poemguy

[soullessjack]

something I wish they’d done more for was chuck and jack’s relationship. like that’s his grandfather, that’s the famous guy in the Bible who jack thought it was so cool to be related to. and the first time they meet chuck is already commanding dean to kill him, yelling that he’s dangerous, that he’s a threat. and jack has had to hear that from everyone around him since he was born, he’s had to shoulder it and make himself smaller so he’s not a threat, so that he’s worth loving. and his own grandfather, his own actual blood who barely knows him already hates him, already wants him dead. is it because of his father? just like every other bad thing about him? is jack just doomed to be stuck in Lucifer’s shadow forever or until he dies? come on man gimme something here

[ifnotlovepersevering]

Down the Road (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: your summon to the Witches’ Road unexpectedly reconnects you with the witch that left you behind

Warnings: angsty, anger between R and A, fight scene, injury (A), flashback to past abandonment, R is lowkey into dark magic but in denial, lovers to hurt strangers 😔 whatever will we do

A/N: I used a few different requests in my inbox as inspo. It can also be read as a continuation of Closer. I’m planning on a part two but am open to suggestions on where to take this next! Enjoy 🖤

Tag List: @nyx-aira @crystalline-possession @clxwnnyy @lilibeth-tate @highgaytohell @amethyst-bitch @shinkomiii @agnessharknes @academiagaymess @midnight-lestrange

A summon to the Witches’ Road seemed like exactly what you needed right now. You’d been keeping to yourself these days, staying out of trouble. But it’d been too long since you’d had some excitement and your hands were itching for something new. You were going in blind, but that’s always fun, right?

At least that’s what you’d thought. When the smoke of your white magic disappeared, you were greeted with the sight of your new ragtag coven. You counted four. Where’s the fifth?

“Hello,” you grinned at the youngest, a pale boy with dark hair. “I’m Y/N, I believe someone called?”

“Y/N? As in awesome-moon-powers-Y/N?” The boy exclaimed, grabbing the arm of the tallest one, who seemed equally excited.

You laughed. “I didn’t realize my reputation preceded me so much.”

“Are you kidding?” Now it was the tall one exclaiming. “You’re like, so cool. Incorporating the moon into your power? It makes you the jack of all trades. Healing, light manipulation, water control. I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Moon magic?” The older woman seemed sort of dazed. “I’d heard stories…but have never seen it for myself.”

Before you could respond to the group’s praise, a familiar voice rang out. “What the hell are all of you harping ab-”

You turned around at the same time as footsteps behind you halted in their tracks. You felt your heart drop as you realized why the voice was familiar. It couldn’t be.

Agatha Harkness stood in front of you in all her glory. Gone was the young witch you had known, in her place a woman exuding power and elegance. Both of you eyed each other, surprise and apprehension on your faces.

•••

Your last memory of Agatha was that smirk of hers. You two had started as rivals but a trip that you went on together changed that. You grew closer and animosity turned to friendship, which turned into something much more. So many nights of you sneaking into each other’s rooms, honing your skills, and eventually using your hands to explore each other.

On one of your many visits to the woods for spell practice, the two of you encountered a shapeshifter. You and Agatha fought it off but it forced you to use the full extent of your powers. You were young and had only just started to incorporate the moon into your witchcraft. The fight drained you completely, leaving you weak.

At home, you were checked into the infirmary. News spread quickly of the battle; Agatha, being Evanora’s daughter, caught attention easily. Her power had been a topic of dispute within the coven for some time. You resented the others for how they treated her, especially her own mother. The parts of Agatha that made them turn away were the same you admired undyingly. You loved her.

You had been drifting in and out of consciousness for hours before you finally woke up to see Agatha at your bedside. “They want a formal questioning,” she had told you softly, her hand holding yours. In response to your furrowed brow, Agatha brushed the hair from your forehead. “It’s nothing serious. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You sighed, knowing Evanora took every chance she could to hurt Agatha. “Give them hell anyway.”

“You know I will.” Agatha had smirked, and with a soft kiss, she was gone. Unbeknownst to you, it was the last time you were going to see her.

You woke up the next day, surrounded by the early morning darkness. It was eerily silent; you’d expected Agatha to be back by now. Your strength had returned, and you searched for Agatha everywhere you could think of. No one was around, every room empty.

Eventually you had come to the clearing and saw the husks of the other witches. Their bodies surrounded a post, covered in scorch marks from what you could only assume to be Agatha. You felt yourself freeze as the truth dawned on you. It was more than questions, it was a sentencing. Yet Agatha had obviously survived.

Hot tears had filled in your eyes and a lump formed in your throat before you had collapsed into sobs. She’d survived, of course she had. But she hadn’t come for you. Agatha, the girl you loved without question, whom you had embraced completely. The girl who encouraged you with your magic, the one you’d helped with controlling her own. She had left you.

Over time, the hurt faded but it never quite left. You never looked back, not at her, nor the version of you that broke that day in the clearing. You drew from the pain and let it fuel your ambition. As you travelled and your power grew, you’d heard stories about Agatha. How she’d honed those skills you’d practiced together into something to be both admired and feared. But her betrayal was enough for you to never want to seek her out again.

•••

You blinked, snapping out of your reverie.

“Y/N was the other name on the list? I can’t believe you wanted to leave her behind.” The boy’s voice piped up from behind you.

You scoffed. “Don’t be so surprised.” There was no hiding the snark in your voice, and you saw Agatha’s face drop right before you turned on your heel. “This was a mistake,” you muttered, walking away from the group to recollect yourself.

The rest of the group watched as you left. “What did she mean by that?” Alice hissed at Agatha. Everyone looked at her expectantly.

“Well,” Agatha grinned sheepishly. “We may have some…uh…unfinished business if you will.”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you have to make her stay. We need her to do this.”

Agatha groaned as the others nodded and nudged her towards the area you’d retreated to. But the annoyance was an act. Seeing your name on the list had stopped her in her tracks, bringing back memories she’d tried to bury. And now here you were, and she couldn’t hide from the swirl of emotions within her like she’s used to doing. Her heart still ached for you but it was unlikely you’d want anything to do with her.

She sauntered over to where you were sitting on a log by yourself. Standing close to you, she had a moment to take in your appearance. Somehow you were even more beautiful than she remembered. Time had clearly treated you well, and Agatha found her gaze catching on your features as she took in the sight of the face that haunted her memories.

She cleared her throat. “You can’t leave now that you’re here. The Road. It won’t let you.”

You looked up at her from where you sat. “You think I don’t know that?” You snapped. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew it was you.”

That stung. “Well it’s nice to see you again too, doll.” Agatha sneered.

“Oh save it, Agatha.” You stood up, eye level with the other witch. “I think we both remember who left who. Don’t play dumb now.”

“You act like I made that decision by flipping a coin. You don’t know the half of it.” The nonchalant attitude Agatha had been putting up was slipping away, revealing the raw emotion underneath.

You shook your head and turned your back to her. “Forget it. I’m already going to have to suffer through the rest of this thing anyway. I don’t need some shitty explanation from you.”

But Agatha wasn’t one to take that for an answer. She grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn back and face her. “No,” she hissed. “You don’t get to do what they did. Don’t repaint me as callous because I was never like that with you.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a lump forming at the back of your throat. You couldn’t help it - the hurt you’d buried for this long was coming back up, and it was as sharp as the day it’d arrived.

“Callous?” You laughed humourlessly. “No, leaving me behind wasn’t callous. It was cruel. You’re cruel.”

You could see Agatha’s cheeks flushed in anger, and her mouth opened with another rebuttal when a shriek rang through the air back where the rest of the coven was standing. Both of you jumped, and Agatha dropped your arm.

“What the hell was that?” You shouted at Agatha over the shrieks, which had grown louder.

“Salem Seven ring a bell?” Agatha snarked, but her eyes were filled with fear.

“What the fuck, Agatha.” You all but yelled as the two of you began running back. Somehow you’d never encountered any of the Seven before but that didn’t mean you wanted to start now. They were definitely pissed at Agatha, but it was unlikely that they were happy with you either, as the only other survivor of their mothers’ massacre.

The shrieks were coming from both the coven and a dark, hooded figure who you assumed was one of the Seven floating above them. “Run!” The boy screamed, and everyone began sprinting down the road.

Suddenly you heard Agatha cry out and a thud. You turned to see Agatha on the ground, the hooded figure hovering over her. You stared incredulously as Agatha put her arms up to shield herself, but made no other move to put up a defence. What is she doing?

The Salem Seven witch lunged towards Agatha and you quickly shot a beam at her, making her fall to the ground. As you ran over, you saw the witch was already stirring, not quite dead yet. You began reciting a spell that’d become second nature for you now, your hands falling into the familiar motions.

Agatha watched in awe as you drew the many surrounding shadows towards the figure on the ground. You made a sharp movement with your hand and suddenly the figure that was beginning to rise from the ground was being surrounded by dark tendrils.

Muffled screams could be heard as the shadows twisted tighter and tighter, until the figure fell limp to the ground. You weren’t done, however. Another practiced movement of your hands and you watched as the shadows engulfed the witch, dragging her downwards into the ground until she disappeared like vapour.

With the threat gone, you rushed to Agatha’s side. You could see a gash on her arm where her sleeve had torn, blood seeping out of the wound. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you fight back?” Anger mixed with worry as you searched Agatha’s face for answers.

“Careful there, Y/N. Wouldn’t want to look like you care.” When you didn’t indulge her teasing, the other witch sighed. “Why do you think I’m here?” She asked, gesturing around her. She saw the confusion in your face and waved her hand dismissively. “Long story doll, I won’t bore you.”

Typical. Even all those years ago Agatha would opt to keep you in the dark rather than explain herself. “Fine.” You said, helping her stand. “Let’s find somewhere to sit so I can patch you up.”

You turned to see the rest of the group standing nearby, a mixture of awe and apprehension across their faces. The boy seemed the most awestruck. “How did you do that?” He exclaimed. “Where did she go?”

The oldest of the group spoke before you could. “The shadow realm.” She answered, eyeing you warily. “No one should be doing that.”

“Why don’t we um, find a place to sleep? While Y/N takes care of Agatha.” The tall one spoke now, gesturing for the rest of the group to follow her and leave you and Agatha alone. You watched as they hurried away, the short one throwing a worried glance back at you.

“So, shadow work huh?” Agatha spoke lowly as you examined her arm. “Didn’t realize you’d begun dabbling in my side of things.” Her tone was playful but probing.

You turned your head sharply towards her. “I haven’t. It’s not the same thing.”

Agatha chuckled darkly. “Oh isn’t it? Don’t get so high and mighty now Y/N. I’ve heard things. That good girl persona of yours may be working on everyone else, but not me.”

You didn’t answer, instead pulling her arm into the moonlight coming in through the trees. At your silence, Agatha kept going. “‘Oh wow! Moon girl is so amazing and talented! She can do anything!’” She said mockingly. “All admiration when you’re doing what they like. But you saw the look on their faces just now. Everybody switches up when we start talking real power. The kind you and I have.”

Okay yes, you could admit that the shadow stuff is a bit iffy. But it wasn’t anywhere close to as iffy as using the Darkhold, like you’d heard Agatha did. That was different.

“All I’m saying,” Agatha continued, as she watched you weave the light with your hands to heal her open wound. “Is that we’re much bigger than them. Than this. We’re destined for domination, Y/N.”

You shook your head. Years later and it was still all about power with her. Grand plans and limited following-through were classic Agatha. Enough. You stood up, Agatha’s arm now healed. “You’re talking about powers you had, and that I have.” You said coldly, taking satisfaction in the way her jaw clenched at your words. “Maybe focus on getting those back first.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

[hyperfizationss]

Lost the request cos tumblrs dumb😡but I know who requested it @averagetoyakinnie (Ik it was lute and Adam but I just can’t see a poly relationship there)

Adam x reader gen hcs

Sfw:

⭐️- let’s start off with how likely it is you guys met

⭐️- adam who at the time has fucked so many people he’s probably in the 100s for a body count,wanting a relationship?

⭐️- well yeah it wasn’t easy to convince him into that,but after realizing he had feelings for his friend rather than just a need to fuck he got really fucked up in the head

⭐️- this man would be be shoving whores to the side at his concerts just to go and find you at whatever you were doing at the time

⭐️- before you guys actually dated and he was in his crush phase,he took a lot of pictures of you when you guys hung out,mostly because you were cute.but also because he wanted something to jack off to later

⭐️-he found telling you would be the worst part,not even if you rejected,just telling you,because he’s Adam,the dickmaster,he can’t just say he likes you and that be it,it needs to be extravagant

⭐️-bye at the end of the day he couldn’t do anything because you obviously confessed first,because you wanted to know if he would be up for a real relationship

⭐️- which,with you?yeah h totally was.

⭐️this man turns into your personal guard dog,he’s basically always on you,a hand on something,wherever you go he’s not far

⭐️-he’s a love sick little golden retriever,who just loves his partner so much and can’t stand not being around them

⭐️-and when I say dog,I also meant l in the loyal way,he’s been left twice,and he always had some sort of attachment issue with his hookups.

⭐️- now some hcs 😍

⭐️- he buys you jewelry.and a lot,necklaces,bracelets,rings,hell even tiaras

⭐️-and on the topic of rings,he is sooooooo serious about wanting to marry you,keep you away from Lucifer and all

⭐️-JEALOUS.

⭐️- he can’t help it,he had two wives get swooped away by ‘mr steal your girl’ so of course he also tries to keep you away from hell

⭐️- you don’t know about the exterminations,which after the whole trial drove a wedge into your relationship,as you thought that was a huge thing to hide

⭐️-but luckily you guys got over it.

⭐️-WE CAN IMAGINE THAT HE DIDNT DIE.

⭐️-so you nursed him back to health,getting healers and everything to make it very quick and comfy for him

⭐️- heavens number 1 couple.that’s what y’all are

NSFW:

⭐️- let’s talk about size.he’s isn’t average.he’s almost at ten inches, 9.8 to be specific,and girthy to. has 1 specific vein down the side that buldges whenever he’s been jacking off for to long

⭐️- favorite position is any kind where he can push your legs up.over his shoulders,makes you wrap them around his waist. Mating press and missionary>>>>>

⭐️- is great at giving head,eats like it’s his last meal

⭐️- but is a MESS receiving it.when you suck his dick it takes everything to make him not start fucking your mouth,trying to keep his hips from bucking up is practically impossible

⭐️- he loves when you ride him,he’s a lazy guy,he’ll be grabbing your thighs tho,his finger prints will be in you thighs at this point

Dividers from this post by @saradika-graphics

As always thanks for reading and my inbox is open!

[coff-in]

hihi!!!

this can be treated as a request or just idk something random / food for thought or a simple ask. imagine andrew being in love with his older twin brother like to the point of intense fixation on him. and then one day, reader appears back home with the other woman, his mysterious gf who he kept secret until now (dun dun dun…) and she’s quite literally the opposite to the graves physically and personality wise (bubbly, sociable and outgoing). as well as ashley who is starting to be just as obsessed with reader like andrew.

how would andrew react? would he bury his anger and jealousy towards the gf and away from reader? or would he lash out after seeing them so smitten with each other? would he kill her? see her as competition? try and be more touchy feely and groping reader in front of her to assert dominance? would ashley try and do something petty such as spilling a drink to ruin the gf’s top just to humiliate her? so many possibilities….

also btw i love your works they’re lowkey my guilty pleasure esp the ones with andrew i wish he was real 😭❤️❤️

notes from coff-in: OH MY GOODNESS!!! 'i love your works they’re lowkey my guilty pleasure' STOP IT YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH AND GIGGLE AT WORK!!! when i started this blog i was honestly not expecting people to like my work and now there are 'nonnies in my inbox telling me that my work is their guilt pleasure!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

[masc] reader-insert, suggestive/NSFW, incest

it'd be so cute and funny to me if andrew just started palming and rubbing [reader]'s cock under the table while the girlfriend is sitting across from them. banger opening, ik

if [reader] had a girlfriend, andrew would probably be so conflicted because 'holy fuck does he like women??? does he only like women????' he'd feel kinda conflicted about it because he could be pinning not only after his brother but possibly a straight guy?? truly scandalous

ashley treats [reader]'s girlfriend the same as she did julia, acting aggressively and hostile towards her. "do you think you really have what it takes to date him? does he even love you?? if he did he would've told us all about you but he hasn't said jack SHIT about you. you're just a distraction for him, i bet. the moment you're out of sight, you're out of mind."

highly doubt that andrew or ashley would kill [reader]'s girlfriend (even if this takes place after the quarantine), but they definitely wouldn't be welcoming to her either. everything has this air of passive aggressiveness to it.

but if it was an intense fixation as you say 👀

andrew does hold [reader] close to him, way closer than what most people would hold their siblings. he'd probably have [reader] situated on his thigh or lap as he talks to [reader]'s girlfriend across from them. an arm wrapped around his shoulder while his hand forces his head on andrew's shoulder, "so tell us, how'd you meet? what did you find appealing about our brother?" [reader]'s girlfriend is sociable and polite for the most part.

imagine [reader] goes to the kitchen to grab a cup for her and andrew comes behind him, pressing himself against [reader]'s back, grinding against him a bit to reach over [reader] and grab the cup for him. it then turns into dry humping, [reader] bent over the counter while andrew humps him, growling in his ear that he doesn't want to see this fucking bitch at their house ever again. andrew doesn't like sharing with strangers, besides, family comes first, right?

(I NEED ANDREW TO HUMP ME PLEASE, PLEASE)

----

coff-in

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

hi guys and gals! Part 7 sees friendship strengthened, decisions being made and love ultimately hurting. As always, please enjoy the next part and let me know what you think is going to happen in part eight! I actually love hearing from you all so please don't be too shy to reach out and message me - I love a good chat LOL Love always, Steph xx

Part 7 | settima parte

warnings; love sucks man. word count;  1850 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Monday 09/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

“bella amelia, cosa ho fatto per meritarmi questa telefonata?” (beautiful amelia, what did i do to deserve this phone call?) Jorginho spoke his second-native tongue down the line to the British girl, calling him way past her self-appointed bedtime of 9pm.

“Jorgi, ho bisogno del consiglio di un amico” (Jorgi, i need the advice of a friend). Amelia, almost desperately, pleaded down the line to the boy who became her therapist.

It had been a few days since Amelia & Jack’s facetime where they sat and listened to the countless offers the successful girl had waiting in her voice message inbox. Being the person that she is, Amelia needed to distract herself from obsessing over the messages so she threw herself into her job. Spending too many hours over her paid allocation at Juventus training ground, getting administrative work done for the season ahead.

Was this her way of nesting? Or empty-nesting? Was she subconsciously preparing the club and her boys for life without her? Getting them ready with a season's worth of set pieces and tactical plays that would secure them an outstanding 37th victory? On the flip side, was she preparing for her new role in England which she had yet to accept. There was no harm in her taking her intellectual property back over to the motherland. The two clubs did not compete in the same tournaments, perhaps only the Champions league - but who's to say that whatever club she does pick will make the Champions League? There was no doubt Juve would be there - all of her preparation would ensure they would be. Whoever took over her role simply just had to show up and keep the boys in line.

“ok tesoro, parlami.” (Ok darling, speak to me). The Italian settled onto his couch, espresso in hand, waiting to hear the younger girl's problem.

“So I've spoken with Kyle & Jack now, and have told them of my predicament. They both are very heavily favouring one side - but I need a voice of reason. If you happen to express the same sentiments that they both did, then maybe that's all of the reassurance I need to make this final decision.” Amelia switched back to her native tongue.

After spending the better part of an hour discussing in great depth the offers that she was receiving from the 5 english clubs, Amelia felt just as confused as she did before calling the Chelsea boy. No surprise that Jorgi was team Come to the Prem & Join Chelsea, but the italian midfield maestro had also brought her back down to earth from cloud nine and reminded her of what, or who, she was leaving behind.

“Now I don't like telling you what to do, but you need to discuss this with Fede, Amelia. He doesn’t deserve a lot of things, but this is something he does.”

So that's where Amelia found herself the next morning. Sunday’s in Italy were reserved for espresso and long walks in the sun. This particular Sunday must have been reflective of the internal turmoil she was facing, uncommon for the season, the sky above her was overcast and a light drizzle had started to set in on her walk to the charming Italian’s townhouse.

______________________________________________________________

“pensavo fosse un mito che gli inglesi portino con sé il tempo the” (i thought it was a myth that british people bring the weather with them) Fede said as he opened the door, and his arms, while looking down the two steps at me.

“Very funny” I said as I gave him a hug. He always was so good at hugs. I’m going to miss them. Snap out of it Amelia - you don’t even know if you’re going to go yet. Oh she knows she's going. She also knows what club she's going to. No she doesn't, you be quiet. I’m here rooting for her Italian romance. If I had an angel and devil on each shoulder, their conversation would speak my internal monologue as such.

Walking through to his kitchen, putting on a coffee and saying hello to his dogs, Fede stood in the doorway and watched me move around his kitchen as though it was my own.

“I’m convinced you got British bulldogs because you just can’t help but love the English” I cheekily smiled up at him from my crouched position in the middle of his kitchen, giving the two bullys the best head rubs.

“Sure, you keep thinking that Amelia” Oh, the way he says your name Amelia, so foreign, so romantic. He says it the same way any other Italian would say it, he’s nothing special. Be quiet, let them have their moment.

“Lets go and enjoy these out in the courtyard, is your sun shade still up? It should hold out the rain right?” Amelia spoke rushedly as she poured two espresso cups and walked towards his back door.

“Tesoro, why are you so unsteady today? Is something troubling you?” Fede spoke worriedly, noticing my little nervous habits coming out to play and speaking faster than my mind could comprehend. Better to just get this over with i think, for once we agree on something.

“Ok i need to tell you something, and i need you to let me get it all out before interrupting me. Can you do that? This is something i’ve been working up the courage to speak out loud, let alone speak it to you”

Fede took a sip of his espresso, holding my eye contact, before putting his cup back on its saucer and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He thought he was ready for what i was about to say, expecting it to be yet another long winded speech as to why i want to put a label on our situationship. Oh boy, how wrong he was.

“After the success of the european tournament, i have received a lot of praise and recognition for my skills”

“And you deserve every bit of it amore, every bit and even more” Oh dear, could my heart hurt anymore?

“Fede, I asked you not to interrupt me…”

“Ok ok, sorry, continue”

“So, I have received a lot of recognition both here in Italy as well as from my home country of England. In saying that, I have received a few offers from clubs in the premier league that want me to bring my approach, the italian approach, to the english game. It's a real step up in my career and it's something I am seriously considering. I’ve spoken with some of the boys back home and also Jorgi, they all think that this is the next step for me. I’m far too comfortable here, I can't grow in my comfort zone. I think I'm ready for a new challenge.”

I held eye contact with the 27 year old, I wasn’t about to let him know just how vulnerable I was feeling here in front of him. Something Fede could always do was read me, and read my emotions. If he knew how exposed I felt, how easily I could be swayed over this decision, then he would make it his life's mission to do so. I had made my mind up that I was going, but there was also a part of me that decided if he was to give me what I was after I would be open to the possibility of staying.

“So it seems that you have asked for the opinion of everyone else in your life, and made your decision, before even considering mine.” He slumped back in his chair, and rubbed two fingers over his lips while looking off into the small courtyard garden.

“Fede, I have made my decision. But I wanted to talk to you about it, I owe that to you. You have made my time here so memorable, so fantastic, so filled with love that I wouldn't even consider not including you in this.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay? Do you want me to ask you to be my girlfriend? To tell you I love you? To move in with me? Let me know what you need from me to reconsider this decision” He began to get frustrated with me, pulling the cap off of his head and running his fingers through his hair.

“That’s exactly it Fede! I don’t want to ask you to do that, you should ask me to be your girlfriend on your own! I don't want you to tell me you love me if you think that's what I want to hear - I want you to feel like you love me! I don’t need anyone to tell me what I want to hear, what I want to hear is what you truly feel. And if there is something i have learnt about you in the last few years is that you can’t hold back your feelings with anything! If you were in love with me it would have burst from you a long time ago. I think that you do love me Fede, but as someone to come home to instead of no one at all.”

“You know Fede, i don’t have any regrets over this. You mean just as much to me now as you did the very first time we crossed that boundary and blurred the lines. You’re just my type, you only call me late at night, you can’t decide if you’ll be your own man or mine. I hate to say it, but you really are just my type. This decision has nothing to do with you, it’s something i have come to make all on my own.”

I had stood up now, looking down at the 27 year old. I needed him to understand exactly what I was saying, how serious I was. This was the moment I could get it all off my chest, instead of just letting the relationship play out on his terms.

“I leave on Friday, I let the club know this morning. There's nothing that can be done now Fede, this is my decision. Please respect it, and me”

He stood up, his almost 6’1” frame towering over me. Looking down, face of steel, I could see everything I needed behind his eyes.

“hai ragione ti amo Solo non nel modo in cui meriti di essere amato” (you're right, i do love you. Just not in the way you deserve to be loved). He pulled me into his chest, both arms wrapping around the back of my shoulders, left hand holding my head in the crook of his neck. My arms wrapped around his back from below his arms, holding him tight enough that they crossed over and I could grab the sides of his rib cage. This was the closure I needed.

“I’ll give Jorginho a call and make sure he looks out for you”

“How do you know what club I'm going to?”

“I saw the way your eyes sparkled when you mentioned its name, it was the same sparkle that used to come out when you said mine…”

Part 8. | parte otto

[ssahotchhner]

angel of spite

hi, i wrote a quick little something about the reader intentionally making hotch jealous as revenge. i hope you like it (: i'll be working on a few requests in my inbox next. i also finally made a masterlist which i'll link below!

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

You supposed you should have known better than to spite Aaron for staying at the office too late, again. You had simply texted him that since he was going to be working late to not expect you to be there when he got home. Maybe that had been unfair to him, and you were normally so patient with his work schedule, but the last three nights in a row he had promised to be home for date night and continually cancelled last minute. Tonight, you had gotten angry when he texted you yet again, apologizing and saying he would be back late.

He tried calling you over an hour after you had sent the text message, having just then seen it in the throws of a difficult case, but you didn’t pick up. He tries to push down the flare of annoyance he feels, after all, this was the third time he had flaked on you. But still, you were acting like a child. He also knew part of the reason you were doing this was because you knew it would piss him off.

All he wanted at the end of a hard day was to see you waiting in bed for him with open arms. He put on a big show of being the dominant one in the relationship, but both of you knew Aaron became putty in your hands when you gently scratched at his scalp and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. You purposely took that away from him, knowing it was one of the only things that could get him through a tough work day. The more he sat at his desk trying to work, constantly checking his phone to see if you’d called or texted again (you hadn’t) the more angry he became. In fact, he stormed out of the BAU without saying goodbye to anyone without finishing his report.

He called you over and over again until you started sending him straight to voicemail. And so by the time he’s able to make an educated guess about what bar you’re in, his rage ripples off him in waves. He flashes his FBI badge to the bouncer to get inside without waiting in line, something he’s definitely not supposed to do, and heads up the elevator to the rooftop. Once up there, he heads straight to the bar. He scans the room quickly, but you’re nowhere to be found. Until, across the room, sparkling golden crescent moons dangled from someone’s ear. Aaron knew those earrings, he had bought them for you for your birthday this year. And standing in front of you is a broad, tall man. Not as tall as Aaron, but he was built a bit wider than Aaron, as if to make up for it. You sit on the arm of the couch, you look relaxed, your legs open just enough to get the man that was in front you salivating.

When your eyes settled on him, you couldn’t help the cocky smile that lit up your mouth. Unbridled fury filled his face when he saw the lawyer in front of you that was clearly wondering what you’d let him do to you in bed. You sigh as Aaron begins walking over you and turn to look at the lawyer, “I’m really sorry about this.” You say, cutting off whatever he was saying.

He frowns at you, “What?”

But Aaron was here now, “Hi baby,” You say sweetly, “I didn’t think you were going to make it tonight.”

He gives you a withering look as if to say I’ll deal with you later, before turning to the lawyer. “This is Ronnie, he’s a lawyer.”

Ronnie stared from Aaron, who was still silent, to you and back again. “And… who is this?” He refers to Aaron.

You open your mouth, but Aaron speaks first, “Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. I’m also her boyfriend.” He gives the lawyer a look that anyone in opposition to the unit chief had experienced many times over the course of his career.

I’m sorry, you were mouthing to Ronnie from behind Aaron’s shoulder. “She didn’t mention a boyfriend.” Ronnie says.

You sigh, leave it to you to pick the one guy in this room that would decide to challenge Aaron Hotchner rather than just apologizing and walking away, “Oh, you idiot.” You murmur.

Aaron tilts his head to the side in an almost predatory way, “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

“I’m suggesting that the lady obviously doesn’t want you since she didn’t mention you, Mister FBI.”

“Oh, God help us.” You shake your head and say into your lap and the next time you look up Aaron’s fist has connected with the man’s face and whiskey had splashed on the floor and your ankles. At that your eyes widen, “Aaron, what the fuck?” Aaron had given many men that flirted with you a firm talking to, sometimes escalated to yelling, but never in the entire time that you’d known him had Aaron physically hurt anyone who had advanced on you.

Aaron puts a firm hand on your wrist as a commotion begins to gather around the two of you and pulls you away. He doesn’t speak as he practically drags you out to the back door, down several flights of stairs and out another door behind the building. Once the cold night air hits you, you pull your wrist away from him, “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Did you want him to fuck you?” He practically growls.

“No,” You say, exasperated, “Aaron, we play this game all the time, you’ve never hit someone.”

“You’ve never deliberately gone out of your way to flirt with someone else.”

It was true, you supposed. You always let the men come up to you if they were interested, but you never were the one to initiate. Why would you when no one would compare to Aaron anyway? Today you had come here with specific intentions to speak with someone that would piss off Aaron. “You’re right,” You admit softly, “I’m sorry, I just… I wanted you to feel what I’ve been feeling.”

“Do you think I enjoy coming home late and not spending time with you?”

“Yes, I do! You love your job!”

“So you behave like a child because you’re jealous of my job?”

When he says it out loud like that, it sounds ridiculous and your eyes water, “Yes.” You say quietly, “Because I need to make sure you still want me just as much as your job.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Honey, of course I do, but I can’t control when I have more paperwork or a heavier caseload than usual.”

You feel deflated and stupid all of a sudden with the condescension that’s written so clearly on Aaron’s face. “Whatever, let’s just go home.”

“Sweetheart—“

“I don’t want to talk about it. Did you drive the SUV here?”

He looks at you hopelessly and then sighs, “Yes.”

You let him walk a couple of steps ahead of you the whole way, not wanting to let him hold your hand if you were close enough. He did open the car door for you, but you didn’t look at him as you climbed in.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t consider your feelings more this week when I cancelled our dates.” Aaron says. You remain quiet. “I’m nearly certain I’ll be off work this weekend. I’ll make it up to you then.”

You can’t help the roll of your eyes, “You have to stop making me promises that you can’t keep. We all know you’ll probably get a case in the middle of the weekend.”

His fingers flex on the steering wheel, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Aaron, I’m not even mad about you not being here all the time. I accepted that when we first started dating. I just hate when you promise you’ll do something and then you don’t do it. We planned this dinner weeks and weeks ago and you swore to me you’d get it off. And then we had to reschedule the reservation three nights in a row and you still didn’t show. Then you do show up, but only for the chance to be mad at me and condescend me which just tells me that you could have left work tonight if you wanted to. That’s why I’m mad.”

He supposed you were right. He had ended up leaving work early because he was upset with you. He knew that hadn’t been your intention, you had expected him to quietly stew in his anger until the next morning or until you had come home that night. But he had done it all the same, unable to bear even the idea of you flirting with another man in his absence. He figured it had to do with previously being cheated on because of his job, but he knew you would never do that. Knew that your relationship wasn’t fundamentally broken in that way, could tell by the way adoration still glowed in your eyes when he came home every night. But if he wasn’t careful, he wondered if you ever would. Just the thought had his knuckles whitening as he clenched the steering wheel. It was this thought that had made him punch that lawyer back at the bar.

When you arrive home, you get out of the car without waiting for Aaron, unlocking the door before he’s even out of the car and heading inside, heels in hand. Jack was sleeping at a friend’s house tonight as it was supposed to be date night. You don’t slam the bedroom door, but you close it as Aaron is walking down the hallway which in his mind is the same thing. He stops in the middle of the hallway, wondering if he should go in anyway. A minute later, he hears the intro to The Phantom of the Opera blaring from your bedroom.

He sighs, “Fuck.” He murmurs to himself and turns away from the room. Your mutual love of the theater had been something the two of you had bonded over early in the relationship. Aaron had learned quickly there was a specific stage performance of Phantom of the Opera that you turned to for comfort. If he ever came home to it playing, he knew you had had a bad day. Rarely, though, had you put it on after a fight with him.

He heads to the kitchen and turns on the electric kettle figuring he’d better come into the bedroom with your favorite tea if he was going to brave it at all. He sits down as he waits, resting his head in his hands. The two of you rarely ever fight and so Aaron is still trying to figure out how to do that with you in a productive way.

The kettle switches off and he pours the boiling water into your favorite mug, dunking your favorite tea bag before leaving it to steep. He takes a deep breath before picking up the mug and walking to the bedroom. When he enters, you don’t look at him until he stops by your nightstand, noticing he brought you tea. The gesture is sweet and so you sigh and pause the show.

“Hi.” You say softly to your boyfriend who’s still standing next to you.

“Hi.” He says gently, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You say, and he knows it’s a test.

“For making promises I know I can’t keep. For leaving work early after I told you I wouldn’t be able to solely to punch whatever man wanted to sleep with you. For patronizing you.”

You cover your hand with his, “And I’m sorry for flirting to intentionally make you upset. You know I’d never actually do that, right?”

Aaron looks down at your hands, “I saw the way you had spread your legs for him, just a little bit, and I…” He sighs, “I never told you this, but my last wife cheated on me because I wasn’t around enough and seeing you like that, I guess I just…” He trailed off shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“Baby,” You say softly, eyes wide, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea… I never would’ve done that if I had known.”

“I know.” He gives you a small smile.

“Why don’t you come lay down and tell me about your day?”

His smile grows and he crawls into bed, laying his head in your lap and your fingers begin combing through his hair as he talks about the case.

[yoichichi]

Modern!au Jean Best Friend Headcannons

Modern!au Jean Kirschtein x bestfriend!reader

a/n: i want to be bestie’s with Jean so bad! I jus couldn’t stop thinking about it so please enjoy some headcannon’s of what I think it’d be like to be buddies with Jean! I might make a part 2 someday to add onto these cause I have so much more to say but I had to stop myself before I wrote a full fledged essay sdkjalkfjbajfb, let me know if you guys are interested! Or if you jus wanna come in my inbox and talk with me about Jean Kirstein, I’m always free to do that. Anyways, enjoy!

gif not mine, credit to owner

Ok, I had a dream about Jean being my bestie and I have not stopped thinking about it since then LMAO

Ok, so for starter’s, I truly believe he would be such a good friend like the type to be listening to you in a group conversation and encouraging you to go on when you feel like no one is paying attention

“I’m listening :)”

Or the type to stop next to you while you tie your shoe and wait and just keeps talking to you

VERY much big brother energy, like I feel like he’d have that sincerity that bestie Armin would have but he’d be a little more of the type to always be looking out for you and being a tad overprotective at times, but more on that later back to attentive Jean :)

This man is SO attentive it’s unreal

Bad day? Yeah he could tell before you mentioned it and he’s buying you your favorite snack and driving you around until you talk about it constantly giving you the 👀😗 look

Feeling lonely? You never get the chance

This man is CONSTANTLY blowing up your phone with notifications from snapchat, instagram, tiktok, and facebook messenger if he’s feeling particularly clingy - it’s usually just some strange sticker of a fucking koala or somethin like “hi :)”

SNAPCHAT

You guys don’t have “streaks” but you still have a streak from how often he’s snapchatting you

Most of the time it’s just a video of his face where he slowly zooms in cause he’s bored in class - the amont of snapchat’s you got from him where you can hear is Econ professor lecturing in the background is in the hundred’s at this point

The other times it’s usually Connie and Eren acting like absolute idiot’s while him and Armin are behind the camera like 😐 - they usually end with Armin sighing and stopping them from doing something probably a little illegal

INSTAGRAM

Ok you have a groupchat for studying purposes with all your buddies but if it’s specifically Jean messaging you it’s most likely cause Eren said something stupid and Jean needs someone to laugh with him (yes, you, Jean, Sasha, and Connie do have a separate groupchat where you bully Eren - but it’s with love so it’s ok)

TIKTOK

This man will send you a whole FYP but won’t let you open any of them until he’s with you, then y’all scroll through them together on one of your phones

the type to look at you when you’re on a tiktok he sent you that he thought was really funny to see your reaction

Sends you SO many “challenge” tiktoks that he’s adamant on doing with you

You know the one where someone puts their arm in between the other person’s legs and tries to lift them? He was persistent with that one

“I’m literally jacked c’mon you’ll be fine, I just want to know if I can do it. I mean I know I can, but, like, you know? Just c’mon.”

Yes you gave in, no you didn’t fall, yes Jean wouldn’t shut up about how “yolked” he was for the next 15 minutes

If you guys posted it people are definitely asking if you’re a couple and he just replies to every single one with “no” HE SEEMS SO INTENSE PLS

Ok you’re his best friend? Then you’re definitely close with his family. Like, two holidays every year type close.

You learned to drive when he did cause you’re his bestie and you guys should totally learn together (he was nervous and needed support ok)

PLAY FIGHTING

While I don’t necessarily see him as someone who would playfully bully too much, he is a fighter LMAO

And I’m talking like fucked up sibling fighting

It always starts off “fun” it’s totally a little passive aggressive and then someone smacks a little too hard or throws an elbow that wasn’t needed and next thing you know someone’s in a headlock

If he has you in a headlock he WILL try to tickle you until you borderline piss yourself - until he realizes said piss would get on him and then he’ll let you go like 😎 yeah. I won

If you have him in a headlock PLS take a snapchat if you can and send it to Mikasa

He will pout for like 10 minutes and then get over it when she replies with a black screen and “lol what a dork”

Once you guys are done fighting - cause SOMEONE takes it too far - you just go on your phones until someone peeks over and you’re both like lol hi :),,, are you hungry? I think I still have some pizza rolls :)

Endless hoodie supply from all the sleepovers and the following cold mornings

He is always buying new ones cause he just feels wrong asking for them back? Like, is that his brand new nike hoodie? Yes.

BUT you’re wearing it and clearly you need it if you didn’t bring a hoodie so fine, you can have it, he’ll just buy another one he’s a little bit of a rich boy it’s ok

Although he is wondering where tf his other 6 hoodies you stole went

Late night study sessions in your dorm buildings lounge area - it’s almost embarrassing how often an RA is waking the two of you up to go to your rooms instead of sleeping on the couch and floor

Jean ALWAYS brings an extra water bottle for you in case you forgot one

You’ve definitely stolen your fair share of notes from him - they’re just so easy to understand!

They’re not exactly pretty but they’re just naturally organized into subsections and all the keywords are underlined with a little definition in the margin - if he’s feeling a little spicy he might even add a glossary at the end of his notes asjnffna;irje

Sometime’s he gets too nervous to ask for a girls number and then when you convince him to do it he’s all stuttering and stumbling over his words but he still gets it and he’s convinced it’s ‘cause you’re his lucky charm - really it’s just cute to see Jean all huffy and his ears getting all red while he says some stupid pick up line that he’s immediately apologizing for and now he’s rambling and - oh the girl is shoving something into his hand

“Y/n!! Look!! I got her number!”

Yeah, see Jean acting all cocky for the rest of the day like he got it cause he was smooth and NOT cause he was an adorable flustered mess

He does not like giving out your number if anyone asks him LMAO

He’s just like ,,,,, and why couldn’t you ask them yourself? He just hates it LMAO cause you’re great and if this idiot can’t ask you yourself then they don’t deserve you, they should be CONFIDENT in his mind

BUT he does make it mandatory you tell him everything there is to know about ANY current crush, love interest, fling, anything

Not just cause he likes the gossip but cause he feels like he has to approve - there’s the big bro energy we were talking about

BULLYING EREN BULLYING EREN BULLYING EREN

PLS his favorite thing is to play games with Eren and you and whoever else cause you two will always gang up on Eren and he gets so mad and Jean finds it HILARIOUS

The three of you and Connie were all in the same Minecraft server once and you and Jean just could NOT stop making your dog’s attack Eren and blowing up his house

He was getting so heated and Jean and Connie were laughing so hard it sounded like their mics were blown

Eren had to pull his headset off and step away so he could take a 5-minute break cause he just couldn’t handle it - especially with the three of you dying at how mad he got

Let Eren spell something wrong in the group chat on Instagram or mispronounce a word,,, Jean is on him SO fast and you’re there right behind him - it’s becoming Jean’s favorite hobby and sometimes he says it’s his favorite part of being your best friend LMAO

———————

Ahhhh!! Bestie Jean, hand him over please 🤲🏼🤲🏼‼️‼️ i jus wanna bully eren with him so bad 😭 let me know what you guys think!! Or just come to chat :) love you guys!! And let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites

[orangefoxes]

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

[prince-of-elsinore]

Sam and Dean: psychological analysis and headcanons

In response to this anon ask from the 66 SPN Questions:

6. Do you have any psychological headcanons (or canon interpretations) of the characters?

Anon, this is probably not what you asked for. But I started writing, and kept finding more I wanted to say, until I thought--why not just say it all? And by all, I  don't actually mean all--this is by no means exhaustive. But it was a wonderful, self-indulgent opportunity to organize my thoughts on Sam and Dean's psychologies, and even find some new ideas as I was writing, and to put them out there so others can read and discuss. (Always happy to discuss any of this! Inbox is open.)

As a disclaimer, I know most of these thoughts are probably not original and may be retreads of many things fandom has been discussing for years. I'm not claiming to be breaking new ground here. Also, I sorta float backwards and forwards chronologically in my discussion--some parts pertain more to them when they're young, some to when they're older, and I don't always clarify which. Also, these are generalizations! I point out patterns I notice; that doesn't make them all hard and fast rules, because Sam and Dean are each human and complex!

Here's what you'll find below:

1. Core motivations 2. Happiness 3. Approval and secrets 4. Approval from authority figures 5. Need and attachment re: others 6. Sympathy and empathy 7. Walls—hiding vs. performing 8. Need and attachment re: each other 9. Ambitions and goals 10. Normality and monstrosity 11. Guilt and self-loathing 12. Autonomy and sacrifice 13. Personal identity 14. Concluding observation

1. Core motivations: Dean’s purpose is to protect Sam, obviously. Sam’s purpose, though a little less clear, is to save Dean. Sometimes it’s explicit, as in s3 and s9-10. But I think Sam also wants to save Dean, in general, from himself and from the life. It’s why he pushes against Dean’s obedience to their father. It’s why he tells him to get out and go to Lisa after he jumps in the Cage. At a certain point, I think Sam accepts he can’t “save” Dean without changing who he is, so he chooses to stick by him—because at least then he can make Dean happy.

2. Happiness: Dean’s happiness—or perhaps contentment is a better word—is knowing that Sam is safe and alive. Sam’s happiness is Dean being happy. In Sam’s world, things are good when Dean’s good. I think that, conversely, Dean wants Sam to be happy, and Sam wants Dean to be safe, but they both know and to an extent accept that those things are not within their control, so they focus on what they feel they can control.

3. Approval and secrets: They are each other’s north stars, guiding principles, in different ways. For Dean it’s “look out for Sammy,” for Sam it’s “what would my big brother think/do.” Dean doesn’t need Sam’s approval. Sure, he loves it when Sam admires him, but if he feels he needs to do something against Sam’s approval, he doubles down because approval from Sam is not the top priority. He’ll do what he thinks is right, especially to keep Sam safe, no matter what Sam thinks about it. Sam, on the other hand, does crave Dean’s approval and cares very much about his opinion. It doesn’t mean he won’t go against Dean (all the conflict of s1-5!), but it affects him differently. This leads to different kinds of secret-keeping: Sam goes behind Dean’s back to avoid his disapproval; Dean goes behind Sam’s back so that Sam doesn’t interfere with what he thinks needs to be done.

4. Approval from authority figures: Dean does crave approval from others—specifically, respected authority figures. The big one is obviously John. I think in a way it’s Mary, too, when she comes back. But it only applies as long as the person has his respect. Sam doesn’t crave approval from other authorities in the same way, perhaps because his primary authority figure growing up was Dean.

5. Need and attachment re: others: Sam is the only person Dean cannot live without, but he also makes outside connections of a friendly nature fairly easily. He’s the more socially outgoing brother who latches onto people like Gordon, gets friendly with Ash, and forges connections with Jo and Charlie, just to name a few (and Castiel at times—though their relationship is so inconsistent and often convenience-based I hesitate to include it in this category). Though Sam is Dean’s core need, I do think Dean thrives with other friendships. I’m not talking about found family, though I’m well aware of Dean’s tendency to call people “family” quite readily. Honestly, I think this is a manifestation of his craving for connection with others. Dean has an affectionate and playful nature, and let’s face it, Sam isn’t always super receptive to that—so naturally, Dean seeks out people who are. (I think this is also, in some cases, related to Dean’s craving for approval from others). Of course, none of those other relationships come close to the depth of his relationship with Sam, and when his relationship with Sam is at its best, I don’t think Dean really needs anything else to sustain him. But in reality, it can’t always be at its best.

Sam, on the other hand, doesn’t forge outside connections easily—but when he does, they tend to be deeper than Dean’s easy casual associations (even when Dean has real affection for someone, he tends to keep the tone of the relationship light). It’s pretty clear Sam was a loner kid, and I imagine it took him a while to find friends at Stanford, and even though he loved Jessica he still clearly kept many secrets. That’s the thing with Sam—he’s got walls. Dean’s got his own walls, but they’re different. Sam can seem emotionally open, but he protects his innermost self very carefully and rarely puts his emotions out there in a truly open way—even less than Dean does. I think this is a consistent personality trait for Sam, not one born of trauma (though perhaps exacerbated by it at times). In fact, it’s in later seasons that I see Sam finally, in rare moments, let down those walls, with Rowena and Jack. When he’s young, I think this was partially a coping mechanism he developed for hiding his desires/feelings, even from himself, because he was so unhappy with his life. It means that even though he’s an introspective guy, he’s not as self-aware as he thinks he is until he’s older and more mature. He’s very good at self-deception when he’s young, because as a thinker, he can convince himself of just about anything.

To circle back to attachment, what this means to me is that Sam, while he certainly appreciates close friendships and has a lot to offer those he cares about, doesn’t crave friends in the way that Dean does. I think he desires to be understood (this is a natural human need) but he’s much more comfortable with himself than Dean is, and is somewhat of a loner by nature. This means he’s also not (usually) going to be too affected by the status of his relationships with others. Dean is much more volatile and easily hurt by others (this is where Castiel is a great example).

6. Sympathy and empathy: On the surface, Sam appears to be the caring, sensitive brother, while Dean is brash and insensitive. This is a very incomplete picture, however. It mostly comes down to the difference between sympathy and empathy. Empathy is an involuntary response, whereas sympathy is something that a person chooses to express, though that doesn’t make it necessarily superficial—it also comes from an emotional place. Dean tends to be more empathetic, and Sam more sympathetic. Dean, despite his performative walls, is more easily affected on a visceral level by others’ emotions. He is more sensitive, more easily hurt or swayed to anger, and also more easily experiences empathy. This has nothing to do with what Dean thinks is right—it’s another involuntary emotion. He is sometimes moved to express this feeling, but he’s not generally concerned about appearing sympathetic. Sam, with his careful emotional walls, isn’t generally so viscerally affected by others, but he is kind. This is expressed as sympathy, because he cares about others’ feelings, and he wants to be good/morally right. On the one hand, it comes from an intellectual place—“it’s socially acceptable/morally right to express care for this person” (which Dean is less likely to care about)—and on the other, it is an emotional response—“I know what that feels like”—but a more regulated one than empathy, where one almost directly experiences another’s emotions.

7. Walls—hiding vs. performing: It’s interesting that both brothers have their own walls, which they construct as a form of self-preservation, but they have different levels of effectiveness in protecting themselves from outside influence. One difference might lie in what the walls were built in reaction to. Sam built his walls at a young age to separate himself from the outside world because, ironically, it was precisely what he desired, but was not allowed to have. He therefore consciously distanced himself from it, to dull the pain of not having it. The goal of those walls was to have something to hide behind, where he could remain generally unnoticed, so he could conceal his pain from outsiders and even from his family.

Dean took a little longer to build his walls—or at least to consciously do so. He already no doubt fashioned himself after his dad as a kid, and often put on a brave face—for Sam, for his father—when he was not feeling brave. He therefore became accustomed to performing at a young age, and performed many roles for both Sam’s and John’s benefit. He was unconsciously building walls with these performances, concealing his true feelings and desires. Later, I think this started to become more intentional, especially in relations with women/sex partners and especially after the Stanford split, as Dean realized how vulnerable to hurt his sensitive nature made him. It was much safer to perform all the time, and never let his real feelings show. For Dean, even more than Sam, I think he often lost sight of what those real feelings were behind the walls as he tried his best to be the performance he was putting on.

For a visual metaphor, I think of it this way: Sam is a boy at the center of a self-constructed labyrinth. He is almost always able to maintain control over how close people get (except when a few slip past his defenses, at which point he may be susceptible to manipulation). Despite all those elaborate passageways, though, there’s still Sam at the center. It’s lonely there, but he knows himself pretty well at least. Dean is a man in a mask who wants the mask to be his real face. He does everything he can to fuse himself and the mask together. They probably are fused at this point, so it would hurt to take the mask off. His memory of the face under the mask is hazy. He’s afraid, if he looks under the mask, he’ll hate what he sees. He’s lonely because no matter how close others get—and he lets them in close, can surround himself with people—none of them will ever see his true face. But he’s convinced himself it’s better this way, because if anyone saw his face, they’d hate it.

8. Need and attachment re: each other: Clearly, both brothers need each other. Sam’s need for Dean is different than Dean’s need for Sam, though. The way I see it, Dean’s need is one that requires reassurance. Perhaps it traces back to the concern about Sam instilled into him at a young age. I think it was strongly exacerbated by the Stanford split, when Dean realized his and Sam’s desires didn’t align. In Dean’s mind, Sam left once and can do it again—he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sam, on the other hand, has always been able to rely on Dean as a rock, a constant in his life—to the point that, in a way, he takes it for granted when he’s younger. Not in a spoilt, ungrateful way, but in that way that we, as children, might take our parents for granted—they’re always going to be there, right? That’s why, on the few occasions where suddenly, Sam isn’t sure of Dean’s devotion, the rug is ripped out from under him and he’s completely adrift and distraught—seasons 4 and 8 come to mind. Sam needs to be the center of Dean’s universe. When he fears that that’s shifted, that Dean hates him or has chosen someone else over him, it turns Sam’s whole world upside down. For Dean, the fear is that Sam will leave, but it’s a constant, background worry. For Sam, the fear is that Dean will hate him, but since he can usually count on Dean to be obsessed with him, it only comes up now and again. Only Dean can truly hurt Sam, while Dean is vulnerable to hurt from others—though, as always, the deepest hurt can only come from Sam.

9. Ambitions and goals: Sam is the one with greater needs and ambitions outside the scope of their relationship. For Dean, if he’s got Sam and he’s got hunting, he’s content. His greatest accomplishments are taking care of Sam and saving people, and that’s all he needs. I see Sam as craving other sources of fulfillment, though—academic/lore study for its own sake (the pursuit of knowledge), and a leadership/mentorship role. I thought it was very fitting that Sam finds these in late seasons, with leading hunters against the BMOL, then leading the apocalypse AU hunters, then mentoring/nurturing Jack. Dean has always had (and needed) a mentor/leadership/nurturing role with Sam, but Sam also thrives when he’s able to step into that role for others.

10. Normality and monstrosity: I’m just going to link to this post rather than repeat myself.

11. Guilt and self-loathing: This is something they both struggle with and at times, are defined by, but it manifests differently. I think their Hell traumas exemplify their different brands of guilt: for Dean, it’s perpetrator’s guilt. He knows he did something terrible and feels he can never atone for his past actions. For Sam, it’s victim’s/survivor’s guilt. He may not have done anything wrong, but there’s a certain amount of self-blame, especially for perceived weakness. This is another theme for Sam; one of the main faults he sees in himself is weakness—too weak to save Dean from Hell for instance—and as a result tries to shoulder things alone (killing Lilith, Hallucifer, etc). Sam has a need to fix things, to prove to others and himself that he is capable. Dean, I think, sees his main fault as neediness, but really, it’s a deeply buried sense of innate worthlessness. He was taught from a young age that his brother’s life—not his own—was of the utmost value. He internalized that his life was only worthwhile if he could save others, and has trouble with the idea that he, himself, has value beyond what he can do for others.

12. Autonomy and sacrifice: The above leads Dean to have a very constrained sense of his own autonomy. In general, he values duty/loyalty to others over autonomy (although when it comes to cosmic beings, he’s all about free will—see this post if you want more thoughts on that, and Sam’s autonomy). Often, his desire to control others comes from a place of frustration when Dean feels they are neglecting duty/being selfish. I think partially duty towards others is really a deeply ingrained value for him, but there may also be some buried jealousy at play, in that Dean wishes he could act with more freedom, put himself first every once in a while, but doesn’t know how to. Sam tends to value autonomy over duty (this doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in any sort of responsibility—he’s willing to sacrifice for the greater good, after all).  This means he also tends to respect others’ autonomy, though we all know he can get plenty unhinged where his brother’s safety is concerned. The theme of Sam and autonomy has been talked to death so I’ll stop there, but you can click the link above if you want more.

13. Personal identity: One of Dean’s biggest struggles is with how much of his personal identity is received rather than self-determined. He is tasked with taking care of Sam and he is trained to be a hunter; these become the foundations of his identity. He says it himself: taking care of Sam is not just what he does but who he is. Then in season 3, his own subconscious mocks him for his lack of originality, styling himself and all he loves after his father, showing that this is a source of deep insecurity. This discomfort with himself contributes to his fear of being abandoned and left alone with himself. He doesn’t know who he is without Sam—or rather, is convinced he is nothing without Sam, which is why he fights so hard to keep him by his side. It also contributes to his general desire for friends, or better, family: people who won’t abandon him.

Later in the series, I think Dean has come to embrace his genuine self more. He’s nerdy and excitable and playful—and I don’t see this is as regression, but rather a healthy embracing of what makes him happy—not tastes inherited from his father. If it seems juvenile, it’s because it’s the first time in his life he’s allowed himself to express and explore these things. I think his relationship with hunting is also healthier; it’s no longer something he does because it’s the only thing that can give him worth. He does it because he believes it’s right and genuinely wants to help people. He has a more complete sense of self, and while it’s still totally tied up in Sam, he has gained some self-worth.

[I should note that basically everything I’ve written about Dean supports the headcanon that Dean has BPD—a headcanon I accepted after I realized this. For some more great writing on Dean and BPD, see this post by @venhedish.]

Sam has always known what he wanted for himself and rejected what was given to/allowed him. Wanting what he couldn’t have, from a young age, helped him develop an individual sense of self, not defined by others. I think it’s this difference in their sense of individual identity that leads some viewers to think that Dean loves Sam more than Sam loves Dean. He doesn’t, and losing Dean is just as huge a loss and a grief for Sam as losing Sam was for Dean. Dean is central to Sam’s life, and he can’t feel complete without him; however, his identity and every desire has never revolved as entirely around Dean as Dean’s has around him, so Sam has a foundational sense of self that even losing Dean can’t completely destroy. It’s what allows him to rebuild in grief and carry on (whereas I have no doubt Jensen’s right and Dean would waste away in the back of a pool hall without Sam). Dean’s central role in Sam’s life never disappears, though, and it is, in fact, what allows Sam to carry on; an effort to honor his brother’s memory, living in a way that would make him proud. There’s continuity in that for Sam; the craving for his brother’s approval and happiness never disappears. Seeking those things is what makes Sam happy, both in their domestic years together before Dean’s death and in the years after. They are both, after all, co-dependent!

14: Concluding observation: Sam and Dean have many similar issues, desires, and insecurities: the desire for a normal life, the fear of their own monstrosity, the desire for love and friendship, their need and love for each other, their desire for approval/to be admired, resentment at their childhood, the feeling of being impure and unworthy, the desire for freedom, issues with bodily autonomy. Sometimes these are seen as the purview of one brother or the other exclusively, but that’s almost never true when you consider canon as a whole. The difference is in how these things are internalized, sublimated, reflected, and expressed for each of them. It makes sense they would struggle with so many of the same things, because their lives are deeply intertwined and they are in the same boat most of the time.

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (1/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Note: Part of the @tododekubigbang for 2021! I'm super excited to share this AU with everyone. And please check out the awesome compaion art from @cryptidcatgod for chapter six!

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family's history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he'll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x)

Dear Pro-Hero Entropy,

On behalf of Musutafu University, I would like to cordially invite you to be a speaker in our first annual Hero Talks series. We anticipate university students, as well as members of the public from all walks of life, will be interested in hearing from 10 different pro-heroes, over the course of ten-weeks between September and November, as they discuss their experience in the hero industry, the details of their jobs, and the unique quirks they’ve encountered or that helped them in becoming the heroes of today.

I would be extremely grateful if you were willing to share your expertise and be a part of the series. You would be an excellent addition to our program, and our line-up of great heroes that already includes current number one, Pro-Hero Lemillion, the Permeation Hero, and the well-respected, Youthful Heroine Recovery Girl.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. I look forward to hearing from you!

X 

“I think you should do it.”

Shouto pauses with his cup half-way to his mouth as the silence that had fallen over them is finally broken. Momo primly takes a sip of her tea, pointedly avoiding his astonished look.

“…What?”

Momo clears her throat, placing her teacup back on the table and sitting up, somehow, straighter in her chair. Despite the fact that they are in her home, she looks decidedly more uncomfortable than he feels, even by the bizarre direction of their conversation. “I think you should do it. I think it would be a good opportunity for you, Shouto.”

“Have you met me?” he asks incredulously. “There’s nothing ‘good’ about anything that includes me and talking.”

His phone, with the offending email still pulled up on the darkening screen, sits on the table between them. He doesn’t realize he is glaring at it until Momo plucks it up and away from his line of sight. Waking up the screen, she reads over the email again. He doesn’t know why she bothers – they must have poured over it together at least three or four times when he first arrived, dumbfounded by yet another invitation and nearly laughing over the ridiculous concept of him giving a talk on a college campus.

“It’s not like you would have to wing it, it’s still only April now, so the series won’t be taking place until the second term. You would have time to come up with a topic, write a speech, prepare.”

“No one wants to listen to me read from a piece of paper for an hour,” he replies drolly. “And I don’t have anything to talk about that long, anyways.”

It is her turn to stare at him incredulously from across the table. He resists the urge to squirm under the disbelieving look. Finally, Momo sighs, returning his phone to the table.

“I think you underestimate what people would be willing to listen to,” she clears her throat. “You have a unique perspective on the hero industry that very few have, or get to hear about-”

“Because my dad was a dick?”

“Due to being raised by a hero," she continues on, as if he hadn't spoken. "And not just any hero, but someone who was the number two hero for a very long time, and even briefly the number one hero. Very few heroes nowadays have children, and even fewer have children who go on to follow in their footsteps. You’re a legacy.”

“I’m the only one of any of Endeavor’s kids to become a hero. If they wanted to hear about hero family legacies, they should have contacted Iida.”

Momo sighs, rubbing her temples. He’s noticed her doing that around him with increasing frequency these days. “Well I believe they did, actually. And he agreed.”

Shouto leans back in his seat. “Then he can talk all about being a legacy. What would they need to hear from me for?”

Momo is quiet for a very long time. “…Well-”

“No.”

“You brought it up.”

“Not seriously. I’m not going to talk about that.”

“It was just a suggestion. You, your family, have kept things remarkably quiet after it all went down, and I understand wanting to protect your privacy, considering it really is none of their business, but people are always going to have questions. It’s been years since the trial and the media still asks you every year. At least this way, if you talked about it, you could control the narrative.”

Shouto looks away. The setting sun is just out of sight from the dining room window, but it paints the neighbor’s house and the trees along the road a warm orange. The anniversary of the trial, of his father’s fall from grace in the public eye was just a few weeks away, still looming over him, even years after the fact. He has no interest in ‘controlling the narrative.’ He’d rather not think about it at all, actually. But just like every year before, as the date grew closer, the media got more frantic, more invasive.

You would think after more than ten years of radio silence from the Todoroki family they would finally get discouraged, and yet…

Sensing he wasn’t interested in pursuing this topic of conversation any longer, Momo changes tactics, carefully pulling his thoughts from a dangerous spiral. “Or you could have a meeting with the person who invited you. See what topic they had in mind for you.”

Shouto glances at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Well they didn’t just mass invite heroes, the invitations have only gone out to a select few. I’m assuming the coordinator had some idea of what they thought those particular heroes would talk about.” There is a quiet click of her nails against the glass table top as she picks up his phone once more. “You could set up a meeting with him and see what he had in mind. If the topic is something you’re comfortable talking about, wonderful. If not, you can decline the invitation, and all you’ve wasted is an afternoon.”

Something clicks in his head and Shouto sits up again, an idea brewing. He turns his attention back to her. “I still don’t want to give a talk,”

“Shouto-”

“But you have a point. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Momo smiles, but her brows shoot up, a clear indication of her surprise at – and her suspicion over – his quick surrender. “I’m…a little shocked you agree.”

“Well you’d just keep bothering me about it if I didn’t at least talk to him, wouldn’t you?” She glares at him but doesn’t refute the accusation. “But isn’t it just the dean of the school that sent the emails? He’s probably not the sole coordinator.”

“No,” She shakes her head, handing his phone back over. “It says here he’s a professor.”

 Midoriya Izuku, Ph.D.

Professor of Hero and Quirk Studies

Musutafu University

midoriyaizu@mu.edu

X

It takes two days after his talk with Momo for Shouto to get around to even opening the professor’s response to his request for a meeting.

Kyouka watches him suspiciously from where she’s draped over his office chair as he paces in front of his desk. “What’s wrong with you?”

She takes an obnoxious sip of her coffee. The smell has permeated the entire room and it makes something in his stomach curl with longing, but his doctor made it explicitly clear that he was to take an extended break from the drink after letting it serve as breakfast, lunch, and dinner a few too many days in a row. Something more painful than longing – perhaps an ulcer he may or may not have given himself from his liquid diet – twists his stomach.

“Why are you even here?”

Kyouka sighs at his question, her head lolling back as she sinks deeper into the chair. He’s not totally sure what she’s doing. He knows for a fact those chairs aren’t comfortable. His best attempt to keep people from staying in his office longer than absolutely necessary.

“Kyouka?”

She takes another sip of her coffee. He has absolutely no idea how she doesn’t spill it all over herself in that position.

“Momo asked me to talk to you.”

He stops pacing long enough to determine that she’s telling the truth. “…Why?”

“Because she doesn’t think you’ve emailed the professor back about that hero series yet.”

He glances at his computer. At the unread email blinking at the top of his inbox, taunting him. “I’m not saying she’s right…but why does she want you to talk to me about it?”

She swings her legs off the arm of the chair to sit up right and glare at him. “I resent the insinuation that I am not a great candidate for making you get your shit together. But,” she stands up, dropping her cup onto his desk and crossing her arms. Her expression is fierce, but he recognizes the barely-there flush high on her cheeks and the nervous twitch of her earphone jacks. “I was also invited to be a part of the series.”

Shouto stops, sinking into his desk chair. Invitations like this were usually a pain for him. For one, he hated public speaking – or even extended conversations. As one of the top students at U.A., however, and as the son of a well-known hero, he had been getting requests for talks and interviews and special features for years. Most of which he usually ignored, knowing what it was they wanted him to talk about. But he knows an invitation like this can be special. Especially for someone like Kyouka, who doesn’t have particularly strong connections with the hero industry, even after graduating U.A. Her parents’ reputation and her internship with Present Mic made her more of a celebrity in the music industry than a well-known hero, despite all the great work she did.

“Kyouka,” he says quietly, earnestly, so that she pays attention to him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she replies with a small smile, before her expression changes again. “But shut up, Todoroki. That’s not the point. Momo thinks you’ll be dragging your feet over getting back to the professor. But when she told me about how quickly you agreed, I got a feeling there was something else going on.” She braces her hands on his desk and leans into his personal space, jacks floating threateningly close to his throat. “You were gonna set up that meeting, and then just give him a hard time, weren’t you?”

Shouto freezes, caught. “Uh…”

It’s not exactly an admission, but Kyouka throws her head back and laughs, anyways. “I knew it. We’ve all been waiting for when you finally got fed up and picked a victim. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long.”

Shouto doesn’t mean for the quiet, astonished chuckle to slip out, but he supposes if it’s Kyouka, it’s alright. There’s a devilish glint in her eyes as she drops back into her chair.

“So,” she asks. “What are you waiting for?”

“You’re really not going to stop me?”

“We’re public figures, the media has never been interested in respecting our privacy, but we’ve all spent years watching you get hounded over your parents’ divorce and your father’s trial. If this is just another asshole trying to get a scoop, or recognition for finally getting you to spill, he deserves it. Everyone would agree. Well…Tenya and Momo might frown at your approach, but I still think they’d support the general idea. And well,” she shrugs. “If he is just an asshole, all the better for the rest of us to know now so we don’t support what he’s trying to do.”

He hesitates, mouse hovering over the professor’s email. “Are you sure?”

She scowls, though there isn’t any heat behind it. “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t say it.” She comes around the desk to stand behind him. “Now hurry up, I have a patrol to get to.”

Reaching down, she opens the email before he can react.

Thank you so much for your interest! Of course we can meet to discuss the details of the series more. Below are my office hours when I will be on the Musutafu University campus. If you are not available for any of those times, please let me know when would work best for you and we can plan a meeting then.

Kyouka leans over his shoulder to read the email.

“Tuesday’s your day off next week, right?”

Shouto rolls his eyes but opens a new draft to reply.

Kyouka grins. “Good boy. I will report your excellent behavior to Momo.” She ruffles his hair before heading for the door, grabbing her coffee cup off his desk as she goes.

“Fuck off.”

She tosses her head back and laughs again. “Give ‘em hell.”

X

They make plans to meet in a few days, when Shouto has some time off, and the professor forwards his office room number and three different maps of campus “just in case.” Which Shouto found ridiculous….at the time.

Now he’s here, and has been wandering around for God knows how long. It takes approximately ten minutes for Shouto to admit he’s lost, and another five minutes for him to get frustrated over still being lost. He wasn’t sure what to expect of the university campus, but, clearly, he did not prepare enough in advance. The large, sprawling buildings remind him of U.A.’s campus, but rather than extra training grounds, the spaces between are grassy plots filled with students relaxing under the shade of trees or soaking up the sun on blankets. Instead of practicing hand-to-hand, the students sit in clusters pouring over textbooks or typing away on laptops. And they, of course, all appear perfectly at home amongst the labyrinth of lecture halls.

The paved plaza in the middle of all the activity hosts a large fountain and a statue of a man with large, curling horns coming from his temples that Shouto assumes has some kind of importance to the school, but that he doesn’t recognize.

He forwent his hero-suit for jeans, a button-up, and a leather jacket – in addition to sunglasses, a mask, and a baseball cap. The clothing seemed to blend in well enough with the other students, if not a tad understated, but his distinct hair and scar are not so easily hidden and soon enough he notices students staring, following his movements back and forth across campus or whispering amongst themselves.

Eventually, a few brave students manage to catch him as he is trying to reorient himself. Again.

“Um, excuse me, are you pro-hero Entropy?” a girl asks. Two friends flank her, staring with wide eyes.

Caught, he pulls down his mask. “Ah, yes. Hello.”

“Oh my gosh! Hi-Hello, I’m wow…I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s really great to meet you!”

“Are you here about the Hero Talks series!?” one of her friends asks suddenly, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth after the loud outburst.

Well…they aren’t wrong, and maybe they can help him. “It’s…something like that.” He agrees carefully.

The three light up with smiles, two of them jumping up and down in excitement.

“Dr. Midoriya is going to be so excited, oh my gosh!”

“You know the professor?”

All three nod excitedly. “We’re all in his Intro to Combat Analysis lecture! He’s been gushing about this series since he got permission last semester!” the third student finally chimes in.

Perfect. “Do you know where I could find his office? I’m supposed to be meeting with him, but I’ve gotten a little turned around.”

The three jump to help direct him to the right building, gushing all the while over the professor and his classes. By the time they finally part ways, Shouto feels a little guilty about his plan to give the professor a piece of his mind over the whole thing and misleading them about his intention to join the series. They were nice girls after all.

Someone bumps into him before he reaches the building, sending him stumbling off the sidewalk.

“I’m so sorry,” a bright voice calls, gently pulling Shouto back onto the pavement. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you alright?”

Large, bright green eyes behind thin, wire-framed glasses give him a quick once-over, as if looking for injuries. The man meets his gaze through his sunglasses for a moment before glancing down at his wrist watch again. Somehow, he feels even more dazed meeting the man’s eyes than simply being booted off the sidewalk.

“…yes I’m fine, thank you.”

The man gives him a dazzling smile, flashing one dimple and further accentuating the smattering of freckles over his cheeks. “Good, good. Sorry again.” With a quick bow, the man is on his way again and headed into the building before them. The same building Shouto was headed.

Shaking off the strange feeling left behind, he waits a few moments, so as not to appear as if he was following the bright-eyed man, and goes inside. Along the wall there are signs directing visitors to particular room numbers or restrooms, and a bulletin board nearly as long as the wall is tall, full of posters advertising events happening around campus, and Musutafu, as well as ads looking for roommates or a reminder about signing up for a study abroad program. Right in the corner, as if attached as an after-thought, or a secret, there’s a small, handwritten flyer declaring the First Annual Hero Talks series could be counted as credits for Quirk or Hero Study students looking for an independent study if they met with Dr. Mirdoriya before the end of the term. Shouto almost takes the flyer before he realizes, realistically, that the students who might be interested in such a thing would probably benefit from it more than his brief curiosity needed to be sated.

Turning from the wall, he sets out for the stairs. The students instructed him to take the staircase on the far end of the east hall (the closest to the professor’s office, supposedly), to the third floor, where the professor’s office would be the third door on the left.

Midoriya Izuku is written clearly on a small sign hanging outside of the office. A small box sits under it, stuffed full of papers and folders that Shouto assumes are from students. The professor’s half-open door is covered in colorful posters and stickers – including, Shouto realizes, another copy of the flyer about the series and a poster of him, Pro-Hero Entropy, from his debut year. He looks away from his younger self and knocks on the door.

“Dr. Midoriya?” he calls, poking his head into the office.

The first thing he notices is that the hero-memorabilia on the door has absolutely nothing on what’s inside the office. More posters cover the entire front of the professor’s desk, and from the looks of it the top of his computer. Mixed between dozens of books on the shelves and filing cabinets filling two of the four walls are hero-figurines and framed pictures of heroes or preserved comic books. Even more posters and framed pictures cover the rest of the walls.

The second thing he notices, is that the broad-shouldered man dropping a beat-up, leather satchel to the ground besides the desk, is the same man who ran into him outside.

Dr. Midoriya whirls around, greeting him with another 100-watt smile. “Ah yes! Hello- oh! It’s you.”

“Ah, yes.” Shouto shuffles a little further into the office, he pulls his mask down under his chin and takes his sunglasses off, tucking them into the collar of his shirt. After a second's thought, he pulls off his cap as well, shoving the bill into his back pocket.

Dr. Midoriya’s jaw drops, his eyes comically wide, for approximately three seconds, before he comes back into himself, steeling his expression. His hands flutter nervously around his head for a moment and then he smiles again.

“Entropy! Welcome! I’m so sorry I did not recognize you before. Please, come in. Take a seat. Did you find your way through campus alright?”

Shouto gives a small bow, mumbling a thank you, as he comes further into the office to sit in one of the two small chairs before the desk. A poster of some of his old classmates is hung at knee-level, and even on paper, Momo's serious expression is judging him. Kyouka is egging him on.

Dr. Midoriya still stands behind his desk, staring at Shouto like he’s not sure what to make of him sitting in his office.

“Uh…Dr. Midoriya?”

The professor snaps back to life. “Yes! Sorry, sorry,” he sits down finally, pulling off his glasses and putting them to the side. “Welcome, again, to Musutafu University. And thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to consider our series! I really can’t tell you how thrilled I was to get your email.”

Shouto shifts in his seat. The professor talks with his hands, and every movement seems to pull the beige-colored cardigan he’s wearing even tighter around his biceps. Shouto isn’t usually one to speculate about others’ quirks unless in a fight, but he wonders now if the professor has some kind of strength-augmenting quirk – and if he does, how adept is he at using it if Shouto pisses him off? The potential of getting his ass kicked has never stopped Shouto before, but he can already hear the lecture he’d get from Momo, and probably Fuyumi, if he made the news for destroying a college building in a fight with a civilian professor.

Honestly, the property damage would probably be the least of their worries if he starts fighting with civilians.

“I know you don’t normally work with the media or make non-heroic work public appearances so I figured it was a long shot for you to even consider being a part of the series, but I really think you would make an amazing feature.”

Shouto shifts in his seat. Here it comes, he thinks. He really should have prepared what exactly he was going to say more, but he figured it would just come to him in the moment. Now, for some reason, he’s nervous. As if he would accidentally agree or something else equally absurd.

How this sweater had contained the man’s arms so far was a miracle, honestly.  

“…but quirks are mutating, or rather evolving, at an astonishing rate. Every generation we see quirks getting stronger than those of previous generations but more and more we are now seeing children with quirks that have little to no relation to their parent’s quirks, or a manifestation of some kind of combination of quirks. You gained attention early on for being one of the first heroes, or even hero-in-training, to have multiple quirks.

“Now that it’s becoming more common, hearing first hand from someone who has had to learn how to control and gain mastery over two separate quirks would be invaluable information, especially for many quirk-study students who will be working with parents and children who are going through this for the first time, and for those who may have some form of a combination quirk but did not have the benefit of a hero-course education that could teach them proper control.”

Wait…what?

“What?”

Dr. Midoriya startles, glancing between Shouto and something unseen in the air around him. “Oh…” he winces. “I’m sorry. Was I mumbling again? I apologize, sometimes my brain works faster than my mouth and I get carried away, where did I…never mind, I’ll start again…slower. So, when quirks first appeared-”

Shouto holds up a hand to stop the professor and his jaw snaps shut with an audible click. “You want me to talk about my quirk?”

“…Yes?”

“Not…my family?”

Dr. Midoriya lowers his arms to the top of his desk, folding his hands together. Shouto thinks it might be the first time he has seen him completely still since they first ran into each other outside.

Now that they’re closer, and his hands aren’t moving, Shouto can also see surprisingly large scars running over the professor’s fingers and onto the backs of his hands. Those definitely don’t look like something you would get as a teacher. At least not as a normal, non-hero course teacher.

“Do you want to talk about your family?”

He shifts awkwardly in his seat. The professor’s serious attention directed all at him is suddenly unnerving somehow. “Well, no, I don’t.”

Dr. Midoriya nods, once. “Okay.” A pause. “Honestly, I was surprised to even hear you ask, I hadn’t considered broaching the topic for something like this.”

“You didn’t?” he asks incredulously.

Dr. Midoriya pins him with an expression he can’t interpret but inexplicably reminds him of Aizawa back in high school when he was frustrated with students or a lesson or even a fellow teacher. Especially All Might.

“Entropy, you have made it very clear in the past that you have no interest in talking about what happened to your family publicly. And that is your right. No one is owed anything about your personal life. If you suddenly decided you wanted to talk about what happened, and you wanted to use the Hero Talks series as your platform, you would be more than welcome to do so. Honestly, the publicity from that one lecture alone would probably be enough to guarantee the university allowing this series again in the future. But that is not why I asked you to be a part of it. You want to keep your private affairs private, and I respect that. I picked heroes who I knew the public would be interested in hearing from, but also who would have the most helpful information to offer to the students who are studying these topics, and, frankly, they would learn far more hearing about your quirk than your…homelife.”

“I…I wouldn’t know what to talk about.” Shouto admits awkwardly.

Dr. Midoriya smiles softly. “That’s okay. I can give you some general topics to consider, or more specific questions to think about as main points if that would be more helpful. Let me see…” he turns around in his chair, shifting to the side, and Shouto can see the shelves just under the view of the desk are stuffed full of identical notebooks, each with a carefully penned number on the binding. The professor pulls one out and flips through it. Almost every page is crammed with scrawling handwriting, some written sideways or upside down, squeezed into every blank space he could find. The slightly-less busy pages have drawings of heroes or costumes or diagrams Shouto can’t interpret from the quick, upside-down glance he gets of them.

From his seat Shouto could see there were, at least, two shelves of these notebooks. Were they all like that?

Finally, the professor finds what he’s looking for with a satisfied hum. He sets the notebook on the desk, turning it so Shouto can see. The page is marginally less chaotic than others he saw. At the top, in surprisingly neat handwriting and underlined three times, it reads: Questions for Multiple-Quirk Usage (Entropy).

The rest of the page is made up of dozens of questions about his quirk. Some, Shouto imagines, are just general questions for anyone with multiple quirks to consider (Do you activate both quirks the same way?  Can you use them both simultaneously?) and get progressively tailored to questions about his quirk, like if there are places he can’t use one quirk or the other and the temperature ranges of his fire and ice, if particular environmental factors affect his ability to use either of them.

“Uh…”

Dr. Midoriya scratches the back of his head sheepishly. He hides a nervous laugh with a cough before taking the notebook back and closing it. The light isn’t strong in the office, but Shouto is positive the professor is blushing.

“Of course, if a list of topics or questions is something you would be interested in, I can provide you with a neater – and shorter – list. This was just a-a demonstration that there is a lot to consider when it comes to multiple quirks. Of course, not all of that would be relevant for a lecture, and admittedly some are just personal curiosities, but…anyways,” he clears his throat. “I’m assuming if you came here thinking I was going to ask about your family…you don’t actually want to be a part of the series.”

Shouto crosses his arms over his chest, sitting back in his chair. Does he want to be a part of a public lecture series? No. But now he is undeniably curious about this professor and how the hell his brain works.

“Do you have a notebook page like that for every hero?”

“Every hero? That would be impossible…well maybe not impossible-” Shouto raises a brow and the professor bites his tongue. “Maybe…most Japanese heroes since…early Silver Age and well-known international heroes? And any American heroes who would have overlapped with All Might’s time either learning or working in America.”

“How long have you been making those?”

He looks down a little wistfully at the question, thumbing gently at the corner of the page. “I was probably four or five when I started my first one,” he admits with a quiet laugh. “None that are here are quite that old, though.”

Shouto has…so many questions.

There’s a quiet buzz of the professor’s phone going off. He excuses himself for a moment and pulls the cell out of his pocket. His case has the design of All Might’s Golden Age costume.

“I’m sorry, Entropy, I have another meeting and I teach a class after so I can’t talk much longer today.”

“I should be getting going anyways.” Shouto says, standing up and Dr. Midoriya shoots out of his chair.

“Right, yes, of course. I’m sorry we probably took up more of your time than you meant to. Thank you for coming in, it was an honor to speak with you.”

Shouto feels like “honor” is a bit much, he didn’t really even say much at all, and he came here with rather rude intentions but, he doesn’t really know how to argue with the professor’s enthusiasm.

His brain and his good sense, and the small bit of self-preservation he has left, all tell him to keep going, to accept the professor’s gracious dismissal and move on, but he finds himself hesitating in the doorway anyways.

“Uh…Entropy? Is everything alright?” Dr. Midoriya asks, looking at him curiously.

Oh hell.

“If you send me the list, of topics…I’ll think about it.”

Dr. Midoriya’s entire being lights up. “Really?”

Oh, he was really going to regret this.

“…Yes.”

“Thank you! I will forward it to you right away!” He drops into a bow so deep, so quickly, he slams his head into the top of the desk.

Both of them freeze at the resounding crack that echoes in the small room. Shouto takes a step back into the office, already reaching for the professor.

“Are you alright?”

Dr. Midoriya straightens, looking a little dazed but mostly just embarrassed. There’s a bright red mark on his forehead. “Oh my God.” He whispers.

Shouto is surprised, and a little ashamed, by how hard it is to keep himself from laughing at the horrified expression. “Dr. Midoriya, are you-”

The desk gives a sudden, heaving creak and tips sideways. The two watch helplessly as the desk collapses, sending the clutter on top flying across the floor.

Dr. Midoriya makes a strangled noise, covering his face with his hands. “Not again.”

Again?

There are rushed footsteps outside and a young woman with six eyes and lavender hair piled in a high bun peeks her head in through the half-open door. “Dr. Midoriya, did you break something again?”

“I’m sorry Kobayashi.” He bows his head again, though not nearly as low this time, and keeps his face covered.

Kobayashi tuts disapprovingly. “I’ll call for another,” she says, already turning on her heel to leave.

“Thank you, Kobayashi.”

Shouto bends down to gather some of the papers that scattered around his feet. Dr. Midoriya lowers his hands, immediately stumbling over the mess when he sees Shouto cleaning.

“Please Entropy, thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“It’s fine,” he waves off the worries. “Where would you like these things?”

“Uh,” Dr. Midoriya looks around the office for a moment. “Here, thank you.” Taking the papers from him he makes a neat pile on his un-damaged desk chair.

It’s quick work for the two of them to straighten up the rest of the room, though the professor takes a moment to mourn his cracked eyeglasses, and then again when he realizes some of the posters were damaged by the desk’s fall.

“Thank you again, Entropy. I’m so sorry about all the trouble.”

“It’s…fine.” Shouto says dumbly. “Well I should…go, now.”

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry about taking up even more of your time. Thank you for coming in.”

Before Shouto can reply, two new people arrive, knocking once before they shuffle into the office. Shouto moves further into the room, out of the way, as they collect the broken desk and carry it out of the room.

For a moment, they stand in silence, Shouto coming up with about a hundred more questions about the professor, while Dr. Midoriya stands nearby, twisting his hands together in embarrassment. Finally, his common-sense kicks in enough that after another short good-bye, Shouto manages to walk himself out of the office and down the stairs without doing anything else stupid or impulsive.

He passes someone on his way to the doors, so focused on getting out of the building that he doesn’t notice until they call his name.

He recognizes the wild purple hair and slouched stance of the man approaching him, but nearly dismisses the similarities on principle.

“Shinso? Since when do you come out while the sun’s still up?” He asks.

Ignoring the jab, Shinso pulls off a pair of sunglasses and looks him up and down. Despite also being a part of U.A.’s hero course in high school, Shinso promptly went underground after graduation and has been working in the shadows long enough that only some other pros and hardcore hero-fans are able to recognize him out of costume. “What are you doing here?”

“I was…I had a meeting with a professor,” he admits.

Shouto doesn’t know Shinso well, but he swears he looks surprised by the admission.

And then he laughs. “I can’t believe he actually did it. Good for him.”

Shouto isn’t totally sure he heard him correctly, but when he asks, Shinso makes an expression he can’t figure out and changes the subject.

“I’ll see you later, Todoroki.” He says with a wave.                                                                         

Shouto waves back, unsure of what to make of the interaction, and watches as Shinso disappears up the same stairs he just descended.

Shoving the strange interaction out of his head, he pushes open the doors and steps outside.

Then he calls Kyouka.

She picks up after two rings. “Did you make him cry?”

He can hear Momo scold her from the background.

“No, but I think I fucked up.”

Kyouka is quiet for a moment but based on the noise he hears in the background, he thinks she’s moving further away from Momo. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter. “Fucked up how? Like news crews are coming to report the damage and you might be going to jail for beating up an old, civilian professor-fucked up?”

Faintly, Shouto wonders what it says about him that both he and Kyouka assumed the worst-case scenario for this meeting was him fighting with a civilian.

“No, fucked up like…I didn’t tell him ‘no’?”

[thebeautyoffandoms]

I've been rereading ph and having thoughts™ so I've come to grace your inbox again. If this is annoying just ignore me/ask me to stop. Anyway, Elliot and the Nightrays' fates in general is probably one of the most tragic things in ph to me. Of the 3 great dukedoms involved with the tragedy of Sablier the Nightrays are the ones who didn't actually do anything wrong. The Duke Nightray at the time even warned Oswald (Glen) not to let Jack keep visiting. Yet they're the dukedom who came out of the tragedy the worst for it, being labelled as traitors and treated with heavy suspicion. Then in the present the entire Nightray family gets wiped out at either Elliot or Vincent's hands by the end of the story.

Just thinking about this in terms of Elliot, his family was like the most important thing to him. Boy was always going on about the pride of his family and any time we got even little glimpses of his relationship with his siblings you could see how much they cared about one another. And when he dies the only family he has left is his father and Vince + Gil. But his father is killed shortly after anyway and his adoptive brothers don't really care about being Nightrays. It just strikes me as overwhelmingly unfair for this family.

The Nightrays were certainly capable of being quite nasty but to some degree they got driven to that behaviour by how their dukedom was treated in the first place? All because Jack set them up as the traitors in his version of the tragedy of Sablier. But Elliot had this kind of great potential to be better than his family, we see how he opens up more to new ideas and befriends Oz, but he can never realise that potential. Idk if I have a point here. The Nightrays just fascinate me in how they were set up to fail and not a single one of them survives to the end. Some of their worst actions were just down to them being entitled/prideful aristocrats and were entirely their fault but I still think the family as a whole was dealt quite a rough hand by fate.

I love the Pandora Hearts thoughts, so no worry about them being annoying!! Even when I’m obsessing over something else, Pandora Hearts is one of those things I can immediately start ranting about- tho I haven’t reread it yet (tho I need to, and have read certain chapters?) so I have no idea if what I say is completely accurate-

But! Oh gosh, I agree. Even if I dislike them, I do feel bad- I guess they sort of had that “if you want to treat me like I’m bad, then I have to be bad” thing going on? Or maybe not, who knows. It just sort of feels like that. Like you said, some of the things they did, along with their personalities, is just them being snotty and rude- but that doesn’t mean they had it easy.

I think I feel the worst for the Duke Nightray, and his family, at the time of the Tragedy of Sablier (tho I can’t remember the personality, if we even get much of one, from him), and Elliot (Gil and Vincent too, but I’ll go off of biological family). The family at the time of the Tragedy definitely had to deal with... well, a lot- and, sure, the family had to deal with it all the way down the line, but they dealt with it head on (b,,but now the most of their heads are... off- ba dum tss.) And Elliot for obvious reasons.

Taking my chance to brag on him, Elliot was genuinely such a good person? Despite his biological siblings telling him to stay away from Vincent and Gil, he treated them as kindly as a proud little boy could. He spent time with them- and, vaguely remembering Vincent’s words here, kept Gil happy in one of the hardest times in his life. He’s got the rooted distaste for the Vessalius family for reasons that were, I’d assume, explained to him. But, he learned to befriend Oz- the worst part about Elliot’s death, in my humble opinion, is the fact that he had so much more he could do. (Tho a lot of Pandora Hearts deaths are like that- it feels like Mochijun just... went down a list of “saddest ways to have a character die”.) He and Oz came to somewhat of an agreement to do their best to mend the relationship between their families. Though two teenage boys probably couldn’t have done much to fix years and years of dispute, it does make you wonder what would have happened if he lived. He was (Ahh using past tense for him... my heart-) proud of his family enough for anyone to know. How would those who found out treat a Nightray befriending a Vessalius? How would Leo not dealing with Elliot’s death affect the story?? So many questions, but we’ll never really get an answer, cos all his potential was cut way too short.

Your point wasn’t about Elliot in particular but- I took the opportunity and ran with it- still! Overall, your point, exactly. I guess that’s the thing about any good “bad guy”? They’re not good because of the things they did, but they have something to try and explain away their actions. Something that shaped them up to becoming who they are-? Taking them at face value, ignoring their history, it made their deaths easy to handle, aside from Elliot for established reasons, and for Headhunter reasons cos that’s simply... tragic in and of itself. But, thinking about it, it really is sad that they all died off- they had no opportunity to become good guys. No redemption arc for a really, really tragic family. Tho with their pride, they may not have accepted the chance to have one-??

Put even shorter: Once again, Jack Vessalius strikes, ruining the lives of generations to come <3

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Stark Spangled Challenge: Bumps In The Night

Summary- 5.3k Steve Rogers x OC Katie (Stark) Rogers. Its Halloween Night! and the Roger Clan is busy getting ready for the night ahead. Once Steve and Katie have some time to themselves for more adult themed fun, there are some interruptions that might set them back. All a part of life in the Rogers Household though. Set in What-is-your-plan-today’s SSB Verse. Warnings- Hinted smut. Its really mostly fluffy fun for these two. Might be a curse word or two, cause lets face it, its who I am. Moodboard made by @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ and the lovely dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

A/N- Congrats on your one year anniversary @what-is-your-backupplan-today​. I know this year has had its moments, but I am eternally grateful I have gotten to know you this past year, and that you shared some beautiful stories with us, full of laughter, awww, and tears. (You know the moments I am talking about.) Thank you for letting me also dabble a bit in your OC’s lives, I think this is number 3? Also for basically just bullshitting random stuff in your inbox every week. It was a great challenge, a hell of a lot of fun. And as always sending you all the Love Babes. 💙  

Be sure to read the follow up to this by @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ called Stark Spangled Forever: The Devil Wears Nada 

Steve Roger’s Masterlist

Steve stabbed at the top of the pumpkin and cut around the top till he could pry it off, handing the pumpkin over to Jamie, who immediately started scooping out the seeds and innards, shaking his fingers a bit to shake off the sticky bites. Katie sat at the other end of the newspaper-covered table, wrinkling her nose. “I’m so glad this is your father’s holiday.” Flossie reached to grab a handful, and Katie scooped it over so the baby could squash it between her fingers. 

Rori nearby, who was told she could paint her pumpkin instead, leaned to dip her brush into the hot pink and then swirled it around her pumpkin with the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. “But it’s fun Mommy. In going to paint spiders all over for Auntie Nat Nat.” 

Harry gave a firm nod as he covered his pumpkin in hulk green color. “Yes mommy, fun. Hulk Smash!” He tossed his brush aside and started to use his fingers and hands, slapping green handprints all over it till it was covered. Soon his face was streaked with green and he looked beyond proud of himself. 

“Alright kids, you all know Christmas is your mom’s specialty.” Steve started to cut another pumpkin when Emmy came in, dropping her bag in an empty chair and rolling up her sleeves. 

“Moms christmas’s are the best.” She dropped a passing kiss to Flossie’s head, and then picked up a knife Steve had nearby, ready to take the pumpkin Steve was cutting the top off of. “But Dad’s pumpkins are really awesome.” 

“Thanks, Em.” Steve’s face flushed a bit at the compliment while he took the last pumpkin and opened it up, scooping out the innards just as Jamie started to finish his. Tilting it around, he looked at his mother. 

“Which side should I carve? I’m going to do a scary face this time.” He twisted his pumpkin back and forth, Katie studied it a moment and made a twirly motion with her hands. 

“Back that way, Yea. Looks flatter.” Jamie nodded and grabbed a sharpie, drawing a Jack-o-Lantern face on the pumpkin. “And your dad’s pumpkin’s do always look good on the front stoop. Why he does the pumpkins, and I take the pictures.” Moving to a stand, she patted a fussy Flossies back and took her to show her Rori’s and Harry’s wildly painted pumpkins. 

Emmy scooped out some more of the pumpkin guts and scrapped it all clean with a spoon. “Well I was actually going to ask you and Dad, how would you two feel about Peter and I took everyone trick or treating this year? It will be a warm evening, and Flossie always sleeps while being strolled around. You two could have an evening to yourselves, hand out some candy to kids, and spend time together.” The way she said it, Steve and Katie both knew she had given this some thought. When Steve looked over at Katie with a questioning look she gave a slight shrug and nod. 

“You sure you and Peter can watch over four kids?” Katie asked, slightly rocking Flossie back and forth. “Flossie can stay with us, she’s on a schedule, but I’m sure the other three would love to trick or treat with you and Peter.” 

Emmy gave a nod and plunged her knife into the face of the pumpkin. “I will message Peter and let him know, this was actually his suggestion. He was really excited when he mentioned it to me.” 

Steve gave a slight snort as he started carving. “And who are you two going as?” 

She grinned as she cut the grinning mouth and handed it to Flossie to inspect, who shoved the hard piece in her mouth to gnaw on, making a funny face at the taste. “We’re going as Han Solo and Princess Leia Dad. Pete’s a Star Wars fan.” 

“Course he is. Tony would have been thrilled to see Peter as Han Solo.” Steve turned his pumpkin to show Katie, who grinned as she leaned against Steve’s shoulder for a moment to look at his work. 

“He would have loved it and never let you live it down that you carved him a pumpkin.” She said softly, and Steve kissed her forehead. 

“Why I carved it.” Sitting on the pumpkin, was a carving of Ironman, Katie rubbed her face against his shoulder a second to collect herself. Memories of her brother still snuck up once in a while, but there were so many good memories that she didn’t mind. 

“It’s nice to see him still a part of the holidays. And this…” she pulled out her phone to take a picture to send to Pepper. “Makes me start to like fall a little more?” 

Steve gave a shrug, a bit of pink rising in his cheeks at how pleased Katie really did seem with it. “Jamie’s old iron man always ends up on the Christmas tree, and we started doing that sponsor a turkey in Tony’s name…” He drifted off, Katie giving a bit of a laugh. They always bought a turkey to be rescued, naming him Marv, it just seemed a fitting memory for Tony. 

It was starting to get dark. Katie was helping Rori dress in her outfit, giving a slight sigh and grin at her daughter’s antics as she stood in the mirror, inspecting her mother’s artistic skills. “I need more whiskers mom. Cats have more whiskers.” Katie leaned down again with the costume makeup kit. Using the black pencil, she etched two more on each of her cheeks and pointed to the mirror. 

“Okay how’s that Princess?” she asked, trying not to be sarcastic as Rori leaned in and stuck her ears on. 

“Perfect! Let’s go get Jamie and Harry, I want my candy.” She grabbed her trick or treat bag and marched out of the room, a girl on a mission. Katie followed to hear Steve talking to Jamie. 

“Okay, I’m trusting you to help Peter and Emmy look after Rori and Henry.” 

“Yes, dad I will, okay? I know I know.” 

“Sorry sorry, remember to have fun.” There was a rustling when Jamie scoffed and when Rori just slammed the door open and marched in like she was on her very own catwalk, you could see Steve holding a dinosaur Harry who took one look at his mother and held his hands out for her, which Steve passed over, and Jamie was straightening a wig he had on, having painted his face green, between him and Steve, they somehow managed to glue knobs on the side of his neck. Katie looked over her kids and gave a nod of approval. 

“Oooh, you all are spooky.” She shivered and Harry laughed in her arms giving a roaring sound. When Katie gave a fake scream, the little boy broke down in laughter, half hanging out of her arms. 

Rori started twirling around on her toes, showing off her costume. “What do you think, Daddy?” She sang and Jamie gave a smirk. 

“Don’t you know Stark chases cats up trees?” Jamie started teasing, and Rori stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Cats rule and dogs drool Jamie!” she retorted, and Jamie opened his mouth to say something when Steve cut them both off with a stern tone. 

“Cut it out you two or Emmy and Peter will just be taking Harry out. Rori lets see that spin again.” 

Both kids’ mouths snapped shut because they didn’t want to lose the privilege, Rori gave one more spin and gave her painted nose a wriggle. 

“Look just like a Halloween kitty Rori.” Steve smiled at her, Jamie quick to pipe up. 

“Year Rori, you look really cool.” 

Katie chuckled at their quickly changing attitudes and set her dinosaur down, who clamped right on Steve’s leg, looking up at his daddy giving a squeaky roar. 

“Oh! There’s a Trex on my leg!” Steve yelped and picked him back up, handing Harry his own trick or treat bag. “Okay, my Youngin’s, down to the living room to wait for Princess Leia and that boy.” 

“Han Solo Steve.” Katie rolled her eyes at him in passing, checking on Flossie who wriggled happily in her pack and play. “You hungry Little Girl?” She collected her and went into the living room with everyone else to wait, she had settled on the couch and was feeding Flossie while the kids all sat around watching Halloween Town when Emmy announced they were there. Steve pushed up from the couch to go greet them, all three kids rushing to follow him. Katie finished feeding first and turned her to her shoulder to burp her. Going out, she saw Emmy showing her costume to Steve, and Peter shuffling a bit in just Steve’s presence. But visibly relaxed once Katie had come out. 

“How do you think we came out Mom?” Emmy pressed in against Peter and hugged her arm around his waist, which he returned the gesture. 

“You two look great! Love the characters you two chose.” Katie genuinely praised and Rori swung her bag. 

“Can we go now?!” she whined and this time Katie gave her a reprimanding stare. 

“As soon as we are done talking to your sister and Peter. Patience Rori. And I want some pictures of all of you on the porch with the pumpkins.” Of course Rori perked up hearing that. 

“Can I wear my princess tiara?” 

“Yup, go upstairs and get it, we will take pictures afterward.” Katie smiled at her, and the little girl sprinted towards the stairs. Jamie was just about to say something when he caught sight of his father’s face clearly telling him to zip it. 

“I will be outside with Stark.” the boy patted his thigh, the dog pushing up from his bed and together they went out into the yard. Stark raced forward, diving right into a huge pile of leaves Steve had raked that morning, making Jamie laugh as the dogs head reappeared, half scattering the pile in his bounds back out to reach his boy for praises and head scritches. Steve, having watched all of this just shook his head with a chuckle before turning back to his oldest and her boyfriend.

With just the four of them left now, Steve remarked to both Emmy and Peter. “They are very excited, don’t let them run you over though.” 

Emmy shook her head with a smile. “Rori and Jamie? They won’t be an issue.” 

Peter was currently squatted down with Henry, playing a game with the little dinosaur. “They are always really awesome with us Mr.Rogers, I don’t see there being any problems. And were just staying in the neighborhood.” 

Emmy gave Steve a ‘See Dad, he’s responsible’ look, which Katie hid a smirk against the top of Flossie’s head, giving a gentle kiss. Steve gave a look of defeat, Peter was really good with all the little ones whenever he was over. 

“How about we head out to the porch? I hear Rori coming back down the stairs.” Katie suggested while sure enough, one black cat with a shimmering tiara bounded around the corner, throwing her hands up in the air. “Ready for my pictures!” 

Once pictures were done, Steve and Katie reminding everyone to behave for Emmy and Peter, they stood on the porch together waving. Katie leaned into Steve’s side, watching him closely as he kept an eye on the group till they were out of sight. 

“You all good Soldier?” she asked, and he glanced down in surprise, a smile forming on his face. 

“Yes, just weird not to be with them.” His hand rubbed down Katies back. “But we got the next couple hours to ourselves, how about we make it like old times? Except I will order us some take out. You go enjoy a bath while I put Flossie down, and we will watch a movie?” 

Heading back inside where it was warmer, Katie nodded, and handed Flossie over to Steve. “I think that’s a great idea, Steve. Is this pre or post dating old times?” 

“Post, cause fooling around on the couch is permitted. Italian or Chinese tonight?” 

Already Katie was reaching up to her ponytail and removing it. “Italian, get that penne arabiata, get extra garlic knots to.” She went to tiptoes and kissed his cheek before heading up the stairs to go pamper herself. Steve was already pulling out his phone to pull up their favorite takeout number when the doorbell rang. Looking out to see a group of trick or treaters, he set Flossie down in her pack and play, grabbing the bowl of candy they had set up earlier next to his pineapple bowl, and opened the door to the chorus of kids. 

“Trick or Treat!” the group sang out and bags were held up with expectations of candy to go flying in. Which Steve did, fistfuls of candy tossed in, praising each costume he saw, a cowboy, an alien, princess, and then a teeny tiny little Captain America stepped up, holding his bag up towards Steve. Steve might have given him a bit extra.

Finishing getting the order placed, sure not to forget the extra garlic knots, Steve gave Flossie a quick bath in the sink just to clean her up, and wrapped in a towel, he carried his sleepy daughter upstairs to put her down. So far they have been lucky with her, not too fussy lately, as soon as he laid her down, she settled right in. He poked his head in momentarily to check on Katie, who looked so relaxed in all the bubbles, that he eased away and back down the stairs. 

Steve set about opening a bottle of wine, and he went through the tv selections till he found one of Katie’s favorite movies. 

He never cared for the scary movies, so Stephen King wasn’t necessarily one of his favorite artists. But the first time she had him watch The Green Mile, he really enjoyed it, which thrilled Katie seeing how much she loved. And the film, well it had a special meaning just for the two of them. 

Get busy living, or get busy dying. 

Yup, this would be the movie tonight, and as he finished setting it up, the doorbell rang. Digging out his wallet, he gave the delivery kid a nice tip and started to take the food out as Katie made her way down the stairs. Hair braided down the back, loose sleep tank and fuzzy warm plaid sleep pants. Her nose was lifted with appreciation, and she danced over to the counter, opening the bag immediately of garlic knots. “Steve, you’re the best for not forgetting the knots.” Immediately she ripped into one of the buttery rolls and popped the piece into her mouth. 

“Would you like a glass of wine with that?” He asked, already knowing the answer, and started pouring. 

“Mmhh, a man who knows the way to my heart.” She took the glass and sipped before going to grab plates and forks to serve them up. 

“I hope after all this time I do.” Steve chuckled, grabbing things like napkins, the bottle of wine, a beer for himself and Katie’s garlic knots. She brought the plates with her to set them down on the coffee table before falling onto the couch. “Flossie all tucked in?” 

“Passed out as soon as she laid her down. I think today’s activities tired her out.” He pulled the baby monitor from his pocket, turning on the screen to see Flossie had already shifted in her sleep, but still out of it. He set it up on the coffee table so they both could check in on her on occasion. Katie glanced to the tv screen as she got comfy on the couch. 

“Ahhh, one of the best.” She cuddled up next to Steve, feet tucked up and her plate balancing on her thigh. 

“Well this is as spooky as I like getting with movies.” Steve admitted while hitting play, and Katie chuckled, looking up at her husband while she took her first bite of pasta. 

“Yea, you don’t seem like a ‘Scream’ kind of guy.” 

He smirked while sipping from a bottle of beer, his blue eyes glinting at the innuendo that fell from him next. “Only Scream I want to hear is you saying my name.” 

Katie rolled her eyes at him with a laugh, shaking her head while stabbing her fork into her penne. “You might get lucky and have that happen later. Maybe. Start the damn movie Soldier.” 

A wiggle of Steve’s eyebrows teased further while he hit play, and they both ate in silence for the most part, Katie giving up first and setting her plate back on the coffee table, sipping from her wine and settling back in against Steve. 

Katies arm went around the back of Steve’s neck, letting her fingers tangle in the short hairs, and then her fingers trailed along his chain, seeking out a tense muscle at the back of his neck and rubbing her fingertips over it. It felt good, enough for Steve to close his eyes, tilt his head forward and enjoy the sensation that it caused to ripple along his back. “Mmmhh, right there Baby.” Digging in deeper, she shifted, pressing in closer, and watching as Steve’s face twisted a bit with pleasure at the way her fingers were working the muscles. 

“You know Steve, it’s going to be a while before the kids get home and Flossie will be down for a while.” That caught her husband’s attention, his eyes opening back up to look at her as she licked her lips, and catching the bottom with her teeth. 

“We should really take advantage.” Steve started as he shifted a bit to offer more of his lap. “Come here Doll.” He grasped her hips and shifted Katie easily into his hold, a soft squeal of delight coming from her.

Katie was straddled in his lap, fingers moving to twist in his hair and large firm hands pressed against her back to pull her in closer, any words were lost between exploring lips, and soft sighs shared. This was familiar to both of them, fingers exploring, nudging of noses against the other to draw back into hungry kisses. As familiar as it was, it was exciting, Katie starting to rock herself in Steve’s lap, and his pants grew achingly tight the more his wife grinded herself in his lap. 

“You’re going to drive me crazy.” he groaned into her neck where he was chaining kisses down, and Katie bit on his earlobe, sucking it to flick her tongue against the sensitive spot, moving enough to trace the shell of his ear with soft lips and heated words. 

“That is the goal Captain.” a husky tone drove her point home, and Steve with his arm wrapped around her tightly, shifted the two of them till his larger frame pressed her into the couch. 

“How much time till everyone gets home?” Steve asked as he drew up Katies tank top, flushing kisses along her collarbone and tugging it over her head to discard nearby. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted his arm enough to look at the time.” 

“It’s just after seven now, so maybe forty five minutes?” letting go, she looked up at Steve, teeth pulling at her lips as her eyes roamed over his face. “You got time.” Wrapping her hand in his dangling chain, she yanked on it hard enough to draw Steve forward, crashing open mouths together and wrapping her legs around his waist when he lost balance and just about fell on top of her. 

Katie knew she had caught Steve unaware, but he recovered quickly with a grasp to her hips and jerked her up the couch to give himself more room. Katie started to tug up his shirt to get to his shoulders, his chest, when the all familiar chime of the doorbell went off, and both of them froze in place. Steve hovering over Katie, his shirt half dragged off him, Katie arching her lower back to press into him. Both wide eyed at each other when the doorbell went off again, and a chorus of kids sang out “Trick or Treat, smell out feet, give up something good to eat.” 

Katie busted out in a giggle, and peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see the shadows on their porch. Steve dropped his head against her shoulder with a groan, and pushed up off the couch, giving a parting hissing kiss. 

“Don’t go anywhere Doll.” Off the couch and he pulled at his sweatpants to try and hide his semi erection, straightening his shirt. “Give me just a second.” Steve said with a raised voice when he grabbed the candy bowl. This time when he opened the door, there was ninjas, a witch, an angel, and a exhausted looking parent flashing a sorry smile at him. 

“Happy Halloween kids” Steve held out the bowl and insisted each kid take themselves some extra, now kind of looking for an excuse to be able to turn off his porch light for the night. But he didn’t have it in him to do it before they were out of candy. Giving a wave as the kids thanked him, he let the door close and went back to the couch to see Katie half watching the movie. But hearing him approach, she turned her eyes up to him and gave a crook of a finger with a grin. “Where were we Soldier?” 

Steve lowered back down onto the couch, pressing Katie to her back with caging arms, kisses going down from her neck to her shoulders. “Exactly right here.” He rumbled between the brush of his lips along that rush of her pulse. They only had 35 mins now, the thought danced in the back of Steve’s mind while his hands rubbed along her sides, then dipped his fingers into her soft comfy pajama bottoms to rub at her core through her panties, making her sigh and shift to tighten her legs back around him, her eyes softening to a lust filled haze as she pressed further against his fingers with the soft whimper of need. “Stevie…” Fingers tightening into his shirt and then she tugged at it, this time dragging it off so she could really touch him. That first push of her hands against his chest and down his stomach, it was hard not to control the tensing of his muscles, making Katie bite at her lip as she started to wriggle more, want more. Steve caught her lips with his as his hand withdrew, going to fold fingers into her bottoms and pull them off when a crash came from the kitchen. 

“What the hell?” His head whipped up and concern crossed his face. Katie tipped her head back to look in their kitchen, but couldn’t see anything. “I better go look.” 

As he got up, Katie twisted back to sit up and grabbed the baby monitor to check, and see Flossie still sleeping peacefully through the loud bang. Katie moved to grab her tank and tugged it on, as well as collect their empty plates, and called out. “Steve? Is everything okay?” 

Steve walked in a bit cautious, looking around to see nothing looked out of place. A frown crossed his face as his eyes searched the darker areas of the kitchen, his hand sliding along the wall to find the light switch and flicked it on. That’s when he heard something shuffling against the floor just out of sight behind the kitchen island. Going around it, there he found Stark with one of the pasta containers, chasing it around as he licked the sauce out of it. Katies voice rang out questioning, and he scowled at the dog, his hands falling to his hips. “It’s okay Katie, just Stark.” Turning his attention back to Stark who seemed to realize Steve was there, and he lifted his head from the take out box with a wag of his tail. “Yea, buddy you kinda just blocked me.” he sighed as he reached down to grab the box and scowled at him. “And when do you counter surf?” Stark just stared at him, then leaned forward to attempt to swipe his tongue against Steve’s face, but the man yanked back in time, shaking his head. “Nuh uh Stark, that isn’t going to fix it, i’m mad at you.” Moving to straighten, Katie came in with empty plates and opened the door to the dishwasher to put them away. 

“So what was it?” her eyes scanning around the room, Stark looking innocent between them and Steve stuffing the empty containers into the garbage. “Was it Stark?” Katies eyes narrowed at the innocent face while closing the dishwasher. 

Steve gave a nod. “But my fault, I left the take out boxes on the edge of the counter.” Why was he defending Stark? Well he did have a soft spot for the mutt. “Any why didn’t you wait on the couch?” This time he crowded her into the counter to lift her to perch on the edge, Katie looking at Steve with an arch of her brow as her hands seemed to have a life of their own, sliding palms over his chest, scratching lightly. “Because now we’re at 25 minutes before Emmy walks through that door with three exhausted kids, and we have to get them in the bath and bed. While keeping them away from the candy.” 

“You know I like a challenge.” Steve drew her in closer around him, making Katie giggle as they resumed their teasing from earlier. 

“You really think you can do all you want to do, and have me presentable for the family.” she locked her legs back around him and grinded herself against him. 

“Doll, you really doubt me?” Steve grinned a bit, cupping the back of her neck and tilting to kiss her breathless, once more the two of them playing a game of pull and push, bodies flushing against each other, and just about to take it to the next step. Steve grasping Katies clenching thighs around his waist when a cry emitted from above them, and next to them. The baby monitor was just seconds behind Flossies cries above them, and together they stilled, Katies forehead leaning against Steves as she drew in a frustrated breath. 

“She’s hungry, it’s her feeding time.” Breathing that out, Katie cupped Steve’s face and gave just a affectionate kiss, her emeralds shimmering with a hint of amusement. “We were not even close.” 

Taking a step back, Steve shook his head, lifting Katie off the counter. “I will go get her and bring her down Doll.” He offered, Katie giving a nod while she decided to make her a bottle this time. 

Upstairs Steve saw a fussing Flossie, little fists waving and big eyes filled with tears. Steve shushed Flossie a bit while he picked her up, pulling her into his shoulder where he felt his littlest snuggle with soft cries into his shirt. “Now now baby girl, are all these tears needed?” His hand which covered her entire back made gentle soothing circles as he rocked himself back and forth gently. “Moms downstairs making you a bottle right now.” 

Reaching for a soft blanket and draped it over his free shoulder while leaving the room. He was quick to go down the stairs, and back into the kitchen to check on Katie’s progress. Looking over her shoulder, Katies gaze softened seeing the two of them, and she tilted her head to look at Flossie who quieted once she saw her mother. “Did you tell Daddy that yes, all those tears were needed?” glancing up at Steve while she grabbed the bottle, he gave a confused look at how she knew what he had said, she nodded towards the baby monitor. “Heard you talking to her earlier.” Brushing past him, Katie got comfy in there makeout spot earlier, holding her arms out for Flossie. Earlier frustrations were gone as she pulled the baby into her arms, kissing the silky soft baby head while she offered the bottle. Eagerly, Flossie sucked on the bottle’s nipple, her eyes crinkling in the corner in happiness. Steve watched a moment before the doorbell rang once more. Dropping a kiss to the top of Katies head, he went to the door, automatically grabbing the candy bowl off the table and opening it. This time he was met with a black tiara wearing cat, one dinosaur, one frankenstein, a han solo and princess leia. Then behind them was one Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson grinning like idiots. “Trick or Treat!” 

Steve held onto his bowl and smirked at his kids. “Well aren’t these just the coolest costumes of the night… I suppose you all want some candy and head on home?” 

Jamie grinned and held out his almost overflowing bag, Rori marched past her father, and announced she was home with a loud “Mom! I got so much candy, and everyone loved my costume.” Bucky and Sam went around the two younger adults holding the dinosaur, Bucky grabbing the bowl from Steve’s hand. 

“Happy Halloween Schmaptain Schmerica. Damn Wilson, they have the good candy.” Bucky started picking through it, and Sam grabbed the bowl from his hands. “Hey!” 

“Let’s see what you call good, you old fart. If you’re talking about licorice, you’re certifiable.” 

Their voices drifted off as they went into the living room. Peter and Emmy came in next, in which Emmy grabbed her car keys out of the pineapple bowl. “Peter and I got invited to a party after we finished up. So I won’t be home till late Dad. The kids were great, no problems at all. I’m just going to go say goodnight to Mom.” Taking Peter’s hand, she pulled him into the living room, Henry hanging on her hip. Steve decided to step outside for a moment, take in a breath of fresh air, clear his head. 

It had been an interesting evening to say the least, but Steve wouldn’t have had it any other way thinking back on it as he tipped his head back to admire the night sky, the moon a full one this year casting everything in that eerie glow that just seemed to fit this night. Katie and him had fun together, even with the interruptions, the kids all had a blast as he could hear the laughter coming from behind him, and everyone was back home. 

Well… mostly. But Steve trusted Peter for the most part to take care of Emmy, although he knew she could easily handle herself and had them on speed dial. Speaking of, he could hear Emmy and Peter making their way back out the door,  talking to Katie who was following behind them. She paused at Steve’s side, leaning into his warmth as it got chilly out now. 

“Be safe, and have fun.” Katie finished off what she had been saying and Emmy nodded. 

“Of course, I will be home probably after midnight.” she assured her parents, and Steve pipped up. 

“Need anything just call.” 

“Yes, will do. Bye you guys, love you.” Emmy pulled away with Peter, and soon it was just Katie and Steve on the porch, together they walked off the steps and turned to look at the glowing pumpkins, their candles dying down to flickering flames. Steve’s hand rubbed against her bare arm, the tank top not protecting her much from the cold. “Ready to go back in?” 

“Go back in, collect Flossie from Bucky and Sam, get the other two into showers and one roaring dinosaur into a bath. Put them all down for the night? That sounds like something a task force is needed for.” 

“Yea, that kind of go back in.” Steve chuckled softly, knowing it was gonna be a bit of a fuss getting the excited kids all simmered down with how excited they were. 

“I left Sam and Bucky entertaining to catch a few extra seconds with you before the madness starts.” she twisted into his hold, hugging him and tilting her head back to look up at him. “But, if you’re up for it, I think tonight in bed we should pick up where we left off. Without all the interruptions.” 

“Only if you are still wanting Mrs.Rogers.” Steve assured Katie, who nodded and grinned. 

“Let’s blow out these pumpkins and get started.” Going back towards the house, where a loudly singing Rori and Sam sounded like they were doing a disney duet, Katie and Steve blew out the glowing pumpkins and went back inside to get everyone situated.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Blogmas: maybe something on Darcy being sad at Christmas as they’re trying for a baby and they’re surrounded by all her nieces and nephews

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

* TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE, INFERTILITY, DRUG AND ALCOHOL ABUSE.*

By 8pm on Christmas day evening, in the Styles’ household, everyone was usually parched and falling asleep almost anywhere they could find a space to stretch out.

This year, the living room had been taken by the children and the grandchildren and neither Harry or YN minded as they sat at the kitchen table and finished up the cleaning and packing away of leftovers that their four kids would tuck into or save for trips back home. Their eldest and her husband taking space on the sofa with their two children cuddled up on their laps with full bellies of ice-cream and strawberry jelly, watching the Christmas television; their only son and his wife sitting in the living room alcove, by the window, with their children asleep as their feet and cuddled under blankets and dressed in their new pyjamas; their twins, one sitting on the sofa with her husband as they spoke amongst themselves and one squeezed into an armchair with their new baby tucked up on her father’s chest. Everyone full of a good turkey dinner that Harry had been adamant on making that year, with some of the adults all wine-drunk and the children all tuckered out from playing with their new toys and enjoying the chance of staying up late. It was something the two of them had thought about when they were single and growing up, something they spoke about when they were two years deep into their relationship and it was something they dreamed of seeing when they celebrated their first Christmas as parents.

“I could do this till I’m ninety, you know?”

YN looked up at him and he smiled, the stubble on his face grey and patchy, lips darkened by the red wine he’d disguised in the mug in front of him.

“Yeah,” she found her eyes drifting to the sitting room, her heart aching with love and adoration, “it’s a good feeling.”

Harry stretched his arm over the tabletop and squeezed her hand, “we did good, baby. We did so good.”

*

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Sam whispered, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek as he sat down on the sofa beside her, “it’s Christmas, come have a sneaky turkey sandwich with me in the kitchen. Your mum’s left some in the fridge for us.”

“M’not really hungry,” Darcy responded, lifting her eyes from the wine glass in her hand, looking at him to give him a reassuring smile before looking back to the rim of her glass. The usual burn from, what would have been, red wine being replaced with the tingle of fizzy apple because she’d been on a health cleanse since the beginning of December, “you can go and make one though. I’m sure Mum can make you the gravy to soak the bread in.”

Darcy and Sam had been huge lovers of the whole “chuck it together and it’ll make anything” attitude and Christmas gave them a chance to show that off. Bubble and Squeak was their Boxing Day lunch, the leftover turkey went into a packed sandwich full of the leftover vegetables and potatoes for their dinner and the ‘forgotten’ pack of Pigs in Blankets went into the oven because they weren’t really ‘forgotten’ - they were being saved for a day when they were really, really fancied as a snack in between meals - because Christmas was the time to pig out on anything they wanted and not feel guilty about it.

“I know you, Darce,” Sam nudged his elbow into her arm, “I’ll make one and it’ll look so good that you’ll end up stealing half of it to see what it tastes like.”

“I won’t. I’m honestly not hungry,” she informed him.

The tone of her voice felt… off.

Sam could tell something was bothering her… that it had only just started to bother her because she’d been on an excitable high all day. There was no cheeky sarcasm that she used on him from time to time when he said something that irritated her, there was no sweet remarks when he said something that warmed her heart because it was a cute little something he’d picked up on, there was no smile that accompanied her words and she seemed so hidden away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she turned her head to look at him and gave him a warm smile, “I promise, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t promise me that when I can tell by your face that you’re not happy,” he admitted, reaching over to set his red wine down on the coffee table, “talk to me. Tell me. I won’t be able to sleep if I know I haven’t done my husbandly duty of looking after you.”

Darcy gave him ‘the look’ and he cheekily smiled in response.

“I know you want to tell me. Is it because you think I’ve had too much to drink? Because, I’ll tell you now, this is my third of the day. If your dad cracked the beer out, I’d be a goner. Slouched over the kitchen table, needing a bucket, because the crate would be gone,” Sam laughed, “I stuck to my word. No being hungover on Boxing Day.”

“I just-” Darcy sighed heavily, “I look at everyone here and feel so sad that we’re not there yet. We were supposed to be parents right now, with our new baby, having my dad dote on me like mad because he thinks I can’t do anything because I’m tired and having trouble sleeping.”

Her eyes went from Persephone and Jack to Alfie and Ellie to Rose and her newborn baby and she couldn’t help but feel the constant beating of her heart, feeling herself getting worked up but trying to hard not to show any emotion because she’d constantly promised people that she was fine with the year she had; a miscarriage after a miscarriage, being told she was infertile and unable to carry her own children, finding out that the cost of IVF was something they weren’t close to affording and losing herself to misery that took her usual bubbly self away and left a shell behind.

Deep down, she knew she wasn’t fine but she wasn’t ready for the conversations that came soon after that.

“I was supposed to bring our baby into the world a few weeks ago, for my nieces and nephews to play with today, to buy presents for and to open presents for them, to cuddle and enjoy our first Christmas. We were supposed to dress them in cute elf outfits and my sisters were supposed to be aunts again, my brother was supposed to be an uncle again, my parents were supposed to be grandparents again. Your parents were going to be grandparents,” her eyes felt like they were burning and she refused to look back towards her eldest sister, feeling Persephone's eyes looking at her with worry from the sofa she was snuggled into. Her body already perked up and pushed from Jack’s arms,“this was supposed to be our first family Christmas.”

“I know,” Sam hummed, “I know. And we’ll get there. It’ll happen.”

“I’m not under the impression it’s happening soon,” she laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes, “I’m just not made out to be a mum. All the troublesome things I did as a teenager are coming back to bite me on the arse.”

It wasn’t her fault; no way was it her fault.

Sam knew that blaming herself made things better because placing guilt on someone made it more ‘understandable’ but, in truth, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. No matter how many times she blamed her teenage self for participating in recreational drug use or for the alcohol intake on a Friday night at a house party or for the constant sex and one-night stands with those she felt attracted to when she was drunk, that wasn’t the reasoning behind her infertility but she wasn’t ready to confirm that.

“Shut up,” Persephone retorted, sitting up in her seat and looking at her youngest sister, “that’s a load of rubbish and you know it.”

“I’m not just saying this because you’re my sister or anything. I’d say it to any of my female friends. You deserve the world and more. If things aren’t happening right now then that doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen to you,” Persephone said, reaching her arm over and squeezing Darcy’s hand, “you’re a fantastic aunt, the best godmother to be little man, and you’ll be such a fabulous mother when the time comes. I know so. I grew up with you.”

“Don’t.”

“No, I will. Because I know the feeling of not having what you so desperately want. Granted, it’s a different situation but I’ve been there. The pit where you think nothing good will happen.”

“You’re going to get what you want, I know so, Darce. Trust me.”

“You should listen to her,” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, you should. I’m the big sister, I know everything about you lot.”

[dimigex]

Current WIP/ Drabbles list

So, I have a day in my writing schedule that is dedicated to working on stories not Altered Reality, Healing Hands, Heart in a Silver Cage, or Losing Control, but I have so many that’s it’s hard to choose. I went through and made a massive list of the current projects that I have (and realized I need to complete more and jump around less). Everything on this list is at least over a thousand words and most are considerably more than that. 

I kind of wanted to open this up to see if any of these descriptions get my followers excited in the ‘omg tell me more, why isn’t this finished yet’ way because there is only so much time each day to work on things. If you see something you want to know more about or really want to see me post sooner rather than later, please, Please, PLEASE inbox me (you can even use Anon to do so) or reply or reblog or whatever. I want to work on things that other people will be excited about too. It’s no fun alone. I mean it kind of is, but feedback is the best and if you’re excited you’re more likely to comment and engage. 

Works are below the cut because I have zero self control and the list is long. Keep in mind this is nowhere near the full amount of stories I have in docs, only the ones that are well developed and/or written or close to being finished (or have a chapter or more if it’s a long story)  

Big Stories (things that would be split into multiple chapters/parts):

Naruto:

Clean - KakaSaku, Sakura comes back to the village with an infant daughter and a big secret, one that she’s sworn never to tell even if it makes her life miserable. This is a study on the things we do for love, even when it hurts us. This story also has some previous SasuSaku undertones

Dark Side of the Moon - KakaSaku, this is basically the flip side of Altered Reality. Kakashi lived in a happy world and is suddenly thrust into a reality where nearly everyone he cares about is dead and he’s in a relationship with Sakura. With everything upside down, can he figure out what happened and get back to his family before it’s too late? Or should he move on with the new normal?

Here With You - Kakasaku, A 10k follow on to my oneshot Distraction which is mutual pining (and mutual self pleasure while thinking of the other). Kakashi and Sakura are tired of dancing around their feelings for each other, but neither knows what to do about it. With a little help from Ino, Genma, and maybe some alcohol, they’ll figure it out. 

Mortal Flaw, Fatal Sin - KakaSaku (with a heavy dose of anti-SasuSaku, Sasuke really does come across evil in this one) Sakura returns to Konoha after over a year with little to no contact with anyone. Pregnant and alone, she turns to Kakashi to try and figure out what to do with her life and tempers flare when the truth starts to come out. (this one will have a lot of trigger warnings, it’s a dark take on SasuSaku)

Run to You  - Jiraiya/Tsunade, snippets of their lives through the second war and forward (Niwaki’s death, Dan’s, the first time they hook up (because let’s face it, it happened)

Shattered - This starts as a SasuSaku morphs into a KakaSaku and NaruSasu. After the war, Sasuke is held in prison in Konoha for treason. Kakashi is Hokage and he didn’t ask for this mess with his former team, and he certainly didn’t ask to start developing feelings for Sakura as she’s doing her best to save Sasuke from himself. 

She is the Sunlight - KakaSaku, Sakura is unhappy with life in the village after the war (and Sasuke) and wants something more than just her medical work at the hospital. Eventually she latches onto the idea of Anbu which Kakashi strongly opposes because he wants to protect her from the horrors of it. (this is actually a combination of two stories I have where Kakashi catches the feels and doesn’t know what to do about it and Sakura kind of self-destructs before he figures it out)

Starting Over - Kakayama, Tenzo doesn’t know what to do with himself after the war and ends up helping at the hospital. When an orphaned infant isn’t doing well, Tenzo puts in some extra effort and maybe falls in love with the idea of being a dad if only he can convince Kakashi that it’s a good idea. 

Overwatch:

Empire - Gabriel centric, dealing with his pre army life with his family, initiation into a gang, conversion to the army, marriage and daughter, then ending at SEP. This is a wild ride from start to finish honestly. 

Through the Glass - Genji/Mercy, their time during his recovery after Overwatch saved his life, then probably reconnecting later as an epilogue. 

(You Held the Gun that) Fired First - Reaper76, starting with the founding of Overwatch, the slow decay of Jack and Vincent’s relationship, the chaos of Jack and Gabe together, ending sometime around the start of the game probably. I’m not planning to follow canon heavily but there will be a lot of stuff happening here including but not limited Jack planning to ask Vincent to marry him, a massively public break-up, Vincent gets attacked and nearly killed, Ana’s death, the explosion. Honestly I haven’t decided on the ending point yet 

Drabbles (smaller, one shots that don’t need additional chapters, probably): 

Naruto

Beautiful, Perfect Disaster - KakaSaku, all the tension between them finally snaps into a first kiss that might be the start of something wonderful 

Blame it on the Blood Loss - KakaIru, When Kakashi and Iruka go on a mission together, the latter is badly injured and rambles confessions he never meant to share

Innocence - KakaSaku, Kakashi and Sakura have been dating for a while when she shocks him by admitting she’s never been with anyone before and wants him to be her first (and last), not going to lie, this is mostly smut 

Interrupted Affections - KakaSaku, Kakashi and Sakura have just started dating and the days on missions without being able to touch is killing both of them. Sneaking away from Tenzo and Naruto, they try to find a little alone time to reconnect. It goes about as well as expected 

Let It Go - NaruSasu,in which Naruto tries to convince Sasuke to stay in the village and Sasuke has some convincing reasons on why he shouldn’t 

Letting Go - Kakayama, set in their Anbu days where Tenzo pays the ultimate price to save Kakashi’s life and Kakashi goes a little crazy as a result 

Memories and Hope - Genma/Kakashi, on the anniversary of Minato’s death Genma and Kakashi realize they have more in common than they realized. 

Saying Goodbye - Kakayama, Tenzo reflects on all the could have beens at Kakashi’s funeral 

Shadows and Sunlight - KakaSaku and NaruSasu, This is a follow on to my story Lightning and Starlight (in which Sasuke uses chidori on Sakura on the bridge when she tried to kill him, aka Kakashi got there too late). It follows the fallout of that day when everyone catches feels and realizes relationships are complicated

Surprise Advances - Tenzo/Anko, a train wreck mission leads this unlikely pair to fall into bed together (a spin off from Heart in a Silver Cage)

The Monster You Made - Kakashi/Obito, after the war (in which Obito doesn’t die, obviously) Kakashi saves Obito from execution for his crimes and realizes that he has some unresolved feelings for the teammate that he thought he’d lost years ago. 

The Photograph - Tenzo/Obito (set in Altered Reality universe) where an Anbu mission makes Tenzo rethink his opinion of his captain 

The Story of Your Scars - Kakayama, this is a follow on to Find Me in the Dark (in which Tenzo was captured and tortured by Orochimaru) where Kakashi tries to help Tenzo deal with the trauma of it 

Undone - Kakashi centric, young Kakashi wakes up in the hospital after his failure to save Rin (honestly this is about the shattering of Minato and Kakashi’s relationship) 

Undressed - KakaYama, Kakashi comes home broken up after a mission and Tenzo helps him remove his armor, in more ways than one

Overwatch

First Impressions - Reaper76, after the SEP injections which Jack has a difficult time with and Gabe helps him get through 

Shattered - Vincent learns about the explosion at the Swiss HQ and that Jack is missing in it 

War is Hell - Reaper76, the fallout after another bad Blackwatch mission where Jack is left picking up the pieces 

Other

Apocalyptic - Genma/Fynta (swtor crossover) where Genma is trapped in the Star Wars universe just trying to survive (co-written with Cinlat)

[nitewrighter]

Humble Pie

None of the prompts in my inbox are currently speaking to me, so I decided to fill in a gap in my fic continuity and write something non-shippy. So here’s McCree’s recruitment into Blackwatch!

-----

It was the most crowded the Panorama Diner had been in god-knew-how-long. Overwatch agents and local law enforcement mingled in a mix of blue and beige, some clustered around table booths hasty laptop and holo-comm stations, some pacing about the floor, talking on their own comms and headpieces with officers back at Watchpoint Grand Mesa or even as far as Zurich. The most crowded Panorama had been, and no one was eating.

Well... almost no one.

“You sure you don’t want any?” said Gabe, pressing the side of his fork into the slice of apple pie, sectioning off the flaky crust and gooey filling.

Jesse McCree frowned sullenly at his own plate, his own slice of pie already in a puddle of melting vanilla ice cream. He moved to pick up his fork and the chain of his handcuffs clinked with the movement. He glared up at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, but Reyes kept calmly eating.

“It’s good pie,” Gabe said with a slight shrug. The corners of McCree’s mouth pulled inward in a repulsed little scowl.

“Ain’t you got anything better to do?” McCree growled. There was a pitchiness in his voice that spoke to the last miserable ekes of puberty in all their acne-speckling glory still clinging to his scrappy form.

“Oh we’ve got all the time in the world,” said Gabe with another forkful of pie.

“Where’s Ashe?” said McCree.

“Her folks posted her bail, and I have a stack of forms from her family legal team roughly as thick as your head that forbid me from saying anything further on her involvement in this incident.”

“Oh,” McCree huffed a little and eased back in his seat, “Guess that means they’re coming for me next,” A smug smile eased onto his features, but Reyes didn’t seem to respond to that, just let McCree’s words sit in the air between them as his fork scraped across his plate, gathering bits of pastry and melted ice cream dappled with cinnamon.

McCree first basked in the silence as victory, but as he noted the lack of reaction in Reyes, doubt crept in slowly. Reyes gently set his fork down on the side of his plate and looked up at Jesse. The calm eye contact from Reyes was all it took for Jesse’s nerves to bubble up in his throat.

“I mean... “ a short nervous laugh rippled out of him, “Th-that’s what they said, right? They’d be representin’ me, too?”

Reyes said nothing, just gave him a steady look.

“Right?” that pitchiness sharpened in his voice, nearly making it crack.

“...it’s a tough truth of this world, kid,” Reyes said, leaning back in his seat slightly, “Don’t get involved with rich kids. They can buy their way out of trouble, but you...”

“No--” McCree interrupted him, “No--there’s--there’s been a mistake. Ashe said--she said---” 

“Maybe there was honor amongst thieves out here, under an open sky,” said Reyes with a weary shrug, “But I can’t say the same in the US legal system. And it’s a story jurors would love to hear: the pretty, oil tycoon princess just wants adventure, just wants attention, she gets mixed up with the dastardly local trash... falls in with a bad crowd... oh but she can change, she just needs another chance--it was Jesse McCree doing all the work, anyway, it was all his idea. Is that even his real name? Oh but don’t worry, 12 years in a maximum security cell oughta straighten him right up.”

All color had drained from McCree’s face. The look in those eyes would have been heartbreaking if Reyes wasn’t well aware he was a little shit.

“So that’s the stick,” said Reyes, picking up his fork, “Do you want to hear about the carrot, now?”

McCree tried to bring some hardness back to his expression, but his brow was still crinkling, realizing just how easy it was for Ashe’s family to throw him under the bus and how he had refused to see it for so long.

“...I ain’t a rat,” said McCree, staring down at the pie, “’sides, not like I can give you anything useful anyway.”

“I’m not looking for information,” said Reyes, “I’m looking for insight. A sharp eye. A steady hand.”

“Fresh blood,” McCree tilted his head up a little. Reyes gave a small single nod.

 A small scoff escaped McCree. “You can forget it. I ain’t a narc and I ain’t cannon fodder.”

“Did I say I was looking for a narc or cannon fodder?” Reyes pointed a fork at him, “Overwatch has plenty of those in our ranks already, rebuilding after the crisis is going to take more than bright-eyed button-up dumbasses star-struck by propaganda,” Reyes set the fork on his plate again and pushed it aside, now picking up a binder that had been on the seat next to him and flipping it open to CCTV photos of McCree. One was of him fixing up a dilapidated hover bike, another was of him carrying groceries in both arms for an old woman, and there were several photos of non-lethal gun wounds, “We had to do months of research to pull off this sting operation, and you know what I saw? Guts. Resourcefulness. Resilience. The ability to defuse high-tension situations. The ability to convince other people towards your own goals. The marks of a man who lives by a code... or at least is starting to. You wanted to be the goddamn Robin Hood of Route 66, but you’re young, you’re cocky, and you’re sloppy, and now you’re here.”

“You know how many ‘you have so much potential’ weepy speeches I’ve had to sit through?” McCree muttered.

“I don’t know, but I can guarantee you that whether you say yes or no, this is the last one,” said Reyes.

McCree’s glance fell down to his handcuffs. “It’s like that, then?”

“It’s like that,” said Reyes.

McCree was silent for a long time.

“I can give you the usual spiel--three square meals a day, roof over your head, travel the world and meet new and interesting people, top notch combat training--but you’ve heard all that shit before, and that didn’t convince you then, so there’s no reason it’ll convince you now,” Reyes went on, “You had fuck-all to do around here, but it wasn’t like you were going to join Overwatch or the army just to get out of here--you didn’t want to get out by fitting into someone else’s mold.” 

McCree made a near-scoffing “hm” noise that hinted at a smile.

“Did I read you right?” said Reyes.

“Fuck you,” the words came almost warmly out of McCree and his eyes were fixed on Reyes with a pensive curiosity that made Reyes wonder how interesting the conversation got out here in the middle of nowhere. McCree rubbed his chin, with one hand, the cuffs forcing his other hand to lift and hang lazily with the motion. “...y’know, I saw you in all those Crisis propaganda movies... thought you’d be more like Morrison.” 

“Morrison can have all the clean-scrubbed soldiers he wants,” said Gabe with a shrug, leaning back in his seat, “Me? I want the survivors. I want the cockroach motherfuckers.”

McCree snorted at this.

 “Dying for a cause you believe in,” Reyes followed up, “That’s easy. I saw loads of people do it... doing what needs to be done though... being willing to live with that shit afterward because there’s more shit to be done... It takes a certain kind of person to do that. And I’d rather have that person on my team than rotting away in a cell.” 

“On your team,” McCree repeated, squinting skeptically. 

“After the proper training of course. And there’s medical care. Dental. You get dental with the whole outlaw thing?”

McCree’s lips self-consciously closed over his teeth on instinct.

“And for what it’s worth, we’ll let you keep the hat,” said Reyes.

That smile tugged at the corner of McCree’s mouth. He resettled in his seat slightly, picked up his fork and sectioned off a bit of his own pie, now a virtual pile of pastry and apple mush beneath the melted remnants of its vanilla ice cream.

“Cockroach motherfuckers, huh?” said McCree, taking a bite of the pie.

“Working team name. Jack’s been pushing me toward ‘Blackwatch’ but what the hell does he know?”

“What does he know?” said McCree with a smile, taking another bite.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Supernatural Series Finale

It took me a couple days to collect my thoughts on one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to watch in my life. Like I said a few days ago, I cried even harder watching it the second time around. But now that I’ve had a chance to process and also see what other people were saying, I think I can finally put into words my impression of the finale. 

Buckle up, this is a long one....

Let me preface this first off by saying that as an adamant Dean girl that has said numerous times over the years that all I’ve ever wanted was to wrap Dean in a blanket and give him some forehead kisses and tell him everything is going to be fine, this episode gutted me. I fully believe that my boy did not deserve to fight so hard for so long to just die as soon as he was free. He deserved a lifetime of truly enjoying time with his baby brother, the person he loved most in the whole world.

Now with that being said, having watched this series so many numerous times, I truly don’t believe that the show could have ended any other way. It’s something that has been pointed out by the creator, the writers, the actors, and even the characters themselves in the show. Dean never saw anything else for himself than dying doing the one thing he knows best, hunting. I saw a post that discussed how this would have happened numerous times already had Chuck not been interfering in their lives, and I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment. 

And Dean had been raised to never think anything of that. It goes back to Cas’ declaration that he is “the most loving human he has ever met”. Dean is and always has been a man of duty. He would gladly die at the end of a blade if it meant he saved someone from the fate his family was ‘destined’ to live. He has always cared more about other people than he ever has himself. It part of the reason that his freak out in 15.17 didn’t throw me because for fuck’s sake wasn’t it his turn to be a little bit selfish for once?

Anyway, I digress. Dean has been fighting for others his whole life. And as stated in 15.19, him and Sam were free to finally write their own story. Is it not 100% on character that Dean would die a hunter’s death? As we see in the beginning of the episode, the Winchesters could have chosen to walk away from the life then. They could have chose the apple pie life, a wife and 2.5 kids. But they didn’t, they chose to continue saving people, hunting things. They were writing their own story, even if it ended tragically. But that’s life, it’s messy and depressing, but it’s also beautiful and even if Dean only got a small taste of that, I can be happy.

I know a lot of people feel like that negates their character growth throughout the seasons, but I disagree. I think that the way this ended shows just how much both of them had grown. Sam very well could have went to Jack and begged him to bring Dean back and Dean could have asked him to. But neither felt that it was necessary any longer. Without Chuck pulling the strings, that scary, neurotic, codependence they used to hold was gone. Dean was okay with dying and Sam let him go. Dean told him how much he loved him and how scared he had been to go get him at school. Dean opened up, something that season 1 Dean never would have done. Just look back at “Faith”, the episode where Dean makes every joke in the book about dying instead of facing the truth that his time was up and Sam refuses to accept it so much that his one source to save him (unwittingly) is black magic. The men I saw in 15.20 were far from the men we met in season one. 

Coming back to finally being free, I have to talk about the dammed paperwork in Dean’s room. I’ve seen the speculation about that. But that’s all it is, speculation. We have no idea what that was supposed to be about. If they had meant for us to see it, they would have shown it to use like they showed us the “Dean’s other other phone” sticker. But they didn’t. So it’s perfectly fine to speculate about it, that all a part of art interpretation, but in my opinion, even if Dean was working on ‘something else’ I don’t think he ever could have fully walked away from hunting. This ending was for all intents and purposes, inevitable. 

For all the rest, as a writer, I fully understand the way that they chose to do this episode. Sure covid played a role but the boys had said that the crux of what the episode was did not change. There is a certain nuance to storytelling, like I posted back on Thursday and something that is probably one of the most famous lines from this show. Endings are hard. Writing is hard. It’s impossible to please everyone and even harder to tie up all loose ends. At the end of the day, the writers had to be satisfied with the story that they put out, irregardless of what you or I think. As Jensen so beautifully puts it, Supernatural is a piece of art, one that has numerous hands in the pot. From writers to actors and directors. And art is always up for interpretation. But that’s the beauty in it. 

I talked to a dear friend, @waywardbeanie after the episode and was like “I want to know x.y.and z” because a part of me wanted all the answers from them. I’ve always been a person so very deeply rooted in canon (I know as a fanfic author that sounds weird but stay with me). I trust the information given to me and take it as face value. I seen my stories as an extension to canon, not trying to rewrite it. So it took me a few days, and more conversations with other fans of the show, like @winchest09 , to understand that the facts left out of the final were most likely intentional. 

This is a show that has such a passionate and loving (mostly) fandom. Together we have done so much good for the world, and that is something even if you hated the finale, you can’t take back. The writers left the ending open for us, to write our own stories, whether it’s just your thoughts or if you actually write a piece of fanfiction. There is so little about what happens after Sam leaves, presumably for Austin (don’t even get me started on the essence of that cause I might cry again), because it’s our job to decide. Did Sam quite hunting all together or was he a pseudo Bobby, manning the phones for other hunters? Did he finally go to law school or end up getting some other mundane job? Who was his wife or girlfriend or baby momma in the background? Was it Eileen? If not did she know about his life? One could drive themselves crazy answering these questions, and it’s your right to do so however it will make you happy. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter to the story. 

At the end of the day, what mattered was the peace that the boys found together, in heaven. Sure Dean missed Sammy when he first got there, but he didn’t fuss, because as Bobby said “he would be along”. So Dean did what he’s always done, he took a drive in Baby, and Sam was there when he finally brought her to a stop. In the end their story ended just as it had started, our boys together. 

And I know a lot of people are angry because one of the big themes this show touched on was that family doesn’t end in blood. And I agree wholeheartedly that I would have loved more familiar faces or even the mention of them (I screamed when Donna was mentioned), but at the end of the day, something Eric Kripke has been saying since season one, this show is and always has been about the brothers and their relationship. I in no way think that this negates the family they found along the way or how they could not have done a lot of it without them but, it’s not their story. I’m sorry but it’s true. 

It’s not about Cas, Jack, Bobby, Crowley, Ellen, Jo, Mary, Eileen, etc. It’s about Sam and Dean and it sucks that people can’t let that go, but I get it. I can’t imagine putting so much time into something to let something like that ruin the whole experience for you. I hope that you can find peace eventually. I guess that’s my blessing, that I never really cared for anyone besides Dean. Which isn’t to say I didn’t like characters but what happened to them never mattered to me, as bitchy as that sounds. 

I’m at peace with this ending, no matter how much it hurts me. And I think it’s just the finality of it that hurts. Jensen and Jared and Kripke are satisfied with their little show that could and that’s what matters most to me. Because those are the real people with real feelings that I care about. 

So there you have it. I have zero tolerance for negativity, so please keep your comments off this posts. You are free to your opinion but I don’t want to see it and put any seed of doubt in my acceptance of this ending. I’ll be the first to admit I’m too easily swayed, ha!

But if you need to talk, my inbox is always open. I’m still coping with the loss of this show and everything that comes with it. I don’t do well with change or facing my own mortality, something that has rattle me these past few days. I feel a million years older and that scares me. So know your feelings are valid and I’m here.