#He’ll serve his purpose and maybe stay their friend but I don’t think he even knows what he’s gotten himself into | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vicsuragi · 2 years

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i don’t want this to happen in the show necessarily but oh do i think it’d be funny that if at the end of ofmd when ed and stede are matelotaged and the rest of the crew is still pirating it up, izzy ends up at spanish jackie’z and is upset that ed doesn’t need him anymore. he’s wallowing in self pity and he’s unsure what to do next and suddenly, there he is.

sure, he is still healing the wound he sustained when the cannon ball hit him (thankfully it missed all of the important bits!), but for all intents and purposes he’s functioning like normal. izzy is seething because goddammit, jack is still alive and kicking, which only gets worse when jack sits down at his table and orders a drink, ensuring he will be hanging around to bother izzy. jack starts on a rant about stede, how ed must have lost his mind falling for a fop like him, and izzy agrees deep down, but that anger doesn’t reach his lips like it used to. he tells jack as much, that he does still resent bonnet for aiding in izzy losing his closest friend, but he realizes that somewhere deep down in himself that he and ed hadn’t actually been friends in ages and all of his desperation to be ed’s favorite had been for naught.

the two drink, jack tells a few stories about what he got up to after the cannon ball got him, and izzy asks how many lives he must have left what with the mutinies, the stupid games he plays, the constant brushes with death. jack doesn’t know, he doesn’t like to think about dying. he insists that he’ll live forever, that if he was going to die he would have done it by now. maybe he even gets a little introspective for a rare moment in his life and says that even if he did die, it wouldn’t necessarily matter since nobody likes him. izzy feels something he hasn’t felt in ages - or, at least, he feels something that might not exactly be misplaced.

the night is winding down, so they decide they should saddle up and leave. izzy has a room at an inn just a little ways out, and jack insists on being chivalrous and walking him back (’yer just stumbling, is all, don’t want you to end up at the end of somebody’s sword just ‘cause you were at the wrong place, wrong time’). he doesn’t know why jack would do that for him, but he takes the company nonetheless. it’s better than being alone again.

jack doesn’t stop rambling the entire walk, something that’s actually kind of a comfort instead of a nuisance, and once they’re at the inn, he waves izzy off, saying they’ll probably run into each other again. it’s not like he actually cares, of course, but he asks where jack’s going, and he says he’s off to the next tavern that’s still serving, that the night’s not over yet.

he must not be thinking clearly when he asks if jack wants to stay the night. not for any buggery business, he makes that clear, just to ensure that he doesn’t get himself into any fights or drown in the water nearby trying to whip seagulls on the tide. he doesn’t respond at first, he watches izzy with glassy stare and tips his head to the side while he processes everything through the liquor-induced haze.

izzy crawls into his rented bed while jack’s body goes lax in a chair at his bedside, hand gripping his whip’s handle instinctively just like when they were on hornigold’s ship. he stays awake a while, watching to see if he’ll drop his grip or if he’ll get up and use that whip against izzy; that thought might even excite him a little bit. and yet, his hand never moves, and his eyes don’t open.

he awakes early in the morning, finding his room empty. izzy wonders if last night actually happened, if maybe he just got so drunk he imagined jack went back to the room with him, if he imagined that jack was even there to begin with. he goes out to the dock, he’s been going out and intending to look for a new captain for weeks now but simply ends up lingering by the shore, watching ships come in and go out before he heads back to spanish jackie’z. he starts to think he can’t go back on the ocean, that everything will remind him of edward and that once they exited each other’s life, it marked the end of whoever izzy knew himself to be.

he’s not surprised when he ends up back at spanish jackie’z, having made no attempt to get back out there. tomorrow, he’ll stop going out there. he’s been sailing so long that the sea has made him small, bitter, older than he has any right to be. he has no unfinished business out there, he doesn’t have anymore business out there period. but he has no idea what he’ll do if he’s not out plundering and looting and waiting to die in a fight or by an untreated wound he could no longer patch up himself. he can’t imagine a life of lounging, eating fruit that seems bountiful and endless, getting old and gray and not fearing the inevitable shutdown of his body because there’s someone else there to endure it with him.

izzy ends up finding work at spanish jackie’z when he can no longer pay his tab, but he doesn’t necessarily hate it. he has a superior who is curt with him when she needs to be, he always has something to do, and he can still spit orders at customers who are getting too out of hand. he’s adjusting well to his job at the tavern when he comes back.

jack is banged up again, he insists with a smirk that izzy would be sick if he saw the other guy, but quickly chokes some blood up onto the counter. izzy ends up reluctantly helping jack, thinking it’ll at least net him another favor in the future should he need it. while he’s being patched up on izzy’s bed, jack asks if he’s using up another life. izzy tells him to stop talking like that, that it’s just a little bleeding and some bruising, it’ll be just fine.

izzy feels like he’s receiving some divine intervention when jack ends up staying with him for a few weeks while he heals. he’s annoying, he’s gross, he keeps asking for stories about his fun times with blackbeard, but izzy doesn’t think he actually minds the company at the end of the day. he likes returning back to the inn and finding jack there instead of a cold, dark room, he likes sharing meals with him, he likes the feeling that he’s not alone in the world.

when jack is finally well enough to go out on his own again, izzy expects that it’ll be weeks, maybe even months before their paths cross again. but, jack proposes something to him - he asks if izzy wants to sail again.

of course, he has to think this over; he was just starting to get comfortable on land. he might have been starting to like the idea of living a safer life, enjoyed staying in the republic of pirates as a change of pace. he spent a majority of his life at sea, and the memories of ed were coming back hard and fast.

izzy tells jack as much, that if he has an out from piracy, he’ll take it. he calls him boring, asking why he’d want to give it all up just because he had a 9-5 now. izzy is baffled why everyone suddenly thinks piracy is fun, that always having to watch your back among your own men is enjoyable, that the constant threat of being captured and hanged by the british navy was just a fun quirk and not a genuine hazard of the job. he asks why jack wouldn’t take an out himself if one was presented to him.

so, jack asks right then and there if izzy has an out for him. he doesn’t say anything back. jack knows he’s a liability and a fuckup, that nobody willingly takes him on unless they don’t already know the consequences of letting him aboard their ship and into their lives. izzy is fully aware of those risks, and he still, for some stupid reason, thinks maybe having jack around wouldn’t be so bad.

he tells jack that he’d take him on here, on land, that it could be good for the both of them. izzy can tell jack is hesitant, that he’s also been away for so long that it doesn’t necessarily feel right to stay still like this. but, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they did.

maybe from there jack becomes a fisherman, somehow managing to successfully whip fish and sell them to the inns and taverns and visiting pirates, he’s still with the sea every day he’s just not out causing havoc on it. he comes back to the inn every night, finding izzy hissing as he cracks his aching shoulders and neck, and he settles down beside him reeking of fish guts and salty ocean air. they share a tiny room that feels spacious compared to cramped ship quarters and start to learn to move around each other, they bicker, they share the bed after an adjustment period, and they drink each other under the table when they can afford to feel like shit in the morning. it wasn’t exactly what izzy pictured, even less so jack, but it feels real to him, to them both. and all he could have ever wanted was something that was real and reciprocal.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #calico jack #calicohands #cjizzy #i don't know what this is this got away from me so quickly #my writing #i guess??#i also don't necessarily know if this was my original idea when i started writing this but anyways yeah bye

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jiminrings · 3 years

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what happened to mc after that?? JUNGKOOK I WILL WHOOP YO FUCKING ASS

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

the aftermath of stem koo breaking senior!y/n's heart

"do you need anything from us?"

yoongi asks you for the fifth time in the twenty minutes you've been home, heart breaking from the inside out when you haven't moved a single inch

he is begging that the thing you need from him and jin is to go beat j*ngkook up

HE CAN'T EVEN SAY HIS NAME WITHOUT BEING ANGRY AT HIM!!!!!!!

anything. anything to atleast make you sleep in peace tonight.

or them honestly,, either way

your body's facing the backrest of the couch and maybe that's for the better, because that way, seokjin won't feel the need to cry looking at the coldest person he's known to be openly vulnerable

you're still wearing your jersey!!! your stained dirty jersey that you've been in for the past three hours and the reason that it's still wet was that you've been using it to wipe your tears all the way to the dorm

"no. i'll be alright."

you mumble for the fifth time out of the five times you've been asked, and yoongi just has to grapple at his fist because he knows that being frustrated wouldn't help

you are the fURTHEST thing from okay

to be honest, it was only a miracle that you told the two of them what happened in the first place

it was in between sobs that you asked them why they were friends with you and they couldn't be anymore dumbfounded

it was in between violent tears that you mentioned hyeji that seokjin looked for a box of tissues because you've been intentionally rubbing your eyes raw

it was in between heaving that you said that no one wants to go the extra mile for me that yoongi started holding your cheeks and trying to get you to breathe with him in his panic too

it was in between hiccups that you uttered that no one wants to walk me home and that's when both of yoongi's and seokjin's throats started tightening, the dots hazy yet aligning nonetheless

it was in silence when you told that jungkook said that no one likes me, and that's when out of the three of you in the room – you're the one who's the calmest.

"okay. i'll bring you a blanket."

yoongi leaves it at that, standing from his spot on the floor to walk over to the kitchen where the blankets cLEARLY aren't there

no one really prepared yoongs for this

no one really is

there isn't a manual on how to act when the dearest friend that you have is crying their guts out for the first time

he can't explain his close bond with you and he's always seen you as his platonic girlfriend!!! his platonic girlfriend who has a bond with him that's closer than a sister's, more understanding than a mother's, and the utter admiration more than a friend's

you r literally yoongi's (platonic) soulmate and he would die on that hill

he would rather subject himself to torture via having to stay in a freshman's dorm equipped with the de facto led strip lights everyday!!! every single day, than to see you like this :(((

"what do you have on the bitch?" yoongi doesn't spare his words when he sits on the kitchen stool next to jin's figure

the dude is sTANDING and that means business

jin doesn't feel a single ounce of regret fetching his work laptop and scrolling through the files and tabs he has on every single student on campus, eyes only looking for one lee hyeji that's contributed to your anguish rn

jungkook is atleast 3/4 in this equation and seokjin will get to him of course

no one makes his emotional support best friend cry and nOT pay the consequences for it!!!!

in another life, vincenzo cassano's character is based on seokjin and the events in his life that definitely happened >:(

"she's daddy's money. can't fucking believe that sHE'S representing the school," he sighs in genuine annoyance, but not loud enough to pique your attention as he turns the screen so yoongi could clearly see her headshots, "must be a diversity hire. every university needs a fucking bimbo, apparently."

you see,,, yoongi would've SNORTED at that but now is not the time!!! he is still planning discreet retribution to avenge you!!!!

jin lets yoongi look at hyeji's entire file, wanting to get even the smallest bits even if the information he's taking in is against his will

he'll immediately delete whatever he learns about her right after it's served its purpose

"just messaged the faculty groupchat," seokjin himself didn't imagine the words coming out from his lips determinedly, but he knows that he's willing to do anything for the sake of this, "been crushing on jeon ever since the start of last semester. philosophy professor thinks it's because he once saw jungkook lending her a pen when they were in the topic of soulmates."

jesus christ

now THAT'S just annoying ://

this

whatever this is

seokjin and yoongi don't know what they're digging all this information for

they don't know what this unspoken plan is for, or if they even have a plan in the first place

if jin were to tell the faculty gc about this???

absolute mayhem

but he knows for a fact that they'd hate star student jungkook easily within a tap of a finger

the philosophy prof would lose all sense of rationality and reasoning and INSTANTLY point to jungkook as an asshole!!! no questions asked!!!! no elaborations!!!!

"i could get jeon eliminated from all the academic listings he's in."

jin pipes in at the silence that he and yoongi share, both listless in this situation that they never expected to encounter with you

"i could always spread a rumor and make him unlikeable."

yoongi toys with the rings that he wears, a heavy exhale tearing away from him

they could think of a thousand other ways to get back at jungkook!!! they literally can

seokjin knows a contract guy who leaves shredded paper with his contract's initials written on red ink (for a base fee of three dollars, he can switch up the ink for you!!!) right next to their side on the bed

yoongi knows a guy whose modus operandi is to discreetly follow people, have subliminals playing in the background (for an extra fee of ten dollars, he'll use wireless bass-boosted speakers), and continue doing so until the desired message is achieved!!!!

none of the people they have connections to could employ the same amount of pain he's caused on you

there's literally nothing that could hit home with jungkook besides you.

but there's no way to do that and even in your state of anger and sadness tHEN utter vulnerability, you can't even really think of hurting jungkook in the way he did

because you know and yoongi knows and seokjin knows and everyone knows that you aren't the type to wish ill

you admit that sometimes you're unavailable but you don't want that to be an asshole-reason to make everyone else around you suffer in the same way you do

the people around you aren't your shock absorbers!!!! that's why you hang out a teddy bear on your doorknob when you're mad so that neither yoongi or jin would have the possibility to be caught in your rage

that's why you call for a break when your soccer team is out of their game and make everyone drink their electrolytes before they speak to you!!!!

that's why you have the old heart of your even older build-a-bear stuffie in your pocket, one of the only reminders that your childhood even happened, one that you'd squeeze between your fingers in any remotely anxious instances that you find yourself in

jungkook's words hit home and it put you into a spiral if you even had one in the first place

your parents divorced when you were young and it's just that,,, no one from the two of them wanted you because you were the reminder of the other parent

you're a place marker for when a commitment started and ended and god did it make you grow up quickly

your aunt raised you!!!! she's an angel and she's the maternal figure in your life that you'd always be grateful for

you love her all the same and as much as you didn't wanna relate yourself to your parents in the same way that they don't, the feelings of being unliked hit you ever so often

lol it's quite a dashing mindset you have but you can't see any other interpretation you should employ

you leave before they could leave you.

it's not really as dramatic as it sounds

BUT IT COULD BE

there's always obligatory groupchats for projects and you're the first one to leave it instead of awkwardly waiting out for the conversation to dwindle and then leave one by one

when you and yoongi argue, you leave before he attempts to get the last word in

when jin is about to ask if you want to split the bill, you're already putting more than half of your share on the table

it's a nagging feeling of not wanting be unwanted in every situation you're in, but you aren't all that sure of wHAT you'd do to be liked

the only thing you could think of are lunchboxes, and even that gets taken away from you.

does no one really like you??

you're shifting in your position before you know it and the lone sound makes jin and yoongs come to your side immediately, looking at you in concern

you're looking up and you could just fEEL your eyes are puffy and even the light's hurting them

"i need to sleep."

"o-oh! m'kay, sure. i'll carry you to bed, let's go," seokjin wastes no time in responding, about to hook his arms underneath you when you repeat yourself again

you only chuckle but it's the driest and most painful they've ever heard, wincing when they can hear how breathless it was

"no. i mean i need to sleep."

jin blinks once

yoongi blinks twice

right

they get it now

you don't want to sleep, and you really can't, but you need it

"i'll get it!!" jin volunteers to grab what you need, leaving yoongi with you

oh god you could fEEL that he's going to cry

what a big baby ://

seokjin comes bearing the joint :D

he's about to light it for you because he knows that three specific short hits would lull you to slumber then knock you out cold for like a day lmao

he minored in chemistry actually but he cAN'T explain shit on why that's your body's reaction

you're all-good for literally anything besides three short hits lmao

yoongi was about to scold jin because he lights it and tHEN he's the one who takes the first drag, but there's an assuring wave of his hand

how romantic

jin just blew you a heart

they can't get anything from you besides the slight crinkling from your eyes but they don't mind at all — your eyes are atleast one degree less sad

you take your turn and even pass it to yoongi but he rEFUSES,,,,, not the least bit dejected that he decided not to because he wants to watch over you instead and not see every inanimate object with cartoon eyes on them while watching over you

"bake her a cookie if in case she suddenly gets hungry in the middle of her sleep. sneak a carrot in it or something," jin reminds yoongi and he's sERIOUS about the recipe, holding you in tow as he makes the way to your room

yoongi's about to break out the bowls, freezing in his steps when he hears the doorbell frantically ring

oh god

the ONE time that they didn't plug the door with a wet towel and now it's probably the hall manager outside about to do an inspection

that is not..... the hall monitor

that is a fucking asshole

jungkook's been pacing on his heels, his knocking loud enough to wake up the entire hallway at this point

he's SWEATING and he's not even wearing his hoodie

the door finally opens and the words start tumbling out of his mouth

"good evening. i-i wanna explain myself and-..."

that is not,,,,, you

it's his senior that he's disrespected probably too many times

yoongi leans to the door, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face that the junior's never seen before

"you ever had a sandwich before, jungkook?"

"w-what?"

the younger boy stammers, his eyes following yoongi's actions of looking behind him out of worry and then going outside to join him by closing the door softly without noise

yoongi only snorts, not even sure if he's up for conversation

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

"the one that's all knuckle?"

#WHAT DO WE THINK BESTIES :D WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one)

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to.

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you—

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible.

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here.

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction.

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.”

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning.

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.”

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either…

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow.

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are.

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?”

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it.

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you.

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air.

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter.

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more.

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.”

Touching.

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow.

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.”

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen.

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor.

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.”

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three.

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand.

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop.

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.

You scowl. “It’s fine.”

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose.

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums.

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel.

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face.

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep.

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.”

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin.

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward.

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.”

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you.

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw.

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers.

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not.

Whatever.

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare.

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need.

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp.

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet.

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides.

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away.

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off.

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no.

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head.

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat. Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts.

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter.

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise.

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans.

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world.

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

#well it aint that good but it honest work wkerkjehr #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #jangofctts

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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yknow those episodes where a character's whole personality gets split into 3-5 different distinct separate bodies? what bodies would cas have? I feel like it'd just be a mess tbh, imagine 5 different castiels all of them loving dean to a certain extent but showing it VASTLY differently. one cas would literally want to murder the others lmao

okay so i don’t actually think this trope would be an effective tool for analyzing cas? he’s not conflicted enough in himself. he’s too impulsive, too singleminded, too uninhibited. like, in the end, cas always ends up doing whatever he wants. there aren’t multiple discrete voices vying for control, really, or rather, if there are, one is always significantly stronger than the others. like in the end cas will always end up eating raw meat off the floor, you know? he’ll do what he wants. if i was going to do personality splitting i’d do it to someone intensely internally conflicted, like dean.

however, because i’m in an essay writing mood today, i’ll answer a question slightly to the left of the one you asked. cas may not be internally conflicted, but he is intensely changeable. these two things are related, actually; the same impulsivity and singlemindedness that mean he doesn’t have a ton of internal conflict at any given time mean that different ideas sound good to him at different times, because he isn’t really thinking about, say, what future-him will think of them. and he’s not really trying to maintain an image or identity. he’s just doing what feels right at the time, which is very different at different times and in different situations.

anyway, that in mind, i think a lot about ways to bring together many alternate versions of cas which sort of correspond to different times in the show.

i have a fic in my head about a bunch of cas-es pulled from alternate timelines by some kind of spell. so this would be set during the widower arc because the basic impulse here is to show dean a very bad time. just absolutely put him through hell. also, all the alternate timelines are different because different stuff happened, not because cas made different choices, because if we’re torturing dean it has to be like 5x04, the changes in cas can’t be cas’ fault. they have to be dean’s or just like, the universe’s (which makes them dean’s).

so dean is trying to bring cas back, and he finds some kind of spell that can bring someone “from another world.” and he tries it because hey. can’t hurt to try. anyway i’ve thought a long time about different versions of cas i would put in this and here is what i have. in order of when the timeline split off.

- a cas who never raised dean from hell. think 14x13 “lebanon.” this one i’m not too sure about, like, this could be fun, but i don’t know if it’s different enough from the next one. like this castiel would have lived through the averted apocalypse and subsequent general fuckery that happened as an angelic footsoldier, which would actually be pretty interesting now that i think about it, especially since all that stuff would have gone down soooooooo differently without cas specifically for your average angel footsoldier. like cas has PERSONALLY caused more upheaval in heaven in twelve years of spn than there seems to have been in millennia. so he would be the point of view of a normal footsoldier from a totally other world.

- a cas who died mid season four, and is pulled out of the empty in 2017 by this spell. i’m not sure when this cas died. my thoughts are (1) killed in on the head of a pin by alistair, (2) killed during his torture in the rapture, or (3) simply never resurrected after lucifer rising. (3) makes the most sense, but that cas has already thrown away everything for dean. i prefer the idea of a cas who loves dean, is already on the brink of disobedience for him, but has not yet taken the plunge. both on the head of a pin and the rapture are great places for this, and they both have strengths and weaknesses. if he died in the rapture, he was killed by heaven, which is fundamentally more fun, but he was also really very much over the edge already. if he died in on the head of a pin, he wasn’t killed by heaven, but he is perfectly teetering on the brink of falling for dean. regardless of when he died, the purpose of this cas is to be horrified at all the various and myriad ways he has destroyed and corrupted himself for dean in the other timelines.

- possibly endverse cas, who would have died in 2014, but like s4 cas, would have been pulled from the afterlife by the spell. i’m not so sure on this one. we as a society love endverse cas but i dunno what purpose he would serve. maybe endverse cas didn’t die in 2014, and instead was imprisoned by lucifer, because, you know. he’s the only brother lucifer has left. so he is very excited to see dean alive and well, since his dean is dead, and, not being an angel, cas can’t bring him back. the purpose of this cas would be to horrify dean that cas loves him and needs him so much, and to disgust the other cas-es with his neediness.

- a cas who was in some way on better terms with dean during s6. maybe dean and cas ride off into the sunset together after swan song instead of dean going to live with lisa, maybe dean prayed to cas while he was with lisa because he missed him, who knows. either way, cas has dean’s help with the angel revolution in season six from the start, and never goes to crowley. the plan cas and dean come up with to beat raphael includes breaking into the cage and stealing the grace of michael and lucifer, freeing sam and adam in the process. incidentally, it also involves cas possessing dean, because if cas is gonna eat archangel grace to become more powerful, he’s going to need a stronger vessel. so cas and dean have a whole like. midam situation happening. they’re a double archangel together, and godstiel never happened so none of the other terrible apocalypses that stemmed from that happened, and everything is pretty cool where they’re from, and also they’re obviously uhhhhhh SOME kind of together. the purpose of this cas is to upset dean because this cas shows how much better everything could have been and how much better his and cas’ relationship could have been if dean had simply been more considerate of cas in s6, and also freak dean out with how uh. close. this dean and cas are.

- a godstiel who managed to swallow purgatory without swallowing the leviathans and remained god. he’s probably soooomewhat less scary and murdery than canonverse godstiel because no leviathans, so you know, not as many angel purges or massacres on earth. and he probably went and fixed sam’s wall within about three days because cas is prideful but he does NOT like it when dean is mad at him. so they did kiss and make up, and so this cas would have had dean to act as his morality chain. but he’s still very scary and godstiel. and also he refers to dean as “The Beloved” you know. his purpose is to freak everyone out, because he’s scary, but also, for the past cas-es, because he is a terrifying abomination that they could never imagine becoming, for the future cas-es, because he is a reminder of their worst selves, and for dean, because he is a reminder of how dangerous cas is, but also because he uh. obviously has some feelings about his dean. unclear if they are consummated or not.

- a cas who naomi never rescued from purgatory, and who stayed there. hasn't spoken to another being in half a decade, has not recovered from his emotionally destroyed state in purgatory in s8. believes at first that the spell is his dean rescuing him, and is crushed when he realizes he was wrong. like endverse cas, his purpose is to show dean how much cas needs him and depends on him emotionally, and how he (dean) is capable of destroying cas, as well as his guilt for leaving him in purgatory and how lucky he is that his cas got out. this is especially noteworthy since the guilt for leaving cas in purgatory is part of the reason dean is trying to get cas back.

- a cas who stayed human after season nine, and has built himself a small human life over the next four years. he has a job and an apartment and friends outside the winchesters and yes, he still goes hunting after work sometimes, and he's still in contact with dean, but he is also independent in a way no other version of cas has ever been. he exists to freak out dean because dean has never seen cas independent of him. he is also fairly bitter at dean since dean did kind of stop spending time with him when he was no longer useful, and our dean feels guilty for that.

- a cas who showed up twenty minutes later in 10x03, finding sam dead and dean gone, and had to chase down demon dean, and has now spent three years following demon dean around as his tragically adoring stalker, because he hasn't found a way to resurrect sam yet and he doesn't want to put dean through the demon cure until he can save sam because he doesn't want dean to experience that guilt, but he also adores dean and wants to keep an eye on him and keep him safe and also keep him from doing anything too heinous, so he just covertly follows him around the country and watches from a distance as he commits various murders and fucks his way through every local bar scene. and occasionally cas finds dean something to kill, when the mark gets hungry, and drops it in his path. his purpose is to freak dean out with the lengths cas would go for him, and the depths cas would sink to.

anyway. lebanon cas and season four cas are horrified and perhaps disgusted (lebanon cas more than s4 cas) by ALL of the later cas-es, and how far they’re fallen, all of it for dean. godstiel and archangel cas being abominations, endverse cas and s9 cas being fallen, even purgatory cas and demon dean’s cas for their total dependence on dean.

purgatory cas and endverse cas are just happy to see a dean, even if it’s not their dean. demon dean’s cas, too, in a way. he’s happy to see a dean who is still human, who he can still have as a friend.

human cas is pissed to see that he was right, that dean would have stuck by him if he’d still had his powers, that this version of dean is doing spells to try and bring his cas, who is still an angel, back, whereas he and his dean only see each other once every couple months.

everyone is terrified and disgusted by godstiel, as i said before.

they’re mostly kind of thrown by archangel cas. a lot of them are jealous. godstiel is furious because how dare anyone, even an alternate version of himself, take dean as a vessel (even if dean likes it). godstiel isn’t really there, though, he resisted the summoning and just sort of popped his head through to see what was going on, and he goes back to his own reality pretty fast without murdering anyone.

also to be clear dean has not at this point examined or acknowledged any feelings he may have about his cas besides “friendship,” nor has he wondered what feelings his cas may have for him. given how many of the cas-es were clearly in some kind of relationship with their dean (endverse cas, archangel cas) or just openly in love with their dean (godstiel, purgatory cas, demon dean’s cas), dean is forced to reevaluate the nature of his and cas’ relationship.

#spn #asks #anonymous

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cancelledboobsubscription · 3 years

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I’ve making headcanons about all of my hyper fixations for a while now and just dumping them on my friends so I’m gonna also dump them here.

If you’re into All For the Game , My Hero Academia, ATLA, The Raven Cycle stay fuckn tuned my doods bc I have a loooot of stuff rattling around my empty skull.

Not all of these are 100% mine some of them are already pretty popular and I’m expanding on them or I heard something similar and edited it to my own tastes

I’ll separate them by series,,,

Theres like one canon that’s mildly nsfw

TW: drug abuse

Mha/Bnha

pro hero kirishima’s Red Riot™️ merch is insanely size inclusive bc he wants fatgum to be able to wear the hoodie that kiri’s pr team sent him but that’s not all,,

If he wasn’t super gay and in love with Bakugou he’d be very Into BBWs so again his merch is super size inclusive bc he wants everyone to be able to wear it

The company that makes the merch also takes requests for special made merch for people who’s quirks interfere with a “normal” size or dimension

ALSO ,,,,this man(kiri) is built like a fuckn MACK TRUCK OKAY he is 6’7” and cannot fit through doorways without ducking and turning a little to the side ,,, he is broad And still wears no shirt™️ ,,, this being said ,, bakugou is still around 5’8” and pretty slim don’t get me wrong he’s extremely strong and toned but he’s not huge,, it makes flying easier if he stays a little lighter ,,,,,,, the point is,, sometimes kiri will pick up bakugou with one arm and bakugou can’t even pretend to hate it anymore

Also,,,, fatgum has to use special pens and keyboards because of how big his hands are,,, he’s literally 8’2” I won’t take criticism on this

Fatgum actually loves wearing red riot and sun eater merch

Allmight and Inko start dating and one day when they’re out someone comments on how much all might “looks like a skeleton” and she absolutley lets loose on them for being so vapid and shallow and how “he’s risked his life to save people like you more times than you have ever even thought about being helpful in your life and it would serve you well to treat someone who’d die for you without even knowing you with more respect”

All might had to gently pull her away bc the guy was crying and she wasn’t anywhere near finished with him

Midnight is Asexual and aggressively pretends to be horny on main™️ because for one, it works with her quirk and two, nothing sells better than sex especially when you’re a woman.

Bakugou and kirishima use sign language to talk shit at Public events

Dabi is addicted to painkillers because he’s been on them his entire life,, he wakes up with the shakes and sometimes toga has to help him take his meds in the morning because he’s already in withdrawal

Tensei was the first one to realize that iida was autistic and immediately did copious amounts of research on ASD and how to be a good brother to him

ATLA

sokka grows his hair as long as Zuko’s (except the sides obvi) and sometimes he’ll wear his hair in the fire nation top knot and zuko loses it every time

Azula gets help and now sometimes when she wakes up with the sun after a night of fitful sleep she goes to the courtyard to have tea with iroh. They never talk, but then again they never need to.

Sometimes after a hard day sokka falls asleep in the bathtub and wakes up to zuko warming the water back up and washing his hair for him

Suki lounges in zukos throne while zuko gets worked up about stuff and paces all around the room

Mai is on the ace spectrum

When sokka and zuko visit the southern water tribe zuko will firebend for the all of the kids in the village,,, they love him so much and sometimes sokka gets a little teary eyed watching him

Sokka braids zukos hair water tribe style and it’s the hottest thing maybe ever

Zuko takes sokka on shopping sprees pretty frequently and sokka fuckn loves it

One time someone has the nerve to call sokka “the fire lords sugar baby” and sokka just flips his ponytail over his shoulder Ariana style and says “and what about it?”

The Raven cycle

Ronan has 100% killed Robert Parrish in his dreams and when he wakes up to see Adam next to him he almost immediately wants to go back to sleep and do it again for all the pain he’s caused Adam

Gansey is oblivious to the fact that he is indeed shredded,, when he gets really worked up he moves his arms a l o t like rolls up his sleeves, crosses and uncrosses his arms and The gang’s favorite is when he puts his hands on his head and subconsciously flexes,,,, literally entire gangsey will group swoon at him and he genuinely thinks they are marvelling at his passion for whatever he’s worked up about

Ronan watched broke back mountain once when he was like 16 and now all he can think about is being a gay cowboy ,,,

Adam will read people’s tarot wrong if theyre douchebags

Don’t you think it’s funny that the ganseys don’t have any straight children?

Blue has a T-shirt from each member of the gangsey (except Noah,, rip Noah) and shes created a terrible Franken-T-shirt by ripping them up and sewing them all back together in an extremely ugly patch work thing

Adam talks in Latin in his sleep and it really freaks his roommate out,, like a lot,, not to mention the fact that Adam already creeps him out to begin with bc he’s got that other vibe that comes from being tied to cabeswater and lindenmere ,, 6 out of 7 days his roommate is convinced that he’s a witch or a fairy or something

Ronan teaches opal how to bake and opal burns everything on purpose

aftg

Neil has definitely killed multiple people to survive

Neil’s mom definitely made him kill someone at least twice to make sure he could kill to survive on his own if they got separated

he probably definitely still has nightmares about each one

Matt and Dan both had a crush on Neil for like 30 seconds and absolutely talked to each other about him

Ppl always talk about how hot it is to crush a watermelon with your thighs,,,, Andrew could do it with his arms

Aarons ass is so flat and Andrew has an absolute dumptruck

Kevin started out as one of those annoying “obsessed with WWII” history guys and now he’s actually very into queer history and will rant about the lavender scare for an hour if you let him

The foxes lounge room(?) has a dart board with riko’s face on it to this day,, they literally have a drawer full of copies the same image of riko and every time one gets worn out they put a new one up. It’s more of an inside joke now but wymack still hates that little puke even though he’s dead so it stays up

Post-canon Neil gets drunk and teaches the team how to steal a car by hot wiring Matt’s truck

Matt does drag for halloween one year and Dan liked it a little too much *cough cough* she pegged him while he was still in drag

Someone once asked Renee if she was “saving herself for marriage like a good Christian girl should” and Allison knocked them out cold and stepped over the body

Neil calls Aaron ugly to his face literally any chance he gets (I feel like this one might be canon but I actually don’t know What’s real anymore)

Andrew Unironically wears a pink apron that says “kiss the cook” that Nicky got him for Christmas when he bakes

Okay I think that’s it ? For now?? Let me know if y’all want more,,,,, I’ll separate them next time I just really had to dump these and I didn’t want to make multiple posts.

I made this at 5:30 in the morning sorry if it’s riddled with typos and errors.

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gone-daddy-gone · 3 years

Text

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TW: yandre, toxic relationships, abuse (emotional, some physical stuff but they don’t outright hit you), coercion, mentions of blood, spanking, twins are kinky

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❝ 𝒢𝑒𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎 ❞

let’s start with the type of yandere he is

i think he is an unholy combination of obsessive, protective, and delusional

lets unpack this shall we

he, just like his brother would be the type to obsess and obsess about their darling day in and day out

making jokes about what classes they could be in (for the explicit purpose of finding out from their peers which one they actually are in)

picking at his finger nails as he mauls over what you could be doing at that exact moment, who you could be talking to

he goes to the bathroom at least once in every class just so he could walk past your class and catch even just a glimpse of you

scrawls your name on every paper he can, whispers your name to himself when he...has his privacy

if he is in a relationship with his darling or not, he is over protective

we all know what he did to draco for calling his mother a name, just imagine what he’s willing to do for someone he’s in love with

one time he over heard a group of boys detailing what they want to do to your body

and he lost it

he felt his fingers curl, and his face twitch, before he turned around and knocked a kids head into another kid

at the sight of their blood, he felt a rush of encouragement

as if the blood was some form of physical proof to his devotion to you

needless to say he beat them to a bloody pulp before finally coming out of his angered state

a very concerned fred behind him

fred knows his twin though, he knows he can get a little, rowdy sometimes

he’s seen him do this before, and fred wasn’t exactly a saint himself

he’s also a bonfide stalker

mascaraing his dark intentions by vehemently swearing that he’s only lurking in the dark hallways near your dorm to plant some of his pranks for everyone to enjoy in the morning

fred eating up every lie his twin said

because he says it with so much enthusiasm he just can’t help but go along

if you two are dating this is only made worse

for both you and he offender

he follows you everywhere

a firm hand on your hip making you think he was gonna crack your hip bone in those slender fingers of his

every single person who talks to gets some weird kind of vague threat about waking up with spiders crawling out of their eyes

or about how well he can truly swing his beater bat

slowly but surely the only people that talk to you become the teachers

every student (besides the weasley family) far too scared to even look in your direction

it was isolating

so much so that you needed to end it

and that goes horrible

him telling you that you can’t leave him

and that he can’t live without you

you’re his everything!

but you’re not having it, and you tell him to stay away

all is well

for a few days

you don’t see george hanging around anymore

some students have started talking to you again

you can finally breathe

you feel so confident that you resign to throw yourself into your work alone in the library

its a quiet night, not a single kid is in sight

probably all partying in some house dorm on campus

you’re just so wrapped up in your little studying that you don’t even feel georgies presence behind you

“did you miss me love?” is the last thing you hear as goose bumps cover your flesh and black clouds your vision

when you do happen to come to, you’re in some small white room bound and gagged

finding yourself staring at your ex boyfriend who currently wrapped himself around you like an anaconda

you make a shrill scream through your gag prompting he sleeping giant to awake from his slumber

this is when his delusional side truly sets in

when you cry to him and beg to home he chuckles and runs his fingers through your hair, telling you that you are home silly!

reciting all the “conversations” you two had about running away together

about how sick of school you are

how you can’t wait to finish school and two months, you need to get out now

of course you tried to convince him otherwise

but he wouldn’t listen

only saying how much he loves you and how much you two were meant to be together

one can only stay in his fictional world for so long

and with your insistent telling him you hate him, crying, begging, and hitting...well it could make a man snap

he never puts his hands on you

opting to throw things at you for crying when he enters the room

screaming at the top of his lungs terrible terrible things he wants to do to you, plans to do to you

then he starts crying because he’s never been good enough for anyone

how hes unlovable, always the second choice

before he starts screaming insults at you for crying in terror at his mood swings

saying that if you would just love him back you could of stopped all of this

eventually he collapses in your arms, whispering sweet nothings as tears leak out of his eyes as his fit had finally wore him out

if you want to avoid his punishments, you best figure out how to make him feel loved

his punishments are on the less extreme side, at least compared to his brother

he’ll tie you completely down, to the point where you can’t move any joints at all

this serves as a means for him to feed you

almost like a lover

allows him to cuddle you without you biting him again

sometimes he spanks you till you can’t sit down anymore

getting a rather sick pleasure out of seeing your plump ass black and blue

isolation, so bad that he won’t see you face to face or feed you for days, and on one occasion, a week long

you began to give in to him rather quickly

giving him sexual favors in turn for food

cuddling with his so he’ll let you walk around outside in the sunlight

calling him daddy like he asked so you could see pictures of your old friends and family

all in all having george as your yandere could be an amazing time, with him making you home made meals

singing you to sleep

him praising you for every correct action

so long as it’s the correct, action after all

❝𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂❞

his type is protective and obsessive

it starts out small

maybe him just glaring at kids who talk about you

telling them to keep your name out of their mouth or he might just wash it out with soap

all said with a smile on his face of course

so no one really takes him seriously

that is until he starts putting a curse on students who said your name that etched some vile things into their skin

they kept quiet of course

not wanting whatever else the sick red head had up his sleeve to be perpetuated on them

so when he made it increasingly obvious that he had a liking to you

you were nothing less than thrilled

he was on the Gryffindoor quidditch team after all

and quiet handsome to boot

and at first everything is grand

he writes you love letters

sings to you

lets you wear his jersey

has you hang on his arm everywhere you go

and honestly, he starts out as perfect gentleman

but that is until the cracks beigin to appear

and you start to see his cute protective side turn into his obsessive and selfish side

it started off with him not wanting you to talk to other guys

which was a dramatic request, but still in the realm of reality

then it went from just boys to everyone

he said that everyone in all your classes talked trash about you

saying that it was best to just shut out those fake people

to rely on him and his family

they were real, wholesome people afterall

then when you’re isolation wasn’t enough for him he would get angry at you for looking too long at anyone really

you would receive long lectures about how you don’t truly love him because you have your eyes on other people

you would swear up and down that you do love him

only for him to respond to prove it

if that wasn’t enough, he had to be with you at all times, he would wait outside your class room with his brother and his darling escorting you to your next class

he would stay with you up until the very last moment he could

sometimes he would force you to sneak into his dorm, or let you into yours

if you’re a trooper and can take all of this pressure with a smile, then you get to keep your life at hogwarts under his oppressive thumb

but if you decide it’s too much...

well just like his brother, you end up in a cold white room

although unlike his brother, he has a grip on reality and knows just what he’s doing

he’s heard of Stockholm syndrome before...and you already loved him before

how hard could making you fall in love again be?

he’s still a perfect gentlemen, but this time when you don’t do what he wants

he doesn’t hold back

he does try his hardest not to lay his hands on you

his mother taught him better after all

but sometimes he finds himself grabbing at the strands of hair in your scalp and yanking them at a force no person should have to feel

or other unfortunate occasions he would slam you full force into a wall when you got a little mouthy and told him those lies about how you don’t love him

how no one kidnaps the ones they love

he would always apologize and kiss you all over, detailing about how sorry he is

how if you would just be a good girl he could treat you how he prefers to

aside from that another form of his punishments is making you get through one of his traps he set up, he calls it the whipping machine

if you can get past all the lashings that cause welts and sometimes blood to from your skin

then you get to eat for the night

and if you don’t well then you get to sit there all night and the next morning without food and until you can complete his tasks

if he’s in a more cheerful mood when you misbehave he gives you one of his new inventions to try out

you shutter to think about what happened to your skin the last time he gave you one

he doesn’t force himself onto you

but he lets you know that if you give him what he wants then he’ll give you a new privileged

your latest privilege was getting a book to read while he went off to go work on the shop

fred much like his brother, isn’t all that bad

if you can stand the whipping tree

and his outburts

↷𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖↶ (mostly sex- choking, slapping, not vanilla)

having both the twins as yandere’s is by far the worse outcome

god do they feed on each other

usually, they compliment each other in the best ways

but yandere twins,,,not so much

fred feeding into george’s insecurity

george feeding into fred’s whole they belong to us mentality

and between the two of them, there’s nowhere in the school you could escape from them

somehow someway they always find you

pestering you until you oblige them

with them having someone else to feed into their obsessions they both detonate at a faster rate than individually

it would be george would decided that they needed to kidnap you

and fred was the one that planned it all out

the room they kept you in as a collective was much better than it would be if it was one on one

far more things to do

far better blankets

more time time outside what with the two of them being there to stop you

the doors were all enchanted to spray some weird liquid at you that would make you drop down as the alarm was set off

they would come running and laughing

going back and forth about how silly you are to think you can get away from them

they would pick you up and tell you that it was time for your punishment now

which almost always tended to be sexual

which you endured if only for the sake of your future

this included over-stimulation

spankings

choking

slapping you around

and your eventual begging for forgiveness

the twins are rather kinky in bed

the more obvious ones being double penetration

they liked to be refereed to as daddy or sir

nipple clamps

bondage

hair pulling

flogging

sensory deprivation

they want to do it all to you

they just can’t help it with how beautiful you are

and he worst part is, you like it

you like being treated like an object in bed

you knew it

the twins knew it

its rather hard to fake disdain for them when they make you cum over and over again during sex

maybe that’s what helped you to slowly begin to break

slowly start to believe yourself when you said you loved them

after all, when you just love them and do what they say...it isn’t all that bad

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studyingmoominvalley · 3 years

Text

my analysis of Moominvalley (2019)'s season one soundtrack

(yeah I may not be great at this and I may be missing a lot, but bare in mind this is my analysis, not anyone else's. Please be nice to me ;-;)

I'm Far Away:

Snufkin has travelled for the Winter. The first verse is like Moomin leaving letters in Snufkin's bag, wishing him with good travels and a safe return hope. Snufkin is longing for something to change, or maybe something in him to change... The second verse is more talking about his travels and how he longs to return no matter what happens.

Starlight:

I don't know, reading this and thinking of Snufmin makes me concerned. It's SO obvious that it's from Moomin's perspective that it gives me a cavaty. "Please say you'll never leave 'cause it's in your hands" If that wasn't obvious enough, idk what is. This is him just... wanting to be with Snufkin. He knows deep down that Snufkin has to travel, yes it's in his hands but not completely. It's a part of him. This is obviously his mind in a point of time where he hasn't gotten used to Snufkin being away from him, possibly what is reflected in Teety-Woo.

Summer Day:

Moomin doesn't like the Winter because it feels wrong without Snufkin. But he has Snorkmaiden with him at least, and that's good enough right? Snorkmaiden loves Moomin, almost in a similar way Moomin loves Snufkin, but Moomin just feels tied down in the relationship. He thinks he's just thinking like an adult, like a moody teenager or something. But then again, he feels Snufkin is the only one who understands him ("But when you put your hands in my hands/You speak a language only us can understand"). It feels like Summer with Snufkin, but not with Snorkmaiden. He reassures himself that Spring is coming and that he'll see the one who knows him best soon.

Back To The Cave:

We get to look into Snufkin's brain, ooo! This is mainly about Snufkin's feelings about himself and how he hides his true emotions from Moomin and the others. "They can't see behind the camouflage" this is him hiding behind a wise and carefree persona, when deep down he is conflicted about almost everything. It seems when he runs out of things to say or when he fears that he'll show his emotions, he finds time to be alone, shown by the lines "We're running out of punchlines/So watch us crawl/We're crawling back to the cave". But his feelings are getting too much, his fears of being forgotten most likely because he doesn't express himself in the way he should "There's a storm/It's rising". So basically he doesn't know what to do anymore. And I guess the "you can't be truly free if you admire somebody too much" quote can link to "There's no time/There's no place for idles", showing more that this is about Snufkin's emotions.

Love Me With All Your Heart:

now this song choice was intentional. This is mutual pining, their emotions mixing into the same song. They've loved each other for a long time, be it platonic turning to romance or be it always romantic. They both want each other, they both long for each other. But they don't wish for their relationship to change, they want it to stay the same ("When we're far apart or when you're near me", "Love me always as you've loved me from the start").

Home Again:

Snufkin is back home, and he could not be happier. Yeah he likes to travel and be with his thoughts, but nothing is better than being with Moomin, shown by the lines "Nothing could be better/Than when I hold you close to me" and "Who I was back then and who I am now/Makes no difference when I'm by your side".

There Is Something In The Forest:

One day, Moomin and Snufkin are just adventuring as they usually do. But something feels different. Something new. Moomin realises it that night, when sitting hand in hand with Snufkin. He finds himself losing track of time, only paying attention to his friend. When he goes home, all he can think of is Snufkin. He thinks of it as he walks, embracing his new emotions as love, a deep love, for Snufkin. And he never wants to let it go. Ever.

Home:

Moomin has noticed how off Snufkin has been acting, and one day he decides to comfort him. He tells him that if he ever feels like he needs to hide ("Sometimes you only want to hide") or that nobody is there for him, that Moomin will always be there for him. This song can also link to Snufkin's own saying "You must go on a long journey before you find out how wonderful home is", and seems like Snufkin has found his home in Moomintroll.

All Small Beasts:

nah this is crime anthem. Little My is cheering Snufkin up, telling him that people with lots of dreams, emotions and all that should just let it out in a huge show! Commit crime! Burn some signs! Fuck Hemulens, who's to say what they can or can't do? The first verses are her making fun of people being neat and telling Snufkin that bottling up your emotions is just going to tease at you and bite you in the tail one day. But this can also be seen in another way, brought to my attention by my friend Bloom. It can be a song about owning up to your mistakes instead of keeping them away.

Free Spirit:

must I say anything? Snufkin likes being alone and free. The second verse is what I want to focus on however. He knows it's good to be alone and not worry about anything, but his avoiding of responsibility is doing him worse than he knows (much like the "owning up to mistakes" analysis by my friend Bloom).

Country Air:

This is what Snufkin wishes he could say to Moomin. They're relaxing together in Summer, Moomin asleep. Snufkin is thinking in his brain about how much he loves him and just wishes he could say SOMETHING. Winter is coming soon, almost time for them to part. Maybe he can ponder more on his emotions then?

By Your Side:

it seems Snufkin is accepting and returning Moomin's offering of comfort, showing that he cares for Moomin and that he doesn't even need to ask for help, he'll do anything to make him happy.

In Blue:

oh boy

Snufkin fears he made a mistake already. He let out his emotions. Even when reassured that it was okay to do so, he feels utterly guilty, shown by the lines "I built a house from sticks and twine/And you said it would serve me fine/But then the rain could soak me through". He begins to fear that he's being put up with, like he doesn't matter anymore ("Anything to keep me quiet"). But he can't help but feel a strong admiration for Moomin. Snufkin has made so many mistakes, and has so many bad feelings ("I caught a fever like I always do"), yet Moomin is still his friend ("And still you let me stand with you, in blue"). He feels his emotions are his fault, and wonders if he should just stay in the valley and own up to his mistakes and allow others to show their true emotions for him, shown by the lines "I bet next year I'll see you all the time/The fault is all deserved as mine", "Was it all on purpose?/Was this true?" and "Tell me and be honest, was this you?". The phrase "In Blue" could refer to the saying "into the blue", which refers to the unknown. Snufkin is "In Blue" because he is in a stage where he is unsure of what he is hearing and wants to know if it's true or not.

Nothern Lights:

Snufkin's feelings for Moomin are increasing to what is obvious to him as love. "Will you find peace in your heart?" this line could be Snufkin talking to himself. Will be ever come to peace with his emotions and open up?

Ready Now:

Moomin has been there for Snufkin all this time. Through all his doubts, through all his sadness. Snufkin has no idea how to express himself, so Moomin helps him. They take it in turns to just talk about things, and "To my surprise we found my words". All this time, Snufkin believed himself to be free. But now he knows that opening up and embracing how you feel is true freedom. He is ready now.

The Author:

This is more about Moomin. He feels like his future will be like his father's, he already met Snorkmaiden during a big childhood adventure after all, just like Pappa. But he finds his story is changing. He's fallen in love with Snufkin. He slowly realises that his future is his own and that he is in charge of his story. And his story begins with being there for his best friend.

#moomins #moominvalley #snufkin #moomin #moomintroll #snufmin #analysis #soundtrack

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ahtsumu · 3 years

Note

Hm. Take your favorite boys, what do you think they're insecure about?

i wrote for oikawa, atsumu, ushijima, kuroo, and tendou! sorry for the length i just love them so much lol

OIKAWA TOORU:

not being good enough. this one’s clear as day and everyone knows it but i think there’s another layer to this. i think it’s two-fold. so first of all, he’s insecure about the limits to his skill compared to the monster generation, which is his own problem. but then he’s also insecure about people surpassing him in skill. so not only is the insecurity about something internal, but it’s also affected by external factors. and then you see how his self-hatred (self-hatred may be strong but that’s what the essence of insecurity is, right?) spills over to the way he treats/views others, turning him into this bitter, calculating guy who would work himself dead just prove that he is good enough.

his volatility. listen, for someone as smart as oikawa, he definitely knows it’s not normal to be utterly consumed by the need to even be just a sliver of a bit better than his opponents. and it makes him act in questionable, erratic ways. underneath that calm, put-together facade is a tsunami of ugly emotions that oikawa is highly aware of. i think he’s afraid this side to him will hurt others and makes him a burden, hence his overdone, saccharine, charmer persona. it keeps people at a distance–– emotionally. i think he’s definitely a sweet guy on the inside and genuinely kind to people he doesn’t view as competition (and he actually really appreciates his fans), but because of how he’s scared of exposing his scary side, he overdoes the flamboyant airheadedness. by doing so, he weeds out the people he doesn’t think would stay with him through thick-and-thin anyway.

i like to think that post-timeskip oikawa has dealt with these demons and found a way to just be satisfied. maybe he just needed to expand his horizons. maybe he found a team that was already really good and he, with his setting style, made them great–– better than seijoh could ever have been. olympic gold-medal worthy. he deserves it.

MIYA ATSUMU:

firstly, i don’t think atsumu’s insecurities are as crippling as oikawa’s. if we factor in his personality based on his volleyball playing style, he’s not the type to overthink or scheme or calculate like oikawa, so i also headcanon him to be less “in his head” and more “in the moment”. this means his insecurities play a smaller role in shaping his personality and are less visible in the manga/anime.

he’s rough around the edges. his speech is coarse (the accent, the slang, the insults) and he fights with osamu in public and he definitely doesn’t shy away from provoking people he barely knows. i bet atsumu sometimes wonders if other people look down upon him because of that. like they might feel like he’s too wild. but i don’t think he dwells on this because he’s also a very confident guy and proud of where he comes from. it’s just a passing thought that sometimes puts a damper on his mood for a bit, and then he’s back to normal.

he’s unlikeable. atsumu has a strong personality–– goofball, airhead, loud, brutally honest, cocky... and he was abandoned by his middle school teammates and classmates for being “an arrogant jerk”. and judging by his behaviour in high school, his middle school years shaped him into a “so what if they hate me?” kinda guy–– meaning, he doesn’t care what random people think of him. what he does care about, though, is if these traits of his impact the way his friends view him or feel because of him. he didn’t grow up with many friends and he probably knows what loneliness feels like. i think he’d hate to feel it again, so he’s a lot more careful about his negative traits around friends. the people who matter.

vulnerability. atsumu’s been shown denying the fact that he was crying even though he was touched by kita’s kindness. that, and how he’s got this huge (and i think purposely overdone) overconfident/brash persona kind of builds a wall of strength around him. in reality, he’s a softie. atsumu’s definitely afraid of people coming into his life and then just leaving because, again, his personality’s an acquired taste and he’s been abandoned before. in his eyes, his softer side is his weaker side because he’s more susceptible to getting hurt.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI:

letting people down. ushijima lives to be reliable. he wants to be, like his dad described, the ace that makes everyone think “if i toss to him, he’ll definitely score”. he shoulders on so much responsibility and it’s because he needs prove that he is the guy people can depend on. and a lot of it has to do with making his dad–– whom he rarely ever sees–– proud, but a lot of it also has to do with the genuine desire to be strong for others. so to be the exact opposite, to show or maybe even suggest that he isn’t as sturdy as he is (which he definitely has done before, probably with all the team’s losses), i think that’s the one thing that gets him most insecure. or i guess you could say this is his greatest fear: to no longer be reliable.

honestly, i think ushijima is one of the least bothered people in haikyuu, which is why i can only confidently headcanon one insecurity. he’s got amazing tunnel vision and he doesn’t let himself get carried away by emotion. that being said, he has emotions. he’s just able to compartmentalise and focus on what’s important: getting better. if he loses, he doesn’t wallow in self-pity–– he does 100 serves. ushijima turns his insecurities/flaws into strength.

i’d suggest maybe his family situation as a possible soft spot, but by the way he openly answered tendou’s questions it’s clear that he’s not exactly torn up over his parents’ divorce. i think he’d be insecure about getting into a relationship, though. it involves a lot of vulnerability and dedication/time, the latter of which he’s not sure he can take from volleyball. i genuinely believe he never dated in high school because he was way too focused on going to nationals for that. so that lack of experience would also make him just a little uncomfortable about dating as an adult, i think. but he’s also not the type to dwell on these things. he’d probably just go for it. he’s a straight-forward, logical, clear-minded guy.

KUROO TETSUROU:

his baggage. based on the canon information about his parents being divorced and him not seeing his sister, and then the fanon stuff about him growing up listening to them fight endlessly… there’s a lot of trauma that comes with a dysfunctional family that undoubtedly made him into the self-preserving and cunning captain he is today. he has to be able to figure people out and protect himself in order to survive, but that also means he’s a lot more guarded than most. he’s that guy who gets along with everyone but he wouldn’t call most of them his friends. kuroo likes to keep people at arm’s length to protect them and himself from getting hurt. there’s just too much trauma for another person to deal with, unless they really show him that they won’t just leave him high and dry. even after he’s let them in, i don’t think kuroo would talk much about it.

not knowing what romantic love is supposed to be like. and by love, i mean the act of loving–– not the emotion. i find that with kids who’ve grown up in dysfunctional families or are children of divorce, they’re either extremely hesitant to enter relationships or they impulsively dive into them. i think kuroo’s the former. he’s very intelligent and patient, so i can definitely see him being scared to get involved with other people for their sake. after all, he knows that what he’s experienced in reality about love is not correct–– but at the same time, that’s all he knows. he just doesn’t know what a relationship is supposed to look like. is it a lot of independence? or are you supposed to be attached at the hip? how do you get that comfortable around someone? i think this lack of knowledge makes him insecure about getting into relationships.

TENDOU SATORI:

his appearance. we also all know tendou has had the most trauma being bullied and “overcame” the bullying by embracing the demon persona (just on the court!!), but i highly doubt he’d want to be loved for that off the court. the way he treats his friends shows that he’s a very loving, soft, and playful guy. and he’s more resignedly accepted the fact that everyone’s first impression of him will always be the sadistic, scary-looking demon, but i’m sure it affects the way he interacts with people he believes to be conventionally attractive. like maybe he feels just a little undeserving/unsuitable to be around them.

going over the line. tendou is a really sensitive guy with high emotional intelligence–– partially because of how he’s been forced to learn to read people to figure out their intentions, and partially because he never wants to hurt the people he loves. for example, tendou apologised when he kept badgering ushijima about his father and realised it could be a sensitive subject. but i also feel like because he’s such a rowdy, high-energy guy, sometimes his teasing and mischief can go a little far. maybe it’s a text that reads too rudely, followed by a lag on the receiver’s side. and maybe that’s when the overthinking kicks in. like, “that was really mean, satori. that was too far. you should apologise. what if they were really hurt by that? what if they don’t like you anymore?”

being overlooked. tendou pretty much only exists in relation to ushijima and even though he loves ushijima to death i’m sure sometimes he just feels a little down about the fact that he lives in his shadow. he’s always “ushijima’s friend” or “the middle blocker on ushijima’s team” and he’s rarely recognised for his own existence. i think he’s also accepted this, as shown by when he told ushijima to tell all the future reporters that they were friends. tendou had already accepted how ushijima was destined for attention, no matter how in-your-face he himself was. what i love is how furudate kinda inverts this trope by making tendou the famous guest of a show and talking about ushijima instead. it doesn’t change how much he loves ushijima or how much he’ll continue singing his best friend’s praises, but i think some part of him will always wonder if a new person is only taking interest in him because of his connection to ushijima.

#oikawa tooru #miya atsumu #ushijima wakatoshi #kuroo tetsurou #tendou satori #haikyuu!!

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broadstbroskis · 3 years

Text

the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together).

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things.

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them.

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day.

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse.

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.”

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done.

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms.

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug.

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down.

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?”

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible.

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced.

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face.

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours.

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face.

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly fanfic #morgan rielly imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #my hockey fics

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feitan-apologist · 3 years

Note

Maybe illumi scanrio witu his breeding kink ? Thank you and have a nice day 💙

thank you for the request! i wrote this out as more of a headcanon/loose bullet point format, i hope that's okay 💕

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-fem reader -not sfw -minors dni please

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Illumi sees you as his, as belonging to him, and his breeding kink is a natural extension of that ownership. Once he’s got you trapped in his castle of a house, a ring around your finger and a needle in your head, the natural next step is to get you pregnant - after all, you’re part of his family now, and he’s so eager to continue the Zoldyck bloodline.

At first, he probably views the sex as a means to an end. I hc that Illumi is a virgin, and that he was probably raised with a very narrow view of sex: its primary purpose is to create children, although it does also serve to strengthen the bond between a married couple (Kikyo and Silva do genuinely love one another, so I don’t think the views of love and marriage they’ve passed down to their children are completely cold and devoid of feeling…) In any case, Illumi holds the view that just as assassins don’t need friends, they don’t need extraneous sexual relationships that would serve to distract and get in the way of their duty, so he’s never done anything sexual with anyone up until you.

In the beginning, this means discomfort on your end. Your first night together, he removes your clothes deliberately, efficiently, all the while staring at you with those huge unblinking eyes. You shiver as his cool hands ghost over your body - his skin is always cold to the touch, and laying on the gigantic four-poster bed you share in your dark bedroom, you feel unbelievably exposed. Illumi never takes his eyes off of your face as he pushes your knees up to your chest and leans over you.

In his preparation for the night, he was considerate enough to have the butlers get him lube, so it isn’t outright painful when he pushes inside you. You still wince at the stretch as he slowly guides his entire length into you, pushing in until his pelvis is flush with yours and you’re squirming with how uncomfortably full you feel, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix. He stays there for a long moment, breathing steady, watching your face.

When he pulls almost all of the way out, then slides in again, he doesn’t go as deep, and as he begins to set a rhythm you force your clenched muscles to relax; after a while, you even start to enjoy it.

Illumi isn’t surprised at how nice you feel, your warmth clenching around him as he fucks you slowly - he knew that sex was supposed to feel good. What does surprise him is how fascinated he is by you, by the tiny sounds you’re making as he buries himself in you over and over again, picking up the pace slightly just to see the face you make.

His mind wanders to thoughts of you in the future, how he’ll fuck you over and over until you get pregnant, your belly slowly swelling until you’ll need help with everything, relying on him and his butlers to fetch you things, help you walk, ease the aches and pains of your growing stomach; your entire body growing, changing, all because of him, evidence of his presence there every time he looks at you, every time anyone looks at you, making it so obvious that you’re his, that you belong to him and only him.

He’s fucking you faster now, his slightly deepened breath the only indication that he’s feeling anything. You make a small sound of pleasure, arching your back a little, and the thought that this feels as good to you as it does to him delights him. He’s enamored with you, his wife, his wife - you look so beautiful laid out underneath him, face flushed, panting softly, hands clutched tight in the bedsheets, and he can’t wait to stuff you full of his cum, have you bear his children, weave you so tightly into his life and family that no one, especially not you, will ever forget who you belong to.

His orgasm comes on hard, and this time he is surprised at how good it feels, how right as he pushes in as deep as he can, cock twitching against your walls as his cum fills you to the brim.

He tips his head forward, eyes falling shut as he leans his forehead against yours. Illumi whispers your name, and when you whisper his name back, a tiny smile flits across his lips.

Don’t expect to be allowed to move, though. He has you stay in that position, holding your legs to your chest so every drop of his cum stays inside you, for at least fifteen minutes. You didn’t come this time, but Illumi is already thinking of what he’s going to do tomorrow to make sure that changes. You can expect this to be a nightly occurrence until you’re knocked up.

As you lay side-by-side in the dark, he murmurs softly how well you did and what an excellent mother you’re going to make. His voice is as flat and emotionless as always, and you won’t be able to tell, but Illumi can’t remember a time where he was ever as happy as he is now, with you.

#illumi zoldyck #illumi #hxh #hunter x hunter #illumi headcanons #not sfw #hxh headcanons #this is the first request i've ever gotten and it's been sitting in my inbox for SIX MONTHS #i am so sorry #school killed my motivation to write and i've been so inactive #ty for your patience

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julek · 4 years

Text

five times jaskier does nice things for roach, and one time she returns the favor.

(or, jaskier spends a ridiculous amount of time and money on a horse).

“i told you not to touch roach,” geralt says when he hears his mare stomping her feet on the ground, displeased. she’s tethered to a tree near their fire and geralt, now busy brewing some potions, had finished brushing her a few minutes ago.

jaskier curses himself mentally, still not used to geralt and his witcher hearing, capable of listening to a bird’s cry three towns away. reluctantly, he draws his hand away from the horse, grinning innocently in geralt’s direction.

“i was just saying goodnight!” he says, sitting down cross-legged on his bedroll, “first impressions are very important, you know. wouldn’t want her to think i was being impolite on purpose, not when we are this”—he pinches his fingers together—“close to being best friends.”

geralt looks up at him, unimpressed. “she doesn’t like you.”

behind them, roach snorts in agreement, and jaskier splutters in indignance.

the forest is quiet.

no birds chirping, no predators lurking around, no sound. ideal work conditions, in geralt’s opinion. he’s crouched down next to a fallen tree, waiting for the drowners to take his bait.

suddenly, the swamp’s stillness is breached by soft singing and feet stepping on branches. rolling his eyes, geralt stands up as quietly as possible and walks over to jaskier, who’s busy picking flowers from a nearby meadow.

“i told you to stay with roach,” he says in greeting, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

jaskier yelps and turns around to face him, clutching his heart and letting the flowers fall to the ground.

“gods, geralt! warn a guy, would you? i thought you were one of those, um… what do you call them? swimmers.”

“drowners.”

“my words exactly,” he says, gathering some long stems. “i was waiting with roach, mind you, but i got bored. so i looked around and thought hey! roach looks awfully dull without some pretty flowers weaved in her mane, so here i am.”

geralt lifts his eyebrows, abandoning all hope for a peaceful, quick hunt.

“she’ll trample you to death before she lets you touch her,” he deadpans.

jaskier tsks, already making his way back to their camp with his fresh selection of flowers.

geralt waits for the inevitable.

“fucking ow!” he hears, and feels a smile tugging at his lips. “that doublet was new! that is not how one reacts to gifts, you vicious horse. did that witcher teach you nothing about manners?”

he did, actually. he’s glad she’s putting them to use.

“fuck, i’m cold.”

they’re in the outskirts of blaviken, and much to jaskier’s chagrin, they’re making camp in the forest. winter’s near, and as much as he would have liked to sleep in a warm bed, he would have turned it down anyway. he’d seen the look on geralt’s face as they approached the town, and that had been enough of a reason to follow him into the forest.

jaskier is pacing around the fire, his woolen cloak snug around his shoulders, doing little to protect him from the biting wind. geralt had gone deeper into the forest to hunt something for their dinner and hadn’t yet returned.

he looks over his shoulder at roach, who’s laying down on the ground, her legs tucked under her body. geralt had slung a blanket over her back, and she’d been dozing off for the last half hour, seemingly unfazed by the cold.

he knows it’s a bad decision, and he’ll probably be kicked and yelled at, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care. his fingers are frozen and he can’t feel his ears, and he’s sure he’ll drop dead any minute now from hypothermia, so why not?

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers, crouching down next to roach, watching her reaction. “do you mind if i sit next to you? you see, it’s horribly cold,” he sits down, carefully as not to startle her, “and it’s something my brothers and i used to do, you know? huddling for warmth.”

if roach notices him laying against her side, she doesn’t show it. he gently places his head on top of her spine, and drapes himself in his cloak.

“you’re incredibly warm, did you know that? had i known that before, i would have cuddled you sooner.”

he’s so warm and comfortable he almost doesn’t notice geralt coming back. he hears his footfalls but decides to ignore them, too cozy to move, but roach has other plans. all of a sudden, she stands up, leaving him on the floor, confused.

“wha—roach!” he exclaims, picking himself off the ground. “we were doing fine! what happened?”

geralt smirks as he starts to skin the rabbit. “maybe that will teach you not to bother her.”

“but you don’t understand, i—we were happily laying side by side just a minute ago!” jaskier says, sitting in front of the fire. “you startled her.”

geralt snorts. “i did?”

jaskier rolls his eyes and looks at roach, who’s laying down again, unperturbed. “traitor,” he whispers.

spices, curated meats, oils, and baked goods are all geralt can smell, meaning this particular market isn’t too big and they’ll be out on the road soon. that, if he can get jaskier to hurry and get whatever he so desperately needs.

“oh, that stone is beautiful,” the bard says to a bald salesman, keen on selling him a new ring. “alas, it’s much too expensive for me.”

he gives the salesman a sheepish smile and moves on to the next stall.

“i just need one more thing, dear witcher, and we can be on our way,” he says, grinning.

geralt arches a brow, but says nothing. better not to distract him, he’s learned.

“hello, madam!” he chirps, looking at the goods displayed on her counter, “if you would be so kind, i’d like a full bag of sugar cubes.”

huh. that’s not what geralt had been expecting. cherries, maybe, or a honeycake, not sugar cubes.

jaskier pays the woman and kindly thanks her, then ties the small bag to his belt. “well, i’m done. are we leaving?”

geralt nods.

they make their way to the side of the road, where roach is nibbling on the outgrown grass. he takes the herbs he’d purchased and places them inside roach’s saddlebag, while jaskier resumes his daily chattering.

“you’re looking quite dashing today, my lady,” he says, gently stroking the mare’s neck.

geralt expects roach to hastily brush jaskier’s hand aside, but much to his surprise, she doesn’t, snorting happily instead. he looks at them for a second, dumbfounded.

“geralt? are we going, then?”

“hmm.”

summer is kind enough to let a gentle breeze filter through the trees, giving jaskier a breath of clean air.

he’s got his breeches rolled up to his knees, and his doublet is nowhere to be seen. they’d been traveling nonstop for two long, humid days, the burning sun above them, and jaskier had been too tired to even sing, lazily strumming his lute as he walked next to geralt. then, in the middle of a pointless rant about how the world would be better off without the sun and its infernal heat, jaskier spotted a stream.

grabbing roach’s brush from geralt’s saddlebags, jaskier takes her reins and gently leads her into the stream. she complies, braying lightly as she feels the water on her legs.

“i know, girl,” jaskier says, gathering water on his cupped hands and letting it pour on her head, minding her ears, “it’s too hot out, even for you.”

he looks over to geralt, who’s got his back to them, scrubbing mud from his boots.

“you know,” he murmurs, smoothly brushing her mane, scratching behind her ears, “he doesn’t think we’re friends, you and i.” she snorts in response, and he chuckles. “he still thinks you don’t like me.”

she moves forward, and jaskier’s about to move out of the way to let her walk out of the stream when she bumps her head affectionately against his chest.

“oh,” he whispers, overcome with emotion. “as you know, i’ve become quite the expert at reading geralt’s hums and silences, but this is uncharted territory. animal behavior is foreign to me.”

she swishes her tail, and jaskier huffs out a laugh.

“i’ll give it my own meaning, then,” he says, pressing his nose against her snout. “i love you too.”

the tavern is packed to the brim, overflowing with hearty patrons who served as a great audience, generously rewarding jaskier with applause and tankards of ale with his name written on them.

“thank you, my good men and women, for listening to my tales!” he exclaims, hopping off the stool he’d been using as a makeshift stage.

he heads to the bar, picking up two of the mugs and moving toward the corner where geralt’s sitting, half-hidden under the shadows.

“help yourself, witcher,” he says, smiling brightly. “the crowd was kind to us tonight.”

to you, geralt thinks but doesn’t say. instead, he takes a swig of ale. “so i’ve seen.”

jaskier beams at him, his cheeks flushed and his hair matted with sweat. he downs half his glass, sitting back on his chair, sighing contentedly.

they spend the evening in comfortable silence, jaskier casually making remarks about the town or the last contract, taking small bites out of a piece of bread. after a while, geralt stands up.

“i’ll go check on roach.”

“oh, good!” jaskier says, standing next to him. “i forgot my quill in her saddlebags, i’ll go with you.”

geralt hums, and they walk past the people at the tavern. they reach the half-lit stables at the back, where roach chews on some straw in her stall.

“hey, sweetheart,” jaskier greets, stroking her snout. geralt starts brushing her down, and jaskier looks into her saddlebags for his forgotten quill. a long time ago, geralt had given up on trying to split their belongings into different bags, realizing the your side, my side logic meant nothing to jaskier.

after all, they shared everything. coin, wine, food. beds, sometimes, waking up with their legs entwined, jaskier’s head on geralt’s shoulder, embraced in what they both tried to pass off as the natural seeking of warmth on cold nights, nothing else.

jaskier leans against a pillar, watching geralt take care of his horse. they’d been traveling together for so long, yet it still amazes jaskier to see geralt move around roach. how his gaze softens, and a small smile stretches across his lips, only for roach to see. how he murmurs sweet nothings, rubbing that spot on her jaw he knows she likes.

“okay,” geralt says, “go to sleep, now. we’re leaving at dawn.”

roach bumps her head against geralt’s chest, lovingly, and he gives her a smile.

“goodnight, darling,” jaskier says, sneaking a sugar cube into her mouth. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

when he turns back, geralt’s looking at them with a fond expression, a small smile on his lips. he moves toward jaskier, his eyes soft.

“you’re spoiling her”, he says, amused. this close, jaskier can see geralt’s got a little bit of mud on his chin, and he wants to wipe it off.

“she’s a good horse,” jaskier tells him, feeling roach’s eyes on him. “she deserves nice things.”

“hmm.” geralt closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling softly.

jaskier moves forward, licking his thumb, and gently wipes geralt’s chin. he opens his eyes, watching jaskier.

“there,” jaskier whispers, his thumb now stroking geralt’s cheek.

suddenly, he feels roach nudge him forward with her snout, and he stumbles onwards, clutching geralt’s shirt for balance. they’re close, geralt’s breath on jaskier’s cheek, his hands on the bard’s waist.

“she’s a clever horse, too,” geralt says, pressing the tip of his nose against jaskier’s, rubbing softly.

“she is,” jaskier murmurs against geralt’s lips.

roach nickers softly in agreement.

#mywriting #geraskier #geraskier fanfic #roach deserves soft things

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

tell me how to balance my coins

Summary: When Spencer falls down the stairs one morning he decides not to tell anyone, his insecurities about not being enough winning out. Too bad insecurities don't matter when they end up trekking through miles of barren land on a search and rescue mission, and his injuries finally become too much. The team knows exactly how to make it better.

Tags: hurt!spencer, whump, hurt/comfort, hiding medical issues, insecurity, angst with a happy ending, fluff, team as family TW: self-esteem issues

Pairing: GEN / Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Set in S1 but there's no Gideon because he didn't really fit the plot, so it's just the five other field agents here. This entire fic was inspired by this post by @i-write-whump so credit goes to them for the premise! Title from this poem by Zahraa Surtee <3

Maybe it’s embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. Spencer runs headfirst into dangerous situations every day, puts his life on the line repeatedly and escapes unscathed more often than not, but his nemesis this time is the single flight of stairs in his apartment building he descends each morning.

He’s later than he usually is, and already feeling a little flustered from both his toaster and coffee machine breaking, leaving him with a cup of instant coffee and an overripe banana from breakfast, which only makes the situation worse. As if lying sprawled out in a public stairwell wasn’t bad enough. He gingerly pulls himself up, catching a glimpse of a “Caution: Wet Floor” sign he somehow missed, and winces as pain floods his body.

His ankle is screaming at him, throbbing and burning, and for a moment Spencer has to close his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain of a twisted ankle flaring up his calf. A couple of thankfully undisturbed minutes later, the pain eases enough for him to open his eyes and inspect the damage. It’s already swelling slightly, and he’s certain he’ll be covered in bruises by tonight if the aching of his entire body is anything to go by.

For a brief moment he considers calling Derek or Penelope or someone else on his team; maybe even calling in sick, but he quickly pushes that thought away. It’s not embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. It’s a good cover story to keep him from addressing the real reason, but it isn’t the truth.

The truth is that the only time he ever feels valuable is when he’s contributing to a case. That cruel voice in the back of his head will waste no time in piping up, telling him how worthless he is, what a burden his friends see him as, how insignificant he is to the team if he doesn’t suck it up and head into work.

Fighting back the tears burning hot behind his eyes with ardent determination, he drags himself up by the stair handrail until he’s upright. His ribs ache and his ankle burns something fierce, but he compartmentalises it, breathing deeply and taking a few tentative steps, one at a time until he’s limping towards the train station.

The moment he walks into the bullpen, JJ grabs his elbow. “You’re just in time, Spence,” she says, marching towards the briefing room with a pace Spencer can’t quite keep up with. “We have a new case. Rural Kentucky.”

Everyone’s already seated at the round table, and no matter how much he tries to disguise his limp, putting far too much weight on his battered ankle, he can’t get it past a room full of profilers.

“Hey, pretty boy, you alright? You’re limping.” Derek’s tone is light, carrying the cadence of joking banter, but he can see the concern in his eyes, and that’s just unacceptable. He can’t have people worrying about him: he’s not worth their pitied looks or vapid attempts at comfort, especially not when they have a far more important case to be focusing on.

He slips into a seat, and manages to conceal a wince at the movement of his ankle swinging forward. “Oh, uh, I just stubbed my toe pretty hard on the way in.” It’s not convincing even to his own ears, but luckily it’s enough of a time-sensitive case for JJ to barrel on regardless, drawing everyone’s worried glances away from him and towards the board full of grizzly crime scene photos.

Even though he’s been on the team for close to three years now, he still feels like the new kid. Elle is newer than him, but she’s still far more confident in her place on the team than he is. He suspects that’s probably because someone like Elle doesn’t have trouble fitting in anywhere. It’s never been quite that easy for Spencer.

Pushing his insecurities aside like he always has to do in these meetings, he reads the case file thoroughly before offering his own contributions. The unsub is snatching young women from bars and clubs and holding them for weeks before leaving them to succumb to the elements in the rural countryside of Kentucky. With a missing woman and the expected deadline for the unsub dumping her fast approaching, they don’t waste any time in boarding the jet and flying the short way to West Kentucky.

It’s a short enough flight that there’s no time for personal conversation — no time for Derek (or anyone else for that matter) to confront him about his blatant lie and obvious injury — since they spend the whole journey discussing the case. Thankfully, throwing himself head first into theories and hypotheses keeps his mind off the pain a bit, but he can’t fully keep it from bothering him.

He’s just thankful that he has enough experience in disguising his true emotions that no-one’s attention is drawn to him by poorly hidden winces.

They dive straight into the investigation when they arrive at the sheriff’s station, everyone laser focused on finding Marissa Williams. By mid-afternoon, though, Spencer’s gritting his teeth as he forces himself to persevere through the pain despite it increasing incrementally every hour, and he curses himself for not being able to dedicate 100% of himself to the case. If he can’t help everyone find this woman, then what is he good for? His stomach twists at the thought.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Spence?” Derek asks him as it approaches 4pm, cornering him at the coffee machine.

Spencer looks around as subtly as he can for an escape, but he quickly succumbs to his fate. “I’m fine, Derek,” he promises. It’s so far from the truth he wants to cry.

The concern in Derek’s eyes only intensifies at that. “Seriously? You’ve been quiet this whole case, I catch you wincing when you think no-one’s looking, and you’re still limping. A stubbed toe wouldn’t do that, kid, and you know it.”

He sighs, knowing the jig is up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Derek.” He’s not sure it’s the truth, but it’s close enough to it that it doesn’t bring burning tears to the backs of his eyes.

Derek’s about to say something when JJ calls out for him. They both turn to look at her, Spencer feeling relief flood his chest, while Derek’s expression quickly morphs into one of frustration, sighing heavily as he curls his hands into tight fists.

“This isn’t over,” he says, levelling him with a serious look before walking back over to JJ, leaving Spencer to stir his bitter coffee in peace. It definitely doesn’t make him want to cry.

They finally get a break in the case at nightfall, a call on the tip line combined with their profile leading them to a secluded wooded area down by a small river. Knowing there’s nothing more for them to do at the office, Hotch gathers them all up, insisting they join the search party to find the poor, beaten woman currently suffering exposure, awaiting their rescue.

Spencer’s heart sinks as everyone gathers their equipment, and he’s almost relieved when Derek speaks up.

“Reid can’t go,” he insists to Hotch, only barely in earshot of Spencer. If he doesn’t go out in the rescue party, then he’s still served his purpose hasn’t he? He helped with the profile that narrowed down the area she’s likely to be in, he worked the case until this point, he can rest and still be worth something. Right?

Besides, it’s not exactly like he can don the heavy walking boots everyone else is pulling on. If he goes out, he’ll have to wear the same loafers that have been squeezing his swelling joint all day, and that’s hardly going to work. Hotch will let him stay back, and for once, he’ll accept the rest he’s offered.

His hope is quickly dashed. “We need all the manpower we can get,” Hotch says, clearly distracted in the same way he has been throughout the entire case. Spencer likes his boss but he has a tendency to wear blinkers when on a job, not noticing anything that doesn’t pertain to the ultimate solution. “He’ll be fine.”

Derek sighs again, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll be fine,” he says as Derek comes over to sit with him, not sure who he’s trying to convince. His ankle is still burning in pain. The last time he checked it, it was bruised and swollen, tender to the touch. It’s nothing short of a nasty sprain.

“You stick close to me, Spencer. I mean it.”

He can’t help the small smile that crosses his face, genuine happiness warming his heart at the concerned protectiveness of his friend. “Sure, Derek,” he says softly.

The pleasant temperature of the mid-Spring day drops to almost freezing as the sun sets, the moon and stars taking over the clear night sky. Even Spencer’s thickest coat isn’t enough to keep him from practically vibrating with the force of his shivers as they trek across the miles of terrain, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything that could indicate their victim’s whereabouts. They’re spread out a little, but for the most part they all walk reasonably close together, the beams of their torches criss-crossing as they fight their way through the windy countryside.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple of hours into the search and rescue mission that a call crackles over the radio, telling them that Marissa had been found, beaten and weak but alive. Spencer can’t even bring himself to feel any kind of victory or relief, nothing being able to penetrate the haze of pain he’s in. Everyone else chatters happily enough as they converge back together for his silence to go mostly unnoticed.

His obscurity doesn’t last long, though.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to your foot, Spence?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow at Spencer’s heavy limping and Derek’s worried hovering. By the second mile of their walk, Spencer had given up trying to hide the limp, instead focusing on gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain as it flares up his leg.

She’s clearly voicing what everyone else is thinking, judging by their worried expressions. Part of him wants to give in and tell the team, but the part that wants to continue to hide his embarrassment away, the part riddled with fear and insecurity wins out. He stubbornly shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. In the kind of terrible timing so emblematic of the life of Spencer Reid, in the short second he has his eyes closed he manages to stumble into a small divot in the ground, and he trips, twisting his ankle all over again as he falls down.

His vision whites out, the pain suddenly all-consuming, punching nausea through his stomach and he can’t help the cry he lets escape as he lays helplessly in the grass.

“Spencer!”

Derek crouches next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he checks him over frantically, and Spencer can’t help but lean up into it, craving the kind of comfort he can only get from his best friend. Hotch joins them quickly as JJ and Elle stand close enough to offer support without crowding him.

“That’s it, Spencer,” Hotch says firmly, blinkers well and truly off by now, “you need to tell us what’s going on.”

As the blinding pain slowly fades into something minutely more bearable, Spencer forces his eyes open to face the team. “I fell down the stairs this morning,” he finally admits, sullen and teary. “Pretty sure I sprained my ankle.”

Hotch wastes no time in gently rolling his trouser leg up, exposing his ruined loafers and the bruised, swollen joint to the torches of his teammates. Derek audibly winces as he positions himself behind Spencer, supporting his back as his tired, aching body starts to collapse.

Hotch levels him with a stern glare after he finishes his tender inspection of his ankle. “Spencer, it was incredibly irresponsible to hide something like this. You not only put yourself in danger, but you put the rest of the team at risk, too—”

He doesn’t get any further in his lecture before the tears he’s been holding back all day, finally spill over and a dry, sudden sob, his bruised and aching rib cage heaving as he starts to unravel at the seams. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Softening immediately, Hotch puts his leg down gently and shuffles closer, taking Spencer’s hand in his. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry for yelling,” he says soothingly, watching as Spencer presses closer into Derek’s hold. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just worried about you, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?”

He squeezes his eyes closed again: it’s as much dignity as he can hope for when his face is crumpling and he’s sobbing on the cold, hard ground as it nears midnight. “I just… I just wanted to be worth something.” It’s an admission he’ll regret later, he already knows that, but he’s so so tired and all he wants is the comfort that only his team can provide.

Derek pulls him into an even tighter hug before anyone can react, holding him against his chest fiercely while his hand plays gently with his hair. “Spencer, you are worth something whether you’re injured or fully intact, you hear me? We’d love you with a broken leg, with a bad case of the flu, if you quit the team tomorrow and decided to never work again. But most importantly, we love you now, kid. No matter what. Nothing can change that, alright?”

“He’s right, Spence,” JJ says softly, sinking to the ground along with Elle. “I know you think we only tolerate you because of your brain and what you bring to the table on a case, but you’re so much more than that. We love your nerdy rambles and your awkward waves and the way you love so openly and protectively, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before. We love everything about you, Spencer.”

“Yeah, if you’re hurt, Reid, we wanna know,” Elle chimes in, sounding a little hesitant as the one who’s known him the shortest amount of time, but firm in what she’s saying nonetheless. “I know I haven’t been on the team that long but this is a group of people that watches out for one another, that supports each other, that builds everyone up leaving no person behind. That includes you, Spencer Reid, even when you don’t feel like it.”

“Everyone is right, Spencer,” Hotch says softly, still holding his cold and shaking hand protectively in his gloved one. “I’m just sad that you still prioritise your work over your own health. You are not this job. You are an incredibly talented and multi-faceted person that oftentimes needs a little TLC, and until you’re willing and able to do that for yourself, we’ll be here to do it for you, okay?”

Tears are streaming down his face as he nods, feeling warmer than he has all day despite the cold dark night they’ve found themselves in. The strangest part about it all is that he’s actually starting to believe them. It’s not like they haven’t all said similar things before, but hearing them all vehemently corroborating each other’s stories, hearing it all laid out in front of him as they promise him with earnest expressions that they’re telling the truth is doing something to shift the leaden weight of insecurity and low self-esteem that presses on his chest each and every day.

“Now, come on,” Derek says. “Let’s get back to base and I’ll go with you to the hospital to get you checked out, make sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”

He shifts behind Spencer, using his already firm hold on his waist to help gently pull him up to a standing position, taking most of his weight as Spencer whimpers at the pain that swiftly reignites at the movement.

Derek turns around and bends at the knees slightly as Spencer leans on Hotch, before looking over his shoulder, his signature grin returning. “Hop on, pretty boy.”

“What— Derek! I’m way too heavy!”

Everyone immediately breaks out in amused laughter, even Hotch chuckling fondly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on, Spencer, you’ve gotta weigh what, like, 140lbs? 150? You can’t exactly walk on that ankle anymore and it’s the only way we’re getting back without calling for a search and rescue team of our own.”

“Reid, I’m pretty sure I could give you a piggy-back ride,” Elle points out, raising her eyebrows. “Just let him carry you back.”

Let us take care of you is implicit enough in everyone’s words and expressions that it doesn’t really need to be said, but Spencer hears it anyway.

Hotch helps him up onto Derek’s back and they begin the long trek towards the search and rescue base, and Spencer’s never appreciated the easy banter they all share more. Hotch is visibly relaxed with the case solved and his youngest team member soon to be taken care of, so he joins in with the conversation, his light and happy expression that he only ever wears around his family or the team on rare days and nights off, replacing his focused frown.

Spencer clings on tightly to Derek and presses his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, closing his eyes as he listens to the conversation, the vibration of Derek’s laugh and the shameless flirting between Elle and JJ taking his mind off the pain that throbs in his ankle with each step Derek takes.

When they finally get back to base, they all gather round the ambulance that’s been designated to take Spencer and Derek to the hospital.

JJ steps forward to give him a hug first. “Love you, Spence. Let us know what they say, okay?”

Hotch surprises him by stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug as well, forgoing the macho pats on the back for a short but close embrace that feels fatherly enough for tears to prick the back of Spencer’s eyes. “We all love you, Spencer. Remember that okay. And actually listen to what the doctors tell you. Morgan, you’re my eyes and ears.”

“Well now I want a hug, too,” Elle says dramatically, squeezing him in a tight embrace for just a moment before stepping back, lining up with JJ and Hotch to present a united front of people on his side.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Hotch says as the paramedic starts prepping for the journey, moving Spencer onto the gurney and rolling him in.

“Hope they don’t keep you too long!” JJ calls just as the doors close, making them both chuckle.

Derek takes his hand in both of his, staying out of the paramedic’s way as she quickly places a line of mild painkillers before sitting back, knowing that there’s not anything more she can do for Spencer until they get to the hospital.

Derek must see the anxious look on Spencer’s face, because he’s quick to reach a hand out and brush his cheek gently. “Hey, I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not gonna leave you on your own, okay? You’ll be alright, pretty boy, you’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

And on the flight home the next morning he realises that Derek’s promise was kept. He’s fitted out with a crutch and a temporary wrapping around his ankle, resting comfortably with his head in Derek’s lap while his foot sits elevated on a pile of cushions carefully built by JJ, surrounded by people who swear up and down that they love him while proving it to him in a thousand little ways, and he’s really not sure it gets any more alright than that.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @jellejareau @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

#my writing #cm #criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds whump #criminal minds gen fic #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #found family #aaron hotchner & spencer reid #derek morgan & spencer reid #tw self-esteem issues

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skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

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Arsenal Military Academy (2019) Full Review

My first impressions of episodes 1-13 can be found here. I think I was a little dubious at first, but now that I’ve finished the drama, I have to say that I really enjoyed it. This is going to be a short(ish) review because I just don’t have much to complain about. [SPOILERS AHEAD]

The Leads

Xu Kai shines as Gu Yanzhen. Much more than he did as Mo Qing in The Legends. Gu Yanzhen is just such a fun character. While yes, he is an overgrown and spoiled rich kid, he has a great character arc. He learns how to be responsible, caring, devoted, and considerate. Whether it’s love or serving his country, once he’s devoted to something, he’ll put his whole heart into it, which makes him a great friend and leader. And despite his maturation and all that he’s been through, he still stays cheeky and playful until the end.

That’s what I really like about this drama. It’s consistent. Both in terms of plot and character. And for cdramas, consistency is something that’s often butchered. This drama is 48 episodes long, which was perfect for developing all the plot points in the story. At first I was worried about the length. But the plot is so well-paced. There was no filler, and if there was, then I didn’t even noticed because I enjoyed all of the scenes and interactions between the characters.

Bai Lu was great at switching between cross-dressing as her brother, and being her “true” self. She carried off being both masculine and feminine, and I enjoyed seeing these two sides of her character. What I also appreciated about this drama is how even when she is revealed to be a girl, nothing really changes in terms of how she acts or how she’s treated by others. Her classmates still call her by her brother’s name. She wears the same clothes, talks the same, walks the same. Of course, by that point, most people have already found out, but for the characters who haven’t found out yet, they don’t dwell on this revelation. They don’t say sexist things about her appearance or mannerisms. They treat her the same as they always have. At first, I was worried that the drama would have a dramatic plot shift after her identity is officially revealed, but there wasn’t a shift. Her reveal was actually not that big of a plot point. (Yes, she was put in prison and accused of killing the chief, but this was resolved in like 2-3 episodes). It blended in seamless with the rest of the plot, and there were bigger issues in the story to address.

In my First Impressions review, I complained that Xie Xiang was a bit of a flat character. I still think she’s a little underwhelming in comparison to some of the other characters in the drama, but she was watchable and relatable, and she definitely grew on me more as the drama went on. I also applaud her for recognizing her feelings for Gu Yanzhen (I was worried that the drama would make her be conflicted between them), but she did frustrate me a little with how she couldn’t be upfront with Shen Junshan and just strung him along.

Again, I liked seeing the different sides of her character. Xie Xiang was never a tomboy growing up. She likes theatre and the arts. She likes acting, dancing, and singing. She likes dressing up and accessorizing (when appropriate). Her best friend, Tan Xiao Jun, acts as a foil and shows us what Xie Xiang is really like (or used to be before joining the academy). But her brother was a huge influence and inspiration for her. She learned how to fight from him. She learned what is means to be righteous and fight for justice from him. But she doesn’t want to become him; she just wants to fulfill his dreams. In the academy, she isn’t the best student, nor does she want to be. She doesn’t want to compete with the others, but she just wants to best the best cadet that she can be. It’s all about challenging herself and pushing her own limits, not comparing herself to everyone else in the class.

Supporting Characters

All of the secondary characters are great. Side characters and villains all served a unique purpose. Villains, such as Jin Xin Rong and the bully in the academy, were sympathetic characters. They all had their own backstories and development arcs, but they didn’t detract from the focus on the leads. In fact, the drama never strayed from the leads, unlike some cdramas were sometimes the focus would move away from the protagonists as the drama dragged on. Importantly, all the subplots were interwoven, and each mission that they completed progressed the plot and developed character relationships. I had a lot of praise for Qu Manting in my First Impressions review, so I won’t go into it again here, but she was a great second female lead (even though I did wish that she had less scenes with Gu Yanzhen). I was also surprised that she’s my age (and also Xu Kai’s age). She’s such a mature and steady actor.

Edit: Just found out that Toby Lee who played Shen Junshan was the guy in Soulmate?? Didn’t recognize him at all.

Plot

I loved the humour in this drama. It was quick, witty, and smart. But the drama did take a serious turn in the last arc where there were deaths of 3 prominent supporting characters, which was really surprising. I thought the drama would be a light-hearted comedy all the way through. So when I saw that it was possible for a prominent supporting character to die, I realized that there could be some real and serious consequences for characters in the drama.

Speaking of deaths, I was also surprised by the amount of violence and liberal killing in the drama. The cadets at the academy never hesitated to kill, and murdering people never affected them. The writers justified the deaths by dismissing the victims as being traitors to the country, whether they were just a driver or security guard for the Japanese or a Japanese nurse or doctor. If they were affiliated with the Japanese and got in the way of a mission, then the leads would kill them. At times it felt like a video game because the cadets would use so much gunpowder to just plow through anyone who was an inconvenience to the mission. The drama also really advocates revenge, which was also really shocking. Revenge can be engaging to watch when it’s fictional, but I don’t morally agree with revenge, so I was surprised that a drama with so much killing and a revenge fetish was allowed to get past censorship.

Overall, the plot was really good. The drama rarely ever dragged, except for maybe episodes 22-26 where it felt like Gu Yanzhen didn’t really have anything to do with the main plot, but the drama recovers quickly after that. Episodes 16 and 31 are probably my favourite in terms of interactions between the ML and FL. 17-22 are when they’re separated and bond with the supporting leads instead. That was clearly a purposeful move by the writers. They gave us peak sweetness between the leads and then separated them immediately afterwards. Those episodes made me worry that they would be angst, but there wasn’t. Those episodes showed that even when the leads were separated and went through hardships with someone else, they still thought about each other. Again, another example of how every mission progresses the plot and develops character.

In terms of the romantic plot, I would say that about three quarters of the drama is about characters liking people who don’t like them back, and what you get is a convoluted love rectangle that expands to a pentagon. What I like about Gu Yanzhen is that while he can be childish and obnoxious, he gives Xie Xiang a lot of space. There were some scenes when either Huang Song or Shen Junshan was trying to pursue her and I was like, why isn’t Gu Yanzhen here to intervene? But then I realize that it’s actually good that he isn’t constantly stalking her. Gu Yanzhen may seem possessive at the academy, but he doesn’t prevent her from doing things either on or off campus. On the other hand, when Shen Junshan figures out Xie Xiang’s true identity, he acts entitled to her to the point where it feels manipulative. He would tell Xie Liang Chen that he’s meeting Xie Xiang for lunch, knowing that this would prompt Xie Xiang to dress up and rush off campus to meet him. He changed her room without asking her first, saying it was for her own good. I might have to rewatch the earlier episodes, but I don’t think Gu Yanzhen ever used her secret to underhandedly leverage power against her like that. I don’t think he ever tried to “test” her. It was only after she found out that he knew when he started to teasingly blackmail her with her secret in order to get her to wash his clothes or be nice to him, but this was done upfront to her face, so she knows what she’s dealing with. And also despite being constantly annoyed by him, Xie Xiang feels very comfortable with him. She trusts him. She knows that no matter what, he would never share her secret, so she was able to be herself with him from the beginning. In contrast, there was always a distance and formality between Xie Xiang and Shen Junshan, even though they went through a lot together.

The bigger question is why Gu Yanzhen fell for Xie Xiang instead of Qu Manting. I think it has to do with how Gu Yanzhen likes who he is whenever he’s with Xie Xiang. Manting is too much like his playboy self, so it always feels like he’s putting on an act or playing a game when he’s with her. They clash too much and both have huge egos, even though Manting has done so much for him and has seen him at his most vulnerable. But Xie Xiang is someone whom he wants to unconditionally protect and support. He teases and flirts with her, knowing that he’ll get a scolding and a beating. He wants to expend energy with Xie Xiang, but is fatigued with Manting. Xie Xiang is simple, down-to-earth, and has a purpose. She’s everything he isn’t. She anchors him, while he gets her to open and loosen up in what is otherwise a threatening and uptight environment. A classic example of how opposites attract.

The Ending

The main character of this drama is the academy. Go figure since that’s the drama’s name. So it made sense that the final shot would be of the academy. Gu Yanzhen and Xie Xiang are shown walking off into the sunset just before that. And while I was really curious to see what their life would be like beyond the academy (I mean, what skills do they even have besides military prowess? What are they even going to do in terms of careers?), it made sense that the last shot we see of them is them leaving the academy. Their future is left to the imagination, almost like a fairy tale. That’s because their story is only one of many that comes out the academy. Their future is uncertain, but the future of the academy is certain. The academy is like a beacon, and it will continue to be here even long after the leads are gone.

The deaths of Huang Song and Instructor Guo were just tragic. Huang Song never got to find out Xie Xiang’s true identity despite being her closest friend, and he had such a bright future and so many goals. Instructor Guo, who spent the last 2 decades in depression, never got to have his happily ever after. Li Wen Zhong finally redeemed himself, and yet the writers had him sacrifice himself. I thought their deaths were needless, but I did see how their deaths had narrative purpose. It still really, really sucks though.

I think I’ll give this drama an 8.5/10 if not a 9/10. It’s been a while since I last watched a drama with consistent pacing. Wish I could watch this drama for the first time again.

Going to end the review with some pictures.

The worldbuilding was really immersive thanks to the costumes, colour grading, OST, and set designs.

Look at the power stances of this ensemble cast. They’re unstoppable.

I can’t get over these two. Such a different dynamic from The Legends, but still so much chemistry.

And deleted scenes though!! I don’t remember this sit-up scene in the drama.

#arsenal military academy #烈火军校 #xu kai #bai lu #cdrama #白鹿 #许凯 #cdrama review

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anime-kia · 3 years

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I Still Love You

This was suppose to be another one of my Levi x Reader One-shot stories, but I felt like this would sort of fit Erik. (I find that Levi and Erik kind of parallel each other within my writings...) We're gonna make this an AU (Alternate Universe) meaning there won't be any major mentions of Wakanda (or anything associated to the plot of BP).

Warnings: Abuse, Rape (none of this is done by Erik btw)

P.S. I have no idea why the majority of my stories so far have children involved in them... Maybe I want Erik's babies even though he could kill me in a heartbeat??? (That's my masochistic side speaking, lol sorry) Anyways, enjoy!

P.S.S. (F/F) Stands for favourite food

Relationship: Divorced Erik x Divorced/Remarried Reader

"You serious right now, (y/n)?" Erik asked with frustration as his fists curled, but would never strike you.

Tears stained your cheeks and more came out as you tried explaining without cracking your voice. "Y-yes, Erik. I need consistency, and someone who's there for me and my kids."

"You sayin' I ain't there for y'all?" He narrowed his eyes.

"No, Erik! You're always working, always away on some mission. They miss you. I miss you."

"And you think I don't miss y'all too? Of course I do, but I'm serving this country to protect your rights!"

You wanted to laugh at the irony of his statement, "You? A black male in America. Risking your life for a country that would never do the same for you. Have you noticed how many of our brothers been dying by the hands of the police?!"

Erik knew and though he had ulterior motives, joining the Navy was a way of proving himself. You never understood his logic behind it all. At first, it was cool having a brave man as your husband, but after your first child, it felt as if he purposely became more distant. Arguments were way more frequent as well. Sometimes you questioned whether he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but then you guys had a second child. Ten years together, married for six, and you were still insecure about this relationship.

"Of course I see that shit!" He slammed his fist against a wall, causing you to jump. "You think it don't bother me either? I know it could be me one day..." His voice faded.

The room was silent enough to hear the faint sound of the TV downstairs. The kids were watching anime, something Erik recommended to them.

Your head remained down as your hand picked up a pile of papers that rested under your pillow, "S-sign here."

Erik stared at you in disbelief. Hell, you were in shock as well. Uncertain if this is even what you truly wanted. You did want to work things out, but the external pressure from your family was driving you insane.

He ain't good enough for you!

He'll end up hurting you!

He's not a good guy and you know it!

He doesn't love you.

All of that was bullshit and you knew it, but you were still unsure.

The papers slid out of your hand gently, and the sound of pen against paper could be heard. Then within seconds it was placed by your side. By time you looked up, Erik had already left the room. This would be difficult news to explain to the kids.

Was it the right decision to let him go? Not only for me or the kids, but him as well... He deserves better. Despite all the criticism from my family and friends, he stays with me. Sure he's rough on the edges, but I can't blame him. I just want the both of us to be happy... Arguing and distance does not make for a happy relationship.

You tried to convince yourself that you were doing what's best for the both of you.

Erik sat outside, leaning against a fence. His mind was clouded and he was confused. He understood that your relationship needed work, but you were quick to resort to the last option. Divorce. He couldn't believe it either. You've known each other since high school and not only that, but you had two children together.

The first time you announced your pregnancy was at a family get together. Most people were quite happy for you, but you knew some of your family members were side eyeing you. Erik was the happiest, and it lasted for a month. When your pregnancy symptoms started kicking in, he instantly regretted getting you pregnant in the first place, but seeing his daughter for the first time made up for it. He couldn't believe that he helped you create this beautiful life.

When you found out you were pregnant again for the second time, you were afraid to announce the news to Erik. He actually found out on his own. It took you about a month and a half, until he forced you to come clean. You expected him to get mad and leave you, but when he found out it was going to a boy, he was practically jumping off the walls. You couldn't believe it. Sure, the pregnancy symptoms once again made him have doubt, but holding his son made that doubt vanish right away.

Your daughter, Zakilah was your first born. She was like Erik in someways, with his serious personality, but very quiet and shy. She looked a lot like you, but she had Erik's dimples and eye shape. Your son (who was an accident), Romeo was a mini version of Erik. The only thing he got from you was your personality, but you and Erik were similar so you weren't even sure if he took anything from you.

Though you both had your doubts, one thing was for sure. You both still love each other, and nothing could ever change that. Not even time itself...

Two years later, you were remarried to a man named Vincent Hughes and Erik remained single, focusing on his career.

Vincent was a wealthy man, he was tall and in shape (but his body could not compare to Erik's), he had green eyes and dark brown hair. He was a bit of a narcissist, short-tempered and possessive. There were a few red flags that you noticed about two months into the relationship, but you tried not to pay attention to them. You often found yourself comparing him to Erik, and he could never match up. He wasn't as muscular, funny, talented or as skilled in bed as Erik, and that was simply because he isn't Erik.

You believed that this marriage would be very beneficial towards yourself and the kids. He allowed them to get into a prestigious school for rich kids, and you couldn't be more thankful. Erik didn't have to pay child support because Vincent was providing sufficiently for the four of you. Also, you didn't want Erik to pay child support. He was still there for his kids, communicating with them as much as possible when he wasn't away.

Vincent was able to buy you anything you wanted, and he even convinced you to quit working. He wanted you to be a stay at home mom. At first you were against it, but he made you believe it would be a better option. That way you were less stressed out, and you could please him more. He would get really angry when you didn't do things right the first time, and it would be quite scary at times.

Erik and your relationship was fairly good because he finally understood how you were feeling and why you made your decision. He blamed himself every night, mad that you were not by his side. It infuriated him to think that another man was touching you and holding you at night, but he was at peace knowing you were happy. Or so you both thought...

"Who the hell are you texting?" Vincent came behind the couch you were sitting on, dropping his hard suitcase against the wooden floors creating a loud thud.

"O-oh, just Er-" Before you could finish your sentence, Vincent snatched the phone out of your grasp. "Hey, what are you doing?!"

"Why the fuck are you still texting him? I thought I told you to stop." His voice was harsh.

"I have to keep in contact with my babies father."

"You don't have to do shit..." He dragged his hand down his face, "Damn (y/n), I can't even trust you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "You can't trust me? It's Friday, I was asking him if he can take the kids this weekend."

"He don't need to take my kids anywhere anymore. We are a family. Not him, just us." He explained while pointing at you and himself.

"Look, I get that you love my kids as if they're your own, but they are Erik's kids. Biology says so." An attitude was present in your tone.

"Who are you catching an attitude with?" He took off his suit jacket, tossing it to the side and made his way around the couch to stand in front of you.

"I wasn't catching an attitude, I was correcting you." You got off the couch, still not tall enough to size him up. Erik would do this in a playful way, but you could feel the danger of your proximity to Vincent. "And you sound jealous."

He folded his arms across his chest, voice raising, "What. Did. You. Say?"

"I said, you sound je-"

SLAP!

Before you could calculate what just happened, you found yourself against the ground with a stinging sensation across your cheek.

"I was wondering who the fuck you think you talking to cuz it ain't me, bitch."

Your heart pained. This was the first time he ever put his hands on you in a harmful way, any person for that matter. He's been verbally abusive, but physical... This was a first, and definitely not the last.

"Gon' head, text him again and see what happens." He stormed away, leaving you stunned. That was barely an argument and this man really just hit me... Erik and you have had your fair share of arguments that have gotten so intense to the point where you guys were not talking for at least a week, but he never laid his hands on you to hurt you. He's taken it out on you physically in the form of rough consensual sex, but never to abuse you and make you cry or feel scared.

That same night, you were in your master bedroom talking to your best friend.

"He hit me..."

"HE WHAT?! Girl, hell naw. I'ma kill his ass. Where he at?" You imagined her searching through her kitchen cabinets for the sharpest knife.

"I-it was just the first time. I got him mad."

"Okay, and?! HE. HIT. YOU." She was pissed.

"But that's cuz I aggravated him.

"Bitch, so what? You would always come to me when Erik and you got into it, but you said he ain't never hit you. That bitch slapped you over some petty shit."

You knew she was right. "I know, but-"

"No buts, (y/n). If he hit you one time, he'll do it again. And when he does, I'm rolling up with everybody to kill his ass."

"I don't want y'all to go to jail, it's alright. I'll handle myself."

"Girl, you better. Otherwise I'ma do it."

"I know you will." You sighed.

"Why don't you just divorce him?"

"I can't, it's ruining my reputation and the money has been a great help to me and my kids... Plus, it was just one little slap."

"Are you fucking serious right now?!" She was even more mad than before.

"What?"

"You really gon' say, iT wAs JuSt OnE lItTlE sLaP... You know what girl, I'm tired... Talk to me when you not head over heels for some abusive rich boy." And with that, she hung up.

Your new relationship with Vincent costed you a lot more than you bargained for. Your friendships deteriorated with him not allowing you to hangout occasionally, and even family events like cookouts were restricted. This made some of your family members come to the assumption that just because you married a wealthy CEO, you felt too boujee to attend their family gatherings. Even your kids seemed a little disconnected from you. You saw them about three times a day: In the morning to tell them goodbye before they went to school, the afternoon where you would greet them when they got home from school and at night, where you would kiss them goodnight. Vincent told you to let the maids do the rest of the work. Anytime the kids were going over to their fathers house, they were much happier and didn't want to leave.

Vincent had entered the room, and you curled up under the covers, not wanting to speak with him.

"I know you're awake, (y/n)." He said.

You didn't respond. His hand ran over the covers, then onto your thigh. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You- you just got me so mad."

You still didn't respond.

"I won't do it again. I love you."

Bullshit.

"Please say it back to me, princess."

"I love you too." You mumbled out.

"Good, when I come back you're going to show me how much you love me, okay." He got up and went towards the bathroom to go take a shower.

You believed that the first time he hit you would be the last, but two weeks later it happened again.

"Why don't you ever listen to me!?" He yelled in your face.

"I-I-"

SLAP!

You were sent to the floor again.

"Seriously, (y/n)! You thought I was joking when I said don't talk to him!" And he walked away, leaving you stunned once again.

On that night, you were crying to your favourite cousin who also gave you the same answer as your best friend, "Call me back when you realize, he ain't shit."

Three days later, you wanted to be nice and prepare a meal for him. He was in bed, watching a football game. You tried to walk as seductively as you could towards him, "Baby, I made you lunch." You smiled at him.

"Aw, thank yo-"

Before he could finish thanking you, you stumbled and spilled the glass of red wine onto his white carpet.

"(Y/N)! Are you fucking kidding me!?" He shot up out of the bed, pushing you down. Your arm scraped and bruised against the brick fire place. "Can you do anything right!?" He kicked you aside, and called the maid to come clean the rug. "If that stain don't get out, you better say your prayers, girl."

The next day, you had to go downtown to work out some legal documents. You spent the majority of your Saturday at city hall, finalizing things around this marriage.

By 8 pm, you were back home and exhausted. You were hoping to have your children run into your arms as the door opened, but it never happened. Vincent was in the bedroom, watching some show about business. You greeted him with a half-assed kiss, then changed out of your pencil skirt and long sleeved blouse into a robe. You went into your daughter's room and found her crying, Romeo sitting beside her and talking.

"Baby, what's wrong?" You sat beside them, pulling Zay's head into your lap. She squeezed tightly onto you as she continued crying. "Ro, what happened? Did she get hurt while playing?"

"No, mommy." His lips quivered.

"Don't cry, baby. Be a big boy for me and Zay, okay?"

You couldn't bear to see the both of your children crying, it was rare sight when you lived with Erik. The only time you remember them crying was when they were babies or if they got hurt while playing. They were pretty good kids, so you never had to scold or beat them.

"Can you tell me why Zay is crying?"

"No." She voiced out from your lap, it was almost inaudible.

"Why not, baby girl? You patted her head, her curls wrapping around your fingers.

This time she didn't respond, so you looked at Romeo.

He simply said, "I don't want to get in trouble."

You were pissed off, but you stayed with them. Both of their heads rested in your lap as you massaged their scalps. Soon enough, Zay's crying became still. She fell asleep, tears staining your robe and her face. Romeo also fell asleep. You carried her to bed first, kissing her goodnight. Then you took Romeo to his room, tucking him in and kissing him goodnight as well.

You pushed the double doors open aggressively, and they hit the wall creating a loud slamming sound. You stormed towards you bed, glaring at Vincent.

"Vincent!"

"See what you not finna do is walk in here like you the Hulk, slamming my doors and shit."

"What the hell did you do to my daughter?"

"Fuck you talking about?"

"She was crying! I checked to see if she got an cuts from playing and I didn't see a mark. What. The. FUCK. Did. You. Do. To. Her." You clapped between each pause.

"Who are you talking to, cuz it ain't me."

"DID YOU TOUCH HER?" Your hand balled into a tight fist.

"DON'T BE YELLING AT ME." He got off the bed and towered over you.

"DON'T TOUCH MY KIDS."

SLAP!

"You're a paranoid bitch, you know that."

You held your stinging cheek.

"You know what, just for fucking up my mood." He went to the closet and grabbed his belt. "I'ma do the same to you."

That night, he lashed your skin no less than thirty times. Even when you begged him to stop, he continued. Then he forced you to please him, saying that sex would relieve the stress. It was not pleasurable in the slightest, he was rough on you and made more marks appear on your skin. Your core ached. Once again, he proved that he could never be Erik Stevens. Rough sex with Erik was filled with pleasure, what Vincent gave you was torture. He fell asleep on top of you, just in case you were trying to run away. You stayed up, crying silently in fear that you would wake him up and he would do it all over again.

He continued to abuse you physically and verbally. Anywhere, at anytime. You believed that it was your fault, but as time progressed, his reasons for hurting you were very petty. Like not wearing matching socks, or not kissing him properly before going to bed.

You watched as he consumed more alcohol regularly, trying to hell him to stop, but that resulted in you getting a black eye. Even though Romeo was only five years-old, he witnessed the brutal beatings that you faced. He wasn't suppose to, but he was quite sneaky and know how to get around without being caught. It was traumatizing for him, seeing his mother being hit, repeatedly while crying and begging for a stop. Vincent installed fear into both of your children, and Erik hated it. They would never tell him anything about you or Vincent so he knew something was wrong.

You needed to get out of the house. It was Friday once again, and you were ready to make your own decisions now. You decided to be the one to drop the kids off at Erik's home.

You buckled Romeo in and Zakilah helped herself.

"You guys excited to see Daddy?" You smiled at them.

"Yeah!" Romeo cheered, but Zakilah remained quiet.

"What's wrong Zay?" You asked her.

"Mommy? Why does he hit you?" Her questioned came to you with surprise. You didn't know how to answer that safely.

"What are you talking about, baby?" You played it dumb.

"Romeo tells me he hurts you." Her mouth quivered.

It was even worse than you thought, your eight year-old daughter was questioning something she shouldn't even be worrying about. And your five year-old son is the witness!

"He doesn't hurt me, silly." You shamelessly lied, "We're just... Playing." You reassured her, locking the door then entering the driver's side.

For the rest of the car ride, you turned on music to dull the awkward atmosphere. You were hoping that Vincent was more careful when he would abuse you, you never wanted your kids to see it. You knew they were afraid of him, but as long as they were getting a good education right?

It was weird being at Erik's house again, you haven't been inside, let alone seen it in two years... His car was parked in the driveway, so you knew he was home.

You unbuckled Romeo, and helped him out of the van. Usually you would carry him on your back, but the beatings left scars so if anything were to touch it, you would feel pain. You held both of your kids hands as you walked towards the front door. You weren't ready to face Erik again, not after two years. He could read you like a book. He knew when you were at your worst, and you didn't want him to see you like this, but you were doing it for your kids.

Romeo knocked on the door in a pattern that you assumed Erik taught him and within seconds the door was opened. You heart raced as your eyes locked onto Erik's deep brown ones. He looked the same, but more muscular and with a bit more facial hair and his dreads were slightly longer.

"Daddy!" The kids yelled, running into his legs.

"H-hey, y'all trynna knock me over." He rubbed the top of their heads. "Hey... (Y/n)." He said confused, slightly lowering his eyebrows at you. "You dropping them off now?"

"Hi... I uh... just for today I guess."

"You wanna come in?"

"I-I can't, I gotta run."

"Damn, that's a shame. I made (f/f)."

You stared at him suspiciously, "Well maybe I can stay for five minutes..."

He smirked, and invited you inside. You haven't changed. He thought to himself.

You all were sitting at the dining table, just like you use to a few years ago.

"What a throwback." He said.

You nodded in agreement.

"What's a throwback?" Romeo asked.

"A memory." You explained in the simplest way you could.

"I remember you use to read me and Zay to sleep, not the maids. Is that a throwback?" He innocently asked.

You felt a pain in your chest, memory lane... "Yes, baby. That would be a throwback."

"Speaking of memories," Erik chimed in. "I remember when you didn't talk so much. You finished your dinner because you wanted to get big and strong."

Romeo smiled, pretending to zip his lips and continued eating.

You wondered if Erik knew how you were feeling, his eyes watched you for the majority of the time you were there. His gaze fell onto your arm, which was discoloured. You noticed his stare and pulled your sleeve down.

"This is really good, Erik."

He missed the pet-names.

"Thanks, I learned from the best." He referred to you.

Silence lingered in the air, it was mainly quiet on your daughter's end of the table. She hadn't said a word since the front door, and she was no where near finished with her dinner.

"You good, Zay?" He asked.

She was staring down into her plate.

"Zay?" He called her again, a little louder.

This time she looked up, "Y-yeah. I'm fine."

"You're too quiet for my liking. After dinner, y'all gonna clean up, then we can watch a funny movie. Aight?"

"Yeah!" Romeo cheered and Zakilah simply nodded her head.

You continued dinner, asking Erik about his life. You learned that he got promoted to one of the highest ranks in the Navy, and that he has been chaste even since the divorce and he's not sure when he wants to return back to the dating scene. One thing you didn't know was that he still missed you, and he was hoping that there would be a second chance for him to prove himself, but as long as you were happy that's all that could matter to him. Even if he wasn't involved in that picture.

You looked at your phone seeing that it was 8:30.

Shit, he's probably home by now.

"Thank you for having me over, Erik. I had a really good time."

"You should come over more often, we can do stuff together as a family."

As nice as that sounded, it would never happen. "Maybe." You simply replied. "Alright kids, make sure you behave." You kissed them on the cheek, and went to the exit, Erik following behind.

"Aye, I got a question."

"What's up?"

"Why you wearing a turtle neck in the summer? It's like 80 degrees."

"O-oh it's very light."

"You're sweating though."

So lying wasn't your thing...

"You never used to hide you hickies... You wore them proud if I'm being honest." He smirked, rubbing a hand behind his neck.

"Well, I felt like being classy." You lied. If he saw all the marks on your skin, Vincent would've been murdered that same night.

"And what was that mark of your arm?"

"I tripped... Anyway, I'ma go now."

"Look, (y/n). I get it. You did what was right for you and the kids. I'm not mad, I promise."

You smiled at him, placing a hand on his cheek. "Thank you. Take care of yourself." You exited his house, making your way to the van.

"Night." He replied, watching you leave. When he couldn't see you anymore, he locked the door and went back to the kitchen to clean up.

You sped your way home, weaving through traffic in fear of what Vincent would do to you if you arrived any later. As soon as you parked, you dashed up the stairs and opened the door as quiet as possible. The house was dark so Vincent had to be asleep. Your feet maneuvered soundlessly across the marble floors as you creeped towards the staircase.

"Where were you?" His voice abruptly cut through the silence in the house causing you to scream. He was sitting in an arm chair, his legs wide apart, and one holding a bottle of Whiskey.

"Oh my God, you almost scared me to death!"

"Answer the question." He demanded with a slur indicating he had been drinking a lot.

"I was just dropping the kids off."

"It took you four hours to do that?"

"I took them out before leaving them with Er-"

Before you could finish your lie, he slammed the half empty bottle onto the ground. It smashed into little pieces of glass, and the liquid pooled on the ground.

He stood up from his chair, immediately walking towards you. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO AROUND HIM ANYMORE! WE GOT CHAUFFEURS FOR A REASON!"

"I-it was just a one time thing."

"ONE TIME MY ASS!" He chuckled, "Ever heard of the saying, those who don't listen will feel."

You shook your head.

"Well, you gon' learn today!" Suddenly, you felt his fist collide with your cheek. You stumbled and fell onto the cold ground.

"Ah! I- I'm sorry! Stop, please!"

"You ain't sorry." He stepped over your, placing a heavy knee onto your chest. "But you will be."

Back at Erik's place, he tucked the kids in for bed. He started with Zay, placing her favourite purple blanket over her and planting a kiss on her forehead. Then he went to Romeo, placing his blue blanket over him, connecting their foreheads against each other. Just before he left the room, Erik had one question for them.

"Y'all like your step dad?"

Silence.

"Aye, I know y'all ain't sleep. Talk to me or we don't go out to breakfast tomorrow."

Romeo sat up, and Zay stayed still, but she would reply because breakfast was her favourite.

"Ro, you answer first cuz you up. You like him?"

"Um... No." He had a pouty face, one similar to yours.

Erik wasn't surprised, honestly. "How bout you, princess. You like him?"

"No." Zakilah turned around and hid under her covers, pretending to go to sleep.

"Dang, can y'all tell me why?"

Erik knew she wasn't in the mood so he didn't pressure her, but he knew he didn't want them to fear your new husband. Romeo was still sitting up, staring at Erik.

"You gon' tell me, Ro?"

"Well, he um- he is mean. He- he hurts mommy and touched Zay."

Erik felt rage build up inside of his chest. "He what?"

Romeo stayed silent.

"This is serious Ro, don't lie to me."

"Please don't tell anyone or he will hurt mommy even more."

Erik sighed, "Aight go to bed, I'ma work this out." Erik grinded his teeth, trying to remain calm in front of his kids. As soon as he was a safe distance from the room, he punched the wall. Hard.

He should've known, all the evidence was right there. His daughter use to be so excited to see him, jumping into his arms and being the first to plant a kiss on his cheek. But that became old news, ever since you married Vincent. On top of that, the communication you guys had dwindled. Then at dinner; the turtle neck, in the middle of June... Your arm!

Erik was trained well enough to pick up on these subtle signs, which were right in his face, mocking him.

He called you at least twenty times before he finally gave up, assuming that you had fallen asleep. What he didn't know was that each phone call was either a kick, a punch or a slap Vincent delivered to you. He beat you for hours that night, and by the second hour you went unconscious.

Erik would've called the police, but he wanted to get revenge on that pig first. He decided that it would be best to leave you be for the next day. When he drops the kids off, he'll get you then.

The next day, Erik never discussed anything about the night before. It was Father's Day weekend and Erik wanted to enjoy the time he had with his kids. They went out to breakfast, watched a movie, went to the aquarium, then to a park where they played with a frisbee. In the evening, he took them down to the beach where he proposed to you in front of a bunch of tourists and strangers. You never thought he would do that, but he did and it was wonderful.

They spent the rest of the evening there, dipping their feet into the ocean while eating ice cream. He wished that you could've joined them. Zakilah was smiling and laughing, something the both of you haven't heard in a long time. Romeo was himself, the happy, lively and outgoing five year-old.

On the drive back home, both kids were fast asleep. He loved moments like these, they brought a smile to his face. Erik dealt with his personal struggles on his own, and you being a part of his life really contributed to him getting past that hard time. He wasn't the nicest when you met him in high school, but quickly he realized how much he liked having you around. You weren't like everyone else: You never pried into his past, unless he wanted to tell you about it, and you weren't afraid of him either. With you the aggressive, fatherless black male stereotypes didn't exist, and you brought out the best in him. His cold exterior slowly began to crumble when you first said hello to him.

The next day rolled in and Erik took the kids back home. He parked beside the automatic gate, telling them he was dropping the kids off. The gate opened just like the ones you would see in the movies. It made him laugh, you were finally getting to experience the luxury that you deserved.

"Zay?" He looked at her in the rearview mirror. Her sad aura returned.

"Yes, daddy?"

"You got a key?"

"Yes." She plunged her hand into her jeans pocket, retrieving the silver item.

He brought the car to a stop, took the key and exited the car.

"Y'all stay here, I'll be back." He scoped out the area while walking towards the entrance. The gardener wasn't in sight and there was no sound of any yard work being done. It was Sunday so he figured that the workers didn't come in on Sundays.

He walked up the steps, to the front doors and entered the house carefully. He scanned the area, making sure that no one was there to alert the security. But just as he assumed, no one was on duty today.

He continued through the house and stopped at the staircase. He listened carefully and could faintly hear the sounds of screaming. Your screaming to be exact.

Erik sprinted up the staircase, and you screams became more audible.

"AHHH! STOP, I-IT HURTS!"

The sound was coming from your bedroom.

There was no way that he was.... Erik tried to doubt himself.

"SHUT UP!"

"N-NO, I DON'T WANT ANY KIDS WITH YOU!"

But that line made it very clear what was happening.

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M ALMOST THERE!"

A loud slap could be heard from the other side of the door. You screams and cries pained Erik's heart, but enraged him. He bursted through the double doors, almost breaking them in the process. He watched as Vincent thrusted into you, his hands wrapped around your neck tightly. Your body was covered in bruises.

"WHAT THE FUCK, BRUH?!" Erik hollered, tossing Vincent off of you. He came just in time too, because Vincent was very close to his climax.

"Erik?!" You screamed, hiding yourself under the covers.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET IN?" Vincent yelled, putting on his boxers.

"SO YOU HURTING BOTH OF MY GIRLS, BITCH?!" Erik's voice seethed with anger, he looked ready to murder someone.

"FUCK YOU, I OWN THEM!"

Erik's head titled to the side, then he looked at you. "Baby, get dressed and get the fuck out of here. They're in the car." It amazed you how his tone changed, there was still rage in it, but it was pretty calm.

As you get dressed and head towards the exit, Vincent stops you.

"Leave and I'ma kill you all. I'ma start with ya daughter, then ya son. Then you both are n-"

Erik's foot connected with Vincent's chest and he was sent flying backwards into the dresser.

"YOU GON' KILL WHO?"

Vincent sprung to his feet, ready to swing a punch at Erik, but missed. Erik landed a punch right into his gut, knocking the wind out of him.

"You like to hit women, right? I bet you ain't never fought a man before." Erik landed another punch onto his temple. "She ain't tell you about me... You must not know who I trained with for this past decade." Another punch to his nose. A loud crack could be heard, making you cringe.

You've seen Erik fight back in high school, but they were never as bad as this one. You knew he was strong, and Vincent and him were about the same size, but it was like he was fighting a baby. Vincent couldn't even land a single hit on Erik and you knew Erik wasn't even using his full strength either.

You thanked God that Erik wasn't the abusive one, otherwise you probably would've been dead by now.

Vincent was half conscious, still trying to swing at Erik who recoiled his fist, slamming it into Vincent's cheek. His body collapsed to the ground and you rushed towards the unconscious man.

"Oh my God, Erik! Please tell me you didn't kill him." Tears flowed down you cheeks.

"Nah, he's just out cold... Wait, you still care about him?"

"No, of course not!" You weeped. "I-I care about you! I don't want you to go to jail for murder!" Your cried into your hands, feeling very emotional.

His heart panged, she still cares about me?

About ten minutes later, the police arrived on the scene. Vincent was taken to the hospital before getting locked up. You packed up all of your belongings, along with the kids' things and moved out.

The legal process took a while, but when it was all over you were able to get a restraining order for your family, Erik included, despite him saying that he doesn't need it. It was a chance you were not willing to take. Vincent faced many charges and was sentenced to prison. You were sure his money would bribe the system to reduce his time, but as long as you would never see him again, it would all be okay.

A year later, things slowly returned to normal. You were trying to find a job after quitting your first job. You also worked on restoring your relationships with family members and old friends. Erik was still busy with work, but he found more time to be with his kids. Zakilah slowly returned to her normal self, with therapy sessions and a lot of reassurance. Romeo bounced back quickly. He was very happy to be away from that house and especially Vincent. You hated that you put your children through this, but you would make it up to them.

A group of friends invited to live with them. You knew your kids took up a lot of space, and your friends who weren't particularly fond of kids didn't want them there five days a week.

You and Erik were still separated, but you were working on your relationship. You decided that Erik would be more stable to look after Zay and Romeo.

Erik invited you to the beach, you had another set of papers. Erik frowned at the stack, then stared into your eyes. "You gonna hurt me again?" He asked, resting his arm on the top of the bench.

"No, I think you might like this one."

"What is it?"

"I... Um..." You found it hard to say.

"You making me nervous with all that hesitation."

"Sorry. It's just..." You sighed, "I want you to take full custody of Ro and Zay." You stared at the white paper and Erik stared at you in disbelief.

"What?"

"I'm not stable enough to take care of myself. I don't got a job, I'm living with my friends, using government money to pay the rent... I'm a mess Erik. Ever since the first trial, it feels like my life has been revolving around the system. I'm in the court house everyday it seems." You sighed. "I don't want my babies to see me stressed, it takes a toll on them... And besides, they're happier with you."

He didn't say anything, but still stared at you.

"Look, when I get a place and a job I'll take them back. I know your job is important to you, but I need your help E." You felt defeated.

He placed his hand on your cheek so you could look at him. "Don't be stupid, (y/n)."

You frowned, "Seriously, I just admitted how shitty my life has been and you're calling me stupid. Aren't you glad that I'm miserable?"

"Why the hell would I be glad that you're miserable?"

"I-I don't know." You tried to hide your face, but his hands wouldn't let you, instead you casted your eye line down.

"Hey... Look at me."

You stared into his eyes with your sad ones.

"I'm sorry I've been away so much. I know I've become distant and I don't know if I'm doing this husband thing right... But when you left me, I was hurting, (y/n)."

You tried to hold your tears back.

"I gotta admit, these feelings don't go away... I still love you, and I hope you feel the same way. I was hoping that we could grow together... Maybe try things one more time?"

You stared at him, then the tears came out. He pulled you to rest your head on his shoulder.

"I ain't wanna hurt you. I just want what's best for all of us."

You sniffled on his shoulder, "What are you saying? How could you still love me after all of this? I'm a terrible person."

He chuckled, "Nah, you was trynna do what was better for all of us. You took a chance, but it wasn't the best one. I'm willing to work things out, I just need your approval."

You raised off of his shoulder and pouted.

"So what do you say, can we try again?"

You wiped the tears from your eyes and nodded. "Y-yeah."

"Thank you." He kissed the top of your head, but that wasn't enough for you.

You pulled his face closer to yours, kissing his soft lips again for the first time in years.

"I still love you too, Erik."

Sooooooo, THIS has officially been my longest chapter with 6756 words!. I don't even remember what my inspiration was for creating this story lol... I hope you enjoyed and hopefully there's no mistakes!

P.S. Zakilah is pronounced (Zak-eye-la)

(Start/Finish: June 16, 2018)

#killmonger x reader #black reader

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