#i hope i articulated this well but if there's part of this that needs better clarifying just lemme know fhhkkkhgfff

[radellama]

Do you outline your plots? If yes, what does an outline look like?

Do you outline your plots? If yes, what does an outline look like?

Ooh boy do I ever. This is something that I've struggled with for YEARS and it's taken a lot of self reflection, refinement and a bachelor's degree to figure out how I work. To quote one of my greatest creative influences:

"I think I realized very early on that you can spend a lot of time constructing a really perfect scene in final draft and just end up throwing it away because you didn't figure out that mathematics of the story first."

- Brit Marling

In general, I tend to get carried away with my ideas and craft stories that quickly become more grand and elaborate the more I work on them. I love layers and thoughtful execution of characters and plot, so I want to pass that on to my readers, too. But, when my ideas become so dense, it's hard to keep up and make sure that all my details fall into place and that I'm not fucking myself over. As I'm a more visual thinker, I've found it most helpful with my largest stories to just write out the important moments for plot and characters that I absolutely MUST have in the story, and then pair them in little groups that work well together. Then, when I've got enough food a nice and weighty chapter/section, I start ordering those groups into the greater narrative and seeing what order will best suit the flow of the story. This stage, when ordering clusters of plot and character moments, is often where I'm able to let that gut instinct take over and do what feels right - I've worked hard at analysing and creating stories for so long that I trust myself with what feels right, and arrange it like a puzzle. Then, when there's an order that makes sense to me, I can fill in the gaps and ensure things flow nicely and that the parts that are important to me are given room to breathe. This helps me in multiple ways, because not only do I have a conspiracy board that clearly outlines the plot, but I also have a checklist per chapter/section of things I need to hit. Visually seeing the plot points in front of me helps immensely, and I'll often draw concept art or make calendars/timelines to help me as well. I've found that when I've set up enough stuff that I'm confident in knowing what the goal is for that section of writing, I won't get as lost or distracted or overwhelmed by the greater narrative. And while I love the visual on the paper, and usually stick them up on my wall as encouragement/reminders, I'll usually type up everything into a document so that it's easier for me to find particular things quickly with control+f. And even then, I'm often adding comments and notes to myself for things to research or focus on when writing haha.

It's just really important to me to get all the details I want into the work, as I hate reading it back after it's too late and realising I forgot a part that was super important to me in the early concept!! Or to read it over and realise there's a fucking plot hole or massive oversight that irks me to no end!! I don't do EVERYTHING in as dramatic a detail as this, smaller scopes don't need as much planning when I know what I'm doing, but the general concept of breaking things down and giving myself a clear guide in smaller chunks is what helps keep me on track and avoid executive dysfunction issues, and piecing together a story like a puzzle is super fun for me.

Send me some writing asks

[wholoveseggs]

I am begging you can you please make a Damon and Elijah fic? I didn't know this ship even existed but I'm so fuckin invested in it. You can make up the story line and everything, the only thing I ask is that Elijah is the dominant one and that Elena doesn't support their relationship but they simply don't care what she thinks anymore?

Thank you thank you thank you🫶🫶🫶

Respect

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah puts Damon in his place, and demands he show him a little more than respect.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I was giggling like crazy writing this (its my fav Elijah ship) Unfortunately I didn't include Elena, but we all know she would be jealous as fuck... (of who? well... that's up to you...) ♡♡

2.9k words - Warnings: smut, this is just a alternate version of the iconic pencil scene, Elijah in his middle part menace era, dom!elijah, sub!damon, blowjobs, face-fucking, Damon being an Elijah simp...

At first, Damon just saw Elijah as the enemy, simple, straightforward, an asshole that just had to go.

He was a threat and Damon was an expert on handling threats, especially when it came to the safety of those he cared about. He wasn't afraid to throw punches, not afraid to pull out the stops and go all out.

But then things changed.

Things changed and he realized that maybe he and Elijah had more in common than he thought, the man was cunning and calculating, he could be dangerous when he needed to be, and Damon would be lying if he said that it didn't scare the hell out of him.

Elijah was a mystery that he wanted to solve, he wanted to figure out just how deep his intelligence went, how far his knowledge spanned. He was curious about him, he wanted to learn every little detail and find out what made him tick.

Damon knew what he was to woman, he would wield his good looks like a weapon, his charm was another weapon, his wit was one too.

But now he truly understood what it was like to be on the receiving end of such charisma, it was addicting, and he was hooked.

Elijah's power and dominance was something that drew him in and held him there. He wanted nothing more than to submit to him, to surrender and let him do as he pleased. It was a foreign feeling, one he wasn't exactly comfortable with… but he couldn't resist him.

The way Elijah was able to command his attention and keep it was intoxicating, his presence alone demanded respect, but when he opened his mouth, the words that came out were pure elegance, and Damon found himself captivated by his smooth tone, his articulation was flawless.

He was a true gentleman.

He was everything Damon was not.

So what did Damon do? He took all these new and uncomfortable feelings and did what he always did. Antagonize.

He would try his best to push Elijah's buttons, hoping for a reaction, an emotion, anything to give him a clue on what was going through his mind. But to his dismay, the man would not budge, and it just left Damon wanting more.

He knew he needed to get his attention, and Damon still was determined to protect Elena at all costs, so he decided to take it further, the more dangerous the stunt, the better.

Damon sauntered into the Lockwood mansion, his signature smirk firmly in place. Today was a simple fact finding mission. All he wanted to do was suss out Elijah's weaknesses, find out if he could be manipulated, maybe find a way to control him.

That's all. He told himself, making his way deeper into the house, looking for the original.

It wasn't long until he spotted the older vampire, who was chatting away with Carol. He watched him, noticing how his body language screamed regal and refined.

Damon didn't want to admit it, but he was nervous, this was the first time they were officially meeting. The last time Elijah ripped out the hearts of two vampires right in front of him and the time before that Damon drove a coat hanger through Elijah's heart. Not the best first impression.

He could feel his heart beat quicken, and he knew he needed to calm down, otherwise the vampire would notice. So he took a deep breath and plastered his smirk back on, striding confidently toward the pair.

"Damon," Carol gave him a welcoming smile, happy to see him. "What a surprise," she greeted, reaching forward and shaking his hand.

"Carol," he returned, nodding at her.

"Elijah, I want you to meet Damon Salvatore. His family is one of Mystic Falls' founding families." Carol introduced.

"Mmm," Damon looked at Elijah, whose expression was impassive, his eyes scanning him briefly. "Such a pleasure to meet you."

"No. Pleasure's mine," Elijah replied, taking Damon's hand and squeezing tightly, just a tad bit too tight, causing the younger vampire to wince slightly.

"Excuse me," Carol interjected. "I should probably attend to my other guests," she smiled, giving them both a nod before leaving the pair alone.

Damon could feel Elijah's eyes almost burning holes into him, the older vampire seemed to be sizing him up, as if trying to decide whether or not he was worth his time.

"So," Damon drawled, his smirk still present, he motioned towards a private study off to the side, the door slightly ajar. "Shall we?" he suggested, his tone dripping with honey.

Elijah followed behind him, watching as he made his way inside. This young vampire was going to be quite the handful, but that was okay. He had dealt with others far worse.

Once they were both in the room, Elijah closed the door, grazing his fingertips along the leather sofa, not even bothering to look Damons way.

"What can I do for you, Damon?" he inquired, his voice low, but smooth and controlled.

"I was hoping we could have a word," Damon replied, his tone slightly less confident than before, the way Elijah spoke and held himself was unnerving.

"Where's Elena?" Elijah questioned, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Damon didn't like the way Elijah asked after her, like he had some sort of claim over her, and he didn't like the way he said her name either.

"Safe with Stefan. They're laying low, you know, bit of a werewolf problem," Damon explained, his tone nonchalant.

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that," Elijah responded, finally looking at Damon, his expression stoic, almost unreadable.

"I'm sure you did since it was your witch that saved the day." Damon couldn't hide the bite in his tone, he didn't like the way Elijah seemed all knowing, as if he was privy to everything that went on in Mystic Falls.

Elijah finally looked at him, and it sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes were cold and calculating, and it made him uneasy and a little aroused.

"You are welcome," he replied with a smug grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Damon leaned against the nearby desk, trying his best to stay casual. "Which adds to my confusion on exactly why you're here?" he questioned, hoping his voice didn't betray the nerves he was currently feeling.

Elijah was bored by this conversation, the infamous Salvatore was not worth his time. "Why don't you just stay focused on keeping Elena safe and leave the rest to me." He replied, looking away from Damon and smiling softly, he then turned and headed for the door.

But Damon wasn't going to let him get away so easily, he was determined to get his attention, so he sped to the door, blocking Elijah's way.

"Not good enough," Damon stated, his voice firm.

The look on Elijah's face could of melted steel, it was cold, his eyes were hard and his jaw clenched tightly.

Before Damon could blink, Elijah's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall, his grip was like a vice. Damon couldn't breathe, he struggled against the original, clawing at his hand, gasping for air.

He grabbed Elijah's throat, trying to choke him in return, but it was no use. He was strong, and the fact that the older vampire could effortlessly hold him there, only turned him on even more.

Elijah peeled Damon's hand off his throat, crushing the bones in his fingers, and causing the younger vampire to cry out in pain. Damon was shocked at how strong Elijah really was, how easily he was able to handle him.

"You young vampires, so arrogant." He growled, pushing Damon's hand away with ease. "How dare you come in here and challenge me?'' His voice was full of venom, his tone menacing.

"You can't kill me, man. It's not part of the deal." Damon managed to wheeze out, his words slightly slurred from the lack of oxygen.

Elijah was amused by his statement, his face contorting into a gentle smile, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Silence," he whispered, his tone dangerously low.

Damon's mouth snapped shut, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He was in a compromising position, and he wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline, or the fact that he was literally at the mercy of an Original, but his body was buzzing with anticipation.

Elijah could hear Damon's heartbeat racing, the blood pumping through his veins. He knew what the young vampire was feeling, the fear, the arousal.

Elijah grabbed a pencil and jammed it into Damon's neck. He needed to teach this vampire a lesson. He was a mere child compared to him, and it was time he learned his place.

Damon cried out in agony, the pencil lodged deep in his neck. He was utterly helpless, and Elijah could tell.

He dropped Damon, letting him pull the pencil out of his neck and stumble forwards, he clutched at his throat, groaning in pain.

Elijah smiled slightly, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the blood off his hands, "I'm an Original. Show a little respect," he ordered.

Damon could feel his pants getting tighter, the bulge in his jeans growing with every passing second. Elijah's dominance was a major turn on, and he couldn't stop the arousal coursing through his body.

Elijah handed him the handkerchief, their fingers brushing, causing Damon to shiver. He took the cloth, wiping away the excess blood.

Damon wanted to be angry, he should be furious, but instead he was excited. His blood was pumping, his adrenaline was high, and he couldn't hide the fact that Elijah made him feel things he never thought possible.

When their eyes met, Elijah knew that he was in for a fun time. He could see the desire swimming in those bright blue eyes. He smirked and stepped closer, invading his personal space, causing the younger vampire to swallow nervously.

"On your knees," Elijah commanded, his tone deep and seductive.

Damon felt a jolt of pleasure go straight to his dick, his mind was screaming for him to leave, but his body was already sinking down to the floor.

Once on his knees, he looked up at Elijah, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath coming out in shallow pants.

"You know what to do." Elijah encouraged, his eyes full of lust.

Damon hesitated, his hands trembling slightly as he reached up and began undoing the belt and button on Elijah's dress pants. He was a bit nervous, not because he had never been with a man before, he had, plenty of times, but this was an original, and he wasn't exactly sure how far he was willing to go.

"Do you require a written invitation?" Elijah questioned with a teasing grin.

Damon frowned and swallowed thickly, pulling the zipper down slowly, and carefully removing Elijah's cock from his pants. It was so hard, so thick, and Damon couldn't deny that he was intimidated by its size.

Elijah grunted slightly, looking down at Damon with hooded eyes, his gaze filled with dark lust. He didn't usually have his enemies submit in this way, only when he was in a charitable mood, but Damon was an exception.

Elijah ran his fingers through Damon's dark hair, tugging gently at the strands, causing the younger vampire to wince, it wasn't rough enough to hurt, but it was enough to pull a reaction.

Damon leaned in closer, his hot breath ghosting across the sensitive skin. Elijah smelled like pine and leather and a hint of cologne, he was pure man, and it made his head spin.

So Damon, using all his experience from previous encounters, ran his tongue over the tip, earning a small groan of approval.

Encouraged by Elijah's moan, he started to slide his mouth along his shaft. Giving him gentle licks and wet kisses, tasting the bitter flavor of the pre cum seeping out.

The pace was slow at first, Damon running his tongue down to the base and back up to the tip, swirling his tongue around the head of the shaft, eliciting more beautiful sounds from Elijah.

Elijah dug his fingernails into Damon's scalp, gripping his head, and guiding him down further, moaning softly as he hit the back of his throat.

Damon gagged a little, causing Elijah to chuckle. "Hmph, there we go," he grunted, looking down at Damon's face and meeting his heated gaze.

He then forced his cock deep into his mouth, holding his head in place and listening to him gag, spit dripping out and down his chin.

"Ah...good boy, that's better," Elijah cooed, easing his grip slightly and allowing Damon to adjust. "Just like that." He praised.

Damon closed his eyes and relaxed his throat, letting Elijah use him the way he wanted, the way he desired.

As soon as the noises stopped, Elijah removed his dick, giving Damon the opportunity to breathe. Damon gasped for air, coughing, his throat was raw, he hadn't let someone treat him in this way for decades, he was completely and totally dominated.

But it was so hot, so arousing, and he loved every minute of it. His own erection pressing painfully against the seam of his pants, he wanted more.

He swallowed heavily, looking up at Elijah who was stroking himself, enjoying the sight before him.

"Mmm, very good, such a pretty face, a perfect mouth for my cock," Elijah growled. "Now suck," he ordered.

Damon surged forward, his mouth wrapping around his shaft once more, but this time he pushed himself all the way to the base, swallowing around him, letting him feel the tight squeeze of his throat.

Elijah thrust his hips, and Damon could tell he was close to the edge, he wanted to taste his cum, wanted to feel the power and authority of him.

"Fuck, yes," Elijah muttered, holding Damon's head and slamming his hips into his mouth. "Just a little bit more," he groaned, his words broken by ragged moans.

Damon's jaw was aching, his entire body was shaking, and he could barely breathe, but the pressure building between his legs made the pain all worth it.

Elijah grunted, slamming his hips forward one final time, spilling his load down Damon's throat. The vampire eagerly swallowed down the warm thick fluid, breathing deeply, and trying to regain his composure.

When the spasms subsided, he pulled out, and Damon collapsed, his body trembling, his cock painfully hard, his breath coming out in sharp gasps.

Elijah smiled down at him, his cock glistening with the young vampires spit. He tucked himself away, straightening his suit and clearing his throat.

"Now, get cleaned up," he commanded, tossing his handkerchief at him.

Damon scrambled to wipe himself off, he didn't even have the decency to ask if Damon needed help getting off. The thought didn't even cross his mind.

Elijah fixed his hair in the mirror, making sure his appearance was perfect, that his part was just right. When he was satisfied with his look, he gave Damon one last glance and left the room without a word.

Damon sat there, stunned and aching. He had never experienced anything like that before, and it left him wanting more. He couldn't believe what had just happened, how easily Elijah had put him in his place, how willingly he had submitted.

He was a vampire, a strong, powerful vampire, and yet he was completely at the mercy of another. And that scared and thrilled him.

He shook his head and stood up, his legs shaking. He quickly composed himself, adjusting his clothes, wiping away the stray tear.

He wondered what Elena would think, or Stefan or even Alaric. Would they understand? He didn't even understand it himself.

He sighed and walked out of the study, heading towards the bar. He needed a drink. A stiff one.

Elijah was leaning against the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand, his expression unreadable. Damon could feel the tension between them, but he ignored it, instead focusing on pouring himself a glass.

"Enjoyed yourself?" Elijah inquired, his voice laced with amusement.

For once Damon was at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out. He didn't know how to respond.

"The moment you cease to be of use to me, you're dead, so you should do what I say. Keep Elena safe." Elijah continued, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

Damon somehow found his voice again and his snarky side made an appearance. "Well, thank you for being so gracious," he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Elijah chuckled, shaking his head, he took a sip of his drink, savoring the taste.

"I like this town, there are so many interesting people," he commented, his eyes locking with Damon's, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Interesting?" Damon repeated, arching his brow.

"Indeed," Elijah replied, his gaze lingering on the younger vampire for a moment longer before he stood and set his glass on the counter.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against Damon's ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, "it was nice meeting you Damon Salvatore, I'm sure our paths will cross again,"

Damon watched him walk away, his heart racing, his mouth dry. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he knew one thing, he wanted more.

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[guiltfinn]

planet of the apes 🦧

dude… i have now seen the new kingdom of the planet of the apes in cinema twice and the first time around i wasn’t all that impressed and i left the theatre kinda disappointed but the second time around i left a little more impressed and a little less disappointed.

the movie was still weak compared to the first three films, (the rise, dawn and war) but im glad it was made.

as a whole i believe this franchise is criminally underrated on multiple different levels. The poetic nature of the films is something i don’t think i would ever articulate or write on paper to perfectly capture how beautifully made these films are, they are just chefs kiss

proximus caesar was a funny villain that i think deserved more screen time and back story, it makes me kinda sad to think that we wont really see his character again.

the symbolism that links all four films together is incredibly well done and throughout the entire series there are crumbs of the films that came before them, which is a part of the reason why i love these films so much. i like how they made noa so similar to caesar, not only in his appearance but in his characteristics. i like to believe it was intentional that noa and caesar (particularly in dawn of the planet of the apes with malcolm) cautiously but willingly trusted a human. noa is so incredibly similar to caesar it would be criminal to suggest otherwise.

dude these films are so visually well done you almost forget you are watching cgi. the visual effects alone blow my mind but the accuracy and attention to detail when it comes to the mannerisms of the apes is out of this world and deserves more recognition. in terms of cinematography planet of the apes have always been amazing at beautifully capturing emotions from all the apes and even better at showing the wonders of a post-human run world. the forests and surroundings that the apes find themselves in continue to amaze me, especially in this newest film were we see a variety of different landscapes.

as much as i am growing to love kingdom of the planet of the apes, i feel as though we could have waited for noa and his story. i think cornelius and the others that were left behind after caesars death deserved a closing chapter. i would have loved to know how the community handled the loss of their leader and saviour and how they all moved on. also i feel as though we needed back story on how the apes separated and became different clans spread all across the continent. as an example i would have also loved to see how the misinterpretation of caesar and what he stood for became so strong and wide spread, as well as why noas clan and their elders knew nothing of caesar or chose to leave him out of their history. there were a lot of open ends and unfinished stories that deserved more screen time, but in saying that, that could mean an eternity of story telling that everyone may not want to see.

at the end of kingdom of the planet of the apes they left it open for another film which i am looking forward to seeing where they take story line. are they going to fully circle around to the original films were they capture more humans and start to use them as slaves or will the story begin to get repetitive? i hope repetition won’t sneak its way into these films like is has with so many other franchises, but we can only hope right?

anyways-

long live monkeys… i love monkeys and we need more monkey movies

also- i know i don’t really do this sort of this thing on this account but i was beginning to genuinely tweak if i didn’t word vomit my thoughts on these movies <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Gah. You hate the taste. It doesn’t get any better and it feels worse on your skin. There’s something unnatural about human biology. Should that be so slimy?  

You’re not a prude, not mentally, only experientially. The act itself, yeah, it’s kind of hot, but the finale. That’s too much. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly mutual. None of this is. 

It’s weird, actually. The more you think of it, sat naked under a desk, in the mess of his excitement, you can’t help but analyse the situation you find yourself in. This man articulated a strategic destruction of your life; he messed with your rent, your bank, your job, and now you’re sitting her in his house, perched on your heels like an orphan begging for more gruel. 

You frown as you rub your chin again. Despite the single tissue he offered, you still felt the residue clinging to your skin. You need a shower. Or maybe some clothes. That would be nice. You scrunch up your nose and sneer. 

“What the hell is that face for?” Floyd—Lloyd snips and you look up to meet his gaze through the glass top of the desk, his keyboard blocking out all but one of his blue eyes. Hey, he has nice eyes for a meanie. You’d never tell him because he’s not a very good listener. 

“Nothing, I just...” you shrug and his eye flicks down to the jiggle of your chest. You cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, “can I go wash off or something?” 

“Why?” He challenges. 

Your lips part and a puff of air shoots out. Is he serious? 

“I... I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything but semen smells and I smell like semen, so going by a very basic formula--” 

“Oh my god, you don’t stop. Why can’t you just say anything straight out? Why’s it this nonsense?” He growls. 

“Fair enough, but I’m still hoping to see a sink or maybe a washcloth--” 

He rolls his eyes and closes them. He sits back and puts his hands to either side of his nose and exhales heavily. He clucks as he drops his arms and considers you as he leans against the leather cushioning. 

“You don’t make the rules. Stay.” 

He rolls back up to the desk and starts typing again. You look at the bottom of the sleek keyboard. He’s definitely an Apple guy, the iMac isn’t even the biggest giveaway. He just has that essence to him. He’s one of those guys who claims to be all about the best of everything but really he’s just buying into capitalism. He’s basic; mainstream. 

What is he even doing? Typing, clicking, scowling at the screen. Is he working? What on earth does he even do? Well, if you account for the mustache, the tacky clothes, and shoes without socks, you might assume he’s some sort of salesman. Used cars if you were to go by looks alone and yet his house would suggest more than that.  

He doesn’t look like a lawyer. He could be a tech bro, again, Apple everything. Still, the way he types doesn’t really seem savvy. He’s got the whole chicken peck down pat, jabbing each key with his index finger. So you’re at a loss. What the hell do rich people do? How do they even get rich? 

“Would you stop staring at me like that?” He stops again, another glare through the glass. 

You swallow and shake your head, shifting on your knees as you keep your arms across your chest. 

“Sir, Mr. Jansen--” 

“Hansen,” he grits dangerously. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, sir, please, it’s cold in here, can I get a sweater or maybe you could turn off the air? This time of day, the rate must be ridiculous.” 

His lashes flutter and his forehead lines. His hand closes to a fist then opens. His chest rises and he squares his jaw. 

“You’re distracting me. I’m trying to work.” 

“So maybe I could go somewhere else. It’s a big house--” 

“My house,” he insists. 

“A very nice house,” you offer, “I mean I’m sitting down here, my knees are killing me, I’m shivering, I can’t sit still. You’re not gonna get anything done. I’m agreeing with you. One hundred percent. I’m annoying. A real nuisance so let the leash go a little bit. Promise, I won’t touch a thing--” 

He squints then his eyes flick up as he thinks. His lips thin and he huffs. He brings his fingertips together, elbows planted on the glass desk, and taps them as he hums. 

“You’re lucky you can make me cum,” he grumbles. 

“Ah, but sir, don’t give me all the credit. You’re a very good cummer. An expert, it seems.” 

His nose crinkles and his mouth falls open, for just a second. His cheek dimples and he shakes it away, “what on earth are you fucking on about?” 

“I’m just saying, sir, I don’t know much about the old sausage link but I’m comparing it to the hub--” 

“The hub?” 

“PornHub, I’m sure you know it.” 

He lets out cluck but says nothing else. 

“Anyway, you got what they would call girth,” you gesture with your hands. “Good job, although, maybe it’s more a genetic type thing. Not really something you did...” 

He stares at you for a moment the pushes his knees wide. He takes a breath and slides slightly forward in his chair. You are keenly aware of the twitch beneath his pants. Please, not again. Are their calories in cum? 

“You watch a lot of porn?” He asks, a genuine hint of interest in his voice. The furthest from spite you’ve heard from him. 

“Eh, not as much as some people, I'm sure. I get curious,” you say. “but within discretion. Never wanna go too far down the rabbit hole.” 

He taps his toe and gives a thoughtful angle of his chin, twining his fingers between each other, “what kinds?” 

“Mm, well, I dunno. Usually, I just click something on the front page that doesn’t look too wild. Like creampie is pretty standard, I guess. Doggystyle is usually all over, but the stepdaughter stuff, ick. Not for me, sir. No way.” 

He makes a clicking noise in his throat and slowly reclines in his chair, “you are way too honest for your own good.” 

“Maybe, I guess. In this situation though, what do I get from lying? Besides, I see the stache,” you shoot him with a fingergun then quickly holster it. “You definitely are trawling around. RedTube? Xvideos?” 

“You said you’re curious,” he ignores your question, “you don’t... do anything while you watch?” 

You feel a subtle tickle in your thighs. The casual air turns thick. You’re starting to get worked up. 

“Eh, well, you know... the fingers find a way,” you look away and giggle nervously. “I go on these women’s forums. They say you should know yourself best before you try with a partner. Obviously, I haven’t found my number two yet but I know my way around my captain's chair. I can get to warp speed.” 

His lips curve slowly as you look back to him and you gulp. You’ve said too much. Again. The very reason you fell head first into this predicament. 

“Sir, why are you looking at me like that?” You squeak. 

He chuckles and brushes his fingertips over his bristly mustache, “well, sweet lips, show me the way.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes round. 

“Show me around your captain's chair, as you so eloquently put it,” he demands and wiggles two fingers at you. 

[hanihazeljade]

Forced Playdate

Timothy is good at keeping good boy image in his appearances in public vicinity but somehow this girl that he was forced to get along with, frustrates every single neuron he has and things go awry.

Part 3 of Disgustingly Green , Skill Issue

(CW: mean, mean, mean Timothy)

Timothy was called one day and he was forced to be nice with this girl, her named is probably Maya or Gia? He didn't remember, she was named in his head as a rambunctious brat.

Well apparently, the brat's father and the weird man that throw him are friends, probably the father is also a weird and idiot person, because birds and their feathers.

Lunch with the kid is a disaster. She use her hands to eat her food like a baby and the food sometimes fly around his plate, making his appetite finally left him. Thank goodness he was not put in a high chair or else he will just drop himself and hope he will die.

If such a kid don't have manners, and the father's friend don't have manners, then by analytical and statistical basis, the father is also a rambunctious brat that doesn't have any manners, and Timothy will do his best to avoid those people.

But of course, the Waynes are twats that doesn't make his life any easier.

Tim doesn't know why he was being forced to be buddy buddy with this uncivilised monkey. At first he can tolerate it as maybe she is just really got a lenient parent, a single father even, but as time goes by Timothy starts to get irritated by passing second.

The little girl, Sophia(?), he still can't remember and he rather stays that way, kept asking him so many questions and kept telling him that they should play. Rolling his eyes internally, he rather jump to Gotham Bay instead of playing with this monkey.

"Didn't your parents taught you manners?" Timothy suddenly asked, losing his cool altogether. The girl just tilt her head. She is already six and yet can't articulate her words better, His mother wouldn't be proud if he was this late bloomer.

"Manners?" she finally replied, titled her head in a manner that some people will say it's adorable, still kind of dumb answer but at least she kinda shut up for now.

"You are a lady, you need to act like one. Not an uncivilised homosapiens." Tim rolled his eyes. The little girl definitely didn't understand what he said, but her father did and boy, was he pissed.

"She's six!" Roy growled, obviously not fancying the idea his daughter is not allowed to be a little kid and be a stuck up spoiled little brat.

Tim just scoffed, like how her mother would whenever his father said something dumb, "And when I'm six, I know how to behave like a decent human being, not some animal who acts on it's instinct." Timothy said as he glared sharply to Roy. The kid was cute but those eyes are not. Roy never thought that he can see the Tim's eyes like that. It was always light and some life in them but now, Tim is like those pretentious rich people he met during Ollie's parties.

"You spoil her too much, but what should I expect to someone who befriend a failure like that man." Timothy rolled his eyes, "You people disgust me."

Tim sighed, he didn't give anyone a chance to speak as he announced, "I will be in my room. I am exhausted dealing with people like you." Timothy said with disgust as he left in silence.

[uber-dawn]

chat i'm having random thoughts about eos post-game and eevee protagonist. it's no secret that eevee is a popular pick for this game and imo no matter what you choose to evolve them into there's a very poetic explanation for each (though i'm not sure how well i can articulate my thoughts lol). like,

- Flareon: coming from a world of darkness and sharp hostility, the hero chooses to become a soft and fluffy fire type. the hero is so smitten by the sun in the past (and so horrified by the lack of it in the future) that they become a fire type to bring that warmth and light wherever they go! (plus flareon's my favorite :])

- Jolteon: similar to flareon, wanting to bring light to the people of the past. there's also something to be said about the fact electric type are immune to paralysis, as well as the idea that hero was gone for months after defeating dialga, then once they come back they're alive! they want to run, and jump, and celebrate that they're here!

- Vaporeon: the fact that Grovyle and hero were seperated in a storm, that they met partner for the first time on a beach, that the hidden land is across the ocean, (smth smth manaphy, ive never played that far), that water doesnt flow in the future, eeeeverything about chapter 5, and that the partner found comfort in the krabby's bubbles. water in eos is important when it comes to partings and reunions.

- Umbreon: they're a dark type. do i need to explain.

okayifyouinsist, hero comes from a world of darkness!! even if they don't remember it, that darkness affected them on such a deep level that their body never forgot! as well, umbreons and dusknoirs have lots of golden rings on their bodies, and umbreons have a type advantage against dusknoirs your partner still loves you in your new form, but everytime they look at you they can't help but remember Him, and shudder. it's about being forced to reckon with the fact you placed your trust in Dusknoir, and he took advantage of it and betrayed you.

- Espeon: right this wasnt just about umbreon. espeon and umbreon were made to be parallels; where umbreon has high defenses, espeon has a high special attack (+ dark type is immune to psychic). where umbreon has a type advantage on Dusknoir, espeon has a weakness. an umbreon hero will never trust Him again; and espeon hero chooses to believe in second chances.

- Leafeon: GROVYLEEE, it's about choosing to change your very dna so that you never forget your friend! in the short time you know him, you fully understand why your past self stood by his side! there's sorrow in that without your memories you'll never fully understand your relationship with him, but your soul remembers, and you still love your friend. deep down, a leafeon hero is ashamed they ever considered Grovyle a criminal, and wishes they could have had more time with him, in less dire circumstances. last note, the fact that the world of the future was so barren and lifeless without the sun, and the fact you become a leafeon to reflect how the future is alive. :)

- Glaceon: the fact that the hero comes from a world that was frozen, and still becomes an ice type, the future was cold, but a hero glaceon still found beauty in it. it's about remaining hopeful and that with or without fixing the future, you still need to survive in this world. it's about understanding your situation and making peace with it, while still striving to make it better.

- Sylveon: i remember that when fairy type came out, people were trying to justify why it was strong against dragon, and my favorite explanation for it was that in "fairy" tales, the hero slays the dragon. the sylveon hero did it! they slew the dragon, and their story has finally come to an end! as well, it's about wanting to give off a cheery look. it's about saying "don't look at the violence and darkness, look at me, smile! i'm here to help you!" (we'll have Explorers DX someday, trust 🙏. )

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (Part 5)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

(this continues directly after Part 4, Hob reads the rest of Dream's entry)

Negligence and luck were my saviours in the end. I managed to escape and take my revenge. I have recovered my tools of office and my power. I am free. And yet I feel like part of me is still trapped inside that basement, as unconnected to the world around me as I was before, but in a different way. Before I was captured I felt, if not above then distinctly separate from humanity; I resented that my existence depends on them, on you. I felt detached, outside of what should be intimately familiar to me. Now I am able to recognise that, but to overcome my reluctance to embrace humanity more is still a struggle. I know that not all of you are like Roderick Burgess but the fear lingers, despite logic telling me there is nothing to fear. I know my function is to serve them and my imprisonment caused great harm to many. I see now why I cannot go on like I used to. I hope that you might help me with getting to know humanity again, as you have so many times before. I confess that in my mind you had stopped being simply a human and therefore outside of how I judged humanity. You might have worried I might look down on you, but in fact I have long since seen you as someone apart from the humans I tend to. For that I am sorry, because you are just as deserving and in need of my attention as everyone else. Your perspective was supposed to help me understand humanity better, to grow closer to humans and I failed to learn my lesson. I only grew closer to you, while completely ignoring that you are human and failing to extend my feelings for you onto the rest of humanity. I was supposed to listen to you and learn what it is like to live a human life, but I did not internalise the lesson. I hope that with time I will become able to value human lives in their entirety and show others more respect and compassion. This will not come easy to me after nearly a century spent in a cage at the hand of a human, but I will try.

I apologise, Hob. All this will not make much sense to you because I have still not told you who I am, and I still wish to do so in person. Suffice it to say that you have already glimpsed the truth and noticed changes that are related to my person and what happened to me. Feel free to guess, my friend, but be assured that I will give you my name soon. Maybe then you will understand the scope of all I’ve relayed to you.

I have laid myself bare for you, my friend. I do not think I could have articulated half of this had we talked face to face. Admitting to my faults and insecurities does not come easy to me. My ordeal has left me with some conditions that I did not know I was capable of suffering. As you already know I am struggling with being in enclosed spaces, and I feel especially reluctant if there is a lot of glass. I also do not enjoy being close to humans I do not know, although, as you well know, I know everyone. This is limited to certain aspects of their person, though, and does not include mind reading. Therefore I find myself apprehensive of their goals and possible actions, which is why I prefer to keep my distance. I know that these fears are not logical and that I should be able to “shake them off” - yet I cannot, and I do not know for how long they will impede me. My greatest fear I have so far not articulated, though. If I tell you my name, will you still look at me the same way?

The words stop without a farewell and Hob drops the journal with a choked sob, his eyes wide and watering. He wants to howl. He refrains for the sake of his neighbours and simply slumps to the floor beside the fallen book. It’s still open and Hob rereads the last line through more and more tears welling up. He makes a sound like a wounded animal and gets back up on his knees, searches for a pen on top of the desk and then immediately launches into writing a reply right there on the floor.

My friend, my dearest friend!

Why would you think that I would ever look at you differently? You are more dear to me than anyone else and knowing your name and who or what you truly are will not change that! I believe I have been privileged to get to know you over the few times we met, and even more through these letters we have been writing. Even if your name was Oberon, or Hades, or hell, even Lucifer! I would not look at you differently, except to ask you why you lied when I first guessed that you might be a demon. I don’t think you would ever lie to me, though. Whatever you are, I have thought about it and puzzled over it since I first met you, so you know that the only way I would look at you if I finally got to know your name would be with awe and curiosity - the same way I have always looked at you. You are endlessly fascinating to me and I cannot believe you would think that I might change my opinion on you because of something as unimportant as a name. I already know you, dear stranger, with or without it. So I say, don’t tell me unless you truly want to. Don’t think you owe me a name or explanation. I do not need it. All I need is you, and our conversations. 

Hob pauses his writing and lets the pen drop from his fingers, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing his eyes. He wishes he had planned this better, thought about what he would write before starting, but in the end it’s maybe best to give his stranger this excessive honesty. Hob has a bad feeling about his friend’s entry simply stopping and what he probably needs is immediate assurance. So this is what Hob will lead with, and address the other issues afterwards. He means it, too. He doesn’t care who or what his friend truly is. He’s Hob’s friend, the oldest and best he’s got, and he’s determined to keep him, no matter what kind of being he turns out to be. “My sister, Death.” That's what his stranger wrote, Hob remembers and flips the pages of the journal back, rereading the first part of his friend’s entry. Roderick Burgess tried to summon Death, and got her brother instead. Death’s brother. His friend is Death's brother. What could that possibly make him? One of the four horsemen? Pestilence, or Famine? War seems unlikely, somehow. Actually none of these fit his stranger, Hob thinks and shakes his head slightly. He gets up and sits at the desk, the journal open in front of him. He doesn’t quite know what to write next and so he drops the pen and goes to wash his face and make himself tea, trying to collect his thoughts in the meantime.

When he returns to the bedroom he finds he cannot write more without mulling it all over first. He feels empty, the horror of his friend’s ordeal growing more and more clearer in his mind. He doesn’t know what to write besides “Please let me hold you. Please let me make you smile. Please let me love you.” None of that seems even nearly appropriate to tell to a traumatised person that is probably not even remotely attracted to him. What his stranger needs now is a friend (well, actually a therapist, but Hob will do his best), not a clingy lover like Hob.

He goes to bed and leaves the journal open on the desk. Maybe when he wakes up he’ll be able to find the right words. He falls asleep to thoughts of prisons made of glass, his friend stuck inside, looking mournfully at him.

Hob dreams of the White Horse. He wears his modern clothes but the Inn looks like it did in 1589 and with a smile he sits down at the lavishly decorated table, ready to host his friend. When Hob looks up his stranger is standing a few feet away on the other side of the table. He looks like Hob saw him in his bedroom, although his hair is a bit wilder and his black coat looks longer and is speckled with stars. Hob smiles at him and gestures at the spread.

“My friend! Sit, eat! You must be awfully hungry!”

His stranger frowns and takes a cautious step closer, looking at the table laden with food, then back at Hob.

“You offer me sustenance, my friend?”

I offer you everything.

“Of course,” Hob exclaims, “this, and more! If there is anything I can give you, I will! Please, only ask and I will try and find a way to get it for you.”

Hob wants to stop talking but he can’t seem to stop the words. “Be it food or drink, or hugs, or kisses - everything I have, my heart, if you but ask, is yours.” He blushes, knows that his eyes have grown wide in shock and still he cannot stop looking at his friend, staring at him in open adoration. Brother of Death, brother of Death, his mind keeps shrieking at him and Hob feels his smile crumble in dread as his stranger does not visibly react to Hob’s words at all. Too forward, too honest! Fool, you dare, he chides himself and bites his tongue when he feels more words on the cusp of breaking free.

His stranger does not acknowledge Hob’s words, he slowly picks up a strawberry and takes a delicate bite. His dark eyes do not leave Hob’s for even a second, though. Hob feels heat pool in his belly and bites his tongue harder until he feels blood well up inside his mouth. He opens it and a drop spills out, staining his lips as red as the strawberry is staining his friend’s. His stranger’s eyes are black from side to side now, gleaming in the low light like pearls. Hob blinks and suddenly the man is right in front of him, reaching out until his fingertip gently brushes the drop of blood from Hob’s lips, the next moment he is standing at the other end of the table again, a half-eaten strawberry staining his fingers. Hob feels lightheaded and grips the table to remain upright. What is going on? This is the strangest dream he’s ever had. The voice of his friend is suddenly coming from everywhere, reverberating inside Hob’s head.

“I accept your offering, dear Hob. I promise to cherish it…and treat it with utmost care.”

Hob wants to ask what his friend means but he feels very tired all of a sudden, despite knowing that he’s already asleep. He feels himself sink back into what feels like soft cushions and the room darkens around them until all he can see are two twin stars twinkling in his friend’s eyes. Then there is nothing but darkness, and sleep.

Part 6

[nqmonarch]

happy valentine's day!! <3 honestly anything for aventurine is fine, probably like what are your thoughts about him?

Happy very belated Valentine's day! I hope yours was wonderful anon!

Anyway I think my thoughts about Aventurine are uh... definitely out there. Normally when I write stuff I like to read the character's little lore things and read over character's quotes to make sure I'm depicting them well but Aventurine doesn't have much of that and my overall thoughts on him are straight up just my thoughts which are...

Aw he's baby :). I can't take him seriously x.x like I feel like under that haha let's gamble it all away front he is both terrifying but also so weak and vulnerable. Like I want to hold him in my arms and tell him he has meaning but at the same time I think he may be some kind of masochist (hot), I don't know he just gives off those vibes he's like "use me, as long as it's fun." Like okay man.

Aventurine is both the most and least predictable person you've ever met. His existence itself is like a gamble you can never tell what will come next, will it be the cocky and confident Aventurine edging you on to take his carefully laid out bait? Or would it be the pathetic Aventurine hiding beneath the surface of all his actions who's begging to be comforted?

He acts so nonchalant for someone that cares so much. It was the only reason you still tolerated him. You also cared about Aventurine but he didn't need to know that. He also didn't need to know about the lengths you went to in order to keep him out of trouble.

The two of you getting together was a miracle in itself. Because Aventurine would've never asked you out seriously. He would've teased you about it, and about your lack of a partner. Maybe he would've made a bet or two to make you hang out with him on a date. But he was too scared of commitment to give it a label.

Of course he would be scared of commitment when everything he's ever had, he's lost and everything he's gained isn't his own. How else would he be able to gamble everything he knows to be true so easily? It pissed you off to an extent, and made you hesitant to commit. What if that fucker used you in a bet? He probably wouldn't but everything with Aventurine was a gamble.

So one day after the idiot had almost gotten himself in trouble, only to be saved by his luck, you had angrily grabbed him by his neck and pressed him against the wall.

You were fine with him betting nearly everything from millions of credits to rare items. He wasn't allowed to bet his life though. Not when you were around. Because his life was yours. You wouldn't let Aventurine die.

Through an unorganized and incoherent train of thoughts you tried to express yourself to Aventurine and at first he teased you,

"You really care about me that much? You're a better friend than I thought you would be, how useful!"

But as those thoughts straightened out more into a heartfelt confession he began to quiet and freeze. Maybe if this was a game to him he'd be able to maintain his light hearted facade but you hoped you meant more. You'd known him for a while after all, and better than anyone else.

Aventurine, struggling to articulate his thoughts, only nodded at the end. Then you kissed him. His lips were hesitant against yours but his hands gripped onto your arms tightly, refusing to let go. He didn't want to seem desperate, he didn't want to seem like he cared, but the silent plea of his arms wrapping around you spoke words.

For the most part he acted as a complement to your personality. When you didn't go after him, he went after you always in an attempt to sweep you off your feet unexpectedly. When you went after him, he'd lay still and let himself be attacked unable to defend himself as a blush rose up his neck to his ears and cheeks.

A serious relationship was something new for the both of you. And given how Aventurine acted, and how you struggled to explain your emotions, the two of you ran into communication issues often.

But despite it all the two of you made it through. After all how can one better express love than saving the other's life?

Aventurine had foolishly bet his life again, this time for some inconsequential thing. The two of you had been talking to a new "friend" of his, that ended up having ties with your past. As such they'd managed to come across some minor family heirloom of yours and for some reason trying to barter with it for information.

You could've cared less but Aventurine for some reason took the bait. Inviting this "friend" to a gamble, in which if he won then he would receive Aventurine's life and assets something you thought to be overly dramatic. If Aventurine won he'd receive the heirloom and the information you'd actually come here for, the information that would allow you to blackmail the government of this planet into giving into the IPC.

Aventurine managed to lose, but it's not like it mattered. Since your bullet was through his "friend's" head in the next second. As he died you registered a small clicking sound and shielded yourself and Aventurine as the body exploded. Really? What a pain.

"The IPC will work even harder to get you killed if they know about this," You couldn't help but mutter, a frown on your face, "Is there anyone left we can contact for this?" Aventurine still had more contacts than you unsurprisingly.

Failure was always met with death for people like him.

"You want to talk to more people than me?" He spoke with mock offense and before you could retort he held out some papers, "He was useful until the very end." He joked and you frowned.

Your voice was beginning to raise in anger, "Did you have to go ahead and bet your life?"

He took a step closer, the documents disappearing, "You made the opening for me. Come on, don't be mad," His voice was coy as he grabbed your hand in his.

You didn't like it when he bet his life. If he was going to take such poor care of himself then his life would be safer in your hands. Aventurine had already begun to lead the way to your next destination and your eyes rested on him, analyzing every detail. They continued without pause until they found his neck, you wanted to cover that barcode on his neck up with bites.

When you got back to the hotel room you were staying at you found the heirloom resting on the bed, and you let out an aggravated sigh. "That bastard... I told him I didn't care about it." And you didn't but you opened up the music box nonetheless and a tune began to play out.

A few moments after it began you felt arms wrap around you and hot breath on your neck. You closed your eyes and leaned into Aventurine, "Your life will always be the most important thing to me," You spoke softly.

He stiffened and then relaxed, "That's a terrible decision."

He was annoying. Hard to communicate with. He was also always a gamble, you could never predict him. But he kept life interesting, he was interesting, and amusing. You didn't want such an adorable person to die.

Maybe one day the two of you would be able to have a completely serious conversation but that'd be a while, and for now you were content with the man that loves you who you love back.

Aventurine trying to avoid affection like an insect avoiding rain drops but you're a motherfucking tsunami.

I CANT BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS IT WAS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG

I started it like a week after I got it and then had writers block on what to do but anyway yeah this is my take on ya boy Aventurine. He's kinda pathetic but I'm into that.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Saw your reblog on tragic unrequited platonic love and technically, that trope definitely applies to the betrayed trio, especially on Hinamori’s end (depends on whether or not you subscribe to the view that she was crushing on Aizen). The way I saw it in my initial viewing of bleach, it was more of the type of intense admiration for an authority figure that can be misconstrued as a crush cuz you (the devotee) lack the ways to properly articulate it. Like how u feel abt the rlly cool English teacher u sometimes eat lunch with before they get arrested for like fraud or something. After experiencing the Horrors, of course Kira and Hinamori are going to imprint hard on the first semblance of stability and symbol of safety at the time. So that what they went thru meant something. Also, let me take this moment to briefly gush abt the headcanon u presented in the B3 fic cinematic universe abt hinamori’s fixating on squad 5 because it offers her the knowledge beyond her town that she’s lowkey seeking + the values she wants to strive towards (source: from afar). These nerds just wanted to be mentored so badddd!! Thus, the reveal of the fact that they were only a means to an end, specifically chosen on where they fall on the “easy to manipulate” scale hits HARDER. All that devotion?? Loss of work life balance and for WHATTT? Extended medical leave ? 😭 oh bleach my fave workplace sitcom AND workplace drama u will always be famous

PS: thank u for tagging me in that post!! In the process of drafting my response. It was so lovely of you.

You're right! That totally works here. It's interesting because (and I'll just focus on Hinamori here, because otherwise I'd feel compelled to honor the distinctions between her and Aizen vs. Kira and Ichimaru and Hisagi and Tousen, and this would probably end up reading very convolutedly) I think it kind of asks a question about when the platonic pining would have happened.

Is the pining part of suddenly realizing the disjuncture between what Hinamori thought something was and what Aizen did, and mourning something lost (and something that never really was)?

Or was there also pining when things were Good? We see Aizen be reassuring to Hinamori and generous with his time, etc. and we see Hinamori happy to receive from him, and quite devoted both to her VCship as well as to Aizen on a person level (or as he put it, "as a man" lol). We know she's well-respected by her division, and esteemed by her colleagues (okay, Kira and Hitsugaya may have some bias in this arena, but they both describe her as highly skilled).

But was she needed? Was she doing, and did she get the opportunity to do, things that Aizen couldn't do better? Did she have opportunities to express things that Aizen found interesting or outside of his expertise? Even as they are not equals--and there is no expectation that they should be--in the most fruitful mentorships, both parties have things to teach and learn.

Did Hinamori ever look at other Captain/VC relationships and yearn for pieces of what those looked like to her? Nanao would probably say "god i hope not" because Kyouraku's "reliance" on her often takes the shape of her having to do all the busywork and also herd cats, but in spite of this there's an intimacy there, an openness or trust, that Hinamori might yearn for. And that's taking Kyouraku--shadowy and full of many surfaces himself--into account. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto also have something that both Hitsugaya and Matsumoto probably complain about to Hinamori, but there's a degree of mutualism and collaboration to whatever's going on at the 10th that Hinamori might not mind a taste of, too. Renji has been Byakuya's VC for a month but Hinamori has probably already thought to herself "Kuchiki-taichou let him do WHAT" at least twice. Even though Byakuya is Byakuya, judging by how they handled their "meeting Ichigo in the street" mission, it seems like Byakuya lets Renji have his little projects. Like Renji is part of his investment portfolio and Byakuya feels very comfortable considering Renji a volatile but potentially valuable property and in order to get that ROI you need to stick with him through several honorless tech startup busts and commit long-term to the thing. Er, but I digress. My point is, Renji gets projects. "Develop training menu." Creative opportunity! With a result that has Renji all over it.

Does Hinamori get projects? Does it ever feel like she's pushing the envelope of what the 5th can be and how it can function on her own, without it being something Aizen already predicted the outcome of, or was actually his idea that he let her propose and take nominal ownership of anyway? Despite being completely blindsided by the actuality of Aizen, was there already that sense of inevitability/Aizen all over everything that happens at the 5th? (Competing, of course, with Hinamori's self-concept as a creative person; and her love of Aizen as a person, not just as a boss and mentor; and feeling as though she just needs to excel more and be creative better and she'll eventually meet this need she feels--it's not the environment that's the issue. She's happy here. Mostly. She doesn't need to leave, she simply needs to surpass--)

[paperweight91]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Part 3

Summary: the aftermath of your mission with Steve.

Warnings: none

A/N: This is just a quick update as I’m somewhat stalled on this. Please leave feedback! Likes and reblogs are always welcome! ❤️

You found yourself unnervingly warm as you awoke. Unsure of your surroundings. You began to panic as you were unable to move, until you felt two solid arms wrapped around you. Suddenly it all came back to you, just as it had when you had landed back on the train. It was all real. The arms that were wrapped around you were Steve’s.

You angled yourself in his embrace to get a better look at his face. He was still unconscious. Even though he was out, the strength with which he held you was unwavering. You lifted your hand to his face and quietly whispered his name, hoping to ease him back into consciousness. His lashes twitched as you gently called to him before finally opening. His piercing blue eyes looked at you questioningly for a moment before realization crossed his face.

Slowly he got to his feet, before helping you to stand as well. “All good?” Was all he asked as he looked you over. You nodded, but before you could open your mouth to respond he was continuing. “C’mon, we gotta get back to the Quinjet, I’ll send someone else in to the retrieve the data, we need to get you back to the compound.”

With a hand on you at all times, like he was afraid you were going to shatter, he guided you out of the facility and back to the Quinjet in what felt like no time. Rather than let you sit in the back, Steve pushed you to sit in the co-pilots seat as he readied the jet for take off. It was then that you realized you must be in shock.

“I thought it wasn’t real…” You trailed off as you stared out the window. Steve reached over to you seat and put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I know, we’ll get back and get it figured out, I promise.” He was smiling at you earnestly. A look that up until now you had never been on the receiving end of. You kind of got now why all the girls swooned when Steve gave them that look.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurted before you could stop yourself. Sure you and Steve and shared a moment back in that abandoned hospital, but that didn’t mean you were friends now.

He gave you a befuddled look, “What do you mean?”

“Steve, let’s be honest, you’ve never really liked me. And you’ve definitely never been happy that I was brought onto the team. So what gives, why are you being so nice to me?” You were squinting at him suspiciously as you spoke. You figured this was a reason to get you off the team, maybe that was why he was being nice.

Steve sighed and stared out of the windshield of the jet for a few moments before putting it in autopilot and turning his seat to face you. “I wasn’t hard on you because I didn’t like you. I was hard on you because I was worried. All of us, in some way, shape or form on the team are enhanced. You’re not, not even a little bit. I didn’t want to put you in a situation that could get you hurt, or killed because I’m so used to working with people who are enhanced. I was scared.” He paused for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how best to articulate his thoughts.

You wanted to yell, or make a snide remark, but you found yourself agreeing with him again. Steve makes all the calls for all the missions the team goes on at the end of the day. If something were to happen because you were in a situation that was over your head, you knew you would be reluctant to ask for help. “I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

He laughed and looked confused, “You didn’t?”

“I did, I actually called you worse, but most of those were in my head, so I’m not counting them.” You gave him a strained smile, before your face fell as realization dawned on you. “Oh God, if everything on the train is real. And everything here is real - what is happening to me? Steve, I’ve been going there since I was a teen!”

He shushed you and leaned from his seat into your space. He pulled you into a tight hug, and you buried your face in his neck. He slowly rocked you as he ran his hands up and down your back. You had a flash of a memory of Curtis doing the same thing.

Your dizzy spells were getting more and more frequent. You had to find a way to make them stop. You stumbled through the tail end looking for peace and quiet. You needed the buzzing in your head to stop.

You tripped over one of the toys the children had left laying around. As you stumbled, you felt strong arms circle you from behind, pulling you back against a broad chest. You sighed at the warmth and crisp scent of Curtis, who you knew by feel and scent alone now. “Sweetheart, you alright?”

You turned in his arms to face him, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. You know how it is down here, finally get to sleep and this stupid train hits something.” Curtis laughed at your lie.

“Yeah, somethings you can just never used to huh?” He pulled you over to his cubby, rooting around. You weren’t sure what he was looking for until he pulled back triumphant. “I’m not gonna tell you what I had to do to get this.” He winked before presenting you with a thick scarf. He wrapped it around your neck with surprising tenderness. As you inhaled you caught a strong whiff of Curtis and sighed.

Tears welling in your eyes you said, “Thank you Curtis! You don’t have to do this.”

His smile was genuine as he shushed you and pulled you back into his chest, slowly rocking and running his hands up and down your back.

You were rocked back to the present by the sound of the Quinjet landing, finding yourself still snugly wrapped in Steve’s arms. “You think you can walk?”

You nodded before heading down the ramp to solid ground. “C’mon, let’s go find Tony and Banner - I called ahead to make sure they were ready for us.” He started to lead the way, but stopped short when he noticed you weren’t following him. He turned back to you to give you a quizzical look before holding his hand out towards you. Your eyes shot to his and searched. What you were looking for you weren’t quite sure, but Steve just stared back at you earnestly.

You sighed and took his hand, following him deeper into the Compound. You knew what was going to happen next. Experiments. You had heard of them at SHIELD. Any new recruits who showed signs of enhancement were experimented on before any field assignments. You shuddered as you thought of what Dr. Banner and Tony would come up with. As if sensing your thoughts, Steve let his thumb brush against the back of your hand. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to figure out what is going on, okay?”

You could feel your whole body tense as you got closer to the lab, and saw the rest of the Avengers talking. You stopped short and pulled on Steve’s hand. “Steve, I’m scared.” You couldn’t look him in the eye as you made your declaration, instead settling on his chin.

“I know, but I’m more scared of what could happen to you if we don’t figure out why this is happening.” He lifted his free hand up to your chin and tilted your face up to look at him showing you that his concern was genuine, then pulled you into the lab.

You looked around at the team, but were unable to meet any of their eyes. Natasha was immediately out of her seat to come and pull you into a hug. She whispered to you in a reassuring voice, but your head was buzzing so loudly you couldn't make out a word she said. It was Steve’s voice that pulled you out of your reverie.

“She’s in shock. I gave you guys the short version on the way back, but I figured you should hear it all from both of us.” He stood with his arms crossed across his broad chest, straining the material of his suit. From there you both explained in detail what had happened on the mission. How everything had gone sideways, right from the start.

“How long has this been going on?” Dr. Banner was kind, but you could tell he was intensely interested in what was happening to you. That didn’t bode well for the experimentation.

“I’m not sure.” You weren’t lying, the earliest memory you had of the train was in your teens, but how long had your dreams been you traveling to a far off land. “The first time I remember the train was my early teens. That’s when I met Curtis. He saved me, and so many other people. He made sure that we all got on, even if we didn’t have a ticket. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe seventeen? But he has always taken care of us. Before then? I don’t know, you guys have to remember I thought these were dreams, I didn’t think any of it was really happening.”

Tony wasn’t looking at you, but was frantically working on something on his tablet. Dr. Banner nodded, “We should probably assume you’ve been doing this most, if not all of your life.”

“How do we make it stop?” Steve’s question caught you off guard, and you immediately responded.

“We can’t make it stop yet!” You were furious at him for even suggesting it. However, his expression told you that this was the wrong response. It was like a switch flipped in your head and you finally felt back to yourself. “Captain, we can’t just leave those people, especially now that we know they need help. Curtis is strong, he’s a good leader, but we can help them in their rebellion against the front, just think of how many lives we would be able to save if we help.”

Steve rolled his shoulders and looked away. He didn’t agree. It was Natasha who responded, “I think we all agree that we should help those who need it, but realistically what are we supposed to do to help people in what, another dimension?”

You could hear the murmurs of agreements of the other Avengers. “So none of you will help? You’re going to let innocent people die?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that echoed around the room. No one would make eye contact with you. You huffed, “Fine. Then we will not be looking into this until the rebellion is done, I’ll bench myself.” Your last comment was made in Steve’s direction.

Tony finally looked up from his tablet and stared directly at you. “This is something you feel like you need to do?” It was posed as a question, but really you could tell he was confirming more than anything.

You stared straight into his eyes as you responded, “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.”

Tony nodded, “Alright kids, shows over. We’ll reconvene after ‘The Rebellion’ although you definitely need a better name for that.”

You smiled at Tony and turned to make your way back to your quarters. Deciding on a nice long bath before bed, so you could unwind the mess you had made today. You weren’t even sure how to file the mission report with Steve at this point.

***

Back in the lab the Avengers spoke in your absence.

“We can’t just let her keep doing this. You guys didn’t see her there. Something about that place makes her weak, and not just emotionally. She could barely hold herself up and she wants to help fight in a rebellion?” Steve was pacing as he expounded on all the reasons why your idea was terrible. He was just glad you weren’t here to hear him, he knew you would hate the way he was speaking about you now.

“What do you want to do Cap? Tie her to the lab? There’s no way that’s going to work. She’s a free person, she benched herself, outside of Avenging there’s not much else we can do to stop her.” Tony was surprising everyone, including himself, by being the voice of reason.

Natasha came up with the only solid plan that would appease everyone, except maybe you. “Then maybe we bench someone else to stay with her. That way we know that whether here or there, she’s safe.”

To the shock of all the Avengers in the room Steve volunteered himself, “I’ve already been there. She said that the last time she was there she was being held by Curtis the same as how I caught her, except he didn’t come back with her. I’m wondering if the serum is allowing me to go back and forth with her.”

Natasha looked worried, but the others agreed, so she kept her mouth shut. She definitely wasn’t going to be the one to tell you that it was her idea that had Captain America chained to your side 24/7 now.

***

[heretherebedork]

Again and again, Only Friends brings in the many, many perspectives on sex and how people not just related to sex but relate sex to other people.

Boston finds his own value in sex. When asked about more or seeing others seek more, he looks down on it and disparages it or is just absolutely confused by the entire concept. Sex, for him, is utilitarian and pleasure, to be used to get what he wants and to control people and that is what sex is to him. Sex is about control and about pleasure and about his own importance and value and what he can get from people and the only thing he knows to give to people.

Nick is using sex to feel closer to someone he is coming to care about and falling in love with him through sex and hoping for more but never able to fully articulate what he wants so turning back to sex again and again to try to find what he wants only to realize that sex isn't what he wants here but he isn't getting anywhere with it either... but without it he has nothing of what he wants.

Sand is facing down his own rules about sex and friendship and relationships. He is looking straight at his own feelings and try to both face them and hide from them at the same time. He's playing with fire and he knows he can't control it, he knows he's losing the tenuous hold he had on his feelings, but he can't admit it because admitting means he will genuinely stop himself and pull away from Ray and he doesn't want to pull away from him. He wants to love him.

Ray has been using sex as an escape from his own feelings, just like he drinks to flee himself as well. But he also has an abiding and longlasting crush on Mew that has kept him from falling in love or acknowledging other people in his heart, even people he could have loved. He uses sex as an escape and even with Sand, who is definitely catching feelings for, he does not know how that face that part of himself because that part of himself has never felt worthwhile. He loves Mew without a chance or hope but he loves and loves and loves him and drops everything for him because that love for Mew feels better to him, that hopeless love is easier to handle than anything he'd have to work for.

Mew does not have sex. This is one type of control that he has, not having sex and drinking less than his friends. That's what he does. That's how he finds part of his identity. He chooses not to do what his friends do, to control himself, to watch them 'waste their lives' while he controls himself and feels in control, feels better about his choices, knows that he is making the 'right choice' over them. He wants his sex to look different than his friends, nothing casual, an entirely different kind of control than Boston and a different kind of escape than Ray.

Top is the one we can't be as sure about yet. He seems to treat sex as something that is simply... there. Possibly part of trying to make sure people are sleeping beside him at night. But all we've seen of him actually having sex is always in places that look deeply uncomfortable and is always entirely devoid of an emotion. He turned Boston down at the bar but still goes ahead with the sex twice after that. Top seems to have little to no control once it comes to sex. He won't act on his urges but he won't turn people down entirely either, not once they're offering him something he wants. Which is why the idea of him turning Mew down next week is beautiful. I would like that.

Sex is about control and desire and love and need and want and escape and every single character uses it differently and that's what makes the entire show so fascinating.

(I also posit that Boston and Mew are opposites, Sand and Ray are opposites and Nick and Top are opposites and that's why Sand and Ray are the couple most likely to actually work out in the show in my opinion. Everyone else has crossed wires across two relationships while Sand and Ray are just internally fucked up more than anything else.)

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

First of all, I just want to say. I called it lol

Finally an sskk face off since the sacrifice. I am going insane. I can’t articulate all my thoughts rn but something about the way Atsushi aimed a kick at Akutagawa that he fully expected the guy to block (because they know each other’s usual fighting styles!!!) only for it to connect and hurt him; Atsushi begging Akutagawa to recognize him because even if he still can’t consciously admit it, Atsushi has become convinced that Akutagawa wouldn’t be attacking him like this if he knew it was him; pleading for him to snap out of it and demanding to know why he saved him aghhhhh I’m going feral we know the reason Atsushi we know whyyyyy

I can’t believe it actually. We are at the point where sskk do not want to genuinely hurt each other. Atsushi attacked only out of self defence and was taken aback by actually breaking his wrist. Akutagawa refused to kill Atsushi in the Fukuchi fight and Atsushi is now convinced he’d stop attacking if he recognized him. Holy shit. Oh my god.

And Sigma badass moment! My boy, he pulled through! Either him or Chuuya had to break the stalemate; hell yeah, validation. Wasn’t there a meme someone made? “Prison arc -> prison arc if Sigma still had a gun”? Well Sigma’s got a gun and things are picking up babyyyy! His retort to Fyodor was quite possibly the funniest thing he could’ve said in response. Just completely shut him down. Using what he’s learned running the empty home Fyodor previously tried to buy his trust with. Beautiful. ADA Sigma real??? (I think the story will have to acknowledge his very public involvement with Taneda’s shooting and the acts of terrorism the Hunting Dogs now know he is responsible for… so I’m not sure how that will go but I’d like to see him end up with the Agency tbh… so long as it makes sense.)

Things I did not expect:

Mysterious note left in Russian??? It could be Mykola I suppose but… why? What happened? If he’s actually in trouble I doubt he’d need help escaping. Is it a trap? But what for? Alternatively… could it be Pushkin? He was in Meursault initially right? We never found out what his connection was. It could be a new Russian author too! Intriguing! There’s also the matter of it being written in Russian in the first place - who is it meant for? Sigma specifically? Or is it meant for someone else who speaks Russian?

Dazai is actually injured! I was certain he had something ready to get out on his own but I like this much better. Tbh I know this sounds bad but I’m actually way more invested now that Dazai has a broken leg and Fyodor was just shot. There’s higher stakes, you know? Damn though. I think Dazai’s injuries are. Worse. He’s being terribly self-sacrificial, and is apparently going to face off against Chuuya next time we see him. I do think now the stakes would be too low if Chuuya was completely free of the brainwashing tbh… I’m hoping for a double “I know you’re in there” fight between skk and sskk. Not that Dazai can do much physically but his strength has always been with words anyways, and I am certain Chuuya’s already fighting back. And I know Atsushi will reach Akutagawa. Manifesting sskk reunion where they challenge Fukuchi again and win this time via the power of unbreakable trust (delusional).

Sigma asks Fyodor “WHAT are you?” Which is interesting, and I’m hoping will acknowledge the way Fyodor doesn’t seem to age… but also intriguing is the “getting closer” part on the side which implies he’s not quite right. I think Fyodor will still turn out to be human tbh (it’d be weird otherwise, thematically), but now I’m starting to lend a little more weight to that theory about a Fyodor double…

Well anyways. This was a lot. I’m going to helplessly whir about it for a bit now.

[wildfloweronwheels]

Probably won't articulate this particularly well because the thoughts are still cooking but so far, even if it doesn't end up lasting for them, there's just something so warm about Taylor and Travis in an entirely different way to how I remember it being when we found out about Taylor and Joe. That warmth was a relief, a blazing fire keeping the chill away from someone who had been stuck in the fiercest and most oppressive winter. We were all so worried and she she was so unwell, by her own admission Joe saved her or at least made her feel like it was worth trying to save herself. He loved her privately when that was what she needed. This warmth is different and I can't quite explain why.

Maybe it's because this all started with a man shooting his shot on a friendship bracelet and being open about his feelings and what he wanted in a healthy sweet way (which anyone who does relationships with men knows is rare lol) or maybe it's that he doesn't seem phased by her success, at least for now, embracing it. Maybe it's that he's refreshingly willing to talk about her and it's not that Joe wasn't, he did, he just seemed to make people afraid to ask??? Maybe it's the happiness that radiated off them both at the game, both of them being OK with bold and public and showing up in a way we know Joe wasn't in the end or wouldn't let Taylor be for him. Maybe it's just that she's healthier now so instead of showing her how it could be, he's able to just slot right into where she's at. A place full of power and both parts of herself, Taylor the person and Taylor the artiste.

Whatever the reason, the best way I can describe the vibes we all picked up on on Sunday is an exhale (if you have better descriptions, leave them below) and even if this isn't forever, the feeling that we're watching Something feels so so nice you guys and honestly gives me hope for myself too

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Home

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, awkward boys, threats, cursing, mentioned murders, mentioned drug use, teasing, family talks, sharing clothes, Mod being terrified, a surprisingly pleasant outting, Collette and Tom being helpful saints, a lot of tears, hurt/comfort, feels, so many feels, past abuse (physical and sexual), MF being awful (seriously bad), past underage sex, past inebriated sex, Kells being re-traumatized, baby talks, Collette being an amazing mom, Kells being sick, Kells in denial, cuddles, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Thankfully nothing happened right in the moment. Colson had hidden his face against Dom's neck and Tom- the saint that he was, stepped in. “Mod love, not right now. We have to pack. Did I tell you how Dom and I met?” The poor lost beta shook his head and looked as if his heart was hurting. It didn't make any sense to Kells. The Alpha thought that might be a good starting point for a gentle threat, if the man knew who he was he would know not to spread any sensitive information around. He hoped it would be like knowing a secret about Persephone, would anyone risk pissing off Hades?

Colson didn't completely pull away, he made sure to stop anything from progressing below the belt but he kept the killer close as they escaped to his room. The place was stark and plain, Dom had never seen the point in decorating because it never felt like home. The omega still gave him a look. “You really are a psycho.”

“Sociopaf. You okay?” He tried to ask but the older man just flipped him off.

“Later. At home. He- It'll be fine. Right?” Col’s voice went soft and Dom could feel the pleading eyes from behind dark shades. He wanted to make it all better but short of killing the beta…

“Course. Tom don't like bad people and he's got a good radar. It'll be fine. So none of ‘em know?” He asked gently, there was something nagging at his mind but he couldn't pick it out of his brain. It was like a thought on the tip of his tongue he couldn't articulate. He tried to let it go before it drove him mad.

“Just mom. We hid it from everyone else. Fuck- not now. At home. Now…” Kells trailed off as he opened the closet. It was a mess of course, an external visual of Dom’s internal chaos but the omega just sighed and started tossing stuff into a box. “Fuck I wanna curl up in this and never leave.”

They both froze and the Alpha had to clear his throat and walk away. He knew he'd keep that statement safe in his memory forever but he wouldn't embarrass his mate. Were his nesting instincts kicking in already or was he just that in love? Considering how much they bickered it wasn't like the mob boss to be nice.

“I thought being a hitman would make you good money. I'm not saying you don't have style but shit babe, does any of this have an actual label? I told you, you don't understand the finer shit.” And there he was, Dom's catty lover. It was almost a comfort to be insulted.

Kells could feel his cheeks still pink and he hoped most of it was covered by his glasses. Why the fuck would he let himself say that? He couldn't help breathing deep calming breaths, being surrounded by his boy’s scent was intoxicating. Dom didn't have to know it though.

The rest of the time at their flat moved surprisingly fast. They didn't even need that many boxes. Tom had more things but most of Dom's life fit into a box or two. He hid his knives safely in a pile of his clothes and was pretty sure he caught his omega huffing his most recently worn shirt. Of course he didn't say anything, he liked his dick where it was. Mod very carefully didn't look at him but Dom made sure to step into his personal space at least a few times. It wasn't just Colson he was protecting, the beta was a little too friendly to his brother as well. He wouldn't pass judgment until they all talked, if the man handled the truth well he'd give his silent blessing. He wasn't that daft, he'd never tell Tom what to do anymore than he would his lover, again he liked his body parts attached. He knew how easy it was to take the human form apart.

The ride to their new home was quiet and awkward. All four of them packed into the bucket seat. Thankfully it was only a few blocks to the Four Seasons but it felt like miles to Kells. He'd sent a text to his mother who wasn't exactly helpful. Collette had been telling him for years to let at least one or two of his friends in. She basically just said ‘that’s what you get’, but when they arrived at the hotel she was waiting for them.

It only took a few carts to move everything upstairs and they had people for that. Col knew they needed to stop the distractions but before they all talked he led his lover into his favorite place in his home. Dominic paused as he stepped inside the closet that was far bigger than his last bedroom. Everything was perfectly arranged by color and type and the scent felt like heaven. There wasn't exactly a lot of room left for him but enough for what he had, he just didn't want to waste anymore time. He could unpack anytime. “Where's ya dream car Barbie?” He teased his mate to help ground the man and got a soft chuckle back.

“I'm just Ken.” Kells shrugged, flipping him off but thankfully he finally started to let himself relax. The sunglasses were tucked away in a drawer lined with dozens, his bloody clothes were dropped in a basket, and he'd blessedly rid himself of guns the moment they were inside.

Dom watched the mask slip away with the armor of his faux Alpha garb. When Colson was bare and just him again it helped something relax in the boy's chest. Silently the omega gave him a look that said more than his mouth could. If Dom didn't strip off his messy clothes and change he'd be in trouble. He was honestly surprised he hadn't been hosed down before being granted entrance to this safe haven of fabric and fluff. He was starting to realize maybe the fashion wasn't just carefully cultivated to hide his lover, maybe it really was just him and the older man was letting him see that.

He set to work undressing and trying to be careful not to drip. He was pretty sure everything had already dried but he didn't want to risk it. He didn't notice his partner getting into one of the boxes until he turned to see Col wearing one of his shirts and holding- oh fuck. A gift Tom had given him for his birthday. A picture of the two of them with the date written on the back. It was obviously his birthday because the other omega had tried to embarrass him with candles and balloons all around with the number printed in bold. It had happened only a month before they met. “Mostly twenty my ass. You're a baby.” The omega muttered but he didn't seem terribly upset.

“Ain't no difference between nineteen and twenty. Not really.” He tried to shrug. So what if he was closer to one than the other? It was just a bloody year. Not even. “Ain't gonna let you use it as a distraction to fight me. Put ya pants on and ‘and give me a shirt. We talking to ya bruv.”

Colson was insulted by how completely right his lover was, Dom didn't have to call him out like that. He set the picture aside to have it framed and stood to find the boy a top. “How about this?” He asked, pulling one of his tees out of a drawer and he held it up to display. The bastard of course just shrugged, it wasn't like he understood the difference on any of it. “I'm ashamed of you. I'm ashamed I've let you into my inner sanctum. You don't deserve it.”

Dom's brows furrowed. “Weird fing to call ya cunt.” Of course he was hit in the face with the top but he made his man laugh and that's all that mattered. “When I were a kid I always fhought when I could afford a Westwood I'd feel free.” He offered something true of himself. He'd always been a bit of a punk but his father of course wouldn't let him. It was too feminine. “Dad said Alpha's didn't dress like tha’.”

“Of course you think that's expensive. You're adorable, you know that?” Kells teased to keep the mood light but he took the tee back from Dom and moved to another drawer. The next thing he pulled out was a white top with a fake Mickey Mouse print. “Here, I have a few.” He tried not to focus on the way the kid looked at him, he was pretty sure there was an extra sheen to those jade eyes. When he caught a sniffle he stepped away, giving Dom a moment to himself as he found them both shorts.

The Alpha slipped the fabric over his head and looked in the mirror. He normally hated seeing himself but for once it felt… right. Especially when Col stepped up next to him. Was it possible for him to not hate himself now that he finally felt accepted? It could simply be the rush he always felt after a kill but he didn't think so. “I think it fits you. You're welcome to look around and use whatever. Just not when you-”

“Don't get anyfing messy, I know.” Dom laughed, taking the offered shorts and getting dressed before he took his mate's hand in his own. “You know ‘ey waiting for us. Come on. No matter wha’ I don't fink he'll tell anyone else. I won't let ‘im.” It was sobering to bring them back to reality but someone had to and both Tom and Collette were the type to drag them out if they lingered too long. After a moment Kells nodded. It had to work out either way. He just hoped it didn't end up in another mess.

The three others were already waiting in the living room when they entered, Mod trying to look calm but he was obviously anxious. The beta looked surprised to see Colson so dressed down and it made him realize it was the first time he'd let the man in his home. Fuck, how much had he held back to hide himself? Could he truly call anyone a friend? He hoped after they talked the other man would finally feel like one again but he'd understand if it was too much.

“Mod dear, may I ask what you think you heard?” Collette took control of the situation when no one else spoke. She hated seeing her boys so scared. It gave the pair a moment to get settled and Dom was pleased when Col stayed close.

“Nothing. I… I didn't hear anything. Please boss? I didn't hear anything you didn't want me to.” Well fuck if they were all that scared of him then he definitely didn't have any family. Just underlings.

“You heard me hitting on my mate. My Alpha mate.” Col tried to make himself explain.

“Not if you didn't want me to.”

“No Mod. Shit! I'm not gonna kill you. Would you calm the fuck down?”

“I might.” Dom offered and was swatted on the leg for his help.

“He won't either. You're like a brother to me. Hell, we grew up together. I've known you since I was thirteen!” His voice broke a little but he was more upset with himself than anyone else. He was starting to realize he was still letting his bastard father control him no matter how far away or how long he'd been without him. What image did his boys have of him? He'd always thought he and Mod were closer but maybe he should have thought twice. He hadn't even heard the guy call him by name since he took his role as the head of the family.

The beta shook where he sat and they didn't know if it was from fear or anger or both. It wasn't until tears welled in his eyes that Col realized it might even be from pain. “Obviously fucking not or you'd know you can trust me. With anything! But you don't. You never have.”

Kells swallowed hard and felt Dom squeeze his hand. They were sitting and touching almost everywhere on the couch and the Alpha was obviously fighting himself not to be too overprotective. “I haven't. I haven't let you know me at all and that's on me. You've never shown me anything but that you'd be cool with me. I- I'm sorry about that.”

Mod hadn't been looking at him but he finally did, the tension in him relaxing a little. “I'm fucking cool. You should know that shit already. I'm not a dick. When have I ever made it seem like I don't respect the fuck out of omegas?” There it was. The word that scared Colson his whole life. The title he'd fought so hard against for so long.

He couldn't help his own eyes misting but he tried to swallow the lump in his throat before it got worse. “You do. I know you do but they-”

“I'm not them Colson! I was friends with you, that's why I'm fucking here. I barely knew your dad and I don't like most of our damn job! I like that we save people but I never would have done this if not for you! So don't fucking lump me in with the rest of your gun toting buddies. You should have known you could trust me. I mean shit, I just wanted to smoke weed with my best friend and chill.”

They both laughed wetly at that. They'd met because Col used to sell pot for Travis. They'd bonded over music and spent most of their time together until Mod was just part of the gang. Literally. Kells didn't realize how much that bothered his brother and he vowed to work on that. If the man wanted to just stay back with Tom he'd get them set up with their own office. Maybe even start a rule no one had to carry if they didn't want to.

“So… mated huh?” The beta tried to change the subject and ease the heavy weight in the room. He'd always been good at calming the boss and helping him remember that he didn't always have to be on. He could relax and be himself too. It normally included good weed but he didn't smell it in the home anymore and he wasn't going to ask. He shouldn't. Shit he probably would.

“I'd say it was an accident but-” Col shrugged and leaned against his lover a little more.

“Technically yeah. You fucking bit me the day we met.” Dom teased, testing the waters of what was allowed with a gentle kiss to his mate's temple.

“Which was you coming to kill him right?” Oh so Tom had really filled him in.

“Well… yeah. But I fhought he were selling omegas. I didn't fink he'd be keeping me.”

“Oh you think I'm keeping you?” The omega huffed playfully. He couldn't let Dom get an ego or anything.

“Considering all I already did to claim yas yeah. I'd jus’ follow you if you tried to kick me out.” It was stated so matter of fact and Col knew it was true. He had done it already for weeks.

“Do you want help telling everyone else? I mean they're gonna find out anyway right?” Mod asked gently. “I mean hell I'm a beta and I can smell the difference on you.”

Colson glanced at his best friend and tried so hard not to glare. It was annoying when everyone else just sat back and watched him instead of speaking up. “We're not there yet.”

“But-”

“No. I can't let Megan find out. She's already trying to push me out.” Kells growled but the name of the bitch made that feeling start back in Dom's mind. What was it?

“I talked to her and convinced her I needed help.” Collette explained. “She thinks she's seducing a man who runs a gang near here. I told her it was someone we dealt with but that I thought he might be the one stealing from us. She thinks he's a rich fuck who wants what's ours when it's really one of my old friends. He'll let us know if she's really on our side or if she's trying to branch out.”

That soothed a lot of the stress in Col’s chest. If Megan was off taking care of that then at least he wouldn't have to deal with her for a while. “Thanks mom.”

“I told you I'm the brains here.” She smiled but none of them noticed that Dom had gone quiet.

The Alpha finally remembered what he had forgotten and he wasn't sure how to bring it up or even if he should. He wanted to be open with his lover but he knew this would upset him and he'd already been so hurt tonight. Megan knew. Somehow he'd been so enraged with her he hadn't caught it at the time or maybe he hadn't realized none of his mate's friends were supposed to know. She'd said it. Right to his face. She'd called Colson an omega. Oh fuck. “Cols… she knows.”

Kells turned wide eyes on his mate and almost pulled away. He made a conscious effort not to shut down but it was a near thing. “The fuck are you talking about?” His voice was flat because if he let any emotion out it might be terror. If she knew… she really had planned to assault him. She knew she could overpower him.

“Tha’ night, she uh… she said summat like ‘ask your omega'. She implied you fucked ‘er so I didn't wanna bring it up.”

“Ew no! That was the first fucking time we even kissed!”

“Tha' ain't saying much. You told me you don't like kissing.” Dom huffed softly but his lover was starting to shake.

“I never… I mean I've been fucked up around her before but I don't think… we-”

Mod cleared his throat and when they turned to look at him on the couch across from them his eyes looked full of worry. “I think you did, brother.” Even with all the fear building in him it felt good to the omega to hear that word again. He hadn't even realized how long it had been since he last felt like he had one.

“What… when?” Colson felt small and lost and he was thankful for the way Dom held him. It wasn't overwhelming, just an arm around his shoulders and a solid line of them touching from knee to ribs.

“I think you were fifteen. Remember your birthday party that year?” Mod offered.

“No.” Col choked on a noise that was almost a laugh but there was no amusement there.

“Yeah I didn't think so. Please know I wouldn't have let you go to bed with her. She was already eighteen and that felt gross to me. I mean to each their own but I wouldn't have fucked you.” Mod tried to make light. “You know how fucked up I was at the time so I figured we both blacked out that night but the next day I caught her sneaking out of your room. She just winked at me and left but you were still dead to the world and later when everyone acted like nothing had happened I just figured you didn't want to talk about it.”

“Fuck- I-” Colson's stomach rolled. He was starting to become accustomed to the nausea but it hit him as hard as it did when she tried for him. A second time? Or was there more? Dom gave him a worried look before discreetly tucking his warm palm under his shirt to rest over his inked belly. He wanted to snap at the Alpha but shit it helped.

“I'm sorry Col.” Mod sighed but of course it wasn't his fault.

“It wasn't on you. Just because you know now doesn't mean you can feel like you should have protected my ass. You just said you respected omegas, don't pull that shit. I'm still me.”

“Dude chill! I don't mean it cause you're omega, I mean cause you were a kid and I knew you'd been through shit. I'm your big brother asshole.” That shut Colson up because he did know Mod better than that. He was just scared and he hated it.

“Oh. Right.” He sighed, trying to release a little tension in his shoulders but he didn't know anything now. Had she always known? Had he fucked her or-

Dom gasped at how quickly his lover was up and off the couch and out of the room. He didn't even know where the man was heading until he heard the bathroom door slam. He hated that his partner was hurting and he couldn't fix it.

“Fair is fair.” Collette muttered softly and he looked back at her. He didn't think he was supposed to run after him. “He was a little jerk to me.” She grinned, happy for a moment in her memory before her face fell. “I hope he can learn to enjoy this time and accept it before he misses it all. I was terrified every day with him because I was so young and his father was…” She sighed. “I don't want him missing the good things. He'll be able to feel them before long.”

Dom shifted on his seat and his knee started bouncing. His hearing was so sensitive he could just make out his mate being sick. It made his need for revenge against the female Alpha burn in his veins but in this he wouldn't make a decision without Kells. “I'm trying.” He tried to soothe her worries but it scared him too. He couldn't fathom the pain Colson had been through as a boy and this might make him regress. He'd do anything he could to help.

When Col finally appeared again his shoulders were hunched and his hand was holding his stomach. Dom tried not to get excited because it looked more as if his mate was trying to hold himself together. “I'm sure it was fine at the time.” The omega huffed but even he barely believed it. Especially if that's when she found out what he was. He never allowed that. “She probably thought it was. It's whatever.”

“I believe it's time I should let you know what Mod and I found. Someone has been stealing from you for a long time. Not large sums but enough to make someone rich. Who is normally dealing with the buys?” Tom offered, but he wasn't truly changing the subject. He was trying to help his new friend see the truth. That woman had never been his friend.

“Can we all shut the fuck up for a minute? It's late and she's busy. Nothing is going to happen tonight. Mod, you're welcome to the couch. Tom, I hope you enjoy your new room. Dom?” He waited until his lover met his gaze. “Get the fuck in bed?”

“Right.” The Alpha barely even looked at anyone else before he jumped off the sofa to follow his man's needs.

“Mom? Love you. Be good.” He tried to be stern but she just grinned as he kissed her cheek. Colson was shocked when Mod stood up and held out his arms. He didn't force a hug but Kells was happy to accept it. He couldn't even remember the last time they fist bumped for fucks sake.

“You're doing good kid. I'm proud of you.” The beta whispered against his neck and Col had to fight back the burn in his eyes.

“Don't linger too long. You know who's waiting for him.” Tom joked, tugging on the edge of Mod’s shirt and it made the man jump. The other omega always found it hilarious to watch people be so scared of his best friend. “Come. You can help me unpack.” He offered when the pair stopped hugging and Colson watched as the photographer walked off, putting his hair in a messy bun. He just expected Mod to follow and of course he did.

“You might have competition on cutest couple soon” Collette joked with her son who just laughed wetly and hugged her close without words. “I'm not who you need right now. Don't worry, I'm not offended. That boy loves you both so much.”

“Mom-”

“No Colson. You listen to me.” She huffed, cupping his cheeks so he couldn't look away. He was a giant now but she still saw her little boy that went through terrible pain and loss. “This isn't that. They-” She paused and dropped one hand to rest over his still flat stomach. “They aren't the same. It's okay to be terrified, that won't ever go away. Hell it's been almost thirty years and I'm still always scared for you. But it's alright to be happy too. I can't promise it'll be okay but you're ready now.”

“I'm n-”

She cut him off. “You are the bravest man I know and yes the fuck you are. I'm not trying to hurt you, I never would. But your bond starts now. All three of you.” He didn't try and respond but he squeezed her close before disengaging and heading to bed.

Dom had heard every word but he didn't show it, he just held up the blankets like Colson did for him and the omega collapsed next to him. They didn't speak, they didn't need to and both of them were a little too overwhelmed. Kells just turned around to face the wall and fit himself against his lover's chest. He took the Alpha's hand and pressed it against his stomach, he wasn't admitting anything. Not yet. But it was warm and soft and he knew it made the boy happy. Besides, it was comforting as fuck.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

This was a bit of a heavy chapter but it had to be to mix in a little plot. I tried to keep them joking around too though so it didn't get too dark. I don't know why I love Tod (Tom/Mod) but it's so cute. There might be a time skip now since we covered so much of a few days. Hopefully Kells feels better. I hope you're enjoying it 💣🖤

[foxymoxynoona]

"Can I interest you in some cookies?" with a loving husband and father of two, Min Yoongi. please and thank you Foxy😌

Characters: Dad Yoongi x Reader Words: 4963 CW: references to sex, some swearing, otherwise just fluff

[Sugie]: need anything from store on my way home?

[Y/N]: onion diapers sz 4 wipes (NO scent!) kid toothpaste stwbry cucumber cheese sticks 

[Y/N]: bananas bandaids rice blueberries if on sale

[Y/N]: apple juice for kids 

[Y/N]: 8*stwbry flavor toothpaste

Yoongi reads between the lines of your disorganized list, no doubt dashed together as you whirl through the house to see what’s low or missing. You’re thinking about what to cook for dinner and seeing no onion. Size 4 diapers means Joo, who’s been leaking through the legs of her old kind since she started walking, a little on the late side but she’s really a power house now, especially when she runs headfirst into immovable objects; maybe she’s out of diapers or maybe you’ve had a day of cleaning the leaks and have made the call the toss the remaining ones. He’ll get the ‘active baby’ kind that Jungkook says work well because if it works for a kid of Jungkook’s it must work for Joo. The toothpaste will be for Kija and he disagrees they’re completely out because he’s still able to squeeze a little tiny bit but fine, he’ll give you this victory and go ahead and buy a new tube; maybe you’re hoping he’ll forget the argument that had seemed so important for some reason when you sent him the list the other day. He’s a little offended you don’t expect he’ll know the toothpaste has to be strawberry, not mint, but he’s learned his lesson that Kija will scream and cry and scrape at his mouth like it’s on fire. Three tubes of mint kids toothpaste wait in the cabinet for him to grow out of that someday.

Most of the food items are obvious but the bandaids could mean someone got hurt or that someone got into the box unsupervised. Kija is big on bandaids suddenly after two years of shrieking if you even tried to put one on and now suddenly every imagined bump needs a bandaid. 

But the rice…

[Sugie]: rice? I just bought some its in the bottom of the pantry

[Y/N]: bad storage place, got dump out all over kitchen

He sighs. 

Your typos gives him the image of you chasing children and dog through the house, texting distractedly while trying to get them corralled safely so you can make their early dinner. In the old days you texted as articulately as you spoke. He’ll cook something better for the two of you, he decides, and remembers to tell you that so you don’t just heat up extra dumplings for yourself too.

[Sugie]: i’ll cook so stay hungry

[Y/N]: k

Definitely busy. 

He makes quick work of the shopping trip, double checking he has everything on your list even though he had expected you’d only have one or two things for him because he was at the store two days ago. They don’t have strawberry kids toothpaste but hopefully watermelon will do –the bubblegum flavor he almost grabs has sparkles in it and Kija will decide that means it’s “spicy.” Yoongi is proud of himself for predicting this.

But now that he’s thinking about it, he feels bad about such a stupid argument about the toothpaste. Did it matter if you threw the tube away while there was still a squeeze or two left? You weren’t that cash-strapped right now. He didn’t know why he’d felt so strongly about his way being right. What a waste of energy, fighting with you over something stupid, when energy was already hard to come by.

So he grabs a box of cookies too, for you, the maple flavor ones that aren’t usually available outside of this time of year and sell out fast. They aren’t anything expensive, and definitely not as good as what you could bake on your own. But with two small children at home, him working full time and you still working part time as a compromise for juggling your careers and family, sometimes you have to take the shortcut to a treat. Boxed cookies instead of homemade. At least it was something.

The house is in chaos by the time Yoongi gets home and your stress level isn’t helping it. Knowing he was out busy but childless all day, you had hoped to have the kids settled, obedient, and clean when he walks through the door, to show what a good grip you have on things. He doesn’t expect it, but still you feel the need to prove that you can handle the kids all day just fine on your own and have it look tidy and have dinner on the table. The woman who does it all! After all, you’re the one who wanted to have the first kid. After all, you’re the one who suggested a second even though you had agreed on only one. Kija was too easy of a baby. He tricked you. And yes Yoongi had agreed, but when things didn’t go well, sometimes you felt like you’d tricked him too.

It is not a perfectly ordered and quiet household Yoongi walks into. You’ve made an appropriate snack for the kids to eat while waiting for Yoongi to get home with the ingredients for you to make the rest of dinner (or hopefully he will take over that part), but Joo choked on a piece of cracker and threw up a little, which scared you; Kija took advantage of your distraction to climb onto the back of the couch and throw his food onto the floor for Holy to gobble up; because Holy is there, you aren’t prepared for the puddle of pee in the hallway, which you step in as you’re dragging Joo to the nursery to clean up. When you yell at the unexpected warm puddle and jump to the side, you hit your shoulder on a picture frame, which crashes to the floor and shatters, making Joo cry. Kija and Holy come running to see what happened and you shriek at them to stay so they don’t walk through the glass, and Kija starts wailing at being shouted at.

This is what Yoongi walks into. You are on the verge of tears. One look at your husband’s surprised face is enough to nearly pitch you over the edge into your own meltdown. His lifted eyes feel like a lecture –but you should know better. He won’t lecture about something like this. Instead he scoops up Kija and takes Holy by the collar, guiding his dog son to the crate and his human son back to the TV. He returns a moment later with the broom, and you feel confident in picking your clear path the rest of the way to the nursery.

By the time you come back, Joo is clean and Yoongi is on his hands and knees cleaning up the dog pee and any small shards of glass. You suspect he’ll be out here again later tonight for one more wipe of the floor just to make sure there’s no glass left. You haven’t even said hello yet but you’re embarrassed he had to walk in and go right to problem-solving.

When he looks up at you, you start to apologize, “I’m sorry that–”

“Your leg is bleeding,” he points out. You hadn’t even noticed. The corner of the frame must have cut you on the way down.

So you settle Joo on the couch with Kija and go to clean yourself up this time. You finish around the same time Yoongi is bagging up the last of the dirty paper towels.

“Sorry about–” you start again, but this time he interrupts you with narrowed eyes, realizing, “Kids are too quiet.”

The two of you share a look and step quickly to the living room where bright flashy cartoons are lighting up an empty room. A toddler’s laugh is followed by the urgent hush of a child. And Holy is no longer in his crate.

“Kija,” Yoongi murmurs as you both follow the sound of nails scrabbling excitedly against tile –Holy, but that good pup never operates alone. You both dart to the kitchen to just stare in awe for a moment at the scene of chaos.

The grocery bags Yoongi set onto the counter have been upended. Holy has turned from the onions but the cucumbers are being shredded before your eyes. Joo has a fistfull as well that has no doubt gone through Holy’s mouth prior, but her other hand delicately holds a single cookie, still intact despite the fountain of crumbs around her. 

Kija is the cause of the waterfall, of course. He’s perched innocently on the counter, feet dangling, a box of cookies you weren’t even aware was on its way into the house ripped open like a fucking bear got to it and the cookies are mangled, pieces strewn across the counter, across Kija’s lap, and cascading down to Joo.

“Holy likes cookies,” Kija informs you and Yoongi with a crumby smile. You dart forward to knock the dog-masticated cucumber from Joo’s hand but it means she takes another bite of cookie before you can wrestle that from her too. The tantrum is instant as you pull her up, kicking and screaming, the whole bit because she’s clearly hoping her appa will insist you give the cookie back to her.

“You got into the bags,” Yoongi says, voice serious but steady. He scoops Kija off the counter, sending the cookies falling from his lap. Holy goes wild at the sound of more falling food and you’re the one to grab him, dragging him straight backwards as he scrabbles to try and stay. By the time he’s back in his crate, Yoongi has Kija and Joo both on the counter, feet in the sink as he rinses their toes and hands off. 

Only then do you recognize the smell of the maple cookies you enjoy so much; it’s almost enough to tip you truly into tears to realize Yoongi brought home your favorite cookies and not only did you not have a clean, orderly house for him to enter but now the cookies have been destroyed while he was cleaning up another mess that happened on your watch.

He’s mumbling to the kids and shaking his head; when you come over to offer to take over, he has a smile for you and finally a greeting,

“Seems like it’s been a crazy day, huh?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage as you collapse briefly against his arm, just for the comfort his his solid body. His energy immediately resets you. 

Yoongi’s home. The evening will be better now.

He lifts Joo from the sink first, settling her into your arms to hold as he towels off her toes with the dish towel, then he twists Kija.

“Ah, you were a naughty boy not helping your eomma,” he scolds Kija lightly as he works the towel. “If it’s a crazy day, it’s even more important for you to be a big brother.”

“I do help,” Kija defends. “I feed Joo! She is so hungry and I am so hungry too. It is past our dinner! And you’re late! Why did you go away all day today? It’s not the right thing to do.” He points at the digital readout on the fridge magnet to punctuate his reverse lecture, except not only can Kija not tell time, it’s not a clock, it’s an egg timer. The time right now is definitely not 02:17, that’s just how long was left when Yoongi cooked yesterday and decided the meat was ready before the timer went off and paused it so the beeping wouldn’t wake Joo up from an impromptu nap.

But now that he’s given his defense, Kija’s mouth widens out in that line Yoongi knows appears on his own face, and he gives his father a serious look, trying to gauge how in trouble he actually is.

“No one was bad,” you offer. “Just… busy. Today was a busy day.”

“It was a very busy day,” Kija agrees. He sounds like such a little man, sometimes you have to remind yourself that barely-four is still a very little kid. He watches Yoongi another second but then decides he’s not in trouble and launches into, “Eomma took us to the library for story time and it was about robots! I want to be the blue robot and Joo can be the green robot and you can be the white robot and–”

“Why are the kid books and shows all about robots?” Yoongi sighs, even though he knows that’s not totally true. 

Kija insists hotly, “There are buses and cars too! And airplanes and–”

“Don’t you like animals?” Yoongi presses. “What about mountains and the sea?”

You can’t stop yourself from snickering under your breath, “Yes I married such a nature-boy…”

“I like natural things! Didn’t I make that table and chairs for us?” He had, the very ones nestled in the corner of the kitchen where the four of you would gather to eat what was looking more and more like a dinner of takeout. With a self-aware smile, Yoongi adds, “I like nature as long as I have my computer and electricity and a fan. Then it’s ok. But robots… I want our children to appreciate the natural beauty in life.”

“I want to play with your phone,” Kija counters, a perfectly timed response, on theme even without him understanding how.

Yoongi gives you a look and laughs at his son as he sets him on the ground, “No. Go sit in silence and be alone with your thoughts.”

“I hate silence! I hate my thoughts!”

Now Yoongi is laughing; he’s never lost patiences when Kija gets mouthy, which he seems to do more now, though the obstinacy started as a toddler. He sounds like you, Yoongi had once insisted when you’d worried, but the truth is he sounds like Yoongi more often than you; you’re convinced he already has a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor, just like his dad. But he does happen to be going through a robot and race car phase, which Yoongi can’t identify with, and Kija does not seem to enjoy music in any particular way despite it being Yoongi’s life’s blood. 

But Joo does, soothed nightly by the soft melodies of lullabies her appa has composed for her. She giggles now as he leans in to kiss her toes, only to suddenly scowl and scold in her little chirpy voice, 

“No! My toes!”

Abruptly Yoongi stops and mutters playfully, “Already telling her old dad to back off…” A second later though she’s sticking her foot towards him again, trying to tempt him into more tickles expressly so she can tell him off again. She has no problem demanding what she wants, or defending what’s hers, or making it clear when she’s had enough of people and wants some quiet time. As soon as she could crawl, she was trying to break into Yoongi’s studio to get to his keyboard, where she’d jab at a few keys and then call for Appa, her desire for music developing earlier than her ability to verbally communicate it. But Yoongi understood and played for her, improvising melodies around the random keys she’d push. Just like Yoongi understood Kija’s need for praise when he’d make something cool, or more recently, for his dad to be engaged in the things he liked, even if Yoongi didn’t really care about race cars or robots. 

You were not surprised to have learned in the last four years that Yoongi is better as a father than you had ever dreamed. Not perfect. Your years of entering parenthood hadn’t been without friction and frustration. But his love for his children is always first and foremost and watching the way he listens to the children rattling off nearly incoherently about their day under his attention now warms you again. And fans the flame of your own feeling of failure.

Suddenly Yoongi stops them with a hand on each child’s head; they are confused and silenced by the odd behavior as Yoongi says to you, “Go sit and relax with them. I’ll make dinner.”

“It’s late. I didn’t even start rice–”

“I bought microwaveable,” he says –not just a compromise, but a reference to an argument you had in fact won, or at least the realities of parenting small children had. Yoongi had sworn to never have a microwave because of the “horrors” they did to food. But that was before the two of you became connoisseurs of meals that had gone cold while you tended to unfortunately timed diaper explosions, or sleepless nights of teething, of not wanting to turn the oven on to reheat the dino nuggets Kija refused at dinner but Yoongi loving himself a little more than just eating them cold like you do. 

“I wanted to have it ready when you got home,” you sigh. 

He can sense your frustration, though he doesn’t share any of your disappointment. He’s simply moved by understanding; today you were the one with the day busier than expected under the direction of small children. Other days it’s him. His fingers are light on your lower back as he nudges.

“You had the kids by yourself all day,” he shrugs. “It’s enough. Go sit and I’ll get food for everyone. And you will eat more than just cookie crumbs for dinner,” he adds, giving Joo a serious look that only makes the toddler smile. When Yoongi holds the look, eyes slowly narrowing, Joo starts to giggle. 

Yoongi, a fire-spitting underground rapper in his younger days with hard lyrics and rivalries with other artists? It’s impossible for his toddler daughter to imagine. She just performs an incredible feat of agility possibly only for toddlers and presses her foot into his mouth even though she’s still on your hip.

“Ah, kids these days…” he grumbles to make you laugh because he sounds like his own dad. You take the life raft he has offered you and go to watch cartoons with the children. They are deliciously quiet.

For better or worse, Yoongi’s arrival does not actually settle the day down, it simply gives you an extra pair of hands and a calmer mind. The kids eat next to nothing but then complain about being hungry. They cry when the TV is turned off to eat together. They cry when Yoongi won’t give them more cookies even though Kija claims they’re his favorite. Bathtime happens, to be left at that, and with obvious proof by the destruction of the bathroom. Joo has an accident before they even get a diaper onto her so technically bathtime happens again. Kija can’t find his special monkey he sleeps with –the one Yoongi brought back from the weeklong trip he took before Kija was old enough to remember and yet racked him with guilt for months– and then finds it in Holy’s crate which leads to a loud standoff between the two and then an emergency trip through the washing machine and dryer’s quick cycle, which delays bedtime but you both know it won’t happen without Raps the monkey anyway. Kija throws a fit about the different flavor of toothpaste, and the kids can’t agree on a story so it’s settled there will be two, and then there’s a fight for Yoongi’s lap until he shifts and shuffles in the rocking chair until they’re both snuggled down. 

You, the one who worked so hard to care for the children all day, are left with an empty lap on the ground, but other days these roles are reversed so you try not to be hurt by it. Instead you just admire the way Yoongi reads to the kids, so very different than your own attempts to sound like the characters. He just sounds like himself, his smooth voice gliding around the words as he tells the story of Olivia’s trip to the museum like it’s a conversation. In a way it is: every two pages Kija interrupts him to tell him something totally unrelated –a fact he learned about shrimp in a book at the library, that they saw a dog in a backpack on the train, that there were ants on the sidewalk in the park– and Yoongi’s eyebrow raise and he nods in acknowledgement of this precious fact Kija needed to share, and then he continues to story, his voice steady and slow.

Honestly, it’s putting you to sleep too. Yoongi’s way of speaking has always been soothing to you. It was one of the first things you loved about him, that no matter how worked up you were, however bad your day, he could speak about literally anything and his calming words and rhythm would rock you to a place of peace. 

It’s no surprise Joo is almost asleep when he finishes and Kija’s facts have petered out. You carry Joo to her crib and Yoongi tucks Kija into the little boy bed he’s only recently transitioned to; Yoongi and Kija built it together one afternoon from a kit as Yoongi tried to lecture Kija about the importance of building furniture with your own two hands and you tried not to giggle too loudly in the background about how cute your boys are. It took twice as long to build but afterwards Kija announce “Me and Appa are a superteam!” and Yoongi’s smile made clear he didn’t mind the delays.

You trade places, so each child gets a kiss or hair ruffle and whispered I love you from you both, and then meet at the door of the bedroom for one final glance before you shut it.

Except Yoongi has already gone down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “The pork wasn’t very good, I’lll make something else.”

“What? No, the pork was great and I ate enough.”

“Will you eat it if I make something else?”

“No,” you insist, knowing he won’t believe you. He doesn’t. He’s disappointed that he rushed the veggies and left the pork a little too long. It's not the meal he wanted you to have after an obviously tiring day with the kids. But you say again, “I don’t want anything else to eat. I just want…”

“Hm?” He freezes at the kitchen doorway, looking casually back at you as if everything in him doesn’t pause to see what you’ll say. You could say pretty much anything right now and he’d find a way to give it to you as thanks for the day focused on his work, as an apology that he wasn’t here to help, to express his regret that the dinner was not what you deserved.

“Just sit with me and watch a show. Do you have time or are you needing to go right to bed–”

“I have time for you,” he quickly assures you. “Do you want tea? Beer?”

“No, nothing.”

He brings you ice water anyways because he knows you forget to hydrate any when you’re chasing children. 

And he brings a plate, holding it out to you, the mangled remains of the maple cookies displayed.

“Can I interest you in some cookies?” he asked. 

The laughter bubbles out of you, followed by tears he predicted. He sets the water and plate of cookies on the table –with a stern “No” to Holy whose head lifts curiously from his bed by the TV. Then Yoongi bundles you into his arms, and stretches out into the corner of the couch and lifts the remote, silent and casual in his comfort of your minor breakdown. As soon as the show is selected –the next episode of something you two have been gradually making your way through, slowly since you each tend to fall asleep– he wraps both arms around you.

“Seems like it was a long day,” he says, hand stroking gently down your back. You nod under his chin. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I wanted to make it look easy and have everything nice when you came home after working all day–”

“Cut it with that bullshit,” he snorts. “I know it’s not easy. I just feel bad I was away all day–”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about it. It’s good! You deserve to go and it’s for your career… I know you keep passing on things to be at home.”

He shrugs again, voice low as he points out, “So do you.”

“Yeah, well…” It’s true. It’s true for both of you, and maybe, you consider, Yoongi feels that same blend of relief and regret that you do when you leave the house. The same blend you feel when you come home too. “It’s hard to want to be two places at once,” you sigh.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So we’re doing the best we can, I think.”

You nod. It’s true. The rest of the world makes it look so easy, like as soon as you have children your interests become singular, your patience and energy unlimited, your bond with your partner unshakeable. The last four years have tested all of those things –and yet you don’t regret it, not really, even after a day like today.

“I don’t regret any of this,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. “Except the dinner.”

“I thought it was good.”

“That’s because you’ll eat cold dino-nuggets. Your taste has always been terrible.”

“Yoongi!” you cry, laughter lacing his name on your lips. “I chose you, didn’t I?”

“Proving my point.”

“No, disproving it. You made very good little kids, even if they were little stinkers today.”

“I didn’t make those, you made them. I just gave you some of the materials. Maybe I’ll give you some more materials tonight.”

It earns a giggle against his chest. You both know you’ll fall asleep too quickly to get that far, even if you try to rally right now. You also know the materials won’t be true; a small procedure months ago has made sure that Kija and Joo will be the only two offspring for Min Yoongi. Two felt right to you both. Two felt like the maximum. Sometimes two felt like too much but you pushed through those moments, and once the glass and pee and cookie crumbs were cleaned up, two felt right again. 

“What, you don’t think I can?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be awake for it,” you admit.

“Ah, it’s like that, huh? I’ve lost my touch.”

“Your touch is good, my energy meter is just low.”

“Have some cookies, maybe the sugar will help you rally.”

“Why… wait, you really want to? Tonight?”

“I don’t know… you were so busy all day, I won’t bother you…”

“It’s not a bother, I just figured you were working all day…” You’re flattered now by the sudden bashfulness as he refuses to meet your eye when you push up against his chest. How many years have you been together now? And he still gets shy sometimes. You adore him, there’s no need to be shy, but it’s a core part of him and you treasure it, just as much as you melt at the times he is very much not shy about his wants.

So you reach over and grab a handful of cookies from the plate. They crumble in your hand, but still you sit up to eat the remains. It helps that he looks horrified by the crumbs escaping your cupped palm. You can’t stop giggling. He starts laughing too as Holy comes over to inspect this windfall.

“I just wanted to bring you your favorite cookies,” he sighs.

“I just wanted the house to be nice for you,” you point out. “Anyway, I’m still eating the cookies.”

“In crumbs.”

“They still taste good.”

“I’m so glad you have bad taste,” he sighs. You hold out a hand and he opens his mouth but doesn’t seem to expect you’ll actually dump some small pieces into it. Now he’s laughing and you’re both missing the show but you don’t care. He slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. 

“I’m so glad I had good taste when it mattered,” you argue, poking his side. 

You don’t have to see it to feel his gummy grin as he says, “Come on, I’m not that great–”

“I mean about this flavor of cookies, they’re really good.”

“You brat.”

The giggles are the final balm you needed, and maybe for him too. He seems happy when he drags you back in his arms and he doesn’t have to say it for you to know he’s glad to be home, and glad to be here with you. Even when it’s hard, you’re happy together. Even when your dinners aren’t perfect and your cookies get crumbled. Even when you both are interested at the suggestion of sex but then fail to make it to the end of the episode despite your best intentions.

It’s ok. There will be many more nights. You’re both learning, like how he should have just taken you right to the bedroom instead of watching the episode. But maybe the snuggles on the couch were all you each wanted or needed anyway. 

It’s ok. You still feel Yoongi’s love because in the morning he takes the kids and lets you sleep, and pulls the blanket back over you before he leaves the bed, and that really is love. And because of that, tonight you will make sure you have energy. 

Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

It’s ok. Waking up to the sound of your husband's low chuckles and the high giggles of your children is worth it all. And unlike that business about the toothpaste, Yoongi couldn’t agree with you more.

[mrsnancywheeler]

HEYYY omg ur post about reader isolating herself from her friends and finnick trying to help ease her back.. :(((( TFT HE CRIES BC HE JUST WANTS HER TO GET BETTER AND HE CARES SM FOR HER… IT HURTS 💔💔

But I can’t stop wondering about how confused Beckett and Tallulah might be when the reader comes back from the games bc of all the propaganda they consumed. about how a victor should act after winning the games. they would understand at first (bc of what happened w conway), but when its like months after her games and she still isolates herself is when they get concerned. Idk what do you think? im just saying things lolll

& i can imagine after the dinner, sweet girl’s initial thoughts are “omg that went horribly” (shoutout anixety/paranoia, they’re like this🤞) but finnick reassures her, “no it didn’t, please u did great :(“

BUT PLEASE WITH THE READER BEING THE BRIDESMAID TO BECKETT AND TALLULAH’S WEDDING :((( just imagining finnick also being there and just them being so cute. He def gets emotional and its not even their wedding

Also, unrelated note: im finally seeing hadestown this week and TRUST i will be thinking abt this series during most songs LMAO

ok this was a mess and i don’t organize/articulate my thoughts well but just wanted to share😋

—🦅

HI POOKIE 💋💋💋

so yes, like they've been fed this idea that victors should be happy because they love opulent lifestyles, have their own tv segments, are so beloved and finnick has very much played into this capitol darling image. so that idea cracks when reader plays the part in public for parties and for the media, but she's completely hollow in day to day life. so they realize that it's not really what they're told, there's a much darker side to winning that hidden that they know better than to ask about or be curious about. so they learn from finnick what they can do to support her and slowly push themselves back into her life and help her open up.

she works hard the whole dinner to not put on a persona, to just be herself and it's hard for her. she's anxious, nervous and it's obvious. beckett's jokes don't land, she adds little to the gossip him and tallulah bring, some nods and sometimes she forces our small things that add to story or commentary. it's enough for them to believe there's hope and that she just needs more support. after they leave she sits at the table still, head buried in be hands.

"they hate me, I wish I was the person I was before."

he's shaking his head ferverously, taking her hands in his. "no they don't. you did so good sweet girl, so proud of you."

he absolutely gets emotional watching her in a gorgeous bridesmaids dress, walking in the precession, makes him want to give the same thing to her. especially when she's told him about the whole process and made small mentions of what she likes versus doesn't, so he's got wedding things completely down for them. although he's anxious about asking, he's nervous he'll scare her off and about her mental stability. so he holds it off and as we know he waits too long.

AAAA I'm so excited for you, have fun, I hope you enjoy it. let me know how it is and anything you thought of!

you're all good, I literally got so excited when I saw it was you, my own eagle screech happened 😭❤️