#then in season 4 i was like. actually so sick of him

[maddy-ferguson]

season 2 is definitely my favorite season of succession and it's also the best.

[maraczeks]

bcs s4 thread pt 2

[vivwritesfics]

Mrs Doctor Reid

Nobody knew Spencer had a wife. But they found out. Nobody knew she was pregnant, not until she walks into the BAU sporting a sizeable bump.

1.2K

Season 4 Reid

Nobody on the team knew that Spencer Reid had a wife. Spencer Reid, the youngest member of the team, the resident genuis. He had a wife. And nobody knew. (Well, JJ knew, but she wasn't about to spill his secrets).

Before he had joined the BAU, Spencer had been engaged. They'd gotten married after his first year with the team, but neither of them wore a ring on their finger. She wore it around her neck and he carried it with him, fingerings it in the privacy of his hotel room.

Spencer told JJ. He had to tell somebody, just in case something happened to him. JJ was more than happy to keep her a secret for him. And, once she met Will, she understood why he wanted to keep her secret, keep her to himself.

Morgan was the first to find out. The case was a pickup artist, an unsub that was patrolling clubs to pick up women and murder them.

Morgan and Reid had been in the clubs, handing out flyers to give to the potentially vulnerable women. When Spencer teased Morgan for getting a lack of phone numbers, he challenged him. So, Spencer used magic to impress the girl at the bar. "Well, if you see anything, call me," he'd said with his usual awkward smile.

The awkward smile his wife loved.

"And, if I don't see anything?" She asked, obviously flirting with him. "Can I still call you?"

Again, Spencer wore that smile. "Uh, my wife would prefer it if you only called if you saw anything."

When Spencer turned around, he saw the expression drop from Morgan's face. "Reid, you're married?" He asked, and Spencer nodded. "I'm so sorry, man. I didn't know."

"Nobody did," Spencer replied.

When the team found out, they felt incredibly guilty. They couldn't help but think back to Tobias Hankel and when Reid got kidnapped. She had no idea. His wife must have been sat in their apartment, alone and worried.

But JJ smoothed things out, assured them that Reid's wife was kept updated while Spencer was kidnapped. JJ told her what she needed to know and kept her calm.

But now they'd been married for four years. Spencer started wearing his ring after the team found out. He called her in front of the others while they were working on a case.

The team was so happy their resident genius was in love.

They knew about his wife, about the love of his life, but they didn't know about the baby.

Kids was always on the cards, but they had waited. Spencer's career was taking off when they got married and, with how often he was away, it didn't feel right.

But they weren't careful. It wasn't like Doctor Reid to not be careful like that. She was on birth control and there was always condoms in top drawer next to their bed.

But they slipped up just once. She'd forgotten to take her pill and hadn't noticed (Spencer was good with gently reminding her when he could. This hadn't been one of those times), and Spencer hadn't reached for a condom.

Neither of them quite realised they weren't being safe. Not until she realised there was an odd number of pills in the packet at the end of the day. She'd taken both pills, the number should have been even.

But she didn't panic. Didn't mention anything to Spencer. What was the chance she was actually pregnant? She kept things quiet until the morning sickness started. Until she took a test, and then another, and then another. When they all came back positive, she called Spencer.

She didn't normally call Spencer while he was on a case. He was busy, she waited for him to call her in the evenings, when he was in the hotel room and he wanted to hear about her day. Spencer couldn't help but assume that something was wrong.

Far from it. Everything was perfect. The minute Spencer got home he pulled her into his arms, his face in her hair. "I love you," he whispered again and again and again.

Spencer didn't tell the team. Didn't want them to worry while he was on cases.

She became, admittedly, a little clingy when she began showing. Not to the extreme of stopping him from going on cases, but, whenever he was home, she was attached to him.

And Spencer couldn't say no to his wife. She was craving pizza? He was getting pizza. She wanted him to read to her? He was bringing in a selection of books, sitting her on the sofa and rubbing her swollen feet with one hand while he read.

If she wanted to bring him something to eat, he'd text her when they were landing to do paperwork.

It didn't matter the time. Mrs Doctor Reid made two sandwiches and set off for her husbands place of work.

She had met the team a couple of times before. It wasn't many, but it was enough for her to be friendly with them. With a science museum tote bag over her shoulder, she stepped out of the elevator and walked into the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit.

Morgan spotted her first. "Hey, Mrs Reid," he called, gaining the attention of the rest of the BAU. But then Morgans eyes widened. "Holy shit," he couldn't stop himself from saying.

Emily let out a gasp as she walked over. "Congratulations, Mrs Boy Wonder," she said as she hugged her. Mrs Reid hugged her back.

Hotch shouted his Congratulations through his office doorway to the happy couple. As he did so, Morgan walked over and placed his hands on Spencers' shoulders. "My man," he said quietly and let go.

With a fond smile, Spencer pushed his hair back. He grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to her. "Hi Honey," he said softly, sitting her down on the chair.

Her bag was in her lap as Spencer wheeled her over to his desk. "I missed you," she said, pushing her own fingers through his hair.

Spencer softly smiled at her. "I missed you too," he whispered as she grabbed his hand. Public displays of affection weren't Spencers thing but, for his pregnant wife, he'd do anything.

She quickly let go of him and opened her bag. "I brought sandwiches," she said as she pulled one out and passed it to Spencer. He leaned against the desk as he unwrapped it, keeping hold of it as she unwrapped the second. Once they were open, they swapped. She took the sandwich from him and he took the sandwich from her.

As they ate, they spoke. She didn't ask about the case, she never did. No, she asked about the city and whether he'd been eating well.

Spencer assured her that he had been eating well. The conversation they had was the one they normally had in the evenings, when he was on a case.

He pressed his hand to her bump for a quick second as he finished his sandwich. "I've got paperwork to finish up," he said and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Wanna sit with me while I get it done?"

She nodded her head and Spencer grabbed another chair. As he worked she kept one hand to her bump, the other holding Spencers.

[leascorner]

b.b. | With child

Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.

Pairing:  Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.

Words Count: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!

“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.

Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.

His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.

You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.

He did not mind, or so he thought…

Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.

Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.

The ride home that night was particularly quiet.

Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.

On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.

He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?

He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.

When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.

Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.

Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.

You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.

Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.

He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.

He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.

He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.

In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.

All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.

It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.

“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.

“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.

He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:

“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”

“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”

“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.

It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.

“My love, this is not your fault.”

“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.

“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”

“Ben, of course, no!”        

“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.

You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.

He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.

“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”

“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.

Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.

“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”

“Ben, of course, I want your children!”

Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.

If he could not tell you, he could still show you…

Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.

“We should just take some time away from here.”

“What do you mean? The season only began-”

“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”

Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.

His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.

“France, it is then.”

Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.

One of the many to come.

[sanchoyo]

convinced the universe doesnt want me to finish nano bc on top of getting the flu at the start of the month, my (mysterious dead anime mom) illness flaring up out of nowhere for 2 days straight, and possibly having strep, i woke up today with my shoulder blade/dominant arm on FIRE with pain. out of nowhere! I didnt DO anything! I just SLEPT on it weird! what the hell . well I am Not Quitting Nano No matter What >:(

[ellecdc]

okay then consider this a request!! for poly!marauders or just remus/james/sirius, whatever you prefer, for a reader with excruciating period cramps (self-indulgent because mine are horrible, but whatever!!) if you could do it that would be awesome ily!

ok I'm sorry I really made this very much self indulgent in maybe the worst way ever lol. I've been having a lot of fun with chef!Sirius lately, and had briefly discussed this idea with @maladaptiveescapism a while back so it felt fitting. I've also gotten a lot of period fic requests before and have never been all that interested in them which is so strange seeing as I'm a person who experiences period's and they're really popular? WOW sorry, what a tangent. TL;DR, thanks for your request, sorry if I ruined it a little, I probably won't ever write a period fic again lol

chef!sirius x mixologist!reader who calls in sick to work because of her period [2.9k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

CW: period fic, reader has PCOS, brief allusion to Sirius' shitty childhood, trans!Reggie agenda 'cause I can, Sirius worried reader won't be accepting of his trans brother (spoiler alert, we are because we love our trans homies), Sirius being the worst (positive & affectionate)

Sirius was on his best behaviour today.

Honest to god, hand to his heart, best behaviour.

But there was truly only so much one bloke could do when they had a Jeffery to deal with.

“I’m going to need one of your staff for the evening.” Jeffery said without preamble; standing half-in the kitchen with the swinging door to the floor propped open as if he wanted to ensure there were witnesses to this conversation should it go sideways.

“Jeffery, do you wake up every morning and smoke a bunch of crack before you come to work, or are you really just this dense?” Sirius spat as he dropped his pan in front of him and fought the urge to turn and give the floor manager a withering glare. 

Jeffery, well seasoned to Sirius’ theatrics, bit back an eye roll as he carried on. “We need someone to cover the bar.”

Sirius did turn at that, but his withering glare fell somewhere between aghast and bemused. “The bar?”

“The bar.”

“Why?”

“I need coverage for Y/N.” Jeffery explained with a sigh, clearly growing tired of Sirius’ line of questioning.

“Where is she?”

“She has called in sick, chef.”

“Sick with what?” Sirius continued, causing Jeffery’s brows to furrow as he stared at Sirius bemusedly. 

“I’m not exactly privy to those details, chef.” He explained slowly as if Sirius were some fussy toddler. 

“I just find it hard to believe that the same woman who left the hospital after getting her shoulder reset to come work a full eight hour shift would call in sick.”

Jeffery offered him a shoulder shrug (and a concerned look up and down that Sirius pretended he didn’t notice) before pilfering one of the kitchen staff for the evening. 

Sirius would worry about hating Jeffery later; he was more focused on figuring out what the hell was wrong with you and why you weren’t coming to see him to work. 

Sirius had his phone wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder whilst he juggled the many go-bags he had in his hands as he stood awkwardly outside of the door to your flat.

He admittedly knew where you lived only because he had driven you home after numerous closing shifts.

Fortunately, the intercom system in the anteroom of your building gave away your unit number.

Unfortunately, Sirius still had his hands full with the various go-bags.

Fortunately, an elderly lady was coming in at the same time and let Sirius into the building. 

Unfortunately, she insisted on chatting his ear off the whole lift ride up and actually held the door open to continue conversing even after they had arrived at her floor.

Sirius’ saving grace came in the form of the lift alarm buzzing for having kept the door ajar too long, and she was forced to bid him farewell. 

Which brought him here; standing outside of your flat like some kind of stalker as he waited for you to pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, open your door.”

“Well hello to you too, chef.” You snarked at him again. 

“Yes, yes. I said hey, didn’t I? Open your door.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing on the other side of it.” 

There was the sound of a quick exhale and rummaging. “Why?”

“Listen, I’d love to play 20 questions, but do you think you could let me in first?”

You muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a swear before the line ended.

He allowed his phone to slip out of its place and into his awaiting hand when you flung the door open unceremoniously.

Now, Sirius could tell you’d not been expecting any company today; you were in the same clothes you’d likely slept in, your hair was perfectly rumpled from whatever position Sirius had just disturbed you from, and you looked more than a tad embarrassed to see him standing here.

He had sort of hoped you would look like a troll; make this raging flame he carried for you burn a little softer.

But no.

You just had to look ethereal and perfect and lovely and kissable.

Damn woman. 

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, interrupting the both of you from staring at one another. 

“Helping?”

You made a breathy W sound - as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” but the words died on your lips as you took in Sirius’ many bags. 

“What did you bring?”

“I’ll show you everything if you just let me in.” He muttered as he motioned towards one of your nosey neighbours who had shoved her head out of her door when she first heard Sirius in the hall.

You peered around your doorframe and narrowed your eyes at her before allowing Sirius entry. 

“Finally.” Sirius teased as he moved to place his bags on your kitchen island. 

Sirius had never seen the inside of your flat, but if he had simply stumbled into your space by accident he would have known it was yours immediately. 

There was something so intrinsically you about your space that Sirius immediately felt at home too, even just for having stepped inside. 

“Sorry.” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly; bringing one of your hands to the back of your neck as you considered Sirius and all of his bags. “We’d just been watching some shows.”

Sirius immediately felt his heart fall out of his arse.

We? 

Had he read this completely wrong? Were you seeing someone? Was your home not simply yours, but one that you shared?

He found himself suddenly feeling quite defensive over your flat; it was too lovely, too wonderful, too comfortable for simply just anyone to enjoy.

“We?” He asked suddenly; tone taking on a bit of an edge he didn’t intend or consent to.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed behind you with your thumb; Sirius followed your gesture to a little tabby cat perched on the back of your sofa, tilting its head at the two of you as if it, too, was confused by Sirius’ sudden intonation. 

“You were watching shows with your cat?” He clarified; his voice now breathy in relief. 

“Birdie loves shows.” You countered defensively. 

“You named a cat bird?”

“No.” You argued. “I named my kitten Birdie. Do you not like cats?” You asked then, a teasing smirk growing on your face. 

“I like cats fine; where can I put this?” He asked instead; hoping to god you didn’t notice the blush heating up his face. 

He started unloading the many take-away boxes he’d prepared for you at the restaurant before skiving off the rest of his shift.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

“Sirius, why did you-”

“I asked what helped.” Sirius explained. “You said food; I brought food. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet dollface, but food is kind of my thing.”

“Smartass.”

“That too.” He replied with a wink, moving to put the desserts in your fridge. 

“Did you seriously come all the way over here just to bring me food?” You asked disbelievingly as you joined Sirius at the counter and peered into the bags.

Sirius had to tamp down the giddiness that threatened to consume him at how sweet and domestic this felt; you clad in your comfies as you helped him unload groceries. 

“I didn’t come all the way over here just to bring you food…I brought other stuff too.” 

“‘Course you did.” You muttered quietly, looking at Sirius with a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Go lay down.” He ordered instead as he went about plating your food - opening cabinets at random until he found what he was looking for. “I don’t hear laying down!” He sing-songed when he saw you still  standing in his periphery. 

You harrumphed before acquiescing; picking up your cat who made a little brrp sound as if to second Sirius’ directions. 

Finally content with his efforts, he moved to stand in front of you with a glass of water and some pasta he brought from work. 

You made an appreciative hum and sat up, which seemed to displease Birdie greatly. “God, maybe I need to find myself a personal chef.”

“Oi! Don’t go replacing me now.” Sirius scolded as he perched himself on your coffee table - perhaps a little casual for being a first time (uninvited) guest in someone’s home - but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh the job is so yours chef; you’re welcome here anytime.” You said around a mouthful of food. And even though Sirius knew you were joking, he couldn’t help the giddy fluttering of his heart at the sentiment. 

“This is really good, Sirius, and super thoughtful; thank you.” You offered earnestly. 

“So I guess you don’t have any room for dessert, then?” He asked teasingly; his taunting smirk melting away immediately at the excitement that took over your face before he ran to retrieve it for you. 

“Why is she doing that?” Sirius asked after a while, gesturing towards Birdie with his chin who was rubbing her head against the leg of his pants.

“Why’s she doing what?” You asked bemusedly as Sirius fought every urge to wipe the little bit of chocolate from your upper lip. Unfortunately thankfully for him, you licked it out of his sight. 

“Head butting me; seems quite rude.” Sirius murmured as he watched the cat in bemusement. 

“That’s basically a cat hug, Sirius; she’s hugging you, or saying hello.” You chuckled at him.

“Get out.” He scoffed in disbelief. 

“Cats have little scent markers in their cheeks; when they rub against something, they’re affectionately claiming it as their own.”

“So like a dog pissing on trees?” He deadpanned.

“Affectionately claiming you as their own; offer her your hand, Sirius.”

“But what if she-”

“Chef, offer her your hand.” You barked at him with no heat. 

Sirius narrowed his eyes challengingly at you but did as he was told; pleasantly surprised when the cat moved the rubbing from his trousers to his hand. 

“Have you never met a cat before?” You asked as you considered him.

“No…I have.” Sirius offered slowly, admittedly enjoying the velvety soft fur of your little companion. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” You teased as you placed your now empty dish on the side table. 

“My family had a cat growing up; a horrid thing. I swear to god my mum taught him how to attack me. Loved my brother though, but was nasty as all get out to anyone else.” 

“Really? Was he a stray before he lived with you?”

“Nope.” Sirius offered with a pop of the p. “Raised that fucker from kittenhood. Lived a god awful long time too, just to spite me; I wished every year on my birthday that it would die.”

“Sirius!”

“I’m not joking! My brother and I would sneak cupcakes up to my room and he’d light a candle for me and tell me to make a wish. One of them was always ‘please for the love of god let Kreacher die before me’.” He didn’t think now was the time to admit that his other wish was always ‘please for the love of god let us make it out of here alive’. 

“That’s awful; you’re awful.” You laughed. 

“No, Kreacher was awful; I was but a boy.”

“I can’t believe you got after me for naming my cat Birdie when you had a cat named Kreacher.” 

“I didn’t have a cat named Kreacher, my brother did.” He responded haughtily. 

“Who named him?”

“I did.”

“Why?” You laughed again. 

“‘Cause he was a tiny, awful, hateful little gremlin and needed a name that said as much!” 

The two of you laughed until your hands migrated to your abdomen and you began massaging into your skin; a small divot appearing between your brows.

“What is it?” Sirius asked quietly then.

You tried to shake your head and offered him a tight smile. “S’okay.”

“Is it cramps?”

“Yeah.”

“Lie back.” He instructed as he stood from his seat on the coffee table - his mother would be rolling in her grave if she’d seen him with such a lack of manners.

Good.  

“Sirius, really, you’ve-”

“Lie back.” He whispered again, one hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you so that you were lying along your sofa with your head propped up on the armrest.

Stealing himself for perhaps embarrassing himself completely and making this whole precarious situation between the two of you go tits up, he finally shucked off his jacket and boots before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and lowering himself onto the bottom half of your couch.

You watched silently as Sirius situated himself between your legs so that his shoulders and head rested on your abdomen as he weaselled his arms under your back, placing both of his palms up against your lower back.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You’re tense as shit, doll; relax.” He murmured as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

You let out a breath and sank further into the couch as the two of you fell into comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered after a few moments.

“You already thanked me.” He whispered back.

“No, I-” You cut yourself off as you gathered your thoughts; a tentative hand absentmindedly making itself at home in his hair as you found your words. “Thank you.” You settled on.

“You’re welcome.” Sirius offered.

“Where’d you learn this?”

Sirius propped his chin up so he could at you; your hand pausing as your eyes flit to it as if you were only now realising what you’d been doing. “Learn what?”

“The pressure? The body heat. The…helping, with cramps?” You asked tentatively, and if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think you perhaps looked a touch bashful at your questions - your eyes seemingly incapable of meeting his. 

And once again, Sirius found himself taking another jump, or rather, a complete leap of faith that could very well have this thing the two of you had been building crumble and fall before it even had a chance to start.

“Uhm, it was my brother, actually.” He admitted quietly.

Your eyes did finally meet his at that, where they narrowed a touch in confusion.

“You learned this….from your brother?” 

Sirius nodded as he swallowed nervously. “Right. He uhm, well, it often helped him with his cramps and such, so…yeah.” 

It was apparently his turn to be incapable of meeting your eyes as he moved his head so that it was resting against your stomach again.

“You’re a good brother.” You finally offered.

“Well of course I am.” Sirius offered through a breath of relief. “I’m good at everything I do.” 

“You’re a git.”

“I’m good at that too.”

You gave a disciplinary tug at Sirius’ hair which made him think of several sinful things he’d like to be doing with you whilst you did that next time, but he simply chuckled and sank further into you.

“I didn’t exactly sit like this with him, mind you.”

“No? What does that make me, then?”

“Special.” 

“I guess so.” You breathed out through a chuckle. “Coming over on your day off just to spoil me.”

“It wasn’t my day off.” He responded without thinking, tensing when he felt you suck in a breath.

“Sirius.”

“Mhm?” He offered in faux nonchalance.

“You left work for this!?”

“For you?” He asked as he considered you. “Absolutely.”

“For gods sake, Sirius. I bet Jeffery-” 

But he never got to hear what you thought of Jeffery as he let out a very petulant and dramatic groan and lowered his forehead to your stomach. 

“Babe, I know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but generally a man does not want to hear the name of another bloke when he’s in between your legs, yeah?”

You barked out a laugh and swatted at his shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

“Absolutely horrid.”

“Giving Kreacher a run for his money.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that as he levelled you with a warning glare. “Too far.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

“You better be.” Sirius grumbled as he lowered himself back down. “Now be a doll and play with my hair again; it’s nap time.”

And there was an equal chance that you were going to laugh, swat at him, or downright tell him to get his arse back to work.

But Sirius was admittedly overjoyed when you simply placed your fingers back into his hair and began to massage until you fell asleep; him not much longer after you.

[temiizpalace]

hiiii!! omg this is exciting ^^ can I request prompt 4 for Azul and Jamil?? Jamil normally offers Yuu their hoodies, then for some reason Azul started to let Yuu borrow the coat he wears from his Octavinelle Uniform. But in the end, Yuu ends up with Jamil, he told Yuu that now they're in a relationship, they're probably going to own almost all his hoodies now doenksnwksnwksjekd head empty, just this request.

Have a great day!!!

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐍 vs. 🐙)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, small azul angst near end?

NOTES: i knew id see this duo at least once!! tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jamil felt sick.

not literally, thankfully, but horrible enough to feel like he had just gotten a disease. is this happening? seriously? you, in an octavinelle coat. more specifically, azul’s coat. disgusting. he can’t believe his very eyes. why?! and just as he was about to ask if you needed to wear his sweater.

as a very very platonic exchange between two very good friends, you have been wearing jamil’s sweaters during the colder seasons. not like he cares or anything. (he does, he’s literally the one to offer it) however, seeing you in someone else’s clothes? and azul’s nonetheless? do you hate him??? as much as he wanted to run over to you, toss the coat off the window and immediately give you his own sweater to wear instead, jamil would rather die than make such a scene.

he can think of a few.. others.. that would do something so rash, but not him. no, no. he’s seen countless things he never liked to see before! surely this is the same, right?

“jamil! good morning!” you smile, rushing over to him with an enthusiastic wave. “[MC], morning.” he politely greets you in return, eyeing the coat for a second before looking at your eyes. “like my coat? pretty nice, don’tcha think? azul’s letting me borrow it.” you model the coat for him, allowing him to look at every single little detail.

“it’s..” absolutely atrocious. jamil hesitates, biting back any and all comments or remarks he could come up with on the top of his head. he doesn’t wish to insult you! never. the coat itself on the other hand, well.. “..something.” he narrows his eyes, knuckles forming in his hands til they turned pale. “thank you for your sincere input.” you reply sarcastically, already being able to sift through his lie.

“why’re you wearing it?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. answers. he wants answers. there’s no reason you should be going to azul for anything, so how come? “funny story actually! you see—” “jamil? [MC]?” you both turn your heads to see the refined businessman already on his way towards your direction, jamil unable to hide his obvious annoyance.

“oh, azul! morning.” you wave, unaware to your poor friends furrowed brow. “why, good morning prefect! i see you’re satisfied with the coat?” azul smiles, picking off the lint that was left on your collar. he looks to jamil, taking note of his peeved expression.

“hello, jamil. hanging out with the prefect again, i take it? you know, how about borrowing an octavinelle coat to match with our dear [MC] here? im positive it will look just as good on you as it does on them! our coats are accustomed to keep their subjects nice and warm for the winter seasons.” azul chimes, pulling out a neatly kept contract from his pockets.

“not on your life.” jamil states bluntly, crossing his arms with a pout. “they really do keep you warm though!” you add, much to azul’s delight. “see? i have no ill intentions in the slightest.” the octomer grins, his smile obviously not reaching his eyes. “prefect, i will see you at lunch. we can meet by our usual spot.” jamil sighs, looking at you and now just ignoring his classmate. “oh, okay! see you later then, jamil.”

classes droned on like they usually did. jamil wrote his notes with a focused expression, the thoughts in his head being a complete contrast. small doodles were drawn on the corners of the page, the pencil lead growing duller and duller with each passing minute. stupid octopus bastard.. he sighs, turning to azul wearing a more-than-pleased smile. oh how he wanted to rip that smug grin on his face off and ship him away to a place far, far away from here.

passing period was also no better. azul beat him to the punch, walking you to class like a gentlemen. jamil didn’t fail to notice the boys ears turning red as you laughed, his body language shifting from refined to embarrassed. he fought the urge to bite his nails in anger, leaving that old habit behind him many years ago. a spine chilling aura startles students around him as he walked, his face screaming neutral but his mood nothing but foul.

it’s that damn coat. that damn coat is what’s slowly drifting you away from him, and he cannot allow that. he’ll settle this. once and for all.

jamil awaited your arrival patiently by the tree. his foot tapping aggressively on the concrete as your presence seemed to delay. “sorry im late!” you shout, rushing over with a huff. no. no. no. no. no. no. this was a nightmare. not only were you wearing the coat, but the fedora, scarf, and just the entire octavinelle dorm uniform. “wh-what are you wearing..?” jamil stammers, observing your outfit with pure horror in his eyes.

“agh, azul made me wear it.” you sigh, obviously growing a little too warm in these clothes. it didn’t even snow yet! “this is too much..” he mumbles, removing your hat. slowly, he pulled off each overbearing accessory. he unwrapped the scarf, carefully removed your gloves, and eventually, the coat. “ah, i can take the coat—”

jamil removes his blazer, followed by his sweater. you’d be a liar if you told yourself you weren’t a little bit. seeing jamil in the normal nrc uniform was truly a privilege to say the least. he pulls the sweater over your head and smiles contently. “there. much better.” you hesitate for a moment, feeling your cheeks warm up at his gesture. typically you would put the sweater on yourself, but having someone do it for you? it was different somehow.

“if you’re ever feeling cold, just ask me.” he mumbles, putting his blazer back on while folding the octavinelle clothes neatly. “wow.. sounds like such a romantic gesture.” you joke, nudging his elbow. “could be.” he replies, his tone not holding any of the joking yours previously had. “what..?”

seize every opportunity. “i.. i wouldnt mind if it was.” he mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “is this a confession?” you ask, stepping closer to jamil. he swallows harshly, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “i suppose.” suddenly he misses his hoodie. the blush on his cheeks couldn’t help but form, sweat dripping from his brow at the fear of rejection.

“jamil..” you grab his hand, placing it over your heart with a small smile. “if this is a confession, then i like you too.” you wrap him into an embrace, feeling his heart against your own. it beat rapidly, his palms sweaty before he hesitantly reciprocated your hug.

silence fell between you two for a brief moment, but one of comfort rather than awkwardness. “so.. why were you wearing an octavinelle uniform?” jamil asks, feeling the need to soothe the nagging thought in his head. “oh yeah.. that. azul asked me to wear it to promote the lounge. in return, he said id get a few food vouchers and i get to keep the coat.” you shrug, pulling out the small tickets from the octavinelle coat.

“i see..” jamil nods, still not understanding the rest of the accessories. “well, my hoodies are now your hoodies. look no further than yours truly for warmth in the winter.” he smiles, fixing the collar of the sweater. you laugh at his comment, pushing his bangs out of his face.

azul watched your exchange from afar, feeling his smile falter slightly. “oya? azul, is something the matter?” jade asked calmly, staring at his frowning companion. “..it’s nothing. what were you saying about that seasonal dish?” azul smiles, walking and talking with his vice housewarden for the future of mostro lounge.

in reality, his heart ached. even after all his efforts, he came in last. he couldn’t win your love in time. azul can’t help but want to climb into his octopot and weep. he sounds childish, but how else would you deal with a broken heart? maybe someday, you’ll find your love for him. someday, you’ll be part of his world. someday, he won’t feel so poor and unfortunate. but not today.

A/N: im sorry this was a little late something came up 😭

date published: 8/28/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[homestylehughes]

4 times quinn wanted to kiss you, and the 1 time he did.

pairing(s): Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: 4 times quinn wanted to kiss you, and the time he did.

warning(s): absolutely nothing, pure fluff.

wc: 2.1k

an: hi loves!!! before i say anything, i think this might be my favorite fic, i've ever written, i love it so so much. it was so nice to sit down and write another fic, I had the best time writing this. i know the poll i put out wanted the nico x Hughes sister smut but this idea has a hold on me and i had to write it today, but i'm working on that fic currently as well! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do, like and reblog If you do! much love always <3

happy reading <3

1.

It had always been yn and quinn, quinn and yn, attached to the hip at 5 years old and neither of you wanted to let go. If you would have told Quinn that the little girl the jack pushed into the sandbox at 5 would be his best friend for the rest of his life, he'd think you're crazy. But here you guys are today starting the first day of college, together.

This wasn't exactly the plan for you guys, it just so happened you got into michigan, the same place quinn was signing to play hockey. 

Today was the first game of the season for Quinn, even though Quinn had played hockey for most of his life, he couldn't help but be scared to step on the ice for his first college game. The nerves are getting the best of him as they line up, ready to headout on the ice for warm ups. 

The first push on the ice takes away Quinn's voice as he looks around the arena at all of the fans in the crowd, his eyes glimmering with excitement as he takes it all in. his heart stops for a moment when he sees you standing in the stands with his family, dressed in his jersey, holding up a sign that says “number 43 is my favorite!”. Holding it high above you head, a wide smile breaking at across your face as look down at him skating on the ice. 

A smile spreads upon Quinn's face, as he looks at you and his family. At that moment he really wanted to kiss you. 

2. 

Quinns hands were shaking as he tried to tie his tie, his mind was everywhere else but where it needed to be. It was the day of the NHL draft, a night that would change the rest of his life and his families. He couldn't help but feel almost sick at the thought of moving to a new state or country, leaving everything and everyone he loved behind, including you. 

After five attempts of trying to tie his tie, he dramatically sighs, dropping his hands away from his chest. Staring at himself in the mirror trying to peace himself together, coaching himself to take deep breaths. Just as he starts to tie his tie again, he hears a soft knock on the hotel door. 

His mom had already ushered everyone out of the room around 30 minutes ago, telling everyone to give him some space. Quinn couldn't help but be annoyed at the fact that someone already was knocking on the other side of the door. Making his way to the door, his brain already settled on whoever was on the other side of the door a bit of hell for disturbing him. 

Opening the door slowly he sees you standing in the hallway, with a small smile on your way as you look at him. All of the anger he had harbored in him, immediately  disappears when he sees you. 

“Hi, i'm sorry to interrupt but i thought i'd just come check on you” she says 

“You weren't interrupting anything, thank you for coming and checking on me.'' Quinn says, pausing for a second clearing his throat. 

“I actually could use a bit of help, i can't tie my tie.” he says a little embarrassed 

“I can help, if you let me in your room, or we can stand here in the hallway whatever works best for you” yn giggles out. 

“Oh shit, i'm sorry come in '' he quickly says, his face heating with embarrassment. Yn quickly walks into the room, quinn shutting the door behind her. 

“Sit on the bed” she quietly says to him, quinn doesn't need to be told twice when it comes to her, taking a seat on the soft bed, leaving his legs slightly open, allowing you to stand in between them as she works on his tie. 

Their faces and bodies are so close together, his eyes catching hers for a moment. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to pull her on top of him and forget about the draft, forget about his future. Because at that moment, he really really wanted to kiss you. 

3. 

Quinn woke up to a constant banging on his front door, rolling on his side to see that the clock on his bed side table read, 3 a.m. “who the fuck is knocking on my door at 3 a.m?” Quinn thought to himself. Quinn trudging pulls himself out of bed, walking slowly downstairs hearing another round of knocking once he reaches the bottom of the stairs. 

Finally reaching his front door, he doesn't even bother looking through the peephole before opening the door. Opening the door he's met with a rain soaked yn on his front porch with flowers in her hand and a suitcase at her side. Quinn thinks he's dreaming as he looks at her, still half asleep. 

“You know i think i forgot how much it rains in vancouver during the summer, as you can see im soaked” yn chuckles out. “Also how dare you not tell me you were being named captain, I'm very upset that I had to find out through an instagram post. But I'll get over that because I missed you, so I flew all of the way here to surprise you.” 

“OH! These flowers are for you” she says, holding out the slightly weeping flowers in front of her.

“I promise they looked better, the rain…ruined them” she says smiling sadly at him.

“I'm so sorry i woke you up with the banging, my phone died and i don't have a key-” 

Quinn quickly cuts her rambling off by pulling her into the tightest hug known to man, spinning her around, as if he never wants to let her go. 

“I'm so happy you're here” quinn says, as he sets her down, his arms wrapped around her. 

“I'm so happy I'm here too.” yn says, looking up at quinn, he can see something in her eyes, love maybe? He’s not sure, but what he is sure of is that he really wants to kiss her, and it's killing me everyday that he hasn't. 

4.

They lost. They lost. They lost in game seven, their playoff run was over. All of their blood, sweat and tears couldn't help them win this game. Quinn couldn't help but let the weight of loss fall on his shoulders as they skate off the ice. The walk to the locker room felt like an eternity. The room is quiet as the players strip out of their gear. He couldn't help but let a few tears fall as he got undressed. Feeling like he let his team, his family, the fans down. 

Quinns mind couldn't focus during the press conference, giving the reporters one to two sentence answers. He didn't want to be there, he wanted to think about anything else other than hockey. He wanted to cry alone, he wanted the voices in his head to stop, he didn't want to be here. 

After the press wraps up, Quinn quickly grabs his things heading out the locker room, as he turns the corner he sees you sitting against the wall, quickly turning your head when you hear footsteps down the hall, making eye contact. 

Quinn had completely forgotten where even at the game, the loss of the game, completely taking over his mind. 

“Yn, what are you still doing here?” he asks as he reaches her, offering her a hand to get off the ground. 

Wordlessly she takes his hand, pulling his bag out of his other hand placing it on the ground below them. Before wrapping her hands around his neck pulling him down into a hug, Quinn's arms instantly wrapping around her waist, his body melting into hers. His face resting in her neck as he feels tears fall out of his eyes, as he clings to her body. 

They stand like this for a few minutes, quinn’s tears finally settling before yn pulls back, running her fingers under quinns eyes wiping away his tears.

“I'm so proud of you, win or lose. I'm so so so proud of you Quinn, please never forget that '' she says, holding his face in between her hands. 

“I love you” quinn mumbles out as he begins to cry again. 

“I love you more” she says, “now let's get you out of here, i think you need one of gina's world famous burgers hm?” she says, grabbing his bag from the floor. Holding her hand out for him to grab, Quinn doesnt waste a second before sliding his hand into her as they head towards the exit. 

Quinns head is no longer filled with thoughts about the game, about hockey. It's filled with thoughts about you, about how much he loves you, and how badly he wants to kiss you. 

+1.

Quinn can't count on his hands how many times he's been to the lake house during the summer, but each time he does it better than the year before. Making new memories with the people who he loves, making new memories with you. 

Quinn insisted that you come to the lake house with him a week before everyone else did, he wanted to spend as much time with you before everyone else got here, and you couldn't say no to that. 

So this brings you to where you guys are now, sitting on the boat in the middle of the lake, watching as the sun sets across the sky. The sky casting hues of pinks and purples across the lake. Quinn couldn't help but look at you as you stare at the scene around you, seeing you look so relaxed and at peace, he couldn't help but smile. 

“I can feel you staring at me” yn giggles out, still looking at the lake in front of her. 

“I was just taking in the scenery” he says 

“Mhm, and that just happens to be my face?” she says, turning to look at him with a smile that matches his on her face. 

“Maybeee” quinn playfully says.

“Well it's creepy so stop it” she says playfully rolling her eyes at him

“And what if I don't?” he asks

“I'll feed you to the sharks” 

“Pretty girl there isn't any sharks out here” quinn says laughing at her

“Stop laughing at me” she says, sending a quick shove to quinns shoulder, causing him to fall back against boat. 

“Oh that's it” quinn days before launching himself at her, pinning her down before his hands start to attack her sides. 

“ QUINN PLEASE NO” she pleads out to him as he tickles her. Laughs fell from both of their lips as they attacked each other. 

“I CAN'T BREATH” yn laughs out as Quinn tickles the skin behind her neck, knowing its sweet spot. Deciding to give in to her pleas, he stops his attack on her neck. Her chest rising steadily as he looks down at her, her lips slightly parted, the plump skin almost looks like its calling is name. 

Before he knows what he’s doing, he slowly lowers his face closer to hers, softly connecting their lips together in a sweet kiss. Yn kisses him back almost instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck pulling him closer to her. The once soft kiss turned hot and desperate quickly, a tension they've been dancing around for years, as finally broken like a dam, and neither of them wanted to stop. 

Neither of them wants to pull away, but the need for air begs them too, Quinn pulling away first causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Looking at her with swollen lips and love filled eyes. 

“I've wanted to do that for awhile” quinn says 

“How long?” she asks as he works hard with the hair on the bottom of his neck.

“Ever since i saw you for the first time” 

“Quinn we were five” she laughs

“I knew what I wanted at five,” he laughs, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. “And i've known that i've always wanted you” he finishes

“I love you” yn says

“I love you more” he replies

“I don't think you do” yn quips back 

“Let me show you how much i do” quinn says before connecting their lips back together, because at that moment quinn wanted to kiss you, and this time he did.

[somesaintiam]

bro as someone who used to ship milkvan i can literally say that yes the duffers literally DO want you to be sick of milkvans relationship and that becomes clear in s4. i had a bias bc i never thought such a big show would make a queer ship, byler, happen, but here we are. About milkvan again, i remember literally trying to convince myself that they were cute in s3 and 4, and remembering being confused that mike wouldnt go after eleven after she dumped him in s3. In s4, i was pretty much sick of them, but was still rooting for them. With their ily fight in s4 i was like "mike say ily to her please!!" but guess what. he never did. At that point i was done with them. I didnt really think about their relationship for like the rest of the season and the ily monologue was just sad. I dont really remember what my reaction was but I definitely felt bad for will. And something was off about that monologue. It was my first watch and i never thought to look into it more at the time. But if the duffers didnt want you to be sick of milkvan then why do they always have these annoying conflicts that take forever to get solved or never get solved, and during these conflicts, mike and el dont understand eachother?? But guess which people, in conflicts do still understand eachother? lucas and max, hopper and joyce, nancy and johnathan, most likely at this point vickie and robin, and mike and will. Those are the 5 endgame couples, if it wasnt already clear from the end scene of s4. Im so glad i watched a byler analysis video because now i actually know SO much more about not just byler and milkvan, but the show as a whole.

[raisedbythetv89]

The writers I think mostly completely by accident with the assistance of James charming his way into becoming a main character created the perfect storm to ensure people who love spike would reach absolute peak levels of being completely obsessively deranged about him forever

Season 2:

He’s a punk rock villain with killer cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and an absolutely DEVILISH smile - who’s an incredibly dedicated and dangerous fighter who specifically seeks out challenging fights he’s not guaranteed to win (brave and reckless - normally traits seen in heroes) hates everyone except his mentally ill physically sick wife (the statistics of men who leave their wives when they get sick in the US is horrifying like nurses literally have to warn married women who get sick it happens so often) who he’s hopelessly devoted to and unbelievably soft with and always listens to her while also exuding a psychotic amount of sex appeal and is just F U N he loves being a vampire and he loves fighting and it makes it so much fun for the audience. While still showing how much he respects and admires his enemy for her skill, strength, resourcefulness, and intelligence - NEVER underestimating her just because she’s a tiny blonde girl - and instead of destroying the world for love he SAVES the world for love - a villain doing good to get the love of his life back who essentially dumped him for her ex????????? D E V O T E D and shockingly extremely trustworthy??? And has amazing chemistry with our heroine and is there for a pivotal moment in her life and is the only one there for her when she has no one else????? *enemies to lovers girlies ENTER THE CHAT*

Season 3:

He shows he fucking MEANS IT when he says Dru is the love of his life when he shows up in Sunnydale because he blames Angel not Buffy or Drusilla but the man actually responsible for all their problems and he is the most pathetic mess we’ve ever SEEN!!!! He’s crying and drunk all the time and he’s so sad he goes to Buffy’s mom TO TALK 💀😭 our pathetic sensitive little self admitted lover boy who KNOWS he’s love’s bitch and he won’t be pretending he’s anything otherwise who shows how clearly he sees and understands other people and the depths of his emotional intelligence so much so Buffy herself admits she can’t fool Spike she can fool her friends BUT NOT SPIKE OR HERSELF EXCUSE ME MA’AM WHAT???????

AND Spike doesn’t just uselessly MOPE forever he gets some perspective and is like I know what I’m gonna do to her back and I’m gonna go do that now! 😁👍🏻 showing he never stays down for long and is always gonna get back up to keep fighting for his love while BOTH he and Buffy still honor the truce even though he’s broken it by coming back??? While Buffy’s all “I violently dislike you” YEAH OK GIRL WHATEVER YOU SAY *enemies to lovers girlies chomping at the bit intensifies*

Season 4:

CLEARLY heartbroken about Drusilla (DEVOTED!!!) but it’s turned into anger and resentment directed at Harmony who how bizarre looks nothing like Drusilla but A LOT like Buffy…… hmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOW INTERESTING *enemies to lovers girlies are vibrating with anticipation that turns into a full blown combustion when something blue happens*

Spike doesn’t pretend to love Harmony in order to get what he wants from her (shown in direct contrast to Parker) he’s ironically very honest despite being a villain - he’s showing he’s STILL loyal to Drusilla in ONLY loving her even after she’s dumped him... again!

We see Spike treat Buffy the EXACT same way he treated Drusilla during something blue reaffirming THIS IS HOW THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HE LOVES YOU. He’s extremely affectionate, helpful, protective, caring - D E V O T E D - and is truly just the most certified lover boy we’ve ever fucking seen

Season 5:

SURPRISE HE’S SECRETLY A LOVESICK MAMA’S BOY POET AT HEART UNDERNEATH THE BAD BOY PERSONA AND A PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER AND NOW BUFFY AND HER FAMILY’S MOST LOYAL DEFENDER AND IS WILLING TO DIE NOT JUST FOR BUFFY BUT FOR ALL THE SUMMERS WOMEN AND HE KNOWS AND SEES BUFFY SO DEEPLY AND INTIMATELY AND CAN HOLD SPACE FOR HER PAIN LIKE NO ON ELSE CAN AND SHOWS THE DEVOTION THAT ONCE BELONGED TO DRUSILLA NOW BELONGS TO BUFFY AND IT IS GOING NOWHERE EVEN WHEN SHE DIES AND WE'VE SEEN IN HIM CRY BEFORE BUT NEVER HAVE WE SEEN HIM BREAK DOWN LIKE HE DOES AT THE SIGHT OF BUFFY'S BODY!!!!!!!!!!!

*all of us screaming, crying, throwing up, climbing the walls and generally just losing our minds*

Season 6:

No soul, his love is so great for Buffy as is his loyalty and devotion to her, he now helps all of his dead love’s friends fight evil and is raising her sister and dreams of saving her every night for 148 nights 🤚🏻😭 don’t even fucking talk to me I can’t take it

Forgive the absolute 180 in tone change here:

Dick game is FIRE - his touch is the only thing that makes Buffy feel alive AND SHE WAS IN HEAVEN BRO SHE KNOWS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN HEAVEN AND SPIKE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING HER GOING like damn girl yes YOU FUCK THAT HOUSE DOWN!!! Also he is now just naked 50% of the time just to drive us all even FURTHER out of our minds and somehow has just gotten even hotter as the seasons have gone on like this is what’s been hiding under the leather jacket all this time! Enjoy!

And THE MOST unintended consequence of jw’s vindictive writing:

SPITE

He clearly didn’t want us to love Spike and tried to manipulate us into hating him in such a blatant and clumsy ooc attempt all that did was weed out the weakest amongst the Spuffy/Spike fans until all that remained were us:

The most devoted and stubborn fans who REFUSED to have the thing they loved ruined or taken away from us and were smart enough to see through his bullshit manipulation attempt in the first place.

Genuinely they created the equivalent of supersoilder strength level fans with this absolutely lethal combination of events 💀

AND THEN as if all that wasn't enough he goes and gets his soul on purpose for Buffy so he can be the man she deserves and she can love him without hating herself for loving him despite the immense pain it will cause him which is the most selfless thing we have ever seen anyone do for Buffy only to be topped when he sacrifices himself to destroy the hellmouth, save the world and free her from Sunnydale!!! Plus ya know once he gets the soul even though he did it for her he never tries to use that as leverage to get anything from her like he truly expects nothing from her at all but still wants to help her and James delivers the most devastating performances we've ever fucking seen, finally tells her friends off which has needed to happen for 5 seasons, the "you're the one speech" him being a dad to all the potentials with Buffy giving us supernatural parent core who made it through their rough patch with their first kid in season 6 with Dawn and now are just the beautiful team with their found family and Buffy finally has someone who can truly carry her burdens with her and just all the tenderness and devotion they both deserve after so many years of pain and fighting. Basically giving the audience the message that even if you have a metric ton of pain and trauma there are people out there who see you and understand you and there is a chance for you to heal both together and separately to build your own version of a more normal and stable life. It's a message of such hope and I personally know several people, including myself who watched what Spike and Buffy have and it inspired us to look at the relationships we were in and realize we deserved SO MUCH MORE than what we were getting and in my case it turned out I was being emotionally abused and manipulated that entire time!! Much like Buffy was by both Riley and Angel. So it isn't an exaggeration to say Spuffy saved my life in a lot of ways both in being there for me at such a dark time and helping me draw a map of how to get out. Not to mention loving them in fandom spaces has helped me connect with so many people just like me who share very similar experiences and have helped me feel so much less alone and has helped me heal in so many ways 🖤

Spuffies get "hOw cAn yOu liKe sPiKe aFtEr wHaT hE dId" all the fucking time and truly the better question is how can you NOT like Spike???? HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD RELATIONSHIPS NEED TO WORK?? BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE SPUFFY HAS THEM ALL!

It's jw writing so NOTHING will escape his toxic bullshit but Spike - because he was hated by jw for so long - so much of the time when he tried to make Spike less popular he just kept making him better and more complex and more and more targeted to the female gaze which is exactly why he snapped and made the choices he literally forced everyone else to go along with despite their protests with that scene to make it the most traumatizing scene in all of Buffy history not just for the audience but for the actors as well because yes it is incredibly horrific and upsetting to watch (which is why I skip it on rewatches) but I still am able to see if for what it is which is a narcissist lashing out at people he hates because he hasn't been able to control them and too bad for him I refuse to be manipulated by his bullshit so it failed completely and made so many of us that much more stubbornly protective of Spike and his and Buffy's relationship not just from other fans but from the creator himself 🙃🖕🏻like he basically just trauma bonded us to Spike and Buffy which has led to the creation of one of the most devoted, loyal, intelligent fanbases who is absolutely unhinged (affectionate) with their love of this character and his relationship which is why we are all still creating and writing about this character 25 year later and show absolutely zero signs of slowing down or stopping 💀

[idlerin]

love sick — 07. pretty please

romance 101; guideline #4 — communication is important (04/24/XX note: not overused, just real)

note: i know that house parties are very uncommon in japan but let's just add this in for sole fiction, also reminder that images used as reader doesn't depict their actual features/appearance! just imagine using the same clothes hehe

the final whistle signaled the TU blazer’s win, gleeful cheers and shouting were what filled the arena and you couldn’t help but jump up and down, getting caught up in the momentum as well. your hands gripped the railing as your eyes scanned the area looking for your fake boyfriend, you eventually found him talking to atsumu at the side of the court. the latter had then at a sudden pointed in your direction with the familiar stupid smile on his face that only made your eyes squint wondering what they were talking about.

you met suna’s gaze as collateral when your eyes shifted from previously sneering at atsumu. suna was looking at you with that same old deadpan expression on his face, you then decided to flash him a smile and blew him a kiss. you mouthed ‘catch it’ lifting your arm and motioning what he should do, he obediently followed which made you laugh.

“mhm,” you hear semi hum from beside you, he was leaning on the railing observing your little exchange with a brow raised.

“what?” you ask, he only shook his head as an answer. weird.

“I’ll assume you’re going to the after-party?” semi said instead, you blinked trying to recall where it was taking place. you vaguely remember atsumu inviting you guys there around a week or two ago. they usually have one after a big match, you didn't even know this match is one of those "big matches" of the season, whatever that means. semi usually goes because his bandmates drag him there, he tries to drag you along (and sometimes succeeds, albeit rarely) but you were usually firm about staying hauled up in your room.

“the.. after-party.. right! I have to go there,” you ponder, it would be a bit strange if suna’s girlfriend didn’t go to a party celebrating his team’s win. you didn’t know if suna was a party go-er but making an appearance once wouldn’t be too bad.

“so now you can’t use yona of the dawn as an excuse,” semi referenced the time you said you couldn’t go with him because you were going to reread a manga you liked.

“hey that’s valid, it’s over two hundred chapters and I need time for that,” you defend yourself, arms out in the air. in the corner of your eye, some people kept looking at you, you could only assume that it was because of suna’s last name plastered on the back of your shirt.

you take this as a great opportunity once again, “wait I’ll go and greet rinnie! he should be waiting for me!” you say louder than needed as you pat semi’s shoulder and give him a wink before passing by him and running down the stairway.

you admit that you find it rather amusing to act clingy. you have always been clingy to your friends so it wasn’t really like stepping out of your comfort zone.

you ran quickly once you saw suna who was now talking to a teammate you didn’t know (you briefly thought where the hell atsumu went but that’s not one of your priorities right now) as you called out, “rinnie!” with a big smile on your face.

suna turned in your direction, almost faltering but caught you just in time when you jumped on him for an embrace, “congrats on winning the game! I knew you guys would win!”

"hey," was his only response, most likely because he didn't know what else to say. one of his hands that were placed underneath your thighs to hoist you up was raised to your waist as he placed you down, you took this as a cue to converse with his teammate.

"hi! I'm [name]!" you introduce yourself cheerfully with your arms still looped around suna's neck. you notice the teammate eyeing the skinship you've been initiating with suna. you presume this was because it'd still be new to him seeing suna allowing a person to be all over him. hm.

"yo, I'm hotaru. I've already heard lots about you," he winks, crossing his arms while looking at suna teasingly as if you weren't there. It brought a laugh out of you as you used one of your hands to point at suna, acting bewildered.

"from him?" you decided to take it up a notch, poking suna's cheek. at this point, you were just enjoying playing around with him since you knew he would never let anyone do this to him otherwise.

"of course not, bro doesn't like to share," hotaru laughed.

"I don't have to," suna replies, he lightly pinches you using the hand that was wrapped around your waist. you didn't waver, you continued to have a big smile on your face as you used your left hand to lightly tug on the back of his hair as payback.

"you're hard to not know, resident cupid," hotaru comments, which makes you genuinely bashful for a second.

before you could respond, suna beat you to it, "you go ahead."

at first, you thought he was talking to you, but then hotaru responds, "ah sure, don't take too long or the coach will get mad," he waves before disappearing from view.

"we're going to have a short meeting then I'll have a quick shower," suna answers the question you haven't been able to voice out yet. that’s going to take around an hour then, you think.

"oh," you purse your lips, "what do I do while waiting then?" you let your arms fall because it was starting to ache.

"you can leave?" suna suggests like a smartass, he picks up a water bottle on one of the benches.

"are we not going to the after-party? I think we should, don't you guys host those?" you say, a skip in your step as you follow him.

"I forgot about that, and the players aren't the ones who host them. you think we have the time?" suna gave you that ‘duh’ look once again, rude, "It's going to start later, around eight or nine."

you check your phone and see it was only six.

"I'll go back to the dorms and get ready first then," you say, already thinking of what you should wear that would be both comfortable and stylish. probably some jeans and the first cute top you find.

"okay. just text me when you're done so I can pick you up," he says, looking off to the side, you were almost tempted to see what caught his attention.

"sounds like a plan, boss," you threw that one line in as a jab, it made the corner of his lips twitch and you were glad for the tiny reaction. an idea pops in your head and you catch him off guard, on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek, "see you later."

you step back and watch him just stare at you, you give him one last small smile before turning to leave.

as you approach, you watch as suna stares you down in the lobby of your residence, you ask—but not before looking around you (thankfully you were just surrounded by a few people minding their own business)—in a hushed tone, “why are you frowning?”

“I’m not frowning,” suna states the obvious in the same hushed tone as you, because he was indeed, not frowning but there was something in the air around him you couldn’t pinpoint. 

“you practically are, care to share why you’re in a mood?” you reach out your hand to him, and he looks at it once before looking back at you, you shake your hand again, he finally gets the hint and holds it.

this is where he decides to just start pulling you along towards his car, ignoring your question, “not going to share then, okay, I understand,” you murmur under your breath as he opens the door for the passenger seat.

“thank you,” you say as you go inside and suna goes around the car to get in the driver’s seat. Something clearly happened in the two hours you weren’t together, you pushed down your curiosity because it was none of your business.

“you have to promise me another thing when we get there,” you bring up a topic in an attempt to lighten up the mood. 

suna starts the car and points to you, using a sharp tone he says, “what is it? and put on your seatbelt.”

“sorry,” you hurriedly put your seatbelt on while recalling another trope in the car where the main guy puts the seatbelt on the female lead and they stare in each other’s eyes and it’s usually a scene regarded with tension and—you were getting sidetracked, your fake boyfriend was obviously not in the mood and you weren’t sure what you could and couldn’t say, “anyways, you should do everything I ask when we get there. we have to prove to them that you’re smitten with me.”

“are you asking me to act like some loyal puppy dog?” he begins to drive and you look out your side of the car window, seeing the familiar greenery you pass by every day fade into the background. atsumu briefed you about the location of the party and everything through a call earlier because he was already there, it was being held in one of the houses of a player’s friend’s cousin (you don’t completely understand the relations) and it was a fifteen minute drive away.

“well, if you want to put it that way, then yeah,” just eight more minutes of this slightly suffocating silence, you don’t know what happened to him but it must have been pretty bad.

“sure,” was the only thing he said before the car ride was engulfed in silence once more.

you begin to pick on the hem of your shirt, the eerie quietness was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. usually at times like these you would think up conversation starters but you didn’t know if attempting to make conversation would make it worse.

a couple of minutes passed but it felt like an eternity, soon enough you were blocks away from a huge white house. If the people going in and out weren’t proof that this was the right destination, the loud music surely was. this does look like an ideal place to have a party, it was isolated but near the college.

you haven’t been to a lot of places aside from when eita invites you to watch his gigs from time to time, or when shimizu takes you around (when she actually has free time), or when atsumu ropes you in to going to weird events (like a trampoline one two months ago). kageyama was completely volleyball brained and surprisingly, you had to be the one to drag him to places. despite being known as campus cupid and making a lot of friends and interacting with a lot of people in general because of it, there were really only a few people in your circle.

“how long do we have to be here?” suna asks, turning off the engine. you glanced at him and saw how he had his deadpan expression again.

“an hour I guess?” you were a bit more hesitant with the way you spoke, you cleared your throat, “I’ll be more touchy once we go outside, is that okay?”

“yeah?” suna questioned, removing his seatbelt and taking out his keys, “we’ve already talked about this, anything is fine. you were doing it just fine earlier.”

“ah yeah, sorry, it’s just I didn’t know if you were up for it right now,” you grasped at the edge of your seat, you started to look everywhere but him.

“why do you think that?” did he really have to ask that? you flash a smile.

“nothing. let’s go,” you awkwardly scramble out of your seatbelt and try to open the car door but to no avail.

“[name],” suna said.

“yes?” you managed to squeak out.

“you’re acting nervous,” he points out.

you purse your lips, “no I’m not,” heavy with denial.

“yes you are,” he insists.

“no I’m not,” you deny again, a shake of your head.

“you can’t even look me in the eye. you realized you have feelings for me? that was quick,” he began to tease.

your eyebrows furrowed, “no way!” an appalled expression on your face as you glared at him.

“there we go,” suna nodded, “look me in the eye. It’d be weird if you couldn’t even be able to do that, much less make them believe we’re actually a couple.”

“it’s not my fault okay! I don’t know how to act around you when you’re… nevermind. let's just do this,” you try to open the door again and succeed this time.

you start walking towards the house when you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, “don’t go ahead and leave your boyfriend.”

suna said this in a more playful tone which made you relax, you caught his eye and he was looking at you as if waiting for you to say something, “you ready, rinnie bear?” you smirk and decide this was much better. you’ll ignore the strange interactions from earlier, you should focus on facing a bunch of other things after all, like how to interact with his teammates for one, hopefully atsumu would make it easier for you, kageyama likely isn’t here because he wasn’t allowed (you don’t think he’d be here even if he were).

“you have to quit that, couldn’t you have chosen something more normal?” suna swiftly guided you out of the way when you were about to bump into someone. you hadn’t even noticed you were about to go in the front door now, the music was louder than ever.

“like what? babe?” you laugh, shouting a bit.

“yeah, babe,” suna smirks and looks in front of you guys. that’s when you see a familiar looking girl—one of his admirers, she didn’t even acknowledge you guys and turned to walk away.

your mouth hung open, “you totally did that on purpose,” you accuse.

“no,” he shook his head, guiding you more towards the middle where you see a group of guys huddled and drinking, “was convenient though.”

“sweetheart!” atsumu hollered once he saw you, he was already drunk. his face was slightly flushed because of his alcohol intake but he looked like he was still sane enough, you gauged.

“she’s not your sweetheart,” suna rebutted, acting like the overprotective boyfriend type, you approved.

someone from beside atsumu started cackling, “you heard that, ‘tsum, not your sweetheart,” clearly he was getting amused.

“hey ‘tsumu,” you acknowledge your friend who was pouting, “unfortunately, you can’t call me sweetheart anymore, my rinnie won’t allow,” you pretend to be disappointed, leaning on suna’s chest.

“atsumu, you owe us,” one of the guys on the further left of the couch holding a can of beer said, “you didn’t tell us suna was dating anyone! for—how long has it been?” the question was directed at you.

“about five months now,” you say the first number that comes to mind, you knew you should’ve discussed your relationship lore with him first. you’ll bring it up when you two are alone.

“almost half a year! and this guy didn’t bother to tell us anything,” the guy shakes his head.

“It’s my privacy,” suna shifts his hand on your shoulder down to your waist, “atsumu, give [name] your seat.”

atsumu, who was bringing out his phone, “eh?” you then meet eyes with him, he raised his hands in defeat and stood up. he motioned exaggeratedly for you to sit down, “here’s the seat, ‘yer highness.”

“thanks,” you take a seat and look up at the two guys at your disposal, maybe this was the right time to use your newly acquired superpower (ordering suna around), you were starting to get a bit thirsty, “rin?” you call out, he was mid-argument with atsumu.

“yeah?” it was comical how he switched up, glad to know he was in tune with you.

“can you get me some water?” you ask sweetly, the others are silent as they watch the exchange between you two.

“after I get you a seat?”

“It was my seat,” atsumu comments on the side. the both of you ignore him.

“pretty please?” you said, giving him a teasing smile. remember when you said you would do anything I asked, we had an agreement. do it. do it. your eyes seemed to say.

“alright, I’ll be quick,” suna said, he then looked at his teammates, “don’t give her a hard time,” he waved them off before leaving.

“can you believe that guy? he would grumble if I asked him to hand me a towel,” atsumu complains, leaning his head back to emphasize his exasperation.

“we found suna’s weakness,” the same guy from earlier cackled.

you proceeded to have a conversation with him—who you learned was named reiki—and the other guys. they were all nice to you with the exception of atsumu who kept bantering with you. you shut him down every time, which was partly because he could never think of a reply quickly enough in his current state. they continued to tell you all sorts of antics suna initiated in practices, like the time he started an argument about who was the most attractive player on the team, there were real-time polls and everything.

“I’m curious!” shiizu exclaimed, you and the others turned your attention to him, “how do your matchmaking services work?”

“you finally interested in having a love life?” atsumu says, a brow raised.

“well,” you start, “a lot of people seem to think that I can magically get two people together, but that’s not really the case,” the other guys started to quiet down to listen to you, “usually, a person would email me with their worries and I’d try to respond in the best way I can. sometimes they bring up wanting advice or I ask if they want advice and it starts there. sometimes they would want help in person or wanting to do this or that for someone and I’d recommend things or brainstorm ideas with them. it all depends on whether their feelings get reciprocated or not. that’s all I can say about the ‘matchmaking’ part.”

“ooh that’s cool, you put a lot of time and effort into it then,” shiizu nods, thinking contemplatively.

“yeah,” a genuine smile starts to form, “people who are already in relationships also approach me just for some advice or like just wanting to sort out their feelings. I’m just glad if I could be of help.”

“how’d suna end up with an angel with that personality of his,” reiki shakes his head.

“rin is really sweet,” you put your fake boyfriend on a pedestal with just one phrase.

“sweet and rin are not words you hear in a single sentence,” shiizu points out.

a whole conversation starts about how lemons were sweeter than rin, you defend him to the best of your abilities by saying fake scenarios. like how he holds your hand without having to ask (after having a staring contest) and how he likes it when you call him pet names (because he would literally want anything other than rinnie bear).

suna was taking a while just to get you water so you began searching for him, he was supposed to get back within minutes and you were supposed to show off how obediently he would follow you. mid-conversation with jai—one of the players—you excuse yourself, “uhm I’ll go to the bathroom for a bit, can you tell rin when he gets here?”

“alright will do, he is taking a while,” reiki nods, “the bathroom is just over there at the end of the hall,” he points to the side.

you nod and smile in thanks, you wander around the bodies of people laughing and having fun with their friends, but to no avail, still no sign of rin. how difficult was it to get a glass of water? you were starting to get a bit worried that something happened.

soon, you were closer to the bathroom, you might as well retouch your makeup while here too. as you passed by a few more people, ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s for accidentally stepping on people were prevalent. suddenly you felt a hand grab your wrist. startled, you looked up at who it was.

unluckily for you, it was one of the least people you wanted to see, terushima.

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

[name] and atsumu once did one of those pay and bake your own cakes.

atsumu and kageyama have a 'friendly' rivalry on the team because they're both setters (still good friends if non-volleyball context).

semi did not go to the party because he crashed after the game and overslept.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — love sick has been my only work so far where i actually let them play volleyball IFGFBDJSUDFHUDI i write abt fictional volleyball players doing everything but play volleyball btw the party scene is like completely inspired by my friends stories abt their experiences in bars and stuff so its def going to be inaccurate. and i still dont have a phone to use for smaus by the way hehe.

taglist is OPEN ! + (1/3) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

if i can not tag you, please change your mention settings to “everyone” thank you!

[steviewashere]

Make a Home Out of Hurt

Rating: General CW: Death of a Grandparent, Mourning Tags: Post-Season 4, Post Canon, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe — Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Steve Harrington Mom is Okay, Steve Harrington's Dad is an Asshole, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Moving in Together

Had an evil little thought. Also, all these Fenton bunnies I mention are real! My nana collects Fenton. (She's alive, don't worry, but I thought about her the other day and it spiraled into this.)

🏡—————🏡 We’ve already seen this neighborhood, Eddie thinks, but won’t say.

Even though they have. They’ve driven by the same three houses. Yellow, pastel pink, and navy blue. White door, white door, brown door. Bushes and bushes and a bushel of red roses. One garage, no garage, no garage but large driveway. He’s seen them. Over and over and over.

And each time they pass the last one, the leather of the steering wheel squeaks. And each time, Steve makes a muffled sort of noise. And each time, Eddie wonders if resting his hand on Steve’s shaking shoulders would anger him or mellow him. And each time, the car gets just a little slower as Steve loses his control more and more.

We’ve already seen this neighborhood, Eddie continues to think, but knows he’ll sit here with those words. He’ll sit in the passenger seat. Window cranked as far down as it’ll go—half-way since Dustin busted the actual mechanism. Beemer’s been through a lot, so it’ll be here for Steve’s end all breakdown, too. With the radio volume low, playing the same double-sided tape on repeat, flipped by Eddie because Steve’s hands have been shaking: The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra. Because it was her favorite. Nana’s favorite. Nana Harrington’s favorite.

On the fifth drive through, Steve finally parks the car. At the end of the long, slow winding driveway. He looks out the windshield, hollowed and not quite here. With limp hands in his lap. Messy, greasy hair he couldn’t bother to style. Eye bags so heavy, Eddie barely believes he can hold them on his face.

Eddie can follow his line of sight. To the edge of the white picket fence, worn down a little with age, scratched up from the curled nails of an old brown dog, carved with her son and daughter-in-law’s initials, and eventually stained with yellow handprints from baby Steve. Yellow because, as Steve has echoed, “Lello, Nana. Lello like your dress. Your favorite!” Well, Steve’s favorite too, he just won’t acknowledge it’s because of his nana. Eddie knows that the paint has faded a bit since then, given that it’s been fifteen years since Steve’s had hands that small, but Eddie can see him. In his little white and red striped t-shirt, hidden by a pair of nicely pressed denim overalls, white sneakers, and his mom’s bobby pins in his hair—something she did because it just wouldn’t stop growing so fast and thick. Or so Eddie’s been told.

He’s been told a lot in the last week. Since the call came through the landline of their apartment. Since Steve had gone silent and collapsed to his knees and wailed, screamed even. Since he dressed himself in a suit that fit well, but looked out of place on his curled in body. Since…since the obituary was finally in his hands at the funeral, and he got so sick in the church’s restroom, Eddie had to drive them home in a daze—a quarter worried, a quarter tired, and half hanging by a thread. He thinks he’s heard everything, but what is love if not more than everything? If not all the words in every language, all known objects and unknown, every species and race and sexuality and identities combined?

He’ll hear everything. Until their old and grey and forgetting everything.

“There used to be a tire swing on that tree,” Steve states flatly, pointing at the weeping oak in his nana’s front yard. It’s crooked like it’s been kissed by the wind. A lot withering because the weather’s been harsh on her. Grey against the navy blue of the house’s siding.

I know, sweetheart, Eddie wants to say, so soft it gets lost between them. Instead, “Yeah? Bet it was a good tire, too,” he coaxes, still soft, all sweet. Even if he’s heard it each time they’ve passed by.

Steve nods once in his peripheral. Sniffs. “Yeah,” he states wetly, “one of the expensive ones. She didn’t want it to pop under me. Didn’t…She didn’t want me to stop using it.” His head dips down, looking at his fingers, where they’ve begun to absently trace the seams of his jeans. “I stopped,” he whispers shamefully. “You think she got mad because I stopped?”

“No, baby,” Eddie answers honestly. “I think that she was happy you used it at all. Think she was always just happy to see you, Steve.”

A sharp intake of breath next to him. “I used to come over here when my parents were gone. Or when they’d scream at each other. Or when…when they’d forget I existed,” he relays, quiet as a mouse. “When they’d forget, Nana would open the door and kiss my cheek and make me something to eat. I was always too skinny. So she made me casseroles,” he explains, a wisp of a smile. Gone in the blink of an eye. “She’ll never make ‘em again, though. She won’t—”

“Steve,” Eddie calls gently, a small warning. A siren before the tsunami. 

“—Love me again,” Steve sobs, “Nana won’t love me again.”

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. Eddie steps out of the car, rounds over to the driver’s side, and yanks the door open. Carefully, he unbuckles Steve, scoots him so that his legs dangle over the side, and pulls him down into a gentle hug. “Baby,” he coos. “Just get it out, honey. I’m right here. We’re right here. I’ve got you.”

And Steve cries. Again; though Eddie’s lost count. He squirms against Eddie’s chest. Head nestled to his neck. Crying big sounds that sound too large, even for his adult body. Sounds that carry boats, that poison with oil spills, that home orcas. He slobbers onto Eddie’s skin, grand globs of hot spit that gargle in his throat before launching from his mouth. His unshaved stubble scratching at the side of Eddie’s face—where his skin is sensitive and smooth and will most definitely be raw with Steve’s aching.

He sobs until there’s no more tears. Until he’s a whimpering, shivering mess on Eddie’s chest. Bunched up and small and fisting Eddie’s t-shirt like a lifeline. Squeezing the fabric in his hands like two lemons.

Eddie runs his hands up and down Steve’s spine. From the small of his back to his hunched shoulders, squishing him. He sways them ever so gently like the rustle of the old oak tree. Hums something incoherent and unrecognizable. If only to get Steve to stop shaking.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

He takes a long, slow breath. Breathes out, “Why’d she give me the house?”

Eddie pulls them apart. One hand on the middle of Steve’s back, the other cupping his left cheek. Swiping at the tacky tracks from his tears. “I’m not sure, baby. Maybe she loved you so much that she wanted you to have it? To always be safe there?”

“Shouldn’t she have given it to my dad? I don’t…” Steve’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, his mouth frowning. “I don’t deserve her house?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs. “She chose you for a reason. You, Stevie. Not anybody else. Just you. If she wanted to give it to her son, she would’ve. But she didn’t. She thought of you, put you in the will, and now it’s yours.” When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie gives him his moment of silence. Running his palm up to Steve’s shoulders. Pressing his thumb into his supple skin. “You may never know her intent, but she probably had a reason. It was a home you came running to, where you felt safest, where you felt…loved. Grandmothers always have this air to them, like they just know things about you before you say ‘em. Maybe she just knew you needed her and her space before you even realized.”

Steve sniffles. His eyes are still wet. Bloodshot and tired. Rumpled all the way around, exhausted and quiet. “She used to play with me in the yard.”

I know, Eddie thinks once more. He goes with the topic change though, if that’s what Steve needs.

“And when we played hide and seek, she always made sure to look until I was found. Because she didn’t want me to feel forgotten, her words.” Steve’s fingers are fidgeting with one another again. Picking at his fingernails, peeling at hangnails. Eddie moves down and takes them, rubbing soothing circles into their backs, just so Steve doesn’t harm himself on top of everything. Steve continues, hushed, “When I’d stay the night, she would sleep with me. Hold me close to her. Scratch my back and scalp and tell me stories…all the way until I fell asleep.”

“Kinda like I do, huh?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Think that’s why I feel so loved and safe with you.”

And Eddie hasn’t cried, not really, not yet. But this may be it. Because he knows, beyond everything, that Nana was special to Steve—so special that just one negative comment, one complaint, one little fuss about her was enough to get you shunned by him. He’s seen it play out with Dustin, he’d been banned from coming over for two weeks. And with El, who didn’t understand quite yet, but had lost conversational abilities with Steve for two whole days—ergo, the Silent Treatment.

This means something. It means everything. Eddie kind of wants to cry about it.

But he reigns himself in for now. Because Steve needs him like water. For somebody to just be there and be present and be patient. Through it all.

“You wanna head inside,” Eddie offers, “I’ve got the key in my pocket.” He gestures loosely to the inside of his vest, the safest pocket near his heart. When Steve nods, Eddie leads them inside silently. Opens the door first, per request made by Steve days prior. Sets his shoes by the front door—not told to, but just out of respect. Hangs up his jacket, his vest. Takes Steve’s jacket, too. Unties his Nike sneakers. Smacks a quick kiss to his cheek. And then he waits by the front door for Steve to say or do something.

The first thing he does is gasp. Eyes roaming the hallway, the living room, and the fireplace that connects the kitchen and living space together. He takes a few tentative steps before stopping in front of a tall, full China cabinet.

“Her Fenton bunnies,” Steve breathes.

Eddie slowly approaches behind him. Wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him into his side a little. “Are these the ones your mom was talking about on the phone?”

“Yeah. I just…Didn’t think my mom was telling the truth,” Steve murmurs. “She told me Dad didn’t want these. Takes up room or whatever. But they’re so pretty here, how could you not want these?” His left hand reaches for the knob of the cabinet. Twisting it gently as to not rattle the glass shelves. With the doors swung open, the bunnies under the cabinet’s lighting are free to touch. And so Steve picks one up, carefully in his hands like it’s alive. Maybe it is, Eddie thinks for a moment, alive with her spirit.

He breathes silently by Steve as he investigates the glass item in his hand. Running his thumbs over the ears. Down the smooth back.

“Satin glass,” Steve states, “It’s like touching the fabric, which is so weird. Nana used to talk about it all the time, but I never believed her. She never let me touch. You wanna?” He holds the bunny up to Eddie’s face. In offering, for him to pet. So he runs a slow thumb down its back. And sure enough, soft as silk, cold to the touch. “All of them are here.” He replaces the silk, purple bunny on the shelf. Picking up a chromatic shifting one next. “Carnival glass,” Steve explains, “it’s heavier than the other one, feels like. But so shiny. Think Nana used to say it was amethyst or something, but that might be what the color shift is called?”

“You sure listened to her well,” Eddie murmurs, “know a lot about this.”

Steve chuckles, a little choked to Eddie’s ears but he makes no comment. “Yeah, I guess I did. Mom used to say that I had selective hearing. That I listened when it was something I cared about.”

“And you cared a lot about Nana,” Eddie concludes.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, “cared a lot about Nana.” He sets the carnival glass bunny back on the shelf. Standing idle in front of it all, taking it all in. “She has one upstairs, in a different glass cabinet. It glows green under the special blacklight upstairs. Said it was radioactive.” He chuckles again. “I gave her that one. As a gift for Mother’s Day in…I think ’77? Mom helped me pick it out—she was nice about the bunnies, about finding this stuff. She loved Nana, too. And she…” He laughs low in his chest and Eddie blossoms a little at the sound, unheard in so long. “Mom would pull out the long box of tissue paper and gift bags from the crawlspace. She’d unfold the prettiest gift bag—this one was a little brown one, covered in peach colored peonies. Stuffed some off-white tissue paper in that one. Wrapped the little yellow—well, it was supposed to be yellow—Fenton bunny in bubble wrap, covered it up with a bunch of caramels. Gave it to Nana, and she squealed! Apparently, she already knew it was radioactive? Thought it was the best gift ever. Which, ouch Nana, I gave you other bunnies for Mother’s Day, c’mon.”

Eddie snorts. “Maybe that’s what earned you the house? That radioactive bunny was probably the key to her heart,” he jokes. Though his stomach turns at the possibility it wasn’t appropriate to make.

Steve laughs loudly, though. Shaking his entire body with it. He slips his hand into Eddie’s back right pocket, sighs, and leans against him relaxed. “Dad should’a tried harder if he wanted Nana’s heart,” he comments, “all it took was a damn bunny.”

“Among other things, I’m sure.”

“Probably,” Steve sighs. “I think she was just excited to have a grandkid. She had a weird relationship with my dad. They didn’t get along very well. So maybe she was sorta…trying again?”

“Stevie, I think she just loved you. There doesn’t have to be some grand, deep meaning behind it. I think she just loved your company. How your laugh fills a room and your smile is seen from across the yard. And how you’re always polite, despite having reasons to not be. Maybe because of your terrible puns and how awful you are at quoting Shakespeare? You charm everybody, Steve,” Eddie monologues. “There’s not a reason to not love you.”

For a moment, the room falls completely silent. Distantly, there’s the slow tick of a wall clock. A few birds singing out in the backyard, where the bird bath probably is—only known through Steve’s memories. A slight hum from the radiator. The cars passing by on the main road just around the corner. Hawkins is quiet when there’s mourning; maybe it’s felt through the whole town, through the soles of Steve’s socked feet, from the beating of his ever love absorbent heart.

She died November 7th, 1993. Just a few days ago. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Will Byers going missing that Hawkins is feeling. Maybe it’s just tragedy. It’s love persevering—even in the most dire of situations. Where Joyce Byers was screaming about where her son may be, all those mismatched theories, and the ways in which the town thought she was crazy—even when they believed her and cried over her son’s body being pulled from the water. Where Will is actually thriving now. Where Sandra Harrington no longer is, though she was a fixture in several communities and families, Steve’s own being included.

“How’s your boy doing?” Wayne asked the day after her funeral. Eddie had shrugged, admitting he wasn’t sure because Steve had gone terribly quiet and sick. “Tell him I’m sorry. That he has a home with us. That he can come over and cry and I’ll make him hot cocoa. Alright, Ed?”

God, even Wayne knew. And there was silence after his condolences.

There is so much silence.

Until, finally, Steve asks, “Will you live with me here?”

“Wh—What?” Because surely he didn’t hear that right.

“Live with me here,” Steve repeats, a little more urgent. “I don’t think I can handle this place alone. And…I know how to use her gas stove. I can make you the spaghetti dish she used to make. And the casseroles she used to bake. We can open up her recipe box and I’ll teach you how to make her apple pie—the one she gave me for your birthday two years ago?

“And we can read your Lord of The Rings books on the porch on the bench she has out there? Grill in the backyard when we have everybody over. Robin can have the room that used to be my nursery. We can…We can live our lives here.”

Stunned, Eddie gapes momentarily. Before gripping harder at Steve’s waist, drawing him closer even when there’s no more room. Two solid bodies connected from shoulder to foot. “Are you sure, Steve? You don’t wanna—“

“You’re my family, Eds. I have loved you since that bullshit in ’86. We have seen each other through our absolute worst. Of course I’m sure. Of course I want you here,” Steve swears. “I know what I’m getting into. Even if it hurts to look around here right now. But you’ve been here by me through one of the worst heartbreaks I’ve ever experienced. I want you here—preferably always.”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. He reaches out with his free hand and cups the right side of Steve’s face. Swipes over his glistening cheekbone. Under his shadow beaten eye. The tickling brush of Steve’s bottom eyelashes on the tip of his thumb. And he kisses him tenderly, with every word he could ever imagine to say, all emotion he could ever feel, with an intensity seen in atomic bombs. He pulls back to see Steve’s eyes closed. Flushed and bright in the cabinet’s full white lighting, doors still open, and fragile glass bunnies as witnesses. Promises, “I want to, Steve. I want to be here with you. Through it. All of it. As long as I get to love you.”

And on his thumb there are fresh tears, gone cold but skin scalding. Steve’s lips trembling with silent cries. His eyelashes fluttering. Him and him and him. Beautiful and raw and open. Gentle like flowers and strong like wind. Aching and romantic and with a heart the size of the universe itself. Because Steve Harrington is everything—

Or so his nana has said. But Steve doesn’t know. And that’s Eddie’s own secret.

“Okay,” Steve mutters, “make a home with me, Ed.”

🏡—————🏡

[novalpha]

𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut) || ✹ Humor

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Buy A Boyfriend ♡★⌗ -> @sluttywoozi Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Summary: Being a professional boyfriend on SVTHub is great - all Vernon has to do is respond to a few texts, send out a couple selfies, do a stream every now and then, and he makes enough to cover tuition. Things get a little tricky when he finds himself wishing he actually was your boyfriend.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ By hook or by cross ♡୨୧★ -> @kabira

summary — so you punched a guy, and now he wants you to teach him how to fight, because clearly, you know how to do it better. well, fine, you say. as long as he keeps his distance. (spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ divorce child ♡★ -> @lovelyhan

summary: you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Cold hands, Warm hearts ♡ -> @duhnova

synopsis: this holiday season, your daughter decided the best present she could give to you was a new boyfriend, which is why she and her best friend yujin have taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker. their candidate? yujin’s father.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Operation : Hot girl summer ♡✹★ -> @shuaflix

SUMMARY ▸ the summer you started putting more effort into your appearance also happens to be the summer where vernon chwe's piercing gaze leaves you feeling like you're floating high up in the clouds.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Not a virgin ♡✹★ -> @ncteez

Vernon, a friend of your friend spills his spicy sex life and accidentally reveals to an entire group of near-strangers (including you) that he’s had sex one and a half times and that it was sick.

or the one where despite vernon not being a virgin, he is somehow more of a virgin than an actual virgin. 

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ High and fucked ★ -> @rubyreduji

summary: hansol is nothing to you but your ex-boyfriend's roommate, but you still find yourself alone with him while you get high together

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Risk it all ★ -> @sluttywoozi

Summary: Vernon's got a crush on his tutor, and everything gets harder when you start wearing thigh high socks. Everything.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The soulmate service ♡✹୨୧ -> @dkfile

the soulmate service has one purpose: to help those who drew the short end of the stick and ended up without a person to live their forever with. after the heart wrenching realization that the boy you’ve loved since you were thirteen isn’t the one meant for you, you put your love life in the hands of vernon chwe — which, now that you think about it, is probably a very bad idea.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Work husband ♡✹ -> @wondernus

synopsis: falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Trillium ♡★ -> @beahae

Summary: Vernon is flying in to see his girlfriend. Oh shit, that’s… you. Being away from him for the past few months ago makes it hard for it to feel real, especially after two years of what you both convinced yourselves was a purely platonic friendship. Now that he’s here in the flesh, you are determined to make it feel real. And very non-platonic.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Say you love me (i love you) ♡✹ -> @viastro

synopsis: three heavy words. you’re so used to saying this to the one person that’s always been by your side, because you know that he’s your other half; platonically. these words have always held some sort of meaning whenever you say it to vernon, in hopes that maybe one day he’ll say it back to you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Distraction ♡✹★ -> @minghaoyoudoin

summary: typically, when a person’s house smells like fire, you call the fire department. when your house smells like fire, you know it’s because Vernon is cooking.

[ More Vernon fic recs will be updated ]

Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click here

[insomniactic-daydream]

Really?- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Part 5)

<- (Previous Part 4)

Summary: Y/n and Bakugo being supportive love sick idiots. (I'm too lazy to write a summary rn)

"What is this shit? Why is the fabric weird?"

"Those are your gloves. They'll help you adjust to the seasonal changes. Warmer in the winter and even more sweat in these warmer temperatures.

It's made with metal thread produced by yours truly. That way, they dont wear out easily." you say while tidying up some screws.

Bakugo's questioning has been going on for the last few minutes. If you didn't know better, you'd think he's trying to take your place in the support course. You swear he's taking up all the oxygen in the unventilated shed; nothing but an open window.

"You spent time sewing this shit together after creating the thread?"

"I am the best, aren't I?" You say, looking up from the gauntlets to meet his eyes with a smirk. He quickly turns his head in another direction, avoiding being caught flustered.

"Tch, as if. I just didn't think you losers had to put together so much shit just for one hero's gear." He grumbles, taking on a new appreciation to support course people and workers.

"Well, now you know not to be cheap when it comes to your agency's gear in the future, right Number One?" You say before grabbing the gloves and one of his arms.

You slip his hands into the fingerless gloves; shockingly compliant. Meanwhile, Bakugo is wondering how the hell your hands are so soft given your job. One of the pros of having a lava quirk.

"Tch damn right, nerd. Now the hell are we doing now?" He says, eyeing Y/n's calm and zone in look on her face.

"Do you ever stop asking questions? We're assembling your shit together already. If anything too tight or loose, tell me, and I'll adjust it. " You say as he examines the gauntlets on his arms, opening and closing his fists.

"One of the rings for my ultimate blast is a bit snug. It's making harder to pull on to activate it." He says while Y/n grabs the defective gauntlet pulling out the ring.

Y/n also grabs his hand again while heating up the ring with her quirk and goes to the finger in question; which so happens to be his ring finger.

"Oi, what the hell do yo -" Bakugo says in fear for his finger to be charred off or 3rd degree burns at least. He pauses as he realizes the ring is also being cooled down with your ice quirk.

"What too soon for you to say yes?" you say through a chuckle, jokingly makes it seem she's proposing to him.

That's when Bakugo quirk goes off, earning a little harmless explosion to Y/n's face. Even Bakugo was not sure he meant to do that, but he quickly composed himself.

"You're an idiot." He says, rolling his eyes and his face away from you. You let out a giggle.

"What? If this this career doesn't work out for me I had to make sure I'm rich somehow." She says sarcastically.

"Your father is literally loaded, dumbass." He says to you; now chuckling at your stupid joke. Totally forgetting that you almost burned his finger off. (He's being overdramatic)

You were an idiot he thought. But something warm erupted in his chest, thinking about your unwavering confidence in him to be number one in the future.

You always refer to his goal as something you believe he can actually achieve. You don't criticize his personality or tell him it's impossible with an ego like his. You actually think he's going to be someone big someday.

And if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't mind if you're there when he does make his dream a reality.

"Hm, I guess you're right." You say laughing, and you help him reattach parts of the gauntlets.

"Besides, you're not half bad at this shit. I don't think you'll fail even if you tried." He grumbles softly, almost embarrassed he's complimenting you.

"Guess I proved myself to you, huh then number one?" You look up to make eye contact with him.

He stares back intensely. Like a trance, he can't shake off.

"I guess you did, idiot." He says softly. He admit he had his reservations about you, but you ended up proving him wrong in the such short duration of time you've known each other.

The room falls silent for a while. Nobody mentioned the moment that just happened between them. Too stubborn to say the obvious.

"So why the support course? And how come not your brother too?" Bakugo says, clearing his throat into a new conversation. Y/n, let's out a pondering hum.

"Hm, well, I did get my quirk a little later than him. I was always around my dad, but he only focused on training Shoto for the time being."

"I'd usually stay around the agency when I was younger while my mother took care of my siblings at home. That's how I ended being looked after by the agency's support crew." You say with a shrug.

The information made Bakugo uneasy. How come your mother didn't take care of you? But your speaking cut off his thoughts.

"From then, I already learned the basics. And so, even when my quirk came and my dad pushed me towards becoming a hero, I knew that I wanted to make support gear. And I wanted to be the best at it." You say with a smile as you adjust the newly fitted ring back into the now newly completed gauntlets.

"Well, if my gauntlets serve any proof, I'd say your smartass is already halfway there." Bakugo says wholeheartedly to you. Hoping his words gave you an ounce of confidence you've given him.

"Really?"

"Really"

"Guess I should charge you extra then, huh? I mean, I'm going to be in pretty high demand then."

"You know what. I take it back."

As if he wouldn't pay top dollar for you if that were the case.

(Part 6) ->

I literally cringed writing this. Idk why I can't write lovey stuff 😭

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[hotdaemondtargaryen]

EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED BY THE INVERSE MAGAZINE.

HOW HAS AEMOND CHANGED OVER SEASON TWO?

"For the first four episodes, you see Aemond operating from the peripheries."

"You see him and Criston Cole during their Shadow Council scenes trying to manipulate the Council table to the way they want to run things."

"Aemond is waiting for his moment to strike."

"At the end of Episode 4 — at the Battle of Rook’s Rest — he seizes his opportunity to take two dragons out with one stone."

"It's only until the “Red Sowing” in Episode 7, where Rhaenyra enlists and raises new dragon riders, that Aemond’s power is threatened."

"You're going to see a more desperate side to Aemond."

"And a desperate Aemond is a dangerous one because he might overcompensate."

"He might be a little more irrational than the composed stoic face that he's had before."

"In Episode 8, he's outgunned and he's outraged."

"The Blacks have seven dragons, the Greens have three."

"We have Vhagar, we have Dreamfyre, and we have Daeron’s dragon Tessarion, who's just taken wing."

"Aemond very much wants to win the war."

DO YOU CONSIDER AEMOND THE VILLAIN OF HOUSE OF THE DRAGON?

"It's very easy to make that assumption and judgment just because of the way that he looks."

"His Targaryen blacks, the long hair, the eye patch — it screams villain, but it depends on what side you're on."

"He's the guy who is prepared to do the necessary evil."

"He wants to be seen as a war hero."

"He knows he can be loved, but he knows he can achieve more if he's willing to be feared."

"He's done a lot of bad stuff to support the theory that he is the villain of the show."

"That's one of the most satisfying things for me is decoding his DNA and discovering that he isn't just that two-dimensional villain."

CAN YOU ONCE AND FOR ALL SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT ABOUT THE BATTLE OF ROOK'S REST? WERE AEMOND'S ACTIONS PURPOSEFUL? WAS THAT COLLATERAL DAMAGE OR DID HE JUST TAKE AN OPPORTUNITY TO SEIZE THE POWER?

"I think it could be all three of those things."

"It could be that Aemond did, in fact, see an opportunity to take two dragons off the board with one stone, or was Aegon just in the way?"

"Aegon was never part of the original plan for the battle."

"But with everything that Aegon did and the ringleader status he inhabited in Aemond's childhood, there's an awful lot of evidence to support that."

"What Aemond did was intentional, but whether or not it was premeditated is another thing."

SO WHEN YOU WERE ACTING ALONGSIDE AEGON IN THE LATER EPISODES WHEN THERE'S A CONFRONTATION AT HIS SICK BED, THAT WAS WITH THE KKOWLEDGE OF MALICIOUS INTENT?

"I think so."

"Their relationship is so multifaceted."

"There's a hatred for his brother, but also a certain love that he always craved from him."

"Aegon was supposed to be his big brother."

"He was supposed to look out for him."

"He just never did."

"I thought there was something really fascinating in the fact that Aemond left that marble marker on Aegon’s chest."

"Maybe he left it there for him in a way to say, “The chair's there for you when the war is finished,” or he might've just been pressing the stone marker into his chest to make him hurt that little bit more."

IN EPISODE 8, WE FIRST SEE AEMOND AFTER HE RAZES THE ENTIRETY OF SHARP POINT BECAUSE HE'S MAD ABOUT RHAENYRA'S NEW DRAGON FORCES. WHAT IS GOING THROUGH HIS MIND?

"It's a spur-of-the-moment retaliation."

"He has to overcompensate for this newfound knowledge that Rhaenyra has raised new dragonriders against him and changed the tide of the war."

"Sharp Point, from what I understand of the geography of Westeros, is actually very closely connected to The Gullet."

"Aemond feels like it's justified."

"He's destroying a bit of the Gullet and destroying the blockade that Rhaenyra set up at the beginning of Season 2."

"But ultimately, what he does is atrocious."

WE NEXT SEE HIM TALKING ABOUT THE SMALLFOLK HAVING TO SACRIFICE FOR THE WAR EFFORT. WHAT IS AEMOND SACRIFICING?

It goes back to that moment when Helaena's by the throne Aemond's just gazing up at it and Helaena says, “Was it worth the price?”

"Ultimately, what he sacrificed is his humanity."

"It's that theme that is so prevalent throughout our series: whether love trumps duty or duty trumps love."

"In Aemond's eye, love is a weakness."

WE SEE HIM CONFRONT ALICENT IN THIS EPISODE AND BASICALLY ACCUSE HER OF HAVING TOO MUCH COMPASSION. DOES AEMOND SEE HER AS AN ENEMY? IS THERE ANY AFFECTION REMAINING?

"I think there is."

"One of the main motivations I've played from the beginning of Season 2 was this idea that he wants his mum."

I think he's heartbroken when he says, “Would you not have us prevail?” and she says, “Not like this.”

"That's not part of Aemond's vision."

When he sent Alicent away in Episode 6, he said, “Look, let me deal with the war.”

"You just wait by the margins and then when I've won this war, we can pick up and work on our relationship."

"But the fact that she rebukes him at that moment in Episode 8, he's heartbroken."

"It's horrible for Aemond to comprehend that his mom isn't on his side."

SPEAKING OF WOMEN IN AEMOND'S LIFE, HELAENA GOES TO AEMOND AND ACCUSES HIM OF BURNING AEGON PURPOSEFULLY AND HINTS AT AEMOND'S DEATH. IS HE SHAKEN BY THAT?

"He's definitely shaken."

In an act of desperation, he goes to his sister and says, “Look, you and me, we need to ride out. We need to go to the Riverlands. We need to take out Daemon and destroy all of the influence that he has with the houses of the Riverlands.”

"Aemond is ultimately rebuked by both Alicent and Helaena."

"He's always had this very singular vision of how everything was going to go down."

"But when that starts to get challenged, when he recognizes that Alicent and Helaena aren't on his side, and then when Helaena comes out with this prophecy."

I think a part of him definitely thinks, “Oh no, my sister could be right.”

WHAT CAN WE EXPECT FROM AEMOND IN SEASON 3?

"I think you're going to see someone who's a lot more desperate and a lot more erratic."

"Targaryens were always considered closer to gods than men."

"And what Rhaenyra does at the end of Episode 7 very much challenges and questions the belief that you have to be a legitimate Targaryen to ride a dragon."

"And although their heritage from what we've heard sounds pretty legit, the rest of Westeros doesn’t see that."

"As Aemond says at the end of Episode 8 in that confrontation with his mother and his sister, the people of Westeros ultimately see commonfolk made into dragon lords."

"It very much paints a large target not only on Aemond's back but also on the back of all the Targaryens."

"It compromises their god-like status in a sense."

"And Aemond is definitely going to retaliate."

[nyxofdemons]

so. a couple of notes.

oh good GOD more circus backstory, i asked for this but at what cost. little baby fizz i cant protect him im going to b sick

it WAS cash keeping them apart!! god i hope he's dead and also sub-note are we gonna get more of him and paimon this season?? i am SO curious about the circus playdate aftermath

the last two shots are from ozzie's!!!!!!!

this looks like a giant screen of some sort and i have two guesses -

one: based on the whole "deepest inner traumas broadcasting directly to in front of your eyeballs" precendent already set in this show, maybe this has something to do with the agents and cherubs coming back!

two: based on the AESTHETIC of this screen/shot and the color coding of the trailer, i feel like this is more likely to be linked with that ghost guy in that hotel(?). but idk WHAT the context would be yet.

the fact that 3/4 of these are fizzarolli related has me in shambles. blitz actually cares about him so so much it's not even funny

i am going to bawl my fucking eyes out