#i realize the third tag reads very obvious i mean like

[jq37]

Descendants: The Rise of Red is kind of a bizarre movie to talk about critically because, imo, it almost doesn't make sense to talk about it in the usual terms of good vs bad or enjoyable vs not enjoyable when the way more obvious tension is finished vs unfinished.

Because, more than any other movie I've ever seen, it does *not* read as a full movie. And I don't mean in a "this movie has a cliffhanger" kind of way. The Empire Strikes Back and Across the Spiderverse fit that description. They end on big dramatic cliffhangers that point to a resolution in the third installment.

But Rise of Red just sets all this stuff up and then...ends without concluding anything. It doesn't feel like the first movie in a trilogy (or duology). It feels like the first act of a two-act musical. It very specifically reminds me of the end of the first act of Into the Woods where all the main characters sing the song Ever After about how they all fixed their problems with magic and nothing bad will ever happen to them again and then the narrator ominously says "To be continued" before the curtain drops. But in Into the Woods you know there's a second act and this movie wasn't sold as the first act of a bigger story. Like sure, it has the, "You didn't think this was the end" tag at the end like all the other movies, but those movies were complete, self-contained stories even though they had sequels. This was NOT a full story. It's half of one story.

Like, if we're supposed to take this as a full story, there are so many bizarre choices:

Why did they make sure to mention that Cinderella and Charming fell in love at the ball at the top if it wasn't meant to set up Back to the Future style, "Oh no, I accidentally got my mom banned from the ball so she's not gonna fall in love with Dad and I won't be born" shenanigans?

Why did Maddox very pointedly have that bit about "you could lose your mom completely" if that was never going to come into play? Red never did anything to endanger Bridget or endanger her own birth so it doesn't make sense as a warning in that way.

Why was there all this focus on this Carrie on prom night moment for Bridget if we LITERALLY NEVER SAW CASTLECOMING? Why dance around this moment and talk about it all cloak and dagger with no specificity if they weren't building up to some big reveal that it wasn't as straightforward as it seemed? And like, they leaned in HARD with making Bridget the nicest, sweetest, cotton candy princess as a teen so I need WAY more than, "She got pranked by known bullies she's been enduring with a smile very handily up to this point" to buy that she went from that to "murderous dictator". And even if she did become murderous, I find it insanely hard to believe that she'd include her best and only friend on the list of people she wants to suffer unless there was a betrayal. I find it INSANE that there wasn't a falling out scene at any point in this movie with how thickly they were laying on the admiration and camaraderie.

(Note: And adult Cinderella def has guilty vibes re: the Queen at orientation. Which I know I'm not imagining because it's literally spelled out in the Jr Novelization!)

Before the time travel element of the movie started, I thought they were going for something like they go to the past and realize that Bridget was bullied not by the VKs but by the spoiled royals, and Ella ends up joining in the bullying once she gets with Charming, betraying Bridget and justifying her whole "Love Ain't It" philosophy. Or Ella ditching her at the last minute to be with Charming meaning she has to deal with the monster prank alone and it was the being alone rather than the prank itself that hurt her (though that is NOT a good enough reason to go all off with their heads on your subjects). The fact that, as far as we know right now, it literally was just a relatively mild and reversible prank that caused all of this is just, such flat storytelling, you know?

But! All of this makes way more sense if this is meant to be the first act of a single contained story. And I don't wanna be all "Pepe Silvia, secret good 4th episode of Sherlock" about this but I did see this picture:

Which seems to indicate that this was written as a Part One. Which, if so, idk why they wouldn't advertise it that way but whatever. The point is, if that's the case then it means that we're potentially in bad pacing territory rather than straight up bad storytelling territory. Because this isn't a bad place to be halfway through your story:

The heroes, warned that time travel is dangerous, have gone back in time to change the heart of a brutal tyrant before she can stage a coup. They seemingly succeed in their mission and when they come home, everything is great! But then, the side effects of time travel start to catch up with them. Chloe realizes that, in breaking the vase, she prevented her mother from going to the ball and falling in love with her dad (who was conspicuously absent from the final scene btw) which means she's starting to be forgotten and erased from the timeline. And Red realizes that though this new version of her mom is as sweet and kind as the teen she once met, she's a complete stranger to her (fulfilling the Hatter's warning that she could lose her mom completely). So they have to go back in time once more to make sure the Ella and Charming fall in love again, perhaps at the cost of whatever bad thing that happened to Bridget happening again and bringing back the original version of her future self. But, now with more context of how her mom became that way, Red can now talk to her mother and persuade her to give people another chance.

Boom, that gives us time to go back and hit everything we haven't yet hit. We can pay off the time travel tropes that were set up but not explored. We can go to Castlecoming which feels so obviously set up to be the centerpiece of this story (like, come on, Back to the Future literally does the school dance thing. This is Time Travel Storytelling 101). We can actually get info about what the prank was and why it affected Bridget so completely.

(Note: This is a side thing but it really strikes me as so crazy that Bridget would so SUCH a big 180 here. Like, I know the Queen of Hearts is a silly, goofy, campy villain, but she straight up murders people and there's no way to get around that if we're taking her out of the surreal story she comes from and putting her in a (comparatively) grounded story. If I wasn't doing a betrayal plot, I would make the twist that the spell that turned Bridget into a "monster" didn't just have a physical effect, it had a mental effect and it magically twisted her personality to be the way it is now. So they broke the physical half of the curse, but neglected the other half and it's been festering the whole time, turning her as evil as she was sweet. Because like, a simple physical transformation isn't that big of a deal to have such heavy security--Bridget made cupcakes with a transformative effect and that was totally fine. I'm not saying that that's what's gonna be the case. I just think it would be an explanation that makes sense for why she changed so crazy much that makes more sense than a simple prank or even a betrayal. Her mom wasn't even evil! How did she go from zero to murder without even an evil mom to push her onto the path? But I'm super digressing right now.)

(Note #2: OK, one last thing. The trap on the book presumably would have hit the VK's and trapped them in Merlin's office regardless of what Chloe and Red did, right? That's like, net zero influence on the timeline. I genuinely can't tell if that's a straight up plot hole or set up to be like, "Oh no. Actually when she said that she was turned into a monster in front of everyone it was meant in a less literal way." Like she was just made to look bad and that was the real thing that pushed her over the edge. Like idk. It really feels like the only thing they really did that would change the timeline was get Ella banned from the dance and presumably out of the way where she couldn't hurt Bridget. OK NOW I'm done.)

Anyway, my point is that this is not how I would have structured my movie and I think this was a super weird way to go into the second era of Descendants movies, but they can still tell a complete story if that's their plan. I'm genuinely really curious to see if this pans out to be a fairly competently told story that just happens to be split over two movies or a complete fumbling of the narrative bag because it could really be either at this point and it's fascinating to me.

[gillianthecat]

Scattered* thoughts on GAP episode 1

*I'm serious about the scattered thing, I'm not sure if any of this makes any sense.

I liked it! I will keep watching it! I didn’t watch the trailer and mostly filtered the tags, so I went into the episode pretty ignorant of the plot.

I'm going to get my complaints/concerns out of the way first. 

- I think my biggest obstacle is going to be the business setting, especially a social media/marketing/influencer type business. That was the thing that... didn't ruin, but certainly lessened my enjoyment of Roommates of Poongduck 304. It’s just something I find inherently both boring and annoying. I kept zoning out or pausing and getting distracted during the business parts.

- on a related note, Lady Sam seems like a terrible boss, in a way that also makes it seem like she's bad at running a business. Now, there is a long tradition of terrible bosses in romance, and it doesn't make her irredeemable for me. Already I really like what I've seen of her outside of work! But it is a big obstacle to overcome in liking her and wanting to see her with Mon.

- The third obstacle is very much a me thing, and something I wish I could change. For the past three or so years I've really struggled with reading about or watching women as characters in romance. A lifetime of misogynistic and objectifying depictions of women suddenly caught up to me, and has made it difficult to enjoy even well written non-misogynistic portrayals, especially in romance settings. Unfortunately, this seems to extend to queer women in romance, not just straight stories. There's a very narrow range of women characters (in romance, this is mostly about romance contexts) that get past that these days, and Mon and Sam don't quite fit. That's not to say I dislike them! They do intrigue me. It's just that in order to enjoy them I have to keep pushing aside all that baggage that has accumulated.

Onward to the rest of my scattered thoughts:

- I love that so many of the cast from Secret Crush on You is in this. Perhaps it’s just another job for them, but it feels supportive. I think I did a little scream when I saw Seng & Billy's cameo. And when Sam asked, "who is the other plate for?" I just knew it would be Heng. And a second later he appeared, so I felt very proud of myself. (I only saw him in the opening credits; remember I haven't watched the trailer.) I mostly skipped Sky’s storyline in SCOY, so my strongest association with him is as Phoenix in War of Y, which means that my initial reaction is not to trust him. But I hope he does turn out to be an ally, even if I’m getting the vibes that he really does want to marry Sam.

- I really like Mon's family, especially her stepdad. The family dinner where he and Mon are conspiring about how she can apologize to her mom was adorable. And I liked the nuances and the obvious love in Mon’s subsequent conversation with her mom.

- I found it both weird and sweet how encouraging they were of her decade-long obsession with a stranger. It’s sweet that they were so supportive of her as a general principle (and of course a huge contrast to Sam's grandmother). But also it just seems very weird to encourage your child to plan out her life based on her obsession with a stranger and be so sure that she’s a good person to model based on one interaction over a decade ago. It makes sense for teenage Mon to do that, but for her parents to join in less so. Perhaps it's related to Sam being royalty? I don’t have enough understanding of Thai culture to interpret that.

- Despite the absurdity of Mon planning her life around her obsession, I enjoy it. At first I wasn’t sure if she realized it was a romantic/sexual crush, or thought it was just idol worship, but it now seems like she does. I was never a queer teenager, but I appreciate everyone on here saying that it feels like a very queer experience.

- I really liked both crash-into-you scenes. And the first time we got the trope doubled up! Mon is very good at looking up at Sam with adoration in her eyes. I like Sam's annoyance with her that is starting to be replaced by interest, or curiosity at least. And the bit with the hair caught in the bracelet was very entertaining.

- My favorite moments were any time Sam and Mar were in a scene together–their chemistry is great! So I have hopes for enjoying this series over all. That moment in the bathroom especially - the tension! Plus Sam’s incredibly awkward flirtation with Mon at dinner. Does she even know that she’s flirting? I can’t tell yet what she’s thinking.

- I like the coworkers as a group and as a Greek chorus, even though watching the terrible working environment stresses me out.

- As @thequeenofsastiel says, despite her being a terrible boss, the rest of her life makes that understandable and sympathetic. (I have no insight to add to that right now.) I really felt for her in that dinner with the grandmother - the pressure that she’s under to make the company work. I think mostly I will be frustrated if the show tries to tell me that she’s actually good at running this company despite all the onscreen evidence to the contrary.

- I did appreciate the parallel of Sam saving Mon from being run over from a car again at the end. And a second crash-into-you with even more sexual tension.

- I thought I had more thoughts about this episode on Sunday, but I can’t remember them now/don't feel like writing them out at the moment.

[maraudersftw]

I posted 986 times in 2022

238 posts created (24%)

748 posts reblogged (76%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@maraudersftw

@all-things-jily

@mabeltothknows

@the-dream-team

@missgryffin

I tagged 718 of my posts in 2022

Only 27% of my posts had no tags

#asks - 192 posts

#claudia answers - 162 posts

#jily fic recs - 96 posts

#jily - 88 posts

#claudia's recs - 84 posts

#anon - 68 posts

#james x lily - 62 posts

#claudiawrites - 56 posts

#claudia writes - 46 posts

#not hp - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#also so sorry to that anon who probably got a stroke trying to decipher my answer to the drinke me! theory

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

We're Just Friends

Rating: M | Words: 4.1K

Summary - James Potter is in love with his flatmate. There. Best to get that out of the way before he is accused of being in denial or drowning in obliviousness.

Happy Belated Birthday, @mabeltothknows 😻 Here's the little surprise gift fic that's no longer a surprise because I gave it away without requiring any sort of persuasion. I love you and your mind entirely too much! Hope this makes your birthday a bit better, even if it's late.

Read on: AO3 || FFN

119 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

#4

Soft Bargains

@jilychallenge January'22 || @eemolu vs @maraudersftw

Prompt: “james and lily find themselves relegated to mundane chores around the safe house until they are able to be within five feet of each other without compromising yet another mission”

Inspiration was so hard to come by for this, but I finally like a version enough to post! 💖 Read below the cut!

He’s seated across the table from her, eyes resolutely turned away, jaw locked tight enough to shatter as he pretends to listen to Moody explain the details of the next Order mission. Reconnaissance; relatively harmless, if done right.

James could do it right.

As could she, Lily knows. But she’s considerably less obvious about her interest. On him, desperation is the more fitting word.

His leg is bouncing fast enough to shake the whole room, she thinks. It’s a wonder no one else has snapped at him yet. Perhaps no one notices as closely as she does.

Her foot reaches out under the table, kicks at his shin not too gently.

Hazel eyes flash, first surprised; second thrilled; third annoyed. ‘What?!’ the curve of his eyebrows say.

“Stop that shaking,” she hisses, body leant forward, voice dropped, because they both know what’ll happen if Moody notices.

“What’s it to you?”

“What does that mean? It’s annoying.”

“Sorry to tell you—” he leans closer as well, and her eyes run over his face, starved, despite everything else, “but not everyone’s going to behave like you want them to, Evans—”

That stings. “The fuck do you mean? You know I—”

“And you know what I want.”

Her eyes narrow. “James—”

“I want to go!” he barks suddenly, and she jumps, alarmed at the volume, worried for all the seconds it takes her to realize he hasn’t spoken to her. He looks at her still, for a moment longer, before turning to Moody again. She almost rolls her eyes at that. Idiot. “I want to go. This is an easy mission—no real risks. I won’t fuck it up, you have—”

“No REAL RISKS?”

There.

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, satisfied. Smug, even. He really asked for it.

James winces, catching his mistake four seconds too late. “I just meant—”

“What you meant, Potter—” Moody snarls, both eyes glaring, new scars pronounced on his skin from the mission ended last night, “is that you’re still a delusional, naïve schoolboy if you think any of these missions carry risks lesser than a threat on your very life, if not on the lives of the other members.”

“Give it up, mate,” Sirius mutters under his breath, seated to the left of James, looking distinctly on the edge of laughter. She feels inclined to agree—with the advice, not the humour—but she knows better.

And sure enough, James ignores the suggestion and powers on with his argument.

“Of course, I know that. I was just—”

“And since you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you: you and Evans are on house arrest until you can learn to BEHAVE around each other without compromising missions or getting us almost killed—”

The accusation sparks indignation within her. “That’s not fair, we haven’t argued, or fought in—”

“Only because you’ve been avoiding each other!” His magical eye has whirred to pin on her now, and she feels her skin blaze something horrid under the truth of his words. “Which I truly couldn’t care less about, except that you’re two of our strongest fighters, who usually have great teamwork, but now seem to be carrying piles of dung instead of brains on your head.”

Oh, what a fucker.

See the full post

125 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#3

Profile links: AO3 || FFN

Multichapters:

Disgraceful (WIP)

Words: 18.4K | Chapters: 5/12 | Rating: Explicit

James Potter is attracted to his neighbour. Lily Evans wishes she wasn't attracted to hers.

Retribution (WIP)

Words: 78.4K | Chapters: 11/? | Rating: Mature

My name is Lily Evans. I’m twenty years old. I have red hair and green eyes. I've been experimented upon for the past two years. I tell you none of these facts from my own memory—because I have none. I suppose I’ll just have to take their word for it then, won’t I?

Tracing You (WIP)

Words: 3.2K | Chapters: 1/? | Rating: Mature

"Each student from the creative writing course will be paired with another student from the art course to work on a collaborative project over the duration of three weeks for a chance to be featured in the Hogwarts University Annual Art Exhibition."

What are the chances that Lily gets paired with the one person she absolutely cannot stand?

Drink Me! (Complete)

Words: 12.0K | Chapters: 3 | Rating: T

What do you do when you find a suspicious vial of potion left on your desk, accompanied by a cryptic message daring your true Gryffindor spirit? If you're James Potter, you drink it and convince others to do the same. If you're Lily Evans, you're others.

Room Service (Complete)

Words: 73.3K | Chapters: 31 | Rating: Mature

When receptionist Lily Evans is informed that the hotel she works at will be hosting the owner's son for the whole month of October, she figures he's likely to be smug, and unbearable, and really nothing new.

As it turns out, she's right about the first two assumptions—and terrifically wrong about the third.

Fashion Disaster (Complete)

Words: 26.5K | Chapters: 7 | Rating: T

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

Salt Air (Complete)

Words: 6.6K | Chapters: 2 | Rating: Mature

The last day of summer brings with it the courage for some much-needed conversations (and confessions). Now, if only James Potter could understand how to make it fun.

Set Ablaze (Complete)

Words: 11.3K | Chapters: 2 | Rating: Explicit

The Morning After, it would seem, doesn't always go as planned. Not even when you were both enthusiastic participants.

Deception and Disguise (Complete)

Words: 108.9K | Chapters: 26 | Rating: T

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126 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

#2

hi I love canon jily but I'm in the mood to read some aus, can you please suggest your favorites?

Hello, anon! Honoured that you reached out to me even though I haven't done these in a while and I'm quite behind on my reading, sadly! But here are some of the best AUs I've read in the past year or so. You can even head on over to my bookmarks on AO3 if you want more recs:

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl - this one's a no-brainer. TWR!James is a wet dream, and Lauren does the pining in this story justice like no one's business (rated M)

We Have Buried the Putrid Corpse of Liberty by @mabeltothknows - I promise this fic will make you laugh until you piss your pants. Mabel is the funniest author I know, no joke.

for the hope of it all by @missgryffin - This is not exactly an AU, because they still do magic, but the entire story is based on a beach setting in the summertime, and that's my absolute favourite trope in the world! (rated M)

The Season by @missgryffin - A Bridgerton AU that's better than Bridgerton. Need I say more? (rated M)

bury it and rise above by @startanewdream - this one's canon-divergence in which Lily is a witch and James is a muggle, and Mah spins literal magic through her storytelling. It's heartfelt, beautiful, and perfectly gorgeous (rated M)

Who Knows Who Cares by @the-dream-team - The most adorable bi!Lily fic out there, I promise you. It's got all the right ingredients to make your heart feel warm and fluttery. Dylan's talent knows no limits ❤️

The Waiting Game by @possessingtheproperspirit - I read this late last year and the concept of it was genius! Kept me laughing from start to end. Highly recommend! (rated M)

Controlled Addiction by @hogwartslivy - I'm nuts about this fic and it's no secret. The story has an amazing setting, lots of interesting reveals, and such a sweetheart James 😍 (rated M)

If We Never Meet Again by @thequibblah - Actors!Jily AU; it's a unique, genius concept! Lots of pining, drama, the perfect amount of angst. Became obsessed with the story as soon as I read it (rated M)

Burn Easy and Easy Does It by @efkgirldetective - Anything Emma writes is pure gold, and these AUs never fail to stun me with their brilliance no matter how many times I re-read them. Plus, her smut is always exquisite 😏 (rated E)

oops I did it again by Anonymous - I don't know who the author of this fic is, but this is one of my favourite AUs of all time. The James here is to die for, it's incredibly easy to fall in love with him (rated E)

I'm sure I've missed out many other amazing AUs out there, but this list would become endless if I kept going. Please free to add on for anon in case someone has more recs (I'd love to read them, too!)

141 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

claudia! so much love to your and your family, i can imagine this is just so not a great time. how about a quick one-word prompt you can turn any way you like: "candles"? feel better soon and here's hoping you can kick writer's block to the curb where it belongs <3 <3 -suze/thequibblah

ahh thank you so much, suze ❤️❤️ also taking this opportunity to let you know that I have finally dived into the CT world and have made it my comfort read as I lie in bed, recovering. You are amazing, fantastic etc. etc. and I can't wait to catch up fully!

Here's something fun and silly for the prompt:

Candles

“Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

His grip around the jar of scented candle jostles in surprise, focus and quiet both broken at the sound of the voice behind him. He looks over his shoulder, wills his face not to change colour. At least it’s not the lads; only the next worst option. “Evans! Hullo.”

She walks closer, the soft whiff of her vanilla shampoo somehow more intoxicating to him than the jungle of magical scents he’s surrounded by. Or perhaps it’s simply his body’s inability to ignore anything to do with her. He’s a fucking idiot.

“Hi,” Lily says, and the lilt of her tone has him pausing, looking up at her. She’s smiling—no, that’s not right, she’s smirking. “Are you hiding from someone?”

She’s rose-cheeked and playful. His brow twitches, stomach tumbles. “No. What makes you say that?”

“Only that Franny’s Fragrances is rarely ever visited by Hogwart’s students, and I never pegged you as the type to be interested in—” she leans closer, bright green eyes flying over the jar still caught between his hands, “black tea and pomegranate scented candles. Hm. Interesting choice.”

He shrugs, slips the jar back onto the shelf. That hadn’t felt like the right one, anyway. “There’s still so much you don’t know about me, Evans.”

“I’m learning.” She hums. A flick of his gaze, and she’s still smiling like a cat. “So, if you’re not really hiding—”

“I’m not—”

“Then why did Sirius, Remus, and Peter tell me you were at Scrivenshaft’s when I met them at Honeydukes?”

Dammit. He’d been hoping no one would accompany him if he said he wanted to take a look at some self-replenishing inkwells instead of buying chocolates. And Franny’s was a small enough store next to Scrivenshaft’s that no one would notice him slip inside innocuously. He’d been right, for the most part. Only, he hadn’t accounted for—her.

Presently, James turns away, pretends to peruse more options. “Following me, are you?” he teases.

“Deflecting, are you?” She presses closer. He can’t decide if he hates her for it or lo—no. Not that. Not there. “Come on, James. You can tell me. It won’t make you any less of a wizard if you’re interested in scented candles, you know.”

“I know that!” he says immediately, frowning, “I’m not quite that fragile.”

She looks chastised. “I didn’t mean to say—”

“I just don’t want the lads—or well, Sirius specifically—to take the mick, alright?”

“Why would he?” she says, and suddenly pushes a jar into his hand. “Try this. Autumn air and roasted marshmallows.”

He takes an obliging sniff, feels the corners of his lips lift automatically. “I’m impressed. This your favourite one?”

“Not usually.”

James looks up at that. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a seasonal preference, but not the one I consider the best one here.”

“Which one is it, then?”

Lily grins. “I can’t tell you.”

“What?” He’s laughing, replacing the Autumn jar back on the shelf. “Why not?”

“Because then you’ll love it.”

“And that’s a problem because?”

See the full post

195 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[needsmoresleepwrites]

reverse bang collab with LonleyWriterOop: 'This look' ends up being her flushed face, made more obvious by her pink hair. Her eyes are a mess, moving between her reflection and Nobara's face, and Yuuji can see how she melts. She looks like - "A begging puppy," Nobara says.

An Interview Away From True Pleasure

tags: ot3, maki x noba x ita, slight age difference, past yuuji x others, ends with nsfw scene (etc.)

read on AO3 | View Art

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

Q. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕? 𝑳𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒊

Yuuji hasn’t always known what she wanted to be when she “grows up” because what did that even mean? When was someone already “grown up”?

Was it when she was in second grade and had to watch her parents get buried, her only support being the wrinkled hand of her grandfather who had stood tall and refused to let any tears shed in front of anyone? When he’d taken her inside the house and explained that his “unreliable son” would no longer be back and that now it was just the two of them. She’d cried when he’d pulled her close and apologized for “my stupid son, he couldn’t even keep his promise, what am I going to do with you at this age?”

Was it when, after waking up for two weeks without breakfast or anyone to greet her, she realized she would have to learn how to cook for herself? She’d wake up earlier than some of the kids in her grade, trying to remember the few bits and pieces her mother had taught her, telling herself that it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt every time she accidentally cut or burned her fingers. 

It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, every time she bumped her knees and tiptoed past her grandpa’s room, whispering a “good morning” (pretending his grumpy face also wished her a good day) before nodding and heading out for the day, the rice from the messy onigiri she made thick in her throat as she finally realized what it meant that her parents were gone

Or was it the spring of her first year as a junior high school student when her grandfather took her to get her new uniform and he sighed so deeply she thought she’d lose him right then and there? The uniform draped over her wrists and nearly covered her like a long dress but it only fit semi-loosely around her chest. He’d spent days visiting the neighborhood grannies to learn how to get it adjusted, his face exhausted as he patted her shoulder, Don’t worry about it, that’s what I’m here for.

Yeah, her uniform fit her a bit awkwardly, but (she told herself) so did everyone else's. 

She remembers the looks her classmates gave her. 

Most of the girls she grew up with only cooed over how she was finally becoming a “real woman!”, but junior high school meant a meshing of the local elementary schools and those girls, the ones who hadn’t known her, looked on with either disinterest or annoyance. The boys, however, were very attentive, especially as they grew into their own desires

When one of the boys asked her out at the start of their third year, Yuuji agrees to date him because that’s what they’re supposed to do. When he kissed her the first time and his hand moved to grope her breasts, she didn't say no. He’d been so giddy, fuck the real thing feels so good, except that it didn’t particularly feel that good. She’d let out a sound from the surprise, a partial wince from how hard he held her, yeah? That feel good? 

And when she’d finally agreed to go to his house and he’d pushed her down into his bed, his dick hard and insistent against her leg, his breath heavy in her ear as he begged, my parents won’t be home until later, ok? which she knew because that’s what he’d told her when she called out a greeting and nobody answered her. 

Was that when she became a grown-up? When she’d let him pull down her panties? 

She hadn’t even been in the house five minutes yet when he’d pulled himself out and pushed into her, her nails biting into his back as she cried out because it actually hurt and it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt. And the more she allowed, the less she chanted, until eventually, one day, it began to feel how she suspected it should

They dated for the rest of the year. She didn’t particularly like him, but being with him gave her a sense of independence that she hadn’t felt at home in ages. It seemed like more often than not, she and her grandpa were at each other's throats. And it was in those moments when she realized she was more like him than she liked

Or was it when one of their arguments got too heated and they rushed to the hospital and Yuuji learned her grandpa was sick and hadn’t said anything ?

That he’d been overworking himself since her parents died, going to all her school functions, even when he’d have to walk in the snow or sit in the sun for hours to watch her perform. She’d cried into his bed sheets, why are you so stubborn?!

But she loved him and when she once more found herself at the hospital, saying goodbye to the last person in her family, she thought, this is it . This is what it means to be grown-up.

He hadn’t cried or smiled or asked for anything. He’d just talked into the room as if he were talking to himself, “Surround yourself with people. It’s okay to lose your way. But when you die, don’t be like your Grandpa, ok? Die surrounded by people who love you, like your stupid father. I can finally go to him and yell at him for leaving you all alone.”

When they give her her grandpa’s ashes, Yuuji clutches the urn and whispers, “I wasn’t alone you stupid old man.”

◇◇◇

Yuuji decides to go to Tokyo. She’d planned to stay in Sendai because her grandpa was here. She wanted to take care of him, but with his passing, she decides to move. He and her father had come here because it was her mother’s hometown. They believed it would be a better environment to raise a child, more community based and slow paced. 

But moving to Tokyo isn’t as easy as just wishing for it. For all the “grown-up” things she’s done and experienced, she’s still only a child in the education system.

Her decision is so last minute that her teacher is reluctant to help her at first, “Not just anyone can go to school in Tokyo, and with your grades, it’s not even worth it.”

It’s only when she’s practically begging that he finally relents. She hates that he plans to use her grandpa’s passing as her “excuse” for signing up so late, but if it’s the only way to get her to Tokyo, she’ll take it. She asks him to keep it a secret from the class and his annoyed grunt is his only response.

She barely makes the signup deadline for the Tokyo high school exams and has even less time to study, but somehow, she gets accepted into two schools. One of them is blunt. They’re not impressed with her grades or her scores, but in her athletic abilities. They offer her a sports scholarship and the only academic requirement they have is that Yuuji must pass all of her classes. They don’t care if it’s with high or low marks. Since it’s closer to where her grandpa grew up, she accepts 

She isn’t even sure what she’s expecting to find but when she places her grandpa’s urn in her new home, she smiles. It somehow feels right.

“I think I’m finally all grown up,” she whispers. 

Q. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏?

Yuji realizes that in some ways, high school is no different from middle school. She thinks that part of the reason she didn’t feel uncomfortable during the last three years in Sendai is because everyone already knew her. But in Tokyo, they don’t and she quickly picks up on how “different” she is. It’s a completely new type of uncomfortable 

Are you sure you don’t have foreign blood? Some of her classmates like to ask and she explains that no, she doesn’t. “I take after my mother’s side of the family,” she tells them, though this is only a guess. The only extended family she’s met is her grandpa and he’s always been shorter

Read full fic on Ao3 (10k)

[elytrafemme]

tried to start working on cough syrup and my brain instantly started getting blurry thinking about how much i don’t like certain people today. uh. thanks for the symptom brain i’m kinda in the middle of something can we think about the schoolmates later and cool it

[scuttling]

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

[misteria247]

"Her name is (Y/N)....."

Who would of thought that one little sentence would cause such an emotional turmoil. Deuce and Ace could only stare at the small boy, unable to comprehend what they'd just heard. It was a name that they hadn't heard in six long years. A name that even to this day caused them to get a bit upset.

"Are.....are you sure that's your mom's name.....?"

Deuce asked a bit breathless by the sudden crash of emotions that was hitting him. Ace on the other hand was just stunned beyond belief, unable to really think of anything to say.

"Yeah I'm sure......why.....?"

Elliott asked with a small head tilt. Deuce sucked in a sharp breath at the movement, the head tilt being nearly identical to yours. Ace just shook his head still in shock.

"I can't believe it......(Y/N)'s a mom......holy-"

Ace muttered trying to wrap his head around it before realizing something.

"Wait......if you're here that means.....!"

Ace started to say trailing off before Deuce picked up on what he was saying.

"She's here.....she's back in Twisted Wonderland.....! She's got a kid too......!"

Deuce said in awe before his expression furrowed in confusion.

"But wait.....if (Y/N) is the mom then who's the dad....?"

Deuce asked puzzled. Ace took another look at Elliott before seeing exactly who the father was.

"I think I figured it out.....it's him....."

Ace said. Deuce first looked confused before it clicked.

"No way he's.....!"

Deuce gasped stunned.

"There's no doubt about it. He's practically a clone of him."

Ace nodded in confirmation. Deuce was about to reply when he was interrupted.

"Wait.....do.....do you two know my mama......?? And.....and my papa.......??"

Elliott asked not daring to get his hopes up with the last question. If Ace and Deuce knew you then from the sounds of it they knew his father too. If they knew who his father was.......maybe Elliott could finally see you be happy completely and finally get his answers that he'd been desperately wanting. Ace and Deuce froze at Elliott's questions, the boy's hurt elbow all but forgotten about as he tried to get information. The two men were at a loss. They had no idea if they should answer Elliott's question about his father, given that you might not want Elliott to know. Plus the last thing the boys wanted to do is be reunited with you and then piss you off with something like this.

"Uh.....we do know your mama. She was a very old friend of ours. As for your papa......"

Deuce trailed off not knowing what to say. Ace thankfully took over.

"We don't know him very well."

Ace finished. Elliott deflated at this, his green eyes dimming slightly.

"O-oh......."

He said softly, looking down at the ground. Ace and Deuce felt themselves fill with guilt for having somewhat lied to the small child.

"Hey we might not have the answers you're seeking, but we do know someone who has some of them. But first I think we should get your arm fixed up and try to find your mama okay?"

Deuce said keeping the child close to him. Elliott gave a small nod, wanting to fix his stinging elbow and find you. Ace just kept quiet, his thoughts racing. He never imagined that he'd ever see you again, especially as a parent and in a mess like this. And he knew that Deuce was thinking the same thing he was. With Elliott now in Deuce's arms the duo made their way towards the one person who could help them at the moment.

~~~~~

Elliott clung to Deuce, keeping an eye out for his mother and taking in the sights around him. He took notice of some of the people who were now slowly starting to fill the once abandoned campus. Standing under the shade of a large tree was a rather tall, nervous looking man who had long flowing blue hair that looked like flames. Next to him was what looked like a robot teenager, who happily chattered away at him. Elliott couldn't help but notice that they looked like the one statue he'd seen of the man with the flames for hair. Further along the growing crowd was another group of men who looked like their were business men. Two of them were incredibly tall and the third one was rather pretty in Elliott's opinion. The two tall men had teal hair and different colored eyes, almost like they were twins. While the shorter one had steel blue hues and wavy silver hair.

A few more groups caught the young boy's attention rather quickly. One of them was filled with beautiful people who looked like they belonged in a movie or a story book. The leader of the group was the fairest of them all, looking absolutely stunning. Elliott was spell bound for a moment before the other man who wore a funny hat turned towards them and caught Elliott's eye. The strange man gave a smile when he noticed the small child and waved at him. Elliott waved back hesitantly before curling up into Deuce's shoulders more. Another group had two men who looked like they came straight out of the stories his mama read to him with the genies and magic carpets. The shortest of the duo had white hair and was dressed in the finest clothes, a beaming smile on his face as he talked to the taller man next to him. The other man was more serious looking, his hair long and braided nicely as he just nodded along to whatever the other man was saying.

Elliott also noticed that they were holding hands, and standing rather close to one another. The child tilted his head in confusion, thinking about the Arabian princess and her prince for some reason. As the trio made their way further into the school they passed another group of men. These men had animal ears. One man looked like a hyena with blonde hair and mischievous blue eyes, snickering under his breath as his companion, a large man with unruly brown hair filled with braids listened. Bright green eyes just stared irritated at his snickering companion, a scar decorating his face.

"Oi what are you staring at?"

A growling voice came from the man with the scar. Elliott let out a gasp and hid into Deuce. Deuce meanwhile looked up and went wide eyed and Ace just bit back a groan.

"L-Leona Senpai-! It's been awhile!"

Deuce said giving a small bow in nervousness. Ace rolled his eyes at his companion, slightly jumpy with the sudden stop from their destination.

"Oh it's you.....Deuce and Ace. It has been awhile. Tell your cub to keep his eyes to himself."

Leona growled simply before leaving without even so much as a goodbye. It was quite obvious that he wasn't in the mood for chitchat. His companion gave them a somewhat amused yet apologetic look before giving a small salute and following behind him. The duo seemed to sag with relief.

"Oh thank Seven he didn't notice. Now we can finally get to the person who can help you-"

Deuce started to say only to nearly jump out of his skin at a terrifyingly familiar voice. Ace jumped as well at the voice going pale rather quickly.

"May I ask.....why do you have a child with you? You'd think that after graduation......you would have learned to follow the rules......"

The voice said sounding pleasant but at the same time it brought chills to the two men. Even after six years they still had a fight or flight response with this person.

"Ah you shouldn't be so harsh on them. They're grown men after all."

Another voice chimed in sounding much more relaxed.

"Ahhhhh-!!! Look at this cutie!!! I definitely need a photo of his cute little face!!!"

Another voice chirped before a pair of hands gripped Elliott's cheeks in a gentle manner. Standing in front of him and the A-Deuce duo were three men that Elliott had never seen before. However........they seemed to know Deuce and Ace rather well.

Something told Elliott that this might take awhile before he finally got to see his mama again.

*Oh my God I'm alive hello! First I wanna apologize for the long hiatus, things have been extremely hectic and I haven't had a lot of time to write. But I finally managed to get something done for y'all so I consider that a win!!! Also let's play the game of guess who was mentioned here in Elliott's observations and who are the mystery trio at the end of the beloved cliffhanger! Sorry if this sucks shdhdhfhh. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!! And onwards to our tagging list!!!!! @genshin-idiot @ditsy-anime-thot @ctannth @reaperfeels @thatjessawall @simpformangas!!!!*

[catintheruemorgue]

annoying things they do

summary: small things these guys do that just grinds your gears a bit.

characters: oda, dazai, kunikida, twain, akutagawa, atsushi, mori, poe, ranpo, fittzgerald, steinbeck, chuuya, yosano, gin, kouyou, higuchi, alcott and lucy

these are all based off things i do or have inconvenienced my life lmfao i’ll probs do a part two with everyone i missed this just got wayyy to long lol next im posting being friends with double black 

Oda:

If you're wearing shorts and have bruises he will poke them when you're resting your legs on him. He’s silent about it too and if you yell at him he pretends to act like he doesn't know what you're talking about.

Will smack your sunburn but this one is actually an accident. He just wanted to pat you on the back because you're amazing.

Will space out when you talk too long, sometimes certain objects are just so… mesmerizing

Dazai:

Loves to jumpscare you the only exception is if it was a trigger. In that case he will just call your name and whip something at you for you to catch at random.

When you're driving he likes to reach over and honk your horn. It's almost caused so many roadside fistfights.

If he sees a dog in public he will bark and growl at it.

Kunikida:

Won’t let you on the bed without socks on. You could be sick as a dog and he’ll still enforce this rule.

Cleaning is hard because he has a hard time throwing things away. You'll spend extra time as he holds two identical pens, trying to decide which one he wants to keep. He’s learned to plan certain days in his schedule for cleaning now.

Won't let you turn up the music in the car and will keep it at a level that's so low it's annoying.

Twain:

Walks around the house shirtless but then complains about how cold it is.

Blasts his music so loud when he wakes up in the morning and it's always early 2000’s hits. It's not rare for you to have Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield stuck in your head by 9 am.

Always has to climb something, this stems from his adventurous side. It's not really that annoying but when you’re in a crowded area and he runs off to go climb the tall statue, screaming at you to take a photo… Yes it is. Especially when children try and follow him and you're stuck receiving glares from the parents.

Akutagawa:

Will not let you throw any food products out. He tells you it's a perfectly good meal (even if it's not) and that he will eat it tomorrow. It’s sad because you know this stems from childhood but it’s still annoying.

Reuses the same gross, musty ziplock baggies. You keep buying new ones but he doesn't get it lol.  

Will tell you if your breath smells, hair is messy, outfit is ugly. He does not see an issue with this and it's nice knowing someone has your back but he doesn't have to be so rude about it..

Atsushi:

If he drinks he's one of those drinkers who will not let you take it from him. Keeps an iron grip on the cup. He finishes it no matter how drunk and always throws up. Thankfully he rarely drinks.

He stops to help everyone, literally even if they just look like they need help. You've been late to so many things.

Will eat anything. Once you made steak and somehow forgot about it. It was hard as a brick yet he still almost broke his teeth eating it. You think you saw some tears as he told you it was delicious.

Mori:

Listens to people's conversations in public and isn't afraid to comment, loudly, about it. You know it's loud because they either stop talking or try and confront you guys.

Comes up to stops fast and brakes so hard you feel like he does it on purpose.

Sometimes if he and Elise get into a “disagreement” he’ll try and rope you in to take his side and you always do, knowing it would probably give him more satisfaction if you chose to side with her.

Poe:

Asks for constructive criticism but will then argue with you about why you're wrong.

Always humming a song he heard Twain singing and then it gets stuck in your head too.

Will deny stupid things like why your favorite mug is in the trash or why he just let out rather loud scream in the bathroom. You know he's lying because he looks away and makes sure his bangs are covering his eyes.

Ranpo:

Will call you out on any lie even if you don't mean to lie you just forgot about some of the details.

Don't take him grocery shopping if you have a set amount you want to spend. He won't even sneak, he will just say he wants something and throw it in the cart.

Such a backseat driver even though he can't drive.

Fitzgerald:

Likes to act like he's still in his twenties and will somehow get the two of you invited to college parties where he will attempt to do a kegger in front of everyone. You end up being the one to hold him up and he always ends with a, “LETS FUCKING GO!”

Likes to ask for the senior discount even though he's not that old, he just likes to hear the women validate that he's not old.

It’s scary how he used to buy without looking and now will scream if the price on a price tag is too high.

Steinbeck:

Always looking at the grass for wheat to chew on. It's so cheesy when you walk into the city and he's got it sticking out of his mouth.

He gets weirdly intimate with nature and you feel like you're third wheeling.

Has the mentality that he has to provide for you because he is the man. He gets so shocked when he finds out you still want to work.

Chuuya:

Has a hard time making decisions you could ask him what he wants for dinner and his mind will just break.

Gets way too pissed at movies and will actually get up and walk away. Once you were kicked out of the theater because he wouldn't stop yelling at the screen. Another time he walked out you waited a whole ten minutes before you realized he wasn't coming back.

Sometimes activates his ability at night and it's so scary waking up to him floating halfway across the room.

WOMAN TIME!!!!!!!!!!

Yosano:

Will glare at you so intensely if you say something she disagrees with.

Always tries to rope you into drinking with her even if you’ve said no the past ten nights.

Will describe wounds or injuries in such detail and just won’t stop, almost like she’s trying to fuck with you, but she’s not.

Gin:

Claims to be nothing like her big brother but then will go on to make the same facial expressions and do some of the same mannerisms as him.

Will spend hours trying things on just to put it all back, leave the store and change her mind when you’re almost home. Then she’ll have you run back with her to buy it all.

Is used to sneaking around so scares you a lot. Also on the topic of being silent sometimes she just won’t respond, thinking you can just read her vibes / mind.

Kouyou:

Will judge what you eat, especially fast food but will try and steal a fry in private when you're not looking.

Will say things like, “Well that's just the way the world works.” If someone tries to share their baggage with her. You understand she’s had a pretty rough life but it's caused you to almost spit out your drink multiple times.

At functions forgets about you for about an hour while she mingles with everyone else, you could tap on her shoulder and she'll dismiss you like you're a subordinate. Until you clear your throat again you'll see the slight blush as she apologizes.

Higuchi:

She has no sense of privacy. If she hears a crash or loud noise she will bust down the door. It’s sweet but not when the noises are usually from you knocking all the shampoo bottles down again.

Horrible road rage actually puts you on edge to be in the car with her. She doesn't even have to be driving.

Likes to act like she's a professional at everything and people usually believe it because of her suit. It's so nerve wracking when she giggles when they walk away with false information.

Alcott:

Will agree to everything you suggest but you can only tell when she doesn’t want to do it when you’re currently doing it.

Yet she’s not afraid to grumble about how annoying it is when someone bumps into you and doesn’t apologize. It’s sweet but you’re left dealing with the situation if the person is aggressive enough to say something.

Always corrects your spelling or if you say something like “I could care less.”

Lucy:

Will fish for compliments in a very obvious way like, “Wow. Wish someone would call me pretty..” and then just stare right at you.

Kicks you so violently in her sleep but won't let go of you so you cant get away.

Constantly stealing from restaurants. You're banned from a couple restaurants because she got caught trying to steal a cup or salt shaker.

[bluesora]

celebrating mother’s day with you

tsukishima kei ; sugawara kōshi ; oikawa torū ; kita shinsuke

headcanon ; fluff ; age up ; snippets of cuteness ; parenthood ; special edition — mother’s day

note: i’m not sure if i portrayed each characterization well but i just thought it’ll be fun to write one. after all, i was blessed to be born with loving parents and i just wanted to share the love i’m grateful for.

tagging: @forgetou @amjustagirl @yacoka @haikyuutothetop @luvnami ;; thank you for dropping these characters as i couldn’t decide who to write for. (of course it was more exciting without context)

ps. it’s longer than expected i’m sorry :’)

tsukishima kei

tsukishima isn’t one who would remember special occasions unless someone had schedule a plan in advance with him. when he wondered if he should do anything for you after hearing his colleagues whispering during break, his work got busier than usual so he had forgotten about it.

that was, until he realized he had ten missed calls from his son; which was odd because he weren’t one to call him so often.

“i was in a meeting, what hap—” before tsukishima could finish his sentence, his son interrupted him, “i bought mom’s favorite cake since you’re slow. hurry home or there’s none left for you,” the line was cut right after; which of course left poor tsukishima’s partner to deal with the aftermath. “tsukishima-san, about the report—”

“it must be so urgent that it needs my immediate attention even when i’m packing up right?” his words dripped of pure sarcasm despite the polite smile hanging from his lips. everyone could literally see the panic swirling in his partner’s pupil.

“i’m sorry!! good work today and see you tomorrow!!” it’s the weekend tomorrow, but tsukishima was too hung up on his son’s attitude to shoot another of his sarcastic reply.

you, on the other hand, were neither someone who would celebrate such occasion unless it was for birthdays or holidays. therefore, you didn’t really had anything in mind nor were you expecting anything as well.

when you finally reached home from a tiring day at work, you were definitely not expecting to see your favorite cake on the table while your son popped a party popper with a party horn in his mouth right beside you.

“happy mother’s day!” he tried to mumble out with the horn still in his mouth. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected surprise, dropping your bag on the counter just so you could hug him—one that he wholeheartedly hugged you back because tsukishima wasn’t around.

it took an hour for tsukishima to be home, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand when he walked over to where you and the cheeky lad was sitting. “oh! you didn’t have to though,” you smiled in surprise.

“dad’s just guilty he forgot about our promise and didn’t want to come home empty handed.” you chuckled at that, perhaps it wasn’t entirely wrong either but you still appreciate the sentiment. it was rare for him after all.

“those who break promises don’t get desserts.” he continued to press his dad’s buttons, only to see tsukishima loosened his tie with an expression he could not understand.

“oh, but that’s on your mom to decide if i’ll get one tonight or not.” you could feel your face heating up at your husband’s words, the tone and smile that dawned on his face was a look you knew oh so well.

“tch...i thought i hid it well.” of course, your clueless son didn’t know the true meaning of those words and thought the strawberry shortcake he bought for his dad was found out.

sugawara kōshi

sugawara would definitely plan in advance with the children. especially when they were the ones who excitedly wanted to do something for you.

“mama like animals! lets go to the zoo!” the middle child exclaimed with so much enthusiasm, sugawara could only chuckle at her adorable smile.

“you only said that because you wanted to go to the zoo, dummy.” the eldest one huffed, feeling proud that he saw through her obvious tactic.

it didn’t take long for the two to start crawling over each other in a fight while the youngest one giggled amusingly as if she was watching a performance. that was, until an insult was thrown at her so she joined in the fight to prove her worth.

“if you don’t stop now, we’ll be celebrating at home like how we did the past two years.” that immediately ceased all action, since they haven’t had the chance to go out together as a whole family thanks to your busy schedule.

“how about the park? the cherry blossoms have bloomed and mama likes going to the park!” of course, sugawara was fond of this idea. it’s been a while since there was a family picnic session.

and so on that very day in which you finally managed to take a day off, you weren’t expecting to be blind folded while having your children guide you to wherever you were supposed to be.

knowing how clumsy the trio could be, he wanted to accompany them as well but was outright rejected when they said they could do it themselves with so much confidence, he wasn’t sure who they got it from.

with their tiny hands, it took a while for them to tie the piece of cloth around your eyes, and even when they did, it wasn’t tied well enough so you could actually still see your footing (which saved you immensely from all the accidental knocks along the way)

after what felt like forever, you finally reached the park where they shouted ‘happy mother’s day’ in unison. you kind of already knew it’ll be a picnic from the soft grass beneath your feet and those fallen pink petals, but you were still moved to tears when you saw your children squeezed together into your husband’s arms while cute decoration and plates of food were spread between you and them.

“mama, try the cookie first! i made them myself!” the middle one was the first to break the silence.

“no! try my sandwich first, i’m the eldest!”

“so what if you’re the eldest? mama must be thirsty from walking so have my ultimate happy berry juice!” the youngest chirped with pride, as if her logic was a straight pass to winning.

you laughed at their competitive nature, which was oh so endearing at the same time. and it was obvious if you don’t decide soon, an all out food war was going to happen.

“before that, shouldn’t mama receive papa’s present first?” sugawara’s cheerful voice interrupted their little argument, and just before the youngest could ask what it was, her eyes was covered by the eldest son along with the middle one.

you couldn’t help but hit his arm in embarrassment when his lips met yours longer than it should’ve been.

“hey! that’s not fair, i didn’t get to see papa’s present,” your middle one sulked, only to be carried into sugawara’s arms as he peck her little cheek with a wink. “why don’t you ask mama what it was, baby?”

oikawa torū

it was supposed to be a big surprise where he came home earlier than the date he had told you. he even told the kids about it and they promised to make it a success (money was definitely involved to be honest)

“make sure you delay mummy at the grocery store long enough for me to set everything up in time.” he reminded his daughter time and time again, only to have her sigh at his impatience.

“i think i’m old enough to not forget something so simple dad. and please stop addressing mom like that, it’s creepy.” she cringed, wondering how you even deal with oikawa every day.

“dad, have you even baked a cake before? do you think you can get it done within an hour or maybe two?” his son asked the third time that day, which did irk oikawa with that tone of his.

“of course i can! are you looking down on me? it’s just a simple vanilla cake and some fruits on top. how hard can it be?”

of course, with every rhetorical question that pose a challenge, there would always be an answer exactly of what’s to be expected.

you, with no idea that your husband was making a mess of your kitchen, took your own sweet time at the grocery store since your daughter was there to help and it’s been a while since you had a mother and daughter bonding time.

“do you think your dad would like to have curry tomorrow? or should we just have hamburger steak?” you asked, still unsure of the menu for a celebratory dinner.

“i think he would like anything you cook, so don’t worry about it. dad’s always so happy to eat your homemade meals.” she answered with shrug, but you could tell she was happy to rely the same sentiment.

everything went smoothly and she did managed to stall your time with her longer than the agreed duration. that was, until she received a text from her brother saying dad’s cake was a failure and they should just get one outside; you two were already at the apartment lift when she read it.

“dad, i think you should just give up. they are already walking over from the—” oikawa having enough of his son’s constant nagging about how he should’ve just bought a cake instead, threw a whiff of flour to his son’s face without thinking.

and of course, which kid would not retaliate from that. the kitchen, which originally wasn’t as messy, turned into chaos of white fluff and sticky childish banter between the two.

you, not expecting to see your husband, was clearly surprise when you heard his voice by the door. the only excitement that came from that vanished the moment your eyes fell onto the state of your kitchen.

“happy mother’s day?” oikawa managed to choke out when he felt your growing presence with each step towards him.

“i’m sorry mom, it was my fault please don’t kill dad—” your son pleaded softly by the side, only to fell speechless when you threw yourself into oikawa’s arms instead.

“welcome home,” you greeted with so much warmth, oikawa couldn’t help but embraced you tightly as he replied, “i’m home.”

“mom? you’re not mad?” your daughter asked in disbelief when she brought the groceries – including the ones you dropped – over to the kitchen.

“mad? why would i be when you dad’s sleeping in the kitchen tonight.” you were so serious and certain, the two broke into fits of laughter as they ran from their father (which was fertile because they got caught immediately and was tickled to tears)

“why are you laughing when you two are having a sleepover with daddy tonight.”

“please dad, just stop.”

kita shinsuke

there was no surprises because kita’s way of celebrating was just regular activities but doing it together. which was honestly, what you love to do most since you don’t always get the chance of spending weekdays with your family often.

from preparing meals to visiting town, usually it would be done by kita himself. however, this time because of the special occasion, you took time off to accompany your husband while bringing your little ones along with you.

“mama here’s the carrot,” your little girl placed the orange vegetable on the chopping board before humming a tune while the other twin helped kita with picking the ends of the beansprouts.

“papa are we going to town later?” she beamed excitedly, hands still working on the tiny vegetable while her legs swung to the rhythm of her twin sister’s melody.

“yes, we are. do you have a place you want to visit?” he was done with his side so he continued onto the pile his daughter was removing.

“yes! we want to go to onigiri miya!” they both said at the same time, giggling right after when their father looked surprise.

“all right, let’s go after our lunch.” and everything went along smoothly with the little twins setting the table together while you and kita took turns to cook up the dishes. lunch was pleasant despite minimal words being exchanged since the twins were taught to not talk with their mouth full (and their mouth are always stuffed full)

while you and kita held hands with the twins walking hand in hand by themselves in front, the feeling of nostalgia seemed to tickle your bones at the memory of how you used to take long strolls with kita during your younger days.

“what’s wrong?” kita tugged your hand gently which snapped you back to reality when you realized you all have reached the store.

“nothing...i’m just grateful to be your wife and mother of two beautiful angels.” your smile had him press a fluttering kiss to your temple as he softly replied, “me too.”

“i see yer two are still as lovey-dovey as ever captain.” atsumu popped his head out from the entrance, both twins sitting comfortably on his arms as he carried them as if they were feathers.

“i’m not your captain anymore atsumu, but i see they both seemed to like you.” kita smiled at his two lovely dolls, one that atsumu have never seen much of because of his busy schedule.

“of course, who do you think i am? the better—” but before atsumu could even finish his flex, the two snapped their head over at the appearance of osamu in his apron. their hands immediately reaching out for the man to hug.

“uncle osamu!!” they squealed happily, trying their best to squirm out of atsumu’s grip.

“i guess not huh ‘tsumu,” osamu smirked at the annoyed twin, patting his hands dry before prying the little twins from his brother’s vice grip. of course, they both would fight over the kid’s affection. who wouldn’t right?

you watched the pair of twins in amusement with your head against kita’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your delicate frame. this too will be yet another moment kita would not forget, for he felt blissful to be their father and your husband.

[popsbridgerton]

Coming home again - Chapter Four - A.B.

Coming back with chapter four. I had to drop it quickly because I'm so unhappy with the third. I hope you like this better or the same if you liked the third.

Words: 1400+ Note: Like always, not proof read yet.

Summary: Violet announces that theres going to be a ball the next evening and some gentlemen reserve their dances. 

Prolog

Taglist: @isletsoflou-gerhans​​​​​ @keithseabrook27​​​​​ @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t​​​​​ @neenaw-neenaw @anthonybridgertonsmistress​​​​​ @michael-loves-chickens​​​​​ @thebrightsideofthebluemoon​​​​​ @icanholdyouinmyarms @mythical-goth​​​​ @magicalxdaydream​​​ @peterporkpie​​​​ @lora1030 @momothepeachgirl @antaraxy​​ @rollwithitlwt @bubblytonks​​ @savagittariuspy​​ @purplewcrld​​ @ilearnedthatfromethepizzaman​​ @latte-and-steam​​ @enoraturner​​ @galileostyles​​​ @alainabooks143​​ @do-not-forget-your-towel​​ @mrseasycompany​​ @iixbella​ @bangtanxberm​ @starryrevelations (i still coulnd’t tag the ones who are cancelled)

The exhibitions Benedict would like to take you was in the evening. You knew that. But you didn’t think that you could attempt dinner with all the other Bridgertons and go to the exhibition afterwards. But it was that late. You didn’t mind and your mother didn’t either. Only Violet had asked Benedict if he was sure that a Lady should be at such an occasion that late. But he only stated that it wasn’t for an English Lady but since you were a French Lady it would fit perfectly. You were amused by this answer and again very thankful that things were less strict in France.

Dinner was almost done, when Violet raised her voice again. She was sitting at one end at the table. Your mother next to her as well as Francesca. Gregory next to his sister and Hyacinth next to your mother, Eloise next to her other side and at the opposite of Colin. Next to Colin Benedict on whose opposite you sat and at the other end of the table Anthony as the head of family. You were pleased to sit close to your favorite Bridgertons and far away from your mother. It means you could have fun without knowing her. “There is going to be a ball tomorrow.” Violet announced. “The very first of the season. You should join us.” She looked at your mother who was obvious curious to went to a ball where she could talk to all the Ladies, she had known years ago. “We would love to join you!” She returned but you squeezed your face. “We?” You asked but since you were sitting so far away from her, she hadn’t heard you.

“Do you have a dress, Y/N?” Francesca asked across the table at your surprised features which you got back under control soon and nodded. “Sure.” You returned. “I do have some dresses from Paris with me.” You smiled at her. “If you like you can help me to pick one, later.” She nodded in excitement and you smiled a little brighter. You always had fun in picking dresses for occasions and you were happy to share this fun with Francesca. “Y/N.” Colin stated and looked from the other side at the table to you and you raised your gaze to look at him as well. “Colin?” “Since you will join us. Am I allowed to reserve a dance on your dance card already?” You chuckled a little. You knew Colin loved to dance in fact he was the only one from the three older Bridgertons who liked to dance. But you never thought he would be so quick with asking you for a dance. “Sure, you are.” You answered and being also happy to have a dance with somebody you knew and liked.

“Since none of the dances are reserved yet, which one you would like to pick?” You asked, smiling at Colin. He thought about it for a second, his lips pressed together. “The one in the middle” he announced then. “You will have some dances and some time to get in touch with people. And if you don’t like it, you can tell me, and we can escape.” He smiled proudly of his idea and you returned his smile with an amused one. “That sounds perfect.” You agreed. “I’ll will reserve it for you as soon as I get the card.” You smiled at him and got back to your plate when Benedict raised his voice.

“Now that we are reserving dances.” He started and immediately got your attention. You smiled amused as you could thought of what he might say now and tilted your head a little. “I would like to reserve one as well.” He nodded and looked seriously at you. Trying to look surprised you tilted your head even more. “Do you?” “Indeed.” He agreed. “And actually, I would like to reserve two.” His voice was deep and steady. You raised your brows. “Two?” You asked surprised. From all the things Francesca and Eloise told you he and Anthony hated dancing. “Indeed, two.” He repeated. “One at the beginning of the ball, the first one, and the other at the end.” He paused and then finally his smile returned. You knew he reserved two for a special reason. “The first one to give you comfort. You don’t have to dance with some strange man instead you can dance with a friend - me – and get an overview over everything.” He smiled as if this was one of the best ideas he ever had. “And the last one to be your hero after a long, annoying evening at the ball, who will save you from everything and as Colin said, to help you escape.” He smiled even bigger and still looked at you while Colin looked at him a little upset that he had stolen his idea. “I would love to.” You simply said, still smiling and turning your head to Anthony who hadn’t said anything at all.

You looked at him, as if he should say something, but he didn’t. He continued to eat as if nothing had happened and just when he noticed that not only you looked at him but also the rest of people sitting at the table he simply asked “Is there something?” taking his glass of wine and leading it to his mouth to take a sip.

Of cause, he knew that there was something. Everybody at the table waited for him to reserve a dance on your dancing card as well. Because even Benedict who hated dancing as much as he did, had. Even two! But he wouldn’t. He simply wouldn’t. He had watched this whole scene quietly and he would remain quiet. For everybody’s sake. He wouldn’t join this masquerade. Because that was what I looked like to him. Of cause, when his mother had mentioned the ball and your mother had agreed to join, he knew Colin would ask you for a dance. But not tonight. Not right now. He would have had enough time to ask you when you had your dance card. So why did he do it now? Anthony had a strange feeling about that. Colin did it because of him. Because he and Benedict had decided to play a mean game on him. The one who dance the most with you would win. But you weren’t a price. And he would never dance.

“Do you like to reserve a dance on my dancing card as well?” You asked softly and smiled at him. Because to be honest he was the only one you really wanted to spend at the ball with. Of cause, it would be fun to dance with Benedict and perhaps even more with Colin because you were sure he was the best dancer of the three of them. But Anthony was your best friend. And you couldn’t imagine something making more fun than tattling with him over all the other beautiful ladies and gentlemen who did they best to find a match.

“I don’t.” Was all he said, placing his glass back on the table and his attention back to his plate. A quiet “Oh” fell from your lips as your smiled dropped because you didn’t think he would refuse you. After all it was just a stupid dance. An awkward silence grew where you could hear nothing but Anthonys fork and knife scratching over his plate. But after what felt like forever the rest of the Bridgertons start to chat again and the room was filled with loudness again.

You remained silent looking at your plate but being surely sated after his words. You never thought that it would hurt you when somebody dismiss you a dance. You liked dancing but it never meant the world to you, so you were fine when somebody didn’t like to. But tonight, with Colin and Benedict asking you for a dance but not Anthony you felt utterly unliked. Unliked by the person you loved so dearly. Unliked by the person you thought would love you dearly as well. It felt like he had punched you. You almost felt like crying because of the bad feeling he had caused.

Your attention was brought back to reality, when a foot touched yours underneath the table. “Hey.” Benedict murmured softly and locked his eyes with yours when you looked up at him. Anthonys place was empty, you hadn’t realized he had left. “It’s not your fault. He’s just a stupid grouch.” He offered you one of his softest and kindest smiles that said everything was alright and for a second you believed him, so you returned his smile and nodded slightly. “I know.”

__

You know what stands here: If you like it reblog and comment please. You can also do this if you don’t like it. I would love to hear what you think about it. Taglist is still open, if you like to be tagged please head over to this post. 😊💕

Chapter Five

[wutheringmights]

I just read the newest chapter and I loved it! ♥ ♥ ♥ I was wondering if you had some hcs about the engineer that you could share?

Awww I'm glad you like it! I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out what "HCS" meant before realizing I'm a tired idiot who can't read lol

But yeah! I got some headcanons for the engineer/Spirits I can share!

These headcanons are a mix of things I generally believe for any iteration of the Hero of Spirits and a few things exclusive to CTB. It's pretty obvious which are which.

Technically this is slight spoilers since most of this is not mentioned in-story, but Warriors is a such a self-centered asshole that I'm not sure when I can get him to explicitly ask about Spirit's backstory lol

This got super long and kind of just became me talking about Spirits's entire backstory, so enjoy:

Spirits is sixteen during the course of Spirit Tracks, mostly because that was the vibe I got from him when I first played the game (I made him younger for CTB)

He's not descendant from Wind (who I maintain disappeared instead of settling in New Hyrule); instead, he's Aryll's great grandson

His family name used to be Outset, but when everyone who originally immigrated from Outset island took on that last name, they changed it to Aryll to reflect the family matriarch

So Spirit's full name is Link Aryll, though there is a branch of his family that uses Macaryll instead

The Aryll/Macaryll family is huge; everyone has at least six aunts and uncles on all sides of the family and they can trace back how they are related to Aryll

"I'm Grandma Aryl's third son's second daughter's fifth child." -someone Spirits is related to, probably

He actually never met his great grandmother; she died before he was born.

Spirit's dad was full-blooded Lokomo while his mother was Hylian; his mother passed a few months after he was born after never truly recovering from childbirth while his father died in a fishing accident when he was eight

He went to live with an aunt and uncle who owned a general store; their relationship was polite at best. The aunt and uncle told Spirits upfront that they intended to give the store over to his cousin when he was older so Spirits needed to come up with his own life plan

Spirits didn't necessarily mind since he never wanted to work in a store for the rest of his life, but the ultimatum made it clear that they didn't care for him like a son

To this day, their relationship isn't strained and he doesn't hate them. But whenever they meet, he's overly polite; they're more acquaintances than family

He's cool with his cousin though. They have different interests so they aren't best friends, but they're okay.

Spirits also always had his spirit-sensing abilities. It's really like a sixth sense to him, as normal and automatic as seeing and hearing; he actually didn't realize this wasn't normal until he was a little older

His abilities at this point are limited to sensing vague ideas of a person's spirit (if they're light or dark, etc.), and seeing ghosts (which are really rare. You have to have a lot of power yourself to become one)

(Note: I'm not the only one who headcanons Spirits as having spirit sensing abilities; if you know who can up with the idea, please let me know so that I can tag/credit them!)

The elder of his village told him that select Lokomo had minor spirit sensing abilities, and those who did were traditionally made elders of their villages; being more of a follower than a leader, Spirits adamantly dismissed that idea and refused to be trained on how to hone his spirit senses. He also never learned any of the religion behind it

Which was a little worrisome since his abilities are way stronger than most

Besides, he's always liked trains and it's been his dream to travel around the kingdom as an engineer; being some town's elder would get in the way of that

Anyway, Spirits had to pass a written exam before being accepted as an apprentice engineer, so he's very studious and has a lot of drive (pun unintended?)

He went to live with his Uncle Niko during his apprenticeship in another town; Niko isn't related to him, but he's been a friend of the family for so long that everyone secretly thinks he's actually related to someone and they just forgot who

Niko is his real family, hands down. Those two are as thick as thieves and bring out the wild side in each other

A preteen Spirits used to think Niko was a little lame and kind of embarrassing, but now that he's older, he's all for Niko's weird old man-ness and has even picked up on some of his weird old man-ness himself

That being said, they're both disasters. Neither can clean or cook or do any kind of housekeeping and their shared house is cluttered with Niko's art projects and Spirit's half-finished tinkering

Growing up, Spirits had no idea he was related to the legendary Hero of Wind; Aryll died before he was born, but even in life she was filled with too much grief over her missing brother to discuss it often. Within the family, being related to the Hero of Wind is a rumor at best.

Of course, Niko knows but keeps it a secret from Spirits; once he got back from his LU-adventure, Wind told Niko about the curse of the Hero's Spirit. Then he went missing post-New Hyrule's founding, which really drove the terror of the curse home. Niko thought he could keep Wind's family from falling victim to it by not inadvertently encouraging them to follow in Wind's footsteps

So Niko kept it a secret

And obviously, that didn't work

Spirits' quest to save New Hyrule resulted in him realizing that he needed to embrace his Lokomo heritage and get a handle on his spirit powers; Anjean gave him a little training during his quest but afterwards he traveled around the kingdom to find as many people as he could with abilities like his

They were all really excited to teach him what they knew, especially the religious aspects of the abilities; Spirits is still not the most religious person, but he at least understands and embraces the cultural significance of what he is able to do

This is where he learned how to read a person's Spirit to get an idea of their life experiences and the kind of person they're like; he can also detect where a person is without having to put much effort into it

At Zelda's encouragement, he also got more sword training from the Castle Guard. She offered him a place among them, but he turned it down in favor of remaining an engineer. He still helps around as a swordsman when he can and will act as Zelda's body guard

Speaking of which, he and Zelda are 100% in love. Their relationship started out as puppy love but over the years as matured into a deep connection built on mutual respect

When he's working on designing new engines or parts for his trains, he occasionally brings his drafting materials to the castle gardens so that he can work alongside Zelda; sometimes she falls asleep leaning against his arm and he has to be careful not to shake her awake as he works

Whenever she need to go anywhere in the kingdom, she rides in his train and teasingly criticizes his conducting; he takes a lot of pride in his conducting, but he lets her get away with it since her critiques are objectively hilarious

He keeps a tiny pictograph of her taped to his dashboard

But there's a bit of a problem with their relationship, and it's that he doesn't know if he wants to be the prince consort or not. He does love her, but that would mean giving up being an engineer in favor of being stuck at the castle all of the time

Plus, he's doing great as an engineer; he's saving up to open his own garage that produces his own train designs

Eventually, he leaves for the War of Eras

His experiences with Warriors leaves him more sure than ever that he doesn't want to be the prince consort, resulting in him ending his relationship with Zelda shortly after he returns home

It hurts for a long time to be around her since all of his old feelings keep coming back, so he keeps his distance for a long time; it takes a few years for him to go back to hanging out with Zelda as friends

But now she's approaching marriage age, and he spends a lot of time when he's on body guard duty super jealous of these princes and ambassadors from foreign kingdoms who try to court her

But again, he knows he can't be in a relationship with her so he respectfully and silently pines over her (I'm just a sucker for pining, okay?)

Okay, more random headcanons that are a little less sad

Spirits likes super spicy food, but since he can't cook to save his own life, he just eats whatever he can get his hands on

He's super dirty all of the time, just the epitome of scrappy; there's always a smear of oil somewhere on his person

He actually really hates bathing and only keeps his curly hair in check to comply with train safety regulations

He's really polite and a little shy, but once he loosens up, he gets talkative and personable

He's also very contemplative; he likes conducting so much because he gets to spend long stretches of time alone with nothing but his thoughts

His trauma/stress response is to shut down; he goes quiet, loses energy, and sleeps for longer periods of time

He tends to gravitate towards socializing with people who are older than him, which gets him labeled as being no fun by his peers (despite having someone as cooky as Niko for a uncle)

Post-adventure, his best friend is Linebeck III. They're drinking buddies. Neither can really explain why they even like hanging out as much as they do

(I just like the idea of Linebeck accidentally getting attached to one kid and his whole bloodline getting forever tangled with Wind's; they're bros for multiple lifetimes)

Not only is Spirits good at designing and building new machinery, but he's great at tinkering; he can fix almost anything and will buy broken things on purpose just to have something to fix

No one really knows he's a hero; he doesn't like the attention and, at his request, Zelda did her best to keep his involvement with Malladus a secret

Because not many common people know about his adventure and records of New Hyrule are very rare, he's considered in Warrior's time to be a forgotten hero; some scholars believe that a Hero of Spirits may have once existed, but if he did, no one really knows who he was or what he did to serve the bloodline of Hylia

[southsidestory]

I’m in a Hunger Games mood, so I’m gonna give y’all my unasked for reviews of each book (while unapologetically wearing my Everlark glasses). Here we go!

In terms of plain quality as a novel, The Hunger Games wins for me. It’s so tightly plotted, the world building is immersive, the conflicts are compelling, and I love how focused the story is on Katniss and Peeta.

In the later books the world opens up, we meet so many more characters, and Katniss’s other relationships—with Gale, with Haymitch, with her mother, with Prim, with the other victors—are explored in greater depth. Which is awesome! But I love the (forced) intimacy that the 74th Games creates for Everlark. It’s complicated and messy and absolutely fascinating. What’s more, it expertly sets up the central challenges that Katniss and Peeta will deal with in the rest of the trilogy.

Catching Fire is the book I enjoyed reading most. First, because Finnick Odair is one of my all-time favorite characters, and definitely my fave in THG series. I love how Katniss has all these negative assumptions about Finnick and many of the other victors, but getting to know them forces her to accept that they’re just flawed, complicated people surviving their trauma, exactly like her.

The clock arena was a brilliant and brutal idea, and the ending was such a WTF moment that I immediately dove into Mockingjay afterward.

Best of all, we get maximum doses of Everlark all through this book. The bedsharing on the train. Peeta illustrating the plant book for Katniss. Their sunset scene on the rooftop of the Training Center. So much Everlark goodness that it’s practically a banquet.

The only major flaw I can lay at Catching Fire’s door is that the concept of sending Katniss and Peeta back into the arena feels a little contrived. BUT the execution is excellent so I’ll happily forgive that.

And then there’s Mockingjay. Which I’m going to spend too much time talking about sorrynotsorry.

I have what I suspect may be some unpopular opinions regarding the third book. First, I actually really liked Mockingjay, and I think a lot of Everlark fans don’t?

I understand why! Katniss spends a large portion of the book separated from Peeta, and when she finally gets him back... well, we all know how that turns out. However, while those things are difficult to read, I think they’re good narrative choices. During Peeta’s captivity, we finally get to see the depth of Katniss’s feelings for him. She doesn’t realize it, but her love is astoundingly obvious. Her longing for him is palpable—which is what makes their reunion all the more heartbreaking.

Peeta getting highjacked is so tragic, but imo the book needed it. Up until this point, Peeta is a beacon of goodness. Certainly he has flaws, but Katniss doesn’t really see them, and to some extent she takes his love for granted. The highjacking destroys all of that. While it’s painful to read, it’s also really fucking interesting. And it takes Katniss’s grudge against Snow to a new level. What he did to Peeta is beyond unforgivable, and after it happens, she is out for blood. Peeta’s excruciatingly slow recovery keeps the reader on tenterhooks, wondering, Will he get better? Will he regain his love for Katniss? Will he ever be the Peeta I know and love again? It’s A+ conflict with high af stakes.

But perhaps what I loved most about Mockingjay is the characterization and story lines for the other victors. Haymitch’s involuntary sobriety, and the possibly even less enjoyable role as the resident Katniss Whisperer lol. Finnick airing all of Snow’s dirty laundry, even though it means revealing that he’s a rape survivor to a public that has been slut shaming him for years. Johanna’s morphling addiction and severe PTSD, and how she and Katniss finally find common ground.

Now for the things I *didn’t* like about Mockingjay.

#1 is unsurprisingly Finnick’s death. It happens in such a horrible way, and I think Collins chose to do it because she knew that Finnick dying would hurt the worst, not because it serves the story best. Prim’s death is gutting, but it’s narratively necessary. Finnick’s death is for shock value.

The pods scattered throughout the Capitol is a horrible idea. That makes no goddamn sense. It’s clearly only there for the “Welcome to the 76th Annual Hunger Games” line and all that it entails, which is not a good enough reason. Katniss and Peeta have already been through the arena twice, they don’t need to trod through a knock-off arena in the last book. It’s repetitive, and unlike the Quarter Quell, it’s not executed well enough to overcome how contrived it is.

I’ve got other gripes, namely all the Galeniss moments. But I will freely admit that it’s because they’re a NOTP, not because those scenes are unnecessary or poorly done. On the contrary, they’re very necessary and very well done. I just don’t like them lol

But then there’s the ending to Mockingjay. It’s perfect. It concludes on exactly the right note. The ending recognizes the longevity of Peeta and Katniss’s trauma, as well as the cost of war, but it still wraps everything up on a hopeful note. After three books full of death and destruction, Katniss and Peeta are allowed to find peace and recovery. It’s as happy of an ending as books like these can possibly have, and it’s 1000% earned. No small feat.

From an Everlark perspective, I could not be more pleased with the end. I’m sure all I have to say is the word “Real” for everyone to understand why. Collins stuck the landing like Simone Biles on floor, and I have great respect for that.

Tagging @awhiskeyriver @rosegardeninwinter @muttpeeta and @badnovels because you’re all wonderful writers and I’m really curious about your opinions. I’m not expecting or looking for perfect agreement—and in fact, I’d love to hear other perspectives! Even if you think I’m dead wrong 😂

[flourgirl]

When The Party’s Over

Part II to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn x Reader

Summary: The closer that Peter gets to Gwen, the more he realizes how irreplaceable you are to him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A few curse words here and there.

A/N: There’s going to be a third and final part to this story, so if you’d like to be tagged in it, please shoot me an ask or a reply and I’ll gladly add you to the tag list. Hope you guys enjoy this new part and happy reading :-)

“Counted all my mistakes and there's only one Standing out from the list of the things I've done All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go” -Where Do Broken Hearts Go, One Direction

It had been 17 days since you had last seen Peter and all you could do was sit in your favorite coffee shop and stare at all the muffins in the case. Peter loved muffins. His favorite flavor was banana nut, and usually the two of you would jam out to all of your favorite songs while you waited for them to come out of the oven.

“Y/N,” Betty said, snapping you out of your daze, “Are you alright? You’ve been staring at the pastries for, like, five minutes.”

MJ put down whatever book she had decided to read this week. “Yeah, if you want one, go for it. You deserve it. Here, I’ll pay.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wadded up $10 bill, dropping it onto the table in front of you, and returned to her book.

“You could get a slice of cheesecake,” Betty suggested. “I know how much you like the raspberry one from here.”

But all you could think about was how you wished Peter loved you the way that he loved those stupid banana nut muffins.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, crossing your arms and closing your eyes to take in the soft jazz music that was playing alongside the chatter of the café. “But I’m keeping the ten bucks.”

“Maybe it would help take your mind off of things if you met someone new,” MJ suggested without even looking up at you. It was honestly amazing how she could carry on a conversation while still being so engrossed in her book.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Betty agreed, “You’re so smart, and pretty, and you made all of the baked goods currently taking up lots of precious space in our kitchen.”

“You’re a stress baker,” MJ added. She was right. Over the past two and a half weeks since that night, you had baked three cakes, four pies, and seven different kinds of bread. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night you tried out the new focaccia recipe you had been eyeing.

“I don’t know, guys,” you said, slinking further down into your chair. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

“That’s okay,” Betty reassured you. “Take all the time you need. But we’re here for you, Y/N.”

And that’s how the rest of that day went. Lots of suggestions on ways to stop thinking about Peter and you shooting them down. No matter how Betty and MJ tried to make you feel better, your mind was stuck on the nine voicemails and thirty-two texts he had sent you saying how he was sorry for whatever he did and how he just wanted things to be normal again.

Except you didn’t want normal. You wanted him. You wanted his bad puns and the way his sweaters smelled when he let you borrow one. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know what he did wrong. He didn’t know that he had broken your heart.

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

It wasn’t like Peter didn’t like Gwen. She was outgoing and confident, and he liked how it felt like she was always the center of attention. People wanted to talk to her, or sit next to her, or even have her know that they existed.

But she wasn’t anything like you, and the more time that Peter spent with her, the more apparent that became. She didn’t rant about reality TV or get so overwhelmed during public speaking assignments that the only way she could calm down was with a hug from him. In many ways, she was perfect. Except for the fact that she wasn’t you.

“We’re still on for Flash’s party on Saturday, right?” Gwen asked as she walked with Peter out of the lecture hall where they learned about vascular mechanics.

Honestly, Peter hadn’t even remembered that she had asked him to go to that until she brought it up just now. He was too stressed out wondering whether or not you’d ever speak to him again. 

But what did he do to make you upset? He had promised that if you wanted to leave the party, you could tell him and the two of you would go. Except you never said anything. You just got up and left, without even saying goodbye. You hated him and it killed him to not know why.

Despite this, he wanted to be the good guy and not disappoint any more people, and so he took Gwen’s hand in his and said, “Yeah, definitely. I’ll be there.”

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

If someone had told you that you’d run into Harry Osborn in the middle of Arthur Avenue, you’d say they were crazy. And if that same someone said that you’d ask him on a date, they’d be even crazier. But somehow, some way, that’s exactly what happened.

You were on the way to interview a third-generation restaurant owner for your Italian class. You had never been very good at foreign languages, but you would use any excuse to take a trip to Little Italy. The nervous knots in your stomach from the possibility that they would only speak in a dialect that you couldn’t understand was worth it, because this little nook of the city was home to the best arancini in all of America.

To be honest, it seemed unbelievable that he’d be there, at that exact time, in that exact place to where you’d run right into him. You had been too busy reviewing the notes you had taken during the interview to see that you were on a direct path towards face planting into his torso.

“Fuck,” you grumbled, staring down at your notes scattered on the sidewalk at your feet. The guy you had just ran into kneeled down to gather them into a neat stack, handing them back to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, which caught you off guard. Who the hell was this? It wasn’t until you stared at his face for a few seconds that you recognized him. That guy that Gwen was with at the party. He looked a lot different in his button down and khakis compared to the sweatshirt and baseball cap he had on when you had first met him.

“Uh, hi. You’re Gwen’s friend, right? Henry.” You knew his name. You just didn’t plan on letting that you knew it.

“Yeah, but it’s Harry. Sorry about that, by the way. So, anyway, what brings you all the way down to Little Italy? It’s pretty far from campus,” he told you, as if you didn’t know that. I mean, you had walked all the way here, hadn’t you?

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I guess I could ask you the same thing.”

It was the first time in a while that someone wasn’t fawning over him just because he was rich. Honestly, it was really refreshing. “I asked first,” he noted, mimicking your crossed arms with a smirk.

Who does this guy think he is? 

“Listen,” you sighed. “I really don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my apartment and finish up writing this essay that’s due at midnight.”

“So you’re taking Italian, I presume?” he asked, it suddenly becoming quite clear as to what you were doing on the other side of the city.

“Yeah. And let me guess, you were eating brunch at some fancy, expensive restaurant that your dad owns, drinking some $100 bottle of wine while some nerd you pay does your homework, huh?”

“No,” he laughed. “I was helping put together Thanksgiving dinner baskets for underprivileged families down at the soup kitchen.”

It was only then that you noticed how annoyingly handsome he was. Essentially, he was the male version of Gwen. Same blonde hair and preppy style that just screamed “I have a trust fund.”

“Of course. What, did you need a good photo op ever since the Daily Bugle ran that issue where they called you a spoiled playboy who loves to party?”

You had no intentions of entertaining him, especially since he was a friend of Gwen’s. The girl that had kissed Peter right in front of you, and pretended like she couldn’t remember your name. The girl that Peter was probably with right now.

“I’m not going to pretend like that wasn’t part of it, but believe it or not, I’m not actually as big of a selfish asshole as the papers make me out to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, I can tell by the cashmere sweater vest and leather loafers that you’re wearing that you’re so down to earth.”

There was an awkward silence, and Harry decided to change the subject before he pissed you off even more. But what he chose to mention next was the one thing on the planet that you didn’t want to talk about.

“So, uh, I guess your friend Peter is with Gwen now,” he started, which had somehow managed to make you dislike him even more than you already did. Sure, there was no way for him to know how you felt about the whole situation, but it still pained you to think about how you had become an afterthought to who you thought was the guy who would always have your back.

You blinked back at him, frowning. “Yeah, I guess so,” you muttered. And then there was another awkward silence.

“Well, I’ll let you go now. It’s obvious I’m taking up some very precious time in your day,” he said, offering a weak smile. “Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.” 

It suddenly dawned on you that you might have been just a little too hard on him. He seemed nice enough, even if you weren’t a big fan of the company he kept. Before you could even really think about it, you called out, “Wait!” and walked over to meet him when he had turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, nervously toying with the hem of your sweater. “I’m just in a really bad mood.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, although he wasn’t quite as confident as when the two of you had started your conversation. “We all have bad days. I hope yours gets better.”

“It could, if you’d let me buy you a coffee,” you said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. Sure, it was nice to think that Peter would probably be upset once he heard that you had asked someone out and he knew nothing about it, but a small part of you was asking just because Harry Osborn seemed like the kind of guy you’d like to have around.

“Sure,” he answered back, running a hand through his hair, which seemed to be in a perpetually perfect messy-but-not-too-messy state. “Have you ever been to Hungry Ghost in Brooklyn?”

Your eyes lit up. “That’s actually my favorite café! They have this really awesome grand piano in the middle of the room, and every Friday they have an open mic where anybody can sign up to play it.”

Your enthusiasm honestly surprised you. It was nice to have something to talk about that didn’t somehow involve Peter.

“Actually, I’m signed up to play tomorrow night,” Harry told you, “Do you like jazz?”

It almost seemed too good to be true. You loved jazz. “Definitely,” you confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, cool. Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you buy me a coffee if you come watch me play tomorrow night.”

“Deal,” you agreed, before turning back towards your apartment, all giddy with excitement to tell MJ and Betty about what had just happened.

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

“You probably didn’t know this, but Y/N’s been hanging out with Harry Osborn,” Ned said, walking into the common room wearing his “special” Hawaiian shirt, which Peter knew meant he was going someplace fancy. “They’re kind of dating.”

Peter looked up immediately from his linear algebra homework. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about what Ned had just revealed, but he didn’t know why. He was with Gwen, and if you wanted to date Harry Osborn, then you could. But still, he found himself being just a little bit jealous that some other guy was filling in for him.

“Oh,” Peter said, looking back down at his homework. He couldn’t focus anymore, so he just shut the notebook and threw it from where he was sitting on the top bunk onto his desk. “How long has that been going on?”

“Two days now, but they’ve been spending every minute together since. Betty said that they bumped into each other on the street and she just asked him on a date out of nowhere,” he replied, tying his shoes to go meet his girlfriend for date night. “I just thought I’d let you know, in case you saw them when you were out and got mad at me for keeping it from you.”

“Thanks, dude,” Peter sighed, lying on his back, “You’re a good friend.”

“I know. Anytime, man. Now I gotta go. M’lady awaits,” he said. Peter didn’t even have to look to know that his roommate had just tipped his imaginary fedora.

Harry Osborn wasn’t even your type, Peter thought. You didn’t like guys as “pretty” as him, and you had always been more into brown eyes, not blue. So what was the appeal? His trust fund? Peter knew that you weren’t that shallow. It was just that, well, he couldn’t imagine you falling for someone like that.

You’re with Gwen, Peter kept reminding himself. So many guys would kill to be in your place. It wasn’t until he checked the time that he realized that he was actually about 20 minutes late to meeting her for the party. The stupid party at Flash Thompson’s tacky apartment that he didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

It was an understatement to say that Gwen was pissed when Peter knocked on her front door over half an hour late to the time they had agreed upon.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting,” she complained, smoothing out her sparkly silver dress that caught the light just right when she moved.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed, grabbing her hand as they walked down the street. “Uh, I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Whatever,” Gwen said, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

When they finally arrived at the party, the bowls of potato chips and mini pretzels were nearly empty. The floor was sticky, and Old Town Road boomed from the speakers in the living room. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Peter told Gwen, leaving her to greet all of her friends that had been waiting for her to show up. 

As Peter wandered towards the keg, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Harry, and all the things that he didn’t know about your newfound relationship with some guy you had just met. He still didn’t know why he was so upset about it. He should be happy you had found someone you liked. In high school, all you ever talked about was finding the perfect guy, and if that was Harry Osborn, who was Peter to make a fuss about it?

But that didn’t stop Peter from filling up his plastic cup more times than he should’ve that night. It wasn’t until he was being dragged back to his dorm room by Gwen after puking on Flash’s couch that he realized what was wrong. He wanted to be that guy. The one who got to hold your hand and cuddle with you during scary movies. The one that got to love you and be loved by you.

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

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn

P.S.: Sorry to all the people I forgot to tag on this one! I didn’t know that when you answer asks privately, they go away from your inbox. Please shoot me another ask or reply to this post so I don’t miss you again!

[iceeckos12]

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts. 

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at. 

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

[soldmysoultootomeboys]

Jealous Brothers

Writing asmo > Trying to write anyone else

idk why hes just so much fun to write for

Lucifer

You didn’t mean to see them

Lucifer had some errands to run in the human world and you decided to tag along. I mean when you heard how close he would be to your old home town you were eager to go. Sure you might love the Devildom but that didn't mean you weren't a bit homesick for some old sights.

You don't even notice them at first. The thing that alerts you to their presence is the sound of someone yelling before you're tackled into a hug. 

You immediately recognize your best friend and are just as excited

Lucifer is confused af???

At first glance he had naturally assumed that they were some sort of assailant. As rare as it was for someone to attack him in the devildom the human world does not carry his same reputation. 

But when you go to hug them back he realizes that something else is going on

You explain that this is your best friend and practically beg him to let them tag along

He's reluctantly agrees (Still a bit annoyed that he is once again interrupted on what is supposed to be an outing alone) 

But how much trouble could one human cause?

A lot is what he realizes. It's not the trouble itself but the fact that your friend is so...close with you

Always clinging to each other, an arm wrapped around a waist, hugging as you walk, holding hands during breaks, as if you would die without their touch

Were you really so touch starved? Had he not provided you with more than ample opportunity to do the same with him?

Every little touch you gave them was one he had claimed

He had reserved your attention (even going as far as to make up some business on why he was visiting your home in order to catch your interest) and now some interloper was once again stealing you away

The jealousy continues to build as you travel 

When it's finally time to bid goodbye (of course with a million hugs and promises to see each other again) he practically drags you away. It's time to take responsibility for your actions and see exactly how jealous you made him

Mammon

It had been pretty hard to make friends in the Devildom, or at least at first

No one had wanted to get close to the new exchange student, unless it was for some other nefarious purpose. So making your first friend (that hadn’t wanted to eat you) was a pretty big deal!

Sure things were no longer so tense with your classmates, (contempt breeds familiarity or something like that) but that doesn’t mean that you should forget the first demon outside the brothers that bothered to look past all of that

You hadn’t been able to spend much time with him thanks to the brothers who seemed to get caught up in some crazy scheme every week, so you decided to invite your bestie over for games and movies

If only you had considered how some of the other demons in your life might react to that

The two of you are cuddling when Mammon walks in. You leg over his thigh with one of his clawed hands curled in your hair, the two of you are the picture of (platonic) love. Well to anyone but Mammon

He freezes when he sees the way you wrap around each other

And then he explodes

"Oi MC! Who is this person!!! Why are they in your bed with you?!!"

You're quick to jump up wanting to introduce your first best friend to your first demon. Why wouldn't you want the most important men in your life to get along?

Mammon does not agree in the slightest.

He doesn't even try to hide it. 

After his initial outburst he’s quick to complain about anything this ‘other man’ does, even if its something as harmless as getting a glass of water. After being kicked out from your room (for some reason humans don’t like being yelled at, who knew) he resorts to petty mischief. Like any good demon he immediately decides the best course of action is to prank Lucifer and blame it on your friend. 

Like any competent demon Lucifer sees right through his act.

But what else can Mammon do when every cutesy giggle and gently hand holding is like an arrow to his chest. You were the one person who didn’t treat Mammon like shit. He couldn’t just lose you...right? Even if you were happier without him. Even if…

The final straw is when you call your friend ‘love’ cradling his face. Mammon's heart breaks right there. 

He sulks in his room for the rest of the time your visitor is there, refusing to leave even when you call for him. But the door is unlocked (a sort of last ditch effort for your attention) and when you walk in you find him moping in the corner. It takes a lot of reassurance and cuddles to remind him that ‘Mammon will always be your number one’ even if you have other friends. He lets you off with a promise that you’d spend as much time holding him as you did your friend. Not that he wants to cuddle or anything (he says arms open wide). It’s just that it's only fair.

Levi

Levi’s the avatar of envy. He knows that. It's in his blood, his very being, to be upset when something takes what's his. 

He didn’t get some cool sin like his brothers. No passionate wrath just burning to be unleashed, no pride holding his head high above the clouds where thoughts of jealousy can’t even touch. He was stuck with a disgusting secretive little thing that stewed in his chest and consumed his very being.

It whispers to him at night, tells him about everything he could have. Things that would be easy if he was better or stronger or just not him. It points out the way you linger in his brother's presence and how if he’s not careful he will lose you.

That being said he’s not even surprised to see you with someone else

Of course you have better friends. 

I mean Levi was just some otaku you got stuck with. You probably wouldn’t even give him a second glance if you had met somewhere else. He gets it. He knows more than anyone how toxic he is, but do you have to cuddle with someone else right in the middle of the living room?

That's such normie shit.

His jealousy is obvious. He’s the avatar of envy he doesn’t know any other way.

So he continues to send dirty looks to your friend or mutter under his breath (in easy to hear tones) about how ‘it’s totally not fair’

If he’s confronted he’s the type to completely and vehemently deny it. He’ll glare and keep his distance but catch him in a hug and he will completely break down, already melting into a needy puddle even as he attempts to escape your grip. Because that’s just what he was, weak. He doesn’t have an all consuming hunger or glamorous lust, all he has is envy. Something so weak that it melts in your presence. He’s a demon, he should be filled with his sin. But when you lay your hand on his cheek like that it all seems to disappear. And maybe that isn’t so bad.   

Satan

He knows he can't hurt the new ‘friend’ you brought home. You would be so upset and that's the last thing he wants.

It doesn't stop him from wanting to throw them through the nearest window though. 

He tries to think of it logically.

Humans are pack animals of course you've formed bonds like this. It would be more concerning had you not. He should be happy you had such close friends to share your struggles with. 

But then they grab your hand holding it between theirs, and he wants to break each and every one of their tiny fragile fingers. 

Eventually he’s forced to distance himself in his room to avoid such a situation.

He curls up with a good book but he just can't focus. All he could think of is how their arm is probably curled around you right now. Maybe you’re even holding hands or cuddling. The thoughts stew in his head like a black fog running in circles as he imagines everything you might be doing. 

He's finally distracted from his thoughts when he hears the click of the door. He picks up his book so he can pretend like he was reading the entire time.

You step in having wondered where your favorite demon had disappeared to. 

"You're not with your new friend?" He can't help the coldness of his tone, but when you flinch he regrets it. You don't deserve it. Even if you did make him jealous. 

When you explain that they went home the tension dissolves from his shoulders and he puts his book down with a relieved sigh.

Asmo

He's not jealous. He's NOT.

He's had plenty of lovers and never had he been so attached to one that he was not willing to give them up in favor of a better prize.

He's the avatar of lust its just not who he is. 

Or at least that's what he tells himself when he sees the demon currently splayed over your lap. 

You had met her through Asmo.

After dragging you to yet another party he had introduced you to one of his friends. Immediately you hit it off and he was glad that he seemed to have found a new squad to party with. 

Cue two weeks later with the two of you attached at the hip and Asmo the unfortunate third wheel

It was a role he had never played before and the fact he introduced you made it even worse. 

So he butts in. It’s only natural to want to sit near you and he does, wrapping his hand around your waist to get your attention. You hardly even notice! You’re so busy talking with her you only give him a friendly shoulder bump in response.

Asmo resists the urge to glare down at the other demon. She looked so comfortable resting over your legs, one hand intertwined with yours.

That was his spot. Something reserved especially for him and reinforced by the fact that he was the only demon in the house small enough to not completely crush you when he sat down. So why were you letting her sit there?

You laugh at something that women says running your free hand through her hair in response.

That was supposed to be for him!!!

 Hardly able to take it anymore he does what he does best. Get attention. 

"MC!" He whines clinging to your shoulder and rubbing his face against it in a needy display of affection. "You're not even paying attention to me."

You toss the hand not holding that homewrecker over his shoulder pulling him close, a gesture he accepts even if it's not the one he wants. 

He sits in a pouty silence until she leaves before dragging you off to his room. He pushes you on the bed so he can sit in your lap and cradle your face making sure every ounce of your attention is directed to him. He kisses you, once, twice, smearing lipstick marks over your face, a needy, impatient, mess.

"Why were you being so nice to her?" He whines against your lips. "Your eyes should be reserved for me." 

He doesn't let you go until he's reassured that you like him way more than her. 

Beel

Beels never been a terribly jealous person.

He knows realistically you're bound to have other friends, it's just who you are. Demons and angels alike flock to you. 

But when he actually sees the stranger curled up next to you he's filled with a feeling that's almost worse than his hunger. 

Mammon had brought them home, a mutual friend of a friend or something like that. He hadn’t been paying too much attention at the time. He wasn’t sure where Mammon was, but he had heard the screams coming from Lucifer's room so it wasn’t hard to guess. Thus leaving you with a strange new demon. Alone.

This was fine...

Beel takes it out on the kitchen, eating almost twice as much as before to fill the ache in his gut

It doesn’t help, not even a bit

So he turns to working out, trading in snacks and empty calories for sweat and stress. He can’t bring himself to leave the house, not with you and a stranger together, so he retreats to his room, extremely in tune with the way your scent mingled with his. 

This was fine, he reassured himself, lifting his heaviest weight yet. You had always made friends easily, this was no different. It’s not like you would fall in love with them or something.

I mean think about how his Fangol practices would go. With you in the stands, practice turned into all out war, with each demon competing to show off in front of the exchange student, not that you’d ever seemed to notice. Even his teammates who had once mocked you behind your back had changed their tune, brightening when you came by and puffing up in pride when you complimented them. 

It was even worse when they won a real game. You would rush down from the stands to congratulate him and he could feel every one of his teammates eyeing your every move, hungry, but this time not for a fresh meal.

It left him with an uncomfortable feeling. But he’d place his big hand on your shoulder and you’d smile up at him and the feeling would disappear. Because at the end of the night you would be going home with him, no one else. 

Maybe that made him possessive, so what. You came to his family first, you protected them and cared about them. Or at least he hoped you did. Because he cared about you. How could he not.

But now you were here, with some stranger.

When he finally came out your friend was gone and he was filled with relief. 

But the feeling didn’t dissipate, not entirely, or maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before. But when Mammon grabbed your hand to pull you away or when Asmo would kiss your cheek it came back.

If he was a bit needier from then on you didn’t remark on it. He couldn’t help wanting to cling to your side or press into your every touch.

Maybe...maybe he should be more wary of his brothers after all. 

Belphie

He doesn't even notice at first. He's so busy napping he's not even awake to see you come home with someone else.

But when he finally moves from the particularly nice section of couch he had been lying on in order to find you for cuddles he is NOT happy to find a new demon on what he claimed as his.

This meant war.

He glares at them sending every bit of loathing he had their way before flopping onto your side. Here came the slow process of invading your lap, in a terrible contest of who can take up the most of your space. Jokes on them, Belphie was an expert at tricking his brothers away from you. 

Through sheer patience and willpower he manages to push them away so he can take up the entirety of your space. 

Before they can even leave he’s asking you to never see them again, probably right to their face

He had enough competition from his brothers, he wouldn’t stand for anyone else getting in his way

[baby-bearie]

no regrets

a lot of almost john b x reader, but ends with jj x reader

tags: @sunflowermotel @howdyherron @drew-starkey @maraseavey @outerbanqs @yelyahryan @loveylangdon @obxwriterfan @avashroom @rewindlr @raekenliar @ceruleanjj @dolanfivsosxox @heyhargrove @lashtonandmalumsbaby @beautyandthebleh @pancahke @outrbank @kiarasflowr @adoreyoudrews @myjjbaby @jjmaebank @corleigh @poguemacking @kristineee-obx @jjtheangel @maybe-maybanks @5sos-seavey @pixelated-pogues @shawnssongs @thorsangel @midnightmagicmusings @jjouterbanks @daniel9seavey9 @hopefultrashforanythingreally @trashmouth-jjmaybank @drewtruly @rudys-pankow @spilledtee

a/n: this will be the first of three imagines i’m going to post tonight so i’m sorry about the tags all my mutuals are going to get lol. i know i’m annoying but i had these fully written and edited. two of them will be shorter then normal, but the third will be mildly long.

You never actually met John B. He was just always there. 

His dad had been your mom’s best friend. John B’s mom had him around the same time your mom had you, so you practically grew up together. You did everything together, and basically the whole Cut had been convinced for your whole childhood that eventually, the two of you would get married one day. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that sometimes, late at night, lying awake in your bed you didn’t think maybe it could work out. Maybe you could be happy with John B.

He was sweet. And pretty cute for a boy your age. And he knew you better than your whole family combined. 

But you didn’t love him. You didn’t even like him like that. And you knew that you never would. 

Because since you learned what love was, you’ve only loved one boy. 

You actually remember when you met JJ. It was in John B’s house, where you went every single day after school. It was the 3rd grade, and you had missed the bus waiting for John B. When you finally went to his house to chew him out, you found JJ too. 

One lopsided smile and you were a goner. 

The three of you became a force to be reckoned with. You made a pact with them. No regrets. 

Right now, you were regretting letting your friends into your house.  

They knocked again on your bedroom door. 

“Why are you locking your door? What do you need to be doing in there that this door is locked?” JJ yelled, making you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know, how about changing?” You hollered back at him. 

“She’s lying, there’s probably a guy in there,” John B laughed, before adding, “or are there like 5?”

“Remind me to beat you up later.” “As if Y/n would ever be with anybody other than her future prince, Prince John B.” 

JJ’s high pitched introduction of Prince John B doesn’t make you laugh, but it gets one from John. 

You skip a beat for a second, always disappointed that JJ still thinks you’d ever like John B like that. 

“Hey, what’s taking you guys forever?” You hear Kiara’s voice from behind the door. 

“Ms. Routledge is taking forever. Ask her.” 

Kiara rolls her eyes but knocks on the door. “Y/n, it’s already nearly 12. John B can barely drive as it is, how much better do you think he’ll be in the dark?” 

You open the door to the cheers of your friends, who shove you past the snack bags you wanted to bring and out the door. 

The plan tonight is to head out to the Boneyard. No party or anything, just the five of you chilling out there. 

Kiara is completely right. 

John B sucks at driving, and he’s even worse when it’s dark out. 

You make it there in one piece, and you pull out a folding lawn chair for yourself. You came prepared.

You still weren’t prepared for John B to crash into it the moment you set it down. 

“Dude, outta my chair,” you groan. “Come on, we’ll split it,” he bargains, and you agree, crashing into the tiny space he’s allotted to you, and throwing your legs over the side of the chair. 

You completely miss the way JJ flinches. 

Pope suggests a game of truth or dare, and the rest of you agree. 

Questions are passed around,  and eventually it’s your 5th or 6th turn. 

Pope rubs his hands together. “Alright, Y/n, if you were being forced to date a pogue, who would it be?”

Kiara and John B boo at Pope’s question, saying it’s already obvious. JJ is silent, his eyes are locked on your face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

Your mouth opens without thinking, and you realize that the name about to come out of your mouth is JJ’s. You backtrack for a second, and later than you should’ve, reply with, “John B, of course. Who else?” 

JJ nods, and he suddenly seems to find the sand in front of him very interesting. 

It’s early morning now, and Kiara, JJ and Pope are laying on the shoreline. You and John B have remained in your singular seat. 

He pokes your side. 

“So, when were you going to tell me?” 

You snap your gaze away from JJ and up at your friend. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me you’d date me.” He smiles. 

“Figured you’d already know, apparently everybody but us does.” 

“So, you for sure love me? You know, like that?” 

You hesitate, but tell him yes. You don’t know why. You tell yourself this is who you’re meant to be, but you just lied to John B to end up here. 

“Well, I love you , like that. Maybe we should be dating.” 

Your eyes are wide now. You didn’t expect this response. Not at all. You’d thought maybe he’d take it slow. 

“And you can come live with me permanently, and we can do all the dating things- “Okay, fine, I don’t.” 

“Don’t?” John B’s smile is peaceful and that’s how you know he’s toying with you. 

“I don’t love you. Not like that.” 

“There she is. What did you think you were doing, trying to lie to me like that. As if I don’t know the way you rub your nose when you lie.” You gasp. “ I do not!” 

“You just did!” You both laugh, but when it dies down, John B has become solemn again. 

“I know you really well, Y/n. And I know something’s been off about you and I recently. Is something up?”

“Well, there’s this guy- “Who?” 

“What?” “Well, if you’re leaving me for some guy I want to know who it is.” He laughs at your confused expression. 

“I can’t really tell you.” “Y/n, that’s basically code for ‘you know him’. Who is it?” 

For the slightest second, the thinnest sliver of time, your eyes dart over to JJ. 

“No fucking way.” John B’s voice is coated in disbelief. “JJ?”

You groan, covering your face with your palms. “Fuck you and your weird ability to read me.”

“JJ? Our JJ? Since when?” John’s voice is a mixture of surprise and sadness. 

“Since like 9 years ago.” You don’t take your face from your hands. You don’t want to see the look on John B’s face. 

“Well, shit. Does he know?” 

“No,” you watch JJ laugh at something Kiara said. He catches your eye and salutes you, then makes a heart sign at the two of you.  “And you can’t tell him!” You look at John now, grabbing his shoulder for emphasis. 

“My lips are sealed, Ms. Maybank.” “Shut up.”

You both sit in silence, taking in the fact that John B finally knows, and he doesn’t hate you for it. 

“John B?” 

“Hmm?”

“Did you mean what you said?” A realization dawns upon you suddenly. “Do you love me?” 

John B nods, smiling softly. His eyes are sad and your mouth parts. You didn’t know you’d hurt him like this.

“I do love you. I have. But, I think a good chunk of me always knew you weren’t mine to love.” 

You rest your head on his chest now. You feel like you’re going to cry. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You deserve someone who will love you. I’m sorry I can’t give you that.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. No regrets, right? You deserve someone you love, too. You’re welcome for this, by the way.” John B stands up, forcing you up too. Before you can comprehend what he just said, he calls out to the others. 

“Kiara, Pope, let me give you a ride home. You, stay here and I’ll be back in like 15 minutes for you. You have some talking to do.” John B winks at you before following Kiara and Pope towards the van. 

You turn to look at JJ who looks rather confused. “What was that all about?”

“Uh, J, I need to talk to you.” 

JJ’s face twists into one of concern. 

“J, I, shit, I love you.” You blurt out. No regrets. 

“What?” JJ’s voice comes out high and squeaky. His eyebrows are high, his eyes are wide and he looks like someone just told him mermaids were real. 

“I love you,” you repeat, quieter this time. You hear no response from JJ, and when you look at him, you’re instead met by a kiss. 

He rushes into it, cupping your face in both hands. You pull away, studying his face. 

Is this real? His eyes stare right back into yours. This is real. 

You kiss him again, and it feels so freeing, better than you ever imagined it would be. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.” He breathes out. 

“No regrets?” You smile. 

“No regrets.”