It’s.. Exciting,” you counter, a little confused at his tone. He's close enough to radiate warmth onto you, when his eyes dip down to your lips for a second. “Yeah. You like exciting,” he drinks down the rest of his wine and sets the glass on the couch table. The moon, that’s been slowly traversing the star-speckled sky, gives the glass a faint halo. Chan basks in the moonlight, half lit and half shadowed. 

“I do. I do like exciting,” you giggle dumbly, still unsure where he’s steering the conversation. Chan smiles adoringly, because there you are sitting all blushing and warm in a sundress on his couch. The warmth disappears from his eyes then. 

“Was it exciting to watch me undress?” 

Oh.

Shit. 

You almost spit out a half-drunken sip of wine, gulping it down painfully and shaking your head. You set the glass down. “Chan! I’m-” you’re scrambling, “I’m really, really sorry. I- I was just- It wasn’t about your body, I was thinking about-” 

“Shut up.” 

Your mouth falls agape at his tone, offended and caught off guard. He’s still beside you, eyes much sharper than you remember, much colder. “Stop treating me like I’m still a kid.” 

“Well, you haven’t changed much, Chan,” you scoff. 

“Yeah, that’s why you were looking at me through your fucking window,” he scoffs as well, “because I haven’t changed.” 

You sit in quiet disbelief, trying to stay mad when his face is so pretty and so close to yours, and his jaw is clenched and his cheeks are flushed from the wine. You’re deciding whether to spit back or diffuse the situation. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry.” 

The hand that was previously holding his glass lands on your knee. He leans in even further and you smell the sour air of wine on his breath. You shudder under his touch when he whispers: “I want you to be honest with me.” 

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, heart beating in your chest like nails being knocked into wood. “Tell me what you want from Father Chan,” he muses, smirking slightly, while his thumb brushes back and forth on your knee. 

You’re completely out of breath and squeezing your thighs together, as slick begins to build up in your panties. “Come on,” he encourages, “Let it out. Tell Channie what you want.” 

“I want,” you’re shaking in humiliation, gaze cast onto the floor, “I want you to touch me.” 

“Come again?” he teases, grinning.

“Please touch me, Chan.” 

“There you go,” he mutters and finally gives in, hand brushing the skirt of your dress up your thighs, until your white, cotton panties are visible to him. The sight of you is so pornographic, he groans and dips his head into your neck. “Spread your legs for me, baby.” 

And you do, one of them drooping over his legs, while the other bends on the couch beside you. You’re already so worked up, because Chan is so beautiful and you never, ever thought you’d experience him like this. “Shh, shh, calm down, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple, as his fingers brush over your clothed core.

“Baby,” he tuts disapprovingly, “you’ve soaked through your panties.” 

You can only whine as his fingertips ghost along your dripping slit, and he’s nosing into your cheek like a big puppy. “‘M sorry,” you hiccup, and he grins and kisses your lips tenderly. “So polite for me.” 

He finally dips his hand into your panties, fingers rubbing circles into your pussy. You’re mewling and thrashing into his chest, basking in the sound of his strangled moan, when you thrash the leg in his lap and brush over his hard cock. 

His fingers move lower to dance along your slit and you grab his wrist strenuously. He hums a little. “Gonna put my fingers in your pussy and my tongue in your mouth now,” he’s mumbling and you can’t tell if he’s telling you or himself, but either way he does as promised, two fingers plunging into your sopping wet heat, while he dips his tongue in your hot mouth.

You're moaning into his lips. He’s kissing you so sloppily, spit spilling down both of your chins, and noses rubbing together, breathing scorching air into each other. His fingers are pumping in and out of you, then curling into that sweet spongy spot inside you. 

“Fuck!” you cry when he pulls away breathlessly, “so, so, so good. Chan- Chan, fuck!”

Your orgasm is building up in your stomach, with a pleasure that is simultaneously torturous. He’s looking at you so intensely, you feel like you might unravel under his gaze. “Fuck, Channie.”

“Yeah? You feel good?” he pauses his words, still curling his fingers in and out of you. His next words are somewhat uneasy: “Is this better than those other guys?” 

“Huh?” you mumble, chest arching and his mouth is watering at how inviting it is. “Back then,” he says, and it finally clicks what he’s talking about. 

“Pussy so good no wonder they all wanted a piece of you, hm? Such a slut,” he’s rambling now, fingers plunging in and out of you impossibly fast, while his other hand splays over your stomach, thumb tapping your clit. You cry out in ecstasy, unable to form coherent words to respond with.

“But you’re my slut, right?” His voice is raspy and right next to your ear. The thumb tapping your clit begins to rub circles into it. “Y/n,” he’s suddenly very serious, “say you’re my slut.” 

“I’m-” your voice crack in humiliation, cheeks fiery and eyes squeezed shut, “I’m your slut!” 

“That’s right,” he pants, trying to stop his hips from bucking into your calf. “And my slut is gonna cum on my fucking fingers right now.” 

Your orgasm feels otherworldly - maybe godly - and your whole body shakes in his hold, chest bouncing in his face and moans melodic in his living room. Chan works you through it, finally pulling his fingers out when your hands weakly push at his own.

You’re sighing heavily with hair messy and teased, slumped back on his couch. “Holy shit,” you say, grinning from ear to ear, completely dazed. Chan is watching you with a proud smirk and a tent the size of Texas in his pants. 

A thought strikes you then, and your grin is fading and your brows are furrowing. “Wait- Wait, Chan? Where are your parents?” you ask suddenly, sitting up and straight and pulling your dress down hastily. You snap your head around self-consciously. 

“Relax! Relax!” he laughs, “They don’t live here anymore, I bought the house from them, like, six months ago.” 

Your jaw drops. You wait just a second, hoping to catch a cheeky glint in his eyes, that might tell you he’s joking. You find nothing but blackness.

“You bought the house?” 

Chan looks at you quizzically, shrugging. “Yeah, I mean, they wanted to move, you know, see new things and I.. I just. Didn’t.” 

You can hardly fucking believe your ears.

“Chan!” you cry, frustration blooming in your chest and pounding in your head. “Why did you buy the fucking house? You’re gonna spend the rest of your life paying off the fucking mortgage, and you’re never gonna get out of here!” you shout, flailing your arms at his absurdity.

Chan narrows his eyes at you. “Sorry, city girl, we don’t all wanna pack up and live in a closet space for three years-” 

“Wha- Chan, this is not about me! How can you just.. Surrender to this place?” you shout and suddenly he’s raising his voice too. “Surrender?” he repeats, spitting it back at you.

“Yeah! Jesus, even your fucking parents wanted to leave, Chan. But you’re just- You’re gonna live out the rest of your life in this shithole and be some sort of- of priest?!” 

“I can’t believe you right now,” he stands up from the couch, and you follow suit. “In what world do you have the morality to come in here and tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you scoff, crossing your arms. 

Your voices are echoing in the empty house, wine glasses and sauced plates standing idly on the tables nearby. Your silhouettes are confined to the large living room window, standing on either side of the moon. 

“You know what that means, Y/n,” he laughs bitterly. “No, please, tell me,” you invite him challengingly, wondering (or perhaps fearing) whether or not he’d actually go there. He prods at his cheek with his tongue, and hesitates.

“You were a fucking slut, Y/n.” His voice is quieter, maybe ashamed. Tears sting at your eyes, when you look at him incredulously. How could you think you knew this man? How could you think there was anything left to salvage? 

“Fuck you, Chan,” you spit, spinning around before the tears can fall. He says nothing, just stands alone in his living room while you dash out his door, hands wrapping around himself. 

Exiting his house into the cool, summer air, you realize one thing. The bell tower had been the call of the apocalypse.  _____________________________

You were the walls of Jericho that night, crying and tumbling in your childhood sheets, muffling your cries in the fear that he’d hear through his creaked open window. What was this pain, you couldn’t decide. Was it how he stayed steadfast or how you metamorphosed, dying only to return once again? 

In the morning, you’re dull and gray. You’re drinking coffee out of your dad’s old tourist shop mug from a visit to Niagara Falls, sitting at the dining table with puffy eyes. Your mom eyes you worriedly from the counter, leaning into your dad to whisper not-so-discreetly. 

“Sweetheart, you wanna go with us to church today? They’re having this whole event, the kids’ choir will be there!” she suggests gently and you just want to shrug off all her affection. 

“No,” you deadpan. Your mom gives your father a look. He sighs. 

“Alright, champ, that’s- that’s your choice,” he nods, mustache scrunching up when he pouts. You sigh, feeling like an asshole. “Sorry, I just-” 

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart, you just rest!” your mom shushes you, scrambling around the kitchen, ever in the hunt for some lost appliance. “All that college must wear you out, you should rest while you can, hm?” 

They’re gone by noon. You sit in the shadowed corner of your bed, avoiding the strip of light that dances across your room from the crack in the curtain. 

You’re bored, scrolling on your phone, cheek puffed up against your pillow, when it slips out of your hands and hits the floor with a loud bump. You groan, feeling like the whole world is against you today, and throw your arm off the bed to grab at it on the floor. 

It’s halfway under the bed, and when your fingers finally remark the smooth surface, they brush against something else. It’s hard and it feels dirty. You lift your head to look and tug it out.

It’s your diary. 

Phone long forgotten, you lift it carefully, like an old relic, and push open the faded pink cover. You feel like you’re about to snap in half, when your eyes survey the graphite-smudged pages of your horrible, horrible handwriting. The pages emanate a mysterious air that has you leaning back in your seat.

You’re skimming through angst entries, that has you cringing and wanting to put it down, before you freeze suddenly, inhaling sharply at the scribbled out words before you.

‘3. august 2016

God, I miss Chan.’

The words come with the promise of stinging tears in your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whisper angrily at the page, because you’re crying again, and you close the book and hold onto yourself so tightly that it hurts. “Fuck that. Fuck this.” 

It’s perhaps the worst feeling you’ve ever felt. It’s anger, it’s sadness, it’s humiliation, it’s confusion. How did it end like this, you think. It would be so much easier if you were kids again. If he was that dorky kid from your church, who wore his father’s baseball caps and had chubby little hands when he prayed. You can do it better, you think miserably, if you get another chance. But you don’t. 

For about fifteen minutes, you curl into yourself and wait for the feeling to go away. It doesn’t. The heavy weight of realization pools in your stomach when you realize you might carry this with you for the rest of your life if you don’t do something. It doesn’t have to end like this.

Suddenly you’re light as a feather, grabbing your jacket and your keys and sprinting out the door and down the street. The cross atop the spire watches you run to it, awaiting you ominously.  _____________________________

You’re disheveled and pulled apart when you arrive at the gathering, and for once the townspeople look at you like you’re out of place. You’re late, you know, because people are taking their leave, scattering and dissolving towards the town square, and the entertainment (the kids’ choir), all robed in white, are marching away together. 

You’re panting, stumbling further into the church garden, jumping at the sound of grills being closed and rolled away onto the pavement. 

“Y/n?” Chan can hardly believe his eyes, when he sees you standing between a bed of lilies. You turn around and see him, melting a little at how tired and sad he looks. “I can’t believe you came,” he whispers, a little sparkle of hope in his gaze. You smile fondly, “Me neither.” 

Chan moves to embrace you, but freezes when he suddenly remembers where you are. “Uh, I can’t, I have to-” he stammers, scrambling for a solution, for something better than turning you away, when you’re here, close enough for him to hold. He looks around, gaze following the churchgoers as they pass through the gates, before he’s bopping his head down to whisper to you again: “Go into the church. I’ll be with you in a second.” 

You walk through that heavy, wooden door, and when it closes behind you the scrambling of metal and people and footsteps and crying children is gone. With the door, you’re sealed in here, with whatever fate follows.

All the light in the church is filtering through the stained glass windows, and once again you find yourself drawn to him. Judas. 

Part of you would expect such an artwork to depict Judas as greedy and grim, as glutinous and gloomy; that he would be hunched over with a pouch of shillings, giggling at his evildoing. But the Judas in the window is so.. Sad. 

He’s blue and gray and his eyebrows are upturned and for the life of you, you can’t figure out how the unknown artist must have managed to portray such despair in glass. You stand in the middle of his reflection on the floor, all blue and gray yourself, and you’re not sure it’s really because of the light.

That’s all the church inhabits at that moment. You and Judas, and your shallow breaths, and the stirring of dust in the air. There’s nothing holy in there with you. Just you and him.

You hear the door open to your right. You know it’s Chan, somehow you can just feel it. He must sense something in the air, because he says nothing, just walks up to stand beside you, and only then do you speak again.

“I always felt a bit like Judas,” you muster a breath.

Chan pauses and you can feel him looking at you. “Me too.” 

You furrow your brows, and finally look up at him, and there he is in his clerical shirt and his matching pants, his right cheek glowing bright blue. The whole room is so heavy, you lean against the bench behind you. 

“That’s not.. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

Chan doesn’t ask you to elaborate. He understands. “God made it that way,” he’s nodding with a pained expression on his face, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. You laugh a little and hate how much love you feel, when Chan half-smiles at the sound.

“God.. Yeah,” you half-gesture to the sky and Chan giggles. Then you’re both quieting down again. “I can’t tell if it was you or God I turned my back on,” you say and you’re looking at Judas again, and how one, jagged hand holds onto his chest.

“Maybe it was both,” Chan says and there’s this unreadable expression on his face. You’re laughing again, cheeks apple-round. “I’m pretty sure it’s blasphemous to compare yourself to God.” 

“Yeah?” he laughs, “I think so too.” You’re looking at him again when he’s gulping hard and the joy drains from his face. A small frown curve his lips. “I’m sorry about yesterday, you know.” You look away.

“Me too,” you say. Chan can’t help the way his heart leaps when, without sparing him a glance, you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it. He squeezes back.

He gasps painfully and when you turn to him again, he’s choking back tears, face turning red. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I just wish… Fuck, I mean, we’re too different, aren’t we?” 

You nod. “We are.” 

“When are you leaving?” 

You smile disingenuously, hoping it’ll cheer him up. It doesn’t.

“Tomorrow.” 

Chan is crying, there’s no denying it now, no chalking it up to sniffles. Tears, turning yellow from the sun behind Judas’ back, trail down his cheeks and he wipes them aggressively, but they just keep coming. Deep, despaired moans bounce off the ceiling and walls of the church.

“Can I-?” Chan begins, unable to form words between his heart-rattling sobs. “I just- I need to-” 

“Yes,” you say, and there’s not a single doubt in your mind, that this is what you both want, as you take a step forward and pull his lips into yours. 

Chan’s lips taste like every color of Judas, of blue, of yellow, of gray, of green. Salt hits your tongue when his tears trail down to where you’re connected, and he’s still crying into the kiss, hands finding your waist and clutching so, so hard. 

“Please don’t cry,” you whisper in between kisses, “you’re gonna make me cry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t stop. He’s too caught up in memorizing the way your body feels under his hands, the way you’re moving against him, the way you’re pulling him by the collar of his clerical shirt, and how your nose feels shoved into his. 

His warm hands slide your shirt upwards, burning against your newly exposed skin. You pull away only to tug it over your head. Chan whimpers when he sees your chest, cupped by your bra and he pulls you into his chest to unhook the back, head looming over your shoulder. Ear pressed to his neck, you can feel the way it contracts, when he hiccups. 

As soon as he’s done, straps sliding gently down your arms, you’re pouncing on each other again, lips meeting rhythmically in the blued sunlight. Blindly, you’re unbuttoning his clerical shirt, fingers shaking against his chest. His hands clasp over yours soothingly, urging you to slow down. 

The whole ordeal is strangely silent, even Chan has stopped crying now, and the only sounds filling the church are the brush of fabric and your muffled moans into each other’s mouths. You’re whining though, when his shirt finally pushes off his shoulders and his torso is right in front of you and under your hands. 

You whimper at the sight alone, running your hands over his arms and over his chest down to his abs. Chan smirks at you. “I knew you liked it,” he mumbles to himself, almost childishly. 

This comment slows you down, as you’re pulling back to laugh, and you’re both shirtless in front of each other, hearts huge and glowing. Chan smiles at you adoringly while you laugh, face scrunched up and eyes crescents. 

“You can’t say that when I’m trying to fuck you,” you say finally, hair a mess on your head and lips pursed to keep yourself from laughing again. Chan loves your dumb face. He takes your hands in his and rubs the palms with his thumbs. “I know.” 

“Can I-?”

“Yes,” you whisper, agreeing before he can even get it out. Chan nods and holds you, gently guiding you onto the floor, where your entire body is marbled by the light hitting the glass. Chan stands over you for a moment. 

“You’re just gonna stare at me?” you joke, but your arms are sneaking their way up your torso. “Yeah,” Chan responds, but he’s already kneeling down in front of you, moving your arms away. 

“You are so beautiful,” he says it as if it almost pains him, but he’s straddling you and fumbling with your jean-buttons, beginning the tedious task of peeling them off your legs. You want to say something snarky, but he has you breathless and blushing, all you can muster is a meek: “Thank you.” 

He looks up from his work on your jeans at that, smiling at you fondly. 

You kick your jeans off your legs, while he begins to undo the buckle of his own pants, shoving them down his legs at the first opportunity. You’re both almost naked, you in your panties and him in his boxers, and you’re wondering why he’s showing no signs of moving them off you, dick hard and scorching fucking hot against your clothed core. Then he plants his arms on either side of your head, and rolls his hips into yours.

The moan you let out is coming from deep in your fucking soul. Only something godly could pull that out, you decide, sopping fucking wet from the star-like heat it has against you. “You sound so pretty,” he whimpers and does it again. Then again and again and again, and you’re arching your back and the both of you are moaning and groaning, filling the church with humidity. 

“Chan,” you muster, sounding on the verge of tears. His head is lowered onto your breasts, panting hard into the impossibly soft skin. “I-Inside. Now.” 

Chan wants to say something sexy, but he’s so desperate for you, that all he can manage is: “I agree.” 

He’s scrambling wildly to tear his boxers off and you do the same, lifting your hips to remove your drenched panties from your core. When you’re left bare, he lets out a choked moan, because immediately your hole clenching and gushing slick onto the tiled floor. The church floor, no less. 

“So fucking beautiful, and mine. Belongs to me,” he babbles, eyes wounded, but fingers spreading your folds open, as he lowers his head to remark on them. You mewl, fingers clawing at his shoulders. “Miss you,” you squall and he looks up at your face again. “Okay,” he responds, body moving back up to your face. Then he mutters against your lips: “Miss you too.” 

He’s kissing you again, so warm and wet in your mouth and humming into you. You claw at his back and whine wildly, when his hand steers his dick through your folds, lubricating itself in your plentiful wetness. 

He pulls away and you chase after him with sorrowful eyes. “I need to see your face when I push in,” he explains very sincerely, and you somehow understand that, yes, he needs to see it. You nod.

Then he’s pushing into you. He bursts through your gates, all thick and veiny and totally raw against the walls of your pussy. He’s slow, studying your face tenderly for any signs of discomfort, even when he grimaces from the euphoric feeling. And God, your face is so perfect, all scrunched up and twisted in pleasure, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. He will remember it forever.

He’s rocking in and out of you, and it’s slow, and it’s love, and it’s mature, and you’re moaning simultaneously, foreheads pressed together, as he fucks you into the floor. 

“Are you close, darling?” he pants against your cheek and you nod, because you are. Because it feels like your body has been working its way up to this final point, and every other milestone has just been a hillpeak on the way to a mountain. “Yes, yes, yes, I am.” 

“Good, so good for me,” he’s speeding up just a little bit, working the two of you closer and gaining leverage from his bruising grip on your hips. Your hand slides up his neck, from where he’s nuzzled into the side of your nose, and you whisper breathlessly in his ear: “Please cum inside, please, please.” 

And Chan’s head spins at that, thrusting so hard you’re entire body jerks. You, all filled with his kids, all soft and big stomached. The thought has his thrusts - now quite swift - becoming sloppy and has him spurting cum. You come at the feeling of him spurting inside you, spluttering you full of white seed, so much that it’s spilling out at the base of his cock. 

You’re both stilling, bodies expanding eagerly for air, and he’s still so close to you, still inside you, still buried in your hair, nose huffing breaths into your ear. The church is so painfully quiet, you begin to hear your own heartbeat. This was it. This was the narrow end. There was no other way. 

Lying your head on the tile and tilting it, so your eyes dance over the floor beneath you, you realize that Judas is no longer the artwork, no longer the masterpiece: It’s you and Chan on the floor, arching into each other and bathed in his light. To an unknowing outsider, the expressions you carry would also seem misplaced, just like Judas had to you. But you both know, still clinging onto each other like angels that flutter from the sky and into hell, that it was because of the end you had ensured for each other.

“I love you.” 

Chan whispers the words into your neck, voice thick. You realize he’s crying again, because you feel burning hot tears dribble down your neck, and his shoulders are shaking. You curl your arms around him.

“I know. I’m sorry. I love you too.” 

[lolitakirstein]

Hey Neighbor

Part one

Part two

Don't be a stranger

Those 4 words rattled in your brain as the days and weeks passed. You kept busy (and subtly avoided toji) by finishing up moving in and picking up a job at the local bookstore. The hours weren’t great but it kept you away from your house and your neighbor. Yes, you felt kinda shitty. He was only trying to be nice. But the look on his face as he purred, “Don’t be a stranger” with a smirk on his face made you ten times more intimidated by him. I can NOT get involved with him…wait he probably didn’t even mean it like that… I’m looking too much into it…still…no not I can’t do it. I don’t know him and he has a child I’m sure he’s not even interested. These thoughts consumed you. 

As much as you tried to avoid confrontation with toji, it was practically impossible seeing as your houses were so near. Luckily, the interactions were in passing, a quick wave. A smile from you…a smug grin from toji. It seems Mewsy wasn’t one to avoid them, you would catch her strolling across the yard between your houses when Megumi and Toji would arrive home in the evenings. Megumi would light up and giggle as she'd once again perform her act of rolling around. 

Although you avoid one one-on-one confrontation with Toji, you don't avoid…looking at him… especially when he is outside with the garage door open, music blaring as he does pull-ups in his make-shift gym. Sweat streams down his rippled abs that contract with each heavy breath. It makes your mouth go dry. God, what it would be like to lick up those chiseled muscles, to cling on to those broad shoulders as he'd thrust— stop no bad bad bad, you scold yourself every time you started fantasizing, shaking your head as if it was an etch-a-sketch and could erase the images. 

You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, the time would come that you would have to speak to him…and this evening seemed to be just that day. As you sit on your porch reading your book, Mewsy on your lap, you hear that sensuous voice that makes your knees quake. 

“Hey, neighbor.” toji stands at the bottom of your front porch steps. Megumi toddling up the stairs, excitedly, “Y/N!,” he climbs onto the wicker lover seat with you, Mewsy perking up and stretching. 

“Megs,” toji sighs, shaking his head. “You have to wait to be invited onto a girl's porch, son.”

“It's fine,” you say, patting megumi's leg as he settles beside you like. 

“How’ve you been,” toji asks, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Not seen ya much. You avoiding me?”

Shit! Was I that obvious?

“Oh…n–no just been trying to work as much as possible,” you stammer, wringing your hands in your lap. 

“I see, “ toji responds. 

“Yeah…” god, you wanted a hole to swallow you up, he clearly wasn’t convinced. “You can come sit if you want.” you try to change the subject. 

“Nah, we gotta get going I'm about to drop him off at my boss’s house while I run some errands out of town .”

What kind of boss watched their employee’s kids? You didn’t know it you were relieved or bummed that he couldn’t stay. 

“Ohh, dad let’s stay with y/n pleaseeee,” Megumi whined. 

“No bud we gotta go,” Toji replied firmly. 

“But Shiu’s house is so BORING, UGH” he groans.

“Ugh,” toji mocks. “You’re not even a teenager and already giving me such attitude.”

You can’t help but laugh at the back and forth, how similar the two were, how good of a father Toji seems to be….what a dilf.

“Blah blah blah,” Megumi teases, causing you to laugh harder.

“For real, Megs we gotta go. It won’t be for long. I promise.” Toji says. 

Megumi starts groaning, “But I wanna stay with y/n.”

“Im sure y/n has things to do.”

Megumi curls his little arms around yours, clinging to you.

“I don’t mind,” you suggest. “He can stay.”

“YAY!” Megumi cheers. 

“Y/N you don’t have to. I don’t want you to think I came over here just to drop him off on you,” toji stammers, clearly thrown off by your offer. 

You shrug. “I don’t have anything else to do. I’ve babysat before. As long as you trust me with him.”

“Well,” toji sighs, running his hand through his messy hair. “AS long as you ok with it. I won’t be back til after dark.”

“Thats fine,” you assure. 

Toji stalks up the porch steps, squatting in front of Megumi on the seat beside you. “Listen you, little man. Behave for y/n. I mean it. Do what she tells you to do.”

“Ugh ok dad,” megumi rolls his eyes.

“Again with the bratty attitude,” Toji sighs standing up before leaning forward, bracing one hand on the back of the seat by your face to kiss his son’s forehead. “Love you.” 

You swallow at the closeness, his scent dancing around you. Pure male a hint of aftershave. He reaches into his pocket, handing you a set of keys. 

“Here’s the house keys. It’ll be after his dinner before I get back and I doubt you have the right kinda dinosaur chicken nuggets for him to eat.” Toji laughs. “His bedtime is 9, but nothing strict.”

“OK,” you say. “Uhm what’s your number in case I need to contact you.”

“Ha, so this how I get your number, huh? My son. Jeez, he’s got more game than me.” he shakes his head, getting his phone out and swapping numbers with you. 

“I’ll text when I’m on my way back. Thanks for this,” he says as he makes his way off the porch towards his car parked on the side of the street. 

“Bye daddy!” megumi wave. 

You both watch as he speeds away. 

“So what do you wanna do megs,” you ask.

“Let's have fun!!!” he shouts. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

TADC cast comforting the reader!

i know i said i have a character limit (and technically ive already broken it for the creepypasta version of this post and similar posts in this category) buuuuuut admins personal writing gets to twist the rules a little bit/j/lh and also i dont want to make multiple posts for this prompt soooooooooo writing this while im waiting to make my silly money on a roblox tycoon yall know how it is :3 uuuuuuh might have more typos than usual simply because that wave of sleepiness is hitting but also i wanna finish my tycoon so NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT

CAINE:

i think he might try too hard in trying to get you to feel better. likely overwhelms you but he doesnt have ill intent (though that doesnt change much, youre still overwhelmed) so you might have to be firm in having him reel things back to a level that works for you. i think he would ask you whats wrong, as well as get anything he thinks he would help you feel better (drinks, blankets... hell before you can process anything hes probably got you buried in loads of things)... hes got the spirit but his intensity is... well intense.. torn between him being a decent listener because on one hand i can see him being hooked on every word you say and talking over you in an attempt to find a solution right then and there.... 6/10 i love caine but i get overwhelmed/overstimulated easily

POMNI:

does not know what to do when someone around her it upset, much less crying... i think she would put on this really weird... awkward... forced smile to try to lessen the tension in the air (failing at it, mind you) and try to pat your back... asks if you want to talk about it... a really good listener, actually. a better listener than a comforter, her solutions are so-so, they're what you expect from someone who doesnt want to accidentally overstep but nonetheless still cares about how you feel. at least you can count on her being totally no judgement, too... lets you talk to her for as long as you need, giving a nod and affirmation that she is in fact listening 8/10

RAGATHA:

very similar to pomni in regards to being a great listener, but i think ragatha would also be a great comforter as well as solution giver! lets you come into her room, gives you one of her nicer blankets to curl under while she lets you unload onto her. if someone is being mean to you or something is frustrating you, ragatha offers to give you a hand to find a solution to make things easier for you. offers to confront the person for you, though she does vaguely urge for you to build yourself up to try to speak up for yourself in the future. of course, if you ever need anyone ragatha is going to be there for you but she would also love to see you stand up for yourself. builds you up, probably gives peps talks! 8.5/10

JAX:

more often than not its going to look like hes disinterested or flat out not listening... which if it were just about anyone else that might really be the case.. buuuuuut what if you were one of his friends, or perhaps a partner? i think he would at least throw in a yeah.. which i think for how i typically write jax means something. one of those "if he didnt actually care he wouldnt be responding at all" and yeah sure its the bare minimum... i think every now and then he might just say screw it and throw his act out the window start shit talking... usually if theres someone to shit talk, you know if someone has made you upset or something... i think he would make them a target for his pranks... usually tries to play everything off as something light or unimportant but as long as its you, he is listening and he is going to at least make an attempt to do something about it... just dont bring it up 4/10 because personally it would make me feel worse shrugs

KINGER:

well i dont know how dad/energy having people can be comforting because my dad is emotionally distant/lh but i think he would let you come into his pillow fort... or if you dont want to be in a space so small he would let you come into his room, or he might take you out on a walk around the grounds. i think he would be more of a listener than anything else, nodding and humming to let you know hes listening. when theres pauses in your speaking he tries to offer some advice which can be pretty hit or miss. i think he would give you a hug, if you asked for one... if you want a distraction he will launch into a ramble about insects and other things! trails off to ask how youre doing every now and then, usually makes him lose his spot in the previous conversation thus starting a new one... will talk for hours 7/10 but im biased for kinger

ZOOBLE:

distant but not in the way jax is, zooble just has trouble expressing some of their emotions. jax just doesnt like showing any care or vulnerability. but zooble might let you stay in their room if youre crying or otherwise outwardly distressed. might let you sink down into one of their bean bag chairs... kind of just opens up a vent session with asking if you want to talk shit, or to just get angry. i think they can deal with someone being angry and irritated than a crying person because at least then they can apply their own irritation for it and put themselves in the other persons shoes. really you two just bounce and build each other in this scenario, kind of just letting off steam that should have been released far sooner... i dont know about you guys but its refreshing 8/10

GANGLE:

might get upset with you if youre really upset.. or maybe upset for you? i think she might be able to feel a lot for those she cares about deeply, so while it might look like shes trying to hijack the moment for herself, shes just crying FOR you.. lets you use her art supplies to make vents or to simply scribble. another big listener, i think she would try to give advice but... given that gangle herself has no spine (figuratively and literally) i think its... not the best advice... like the kind of stuff you try to affirm to yourself to get through a hard day, usually those affirmations.... dont work...but hey theres an effort! i mean at least she makes sure you feel heard and listened to, which is at least a little better than jax soooooo 5.5/10

[eleni-cherie]

lonely hearts club ✨ || kth au - chapter 1.2

“lonely hearts club // do you want to be with somebody like me?”

maybe single parents are meant to be members of the lonely hearts club.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: single parents au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

»»»

"Higher."

"Like this?"

"A bit more."

"Now?"

"A little bit more."

"If I stretch myself more I'm gonna fall," Hoseok whined. Arms already hurting from holding the garland up all this time. "I'm sure it was high enough here," he said then, lowering his hand and steadying himself on the metallic ladder.

Taehyung became sulky, Hoseok could tell, but he eventually nodded. "Okay, hang it there," he agreed with a nod. It wasn't his friend's fault. He simply wanted everything to be as great as possible for Ari's party. He knew perfection could never be reached and some chaos was meant to take place. Especially with his friends attending. But at least when it came to the overall appearance he wanted it to be perfect for her.

It was irrational in a way. She was still a baby and wouldn't remember anything. Let alone understand it. However, considering her actual parents weren't able to prepare this party for her or even be present for their daughter's first birthday, he wanted to at least give her the best party possible. Even when she wouldn't remember it.

Hoseok climbing down the stairs interrupted his train of thoughts. Both inspecting their work of half an hour. "I'd say not bad," the older guy patted his shoulder. Beaming with joy. "I especially like those paper flowers on the curtains. They're cute."

Taehyung nodded in agreement. Satisfied with the result as well. The living room covered in pink and purple garlands, balloons and flowers.

"Let's see if the birthday girl likes it as well," Hoseok said then and went to pick up Ari from where she was crawling around her play yard. "So, what do you think?" he cooed while carrying her to his previous spot. "You like it?"

Ari was just staring at him, grabbing his cheeks then with a giggle. While she seemed to like all his friends, Hoseok had to be her favourite one. Maybe because he was always beaming and smiling widely when holding her. "Not me, the decoration. Look what your dad and I did for you," he laughed. Not noticing Taehyung's expression falling. "I-I forgot something," he quickly mumbled then and left the two in the living room. Once he was in the kitchen, he dragged out the breath he was holding.

In a way, he appreciated his friends seeing him as Ari's dad. But truth was he wasn't. He knew and felt that. And it broke his heart a little when knowing he could love and care for her as much as he could and it would still not be enough. Inhaling deeply, he took a look around. Everything was ready. Only the cake was missing, which Jimin was supposed to pick up.

Sliding his phone out from his pants' pocket, he decided to check on him.

Tae (5:26pm): did you get the cake?

chim (5:28pm): just wanted to call you

chim (5:28pm): i don't think I can make it in time

chim (5:29pm): im running late & traffic is wild

Tae (5:29pm): are you serious now? D:

chim (5:31pm): im sorry :(

chim (5:32pm): maybe one of the others can pick it up??

He ran a hand through his waves, biting down on his lip as he went over to their groupchat, asking if anyone else could take care of it. However, since everyone lived even further away.

"Well, fck," Hoseok yelled from the living room, having read the messages. "Should I quickly go grab it?"

"Not sure if you'd make it in time," he sighed frustrated. Remembering someone else then. Someone who lived close by the conditory. And after quickly dialing the number, he pressed the phone against his ear. Anxiously waiting for her to pick up.

"Yeah, hello?"

"Cassandra? Hey."

"Hey, Tae." She was audibly smiling from the other line.

"Could you do me a huge favour? I know it's too much to ask but no one can pick up Ari's cake an-"

"What's the address?"

He smiled at her interrupting. "It's the conditory in the mall. The cake is under my name and already paid."

"Alright, I'll go get it now." A huge weight left his shoulders when hearing her words.

"You're my savior, Cas. I owe you."

"You really don't," she giggled, "We'll be there soon." And with that she hung up. Relieved, he returned to the living room seeing Hoseok sitting on the carpet with Ari. Building a tower from her wooden bricks with her. Looking up when noticing Taehyung's presence. Anticipation in his eyes. "So? What about the cake?"

"Cassandra is picking it up," he explained. Noticing Hoseok's eyebrows raising in a surprised manner when hearing her name. "Your friend from daycare?" He sounded slightly irritated, however, Taehyung chose to ignore it and simply hummed. "So she's coming, too?"

"Uh, yeah." Letting himself plop down on the couch, Taehyung rubbed his tired eyes. All the preparations had exhausted him. He only hoped everything would go smoothly from now on.

"Huh." He faced the baby in front of him who was about to push and destroy the colourful tower he had built. "You'll get your cake!" he grinned at her.

She obviously didn't understand what was going on, but still clapped her hands happily. Hoseok's cheery voice having that effect on her. And Taehyung observed her with a fond look.

It had been worth it after all. For her.

»»»

"Where do you know each other from?"

Cassandra perked up from the plate with pralines in front of her. She had eaten at least three already and couldn't seem to stop.

To say she had been hiding in the kitchen would be an exaggeration. Because she didn't. At least not intentionally. However, the living room had been quite packed with people. Especially when she felt like an outsider.

Sure, everyone was incredibly nice and welcoming, but it was still too packed and too loud and some seemed equally as socially awkward as her. Which in a way was comforting, but also made things difficult. It wasn't anything uncommon for her though. It hadn't been any different at her own family gatherings. Twelve people in a medium-sized apartment were too much. Whether it was her aunt's birthday last month or Ari's birthday righ now. Much to her surprise, however, the other two 'outsiders' of the group, Seokjin's wife and Yoongi's girlfriend, had joined her in the kitchen. So she wasn't sitting there totally alone, like the loser she sometimes felt like.

"The daycare," Cassandra eventually answered Yongsun's question. "We both take our kids to the same one." She saw the older girl nod to herself, plopping another grape to her mouth.

Yongsun was fascinating to Cassandra. She was probably one of the most beautiful women she had seen in real life. And still, when she laughed she was reminiscent of a cute cartoon character. And considering the way her husband looked like, it was no surprise. The two must've been the best-looking couple she had ever laid eyes on. Even if they didn't actually behave like it or how someone would expect it. Both being rather loud and joking a lot.

The younger woman could still not quite believe they were parents of three-year-old twins since they both looked so young but apparently were over thirty. Cassandra almost choked at that thought. She had a baby face herself, people not believing she'd be a twenty-seven year old mum. However, the genes Yongsun and Seokjin had passed to their children must have been a genetical fountain of youth.

Soyeon was also quite beautiful, Cassandra had noted. She had a cool, almost fierce aura and with her cat-like eyes she could intimidate someone, despite her height. Although that didn't seem to suit her actual personality at all. She was quite cheeky and friendly. Similar to her boyfriend. Cassandra thought they also made a very interesting and good-looking couple.

All of Taehyung's friends were attractive and Cassandra felt so out-of-place. Even if she never had a total low self-esteem and did consider herself somewhat cute, being in a room with so many handsome men -and the two pretty women- made her nervous. Perhaps another reason why she had relocated to the kitchen.

Nevertheless, she did find it nice of Soyeon and Yongsun to keep her company. Even if they themselves seemed to be a little shy and socially awkward just like her. Making the whole situation quite ridiculous. Like the beginning of a joke. "Three introverts sit together in a room.."

Although the two looked quite familiar and comfortable with each other, which was no surprise since they must've known each other for years, adding Cassandra, basically a stranger, brought their own awkward personalities out. And she didn't like that. She didn't want to make them feel uncomfortable.

So she decided to easen the situation for them. "How about you guys? H-how did you two meet?"

Yongsun peeked at Soyeon next to her with a small smile. "We two met at a birthday party. Whose was it again?"

"Wasn't it JK's?"

The older girl nodded. "Yeah, right. It must've been Jungkook's. I remember I was wearing a sweater because of the sudden temperature drop."

Soyeon laughed out at the memory of this. "True. And I found it funny how someone could go to a birthday party with a sweater."

With a shrug, Yongsun leaned over and grabbed another grape from the plate. "I knew the guys wouldn't care. And it wasn't some fancy party anyway."

"Right, right. Rather a chill gathering at a restaurant."

"And weren't you wearing a sweater, too?"

The younger girl gasped, vigorously shaking her head. Her short black waves sliding over her shoulder. "That wasn't a sweater!"

"It looked like one though.."

"It was just a large fit. You know I prefer large fits," Soyeon protested. Flashing a small grin to Cassandra. "I swear it wasn't a sweater." Cassandra giggled at their bickering. Seeing she had been indeed right with them being actually close to each other.

The kitchen door suddenly burst open. None other than Yongsun's husband standing at the frame. Looking at them puzzled. "Why.. why have you all gathered here?" he eventually laughed with furrowed brows, "Are you hiding?"

"Yeah, maybe," Yongsun rolled her eyes playfully, "And has your little game with Jungkookie ended?"

"Woman! You can't just call Mario Kart a 'little game'," he said sulky, "And no it has not. Quick, drop me some grapes before the next round starts."

"Five seconds before I press start!" they heard Jungkook yell from the other room. Making Seokjin seemingly fuzzy. "Grapes, quick!" he demanded and opened his mouth widely. Yongsun groaned. "You could just eat on your own. No need for me to feed you like a baby," she mumbled then half-amused, half-annoyed as she started placing grapes into his mouth. Him munching happily when it was filled. "Tastes much better when you feed me though," he grinned before rushing out at Jungkook's anew warning. She watched him disappear behind the door and shook her head embarrassed.

"When he's with the guys, I feel like taking care of three toddlers, not just two," she giggled awkwardly. Seeing Cassandra and Soyeon giggling along with her. "He and JK surely share a braincell sometimes," Soyeon added.

"It's funny though," Cassandra smiled then, "And you two really look lovely together."

Yongsun pursed her lips, blushing. "Thanks. It's still a little awkward when he does that in front of others though. Thankfully not in public, but still.." An affectionate smile spreading over her red lips then as her gaze fell onto the grapes. "But I've almost got used to this."

They heard Seokjin's outcry then, clearly having lost that round to the younger guy. And Yongsun sighed, knowing she'd have to listen to his rant about their game on their way home later.

"I feel you though," Soyeon spoke up then, "If Yoongs did anything like that in front of others, I'd probably die."

"I think he'd die himself," Yongsun giggled.

"True," Soyeon laughed under her breath. Agreeing with Yongsun. Yoongi would indeed rather die than ever have her feed him in front of anyone. "He does cute things, though," she said then, before taking a sip from her drink, "Just not in public. Except holding hands."

"I'm almost envious of you guys." Cassandra mumbled then. Giving them an apologetic smile before taking another praline and placing it into her mouth.

The two other women exchanged a glance before Soyeon's lips parted. Sensing a shift in mood in her tone. "Why? Aren't you and Izzy's dad -"

"Oh, god, no. We aren't together," she laughed dryly, "We were just.. sleeping with each other."

Both their lips shaping a small 'oh' and Cassandra quickly waved her hands. "No, no. It's alright. I'm sorry for even bringing this up and ruining the mood."

"Don't say that," Yongsun said with an encouraging smile, "And you don't necessarily need a man anyway." Cassandra nodded, thankful for her words. The door opened once again, startling the three. Eyes round when staring at Taehyung who seemed equally startled as them. "W-what are you doing here?"

Soyeon shrugged with a sly grin. "Nothing. Just gossiping about you guys." He nervously laughed under his breath. With Soyeon he could never be entirely sure if she was only messing with someone or if she actually meant it. "Ah, really? Don't wanna disturb you then."

Grabbing a bottle opener when stopping in his tracks. Noticing Cassandra staring at her daughter in his arms with wide eyes. And he realised she must be surprised. "Oh sorry, she was a bit whiny and I figured out she just wanted someone to hold her," he explained, smiling at the baby who was gripping his shirt and looking at him with big eyes.

She nodded slowly, remembering Isavella's new habit of getting attention. And yet, she was stunned. The sight of him carrying her baby so casually in his arms being a sight she could get used to. But before she could even thank him and take her, he had already rushed out. Leaving them alone again.

Soyeon noticed her eyes lingering on the door and giggled. "At least you still got Taehyung if you can't find anyone else." She was expecting to hear a laugh or joking reaction. However, much to her surprise, the curly-haired girl only pursed her lips. Looking away shyly. "Ehm y-yes, right," she laughed out. And for a moment Soyeon bought it. But only for a moment. She had only been joking but it looked like she had hit a nerve. "Cassandra, could it be that you like him?"

The young woman remained silent. Fumbling with her fingers under the table.

She liked him, didn't see?

It was quite obvious she did and that it wasn't just some small, superficial crush like she had thought first. And that right from the beginning, like the fool she was. However, she would surely not admit that to his best friends' partners.

"Maybe I have a tiny crush on him," she quietly said then. Feeling like a teenager all over again. Cheeks burning when speaking it out loud for the first time. "But it's nothing special, really. And he's busy with Ari anyway. And I don't even think I'd be his type.. So it's all good. I'm content with just being friends with him."

"Sounds like lots of excuses to me," Soyeon countered, arching a brow.

"To me it sounds like you're actually head over heels for him," Yongsun grinned widely, leaning over the table. Cassandra's plan of acting casual and not letting them find out obviously having failed. "I get it in a way though. He's a handsome and nice guy." She paused, thinking for a moment. "And sure, I just met you, but you're very pretty, too!" Cassandra mumbled a 'thank you', knowing Yongsun was only trying to be polite. But next to her and Soyeon, she felt like a potato. "I think the main issue might be Taehyungie," Yongsun continued then, "This boy's quite the mystery to me sometimes. I can't even tell you if you're his type or not 'cause I got no clue what he's into. Probably someone like a best friend I guess."

Soyeon nodded agreeing. "He isn't really the flirty type either. Not that Yoongi was but.. I don't know how to explain it. If Yoongi wants something, he doesn't beat around the bush. He's straightforward. Even without flirting. While Taehyung.."

"Yeah, Taehyung never seemed interested in relationships. In all the years I know him, he never seemed crushing on anyone. So honestly, I'm not even sure how he'd show his interest to someone. He's more the buddy type. He likes befriending people instead."

Cassandra sucked in a breath, nodding understanding. So just as she thought. Her chances with Taehyung were zero. Proving again that there wasn't any point in having hope of any type.

"But," Yongsun said then, "This might be the key. Because he isn't friends with any women, as far as I know. Well, except us -" Her index finger wiggling between her and Soyeon. "-but I don't think that counts here. So the fact he calls you a friend and even invited you to the birthday of his daughter, should definitely be a good sign."

"I think so, too," Soyeon agreed, "He's a bit of a strange guy sometimes. Strange in a good way. So maybe.. I don't know.. Maybe he's showing it in a different way."

Cassandra hummed. Taehyung wasn't an ordinary guy, that she agreed with Soyeon. And to her it had always been obvious this was one of the reasons she felt so attracted to him.

The door opened again, interrupting them for the third time. This time Jimin standing there. Eyeing them with a frown. "Here you are!" he exclaimed. His features softening into a smile. "Was wondering where y'all had disappeared to."

"Speaking of flirty," Yongsun giggled then, "Here we got a prime example of flirty attitude."

"You mean me?" The guy looked seemingly taken aback but also flattered. Smiling shyly then, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not flirty."

"Boy, you look flirty just now."

Yongsun's remark made him burst out laughing. "You're exaggerating a little," he smirked, making Yongsun gasp. Pointing at him frantically. "See, see! Just look at how he smiles now!"

"It's not my fault I got such a cute face," he whined and grabbed a glass from the counter. The initial reason he went to the kitchen for. "Oh, by the way," he faced Cassandra then with a wide smile, "Thanks for picking up the cake for me. I felt awful for not being able to do so, but you saved the party." And Cassandra had to agree with Yongsun.

"Eh, yeah, n-no problem," she quickly said and offered him a smile as well. Watching him disappear into the living room once again.

"You saved Ari's party?" Soyeon smirked then, "If that's not a bonus point-" She was about to say more when she got abruptly interrupted by Seokjin's fretful calling for his wife. "Yong~~! Yong, help! They're trying touching the cake!"

Yongsun dragged a sigh. The twins were obviously acting up again and he had trouble to contain them in bay. So she pushed back the chair and hurried out to help him. Almost bumping into Namjoon who was about to enter the kitchen. He peeked inside, spotting Soyeon and Cassandra there giggling. "We're about to take a photo," he annouced to them, pointing behing him with a dimpled smile. "You coming?"

Soyeon instantly nodded and followed him out. Her boyfriend already pointing to the spot next to him with his chin. Cassandra, however, didn't move. Awkwardly shifting in her seat instead, unsure of whether to follow them or not. They obviously wanted to take a photo with Ari and the cake. And somehow she didn't feel like fitting in there. She might be a friend, but she wasn't one of Taehyung's closest ones like the rest. So being on the photo with them, would probably be weird. A sad sigh escaped her lips.

Why was she always being like this?  Her train of self-pitying thoughts was interrupted when seeing Taehyung standing at the door frame. His prominent brows raising when spotting her there. "Are you coming? We're waiting for you."

»»»

Taehyung closed the door behind the last of his friends. Thankful for the now lasting silence. Even if he loved hanging out with them, it had been quite late by now and he rubbed his tired eyes. Hearing footsteps behind him then.

"We should probably get going, too." He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Cassandra faintly smiling at him. "You're probably drained from the whole evening."

He nodded, yawning. "I'm probably gonna clean the mess in the living room first though." He made his way to the sleeping girls then. Making sure they were covered by the blanket.

"They sleep so peacefully," Cassandra whispered and he sensed her standing beside him.

"Yeah," he whispered back. Glancing at her with a smile as they left the crib behind them. "I-if you want you can stay, you know," he muttered then, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, it's quite late and not to wake up Izzy now that she sleeps."

Cassandra glanced at him for a moment with narrow eyes. "You just want me to help you clean the mess, don't you?"

He laughed out, biting his lip. "So you noticed," he joked along, "I could use some help after all."

She sighed dramatically, flashing him a smirk then. "Fine. I'm gonna help you, but only 'cause I got a big heart."

"So I owe you again," he chuckled as they went to the living room. Starting picking up empty glasses and dirty napkins. "Why do you think you'd owe me?" she asked, stapling empty plates on one hand. "If anything I owe you for all the times you helped me out."

"I'm glad if I could be of any help," he responded, "But I doubt it was that often."

A soft smile ghosted over her lips as she continued cleaning the coffee table. "It was more than you think."

"I didn't do it for you to owe me though," he frowned and placed the glasses next to the plates.

His voice deep. He almost sounded offended.

"Same goes for me."

"Well then," he said and looked down at her with a soft yet firm expression on his features, "Let's just forget about it. Let's do nice things, without thinking we'd owe the other. Friends do nice things for each other all the time after all."

She gave him a nod, accepting his suggestion. And they returned to tidying up in silence. Slowly cleaning up everything, when Cassandra spoke up again after awhile. "So, any plans for tomorrow?"

"Probably sleep, if Ari let's me," he lightly chuckled, plopping tiredly onto the couch. His gaze laying on the white ceiling above them. "It's kinda weird, you know. How could a year pass already?"

"It sounds so cliché, doesn't it?" Cassandra sighed, understanding exactly what he meant. Taking a seat next to him, she let herself sink into it. "People say time flies and they grow up so fast. But it's the truth." He nodded quietly, not averting his eyes from the ceiling. "I don't want Izzy to grow up," she admitted then and he slightly turned his head, glancing at her. Her eyes held something gloomy in them and he knew instantly why. "It's just.. when she grows older, she'll ask questions. And I don't know if I can answer them."

"You mean about her dad, right?"

She nodded silently. Her expression blank.

His gaze went back to the ceiling. "What am I supposed to tell Ari why her uncle is raising her?"

She looked at him briefly before exhaling deeply. A half-hearted laugh escpaing her lips. "We gotta tell them the truth, don't we? Just in a nice way."

"How am I supposed to make 'your parents died in a car crash' sound nice?" he laughed out sarcastically.

"I don't know. How am I supposed to make 'your dad was a jerk and doesn't even know you exist' sound nice?" They exchanged a glance, breaking into a fit of giggles. "We're quite pathetic."

"But we try our best." He pushed himself off the couch then. Giving her a warm smile. "I can clean the rest alone. Don't worry. You can go home."

"Sounds like you wanna get rid of me," she scoffed jokingly and stood up. Grabbing the bag with torn gift wraps from Ari's birthday presents.

He arched a brow at her as he picked up the plates. "You were the one wanting to go home earlier, weren't you?"

She simply shrugged, dumping the bag next to the entrance door. "Maybe I changed my mind."

He hummed, disappearing in the kitchen. "There's still cake left. You want some?" she heard him ask. Making her blink at his random question. "Really? I thought with so many people nothing but crumbs would be left."

"That's why I ordered an extra big one." He was leaning backwards, peeking his head out from the other room, "So do you want some?"

"Obviously!"

Yeah, maybe being just friends with him was enough.

Even if her heart was telling her otherwise. She wouldn't dare risking it and putting it all at stake. Some day she would surely get over her feelings. And until then she simply had to stay patient and endure it.

»»»

next chapter: 1.3 here

---- small crossover based on my jin and yoongi stories!

[i-spaced-sorry]

Enjoy a nice little whatever this is for day 6 of the May Writing Challenge!

Grabbing his Sox hat, he stuffed the rest of his clothes into his backpack and zipped it up.

Stepping out in the early spring morning, he began his walk to the bus stop.

He really didn't want to leave if he was honest, but the yelling had gotten only worse since his mom got sick! It was like every little thing she did in his eyes she did wrong. And Will was no help, what with him spending nights couch surfing at different school friends' bedroom floors, claiming "sleepovers" or "late night studying sessions".

Last night had been the last straw! His mom got violently sick in the bathroom and ended up throwing up blood. After calling EMS and faking nicietes, the minute the front door shut, the smile plastered on his dad's face dropped and he began screaming at the only other person present in the room....Jay.

Jay knew he was taking out his anger in some way, but claiming it's your child's - your own flesh and blood's - fault your wife got sick because he - the child! - asked for her to help him make lunch for everyone is just messed up.

So, when he overheard that his mom was in the clear and her vitals were returing to what they were before, he ran.

He didnt know where he was running to until his feet led him to the steps of the 9th District Police Station. Taking a breath, he stood tall, adjusted the bag on his shoulders and walked inside.

At the front desk, was a brunette, who looked like she had been awake for 36hrs straight and was about ready to go home.

"How can I help you?" She asked with a tone of lack lusterness.

Jay, fiddled with the strings attached to the straps of his bag and looked at the name tag on the desk sergeant.

"Ms. Platt" he began. If his dad taught him anything right, it was to always address someone with Ms. or Mr.

"I need help. My dad is abusive to my mother who has cancer and is emotionally abusive to my older brother and I. I'm running away" (oh the innocence of a 9yr old who hasn't learned to lie).

Sergeant Platt knew CPS would have to do a welfare check to check if the boy was telling the truth, but she also knew that CPS would probably not find anything substantial since the boy says it's mostly a domestic abuse of a parent and emotional abuse on the kids. She also was well aware that as a sergeant it was well within her rights to bring the child right back to the home and when CPS gets brought in they will most likely use the fact that the child admitted to being a flight risk as a reason his word shouldn't be trusted.

After a beat, she smiled and stated, "let me get my friend down here and we can all chat, is that okay?"

Jay just nodded and then followed her into a back room.

"What's your name?" She asked while they waited for her friend to come.

"Jay"

And before they could dive further into conversation, her friend - detective Al Olinsky - walked in.

After explaining the situation to him, the 3 of them talked in great detail about what Jay has observed in his own home, about how his mother is doing physically and mentally, about where Will has been staying, and how Jay feels about everything regarding the matter. To Jay, he enjoyed the fact that they took what he was saying seriously since he knew they could have just put him in a Patrol car and driven him back to Canaryville.

"Okay Jay, I know that your 9, but you seem smart enough to know that CPS will have to do a welfare check to make sure your story aligns. But I know they will send you back into his care. So I'm giving you my card cause the second things turn ugly and Im telling you they will, especially since you have alerted authorities to what's happening, you call me!"

CPS later that morning drove Jay back to his house on 47th and Wallace and after a quick check they determined that Jay was in fact safe in the care of his father.

Later that night, Pat Halstead put his hands on his child and beat him senseless,. fanning "you want something to snitch about? Well now you have something to snitch about"

Once his father left him alone, he pulled the card out from his jeans pocket and dialed the number on the card.

Standing in front of the 21st District, Jay took a breathe, adjusted his bookbag, and opened the door.

"Hi, my name is Jay Halstead. I just transferred from the Guns and Gangs unit at District 5. I'm looking for where the Intelligence Unit is" he said as he walked up to the desk. The desk sergeant was a brunette who looked crabby and one look away from killing someone with just her glare.

"Intelligence Unit is that way" she started.

Then it clicked, "wait, did you say your name is Jay Halstead? As in Jay Halstead who ran away from home at 9 and ended up at the Bridgeport police station?"

Jay stood stunned, "Platt?" He asked as tears welled up in his eyes. All those years ago, with Platt and Olinsky believing him, he not only got out of that house, but also decided he wanted to be a cop.

"You have to go upstairs, you'll be surprised to see who is working in the unit!" Platt stated while she hugged him.

Walking up the final steps to the bullpen, Jay took in the scene in front of him. A set of 10 desks separated in groups of 2's, 4 of those sets in the center of the room and the rest pushed off the side. Seated in one of the desks off to the side next to the file cabinet was none other than the man who saved his life,

"Alvin Olinsky!" Jay breathed out!

All Al could do was just sit there stunned!

[georgiapeach30513]

Now we need the whole nines with little AJ 😂 the boob hurting, the finding out, the bump, Squishers finding out, the family finding out, changing his name, Kitten reacting to the name 😭 PLS IM BEGGING IM ON MY KNEES JUST FOR YOU 🧎🏻‍♀️

AJ was the first Drysdale baby that was a complete surprise…well, they weren’t explicitly trying for a baby. But Blade didn’t do anything to prevent it either. He loved the raw deal without the pressure of checking every month. Blade is basically his father you know.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Anders Jefferson Drysdale

Summary: Blade gets his fifth

Pairings: Blade X Lo

Rating: 🥺🥺

Warnings: Squishers is older 😭😭, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.8K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

You drop the knife down on the counter, and turn and stare right back your husband. He had that dopey look about him, and still so hungry for you. Willow holding on tight to her daddy, while her head rests on his shoulder, her little hand patting on his back, and if he wasn’t so damn hot with his workout clothes, and his sleeves of tattoos on full display, you would be more annoyed.

“What do you want Blade?”

“You look different,” he singsongs, getting a sweet little encore of ‘Mommy’s different’ from Willow.

“I’m wearing green today, yesterday I wore black.”

“Nope, you’re glowing. Those jugs of yours have been spilling over your bra.”

“Steven Blade!”

“Daddy,” Willow leans back and shakes her head at him, “Those are her boobies. Be nice. Say boobies.”

“Mommy’s boobies look bigger.”

“I want big boobies like mommy.”

“No!” he shouts at her, making her giggle at him. “Nobody but mommy gets boobies. Lo?” he looks up at you as you still giggle, “I’m talking about boobies with my daughter.”

“You brought it up,” you remind him, returning to the chopping when he puts Willow down to play with her twin. He walks behind you, wrapping those large arms around you body, taking a deep sniff on your neck, before kissing on the sensitive skin.

“Blade, what are you doing?”

“I need you to take a test.”

“I’m not pregnant. I’m fine. My ‘boobies’ aren’t hurting, I’m not sick, I’m fine.”

“You’ve missed a period,” your movements freeze, and you turn to creepily look at him, “My brain is full of equations, don’t question this too much. But by my guess, I’m thinking your two weeks late.”

“Two weeks?” panicking you walk the two of you to the calendar, and count back, that crazy husband of yours right. “Hmm.”

“And I haven’t held back. And you’ve started to get more sensitive. And even Squishers made a comment about how you looked different. Eggbert is doing that sniffing thing around you that Squish did. Just take a test, and put me out of my misery. My Willie and Elfie are getting too old, and I want a baby.”

You give him a playful growl, “Go to your sister’s then.”

“Lo! Give me a baby. Pretty sure you already are. It’s not a lack of trying.”

“Fable is eight,” Blade bites at your neck, growling about how he knows how old his children are. “You wanting your fifth, Ransom?”

“Ah!” he finally backs away from you, “I despise the day that mom told you that! I am not my father. You take that back.”

“Your father is a great man. There’s worse people to be compared to. You’ve definitely got his ridiculousness,” you have to giggle because he is so ridiculous. His Drysdale showing as he retches. “I’ll take a test!”

“And if you’re not pregnant,” he starts following you through the house. Walking past the playroom, and it gets too quiet.

“Shh, she heard you.”

“You act like my little, ah,” he lets out yip when Fable runs in and stands in front of her dad, giving him a snaggle toothed grin. “Squishers, what are you doing?”

“You…you, you, you, you,” he waits patiently as your daughter tries to collect her thoughts, “You said the p word. Why?”

“There’s a nugget in mommy’s belly,” you wince a bit, because silly nicknames like that stick in your family. “I mean, I don’t actually know.”

“Mommy, do you have a nuggie in that belly? Do you? Why am I always the last to know about these things? Just wait, Beckers! Come here Eggy boy.”

“Do we have to call my beautiful boy that?”

Fable nods her head and waits for Beckett to join her. Slapping on your belly, while she looks at him, “Daddy did it again. He did the chicken poop…”

“You know how to say fertilizer now,” you remind her, already starting to laugh.

“Chicken poop sounds funner. Listen, Eggbert, we’ve been infiltrated again. Willie and Elfie are just now getting trained, and I’m not getting any younger. If there is in fact a Dino nuggie in that belly, I’m giving you the reigns.”

“No. Me don’t want no reigns. Me don’t like training giggle boxes. It’s up to you.”

“If you want something done right. Am I right, mommy?” her lashes bat up at you, and she moves behind you to push you towards the bathroom, “Pee on your stick, and find out. I can’t handle this suspense. And the stress I’m gonna be under. If there’s two in there, we’re giving one to Becks and Azzie. No, James and Iris. No, Lucy and Chris. Let Mimi and Papa handle it. Is it an it or a boy or a girl? It doesn’t matter. Pee on your stick.”

“I’m trying Squish. Out,” you close the door in everyone’s face including Blade’s. You hear the giggling voices of Willow and Elswyth running outside the bathroom, and suddenly you start overthinking.

“Blade, I can’t perform with all of you guys out there.”

“You have peed in front of all of us. We’re needy,” Fable calls out. “You can do it mommy. We just need to know.”

They wait outside the bedroom what seems hours, until you open the door, tears already in your eyes, and you give your big man a nod.

“We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby! If this is just one, I may need another one so I’m not like…”

“Steven Blade!”

“We’ll talk when you’re finished with the Dino nugget.”

“No! Don’t call him that.”

“Dino Nuggies!” Willow shouts, it stuck.

————————————

Blade made things way too obvious by always touching you, and you had two out of four children who didn’t know how to be quiet, Fable and Elswyth. Fable wanted to burst through the door at the estate screaming about the Dino nuggie that was in your belly.

Five kids later, you didn’t even care. But it was hilarious her thinking that she was doing something big. She would tap on someone, and pull them down to her for a quick whisper about your bundle. Waiting until Blade’s mom was last.

Letting little Beckett be the one to crawl in her lap, and tell her how there was a dinosaur in your belly. “A dinosaur? Did mommy eat it?”

“Daddy put it there.”

“Daddy did what?” when she looks up at the two of you, Blade just cups you belly, and you see her sweet tears well up in her eyes. “You’re…you’re having your fifth?”

You giggle a bit but Blade’s face falls flat, “I’m not my father.”

“You are, son. Just embrace it. I still look good for my age. It is a privilege to look like me, and you act,” his mom cuts her eyes over at her husband, and he laughs, “You act nothing like me. Not at all. Nope. You act like Steve.”

“Like that’s any better,” James gives a chuckle, going over to shake Blade’s hand, “I told you when you were just a puny bean pole, you’d fill out. Now look at you, fertile and thick, just like I knew you would be.”

————————————

Frustratingly you try and nurse Suede, but there was nothing that would soothe him. Blade tried holding him, and still your beautiful little boy cried. So much smaller than your other babies, and you wonder if he would get that rotund belly like his siblings. But he wouldn’t if he won’t eat.

You let out a whine looking at Blade, who reaches over to hold him, “Bladey, what am I doing wrong?”

“Babe, he’s new. You didn’t think all the kids were going to precious angels,” Suede lets out a squeal, and Blade apologizes, “You’re an angel, too, son. You’re just really loud.”

You and him hold back your own tears, exhausted, and unsure what to do. The other ones were never like this. He sighs as his parents walk in, his mom looking at your newest bundle of tears instead of joy. “Oh, my sweet Suede-y what’s wrong? Here, let me hold the baby, Blade you comfort Lo. Ran, baby this room is in dire need of some good coffee. Tell BB you’re heading over for the birth special. Suede-y Jefferson, no more tears,” she coos, sitting down on the couch.

It takes a mere moment for your baby to hiccup, trying to catch his breath. Her fingers pets over his skin softly, and she starts singing You Are My Sunshine, “Hey, that’s my song.”

“Blade, shh,” yourself begins to get sleepier with the sound of her voice, and your baby not crying. “Blade?”

“Hmm?” he turns to look at you, and you give him the biggest smile. His mother in a world of her own rocking the sweet babe to sleep.

“Remember one of the names we tossed around?”

“Yes, but we have a Beckett. We don’t need another child named after,” his own gaze watches his mother with tears in her eyes. His dad leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“You look kinda like your daddy, kinda like what I thought your uncle would look like.”

“Mom? I know we said his name was going to be Suede, but.”

“I love that name, and your such a handsome boy. Did you pinch the baby or something?”

“No, it was a name we tossed around in the beginning. And I know that we’ve got Beckett, and Z’s middle name, we’re changing it,” she looks between the two of you, looking confused, and she’s back to looking at your baby when he whimpers. “It sounds good as to what we want thought of calling him.”

“When he’s not being called Dino nuggie. Kitten, can we name him Anders Jefferson? He can go by AJ.”

She pauses, petting over his skin, before leaning over on Ransom’s arm. Her head bobbing as she nods yes. Tears freely flow down her eyes, and Ransom has to wrap his arms around her. “It’s beautiful, but you don’t have to.”

“I want to, Kitten. It seems like he’s got a bit of Anders’ spirit. He hasn’t really stopped crying until you held him.”

“Have you been nothing but tears? We’re gonna to work on that, huh? Anders Jefferson, you were named after two uncles. How very special you are, sweet boy. Do you think you can let mommy hold you, so she can feed you. You’re a little shrimp compared to the other babies.”

She continues her little baby talk to him before walking him over to you. He sniffles a bit, but is calm enough to where he’ll latch on.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispers kissing the top of your head. “Not just for his name. But for giving my baby boy this life. He’s just like his dad, and he loves his babies. So thank you. Ransom, we’re going to get coffee. You two rest, we’ll be back later.”

Masterlist

[voidwritesstuff]

Fleeting Joys

Cw: mentions of war, alusion to ww2. Military themes and alusions to PTSD. Please let me know if theres anything else I should add to the list.

Summary: Lucas and Alphonso share some Fleeting moments of joy amidst their deployment.

Fandom: in sound mind

A/n: I always felt that Lucas had a father/son relationshipp with Alphonso, this "character study" is Centered around a platonic/familial Bond between two men, do not take it out of context.

->Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

--Lucas! -- alphonso yelled, snapping Lucas out of his trance making him look at the source. A smile appears on the face of the young Man as his older friend approaches-- we gotta move. the hell's takin' ya so long,kiddo?

--I uh,...can't manage to fix my collar in a way its not uncomfortable-- the flordian Man answered, flustered and mildly ashamed. "Way to go,Lucas" he thought.

--Ah I see-- Alphonso replied with a teasing yet lighthearted smirk, stepping a little closer to his friend and extending his hands towards his shirt's collar-- lemme see what I can do -- it takes a little bit of rustling the fabric but he manages to fix it-- there, all good kid.

--Thanks-- Lucas answered a little more cheery-- I think I'm good to go now

--Great!-- the older Man patted his companion's back-- c'mon we gotta go

Both make their way through camp, saying hi to some of his fellow teammates. The air smelled of humidity, dirt and mild B.O. Lucas has seen plenty of military camps, in movies at least, and the pictures his dad had shown him; it was different than what he imagined but..it was his home now, at least until he came back home.

--Good thing I fixed yer collar, or Our c.o would have yer head on a pike-- Alphonso half joked playfully pushing his friend

--Oh most defenetly-- the younger Man answered, following along to his companion's joke-- I still dont know how the hell you managed to save my ass from night watch the other day

--Ah I just talked to 'im. I said that you're just still gettin' used to all this-- Alphonso vaguely gestured at the wide expanse of the camp-- You were just lissenin' to the radio, nothin' much. Hell,yer a radio Man so yer technically doing yer job

Lucas erupts in loud laughter, not noticing his companion's face soften at the joy of his friend, Alphonso knew that in war the moments of happiness were few and far between, and he just wanted to try and return the kid to his parents without that Many scratches on him. -- hell, I reckon I was doing my job-- The young Man replied with a big grin-- but also, they were playing a cover of "Hound Dog" by Big Mama Thorton, I had to hear it. It had drums and I.. I guess I just miss playin' 'em

--'m sure you'll have plenty 'o time to play 'em when you get back home kid. Hell, we could even start a band with the rest of the team-- Wheeler answered patting his back.

--I hope so, I miss makin' music. Not radio worth it but..it's therapeutic I guess? -- Lucas added-- I really like the sound of them drums

--I gotcha-- Alphonso reassured-- making music Is fun. Oh hey- we're almost there, hope you don't have a fear of heights

Lucas' eyes filled with excitement-- Don't tell me we're going to fly on a helicopter!

--Yep. It'll drop us close to the objective, but we're still gonna have to walk two days to reach it-- the older Man answered.

--I honestly don't give a crap about walking, It's a freaking helicopter!

Alphonso chuckled at his friend's excitement,he was like a kid in a candy store.-- Alright alright, eager beaver c'mon

After the exciting ride in the helicopter, Alphonso's unit is dropped off. They tredge through thick forests and muddy ground, it had rained the day prior so there was still a mild smell of humidity in the air too. Lucas held on to his rifle just in case, but there was an odd Beauty in the forest. Kinda reminded him of home.

When the night settles in, the unit camps out, they get a small Fire going and some dinner cooked on a stove. Lucas fiddles with his dogtags, unsure of what to help with exactly. His eyes lost in the fire and the dancing flames. Above him the stars shimmer and the moon brings some much needed light to the area, cold air bites at his hands and face, the rest of his body kept warm thanks to his uniform.

--You alright in there kid?-- Alphonso asked patting his back-- ya seem..lost

--What? Oh uhm...'m fine, It's just I dunno what to help with

--Well, maybe ya can just sit here with me n' chat-- Wheeler proposed, he remembers all the jokes he heard about him getting soft over Lucas. The young Man reminded him too much of himself in his golden years, he couldnt help it. But also, he knew the horrors of war and much to his dismay the military ensnared yet another young soul to fight. 

He hoped that if any of them were to make it out alive,it would be Lucas. The boy had his whole life ahead of him, and Wheeler would see it done that the kid would go back home alive.

--Ya sure the other's wont mind?

--It's my damn unit I do what I want-- Alphonso joked, gaining a scoff from his younger companion-- say, ya got anyone waitin' for ya back home?

--My family-- Lucas answered-- n' my dog

--Thats cute. Any girlfriends,boyfriends or partners I need to know about?

Lucas smirked with a blush across his face, he scratched the back of his neck-- not really, haven't had much time to get to know other people, I was the nerd kid in highschool and with boot camp I barely had time to myself, and my drums were my priority. -- then, he processed the rest of his Friend's question-- and what do you mean by "I need to know about"? You plannin somethin'?-- he asked playfully.

--Gotta make a good first impression, y'know? -- Alphonso shrugged with a mischiveous smirk-- plus I want kids to tell my stories to

Lucas almost chokes on his own spit,eyes wide and his blush getting deeper. He looks at his friend and says-- n' ya wonder why people say yer like my dad?

He shrugged-- Guilty, it comes with age I'm afraid -- Wheeler handed him a canteen with water and kept talking-- you'd like to have some mini Lucases runnin' 'round some day?

The younger Man thought for a moment, taking a much needed sip of water. He hands  the canteen back to his Friend and answers-- no clue, I don't personally see the appeal on children but..Maybe It'll change with time, dunno. But I do wanna settle down

-- Watcha thinkin' your ideal Pickett fence life would be like?

--A house, somewhere nice like a lake or a forest-- Lucas started-- a spouse N' a buncha dogs, Good Friends-- he Gently pushed Alphonso-- maybe have my own little band that I get to play with on weekends, and a calm job...Maybe a ranger of some sorts?

Alphonso smiled, making space for another of his teammates to sit with them on the Log. Then he hands lucas the first Plate of their dinner and adds-- ya have it all figured out huh?

The younger Man chuckled under his breath-- not really, but It's a nice thought

Some hours later the unit gets ready to tuck in for the night. Lucas makes himself comfortable on his sleeping bag, turning his back to the Fire,hearing the footsteps of the teammates that were assigned to night watch. He sighs under his breath,missing the comfort of his bed and the weight of his dog against his back, the warm tasty meals and the days spent running around the neighboorhood with his Friends are now Fleeting memories.

--Hey kid?--Alphonso called out taking a Seat beside him, rifle in hand-- everythin' alright?

--Just missin' home-- he whispered back,closing his eyes. The warmth of the Fire soothing his aching bones.

--It'll be alright kid,youll go back home-- he promised, patting his arm-- rest now

--What about you?-- Lucas asked.

--I'll stay up for a little while, don't worry 'bout me-- Alphonso would never admit he was worried like a mother hen. He wanted to make sure the area was safe before he even thought about laying down, he was the captain of this unit for a reason.

Wheeler sees Lucas slowly succumb to sleep and sighs under his breath. "You'll get to go back home kid. I promise" he thought before returning his eyes to the forest around him, in high alert. The only thing soothing him being the shallow breaths and the Rise and fall of his teammates' chests.

[coffyao]

..𝔒𝔥? 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔪𝔢? | 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔠𝔨

Summary:

Football was a thorn to your existence; Nothing special. Nothing exciting to watch. Then you watched Oliver Aiku, a natural-football genius, take the thing that you despised the most into something more of an acquired art form.

This, in turn, leads to an infatuation that you are not sure if it crosses into obsession over his football- or obsession over him. Which is it?

____________________________________________________

"..Your a fan?"

"Yeah, I think your a really good defender and, to be honest, your kinda underrated... you know? haha."

"Ah right,  I really appreciate it. Thanks. Just.. give me your paper, here.."

"Wait.."

You scribbled numbers on your notepad and gave it to him.

"Okay.. Oliver... Aiku... uh.. hey."

"..Yeah?"

"I don't date fans."

"Oh.. no I just wanted to- uh..."

" Look, yeah, I know what your trying to do. I just don't have time for it."

"Oh.. I just.. really admire you.. and..no i just.."

"Thats great, and im glad you admire me. Im grateful even, but.. im just not interested."

"Thats not it-"

He patted your shoulder, a whiff of Creed aventus reaching your nostrils.

He slowly grins at you, gazing at you with a tired expression.

"But I'm sure you will find someone you like."

_____________________________________________________________

You never used to be a football fan...in fact, it was your parents that were truly into the whole kicking the ball into the goal rubbish.

You remembered being an adolescent, the rancid smell of cheesy nachos,  wet hotdogs, and human sweat filling the stadium, feeling physically sick at the millions of stinky people gathering to see equally stinky players.

Its not like you had a choice either since they enthusiastically talked about how you were going to be exhilarated at the ambiance of screaming football fans, and seeing some 'fine' sportsmanship.

But...

'this' is what you were supposed to be excited about?

You might have been a child, but you knew yourself well, and you knew very, very well that this wasn't meant for you.

Too noisy. Too boring.  Too long.

"Mum, dad i wanna go home."  patting both of their arms.

They didn't look at you, so you repeated again, "Mom, dad-"

But there was no use, they were hypnotized, pupils enlarged and entranced by this sight that they call football.

Football.

What was so special about football?

What made people gravitate to this mundane sport? it was nothing spectacular to see.

To adolescent you.. it was a bother. A hindrance, to what you would have rather done.

So.. after a  few hesitant years of going to these matches, you expressed to your parents one day, "I don't wanna go to football matches any more."

It was extremely sunny that day, temperatures transgressing to at least 30 degrees.

"But why?"

"Because I hate it."

Your mom heavily gasped out, while your dad remained stone-faced.

"..i rather do something else.. with my time."

You weren't scared of them but at the same time, not gaining their approval made you uncomfortable.

Talking about what you disliked and liked didn't come naturally, seeking to people-please instead, not to offend, not to hurt.

This was a first for you, temporarily feeling proud of yourself, but quickly feeling increasingly tense as you waited for your parent's reply.

A throat was cleared, making the ice melt immediately.

Your dad wrapped you around in a tight hug, and spoke,

"..I had a feeling you didn't like going with us.. but i didn't listen to my gut. "

Your mom spoke as well, "I'm shocked..  but you really should have told us earlier sweetheart. We would of never.. you know took you if you didn't like it."

..And that was that.

they soon left, air conditioner turned to a maximum while enjoying a cool, ice cream bar.

No more football, no more boring, no more noisy. This was great.

After more years have passed, it was your last year of college, and you were at home, chilling out with one of your best friends.

You took a salty chip and popped it into your mouth, enjoying the prospect of one day moving out to your dream uni.

Your friend kneeled down to their knees, staring at you with puppy eyes.

You said, "What?"

"Look, im sorry im sorry.. I know you don't like it.. but can we..?"

"Ugh.. why? I told you i don't like that stupid sport."

"Yeah but.. look I promise you, this time around, YOU are going to enjoy it."

"..And how?"

"Because... don't worry. You SHALL see."

They took the remote from your hand and clicked to the football channel.

"Hey- I didn't say-"

"Looklooklooklookkkk! There he is!"

"Who?"

"JUST- LOOK."

Your eyes focused on the television screen, scanning for whatever the fuck your friend was going on about.

You lean your body, and the screen cuts to a guy kicking the football across the field, a sharp grin spread along his face as he did it.

Your friend jumped up on the sofa, hands clapping together.

" OH MYY GOD ITS OLIVER AIKUUUUUUUU! DID YOU SEE IT, DID YOU SEE IT?"

"Y-yeah.. Uh.. is this who..?-"

"YESS, YESS, HES LIKE, HES LIKE..  UGH SO BASICIALLY- HES THE  NEW CAPTAIN OF THE JAPAN U-20 TEAM-"

"Okay.. calm down-"

"YOUR NOT GETTING IT THOUGH, JUST LOOK AT HIM!"

You raised your eyebrow and took another glance at him.

His hair was shaggy, with green ends, had different colored...

"...Oh. He has heterochromia. "

"OH MY-"

They stood up, throwing their arms up while making a disgruntled expression.

"OKAY- Okay. Yeah OBVIOUSLY, but what else do you notice about him?"

"Ugh.. this is tiring.. okay."

Your eyes traveled down to his face for a few seconds, lips curling at his quite noticeable scruff.

You looked back at your friend, noticeably making a wide grin.

"..SEE? Your smiling. You liked that he had a bit of scruff going on huh-"

You took your velvet pillow and threw it at their face.

"Ah- shut up."

"He's good-looking, right?", pillow already off and scooched up right next to your personal space.

"Yeah. I guess so."

"He's like.. one of those older guys in those usual guy friend groups that you just can't help but have a crush on. Even the way he smiles-"

So you admitted it, he was attractive. But so are a lot of guys. It didn't mean that he was special.

But..

You did like the fact that he was older. That he was also a captain, so he was like an authoritative figure in a way..

....

Not in that kind of way.

That was your friend's dirty mind speaking.. not yours.. not yours.. okay. Maybe part of it was yours.

But that was as far as the interest went.. until you browsed on the internet and searched him up. You wanted to see why the country was obsessed with this guy..

So, when your parents eventually went to sleep, you browsed on Videotube, watching football matches of Japan-U20.  

The other players were extremely talented in their own way.. but in an unusual sense, you always felt drawn to how Oliver played.

His speed, his ability to swiftly take the ball, his quick reaction.. it was like watching someone who was constantly in their flow. Their zone, as footballers would call it.

This habit of watching a video once a week, became a daily thing, watching a match on the way to college, a match when you got home and a match whilst the lights were off.

You told yourself you still didn't like football.. this was.. simply a taster. Giving it another chance.  You just enjoyed the way they maneuvered the ball, that was it.

In fact, you wanted to give it a chance so much, that you even booked a ticket to watch next week's match, Japan-20 vs Blue Lock.

You were going to see... Oliver in person. his unique play, and his memorable lazy smirk,  you already captured it all in your head.

This wasn't a crush or anything.. it was infatuation over his skills.. at least, in a logical sense at the time.

Next week came in a flash, announcements of the big event making gossip at college, and gossip throughout the streets of Japan.

You wore a basic T-shirt, with denim shorts and trainers. A low-key look that didn't make you stand too much, and a look that averted the eyes of your football-obsessed parents.

You planned everything ahead, making sure that your seat was the furthest away from them, floppy hat packed away in your backpack, ensuring a cover just in case they looked your way.

Before you left the house, you told them, "Hey, I'm going to meet my friend at the park." an excuse that you were hoping wouldn't invite any intruding questions, and luckily it didn't.

You arrived at the stadium an hour early, finding yourself at the back seat watching, snacks bought with you to avoid buying the usual ridiculously pricey food.

"This is boring." You mumbled, opting to go on your phone, waiting for the drills and marching band to end.

Sudden loud chants of "Japan-20!" broke your concentration, realization that the game you were anticipating, was starting.

The teams came out 1 by 1, Blue lock eleven earning mixed receptions of boos and rejoicing, and japan reaching maximum and enthusiastic cheer.

You started to remember why you hated football in the first place.. until you saw Oliver coming out.

It was as if the spotlight was shining on him, handwaves at the audience and a toothy smirk all too uncomfortably familiar.

an unknown emotion was arising.

"Oh my god.. it's him.. oh my god.."  A sentence that you were meant to keep in the abyss of your mind.  

As your mind watched him in the way his quick reflexes would catch the ball, to his brutal shutdown of the other team, made the emotion more unclear than ever.

His swift agility to be able to steal the ball was like watching a peregrine falcon reaching its target, sharp claws wrapping all over its body, and diving up in the air to prevent other birds from catching it.

His aggressive yet calm play was paradoxically satisfying, seeing him change in between personas of taking the ball vigorously, and passing it like it was a feather.

This was the real thing and it was so much better seeing such a delicious luxury in person.

As the match started coming to a close,  a close 3-3 between the two teams,  you jumped from your seat,  shouting as loud as you can shout, "You can do it, Oliver!"

Fists raised in the air, momentarily forgetting that your parents could be in that audience.

A part of you hoped cheering would earn you acknowledgment from him but all it earned you were awkward stares and the increased likelihood that you would be caught.

Quickly realizing this, you took out your sun hat and stuffed it on your head, hoping the eyes on you would go away.

You looked back at the match, loud announcements already declaring that blue lock won.

Even though the loud uproars of the audience helped recoup some of your pride back, you couldn't help but feel a little hurt that Oliver didn't notice your words of encouragement.

But that is to be expected, you are only just a fan after all.

Your just a...

"Hey, I don't know who cheered for me and whatnot, but whoever you are, I really appreciate you~!"

It was his voice. He kept yelling on the microphone.

"Just make sure to cheer for the rest of my team next time, because after all, I'm not the only one who gave it my all today! Thank you!"

He gave a thumbs-up and went to his team.

It was surreal. Oliver Aiku. The one and only gave you acknowledgment.

Happy was an understatement, you felt.. like a zoo animal coming out of its cage for the first time.

Ultimate bliss.

You were going to meet Oliver Aiku no matter what,  whether it be now, or in a fan greeting. You just had to, it wasn't a superficial crush, it was more admirable than that, it was adoration, appreciation over his craft.

It's completely different.

____________________________________________________

Although this rejection was expected, you felt this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

You articulated it all wrong, you wanted to say that you enjoyed his football, that this wasn't because you liked him but that you liked his art.

You wanted to say...

"Look, my teammates are waiting for me.. uh....actually are you the one who cheered me on earlier?"

"Y-yeah i.. did. Look.. i don't want to date you.. I wanted to say.. I want to keep watching you."

"Oh aha gotcha.. wait.. you wanna keep watching me?"

"I... don't like you. I like.. the way you play football.  So much so.. that... I have to keep seeing it."

He rubs his chin in thought.

"..Interestin. very interestin. I've never heard such a peculiar response before. Hm. So then I'm guessing your just a football pervert, huh?"

"What...? No...! I..just..watching you.. has made me realize.. that.. uh.. football isn't that bad after all."

"Oh. right. So what ur saying is, you used to hate football, but watching me has got your head out ur ass and made you like it. Now.. where have I heard that before..?-"

"Oh for fu- no you egotistical clown! if you think im into you, then i think u need ur head out ur ass. Im into.. your football. I have a crush.. yes.. but on the way, you play. That is why.. but i think i made a stupid mistake-"

He puts his hands up, making his usual sarcastic smirk.

"Woah okay, okay calm yourself. haha. Your really easy to rile up....alright.  fine, I'll bite the bait. You wanna know when I'm next playing right?"

"...."

"Well i mean.. after that long-ass match.. ill be taking a deserved break. But.. i might play.. sometime next week. Just for fun, of course. I'll let ya know. In the meantime.. what should i call you?"

"Y/N."

"Cool. so... perverted football weirdo. Gotcha."

" you- and I'll call you... dumbass jerk."

He pats your back heartily while laughing.

"Okay! Dumbass jerk it is! I'll see you later, PFW."

He walks off, jumping into the football bus.

As you watch it leave in a surge of smoke, you can't help but think this isn't what your expectations were at all.

"Perverted football weirdo huh.."

....

"Fucking asshole."

Even though admittedly, you found this a lot more entertaining than you first thought.

-

Thank you for reading chapter, "1."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for the next one!

This Episode: 1.

Next Episode: 2.

[embearsilly]

I stared thinking and I had this idea for a request,,, SO,, reader (he/they) is a dad figure to the benchtrio cause damn they been through a lot,,,, but he's an admin on the server and has creative mode and will do anything for these kids, so it starts off nice, but then the bench trio starts taking advantage of their powers like "can I have some netherite" And reader is like "no tommy, I can't give you that, you have to work for it." And tommy gets all pissy cause he's like "you won't give it to me, your a bad dad!!" And so reader starts doubting everything they did and soon their physical and mental heath declines,,,, just cause these been doing everything for the kids without realizing that it was hurting themself,, the bench trio sees what they're doing and just,, feels so bad. Then the end cause my brain is fried. You can make the end whatever you want, it can be fluffy or you can continue with the angst <3 also please drink water !! Have a great day !!

-your new 🌙💀 anon !!

also, if you see this request out there, it's because I want to see this idea be written in different styles!! :D)

Hello welcome to the family 🌙💀 anon! Im soooooo sorry for this being really late.

I Need It

P!Bench Trio & Admin!Reader

Warnings - Manipulation, gaslighting, thoughts of suicide, attemped suicide

If you are in any way or form not in the right mental health area right now please do not read this and please try your best to help yourself.

Pronouns - They/Him

The wind wistled throughout Y/n’s ears as he built their home in the wonderous land of the Dream SMP. He smiled too himself as he looked on at the finished product of his home from his roof.

“Y/n!” They turned their head to see a blonde shouting for him. He smiled and jumped off of his roof onto the ground.

“Hey Tommy! What’s up?” he questioned the blonde.

“Y/n! I need something to defend myself! Bad is chasing me for no reason at all!” Y/n narrowed his eyes and pulled out his enchanted trident, though he didn’t really need it due to the fact that he was immortal.

Y/n stood infront of Tommy defensivley as he watched Bad approach the two of them.

“Bad why are you chasing Tommy? Be warned if it you have ill intent for the child I will strip you of your lives.” Y/n threatened as Bad saw them he let out a sigh.

“Tommy I would like my armour you stool from me back.” Y/n turned to the boy who gave them a nervous smile. Y/n let out a sigh and spoke.

“Tommy give him back his armour.”

“But he doesn’t need it! He has other sets of netherite armour! I have none!” Y/n frowned and held his hand out infront of Tommy waiting for him to give back the armour.

Tommy let out a huff, “Fine.” He handed the armour to Y/n and they returned it to the demon.

“Thank you Y/n, have a good day."

“You too Bad."

They turned to the boy who was now sulking to himself, Y/n snapped his fingers and in his hands apeared a full set of netherite armour.

The boy’s eyes grew wide as he took the armour, before doing so looking for comfromation from them. They nodded and he proceeded to put on the armour.

“Thank you so much Y/n! Thank you Thank you!” They gave the boy a smile and a pat on the back.

“Just make sure you stay safe alright?” the boy nodded, “And no more stealing.” they added in.

Tommy waved goodbye as he ran off to probably mess around with his friends. Y/n let out a sigh as the walked into the finished product of their home.

“Y/N!!” Y/n jolted awake from their bed as they heard their name being screamed.

“Y/n!!!” He jumped out of bed and basically threw themselve down his stairs. He ran to his door slamming the door open to see Tubbo standing at the entrance of the door.

“Tubbo what’s wrong?” their heart was beating out of their chest as they awaited the boy’s response

“I need a shulker box!”

They paused staring at the boy for a moment, “Wait why?” he questioned him.

“Well I’m working on this huge project and I really need one.” The boy looked exstatic and was even jumping up and down.

“Oh, okay.” he snapped his fingers and in his hand appeared a shulker box. The boy snatched it out of his hands before he even said thank you and ran off.

Somthing inside their heart began to crack. They hoped this would be the last time this would happen.

Y/n smiled as he played with the young piglin named Michael. The young boy loved playing with Y/n and the feeling was mutual for them too.

They turned their attension to the entrance to thhe boy’s room as he heard someone climbing up the ladder.

“Hello, who’s there?” he called out, right as he said that out popped up the enderman hybrid. “Oh hey Ranboo.” they gave the boy a smile and waved to him.

“Hey Y/n, how’s Michael doing?” he smiled to his child.

“Just fine. How are you doing today Ranboo?”

“Oh, well I’m doing quite fine, but I have a question to ask of you.” The hybrid fiddled with his fingers, “more of a favor actually.”

“Oh? and what’s that?"

“Well I heard from Tommy and Tubbo that you gave them really rare things and I was wondering if you could give me somthing too.” Y/n’s heart sank as he heard these words.

“What is it?”

“Could you give me a dragon head?"

As soon as he spoke in his hands appeared the thing he asked for. His face lit up and he quickly thanked them and ran off not saying another word as he left.

“Michael you don’t want anything from me do you?” The young boy tilts his head to the side and smiled.

Y/n stood infront of Tommy with their arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Tommy I can’t just give you a whole stack of netherite.” They turned around and began walking away.

Tommy let out a huff of annoyance, well they did it before why not now. He needed this netherite.. well not really but he wanted it, he then thought of an idea of how to get it.

“Y/n listen! I have to be able to defend myself! W-what if.” he stopped making his voice quiver, “What if he gets out? Then I have nothing to defend myself, and it would be because you wouldn’t help me!”

Y/n froze, ‘my fault?’. When Tommy had been exiled they had been by his side the entire time, even though he blamed them for not doing anything to stop Tubbo from exiling him.

“I guess one stack wouldn’t hurt anything.” Tommy smirked quickly switching to a frown as they turned around to look at him.

They snapped their fingers and a whole stack of netherite appeared in Y/n’s hand. Tommy quickly snatched it from their hands and began counting them.

“Your welcome"

“Yeah yeah, thanks.” he said as he waved his hand at them.

Time went by and the boys kept coming back and asking and asking and asking. Everytime they would give into them whether they gaslit them or guilt tripped them, they always gave in.

Soon the words they said began to get to his head.

Your Fault

Your a horrible friend, father, or parent

You want them to die

Your Fault

Your Fault Your Fault

Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault

Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault

Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault

Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault

Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault Your Fault...

Tommy came up to the home of his friend... more like a supplier now. He needed something from them and he intended on getting it.

He knocked on the door and waited.. and waited.. he knocked once more and waited.. and waited.. he began to get antsy and knocked once again and waited.

“Y/n?!” he shouted for them waiting for them to answer the door. “What’s taking them so long?” he let out a huff and just turned the door knob and entered the home.

Empty.

“Y/n?” He called out again.

Nothing.

Tommy bit his nail and searched around the home for them.

Empty.

They must have just been hanging out with the other two probably! Tommy ran out the home and searched for the other two boys.

Eventually came across them and waved a hello.

“Hey is Y/n with you guys?” he questioned the two. Ranboo shook his head and narrowed his brows.

“Wait he’s not with you? We were just looking for him now too.”

“You don’t think... maybe... all of the things we said made him upset?” Tubbo looked at the other two with a worried gaze.

The trio began to grow extremely anxious and began searching high and low for him. They asked Niki, Phil, and even Sam, but to no avail.

Tubbo and Tommy sat on their bench stressing for their friend and even their father figure.

“Guys! Guys! I just spoke to Ghostbur, he said he saw them at L’manburg!” The other two jumped out of tehir seats and took off in a sprint towards the large crater that used to be L’manburg.

The crater came into view and so did the person they had been loking for. He was sitting over edge of the large cliff legs dangling dangerously below him.

“Y/n!”

Their head perked up slightly, they turned to see the trio running towards them.

They finally reached him and began huffing and puffing out of exhaustion.

“My fault.”

Tommy raised his brows out of confusion.

“What?"

“It was my fault.. everything.. exile.. the explosion.. Dream harming you... all my fault."

They longingly looked over the edge.

“No.. none of that is your fault Y/n!” Tubbo’s hands began to shake as he noticed the hearts on their wrists, they were no longer in creative.

“Y/n? Why aren’t you in creative?” He questioned them.

They gave him a smile and tilted their head to the side.

“Well how else would I make it up to you guys?"

Everything happened so quickly it was all a blur, they couldn’t feel anything as they sat up and fell.

Maybe now they can make up for all the wrongs they did to the three of the boys. He smiled as he fell.

All of a sudden he came to a stop, a hand held onto Y/n's tightly. Confused they looked up to see Tommy struggling to hold onto them.

“Please don’t go!” he yelled at Y/n.

Y/n came back to reality and began to fear what would happen. He couldnt just leave these boy’s just like that. They held tightly onto Tommy’s hand as Ranboo and Tubbo helped pull them up.

“I’m so sorry-“ they were cut off by arms being wrapped around them by the boys.

“We’re so sorry!”

Y/n smiled and patted their heads.

“Everything is okay.. your okay now."

[haitanizzz]

can i request a scenario for megumi with a laid back and chill male reader please. like maybe they're at a special occasion where they have to dance and megumi is panicking tF out while reader is just 🕺🕺 and reader is kissing megumi bc poor bb is so flustered ushfosaifhsa thank you for sparing out time for reading this. have a nice day :)

thank you for requesting hope you enjoy!♡

characters: fushiguro megumi x male reader (2nd pov)

cw: cursing, spelling errors

pure fluff, probably ooc characters, also it's an au where toji is a good guy

-L

megumi opened the door of his room as your eyes took in his appearance. he was dressed in a dark blue tuxedo, hair neatly styled you could barely recognize him.

"what's wrong? do i look weird or-"

"woah.." you couldn't find the words, he just looked so handsome like that.

"megumi are you kidding me? you look amazing holy shit."

"o..oh, well thank you. im glad that you like how i look even though im not used to.. dressing like this." there was a slight blush dusting his cheeks as he looked away in embarrassment. "well it's not everyday that my dad gets married." he sighed.

you took megumi's hand from the doorknob and give him a comforting squeeze.

"it's going to be okay c'mon! there's no need to be nervous! im going to be with you and we're gonna have a good time yeah? is it because you haven't seen him in a while isn't it?"

"yeah that too but im just not exactly sure how to react to all of this, but if it makes him happy then im fine with it." he said with a slight smile on his was and you linked your arm through his.

"then we better get going! we don't wanna miss it now do we? gojo is waiting for us at the gates c'mon!"

"wait gojo? WHY DID YOU CALL HIM-"

-

you step out of the car and close the door behind yourself as you go to the other side of it and open the door for your partner and held out your hand to him. he thanked you and placed his soft hand into yours interlocking your fingers as a sniff was heard from the driver seat.

"they grow up so fast!" gojo said while dramatically covering his mouth and wiping his non-existent tears. megumi just rolled his eyes at him and hurriedly got out of the car and slammed the door. a "have fun kids!" was heard before their teacher drove off.

"im never going to sit in the same car as that idiot ever again." megumi grumbled as he began walking towards the building while you just snickered.

when you two entered the hall almost all eyes were on you and megumi's hold tightened on your hand. you quickly shared a reassuring glance with him then went to search for toji. it wasn't that hard to find him with him towering over almost everyone in the room.

your eyes met with toji's and you felt an unpleasant feeling take over you. well who could blame you? a man twice your size and with a scar on his face is intimidating for sure. you gulped as he was now in front of you eyeing your form.

"n-nice to meet you sir!" you said and offered your hand for a handshake. he firmly took your hand and harshly patted your back then leaned down. he was barely centimeters away as he glared at you from his green eyes.

"if you hurt my son in any way i'll make sure you-"

"dad! stop this already!" you looked over at megumi who had an unamused expression on his face and now toji's attention was all on him his face softening and a smile making it's way up to his face.

"don't call me that."

"aw come on now 'gumi you know i was just joking!"

"but-"

"no."

toji let out a laugh then looked at you again.

"sorry if i scared you there buddy, it was just too funny."

"it's totally fine sir haha.." you looked away in embarrassment. "even it was a joke i can assure you i would never hurt megumi in any way." you answered with a soft smile on your face. both of them stood in silence, stunned at you said and you could see megumi's ears getting red from the corner of your eye.

"i see you got yourself a keeper there son." toji nudged megumi with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows at him. you brusted out laughing while megumi just punched his dad on the shoulder.

-

after sitting through the ceremony you were both free to go but you insisted staying since you knew how much megumi missed his dad.

you were sitting on a chair watching toji and his now wife dancing slowly while holding each other. toji had great taste in women you had to admit. soon some couples joined them and now almost everyone was dancing.

you glanced around the room trying to find megumi and found him at one of the dessert tables with a glass of champagne in his hand. you got up from your seat and sneaked behind him putting your hand on his waist and felt him jump slightly at your touch.

"hey! i thought i told you to don't do that!"

"what can i say? your reactions are just too funny 'gumi." megumi deadpanned at the nickname and you tried to not laugh at his face. you took the glass from his hand and drank the rest of it and put it on the table. the alcohol slightly burned your throat but you paid no mind. you took megumi's hand and dragged him closer to the people that were moving along to the music. "come on megumi, let's dance!"

"wait! i can't-" you ignored his resisting and dragged him to the dance floor. you placed his hands around your shoulders and your own on his waist and started gently swaying. megumi's hold on your shoulder became tighter and was hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

"hey, what's wrong now hm?" he murmured something but you couldn't hear it because of the music and the noise the people made.

you took his chin between your fingers and made him look up to you. you eyes slightly widened when you saw his face. it was so red he looked like he was ready to explode.

"i don't know how to dance." his eyes were glued to the floor too embarrassed to meet yours.

"so what? you don't have to do anything just follow my lead."

"but-"

"you don't have to worry about what other people think okay? just focus on me"

you pressed a soft kiss on his lips and he almost melted against you. you started to move, gently guiding him to match with your moves. you broke the kiss and caressed his face. (which was still red btw)

"see? you're doing just fine."

"thank you." he said and put his forehead against your chest.

toji was looking at you with his wife from the sides, both of them had a soft smile on their faces.

it was past midnight when you both arrived at his dorm. you both were tired but you didn't usually stay with megumi because his room was small. you were stumbling a little, maybe you shouldn't have drank 3 more glass of champagne but it was too good.

extra:

"you should stay here for tonight."

"huh?"

"i said stay for the night. here, with me." he said and pushed the door open, leaving the door open for you to come in.

you hesitantly walk into his room and take off your shoes and sit on his bed.

"i don't want you going home this late while you're drunk."

"hey im not drunk! just a little tipsy-" megumi smacked the back of your head.

"you can wear my clothes come on let's go to sleep."

"aw 'gumi~ you're so sweet aren't you?" he smacked your head again. "OW- OW- okay stop, stop! im sorry!" he let out a small chuckle he leaned down and kissed your head just where he hit it.

"im glad you came with me to the wedding today..i had a great time." as those words passed his lips you tackled him into a hug as he let out a gasp of surprise as his back made contact with his bed. you started kissing him all over his face.

"hey- HEY- stop-" you cut him off with a kiss against his lips.

"i love you megumi." his eyes were wide and quickly he covered his face with his hands.

"i..love you too." he murmured into his hands.

[gangrenados]

dude im so disappointed alfred is dead in titans. its totally unfair. 10/10 for fanfic purposes im just gonna ignore that part so i can imagine pretty boy dickie bringing his babies to meet alfred for the first time

AHHH THIS IS SO CUTE.

(Not proof read)

Dick's heart can't bear more joy as he watches your five year old son through the reviewer mirror, kissing your pregnant belly.

He has been such a good kid, always offering to help you and also saying that he will teach his new baby sibling how to play. Little John wants to be big brother so fast.

Life has taken a turn for the better, letting Dick have what he always desired and much more. He doesn't take this joy for granted, nobody in the vigilante business would do it anyway.

Years of witnessing the horrors of humanity as you do your best to make the world a better place left you praising the little things in life. At this point waking up without back pain and a nice bowl of his favorite cereal is enough to put Dick in a good mood for the rest of the day.

"You good, my love?" He nods, not sure if the butterflies in his stomach is due happiness or nervousness. Whatever the case might be, it's to late back down.

After years of miscommunication between Bruce and Dick has left the man grow old without witnessing the ups and downs of becoming a grandparent. Such a funny thing considering how desperate Bruce was back in the day about using protection and not making him any grandkids.

Dick even remembers that awkward day when Bruce 'gifted' him an entire box full of condoms since "You never know" might happen.

Alfred was one of his torturers too, but unlike Bruce the butler didn't hesitated to tell Dick the atrocities that might happen to him if he didn't use some protection. It was so mortifying having to hear about the nastiest STDS and it's symptoms.

Dick knew that meant the better for him, but those are conversations he will never be able to forget.

Oh Alfred! Another victim in that miscommunication issue that make Dick fly on his own and make a name for himself. All the things there were unsaid, all those bottle up feelings left hanging between a kid and what grew to be his grandfather.

Dick felt his heart tighten at the memories, the good and the bad, and how Alfred always was there for giving him a hand in case of need. He has been so selfish.

"This is so big!" Your kid said in amusement, not taking his little hands from the fogged mirror as he saw the big mansion approach.

Dick laughed at his son behavior, he was like him so many years ago." Yes it is buddy, wait to see the pool. You might like it."

And the time passes, rather quickly for Dick liking, and before he notices, he's helping you go up those little stairs as your kid is already knocking on the door and doing whatever he can to get to that promised pool.

"John wait-" Dick's cut by the sound of the front door opening, there's a tall and thin man dressed in elegant yet comfortable clothes looking down at this little boy who looking back up with curiosity.

"My goodness...." Alfred mumbles as he notices how this strange kid is the spitting sight of Dick when he was a little boy, when he just came into Wayne's manor.

Dick holds his breath, grabbing your hand firmly as he tries to find the words to break the ice. "Hi."

That's the best he can come up with once he gets the enough strength to go and grab his kid. "Long time no see, right?"

"Alfred you don't need to attend the door-" another voice appears and in short time Bruce Wayne puts a foot in the scene, being forgotten by everyone else since the participants are too absorbed in their own emotions to acknowledge the rest.

"Master Dick, you're back!" Alfred says with glee, in his mouth an smile appears as he finally accepts this. His old soul finding content to be able to see the little circus boy again, just slightly different now.

Bruce swallows dryly, not knowing how to process this, and Dick feels the need to push back the overbearing emotions that want to present themselves.

"Yeah," He says dumbfounded, caught in the emotional part of this family reunion.

"Who are these people, dad?" John dared to ask, tugging at Dick's shirt and causing his dad to come back to reality.

Alfred and Bruce's eyes widened with surprise at the boy little words, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Dick.

" Uh, em, this is my family. My wife y/n and my son John. We were passing by and decided to pay a little visit, hope you don't mind." You pursued your lips in a thin line at Dick's obvious lie, at least he was talking to his family face to face.

"So you have a family?" All eyes fell on Bruce, and Dick stiffen in preparation to hear what he had to say." And I can see there's another baby coming. Are you happy, son?"

The question caught Dick off guard, he frowned before saying." Yes, I am, Bruce."

"Good, I'm glad you are." Such a simple answer held many emotions behind it, to summarize it there was a big chance Bruce was just happy to see Dick having that sweet life.

And he couldn't deny that watch Alfred bonding with his great grandson was a sight he never knew he would get to see.

Bruce walked up to Dick, patting his shoulder with pride. "There's a lot of things we need to caught on."

Dick intertwines his hand with yours, gently pulling you closer to him as he offers one of those smile of his. "Sure there are."

[fandom-monium]

Kinky but Not Really

Summary: In which you make an odd request, and Spencer tries to fulfill it. “I don’t want to disrespect you...”

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, established relationships (blegh), light use of sexual themes including light degradation, light violence, and the slamming into walls (nothing explicitly sexual or nsfw bc im a wimp), specifically post-prison Reid, ft. Garvez and Rossi

Spencer loves you. He’s never doubted that for a second.

Your laugh as you throw your head back. Your eyes, the way they crinkle when you grin too wide. Even your style, whether you’re in joggers or suits, just does something to him he can't quite explain. Really, he loves you. 

Even if you’re weird.

Spencer knew what he was getting into, okay? He didn’t consider it earlier in your friendship, but as time went on and you two grew more comfortable around each other it became apparent that he wasn’t the only… outlier in the team. By the time you officially got together, he was already used to it.

But somehow you still manage to surprise him.

“You want me to what?” 

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” You wince as Spencer coughs. With his sleeve, he wipes the coffee dribbling down his chin, staring at you as if someone hit you over the head. It has to be the only viable explanation, considering what you’ve just asked him. “But hear me out.”

Spencer sits up and sets his mug on the coffee table. “Wh...what? Why? No-what? When?”

You wring your hands together, shifting your weight foot to foot as he squints at you. “Okay. When: um, some time after you came back from prison? I think? Why, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you.” 

“I don’t know, (Your Name),” Spencer rolls his lips together, anything and everything that could possibly go wrong racing through his mind. 

“Nothing extreme! I don’t expect you to slap me across the face⏤”

“Oh my god⏤”

“Just small things! Start off light,” You think for a moment. “Like shoving me around or smacking me. Calling me names.”

“I hear where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to…” He flushes, his voice hushed like what he's about to say is forbidden, “disrespect you.”

You take his hands in yours with a bright smile, “Hon, I love you, but please. I’m the one asking you to get violent with me.”

“What the-when did you up your demands?”

You continue, “Like, if you think about it, you’d be doing me a favor. Respecting my wishes by ‘disrespecting’ me. So, what do you think?” You watch him carefully, legs tucked under you, a hopeful sparkle in your eyes. He can almost see the dog tail wagging behind you.

How can he say no?

"Alright, if that's what you really want," Spencer sighs, smiling as you break out into a grin. He laughs when you tackle him into the couch, thanking him repeatedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. But starting tomorrow.”

“That’s fine!” You sit up, smiling down at him. Your lips wiggle as you try to suppress your anticipation. “No pressure, just do what you feel comfortable with and we’ll see from there?”

Spencer bites his lip and nods. “Sure.”

⏤

The men of the BAU are distinct; you can tell just by looking at them.

David Rossi, though the eldest, the senior, is suave and has a level of sophistication that could only come with age. It’s in his blazers, his stride, the warm yet knowing eyes. A reassurance that eases the people around him.

Matt Simmons rocks the young dad vibes, with the smooth-shaven face and simple clothing. Not to mention a smile that makes him good with both children and adults alike.

Then there’s Luke.

“You!”

Luke nearly falls out of his chair as Garcia stomps over, sitting up in attention as the click of her pumps grow nearer. “What? What happened?”

“You! You happened,” Garcia hisses, looming over him while Rossi comes up from behind. 

“Penelope, we don’t know for sure⏤”

“Who else could possibly do this? Matt and you could never. Only this troll could have done this,” She whips back on Luke, her eyes⏤usually bright with mischief⏤burning and accusatory. “Fix it!”

And just to tick her off, because that’s the purpose of their relationship: “No.” 

She sputters, fuming pink as her lipstick. And as Luke revels in the oncoming eruption, sneering at Garcia, Rossi⏤that wise geezer⏤squints at him.

“You don’t know what we’re talking about, do you?”

“... Not a clue.”

Maybe I should've retired. Rossi sighs, “Spencer and (Your Name) have been off today, and we think they’re having a fight.”

“And you think I have something to do with that?” Luke's face pinches in offense.

“You didn't see them today, have you?" 

"No?"

Garcia, shaking off her fury, is more than ready to spill the tea. "Kay, so this morning on the way up, I saw Spencer and (Your Name) waiting for the elevator and Spencer just snatched their coffee. And he didn’t even bother to let them into the elevator first.”

Luke frowns, “I mean, it's a bit ungentlemanly but I don’t think that means they’re fighting.”

(Had she shared the lift, she would have seen how apologetic Spencer was, nearly bursting into tears as he hands you the cup of coffee, throwing you whatever cash he has.)

“And during lunch I caught them down the hall by the break room,” Rossi recounts, wincing at the image, “They were talking in hushed tones, then Spencer shoved passed (Your Name) and stalked off.”

(If he’d check on you, he might have caught the proud gleam in your eyes, grinning wide at Spencer’s attempt at getting rough with you.)

“And you still think I’m involved?” Luke raises an eyebrow at Garcia.

She’s completely unapologetic as she scoffs, “Listen, I don’t know how Spencer can stand being friends with you, but clearly you influenced him in some way because before he met you, he was my sweet summer child. Now…” She withholds a sob, Rossi sympathetically patting her shoulder. “You’ve tainted him!”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Then don’t,” Garcia sniffs, drying away tears. “Just bring our Spencer back!”

“Bring me back from what?”

They jump in unison, turning to find Spencer has returned from his break and is now back at his desk. He eyes them curiously as they fumble for an explanation.

“Hey, Doc,” Luke, deciding to end all this turmoil, asks, “Are you and (Your Name) having uh... lovers quarrel?” 

“A what?”

Garcia shoots him a look, “A ‘lovers quarrel’? Really?”

“Well, I doubt they’re fighting, and honestly a lovers quarrel sounds much less intense than⏤you know⏤fighting.”

“No, we are not fighting. Why would you think⏤oh, you saw...” Spencer’s face falls, melting into embarrassment. 

"Saw? Son, we witnessed," Rossi huffs as he crosses his arms and stares down Spencer. "Would you care to explain?"

"I know what you're thinking, but I swear it's not what it looks like. This is..." After his explanation, his embarrassed flush only deepens at their mortified expressions. 

"I've never wanted to be this close to you."

"My sweet summer child is no longer."

"Guys, chill. I for one am glad Spencer is willing to…” Luke gives him an awkward smile, “keep it interesting. The best relationships take effort, right?”

Spencer hums, nodding, “Exactly. We’re doing great⏤”

“Hey, guys,” You greet as usual.

Without missing a beat, he faces you and snaps, “Damn it, (Your Name), for once stop running your mouth and get me a drink.”

Luke, Garcia, and Rossi freeze, gaze switching between Spencer and you, waiting with bated breath. They haven’t seen Spencer remotely like this, not since prison. And despite knowing that you asked for this, they’re fully prepared to throw themselves in front of him just in case. 

But instead of reacting violently as they expected, you pause, taking his poor attempt at a glare in stride. Then you smile, heading to the coffee machine. “Sure, no problem.”

Spencer turns back to them. “See? B-better than ever...”

“Dude, are you crying?”

⏤

“So you couldn't do it, huh?"

Shoulders drooping from exhaustion, Spencer slumps against your desk and sighs, “No, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Thanks for trying though. As a reward, let’s get take-out. My treat." You press a kiss to his cheek, but the smile you shoot him only serves to make his heart sink. “Meet me at the elevator, k? I’ll get my things.”

“Okay...” As Spencer shrugs on his satchel, he can’t help the guilt squirming in his stomach. Why does he feel like he disappointed you? Or more accurately⏤didn’t meet your expectations. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of disputes and as Luke put it, “lovers quarrels”, but never has he felt so… defeated.

Is this what failure feels like? It sucks.

So as the elevator shuts, as it dings with every descended level, as you babble about what you should have for dinner, Spencer makes an executive decision. 

A final stand, if you will.

You turn to Spencer, “So, what do you want for dinner⏤”

You yelp as your back hits the wall, the back of your head cushioned by Spencer’s palm because he’d rather kill himself than hurt you, pressing his body against yours. Warmth envelopes him, and as you meet his gaze, he musters all the dark emotions he can, the side of him he didn’t realize he had until prison. He feels it⏤the fury, the disgust, the merciless violence⏤bubble to the surface, and he can’t deny the satisfaction he gets seeing your eyes wide with shock; the entire day you’ve seen him coming, taking every one of his attempts like a joke in spite of his best efforts.

At least now he feels like he’s got the upper-hand.

Spencer leans in, bumping his nose against yours in an Inuit kiss. It’s a gentle contrast to his next words, and as your breath hitches, he bites back a smirk, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“What I want is for you to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Your jaw slackens.

The elevator dings and you both jump, Spencer quickly pulling away from you as the door opens to the parking garage. Luckily, no one else is around and Spencer leads the way as you head for your car. But you’re silent as you walk, and he wonders if he went too far. Was he too rough? Disrespectful?

“Hey, (Your Name), are you⏤” Spencer looks over his shoulder, only to halt at your expression. 

You give him a toothy grin, face flushed and eyes crinkling as you tilt your head at him. “Yes?”

...Ah. If you keep looking at him like that, his heart might burst.

Letting his bag drop at his side, Spencer pulls you into a tight hug, and for a moment you sway together, hearts beating in time, breathing steady.

Spencer sighs, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay, I don’t get it either!”

He smiles into your shoulder, chuckling. Yeah, he loves you.

Especially because you’re weird.

⏤

AN: hello took a break from studying and wrote this trash at 2 am whoops

to the user that requested some rough d/s smut with degradation and rough play, im sorry but my asexual ass just could not with this one. but as a kinky asexual i rolled with it✨

pls take the “rough” play and “degradation” lightly. it’s not supposed to be accurate representation. this is just reader and spencer experimenting and having fun!!

i love that yall have the hots for post-prison reid while im over here just wanting to tuck him into bed and kill anyone that brings him harm😳

[sunrisefairy]

Sketches

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Y/N likes drawing people. More specifically, she likes drawing George Weasley. Which is fine, until she loses her notebook and George is the one who finds it. 

A/N: Okay so because of lockdown and me having legit nothing to do i spent the last 2 days writing this fic for @teawiththeweasleys​ writing challenge and i couldnt wait to share it with you. im lowkey very proud of it so i hope you all like it 

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines message me if you would like to be added!

Ever since Y/N was a little girl she was always drawing whether it was scribbles of her family, animals, magical creatures or plants, you could always find the girl with a pencil and paper somewhere nearby. For as long as she could remember her home was covered in her drawings, Y/N’s mum and dad would frame and hang up all of their daughters’ drawings all over the walls. They were so proud of Y/N’s creativity and encouraged her to keep creating her art. It had become a tradition that every year for her birthday Y/N would receive a new notebook and pencils form her parents and it was always her most cherished gift.

Over the last few years Y/N has become very intrigued with drawing faces, she loved how she could capture a person’s emotion with just some charcoal and parchment. More recently when Y/N was sketching she’d try to focus on the subtle and small features that make humans unique and beautiful, may it be the way their eyebrows arched in curiosity or the dimples and freckles etched into their skin or small wrinkles that danced near their eyes when they smiled. Y/N loved it all.

Because Y/N was so captivated with how facial features made everyone unique she found herself draw a particular ginger a lot more than anyone else. George Weasley. Everybody at Hogwarts knew George Weasley was the twin to the confident and loud Fred Weasley. And being that they are identical twins they look very similar. Y/N found it fascinating trying to pinpoint their minor physical differences and she had become quite good at it.

Her brown leather notebook, which if it wasn’t in her hand was usually found stuffed in her book bag, was full of sketches of George. It started of gradual, her drawings of the sweet boy. Y/N was usually found sitting on a bench in the courtyard if the weather was nice, drawing anyone she saw nearby and normally it was someone new each time. But when her eyes landed on the loud group of Gryffindor boys, she felt a pull to the tall boy with fiery hair who was standing next to his twin, both taking turns to tell a story which had the rest of the group engrossed. Y/N wanted to challenge herself, it was simple, she wanted to capture the features that made an identical twin unique.

Y/N spent the last few weeks ‘studying’ George in a very non-threatening and not at all creepy way. The pair had a few classes together being in the same year at school but the two hadn’t really spoken much to each other. So, Y/N admired from afar, normally from across the great hall or in class. She quickly learnt that George’s face was longer than his brothers, his eyes were more slanted, and his lips had a curve in them that was more prominent when he smiled, something he does a lot, Y/N observed.

~~~

The weather was particularly nice on this Saturday afternoon, so naturally Y/N found herself on a bench in the courtyard with her pencil tin open and a range of charcoals scattered around her as she doodled in her notebook (the one which wasn’t unofficially dedicated to George).

“Hello there little Gryffindors-” Y/N heard a voice call from nearby, the voice belonging to Fred Weasley. George was standing next to his twin and the duo were chatting to some unsuspecting first years.

“-anyone fancy a nougat? They are delicious” George finished; the twins shared a mischievous glance at each other.

Y/N quickly grabbed her other notebook and some charcoal and began sketching the boy’s face focusing on the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed at the poor Gryffindor who accepted the free candy which turned out to be a nosebleed nougat. Y/N was absorbed in her sketching she didn’t notice her best friend sit next to her, peering over her shoulder.

“Ah, drawing your lover boy again I see” Alicia chuckled as Y/N slammed the book shut.

“He’s not my lover boy, I’ve already told you; I draw him to-”

“-capture the features that make an identical twin unique. Sure, so if I flick through your other notebooks, I’ll find one dedicated to Fred too then?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “shut up.”

“Come on creeper, we told the others we’d hang out today.” Alicia pulled on Y/N’s hand as she quickly threw her notebooks and pencil tin in her book bag.

“Merlin, hang on! You’re gonna rip my arm out of its socket!” Y/N giggles hoisting her bag strap higher up her shoulder.

The two girls walked off, arms linked and laughing, neither one noticed the lone notebook that was left on the bench.

~~~

George, Fred and Lee were heading towards the great hall after their amusing interaction with a group of first years when the younger twin noticed a brown book perched on a bench. He detoured that way to pick it up, flicking through the pages in hopes he will find who it belongs to so he can return it.

George furrowed his brows as he dove deeper into the book. He expected it to be filled with notes and writing but he was not expecting to see drawings of people; of him and Fred. But as he looked closer, he quickly realised that they weren’t sketches of him and Fred, just himself.

“Oi! What are you doing? We’re gonna be late for dinner” Fred’s voice pulled him back. George shoved the notebook in his pants pocket and hurried after his twin very confused as to why the notebook was filled with drawings of him.

Later that night George found himself sitting on his bed in his dorm room flipping through the notebook. These drawings were incredible, whoever it belonged to had some serious talent but he couldn’t get over why someone had drawn him, let alone multiple drawings. Each sketch was different to the last though, some were of his whole face others just of his eyes or mouth. George was in awe of the skill this person had; they had managed to capture his face perfectly.

Some might view finding a notebook filled of drawings of themselves a little creepy, however George Weasley found it flattering. You see, for his whole life, George has seen himself as the other half of Fred. Most people in their lives couldn’t tell the pair apart and opted to talk to them and refer to them almost as if they were one person as FredandGeorge and not Fred and George. This notebook was proof that someone out there noticed George as a singular person, an individual, which made George’s heart flutter.

~~~

“Oh godric” Y/N mumbles pouring out the contents of her book bag on the table.

“Hey, Y/N relax. I’m sure it will turn up eventually.” Alicia says in attempt to calm her friend down.

Y/N ran her hands through her hair, very stressed. She had been searching for her notebook all morning with no luck worried that the wrong person had found it and would deem her a creepy stalker.

“How can I relax when my notebook-the notebook which is filled with drawings of George Weasley-has gone missing. Oh merlin, whoever has it will most likely recognise the drawings of George and give it to him and he’ll eventually find out that it belongs to me and think I’m a freak” Y/N’s arms are frantically waving around to empathise her point as she paces up and down the room.

Alicia stops in front of her friend, placing her hands on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly “Y/N breath. You’ve told me a million times that those drawings are just about capturing someone’s facial features, right? It’s not like you have a crush on the guy so it doesn’t matter if anyone thinks that, because it’s not true.”

Y/N’s sketches of George Weasley had started just as Alicia said but it quickly turned into Y/N possessing a small, okay maybe huge crush on the red head and her trying to find any excuse to stare at him and draw. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest at the thought of George being the one to find her notebook. There was no way George wouldn’t be freaked out and think Y/N had some weird obsession with him.

“Okay so when was the last time you remember having your book?” Alicia questions.

Y/N racks her brain trying to remember, “yesterday afternoon. In the courtyard on that bench, I was drawing him when you came over. I’m sure I put it in my bag but I haven’t seen it since.”

Alicia nodded, the two deciding that was the best place to start.

Y/N practically sprints to the courtyard, luckily there wasn’t many students here, giving it was a Sunday morning and everyone was probably still sleeping. The two girls look around trying to spot the leather book. Y/N sighs in defeat, collapsing onto the bench and groaing into her hands.

“Bloody hell, I can’t believe I lost it. I’m so stupid”

“Err, Y/N” Alicia nudged her friend’s shoulder.

“Geez, thanks Alicia, you’re meant to say ‘No Y/N you’re not stupid’”

Alicia widened her eyes at Y/N before glancing behind her, “look”.

Y/N follows her gaze and freezes. George Weasley was walking towards them, that in itself was strange but it wasn’t until Y/N looked down at George’s hand and noticed the missing notebook.

“Oh no.”

George had figured whoever misplaced the notebook would probably come back to the last place they had it to search for it. He was hoping for that at least. Not only did he want to return the book to its rightful owner, he also wanted to thank them for seeing him, for noticing him.

As George rounded the corner his eyes scanned the courtyard and were met with Alicia Spinnit and Y/N L/N sitting on the same bench he’d found the notebook on, bingo. Judging by Y/N’s wide eyes that were glued to the notebook in his hand and how Alicia gave her a pat on the shoulder before disappearing, George figured the drawings were the work of Y/N. George’s heart sped up with this information. The two of them weren’t close but were friendly having shared some classes together. George had caught himself on more than one occasion glancing at Y/N during lessons and mealtimes, wondering what it would be like to get to know her. Guess now he has a chance.

His feet stopped a few paces in front of the bench as Y/N gawked up at him.

George cleared his throat, “uh I believe this belongs to you?”

Y/N basically snatches the notebook from his fingers, feeling insanely embarrassed and when Y/N is embarrassed, she rambles. “Oh merlin, I’m so sorry! I’m guessing you looked through it, of course you did. I would have too if I stumbled across a stranger’s book. I’m also guessing you realised all the drawings were of you. Look I’m not some stalker, I swear. Like I’m not some girl that has a massive crush on you and decided to fill a notebook with drawings of you… Well I do have a crush on you. But I promise I didn’t mean to be creepy. I just, I like drawing people and you have a nice face.” Y/N chews on her bottom lip, forcing herself to shut up.

George opens his mouth and closes it a few times as he processes the girl’s words. “Wow, um- I want you to know that I don’t think you’re creepy at all. I was actually really flattered looking through your pictures. It’s nice to know someone sees me as me and not as an extension of Fred.”

The two stare at each other for a few moments, neither one knowing what to say.

George moves to sit beside Y/N, close enough that their thighs are touching, “they are really good by the way. The drawings I mean. You’re very talented.”

Y/N blushes at his words, “thank you. I don’t normally share my art, with the exception of my parents and Alicia.”

George places a hand over his heart, “well in that case I feel very honoured.” He runs his fingers through his hair as Y/N giggles before continuing, “I know we aren’t super close and I kind of hate that it’s taken me this long to ask but would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like a date.”

Y/N fiddles with the notebook in her lap trying to hide her excitement “for sure, I’d love that.”

George lets out a sigh of relief, “great, well what are you up to right now? Maybe we can hang out and you can draw more pictures of my handsome face.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and playfully shoves at his side “careful, your head might explode with all that ego. But yes I’d love to hang out with you right now.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”