#mr. silver care to explain?

[puella-peanut]

Hierarchy of Silverusso pet names according to me.

[hotchfiles]

↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K

    In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…

    “Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth. 

    The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

    “Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”

    “My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod. 

    “Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated. 

    “And you? Catholic?” 

    “Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood. 

    Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place. 

    He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before. 

    “She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting. 

    He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date. 

    “I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment. 

    Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?” 

    The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you. 

    “So you believe it’s a man?” 

    “Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited. 

    It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time. 

    “Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open. 

    “If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty. 

    “To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself. 

    “A very shameful execution.” 

    You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.

    And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

    “Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.

    “Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.

    The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.

    The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.

    You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then. 

    Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.

    “Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.” 

    Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.

    “Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”

    “They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.

    “Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction. 

    “Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation. 

    Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.

    “Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.

    “Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”

[asdfghjklmals]

SEALED & DELIVERED✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, angst. hurt and NO comfort. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi x fem guardian!oc.

SYNOPSIS: after satoru gets sealed in the prison realm, megumi realizes that he has to be the one to tell oc gojo girlfriend the bad news—includes child megumi flashback story. AUTHOR'S NOTE: the awkward moment where this doesn't end with fluff... this fic just focuses on satoru getting sealed and megumi's relationship with oc gojo girlfriend. sorry about the ending. i was starting to word vomit and run out of ideas. there will definitely be a continuation about the 19 days satoru was sealed away though. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

intro

"sweetheart, we need to talk."

you looked up from your pile of paperwork while satoru sat down in the chair in front of you. he planted his elbows on your glass desk and leaned over, a troubled look on his handsome face. you could tell from behind his black blindfold that something was really bothering him.

"what did i do, gojo-sensei? am i in trouble?" you teased.

the white haired sorcerer dramatically clutched at his chest, "you know i love it when you call me that. don't distract me."

"yes, i know babe." you giggled, "what's wrong? what's going on in that big, beautiful head of yours?"

satoru pouted at you, he was going to say 'my head isn't big!' like he always did, but he decided to save that bickering for later.

"with sukuna's vessel showing up... i just don't have a good feeling about all the things going on." satoru explained, "so... i want to create some contingency plans if anything were to happen to me."

you frowned at the statement 'if anything were to happen to me'. you didn't even want to think of a possibility of anything happening to the love of your life.

"—and why would anything to happen to my man?"

satoru leaned back into the leather chair and crossed his legs, ignoring your question. "you have to promise me that you'll tell megumi about his father. the zen'nin clan will make megumi the head if i'm deemed mentally incapacitated or if i die. some deal his dad had with naobito, i guess.”

you shut your eyes and slammed your silver pen on top of the stack of paperwork you were filling out, "fine... i promise, but none of that is going to happ—"

"i'm not finished, sweetheart." satoru interrupted, "i need you to get yuta back to japan as soon as possible."

yuta was currently training in africa with miguel. satoru always mentioned how strong yuta was becoming after each visit and how the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers could rival himself. you and satoru depended on yuta quite a bit nowadays. (read ‘the cursed child: yuta okkotsu’ here)

you glared at your blue eyed lover sitting across from you, "anything else, mr. gojo?"

"can you promise to wait for me to come home if anything happens?" satoru asked with earnesty. it almost sounded like he was begging you.

present time: oc gojo girlfriend’s office

“you’re going to be late if you want to meet everyone at shibuya station on time.” you patted satoru on the chest, pushing him away from you.

“—just one more kiss.” he begged.

satoru was so needy tonight. you thought to yourself, 'what was up with him?'

you kissed him again, but he refused to let go of your body. he held you tightly. you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, “you have that look on your face.”

“i just have a bad feeling about tonight.” he mumbled to himself. you wished you could read what was going on in that crazy mind of his.

your heart dropped, frowning at his eery statement. “promise me you’ll be careful?”

“i’m always careful.” satoru stated confidently.

now that someone he loved was waiting for him to come home, he always took into consideration his safety so that he could make it back to you unscathed. he knew you would never forgive him if anything happened to him and if he left you alone. he promised to protect you. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

you held out your pinky as satoru intertwined his with yours. instead of kissing his thumb to seal the deal, he leaned over to kiss you again fervently, muffling whatever you were about to say.

you groaned once his lips left yours, whispering breathlessly, “do you really have to go?”

“i’m the strongest… so yeah.” he sighed, “remember, if anything happens to me, you have take care of my students.”

“can you not say stuff like that?” you hit his chest as he continued to hold you. “why are you talking like you aren’t going to be coming back home to me?”

“i’m just saying, babe.” satoru sighed again as he booped you on your nose, “you have to be strong for me.”

but what if you didn’t want to be strong? what if you selfishly didn’t want satoru to go to shibuya? what if something happens to him and he doesn’t come home to you? what if he leaves you all alone?

satoru finally let go of you as you stood in the middle of your office at jujutsu high. you shook your head to steer away your selfish thoughts.

“i love you, satoru,” you called out to him before he turned to leave your office, “remember your promise.”

he gave you his signature grin before sneaking back over to you to give you one last kiss. “i know. i’ll remember. i love you, (y/n). remember your promises too.”

"yuta is on his way home..." you reported, "and i'll tell megumi about his father."

satoru frowned at you, "you're forgetting something else."

"—and yes, i'll wait for you to come home." you stated confidently.

for better or for worse, right? it’s been 10 years that you and satoru have been together. you were pretty sure you were a patient person. you could wait for him forever if that’s what it took.

"that's my girl." satoru smirked at you before leaving your office, clasping his hands to teleport to shibuya.

***************************

october 31st. shibuya. 8:31pm. satoru gojo arrives.

“good night, satoru gojo. let us meet again in the new world.” kenjaku said smugly. he had just sealed the world’s strongest sorcerer, adamant that nothing would get in his way now.

satoru scoffed at the ridiculous sight in front of him, “yeah, maybe it’s good night for me, but you need to wake up, suguru. how are you gonna let yourself get used like that?”

kenjaku felt resistance in the body that he took over. hands that belonged to the body of suguru geto attempted to grab his throat.

he laughed in amusement, “well, this is the first time that has happened.”

he suppressed that very resistance with his cursed energy again.

satoru watched and reluctantly listened as kenjaku and mahito had a conversation discussing souls and techniques. he was getting impatient.

“can you just get this over with?” satoru grumbled, “you two aren’t the most pleasing things to look at. i definitely didn't want you two being the last thing i see before getting taken by my own will.”

kenjaku laughed at the sorcerer who was on his knees, arms shackled behind his back, unable to do anything to free himself from the hold of the prison realm. he looked so weak.

“i think i’m enjoying this view, but you’re right. i can’t risk anything happening, so goodnight.” he took one last look at satoru and smirked.

“close gate.”

“we can’t use the prison realm anymore right?” mahito asked curiously.

kenjaku nodded his head, “right. unless the person who's trapped takes their own life inside the prison realm, we can only use it on one occupant at a time.”

inside the prison realm, satoru kissed his the back of his teeth, annoyed but somewhat impressed by this cursed object. “looks like time doesn’t pass here.”

he sat on top of a pile of skeleton heads, repeatedly flicking his blindfold off of his forehead, “damn it. i really messed up this time… (y/n)’s gonna kill me after i promised her i’d be careful.” satoru muttered with a grim smile.

“it’ll be okay. i have faith in everyone...”

***************************

“satoru gojo has been sealed.” nanami announced grimly.

megumi looked at the 7:3 sorcerer in disbelief. “sealed? what do you mean sealed?”

“change of plans,” nanami said as he started walking towards shibuya station, “we need to meet up with itadori. if the sealing is true, it’s over for us. we don’t stand a chance without gojo.”

megumi felt as if his world was spiraling. how could his all-knowing, crazy strong sensei get sealed? did (y/n)-sensei know about gojo-sensei’s sealing? no, (y/n)-sensei couldn’t have known. (y/n)-sensei was probably with shoko at the relief area since you two could heal injured sorcerers.

megumi knew that the school didn’t like to use you offensively because of the damage you could inflict on the city with your cursed technique. no one wanted to fill out that damages report. instead, you were their trump card, their last resort. gojo-sensei was usually the go-to special grade sorcerer if the school ever needed something to be taken care of swiftly.

“i have to tell (y/n)-sensei.” megumi mumbled out loud.

nanami pursed his lips, “if you tell her, there’s no telling what she’ll do. if she finds out that gojo was sealed, she might flood all of shibuya.”

“but she deserves to know.”

megumi took out his cell phone. his fingers were trembling as he sifted through his contacts to find your name. his heart was racing at the thought of having to tell you bad news. he hated disappointing you and he definitely didn't want to worry you. but if it had anything to do with gojo-sensei, you had to know.

this moment reminded him of the time he called you from the principal’s office when he got in trouble for fighting at school.

flashback

'i am so grounded,' 7 year old megumi fushiguro thought to himself, '(y/n) is going to take away my new books for sure. maybe i should call gojo-sensei instead.'

you were the maternal figure in megumi’s life since you and gojo-sensei had taken him and tsumiki in. gojo-sensei let you make all the important decisions regarding the kids. you were the one that always had to have the disciplinary conversations with the two fushiguros. gojo-sensei didn’t like to play the bad guy, he was the type to sneak treats to him and tsumiki after you scolded them.

“well, megumi. are you going to call (y/n) or satoru?” the vice principal of the school, mrs. akita asked him.

megumi sighed, “i guess i’ll call (y/n)…”

he knew that if he called gojo-sensei, the blindfolded idiot would just tell you what happened anyways and he would still end up having to tell you what he did himself. so he might as well spare himself the hard conversation later.

he grabbed the phone from mrs. akita’s desk and took a deep breath before dialing your phone number. his heart was racing. he knew he was going to disappoint you, and he hated that feeling.

you picked up the phone, your bright laughter gave megumi the shivers, “hello?”

“uh—(y/n)?”

your tone immediately became serious, “megumi, are you okay?”

"uh, yeah. i'm okay. i got in trouble at school today." he admitted. he closed his eyes, waiting for you to start lecturing him.

he could hear that you were walking with someone. you were probably on a mission.

"what?! megumi... what happened?" you asked, concern in your tone.

"i, uh, got in a fight. mrs. akita said that i'm getting suspended for two days." he made eye contact with the vice principal in front of him as she sat with her arms folded. this was not megumi's first rodeo.

"megumi... we had this conversation about fighting at school..." you sighed.

yes, you were disappointed, but megumi was your baby. how could you stay mad at the cute little 7 year old boy with the same green eyes as you?

"i know, i'm sorry, (y/n)."

"i'm sorry, megumi. i can't come pick you up today because i'm on a mission. satoru will be there soon, okay?" you felt guilty. you knew the last person he wanted to see was satoru after getting suspended. satoru would never let him live it down.

"okay. i'll wait for gojo-sens—wait, can you send nanami to pick me up instead?"

you laughed at his question, "nanami is actually on a mission with me right now.. sorry kiddo. i'll see you at home later, okay?"

megumi grumbled, "okay..."

megumi hung up the phone and turned around to sit back in the office chair. mrs. akita was filling out the paperwork on his suspension.

***************************

once you hung up the phone, you sighed and turned to nanami. "sorry, nanami. megumi got in trouble at school today."

the 7:3 sorcerer stopped walking and turned to you, your troubled face concerned him, "do you need to call gojo?"

"yeah, he needs to pick up megumi from school. he got suspended for fighting." you groaned.

"being a mother must be hard." nanami teased as he patted your back in reassurance.

you laughed, "having a boy is hard. tsumiki is an angel. god forbid my future children have megumi's temperament."

"you better hope your future child isn't satoru's mini-me." nanami teased.

you grinned at him and joked lightly, "who says i'm having more kids with satoru? he already gave me two to take care of."

you and nanami knew that satoru would pout all day if he heard that joke. you giggled before dialing satoru's phone number as you both took a quick break on a park bench.

"hey babe, you okay? do i need to come help?" satoru asked as he picked up your phone call on the first ring. he never let you go to voicemail in your 2 years of dating.

"no, satoru. we're fine. but i need you to pick megumi up from school. he got suspended today."

"you don't say?" satoru laughed out loud in amusement, "alright, i'll go grab the kiddo."

"i'll be home later. and don't you dare reward him with something sweet on the way home."

satoru was appalled that you would even think he was going to pick up megumi and grab ice cream on the way back. however, you already knew he was thinking about it.

"so feisty." satoru chuckled, "we'll see you at home later then, sweetheart."

***************************

satoru teleported into the front office of the elementary school. mrs. akita opened the door to her office and brought the white haired sorcerer into the room while megumi waited outside. satoru sat down on the leather seat as mrs. akita sighed.

"satoru, megumi has been getting into a lot of fights lately. is everything okay at home?"

"(y/n) and i have been talking to him about not fighting at school..." satoru started, "but he always has a good reason for fighting, so we couldn't exactly reprimand him. what happened today anyways?"

"megumi got in a scuffle with a group of bullies. there are a couple troublemaker cliques in his grade and he beat up three of them." mrs. akita reported back to him, rubbing her temples. "they have extensive injuries, satoru."

satoru started laughing, impressed that megumi took on three school bullies by himself.

"—satoru, this is serious. their parents want him expelled."

"did megumi win?" satoru asked curiously, ignoring mrs. akita's last statement.

mrs. akita glared at him in annoyance, "clearly he won if the parents are wanting him expelled, satoru."

"then that's all that matters to me. that's my kid we're talking about here. end of discussion, akita." satoru said, standing up from his chair and waving off the conversation. “megumi will take the two-day suspension and we'll pay the fines. tell the other kids' parents we're sorry, yada yada yada.”

mrs. akita rolled her eyes, "you're lucky principal kinomoto and i love you and (y/n). no other school would put up with this behavior, satoru."

satoru winked at the vice principal and opened the door to look at megumi. he had a couple of scratches on his face, a bandaid on his cheek and left knee. megumi looked like he was going to burst into tears with the way he was frowning as pouting.

"alrighty, kiddo. let's head back to jujutsu high."

satoru gave megumi a piggy back ride while the child shoved his sniffling face into the back of satoru's uniform. satoru teleported back to jujutsu high as they walked through the school corridors together. he knew that he would have to have a conversation with megumi before you got back from your mission.

"you know you're going to have to tell (y/n) what happened, right?"

megumi glared at his guardian, "i don't want to." and in a matter of seconds, megumi started to burst into tears.

"you cryin', megumi? didn't you win the fight?" satoru asked.

megumi wiped his tears with his forearm, hiccuping, "y-yes."

"then why are you cryin'?"

"i'm scared to see (y/n)." he sheepishly admitted.

satoru started laughing. megumi could feel his laugh vibrating through his back as satoru carried him. he clutched his arms tighter around satoru's shoulders.

the sorcerer grinned, "you and me both, kiddo."

"...is she going to be mad at me? what if she doesn’t love me anymore?" megumi asked satoru full of worry. he knew that satoru knew you better than anyone else in this world.

satoru thought out loud, "hmmm, she'll probably be a little disappointed. but—she’ll always love you and she cares for you a ton. at the end of the day, you’re her baby."

megumi's eyes continued to water as his grip on satoru's uniform tightened. the closer they got to the dining hall, the more nervous the child got.

"looks like you're in luck, kiddo. (y/n) isn't back from her mission yet." satoru sighed in relief, "let's go see shoko and get you all healed up."

***************************

"oh my..." shoko gasped, "what happened to you, megumi?!"

megumi looked at satoru and then back at the ground. he was too embarrassed to tell shoko what had happened at school.

"he just got in a little tussle at school." satoru told his bestfriend, waving it off.

shoko started laughing, "sounds like you when you were younger, gojo."

"yeah, but i wouldn't have gotten beat up." satoru grinned at the doctor, "i was untouchable."

the brunette rolled her eyes at him, "you're so full of yourself."

satoru scoffed and put megumi down on the exam table. "can you just make sure he's okay before my girlfriend sees his scratches and yells at me?"

shoko nodded. she healed up megumi's minor cuts and bruises so that it looked like nothing ever happened.

***************************

you and nanami were walking through the school's courtyard after your mission today. the mission ended up running later than usual.

"sorry that mission took so long," nanami mumbled. “i know you were worried about megumi.”

"it's okay, nanami. satoru’s with him." you high-fived him, "good job tonight."

as you continued the walk through the courtyard, you saw satoru leaning against the entrance to the school building with his arms folded. he cleared his throat.

"your jealously is showing, satoru." you grinned at your boyfriend.

"me?" satoru called out to you, baffled, pointing at nanami, "jealous of him?"

satoru laughed as nanami rolled his eyes at him. "megumi has been waiting for you, babe."

"what?" you asked in disbelief, "it's past his bedtime. it's almost 10pm. satoru, you're supposed to make sure the kids go to bed on time."

"he wouldn't go back to the apartment, he won't go to sleep without talking to you." satoru grinned thinking about megumi’s tenacity.

satoru walked with you back to the dining hall, holding your bag in one hand and your hand in the other.

"i'll wait in the hallway. go talk to megumi." satoru said as he blew you kiss. you caught his air kiss and threw it on the floor, making him laugh out loud. your feisty personality was one of his favorite things about you.

you entered the dining hall. megumi looked up at you with sad eyes. you sat down in front of the child.

"hey, megumi." you greetled him softly, he was quiet and a little awkward. it looked like you were going to have to break the ice. you started the conversation with the 7 year old, "so, wanna tell me what happened at school today?"

"the kids i beat up were talking about you and gojo-sensei." megumi muttered. he folded his arms, angry at the thought of those bullies and what they had said about the two guardians he cared so much about.

"well... what were they saying about us that made you so upset you had to go and beat them up?"

megumi quietly told you what happened, "they kept saying that you and gojo-sensei weren't mine and tsumiki's real parents and that we don’t look like you two. it made tsumiki cry."

your heart shattered. kids were so mean nowadays. you admit that megumi and tsumiki's situation was unique, yes, but the fact that kids bullied each other about their parents was cruel. you never wanted the kids to feel bad about their situation.

you scoffed, "how can i be mad at the fact that you were defending mine and satoru’s honor?" you ruffled megumi's hair, "why were you so scared to tell me that?"

"because i keep getting in trouble for fighting." megumi frowned, disappointed in himself.

"megumi, i want you to be able to tell me anything. i don't want you to keep things bottled up."

"—but what if you don't love me anymore after i tell you the bad things?" megumi asked quietly.

you were shocked that a 7 year old could have such thoughts. how could he think that you wouldn’t love him anymore? megumi and tsumiki were the center of your world since satoru swiped them off the streets and brought them home to you. (read 'learn to love' here)

you asked megumi a question, "how many times a day do i tell you and tsumiki that i love you two?"

"you tell us every morning before we go to school and before we go to bed. and sometimes randomly throughout the day." megumi smiled at the mental reminder.

"—just because you get into fights at school doesn't mean that i'll love you any less. if anything, i worry about you getting hurt." you lectured him, "now, if you grow up to be a horrible curse user, we might have a problem."

"does that mean you're not mad at me?" megumi asked quietly.

"i am a little disappointed," you sighed, "—but i don't love you any less."

you reached out to him for a hug. the boy jumped into your arms. you squeezed him tightly, rocking him back and forth. "now tell me... did satoru buy you ice cream after school?"

megumi froze, his eyes widened. him and gojo-sensei were caught red-handed.

"uh huh... got it." you laughed. you were going to have a word with satoru later tonight.

end flashback

the dial tone was echoing through megumi's ears as he waited for you to pick up. he felt a lump in his throat, his heart was racing, just like back then when he was 7 years old, but this took the cake for the hardest conversation he's ever had to have with you. he would rather tell you that he broke the glass coffee table in the living room trying to summon max elephant a hundred times over again.

"megumi, are you okay?" you answered, "do you need me to—"

"i'm fine, (y/n). it's gojo-sensei."

your felt sick to your stomach. it was in that moment that you knew something had happened to satoru.

"what happened to him?"

"he was sealed." megumi said grimly.

you furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what megumi was saying, "what do you mean sealed?"

"i—i don't know all the specifics." megumi stuttered through the receiver, "—but i'm going to find out. i'll save gojo-sensei, (y/n). i promise you. so don’t worry and… don’t be mad at him."

"megumi, wait..." you said, voice barely coming out as a whisper. you heard the younger sorcerer disconnect from the other line.

you felt a lump in your throat as you fought back tears. you had to be strong for the students... and for satoru. you felt this immense pain and anger in your chest. if satoru was sealed, that meant he was still alive. there was a sliver of hope that you would see him again. satoru had to be okay... right?

"(y/n)!" shoko yelled out your name, "you're going to flood all my medical supplies!"

you snapped out of your thoughts and looked around the area. water was starting to flood the ground, surrounding the both of your feet.

"what did megumi say to upset you that much?!" shoko asked, "i haven't seen you do that since high school!"

"satoru was sealed, shoko. and i don't know what that means!" you yelled in frustration, throwing your ice shards against the concrete wall.

the street lamps started to flicker as ice started to form around the streets, fire hydrants started to explode due to high water pressure, water started to fill the streets of shibuya. your cursed energy was starting to become uncontrollable.

you wondered how megumi was feeling at this moment and how horrible he must have felt telling you that satoru was sealed. it couldn't have been easy for him, nor could it be easy for the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers and satoru’s students knowing that the strongest was sealed away. the team morale was probably destroyed.

shoko distracted you out of your thoughts again, "you should go to shibuya. the students need you. you're second in command if anything happens to gojo."

you looked at shoko with determination in your eyes, she nodded at you as you made your way out the door to head straight for shibuya station.

the students needed you right now more than ever since satoru was gone. they needed the support from you, the support that you always gave to them no matter what the situation was. you were their go-to person for comfort. whether they got a bad grade on their mission, if they lost a spar, or when they needed an ear to listen to them, you were there.

you thought back to the conversation that you and satoru had. promise number one would have to wait. promise number two was on a flight back to japan and would be landing in a couple hours. promise number three...

'don't worry, satoru.' you thought to yourself, 'i'll wait for you to come home. i don't care how long it takes. we'll find a way to get you back.'

little did you know, the nineteen days that satoru gojo was sealed away was the most excruciating pain you've ever experienced in your life, not even an injury from a curse could compare.

it was as if something was missing from your life and you never wanted to experience the pain of losing someone so important to you ever again.

© 2024 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[chanandlersstuff]

Little Miss Director and Starboy.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.457

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and a slow burn.

Author’s note: It’s the first time I write something about Hayden so I hope you like it. I have nothing against his private life nor his love ones, this is just for fun. With that been said, I had this idea in my head for a long time and it will have two more parts.

gif credits @haydenchristensengifs

Next Part →

May 2019, first meetings.

When he was offered the role of Anakin again for Obi-Wan’s series, he jumped in without thinking twice and that’s how he met her. He saw her face for the first time on a tiny screen on his phone. The first few things he noticed about her were that she used glasses, her voice was sweet, that she smiled pretty much all the time and that she was young, several years younger than him.

She was very polite and enthusiastic, telling him all about the ideas for the series and explaining everything about the project. Maybe revealing a few things she shouldn’t but he didn’t care. She kept it professional but light, which he thanked because acting formally in the comfort of his house while wearing joggers and slippers was a no can do.

A few weeks after that he hopped in a plane and flew all the way to the studios, where she worked, to meet with her and talk about the project. He was directed to her office, where she was supposed to be expecting him but she wasn’t. “I’m sorry Mr. Christensen, but she will arrive in a few minutes.” The boy behind the desk said with a polite smile. “Please follow me.” He got up and walked towards an office at the end of the hallway. “You can wait for her in her office.” He opened the door. “Feel free to get comfortable.” The boy smiled. “Would you like something to drink?”

Hayden looked around the room, it was big; but not too big, painted white with big windows that let all the light enter and a little sofa with a desk in the middle. “No, thank you.” But the main thing he noticed was the lack of personal things in it. No photos on the desk, instead, little drawings stuck to the computer and an old video camera from the ‘90s on one of the shelves, which he found odd. 

He stood watching the window and how the sun illuminated everything around. A couple of minutes passed by when he heard voices outside the office. “Hi, Charlie, how are you?” The same sweet voice reached his ears. Some muffled words and the sound of boots against the floor. "What? He's in there?” She whispered-shouted. “He's early!” It was true, Hayden was early. A trait he picked up from his father. "I know!" The boy at the reception whispered-shouted too. "He’s cute.” Hayden smiled a little at the words. “Charlie! Unprofessional.” It wasn’t as if he was eavesdropping, they just happened to be speaking not so quietly. “I’m not ready.”  He heard her say. “Yes, you are.” The boy encouraged her. More muffled sounds reached his ear. “Fake it, till you make it.” He smiled at the phrase and moments later the door was opened.

He turned around and she was there with a nervous smile on her lips, not like the ones he saw on Facetime. “Hi.” She said, blushing a little.

The brunette walked closer to greet her properly. “Hello.”

“Wow, you are tall.” She said rapidly under her breath, but he heard it, making him laugh.

“I got that a lot.” He extended his hand and she shook it. To the list of things he noticed about her, he added that her hands were cold, despite the warm weather outside, and full of small classy silver rings. She apologised about it but he was focused on looking at her. She was small, a little smaller than average, barely reaching his chin. Dressed in black Doc Martens, light colour jeans, a fitted black t-shirt and a red leather coat. Long straight hair and no glasses on. 

She hung her bag and coat and smiled at him, a more natural one. “Can I offer you something? Tea? Coffee? Orange Juice?”

“A tea would be nice, thank you.” She nodded and ordered Charlie, the boy behind the desk at the front, a tea and a coffee.

“Shall we?” She gestured to the sofa for them to sit down.

He tilted his head to the side. “By all means, it’s your office.” He let her walk in front of him, as the gentleman he was taught to be.

She looked around with a tiny smile on her lips. “Yeah, I still don’t believe it.” 

“You have a beautiful view.” He added.

“Yeah, doesn't it?” She asked happily and looked around. “First of all," he was the object of her gaze again. "thank you for coming all the way here just to chat about this.” 

“Not at all, it’s a pleasure. And far easier than talking on the phone.” He sat more comfortably.

She laughed and nodded. “I like this kind of human contact, I feel like there’s nothing left to guess, or misunderstood, and I also believe it is more personal.” He agreed, noticing she moved her leg nervously. Another thing to add to his list about her. “I will try to not occupy much of your time and don’t bore you.” She joked.

But he shook his head “No, nothing of that.” trying to reassure her. 

A knock on the door interrupted him. “Sorry.” She got up and opened the door. Charlie entered with the two cups and left them on the desk. “Thank you very much, Charlie.” The boy smiled and walked away. “Sugar? Sweetener?” She offered him.

“Sugar, it's fine.” She passed him the little packets while she poured a little one of sweeteners into her cup. The pleased smile on her lips, when she took the first sip, would always be tattooed on his mind.

Hayden asked the normal things about the project and she told him everything she could about it. Slowly, bit by bit, he saw how she was more nervous-free and how excited she was for all the things she was telling him about. “But it’s still in diapers, we are still figuring things out. I’m still figuring things out.” She played with her hands. “The writers started putting everything on paper and I’m working with the executive producers about the cast.” She ended with a smile.

“It’s your first big project?” He asked, taking a sip of his tea. She laughed a little, moving her head side to side, it wasn’t a yes but neither a no. “How old are you?” That was a question he had in mind for a while and hoped it didn't sound rude.

“Twenty-seven.” He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I know, too young and very big, immense, shoes to fill.” She said with a bored tone like she got that too much. 

Hayden shook his head. “I was 19 when I took the role of Anakin and felt the same way. Everything is going to be fine.” She looked at him a little unsure. “If they choose you to be here, it’s because you are the best. Don’t let them intimidate you, otherwise they will eat you alive.”

She smiled at him, big and brightly. “Thank you, Hayden, truly.” Her eyes accompanied the smile, kind and truthful.

All of a sudden, he turned shy by being under her gaze- What? Shy? Come on man. -so he shrugged and changed the subject. Trying for his life to not blush at how sincere and kind her eyes looked at him moments prior.

October 2019, surprise surprise.

By the second time they met in person, they had been talking a couple more times by the phone, she asked a few things about what he felt about Anakin, what were his thoughts about him and things like that.

Hayden was walking towards her office, for some reason he wanted to see her before going to meet with the writers, executives and a few of the characters for the first reading of the script, which was going to take a few days, to see if everything was going according to plan, smoothly. 

He entered the office and Charlie was there, sitting behind the desk, just like all those months before. They made small talk while the boy accompanied him to her office. When he opened the door, she was looking down at some papers on the desk and her hair was up supported by a pen. “Perfect, Charlie, sorry to bother you, but I'' Who apologised to his assistant for asking something? Always so polite.

When she looked up, her eyes opened big in surprise at seeing him. Hayden realised she was wearing the glasses she wore when they first met and that with the light entering the room her eyes shined. Maybe it was my presence? No, it couldn’t be. It was 100% the light, for sure. “Hello.” He said with a kind smile on his lips.

“Hi.” She smiled brightly, just like she usually did. Usually as in the two times he saw her, one in person and the other by a screen. “You are early.” She looked at the watch on her right wrist.

“Again.” He joked earning a laugh from her.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” She pointed at the sofa where he sat months ago, a vase with white jasmines on the little table there. “Tea?” He nodded and when she was about to ask Charlie the boy nodded and walked away with a tiny smile on his lips.

He, for sure, made himself comfortable and started walking around the office. It didn’t seem empty as it did before, now it had books on the shelves; a few more drawings, it was more cosy, and the same video camera was still there on one of the shelves. He traced it with his finger, slowly, trying to not damage it. “That camera was the thing that started everything, it was my father’s but I made it mine.” Her sweet voice became sweeter.

“It was your first camera?” He turned around to look at her and she nodded with a smile on her lips. Was she always smiling?

“I used to record everything around me with it.” The papers on her desk were long forgotten. “Everything that made me happy, to never forget it.”

He smiled at her way of seeing things. “You still do?”

She hummed. “From time to time, when I’m utterly, incandescently, happy.” He was about to comment on that but she interrupted him. “Besides, vintage makes everything look good.” She laughed and he did too.

Charlie entered right when their laughs were in sync and their eyes shined. “Your tea, Mr. Christensen.” The boy left the drink on the small table there and walked away with a smirk on his lips.

“Are you ready for today?” With a few strikes, he sat on the sofa facing her. She nodded, biting her lips, while arranging the stacks of papers on her desk. He was about to comment on something about her nervous behaviour but chose against it, afraid of making her more nervous. “Did you eat something?” She shook her head. “You want me to grab you a coffee or something?”

She looked up to him. The same kind eyes of all those months back were looking at him “No, thank you.” and shook her head. “If I drink coffee now I’m afraid I will not be able to sit still on the reading table.” A little laugh escaped his lips and the same shyness, and blush, from months ago, appeared again making him clear his throat. Get it together.

With small talk, his attempt to take her mind out of what was about to happen, the time had passed and they had to go to meet the rest to do the first reading table. They exited the office and, as the gentleman he was, he offered to carry all the papers in her hands, but she refused it. Claiming that she was more than capable of doing it herself.

For the first time since he saw her that day, he paid attention to her whole outfit and it was much more formal than the one she used the first day they met. Little heels that made her reach his mouth, black tights, a skirt with a little cut on the side that fitted quite well and a black shirt with the first two buttons undone. And she smelled like jasmine, like the ones in her office.

They reached the room where everything was going to unfold and she stopped a few meters from the door. “You okay?” Hayden asked her and she nodded. “You need a minute?” She nodded again and he gave it to her, even took a step back and let her gather her strength.

The brunette watched her take a few deep breaths and move her head from side to side. “Okay, you got this.” He heard her mumble and a smile appeared on his lips. After a few seconds, she turned around and looked at him. “Ready when you are,” she joked.

He got closer to her laughing, “Ready.” She nodded and he held the door for her to enter first, he walked after her.

Ewan was already there, the executives and the three writers too. The two long-time friends hugged each other and caught up for a few minutes. “Have you already met our amazing, incredible, director?” The Scottish man asked.

“Yes, I had the pleasure,” Hayden said, looking around for her. She was standing by his side moments ago and now she wasn’t.

“She’s amazing, I have been working with her since the beginning and I promise you are going to be blown away by her.” Ewan was more excited by all that was happening than any of them. 

“I have not a single doubt,” his eyes found her in the mess of people and a smile appeared on his lips.

Four days of the same routine, Hayden would arrive every day a little earlier than the prior just to sit in her office and talk to her. Some days Charlie would have a tea already in the making for him and others he would carry a coffee with a chocolate muffin in hand for her because she tended to not eat.

And his list of things he noticed about her would keep getting longer. Her favourite colour was red, she had a sweet tooth, and jasmines and yellow daffodils were her favourite flowers, she used normal glasses when her eyes got irritated after using lenses all the time; plus according to her, they added dramatic effect when she was stressed, she was left-handed, that she scrunched her nose, but her brows didn’t frown, when she didn’t like something and that she truly, and naturally, was a smiley person. All the things he noticed weren’t personal stuff, she was pretty reserved and he could resemble her about that.

It was the last day of the reading table and truth be told, the script was garbage. It was the same thing as the series that were already being streamed. All those days, and hours spent were futile, the ones he had to be seated at that table, not the ones he was seated on the sofa in her office. They all tried to bring something to the table for the script to work, but it was useless. Everyone knew it and someone had to rip the bandaid off. 

“Well...” the executive producer began, “thoughts?” And they all looked at her.

As if she could feel all the gazes on her, she looked up. “Sincerely?” And they nodded. She looked around the room, Hayden could see her demeanour changed as if she had built a wall inside her and was ready for anything. “It’s the same thing we saw billions of times.” She was straightforward. “If we keep this way, the critic is going to smash us.” She voiced what all of them were thinking.

“Excuse me?” One of the writers said.

She frowned, “we are making a series about an icon of the cinematography universe, whose story is tightly intertwined with one of the biggest villains of history, about a universe that changed lives and the way of seeing cinema and this script-” she picked it up “does not reflect that.” The nervous girl Hayden saw before was left at the door and seated with him was a decisive woman, with her work pants well put on and a clear idea in mind. "This script is too small for a production as big as this one, as awaited as this one."

“And what would you know about making a script for a production this big?” The writer looked at her up and down. “You are just a child, you are too small a director for a production like this.” All the people in the room were surprised at such harsh, disrespectful, words. “Little Miss Director.” He added with a derogatory tone.

Ewan and Hayden were ready to chime in, along with a few other people on the crew, but she beat them to it. “First of all, you are excused.” She raised her chin and sat straight. “Second, I formed myself, I studied and improved after every project I made, it didn't matter how little it was.” Long was gone the sweet tone she carried. “I'm worthy of being here, believe me, I am one of the best out there and I have the skills to direct this project.” She had a cold look in her eyes. “If this is your script, which I guess it is, by how offended you are getting at hearing my honest opinion, maybe it’s you who does not know about big productions.” 

The silence that fell upon the room was a sepulchral one, not even a fly flew around. She kept her gaze on the writer until he stormed off the room, followed by a bang from the door. They all looked that way, but Hayden kept his eyes on her and caught the moment when she let go of a shaky breath and played with one of the many rings on her fingers. Their eyes connected and he frowned, asking a silent question, but she just gave him a small smile, reassuring him she was fine. 

After apologies from the executive producers and the writers on behalf of the rude partner, they all agreed with her that the script was awful and that she was right. Ideas came and went but nothing seemed to fit and be worthy of, the concept they had in mind. “You worked as a writer too for the projects you were on, didn't you?" Ewan asked, looking at her. "Besides, directing them.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes…” 

“They were very good, award-worthy.” He added making her open her eyes big, Hayden frowned. But when she was going to answer, the Scottish talked again. “Why don’t you write something?”

She seemed caught off guard, Hayden watched how her lips parted a little and her eyes scanned the room, while Ewan had a kind smile on his lips. After all, he was one of the executive producers and he had that kind of power at the table. “Yeah, we will meet in a couple of months and we will discuss it again.” Another executive producer said.

She looked even more surprised, her brows a little more raised than before. “We can work with you, discuss ideas and build the story together.” One of the writers said while the other nodded eagerly. “We will help each other and it would be an honour for us.”

A smile appeared on her lips, but Hayden realised it was a nervous one; not like the ones he saw her make when she took a sip of her coffee, or when she talked about the video camera in her office. “Yeah, okay.” The confident woman who put the idiot writer in his place was gone and the same nervous girl who was left outside the room appeared again. “We can do that. There are a few ideas in here that we can use as a base and build upon them.” She nodded looking at the script as if it was going grow a mouth and eat her alive

The meeting finished after a few minutes and they talked about schedules for the future, which was uncertain until the scripts were ready. When Hayden got up to talk to her she was already on her way to walk away from the room, like her life depended on it, and was left to talk with Ewan, not that he didn’t like catching up with his friend, but if he was honest, he was a little worried about her.

January 2020, first vestiges of emotions.

The last time the pair saw each other they couldn't even have the chance to say goodbye because when Hayden went to her office to talk to her, Charlie told him she was already gone for the day and he was flying back to Canada in a few hours. He weighed the options of calling her, or sending her a text, to ask if everything was fine but in the end, he desisted, to not come up as dense. 

To his surprise, she texted him a few weeks after their last encounter, a simple hello, sorry to bother you, and presenting herself, as if he didn’t know who she was. All that to talk about work, about the script she, and the other writers, were working on.

Finally, it was time to see them, the team, in person. To see her in person. Their routine was picked up where they left it, him taking her a coffee and muffin and a hot tea waiting for him at her desk, and, of course, he arrived early. 

“Hello, Charlie,” Hayden said as soon as he passed the door from his office floor. 

“Hello, Mr. Christensen,” The boy said, despite the multiple times he told him to call him by his name and not that formal title. “She will arrive shortly, you can come in,” Charlie said with a smile on his lips. “You already know the way.” 

Laughing a little, he walked towards her office. There were new drawings on the shelves, still no photos, the video camera was still in place and the smell of jasmine was still there. The sticky posts on the computer were there and despite all his mother's teachings that what he was going to do was impolite, he did it. Slowly he walked to the other side of her desk and readed them. 'Most Ardently’ was writing in one of them with a little heart and clear handwriting, ‘Shine on, you crazy diamond. Love, the kids and I’ that one made him frown. She was married with kids? The kids would explain all the drawings, but she never mentioned anything about kids when he talked about his daughter, and the married thing was hard to guess with all the rings she had on her fingers. She never said anything about being taken, nor had any photos in her office with someone, and she was a very closed person, so he was not going to pray into her private life if she didn’t let anything on. 

And like months ago, when they first met, he heard her sweet voice in the hallway talking with Charlie and it went almost the same way it did the first time, him being cute wasn’t said that time. 

“Hi, Hayden.” She said as soon as she opened the door. When he looked at her he had to suppress a laugh that was about to escape his lips. “What?” She was frowning at him.

His eyes trailed her up and down. “You are under all that?” She was small, that much was a fact, but she looked so much smaller under the, almost, total black outfit she was wearing. A big ass long coat, loose high dress pants, a fitted t-shirt that covered her up to her neck and white Converse, that looked like they were from his daughter from how small they seemed.

“Well yeah.” She took the sunglasses off her head and a few rebel hairs fell to her face making her blow them away. Her silver rings and silver necklace with her initials contrasted with her clothes. “I’m cold.”

“I can see that,” he laughed while walking to greet her. It came naturally to him to kiss her cheek followed by a little. “Hello.” The smell of jasmine invaded him and his voice sounded deeper for some reason. When he moved away, the brunette took notice of how her cheeks and nose were red from the cold. Was it from the cold though? “Are you that cold?”

“Huh?” She frowned like she didn’t understand. “Ah, yeah.” She nodded, and a nervous laugh escaped her lips. 

Charlie interrupted them carrying his tea while she hung her coat and got comfortable. The little interaction was forgotten by the time the boy walked out of the office with a frown on his face, looking at his boss. “I brought you breakfast,” Hayden said pointing at the cup next to her keyboard.

She smiled kindly at him, but that smile changed when she took a sip of the hot drink. It wasn’t a bad change, it was a good one. The way her lips curved gave him flashbacks of the memory tattooed on his brain about the first time he met her in person. He wasn’t afraid of messing up her coffee order, he knew it was the right one because he had picked it up on the few times they had been together.

She seemed less nervous this time around, there weren’t stacks of papers on her desk like the last time, nor she wasn’t running around. She seemed grounded, confident even. He tried to get information out of her about the new scripts but it was impossible, she gave him vague answers with a polite smile on her face, which made him laugh. “You are getting better at this,” he took a sip of his tea, looking at her.

“I know,” she smiled smugly. “I've been taking notes on how not to spill everything about a new project.” The brunette noticed how proud she looked about that. “I wouldn’t want them to fire me for speaking too much,” her tone was a playful one.

He laughed. “They would never,” his eyebrows were frowned and he shook his head. “Not after all the work you’ve done,” he reassured her.

Between sips of hot drinks, Hayden told her about his farm in Canada, about Briar Rose and small things here and there about his life while she listened attentively to all his words. The morning sun entering from the window behind her, seated at his side, added some kind of soft, cosy, effect to the office. Intimate. While they were laughing about something he said, a knock on the door behind him interrupted them. “Come in,” she called, still laughing.

“Hello there,” an accent Hayden recognized very well reached his ears and she started laughing again.

The brunette turned around and standing there was Ewan with a smile on his face. “Obi-Wan,” the pair said, making the Scottish laugh too.

“Good to see you two here.” They all hugged each other. “I was coming to pick our beloved director up but you beat me to it,” he joked looking at him.

Immediately she blushed. “We are having breakfast, would you like something?” She asked in her sweet tone.

“No, no. Nothing darling, thank you.” The trio stood in the middle of the office. “Are you ready?” Ewan asked and Hayden looked at her too.

She nodded, “Yeah, everything’s ready. The scripts are already arranged in the room where we are going to meet, the seats are designated.”

“You are well prepared then,” Ewan said surprised. “Yeah, you seemed more ready than last time when you were running around like crazy until the last minutes,” Hayden added. If his eyes weren’t on her, he would have seen the look in his dear friend's eyes.

“Well, I've had everything ready for like a week or so,” she shrugged but the pair looked at her surprised. “What? I like having things in order,” she defended herself.

It was time for them to meet with the rest of the crew so they walked out of the office, her first, and made their way there. The two men told her about the funny things they remembered while they filmed the first two movies and the technology they had to do it. 

Hayden noticed that she seemed much more carefree this time around than the first time they did the table reading, she didn’t stop at the door to take a deep breath, nor to give herself a little pep talk. She just entered the room like she owned it, like she deserved to be there, which she did, and that made him smile.

Just as she said, the table already had the scripts on it and tags in front of the chairs, it was a completely different room than the one they were months ago. There were different people inside, who were supposed to be the cast, the writers, the executive producers and them. “Ready boys?” She asked with a smile on her lips making them look at each other with their eyebrows raised and they laughed, but followed her nonetheless. 

They all sat around the big circular table, the writers at her sides, while he Ewan, and the rest of the team, dispersed around the table. The crew was also there, seated surrounding them. The reading started but her sweet voice didn’t chime in at any moment, Hayden watched her make notes here and there on her script and whispered with the writers beside her.

They connected eyes more than a few times, she always caught him looking at her for some reason, only a couple of times it was the other way around like they could feel their gaze on each other. Her reaction was always the same, a sweet smile on her lips. Her hair was held by a pen, again, and at some point, she put her glasses on. This time around she didn’t play much with her rings, but she did it with the silver delicate watch on her wrist. 

He looked around the table to watch the crew's reaction and they all had mixed emotions, but they were the exact opposite of what that rubbish script generated. By the time the reading ended, everyone was silent with unreadable looks on their faces. But she was in her world, still making notes. Almost three minutes passed when someone decided to speak. “Well,” Ewan broke the silence, from his tone he could guess, because he had his blue eyes fixed on her, that he was smiling. “Little Miss Director did it again.” She raised her head looking at him.

And looked around the table confused, suspiciously. “Meaning?” Her tone was so unsure, he found it cute.

“It’s brilliant, this is excellent.” One of the producers said.

Everyone chimed in to praise the script, the cast; the crew; and every single person in the room. Hayden watched at how her face broke into a beautiful big grin, eyes shining and cheeks blushed. Her eyes connected with his and he grinned too, that was the effect of her smile. 

The session was over and everybody stood up to leave, and this time she didn’t run away instead stood chatting with whoever approached her. “Didn't I tell you she was brilliant?” Ewan said, clapping his shoulder.

“Yeah, you did.” He nodded and his friend looked pleased. “It’s one of the best scripts I have ever read, well written; well articulated; balanced. It's amazing.” Hayden was speechless at how creative she was, at how amazing she was.

Ewan nodded proudly. “I knew from the moment I watched one of her films that she was perfect for the series, that’s why I recommended her for the position.” He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Plus, her resume is impeccable. She's something else.” The brunette nodded with his eyes fixed on her. “Totally worthy of being showrunner.” Hayden looked at him surprised. “She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head. “She doesn't talk much when we are together, I do most of it, plus she’s very private.”

“Yeah she is, it took me a while for her to trust me but she would eventually open up,” his friend tried to reassure him. “If she trusts you,” he added, clapping his back laughing. 

Hayden shook his head, “thanks man.” Ewan laughed harder.

“She reminds me of you a little bit when we first met,” the Scottish said and he looked at him frowning. “Incredibly passionate young soul, keen and very creative." 

Hayden smiled at the kind words of his dear friend and found it more special that he found such touching words related to her. He was about to respond when she walked towards them.

"Good job, Little Miss Director." Ewan joked when he saw her.

She laughed tilting her head back but did a little bow, Hayden smiled. "Thank you, Ewan." He bowed his head. "Truly for your trust and help in this process."

He smiled, "It was my pleasure darling." And they hugged.

When they parted, she looked at Hayden with a big smile too. He felt shy under her gaze but enjoyed it too. "Thank you too, Hayden." He shook his head. "For being patient with me and all my questions, helping me and your encouraging words."

Sweetly, as her voice, she hugged him. Engulfed him with her arms around his neck, she was on her tiptoes and he had to bend down a little to put his arms around her back, not her waist because he was respectful. The jasmine scent, her scent, reached his nose making him dizzy. His mouth was so close to her neck, to her pulse point, that if he moved his head a little to the right he would graced it with his lips and he felt her hot breath in his pulse point, making him weak on the knees.

The hug ended far too quickly for his liking. What? When they pulled apart he had to clear his throat and blinked a couple of times. Fucks sake, Hayden, get a hold of yourself. You are 38 and she’s 11 years younger than you, think straight.

February 2020, special day.

It had been a couple of months since he last saw her, which he was thankful about because the hug she gave him was too much for him. Too much for his brain. Too much for his heart. Too fucking much.

He thought that maybe the peace of his farm would give him the clarity he needed but it didn't happen. Not a single clear thought about whatever he was feeling came his way. About work? Yes. About what he was going to eat for dinner? Lots. About feelings, which were a mess? Not a single one.

Ewan and he were talking on the phone about life, making a habit of staying in contact and not like the last decade and a couple of years. They were talking about projects and life, while all Hayden’s brain was screaming was, Ask him about her. ASK HIM! but he tried to not let that part of him win. 

Obviously was futile because he ended up talking about work, which of course ended up with her name being said. “You know anything about her?” He shut his eyes and frowned, with his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I talked on the phone with her a couple of days ago. Something about the script.” His friend said and he nodded.

“How was she?” The words blurted out his mouth before he had the time to process them. He was seconds away from smashing his head through the wall if that made him stop thinking about her. Teenage behaviour, right there Hayden. The laughter on the other side of the phone made him shake his head, regretting asking. 

“Fascinated by our Little Miss Director I see.” Ewan teased and he had to hum because if he opened his mouth the teasing would meet no end. “I get it, she’s pretty awesome.”

“Yes, she is.” Well, fuck it, he would embarrass himself for shits and giggles.

The days after his chat with Ewan, where he mentioned her resume, he could have Googled her, to know what his friend meant, but he decided against it. The opportunity, the privilege, of hearing about her life from her mouth would be more rewarding, more special, than reading it on some gossip page.

Ewan laughed again. “It’s her birthday in a couple of days.” His ears perked when his friend told him the exact date when it was. “Did you know it?” 

“No, no. I didn’t know it.” Mentally the date was already marked. 

The Scottish laughed again. “Well now you know, thank me later.” The brunette thanked God that the teasing stopped because otherwise, he was going to mentally kick himself. They kept talking for twenty minutes and the conversation ended with “Send her something pretty!” from Ewan’s part before he hung up.

The date of her birthday came and Hayden kept looking at the phone on his counter, Briar Rose having breakfast next to him. “Are you okay Daddy?” She asked in her sweet voice.

“Yes, sweetie.” He caressed her face. “Just thinking.”

“ ‘bout?” Her big blue eyes looked at him.

He deliberated on telling her about his doubts or brushing them off. “It’s one of my friend’s-” Friend? Was she a friend? Or a colleague maybe? What was she?  “birthday and I don’t know what to get her.” Maybe she would help him decide what to give her.

“What she likes?” She asked, taking a sip from her princess cup.

He racked his brain trying to think about something she told him she liked, but a single thing came up. “Flowers.” Unconsciously he could scent jasmine, even though there wasn't a single one of them in his house. "Jasmine."

“They’re nice and pretty.” That was answer enough for him.

Smiling, he leant and kissed the crown of her head. “You are right, sweetie.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

Giving her a last look, he took his phone and walked to the living room. First tone. You got this. Second tone. Nothing to stress about. Third tone. They're just flowers. Fourth tone and they answered. Too late to back down.

Twenty minutes he was on the phone with the flower shop, twenty minutes where he felt like a teenage boy with a massive crush, a little pathetic if he was honest with himself, and then he went on with his day like normal.

He and Briar were making lunch when his phone rang, whipping his hands on a towel he grabbed his phone and as fast as he picked it up he almost let it fall. Her name appeared on his screen, she was calling. She was calling him.

After coming out of his astonishment, he answered it before she hung up. "Hello."

"Hayden, hi." Her sweet voice reached his ear. "How are you? I hope I'm not interrupting your day." He could hear her walking around her office.

He chuckled. "I'm fine, how are you?" He turned the burner down. "And you are not interrupting, we were making lunch." 

"We?" She cleared her throat. "Sorry. What were you making?" 

"Briar Rose wanted pasta for lunch, so I'm obliging." The little girl walked past him and he caressed her head.

"Nice, it goes great with the cold." The picture of her with her nose and cheeks red popped up on his brain. "I will not take much of your time with her." He shook his head as if she could see him. "I called you to thank you for the beautiful bouquet, I love it." 

He smiled, big and brightly. "I'm glad you liked it." Was she smiling too?

"The note is very beautiful too. My favourite part may I say." The teenage boy with a crush feeling was worthy then.

"I'm pleased to hear, Little Miss Director." He joked, hoping to hear her laugh and he did. 

"How did you know?" She asked curiously.

"A little chatty bird called Ewan maybe, possibly, most certainly, slipped that your birthday was coming up while we talked a few weeks ago.” Hayden knew that wasn't the entire truth, not even close, but just this time he was going to throw his friend under the bus for sure.

She laughed, and possibly she was shaking her head. "Who else if not him?" He laughed too and the background noise became louder. "I'm sorry to cut this short, Hayden, but I got to go." Her kind tone reached his ears.

"No no, please. Duty calls." He thought that she would send him a quick message so hearing her voice was a surprise, although it was for a couple of minutes.

"Bye, I hope your lunch is good. See you later, Starboy." And before he could answer, she hung up.

As if his life was taken from a cheesy rom-com, like the ones he acted in, Hayden stood in the middle of his kitchen looking at his phone as her name disappeared from the screen, but not the feelings from the centre of his chest.

April 2020, Unexpected delight.

His birthday was a special day for him, surrounded by the ones he loved the most. Spending the whole day with his daughter, eating with his family and having a fun time with a few friends. As the private person he was, he couldn't ask for more.

Soon he would have to start training for Anakin's role, so he was enjoying the time off. Briar Rose surprised him with breakfast in bed, helped by his mother, who came around to greet him and helped her beloved granddaughter. 

They were seated in the living room talking about small things and his plans for the day when the doorbell of his front gate rang. “Did you invite someone?” He asked his mother while walking towards the phone he had by the door, but she shook her head. “Yes?”

“Is Mr. Christensen at home?” A male voice said.

He looked at the little screen there and it was a grown man dressed in a FedEx uniform. “Yes, he is.”

“We have a package for him, we need his signature to confirm that he received it.” The man showed the papers in hand and at the box below his arm.

“Okay, I’m coming.” Grabbing his jacket and keys, “It’s a package, I’ll be right back.” he said over his shoulder.

The walk towards the front gate was chilly, he had his hands in his pockets and nose buried in the neck of his jacked. When he saw the guy at the door, the package he had in his arms was a normal size. “Hello.”

“Hello.” They nodded at each other. “You know what it is?” The brunette asked.

The guy shrugged. “No idea, man. It just says fragile and it’s from the US.” Hayden opened the gate and the guy passed him the pen and paper for him to sign. 

He did it, but frowning. It couldn’t be the script, because she would have told him, or Ewan. His friends would have told him if they would be sending him a present, so that wasn’t an option. He tried to think what could possibly be but nothing came to mind. He handed the pen and paper back and the guy gave him the box. “There you go, have a nice day.”

His blue eyes were fixed on the box. “Yeah you too, man.” As quickly as he could he made his way back to the house.

Shaking the box to see what was inside wasn’t an option because it said fragile and whatever it was it could break. His curiosity was getting the best of him when he entered his house. Briar and his mom were still seated on the couch talking but raised their heads to look at him. “What is it, dear?” His mom asked but he shrugged. “From who is it?” He shrugged again. “You know something?” She asked, teasing.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s from the US and it’s fragile.” Her mom frowned. But he walked towards the kitchen and put the box on the counter while he looked for scissors. 

“Can I see it, daddy?” Briar Rose asked from the couch. 

He opened the top drawer. “As soon as I open it, I’m going to show it to you, sweetie.” His voice raised for her to hear him.

The box had a simple black box inside and nothing on it, he frowned again but kept opening it. When he lifted the lid the inside was colourful and smelled amazing. It smelled like jasmine and he smiled. Large pieces of paper, of all colours, surrounded a black cup and a couple of tea bags next to it. He picked up the box and walked towards the living room. “Look, sweetie.”

The little girl opened her eyes big and made space, even though there was plenty, next to her for him to sit. “What is it?”

“A gift.” He said putting the box on the mini table there. The little girl picked up a few of the papers there and started playing with them.

His mother looked at it and smiled. “It’s nice. Who sent it?”

Hayden knew who sent it by the mere smell that came from it, the tea was another clue for all the times they had breakfast together. “A friend.” Two simple words that had nothing simple, describe nothing simple and meant nothing simple to his feelings. His big hand engulfed the cup and lifted it, a laugh came out of him when he saw what was engraved on the side.

Briar Rose and his mom looked at it and the little girl found it hilarious, even though she didn’t quite understand the reference, while her mom laughed a little too. “Storm Pooper.” The girl said between giggles and Hayden laughed at hearing her giggling. 

His mother passed him a white paper folded in half, “there’s a note.” 

Quickly he exchanged the cup for the paper with her and stood up. His name was written in clean neat handwriting and inside were a few simple words. 

Happy Birthday, Starboy, enjoy your day surrounded by the people who are glad and cherish your presence in this world.

 Love, Little Miss Director.

“Someone special?” His mom’s voice brought him back to the real world. He looked at her frowning for a couple of seconds before his eyes fell back to her words. “You are smiling quite big right now.”

Why deny the obvious? “I have to make a phone call, can you keep an eye on Bri?” But he didn’t wait for an answer and walked to the kitchen with his phone.

The last time they talked on the phone was in March for something related to the script, a few questions she had about when he filmed the movies and Ewan was also on the call because the question was directed at him too, so it wasn’t like they talked to each other and it was completely professional. First ring. Keep it simple. Second tone. Casual, relax. Third ring. You are just colleagues, nothing more. Fourth ring. Nothing more because she’s 11 years younger than me. Fifth t- “Hi.” Her sweet voice reached him, a little out of breath as if she was running.

“Hello.” And again, for some reason, his voice went deeper. More than what already was.

Music could be heard in the background. “Did you receive it?” She sounded excited. “Please tell me it arrived whole, please.”

He laughed. “Yes, it did.” She exhaled. “Thank you very much.” He smiled and hoped that she was smiling too. “You didn’t have too.”

“Nonsense.” He could imagine her shaking her head. “Did you like it?” She sounded unsure and he tilted his head to the side. “Because if you don’t it’s okay.” She didn’t let him answer. “I have the sense of humour of a twelve-year-old and I will not apologise for it, but I will understand if you find it hideous.” She used, what he remembered was, her mocking tone and took him back to one of the times he was in her office and they were just chilling. 

“I love it.” He said truthfully and heard her make some victorious sound that made him laugh, which made her laugh. “Briar Rose found it hilarious too.” 

“She did?” She sounded excited again. “Oh, that’s amazing.” He nodded. “When we saw it, I thought that it was hilarious and had to buy it for your birthday.”

He was touched by the sentiment and the gesture. She saw something and thought about me. But the plural pronoun made him frown, it didn’t sit right with him. “We?”

“Yeah, my niece, nephew and me.” She was sharing something private about her. She trusts me. “They are a little older than Briar Rose.”

“Oh.” So the drawings must be from them. But was she married? “Well, you have great taste and as soon as I use it, I will let you know.”

She laughed. “Thank you and I hope you like the tea too.”

“So, what’s up with the nickname?” Since she started calling him like that after her birthday the question has been on his mind.

She laughed. “It seems only fair since I’m Little Miss Director that you are Starboy.” and said in an obvious tone. “Does it bother you? Cause if it does I will stop calling you that.” She was quick to say.

But he shook his head. “Not at all, I’m okay with it.” He heard her hum and, a little afraid, of the conversation finishing there he scratched the back of his head thinking about what he could say to keep her on the phone. “I called in at a bad time?” Hayden wanted to keep talking to her, keep hearing her voice.

“No no, I was cleaning my house, that’s why I was late to answer.” He nodded even though she couldn't see him. 

“On Sunday?” She would notice that you don’t want to hang up, Hayden.

“It’s my only free day.” She laughed. “What about you? Big plans for today?”

They talked for a little while longer, about noncenses, but Briar started calling for him and he didn’t want to take too much of her time, bullshit, so the call was cut short. But the smile he carried for the day was notorious to his mum, to his daughter, to his friends, to everyone who saw him that day, and all because of a phone call with his director.

Next Part →

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (22)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: M'Baku, Brock Rumlow

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, polyamory, fluff, angst, implied character's death, mentions of suicide (no description)

Indecent Proposal (21)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Your heart hammers in your chest. Your husbands want to leave the safety of the mansion to go after Rumlow.

“Bucky,“ you cling to him, desperate to stop him from leaving. “I don’t want you to do this. Please stay. I don’t care if he scared me. I’ll just stay inside the house for the rest of my life.”

“Doll,” Steve places his hand on your shoulder. “Rumlow will never stop. He wants revenge and will use you and our babies against us. We won’t let him hurt you.”

You paw at Bucky’s arms, refusing to let him go. He’s already in a tactical suit, and a bulletproof vest, telling you he expects getting shot.

“But…” You cry even harder. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Who’ll dick me down so good if you die?”

“Aw, I’ll always dick you down good,” Bucky coos you. He pecks your hair and whispers filthy words in your ear. “Half-dead or not, a bullet in my ass, I’ll dick you down. That’s a promise.”

You choke out a laugh. “You promise?”

“I promise, baby doll. Stevie and I will come back to give you dick for the rest of your life. You’ll never be empty.”

“You’re a filthy animal, Mr. Barnes,” you purr his name. Slowly you let go of Bucky to cup his face. “You better come back in one piece.” You kiss him softly. “Our babies need you.”

Bucky nods and swallows thickly. He clears his throat when you turn your attention toward Steve.

“—and you, Mr. Rogers,” you grab Steve’s face to kiss him too. “You’ll make sure he doesn’t risk too much. Please come back in one piece. I would miss your dick so much.”

“Doll,” Steve kisses your temple. “We will come back with Rumlow’s head on a silver plate. He’ll regret ever putting his hands on you.”

“STEVE!” Bucky grunts. “You can’t tell her something like that!”

“He wasn’t joking?” you look at Steve, mouth falling open at his serious expression. “I don’t want his head.”

“It’s hunting season and Rumlow’s head will be my trophy.”

A cold shudder runs down your spine at Steve’s words. For the first time, you see the dangerous and deadly man he truly is. He’s dead serious about turning Rumlow’s head into a trophy.

“We won’t put it on a wall,” you scrunch up your nose. “I hate hunting trophies, Steve. I don’t want this kind of thing at my home.”

“We promise to be back in the blink of an eye. You’re safe here, doll. Jake will stay here and check on the cameras. We increased safety once again. Food and everything else you’ll need will get delivered by trusted people. No one we do not know is allowed to enter the mansion.”

Steve tries to calm you by telling you all the preparations, but he scares you even more. What will happen to you and the babies if they do not make it back? Will their enemies take the chance to kill the next generation too?

“Nothing will happen to you and the babies,” Bucky softly speaks to you. He saw the fear in your eyes and tried to calm you. “We have a plan for the worst-case scenario too, Y/N. Do not worry too much. Steve and I intend on coming back to you.”

Steve, Bucky, and you said your goodbyes before they headed out to hunt Rumlow down. You’re still shaking and can’t calm down.

Jake tried to calm you by showing you the cameras and explaining the security system to you. He meant well, but it didn’t help at all.

All you can think of is that your men are out there, following a man who tried to kill you and your unborn children out of spite.

You can only hope and pray that Steve and Bucky keep their promise and come back to you.

“I’ll take the back with Steve, Clint, and Sam,” Steve explains the plan once again. “M’Baku, I want you to take the lead. Storm the front entrance with your team. Make some noise, distract him long enough for us to sneak. I want that bastard alive.”

“Got it,” M’Baku nods and gestures to his team to sneak toward the front entrance. He’s well-trained and knows how to take an enemy down without getting one of his teammates killed.

“My knives are waiting for that bastard,” Bucky clenches and unclenches his fists. “Steve, remember our promise to Y/N. Do not get too reckless in there.”

Steve huffs. “I must watch your back. I cannot get reckless. Do you think he has backup?” He follows Bucky and his team toward the back of the abandoned house, taking a deep breath. “Ready…”

“Ready…” Bucky picks the lock. He grips the door handle and listens closely, waiting to open the door until M’Baku crashes through the front door like the giant he is.

“What the fuck!” Brock aimlessly fires at M’Baku and his team, only hitting their bulletproof vests. He wasn’t prepared for a battle with a whole team. Rumlow prefers complicated plans and attacking people out of nowhere.

“You fucked with the wrong people,” M’Baku aims his shotgun at Rumlow. “You better drop that pitiful gun before I rip your head off with my hands. He bares his teeth and chuckles darkly when Bucky and the others step inside the room. “Did you finally join us, Barnes?”

Rumlow drops his gun. His fight and life are over, and he knows it.

“I didn’t want to steal the show from you,” Bucky shrugs. He puts his gun away, huffing as this was easier than he thought. “No friends to help you, Rumlow?”

“She ratted me out, didn’t she?” Rumlow laughs manically. “I knew that red-haired bitch is not to be trusted. She always tried to stop me from looking into your case.” He dips his head to watch Bucky get a knife out. “I should’ve killed her first.”

“Natasha knows where her loyalty lies,” Bucky shrugs. “We pay her well and protect her. No one touches our allies.”

“Did you fuck her too?” Rumlow spats. He wants to take a step toward Bucky but M’Baku blocks his path. “Get out of my way, bastard. I’ll tear you down.”

“You can try to get past me, buddy,” M’Baku chuckles loudly. No man ever got past him. Rumlow won’t be the only exception. “You’re lucky the bosses want you alive or you’d lie on the ground with a broken neck.”

“So…you came here to kill me. I knew you’d try to silence me to get away with murdering my girl.”

“We didn’t murder your girl,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “We had fun for a while. It’s not our fault she was crazier than a skunk on dope. She tried to kill my husband. Anyone else would’ve ended up dead. I let her live and told her to leave town and go back where she belongs.”

“She decided to kill herself because she didn’t get my husband,” Steve circles Rumlow, smirking as M’Baku puts his hand on Rumlow’s chest to stop him from getting away. “I’m sorry she did this, but we had nothing to do with her death. It was her choice.”

“I offered her a second chance,” Bucky points a knife at Rumlow. “I don’t easily grant people a second chance. She wasted it.” He dips his head to look at the man threatening your life more than once up and down. “Sorry to tell you, but you won’t get a second chance…”

Part 23

Tags in reblog.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you write something with caddie reader and Rafe going to the country club and booking her as caddie? thankss

Pardon my terrible golf knowledge...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The written duty of a caddie-girl is to carry the golf bag for the golfer. Although it sounds like an easy job, you are required to have a little golf knowledge…and let your mini skirt do the rest as people who golf at the country club are mostly men.

They won’t mind if you give them the wrong club as long as you giggle when you make a mistake or wear a short enough skirt. It’s pretty degrading and objectifying for women, but rich men give nice tips.

‘’I’m so sorry, Jeff. My alarm didn’t go off and my car wouldn’t start,’’ you explained in a rush to your boss, out of breath from running to the country club. ‘’It won’t happen again, I promise.’’

‘’You’re an hour late, Miss. Y/L/N. Your 9am client is waiting.’’ Jeff raised his eyes from his computer screen, looking at you with disappointment.

Shit. You didn’t think you would have a client so early in the morning.

‘’He specifically requested you for caddie, so save your apologies and excuses for him.’’

It must be Mr. Barclay. You’ve seen him sitting at the country club’s bar two days ago, drinking an old fashioned with a fellow club member. He always requested you as caddie. He said you reminded him of his granddaughter. You didn’t know if you should be flattered or disgusted.

You quickly dropped your personal stuff in your locker and headed to the golf course while rehearsing your apology monologue. It wasn’t in your habits to be late. Hopefully Mr. Barclay will be understanding.

When you got to the course, you searched for a silver fox, but instead you found a tall young man with a snapback and white glove in his right hand.

‘’There you are!’’ he said in exasperation, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and walking to you.

‘’Rafe?’’

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘’It’s Mr. Cameron for you,’’ he corrected with a shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face.

‘’You’re my 9am client?’’

Rafe hummed, his eyes scanning your body and smiling smugly when he saw your small skirt and tight polo. It hugged your curves in all the right places. ‘’Bet you were expecting some rich daddy, uh? I’m sorry to disappoint you.’’ He leaned closer, speaking the next words low enough so only you would hear them. ‘’If you want, you can call me Daddy Rafe.’’

You choked on air. Today was going to be a long day.

‘’Driver, please?’’ Rafe requested, when you arrived at the teeing ground.

You fished the right club from the bag and handed it to Rafe. ‘’Here.’’

‘’Thanks, babydoll.’’ He took the club and moved up to line it with the ball, and swung, his muscles flexing.

You both watched as it flew over a hundred yards in the air. Not bad.

‘’Where’s Topper?’’ you asked. ‘’You usually play with him.’’

‘’Not today. I had other plans.’’ Rafe gave you the club back. ‘’Shall we go find the ball?’’

You spent the next two hours walking along the steep cliffs and hills of the country club's golf course, watching Rafe swinging golf balls and showing off. Unfortunately, you didn’t care much for the sport. You were more interested in staring at Rafe’s muscles flexing and admiring how great his ass looked in those dress shorts.

‘’Want to have a try?’’

‘’Are you sure? I’ve never played golf before.’’

‘’You can do the next tee. I’ll show you how.’’

‘’Golf is more technical than it looks. You don't just swing the ball and hope for the best. There's a lot of factors to think about — the stance, posture, ball placement, and rotation all have to be considered for the perfect swing.’’

‘’First, the grip. Put your left hand at the top of the club and your right hand below the left,’’ Rafe instructed.’’

‘’Good. Now, the position.’’ He situated himself behind you and you tried not to shiver as his hands slowly traveled down your arms until they positioned themselves to cover your own, grasping gently. You could feel goosebumps rise all over your body as you felt his steady breathing on your neck, looking over your shoulder with ease. ‘’Place your feet shoulder width apart and the ball should be inside the line of the big toe of your front foot.’’ He pushed your right heel out with his own foot. ‘’And you gotta bend your upper body from the knees and the knees slightly.’’

So many instructions.

You leaned forward a little while keeping your feet in the right place. ‘’Like that?’’ you asked, not sure if you were positioned correctly.

‘’Bend a bit more.’’ Rafe stepped back with a mischievous smirk, his warmth leaving your back. ‘’More. More.’’ You had a feeling that the position was wrong, but did as told. ‘’Perfect.’’ He swiped his tongue over his lips and hummed, admiring the perfect view of your ass.

‘’And now I swing?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ he said. ‘’I’m enjoying the view.’’

You straightened up immediately, catching what he was doing. ‘’Rafe!’’ you hissed with a glare over your shoulder.

He was laughing smugly. ‘’Can you blame me?’’

‘’Can you guide me again? I lost the position because of you.’’

This time, Rafe won’t make a fool of you. This time, he’ll be the one who gets played.

You took a deep breath as he moved to stand right behind you and resumed the same position he had you in previously. A soft breeze blew and you got a whiff of his expensive cologne. It reminded you of those mornings you had woken up in his bed at Tannyhill, wrapped in his sheets and covered in his scent.

Shaking that thought from your head. Focus.

‘’You’re picking up fast,’’ Rafe encouraged behind you.

‘’Do I?’’ you asked, purposely wiggling your hips against his pelvis.

You heard Rafe inhale sharply in response, his grip on your hands tightening. ‘’If you kept doing stuff like that, I might just have to take you right on the golf field.’’

Please do, you almost let slip.

At the next tee, you ran into Mr. Barclay and one of your co-worker. He was one of the newbies and seemed to be struggling with the golf bag.

‘’Mr. Barclay, hi,’’ you greeted politely. ‘’How’s the course today? We’ve made new additions this year.’’

The older man greeted you back with a smile, then began ranting about how his caddie wasn’t as good as you at the job. ‘’I asked for you at the caddie shack, but I was informed my favorite caddie-girl was already booked.’’

Rafe stepped in, faking an apologetic smile. ‘’That would be because of me. My apology.’’

Mr. Barclay stared you down like you were a piece of meat and then shifted his eyes to Rafe, giving him a ‘lucky you’ kind of look before leaving with his caddie.

‘’Are your other clients all old perverts like him?’’

Most. ‘’He gives me good tips,’’ you said in defense.

Rafe pulled out his wallet, then stared you right in the eyes as he stuffed a crumpled hundred dollar bill inside your bra. ‘’I do too.’’ 

—

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[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Mile High Club

A/n: Was reading Steven Adler's book and couldn't get this idea out of my head, don't ask where the connection was I couldn't tell you, but have this anyway :3 Also! If you enjoy reading what I post and want to request something please feel free to!

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, oral sex(f!reader receiving), daddy!kink, let me know if I missed anything :3

Being a flight attendant you were used to going on flights of all kinds, obviously, it was your job. Recently you were told that you’d be on a private flight with a big metal band, though you were never told which band, honestly you didn’t care all too much either. You were going to Sydney, Australia and getting paid to do so.

The day of the flight came and you couldn’t be happier, not because you were meeting some big band but because you’d always wanted to go to Sydney, and now you finally were. You got boarded with the rest of the crew though you still hadn’t met the band yet. Your coworkers were talking about them non-stop and it was starting to itch at you. You didn’t want to care who you were with, but you couldn’t help it at this point.

You were walking through the plane when a man with silver hair and sleeve tattoos called out to you. “Excuse me, sorry, can I get something to drink?” He asked in a polite tone. You stopped and stared at him for a second, thinking that this must be one of the members of the band.

“Uh, yeah, there’s a bar right over there.” You told him, gesturing to the bar just down the aisle. He nodded and looked back at you.

“Do they serve non-alcoholic beverages?” He asked with a slightly worried look.

“Um, I’m not sure.” Chewing your cheek, you continued. “I’ll go ask and try to find you something to drink, sir.”

“James.” He introduced, holding a hand out to shake yours. You hesitated before accepting the friendly gesture. “We’re gonna be on the flight for a while, might as well get to know each other, right?”

“Right.” You said with a nervous smile and walked away. He never called you back to ask for your name and you were too scared to go back until you got the drink.

After looking around for a bit you managed to come up with some fruity drink that had no alcohol in it. You were bringing it back to where you had seen James but he was gone, nowhere to be found. You went to a nearby attendant and asked if they knew his whereabouts. “Oh, he said he was going to his room.” They explained. You took a step towards the band's rooms in the back but they stopped you for a second. “Everyone’s talking about the two of you, you know.”

You were confused. “What do you mean? What’s there to talk about?”

“Well,” they started, “the band hand picks out each crew member they want, we were told that Mr. Hetfield chose you specifically.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, you had no idea why he would or what everyone was really  talking about, but now you at least had a clue.

You nodded and went on your way to the back of the plane where the band’s rooms were and found the door that had a paper taped to it with ‘James’ printed in big, bold letters. You knocked but there was no answer. “Mr. Het- er, James?” You heard strange sounds coming from the other side of the door but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “James, I have your drink.” You called, knocking again.

“Fuck- just come in, sweetheart.” You couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the name. You kept your head down as you opened the door, quickly closing it behind you.

“I have a fruity drink, it has strawberry, banana, um...” You trailed off, trying to think of what else you saw on the juice carton. You turned around and froze at the sight. James leaning back on the bed, cock out in his hand. His head tilted back with his mouth opened in a soft ‘oh’. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything and just stood there, paralyzed.

James chuckled at you and patted the space next to him on the bed. “C’mere, I’ve been waiting for you.” Hesitantly, you made your way over to him, setting the drink on the bedside table and sitting on the edge of the bed. Your gaze glued to his hard member. James' free hand went to your face, stroking your cheek. “I thought you were just the cutest thing when we were picking out our crew, you know.” He said, voice soft and airy. You swallowed, still staring. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

You took a deep breath before responding, finally tearing your eyes away and looking in his eyes. For a brief moment. Your eyes quickly flickered to his lips. “Um, Y/n, sir.” James let out a soft groan when you called him sir.

“Thought I told you you could call me James.” You didn’t say anything, biting your lip nervously. He leaned closer to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Maybe I’ll just have to fuck that into you.” He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You sucked in a breath, cheeks going bright red. “Go lock the door, sweetheart.” You nodded as you stood and went over to the door, quickly locking it and turning around only to be met with James right in front of you. His cock was still out, it was bright red and pushing up against you as he smashed his lips against yours.

He backed you against the door, his kisses trailed up your jaw and down your neck while his hand explored your body. He tugged at your uniform, unzipping the pencil skirt and dropping it to your ankles. He didn’t even bother with your button-up, he ripped it open, sending buttons flying every which way. “Fuck, I-I don’t have any other shirts.” You said with a pout, looking down at your now exposed chest. James’ big hands went to cup your chest, admiring you.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart, just be here with me.” He pecked your lips again before dropping to his knees. He placed a few kisses over your thighs as he helped you out of your shoes, paying special attention to your inner thighs. He could see how wet you were getting through your panties and brought his right hand up, caressing your thigh for a moment and dipping into your lace underwear. “So pretty, so needy, just for me, right?” He asked, looking right up at him. You bit your lip and nodded. James gave a displeased hum and shook his head. “Now that didn’t sound genuine.” He kissed you over the lace. “Guess I’ll just have to show you, no one will make you feel as good as I can.” Without warning he ripped your panties off, that plus the cool air hitting you making you yelp.

James placed his hands on either of your thighs, spreading your legs for him and pulling your folds apart. “What a pretty girl.” He mused, licking a strip over your slick, tongue dipping into your hole. You tried to hold back your noises as he ate you out, licking, slurping and sucking like his life depended on it. His tongue went as deep as it could in you and his nose kept bumping against your clit, adding extra stimulation. James began sucking on your clit as he pushed a finger into you, starting off with deep, slow thrusts to get you even wetter before adding another finger. “You’re so tight, gotta stretch you out a bit so you can take me, sweetheart.” You whined and nodded.

James curled his fingers in you, finding your sweet spot and making sure to hit it repeatedly. He continued swirling his tongue around your clit. By the way your whines were getting higher he could tell you were getting close. “That’s it, that’s a good girl, come on my fingers.” Your hands went to his head, holding it in place while you rode his face and fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~! Gonna- ngh! Gonna-gonna cum, gonna cum!” You cried, thighs trembling around james’ head. “Fu-ck, cumming, cumming, fuck, daddy!” You cried as you came all over him, hips bucking against his face. James waited a moment for you to come down from your high before he pulled away and stood up, wrapping his arms around you.

“What was that you called me?” He asked, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Did you just call me daddy, sweetheart?” You tried to apologise or deny it, nothing but sputters came out of you. James laughed at you and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good it’s the only thing you’ll be thinking about, alright?” He picked you up, you wrapped your legs around him, grinding against his throbbing member. “Fuck, if you keep doing that-” He cuts himself off with a deep groan. “Fuck it.” He muttered, taking his dick in his hand and lining it up with your entrance before shoving it in. Your head fell back as you moaned, the stretch a bit much but nothing unpleasant.

James waited a moment for you to get comfortable before he started moving. He thrust into you nice and slow, soon picking up pace and slamming his hips against your, fucking you against the door. You couldn’t contain your moans, crying out for him. “Fuck, daddy, feels so good.” You’d whine. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your face was hiding in the crook of his neck, occasionally falling back when he hit a particularly good spot on your gummy walls. The silver headed man hooked his arms under your legs, pushing your knees to your chest so he could go deeper. “Fuck- fuck, daddy, ‘m close, please.” You whined.

“Please, what? C’mon, use your words for daddy.” James teased, grinding into you in a way that had his pelvis rubbing your clit.

“Please-please, can I cum? Please, let cum, daddy, feels so good, please.” You begged, planting soft kisses to his neck. James chuckled at your pleads.

“Go on then, cum for daddy, cum on daddy’s dick.” Just like that, you came on him, your juices dripping down your ass. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing him just right. “Fuck, so good for me, sweetheart.” His thrusts were getting sloppy and you knew he was getting close to his own high. You started bouncing on him as best you could, it wasn’t much but it was enough for him. “Holy fuck, sweetheart, gonna cum in you, alright? Gonna fill you up real nice.” A few more thrusts and you could feel his seed spurting into you, hitting your warm walls. He kept bucking his hips into you as he groaned, holding you close.

James carried you over to his bed, laying down next to you and pulling you close as he got the both of you under the blankets. “Was that good?” He asked, kissing your forehead sweetly. You nodded and nuzzled against him. James pulled you right up against him, letting you rest your head on his chest. “Good, good, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, pretty girl.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 11

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

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

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

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

You watch through the window, frosted at the corners like a Hallmark Christmas card. You can’t deny that the snow is beautiful as it gleams beneath the streetlights but can it slow down? You feel yourself buried deeper with each spiraling flake.

It’s almost eight and there’s no sign of a stop coming. The plows passed an hour ago but barely made a dent in the thick blankets. You check your app, the buses are all delayed, some routes are even out of service.

“I got snow tires but not sure they can handle this,” Bucky comes up beside you, “car’s not heavy enough. Best case scenario, we get stuck not far from here. Worst…”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry? I didn’t know you controlled the weather,” he scoffs.

“N-no, but I-I’m stuck here,” you blow out a long breath, “sorry to s-spoil your night.”

“Stuck?” He clucks, “never said that. It’s fine. Shit happens. You get to my age and it hardly even bothers you.”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“You calmed down,” he puts his hand on the window frame as he glances over at you.

You push your shoulders even higher. He’s not wrong. Your adrenaline fizzled out and now you’re just exhausted. Still, you can’t say you’re okay. Every shadow startles you as Mr. Rogers’ voice tickles the back of your mind. You’re back to watching over your shoulder.

“You’re not stuttering as bad,” he sniffs, “that’s all…”

“Sometimes it’s n-not as bad,” you agree, “s-still there though.”

“Getting cold in here,” he pulls his grip from the window frame and hugs himself, “how’re you doing? I got some extra slippers. A sweater?”

“Good,” you wave him off, “n-not that bad.”

He doesn’t say anything. You feel him watching you. He exhales through his nostrils and steps back on his heel.

“You’re damn stubborn,” he mutters.

“I–” you stop yourself. Arguing would just prove his point. And you are stubborn.

If only he knew how long you’ve stayed in a bad situation, thinking you could outpace it, that you could overcome it. Again and again. You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.

“So are y-you,” you say.

His response is unexpected. He laughs. He backs up, leaving you to watch the incessant snowfall.

“Yeah, I am,” he confesses.

You don’t answer. No comment is better than any that pops into your head. You continue to stare out hopelessly.

“You should let your parents know you won’t be home,” he suggests as pages flutter.

“I’m an a-adult,” you spin and lean on the window ledge, “they…”

…won’t care. You don’t say that out loud either.

“Never said you weren’t. Only figured,” he clicks on the tiny book light again.

“Uh, th-thanks,” you shuffle to the couch, well away from him and sit. You pull your phone, ignoring how the temperature nips at your fingers. You texted your mom an hour ago. She left you on read. Not even a thumbs up. “This should c-clear up s-soon.”

He snorts and looks over his book, “you really believe that?”

You meet his gaze and shake your head. He smirks and closes his book. He puts it on the armrest and stands.

“Come on, let me get you settled in,” he turns his palms out.

“Wh-what?”

“Sure, got a guest room upstairs. No point in you taking the couch. It’s stiff,” he explains, “I should have enough wood in the garage to get the fireplace going. Never really bother with it, too much work.”

“Uh, oh, o-okay,” you stand, “th-thanks.”

“You know, I am a nice guy. Or can be,” he leads you through the doorway. “If you’d just moved over a tiny bit–”

“W-what? I… the b-bookstore? You c-could’ve asked. You d-didn’t say e-excuse me,” you counter.

He grips the railing as he starts up the staircase ahead of you. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. I forgot my manners. Thank you, Miss Etiquette.”

“N-no, th-thank you,” you return tritely, “finally, y-you apologised.”

“Me?” He exclaims as he climbs, peeking over his shoulder, “you called me an old man.”

“I d-did.”

He’s quiet as he continues to the top. He stops on the landing and turns back to you. You step up level to him, well, not quite.

“Hm,” his lips thin, “I guess you weren’t wrong.”

“I w-wasn’t,” you proclaim proudly.

“Watch yourself,” he warns with a wag of his finger.

“S-sorry, I wouldn’t w-want to raise y-your b-blood pressure,” you tease.

He hesitates, almost flinching.

“Are you calling me old again?” He tilts his head.

You smile and shrug. His eyes narrow and his brow drops. He waves you off and turns on his heel.

“Right, your room is this way.” He directs you down the short hallway and taps a closed door, “I’ll grab you an extra blanket and something to sleep in.”

“You g-go to bed th-this early?”

He glowers as he faces you again, “no.”

“S-sorry, I-I’ll stop,” you put your hands up, “I ap-ap-appreciate it.”

“So,” he turns the knob without look and nudges the door open, “I’ll just go get that fire goaded and then we can figure out dinner. You hungry? I’m starving.”

“Er, yeah,” you say sheepishly, “but I… you d-don't need t-to.”

“Come on, don't,” he dismisses your protest, “you can pay me back.”

“Ah, I g-guess.”

“Stay for the recording,” he insists, “please. Let's get through episode one before you tuck tail.”

“T-tuck tail?” You blink.

“Not to say… I only,” he stops himself, “I'm asking nicely. I'm not used to begging, you know?”

You press your lips tight and look away, “I'll th-think about it.”

“Right, well you got a whole night to think,” he says, “so, uh, yeah, the fire.”

He spins and before you can react, he's halfway to the stairs. You watch him go as you blindly reach for the door, letting your hand rest on the wood lightly as he disappears below.

Mercurial, that's the word for it. You always wanted to fit that in somewhere. It's almost poetic but in the flesh, it's entirely confounding.

[songfell-ut]

The High Priest

So you know how @iamjoekurose asked me about if Frisk met an opposite-gender version of herself? The idea high-key got its hooks in me and I procured a little something from the sublime @skyworkartzzz and this is male Frisk.

What's that, you say? Mr. Frisk isn't enough? Well too bad, I definitely didn't spend almost a week one-finger typing a la George RR Martin and this totally isn't a scene taking place the morning of All Souls Day in chapter 6. If it was, I'd clarify that this Frisk doesn't need help putting earrings on...it's a little more involved.

You also won't find a casual version of his outfit at the end of it beneath the cut. Nope nope.

Frisk half closed the bathroom door, eyes squeezed shut as he flicked on the witchlight. He slumped against the sink, groped around for the left handle, and ran the water at full blast, yawning mightily as the steam rose. First step, wet his face: grab a washcloth from the pile he knew was beside the tap, shake it out, and reach down to...jerk his hand back, his stupid brain catching up just in time to avoid being scalded. He forced his eyes open and adjusted the water temperature to a less damaging heat, muttering under his breath. He needed to hurry up and finish shaving, couldn't be late to tea with—

To his surprise, the door opened and Sans ducked inside, slumping onto the floor behind him. The skeleton gave him a little salute in the mirror and yawned wide enough to make Frisk wince a little. “Mornin', chief. Gettin’ dolled up already?”

Frisk didn’t dignify that with an answer—Sans had initially believed that “dolled up” applied to all humans dressing nicely, and when Frisk tried to explain that it mostly meant a woman putting on makeup, Sans insisted that all humans were the exact same, and Frisk was a human, and it was therefore a correct thing to say and he now said it almost every morning. Unfortunately, that happened to be how often he came in as Frisk was trying to shave, sitting far too close in the narrow space to pester him with smart remarks.

Well, Frisk had heard much, much worse, and on mornings when he wasn't tired and cranky, he generally didn't mind if Sans wanted to amuse himself observing human grooming rituals. At least he wasn't saying "Okay, I'll shave it for later" and making Frisk laugh too hard to get a blade near his face safely; he had had to order the giant skeleton out of the room and shut the door at least twice now.

Luckily, Sans remained silent as he watched this morning's routine unfold. Once Frisk had dunked the washcloth in the basin and scrubbed his face in a still-too-hot attempt to wake up, he tapped the vanity's middle drawer to remove the barrier. Therein lay a spotless straight razor, a large silver case of shaving soap, and an immaculate brush, kept locked up out of habit from the days at the monastery where everyone stole everyone else's bath items. The priest checked the soap and made a face at how thin it was getting, which amused Sans, judging by his smirk as their eyes met in the mirror; Frisk ignored him and wetted the brush down, swishing it across the soap till he worked up a good lather, and dabbed along the lines of his beard and mustache, tilting his head to slather it thickly beneath his jaw. Then he checked the mirror one more time to see if Sans thought that was funny, too - no, he just seemed mildly interested - and picked up the razor. It was time-consuming but not too difficult, just quick, careful movements to scrape the stuff off a few little strokes at a time—

Except Frisk was so tired and squinty that it wasn't long before he gave one little stroke too hard and flinched. “Dirt on a frigging—”

“Atta boy. Cuss away,” Sans said cheerfully, and gave another huge yawn, ignoring Frisk’s glare in the mirror. “Yer face is leakin’," he added. "Need some help?”

Frisk stared at the tiny trickle of blood that was indeed starting its way down his cheek, then sighed in defeat, wiping the blade on a hand towel. “If you could, please.” However smirky Sans was, there really was some benefit to having company with the power to heal stupid inju—

The razor was suddenly enveloped in red mist. "All righty, one sec." Frisk jumped as the blade tugged itself out of his grip and settled on the counter. “There we go. Now hol' still.” The priest watched Sans raise a bony finger and rest the very tip on Frisk's sleep-ruffled hair; a flick of green later, Frisk's cheek tingled as the cut vanished. "Done."

“Thank you,” Frisk said, scrubbing the blood away and steeling himself - ha, steel - to get back to work. Tired as he was, he couldn't walk out of here with only one side of his face done. But he’d probably be fine now that he was more awake, right? He wouldn’t be more nervous and likely to make another mistake in front of Sans, right? Ha ha, of course not. His hands weren't shaky at all from nerves or exhaustion...

Sans broke into his thoughts with a thoughtful sound. “Ya know what? Just lemme do it. Hold real still, okay?” He sat up, his finger curling very gently to rest over the crown of Frisk's head and keep him in place. “Seriously, don' even breathe wrong," he added, lifting the razor on another wisp of magic.

The human’s eyes widened, hands rising in protest as his brain caught up. "No, no, no thank you," he almost whispered, and cleared his throat, pulling enough of himself together to say louder, "Don't worry about that." He ducked out from beneath Sans' finger, smoothing his ruffled hair. "You're a bodyguard and a diplomat, not a valet."

"Dunno what that is. I'm guessin' somebody who shaves rich people?" Sans waggled the razor in midair. "Ya hired me to protect you from gettin' cut up, an' now you want me t'just sit here and watch ya play with sharp objects in your goddamn sleep? Dunno if I'm good enough ta heal you if ya take yer ear off."

That gave Frisk far too much pause before he could answer, "I'm not going to cut my ear off," with very patient dignity, trying to ignore a bit of lather dripping off his neck.

The boss monster snorted. Up came the shaving brush, but before Frisk could tell him to put it down or at least be careful with it, Sans' magic dipped it into the case almost daintily and worked up more soap. "Look, kiddo, lemme try it. If I fuck it up, I'll heal you an' I won't ever mention it again." The brush rose and drifted close enough to dab Frisk lightly on the neck, which tickled enough to make him crack a smile. "See?" Sans said gleefully. "We're good. Just hold still." And his forefinger settled again on the priest's rumpled head.

Frisk opened his mouth to order him out of the bathroom. But…after a long moment of panic warring with irritation and self-doubt, and hearty embarrassment...he swallowed, and, against his better judgment, said, “All right.” He allowed the razor to approach, and watched in the mirror as it drifted close enough for the lightest experimental scrp, scrp on his cheek. It paused, Sans meeting his eye for an inquiring stare; Frisk started to nod, and was stopped by a growl. He tried a smile instead, but that made his cheeks bunch up; he rolled his eyes instead, gesturing to keep going.

Sans chuckled. It seemed he had been watching the morning routine closer than Frisk thought, because there was no need to tell him to pull the skin taut for a closer shave: a speck of magic pressed just hard enough to help the blade pass over the stubble just so. A few swipes, a wipe on the towel, and Frisk let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I lied. You can breathe," Sans deadpanned, but when Frisk tried to smile, he got another reproving tap.

It was easier to mock-glare at Sans in the mirror than watch as the blade moved a little faster, with increasing surety, though the skeleton was intent on his work. Difficult as it was shaving oneself for the first time, never mind someone else, the razor made absolutely no nicks, no missed bits; Sans did pause frequently, forefinger tilting the priest’s head this way and that to check his work in the mirror— “Screw this,” the skeleton said presently. “Just turn around.”

With all the cool indifference of a boy letting his mother spit on her hand to fix his hair, Frisk shuffled around in a half circle and waited for more, only for Sans to chuckle again. “Don't give me that look, pal,” he said, sounding…exasperated, but something else, too.

That was it: the High Priest gave up any remaining dignity and sat down cross-legged on the bathroom floor. Sans shifted onto his side, jaw propped up on on hand, then took a sideways one-fingered hold on Frisk’s head and began scraping away again, much quicker and more confident than he ever was.

Well, dirt. The priest wanted desperately to say something, but his skin would be in peril if he moved his mouth; he opted to keep his eyes closed, allowing Sans to turn his head this way and that to get each side, gentle as always. He never touched him with any more force than necessary, Frisk thought, at least after that first encounter in his prison cell; even when the assassin was after him and Sans was physically maneuvering him to safety, he had been careful not to hurt him. Having much more direct proof of the monster's determination to protect him, trusting Sans with a literal blade at his neck? It was incredibly endearing.

Actually, given Frisk's thoughts of skeleton parts and pondering conjugal relations, it was better – worse? – than that. Definitely more confusing; all these years of struggling to muster interest in any of the women chasing him, of ignoring accusations of preferring men because if he did like them, he surely would have noticed it in all those years at the monastery—Frisk had started to think he was just...broken in that respect. Why in every circle of Hell was he feeling so strange about exposing his throat to a gigantic monster in total security that Sans wasn't going to hurt him? It wasn't fear that made his skin tingle like that, or at least not more than a tiny bit. It definitely felt nice, except that that wasn't the word for it.

When the process was finished, Sans gave a satisfied grunt. “Ha. See?” He nudged Frisk’s shoulder, and the High Priest shook himself, then obediently shuffled around in another half circle, then remembered to open his eyes and pull himself to his feet for an inspection in the mirror. “Beautiful,” the skeleton said triumphantly, setting the razor on the sink.

Wha— Frisk couldn’t help staring at him in the mirror, eyes wide, feeling and seeing his nicely shorn cheeks redden further. “Once again, you have the wrong word,” he said as coolly as possible, and tore his gaze away to busy himself rinsing and drying the brush and razor.

“Wha?” Sans blinked at him, sockets also going wide, and Frisk watched his cheekbones suddenly change color. “Not you, goddammit! Beautiful work,” snapped the boss monster. “As in, I told ya you needed help, an’ then I did it totally perfect. Not like I was gonna cut yer…” He gave a fake cough, evidently remembering that Frisk might not like to hear any hyperbole about having his throat cut.

“Yes, well done. Thank you,” Frisk said hastily, reaching for the towel and barely remembering to run cool water to splash his cheeks first. He needed something cool right now.

...

...

...

(His more everyday garb:)

[sleepyorchidmonster]

After Chapter 7, Malleus and by extension Briar Valley had to deal with plenty of backlash.

In an attempt to appease the public (and control Malleus), the Senate organized a press conference with world leaders and NRC parents (there's A LOT of overlap between those two groups).

The main idea was to show the Senate as capable advisors that would guide the young Draconia, cementing their status in Briar Valley while also "protecting" and isolating Malleus.

What really happened was that Mrs. Rosehearts yelled at them for ten hours straight.

You see, Riddle was worried about how his mother would react to the entire Chapter 7 situation, so he made sure to explain everything to her, casting Malleus and Lillia in a more favourable light.

And it acually worked! You see, despite all her failures as a parent, she is still a mother at the end of the day, and the idea that a son would go to such great lenghts, overblotting and almost dooming the entire world, just to keep his parental figure safe, was quite touching.

She also has a newfound respect for Lillia, how he spent all those years looking for ways to get Malleus to hatch, how he went above and beyond to care for the Prince, even while banished, how he adopted and raised Silver (who is the only student she actually respects). HOW HE LITERALLY SACRIFICED PART OF HIS LIFEFORCE FOR MALLEUS TO HATCH!

On the other hand, she HATES the Senate. Mostly because she put herself in Meleanor's shoes: imagine you're about to die and decide to entrust your unborn son to your friend, only for said friend to be unjustly banished, leaving your kid in the hands of a bunch of entitled senators that completely DISREGARDED YOUR LAST WISH (Mrs. Rosehearts hates it when people don't do what she says, so she feels personally offended by that last bit, the fact that Malleus almost died also doesn't help).

Anyway, she's angry and, since the Senate IS encouraging people to air their grievances with Briar Valley, might as well seize this opportunity!

Malleus, Silver, Sebek, Lillia, Baul and Maleficia feel vindicated. Since only the housewardens and Diasomnia were invited for the event, the group chat was crazy.

The housewardens were all sitting together near the back of the room, alongside Silver and Sebek (they DON'T want to draw attention to themselves, especially since most of them are overblot survivors), so they could easily chat or sleep. Meanwhile the students back on campus were watching everything at Ramshackle.

As a small bonus, a few ways to avoid panic attacks, by Riddle and Trey:

*Mrs. Rosehearts starts talking*

Trey: Hey Rook!

Rook: Oui?

Trey: What is the meaning of beauty?

Rook: :D

*Rook starts monologuing and nobody can hear the TV anymore*

Meanwhile Riddle:

*School chat*

Epel: So, how long until she stops yelling at people? It ain't funny anymore...

Riddle: Since she yelled at Trey's parents for five hours because they gave me a tart, maybe ten or fifteen hours?

Ruggie: Wtf

Deuce: Are you doing okay, dormhead?

Riddle: I have a fully charged phone with a crosswords app, headphones playing all the Queen's rules on loop, and an entire bottle filled with the strongest calming tea I could find.

Riddle: Moreover, I'm currently seated beside the sleepiest students in this school (Leona and Silver). Their calm disposition creates a peaceful environment.

Riddle: Therefore I shall be able to keep panic attacks AND overblots at bay!

Ace: Just say yes or no...

*15 minutes later*

Riddle: I beat the game, there are no more crosswords

Vil: Chess.com

Vil: NOW

Vil: Wake Leona up, we're having a TOURNAMENT!

Idia: Congrats, u just got a World Record

Idia: Also I'm sending you a list of games later...

They left a bit after the seventh hour mark.

[harunayuuka2060]

Lilia: Were you still not able to remove it?

Sebek: This thing has attached itself firmly on Silver!

Malleus: Would you explain what happened?

Silver: *nods* It happened in Professor Trein's class. We were having a normal lesson when the headmage came in and showed us this artifact.

Professor Trein: *looks worried* Headmage, is that what I think it is?

Crowley: We're still trying to confirm if it's the real thing.

Professor Trein: Well, it seems like any other replicas.

Crowley: Do you think so? Hmm...

Jamil: What is that, headmage?

Crowley: Oh, Mr. Viper. This artifact I have here could be one of the twins.

Silver: Twins?

Professor Trein: The twins who were known as Blessing and Curse. Their real name was unknown, however, they had received such title for some obvious reasons.

Crowley: Yes. It was assumed that the twins had decided to create an artifact that would contain their magic. However, a tragedy had occurred. One of the twins became envious of the other and murdered their twin, Blessing, in order to claim their power.

Crowley: Curse was executed after their family found out. And this artifact right here, Blessing, could be the twin, as the angel is cuddling the sun.

Jamil: So the Curse is an angel holding the moon?

Crowley: Yes. But it was long destroyed.

Silver: *looks at the artifact*

*noticed that the angel doesn't seem to "cuddle the sun"*

*it seems to be mourning*

Professor Trein: Even so, I do believe that it hasn't confirmed yet if the Cursed artifact was destroyed and if the Blessing remained.

Crowley: Oh don't be a killjoy, Professor Trein. That's why I'm here to ask you.

Silver: Headmage, can I take a closer look of the artifact?

Crowley: Of course. But not too close.

Silver: *approaches the artifact*

Silver: ...

"Birds with the same feather..."

*the angel moves and attaches itself on Silver*

Silver: !!!

Crowley: Oh no! What happened?!

Professor Trein: That artifact is the real one!

Silver: And that's what happened?

Malleus: Hm... Then it's a living artifact.

Lilia: Birds with the same feather... The twins : Blessing and Curse... *eyes widened*

Lilia: It might be-!

"Yes. It's me... The one who you called the Curse."

Malleus, Lilia, and Sebek: !!!

Sebek: We need to remove that thing!

Malleus: Silver, I will destroy it.

Silver: Wait. They haven't done anything to me.

Lilia: Then why are you attaching yourself on Silver?

"He's kind... like my twin."

"I miss her..."

Sebek: What a funny thing to say when you were the one who killed her!

"Were you there?"

Sebek: ...

Malleus: If you're not planning to curse Silver, you need to let go of him.

"I will." *the angel letting go of Silver and dropping itself to the ground*

Silver: *goes to pick it up*

Sebek: Silver! Why you—

Silver: I don't think they have any ill intent towards me.

Silver: Malleus, may I ask to keep this artifact?

Malleus: ...

Malleus: No. I would've let you if it was the Blessing. *getting the artifact from him*

*a slight crack forms on the angel's face*

Silver: *grabbing it from him* No. I promise to be careful and... I think they're being hurt by your words.

Lilia, Sebek, and Malleus: ...

Lilia: It's up to you, Silver.

Silver: *places them on his nightstand table*

Silver: I want to apologize about earlier.

Silver: ...

Silver: Curse...?

*light chuckles*

Silver: Right. That wasn't your name. Would you tell me what it is?

"I have forgotten. Why don't you give me a name?"

Silver: ...

Silver: MC.

"MC it is."

[mosneakers]

◇

Seymour: [Croaky voice] My sisters love me now, but oh, Persy sure wasn't too thrilled to have me as her baby brother back in those days! [Soft chuckle] She wanted me dead.

Tycho: No, I'm sure she was just adjusting.

Coraleye: Yeah! I bet it all changed for her when she saw your handsome little face.

Seymour: It took her some time to warm up to me. Even then the little shit preferred her animals and imaginary friends.

Coraleye: [Smiles] Uncle Bo...

Kirsten: And she wasn't even the one they considered "troubled." Gwendolyn, now that's the one they had to watch out for...

Gwendolyn Darling

Mr. and Mrs. Darling often wondered what kind of personality —if any— Gwendolyn would have developed if it weren't for the invention of the modern television. Her entire demeanor was made up of pieces of tidbits she collected from her time spent in front of the screen.

Despite the children from school finding her rather strange, Gwendolyn navigated social settings with ease. She'd smile like a dazzling silver screen starlet, and crack jokes like a beloved gameshow host.

Persephone Darling

Persephone was a very grumpy and irritable child. often opting to keep to herself due to her crippling social awkwardness. As Seymour explained, her only real friends were creatures with feathers or four legs, as well as those conjured by her imagination. But where she lacked in cheerfulness, she made up for in athleticism and harbored a profound passion for animals. Persephone maintained an active lifestyle and found enjoyment in a variety of sports, spanning from swimming and ball games to the art of ballet.

As Seymour's due date drew closer, a knock on the door followed by the family dog barking madly signaled an unexpected visit from Agnes's nephew, Mortimer—a visit undoubtedly orchestrated by Cornelia. As if he were being forced to recite the offer against his will, Mortimer reluctantly extended his services to babysit the girls, as her days grew busier with a new baby. Agnes appreciated the offer and could've certainly used his help, but she knew well that Mortimer, being a teenage boy, would likely rather be off doing something else, rather than tasked with keeping an eye on his younger cousins.

Agnes remembered back to her sister Cornelia's assertion that Mortimer's best friend, Bella Bachelor, was beginning to "smile at him in a different way now." Struck with a clever idea, Agnes proposed a deal to Mortimer: If he would be willing to babysit the girls and take good care of them during her labor and the early days with the new baby, he could bring Bella along to assist him. Considering his mother didn't allow him and Bella to be alone anymore, Mortimer lit up like a lightbulb, and eagerly accepted. He did request, however, that Agnes not mention Bella's involvement in this arrangement to his mother.

And it sure was lucky the Darlings got a babysitter just in time, for not long after, in the early hours of the morning at 4:27 AM, on All Hallow's Eve, the Darlings welcomed a bouncing baby boy with little babydoll eyes. They held him close, celebrating the first happy birthday of many more to come.

←Previous

[supernovasteaparty]

Just Friends

Dork squad (Jervis Tetch x Johnathan Crane x Edward Nygma) Something to keep in mind when reading this is that these are actually my AU version's of the characters! Both John and Jervis and transmasc, and Jervis's physical appearance changes slightly when he's excited :3 Minors, turn away now!!! CW, TW: anatomy mentions, passing mention of pregnancy (thinking of how one of the characters can't get pregnant), literally them having a threesome on the couch, pure filth ngl <3 Word count: 6,290 | layout completely inspired by @finniestoncrane (who also wanted to be tagged. Please ignore any spelling errors 😭😭)

I was sat on the couch, reading. That was all I was doing.

Then when John came home, I hardly even gave him a passing glance. “Dr. Crane,” I said in acknowledgement of his presence, and then I went back to reading my book. 

He stopped, and out of the corner of my eye I watched as he set his bag down and turned to me. The man hummed lowly, his Georgian accent audible even through noises. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Nygma,” He said.

I looked up at him over my glasses, his face a blurry mess of flesh, blinking eyes and dark hair. 

He never spoke with me unless he needed or wanted something— or if he was in a good mood for some horrible reason or another. 

“… how are you?” I asked, slightly hesitant.

Through the blur of my eyesight, I watched what I believed to be a wide, toothy grin slowly creeping into his expression. “I’m good,” He whispered, and with that he took a long step forward; now standing at the front of the couch. 

I let out a slightly shaky breath as I set my book down, not looking away from him. “And why is that?” I asked. 

He didn’t answer.  “Where’s Tetch?” He asked.

“Your room,” I said. “Asleep,” 

John nodded, and then stood still, staring at me. I accidentally looked away, cursing myself as when I looked up he was already gone.

I heard the slide of his bedroom door opening, and I looked over. I caught the slightest glimpse of his hair and back, but he was gone before it could even register in my brain. 

After that, I tried to focus again on my book, but the soft chatter of Jervis’s voice kept pulling me out of rhythm. 

After a bit, the door opened again, and I heard the familiar click of Jervis’s shoes on the hardwood floor. I didn’t look up, I didn’t want to seem interested in whatever the hell was happening. 

“Eddie,” I heard whispered in my ear, and I jumped slightly. It was Jervis, but I heard Johnathan let out a soft laugh in response to me being startled.

I turned to Jervis. 

“What do you want now?” I asked.

“Oh—Oh! Well, I—“ He couldn’t even get the words out before he burst into a fit of giggles, his already pink cheeks turning an even deeper shade as he cartoonishly waved at his face, glancing away. His large teeth rested gently against his bottom lip, his tongue visibly swiveling against his sharp canines.  

“The Crane can explain,” He said softly, trying to lean forward as his hand reached into his own hair, coiling a thick silver strand around one of his gloved fingers, his other hand resting against the arm of the couch.

I turned to John, who moved away just as I tried to look at him. He walked behind the couch, his large hand moving to my shoulder, and then lightly tracing downward. 

I swallowed, shifting my weight as his warm breath slowly dripped down the shell of my ear. “Y’know…” John began, his voice low and husky. “Been a while since we last… “ He hand travelled lower, and then gently gripped on my belt, lightly pulling on it. 

I tried and failed to suppress the shaky whimper that left my mouth, my face becoming warm with embarrassment. I shifted again, letting out a breath. 

“Care to—Care to explain a bit more than that?” I said, attempting to look behind me. Before I could, his other hand gently rested against my other shoulder, moving down and tracing the buttons on my shirt. 

He hummed, the sound low and vibrating through my body, sending chills down my spine. “Mmm, well, as Jervis so lovingly puts it… ‘played’,” John said, beginning to unbutton my shirt. 

I closed my eyes, nodding. I knew what that meant.

They wanted to have sex.

It was a thing that had started a while ago.

I don’t remember really when it happened first, but somewhere around the time that I started living with Johnathan, Jervis came along and one thing led to the next and I guess we all somehow managed to become friends with benefits. 

Mainly what would happen was that two of us would… the word is fuck, Eddie, just say it— do things, and one would watch. Usually that person would be Johnathan, as he enjoyed sitting in complete silence and making us unnerved— that or he’d praise and guide us the entire time. 

“If you’d like, of course,” Jervis said, gently placing his hand on my arm, leaning closer. There was too much affection and attention now, and the tones of their voices were making me feel nearly ill with how, unfortunately, aroused I was getting.

I swallowed, nodding. 

“O-okay, yeah, I-I uhm,” I let out, stopping as my breath caught in my throat as Jervis climbed on top of the couch, and began helping John with the buttons on my shirt. 

“Over the hill, or here or there—“ Jervis began singing quietly. I leaned forward without thinking, and stopped him before he could start actually singing, placing a soft, gentle kiss on his lips before simply pulling away. 

His eyes lit up as his face seemed to fall a bit, his body language stuck in what looked like the middle of an exaggerated conversation. He paused, his cheeks turning even darker, now a red, as he sat  up straight, turning away. “Oh… Oh, my,” His voice, soft as ever, seemed strained and shaking. 

I went to say something, I don’t know what, but he placed his gloved hands on my face. “Do it again,” He whispered.

I kissed his lips, this time a bit more roughly, and then pulled away again; my body getting covered in chills as I felt John’s breath on the back of my neck again. Jervis’s eyes shut, his hands flapping excitedly as he turned away, a nervous half-smirk cracking across his lips.

Before anything else could happen, John hummed. 

“You two need to be separated at least once,” He whispered. “I should have him today, don’t you think?” 

Jervis nodded, as did I.

He as in likely Jervis. 

I leaned back, startled slightly by the warmth and movement of a chest behind me; I didn’t know that Johnathan had sat down. 

I gasped as John’s hand slid up to my chest, pressing down and pulling me closer to him. “Now,” He whispered, voice low and gravelly. “Are you gonna be a good sex toy and let me use you for a while?” 

I started trembling, nodding before I could even fully register what was happening. All the blood in my body rushed to a… certain piece of my anatomy, making me shift my weight in a thinly veiled attempt at covering it. 

“Aww,” Jervis let out a soft laugh as he worked to undo my belt buckle. “Look how desperate he is now,” 

My entire body felt warm as I looked away, embarrassed. I shouldn’t have enjoyed this as much as I was, my stomach doing flips as I heard Johnathan hum in agreement.

My heart skipped a couple beats as I felt John’s large hand travel up my chest and rest on my throat. “W-What uh, what’s— what are you going to uh—“

“I thought it was clear,” John whispered, voice nearly a growl in my ear. I shivered as my belt was removed from my pants’ loops; I heard as it landed on the floor with a soft clinking sound. 

“I’ll explain now,” Jervis said softly, his eyelids looking heavy as he undid his own shirt. “I’m going to watch…”

John nodded, removing my shirt. 

“While I fuck you,” He whispered, finishing Jervis’s sentence. 

My face warmed up even more, and I began to nod without thinking about what I was doing. He hardly ever would be the one doing anything to me, usually watching or having sex with Jervis instead. 

Something in my body ached for him, craving him desperately. The way he’d move his hips so harshly, so fast. The way he looked so calm, the way he held Jervis down by his hair as he practically drooled and cried from how good he was getting fucked, John praising and guiding him the entire time. 

I started whining, the idea of being fucked so good that I’d start drooling made me feel nearly like fainting; I wanted it so badly now, and I couldn’t even focus on anything other than the memory of how much ecstasy Jervis always looked like he was in when John would…

“Please,” I whimpered involuntarily, and John let out a soft laugh. 

“Please what?”

I shook my head, embarrassed that I had said anything. He hummed, nodding as his rough, callused fingers dragged down my chest. His fingernails were painted black, and my brain instantly began playing an image of his fingers buried inside of me, stretching me out, getting me ready for his—

One hand focused on my chest, his thumb rubbing circles around my left nipple, his other hand gliding down my exposed side, fingers hooking around the waistband of my pants. 

“Hatter,” He said, looking up at Jervis (who I now noticed seemed to have either spaced out or was just very entertained by what was happening, as he was drooling).

“Yes?”

“Help me remove this,” He said. “Won’t you please, hon?” 

Jervis nodded, reaching forward and pulling my slacks off from my hips. “He’s so excited…” He whispered, lightly touching my inner thigh. 

I felt lightheaded and nearly dizzy, my heart slamming in my chest as I watched him, the silver streaks in his hair beginning to fade to a soft purple. I glanced up, attempting to look at John.

My glasses were removed before I could, being set on the coffee table and out of my reach as my vision blurred. All I could really make out on John’s face were his eyes and the dark scars on his face. 

Before I could really say anything about it, John hummed, and I watched the dark shape of his mouth move as he spoke: “You wanna do this out here? Now, we cou’d always go int’a the bedroom, honey, if you’d like,”

His accent was so thick, it always got like that when he was excited about something. I couldn’t really imagine him being excited to do something like this, but maybe he was.

“We can stay out here,” I whispered, unable to fathom the idea of having to wait any longer than I’d have to already. 

He nodded, humming.

“Can— uh, can we pl-please—?” I stammered out, involuntarily bucking my hips up a bit. 

John chuckled, his hand— God his hands were so big. They were so wide and his fingers were long and— his hand moved to the waistband of my boxers, his thumb hooking underneath and snapping the elastic material against my flesh, making me jump slightly. 

“Ain’t’cha jus’ so eager?” He asked, low and steady. 

I was painfully erect, my member twitching in my underwear every time John said anything or moved at all, and what he said was making it worse. 

I nodded, the shame leaving my body when I felt gloved fingers pulling at my underwear, pulling it off of my body. I looked back at Jervis, who was the one who had removed it, as he set it on the floor and began to undo his own pants. 

“Aww,” John whispered in my ear, one hand resting a my waist, teasing me. “You’re pathetic, y’know that?” He asked, turning his head and biting lightly on my neck. I whimpered as I felt him sucking at my flesh, my exposed member twitching and leaking at the feeling.

“J-John~,” I let out, practically shaking with how badly I wanted anything at this point. Any sort of pleasure, literally any sort of touch.

He nipped at my neck sharply before pulling away, his hands sliding down my thighs and moving under them, pulling me up onto his lap. 

“Jervi,” I heard, and I watched as Jervis looked up from what he was doing. 

“Hm?”

“Could you go get the lubricant? I left it in the bedroom,” John said, to which Jervis nodded and left to get it.

The moment he left the room, John’s hand went to my throat, gripping tightly as he pushed my chin up so I was forced to look at him. I gulped as his eye came into focus. 

“Look at me, sweetie— that’s it… now, we’re gonna have a safe word, okay? I get real rough, even if I don’t intend to do so, okay?” He asked, and I nodded. 

“Good boy,” He praised, and my mouth felt dry. “Now, ‘aphorism’ is the word, okay?” He said, and I nodded.

His hand gently went to my hair and he began to pet me. “Such a good boy, ain’t you?” 

I couldn’t even say anything. I felt like my brain had melted, the praise getting to me too quickly. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“You haven’t hurt him, I trust?” I heard, and Jervis sat back down on the couch, handing John the bottle of lube. 

“He’s fine,” John answered, taking the bottle. “Thank you, hon,” 

Jervis giggled slightly, letting out a hum, as he looked down at me. “Aren’t you so pretty,” He said, to which my heart rate skyrocketed. 

Jervis leaned forward, the soft fabric of his gloves on my chest as he kissed me again. I reached up and lightly grabbed his face, pulling him in a bit more. 

“My heart, never depart, if you turn out to be untrue, your flesh will be left sickly pale and blue—“

I ignored him, my hand travelling absently downward, resting on his chest. I felt how quickly his heart beat, thinking distantly about how it felt maybe a bit too fast for a human.

I kissed him again, and he pulled back slightly, smiling crookedly as his teeth dug in his bottom lip.  “I had such a curious dream; it started just like this… Please,” He began in a whisper as I looked him over again, watching as his hair seemed to coil too much like a spiral. “Please kiss me yet again,” 

His eyes didn’t seem too brown anymore…

“Jerv—“ I began, but my hair was suddenly yanked, my entire body being pulled back as I gasped, feeling the burning of the stretch from one of Johnathan’s fingers inside of me.

I began to whimper, the suddenness of the feeling made it hurt a bit more than I was used to. 

“J-John!” I yelped, turning back to face him as his grip in my hair loosened. He buried his face into my neck, and began to gently kiss where he’d bitten previously. 

“M’sorry,” He said. “Just got a bit jealous from you an’ Jerv,” 

My entire body flushed, which Jervis noticed and giggled in reaction, running his hands down my stomach, the smooth glide of fabric making me feel lightheaded. 

I whined as John’s fingers worked me open, him adding a second one not too long after; my arms trembling as I moved my hand to my mouth, muffling the moans that threatened to leave me. 

As I did, Jervis reached up and pulled my hand down, tutting. “No, no,” He smiled. “No, you must make noise, pretty, otherwise we won’t enjoy it,” 

I looked away, face practically engulfed in flames with how warm I felt. “O-Oh…” I let out softly.

Jervis leaned back on the arm of the couch, completely removing his shirt. I let out a moan as John’s fingers found a rhythm, hitting an all-too-sensitive part inside me which made my body tremble.

“You’re doing so well, honey,” John said, his accent heavy and his voice a soft growl in my ear. Chill after chill rushed through me as I whimpered, biting my lower lip to keep from getting too loud. 

Jervis’s gaze followed John’s fingers as I started to relax myself a bit, pleasure flooding my body and making my limbs feel weak. 

“John,” I let out, unable to really think of anything else. 

He hummed into my ear. “Yes, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Mh, feels… mmn feels so—“ I let out a whine. “G-good…” 

My eyes fell on Jervis as he moved his hands behind his back, unclasping his bra and taking it off, setting it to the ground. 

I looked away, my mind going to slightly different territory as his body reminded me so much of…

I whimpered, letting out a moan as I realised I’d been holding my breath. “Ple-ase,” I let out, broken and breathy.

“Please what?” 

“More—“ I started, hardly getting it out before a third finger was pushed in, stretching me out a bit more; a slight burn flowing through my lower half.

I gasped, grinding down onto his lubricated fingers involuntarily. “F-Fuck!” I moaned as he worked them in and out, getting my body used to the stretch, used to the pleasure. He was so rough with them, moving so softly at first to get me used to it, and then faster and harder, making my brain spin. His fingers were so long, so big that it felt like I was being torn apart in a way that made me dizzy with pleasure.

I watched Jervis as he removed one of his gloves with his mouth, moving the now nude hand down the front of his loosened pants. 

I began to pant, pleasure engulfing my entire body as I whimpered, leaning against John’s chest. 

“Good,” He whispered. “Good boy,” 

“Ohh,” I let out, my back arching slightly. “Fuck… it’s so good, it’s so good,” I moaned, grinding down a bit more. 

John’s voice echoed in my ear. “Doin’ so well for us,” He whispered, his fingers sliding in and out of me, making me feel so full and stretched out.

Tears threatened to leave my eyes as he suddenly removed his fingers from me. “W-Wait, I—“ I started in protest, but I was quickly shushed as John moved away from me, lowering his pants.

I started practically drooling the moment he did, the blurry sight of black straps and glinting silver metal resting tightly around his white boxers, around his hips made me feel nearly faint. 

I looked away as I heard him unzip and unbutton his black jeans. The sound of his keys jingling sharply against each other as he lowered his pants, the karabiner clacking against the small plastic light up pumpkin charm he had attached to it.

The warmth of his body returned with the sound of him uncapping the lubricant bottle. He sat back down on the couch, a rough, heavy hand pushing me forward to expose myself more. 

I was able to get a better look at Jervis now, one hand in his pants as he masturbated to the sight of us, the other now cupped around my face lovingly, petting me as he muttered things I couldn’t quite understand under his breath. 

“It’ll feel so good,” He leaned in, whispering. My face felt so warm, and the coolness of his glove didn’t make it any better. “You’re so, so, good,”

I whimpered softly, kissing him back as his lips met mine, his teeth pressing hard against my lips. “Mh, Jervis, I—“ I was stopped by the feeling of being stretched out a bit more than I was used to yet, a sharp burning pain coming from my lower half.

“Ah!” I let out, my arms becoming too weak to hold me up, so I accidentally collapsed onto Jervis, my head resting against his stomach. With his gloved hand, I felt him petting my hair; he began to coo soft words of comfort and praise as I felt the warmth and roughness of John’s hands on my hips.

The pain paused for a bit, slowly fading into slight discomfort as neither of us moved; John softly massaging my lower back up to my shoulder blades. “Will it be alright for me to move?” He asked, my poor, leaking member painfully pressed between my stomach and the slightly rough texture of the couch’s cushions. I nodded, shifting my hips a bit, trying to hold myself up again. 

“Yeah,” I said, voice a lot more breathy than I would’ve liked. “You can start moving,” 

He hummed something in acknowledgment and pushed in a bit more, my breath catching in my throat as I closed my eyes. 

“That’s it…” I heard, but I honestly couldn’t even tell who had said it anymore. “You take it so well,”

My resolve broke and I fell again, this time being caught by Jervis, his hands pressed against my shoulders as he led me up, looking at me with a soft smile on his face. His right eye was blue…

Before I could focus on him any more, my body tensed up, a moan leaving my lips as Jervis let me fall a bit, him cradling me in a tight hold. He smelled like a bag of marshmallows, sweet and warm. 

John finally bottomed out inside me, my body trembling as I felt the smooth fabric of his black button-up shirt and the warmth of his stomach on my back as I heard him kissing Jervis. 

“You take such good care of him— our toy,” John muttered above me, and I heard Jervis let out a soft laugh. 

I closed my eyes, my stomach fluttering as a soft anger replaced the arousal that usually followed being completely objectified like that. “I’m not your toy, Scarecrow—“ I snapped, but my hair was roughly coiled around a hand and I was pulled painfully away from Jervis’s hold, now sitting completely upright in John’s lap, on his—

“Oh, is that right?” John began, the painted nails of his other hand digging into the flesh of my hip. He let go of my hair, his other hand sliding to grab at my hip as well. He slowly lifted me about two inches, letting me drop sharply back down on his strap. 

“Fuck~!” I moaned, leaning back against his chest, my member red and twitching. “Pl-Please, I—“

I suddenly became very aware that Jervis was watching us, and I felt my stomach and chest getting warm with the blush that covered me in embarrassment. 

I said nothing, looking away. 

“Oh, he’s embarrassed,” Jervis said suddenly, and I opened my eyes to see him closer, his gloved hand lightly tracing my chest. 

“I’m not embarrassed,” I hissed, not wanting to seem weak. “I just—“ 

“Shh,” Jervis hushed me, his hand traveling lower, resting on my lower stomach. “You don’t have to worry…”

“I— Ah~! F-Fuck,” I gasped, my body being slowly moved up and down, the thick head of John’s strap slamming slowly inside me, hitting the area just below my prostate. “John, Goddamn it~!” I moaned, closing my eyes tightly.

Jervis hushed me again. “Eddie,” He called, drawn out and in a whisper. “Look at me…”

I opened my eyes again, trying to focus on him.

The feeling of soft fabric dragging up and down on my stomach, over and over and over, the way his eyes didn’t look entirely normal anymore. “It feels so good, doesn’t it, pet?” He asked. 

I moved to say something, but I couldn’t.

I let out a whimper, nodding. Jervis seemed pleased, moving back and going back to what he was doing before I fell on him— He was fucking himself, Ed, just thinking the word isn’t the end of the goddamn world!

“John, please,” I gasped, feeling him lean back against the arm of the couch, getting more relaxed as he pulled me with him. My heart slammed against my ribcage as his hands dragged down my chest to my stomach. 

“Well, since you ain’t a toy, you can get yourself off, can’tcha?” He asked, his hands resting once more on my hips. I scoffed in an attempt to seem like it’d be easy. I moved my hips slightly, my legs weak already. 

I let out a soft moan, sliding back down.

I paused, knowing this wouldn’t do anything for me without his help. “John…”

I could feel how smug he looked.

“Yeah, hon?”

“I…” My stomach boiled with anger. I couldn't do something. I would rather die than admit it. I attempted again, the feeling of him inside me hardly doing anything for pleasure. 

I felt like crying as I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t,” I said. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”  

He lifted me slightly, my back pressed against his chest as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Mhm,” He hummed lowly, pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back inside, quickly setting a pace that made my stomach flip. 

“Oh— fuck!” I gasped, reaching back slightly and gripping his hair, pulling a bit. “Fuck, yeah, yeah,” I nodded, panting as he held me in place, my entire body covered in chills from how good it felt now.

It nearly burned, fading quickly away into overwhelming pleasure that made my eyes water. 

“Please, ple-ase, ple—!” I whimpered, my sounds devolving into high pitched whines that sounded more like a dog than anything. 

I felt myself clenching around him, the pleasure nearly too much to bear, my entire body feeling weak as he slammed inside me over and over and over. 

“It—“ I began, but stopped as I nearly blacked out, feeling him finally start hitting that spot inside me, my stomach coiling at the feeling. “Ah-! Fuck, please~!” I begged, shaking. 

He suddenly stopped.

“Please what?” He asked, and I could hear the smile on his lips. 

“No, no, no, please keep going, please, please,” I whined, grinding down as much as I could. Tears leaked from my eyes, whimpers leaving my chest as I scrambled behind me, scratching at his side. 

He only laughed a bit, pulling out and then slamming back inside, making me let out a yelp as I trembled. “You take me so well,” He whispered, his warm breath cascading down my neck. “Look at that,” He continued. “What a good little toy, needing my help; so easily taking the whole thing,” 

I whined, bucking my hips as I let out a strangled sounding moan. “Please,” I begged. “More, please,”

My legs started shaking, weak as he held them open. “Please,” I said, whining. “It’s so—“

He set a more rough pace, slamming into me again, more brutal this time. “Fuck, fuck, fuc—k,” I moaned, breathing shakily. 

“Are you getting close?” I heard, to which I shook my head. 

“N-No,” I let out in a gasp. “Pl-please, please keep going, please,” I begged, voice breaking. 

“Oh, good,” He said, to which I finally registered it being Jervis who was speaking. “Can I play with him yet?” 

I let out a loud whimper and my prostate was slammed into again, my heart fluttering with my stomach. “S’good,” I moaned. “So good, so go-od,”

He paused, buried deep inside me as he slightly moved me forward, sitting up a bit more. “Wh—“ I began, but he started moving inside me again, so my brain stopped working. 

I felt the smooth glide of fabric on my face, and I looked up. Jervis kissed me again, and I roughly gripped onto the cushion beneath him as I kissed back. “You can take it, can’t you?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as his hand travelled down. 

“Take wh—?” I began, but it felt like all the air in my lungs was knocked out of me as I felt him, his soft hand wrapped around my aching member. He lightly began stroking me as I whimpered, John still abusing my insides, too much pleasure, too much—

“Fuck!” I yelled, which turned into a string of soft whimpers as my limbs trembled, struggling to hold me up. I felt like I was going to die, my heart slamming in my chest as my stomach turned, my head completely empty other than the thoughts of how good I felt. 

Jervis pressed kisses onto my lips. “You feel so good, don’t you? It feels amazing, right?” He said, petting my hair as he continued to stroke my previously completely neglected cock. 

I nodded, letting out a whine into his lips. 

He shifted, letting me go for a moment as he relaxed, lowering himself on the arm of the couch a bit before—

I gasped, my hands losing their grip on the cushions as he adjusted himself, sliding my member inside of him; tight, wet warmth clamping down around me. 

He let out a soft whimper as he took my full length, John pausing for a moment to give me a little bit more stability over my senses. I held onto Jervis’s hips as I shook, letting out breathy whimpers. He was so warm. 

When I first had sex with him, I hardly lasted three minutes; his—his— His cunt,— felt so fucking good wrapped so tightly around me. I’d never felt something like that before him, and I felt like a teenager, the pleasure completely consuming me to the point that it nearly hurt to not chase that amazing feeling. 

My hips twitched, thrusting deeper into him nearly involuntarily. We both moaned, and I could feel myself leaking inside him. 

John began to slowly move again, Jervis fucked himself back onto me, and my brain stopped functioning. 

“You feel so good,” Jervis whined, and I could hear ringing in one of my ears as I panted, John hitting another sensitive spot inside me, my stomach turning. 

“Fuck,” I cried, tears leaking from my eyes as my legs trembled. John started moving faster again, lightly swatting at my thighs. 

“Are you just gonna make him pleasure himself?” John asked in my ear, voice so calm and smooth. All I could do was shake my head, attempting to thrust inside Jervis again. The drag of my shaft against the tight walls of his insides, burying the head deeper, the wetness making a soft, lewd sound as he leaked onto the couch, a small dark patch forming now.  

I started drooling, the head of John’s strap grinding heavily against my prostate, chill after chill running up my spine. Tears fell from my eyes as I whimpered. 

“Fuck, please,” I begged, shaking. I sounded pathetic, voice high pitched and trembling, weak and raspy. “Please, please, have— have mercy, please,” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna cum,” John hissed in my ear. “You wouldn’t disappoint us like that, now would you, Eddie?” 

Jervis whined, echoing his sentiment as he seemed to literally be melting underneath me, his face and body becoming more and more warm, his right eye turning into a colourful spiral as his hair twisted and shifted around as if it were alive. 

“D-Don’t,” He moaned out, slamming his hips down, my entire length fully sheathed inside him. He let out a loud whimper, arching his back as he panted. “Don’t cum yet, don’t— not yet, not— ahh~!”

I felt myself twitching inside him as I looked away, trying so desperately to ignore the coil in my stomach that became more and more loose as they used my body for their pleasure. 

I couldn’t think about it, I couldn’t focus on how fucking good it felt. How amazing it felt— how tight Jervis was, how warm and wet and tight, god his cunt was so tight, it always was, so good, so, so good. He clenched around my cock like he never wanted to let go, sucking me in, making it nearly difficult to pull out. He always begged me to finish inside him, and if I didn’t, he’d be in a bad, snippy mood for the rest of the day. 

The moment they (both him and John) knew I didn’t have anything wrong, I was fucking him raw and filling him with my cum. 

He couldn’t get pregnant, he’d gotten that taken care of years before he even became who he was now, so there really wasn’t a reason not to. 

I heard Jervis let out a breathy moan, leading it into a soft whine of his words; “Mine,” He whispered. “All mine,” As I felt his lips begin to travel down my neck, his large teeth dragging against the flesh that began to become bruised as he marked my collarbone with hickeys.

I had to ignore it, ignore how good it felt.

Ignore how brutally I was getting fucked by Johnathan. Ignore how thick and long he was, how heavily he would slam inside of me, how quickly the burn of pain when he’d hit my thighs would fade into unbearable pleasure, how precise he was with his movements, how fast he went—

I couldn’t think of how good it felt, I couldn’t think about how badly I’d been needing him to do this to me. How I’d been fantasising about it, how late at night I’d imagine him sneaking into my room, I’d imagine him kissing my neck and pinning me down, asking if I wanted him, asking if I wanted him to make me cum. I’d imagine him fucking my brains out, him making my entire body shake. 

Sometimes I would fight with him, tell him he wasn’t good at something, anything to get him to hate-fuck me so good I couldn’t walk the next day. It never worked, he never pushed me down by my hair, teasing and toying with my body until finally abusing me, hitting me, hurting me while making me drool with how good my body would feel.

And now he was finally doing it, fucking me senseless, making it difficult to think, to function. Finally making my body his, and I couldn’t think about it, I had to think of anything other than how good it felt.

“C-Can’t,” I let out, panting. “Can’t,”

He slammed deep inside, grinding his hips on mine. 

“Can’t…?” He asked, leaning forward and pressing a bite to my shoulder, his lips meeting Jervis’s as they began to kiss.

Jervis whined, pulling away and grabbing at my hair as he used me like a sex toy, fucking himself deeper than I thought he could, causing both of us to let out moans in response. 

I was crying by this point, my orgasm approaching so quickly. I was drooling over the way Jervis felt and sounded and looked, my cock painfully hard and twitching inside of him, leaking pre deep into him. 

He kept bucking his hips, the spiral in his eye moving faster than before, faster than I could focus on. “Eddie,” Jervis moaned, making it even more impossible to not focus on him. “Ed—Ed it feels so good, you make me feel so, so good,” He cried.

I whined, barely holding myself together.

I panted as I looked away, trying desperately to think of anything else, anything but how warm he was. 

“Not gonna— not gonna,” I gasped, tears leaving my eyes. “L-Last, not gonna last, not— gonna, g-gonna cum,” 

“Not yet, hon,” John said, pulling my hair lightly. “You can last a little longer,” 

“C-Ca-an’t!” I sobbed out, drooling as he grinded against my prostate. “Can’t, can’t, can’t,” I panted.

Jervis moaned, biting my neck hard as I felt his walls clenching down around me. I gasped, my eyes rolling back as I felt what I can only describe as god inside him, a spot that made me forget how badly I wanted to please the both of them, how badly I wanted to not disappoint them, how much longer I wanted to last— I grabbed a tighter hold of his hips, moving him up and down on my cock, hitting that spot over, and over, and over. 

John held me up, slamming into me as I babbled incoherent nonsense about how good I felt, how good Jervis’s cunt felt, how amazing John’s cock was inside me. 

“C-Cumming, cumming,” I sobbed, Jervis drooling underneath me, making that “uh, uh, uh,” noise that always made me feel dizzy. 

“In—Inside, please~!” Jervis begged, holding my arm. 

I let out a soft cry, collapsing on top of him as I finally let myself go; grinding myself deeper as the whole world spun, wave after wave of euphoria washing through my body as my orgasm spilled over, filling him. “Fuck,” I gasped, feeling John slide out of me. I panted, trembling as I lay on Jervis.

“You both did so well,” John whispered, petting my hair as he leaned forward, kissing Jervis on the cheek. I weakly turned to him, and John kissed my lips, smiling slightly. 

I kissed back before he pulled away, my entire body warm and covered in sweat.

I sighed, attempting to move once I finally got my heart rate back to normal.

Jervis’s legs were wrapped around my hips, holding me in place. “J-Jervis,” I said, a soft laugh leaving my lips as he began kissing me, petting my hair. 

“So good,” He praised, making me roll my eyes. 

“Jervis I have to— to get off of you,” I laughed. 

He reluctantly nodded, untangling himself from me as we both pulled away. He pressed another kiss to my cheek as we did so. 

I leaned back, trying to catch my breath.  “You felt amazing,” I said, directed to both of them. 

John hummed, nodding. “You both did very well,” His voice was back to normal, his accent still there but not as prominent. “You should both be proud a’yourselves and also go shower— I’m gonna go wash this,” He said, leaving before I could get a good look at him.

I sighed, looking over at Jervis. He was snoring.

[bananaactivity]

CLEARLY these two are my favorite of the ROR line up as I’ve only been able to create redesigns I truly love of them, every body is… kinda goofy looking ngl.

I know there designs are so different that it’s kinda crazy but I literally love them so much!

If you don’t know already Morgies the tall one with a red mullet and Hook is the buffer one with a beard.

I’ve explained my choices in design for Hook but that was literally my first post sooo…

Facial features are based off of the actors face normally. You can see that clearer in my Carlos design, but Hook has Colleys thicker eyebrows and Morgie has Lindell’s faint freckles. However if you look below you’ll see just… how completely changed they are:

The difference is so wild

But my designsfor both are based of of these two preexisting depictions of Morgana and Hook respectively.

Btw something about Live action Hooks is that they just… EAT SO FRICKIN BAD LIKE WTF. This has got to be some universal rule that a live action Hook variant must eat and be so so cool at ALL TIMES. ( for me it’s less about sexy and more about they look so cool)

( Anyway This is Morgana La Fey from Troll Hunters and Mr. Needs no introduction you know who that badass mf is)

More of my changes also come from character design things. Like the exaggerated lashes and visable water lines. I like to differentiate noses, eyes, eyebrows, and chins because I feel that’s something that really helps combat same face syndrome. It also helps when I make related characters, so they don’t look like carbon copies, I’ll trade some features in and out and swap them around. I give most characters baggy eyes, because I like the definition it gives them.

I also like to make color palettes similar and opposing, and add some traits that show small insights to the character. Hook and Morgie have warm color palettes for their clothes, however Hooks skin is warm, while Morgies is cold, a sign to his unnatural human form and his association with necromancy ( tho when he was just learning how to hold this form as a youngling he was much paler, now he has spent so much time with real mortal people he has learned to blend in with more realistic skin tones and knows how to flush his skin as if he has blood under it like them)

As a fun little thing tho they swap this theme with their eyes. Hooks eyes are cold and icy blue, while Morgies are chocolate. Of course even though his natural eyes are more like a yellow snakes eyes they are still warm yellow to Hooks cold blue. And they share the same taste in jewelry to opposite the other couple in their group. Hook and Morgie wear gold as their preferred choice of color for jewelry . Maleficent and Hades wear silver. Uliana wears wtv tf she wants, she doesn’t care. Also Hook and Morgie wear warm colors where as Hades and Mali wear cool colors. (Clothing is different from skin, so even tho Morgies flesh form isn’t natural and can never have the right look of skin fully he can still just wear normal clothes) Again Uli don’t care and wears what she wants to look as cool as she wants.

Here their ages are 19 and 20, with Morgie being older, and Hook is the shorter one during this time because, again, Morgies form is meant to be more unnatural due to his unorthodox creation, and even though my art is a little squished, Hook is the 2nd tallest of their group( making Morgie very abnormally tall) .

However there’s a 15 year gap where Morgie had been terrorizing his cousin Archie of Camelot and his chief warlock Marvin Merlinson and he forgets to age his human form. I’m giving him a cool gold armor set like Morgana from Troll hunters so that’s basically what he wears for like 15 years. So when he reunites with his old friends Hook has grown really tall and got a little grey, so before he gets out of his armor he has to change his form real quick so it doesn’t freak his friends out that he still looks like, mid 20s and theyre all late thirties pushing early forties. But he desires to stay shorter then Hook because that’s new and… intriguing.

Also Morgie is now also British like Hook!! (Arther is literally a BRITISH story! Why isn’t Morgie a CELTIC LAD) like I know the whole thing is that Brit’s suck with their plain ass beans with toast and black fucking pudding ( despicable shit 0/10 would not recommend) but King Arther and half sister are so cool, everyone was stupid for not knowing who Morgana Le Fay is 😤

Hook is from Oxfordshire and Morgie was “born” in Cornwall but raised in the kingdom of Avalon. (Don’t ask about why England exists in the same world as Auradon)

If you have any questions about these twos past life and relationship with each other feel free to ask me anytime!!

[fluffypotatey]

hey u know how mk only calls wukong by his title and never his name? and how wukong rarely if ever calls mk "mk," instead usually opting for "kid" or "bud?" and how both of those things are kind of representative of their relationship and how both of them care about each other a lot but they aren't honest with each other or with themselves about the other and how neither of them really wants to confront the fact that the other is a person with flaws and struggles? haha yeah <- normal <- lying about being normal

be glad i have been released from class now :) [narrator: she would later find herself late to her 2nd class while writing this]

so happy you have given me this excuse to talk about— i mean, yes! it is super normal to be thinking about this all the time and be comsumed by it and let me explain why:

i will start by going off on a tangent about names and labels and their narratove importance in stories because i love them and have a problem. (idk the word count here. viewer discretion is advized. i just wrote. it is long. beware)

In the Case of Names: a Sunburst Duo Essay

by Yours Truly <3

In the Case of Names in LMK: a Summary (please for the love of pete be a summary)

Ok, so, let me give y'all a quick overview (i failed. this is you're only warning. i failed, and this became a monster of an essay. run while you still have the chan—) of names in the literary sense. When studying novels and books and shit in your literature classes, you will notice that your professor might discuss the importance or ill-importance of characters' names in the story. For example: in the classic novel Fahrenheit 451, the protagonist's name is fucking Guy Montage to illustrate how he's just some fucking guy, a John Doe, a man stuck and complicit in the dystopian world.

You get me? No? Sorry, you want more examples? Fine then :3 let me introduce you to a story called Hard Times by Charles Dickens. It is an allegorical novel that criticized the utilitarian movement going on in dear old Great Britain in the 19th century thanks to the Industrial Revolution. Some fun characters were Johannes Bounderby and Thomas Gradgrind. Tell me, what images did you imagine when I gave you those names? Did you think of a bouncing ball for Bounderby? Were you imagining something square or maybe a mechanical grinder for Mr. Gradgrind?

Remarkable isn't it. The way choosing a name has on a reader/audience's perception of the character. Names are not just placeholders for a character. Names are the identity of that character. Names can establish their starting arc or their ending. Names can be visual in the sense that they invoke a strong idea of what a character might resemble or what themes they will present the audience with. Removing a character's name also removes their identity.

Remember that.

Anyway, I have talked enough about names in the general literary sense. Let us move on to LMK.

Given that this show is based off of Journey to the West (JTTW), many of the names of the antagonist are already provided, and their English translation is pretty literal (Demon Bull King, Lady Bone Demon, Red Son) with some exceptions (Jing & Yin, the Gold and Silver Demons), but their names all provide a description of what they are and how they should be viewed. Spider Queen is a spider demon and views herself as queen. Pretty solid characterization there. Lady Bone Demon, she's a bone demon and has enough rank to be considered a lady (or that could just be to ID that she is a woman but eh). Princess Iron Fan: she's a celestial princess and wields an iron fan. Got it? Good. These examples are simply here to show that a majority of the JTTW antagonists are still fulfilling their roles as antagonistic characters. What I mean is this: since "A Hero is Born," MK has been fighting against the Monkey King's old enemies from the JTTW book. It's like the moment MK inserted himself into the role of successor, the antagonist themselves were inserted to redo their old role of fighting the "Monkey King." It's almost as if nothing has changed beside the fact that their new op enemy is a "human" wielding the legendary staff.

[hmmmm, wait i actually never put this into words until now and it's fitting very well with the whole "MK's fight against Fate/the Narrative" but we'll just put a pin in that.]

However, when it comes to MK's friends (Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, Mei), they all share different names from their reincarnated/ancestral counterparts (Zhu Bajie, Tang Sangzang (they just give Tripitaka a last name lol), Sha Wujing, and Ao Lie). Their identity is separate, distinctive from who they are meant to reflect to the audience. (But look at how Tang still shares the same 1st name to the blessed monk, see how he's the one whose powers are the most similar, see how he being pulled into the direction of emulating the monk, see how much Tang fights it, see—)

Fascinating huh? But let us move on before I forget myself.

In the Case of MK's Names: a Paragraph (DO NOT, i repeat, DO NOT GO OFF THE RAILS)

So, in the English version, there is a running gag about how MK's "real" name is long and complicated, and we don't actually know it. All we know is that MK switched it long before the pilot. And even before MK has that talk with Master Subodhi in s4ep7 (or 6? 8?), I would chuckle at how on the nose his name was. MK the Monkie Kid... how silly of the show writers....ahaha, what a funny little decision to make :)

Do we know why MK changed his name? Other than his original one being long, no. Do we know why MK specifically? We don't know. Maybe, in his fanboy brain for all things Monkey King, MK thought it would be cool to have a name that identified close to his idol. A name that identified with someone he wished to emulate and be as powerful as and felt so connected to. But what do I know? I am a mere local gal who feeds off of metas and theories and all things relating to my beloved sunburst duo.

Then, we have MK's many titles: Monkie Kid (IDs him as the new generations Monkey), Successor (IDs him as the one who will succeed Sun Wukong in both the title of Monkey King and power), Noodle Boy (pronounced "New-dle Boi and IDs as the boy who works in his surrogate/adopted dad's noodle shop), Delivery Boy (his actual job for the noodle shop), and last but not least, Harbinger of Chaos.

What makes a harbinger? What is chaos? What are their intentions? Are they good? Bad? Neutral?

So, I've already defined harbinger before and many others have as well, but to sum up: a harbinger is a being/person/thing that announced the coming of something be it good or bad but most of the time the focus is bad. A "Harbinger of Chaos" then, would be the one to announce the coming of Chaos™️ and the disruption of world order. Is this a bad thing? Well, the show presents it at the moment as so, but that doesn't mean it will be. Honestly, the show has shown order and fixed structures more in a bad light and promotes free will and choosing a destiny that fits you as the good thing 👀 (another thing to pin in the MK might to go war with Fate)

But now I have established MK's names and must shut up and move on before I no longer can.

In the Case of Sun Wukong's Names: some Paragraphs (STAY ON TARGET PLEASE)

I will admit that my knowledge of names in China is very low, and by low, I mean I know nothing (most of what I do know comes from asking friends and informational sites). So, let me begin this segment with an excerpt of Sun Wukong gaining his name from the book itself :) and break it down with my interpretation and how that is applied to LMK.

When the Patriarch heard this, he was secretly pleased, and said, “Well, evidently you have been created by Heaven and Earth. Get up and show me how you walk.” Snapping erect, the Monkey King scurried around a couple of times. The Patriarch laughed and said, “Though your features are not the most attractive, you do resemble a pignolia-eating monkey (husun). This gives me the idea of taking a surname for you from your appearance. I intended to call you by the name Hu. If I drop the animal radical from this word, what’s left is a compound made up of the two characters, gu and yue. Gu means aged and yue means female, but an aged female cannot reproduce. Therefore, it is better to give you the surname of Sun. If I drop the animal radical from this word, what we have left is the compound of zi and xi. Zi means a boy and xi means a baby, and that name exactly accords with the fundamental Doctrine of the Baby Boy. So your surname will be ‘Sun.’” When the Monkey King heard this, he was filled with delight. “Splendid! Splendid!” he cried, kowtowing, “At last I know my surname. May the master be even more gracious! Since I have received the surname, let me be given also a personal name..." ..."You will hence be given the religious name ‘Wake-to-the-Void’ (wukong). All right?” “Splendid! Splendid!” said the Monkey King, laughing. “Henceforth I shall be called Sun Wukong.”

What a fucking cutie <3

So, what can we gather from this excerpt? Sun Wukong just gained his official name. No longer is he a monkey with descriptive titles, no longer is he a monkey without a surname to be referred to as and respected for. He now has both a surname and a personal name. And while I don't fully understand everything Master Subodi listed when naming Sun Wukong, it is important to note the importance of it and how happy Wukong is to receiving it.

Before this, the book would simply refer to Wukong as Shihou (stone monkey) or the Handsome Monkey King. Both of these are descriptive titles that just inform you what Wukong is rather than who, just like with the other demons met in JTTW. But now, we get to know him as Sun Wukong, someone more than his titles and such. There's even an explanation in the preface how Wukong's own personal name has significant meaning or relation to Buddhism, but I won't get too much into that since my knowledge is of that is 0 and I want to try and stick to LMK.

Now then, let us examine Wukong's name in the LMK sense. Literally everyone in the show call him either Monkey King or "simian" (and if he really pissed them off, Sun Wukong). The only people to refer to Wukong by his personal name is Nezha, Macaque, and Peng. It is literally just these three. And while we could argue all say it like "Wukong (derogatory)," I believe Peng's the only one who means it. Meaning, I think Macaque says Wukong because he was the closest friend of SWK, thus that's the only name Macaque would ever call him (sure, he said Monkey King and shit in s1 but that was when he was duping MK soooooooo). Nezha calls him Wukong because after the whole Havoc in Heaven and journey stuff, he is the new oldest member to befriend Wukong and not be enemies with him (yes, he will get annoyed and aggravated by him, and he will not always believe Wukong's intentions are great, but he still cares and is his 2nd closests living friend).

Peng, on the other hand, does not give a shit. I fully believe that guy never cared for Wukong. They only joined the brotherhood because of Azure (they even offered for Azure to be the brotherhood's leader). I do not think Peng cares for formalities when it comes to people they dislike. We could argue that maybe Peng cared for Wukong in the beginning, but I do, honestly, not believe it. The only reason Peng even felt betrayed was because it messed up Azure's plan. Not because the two were sworn brothers.

But yeah, very few characters actually call Sun Wukong by his name, and when they do, it establishes not just how close they are/were, but also how long they've known each other. It's the same thing with how Wukong refers to others. He barely calls Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy by their names. He will give people nicknames and shit just to place a safe distance from them because of his own very unhealthy attachment issues.

In the Case of MK and SWK's Names for Each Other: the Actual Sunburst Duo Essay (you are free now.....)

Speaking of attachment issues, let's talk about the Sunburst Duo and how much these two need to sit down and talk.

So, we have discussed how names are integral to identifying a character's purpose, thematic journey, description. We have discussed how a person's title can clue in on certain characterization, present or future, and how they demonstrate the way others view them. Now let us apply this to our beloved sunburst duo.

As mentioned in your ask, @gumy-shark, both MK and Sun Wukong barely call each other by name (MK never has as far as I am aware, and SWK has done so only a few). It's "Monkey King" from MK and "kid," "bud," "buddy" from SWK. Rarely do the two ever think to say each other's name.

In the beginning, I originally thought MK only calls Wukong "Monkey King" as a way to be respectful, and with Wukong, I assumed he called MK "kid" simply because MK was very young to him. However, as we get into s3, and especially s4, MK and Wukong have grown a lot closer. Neither of them see each other as just a mentor or student but as friends. And yet, they cannot seem to stop calling each other by their title or nickname.

Thus, the distance is still there. S3 ends with Wukong promising to do better as a mentor and be more honest with MK, and we do seem him attempt this. He gives out more praises, he's more open about his feelings and then gets sucked into the memory scroll. But here's the kicker: the two are doing a reverse in their dynamic.

When it starts out, it is Monkey King who establishes the line between the two. He will simply be MK's mentor and teach him all the kid has to know in order to succeed him. MK is ecstatic to even be near SWK. This is his idol, the guy he's had a special interest in for years probably. He now gets to train under the Monkey King. He wants to do good. He wants to kickass. He wants to be just like him.

But as the story goes on, we see SWK open up to MK more and care for him deeply and want to protect him, and we see MK uncover the skeletons in SWK's closet and feel so alone and learn that the power he used to wish for is not what he expected. And in the aftermath of s3, it is now SWK who is opening up and trying to help kindle and safely guide their friendship in a healthier path(ish). It is SWK who is placing his own protege on a pedestal because "loook at him! isn't he so great and powerful! he will help this world a lot more than i did". It is SWK who is disregarding th original rules he placed. But now ,it is MK who is keeping the distance more than SWK. It is MK is trying to force some kind of distance. He feels like he shouldn't burden SWK with his doubts and worries. He is terrified of his own powers and their capabilities and worries his actions will make the same mistake as his mentor.

With s3 and s4, SWK has called MK by name quite a few times. Especially in s4. It's not a lot, but it's definitely more than before. And yet, MK cannot call Wukong by name. Personally, I think he might still feel like he's under Wukong's shadow. As his successor, there is a legacy that he will carry when Wukong actually retires and gives his title to MK (which is what I assume Wukong will do??? It is still unclear what exactly MK's succeeding SWK of). And that legacy is quite the burden. I would not be surprised that MK is unable to place himself as being worthy of taking Wukong's place just yet (if ever).

This guy was his idol for a long time. And with that, you tend to place a high pedestal for those people. MK has given Wukong such a high pedestal, and Wukong is very aware of it. It's why the guy even keeps his distance in the first place, and why he's scared to disappoint him. But, MK has learned so much, has been told of the tales and pain his mentor inflicted on others in the past (a past SWK greatly regrets), and yet cannot find it in himself to lower that pedestal or even allow himself to think about it. Because if he does, then he will have to acknowledge his own pain and his own disappointment in someone he not only admires but has come to love like family. And it is very hard to reckon with the hurt and pain caused by someone you consider family.

So yeah, they are silly monkeys who cannot communicate to save their life and need to just sit down and talk or else this will continue to boil and explode and we'll have a SWK and MK showdown (fuck yeah! i will be crying so hard).

[end of essay]

[ripdragonbeans]

Mine (Modern!Aemond x Reader)

yes this is based off of Taylor Swift's Mine bc I've been listening to Speak Now (Taylor's Version) on repeat since it was released

Thank you @theold-ultraviolence for being my beta reader again!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Summary: The story of your relationship with Aemond

WARNINGS: mentions of physical/verbal abuse, mention of s*x, panic/anxiety attack, violent argument, accusing of cheating

Starting at university is stressful. Transferring to a new one in your junior year is nerve-wracking. Yet here you are, completing – and passing – all of your finals for the end of the semester.

After completing all your finals for the end of the semester, and passing all of them, you decided to head out to celebrate the end of the year. Nothing too fancy, just chilling at one of your favorite spots in the city, Olde Town Diner. Many all-nighters were pulled here, thanks to the owners feeling sympathy for the college students.

You sat at your favorite table, next to a window to look out at the city streets. The drizzling rain outside helped create the coziness here that felt like home. After wistfully staring out the window, you came back to reality and began gathering your stuff. 

And that's when you saw him. 

Well, the back of him.

His silver blond hair tied up in a messy bun with a few loose strands in the back. Despite working at a very cozy diner, he held himself high as if he were royalty attending to his subjects with grace. When he greeted customers he simply held his hands behind his back. You couldn't stop looking at them. They were just hands, yet you were fairly attracted to them. 

As he finished taking the customer's orders he could feel eyes on him. He left them, turning to leave, only to immediately find your eyes on him. A smile tugged on his mouth as color crept up his neck. It was a brief meeting and as soon as it happened it stopped and he went back to working. 

You wanted to stay to try to talk to him but as thunder sounded you took that as your cue to start the walk home.

Tomorrow. You'll come back tomorrow. 

The chime of the bell greeted you as you entered Olde Town Diner. Mrs. Tully, who owned the diner with her husband, greeted you with a big smile. 

"Your table awaits you, deary!" She called.

"Thank you, Mrs. Tully," you said cheerfully. You were about to head to your table when your curiosity got the best of you. "There was a waiter here yesterday," you started, "I've never seen him before. He had silver blond hair?" You hoped it didn't sound too obvious that you wanted to meet him. 

"Oh, you must be talking about Aemond. He's been for a few days but his shift didn't match the times you would come in," Mrs. Tully explained. Mischief danced in her eyes. "Does our dear find the mysterious Aemond attractive?"

"No! I mean," you paused, "I'm curious about him, I guess. It wouldn't hurt to make another friend."

"Sure, deary," she winked.

You knew you were blushing and kept your head down to hide your smile as you went to your table. Denying your attraction to this Aemond only made your nervousness worse but you laughed it off. Since winter break has officially ended you were actually able to relax at the diner instead of cramming in homework. You took a moment to breathe it all in before pulling out a book to read, Assassins of the Night. Not only was it a fun read, but it completely immersed you into their world. You were a few pages in when Aemond appeared.

"Hey, my name's Aemond and I'll be taking care of you today. What can I get you started with?" The words flowed out of his mouth.

Looking up from your book you were able to see him. Once again, his hair was in a messy bun but this time you could see how perfectly it framed his face. One eye was a piercing violet while the other one had a beautiful sapphire in its place. His uniform consisted of a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; a silver chain, and black sacks. 

You couldn't help but stare in awe again, words completely unable to make their way to the surface. He was so gorgeous.

"Um… I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable," he apologized, "I can get Mrs. Tully to come take your order if you want." Shame blazed across his face but it was gone as soon as it came. 

You blinked and came back to your senses, "No! I mean, I'm sorry. I was caught off guard. I've been coming here since the beginning of the school year and I've never seen you." 

Awkwardness hung in the air.

"Um, I'll take some blueberry pancakes with a cup of coffee."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll get that started right away," Aemond gave you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and turned on his heel.

A few minutes passed when Aemond came back with your food, "Blueberry pancakes and coffee." 

As he put the food in front of you, you gathered the confidence to ask him, "Would you like to eat with me?"

Aemond gave you a confused look. "I'm working right now?"

Embarrassment flooded you. "Of course," you awkwardly laughed. "It's just that I'm really the only one here and um…I wouldn't mind the company."

"I don't know you."

"No, but we could get to know each other."

Your eyes met his as you simply stared at each other, neither of you quite knowing what to say.

"I guess I can ask Mrs. Tully. She's been saying how I need to get a social life," Aemond let out an amused breath and went to ask.

He took all but two steps when Mrs. Tully yelled out, "SIT WITH HER, AEMOND. GOODNESS KNOWS BOTH OF YOU NEED OTHER PEOPLE IN YOUR LIVES!"

You both blushed as Aemond took the seat across from you. Tension hung in the air for a few moments. You were about to say something when Aemond beat you to it.

"What's your major?" He blurted. He looked slightly terrified.

"I'm a lit major, I enjoy reading and analyzing and writing," you explained. "I've been devouring four books a month, might as well learn how to make a career out of it, right?"

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"What about you?"

"Oh, I don't attend the university. I'm just…here," he took a breath. "I graduated from University of Old Valyria two years ago. I came here to start over."

"Wow, wasn't expecting that one."

"It usually takes people by surprise, those who ask."

"I get that, staying in the back. There's solitude in it. But it can get lonely."

"It really can."

For once, there was a comfortable silence. Genuine smiles graced both of your face, and soon enough, you and Aemond were talking about everything and anything - sharing stories, good and bad. You discovered both of you come from broken families. Aemond's dad didn't give a shit about anyone except his daughter from his first marriage. You told him that your mom and dad fought constantly. Sometimes it got so bad that small pieces of furniture would get thrown. By the time you and Aemond finished talking three hours had passed and Mrs. Tully began ushering both of you out, not without a knowing smile, of course.

"I just realized that you never gave me your name," Aemond said.

"Shit, yeah. Sorry about that," you gave him a small smile before giving him your name along with your number. "We should do this again, Aemond. I really enjoyed it."

"Absolutely. Not to be too weird or anything, but can I walk you home?"

As it turned out, you both lived at the same apartment complex and the same floor. You stood outside your door, unable to keep yourself from smiling, as you said your goodbyes for the night.

"I guess, but I don't want you to walk one way only to find out you have to go to the other side of town."

Over the next year you and Aemond continued to build your friendship. You knew everything about him and you, him. Every little facial expression, every bit of body language, you knew it all. 

As you were ending your final year at university you moved in with Aemond. You two were as thick as thieves, basically being a package whenever it mean going out. It was more than a friendship, though. It always has been. It was that neither of you wanted to admit it. Accidental brushes of hands, long hugs, the forehead kisses you insisted were platonic peppered your days. 

Until one day, Aemond decided to take you to the lake for the day.

"Aems, this is beautiful," you stared in awe at the sparkling water and the lush grass.

"I thought we could have a nice picnic away from the city. It can be a lot, you know? And we haven't left it since you moved it," he said.

"Aw, look at you, being observant," you laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he chuckled.

Playfully elbowing him you couldn't help but feel loved. No one ever thought about things like this concerning you.

You spent the entire day at the lake, splashing each other with water, eating sandwiches, reading, and simply enjoying each other's company. Too soon, the sun set and the moon came out.

"We should get going, Aems, it's already -," you yawned and stretched.

"Just a few more minutes. Look up," he pointed at the sky.

You raised your head up towards the night sky and gasped. The moon glowed soft and the stars were scattered all around it. You never saw the sky like this when you were growing up. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, nothing could top this. 

Until a shooting star blazed across sky. All you could do was stare at wonder and bask in its beauty. 

What you didn't see was Aemond staring not looking up at the sky, but at you. A smile graced his face when he saw how happy you were. He took this moment to scoot closer to you and put an arm around you. He's done this many times before but this time was different. Warmth spread through your body. You could feel your stomach start to coil and you suddenly felt nervous.

"Aems, meteor showers don't happen often," you stated. You closed your eyes as you asked the question, "did you plan this?"

Aemond ran his free hand through his hair. A blush crept up his neck. "Yeah, I did. I thought it would be a nice -"

You cut him off, "it's beautiful, Aems."

"There's something else I wanted to do, if you're okay with it."

"Of course."

Aemond leaned in slowly, giving you the time to choose to pull back if you wanted. But you didn't. Instead, you glanced at his lips then met his eye and smiled. You met him in the middle as your nervousness disappeared and joy took its place. His lips were as soft as you thought. The kiss was gentle and perfect. In that moment you knew that you two were made for each other. When you separated you couldn't help but grin wildly at each other.

"Yes, Aems, a hundred times yes," you said as you captured his lips in another sweet kiss. 

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked.

Living together didn't change much except for the kisses and touches. You were more intimate and I'm playful with each other. You shared even more secrets with each other, including your fear of being in a relationship similar to your parents'. 

Eventually, you got rid of your bed and moved into Aemond's room. That night was when you finally had sex for the first time. Like your first kiss, it was gentle and sweet. It wasn't fucking, it was making love.

Two years passed before cracks started showing.

At first it was over small things, dishes not being washed, the toilet seat left up, not taking out the trash. Nothing was ever said, both you and Aemond didn't want to deal with confrontation so you were passive aggressive to each other. You started to go out more, not realizing you were trying to stay away from the apartment. Aemond noticed this but never said anything, he didn't want you to think he was controlling.

But he couldn't take it anymore.

You came in late that night, around two thirty in the morning. He was waiting for you on the couch facing the turned off TV.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now, Aems," you said softly.

"I'm not," there was a bite in his words.

A pregnant pause.

"You don't think I've noticed how often you've come home late, how you disappear for most of the day?" 

"Aemond, you know I'm just hanging out with some friends."

He bowed his head, "who is he? Who are you seeing?"

Your eyes widened at the accusation. "You think I'm cheating on you, Aems? Do you really think I don't want you?"

Aemond stood up from the couch and stalked over to you, "It certainly seems that way. You won't even let me kiss you for too long."

"Aemond, this is ridiculous, you know I love you," you reached out to him but he pulled away.

He huffed, "Yeah, sure."

"I love you and only you," your phone buzzed. 

Aemond tensed, "Who's that?"

You rolled your eyes, "It's just a friend named Cregan."

Red flashed across his face. "Cregan. You mean Cregan Stark? That fuck boy?"

"He's not a fuck boy, Aemond. And he's just a friend!" You insisted but you were losing your patience.

"I'm going to bed," he said. As he turned around you heard him whisper, "Just go fuck him."

"Excuse me?" 

"You heard me," he refused to turn around to face you. "Go fuck Cregan."

"You know what, fine. It's not like you haven't been trying to get into Floris's pants too."

Aemond turned around so fast he knocked over a plastic succulent as he turned back to you. He grabbed the nearest thing to him, a set of keys, and threw it across the room. 

"Don't. You. Fucking. Dare. I've never touched her," he looked at you with such rage you wanted to back down but you didn't.

"Whatever you say, Aemond," you rolled your eyes and went to leave the apartment when something smashed into the wall next to your head. A framed photo of you two at the lake. You whipped your head around, fear in your eyes. You started to hyperventilate. You couldn't breathe.

The anger on Aemond's face was immediately replaced with regret. "No, no, please, I'm sorry, I didn't -"

You didn't let him finish as you ran out.

Running out of the complex you knew you had to get as far away as possible. You didn't know where to go, nowhere made sense, everything was wrong. Nothing was real. So you went to the only place that could bring you peace at this time of night.

The lake.

You hopped into your car and drove as fast as you could to the lake. It wasn't until you sat on the shore that you let the tears escape. Hugging your knees tight you did you best to stifle your cries. You were shaking. Nothing was right, nothing was real. This was a dream, it had to be. Your nails started to dig into your skin as you finally let out your cries.

A hand touched your shoulder and you resigned yourself to your fate. You didn't know who was there but it didn't matter. Everything was wrong, anyway. Nothing made sense. 

Then you heard him.

"Please, please," the voice begged.

You could tell it was Aemond. He knelt down next to you and placed his other hand on your knees. You balled yourself up tighter.

"I'm… I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

You could tell he was on the verge of tears but you didn't look up.

"I know I was wrong. I was angry and I let it fester and I took it out on you, please," he choked on your name. 

Nothing. You said nothing.

"If you want me to leave, if you want us to stop," he took a shakey breath, "just say the word and it can end. We won't ever have to see each other again."

Silence.

"Okay," he swallowed, "I'll go." 

Aemond removed a hand from your shoulder and went to stand up but your hand grabbed the other one on your knee.

"No, please don't leave me, Aemond." You whispered. 

You took a deep breath before unraveling yourself but you didn't look at him. Not yet.

He brought his hand to rest on top of yours. "I won't leave, I promise you I won't. I will never leave you alone," he gasped. You could hear him struggling through the tears.

"I was wrong. I was very wrong. What I said and what I did wasn't okay, it was far from okay. And I promise I have never looked at or thought about anyone else the way I do with you. I know you love me unconditionally but my paranoia got the better of me."

You looked at the lake ahead of you, "It's going to take time, Aemond, a lot of time until I can trust you again."

"I know, and I'm willing to wait." After a few moments of silence Aemond said, "I think of you every day, about this lake. I knew I loved you before then but watching you look up at the sky made it real."

You let out a chuckle as you finally looked at him, "I knew then, too, Aems." You took another breath, "I'm sorry for what I said, too, it wasn't fair. And for avoiding you. Work started becoming too much and I was overwhelmed and didn't want you to see me in such a mess, so I went out."

"We'll get through this, I promise," he took you in his arms and held you tight. "Let's head home. We'll take my car and pick up yours later."

You sniffled, "Okay."

Aemond helped you get up and walk to the car. Your legs were jelly, your body was drained. The drive home was silent but you two held each other's hands.

That night Aemond wrapped his arms around you tight. 

It took months, but through couple's counseling your relationship began to strengthen once more. Aemond saw another therapist focusing on sudden anger in case something sets him off again. He doesn't want to hurt you ever again and he never does.