#let me clarify that we never had a conversation. the most we talked was through tumblr comments on our ts4 posts

[stinkrascal]

oh jeez i could say so much right now but i wont. i'll be nice

[chocochipsushi]

𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face. 

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh. 

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it. 

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name. 

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear. 

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting. 

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car. 

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine. 

“Stay for a bit, Toji?” 

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes. 

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news. 

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side. 

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit. 

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay. 

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.” 

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout. 

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear. 

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing. 

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.” 

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him. 

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up. 

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips. 

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips. 

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front. 

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit. 

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips. 

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper. 

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking. 

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles. 

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations. 

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me. 

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. 

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would. 

“Oh, you’re with her.” 

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning. 

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful. 

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat. 

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.” 

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?” 

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now. 

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?” 

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive. 

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.” 

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips. 

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him. 

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him. 

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out. 

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy. 

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?” 

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?” 

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs. 

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily. 

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat. 

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me. 

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him. 

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet  pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine. 

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips. 

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress. 

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me. 

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up. 

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji. 

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over. 

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father. 

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips. 

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?” 

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji. 

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.” 

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words. 

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked. 

“Like I want to commit my life to her.” 

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

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© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[bonny-kookoo]

Bonny!! Can we please get more Lo:Yoongi and OC? Like maybe her transition into being Queen/ or him courting her.

Him courting her is so cute honestly haha

All the workers at the palace are talking about you.

Mostly, because ever since the King had chosen you, he himself has been slowly changing. And while a lot of people were worried he might become weak after what happened during the fight with Jungkook, it's clear now that that's not the case at all.

He's just a lot calmer now, having realized that he has now a person he can find some quiet company in.

You don't expect anything from him at all- you cared for him when he was injured with hands so gentle, and you're always understanding of his rough tone and even rougher ways of handling the palace and it's daily tasks. Even though your kind despises violence, you accept that his does not, and actively uses it to solve their issues.

Yoongi, at the end of the day, is a king who earned his crown through bloodshed and death. And one day, his own will be taken the same way.

But until then, he will let himself enjoy those tender moments you're gifting him- just like today, as he has his head in your lap, both of you sitting outside in the palace gardens, birds flying overhead across the skies while the fountain runs a few meters away from you. He's rarely ever felt this calm before, your hand on his shoulder, while you let him rest for once.

Yoongi has never wanted his spot.

With his father forcefully challenging him when he was just about old enough to be considered somewhat of a man, he had no choice but to see it through- killing his father that day, cries of his mother forever edged into his mind. He doesn't know where she is today- most likely passed away already, though even if not, he'd never be able to see her again.

The partners of Kings who lost their crowns are exiled, after all.

"I'd like to offer you something." Yoongi says, eyes still closed as he speaks.

"..huh?" You wonder, unsure what he means. "Like a present?" You ask, and he nods.

"Yes. A gift." He clarifies. "I have yet to properly court you."

"Oh that's not.. that's not necessary at all." You giggle. "I'll stay with you either way, for as long as you'll want me." You tell him, and at that, his eyes open.

"I know." He responds. "But you live here now, amongst my people. And it is my people's way to properly court a partner." He explains.

"Alright, I'll accept it then." You agree, and he quiets down at that, before he moves, face turning to look up at you.

"What would you like?" He asks. "I just.. realized I do not know what you.. like, and what not." He explains, eyes moving away from yours in thought. "I should most likely.. have more conversations with you.." He mumbles to himself.

"I mean, we're talking right now?" You say, and at that, he looks at you again, before he moves to sit up next to you, seemingly searching for something in your face.

"We should.. talk more often." He says. "I enjoy talking to you."

"Me too." You say, smiling at him. "Oh, you have a petal there-" You say, moving closer to blow a stray petal from the blooming trees off of his hair- and when you move back to tell him it's gone, you're met with his eyes wide open, staring at you. "-uh.. did I do something wrong?" You ask, unsure, your words making him snap out of whatever trance he was just in.

"Are you trying to play with me?" He challenged, eyes narrowing as they stare you down.

"I- no? I just blew the petal off-" You explain yourself, when he cuts you off.

"I know that humans show affection by kissing their partners." He tells you, and at that, you realize what he probably thought you were leaning in for.

"Oh- Oh, no, I wouldn't-" You start, and his head tilts to the side at that.

"You wouldn't kiss me?" He asks, amused by the way you seem to get shy now.

"No! I would but-" You continue, and suddenly, you can make out the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Then what is speaking against it right now?" He asks. "We are partners. I believe that this gesture is more than appropriate right now." He tells you, before he leans in now, coming closer to you. "Or maybe that could be my.. gift to you?" He proposes, and you swallow thickly, thinking about it.

You do like him. And he's right- nothing speaks against it.

"I think.. it could definitely be considered.. a gift of sorts." You say, and he smiles a little more now.

"Well then?" He says. "I need an appropriate.. demonstration." He tells you, and at that, you gather all your courage, and move forward to just peck his lips-

but he makes it clear right away, that a quick little peck was not what he was looking for.

[velvetcloxds]

for your blurb event, could you do one with dilf hotch where he wants to take the reader with him to jack's birthday party but when they get there hailey makes a scene about reader being there, maybe even about how young the reader is and she doesn't want reader to leave?

BIAS | A.H.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: probably not the most cannon portrayal of haley, age gap, lovesick aaron

You were sitting rather uncomfortably on the little wooden bench in front of Haley's place, Aaron had very pleadingly asked you to wait here while he and his ex-wife went to have a discussion in the kitchen, a discussion which wasn't at all as private as you were sure it should be, the whole of the party probably overhearing the pair shouting at each other- it was rather fitting, they had witnessed the spark of the fight, it was only fitting they were exposed the to rest of it. You wanted to interrupt them, wanted to tell them that it wasn't as big a problem as it turned into, you could easily leave, celebrate Jack's birthday when he was at Aaron's, and it would've been simple if that was the only problem.

However, the second Haley decided to take a shot at you and your relationship with Aaron, you knew that simple flew right out of the open door past you. It was hardly the first time your relationship had been brought into question, your age had been a regular point of conversation in the office on many occasions but never like that, never had someone taken it upon themselves to insult you in front of a living room full of people merely for being there in the first place. Though you expected as much, you were adamant about staying home from the very beginning because how could her reaction be anything other than negative- a stranger, half her age showing up at her home while clutching her ex-husband's arm, wanting to see her son- it was hardly a scene anyone would look forward to, but you didn't quite expect things to escalate that quickly.

You were lost in thought, not realizing the shouting had stopped until you looked up to find Aaron closing the front door, a deadly look in his eyes as he stared the wooden frame down, one hand adjusting his tie, the other clutching his car keys as he shook his head to himself.

"I'm sorry that took so long," he began and the instant shift in his eyes as he looked at you was enough to give anyone whiplash, his features relaxing slightly as he drew his gaze over your figure. You had Jack's gift resting on your lap, a book you'd seen at the little vintage bookstore you always stopped by on Saterdays, it was almost brand new, a story about an elephant solving crimes in the zoo, incredibly fitting to be read to him by his dad- you'd gone through great trouble to find wrapping paper with little zoo animals too just to make it extra special, which only upset him more to be fair.

"It's okay," you insisted, lifting your hand to show him the cake pop you'd been clutching onto since he left you. "One of the little monsters snuck me a treat," you explained and the smile on your lips was intoxicating, daring to completely calm him down as he nodded. "Those for me?" you breathed carefully, slowly, knowing that you weren't the person he was upset with, but he was upset all the same and even the second he took to calm himself down wouldn't change that. You pointed at the keys with a soft smile, hoping that the overall conclusion of their fight would be to send you home. He frowned, confused, clearly not on the same page as you. "I can take the car home and then I'll just pick you up when you're done," you clarified and felt awful silly when he shook his head at you, extremely unimpressed by your suggestion.

"What are you talking about?" he was walking towards you, reaching over to cup your cheek when he stopped in front of you, brows furrowed as your big eyes looked up at him, so soft, so sweet, it was utterly offensive that anyone could say a single negative thing about you, let alone in the way they did. "If we're going anywhere, we're going together," you were the one to frown, gently placing the cake-pop down next to you before your fingers sifted through his, still staying in place on your face as you shook your head right back at him.

"Aaron," you sighed and he was daring you to fight him on his very simple, very end-of-conversation solution, but you were never really all that good at doing what he said. "No way am I letting you miss your kid's birthday because of me."

"It's not because of you," he clarified and you weren't surprised when he nodded for you to move the gift to the bench beside you, not wasting a second before guiding you up to stand in front of him. "She's the one who decided to act like that, call you that," he scoffed, looking over your shoulder, the open curtain allowing him a full view of Jack playing pin the tail on the giraffe with his friends, the parents laughing along as the kids struggled.

The insult hit him harder than it hit you, you didn't care for it, obviously, but you loved Aaron and that meant that you had to get used to braving through whatever people threw at you- the prolonged stares from strangers in shopping malls, the whispers from other parents when you had to drop in to pick up Jack from school- you were used to it.

"Hey," you brought his attention back to you with delicate hands sliding over his chest, brown eyes falling to yours, not truly with you, far too stuck in his head, as always. "Now, you know I'm not her biggest fan, I'm very biased for that, but I do understand where she's coming from," you insisted and his brows furrowed, silently telling you to explain. "Jack is amazing, he's this pure little bundle of love and as much as you get to decide who gets to be in his life, so does she. She might've handled it wrong but I understand why she'd want this day with him, no me, but that doesn't mean no you," he knew you were right, knew that this wasn't a reaction of malice as much as uncertainty. "So, you're going to go in there and give that little munchkin his gift and make sure he has the best birthday ever," you paired your words with an encouraging smile, stealing his car keys from him.

"And what about you, I don't want to leave you all alone."

"Well, I'm going to go to your place, slip into your most comfortable shirt, rewatch pride and prejudice for the thousandth time, and order loads of takeout food with your card," he breathed a soft laugh, the rare kind he only saved for you, a sound so lovely it made you conspire about ways to get to hear it again.

"Don't forget dessert," he was melting, that tough exterior looking rather soft from your perspective, large hands circling your waist, squeezing lightly as he pulled you against him, never quite satisfied with the space between you. "I love you," he sighed, ever amused by the greedy way your hands moved against him, stilling on his neck as you stole a quick kiss, barely a peck from his lips. "I'm going to make this up to you," it was a silly promise, unnecessary in its nature since it was hardly his fault, as much as you wanted to be there for him and for Jack, you hope there'd be more birthdays you'd be present for in the future, more parties to attend, maybe even hold, one day couldn't wipe out the wish you had for a future with the both of them.

"You don't have to," you dismissed him, shrugging lightly, though you didn't fight the kiss he insisted on giving you, wiping away your smile, then another and another, making you giggle against his lips before he pulled back. "Though, I wouldn't say no to continuing this when you get home."

"I'll slip away early."

"Don't you dare! Want you to stay until bedtime, maybe read a few pages of his new book. Promise me that you'll do the voices too? You know he loves the voices."

"I'll do the voices," his answer wasn't good enough, the pout that danced on your mouth and the way your big eyes dared him to disobey your adorable demands. "Honey, I'll do the voices, promise."

"Good, and give him an extra forehead kiss from me, will you?" you were pulling away, and he very hesitantly let you, not before one more kiss, of course, hands brushing your waist as he released you. "Love you, " you smiled, blowing him a kiss, it was sickening, the pair of you, acting like two teenagers as you walked to his car, pausing to smile at him, watch him as he opened the door and you were lucky you did because when his little mini-me popped his head out to wave at you too, your heart all but ran away from you.

[realtalk127]

alright fuck it. i can't sleep and i need to talk about this scene from the last episode of critical role.

because holy shit if this ain't some of the best rp – nay, storytelling in general – that i've ever seen. (buckle up, it ain't gonna be short.)

laudna: i made you a doll. because dolls are for children. and you're a child.

the way she says this is not nice! it's biting, it's snarky. she definitely seems to mean it as an insult – and she probably does! – at first. but laudna's idea of a child is much more expansive than just a cheep insult, as she makes clear shortly.

then ashton's response: i've never had a doll before. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me.

i don't know if this reaction melts laudna a little (if it does, she doesn't show it visibly), or maybe she was already coming to the conversation with a more nuanced definition of 'child', but either way, the conversation shifts immediately – and the next two sentences clarify where they're both coming from here.

laudna: i like children. // ashton: i don't.

she likes children! and we knew this, of course. marisha, the god of intentional rp showed us this within the first few moments of laudna's screen-time way back in episode 1. but still! it's worth repeating. despite the bite of her initial comment to ashton, she doesn't necessarily mean it as an insult. i don't know that we could entirely call it a compliment, given the context, but at the very least, i think she intended it as a point of connection.

after all, our data re: Laudna And Kids is not limited to that one scene from episode 1. there's also the parallel scene that mirrors it (with a happier ending) back in episode 38, when laudna first visits the sun tree after her resurrection. we also know (via a 4sd episode that i don't care to dig up right now) that laudna had another friend before imogen, who was a little girl.

and i think it's that little girl that's the most important piece here. we don't know anything about that story except that she exists, but i'm willing to read between the lines and make an assumption that laudna – on average – has better luck getting children to be kind to her (when they've not yet been taught to be cruel) than with adults. there is an innocence there that laudna needs! she needs people who haven't been hardened by assumptions and pre-judgements and all that bullshit. for laudna there is safety – both emotional and literal physical safety – in a childlike perspective.

ALL THAT TO SAY: laudna's associations with childhood are, generally, positive. for a variety of reasons.

but!

ashton's are NOT.

ashton's childhood sucked. from the jump. he was a part of a shitty cult that he barely remembers, and after that they were in an ophanage. their associations with childhood are overwhelmingly negative, and likely associated with feelings of helplessness and loneliness.

whether or not laudna intended that original comment ('you're a child') as an insult, we can pretty safely assume ashton took it as one.

they continue:

ashton: they're awful. // laudna: they're not.

NOW, we're getting into the meat of it. where before they were dancing around a metaphor, it becomes immediately clear what's really being talked about here. ashton is saying 'i'm awful', and laudna is emphatically saying 'no you're not.'

which! first of all, is so insanely generous of her. after what ashton just put her through less than 24 hours ago, laudna has every reason to affirm ashton's assertion that they are, in fact, awful. but she doesn't. ashton knows this, which is why he amends his original statement:

ashton: they can be.

they're saying: perhaps i can concede that i am not always awful, but let's at least agree that sometimes (like specificaly, oh, i don't know, LAST NIGHT) i can be.

laudna: you should remember what it's like to be one.

ashton: i do. it wasn't great.

the LAYERS, y'all. the LAYERS. the important thing here is that it's all in the context of that first comment: you're a child. which is, critically, a statement made in the context of ashton's decisions the previous night. they're talking in generalities here, but they're mostly talking about last night.

so!

when laudna says they should remember what it's like to be one [a child], she also means: you were a child last night, but not in a cool, whimsical way, just in a shitty, immature way. AND! when ashton says they remember, and that it wasn't great, they're saying they know they fucked up last night, but all they know of childhood is an overwhelming helplessness, how can that possibly be spun to a positive?

and this, really, is the crux of their two differing worldviews. these two have a lot in common – much has been said about that in game and out – but this point is where they split. laudna has survived, by embracing her childlike nature (admittedly, to a fault, at times). how to keep from being hurt? just keep everything fun and whimsical! nothing to worry about here, it's all just a silly little game! and she has also needed people who share that perspective. people who are willing to take her at face value and without any of the negative assumptions and prejudices they may have picked up along the way.

ashton, on the other hand survived by growing up immediately. they got through their own shitty childhood by becoming an adult (or acting like one anyway) as quickly as possible and STAYING that way. ashton needs to have a tough exterior (there's the made-of-stone thing again) to feel safe. (admittedly, from an audience perspective, this veneer is basically see-through. but ashton doesn't necessarily know this. they're trying their best. so from their perspective, the tough guy thing is Working.)

laudna: you should find more joy in your inner child.

she's saying two things here:

(1) you can be soft and be safe. those can co-exist, aND!

(2) i need you to be soft for me to be safe. when you have this false tough exterior, it hurts people. it hurts (hurt) me.

which is certainly a resonant metaphor to play with for the literal ROCK GUY who just got literally MELTED into LAVA 12 hours prior.

ANYWAY- that's what i've got for now on this scene. i'll probably never stop thinking about it, and there's even more good shit from later on in the scene when they talk about the doll, but that's it for now.

[cupidskissx]

Thanks for the fics! Are you thinking about writing something Christmassy? If you use this ask for that, I wouldn't care...lol

kisses and happy new year

Hello sweet anon,

Happy belated Christmas to you and those that celebrate!

I started this yesterday with no intention or direction whatsoever. By some Christmas miracle it’s the first thing I’ve “finished” in 6 months. I hope you enjoy ~1k of something for you ❤️🎄

***

When Max’s phone vibrated on the glass-top table the last thing he expected to see when he turned it over was a notification from Charles Leclerc.

Merry Christmas 🎅

He stared at the simple message, unsure what to make of it. They hadn’t spoken since before Max missed their padel game — his previous one line apology left unanswered.

Twisting his wrist, he checked the time and did the calculation. He frowned, it would be past midnight in Monaco, he couldn’t reply and wish him a happy Christmas now.

He picked up his phone and excused himself from the conversation. He walked inside while opening Charles’ contact and clicking call. Max didn’t know why he felt so compelled to speak to him, but it was too late now, he was closing the door to the guest bedroom when Charles answered.

“Hey,” a muted rustle followed Charles’ greeting, likely him rolling over in his covers.

“Hey,” Max sat on the end of the bed. “How was your Christmas?” Max asked.

“Nice, how was yours?”

“Yeah, nice,” Max didn’t know what else to say, maybe calling wasn’t the best idea.

“That’s good,” Charles stifled a yawn, then he asked, “How’s Brazil?”

“Hot. How’s Monaco?”

“Chilly.”

“Checks out.”

“When do you get home?” Charles changed the subject, taking Max by surprise that he’d want to bother keeping up their stilted conversation.

“Err, in a couple of days.”

“We should catch up before I head to Maranello.”

“Really, why? Have you missed me?” Max joked.

“A bit. Which is weird.”

Charles was kidding, surely, Max was the one who was left on read, “How much did you have to drink today, mate?” Max laughed, until he registered Charles’ mumbled response.

“Not enough.”

Oh. Max laid back on the bed and stared at the crack running through the plasterboard ceiling.

“I guess I just miss racing,” Charles clarified, now that is something Max can relate to. He supposed he missed Charles too, in the same way he missed Sunday morning briefings. Because setting the strategy meant driving, and driving meant racing and racing had always meant Charles. Except Charles didn’t only mean racing. Not anymore.

“I really am sorry I missed that game.”

“No you’re not,” Charles was the one to laugh that time.

“Okay, not the match so much, but I am sorry that I let you down.”

Charles was quiet for a long moment, “How’s Kelly’s family?”

Max closed his eyes. “Most of them are drunk and diving into the pool, not the best combination.”

“No, not the best.”

“How’s your family? How’s Arthur, I heard he lost his seat?”

Charles rustled on his end of the line again, “Yeah, he’ll be okay, but it’s still shit. We tried not to talk racing at dinner and that helped.”

“And your mum?” Max asked. The vision of Pascale in his mind was still the one he formed at karting tracks when they were young. When Max was shorter than her and she’d bring a pack lunch in a wicker picnic basket, an old thermos full of coffee never far from reach. One miserable afternoon in Italy she’d let Max hold it to warm his hands while they waited for the rain to clear.

“She’s good,” Charles answered, “Having us all home together makes her happy.”

“Because she can keep an eye on all of you at once for a change?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Charles sounded like he was smiling, Max wouldn’t have sounded much different when he replied.

“My mum is the same, she’ll pop her head in to my room at 6am just to watch me sleep.”

“Mum has definitely walked into whichever room I’m in to make sure I haven’t evaporated if I’m quiet for too long.”

“Typical mums,” Max rolled his eyes fondly at the same time Charles said: “I guess we’re the lucky ones.”

“Yeah, we are,” Max agreed because Charles had a way of making him more honest with himself.

“Will you go see Sophie for Christmas?”

“I’m flying up after New Year’s.”

“So you’ll be in Monaco for New Year’s Eve?”

“If everything goes to plan. Will you?”

“Yeah, I don’t leave until the 3rd. You should come over, I’m doing a small get together, nothing crazy.”

“I’ll check and let you know.”

“Good.”

“And if I can’t make it?”

“Then I guess I’ll see you when the season starts.”

Max’s heart performed a peculiar acrobatic act against his ribcage. “You won’t be home in between?”

“Not really.”

“Well I suppose I do owe you a game before you leave, if it can’t be New Year’s.”

Charles all but giggled on his end of the line, “So now you want to play?”

Max opened his mouth, the words: no, I want to see you nearly tumbled out but he caught them before he had to think too hard about what they meant. “I wanna beat you,” he said instead.

“Naturally. We’ll see,” Charles said but Max didn’t appreciate the open-endedness.

“Afraid for a little one-on-one, we both know Tom carried you last time.”

“You talk big game for someone who lost.”

“Guess there’s only one way to—” there was a single knock on the bedroom door before it creaked open, “I better let you go.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, see you soon then.”

“Yeah, book a court and I’ll be there,” Max started to pull his phone away from his ear when he was called back.

“Max?” Charles asked, voice wavering.

“Yeah?” Max’s brow pinched as he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling. Not quite ready to sit up.

“Get ready to lose again.”

Max snorted, “Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming.”

“I will,” Charles was smiling again, “Night.”

“Night,” Max ended the call. He settled his smile into something less cheesy and pushed himself up onto his elbows to find himself alone in the room.

[cookies-over-yonder]

the ballad of an (un)diagnosed private investigator

In junior year, Riz is finally forced to face one of his worst enemies yet—an undiagnosed anxiety disorder threatening to compromise his grades, his relationships, and, most of all, his sanity.

chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | ?

Chapter 2 Summary:

Riz initiates an impromptu sleepover.

ao3

Sklonda has been sitting alone on the couch for hours with dried tears stuck to her face.

She checks the time on her crystal.

11pm.

Just as she's about to get up and go get Riz, because he's certainly worked himself into a frenzy, she gets a notification.

Riz: sleeping over at mordred tonight. love you

-

Ma: Love you too, hon. We're talking about this tomorrow.

Riz cringes at his crystal, and then turns it off. He takes a deep breath in and out, and then, instead of knocking or, gods forbid, ringing the bell, he texts Adaine that he's here.

When the door opens, he's relieved to see her face.

"Is your dad home?" he asks quietly, walking inside.

"He's upstairs, why?"

"No reason."

They get to her tower, and Riz flops onto the bed, burying his face in the mattress.

"Are you okay, man?" Adaine asks, sitting next to him. "I'm always down for an impromptu sleepover, but you don't seem well."

"I think I'm in a fight with my mom," Riz mumbles into her blanket.

He feels a hand on his back.

"When's the last time you ate?" Adaine asks.

"I had a granola bar this morning...?" Riz says, turning around to face her. I was making lunch with Mom earlier, but..."

He cringes.

"Then you fought?"

"No—uh, it doesn't matter. I'm not hungry, okay?"

Adaine is grabbing his hand and leading him back downstairs despite his protests in an instant.

He's sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea—not coffee—as she digs through the fridge when he hears someone descending the steps.

Riz stares at the mug in his hand, and when he notices the slight tremble, he shuts his eyes.

"Hey, Riz!" Jawbone says, and he opens his eyes and forces himself to look up from the drink. "How you doing, kiddo?" Jawbone asks, not in the light conversation way, but in the I know something is wrong way.

"I'm fine, Jawbone," he says flatly.

"I heard you were sleeping over," he says, and Riz shoots a look to Adaine, who promptly shakes her head. "Your mom told me," Jawbone clarifies, having watched this exchange.

"Right. Of course she did," Riz says, taking a sip of tea. "I'm fine," he adds, trying and failing to tone down his agitation.

Riz watches Jawbone's gaze flicker to his trembling hands, then back up to meet his eyes.

"Well, alright, kid, but if you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here. You kids want me to order a pizza? I think Fig and Kristen might be asleep already, but I already know what flavours they'd pick."

"Sure," Adaine says.

Riz takes another sip of tea, and then puts down the cup.

He listens and nods along half-heartedly as Jawbone orders the pizza and asks for input. Once he leaves the room, Riz lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head on the counter's surface.

"I have never seen you that on edge around Jawbone before," Adaine says. "What's going on, Riz?"

Riz keeps his head on the counter, because he feels tears welling up, and he can't help but let them fall.

"I really, really don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Adaine says, and he hears her summon her familiar.

He lifts his head to make sure she isn't feeling too anxious, but to his surprise, she puts Boggy in his arms.

"Uh—"

"You seemed stressed," she says.

"Yeah. Uh. Thanks."

Adaine keeps staring at him, like she's studying his every movement.

He squirms a little under her gaze.

"So, uh—" he clears his throat, "the pizza will be here in like fifteen, right?"

"Yeah."

"And then we should go to bed, 'cause, we have school...?"

Riz doesn't remember what day it is, but it's more likely to be a weekday tomorrow than it is to be a weekend. Statistically.

"It's Saturday night, dude."

"Right. I knew that. And it's... May."

"June."

"I was close though, wasn't I?" Riz jokes, hoping to lighten the mood.

It doesn't seem to work.

"I'm fine, Adaine," he says, before she even says what's written on her face.

"You need sleep."

"I slept for like... six hours earlier today, actually."

She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" he asks.

"You worry me, Riz."

Riz frowns.

"I'm just a little stressed, okay?" he says. "It's normal. I'm handling it. And you don't need to worry."

He hands Boggy back to her and gets off the chair. "Lets go hang out at the couch or something while we wait."

They settle on the couch, and Adaine wraps an arm around Riz, pulling him close. She's not verbally fretting over him anymore, but the tension could still be cut with a knife, and he feels it like an indomitable weight in his chest.

He takes in a breath and lets it out slowly as he turns on his crystal, hoping for a distraction.

Upon unlocking it, the first thing he sees is the message from his mom.

He cringes, turns it off, shuts his eyes, and relaxes—to the best of his ability—into Adaine's side.

Love you too, hon. We're talking about this tomorrow.

[shibaraki]

OUR NORMAL ┊ BAKUGO KATSUKI

tags: GN reader, older pro hero bakugo, reader and bakugo are in their late thirties, bestfriends to life partners, no sexualities stated, queerplatonic relationships, discussions of the future, fluff and casual affection

wc: 1.2k

Everything is warm. The early morning breeze as it skims your cheek, lighter than the heavy blanket strewn across your lap, cooler than the thumb tracing over the back of your hand.

Bakugo Katsuki felt like an extension of yourself. You loved him intensely. Not familial, not romantic. A little out of the norm, his father would say. This thing between you had never been clarified; it never needed to be. More than a best friend and not quite lovers. Your relationship wasn’t a case of one or the other, there was no part of a map that your finger could fall and detail the journey.

It just was.

Only an hour ago you had crawled out of bed and padded into the kitchen with the pillow case still impressed on your face, rubbing at the swell of affection ballooning behind your fourth rib. Side stepping toward the coffee maker, he’d met your eyes with the beginnings of a tired smile in the short moment your bodies mirrored one another.

Plates in hand, without words he would ask, Balcony?

Decaf with sweetener, light on the milk. You, holding a pair of matching mugs, will nod. Yes.

Breakfast eaten in quiet contentment, you sink back into the cushioned porch swing and enjoy the gentle swaying motion. Now an integral part of your daily routine, it is big and gaudy and not at all suitable for the space. Even still, he had let you buy it.

Hands entwined in your lap, your head lolls onto his shoulder. Katsuki’s breathing doesn’t change, nor do his sights flicker to the movement. Peering up at him from his angle provides you with the generous opportunity of drinking in his aging features.

There’s light stubble shading his jawline, which has softened over the years. Cutting through his right eyebrow to his temple is a jagged line of scar tissue, and another, fainter, diagonally over the bridge of his nose. The crows feet by his eyes deepen when he smiles, when he bares his teeth, when he laughs; as do the lines by his mouth.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you murmur. A grin tugs at your lips. “The big three nine. I can’t believe you’ll be forty next year”.

He snorts, jostling you slightly. “Speak for yourself. Hell, I can’t believe you’ve been bothering me for nearly two decades”.

“Like a rash,” you exhale an airy, pleased sigh as you solemnly nod. “You like it”.

A younger Katsuki would have forcefully pushed the swing chair back and sent your body reeling with a loud cackle to distract from the answer written so plainly on his face. Now he simply turns his lips to your temple and says, “Debatable”.

You hum contentedly, a deep sense of belonging settling in your bones. It would strike any other person watching as unusual — for years now your relationship with Katsuki had been built up by small intimacies and intense commitment that most only ever attributed to romance, yet still the two of you insisted it was nothing of the sort.

And it wasn’t. There had been plenty others; some of which you still talk to from time to time; those who parted ways with you amicably wearing a sad, knowing smile; others that pointed an accusatory finger and fled. You cared for Katsuki in such a way that it intimidated the people around you, and drove them off.

They all told you the same thing verbatim: Friends don’t act like that.

Your nails strum nervously against the ceramic mug as you watch the young family in the complex across from you gather on their own balcony to eat breakfast. The interlocked hands in your lap feel that much heavier.

“So. What’re we gonna tell your parents this year?” you cautiously prod, knowing he had never been a fan of these conversations. “Your mother still thinks you’re lying to her about us out of spite”.

“There’s nothing to tell them. S’not like we’re a proper couple,” he replies with a shrug, cadence smooth and low, as if it were just an inoffensive truth. As if he had never thought anything more of it.

Usually you’d laugh it off and agree. Because Katsuki was right in a sense — you were not a couple. Yet you ask, “Aren’t we?”

The sunlight pools in his iris and it glows when he glances at you from the corner of his eye. Izuku once admitted that he thinks you make Kacchan softer but you’re more inclined to believe the reverse. A simmering, constant source of warmth. Katsuki has always been synonymous with comfort.

“That isn’t a discussion I recall having,” he rasps, still a little sleep worn.

You huff a laugh, knocking your head against his shoulder, “I know. I just… we are. A pair, I mean”.

A small sound of contemplation rumbles in his throat as his gaze returns to the bruised horizon. A crease forms across the bridge of his nose and you quell the urge to touch it. One, two, three, your attention is drawn to the rhythmic tap of his finger against his empty mug. “A pair?”

“Yeah. We go together,” you feel a smile curling at the corner of your lips. “You’re important to me, and you’re my partner. We practically spent our lives together. What else would you call it?”

You watch the emotions pass over his face as he processes your answer. “Dunno,” he eventually breathes. “There was never a label to stick on it. We were always just us”.

You feel yourself simper, ducking to tuck your cheek closer to his shoulder, nuzzling into him. The gentle scent of body wash and fabric softener clouds your senses. “Just us,” you repeat quietly. “…Do you ever see that changing?”

His jaw clicks shut and he shakes his head in disagreement. The stubble on his chin rubs against your skin. Emboldened, you continue, “So why not just spend what’s left of our lives together, like this?”

His thumb slides over your third knuckle and idly skims the empty space on your ring finger. Even the media had been bugging him about 'proposing' to you, despite never confirming a relationship in the first place. At some point he had simply given up on correcting them.

“We can’t. It’s not…”

“Normal?”

Katsuki grunts. The wrinkle between his brow deepens with his frown, and there are faint dimples in his chin that are only ever visible when he pouts. “It’d be our normal,” you offer lightly. “We already share an apartment. A life. Nothing would need to be different”.

“I really don’t see myself caring about someone romantically as much as I care about you, Katsuki”.

When Katsuki feels embarrassed his entire body announces it. He scoffs harshly, shifting in his seat as he turns his head away from you to hide the pale flush of pink staining his cheeks. You fall into a comfortable, albeit pensive silence. Now was the time to back away and allow him time to file through his thoughts. Despite having mellowed out in his later years, he still struggled with finding the right words from time to time.

Clink. He sets the empty mug down on the small glass table, free hand returning to pick at the seam of his sweatpants. The porch swing begins to move again. Pushing the heel of his foot to the ground, Katsuki languidly rocks your bodies back and forth.

“The old hag wouldn’t get it,” he murmurs.

The knots of anticipation slowly untangle from your ribs and breathing comes a little easier. “She doesn’t have to,” you reply. “But I think she’ll be happy to know we have each other. Your dad, too”.

Those sharp, carmine eyes meet yours once more. “Yeah?” he asks.

You nod, “Yeah”.

[icallhimjoey]

Hello! I love your writing so much!!!!

May I request something along the lines of reader and Joey are friends and had a drunken one night stand and she finds out she’s pregnant and they decide that they will co-parent when the bébé is here but they fall in love during the pregnancy? (Only if you’re comfortable writing it tho) thanksies a lot ♥️

ok so this request fed me an ENDING and its the most awful thing because i like to let my mind wander and come to my own conclusions, so, sorry anon, but i only used the first half of your request and i dont care if you're ok with that or not... ok love you :) bye Wordcount: 5K

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Ground Rules

“I need to talk to you,”

It wasn’t as pressing as we need to talk, but the urgency felt the same when you said it.

“Alright,” Joe had sounded a little confused, but he had no reason to not take you seriously when he heard your tone.

“Not over the phone, face to face,” you clarified, biting a piece of skin by your nail, and ripping a chunk of it off.

“Is something wrong?” Joe asked, his concern growing.

You stared at the positive pregnancy test in front of you on the coffee table.

“Could you come over now?”

The two of you hadn’t been in a room alone since that night. You had both agreed it was such a dumb mistake, one you’d never speak of again – you promised it, and then you made Joe pinky swear you, to really lock it in.

You’d been vulnerable, drunk, and emotional after a date ghosted you, and Joe had been there with kind words, empathetic eyes, and soft hugs for you.

He spent that evening telling your friends, who only wanted to know what was wrong, to leave you alone, and you’d felt all protected by him.

It turned out to be lethal mixture, all of it combined, and it hadn’t scared Joe off when you had said through laughs that one particularly tight hug had given you fanny-flutter. Instead, he’d gone, “Yea? Feel this,” and had guided your hand onto his semi.

You’d left the party immediately.

Afterwards, you’d been just fine within groups. It was easy to pretend you hadn’t heard the noises Joe made when you’d been wrapped and clenched around him, when you were surrounded by other people who steered the conversation.

Joe used his acting skills to make everyone believe he’d never even thought of you that way, all sweaty and panting between his sheets and underneath his hands. But if the two of you crossed paths in an empty kitchen when getting drinks, or in a hallway as you waited for the toilet, it was awkward.

You would be all nervous laughter and Joe would be all tensed shoulders when there wasn’t at least one other person in your presence that you could both latch onto so you wouldn’t have to talk to each other. Avoidance wasn’t the right word, but careful consideration of who you’d be around at social settings was something that kept the both of you on your toes.

Therefore, calling him now, just a little over a month after that night, was odd. And you asking to talk to him face to face in private even more so.

“Hey, you alright?” Joe seemed like he’d rushed, not entirely out of breath, but definitely breathing heavier through flared nostrils. It was obvious that you’d been crying.

“I don’t think we are,” you answered, and Joe curved his eyebrows.

We?

You didn’t know what else to do besides just show him. You lead the way over to your coffee table, let yourself fall onto your sofa and reached for the pregnancy test you’d taken a couple hours earlier. You rolled your wrist to hold it out for Joe to see, who seemingly forgot how to breathe entirely.

“What the…” Joe said when he finally sat down next to you, eyes still glued to the blue plus sign on the small display. “Is it…” Joe finished the rest of his question in his mind: mine? You understood what he meant.

“Sort of has to be,” you answered, revealing you hadn’t had any other sexual partners since him. And, if you were honest, it had been a dry couple of months leading up to that night, as well. It was one of the reasons why it all had played out the way it had in the first place.

“Oh, right,” was all Joe managed to say as he carefully placed the pregnancy test back on the table in front of you, leaving the two of you to stare at it there.

The same whirlwind ravaged through both of your minds as you remained silent for a while.

“What, um... what do you want to do?” Joe was the first to break the silence, eyes not pulling from the plastic device on the table in front of him.

“What do you think we should do?” you passed the ball right back to him.

“I don’t think I get much say, to be honest,” Joe said, and you disagreed, but you knew what he meant and appreciated the sentiment. It would’ve been much worse if he’d demanded you’d do exactly what he wanted for himself, you recognised.

You sighed deeply.

“I don’t know what I want,” you then honestly said, and turned your head to look at Joe. “I’ve got a scan tomorrow, I’m sure they’ll tell me all the options then,” you refrained from saying my options or our options, because both those options sounded far too confrontational.

“Tomorrow?” Joe found your eyes. “Is that not… I don’t know, a bit soon for a scan?”

“It’s been 10 weeks,”

Joe’s brow furrowed and you could see the cogs turning behind his eyes as he did some mental math.

“Not technically, but apparently, they count from the last time you’ve had your period, so, they scheduled me in their first available slot, which is tomorrow afternoon, at a quarter past three,”

You’d just learnt all this information yourself literal minutes ago when you’d phoned you GP mid panic attack. It had been just over six weeks ago that you’d woken up naked in between Joe’s sheets with your legs tangled together and your mouth dryer than you’d ever felt it, so you knew that biologically, you couldn’t have been pregnant for 10 weeks. But your GP hadn’t cared when you tried to explain that, and had instead just presented you with your stats. You hadn’t been able to do anything other than accept them.

“Fuck, if I hadn’t been so stupid,” you started, eyes squeezed shut and wholly blaming yourself for the position you had found yourself in now.

“Hey,” Joe’s fingers found their way around your wrist. “We’ve had this chat already,”

“I know, but–”

“We were both there. We were both fucking stupid,” Joe winced, painfully aware that what he was saying wasn’t fixing the situation, but the shared responsibility did make you feel a little lighter.

Another silence fell, and when you dared another glance at Joe, all signs pointed at him not knowing what to do. It was etched all over his face, and his body language matched it. It was exactly what you’d expected, but the opposite of what you wanted. Or needed.

“Will you come?” Joe snapped out of his thoughts at the sudden fragility in your voice. It sent a shockwave through his nervous system, and when he looked at you, he saw nothing but fear in your eyes.

“Yea, of course. Of course, I’ll come.”   

The next day, you decided to not go together, but to meet each other there. You didn’t need to sit next to Joe on your way over without escape, so agreeing to meet in the waiting area seemed a sensible decision to make.

“Did you tell anyone?” you asked Joe, genuinely curious if there were now people inside or outside of your circle that might have a different opinion of you now, but Joe shook his head no.

“Did you?” he shot your question back at you, and you did the same, also shaking your head no.

“I wouldn’t know how to have explained it to anyone,” you said, letting out a pressured cackle, because the only other choice was to cry. You were hardly going to tell any of your mutual friends that you’d snuck off with Joe that night to let him touch various areas inside of your body with various body parts of his. And how else were you going to explain that you’d fallen pregnant with his baby?

“Oh, come on,” Joe frowned at you. “They know.”

And it only occurred to you then, that... they probably did.

Your group of friends wasn’t massive. The house parties you had were better described to be gatherings with background music and loud laughter. Two people suddenly having gone missing after hugging each other on the balcony a lot, must have been suspicious enough.

But, no one had made any comments or had even given you any looks.

Then again, had you really been paying attention to how other people had been acting around you? You couldn’t have been – ever since that night you’d been solely preoccupied with making sure no one was accidentally going to ever step away from you and leave you alone with Joe to chat amongst yourselves.

“Judging by your faces, I’m going to have to ask you, is this a happy occasion? Are we celebrating?” your GP read the both of you as you’d walked in, all fidgety and nervous and gave you a concerned look. Now sat in front of her, she could practically smell the panic on you.

“I… we, we don’t know,” you answered, giving Joe questioning eyes as you did. You didn’t want to speak for him and be wrong, but he nodded.

“What situation are we finding ourselves in, if I may ask?” your GP looked at you over her glasses, and you were sure you looked like a pair of scared 16-year-olds who had made an appointment without your parents knowing. The distance between the two chairs you and Joe sat in opposite your GP didn’t help.

“This- this wasn’t planned,” you motioned at your stomach.

“We’re not together. Not like that,” Joe clarified.

“Well, we were,”

“Once,”

“By accident,”

“Dumb mistake,”

Your doctor’s eyes shot from Joe to you, back and forth, as if she was watching a tennis match.

“Should we first check if everything’s alright, and then we can talk about what the best option would be for you, is that okay?”

And so, minutes later, you were laid on a bed with your stomach exposed as your GP pushed the ultrasound device firmly into the soft skin below your bellybutton. She moved it around and searched for what you thought was too long a time, and both Joe and you stared at a monitor, entirely unsure what you were looking at, and what you were looking for.

“Ah, there we go,” she then suddenly said, and clicked a button, filling the room with a very faint, very rapid, beating sound.

“We’ve got a heartbeat already,”

You gasped, and it was so abrupt, it nearly made you cough. Tears sprung into your eyes at a speed you didn’t even think was humanly possible.

Suddenly, this was real.

Very, very real.

You turned to see if you could gage Joe’s reaction, and then saw that he was holding onto one of your hands with both of his – something you hadn’t even consciously acknowledged until your eyes caught it.

“That’s the heartbeat?” Joe’s eyebrows couldn’t be higher up on his face, his forehead etched with deep wrinkles, desperately needing confirmation from the GP.

“The heartbeat?” he asked again, now through narrowed eyes as your GP just nodded.

“That’s the heartbeat,” Joe then said to you, delivering it as if it was news to you, as if you hadn’t been there for that interaction between them.

“Shit,” you laughed, wiping a tear with the back of the hand Joe wasn’t white knuckling before it could disappear into your hair.

“We’re so fucked.”

When it really came down to it, you had three options: have it and keep it, have it and not keep it, or get rid whilst you still could. All options were laid out on the table with care, and without judgement, and all options led to more choices that had to be made. You and Joe had both listened in complete silence, not wanting to miss any important details, entirely unsure and unaware of what the other was thinking. And you’d been given the gift of time; there was still time to decide. Not enough time to procrastinate it, but you were happy with every minute you were granted.

“I don’t think... I don’t think I can get rid of it,” you said when you were stood outside the doctor’s office, not sure how to say goodbye to each other after what you’d just witnessed inside that doctor’s office, so instead, you postponed it altogether and hovered in each other’s presence for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“So, then we won’t.” Joe simply said, and his use of the collective ‘we’ left your fingers numb, slightly tingly.

“Joe, you don’t have to– if you don’t want, I’m not going to– you could be–” you couldn’t find the right words to tell him he was allowed to opt out if he wanted to. You weren’t going to hold it against him. It was a decision you’d made last night when you couldn’t sleep, and it had been the only safe thought that had eventually let your mind stop racing enough to drift off. If your choice was to actually do this, you would. With or without him.

“Don’t… none of that, come on. We’ll figure something out,” Joe said, but you didn’t believe him.

“It’s 2022,” he then shrugged, as if that was an acceptable answer to a question that required at least a paragraph for a proper answer. It was far too casual an approach for what was about to be a life altering choice for him. And for you too, of course, but that felt like more of an afterthought. You’d cope.

“Don’t you have to talk this over with, I don’t know, your manager… publicist… you parents?” you tried, entirely aware of what people involved in his career were going to possibly tell him.

“They can advise, but they don’t decide for me.” Joe then reached for both your hands, and it didn’t feel romantic, but it was caring, and protective.

“There was a heartbeat,” he then said, and you understood what he meant.

It was the sole reason why you’d immediately wiped getting an abortion of the table. Because you’d heard it now. You’d heard your baby.

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” He then said and tugged at your arms, pulling you into a hug.

It had taken you a hot minute to be able to use upfront words with each other. Yes, you wanted to have and keep the baby. Yes, you wanted to birth this child and then raise it, be its mother, love it for the rest of its and your life. Saying it was scary, but then hearing Joe echo your exact feelings was scarier. It meant you were going to actually do it.

But you weren’t together – no.

Not like that, anyway.

“Do parents necessarily need to be, though?” Joe had argued, making a case he didn’t need to be making against you, because you agreed wholeheartedly.

“How many people do we know that have parents that are still together?” you pointedly said, and Joe had wanted to kiss you for how much on the same page you were about this.

Your situation almost seemed better than having a baby as a couple. Being together only meant there’d be potential to end up separating, a traumatic event for any child no matter the age, which would potentially leave you hating each other and not on speaking terms. Instead, you were having this baby as great friends, on the same page about so many things, both ready to have a child and love the absolute loving shit out of it. Why was this even considered to be an unconventional decision when all the other options were clearly so much worse?

Out of everyone, your friends needed the most convincing.

“But what if Joe starts seeing someone, and they get serious, and then they also want children together?” they challenged you.

“Then there’ll be siblings,” you’d smiled at all of their worried faces, which only grew more worried as Joe passed you a non-alcoholic beverage, switched out the snacks in front of you for baby carrots, and high-fived you before returning to the conversation on the other side of the room he’d briefly stepped out of when he’d seen you surrounded by friends holding beers.

“Trust me, this is going to work out better than it does for people who get married, buy a house, and then decide to start trying for a baby. We have solid ground rules set in place, it’s absolutely fool proof.”

And you weren’t lying – you truly believed every single word you’d said.

Your friends, however, didn’t trust it one bit, the image of Joe guiding your hand over to touch his penis over his trousers in front of the large windows on the balcony still clear in their minds.

It all seemed perfect.

Until one late afternoon, when Joe’d unexpectedly dropped by with books he’d been given by his mother to give to you, and he had found you in a suggestive dress, baby bump sticking out, twisting your hair around your straightener in the bathroom.

“Oh, great! Thanks!” You excitedly said when you saw what Joe was holding. “Could you leave those on my bedside table for me? I’ve got so many books to get through, I’m going to have to start leaving them places I know I’ll actually have the time to reach for them.”

But Joe didn’t move – he hadn’t even properly heard what you’d said.

“What are you doing?” That dress was too short for the weather you’d been having, he thought.

“Getting ready,” you said upbeat, making eye contact with Joe in the mirror. “I’ve got a date tonight,” you spoke like you were speaking to a girlfriend, giddy excitement written all over your face.

“You’re... you’re wearing lip gloss,” Joe said softly as he frowned, not fully grasping why it was an important detail he felt he needed to point out.

“Hey, have you checked your schedule for two weeks from now? There’s a class I really want to check out, at least go in once, you know, and it’d be great if you– Joe?” you’d seen Joe drift off in thought, his eyes trained on the reflection of your stomach in the mirror.

“Yea?” Joe snapped out of it. “Yea. Yea, um, book it. I’ll find the time,”

“Great,”

In the silence that followed, you could see Joe go through several emotions behind you, and when you turned to look at him, you found that without the distance the mirror gave, everything intensified.

His eyes spoke volumes and Joe didn’t need to articulate his thoughts because you could read them from his face.

“Joe… we’re not– it’s not that we–”

“I know,” Joe interrupted you, jaw tensed. “But... would I be an awful friend if I asked you not to go?”

“You can’t…” you started, then slumped your shoulders and sighed deeply. “That’s not fair, don’t do this to me...”

“You’re pregnant. With my child.” Joe said, wholly believing he was making a fair a point, stretching out a hand to place over your pregnant stomach.

It’s not like you hadn’t thought it over a million times before finally deciding to just go for it. The prospect of having a child with a man you weren’t dating was one you’d so fully accepted, but the fact that this meant that you’d technically be a single mother rubbed you wrong.

It felt lonely.

From the second that you’d secretly given yourself that label, you’d been wanting to change that for yourself.

“I am.” You accepted Joe’s hand, clasped your hand over his and let it rest there for a second.

“But we’re not together, are we?”

A silence lingered where Joe went over every agreement, every choice, every single reason the two of you had gone over in the past two, three months and he carefully let himself dabble with the idea that maybe he’d been wrong and you should talk about this more, and right at this second too.

“You’re right,” but then he decided against it, letting go of your stomach and taking a step back.

“We’re not.”

It had left you with a bad taste in your mouth, and the pit of guilt in your stomach grew fast over the next thirty minutes until it reached a size unmanageable by you, and you ultimately decided to cancel your date.

You knew you were going to have to talk about this with Joe. You still thought it was unfair of him, but it felt smart to get this sorted sooner rather than later.

Perhaps you could come up with some more rules, some you both agreed on, and your guilt could dwindle down so at least you wouldn’t feel exactly where it sat in your body.

“fine” you texted Joe. “ive canceled the date”

It took a minute for Joe to reply.

“you didnt need to” Joe sent, followed by, “not for me”

And you agreed, but you didn’t think Joe was being honest. Because if you didn’t cancel the date for him, then who would you be cancelling for?

The moment you thought it, you knew the answer.

“did it for the baby”

And you realised as you typed it up that it was the truth. If there was one thing you weren’t going to let happen, was bringing this baby into a life where its parents didn’t communicate with each other properly. So, cancelling your date so you could first establish several more ground rules in this area with Joe seemed reasonable.

“you owe me dinner” you added, because now, because of Joe, suddenly, your evening was empty and you’d squirmed your way into your dress for nothing.

“omw”

Joe grinned when you let him into your apartment in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt you’d owned for years. Just your comfy self, the girl he knew and had come to grow so fond of.

“I’m sorry,” he started, entirely engulfed by his own cloud of guilt that hung so low over him, his entire head felt stuck in it and he couldn’t see out far past the fog very far.

“Eh,” you waved it off, acting aloof, but glad he said it.

Your attention was with what he was holding.

“What did you get?” it smelled great.

“It was a hard choice between all the cravings you’ve been mentioning,” Joe put two white take away bags down on your kitchen table. “So, I didn’t choose. Just got all of them.” And if you hadn’t already fully forgiven Joe for fucking up your evening, this would have certainly done it.

“We need more ground rules, specifically for dating,” it was a while later, and technically, you’d finished dinner. You were sat on your knees, butt pushed against your calves and shins pressed into your plush area rug, as you picked from the half empty tubs of take-away with your fingers, just helping yourself to the little bits you actually really liked.

“Okay, yes,” Joe was spread out on your sofa opposite you, the top button of his jeans undone, having eaten entirely too much, entirely too fast.

“Easy,” he then said and looked at you.

“Rule number one: no dating.”

Your face dropped and you gave him a sarcastic glare.

“For the both of us?” you then challenged, thinking maybe Joe had forgotten that he’d rope himself in on these ground rules as well.

Joe comically blinked his eyes and searched for the right words, the noises coming from his mouth a stumbling mess of wells and uhms. It was moments like these that you were reminded why you liked hanging out with Joe so much – he could so effortlessly make you genuinely smile in the easiest and smallest of ways.

“That’s what I thought,” you said and grinned at Joe’s stupid face.

You loved that stupid face.

Then suddenly, your face fell.

You went from all smirks and throat giggles to big, scared eyes and a furrowed brow in the fraction of a second.

Joe saw, and sat up immediately.

“Oh my God,” both your hands found the underside of your baby bump, as if you wanted to hold it up and carry the weight of it in your hands.

That felt weird.

“What’s wrong?” Joe sounded more panicked than you, feet now swung onto the floor, ready to get up and swing into action if you said the word.

“What the– oh my God, come here, quick,” you moved up onto your knees from sitting on your calves and held out an arm for Joe to grab.

Joe was quick, moving over to help you stand up.

But you didn’t need help standing.

Instead, you took Joe’s hand and moved it to where you’d felt it, pressing his open palm to an area scarily close to your crotch, but that hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“Do you feel that?”

And Joe focused, staring at your stomach, now on his knees in front of you, his fingers spread wide, using both his hands too to catch more surface area, not wanting to miss what he’d been hoping to witness for weeks now.

“I felt it against my thighs,” you spoke softly, scared that noise might scare it off.

A couple of seconds passed, and nothing happened. Joe didn’t move, though.

“Felt like an elbow or a–” for the first time ever in your life, you were interrupted by your baby, and you smiled when Joe looked up at you with big, excited eyes, shocked at what he was experiencing.

Whatever limbs your baby was pushing out, it did more of it the more you spoke, and when Joe started laughing, it felt like your baby was trying to climb its way out of you through your skin well before its due date.

“Ow, Jesus, okay,” you winced.

“Let’s calm down, that’s my pubic bone you’re kicking, mate,” you rubbed in the spot you felt it, and Joe copied your movements, trying to ease the pain.

“Joe,” you took hold of one of Joe’s wrists, stilling his movements.

“Maybe let’s not do that so close to my vagina, alright?” you joked, and Joe smiled as he looked down at them, but kept his hands where they were.

“What if…” Joe started and shot his eyes up at you. You moved your head just a twitch, almost warning him for what you thought the end of that sentence was going to be.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed thickly, immediately aware of you close you were to each other. You could smell the food Joe’d just eaten on his breath if you wanted to.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you started, moving to sit back down like you’d been sitting before, moving Joe’s hands away from you. “You can’t rile me up like that, look where it got us the last time we did that,” you said, wrapping your stomach in your own arms.

“Even if I meant it?” Joe copied you, moving back to sit on his heels, his eyes riddled with big emotions you wish they wouldn’t display so readily.

“You can mean anything and everything you say when you’re horny, Joe,” you dismissed him entirely, not ready to delve back into the place you’d last visited when you’d managed to create what was now seemingly kicking your pelvis.

Joe eyed you for a minute, unsure how to make himself clearer to you.

“Okay,” he then said, “Ground rules for dating. Like I said. No dating.” Joe repeated himself from earlier, and you were ready to tut at him, but he was fast to raise a finger at you.

“Unless!”

He paused for effect.

“We date each other.”

Joe pursed his lips into a small smile, and for a moment you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But then he moved back up high onto his knees and reached for your face with both hands. You just stared at him as his fingers took hold of your cheeks, fingers curling around your jaw and ears.

“I’m serious,” Joe then said, and you could tell from his whole being that he was.

“What about–” you tried with a shaky voice as Joe got closer, but didn’t even know how you’d imagined to finish that sentence.

“What about what?” Joe knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, and when he glanced from your lips towards your eyes, he saw that you were looking at his lips too.

Joe kissed you.

Slow.

And soft.

Then alternating fluttery kisses with longer, deeper ones.

And you let him.

Even though it fully went against everything you’d been spewing about to your friends for months. You’d come up with so many reasons why not being together as a couple was actually a godsend for this child, and how you were going to prove yourselves right, they would just have to wait, and see, and trust you.

Joe kissed you.

Rougher after a while, like he'd grown hungrier and needed more of you, but when one of his hands moved down to caress your stomach, he slowed back down and it was blissfully romantic.

It was hard for you to stay present and not float away.

“Fuck, how are we going to– to explain this to our friends,” you breathed, Joe's lips now pressing wet kisses into your neck as you panted.

You remembered how adamant you’d been about how your situation was the absolute best one for a baby to be birthed into, but now you were very aware that this one was infinitely better.

“Oh, come on,” Joe pulled back and frowned at you, but you could detect his dumb little smile underneath.

“They know.”  

the end

A/N: hahah dumb bitches, i did use the requested ending because ultimately it was perfect ♡ (read the prequel here)

-----

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[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Part 5 of the Steddie Vegas AU!! So sorry it's a week late

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4

Steve had just finished packing up the backpack with everything they'd need for a trip to the desert when the phone rang. At first, he assumed it'd be Robin getting antsy about how late it was getting (not that it was late at all) so he just answers with a snarky "What?"

It isn't until he hears his mother's haughty huff that all the colour drains out of his face. 

"Steven, that is no way to answer the telephone! We raised you better than that," he can hear the disappointment dripping from her tone, but all he can think is, you didn't raise me at all!

"Mother. My apologies, I assumed you were Bobbie," he responds flatly.

"Oh, so that's his name," she snarked. Huh? Oh, for fuck's sake!

"No," Steve's quick to respond, trying to keep a hold of his temper, "I meant Robin, you know, my best friend!" His mother really should know that, but unsurprisingly Steve's life isn't important to her unless it's affecting her social standing, "Eddie is my husband, was that not clarified in the announcement?" he sniped, trying and failing to keep the bite out of it.

His mother sighed heavily, "You know I don't touch newspapers, darling," she drawled, "The ink stains my nails," she adds disdainfully. He can practically see her dusting the imaginary particles from her fingertips; she never was one to touch anything dirty. "We only heard because Sam mentioned it. Apparently our son doesn't bother to update us on his poor life choices any more," she bemoaned, with a quick succession of tuts for good measure. Sam was their lawyer, best friend, golf buddy, fuck buddy, probably, Steve didn't know, and he didn't want to.

The only poor choice I've made was answering this call!

Steve bit his tongue, holding in the lecture he wanted to unleash, like he always did, "Okay, well I have to go, I'm running late," he lied, "I'll come and see you both when I get home," he assured, even though they both knew he wouldn't.

"Okay, darling, call Sam, he'll finish the paperwork," she insisted, hanging up on him without waiting for a response.

Call Sam! Fuck you!

Resisting the urge to throw the phone at the wall, he kicked the bed with the side of his foot instead, growling in frustration. Part of him wanted them to leave him alone for good, part of him just wanted them to care, and the rest of him wanted him to stop caring what they thought. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and counting to ten in his mind, this was Robin’s day, he could deal with his parental complications later. He flung the backpack over his shoulder, hooking the dressing gown over his arm and checked his hair in the mirror as he left the room, trying to leave the conversation and the frustration behind him. 

But it didn’t work, he could still feel the anger deep in his bones that meant he couldn't help stomping up the staircase. He hated how she always managed to rile him up, but what he hated most was how he let her. Normally, one of her phone calls would come with a two-day sulk, hiding in his room and moping in bed like a sullen teenager. Normally he could call for Robin through the wall, and she’d come and lay with him, rest her head on his chest while he ranted, but he couldn't do that right now, but that didn’t stop him needing her. And honestly, he felt like he kinda needed Eddie too. He wanted his arms around his waist and his hair tickling his face, and he wanted to go back to the contented peace he'd felt earlier watching Eddie and Robin talk.

Finally making it back upstairs, he knocked on the suite door, Chrissy let him in with a welcoming smile before wandering off into her bedroom. A quick glance was all it took for him to realise that the girls were waiting for him alone, he wandered further into the room putting the dressing gown down on the back of the sofa as Robin came out of Chrissy's room, handing him his wallet that he'd left in his jeans on Eddie's floor.

"What's up?" she asked, barely even glancing at him before wrapping her arms tightly around him, pressing her cheek firmly against his chest.

"She called back," Steve muttered, tucking his chin over the top of her head, pulling her closer.

"Must've got around the club," Robin reasoned, tightening her grip, rubbing his back soothingly. 

Steve adored her so much. He didn’t know how she had the patience with him because she never said anything. No matter how many times he let them do this to him, she was always just there for him, and the thing was he knew if the roles were reversed he wouldn’t be able to hold his tongue. He knew he’d be telling her to stop speaking to them, to stop letting them get to her because they both believed in cutting toxic people out, but she’d been the same way about Billy. She had obviously hated him, but she’d never said a bad word against him, never told Steve to leave him, she had always just sat and listened. She had always been his rock.

He just hummed in response, he didn't really want to think about it any more, they'd ruined enough of his holiday already. He kissed her on the top of her head, squeezing her once before releasing her.

Robin placed her hands on his cheeks, smiling affectionately as she squished his face, making him chuckle, before letting go with a gentle pat; circling him to rummage around in the backpack for her sunglasses that she'd left behind on the desk in their room. 

Steve glanced around, watching as the girls pottered, "Where's Eddie?"

Robin shrugged, "Downstairs," she muttered, zipping the backpack back up, "He said something about a surprise," she added, aiming for nonchalance and missing by miles, turning on her heel and striding out the front door without another word. 

Chrissy gathered her handbag and sunglasses, following her out and holding the door open, waiting for Steve to join them. He pulled the backpack tighter over his shoulder and pushed off the sofa with an amused huff, following them out and letting the door swing shut behind him. 

He gave Chrissy a warm smile when she linked her arm through his as they wandered down the hall together side-by-side. Robin was already at the end of the corridor waiting for the lift, still pressing the down button when they caught her up. 

A reaction like that from anyone else he would think was weird, but Steve knew Robin too well, he knew that her lack of elaboration just meant that she was in on whatever the surprise was and had been sworn to secrecy. Claudia had organised a surprise birthday party for him once, and Robin's head had nearly exploded. 

When she'd been told about the surprise baby shower for Jenny in the office, she'd told him that she just found it easier to not speak around someone she was keeping something from, just to make sure she didn't blurt out the secret by accident. Except sometimes in life you can't avoid speaking to people, so then she'd have to do that, carefully regulated wording, precise and to the point.

Except what she never seemed to realise was just how stark the contrast was between her ability to witter endlessly and her careful wording and requisite silence. Jenny had been convinced Robin had fallen out with her, the added hormones didn't help, but she'd ended up wailing in the bathroom and Robin had had to spill the secret, so Jenny would stop crying and begging to know what she'd done wrong.

The first time he'd called her out for her silence and one word answers, she’d been her convinced he was a mind reader. They hadn't known each other long, they'd been neighbours for a few months but had only started to become friends when he and Billy were on a slow path to breaking up. She used to check in on him after one of their epic screaming matches, when Billy would throw whatever was closest, punch walls and slam the front door with a "fuck you!" She'd come over with Kleenex, chocolate and ice cream and sit with him on the couch, make him laugh and help him clean up and fix whatever Billy had broken. 

But then about three days after his final breakup with Billy, her great aunt died. Obviously, he'd noticed her unexpected silence when she'd spent the previous two days talking his ear off to keep him distracted. She was shocked when he'd asked what was wrong and wouldn't take “nothing” for an answer. It wasn't that she was upset about the death, she just hadn't wanted Steve fussing over her when he was still feeling “emotionally fragile”.

Normally if she was quiet he'd try to wheedle it out of her, it was easier than dealing with how anxious it made her to keep something to herself, but she didn't seem too agitated and if it lasted more than ten minutes, he'd figured it out, but for now she seemed to be fine. 

Although if he and Eddie decided to continue to see each other in Indy, he decided to just give him a heads-up to not involve her in future secret keeping, lest her head implode.

The elevator was taking a while to arrive, leaving the three of them standing in unnerving silence. Robin continuously anxiously pressing the down button. Even Chrissy was abnormally quiet, she seemed jittery, she'd let go of his arm and was switching between picking her nails and swishing side to side, her skirt swooshing around her legs.

Steve was about to ask what was wrong when the ding of the lift arriving interrupted him, Chrissy letting out a relieved sigh and stomping inside as soon as the doors opened. He gave Robin a what's up with her look, but Robin just shrugged with a look of her own that said, beats me. Robin followed her in, smoothing her outfit and hair in the mirror, pulling lip balm out of her pocket and putting on copious amounts as an excuse to look busy.

The doors slid shut behind Steve. He gave Chris his most reassuring smile, and she smiled back, but he could tell it was false. Her smile always reached her eyes, even when she was exhauster, but this time it just didn't. He was about to ask if everything was alright, he was worried something was really wrong, when she inadvertently interrupted him, bursting out, "Hey Steve!"

Her loudness seemed to surprise them both equally, Steve's eyebrows flying into his hairline. Chrissy just seeming to regret speaking at all, like she wished she could swallow the word back down. He tried his hardest to stay calm, hummed a questioning "hmm?" afraid actual words might spook her. He didn't even care if this was a shovel talk, he just wanted her to know she was in a safe space, that she could talk to him no matter what.

She spent a few seconds looking at him, really looking, like she was trying to see into his soul. He tried his hardest to be patient, tried not to squirm under her scrutiny, tried to stop his heart from beating out of his chest, but he kinda wished she’d just get it over with. She hesitated, let out another deep breath and ploughed ahead, "You do know your hair looks the same?" she murmured tenderly.

What?

That wasn't at all what he'd expected to come out of her mouth at all. Somehow it felt worse than if she'd said "If you hurt my best friend, I'll bury you so deep, not even the worms in the earth would be able to find you!" because it'd hurt like a motherfucker when Max had said that to him (as though he'd been the town heartbreaker) but a jab about his hair wasn't what he'd prepared for.

And okay, it wasn't a jab per se. In fact, it wasn't a jab at all, but it didn't stop it feeling that way. It felt like she'd just slapped him across the face, and he's no idea why it feels that way whenever anyone even mentions his hair. Because he knows that's all it is, it's just hair and in the grand scheme of things it isn't important, but he was The Hair!

It's who he was long before he was a king, long before he was a captain. He was defined by it, it was how his peers showed him respect, and his father had never been so proud of him as when that was who he was. When he was awake two hours before he should’ve been to make sure it looked perfect, that he looked perfect, even though he was secretly wearing his mother's concealer to hide the bags under his eyes.

Robin huffed and rolled her eyes hard, "Oh my god, don't get him started!" she grouched, still not looking at either of them.

The look of hurt on his face must have told Chrissy all she needed to know. Just like the way she huffed and flapped her hands frantically, in the same way El did when she was struggling to express herself, told Steve she wasn't trying to upset him. Not that it stopped him from instinctively combing his fingers protectively through his hair.

Chrissy visibly composed herself, taking a deep breath, putting her hands gently on his shoulders and looking up at him with kind eyes. "I didn't mean anything bad by it. It's just, your hair looked nice this morning, and it still looks nice now," she clarified, except he wasn't any clearer on what she was trying to say.

He knew his hair never looked nice in the morning, that was why he'd spent so many years of his life sleep-deprived, but she seemed insistent and there was no malice or devilry in her eyes, she was imploring him to understand like she could push the thoughts from her mind into his if only she stared hard enough and it might've worked this morning, but his mother calling had scrambled his head, it was like he reverted back to his old self whenever they wormed their way into his life.

She flicked her gaze over to Robin over his shoulder, not that she was paying either of them any attention, but when Chrissy looked back at him, she looked so sad it damn near broke his heart. She sighed heavily, and when her lip wobbled slightly he was worried she was about to cry, "My mom… she used to have me obsess over my appearance, too. So I get it. I'm just saying, y'know?" she muttered.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Chrissy!

Suddenly what she'd been trying to say made a lot more sense.

My parents cared more about how I looked than about me, too.

Steve sighed deeply, holding her gaze as a shared upbringing, a shared pain, passed between them. When she leaned up wrapping her arms around his neck, he automatically wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, tucking his chin over her shoulder, trying to offer her some comfort, trying to let her know he heard her, that he appreciated what she'd just told him.

He didn't know her well, but she deserved so much more than that, as he squeezed her tighter he felt the overwhelming need to protect her, to put himself between her and the world, to go back in time and put himself between her and her mother, to give her the found family who loved her unconditionally that his teenage self had been lucky enough to find.

"Thanks, Sugar," he mumbled in her ear, kissing the top of her head before letting her go.

Robin, of course, had no idea what they were talking about or the emotional moment they'd just shared. She had great parents, and he was so glad for it, he wouldn't wish his kind of parents on anyone, especially not his best friend. She just stomped off as soon as the doors swung open, disappearing into the lobby and expecting that they'd follow, ranting, "He's always been this way! Guy's looked like a Greek God since I met him. Could be dragged through a hedge backwards and still never need to change a damn thing. Doesn't stop him primping, making us late for everything-"

Steve glanced at the clock above the reception desk as he followed the girls outside, "It's barely 10," he interrupted sullenly, rolling his eyes.

"Irrelevant, my point is- holy fuck!"

Holy fuck, indeed! 

Eddie, hair in a bun, in aviators and shorts! Resting on the bonnet of the most gorgeous car Steve had ever laid his eyes on. Oh my god! He wanted to take a picture to make it into a calendar, just twelve months of casual Eddie and a Cadillac! "Jesus Christ, is that a Cadillac?" Steve asked, needing confirmation of the facts his brain had only just caught up with.

Eddie grinned dazzlingly, whipping his sunglasses off his face, "A yellow-beige, 1984 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz, to be precise," he apprised smugly.

Circling the car, Steve couldn't quite believe his eyes. This was his dream car, he'd had a picture of this exact car on his bedroom wall since forever, he'd removed it from an old calendar he'd been given in his teens. He'd fallen in love with it immediately and kept the picture with him, just in the hope that maybe one day… 

Knowing now why Robin was trying so hard to keep quiet, just endeared him all the more, he pulled her into his side, kissing her on the head. She'd clearly told Eddie all about it, but somehow Eddie had made it materialize. "No way!" Steve muttered in disbelief.

"Yes way!" Eddie exclaimed, pulling the keys from his pocket and letting them dangle in the air, his eyes were so soft even though his smile was slightly smug, like a magician who'd pulled the rabbit out of the hat.

Chrissy groaned, swishing her skirt again anxiously, "Eds, you know I love you, but I don't think I'm comfortable with you being behind the wheel of a convertible," she sounded genuinely concerned, but Eddie was quick to ease her.

He finally got up off the car circling around Chris and Robin, "Don't worry, My Little Dove, I'm like Santa I just used my sources to bring unadulterated joy to our very own Motorhead," he said exuberantly, kissing his best friend loudly on the cheek.

And Steve was listening to Eddie, but he didn't really hear him, so when he suddenly appeared in front of Steve with the keys held aloft between them and said "Stevie's got her! Doncha, Big Boy!" simultaneously dropping the keys into Steve's hand and waggling his eyebrows alluringly, it still didn't really sink in.

Steve looked down at the keys in his hands, "I get to..." he uttered disbelievingly because the thought that he'd get to drive this car was short-circuiting his brain. 

That was before the thought hit him that Eddie had done this for him, for no other reason than to make him happy. People had done things for Steve before, but other than his found family, it'd always been to make up for something. His parents bought him extravagant gifts to make up for missing birthdays and Christmases, Nancy brought him homemade cakes when they fought (that it turned out Holly and Karen had made, and she took credit for) and Billy would bring him flowers whenever he "worked away" (also known as cheating on Steve).

But this beautiful creation, this angel, this miracle of a human being, had teamed up with his best friend to make one of his dreams come true. To make him smile for no other reason than because he wanted to make him happy, and Steve just couldn't quite believe his luck.

And then Eddie, eyes unbelievably soft, said, "All yours, my love," his cheeks pinkening and his eyes immediately going wide as his words had sunk in. And Steve couldn't have that because he would be so lucky to be Eddie's love.

He wasn't sure how sober-Eddie felt about public displays of affection, so he beamed sweetly at him, trying to convey all he was feeling, tenderly cupping his jaw and kissing him firmly on the cheek, letting his affection shine through when he leaned away to smile at him. 

It was Chrissy squealing and jumping up and down, clapping excitedly and Robin's fake gagging that broke them out of their moment, Eddie hiding adorably behind his hand, as he headed around to the passenger side clambering into the car, trying and failing to hide the blush on his cheeks. Steve folded the front seat forward, holding out a hand to help the girls to climb in the back, Chrissy using his outstretched hand for support, squeezing Eddie on the shoulder and asking "Whose car is this anyway?"

"Char's buddy, Todd," Eddie replied, as Robin clambered into the back using Steve's head for balance, ruffling his hair as she landed in the backseat with an impish grin.

Resisting the childish urge to vault over the car door, Steve handed Robin the backpack and readjusted the seat, clambering in after them. A feeling of awe sweeping over him as he saw all the mechanisms up close that he was going to get to touch and use to power the car he spent years dreaming about. "Forget Todd, Steve's her daddy now!" he muttered as he turned the key in the ignition, hearing the car purr to life and the roar of their laughter and feeling like he could explode with happiness. 

He was all but caressing the steering wheel when a car honking behind them reminded him that they needed to get going, not just sit outside the hotel all day. Adjusting the seat and the mirrors, he found he couldn't look directly at Eddie as he adjusted the mirror on his side, he knew if he did that they’d never get anywhere because between the outfit, the bun, the gorgeous smile on his face and the Herculean effort to make his dream come true Steve just couldn't keep his thoughts straight.

He wanted to grab Eddie by the hand and take him back upstairs to show him just how grateful he was for this, he also wanted to take Eddie to the nearest studio to get him started on making his own dreams come true, and he wanted to take Eddie home and move him in and carpool with him and go on road trips just like this one. But this was Robin's day, no matter how much Eddie had managed to make it feel like his day too.

He caught a glimpse of the girls in the backseat, Chrissy now had a scarf wrapped around her hair and her sunglasses perched on her nose, she looked like a movie star. And Robin looked adorable with her hair pulled into a tiny ponytail sticking out of the back of his high school baseball cap. They were both back to their normal selves now, their anxiety seemed to have dissipated completely, both grinning widely, chatting and laughing together as though the last twenty minutes hadn't happened.

Sneaking a cheeky glance at Eddie, he caught him watching the two of them in the wing mirror with such a fond expression, Steve felt like his heart might beat right through his chest; the horn honking again was the only thing that stopped him from leaning across the seat to kiss him senseless.

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

Grinning mischievously, Steve revved the engine playfully, the growl of the engine sounding just how he'd always imagined it would, getting to fully appreciate the way Eddie's attention snapped back to him, as he laughed brightly and rolled his eyes fondly. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so joyous as he shifted into gear and set off into the mid-morning traffic.

Part 6

Tag list @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @adhdsummer @nerdfighteratheart @anaibis @hbyrde36 @dolphincliffs @marinarasarah @deadflowercollector @lunabookworm @a-couchpotato feel free to lmk if you want removing 💖

[hexpea]

Ch. 1 - A Curse in the Bathroom

Suguru Geto meandered the halls of Tokyo Jujutsu High between afternoon classes, his Alma Mater where he now taught third year students. He carried a cup of coffee in one hand and a set of folders with student portfolios and other work in the other. The windows let in a warming sunlight from the early autumn afternoon, Suguru couldn't help but to lightly smile to himself at how peaceful the day had been going. Considering how tumultuous his third year was as a student, he was gratefully surprised to have found himself in this position. Thanks to the help and intervention of his best friend, Satoru Gojo, and his diligent teacher-now-principal, Masamichi Yaga, he was able to stay on track and maintain the right path.

"Mr. Geto!" A student he recognized as Nobara Kugisaki, one of Satoru's first year students, came running up to him." She had a bright face with something clearly and excitingly urgent on her mind.

"Kugisaki," he greeted quickly with a smile as she excitedly stopped in front of him. "What's up?"

"The bathroom, I saw a curse in there," she smiled and pointed down the hallway behind her, hoping that Suguru would allow her to exorcise it. The school forbade students from exorcising curses on campus considering they were far and few between, and usually special grade. It was for their safety, as well as for the school to investigate to find the ultimate cause of something finding its way through Master Tengen's barrier.

"Hanako-san. Interesting," Suguru calmed down from Nobara's sudden appearance. "Thanks for letting me know, we'll have it taken care of." With his rejection, Nobara scowled at her senior teacher and continued down the hall with a huff.

Suguru continued his stroll down the hallway, now with a mission, to head toward the faculty room. Here, he found Satoru with his feet up on his desk reading some kind of gossip magazine.

"Did Kugisaki talk to you about the curse in the bathroom?" Suguru asked with a chuckle as he set his coffee and folders on his own desk next to Satoru's.

"A curse in the bathroom?" Satoru snorted a laugh and removed his feet from his desk as Suguru sat down and folded his hands over his stomach, swinging his chair back and forth as the two began their conversation.

Suguru nodded in response to Satoru's clarifying question. "Apparently. Do you think we should check it out or...?" His voice trailed off.

"It's likely nothing. We would've sensed it beforehand if it was something serious," he shrugged. "It's probably Hanako," he chuckled teasingly. "Better go check that third stall and ask if she's in there."

Suguru rolled his eyes and stood up to leave. Nobara wasn't one to make things up, she definitely saw something that made her believe there was a curse in the bathroom -- even if it wasn't, it was worth investigating, at least for Suguru.

Despite the teasing from Satoru, Suguru went on to check things out himself. He headed back down the long hallway to where the girls' bathroom was and gave a few gentle knocks.

"Anyone in there?" He spoke loud enough to be heard through the door before receiving no response. With the coast clear, he fully entered the bathroom.

It appeared completely empty with no sign or feeling of a cursed spirit anywhere. The slightly dirtied, white floor tile and light blue stall doors in the shadows of sunlight were the only thing giving off an uncomfortable feeling. Other than that, it was just a bathroom. He even went and checked each stall door to find no one or no thing there. Suguru furrowed his brow in both disappointment and curiosity. He was stuck between not believing Nobara and thinking there was likely more to the story.

Feeling like an idiotic child, he took Satoru's advice. He never believed in urban legends considering he knew the truth, that most legends resulted from cursed spirits, but it was better than doing nothing.

Per the legend, Suguru closed the door to the third stall and held it shut as he knocked three times. "Is...Hanako-san here?" He hesitated at the start of the question, feeling utterly silly for giving in to Satoru's childishness. Worst-case scenario he'd be dragged to hell or be eaten by a three-headed lizard.

"Why yes, yes I am," a smooth yet ghostly feminine voice called out from behind the stall with a small giggle.

Suguru immediately darted away from the door from being stunned by the sudden interaction. He swore the bathroom was empty when he came in. Each stall was empty. Just as the story went, a hand came peeking from behind the stall door. It's fingers creepily wiggled as if to try and scare Suguru. Unfortunately for this spirit, Suguru had seen plenty to not be scared of something as simple as what he figured was some kind of prank from the first years.

"Who are you?!" Suguru asked angrily as if he demanded an answer.

The girl he saw came fully out from behind the stall door. She didn't look like a student, at least like a present student but she looked old enough to be a third year. The uniform she wore looked incredibly aged, nothing like the current jujutsu uniforms.

"Well, I'm Hanako-san, aren't I?" She chuckled. Suguru squinted his eyes at the girl out of suspicion.

"Hanako of the toilet is an urban legend," he replied, "now, who are you? Better yet, what are you?"

"Wow, okay," she chuckled with a bit of an offended tone, "very straight-forward. I'm Y/N L/N," you corrected.

Suguru relaxed a bit when he determined that you were likely a human with some kind of technique. "Okay, L/N, are you a student here? I haven't seen you around campus before?"

"Well, I guess I was," you shrugged, coming further out of the bathroom stall where you were hidden. "But it's been quite some time since I've attended class."

Suguru looked at you strangely. None of this was adding up for him. Clearly you weren't a curse as he would've long sensed your presence, but you also definitely weren't a student. The fact that you had suddenly appeared out of thin air also heightened his suspicion.

"Hey," you peered at your intruder a little harder, leaning forward to get a better look at his face. "You look very familiar."

"We need to get you to the faculty room to see what's going on," Suguru ignored your statement. "Let's go," he grabbed your wrist gently and began to lightly pull you toward the bathroom door.

You followed according to direction, but knew exactly what would happen as soon as he crossed that threshold.

Suguru exited the bathroom but felt your wrist disappear from his grasp as soon as the door shut behind him. He angrily gasped and turned back to the bathroom, entering yet again to an empty room.

"Come on," he said angrily, checking each stall again to find it empty. "I'm serious, this isn't funny. I don't know who you are and you're on private property." He paced around the bathroom once more before giving in and doing the silly little ritual again.

"Hello again," you smiled politely after he opened the third stall's door.

"Why didn't you come with me?" He asked with a furrowed brow and crossed his arms tightly against his chest.

"I can't," you shrugged simply, no sense of malice in your voice whatsoever. "Trust me, I've tried. Like, a lot."

"What do you mean you can't?!" Suguru was growing impatient with you.

"Well, every time that I try I just find myself back in here," you explained, "I'm not really sure how it works."

Suguru paused in thought for a moment as he digested your words. "And you're not a curse?"

"Not that I know of," you replied with an awkward smile, "at least I hope not. I mean, I was a student here. I have a technique, I know all about jujutsu. In fact, I'm probably trapped here because of my technique. I call it 'yurei-jutsu'." You splayed out your hands excitedly with a smile at your creative technique name.

"Yurei-jutsu?" He repeated. His question sounded more like a statement. 

You nodded in response. "It's exactly as it sounds," you explained, "my energy allows me to have the physiology of a ghost. It's not very useful, but it was enough to allow me to be enrolled here. I didn't get to learn much on how to wield it for exorcising before I..." Your voice trailed off.

"Okay, so you were enrolled here. There's a lot of past tense going on. What year was your graduating class?" Suguru continued to pry for more information. He was in, mostly, a state of disbelief.

It took you a minute to remember, most of your memories too foggy to remember. "I think it was...1936? But I'm not completely sure, that's about all I remember. Why? What year is it?" You wondered happily as if this encounter wasn't out of the ordinary.

Suguru was left speechless at your answer. "I'm sorry," he began after the prolonged silence, "did you just say 1936?" You nodded as if it wasn't a big deal. "It's 2017."

It was your turn to be speechless. "2017, huh... That's a long time to be stuck here. No wonder I've been so bored!" You laughed, again as if it wasn't a big deal that you'd been trapped for 81 years. "Ha, I guess I'd be 99 years old then."

"Can you give me a moment?" Suguru requested. "I'll be right back."

"Sure," you shrugged, "not like I can go anywhere." Suguru needed to get to the bottom of this.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

Talking to the Dead

     So recently my wife and I were walking our dog Kiwi through an area cemetery.  It is a nice part of this particular walk as it is quiet, peaceful and away from the traffic.  It also allows us to be beside each other so we can talk more easily.  City sidewalks are not conducive to my wife, my wheelchair and our dog Kiwi walking side by side.  This means any conversation must be had over the shoulder competing with the noise of passing traffic.  To be honest, that was hard at the best of times, and these aren’t the best of times.  Combine my mumbling with my dear wife’s denial of any hearing loss, our conversations could involve a lot of smiling and nodding with minimal comprehension.  The comment about my wife’s hearing loss, can we just keep that between us?  She’s a little sensitive about it.

     We were walking through the cemetery, chatting about different things enjoying the sunshine and fresh air when  Robin then turned to me and asked; “Where should I go to talk to you after?”  Meaning after I’m dead, it is one of the many things I love about Robin, we can talk about the hard things and it’s okay.  Deny it all we want, but we both know what’s coming so why not talk about it while we can.  If I do this last part of my life right, hopefully I will leave no unanswered questions and perhaps that will bring peace to those I am leaving behind.

     So where does one go to speak to those who have died?  Do we all do it?  This got me thinking about those times I spoke to those who had died.  I will clarify that these conversations can be held aloud, or as most of mine are, held totally in my head.  Although I may not be getting actual responses, sometimes in my heart I feel a connection to the person I am speaking with, I suspect because they still reside there in my heart.

     My Mom has been gone some 21 years and I speak to her from time to time.  Mostly I have been telling her about life  events and telling her that I am sorry that she is missing them.  I say that I wish she could have seen her granddaughter Elizabeth grow up into the amazing person she is.  I wish that she could have met my sweet Robin, I just know that they would have gotten along so well as they have so many things in common.  I tell her that the brave way she faced her cancer and left this earth inspires me daily as I walk a similar path.  My Dad has been gone ten years next month, I talk to him telling him that at the end of his life when I was making his healthcare decisions that I hope I got it right because it still haunts me.  I apologize to him that I wasn’t more patient with him and for feeling the need to correct his many tales.  My Dad was never one to let facts get in the way of a good story, I should have allowed him that.  I have lost some well loved friends along the way, I speak to them telling them how much I loved them and that I hope I was a good friend to them.  Sometimes I talk to them about how screwed up this world is getting, and I wonder what they would say about it.  I don’t hear their response but I take comfort as it feels like they are sitting there beside me.

     In Tom Hanks’ recent movie, A Man Called Otto, it shows Otto going to the cemetery with his lawn chair and thermos of coffee.  He sits there by his wife’s gravestone talking to Sonya like she is sitting there across the kitchen table, and not six feet under him.  It is poignantly heartwarming and devastatingly sad at the same time. In the movie An Unfinished Life, Robert Redford’s character Einar walks up the hill behind his house to his son’s grave almost daily where he sits on a bench and talks to his son updating him on mundane daily life.  Both characters seem to take comfort in the practice.  It makes me ponder what is more important, to speak or to be heard?

    Now I should confess that I have a love/hate relationship with cemeteries.  One part of me finds them to be of amazing historical significance.  Names of those long past, dates of their births and deaths, connecting them to a spouse or child.  Sometimes some snippet of information giving you a minute detail about a life lived.  There are the tombstones with lambs on them for the death of a loved child.  There are sections with row upon row of crosses for the Veterans who gave their lives In a foreign land at the whim of the politicians at the time.  Mostly cemeteries are peaceful, well maintained green space, with little to no traffic.  They have places to sit, sometimes under a tree, or perhaps just on a patch of grass.  Now I am a story teller who is always in search of a new story and it occurs to me that these places contain thousands of stories, most of them destined to remain untold forever, and I think that is sad.  

     One of my old running routes used to include the road that circled through a cemetery near my workplace, it added the extra distance to stretch my run on my lunch break to five kilometres.  It was a newer cemetery, not like the massive old ones that have thousands of graves, many over one hundred years old.  I would only occasionally see someone visiting a grave there, sometimes it was a fresh grave, more often than not it was an older person who I suspect was visiting their lost partner.  

     I don’t like the idea of being buried after I die.  The idea of burying my body in the ground to slowly rot and decay has no appeal to me. I have already arranged and paid for my cremation.  The whole dust to dust thing just makes sense to me. 

     So where should Robin go to talk with me after?  

     Well the best place would be to walk the trails I cut on our property up in Nipissing, but that is problematic because someone else owns that property now and I doubt he has maintained the trails that I built up over the four years of living there.  I did also hike the trails behind our property that cut through a hunt camp and then led to Crown Land, so that could work, although that’s a pretty long hike.

     She could go to the Lowville Bistro where we had our first date and subsequent wedding exactly one hundred and fifty months later.  Next to our property up north I would think that would be the next most significant spot.

     When I lived in Hamilton Robin and I would go with my dog Buddy to the Arboretum at the Royal Botanical Gardens where we would often hike the trails.  I had a yearly membership there but avoided it during the summer.  We would visit there often in the fall, winter and spring when less people were about.  There are a few places to sit, or lookouts we used to visit that would be a good place to sit and chat with me.

     Realistically I would tell her that any place, inside or outside, where she could sit in the quiet, and perhaps sip on a hot cup of tea would be a good place to talk to me.  I would encourage her to talk to me about what’s going on in her life, just like we did when we laid together in bed, wrapped in each others arms on our lazy mornings.  Those times when life was as perfect as life could be.

     Will I send messages back from the other side, and if so what would those messages look like?  

     I don’t know but I suspect the postal service and wifi won’t be up to par over there.  Some believe messages from the other side look like butterflies who might land on you, rainbows, birds (usually red cardinals), flowers, or finding coins, particularly dimes for some reason.  

     I have, or should say had a friend named Margot who also travelled on the ALS Highway with me for a bit.  She chose to exit this life on her birthday last December, but since then her Facebook page is still being updated. Did I mention she was a bit of a character?  Maybe she got the upgraded WiFi package on the other side.  The day after her death her Facebook page advised she had arrived safely at the Pearly Gates and that it was cocktail hour.  She advised us that she would still be around, “Just keep your eyes open for blue herons and ghosts with red lipstick”.  The Grand River is close to where I live, rest assured that when I see a Blue Heron I will smile and give a nod to Margot who is now flying free.

     Robin will know what my sign to her from the other side is, there is only really one thing it could be.  It will be the full moon, what we have always referred to as “our moon” because it was watching over us as we drove to our homes after our first date.  It was the moon we would point out to each other over our near fourteen years together, the moon we would stare at while wrapped in each others arms looking out our bedroom window on the farm.  It is the moon I will want her to gaze at, smiling as she remembers all the days we shared our moon together.  Most importantly I will be reminding her that there is always light in the darkness, and that is what I need her to always remember.

“It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light”

Aristotle

[melancholy-of-nadia]

teaser: love u lately #2 (m) - right here pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon to lovers; summary: "Spit it out, Sunshine," teaser warnings:  sexual tension, confession!?!?, soft yoongi. JUST READ teaser word count: 360 | full release date: september 20th, 2023 - 10:30am PST note: okay, y’all… here you go lol chapter 1 is here (tumblr) and here (ao3) if you missed it!

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"Hey," you say softly, meeting his gaze.

"Hey," he replies, and you can sense a mixture of anticipation and something else in his eyes.

"Can we talk?" you ask, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Yoongi steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the office. You step inside, and he closes the door behind you, the latch clicking softly, cocooning the two of you in this small space. Papers and books sprawl across the cluttered desk, lending the room a cozy, but somewhat chaotic, atmosphere. The soft, golden sunlight filtering through the outside trees adds a touch of tranquility to the space, as though it's caught in a moment of serene contemplation. 

You take a deep breath, facing Yoongi. "I've been thinking a lot about what happened on Friday," you begin, choosing your words carefully. "And I realize that I need to clarify my own feelings and thoughts."

Yoongi nods, his expression serious. "I've been waiting for you to bring this up," he admits. "I didn't want to push you into a conversation you weren't ready for."

You appreciate his understanding, and it gives you the courage to continue. "Thank you, Yoongs,” you say with a warm smile, your voice soft as you gather your thoughts. "I want to start by saying that I really enjoyed spending time with you on Friday," your cheeks flushing slightly with a delicate pink hue.

His eyes, like warm pools of caramel, meet yours, and he smiles. "I did too, probably the most fun I’ve had since the beginning of this semester." His voice is low and soothing, like a comforting melody in the background.

Your fingers trace patterns on the hem of your top, a nervous habit of yours activating as you are about to potentially initiate something you cannot change. "And after a lot of thinking," you begin slowly, "I wanted to ask you if we could start something…"

His curiosity piqued, Yoongi leans back against Professor Kang’s desk. "Spit it out, Sunshine," he encourages, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Like friends with benefits!" you finally let it out, the words hanging in the air, their weight palpable in the room.

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tbc!!!!!

will yoongi agree??? will reader take her words back ??! what about minimoni!?!? THE HOUSE? JB?????? find out SOON!

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a/n:  please look forward to it! for now i will begin writing ch 3! pls give me feedback !! much appreciated

[misfitwashere]

Talking freedom in Kyiv

Two years ago and today

TIMOTHY SNYDER

SEP 19

We think that freedom is about talking.  But it is just as much about listening.  If we can’t listen, we are trapped in our own story.  I’ve spent the last five years trying to think through the definition and politics of freedom, and the resulting book has just appeared.  I could never have done it without all the conversations, including one with the president of Ukraine.

Two years ago, in September 2022, I went to see Volodymyr Zelens’kyi for the first time.  Russia’s full-scale invasion began that February, and the Ukrainian president had chosen to stay in the country, although Russia had sent assassins to kill him and Americans had expected that he would run.  It was a confusing drive through the city followed by a maze of barriers and sandbags to be cleared on foot.  I had a few things I wanted to make sure he knew, but it was all familiar to him already.  So he looked at me and asked: “What do you want to talk about?”

Over the years I have spoken to a number of heads of government and state, and, much as the conversations were often warm and friendly, none of them had ever asked me such a generous question.  The circumstances made it more remarkable.  Ukraine’s first major counter-offensive was underway.  Ukrainian soldiers had just deoccupied much of Kharkiv region in a lightening operation.  Many leaders would have taken at least a moment to make sure that such a stunning achievement was somewhere near the beginning of the conversation.  Zelens’kyi did not feel the need to speak about it at all.

“I want to talk about the philosophy of freedom!”  That was my response and it was the truth.  I was in the middle of my book about the definition and politics of freedom, and I had asked for the meeting for this reason alone.  I wanted to know what Ukrainians meant when they spoke of freedom, as they so often did and do.  The meeting with him was one of dozens of conversations in the country where I was trying to figure this out.  I wanted to hear the president explain why he had chosen to remain in the country, when the world had anticipated immediate Ukrainian defeat.

Zelens’kyi spread his hands in a gesture of welcome, and responded: “Let’s talk about that!”  We ended up speaking for most of the afternoon, in Ukrainian, about subjects that interested us both.  I wanted to review my philosophical references with him, and there was some overlap, especially in the dissident literature of the 1970s and 1980s.  What he had studied, though, was not philosophy but theater, and his view was that “everything is in Shakespeare.”  I can see it.  Listening to him helped me to clarify basic ideas that figure in the book.

One is what I think of as the Zelens’kyi paradox: a free person can sometimes only do one thing.  If we think of freedom as just our momentary impulses, then we can always try to run.  But if we think of freedom as the state in which we can make our own moral choices and thereby create our own character, we might reach a point where, given who we have chosen to become, we have only one real choice.  That was how Zelens’kyi described his decision to stay in Kyiv: as not really a decision, but as the only thing he could have done and still remained true to himself.  It was not only about defending freedom, although of course it was, but about remaining a free person.

Another has to do with freedom of speech.  The notion of “free speech” has become very inflated, used all too often just to mean the right to offend someone or cause disruption by knowingly telling lies, often from a place of power and wealth.  The reason why we care about freedom of speech, though, is that we want to protect the dignity of the individual and protect the individual from the powers that be.  Freedom of speech is protected so that we can speak our truths to power, not so that power can force its lies on us.  It must be a right, in other words, because truth is risky.  When Zelens’kyi stayed in Kyiv, he posted a selfie video with colleagues in which he assured people that “the president is here.”  This was an expression of freedom of speech, in the deeper, correct sense.  He was taking a risk: the assassins were looking for him, Russian troops were close to Kyiv, and the city was being bombed.  And he was telling the truth.  And the risk was the truth, and the truth was the risk.

A couple of other big ideas in On Freedom relate to that conversation, which was chiefly about other people we admired.  “You don’t really have thoughts, other people think through you.”  That was Zelenskyi’s own radical formulation two years ago, when we were talking about the books and the teachers that had mattered to us.  I saw him again last week, and was able to give him his copy of the book.  It was the first one I had, straight from the printer, which I put right in my suitcase when it arrived.  When I gave it to him, I felt like a circle had closed, and there was a moment of silence as he looked at the dedication.  And then I asked him: “What do you want to talk about?”

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: nibbleinephym

our interviewee is @nibblelinephym (known in 2020/2021 as severely-nearsighted). here is a copy/pasted transcript of the questions and answers!

(if these posts are too long, please let me know, and i'll incorporate a cutoff in the future!)

Q: What do you remember most fondly about ‘Early MCYTblr’? (2020-2021)

A: i think im most fond of how tight-knit the community felt in the 'early days' honestly? dont get me wrong seeing it grow and new creators bring even more people in has been wonderful but theres just something about a smaller fandom that feels nice. we were never by any means a Small fandom but we're a Lot bigger now than we were just a few years ago!

Q: I understand that you were the face of Silverfish2020 (winner of the first MCYTblr elections). What was your experience in the elections themselves like?

A: first, clarifying; unfortunately silverfish2020 was Not the winner of the first election; that was quotes2020, represented by mcyt-quotes (who i believe has since changed urls? apologies but im not sure what their current one is or if theyre still active at all ^^;) by exactly four votes -- for me the elections were a lot of fun! when they were first starting up i wasn't sure if i wanted to join, since there were a Lot of people involved already and i hadn't really solidified myself as part of the community yet (i think i was still almost exclusively a musical blog back in the first days of it, not multifandom, which is so wild to think about tbh). im really glad i did though, i met some truly amazing people through the event that i still talk with to this day :] everything felt very fast paced at the time, especially since the discord was almost always going at blink-and-youll-miss-it speeds; you had to be Constantly in there if you wanted to participate in conversation. i remember whenever someone joined the server there would be a mob of people from different parties trying to convince them to side with theirs. surprisingly, that tactic worked pretty well for a lot of parties. i vividly remember that there was usually a pause of activity in the general server when results were being posted and a boom when they were all out. it was overall just a generally pretty positive environment from what i remember

Q: You were also a contestant in the MCYTblr ‘Friend or Host’ for Paint (adhddream). What do you remember of it?

A: friend or host was great! i wasnt in the competition long (iirc i was one of the first five out??? i dont actually remember how many contestants there were for the round but i know i was pretty early ^^;) but paint seemed really chill, it was just a nice little thing that we did for fun at love or hosts peak. i remember the discord stream of it didnt exactly go very well -- there was an issue with the visuals i think? so it might have been only audio. but im not entirely sure about that, it didnt really stick in my mind as well as other things from that era.

Q: What was the roleplay for Silverfish2020 like? 

A: the silverfish roleplay was very,, im not sure what the best word for it would be. chaotic maybe. there were a lot of things going on there just because there were a lot of things going on in the elections roleplay as a whole. we really leaned into the cult thing when the jokes started and it just kinda spiraled from there. in the beginning we toyed with the idea of a chestburster type thing living inside of the party members but it never really went anywhere despite how much we talked about it in our private discord,, instead we just focused on the party being a sort of hivemind. they lived in a stronghold under a dead forest and would try to get others to listen to 'the buzz' (like. insect buzzing. except if you listened to it long enough youd start hearing promises of a new family and respect and power and shit like that). one of our party members, shard (@shardofsun) was very thorough with all of her lore, going so far as to make detailed plans in a notebook of hers. the roleplay extended throughout the other elections as well (if you ignore the third and only through past lifetimes in the fourth) and is still partially going on now!

Q: You’ve been consistently keeping a list of all ‘kinnie’ (content creator imposter) blogs. Which ones stood out to you?

A: i think one of the imposter blogs that stood out most to me was definitely iamdreamwastaken (who eventually moved to tmblrdream) just because they were very interactive and took all the shit we sent them in stride. i also really liked the timedeo imposter despite never watching any of timedeos stuff. just thought they were cool. honourable shoutout to the eret and nihachu imposters too they rocked

Q: What are the biggest blogs you can remember? What was your impression of them?

A: the biggest blogs i can remember are probably gnfkitten [braveboyhalo] back when cat was the only one on the blog, adhddream, hearty-an0n(maybe not a Big one?? but very active and in a Lot of peoples inboxes from what i saw) and wooteena. there are definitely more urls i remember like georgeeehd (i think?) and wormweeb but i dont think i followed georgeeehd and i cant remember a whole lot of wormweebs stuff apart from the infertility post so i cant accurately answer for them ^^; wooteena was an acquaintance of mine; we didnt talk a whole lot but we were mutuals for a while. they were always pretty chill, despite the fact there were people out there shipping them with a friend of theirs?? ive always had huge respect for them just because they had the energy to deal with shit like that. i was friends with gnfkitten and hearty-an0n, at the very least in a 'wave at each other on the street' way, and i have really fond memories of the both of them :] hearty is still active, they post about sports these days from what i see on my dash, but im not sure if cat is despite gnfkitten being active as a group blog. adhddream always seemed really cool! my memory of their blog isnt super clear but i know i really liked seeing them on my dash back in the day. since this is tumblr i have no way of knowing if any of these people were actually Big Blogs but it definitely seemed like they were to me at the time haha

Q: What was the most insane piece of fandom drama you can remember from early MCYTblr? Did you participate?

A: i dont actually remember a whole lot of fandom drama from that time honestly. i tended to stay in my bubble of mutuals and other people i followed so it rarely ever crossed my dash. i was like ,, 15-16 at the time so fandom drama stressed me wayyyyy out, i tried my best to avoid it. the only stuff i can really remember at all was people fighting about whether or not it was okay to ship the characters from the dream smp and if shipping the characters was the same as shipping the players, but i never participated in any of the discourse from what i can recall

Q: Is there anything else you want to mention or that you want to be written down and remembered?

A: nope! though im happy to clarify on anything stated here if needed or answer any other questions that may arise :]

[wetcatspellcaster]

For the ask - I really just want to copy and paste the entirety of the interrogation scene but since I can’t this bit really sticks out to me:

“She paused, then added, “but on the other hand, the cruellest you ever got before Ascending was when we fought over Cazador and then… well… you kind of did it, didn’t you? I basically lost that argument. If that’s what we fought about before, and then it just happened, it wasn’t like we could make up.”

Astarion was still watching her. Gods, she needed to make sure she was saying the right thing.

“And you were the one who was always telling me to be less selfless,” Rose offered, as a last resort. “And well, you know, staying with you just to be yelled at and degraded is perhaps the most selfless thing I could do, but you used to never want that from me. It used to annoy you, more than anything. I don’t know, I thought I was honouring you in a way… well, you know, not you. The lessons you taught me. Before-”

“Before I changed,” he said, a dangerous note in his voice. “The other me.”

“Um... just to check, do you prefer to think of yourself as two separate people, or is that actually the case, metaphysically?” Rosalie said nervously. As he glared at her, she clarified: “it would be useful to know, more generally, but mostly I’m asking because I just want to make sure you’re not upset, or if I’m being unfair to you. I don’t want to hold you to standards that you’re simply not capable of reaching.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he said with a wave of his hand.

Thank you for wanting to play the ask game! :) x

So, it's one of the only pieces of drama (except for... *gestures at the general trauma congaline that is Act 3*) in An Honest Lie so I won't go into laborious detail, but Rosalie was obviously horrified that Astarion ever wanted to appropriate the Black Mass in the first place. Even the death of his siblings is too much for her (given that she values family, but also wants him to have some kind of a family survive in tact). When Astarion argues that none of the spawn or his siblings are worth saving as they all have blood on their hand, she just assumes he's also talking about himself.

In the 'canon' playthrough fic (or in the fic, someday soon), she actually gives Astarion the silent treatment over this conversation, which is how you know shit has gotten real lmfao. So writing the timeline where she lost that argument has been amusing to say the least. We'll see how that argument unfolds in real time in the other story ;)

Writing a charmed pov was super interesting because of the parameters of the vampiric charmed spell. The exact text was: The charmed target regards the vampire as a trusted friend to be heeded and protected. Although the target isn't under the vampire's control, it takes the vampire's requests or actions in the most favorable way it can - this means that at certain points, where the real Rosalie would've just left the room, she had to search for a favourable take on the situation, even if (given the circumstances) it occasionally strains her credulity and her ability to censor herself, meaning she does let a couple of bitchy things sneak through.

In the case of the section quoted here, Rosalie is just trying to appease Astarion however she can, but the 'trusted friend to be heeded and protected' also influences the conversation. She cannot find anything to heed in the current Astarion's words, so she reaches into the past, to the times he complained about her being selfish, and argues she's heeding those instead. That is the version of him that was a trusted friend, so that's what comes most easily to the fore of her mind.

"“it would be useful to know, more generally, but mostly I’m asking because I just want to make sure you’re not upset, or if I’m being unfair to you." - Rosalie, when charmed, is genuinely trying not to hurt Astarion if she can help it, and that's why she asks if he's not the same person he was before. The intellectual part of her - the part that frees her from the charm eventually - is fishing for information (absolutely it is!) but her guilt about 'making' Astarion this way and then punishing him for it is also absolutely real.

As to why Astarion cuts her off and in response to whether Astarion is metaphysically two different people before and after the Mass - [REDACTED]

DVD commentary ask