#trying to establish body neutrality but that shit is HARD

[brayneworms]

gouge away (if you want to) | johnny joestar

kinktober day ten: kissing

word count. 2.4k

content. disabled johnny, but like his prostate works, anal fingering, prostate orgasm, kissing, johnny cries after sex it's canon, gender-neutral reader, fluff, mentions of ableism, established relationship, this is sappy

♪ gouge away - pixies

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

For a while—a long while—after his accident, Johnny thought he'd never be with someone again.

A part of it was the paralysis. Okay, a big part of it was. He learns after using the chair for a bit that he sorta stops becoming a real person to most people, that their eyes just sorta slide past him. Oh no, how sad, that guy in the chair must have it so bad. Don't be rude and stare, now. Sometimes he wishes they would stare at him, like he knows they wanna. He almost finds their determination to ignore him totally more jarring.

And that's only half the problem. The other part is that even if he could find someone, his goddamn dick doesn't work anymore. Which would for sure pose a problem. So Johnny resigns himself miserably to a sexless and potentially loveless life, and pretends it doesn't make him want to die.

Still. Anyways. It all seems kinda redundant now, 'cause he's lying under the sky in the dirt with his pants halfway off, and you're—you're doing something, or you're tryin' something that Johnny is extremely skeptical about. A bit of time travelling with Gyro had taught him many times that there was a lot of things about the human body he was ignorant of, but he still can't help but be dubious of the claim you made to him a few minutes ago.

I'm gonna make you cum.

At once, a protest had risen to his lips. You can't. Almost a reflex. You'd cocked your head in inquiry, and Johnny had gone redder, down to the tips of his ears hidden by his hat. It's my—it doesn't work. Down there doesn't...

You seem to consider this for a few moments. Then you say, there's something else we can try.

You disappear inside the tent and come out with the bottle of aloe vera they'd been using to treat the burns that had blistered as a result of the unforgiving desert sun. He had red peeling skin all up his shoulders and the bridge of his nose.

He watches dubiously as you squeeze a clear, cold glob onto your fingers. "Wh—where are those goin'?"

He's pretty sure he has an idea.

"You know what a prostate is, Johnny dear?" You always call him that. Johnny dear, like it's all one word. Johnnydear. He always gripes and groans about it and then has to turn away extremely quickly to hide his flush. He's going to examine the reaction he gets when you baby him sometime, he promises himself, just not right now. He's got a lotta shit on his plate, okay? Corpses to find and such.

"N-no," he answers, stammering when you kneel between his legs and spread his thighs gently apart. He sucks in a breath; one of your fingers leaves a cool trail of aloe along the skin there.

"A prostate," you tell him patiently, like you're not situated between his naked thighs, "is a gland that people with your particular reproductory set are born with."

"You sound like Gyro," he mutters. "Kinda killing the mood a little."

"I just want to make sure you're fully informed." You roll your eyes. "It's just that you're leaking precum, see?" To his mortification, you swipe your fingers over the tip of the dick he can't feel and hold them up; under the starlight, they gleam, and he burns with embarrassment. "Means you might be able to feel it. Means I might be able to make you cum."

Johnny swallows hard. He wants—it sounds good. Sounds great. But with the hope comes that fear, an ever-present shadow. What if it doesn't work?

"Hey." You lean over him, and before Johnny can protest you've captured his lips, a slow, deliberate cling. Johnny loves kissing you. He thinks it might be his favourite thing to do, other than jockeying and he can't do that anymore, so this takes an automatic first place. He sighs and melts against you like softened butter, his hands winding themselves over your shoulder and jaw. He loves everything about it. The closeness, the slow gentle intimacy, the way you smell. That last part is probably weird, 'cause you mostly smell like sweat and leather, but Johnny likes it all the same.

You kiss for a while; one of your hand strokes soothing shapes into his ribcage. When you pull back, the panic that had been rearing up inside him has faded to a dull murmur.

"Don't get in your head about it," you whisper. "If you can't feel it, then that's that. You know I won't think less of you."

A lump rises in Johnny's throat, and he shields his eyes from the burning sun of you seein' right through him. "I know," he says, almost petulantly.

"So? Wanna give it a try?"

A part of him doesn't. A part of him is so, so scared. But a bigger part of him, the one that likes kissing you and likes the way you smell and the way you touch him and look at him and everything, really, is nodding before that first part can protest. You kiss him again with a smile, a little faster, a little dirtier this time. This is another thing Johnny likes about kissing—it can take so many different forms. Even if he did find the corpse pieces and get the use of his legs back, Johnny reckons he'd still like kissing more than real sex.

Your mouth starts moving down, sweeping the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbones, the valleys of his pectorals, a nipple. The last one makes Johnny gasp and you giggle, and he splays a palm over his face in embarrassment. You coax such stupid noises outta him. But you seem to enjoy it, so whatever.

Down, down, down. Somewhere between his navel and his pubic bone he stops feeling it. But it still somehow feels sorta nice, which doesn't make a whole lotta sense but it does to him, so. He watches you between his fingers as you reach between his legs, he thinks prodding.

You look up at him. "I'm going to put a finger in, okay?"

Johnny nods eagerly. "Don't gotta tell me. I won't feel it."

You roll your eyes. "I'm still gonna tell you. We can stop whenever, okay?"

"Okay," Johnny says impatiently, and wiggles his hips. You smack his hipbone playfully, which does nothing to temper his brattiness on account of him not feelin' a fuckin' thing. Then you get a quiet, serious, concentrated look on your face that Johnny usually only sees when you're fighting. Or when he's making you cum. That expression, more than any of your words or hesitation, it what makes him quiet down and take it serious.

There's a silence that stretches on. Johnny supposes you must be doin' something, considering the slight furrow he can see between your brows and the achingly careful, gradual movement of your wrist. Finally, after about a minute, you look up at him.

"My finger's in," you tell him, and Johnny bites his lip.

"Can't feel it," he says. He's starting to think this was a really bad idea.

"Just lemme—hold on," you say, and your wrist moves a little, and then—

Johnny keens. He feels, he fuckin' feels so much that it lights him up from the inside and sets his nerves alight, some part deep inside him that he didn't even know existed 'till five minutes ago and it's so good it immediately brings tears to his eyes.

"Oh," he says like he's surprised, and he is, apparently so much so that it's all he can say. "O-oh, oh, oh—"

Your finger retracts back into nothingness, and Johnny bites back a sob. "Johnny?" you ask worriedly. "Did you—is it too much?"

"No, no," he babbles, feeling incoherent already. You brush his hair back from his face with your free hand, the one that ain't inside him, your thumb stroking over his cheek. "It was—fuck, felt so weird. But good. Really, really good. Can you—are you gonna do it again?"

"Will if you want me to," you answer lovingly, and Johnny is biting back another sob for a whole different reason. "Might be a bit intense, Johnny dear. You sure you wanna?"

"Yes, yeah." He stares up at you beseechingly, feeling a bit pathetic but also too far gone to give a shit. "Please, I wanna—I wanna feel it again."

You nod, leaning over to kiss him again. Johnny relaxes into the embrace, losing himself in the familiar touch of your lips, the smell of you, taking the bite out of his surge of panic—and then with no warning you're brushing against that spot inside him again and he's moaning into your mouth, loud and unrestrained. It's pitchy and startled, and your free hand cups the back of his head as he pulls away in shock.

"Fuck, Jesus Christ," he swears, slamming his head back against the dirt. "O-oh, oh god, ohgodohgod—"

"Still good?" you ask, and your fingers made a weird sort of curling motion and it occurs to Johnny that you're movin' them in and out, sort of like you would if you were actually fucking him, and the thought makes him flush so hard he feels feverish. You're fucking him. You're fucking him.

He nods deliriously. "Mhm, yeah," he gasps out, feeling breathless, feeling giddy. "Don't stop, feels so fuckin' good, oh my god."

Your fingers press into him over and over like you're ringin' a bell, and all the while you kiss him and for the first time in ages Johnny feels that both parts of his body are equal. The bottom half has come alive under your jackhammering fingers, the top half consumed by you and your kiss. The kissing makes it so much better, 'cause Johnny reckons if anyone else had their fingers in his ass he'd probably hate it even if they were touching his whatdidyoucallit like that and making him feel amazing. He'd hate it 'cause they wouldn't be you.

The kissing reminds him it's you. The chaps on your lips, the smell of you, the feel of your face and skin, your body pressing into his. It's so all consuming it makes him wanna cry, in a good way, in a weird way. Your fingers move faster and weirder, and Johnny starts making those stupid oh! oh! noises again, stifling them against your mouth, and your tongue presses in and you swallow them whole.

All too soon, Johnny feels a weird tightening, one he hasn't felt since before the incident. He feels a constriction of panic, his fingers clutching at your clothing. "I—hah!—I f-feel weird."

"Bad weird?" Your fingers slow down, nearly stop, and Johnny whines.

"No, no, good weird, good," he pants. "Move again, fuck."

You pick up the pace; Johnny shudders, tensing in your hold all over again. He feels like he's burning, like he's sweating out everything bad he's ever felt.

"Do you mean you're gonna cum?" you ask, your voice lower this time, so close to Johnny's ear it makes him shiver. The harsh brush of your chapped lips against the soft skin there makes his body feel electric.

"I think," he whispers, eyes screwing shut. "Sorry—oh—I think, yeah."

"Don't feel sorry," you tell him almost sternly. "I want to see you cum, Johnny. Wanna see you cum so hard your pretty little head goes blank. You deserve it, yeah?"

"Yeah," he gasps out. "I deserve it."

What you do next with your fingers is almost brutal in the wracks of shivering pleasure it sends simmering through Johnny's body; every curl of them has him writhing and gasping and moaning, he must sound so stupid but you seem to be liking it and fuck, he's liking it, he likes feeling a little stupid and helpless while you take care of him and he's definitely gonna have to unpack that, but later, 'cause—

"I'm gonna cum," he gasps, hands flying out to curl in your clothing. "Baby, baby, I'm gonna cum, I—kiss me? Kiss me, okay, I wanna, oh, oh oh oh—"

You crash your lips together, and your fingers curl up one last lingering time and Johnny shatters. White stars explode over his vision, shatter inside his head, and for a split second it feels like every cell in his body freezes up and screams and dies. He's vaguely aware of some long, drawn-out, breathless noise he's making and the way you swallow it with your mouth.

It takes several seconds for him to come back down to earth. When he does it's to the sensation of you running your fingers through his hair and pressing soft, feathery kisses to his cheeks.

He pants like a dog. When you see his blue eyes on you, you sit up, seem to retract your fingers from between his legs. Your image starts to blur, and Johnny sees your expression crease in concern. He realises he's crying. Not like, actually, not like he's got something to be upset about. He's just... tearing up. Like someone's turned a faucet on behind his eyes and just left it there. He pushes the heels of his hands into the sockets and presses down, willing it to stop, willing the overwhelming feeling blooming in his chest to deflate.

"Hey, hey." Your voice, low and soothing, pressed into his hair, your arms holding him tightly. "You okay?"

"Yes," he says almost angrily. "I'm fine. Dunno why I'm—fuck. Sorry. I'm good, I promise I'm good. That was... so, so good."

Your expression of concern gives way slightly. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Johnny sucks in a shaky, wet breath. "Thanks. Thank you. I didn't even... I didn't even know I could feel like that anymore. Not just 'cause of—you know." He gestures vaguely to the lower half of his body. "All of it. Like, I didn't think anyone would wanna—while I'm still like this. And I—I figured I didn't deserve it, or something. But... it was really good."

Your smile is a little sad. "I'm glad, Johnny dear. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now that we know it works, we can do it again. And again, and again." He flushes, and you laugh sweetly, and Johnny could just die to the sound of it. "Still, we should get some rest for tonight. Gyro will skin us alive if we oversleep again."

You're right, of course. Johnny lets you maneuvre him onto his sleeping skin, and you unroll yours right next to him. When you do, Johnny reaches for you, clinging like a damn insect. But you don't seem to mind, 'cause you wrap your arms around his waist and bring him in even closer. He tucks his head into your shoulder.

He thinks that he'll get to kiss you tomorrow, too.

His sleep is dreamless and deep.

[girlboypersonthingy]

I NEEED possessive Blitzø after striker was flirting with reader in season 1 episode 5

maybe leading to yknow

can I be 💿 anon?

I’m literally screaming over this request, holy shit! Yes yes yes, been craving some Blitzø writing. I’ve finally made it 😮‍💨 of course you can be 💿 anon. You’re actually the first anon to claim an emoji! So yeah…thanks for requesting, nonnie. Enjoy! 🖤

Notes: gn!reader, established relationship

TW: not really smut but very suggestive, still gender neutral reader, making out, heavy touching, a little dirty talk, teasing, Blitzø using his tail 🤤 possessive Blitzø 18+ only please

Blitzø x reader - Jealousy 🥀

Watching from your spot in the bleachers, sat beside Moxxie and Millie, you let your pride and admiration for Blitzø burst out of you in the form of screaming, cheering and clapping. Of course Blitzø just had to participate in the pain games. You watched as he showed off his skills, stamina and strength all day during the pain games and, to put it simply, you were in awe of him. He and that shady farm hand, Striker, were neck and neck all day. Sure, you’ve seen him at work before, you’ve watched him take the lives of so many living people, you’ve watched him take on unexpected enemies with ease…but this was just a game. Some harvest festival bullshit, that’s what he called it. If that’s all it is, why is he trying so hard to beat some dumb farm hand? Regardless of his reasoning, you supported him through and through, cheering him on from the audience as Stolas announces him and Striker to be tied for first place. “FUCK YEAH, BLITZ!!! WHOOOO!!!”

Hearing his name bellow from your chest in a high pitched yell caught his attention, head turning towards the sound as his eyes lock onto you sitting in the crowd. A smile tugs at his lips as he lifts one of his big hands to give you a wave. Simultaneously, Striker shoots you a devious glare, smirking as he winks at you and waves his hand back at you. The sight of him looking at you with those eyes just…made you shiver. What a creep. Did he really think you were waving at him? As if! But now you notice Blitzø frowning, teeth bared and hands now balled up into tight fists of rage. He was fuming, looking as if he was actively growling and you could see him shaking slightly.

Finally, Blitzø stomps his way off the stage and is on his way to you. This prompts you to jump up and go to him. Carefully shuffling through the crowd, you find Blitzø still looking more pissy than usual. “Hey, you kicked ass, babe! You totally deserved first place. Fuck that other guy.” Your immediate shit talking brings a smirk to Blitzø’s face for just a second before it turns back to a bitter frown. “Blitz… You did your best and I think your best is waaaaay better than that stupid, tacky cowboy and-“

Without letting you get another word in, without even worrying about the fact that you’re in a crowd of wrathians right now, Blitzø grips your wrist and yanks you into him. His lips come smashing into yours, almost painfully at first, but it soon becomes a sloppy, soft, open mouth kiss. And then his other hand falls on your hip for a moment before sliding down to gently fondle your ass. As your lips move messily against his, a surprised ‘hmph!’ comes from your throat when you feel his hand give your butt a squeeze. Quickly pulling back and sucking in a breath, “Blitzø! What’s gotten into you?” You ask with a shy smile, watching as he stumbles further towards you, practically drunk off your lips. “I’m better than him?” He repeats what you had said just a minute ago, his eyes now hungry and darting all over your face and body. “Psh! Of course you are.” Responding with another quick kiss to his lips, you watch as his smile gradually widens, his eyes never leaving your now blushy face.

Then it dawns on you- oh my god he’s jealous. You think back to when you had first met Striker and Millie’s parents, the way Striker was looking you up and down, when he kissed the back of your hand and called you ‘gorgeous’. Yuck. Makes you cringe just thinking about him touching you. What was it he said to you? Something like... ‘You probably have a man, considering how good lookin’ you are…but you should forget about him and come visit me in my room tonight, little one. I’ll show you what a real man is like.’ That’s probably what has Blitzø so annoyed and needy for you…and so pissed that he was tied for first place with that asshole.

Suddenly, Blitzø is dragging you along behind him as you both push through the crowd and make your way back to Millie’s parents’ house. “You okay?” You question softly from behind him. “I will be.” He responds immediately, you can hear the smirk he’s wearing from his tone of voice. In a flash, he’s got you into the guest room he was staying in, flattened out against the bed with him on top of you, his lips unforgiving and desperate against your own.

“Oh~ Jeez, Blitz…Im only yours. You know that right?.” Your lips part finally but he moves back in fast, his lips meeting your neck and slowly kissing down your chest. “Mhm. Tell me more.” He commands between kisses then lets his long, forked tongue drag along your exposed collar bone. “Ah~! I’m all yours. You’re the only one I w-want…fuck.” You lose all focus as Blitzø’s tail slithers up and around your thigh, the pointed end of it gently swiping up and down your crotch. “Blitzzzzz…” Your own moan surprises you a bit but when you look down at Blitzø still enjoying the taste of your collar bone, he’s obviously enjoying this waayyyy too much.

“C’mon…tell me more.” He carefully but firmly grips your face in his hand, his face just inches from yours now and he looks deadly serious, his big eyes searching your face. He’s making you look at him, despite how red your face is and how badly you want to find another spot to rest your gaze. “Who do you belong to?” It comes out of him in a low growl, his mouth back against your skin. “You. You, baby. I’m all yours, Blitz.” You take a moment to enjoy the feeling of his teeth scraping against your neck. “Listen…If this is about when Striker hit on me earlier, you know I-“

“Don’t… don’t say his name. Ever again.” His tone is almost frightening but the expression of pride and satisfaction on his face makes you bite down hard on your lip, your legs quivering as his tail continues to tickle up against your inner thigh. “S-s-sorry…” is all you can mumble out before impulsively reaching up to grab his face and bring it close to yours, continuing the make out session. “Keep saying my name.” He groans into the kiss as your hands begin to travel his body, feeling up his chest and down his sides.

“F-fuuck~ Blitz. Oh! Hmmmm~ Blitz, I love you…I’m all yours, B-Blitzzzzz~.” And now he just can’t control himself, physically or verbally. He completely unravels right before your eyes, huffing as his hands grip your hips, tugging at the waist band of your pants. “Fuuuuuck~ you’re so hot. Yeah, baby. You’re aaaaalllll mine. Only I get to have you like this, only I get to kiss that pretty mouth of yours.” The dirty talk is starting to get to both of you, pulling whines and whimpers from you as Blitzø starts to literally rip your clothes- not fully rip them off of you but his grip on the belt loops of your jeans right now is almost scary. The tighter he grips, the more you hear the seams of the clothing popping.

Just when you thought he would finally yank your pants off and fuck the shit out of you, Blitzø pulls back, checks his phone, then uses the waist band of your pants to pull you up to your feet. He pushes you towards the door, placing a hard smack to your ass before again nudging you forward. “W-what? Where are we-“ You ask, confused and weak at the knees. He holds up his phone, showing a text from Moxxie about Striker and his plan to kill Stolas. “We got a tacky cowboy to get rid of.” You sigh and trudge forward, disappointed and extremely horny now.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you.” Blitzø grabs ahold of your hand and gives you a flirty look as he continues walking. He gestures back at the bed behind you two. “I’ll be sure to pound you into that mattress so hard you won’t even remember that piece of shit’s name.”

[brisquad-unit-4402]

luxiem helping you fall asleep

this is a true story and vent post based on real events. WHY DID I HAVE TO HAVE SUCH A SHITTY SLEEP THE ONE TIME I NEEDED TO WAKE UP EARLY AND RESTED

THIS ISN’T EVEN SELF INDULGENT ANYMORE IT’S JUST ME WANTING TO TAKE A NAP

ENJOY

I HOPE YOU REST BETTER THAN I DID

tags: established relationship, gender neutral reader, fluff, headcanons

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland

the gentlest about making sure you stay as comfortable as possible

he doesn’t even ask if you’re awake, it’s just that he can tell by how you keep shuffling around

is so conscious of his every movement that he makes and if it might disturb you

he tucks you back in before reaching out to rub your arm

forehead, cheek, back of head- whichever’s closest, he places a feather-soft kiss there

his hand kneads the tightness out of your body and he hums a quiet, calm tune

partially because he doesn’t want you to think about words and lyrics, partially because his voice is already low with sleepiness

when he knows you’ve fallen asleep for real, then he’ll go back to sleep after you and with his arm still draped around you

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

keeps his volume down even when he knows you’re wide awake, just so it helps you relax

if you’re up for it he’ll teach you some stretches to do before bed

which feels like bullshit until you eventually cave and it really is so much easier to get comfortable

he’ll let you snuggle up next to him like he’s your personal plushie

he even invites you to use his not-that-big booba as a pillow

once you’ve figured out a good position he’ll wrap his arms around you and keep you safe

he ends up falling asleep before you do, and before you know it the sound of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦊 Mysta Rias

well shit he’s always had difficulties sleeping too so if you’re unable to sleep chances are he’s still awake too

he does the sleepover thing where he pretends to be sleepy in case you are too but when he realizes you’re also awake he doesn’t even hide his energy

*groggily* “you awake?”

“yeah”

“OH cool me too! do you think that the monsters under the bed ever sleep”

it’s not even that he’s energetic, it’s just that his mind can’t sit still

even when he’s tired he’s an excellent conversation partner with you

you talk about anything and everything that comes to your sleep-deprived minds until someone yawns and the other can’t keep their eyes open

…the next day you both nearly oversleep and need more coffee than usual because of how late you stayed up for your impromptu pillow talk

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

his bed is so full of plushies and blankets that if you’re too cold, it’s no problem

and after all his body runs hot with fire. you can cuddle him for warmth too

to be fair it’s more likely that you only have a thin sheet or none at all if you cuddle with shu for Optimal Temperature™

the pressure of his body against yours is reassuring

he’ll gently massage your back, shoulders, and arms to help you relax

and if push comes to shove, he’ll even sing you a lullaby or two

he’s all about making sure you’re physically comfortable so your mind can rest before anything else

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma

uh, have you SEEN his asmr? i mean, the less risky ones

dude is such a calming presence

he has the perfect combo of voice and eloquence that when he notices you can’t fall asleep, he’ll tell you a story quietly

his voice is so smoky with sleepiness glazed over it that it’s hard to keep track of what he’s actually saying

especially because he plays with your hair as he talks

naturally the white noise and comforting gesture lulls you to sleep over time

in the morning when you wake up properly next to him you ask him to tell you the story without trying to get you to fall asleep

turns out it was actually just a rant about bowser in the super mario movie

you wish you stayed up

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 1-2

Because I have asks in my inbox about the color coding in Pit Babe even though I don't want to watch it, I'm going to challenge myself with this show and see how good my color skills really are. I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, I'm going to take off the captions.

*stretches body and pops neck* I'm going in.

Episode 1

The first episode established this tale is red versus blue.

Therefore, I do not trust these two. If this was West Side Story, we'd have a rumble on our hands.

I already know this one, *looks at MDL* Charlie is a Blue Boy but he isn't on the team. He is trying hard to fit in, so he came prepared.

The red is gonna win this. The smoke said it.

The blue is gonna win this round. The smoke said it.

The lighting outside of the house was normal and dark, but as soon as they opened the door, RED LIGHTING!

Someone is lying. But who? Charles, you have more red. You have some explaining to do, sir.

WAIT! Who picked this spot? These is a lot of red here and Babe is in black and red. HE IS THE RED?! Or is this just a neutral space for the reds x blues to mingle?

Something is happening with the red squad, and it does not spark joy in either of these LIARS!

Episode 2

This man is Big Red. He has the red cars behind him and earlier he had the red scissor kit, so he is also red flags.

This is a blurry image, but Babe has red pants on when he is getting beat up by Big Red in the flashback, so . . . Babe is the red. He defected to the blues, so now Big Red and him have beef. Also, homie holding him back looked sad. He will be an asset later.

No! We are NOT doing a dark versus light dynamic! I DON'T CARE IF CHARLES BRINGS LIGHT TO YOUR LIFE, BARBRA!

Wearing blue while meeting with someone who drinks red milkshakes? SUS!

Of course Big Red would like the only driver out of the three who had the red car. Way to be predictable, Big Red.

I DON'T TRUST THIS MAN! He came in like Charles in blue, but he has a red bag. Was he the one Charles was speaking to with the red milkshake? And these two in the back are still doing their red-and-blue bullshit! Oh hell nah! GET THEM OUTTA HERE! Cars are gonna catch on fire. I know that for damn sure.

OH SHIT IT WAS HIM! The colors never lie. So Charles IS a red too!

So is this gonna be Rihanna's "We found love in a hopeless place" and these two are going to break away from the red versus blue battle and become dark and light balanced instead? Because they just walked into a neutral space FILLED with red and blue yet still fighting people. Send me a memo, show. Also, I appreciate that Babe is a Slut for Christ.

CHARLES IS WEARING RED GLOVES! Was this fight thrown?! Was this was all a show with the new red driver?

The dark and the light clothing. The column between them. The red car backing Charles while he has the blue shirt, but he picks the blue car. They are going to breakaway from the norm and do their own thing. I feel it.

So . . . Charles can't drive, and Barbara is yelling at him now. I hope this is the red team slandering both of them in the media because how did Charles come onto a gay RACING team not able to drive stick? That's gay agenda item #1 - know how to handle a stick.

THESE TWO AGAIN! I 👏🏾 don't 👏🏾 trust 👏🏾 them 👏🏾.

Barbara and Charles are arguing again while Charles is in full blue (and that Ken with the magic earring necklace!)

Oh, Way knows Charles is up to something, but I'm more concerned with this man in black. That's the one who works for Big Red and held Babe back. I know he is still on Big Red's payroll because of episode one, so . . . What do you want with our Barbie?!

I feel good about this. The smoke told me the winners of the race. The milkshake and bag told me that newbie mechanic was no bueno. I'm going to commit to this adventure. No sound. No captions. Just vibes and colors.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA CONTINUES

a continuation of this post, because I have no impulse control and am in dire need of more Aeolus content

first of all, let's establish one thing - and I think we can all agree on that - Aeolus loves to fuck with people. they are a benevolent(-ish?) trickster deity, and they revel in harmless pranks

as a consequence, they are on pretty good terms with Hermes. while Hermes doesn't care much for the 'small fry' and doesn't pay that much attention to the wind god most of the time, Aeolus has their winions follow the messenger god religiously (pun intended), because? where Hermes goes, shenanigans always follow.

so when they get the tea that he's apparently hanging out on that one random Greek island, playing nanny? oh, they know it's gotta be good. so naturally, they go to check it out.

well, turns out that Athena is also there, and both of them are sooo bad with babies, it's hilarious

Athena, holding baby!Telemachus: Ehhh, shouldn't it be eating more meat? it's body is so weak, it can't even hold a spear! Hermes, exasperated: oh my me, 'thena, that's not how humans work!! babies eat liquids first!! how can you not know that!! here you go, champ, drink some wine!! Aeolus, hiding in the leaves: holy shit these guys are dumb

so now they can't just leave Telemachus alone with Athena and Hermes! they might not be an expert on child rearing, but surely they can do better than those two dorks! and the baby is adorable.

so they decide to stick around. just for a little bit. a week tops.

fast forward a few years, and they have been raising the prince of Ithaca

Aeolus: *shocked pikachu face*

and Aeolus is the much needed chaotic good influence to Hermes' chaotic neutral and Athena's lawful neutral.

the thing is, Aeolus is really good at hiding. so good, in fact, that no one but Telemachus had even realized they are here. everyone else just thinks that the prince has an invisible friend which, well… they're not wrong?.. and it's not like other kids are exactly lining up to be his friends anyway, cause everyone thinks he's weird (or their parents don't want to catch the attention of the suitors)

and the gods think that it's because they hang around too much and Telemachus can't make friends because of them. so maybe they try to spend less time in Ithaca, for his own good. which only makes things worse, because now the boy is upset, and Aeolus and winions have to try extra hard to cheer him up, which pisses them off.

Athena & Hermes: oh, goodness us, we shall try not to interfere too much with the mortal affairs, so that the young prince grows up healthy and happy ¯_(ツ)_/¯ Telemachus: (T⌓T) Aeolus: ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

and then they have to subtle bully the two dumb fucks to come back.

on a less serious note, Aeolus also has a sweet tooth, especially for marshmallows (idgaf there weren't any marshmallows in Mycenaean Greece, they're a god. they can make all the damn marshmallows they want)

and of course, since they are sooo generous, they always share with Telemachus.

what they don't know(?) is that winions, who all get their own treats, also collectively share them with the baby, because they are secretly evil adorable little freaks.

which results in a very hyper prince sugar rushing seemingly out of nowhere.

Telemachus, running all around the palace and crackling madly: I AM SPEED- Penelope, unimpressed: and who, pray tell, had given my son sweets right before dinner? Athena, equally unimpressed: yes, I would also like to know. Hermes, sweating nervously: heyyyy, why are you all looking at me like that???? ( ಠ‿ಠ ) Aeolus, from behind a tree, unseen by anyone: (｡•̀U-)┘

Hermes always gets blamed.

It's the only time he doesn't do the thing

and he's seething, because nobody believes him.

[devilfic]

❝hard-knock life❞

plot: even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends... even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: humor, fluff, established relationship, you and bruce are engaged, I use “fiancé” gender-neutrally, generally silly but some angst, serious but cartoonishly awful attempts at violence, guns, excessive use of the word “goon”, based off this post by @emma-d-klutz​. words: 3.5k.

a/n: I just can’t stop thinking about this post

Bruce figures he could look a little more concerned right now.

One goon holds a phone up to his face—so that he can see himself on screen—while two more have his arms arrested in their grip. The comments on the live stream are moving too fast, but he imagines they’re not worth reading.

The goon holding the phone laughs through his mask, clearly amused by Bruce’s lack of emotion, “Look at the little Gotham prince trying to put on a brave face. Won’t be so brave in a minute now, will you?” 

Bruce assumes they’re referring to their comrade in arms a few feet away, readying a pistol, but he can’t look long; he feels a harsh kick to the backs of his knees and he kneels against the gravel. This close to the docks, they could dispose of his body in the river after his swift execution. Was it weird to be offended by their choice? He was kind of offended. Almost as offended as he was when he’d figured out their plan two days ago.

“I can offer you money,” Bruce recites, your idea, unenthusiastically, “anything. Anything you want.”

The goons laugh. The one holding the pistol steps forward and places the barrel against Bruce’s temple. “Anything we want, huh? Why don’t you tell our audience how you should’ve just died when the Riddler gave you a chance? What a glorious death you would have had.”

Bruce wants to tell them that it’s not exactly his fault Edward didn’t make sure he was home before trying to kill him. He imagined that would just anger them more. Bruce takes a deep breath.

The safety on the gun clicks off when a heavy fog starts crawling toward them from beneath a nearby dumpster. Some of the goons exclaim in confusion and the executioner points toward the smoke.

“What the fuck is that?” The cameraman yells, turning to film the steadily approaching fog. It’s thick and moving quickly, starting to crowd around the Riddler’s followers like a dramatic omen. It isn’t long before Bruce can’t see a foot in front of him. His arms flex, waiting for the telltale sound of his namesake.

A sudden chorus of chirping overhead has Bruce ducking, the trigger-happy goon shooting off into the sky as black wings speckle the fog. 

The two holding Bruce still are suddenly forced off of him. There’s the sound of violent fighting in the midst of the fog but Bruce is more focused on the shooter, his position given away only by the bullets he shoots off with reckless abandon. Mapping his position on the docks, Bruce takes a violent leap forward and feels himself collide into him, dragging his much smaller body forward and forward and forward until-

Splash!

Bruce can’t see it through the fog, but he hears the goon hit the railing and fall into the river below soon after.

“Shit, shit, shit! We’ve been ambushed!” The one filming is the last one standing. He scrambles nearby, trying to find an escape. Within the fog, a dark figure approaches him, and Bruce can just make out the sound of their opponent’s nose getting crushed by the weight of the attacker’s palm. The phone falls out of the goon’s hand when he collapses, unconscious. 

Shortly after, the wind carries away the remaining fog and Bruce walks into the clear night where he sees you perched behind the dumpster, giving him a thumbs up over the machine that sputters out white haze. “Did we do it?” You ask, giddy. 

Alfred walks out of the fog next. It was a miracle Alfred could even see in the Batsuit. It dwarfed him. “I believe we did. Are you alright, Master Bruce?”

“Alright” was a stretch for what tonight’s events had done to his mood, though he’s thankful he doesn’t have a bullet-sized hole where his oncoming migraine should be. Bruce is just happy to have pulled this off in the first place. “Peachy,” he grits through his teeth, “is the stream still going?”

Alfred hums, wiping some of the goon’s blood off his knuckles, “No, I think enough has been seen tonight. The GCPD will be on their way shortly.”

That was a relief. Their theatrics weren’t all for nothing. With luck, tonight’s failed execution would serve as a warning to the Riddler’s remaining followers: Bruce Wayne was untouchable, and any attempt on his life would result in the same fate. Maybe now they’d stop trying to kidnap him off the street.

They, in fact, did not stop.

Alfred had taken the necessary precautions to ensure Bruce did not die in the following days after the docks incident, and with the added threat of paparazzi flooding the tower, Bruce was confined inside until further notice. As far as anyone was concerned, Bruce Wayne was taking some vacation time after a “harrowing” threat on his life. It only made sense. No business engagements for two weeks, at least.

This vacation was, of course, not for the Batman.

Bruce had a wedding to be planning for God’s sake, and yet here he was, perched in the shadows, watching as five squirrelly idiots set up shop across from Wayne Tower... to snipe him, they’d said online.

This was the other downside of the Riddler’s fans gunning for revenge on the Batman: Bruce had to spend ungodly hours on their forums combing for new threats on his life. Most of them were half-baked plans too big to pull off, but the few that weren’t were constantly on his radar.

It wasn’t that Bruce was afraid for his own life, though. He was afraid for yours. The Batman could walk off a bullet wound and Bruce Wayne had fortified his body against most attacks. You, on the other hand, were painfully mortal. One well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and he’d lose you.

“Looking awfully severe tonight, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce cracks a half-smile when your voice crackles to life in his ear, right on cue. You must’ve been getting into position. Bruce makes sure his voice is low enough that the goons can’t hear him from his perch. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

You really, really didn’t. He could easily wipe out these five on his own with only a few injuries sustained, but you had worried over the guns and convinced him he’d need all the help he could get. Even if it was just a measly distraction, “Don’t worry. Batman will protect me.” You sing.

Your shadow passes a window and one of the goons lines up a shot for you. He propels himself down onto the sniper’s back, knocking him out cold.

There’s considerably fewer goons tonight than there were upon his kidnapping, which Bruce finds amusing. Maybe he could get a few hours of patrol in after thwarting this second attempt on his life. Maybe you’d still be awake by the time he got home, and he could pull you away from poring over wedding plans to celebrate a job well done-

Away in his own mind, he isn’t prepared for the butt of a rifle cracking up against the cowl. In the time it had taken him to run away with his thoughts, he’d downed four of them already. He slowly turns. No hurry.

The goon flinches back, eyes wide behind the non-prescription frames slipping off his nose. If Bruce’s ears weren’t still ringing from the hit, he might have went for the temple and called it a night. But again, no hurry.

Bruce grapples the man by the front of his coat and dangles him over the ledge of the building. Softly, he hears you gasp over the comm line, “You’re not gonna drop him, are you?”

Instead of answering you, Bruce gives the goon a good shake, “This won’t end well for you.”

The goon is shivering in Bruce’s grasp, clutching onto his wrist for dear life, swatting at air to get leverage. Bruce extends his arm out further and two voices exclaim this time. “Y-You betrayed him! You betrayed the Riddler!” The voice that comes out of the man is squeaky, almost young. Bruce frowns. “The Waynes will pay for what they’ve done to Gotham!”

“Are those your words or his?”

He falters some, unsure, and obviously it isn’t Bruce’s job to play therapist. He doesn’t know what this kid is getting out of working for the Riddler, what lies he’s been fed. All he knows is that someone had pointed a gun at his fiancé and tonight could have gone very differently if he hadn’t been ready.

But this kid wasn’t the one holding the gun. “I’m giving you a warning: leave the Waynes alone,” Bruce drags him close enough for their eyes to meet, “there won’t be a second warning.”

The goon all but scrambles onto his feet the second Bruce drops him back onto solid ground, having only that second to gather his bearings before Bruce brings his fist down onto his head, knocking him out with the rest of his friends. Tying their wrists behind their backs is quick work, as is piling their worrying amount of weaponry far, far from reach. One quick request to Gordon for cleanup is the icing on the cake.

Bruce is scaling his way down the building when you chime in once more, “You alright, handsome? I hope these guys aren’t getting to you.”

Getting to him was an overstatement. They had to pose an actual threat to get to him, “I wasn’t going to drop him.”

“You were thinking about it, but you would’ve caught him right after. Are you heading out for patrol?”

His lip twitch is the only sign of argument against you because you unfortunately know him well. Bruce slips into the shadow of an alleyway, scanning the street for any other surprises. “Maybe... maybe later. I’m heading back to the tower.”

He hears you make a little noise on the other end, watches your figure outlined in the glass by the lamplight. It’s dark out and you’re high up, but somehow, he feels like you find him down there anyway, “You better take off that suit before you track gutter water through my house, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce can’t help it. He laughs, “I thought you liked it when the suit stays on.”

You had made it a priority, if you were to marry Bruce, that he make time for date night.

Obviously, with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Batman, you didn’t expect him to always have time to spare. That was the compromise you’d made long before he’d gotten down on one knee. However, for his sake (”-and the sake of Gotham!” you’d added, just to be safe), break time was a must. An hour at least, maybe two if you were lucky. He didn’t even have to spend it conscious. You’d spent plenty a night with his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, reading a book or telling him about your day.

Tonight would have been the same had you not convinced him to come out in disguises. With a little prompting, you two had had a great night on the town. You’d all but forgotten the hectic past week.

And then you both had walked into the penthouse, giggling through the front door, only to find Alfred lugging a dead body across the living room floor. “He’s not dead.” Alfred assured. A body, then.

Bruce rushes in front of you, “Jesus, Alfred. What happened?”

The butler looks far too nonchalant for the scene, but you do notice the lack of a blood trail.

“I was making tea. Enjoying a quiet night to myself, I was, when I heard glass shatter from the other room. Lo and behold, I find one of these Riddler clowns climbing through the window.”

“Sixty floors off the ground? How’d he even make it?” Your voice is riddled with wonder. Climbing gear attached to the corpse- body shows a considerable effort. You notice as well, after a moment of disbelief, that there’s a barely concealed handgun sticking out of Alfred’s waistband. In all your time living here, you’d never seen a weapon like that in the Wayne household. Bruce’s hatred of guns had made sure of that. “Did you shoot him, Alfred?”

Bruce tenses up too, then bristles when he sees what you’re looking at. Alfred even looks a little sheepish and drops the body altogether to hide it. “You shot him?”

Alfred gulps, “Yes... with a rubber bullet, not a real one.”

“And you do that often? Shoot people?”

“Of course not, Bruce.”

“So you just happened to have a gun on you-”

“Someone was breaking in!”

“-while you were making tea-”

“And the gun is not real.”

“-I can’t imagine what else you’ve got hidden away in this house. What, am I going to find a grenade in the coffee grinder tomorrow morning?”

You inch yourself closer to the incapacitated man on the ground, the bridge of his clear frames caved in on themselves. You can see a worrisome bruise between his eyes. Just to be safe, you check the man’s pulse to confirm that Alfred really hadn’t killed him. Sure enough, he hadn’t lied, but brain damage wasn’t entirely off the table yet.

Alfred scoffs, folding his arms over his ruffled vest, “I don’t use bloody grenades. And I haven’t shot a real bullet in years! Most of the guns I own are entirely non-lethal.”

“Most? How many do you have?” Bruce accuses.

A moment passes. “You’ll never find them all.”

The bickering continues at an even louder volume after that. Bruce is furious that Alfred never told him about the guns and Alfred, the military-bred man that he is, was struggling hard not to just say that he was a grown man who could do what he wanted and be done with it.

As (oddly) endearing as it was to see the father and son bickering, you couldn’t let Alfred get in trouble on your watch.

“Um, Bruce,” you interject, catching both of the men’s attention, “to be fair to Alfred, this guy was carrying a real gun with real bullets. If Alfred didn’t have his weapon, this could’ve gone way worse. He saved the day.”

Alfred, as smug as an English gentleman could be, turned his attention back to Bruce.

The news had slowly but surely sobered Bruce up. One more look at the goon on the floor had dried up all the frustration, leaving him thoroughly exhausted, “...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“The shattered window is unfortunate, but I can call the repairmen in the morning. I trust you two have nothing as exciting to report.” A shared look between yourself and Bruce has Alfred nodding, discussion supposedly ended. “Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Unless you’d like to raid my belongings for suspiciously sharp pencils... Master Bruce?”

All the fire in him had been extinguished. Bruce shakes his head and Alfred makes his leave, “What about the guy?” He yells after the retreating butler.

Alfred’s bedroom door shuts shortly after. It appeared date night had officially come to a close.

Bruce had been vehemently against a police detail for himself. It was you and Alfred that really needed it, he’d insisted, but Lieutenant Gordon had a brain that worked like anyone else’s and understood that the man with the hit on him needed it most. And so, much to his chagrin, he’d been hunkered down in Wayne Tower for the last few days, sneaking out as the Bat only when absolutely sure he wouldn’t get caught.

As his future spouse-to-be, you were the one who had to cover for him. But sometimes, no amount of lying could account for his missing presence in the penthouse, and so the Bat had to be put on the back burner until further notice... and it was driving him insane.

The police were in the kitchen, in his study, outside your shared bedroom, and on every floor of Wayne Tower. The media was still abuzz of the latest failed assassination attempt. There were too many eyes on him, it was making him itch.

That’s why, on the rare occasion that you could both pull it off, you helped him into the terminus elevator, helped hide his hair beneath his hat and hood, and sent him off on his bike before any one could question where you and Bruce had gotten off to. Pre-newlywed stuff. It was the honeymoon before the honeymoon, Alfred had joked once.

And of course, the one time you could get him out of the house successfully, he gets kidnapped.

It’s embarrassing standing next to Alfred as the police detail watches the news feed on the living room TV. Bruce was tied to a chair in the middle of the frame, three goons including the cameraman huddled around him and attempting to get a rise out of him. Threats that he’d heard a thousand times over had become stale at this point. Left out too long. If you weren’t so ashamed that you’d unwittingly helped him get kidnapped again, you’d be laughing at the unimpressed look he was giving the camera.

The bright side was that one, they seemed to not have found his suit and two, the goons had dwindled even more in number. Perhaps they were finally giving up?

“Citizens of Gotham, Bruce Wayne has been a hard man to get in touch with. But that doesn’t matter: the Riddler’s righteous justice will be delivered this day!” The cameraman declares, poking Bruce’s chest with a baton. Bruce barely moves. The cameraman sounds as put off by this as you feel, “Uh... any last words, Wayne?”

One of the officers is furiously working with a dispatcher to locate where the video is broadcasting from. Another in the corner is snickering behind her coffee cup. You’re not sure why you relate to them both.

Your future husband looks so done with the situation that you’re reassured he’s in no real danger, but you can’t fathom why he let himself get caught if that was the case. Surely, he would’ve taken them out just fine on his own. There were only three of them.

Another goon nudges his head with the barrel of his gun, yet Bruce does not flinch, “Speak up! The world is watching!”

Wordlessly, Bruce shifts in his seat once, twice, and brings his once bound hands to his front completely freed. You swore you heard a collective gasp across the nation.

The men in the room with Bruce look just as shocked as he reaches for the gun aiming (wobbling) at his head and gently covers the barrel of it with his palm, weaseling it out of the goon’s hand. The magazine falls to the floor shortly after and the gun is discarded across the room. When Bruce approaches the cameraman, the camera jerks back.

The phone is yanked away by Bruce. Before the live shuts off, you hear him speak for the first and only time since the broadcast started, “This is getting embarrassing.”

An uneasy quiet settles over the room after that. When Bruce comes home later that evening, escorted in a cop car, he looks absolutely pitiful. Your open arms are more than appreciated.

It’s been a long few weeks.

Wayne Enterprises was in a tizzy trying to get media under control. First the police, then the paparazzi, and now it felt like he’d gone from slipping from place to place unnoticed to being the talk of the town. It had made being Batman significantly harder, but it had also made him significantly more irritable.

Between you and... well, you, the only thing keeping him sane was currently asleep upstairs. After the last kidnapping debacle, it seemed that all the Riddler’s followers had been scared off, so at the very least, the police presence had dwindled down to a select few. He’d been given the go-ahead to take his own trash out, even. Promised he just needed some fresh air. A few hundred dollars thrown the night guard’s way and he was standing out in the cold at the back of Wayne Tower, in just a “I survived my trip to Gotham!” t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holding a trash bag.

The one Riddler clone standing across from him almost looks too afraid to stumble out of the shadows and recite their spiel. He’d be too tired to listen, anyway.

“Go home,” Bruce grumbles, tossing the bag into the dumpster, making no effort to try to appear like more of a threat than he really was. He didn’t even have mace on him, “I won’t even mention it.”

The stalker waits in the shadows for a few beats, practically shaking, unsure of himself. Bruce stares, unblinking. At the very least, if he took too long coming back up, they’d probably send someone down to check on him. This guy had a chance to get at least one shot off if he wanted. Bruce had survived three at one time, once.

After the world’s most unimpressive standoff, the goon turns around and starts walking home.

It’s been a long few weeks.

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ @alexxavicry​ @moonlightreader649​

[lonespektr]

OCTOBER 2ND HORROR WATCH

Emergency (2022)

Two black kids in a PWI

They are trying to complete some 7 party in one night thing

They are in a taboo class and the professor is dropping the hard r several times

There's a nerd and a slacker

The schedule: 🤣🤣

BLACK out - black light party

Green room - weed

(why not there last???)

A lame party

Anything But Clothes cool party

Refueling

Equinox idk flower power party

Underground coolest apparently

Fanny pack carlos apparently

The nerds fancy lab experiment just went to shit because the fridge seal quality

They are doubling back cause that's his whole thesis

Apparently Carlos left the door open to their spot

Uh but there's a passed out white girl on the ground in their place

The slacker is already too high

Carlos is apparently oblivious in his room gaming

She's obviously OD'ing

She just threw up

That's honest information don't get mad 🤣🤣🤣

Ahh the phone is still in the vomit

They said we need a white girl to call 911 for us

Now they are brain storming who to call to call

They are calling a bunch of people who aren't on campus

Asians are neutral to police 🤣🤣

Slacker won't let nerd call 911 himself

Slacker was like we can drop her at a fraternity house outside

Carlos is like no someone will see us

Nerd is like what the actual fuck is wrong with both of you want to drop a passed out girl at a frat??

Nerd says we can just drop her to the hospital ourselves after we change into clothes that make us look very respectable

That's actually not a bad idea i apologize for getting in your circle

Yt bestie looking for her

Can you see her from up there 🤣🤣🤣

It's her sis

They go back to the horrific plan of dumping her body at a frat

Frat attack

Back to the van

These dumb asses haven't given her any water carlos tried to give her a sports drink which probably had the pregame mix in it

Slacker is paranoid due to weed

His cousin got shot by police

White people come out to the neighborhood filming them shouting that they are dealing drigs

They of course have a black lives matter sign in their yard

Now he definitely did give emma a bunch of booze

Carlos is very fucking weird talking to her like a kindergartner

She's talking now enough to say shes a minor grade 12

They need to switch cars because the frat guys busted their tail light

They go to slackersfam house but they see the girl and every single black man runs out of the house

This is so far .. i have been told there is a twist -an extended scene of blackish where those two (man i am terrible with names) avoid the elevator with the white girl toddler in it

Emma finally sobers up for two secs freaks out causes the van crash

They go look for her in the woods

They are mean to carlos again unprompted (the granola comment is warrented)

Blackness off

I love you still (in the middle of the fight)

She is ....up a tree, throwing up again

The brunette called out the sister for being a bitch this whole time

The rescue squad have caught up to our fractured protagonist

She attacked them with a stick

After a long misunderstanding and some yelling and pepper spray and it turns out the boy brunette is crushing on is related to carlos

So trust is established!

Slacker ditches (on carlos cuz bike) because sister keeps saying they hurt her

The police finally catch up to them because they obviously called in the van and plates when they started tracking the car

Brunette is quite flummoxed to find out her crush is Mexican

The cops surrounded the van

Nerd has been giving CPR this whole time cause sis has been fucking ODing the entire night

They pull everyone out of the van separate the white girls and the two Mexicans both light but one obviously phenotypically Mexican

Pull several guns on nerd

They ignore white girl for several mins screaming my sister is dying (like cops do) and keep pointing several guns at nerd until

Finally one cop checks the van they forget all about nerd for two secs

Now Carlos and nerd are on the curb and the white presenting cousin and the brunette are witnessing

The cops believe the story

Nerd is very not okay about almost being murdered

Carlos said you're my hero

Carlos and nerd finally walk back to the lab to save his science

Slacker is already there sleeping wedged against the door

He left the party (there was a shot of mold on the party wall)

Carlos bails for their reconciliation

Big cry, one strike against toxic masculinity

Nerd congrats party hes going to Princeton

The girls come back to thank/apologize

Ha YES he closes the door in her face mid apology for being racist 🤣🤣🤣

Hmmm ok i dunno what people thought the ywist was but there wasn't one

They ended on a close up of nerd reacting to a passing siren

This young man now has full ptsd now for life

Lol these dumb asses put up their own plaque clandestinely

Very good working colorism in there

[pariahsparadise]

nsfw headcanons- fred weasley

masterlist

a/n: because i wanted to do something for kinktober, and this seemed like the easiest. this post contains mature content, 18+ only please. as always, lmk if reader isn't gender neutral at any point and i'll fix it. characters are aged up to 18+, i do not write nsfw content about minors.

pairings: fred weasley x gn!reader (i wrote it with fem!reader in mind, but i think it turned out gender neutral regardless)

wc: 0.5k

warnings: nsfw below the cut!

okay, first things first, and we need to establish this: fred is a literal sex god

he can easily go 3 rounds on an average day, possibly even more on days where he's racing around on high energy

usually a dom, but open to switch if you want to try anything

and i mean anything

let's just say that fred's mischievous demeanour definitely extends into the bedroom

will absolutely tie you up (with your consent ofc) and kiss down your chest and stomach, fingers fluttering across your thighs just to rile you up

if you try not to let it show, he'll switch tactics, mouth sucking hues of red and blue onto your collarbone, fingers digging into your hips, driving you absolutely crazy when he pulls away

having the audacity to fucking smirk down at you as you buck your hips up, silently begging for more

"words, y/n. i'm afraid i can't read your mind"

but that's ironic, because you swear he can sometimes

literally knows your body better than you, can tell what you want before you even know you want it, fred just has great instincts

can either fuck you hard and fast or make slow, passionate love to you, depending on what you're both feeling

there's no in-between, but needless to say you love both

likes to degrade you, but mostly he just wants to make you feel good

thrives off of your praise

literally, one of your first times having sex, you gasped "fuck fred, that feels so good" and he absolutely lost his shit, fucking you into oblivion

he had to carry you to your classes the next day, your legs really said no❤️

the biggest fucking tease ever

will send you notes from across the hall declaring things like

"love your make-up, can't wait to ruin it"

"i'm going to fuck you senseless, love"

and it pisses you off to no end because of the tremendous effect it has on you, your cheeks turning redder than his hair

while he simply watches your face and grins before easily slipping into a conversation with george

it's always fun when it's the other way around though

you don't tease him often because he's always giving you attention anyways

but when you're in the mood, you like to whisper obscenities in his ear with the softest voice, and fuck if it doesn't drive fred insane

will most definitely drag you to his dorm when he breaks (he can go surprisingly long sometimes without cracking), but god, it's worth the wait

if you can't keep up with him, he will 100% throw you over his shoulder, uncaring of what anyone else around you thinks

basically, fred weasley would definitely give you both the hottest and most loving sex

treasure this man

[hyunverse]

more than friends | gojo satoru

✧ part two for friendzoned

✧ gender neutral

✧ genre; fluff

✧ requested by anon(s)

✧ note. i swear i'll put a "read more" line later. i'm on mobile rn 🗿

gojo satoru is late again. he arrives at jujutsu tech an hour late, a result of him stopping by a few shops to buy sweets. he could've teleported but for petty reasons, he didn't. "could use some fresh air", he'd reason.

you're standing by the field, monitoring your students' activities. you laugh as panda spin nobara around in the air, inumaki running after her flying body. they're currently hard at work, practising for the school event.

at the sight of you, gojo's reminded of your confession to him. he gulps, hoping the bitter taste on his tongue will subside. but it doesn't. the bitterness— harsher than the taste of dark coffee, doesn't leave his tongue. he hates that.

"they're working quite hard", gojo says, casually. as if acting like he's fine would somehow make things fine.

"yeah", you reply, doing the same thing he's doing. acting like the confession didn't happen. maybe if you tried hard enough it'll be like you didn't pour out your feelings at all.

gojo watches as you laugh at inumaki yelling "tuna, tuna" at the top of his lungs, chasing after nobara. he notices the way your eyes shine while you laugh and how you don't even try to hold back your giggles. gojo finds them cute. he wonders why he hasn't noticed those small details before. a voice in him screams, "it's because you're always saying you're attractive, you never notice others' physicals", making gojo frown. that's partially true and he doesn't like that.

"hey, we should get lunch after this", you interupt his thoughts.

the sorcerer looks up. looking into yours eyes, he tries to search for any sign of sadness, awkwardness— anything that'll show how you're affected by his rejection but he couldn't find any. shouldn't he be happy that you're okay? he knows he should, but something inside of him feels dissapointed.

"yeah, my treat".

six times. gojo had glanced at you six times now, all in a span of an hour. the fact that he even counted shows just how self conscious he's feeling at the moment.

you're twisting noodles around your fork, vegetables abandoned at the side of your plate. gojo, sitting right in front of you eats his mochi quietly. an abnormal silence— the man usually always has something to say. you don't complain though, you needed some silence after hours of training your students.

"hey, look at this video", you break the silence, sliding your phone across the table for him to see. hands on the table, your pinky grazes against his. like it's a reflex, you pull away your pinky, leaving gojo even more confused.

the skin contact between you went by so quick, gojo's mind starts to imagine. a picture of you holding his hand pops up in his mind, and he feels goosebumps all over his body. but the memory of you flinching and pulling your fingertips away knocks out all the images out of his head.

they're acting like i'm poisonous, gojo monologues. he watches from the side of his eyes as you put your hands down under the table, tapping your fingers against the wooden table. gojo pushes your phone back to you.

"let's go", he gets up, and you do too. he holds his arm up to you— a muscle memory. he always does that, it's been a platonic thing all these years.

unlike always, you don't link your arms with his.

day by day, gojo starts to understand his feelings. he had realized that they aren't platonic, but he only realized just how intense his feelings are one day at a meeting.

yaga sits at the edge of the table, scanning the reports in hand. you sit between nanami and gojo, legs crossed.

you've always been a professional shaman. you get shit done and you smile at your coworkers. you have fun, and you're dedicated to your work. "classic lovely y/n", people would say everytime one brings up your amazing mannerisms.

gojo knowing you for years is no stranger to those compliments. however, he draws a line when the "compliments" sound like flirting.

"you're a lovely individual, i'd love to work with you someday", nanami utters, before turning his attention back to yaga. gojo can see the blush creeping up your cheeks, and your fingers fiddling with your top.

"flirting in work now, nanami?", gojo wastes no time to call the male out. nanami looks at the sorcerer, an eyebrow raised.

"it's just a small compliment".

gojo grits his teeth. then why does the small compliment irks him so much?

nothing annoys you more than people ringing your door bell when you're sleeping, not even stubborn curses. still in your pajamas you somehow make it to your door (by somehow, you'd stubbed your toe against a furniture and you walked while holding the wall).

"y/n", a drunk gojo slurs. you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes, inviting him in once you've established that it really is gojo.

gojo walks into your house, crashing right onto your couch. the couch you used to watch movies with him on, sharing laughters and screams together. one time you watched the conjuring with gojo, he spent the whole time during the introduction bragging over how he wouldn't be scared but he'd literally jump at the slightest scary things.

"why are you drunk at 3 am, satoru?", you ask, tossing a mineral bottle his way, "sober up".

he groans and tosses the bottle away, leaning his messy head against the burgundy couch. the leather couch lessens the heat he's feeling on his body.

you chuckle before sitting beside him, closing your eyes shut, too lazy to get into bed. you managed to dodge any private interactions with him for the past few months but since he's knocked out, it should be okay, right? plus it's been so long, you're sure (sort of) he had forgotten about your confession.

gojo suddenly hums a song softly, a song you couldn't quite recognize. he pulls your arm and links it with his.

"you're so beautiful", he says. flat out. just those words. knocking oxygen out of your soul.

"satoru?"

"mhm. so pretty", he says again, making you look up at him to see him looking at you. there are some red hues in his eyes, clearly showing the fact that he's drunk.

that's why you're shocked; gojo satoru is an honest drunk. whatever that comes out of his mouth when he's drunk are truths.

"you think so?", you take advantage of his state. a nod of his head causes your heart to blossom.

"yeah like, i like you a lot. because you're like... really cute. especially when you smile. i really, really want to be more than friends".

[supernovafeather]

The Night (18+)

Leto Atreides x F!Reader x Lady Jessica

Smut, nudity, breeding kink, unprotected sex, threesome, oral sex, sex pollen (aphrodisiac), the Voice is used, language, established relationship, fluff.

Got the idea thanks to @samsspade

Tonight is the night you tell yourself as Leto and you drink what Jessica gave you. Only wearing your nightgown and him white pants, you wait for the first effects as the other woman takes your hands to lead you to the bed. Under her neutral features you notice this cheeky light in her eyes. The agreement was clear between you three. As she is not in the mood for sex, she'll watch. And do a few other things too.

You sit obediently on the bed as you stare at Jessica cupping Leto's face.

"Stop feeling guilty." She mumbles. "I don't want to do it. And it gives you the opportunity to focus fully on your own desires."

"And mine." You say as Leto looks down at you, his hand caressing your cheek. "I told you I feel ready."

"I'll focus on you don't worry my sweet." He promises with a grin.

After a few months of living together despite all the eyebrows raised on Caladan and elsewhere, something appeared as obvious. Leto wanted to give you a child. You noticed it, as well as Jessica. The Duke feels this urge to finish inside you, holding you firmly as he keeps pounding hard or just grinding lovingly. With Jessica he acts differently, he's more into cumming onto her, whether covering her ass or breasts or face.

As today she doesn't want any intercourse, she said it was perfect to try again and this time with aphrodisiac. That one that would increase your chances to get impregnated, both by doping your fertility and your sex drive. Several rounds made possible for the male counterpart.

The first tickles appear in your lower body as Jessica steps back, letting Leto walk up to your sitting form. Looking up at him, you feel this warmth on your cheeks as he rubs your cheekbones with his thumbs, a gentle gaze set on you.

"My beautiful Lady."

"My handsome Lord Duke." You say as you take his hands between yours. "Please honor me of your presence in our bed."

"My duty tonight is to fulfill my Lady's desires." He says quietly as you look down at his shifting thighs, your breath knocked out as you notice the hardness pressing against the fabrics. "Is your drink affecting you ?"

Jessica comes closer, in silence and resting her hands on his hips. Her thumbs slowly slides down his bare chest to the hem of his white pants, lowering it slowly. He is spying on her actions, turning his head to the side and still holding your face.

"Are you actually wanting to join us ?"

"You have to show her your arousal to cause her own stimulation. Apparently your brain is no longer irrigated properly as you forgot this detail." She says before kissing his bare shoulder. "And no Leto, I still don't want it. For now."

You watch his swollen and erected shaft clapping once against his belly when his pants slide down to his ankles. Immediately, as he gets rid of this fabrics you can feel your mouth watering and you don't wait much longer before cupping his testicles with your palms, your lips and tongue already attacking his cock.

The strangled moan escaping Leto is the most beautiful and unexpected sound to your ears. Usually when stimulation is too hard for him to handle he groans, or stops breathing and closes his eyes. This time, this erotic moan is his answer, his shaft twitching suddenly and his hands grabbing the back of your head as you take him in your mouth. You are feeling greedy, wanting to torture this man before letting him impregnate you.

"Holy shit holy shit holy shit." He whispers frenetically as you start taking him deeper after a few strokes on his balls. "It shouldn't feel this good."

"Take everything your Lady wants to offer you Leto." Jessica says with a big smile as she embraces him from behind. "She is hungry and you're her meal tonight."

"She's mine." He stutters before closing his eyes, his breathing erratic as you take him fully, his grip tightening on your hair. "She's my fucking meal too."

"Watch your language." Jessica warns in a dry voice making you moan around Leto's cock. "From what I see you're the one getting devoured Leto."

Her statement gets confirmed when you cough loudly, trying to free your throat from the thick and warm seed coating your tongue. You have to spit some of it, soiling the front of your nightgown. Eyes watering, you feel this unbelievable force guiding your actions.

"Take it off."

The Voice got used in this bed several times. Jessica likes to keep an eye on everything, to control, to carve your sweaty silhouettes as she desires as she stands stoically close to the bed. And you remove this soiled fabrics from your body, watching Leto stroking his cock urgently as it hardens again.

"Lay down." You do it. "Spread your legs." You do it. "Lick her."

Leto does it eagerly, his arms holding you in the tightest embrace he's ever given you. It does hurt but feels so good as your own pleasure skyrockets. You understand why your man came so quickly. You feel this burning sensation triggering every nerve of your body at his tongue. He keeps on sucking your clit, licking your soaked folds. It never stops, he keeps going, over and over drinking your juices relentlessly, rubbing his thick beard and his nose against your entrance.

"Stop." Jessica commands.

It can only be some kind of witchcraft to make this passion stop thanks to mere words. Mere words reminding this man to breath, reminding him that he is not a man dehydrated in the desert who just found an oasis. He is there to impregnate you. To have you carrying his child as you asked last week. As you begged as he was pounding in you on the meeting table with Jessica as only witness.

His movements are slow as he looks up at you from in between your thighs, his face glistening and his eyes as dark as night. His hold released their pressure but everything else is animalistic. Disheveled, panting, ready to pounce on you. Even his soft kisses on your thighs look menacing, like he is about to hold his promise.

"What a loving Duke for his Lady." Jessica comments as she strokes his head, her eyes wandering on your naked body. "Both so good to each other."

"We are." You say with a chuckle as Leto crawls to you, his burning body trapping yours and staring sternly at your eyes. "Am I good my beloved Lord ?"

"Exquisite."

Soon your obscene sounds resume, the bed creaking loudly at each of his strong hip thrusts. You are a moaning mess, consumed by this sinful pleasure. He pinned your arms on the mattress, focused on ruining you dutifully. Jessica watches with attention, biting her lip at this cock sliding inside and out of you so easily. The wet sounds and your moans are music to her ears. She feels proud for being the one giving you this little help. It's mesmerizing to watch Leto's body fucking you harsher than anytime before. His muscles are working hard, pleasuring you again and again. Your screams are so loud she is certain the guards can hear it from the hallway. Let them know how good he is to the people he loves. Let them know they witnessed the Night, this night where a future Atreides got conceived in this insane and raw passion.

Leto stops again in a loud groan, his sweaty curls whipping the air as he gets them off his forehead in a swift motion. Jessica can't stop herself from rubbing his back glistening to the light, then his curves to tap his asscheeks.

"Look at this mess you made." She smiles as both of you are panting loudly. "What a splendid show for my eyes."

Jessica means it. She truly does. But the best for her was yet to come. Her eyes get glued to your entrance when the Duke slides out of you lazily. His thickness is letting his seed escape from your vagina. Unacceptable. So she rests her palm against this clenching flesh, feeling the impressive amount of sperm pushing against her hand due to your overstimulated body.

"When you want your Lady to get pregnant, make sure your seed remains inside." She advises Leto.

It's vain as he rests on his back, still too weak to process what happened.

"By the Gods." He mumbles as he keeps his eyes closed and his mouth agape. "No wonder why some people get addicted to this drink."

A distressed and faint moan escapes him as his two concubines watch a few white droplets running down his still hardened shaft in a late orgasm.

You sigh and laugh loudly as Jessica rubs her hand against your vulva. Gears are turning in her head now as she stares at this soiled cock. Unfortunately, his flesh starts softening. So she turns her head back to her fingers. Everything feels disgusting yet so attractive to her. This room smells like hedonism. She loves watching you having sex. But she'd love to touch your swollen belly as well, loving this child growing under your belly. Protecting it like her own. Then she sighs as she sees a white droplets rolling between her forefinger and middle finger.

"Let me join you my Lady."

You whine faintly as some of the seed gets released when she removes her hand from your entrance. Leto's eyes turn to his first concubine revealing her skin. Their her intimacy as she kneels on the bed, watching you with this natural authority of hers. He shivers at it as she spreads your legs even more. Then he bites his lip as she presses her entrance against yours.

"Please let me have some of this delicious seed my Lady." Jessica taunts you as she starts slow rolls with her hips to grind gently. "Look at me in ghe eyes sweetheart."

You nod, eyes half-closed and she smiles. You feel her fingers going from your vulva to hers, then to your vagina to hers as she gathers and shares Leto's seed. You can only watch her wonderful eyes, your love for her only strengthening at her beauty. She knows what she wants and does it with this flame in her eyes.

"Fuck I think I'm falling for you all over again." You chuckle as she starts fingering herself with another goal than before.

"I love you too beautiful." She articulates as she closes her eyes, her fingers rubbing her clit. "Such a wonderful girl for wanting to get pregnant like this."

Her orgasm is less powerful than yours, but sounds just as relieving as she smiles wildly, her fingers back at exchanging your fluids. Her cheeks got pinkish. She's so cute like this. So hot as well with her body fully appearing.

"Jessica." Leto says after whistling in approval. "You still know how to impress me after all this time."

Soon she finds her place between you as Leto adjusts his position, looking at you from above Jessica's shoulder, a smug grin and a wink preceeding his words.

"You were perfect my love, as always."

- - -

Thanks for reading, please comment and reblog if you liked it ! 😊

@abelslittlebunny @ophelialoveshandsomemen @salome-c @anetteaneta @thedukeofcaladan @amneris21 @lady-targaryen @lavenderluna10 @one-hell-of-a-disappointment @dailyreverie @anaaaispunk @beepboopyoda

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[villain-enthusiast]

Ehi, sorry if I bother you, could you do something about hero and villain who are siblings? Gender neutral please. Ty and I love your blog

“I’m not surprised to see you here.”

Villain turned around quickly, hands flitting down to the knives at their belt before going slack as they saw who was behind them. “Hero.”

“What, think I didn’t know about your attachment to this place?” Hero glanced around the old, worn-down bedroom—one that hadn’t been used in years, maybe decades. “I see you walk here almost every day.”

Villain narrowed their eyes. “And I thought you had better things to do than watch your sibling trot down the street to visit a forgotten home.”

Hero shrugged. “It’s better than watching you shit over the city until I swoop in and handle your ass.”

“Watch that mouth of yours.”

“Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you can order me around. Not anymore.” Hero crossed their arms. “I can’t believe mom and dad favored you over me, just what would they say if they could see you now?”

“Well they’re dead, so I’m assuming they can’t say shit.” Villain kicked one of the legs of the desk beside them, biting down hard on their lip. They invested their interest in a painting of a fruit bowl hung up on one of the yellowing walls.

Hero’s expression softened. “Villain, I—,”

“Why are you here?” Villain cut them off sharply. “To patronize me? Tell me that what I’m doing is wrong, that visiting this place is wrong?”

Hero blinked, befuddled. “What? No, I just...I just wanted to be here with you.” They made eye contact, and Hero gave their sibling a small smile. “I didn’t want you to be alone this time.”

Villain barked a bitter laugh. “Of course. After all, you never left me alone as a kid, did you? Always coming into my room, sitting in my lap, calling my phone twenty times a day.” They shook their head as the memories flooded their thoughts. “It’s much different now.”

"It doesn't have to be."

"Don't pull that card on me," Villain snapped, whirling around. "I might not be able to bring mom and dad back, but at least I'm actually trying to give their dead bodies an ounce of justice."

Hero visibly stiffened, scowling. "Trying to bring down a whole ass government isn't what you call justice."

“At least I’m actually doing something. You’re just getting in the way, like always.” Villain ran an exasperated hand through their hair. “Can’t you just let me have my moment?”

Hero snorted. “No.”

“Why not.”

“Because we’re siblings and it’s my duty as the youngest to annoy the living fuck out of you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I know.” Hero flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach their eyes. They cleared their throat, ducking their head. “But it’s also my duty as your family to make sure that you’re okay, and I know you’re not.”

“And what makes you say that?” Villain’s voice had a dangerous edge to it.

“Well for starters, you’re attempting to dismantle a political system that’s been established for generations upon generations and assassinate the prime minister. No sane person would do such things.” Hero paused, then added, “No happy person would do such things either.”

Villain placed their hands on top of the wooden table. “I’m past grieving.”

“Your actions say otherwise.”

Villain shook their head. “So then what do you suppose I do? Sit around and eat chips while watching Sesame Street? I’m not three years old anymore.”

“Neither am I,” Hero said.

“You sure act like one.”

“Oh shut up,” Hero scoffed, a smile tugging at the corners of their lips. “My point is, find something better to do with your life instead of taking a hammer to a diamond.”

“Hammers can break diamonds,” Villain clarified.

“Jesus, Villain. Let me finish my goddamned sentence without you pointing out every little thing.” Hero took a breath. “My point is, even if you have to go and watch Sesame Street to calm yourself down, stop what you’re doing. You’re not getting anywhere.”

Villain pursed their lips. “I—,”

Hero cut them off. “Don’t argue with me.” They held out a hand. “I have a TV at home, c’mon. We can go say hi to Eldritch or whatever that little red monster’s name is.”

Villain’s eyes flicked to Hero’s outstretched hand, then back to around the dusty room, snagging on all the cracks, the peeling, all the imperfections that had only gotten worse with time. They looked back at Hero, who cocked their head towards the doorway.

Villain exhaled through their nose and grabbed Hero’s wrist.

“It’s Elmo, by the way. Who in hell told you it was Eldritch?” Villain said as they were led out of the house and towards the village down the hill.

[fairyoftbz]

a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

[winterscaptain]

focused.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thanks to kira for helping me through the last dregs of this!! you’re amazing!! As promised, here’s lo-fi/mayhem in our ajf world. as (usually) usual, no context required to enjoy, but it’s pretty fun over here!

words: 6.4k warnings: language, canon-typical injury/violence, everyone’s mad and everyone’s worried!

summary: “knowing when to fight is just as important as knowing how.” terry goodkind, faith of the fallen. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: february 1st, 2021

“Don’t get comfortable. There will be time to debrief on the plane.” Hotch’s eyes are trained on the monitor, where grainy security footage plays and replays an exceedingly casual murder in an underground subway station. 

Reid, entering behind you, squints at the monitor. “Where are we headed?”

“New York.”

Rossi advances on the monitor. “Five shootings in two weeks. It’s about time we got the call.” 

You watch as Hotch replays the tape again. “Why the delay?”

Aaron doesn’t answer you, but rather addresses Derek. “I want to take Garcia with us. Hopefully they’ll give us access to their surveillance systems.”

He’s distracted, almost absent-minded. It’s odd. 

“What do we know?” You try again with another question, and Emily dips her chin - she had the same one. 

Hotch pauses the video, turning toward the rest of you - loosely circled around the table. “All the killings are mid-day. Single gunshot to the head with a .22.”

“Any witnesses?” As always, JJ looks for somewhere to go as soon as wheels are down. 

She really doesn’t get paid enough. 

There’s something odd in her voice and temperament this morning, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Now that you’re really awake and looking around, everyone's a little jumpy this morning. It doesn't help that the two most grounded people on the team are the most absent-minded of you all. 

“No.” 

Spencer pipes up. “.22-caliber pistol’s only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over a hundred.”

“So,” you ask, “could it be such that possible witnesses don’t even clock it before the unsub’s already on their way?”

Spencer nods. 

Derek shifts beside you. “They sound like mob hits.” 

Aaron dips his chin, but says, “Except none of them have ties to organized crime.”

The rest of the facts and questions fly past you - no connection between victims, no communication or contact, surveillance footage that shows next to nothing, an establishment that the unsub is bold and well-trained. 

Seems completely random. 

Spencer voices your next thought. “Son of Sam all over again.”

The grim look on Aaron’s face tells you all you need to know. 

+++

Derek, Penelope, and Emily shoot the shit as they get on the plane, but you notice JJ staring forlornly out the window. You resolve to discover what that’s about as soon as possible. Having her down was odd…

But she has been acting strange lately, not just today. 

You sit beside Hotch, across from Reid as Rossi flips through photos of the victims. 

Spencer makes astute observations about the continued pattern of, well, no pattern at all, while Hotch provides some remarks here and there. 

One of them catches your attention. “It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?” 

Yeah, because those always go over so well. 

“Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly.” He calls out to JJ, who then informs the pilot you’re all ready to get wheels up. “Kate’s starting to butt heads with the local detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.” 

There’s something in his voice you can’t place. History, maybe? 

“Joyner, I know her,” Derek says. “She’s a Brit, right?” 

Hotch shrugs. “Well, dual citizenship. Her father’s British, her mother’s American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau.”

You look over at him. 

That’s a ridiculous amount of knowledge for someone who doesn’t work in the same state, Aaron. 

“I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass.” It’s a test. The defiant tip of Derek’s chin tells you as much. 

Hotch takes the bait. “I didn’t think so.”

You can’t help it. “You know her?”

“We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard.”

You look at Emily, who shrugs. 

“And she’s good?” You wouldn’t call Dave’s tone skeptical, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was another test. He’s a lot subtler than Morgan. 

Hotch looks back at Dave. “I think we’re lucky to have her.” 

+++

You all step out of the elevator, and you stay closest to JJ. Her absent-mindedness had yet to leave her, and as the person closest to her age, you were doing your best to support her with your presence alone. 

JJ leans toward you as you approach the center of the office. “Is it just me or does she look -”

“- exactly like Haley?” You finish JJ’s thought. “Yeah.”

There’s a little smile you can see on Aaron’s face, just touching his profile. Agent Joyner has one too, and it makes you feel...something. 

Whatever it is, it isn’t comfortable. 

“Kate.”

“Aaron. How’ve you been?”

You take another glance at JJ. She seems to have the same thought as you. 

First name basis? How close are they?

“Well, thank you. This is my team.” He introduces you all one by one, and you attempt to plaster a polite smile on your face, just like everyone else. Derek’s the only one who doesn’t make an effort, and you tap the side of his shoe with your foot. 

Penelope gets settled right away, and the NYPD detectives approach shortly after that. Of course, they start with a snide remark at Spencer. Your hackles rise, and you take a little huff of a breath. 

Calm down. 

Kate introduces Detectives Brustin and Cooper. Dave gets right to the point, doing his best to establish baseline rapport. 

It doesn’t work. 

You don’t notice that you’ve crept closer to Aaron throughout the proceedings, now standing just off his shoulder, next to Emily, until Kate leans into him. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

The crumpling of your brow is quick, and you hope nobody noticed. Emily’s head, whirling around to look at Derek, is far less subtle. 

“Sure.”

Emily tracks back to JJ, who looks confused. In a hushed and suggestive tone, she tells her, “They...liaised when she was at Scotland Yard.”

You hide your laugh in your shoulder, covering your movement with an attempt to adjust your backpack. 

Derek steps up behind you. “Let me get that for you, kiddo.” 

You look up at him, hard-pressed to keep your mirth to yourself. A little smile plays at the edge of his lips as well. He turns you around when he’s done pretending to be helpful, holding you in the little huddle that develops between the rest of you and the NYPD detectives. 

Derek’s eyes keep flickering to Kate’s office, where she and Hotch chat informally and perhaps even fondly, to an extent. Heat rises in your cheeks. 

Get over yourself. 

+++

You attempt to ignore the sheer amount of time Aaron spends looking over Kate’s shoulder behind her desk. Tearing your eyes from her office window, you return to your task. 

The whiteboard marker in your hand is seeing lots of use as you follow Spencer’s instructions, tracing lines between key points, making notes, etc. Cooper’s banter with Emily puts a little smile on your face. 

“Anti-geographical profiling? Now you wonder why we’re so skeptical?” Cooper’s voice is full of play, but there’s a very real concern behind it. 

Emily laughs, but then explains, “This unsub’s organized. He strikes at the same time of day, he knows where the cameras are placed. That means he’s doing his own surveillance.”

You offer your two cents in support of Spencer, who outlines the difference between need-motivated killers and organized killers. Cooper looks a little impressed by the time you add, “So, essentially, we need to look everywhere this unsub isn’t to find where he lives. He has a comfort zone, and we just have to find it.” 

“What are we finding?” Hotch and Kate roll out of her office, and he settles beside you, peering at the map.

You look over your shoulder at him. “He’s organized, so we’ve redirected to an anti-geographical profile.” 

“Keep looking.” He turns on his heel and walks out the door, Kate trailing behind him with a confidence that tightens your jaw. 

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she is a pain in the ass. 

+++

You keep your eyes up as Rossi and Hotch inspect the body on the busy New York street. Your mind wanders to a lecture at the academy, the voice of the late Jennifer Shepard echoing through your head. 

“Always watch the watchers.” 

But then again, she’d always backed it up with another story about “the man with all the rules” to undermine the rules in question. The stories did more than make you laugh - they helped you remember. 

“See anything?” Hotch looks up, not at you, but you know you have his attention. 

You shake your head, your eyes still on the crowd. “Nothing obvious.” 

He hums, and tunes back in as Derek says, “From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they’re gonna get is the back of his head.”

“Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” Kate meets Derek’s eyes and stares him down. You bristle, but Hotch turns just the smallest bit toward you, reminding you to behave. 

The detective makes another snide remark as Kate brushes past the rest of you. 

Derek turns toward Hotch, and you step back, giving them the illusion of privacy. “You mind telling me why I’m catching attitude from her?”

Because you’re better at your job? Because you don’t have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Atlantic? Because you probably haven’t maybe slept with our unit chief, maybe?

“FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t bring this case home, she’s gonna be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.” 

“You’re kidding me.” 

Aaron squints a little, but his words are deeply genuine. “Why should you be surprised? You’re good at your job. People notice that.” 

He’s right. 

“What happened to the Bureau patting itself on the back from stealing her away from Scotland Yard?” 

Hotch shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know. Politics here are different. And you can see she doesn’t pull punches.” He walks away, and Derek looks over his shoulder at you. 

With a little smile, you say, “He’s right, you know.” 

“You’re a terrible ass-kisser, kid.” 

Nevertheless, he taps your shoulder with his knuckle and you both make your way to Rossi, examining a tarot card. 

+++

“We’ve got more than one unsub.” Hotch’s tone is more than defeated, and you peer further over his shoulder, your fingers pressing lightly into the back of his arm for balance. 

Rossi circles the desk. “So, we have more than one unsub. What does that tell us?”

“Most teams stick together,” Spencer says. “Ng and Lake. The Krays. Bittaker and Norris. They don’t usually kill separately.” 

Derek is next, offering, “Could be some kind of gang initiation.” 

Emily and JJ volley about gang operations and local task forces for a moment before Kate asks. “Do you think we have enough for a working profile?”

You startle a little. She’s closer than you thought, on the other side of Hotch. You lean around him, the soft wool of his suit sleeve still under your fingers. “Broad strokes, maybe. Nothing specific, yet.”

Hotch makes a few assignments, but you’re focused on Derek. As you suspected, he has an idea. “I think we should get out on the streets.”

Also unsurprising, Kate has an immediate rebuttal. “I brought you here to create a profile.” 

“Which we can give in the morning, and they can share it with the afternoon shift.” 

She huffs. “We’ve allocated every extra man we have.” You don’t miss the warning glance Hotch shoots Derek or the way Derek ignores it. “This is New York City. It’s not like adding a few more people is gonna blanket the city.” 

“I understand it’s a long shot. But these guys, they hit at mid-day. We could target ingress and egress to particular neighborhoods. Position us near express stops - 14th, 42nd, 59th -”

“Morgan. It’s not your call.” Hotch’s rebuke is harsh, surprising. 

You inhale sharply and tuck your lip between your teeth, retracting your hand. 

This is gonna be a long case. 

+++

Thankfully, you’re all headed back to the hotel in fairly short order. Hotch has all but ordered Kate to bed, and you try not to let your thoughts stray too far in response. 

Spencer’s eyes wander up, and you follow them. “JJ -” 

Will?

You’d only met him once but like him well enough. He was polite, pleasant, and even funny. Seeing as you hadn’t heard much about him in the last few months, you assumed JJ had broken it off. 

Guess not. 

She turns. “Will.” 

“Hey,” he says, “took a shot and flew to D.C. but it didn’t work. I figured I’d train up to New York - only a few more hours.” 

Hotch looks a little surprised, which probably means you do too. He extends his hand. “Detective.” 

Will takes it. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working. But, um…” He drops his voice. “I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here - not with what’s going on.” 

You look at JJ, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then Hotch, who looks a little confused. Aaron’s the first one to speak, and you’re more than a little touched by the concern in his voice as he addresses JJ and JJ alone. “Is there a problem?”

Will dips his head, and you know he’s disappointed. 

What the hell is going on? 

She turns toward the team. With a little laugh, she says, “I’m pregnant.”

Hotch freezes, and you step close to him as Emily congratulates her. Will extends his hand and Hotch shakes it again. “I’ve asked JJ to marry me.” 

JJ whirls around, and there’s a warning in her voice. “Will.”

“We’re, ah, working out some kinks.” 

“We’ll, um” Aaron says, coming back to himself, “give you both some privacy.” He nods and steps away. You follow close behind him, but you fall back as JJ hops after him. 

“Hotch -”

There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before when he replies. “JJ, you could have told me.” He almost sounds...hurt? Your brow crumples, and you try to stay out of his eye line as they chat. 

Pin that for later...

“I know.” 

“I understand if you need to take some time.” 

“No, I want to be here.” She’s firm in her conviction, and you can’t say you’d be any different if you were in any similar situation - injury, illness, otherwise. 

“Okay. Seven AM.” 

She nods and turns back to Will while Hotch continues toward the elevators. The rest of the team passes ahead of you, leaping into the open lift. Aaron hangs back and you follow his lead, letting the doors close. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sighs. “Yeah. Just unexpected.” 

Taking a little leap, you step close to him in a show of camaraderie. He’d never let on, but he needs contact sometimes. You might even go so far as to say the poor man is touch-starved. 

He wraps his arm around you, and you bite back a pleased smile, feeling more than a little chuffed. You examine his profile. “What’s on your mind?”

His shrug says many things. His sigh says more. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I know.”

+++

“We’re not having that discussion, right now.” Hotch’s cutoff is flat, and it shoots irritation through you.

Your brow furrows, and you sputter for a second before turning on him. “What’s with you? That’s like the sixth time you’ve shut me down today.” 

Hotch opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Kate’s voice chirps from behind you. 

“Are all your younger agents this insubordinate, Aaron, or is it limited to this one?”

You grit your teeth, and blatantly ignore the apology blossoming in Hotch’s eyes as you say, “Excuse me, sir.” You turn your head, not quite looking at Kate. “Agent Joyner.” You brush past Hotch, almost shoulder-checking him, and leave the room. The door shuts loudly behind you. 

Derek looks up, and you wave him off as he rises to follow. 

Throwing the stairway door open, you fly down two flights of stairs before sitting heavily upon the landing. You throw your blazer off, the heat under the fabric only fueling your anger. 

Your hands cover your face and you manage three deep breaths before tears press in at your eyes. Molten humiliation courses through you, your face hot and hands shaking. 

It’s not fair to expect Kate to understand the rapport you have with Hotch, why you can push him inexplicably further than the rest of your team. It’s not fair, but you still feel betrayed by Hotch’s accommodation of her insecurity and Kate’s own ridiculousness. 

The lack of sleep doesn’t help.

A few relevant thoughts regarding the profile float through your head and you pin them for later. 

The door opens two floors above, and you hear Aaron’s familiar footsteps hesitate before they slowly descend to your level. You keep your face pressed into your hands as he sits beside you, resting his arms on his knees. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

You sniff, but don’t answer. He waits for you, a few minutes passing in silence, but you don’t have anything to say. 

“I’ve done my best to make Kate feel supported, but I -” he huffs, and you know he’s working hard to properly articulate his feelings. You appreciate it. “I’ve failed both you and Morgan in the process. I’ve explained the situation to him, but I didn’t speak to you before I…” He trails off. “For that, I’m sorry.” 

You drop your hands from your face, wiping at the evidence of your anger. “Just...remember who’s on your team, would you?”

“I do.” 

“Then -” You throw your arms up and huff at him, his response inspiring a new wave of irritation in your chest. “Then why the fuck are you riding my ass about this shit today? You haven’t taken a single one of my ideas, and all but one has been really good.” 

He sighs. “I know. I also know that you can take it. I trust you to be resilient in difficult political situations such as this one. I don’t have that same trust in Kate right now.” He pauses and you watch his left thumb worry a track back and forth over the knuckle of his middle finger. Your eyes wander to the barely-noticeable tan line where his wedding ring used to sit. With a start, you realize you didn’t notice its absence and you don’t know when he took it off. When he speaks again, your eyes snap back to your feet. “Your ability to step away instead of rightfully lashing out at Kate speaks to your excellence and professionalism in your role, and shows me my faith is not misplaced.” 

You look at him, finding his brown eyes soft and apologetic. “Thanks.” 

He grabs your blazer off the ground and stands. He straightens his suit jacket, offering you a hand. You take it and rise, using the back of your other hand to rid yourself entirely of tears. 

With gentle hands, he slips your blazer over your shoulders, fixing the collar and brushing debris off the back. You let him fuss, knowing all the while his concern is another apology. 

“It’s far too organized to be just organized crime, by the way,” you inform him casually, as if remarking on the weather. 

He looks almost startled. “What?”

You tug on his arm and take the stairs two at a time back up to Kate’s floor. “Look.” He follows you as you burst back through both sets of doors into the conference room, stepping in front of Kate for access to the map. “We have more than one unsub. They’ve attacked different neighborhoods across Manhattan - all different demographic and socio-economic backgrounds. They’re trying to send a message, and each attack is a play to build their audience. If anything, our presence tells them that it’s working.” 

A look of realization crosses Hotch’s face, and he presses a hand to your shoulder, his fingertips squeezing just a little before he lets go. “Well done.” He turns to Kate. “We’re ready to update the working profile.” 

You keep your eyes trained on Aaron, but Kate’s clenched jaw doesn’t escape your notice. 

+++

“Focused? From where I’m standing, your focus is on her.” 

It’s finally come to a head. Derek has absolutely lost it, rightfully so, in the middle of the federal building, while Hotch tries to keep the peace, and Kate looks appropriately chastised. 

You reach for Derek’s elbow with gentle fingers, but he shakes you off. 

“Take a walk. Now.” Aaron’s tone is nothing to trifle with, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

Fuck. 

“Derek. C’mon.” You yank once on his sleeve and lead him out the doors. He’s pissed, almost vibrating with energy. 

You look over your shoulder exactly once to check on Aaron, who leans heavily over a desk. When he looks up, you turn your head before he can meet your gaze. 

Yes, it’s a punishment. Yes, he knows it. He'll get your attention once he’s earned it again. 

Derek cools off a little once you get outside, and he leads the way to the hotel bar. You’re sure you'd be better off returning to your post upstairs, but he needs you more than anyone else right now. 

You also don’t trust yourself to be in the same room as Aaron - the likelihood of losing your usually-endless patience with him is dangerously high. At this rate, you’d get yourself a first-class ticket to Suspension City - at worst ending with your removal from the unit. 

There was no way on this green earth that you’d end up off the unit of Hotch had any say, but your exhausted brain was only giving you the worst-case scenario at the moment. 

He sits heavily on a barstool and orders a Stella. You don’t comment on his choice to drink while on the clock. You take a water, and wait for him to speak. He doesn’t touch his beer. 

“Thanks for coming with me.” 

“Of course.” 

“You should go back.” 

Looking up, you see Rossi walking through the doors. “Alright, but you’re not getting out of anything.” By the time you’ve finished, Dave is at Derek’s other side, getting comfortable. You press a hand to Derek’s shoulder, leaving them alone. 

You take a few deep breaths before returning to the proper floor. Kate is in her office with Hotch over her shoulder. 

He looks up when you walk in. How’s Morgan?

“He’ll be back.” 

+++

You reach Emily with Derek and JJ, and she looks flustered. 

“Are you okay?” Derek takes stock of Emily, but you figure out there’s nothing to know about Cooper. 

Emily walks through the moments before and during the shooting, growing increasingly intense. You watch her as Derek digs and digs - finding the right questions for the answers she wants to share. 

“Wait,” you ask. “You think he deliberately shot someone where he could be caught?”

“What if he did?” Her eyes are wild, angry. “What if they chose this spot because we were here?”

“What are you thinking?” Derek leans forward, searching her face for answers.

She enumerates her points. “He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him. He was strangely calm- it’s almost like suicide by cop.”

“Why?” You hear yourself ask. “Why would he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to make us think everything was finished.” 

You look at Derek. He looks back at you. 

“We need to walk back through this profile.”

Just then, Aaron and Kate dip under the police tape and make a beeline for Rossi and Reid. Dave looks grim and you can’t hear what they’re saying, but you’re sure they’ve come to the same conclusion as you. 

Terrorism. 

+++

“So much for theory.” Dave uncrosses his arms and the room leaps into action. 

Kate grabs her blazer and looks at Aaron. “We need to hit the ground running.” 

“I'm gonna head to the hospital,” Emily says, already headed for the door. “I'll check on Cooper and brief detective Brustin.” 

“Good.” Aaron makes the rest of the assignments. “Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner?” He assigns you and Derek to Homeland Security for a briefing, and you grab your things. You will be Derek’s shadow for the duration, and you’re more than happy you’re with him. 

So why does something feel...wrong?

You look at Aaron, and his brow is furrowed. He meets your eyes. What’s wrong?

I don’t know. 

His mouth presses into a thin line. This first, then that. 

You nod and he starts talking again. “Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we'll meet back here as soon as possible.”

“One advantage that we have right now is that they don't know we know they're watching.”

For once, you agree with Kate. It’s about damn time. 

+++

You get into the car with Derek and head toward the DHS field office. 

“I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done well.” 

Smiling a little, you thank him. “Though I do think we’ve pushed Hotch to the absolute limit this week, between the two of us.” 

He rolls his eyes, speeding down the shockingly barren New York streets. “If one of us isn’t, who is?”

“Rossi.” 

You both freeze as an explosion goes off. You don’t know where it is, but Derek turns around with a spectacular screech of tires. 

“Derek...What -”

“We’re going back. That’s not good. Let’s go.” He guns the engine, and you’re on your way back to the federal building with sirens blaring. 

His phone rings and he checks the caller ID as he answers. “Yeah. I'm still here.” He looks at you. “We’re still here.” 

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

Garcia. 

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?” 

“Alright, we're going over the closed-circuit footage right now.” You can hear her faintly through the phone, and he puts her on speaker. 

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You're the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“All right. Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.” 

Emily picks up next. “Is everyone ok?”

Garcia tells her she’s got the both of you on the line, and she’s already spoken to Rossi and Reid. 

Your body is almost completely bowed toward Derek, twisted in the passenger seat. “Emily, where are you?” 

“I'm following detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s Critical Incident Command Posts.”

“One of them?” Garcia’s confusion is only a little frantic, and you more than sympathize with her tangent. Anything is a better thought than the one you’re all sharing at this very moment. 

Derek explains the decentralization of the CICP’s following 9/11 - too many eggs in one basket. 

Garcia cuts him off, getting back on track. “Has anyone talked to JJ?”

Emily answers her. “She was headed back to the hotel.” 

“In an SUV? 

“I think so. Stay with me a minute. I'll dial her mobile.” 

JJ’s voicemail rings through Derek’s phone, and your heart sinks. “This is Agent Jareau, Communications Director for the FBI’s Behavioral--” It cuts off.

You lean over the center console. “What was that? What happened?”

Garcia’s voice is flustered when she answers, “It went dead mid-message.”

“Try her again. She's probably back at--” You lose Emily. 

You lost all of them in the middle of a sentence, and all the blood drains out of your face. Derek drops his phone into one of the cupholders and reaches out. You grab his hand, holding it in both of yours. 

This is a nightmare. 

Derek keeps driving, and you find a police barricade on your way back to the federal building. Derek throws the car into park and you both leap out of the car, flashing your badges at anyone who will look. You find the man in charge, but he tells you to get back to the federal building. 

Hot anger flies through you. 

Who does he think he is? 

You stick close to Derek, but startle when you hear Hotch cry out. Pressing along the barricade, you call across the block. “Aaron! Aaron! We’re here!” 

You get leave to go, and you and Derek sprint toward Aaron and Kate. He’s covered in blood, both his and Kate’s and you get on one side of him while Derek crouches on the other side of Kate. Your hands flutter over him for a moment, one of them landing on the nape of his neck. The softness of his hair is the same as it’s always been, and it grounds you. 

“Aaron -” 

He’s not looking at you. “Morgan, we've got to get her out of here.” 

Derek throws his arm out of the side, outlining the situation. “They're not letting any ambulances down here ‘til they clear the scene.” He turns to the young man hovering behind Aaron. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

Hotch nods at him. “Go, Sam.”

“Good luck.” The kid sprints off, and Derek draws Hotch’s focus again. 

“Talk to me. Can we carry her?” He leans further over Kate, into Aaron’s eye line. “Hotch, can we carry her?”

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.” The ache in his voice is horrible. You reach out, brushing some hair off Kate’s forehead. She’s cold to the touch, and you press your hand to the side of her face, willing your warmth into her. 

“C’mon Kate.” You whisper to yourself. She’s still not your favorite person, but Aaron’s agony as he literally holds her body together tears your heart in two.

Derek’s phone rings, and it’s Penelope. “Garcia, I got Hotch. But listen to me. You gotta get somebody down here right away, you hear me? Right now. What? You're absolutely sure?” Derek looks up, finding the kid standing by the shelled remains of the car. “Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber.” 

“Go.” Aaron’s voice is defeated, and you hesitate as your body coils to chase after Derek. Aaron looks at you. “Please. Stay.” 

You nod, and tuck in close to him, keeping one hand on his arm and another on Kate’s cheek. An ambulance pulls up, and you’re more than relieved. 

Hotch briefs the paramedic. “She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed. 

“You ok?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour. 

“I just want to get her out of here.”

That’s not a fucking answer, Aaron. 

You let it go, for now. He’s a mess, but he’s alive and he’s conscious. That’s what’s important right now. You tune back in. 

“You were calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.” 

Aaron leans into Kate, and your heart pulls again. “Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here.”

You help as much as you can, following instructions and making sure Kate’s stable. 

+++

When you’re all finished, you get into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Hotch is on autopilot and he shouldn’t be driving, but you’re ready to take over at a moment’s notice. 

When you’re stopped at the emergency room entrance, you flash your credentials as Hotch explains the situation as clearly as he can. The Secret Service agent reluctantly waves you through. Kate’s crashing in the back, and Aaron’s agitation flies through the roof. 

It’s a blur, but you finally end up in the hospital, shadowing Aaron. He collapses, and you cry out for help, holding his hands as he hits the ground. 

Everything's happening so fast. 

When will it end?

+++

“Kiddo, where’s Hotch?” Derek comes flying through the doors of the ER, and you throw yourself into him. 

“He’s fine. Massive trauma to his right ear and a shrapnel wound. Kate’s in surgery.” 

There’s a commotion from behind the open door, and you both rush in when you hear Hotch’s voice.

You get in between Hotch and the attending, doing your best to calm him down. “Aaron, Hotch. Calm down. Slow down. You’re really hurt.” 

“Where’s Kate?” 

You press your hands into his wrists, and he twists his arms, surprising you by gripping your forearms. “She’s in surgery. Your go-bag is on its way. Nothing’s happened since the first blast.” 

He looks somewhat placated but looks over at Derek. “Sam?”

“He’s dead.” 

Hotch releases you. “Morgan, the profile's wrong. Call JJ.” 

+++

“Are you ok?” Emily takes full stock of him, and isn’t happy with what she finds. 

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I'm still alive.” You help him with his vest, minding his shoulder. You’re not sure what’s wrong with it, but he’s favoring one over the other. He looks at you, and there are thanks in his brown eyes. You offer him a quick, soft smile but continue with your task, gently tightening the vest around his tender ribs, smoothing over the velcro with even pressure. 

You’re listening as they go along, talking signatures and bomb-making and all manner of horrific precedent. You pass two pieces of fresh cotton to Hotch, who immediately replaces the bloodied cotton in his right ear. He shakes his head with two deep blinks.

His ears are ringing something stupid right now, I bet. 

I wish I could do more. 

Just be here. Do your job. That’s what you can do. 

All at once, you figure out that the ambulance is the bomb. You spot Hotch as he moves (way too fast) down the hallway. 

Goddamn it, Aaron. 

+++

The bastard slit his throat. 

Fuck. 

The look on Aaron’s face is nothing short of disgust, and you’re sure yours matches. 

+++

You’re waiting for him when he walks out of the operating room. His eyes are hollow and they seem to look through you rather than at you. 

“Hotch - Aaron - I’m so sorry.” 

You didn’t particularly like Kate, but you know how much he cared for her. His pain often feels like yours - even more frequently, you can't parse his from yours. While you didn’t expect to mourn her, you find that weight in your belly anyway. Your eyes mist up against your will, your breath hitching in your throat. 

He doesn’t say anything, and your voice is almost desperate when you ask, “What can I do?”

Brown eyes flicker around the room. He looks more like a caged animal in this moment than in any other you’ve ever seen. You approach him slowly, and you’re not sure if he heard you. There’s still blood on his neck from his ear, and you’re terrified he’s lost his hearing for good. 

“Aaron?”

He finally acknowledges you when you’re close enough to him to take his hand. You catch him as he wilts, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he tucks his head into your neck. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

He mumbles something into your shoulder, and you lean back, holding him up with your hands on his biceps. 

“What?”

“Call Haley. Tell her, please. They got along really well. She’d want to know.” 

You nod and guide him to a chair. He sits heavily, tilting his head against the wall. Pulling your phone from your belt, you ask, “Do you want me to stay here?”

He nods, his eyes closed. 

You dial the familiar number and hold the phone to your ear, settling down on his left so he can hear. 

Haley answers the phone, a question at the end of your name. 

“Yeah, Haley, it’s me. Hi.” 

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

You look at Aaron, who’s still and quiet beside you. “Not really.” 

“I heard about the bombing in New York, the murders...Is everyone alright?”

“We’re alright. Aaron’s fine - some mild injuries but nothing serious.” 

“Okay?” You hear the unspoken question. Then why are you calling?

“I was told you’d - um.” You take a deep breath, and it catches. Aaron flips his hand palm-up on his knee, and you take it. “I was told you were close with Kate Joyner, from the New York field office. She used to be at Scotland Yard?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Her voice falters. “Wait. Oh, God…”

“Haley I’m so sorry.” You swallow some tears. “I’m so sorry, but she was killed in the bombing.” 

You hear a shaky breath on the other side of the line. “Oh.” There’s a pause, and you suspect she has more to say. You’re right. “Aaron told you to call, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” 

She sighs. “Can I talk to him?”

You look over and he nods, releasing your hand and holding it out for the phone. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She says something else, and you put the phone back to your ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for telling me.” 

You nod to yourself. “Of course. Here’s Aaron.” 

He takes the phone from you. An exhausted, “Hi,” leaves him. 

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re alright.” 

A little smile pulls at his lips. “I’m alright. How’re you?”

Her bright laugh echoes faintly through the phone, but there’s a solemn edge to it. “You’re asking me how I am?”

His eyebrows rise, his eyes still closed. “Isn’t that polite?”

You can almost see her suppressed smile. “It is. I’m fine. Jessica and I just finished dinner and put Jack down for the night.” 

“How’s Jack?”

You tune out, the exhaustion taking over. Aaron pats the seat on his other side and you shuffle around, tucking yourself under his open arm. Leaning against his shoulder, you close your eyes, letting the voices of two divorced people who love each other very much lull you into something that feels a little like sleep. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @dcvidrossi @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @a-dorky-book-keeper @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas  @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @sapphicstars

[oftenderweapons]

Stress Reliever - Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 5.3k words

Genre: mild angst, smut, romance

Rating: 18+

Hi everyone! It’s the final scenario of Stress Reliever and this time it’s the Golden Maknae!!!

I bet you’re all excited to see what is he going to do to release some frustration with his s/o. Don’t expect him to go easy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst-smut-fluff (the profane trinity) jealousy and mild angst at the beginning, s/o has a mild age kink and JK is not exactly okay with this. Big fat degradation kink and well... yeah. Unprotected sex within an established relationship (please, be careful!!!), edging, wall sex (yk....,.,..,,,,), kinda hard dom JK but not really? So much dirty talking my keyboard is burning and I had do erase my browsing history, oral (female receiving), ass, tiddies and pussy spanking (ups), anddddd likeeeee,.,.,.,,,,,,..... voyeurism. BUt most importantly PraISe KinNnNNNKKKKkkkkK I’m sorry this one is so bad I have no excuses, I’m a slut for praise kink, please it’s so bad I melt every time someone calls me baby and good girl even in a non sexual context and it’s so embarrassing I’m gonna explode byeeeeee-----

Here is my masterlist ❤

Wordcount: 5.3k, unedited. Enjoy!

—————————————————

“God, he’s so hot.”

Jeongguk ignored whatever it was that you were talking about on the phone with your best friend. It wasn’t his business anyway. 

Both you and the voice on the phone giggled. You were probably talking about some film or something. “Bet he could go for hours.”

Jeongguk tutted at that, his snack almost ready in the microwave, hoping he’d be able to leave the kitchen as soon as possible. 

“Yeah, I have Googie, and I would never make a move on anyone else, but what’s wrong with innocently commenting on some older dude? He’s absolutely daddy material, let me fantasise a little about that.” Again you giggled. 

Jeongguk frowned at that. He wished he didn’t have to listen. He felt guilty since you thought he wasn’t in the room. 

“Koo is wonderful. A dream, truly. Still I love me a tough, mature man, at least in my imagination, every now and then.” You sounded coy. 

Really? Jeongguk’s frown intensified. He felt like he didn’t want a snack anymore at this point. Like he wanted another kind of snack.

“And I love Koo. Don’t forget that.” You continued.

He cocked his head to the side and nodded at that. That was a good sign. 

“Still… Damn, look at him. He’s in his forties and looks like a sex god.” You commented about the male lead actor. 

Jeongguk snorted and huffed at that. One more minute, he considered, watching the timer of the microwave.

“No. Listen. Consider this. He’s the kind of man who can lead. You can tell. How could he be eager and impatient? He knows good things take time. That’s the thing about older men. Maturity. Experience. They know they need to take their sweet time. That was the only good thing about my ex. You know it.” Your voice was plain, almost neutral as you said this. Matter-of-factly. 

Jeongguk was sick of this by now. Did you think he was too eager? Too impatient? Too young and naive? That he couldn’t lead you? That he couldn’t take his sweet time?

Well, now he was in a mood and he had each and every intention to take it out on you. He propped himself against the entrance of the living room, waiting for you to notice him. 

Unfortunately for you, you continued your conversation. 

“Yeah, sometimes Koo has his teenage shenanigans. Tantrums and shit. But he’s my boy.” You confessed, voice slightly lower. “Still… Yeah, sometimes I think ‘what if…’”

What if what? He cleared his throat. 

You lifted your head and finally spotted him. Your mouth opened, and so did your eyes, wide like saucers. 

“Get off the phone.” He growled. 

You closed your mouth. “Gotta go.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?” Your friend asked. 

You nodded, then, realising you needed to verbalise, you whispered a little ‘yes’. 

Your friend wished you good luck before disconnecting the call. You put your phone down.

“Need to tell me anything?” Jeongguk asked, arms crossed and tattoos showing. You spotted the almost invisible initial of your name hidden in one of the black swirls of ink. 

“It was nothing serious. Just gossip.” You defended yourself. 

“Teenage shenanigans. Tantrums.” He recalled. “Guess this is one of those.” He accused. 

“It’s… not like that?” You tried finding an apology, realising how cliché it sounded only the moment it left your mouth. 

He moved closer, expression dark and upset. “How do you want to solve this?”

You bit your lip. “However you want to.” You were testing the waters, seeing what his mood was. 

“Then stand up.” He ordered. 

You blinked a couple times before following his direction. “Koo?”

“No talking.” he replied. “You already said enough.” He threw you over his shoulder, exasperated at your scene. 

You squealed and huffed in surprise. “Jeongguk!”

“Quiet.” He secured with his arm, landing a loud spank on your ass. 

Again you squealed. “What are you–”

“Can’t you understand ‘no talking’? I thought an experienced girl like you had to be smarter than this.” His anger was beginning to show and you were actually somewhere between turned on and scared. You had seen him sweet and enamoured and insecure and upset, but rarely truly angry. 

“Sorry.” You murmured softly as his steps made you wobble against his back. He was carrying you to bed. For sure. 

A few seconds later you recognised your bedroom, and you felt your body being thrown down, landing on the mattress. In a blink you found Jeongguk’s heavy body on top of yours, his mouth at your ear. “Am I not good enough for you?” He teased. 

“You know I love it.” You replied shyly. 

“You love the sex. But am I good enough for you?” He asked again. 

“Yes. Yes, you are, Koo.” You answered firmly. 

“Let’s see if you hate it so much. Sex with this eager, impatient, younger boy.” He provoked. He was moving so fast. He was moving lightning-fast, one moment he was fully dressed and the following he was shirtless and attacking your own clothes, unbuttoning your jeans, tugging at them and taking them off of you. “Bet you’re already drenched. You were so thirsting after that old man.” He threw your jeans behind him, somewhere off the bed. 

“I only want you, and you know it.” You bit back. 

“Stop lying.” He warned. He took off your shirt with angry pulls, almost ripping it, your body collaborating in fear he would hurt you in the process. “You fantasise.” He reminded you. 

No, you don’t. Not willingly, at least. Of course, you’re an adult woman and you’re free of thinking whatever you want. Of course if you see a charming man, you might think of him sexually. But that doesn’t mean you’re not satisfied with what you have. That you would give up your boyfriend for a fantasy. 

“Koo, you’re the only man I want to fuck.” You reassured him, putting your hands around his face, trying to calm him down. 

“So I’m a man now? Not a boy anymore?” he asked, unlatching your bra. 

“You’re always my man to me, you know it.” You hoped the sight of your breasts would make him sway a little. 

It didn’t.

“You called me your boy. Just back then, on the phone.” He bared you with frustrated tugs and pulls. 

“Am I not your girl?” You asked, touching him on his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Anything to express your need for him. 

“Not like I’m patronizing you.” He turned you around, smacking your ass again as he removed your panties, baring your behind. “So fucking condescending.”

You bit your lip, now profoundly sorry for the way you had treated him. “I said some very dumb things, Jeongguk, and I apologise.”

“Good. Now let me prove my point.” He agreed. 

“Want to fuck me good?” You asked, incapable of hiding your arousal. 

“You were talking so much shit that I think you’ve forgotten what this is about.” Another smack. 

Once more you found yourself lying on your back, your naked body now bare to his stare. His pants were tented at the front, the outline of his cock so delicious, thick and half hard. 

“Love, please.” Your hands moved to his waistline, reaching for his sex. 

“Oh, no. I’m taking my sweet time, ____. Starting from here.” He bent down and pressed a hard kiss to your lips, making you moan and whimper before his own mouth opened, his tongue disturbingly sensual and heavy in his assault to your mouth. You were now eager and impatient, while he took everything deliriously, deliberately slowly. “What next? Do you want your nipples licked?” He murmured.

You only nodded, your chest already feeling heavier and oversensitive. 

“Oh, no. That’s for boys. Boys latch onto their mommy’s tits. Men don’t do that, do they?” He replied, grabbing your breast aggressively, parting from your mouth before delivering a quick slap on the skin there. 

You barked out in pain, the sensation not unpleasant but rather surprising. 

“You like it?” He waited for your nod before repeating the gesture. “Is it how a real man would do this?” He asked. 

“Want your mouth, Googie.” You begged. 

“Googie… Ridiculous. Even in bed you treat me like a child.” He hit you again, this time harder. “Can’t take me seriously, can you?”

You were already on the verge of begging. 

“Such a lame show.” He let his hand venture down to your navel, down to your mound, and dive between your thighs. “Tell me, what is it that made you wet?”

You whined at the sensation of his fingertips there, incoherent babbling leaving your mouth. 

“Answer me, babe.” He urged.

Your eyes went wide at the word. He was using every single one of your earlier mistakes against you. Reminding you exactly what you’ve done wrong, but also showing you everything that had hurt him.

“You made me wet.” You informed him. 

“Me slapping your tits?” He snickered darkly.

“You wanting me. You looking always so fucking hot. You giving me everything I need. You being everything I’ll ever need.”

His eyes turned into cold slits. “You sure know how to sweet talk your ass out of problems, don’t you?” He cupped your heat, at which you parted your legs to invite him to make himself comfortable there, to give you his attention. In response he lifted his hand, only to let it land harshly on you. You screamed. Pleasure. Echoing through your veins. Running like wildfire inside your limbs and finally concentrating in your lower belly. “That might work with your boys. Remember? I’m your man tonight. And you’re in trouble, you silly, silly girl.”

Your first reaction was to fill your lungs with some fresh air, before writhing against his grip, the sheets burning your skin. "Jeongguk." 

"Yes?" He replied, looking you in the eye as his palm brushed against you. 

"I wanna be yours." 

"You want this impatient boy?" He asked, the muscles of his jaw tense. 

You tried kissing him, only brushing your lips against his. “I need you, Jeongguk. All of you. Now.”

“Don’t you want me to take my time?” He asked, slowly, oh-so-slowly, caressing your sex. “Don’t you want me to make you wet? Get you all ready and messy?”

“I love my impatient boy. And my meticulous man.” Your lips left a butterfly kiss just shy of his mouth, eyes closing. 

“Tell me how you want me.” He groaned. 

“However you want, Koo. You’re always so good.” Your hips pushed harder against his digits. “Do your best.”

“Then let me show you I’m always the best.” He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. He was laying on his side, hand still dipped between your thighs. He got rid of his sweatpants quickly, his underwear coming off in the same movement. You couldn’t help but watch, eyes entranced to the beauty of his nakedness. You could stare at him for hours. Unfortunately, he had other plans. 

Standing up from the bed he circled around it, looking at you like you were his prey, his prize. 

“Sit.” He ordered, pointing at the edge of the bed, right in front of where he was standing. Of course you were going to obey. His chiselled body was right there, for you to watch, touch and worship, your mouth just in front of his navel. His sex looked awfully flush, tip red with excitement, beaded in precum. You wanted a taste; however the palm reaching for him was stopped by his wrist. “My rules, brat.”

You inhaled sharply while he bent down, securing your legs around his waist. “Hold on tight, ____. Not gonna say it twice.” and with that he picked you up, like you weighted nothing.

Your arms snaked around his neck, legs tightening at his waist, crossing behind his back. 

“First here. Then we’ll see.” And with that he placed you against the wall, his mouth joining your neck, placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Do you want me to mark you or is it too childish?” He growled hard behind your ear. 

“Bite me, mark me, do whatever you want, I just need you inside, Koo.” You moaned, trying to lure him in. 

“Such a needy slut, uh?” He whispered at your ear. “This what you want?” And with that he pinned you hard against the wall, one hand guiding himself at your entrance and sliding into you in one smooth stroke, perfectly hitting your sweet spot at the first go. 

The small humming sound that rumbled in your throat found its twin on his lips. 

“I said, is this what you want, slut?” He teased you again. 

“Yes, Koo.” You muttered, only half coherent. 

He snickered. “Great.” Placing his hands on your ass, helping you up, he pulled out of you, his tip almost slipping out before entering again in full force. “That feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You murmured in confirmation, pressing harder against him. It was different from usual. He was thrusting in slower and deeper, enjoying your tightness, his eyes closed, his hair falling forward as he pushed into you. 

“So tight, baby, how come you’re still so fucking tight?”

“God, you’re so big.” One of your hands moved to his behind, grabbing his ass, groping it, enjoying the flashing of his muscles. His forehead fell on your shoulder, mouth wild on every single inch of your skin he met. 

“Like it?” He picked up the rhythm, just slightly, spurred by your moans and your dishevelled expression. Your bum kept hitting the wall, the thumping now obvious and obscene. 

“Harder.” You begged. 

“Dirty mess.” He giggled at your ear, looking at you and kissing you until you were breathless and your head was spinning. He parted from your lips and stared into your eyes, intensity pouring out of his obsidian stare. “Want more?”

“I need you to touch me there, love, please.” You asked, eyes closing as you implored. 

“Not yet, baby.” His pace was delirious by now, his legs growing tired but headstrong on reaching his orgasm. 

“Please, Jeongguk.” You whined, digging your heels in his back. 

“No can do, sweet thing. Now shut up.” And with that he rammed inside, using your upper back to keep you on the wall as his arms pushed and pulled your hips, fucking you onto him. “Grown men take what they want, don’t they?” He bit into your collarbone and let his mouth open wide, howling in pleasure, his cum filling you up. 

You were hanging on the verge of sanity. “Koo, no, please.”

He was leaning heavily in your arms, your body hanging like a picture from the wall. “That was so fucking good, ____.”

“Koo, please.” You cried out.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He teased. “Want me to make you cum, slut?” He bit your cheek playfully. “Take it to bed? D’you want that?”

Your body tensed again for his not-so-kind nickname. “Yeah, Koo.” You whined. 

“Good.” Little did you know that half a minute later he would still be inside you, sitting you on the soft headboard of the bed. He moved out of you, spinning you around and placing you bottom-up bent over the soft material of the board. “Be a good girl for me. Man, look at that ass. So hot, baby.” He slapped it playfully. “You ready baby?”

“What are you doing?” You asked, your ass up, your legs slightly dangling from the headboard as the tips of your toes brushed the floor, your stomach pressed against the dark leather. You tried shifting your weight to your arms, but Jeongguk trapped one of them behind your back. 

“You can use one to hold yourself up. No more than that, bitch.”

His filthy mouth made your blood feel inebriated, almost like being tipsy. 

Your hips were conveniently exposed, his mouth immediately identifying its target as he crouched down and started rubbing his lips against your sex. “Good?”

“Yes, yes. Yes...” You whispered, still chasing the high he had taken from you earlier. 

“Want me to make you cum?” He asked.

“Please.” You whined. 

“Such a cock hungry little thing.” He let his tongue loll out, the tip going to your front, rubbing against your clit. He kissed the skin there before speaking into your skin: “Be good.”

His tongue slipped inside you, licking away his seed, then spitting it out all over your slit, lubricating you again. “Can you cum without my fingers on your clit, baby? Can you come for an impatient boy licking you?” He bit into the curve your ass. 

“Jeongguk, I’m sorry. Please.” You implored.

“You consider yourself a woman when all you truly want is for me to turn you into my little girl.” He kissed the side of your thigh, his right hand heavily palming and groping your ass. By now you felt like bursting at the seems, arousal coming off your limbs in waves. Jeongguk, buried between your legs, took your salty scent in, delivering small bites to your labia and sucking your clit viciously. 

You only needed more pressure. 

“Come on, slut, cum for me so I can get inside you again.” He teased, repositioning you with his spare hand and now adding more strength to the movements of his tongue. 

The change was immediate. You could feel it in your belly. “Koo, I’m—” next thing that left your mouth was a long scream, rattling your bones, resetting you entirely. 

“That’s a good girl.” He said in the most patronising, condescending and sarcastic tone he could muster. You felt your lungs ignite. “Are you gonna stay still now after you got what you wanted? Let me fuck that need for older men out of you?”

He was angry again. He was angry still. 

“I said dumb stuff.”

“‘Cause you’re a little dumb doll, aren’t you?” His voice came from somewhere behind you, above you. You turned to search for his face but he used his big hand to press your face against the pillow below you. “Dumb, disobedient doll. Stay put.”

You closed your eyes and tried to press your behind to his pelvis. “I’m begging. Jeongguk. I love you.”

“Oh, so you love me now.” His length lingering on your entrance suddenly slammed into you. “You love me?”

“Yes!” You screamed, hoping that the walls would keep your sounds inside the room.

His hand pinned both of your wrists behind your back. “More than your ex?”

“Yes! I’ve never loved anyone like you, Koo.” You mewled, desperate.

"Has he ever fucked you this good?" He grunted, bending down to your ear. 

"No Jeongguk, I swear. You're the best."

"That’s right. I'm the fucking best." He rammed into you recklessly, his head falling forward as he stood and helped your hips back, the tip of your feet now pressed more steadily against the floor, removing some pressure from your abdomen.

He probably didn't even realise that the position was getting uncomfortable, and you were grateful for the shift, even if it made his thrusts deeper and more difficult to resist. 

“How can you want it calm and patient when you love being my fuckdoll, uh?” He pulled out and smacked your ass hard, then plunging in again. “When you need a young—” thrust— “inexperienced—” thrust—“impatient little boy—” thrust— “to fuck your brains out?”

You moaned and pushed yourself toward him, the sound of your flesh squelching and smacking echoing in the room. 

His hand climbed around your waist, dipping down your navel and meeting the apex of your labia. “Did your ex ever fuck you like this?”

“No Jeongguk.” You replied meekly. 

“Did he ever make you cum like this?” He asked, torturing you with his devious fingers. 

“No, Jeongguk.”

“Did he ever make you speechless with his cock?” He growled, sinking into you and shifting his hips to push small little circles deep against your cervix. 

“No…” you hummed, barely responsive.

“You’re gonna cum so good on my cock, doll. You’re gonna be a slut for it, drool on it for the rest of your life.” He swore, filthy and almost unconscious. 

Were you more coherent, you would have realised how fucked out he was, but unfortunately you were twice as gone as him and in no time your mouth formed his name in a strangled breath before your body twitched around him, your hands gripping on your forearms, still in the position he’d put you in even though his grip was no longer controlling you. 

“Cumming on my dick. Such a dumb little girl for it, uh?” He provoked you, even though your mind was miles high, seeing stars dance in your peripheral. “Take it all. Enjoy it. It’s the only one you’re gonna get, slut.”

And with that he grabbed hold of your hips and started bouncing your bum against his crotch, hammering into you, lasting only a minute before grunting your name and growling against your spine, falling forward and then snapping back, head bent away from you as he used you as his personal toy. 

When you felt him stop you dared turn around. He was magnificent. 

Hair plastered to his forehead, face and torso glimmering with sweat, the veins of his arms popping out like highways under his skin. 

“Koo.” You murmured, looking for your boy, your comfort, your safe place. 

“Only a second, sweetheart.” He exhaled, his skin blushing with exertion. “I know I can get another one, just give me time, baby.”

“Koo, I—“ You objected, but he stopped you.

“It’s not you. It’s me. I want it.” He warned with a stern tone. “Don’t you dare think this is about you, doll. Can you choose where you want it or are you too fucked out for that?”

Jeongguk helped you up and pulled you to his chest, the pose half affectionate and half controlling. “You know me best. I know you’ll choose what is best for me.” You whined in an attempt of flattery — even though it was absolutely true. He does know you best. You know he will always choose what’s best for you because he loves you. He adores you. 

He carefully drew out of you, kissing your spine delicately. You still had to understand what was his current mood. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, your eyes naturally focusing on his chest, right in front of your face. He pinched your neck and turned your head upwards, toward his awaiting gaze. You knew there were many things he was trying to say right in that moment with nothing but a glance. You knew how the words got stuck in his throat and how they would stumble and shake before falling from his lips, how they would sound tiny and hurt and heartbroken, but also fond and fiery and faithful. 

You knew all his favourite words, the ones he spoke so little, the ones he kept closer to his heart in fear that their power would diminish once they finally made it out.

He kissed you one, two, five, ten, twenty times, small pecks and butterfly kisses, Eskimo kisses with the tip of his lovely nose, and wet, sloppy kisses on your neck. He combed your dishevelled hair and kissed it too, then your hands, then your wrists and then your eyelids. Your forehead and your brow, the tender skin behind your ear, the softness of your cheeks. 

Picking you up, he kissed you again, his mouth possessing yours, lost in the tenderness and passion of you. You felt like a small boat in a wide, calm sea, nothing but the horizon all around you, his waves lulling you, his voice and his lips leading you towards a safe haven, surrounded in peace. 

“I love you, Googie.” You breathed softly against his open mouth. 

“Let me show you.” He replied, again carrying you exactly where he wanted. 

Your walk in closet was enormous, with wide wardrobes along the walls, a couple mirrors multiplying the images of you and him. 

“Here.” He said, placing you on the comfy seat in the middle of the small room.

In here he would see your every angle and reaction. There would be no escape from the blatant ruination he would unleash over your body. 

His hand was already cupping his sex, palming and pumping it as he used his other arm to pry your legs open, his head sinking there. He bit into the skin of your thighs, sucking and kissing with a hunger you had never thought existed. His favour stopped just shy of your entrance, watching as his release spilled and stained your skin. 

“Amazing.” He murmured reverently, leaning into your knee as if he was on the verge of sanity and you were the only thing pinning him to reality. “Tell me I’m the only one you want.”

“You’re the only one I want. The only one I love.” You wasted no time as you comforted him, giving him that safety net he so desperately craved.

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” he begged, closing his eyes as if the thought caused him physical pain. 

“I’ll be by your side, always.” You promised, caressing his hair. 

“Look,” he pointed to the mirror on your side, to your seated figure and his kneeling one. 

“Koo. Are you ready? I need you so bad.” You whined, your eyes leaving the reflection only as you ended your request.

“Want you on your knees, belly on the seat.”

He gave you the space to manoeuvre down from the seat, on your knees, right as he wanted you.

“Look straight ahead, doll. Look at that.” He teased, his hand pointing towards the mirror in front of you. “Look at your tits pressed up against the seat. They’re so soft… They must be so fucking sensitive by now.” His hand stroking himself dragged his tip against your skin, moistening you evenly as he got ready once more. 

“I’ve neglected them today.” He caressed your back and kissed your neck. “I’ll take good care of them tomorrow morning. Would you like that?” He asked, mischievous. 

“Yes, Koo.” God, you weren’t even sure you knew other words by now, so possessed by your need for him. 

He put just the head of his cock inside you, enjoying the immediate fluttering of your insides. “Want more, doll.”

With a humming, senseless groan you backed your ass into his groin. 

He snickered sarcastically. “Fuckdoll.”

You felt every inch of him enter you, violating your flesh. 

“That’s it. I’m gonna ruin you.” Jeongguk growled visciously as he bottomed out. 

“Please.” You moaned as you looked at his face from the reflection in the mirror. He was using his hand to press against your lower back.

“Taking me so well, slut. So hungry for it.” He was lost in the reflection too, moving slow and deep. 

“Only for you.” You whined, praising him. 

“No one can do it like us. No one.” He twisted your head to the side, the other mirror welcoming you. “There’s no one else for us.”

God, he was wordy today. You were basking in it. You loved how he wanted you to see, to hear everything. He was often wild but shy and today was truly exceptional for many reasons. “Googie, touch me, I’m getting close, please.”

“You keep saying please, baby. So polite today, uh? Might have to fuck you like this more often.” He provoked you. 

“Look how fucked out you are, doll.” He snorted. “You’re so hot.” He keened.

You watched the way his muscles moved, his pecs flexing and relaxing as he dragged your hips along his shaft. “No one can get you this hot.”

“No.” You whined out, desperate for more, for anything, for everything he was willing to give you. 

“You’re a slut for me alone, uh?” He smacked your ass once more, pulling out of you entirely and slapping his length over your soft backside. “Dirty fuckdoll.”

“I’m your toy, Koo. Use me.” You pleaded, searching for him with your hands, needing him close, closer, melted into you. “Please.”

“How can I say no to my needy slut.” He giggled before changing his angle, his arm infiltrating beneath your torso, between your breasts, towards your neck.

His other hand slithered to your front, his thrusts more subdued now that his leverage was weaker between your thighs and against your collarbone. The slow-down however helped you focus on your clit, on his fingers there on the way he was touching you in that “I’m not playing, you’d better cum in the next two minutes” mood. 

“You’re getting tighter, doll. D’you like my hand so much?” He teased with an accusing tone. “You must be close, mh?”

“So close, Koo.” You chirped.

“Come on, then.” His thrusts slowed even more, making you feel full to the brim and once they paired with his fingers you found yourself coming apart. 

“Yeah, babe. So fucking tight. Cum for me.” He spoke on your skin, body completely twisted and twined with yours. His tongue ran against your spine, his throat producing small, deep grunts as his pleasure exploded and spilled inside you. “Yes, doll. Fuck babe. Amazing.” He howled, arching into you, sticking to you like a second skin. 

“You look so damn lovely, doll. I love you so fucking much.” He whispered, heavy at your back, his hips stilling. “I bet nobody’s ever fucked you like this.”

“No.” You confirmed. “Nobody has. Nobody ever will.” You pressed a kiss to his hand, close to your face and cupping your cheek. 

As if coming back from a trance, he batted his lashes intensely, kissing your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Googie. It was… incredibly hot. Definitely on your top three best performances. I will definitely write this day down on the calendar. We can celebrate it like an anniversary.”

“Hot fuck in the closet day.” He murmured, half asleep on top of you. “I like that.”

You smiled. “Can we get to bed? My knees are a bit sore. Actually I’m a bit sore all over.”

He nodded, waiting a couple seconds before parting from you and helping you up, carrying you to the bathroom and cleaning you up silently, taking care of you before dropping both of your heavy bodies on the bed. 

“I said ugly stuff.” He confessed. 

“I did too.” You admitted. “You know, I might think that older men are charming, but that’s as far as it goes. And I might have said stuff about my ex, but hey, there are multiple reasons why he’s my ex.” You caressed his face and kissed his hair as he laid his head on your chest. “And I’m here with you. No charming old man, no patient ex will ever change the fact that I love you.” You reassured him. “That you’re a dream come true.” You held his hand and intertwined your fingers. 

“I just… I’m always afraid of the things I can’t give you.” He whispered, insecure. As if he hadn’t given you his everything… 

“I will love you for all the things you can give me, Googie. And we will learn to compromise about the things we can’t give each other. That’s how it works.” You brought his hand to your lips, pressing them against every inch of it. 

“I’m sorry about the bad words.” He said with big doe eyes, lined with silvery tears. “I hope I didn’t insult you or upset you.”

“Would you worry if I said I liked that a bit?” You looked into his eyes tenderly, trying to dissolve his shyness. “But I hurt you with my words, so I want to know now.”

Your conversation went on for almost half an hour, his body warm and comfortable next to yours, the feeling of safety encouraging him to bare himself, showing you his darkest, most vulnerable sides.

By the end of the afternoon you both felt loved and appreciated, cared for and adored. With his head heavy on your chest, your heartbeat playing in his ear, Jeongguk realised you would always be his one.

[1990jeevas]

Plesse tell me about queerness in the get down!!

okay okay queerness in the get down let's fuckn goooo

disclaimer: I havent watched this show in full for like 5 months at least, probably gonna get something wrong and/or forget some more important bits. also this wasnt proof read I just word vomited

tws: period typical homophobia, abuse mention, f slur use, bury your gays trope, overdose mention, mention of a creepy possible age gap (the age gap hasnt been confirmed so that's why its possible), cops

going from least to most prominent queer characters, let's start with mylene cruz!

so, from the beginning of this show she has an established romantic relationship with ezekiel (although the status of their actual relationship changes frequently throughout the show) and though this was a relationship she was hesitant to pursue, it is clear that she does have romantic feelings for him and if not for them both having growing careers in very different music genres (zeke specifically working in a genre that she repeatedly labels as bad because she thinks they're ruining records + that it isnt real music because they're using someone elses piece and rapping over it, that's not really important here tho lol) they probably wouldve had a much healthier, smooth sailing romance. that being said theres a few things that happen in the show that, while not explicitly clear, or even really good coding at that—to the point where you wont catch if you really arent looking for it (and trust me, I always look for coding, hers was just so little that it flew over my head until I saw someone else mention it)—are still cool to think about!

so, for starters, I wanna mention the toy box performance, which was performed by mylene and regina, who are best friends. that's all cool and shit, and you dont really think much about it...until you hear about the fact that the show runners purposely colored a lot of the scenes in that performance with the bi colors. like. the writers after the show ended basically said "oh yeah there was plans to make her coding more explicit, but our shit got cancelled soooo" and then dropped the fact that she was gonna be bi (or at least implies bi) in the series, which puts a new twist on a few things.

now, besides the bi coloring in the background of the toy box performance (which was mostly on scenes with her and regina, which involved a lot of uh,, lowkey lewd dancing. with each other. in very revealing outfits. wooooo), there's her music! I dont tend to read too much into this one bc, like I said before, her coding is fucking light and the writers themselves said they didnt really get to do much with it, but I think some stuff with her music is interesting. specifically how her, yolanda and regina's song set me free blew up because dizzee, resident (lowkey enby coded) bicon, got their song played in a queer club. also that the song was majorly important to dizzee and started playing literally right as he kissed a boy for the first time and realized "oh shit I like boys that's bonkers". also that the song can be taken in a gay way since literally the entire thing is about becoming your true self, fully and unapologetically, which is what both dizzee and mylene's entire character arcs are about. dizzee (and a lot of other queer people, apparently), heard this song about being set free and it resonated with them so much that they got that shit most of its popularity.

speaking of dizzee and mylene, they parallel each other a lot in the way that their arcs are about them realizing who they are, coming into themselves and no longer just letting people treat them like shit in a sense (dizzee starting to tell people essentially that they can call him weird all they want, they can make fun of how he acts, what he likes, how he dresses, etc. but he likes how he is and quite literally saying "it's okay to be an alien" as he has consistently compared himself to one throughout the show vs mylene learning that if she wants to be a disco singer she needs to put her foot down, not let anyone, not even the love of her life, not even her abusive father, stop her from achieving her dreams, etc. and continuing to pursue her career with or without their support). one more little parallel that I think is interesting is during I think s2 towards the end of the show is when dizzee and thor are shown together having fun with each other, painting all over the building and each other and are basically just being happy and in love together and then they have these clips of them being interspersed with clips of mylene at a party where she is starting to realize that if she wants to get anywhere she needs to be her own main priority and that she needs to put her career and her dream, which is what makes her the happiest, above all else if she wants to succeed. idk I just think how the show made these two into a weird parallel, accidental or not, is neat. maybe not an explicitly queer parallel, but I think at least how her music and whatnot helped dizzee, the main queer character in this show, blossom, is important.

moving on we got shaolin fantastic also known as "oh no your internalized homophobia is showing-"

so, heres a quick list of...interesting shao facts:

Consistently referred to as fag/faggot (shaolin fanfaggot is my personal favorite); he gets really defensive about this despite nobody actually thinking he's queer, it's just people being assholes to be assholes, and he is the only character consistently referred to using a slur, especially a homophobic one, especially for a "straight" character. dizzee, a canonically queer character, is called a fag less than shaolin is even though dizzee actively goes to gay clubs, has a not so secret dude he "hangs out with" and wont let anyone properly meet, paints his nails, wears less than straight clothes even by the 70s standards and is just all around the definition of fucking queer (and I mean like in the weird way, not the gay way). in fact theres only like once I can remember him being called a fag and it had nothing to do with him actually being gay it was literally just like thrown out there the same way you would call someone a bitch.

Has only shown sexual interest in women, yet refuses to have deeper relationships with women in general (possibly because of trauma but who knows) but takes his relationships with his "brothers", specifically zeke, very seriously

Tells zeke and zeke ONLY his real name when zeke was planning to stop being his friend bc shao more or less got boo boo, a like 14 year old black kid, arrested for selling hard drugs; he was clearly scared and trying to do anything to keep zeke around, literally chasing him down the street and hounding him until he got zeke to stop and argue with him

Kept threatening to beat up zeke in the end but couldn't actually bring himself to do so, instead saying that zeke is "fucking lucky" before walking away

Let's zeke get away with things that nobody else can, in general just has a weird soft spot for ezekiel that he shows with nobody else

when shao found dizzee with thor in a vaguely compromising situation (like they were just shirtless covered in paint sleeping next to each other but shao had also seen everything they painted on the walls ((which some of it was sus)), it was clear they had painted on each others bodies and dizzee had been routinely disappearing with this guy for weeks now yet not producing nearly as much art, at least, as far as we audience members know) he didnt judge him but instead, waited for him to get cleaned up and then told him something along the lines of "theres a reason why im so secretive blah blah blah [not everyone needs to know everything about me]", which, in context, kinda implies that he might be a lil. a lil homiesexual. jus a lil.

whenever even the possibility of zeke leaving him comes up he absolutely loses it. he has literally cost ezekiel life changing opportunities because he thought zeke would just up and leave him for them. this could be abandonment issues bc he's a severely traumatized character, and that probably does contribute to it, but it also is just not a reaction he has to any of their other friends just randomly dipping in and out of his life soooooo

generally speaking, this mfer has got either bisexual with a big hard on for zeke coding or homosexual with terrible internalized homophobia and still a hard on for zeke coding. either fucking way, that nigga gay. he gay as hell. gay as fuck man. there wasn't really much to analyze here tbh bc the coding is just so fucking obvious if you look for it or you are/have been a gay person who's dealt with at least a little bit of internalized homophobia.

also, just a sidenote, idk how fucking old shao, but I'm praying hes like at max 19 bc I'm pretty sure zeke is a minor in this show and shao definetly is not so the whole him being heavily implied to have a crush on ezekiel thing is kinda. oof. not oof if zeke is like 17 but any younger than that? OOF.

edit: apparently the characters are only supposed to be a year apart in age but i had no clue about that before writing this post and since shaos age was never actually stated in the show i naturally assumed he was an adult since his actor Looks Like An Adult. this is definetly on me to a certain extent, but i also never saw anything about this when trying to find our their ages so 🤷‍♀️ maybe i just didnt look deep enough, sorry!

now moving on to the main event...marcus dizzee kipling :]

so, first things first, let's talk enby coding bc him being bisexual was already confirmed!

um, to start off, I just wanna say I dont think this enby coding was intentional or even really coding, it's just moreso me being a dizzee kin on main and knowing as a transmasc enby he has very transmasc enby vibes. for example:

cool, gender neutral nickname that everyone calls him

paints nails various different colors

the whole wardrobe is just a transmasc enby heaven...fishnet shirts, jean overalls, jackets and cuffed pants galore, the big colorful pins, etc

gender neutral hairstyle (when I had my fro it was very sexy and made it easy to transition between hyper masc and vaguely fem, which is pog)

comparing himself to/representing himself consistently with an alien character (though this is meant to represent his sexuality, it could also double as a gender thing too, not neccesarily bc of the whole nonbinary alien trope but bc an enby who likes aliens might heavily identify or compare themselves to whatever their idea of an alien is, whether that just be a genderless entity or a motherfucker with fly style and no need to be perceived as anything other Wacky As Hell)

moving on from there, let's talk about how his queerness is presented to us and how, while it may be a really good piece of representation, especially coming from netflix, it still lacks in A Lot of places.

so, let's start with good things!

i personally really like the get down's queer rep with dizzee bc it's (for the most part) nonsexualized and very very soft, about dizzee figuring himself out and realizing there is a place where he fits in, and about two teenagers in the 70s falling in love over their shared passion for street art. it also features an interracial couple where both boys challenge stereotypes both about queer men and men of color, which is epic poggers and very sexy. this piece of rep specifically is very important to me bc I am a queer black person and even tho interracial relationships are mostly normalized now, I've still had people give me shit for primarily dating white people in a town that is...primarily white lol

mm anyways, I can also appreciate how in the get down, dizzee being represented by rumi the alien is not a thing specifically related to gender (as it often is) and instead is about his sexuality and just in general weirdness and how it has led to him being alienated amongst his peers, poc or otherwise. him seeing himself as an alien is not about just his queerness, which is important, it is about him being a queer black man who talks different, acts different, dresses different and is "soft"—he isnt a walking black male stereotype and he wouldnt have been seen as masculine back in the 70s by any stretch of the imagination. this can be relatable to a wide spectrum of queer poc, from queer black men currently who still have to deal with this shit or to people like myself who are afab neurodivergent mixed race enbies that have always been signaled out as weird and alienated for it. dizzee is god rep bc while he has a small part in this show, his parts are very impactful, hard hitting and show queer poc of all ages that they arent alone and that it's okay to "weird", you just need to embrace it because somebody will love you for you, as thor did for dizzee.

that being said theres um. some minor problemas here,,,

namely:

dizzee and thors first kiss

the lack of development this pairing got

the way dizzee was confirmed bisexual off screen, he never said the words himself, just showed interest in both genders

the way dizzee and thor were never even confirmed boyfriends or just fwb so most of the fandom just calls them boyfriends bc Why Not

dizzee was implied fucking DEAD??? AT THE END OF THE SERIES?????? AND THOR WAS IMPLIED ARRESTED?????????????

now, these might have been things that wouldve been fine had the show been given it's full run but it wasnt which is why we are now left with probelms.

so, from the top, let's go over these: dizzee and thor's first (and only "on screen") kiss was one that was shown in a montage of other queer people making over and doing other vaguely romantic/sexual things, one of those things being a whole ass naked titty being mouthed at, but the actual kiss...was just not shown? like they really did just say "yes they kissed <3 you know this from the context clues of it being in a montage with kissing, hickey giving and titty sucking <3 but no we will not show it <3" LIKE HELLO? I SAW A NAKED BOOBIE BUT NOT TWO MEN KISS??? HUH????????

also, dizzee and thor were both fucking high as hell during this bit like this isnt a terrible thing but it's also like sometimes you do shit when you're high that you wouldnt do sober and they just never kissed again on screen so like?? like idk that's not that bad but it does kinda irk me since they deadass got no other on screen intimacy after that unless you including painting on eacher other or sleeping next to each other on a shitty mattress but not touching at all during it bc they were both at opposite ends of the mattress like half way off it

so yeah, that was trash. then we got lack of development, which kinda goes with the "dizzee being a bisexual but he never says it in canon" thing cause like...okay dizzee was already sort of a side character from the get go like he wasnt the mc by any means, but he became way more of a background character as things continued until we basically only saw him for performances or when he was with thor, yet they got no fucking development as a pairing other than "dizzee realize he gay, he like thor, he and thor spend time together and ig probably do some gay stuff but we dont really know bc we only ever see them do graffiti together now" like?? tf am I supposed to do with that shit. answer. quickly. and then theres dizzee not being confirmed bisexual, which is just a running problem with shows literally doing everything to say a character is bi except for having the character just...say they're bi? which would be so easy? like a good way dizzee and thor couldve had some development is by thor teaching dizzee things about the queer community that he didnt even know existed, thor couldve helped him understand what being bi meant and helped him label himself and whatnot but instead we got an off screen confirmation that the writers had bisexual in mind when writing him. which is garbagé.

the whole thor and dizzee never having a confirmed relationship status is also a development problem cause like literally nobody knows if they were just friends who made out, maybe fucked, who knows, or if they were dating bc dizzee does give a love confession but a love confession doesn't mean there is a relationship, especially since thor didn't say he was in love either (as far as I remember, I could be wrong, plus whether or not that really happened or was apart of dizzee literally overdosing during a performance is unclear so 🤪)

and now for the biggest issue...bury your gays trope.

during the season 2 finale, dizzee and thor are chased by cops after they are found doing graffiti, one of the cops is able to catch thor while the other chases dizzee into a train tunnel and there is a train seen headed straight for him before the show cuts to black on a train horn. the show writers claim that if they had gotten another season, dizzee wouldve been alive but since they didnt and since that's essentially super fan trivia knowledge, most people dont fucking know that and instead had to watch a black queer teenager chose death over being fucking arrested by a white cop. on top of that, thor didnt see any of that shit because he was caught and the cop started hauling him off while dizzee was still being chased so thor literally has no clue where his friend/possible boyfriend fucking is or that he's likely dead in a goddamn tunnel all alone, unless you count the fucking pig that chased him in there who wouldve died too. this shows rep was so fucking good as far as most shows go on not having major fucking problems, on not being toxic and over sexualized, etc, etc. and then they just. killed a black queer teenager for no fucking reason. like it was literally the last episode ever, it would add nothing to the plot, it would just devastate fans and devastate it fucking did. I dont cry easy but seeing a character I identified with, who I had hyperfixated on, die because he'd rather that than be arrested is terrible. it fucking sucked.

so yeah. that's my all too extensive thoughts/analysis on the get down's queerness. theres definitely stuff I missed, or misinterpreted, or looked too much into, etc, etc., but this was a fun thing to spend time writing sooo yeah!! thanks for the ask anon, sorry this was just a big rambley info dump, but hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it since it took like 3 hours at least 😭😭 feel free to ask clarifying questions lol