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#and i guess i never really considered the implications of like
lightlycareless · 19 hours
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omgggg, that Toji x reader (*plus* Naoya) was incredibleee, ignore me if you want, I know you made Toji chosing to keep distance from reader and Megumi permanently BUT what if one day he ends up finally seeing Megumi, either personally or by pictures/videos 🥺 We know Megumi it's the spitted image of him, I mean, Gojo's face when he saw him for the first time said it all 😅 And also knowing his baby has the Ten Shadows technique (I cant stop thinking about how proud he was in the canon manga/anime 🥺 he always KNEW from the start Megumi was blessed/gifted, since his first breath, the fact Toji named him is not random) making the entire Zenin clan eat their shit
Heya anon!!
I'm so glad you liked it heheheheheheh a oneshot that I didn't intend to write but it just happened!! aren't we glad it did? lol
I didn't mean to ignore you, I was only focusing on other things first 😅 oof, I still have lots of request to go through, which I plan to do it slowly but surely...
Anyways, I might've not gone down that route, however... why not something angsty? I mean 😏I've had this in my mind so... yeah 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏
Warnings: mentions of infidelity. Pregnancy. Naoya is, unfortunately, a prick. this is the oneshot anon is talking about. 100% read that first hehe. this is an AU from that, so the second part doesn't count??? I guess. excuse the proofreading. also I haven't written toji that much so please excuse my oocness as well ahahahahha :')
Happy reading!
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As much as the three hoped to ignore the bases of your pregnancy, behave as it didn’t rise from an adulterous act, a direct transgression to the principles of the Zen’in, and keep it a secret, it wouldn’t take long before the guilt in each other’s mind began to weight heavy on their mind, ultimately betraying them and revealing the truth to the light, excusing the angered elders to finally get rid of two birds with one stone.
“Where—Where does this accusation even come from?!” You gasp, blood turning cold at the implication—at the notion of the truth. “Do you know the gravity of such words?!”
“Better than you of the act, it seems.” Another accuses. “We were quite aware of the rumors surrounding your ill-fitting behavior, but we never believed it would actually extend to this point!”
“I—I won’t tolerate neither of you disrespecting me!” you cry. “Nor will Naoya for that matter!”
But calling for his aid would no longer prove sufficient, for Naoya, too deep in his own insecurities by that point, had come to the disheartening conclusion that this situation had gotten way out of hand for a simple diversion.
A supposed act of mercy.
He shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, should’ve respected what you and your marriage represented, what meant to him, and discard his pity for Toji—the man has been alone most of his life, what difference would that make that now?
But he didn’t, he allowed you to go to Toji—no, he handed you over to him, thinking he was doing something right for his cousin, or perhaps something deep inside him was allured by the sick idea of you being with another man and now, he was suffering the consequences.
Consequences he did not like, not one bit—because it got too real for him: you were now pregnant, with Toji’s child, and not his.
And this only highlighted what he considered the pitfalls of this relationship, a strike against his ego and the supposed inability to beget children, a rumor that grew bigger and bigger by each passing day, spreading like wildfire to the point where even outsiders became aware of it.
Which, for a prideful man like Naoya, was only a nightmare.
He loved you, he really did—Naoya never envisioned spending the rest of his life with anyone else…
But he loved his pride more, and when his clan began to actively confront him about it, he couldn’t take it anymore.
And thus….
“…Naoya?”
“This marriage was broken before it even started.” Your husband would say, unexpected words that pierced straight to your heart. “My family advised me well in avoiding you, but I falsely believed I could achieve differently.”
“What—what are you even saying?” you breathe. “What do you mean by—by differently?”
And… where does everything you lived with him stand?
The time you spent with him, the sweet nothings he’d whisper into your ear, to love you both swore to one another, reminding each other that there was no one else that compares…
And that you were the only woman who has ever made him feel this way—loved— and would do everything in the world to make happy…
Was it… all … a lie?
All for… nothing?
Or were you the only one that actually believed the other’s words?
“I cannot look past these transgressions.” Naoya continues. “You’ve left me no choice.”
“But you—you made me do this!” you gasp. “I never—I never wanted to be with anyone else! All this time, my heart only belonged to you!  How could you—how could you abandon me after all we’ve gone through together?!”
Naoya doesn’t say anything else anymore, instead, he simply turns around, exiting the room to leave you in the hands of the vengeful elders who did not hesitate to do what they had long desired—banish you from the estate.
Swiftly yet cruelly, you wouldn’t be able to take anything with you, not even a change of clothes or even money (you didn’t even ask for much, just enough to survive the week) as you were forced to face a new life of your own—alone, pregnant.
Going back to your family was also out of the question; the shame that you’d bring upon their name was one the Zen’in didn’t not waste time to remind them of—at the end, there was only so much your father and siblings could do against the invasive ways of the elders, and perhaps, a part of them deep inside, were also disappointed that you’ve succumbed to such foul thing.
And so, you were tossed onto the street, with nothing more than the clothes you were wearing, whatever you had for savings throughout the years, managed to take it out before either clan could close your account—but most importantly, with a broken heart you believe will never heal, not after the grave wound your husband’s indifference inflicted on it.
The pain you couldn’t even mourn properly due to all the things you had to worry about now.
The first thing you did was search for a place to stay, though getting one was proving to be an almost impossible task.
Thankfully, you were allowed to keep one other thing, maybe it eluded their minds when all this was happening, but you’re not going to question why when it was going to help you pay for a roof.
Naoya’s ring, your wedding ring, was something many would consider expensive, the kind of flashiness expected from a prestigious family like the Zen’in.
You remember a time when any kind of ring would’ve been enough for you to marry him. You didn’t need anything extraordinary to commit your life and heart to him.
That’s nothing but a far cry from what you felt now.
It still hurt to pawn it, but it was the only way you could accommodate yourself and the unborn child inside you, in the only area you could afford with what you got, for even then many suspected that your ring… well, had dubious origins.
When was the last time you even had to worry about the costs of living? Food, clothes, water…?
Many years—it had to; ever since you got together with Naoya, he’s been the one that took care of you.
You just had to say the word and he’d disappear all of your worries—even from the simplest of wants, Naoya indulgingly obliged.
It was a happy life you eventually considered for your child—imagining how happy they’d grow to be without a single worry, solely focusing on what they’ll have to play that day, or how to escape their over doting parents.
A long-gone dream, tossed to the side as a nightmare quickly took its place.
Did Naoya ever mean the words I love you?
Or was he doing all this just to keep you there, complying, just in case someone better came along, just like his clan wished would happen?
There mere thought of his devotion being nothing but an act tightens your heart with sorrow once more, gifting you the tragic notion that perhaps, all this time, you never knew your husband…
Maybe ex-husband, by this point.
All that was left from those moments, the slightest semblance of that marriage was this baby, created from what you thought your unconditional devotion to him, turning out to be your very own downfall.
The only one that would know of these struggles would be your baby, the one to accompany you through the darkest point of your life, hopefully to a brigther dawn.
And yet… you’ve never felt so alone.
Time surprisingly, went quicker than you anticipated, though not as easy as you would’ve wanted.
Life in your new home was still very difficult to get used to, even when it’s been months since… that.
But with the job you managed to get (whatever place hired pregnant women—they’re supposed to be at home, some would say, you didn’t care.) and some extra jujutsu work you did on the side, you managed, enough to give you a, not exactly comfortable, but just enough lifestyle.
As long as you sacrificed all the things you once considered granted and turned them into luxuries: such as warm showers, take out, and the sweets you liked to indulge once in a while; your pregnancy has been horrible because of that, and that’s without considering the medical bills you’re struggling to pay as well.
But if that wasn’t enough, your noisy neighbors presented issues of their own as well.
You’re not going to deny that your presence there was like moths to a flame, starting from your somewhat suspicious acquisition—all cash—of the small house you were living in.
From there, your loneliness, alongside your pregnancy; single mothers were unheard of, or rather, highly criticized, thus, all eyes were on you, down to your smallest movement.
Yet, even then, as annoying as they were, you were ok as long as it meant you never get to see those that hurt you ever again.
However, what you want isn’t necessarily what’s going to happen, and that would be reminded of one fateful night with an unsuspecting knock, just after you were getting ready to go to bed.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone came to bother you, but it would be the first time someone did so at this hour, and with such insistence that far from worrying you, it made you angrily storm at the entrance, ready to demand who’d be so inconsiderate enough to visit you so late at night!
And you’d get your answer soon enough, in the most shocking, horrifying, if not sorrowful manner you could’ve possibly anticipated, prompting you to close the door as soon as you saw his face, or attempted to, his reflexes much faster than yours.
“Get—get away from me!” you shrieked, hands trembling as you did your best to hold the door shut against his overwhelming strength— but even your husband has admitted that in terms of power, he excels like no one else.
“Y/N—” he breathes, somewhat amused that you’d been able to hold him off as much as you could, though eventually he was able to break free from your grasp and enter your home, you step away from him soon after.
“What are you even doing here?!” you gasp. “No—that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to see you! I’m not going back!”
“I’m not here to take you back” He quickly responds, eyes falling down to your stomach, making his face soften at the subtle bump evident through your clothes—with this sight, he knows he can’t take you back.
“Then—then why are you here, Toji?”
Perhaps Toji needed to see through his own eyes, what the whispers went on about at the estate regarding your absence.
He wasn’t there when it happened, promised himself to be far away from you as soon as your pregnancy was announced to the estate.
Toji would’ve normally taken this opportunity to act on retribution against his family, rub it on their face that the future of the clan came from him, a low life.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when you cheerfully paraded around the halls, happy to finally be forming a family with your beloved husband, even though it wasn’t of his making.
For the first time in his life, he thought himself to be too cruel for having planned such atrocities against the only person that has never been rude with him, always welcoming him with a smile on your face, or at least whatever you permitted when not following Naoya around like a lost puppy.
And the baby… well, he won’t deny that he was glad that his child would have a vastly different life from his—with you as his mother, it couldn’t be any other way.
Or so he believed.
Even when promising to keep away, he still attempted to check in on you, especially now that you were pregnant, whenever he had to go to the estate that is. That day was no be no exception, begrudgingly coming back to see what else he could scam out of his family to ensure his living outside.
Toji’s slyly scanned the hallways for your figure, the briefest indication of such, either through your giggle, staff, or even his cousin’s annoying voice—there were moments where he imagined how delightful it must’ve been to have you by his side, instead of Naoya’s; to be receiver of your laughter instead of that man who clearly didn’t deserve you.
But even if it was with him, he still found comfort in the fact that you were around, there.
Not like now, gone from Naoya’s side.
In fact, you were nowhere to be seen! Not with your staff, not eating by the gardens, or even indulging in one of your husband’s idiocies.
Nothing.
And no one had seen you either.
Or more like didn’t want to say, that much became evident when he stomped his way towards a nearby staff member, demanding your whereabouts, only to be responded with a fret falsely feigning ignorance, or foolish diplomacy.
At the prospect of your disappearance, Toji felt his blood run cold, almost like the estate lost whatever little warmth it had, worsening each time he asked another servant, and he’d get the same answer.
The implications behind your absence were growing heavier in his mind, to the point it sunk his heart to his stomach…
And propelled him to the one person who would undoubtedly know where you were.
“Naoya—Where is Y/N?!” Toji commands the moment he sees the heir, the young man instinctively flinched at the sight of his angered cousin, almost as if he knew what was running through his mind and attempted to make a run for it, only to be stopped by the collar, dead on his tracks. “Do not run away, coward! Answer me!”
“She’s—she’s not here anymore.” Is what Naoya manages to squeak, but Toji doesn’t need to be reminded the obvious.
“Where. Is. She.” He hisses, the worst of his assumptions slowly becoming a reality. “What have you done to her?!”
“What—what needed to be done!” Naoya gasps. “I—I couldn’t allow it!”
Toji doesn’t remember much after Naoya told him that the clan decided she was better off on her own—only that the heir was on the floor, bloodied and whimpering while attempting to cover his face, either trying to control the throbbing of his skin, the blood from spilling anywhere else, or perhaps even shame.
No. It couldn’t be the last. To have done something like what he did required a shameless man to do so.
Nonetheless Toji didn’t bother to find out nor to be reprimanded, quick to assert what needed to be done and heading out the estate; he couldn’t even bother cursing those that had done nothing but the worst after the worst, each time a new low, for his mind solely pertained in finding you.
It took him a while to do so, as expected, but he knew it was only a matter of asking around for a woman that simply didn’t fit to do the job—and such, here he is now.
“I want—needed to see you.” Toji takes a step closer.
“Get—get away from me.”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“You were fine doing that before—what’s so different from now?” You spat.
“This is different, Y/N. You’re alone—and you need me.”
“I’m not alone—I don’t need you.” You gasp. “Get away from me or I’ll—I’ll call the police!.”
“If you don’t need me, then the baby does.”
It’s like he struck a nerve with his words, because soon after tears would begin to fall down your cheeks, revealing that the sight you attempted to portray, the strength you so fiercely put up against him, was nothing but a façade, a way to hide the fact that indeed, you needed help.
Exhausted from facing all these uncertainties on your own, afraid.
But not anymore, not when Toji was here, more than willing to step in, as seen in the way he swiftly holds you in his arms when he sees you almost faint from distress, attempting to comfort you as you continued to cry.
“Get— get away from me…!” you’d say again, still fighting against his hold. However, he doesn’t fight it, he simply allows you to vent, taking in all the pain and hatred your heart harbored from the moment you were kicked out of the estate. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’m not leaving” Toji insists, he feels you trying to squirm your way out from him, but his strength doesn’t allow it. “You can struggle all you want, but I’m not leaving you on your own—”
“What difference does it make to you? Your family abandoned me to my luck! And even forced my family to do the same!” you breathe, Toji’s eyes widen—he did not know that; his fury for the Zen’in grows, but this is not the time to deal with that. “They don’t care if I die on the street!”
“I know.” He murmurs, holding you tighter against him.
“And I—And I tried my best to—to move on, but I can’t! I can’t do it!” you sob. “I’m so alone, and scared, and—and ashamed! I don’t want to live like this anymore!! I don’t want to die!”
“…I know.”
“Why—why is this happening to me?! All I ever wanted was for—was for Naoya to love me. I never wanted anything else! I never wanted money, I never wanted to hurt anyone either! I just—I just wanted to live a happy life with him, to make him happy!
But then he—he tossed me away, at one thing he didn’t like, he acted like I didn’t even matter! He didn’t even put up a fight to defend me! he just—he just let them hurt me, like what we had was—a lie!
 Did he never—did he even love me?”
Speechless, all Toji could do is continue holding you as you kept on pouring out your feelings, hearing the heart wrenching sound of your sobs that just kept reflecting how wounded you were by Naoya’s betrayal, the transgressions of his family, and the disappointment of yours.
And all because of something you didn’t even suggest in the first place. It was him who made his way into Naoya’s mind, and eventually, it was Naoya who pushed you into it, regardless of what happened later.
He wanted to do it; you know?
He wanted to go back there and murder them for all they’d done against you.
But when he left that place one last time, he promised he would stop thinking about himself, and start doing what is right—what was needed.
If Naoya wasn’t to step up and be a man, then he would.
Toji would gladly throw away his own pride, his own anger and thirst for vengeance, just to see you safe and happy once more.
Things your husband, could simply not—but he… he’d do it in a heartbeat.
“I promise you.” Toji would reassure you once carefully placing you down to the bed after tiring yourself from crying, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head.
 “I swear, Y/N— I will not let my family do the same things they’ve done to me to our child. Even if it costs me my life, I will do everything in my power to keep the two of you safe.”
And unlike your husband, he means it.
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Yes, a second part is coming :) just gotta put this one out first hehe.
Anyways, it's not exactly what you asked but I think it's going there??? I mean Toji STEPPED UP and was like OK imma take care of my baby mama. also, here Naoya .I. put it where it fits. ugh, can't say we're done with him...
agihajkgksa I'm excited for what's to come, I haven't written this level of angst in a while!! oof!!!
Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask :> I'm super happy you've like my oneshot so much!! I hope you'll be able to like this too!!
Take care, and see you soon! ❤️❤️
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sophiethewitch1 · 3 days
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Hey! I just wanted to say that I love the WWW series so much that I've literally read it like 4 times over. SO! I have several questions + observations about it that have been bugging me a little, if you don’t mind answering + talking about them.
Everyone’s ages are something that I've been curious about. I know that it’s stated that Damian and the Reader-insert are 3 years apart in age, 19 and 21 respectively. I’m assuming that they’re more like 2 1/2 years apart based on the ages we’ve been given.
Do they follow canon ages? For example, is Tim still around 7 years older than Damian???
Because i’m picturing the lineup looking something like this:
Bruce: 47
Dick: 33
Jason: 28
Tim: 26
Reader-insert: 21
Damian: 19
I was just curious because picturing everyone’s relative age is something that is really important to me when regarding the dynamics between characters.
Another thing that I noticed was how in the Reader-insert’s  original reality/world, her entire family died on the same day that Jason did. (“Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity.”). Does that remain the same in this new world?
Because that would mean that the Reader-insert’s  counterpart would have known Jason at some point, which I think is SUPER interesting. Lots of implications.
That’s supported by something that Tim says in his 1st pov: “Your family had died, Bruce’s new wife had died, and all the siblings he never really got the opportunity to meet, gone in a brilliant flash.”
THAT has a few implications that I think are really interesting. It supports the idea that her family did die on the same day in this reality, and that she would have known and been living with Jason at the time (Well, before his death.)
Tim would have most likely only seen them at galas or something similar by that time…leading to his statement about how he “never really got the opportunity to meet” them.
This would mean that Jason knew her counterpart when the Reader-insert met him for the first time. 
Now, going off of all of those assumptions, I can only begin to guess what her and Dicks relationship was like before her family's death. I picture it like this:
Dick had only left the manor around 3 years TOPS before Bruce had remarried, bringing a whole nother family into the fold. Now, we don’t know too much about Dick in this story yet, (I'm SO excited to see more of him in the next chapter BTW) but I can assume that this would feel pretty upsetting. Leaving your home, and your adoptive? father only for him to marry into a whole new family not long after?
I’d be pretty bitter if it was me in his situation. I wouldn’t really want to have any kind of relationship with the new children he had taken in. MEANING that Dick and the counterpart didn’t have too much of a relationship before her family's death.
And between their death and Jason’s, Dick would probably consider the counterpart as some kind of chance to actually build a relationship with his siblings in the light of what he lost. Obviously, the counterpart didn’t appreciate the attempt.
Uhhh there’s probably a lot more that I'm forgetting to mention, but I think the way you write is super compelling, and the Reader-Insert has been the only one that I’ve ever read that I can relate to so well!
So TYSM for writing, it literally makes my day!! 🩷🩷🩷🫂🫂🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
(And I’m really bad at conveying my tone in text, so if I seem overly critical or anything then I’m really sorry!!! I don’t mean it like that!!!)
Sorry this took so long to answer I have been in sickly victorian woman mode. I'll answer these questions to the best that I can, but also I don't have everything planned and even if I did I regularly forget shit if I don't write it down <3 <3
First of all the ages- I aged both the younger Waynes up and the older ones down a bit, because I'm personally not into the super huge age gaps but also. Imagine them however you want, even if they come up later in continuity still just insert your personal preferences if you want. Like it really doesn't matter lmao they're relationship has bigger issues than the age gaps. Anyway here are how I had them written down but I might change my mind I am a fluid being
Reader: 21, Damian: 19, Tim: 22, Jason: 25, Dick: 29, Bruce: 45, Alfred: 67, Molly: Also 21, Cass: 25, Stephanie: 23, Barbara: 30, Duke: 20
Also yes, reader's family died the exact same day in both universes, and first world reader like... knew about the waynes but wasn't particularly interested in them till their own family was ripped away, then she started obsessing. in second world, reader and the batfam were like... sort of involved? she lived with them, and she was getting to know them, but wouldn't you be kind of weirded out if your mum married like. jeff bezos or something. and reader is sort of introvert coded, even if they don't read that way. it's just because she's trying so hard not to be, because she's so starved for attention. other world reader like,,, didn't seem to react the same way to what happened to her. but she might've, in the newest chapter it seems like she was talking to bruce after the disaster, and then stopped. But yeah you're right they never knew each other because not much effort was made to do so, and the Waynes are always SUPER busy.
Also about the Dick thing, he was actually pretty happy about the new family! But like you said he still didn't know other reader till the disaster. He just didn't have time to get to know her. He was obviously very upset with Bruce because he left to fuck off to Bludhaven for a while, but he's always loved how the Wayne family kept growing. Even when it was just him Jason, Babs and the weird kid who followed them around with a camera. Then he like decided he was going to treat her like a project because he has a savior complex that comes out especially so when he's having a hard time (oh damn my brothers dead). Not your best moment Dickie. I mean other reader definitely did need help but... as if she'd accept it from a guy like Dick. Imagine your entire family dies and you have to deal with the most beautiful guy on earth trying to comfort you while you look like a creature that crawled out of the sewers. And he tries to make you go outside because you're genuinely very mentally sick. I'd kill him tbh. Anyway this is all still technically up in the air and I might go back and edit the fic later because I'm like... very bad at timelines I just can never remember them properly which creates a lot of issues and inconsistencies.
Anyways thank you for sending in your questions/theories and enjoying my work so much! I'm glad you can relate to reader so well, she's like, one of the strangest characters I've ever written who refuses to behave in any concrete mannerisms because she's stubborn and has intimacy issues. But I think we're all a little bit like that lmao. And thank YOU for reading my stuff, I wouldn't still be doing it if it weren't for folks like you :P (also also you didn't come across as critical at all, you were very polite!!!)
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lale-txt · 3 days
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for every “there is not enough content of x” i grow an additional middle finger
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suiana · 10 months
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✎ yandere! dilf headcanons . . .
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✎ warnings . . .
― obsessiveness, possessiveness, manipulation(?), mentions of violence, implicated stalking and stealing, legal age gap, breeding kink 💀, etc.
(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)
✎ yandere! dilf who hired you as his son's tutor. he's just so worried that his darling son won't be able to keep up with school :( as a result you were hired to tutor him :D he actually doesn't know how you look like yet, but guessing from your profile picture you're a granny..?
✎ yandere! dilf who couldn't help but be enamoured with you the second you stepped inside his house. wait why were you so cute? didn't he hire an old- huh?! oh that was a picture of your grandma... oh well, he shouldn't have guessed. how else is he supposed to calm his boner now?
✎ yandere! dilf who's watering at your innocence. oh you're such a sweet thing! bright eyes sparkling with the desire to teach his son! your future son! he's so glad he's divorced... he's dead set on making you his beloved little thing. and you can't do anything to change it~!
✎ yandere! dilf who falls for you more and more with each tuition session. oh you just look so adorable! and that outfit you wore last session! it was so cute! he really had a hard time holding himself back you know? he's imagining tearing apart your outfit while marking you up now-!
✎ yandere! dilf who is older than you. I mean, he literally has a 15 year old son so it would be expected that he's old. but... he's still handsome! so you can consider him... right? oh please give him a chance! he'd hate to have to break you down completely :( yes he's that in love with you to the point where he won't mind breaking you down and rebuilding you to how he wants you to be ♡
✎ yandere! dilf who's extremely flirty and embraces his dilf-ness. rolling up his sleeves to expose his veiny forearms, unbuttoning his top two buttons to expose his defined chest, subtly flirting with you every time he sees you... just two tuition sessions ago he stood so close to you to the point where you could smell his cologne and see his man boobs?! you had to spend that entire tuition session clenching your fists just to focus. oh those sexy man boobs! his cleavage ! why is his body so sexy?! don't worry, if you wanted to touch he'll be more than happy to let you feel him up :)
✎ yandere! dilf who can't stop thinking about bashing in the heads of anyone who's glanced in you. no one should be taking in your divine self except for him and his son. those trash can't worship and love you like he does. hm... maybe he should just kidnap you? keep you all to himself. yeah, that sounds like a good plan.
✎ yandere! dilf who has a little shrine dedicated to you in his study. aw, how cute! it's just a small picture of you and a flower- wait is that your missing underwear? and is that your lost diary?! why's your entire schedule noted down with lots of hearts scribbled on it?! how'd he- there's no way he stalked you... right?
✎ yandere! dilf who gets his son to talk to you about how he's so lonely and wants another parent desperately... you're smart so you'll get what he means, won't you? after all, can you resist those watery eyes and the slight sniffling his son is doing? and he's sure you don't have any other tutees due to how much he's paying you already... so it's alright to be his, no?
✎ yandere! dilf who wants to breed you. it doesn't matter whether or not you can actually have children, he'll still want to breed you. imagining you round and full with his children... it just turns him on oh so much.
✎ yandere! dilf who really wouldn't mind a new addition to his family. I mean, for the past... 11 years it's only been him and his son :( and he finds it so lonely in his big mansion without anyone to accompany him... you understand what he's saying right? don't worry, you'll never have to lift a finger again should you accept his offer. he's rich after all :)
✎ "hn? oh my son did good, huh? should I reward you for being an amazing tutor? I know just how to thank you after all..."
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roosterforme · 1 year
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The Younger Kind Part 5 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley continues to struggle through his dates when he knows you're at his house. When you meet Natasha, you get the wrong impression of her from the start. But after a night out at the bar with his best friend, Bradley makes a move.
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)
Length: 5400 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
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When you arrived on Friday, Bradley was in the kitchen eating a bowl of the cereal and milk that you got for him, and Noah was playing with blocks in the hallway. 
"Hi, Noah! You'll never guess what kind of coloring book I found this time."
"More dinosaurs?" he asked, handing you an orange block. 
"Even better. Outer space," you told him, setting the block on the top of his tower. 
Bradley was already smiling at you when you made your way into the kitchen. "That's for you. Your bonus," he said nodding toward a coffee cup with Bradley scrawled across it. 
You gasped in mock surprise. "Do I wanna know what you had to do to get it?"
He shook his head solemnly between cereal bites. "I'm taking it to the grave."
Your laughter seemed to make his smile grow bigger. "Got it. I'll never bring it up again. Thank you." You took a sip and moaned softly; it was just that good. You might have to switch coffee shops.
Bradley grunted and set his bowl in the sink before slipping past you as he muttered something about needing to get changed. You watched him squat down and kiss Noah before stepping over the mess of blocks with his long legs and heading toward his bedroom.
You wondered if your paper crown was still in there.
"Are you hungry?" you asked Noah. "You want me to make you macaroni and cheese with a side of ants?"
"Yeah," Noah agreed, handing you some more blocks to play with first. You built three towers in a row with him before you set up the coloring books at the kitchen table so he could sit there while you made his dinner. 
When you started playing some music on your phone, you selected that band that you knew Bradley liked, and sure enough when he emerged from his room, he was shaking his head at you. 
"I still can't believe you know their songs," he said, finishing the buttons on his colorful shirt. 
"I already told you, you're not that old." You were happy to see that he seemed to be more comfortable in his clothing now compared to the date where he wore the dress shirt. "Where are you going tonight?"
"Just dinner. Maybe a movie after that if things seem promising," he said, meeting your eyes. 
"Any excuse for popcorn. Are you taking your pajamas with you?" you asked, but then you realized that implied there might be a sleepover. Your heart clenched in your chest. Oh God. One of these nights, there might be a sleepover involved. What would you do then? 
Of course you wanted him to find someone he was compatible with so he could be happy, but when you really started to consider the implications, you felt a little queasy. 
"I can't go to the movie theater without a shirt on, so I'll be leaving my pajama pants here."
"Good," you whispered, stirring the pasta in the boiling water, thinking about him in just a pair of low slung gray sweatpants.  
"See you in a few hours." He kissed Noah, and then he was gone. 
When you brought a bowl of mac and cheese over to Noah, he looked up and told you, "I like you. And Daddy said you're his favorite."
Your heart skipped a beat. "Well, I like you too, Noah. And don't tell anyone, but your Daddy is kinda my favorite, too." 
----------------------------
Bradley finally figured it out; meeting new women over and over again was tedious. Almost none of them got his humor right off the bat, resulting in awkward laughter and a few strange looks. 
"So what do you do for the Navy?" Carolyn asked him as she sipped her drink.
Bradley smiled and said, "Waste millions of dollars in taxpayer money annually. What do you do?"
She just looked at him blankly. When he told you essentially the same thing last week, you had immediately told him that Uncle Sam could suck it. 
"Uh," Carolyn said with a forced laugh. "I do online data entry."
God, had there ever been a single profession that Bradley wanted to discuss less than that? Twenty more minutes of talking about essentially nothing, and then luckily dinner had arrived. There was no way a movie was getting tacked on to this date. 
What the hell was wrong with him? All of these women had been attractive, seemingly normal, and smart. It must be Bradley. He must be the problem. He thought he knew now what it was, of course. Nat had even called him out on it: he kept thinking about you. How you looked like you fit in at his house. How you and Noah had already bonded. How you kept doing little things to take care of both of them, acting like it was no big deal.
It was a big deal. Bradley was eating hot food again at home. Spaghetti, fajitas, and eggs. Noah was eating healthy snacks, and you kept cleaning things up. He left two hundred dollars behind the TV this time and told you to spend it on anything you wanted. 
And that was the other thing. For some reason, he trusted you. With Noah, with his money, and in his house. 
Bradley took out his wallet to pay for dinner and checked the time on his phone. You had sent him a text a while ago. 
Babysitter: Your son is going to be an architect.
Attached was a picture of Noah building an elaborate castle with his blocks, and your bare legs were stretched out alongside him. He couldn't look away. You had bright purple toenail polish, the same color as the fucking crown that was back on his bedpost. Your hand was in the picture too, and all he could imagine was how you used it to pop one colorful Skittle at a time between your glossy lips.
Bradley looked up at Carolyn before he signed the check. "Hey, this was fun, but I'm going to head home for the night." He watched her face fall, surprised that she might have actually been enjoying herself. 
"Oh, okay."
Well, if this had been a good date for her, maybe Bradley really was a lost cause who was way too picky for his own good. Because it had been painful enough for him that he just wanted to be at home on his couch. And if you were there too, then all the better.
He tried not to think about you on the drive home, but as soon as he caught sight of your car, he couldn't stop himself. Your legs and your face and the way you talked to him. Fuck, he needed to get inside. 
When Bradley noisily let himself in, you weren't on the couch. The disappointed feeling of not seeing you right away filled him up as his eyes settled on the paper crowns on the side table. "Hey, I'm home," he called out softly, and then you were poking your head into the living room.
"Hi," you whispered, heading toward him, and he had the urge to open up his arms for you. "Noah had a bad dream. I was just making sure he's okay."
Bradley ran his hand through his hair. "I'll go check on him," he mumbled, inhaling your wildflower scent as he passed you. 
As he bent down to kiss his son, Bradley noticed his pinched face and restless movements. "It's okay, bub," he whispered, smoothing his fingers along the tiny cheeks and forehead. Noah took a deep breath in his sleep and rolled onto this side, and hopefully that was a good sign that he was going to fall into a deeper sleep. 
Bradley walked down the hallway and glanced into his pristine kitchen before making his way back to the living room where you were stacking up your textbooks on the table. If you kept cleaning his house and cooking for him, he was going to have to pay you more. And not just in French vanilla coffee. 
"You're home pretty early," you remarked, looking up at him over your shoulder. "No movie?"
"Nah," he said, wishing you'd stop packing up your tote bag. 
You smirked. "And what exactly was wrong with this one?"
He chuckled and grinned at you. "Well, where do I begin? Her hair was like an inch longer than I can possibly tolerate. And her car was burgundy. I hate burgundy cars. And she doesn't like popcorn."
"Okay," you said with a laugh. "You're just making this shit up."
"I'm not!" he insisted while trying to fight his grin. "She ordered a salad with no dressing! That's not normal! And her nails were painted pink. So boring!"
You were laughing in earnest now. "I'll bet her entire house is beige!"
"Terrifying!" he gasped, gripping his heart. "You're heading out, Princess?"
He watched you carefully look at his empty hands and inspect him all over. "I don't see any wine or beer tonight. No more coffee cups either. Nothing to keep me here," you said with a shrug, but you were smiling. 
"I could make some coffee. Or I have some of that beer left." He didn't know why it felt so important to keep you here longer, but he really wanted to take your bag out of your hand. 
"No, that's okay. You still want me tomorrow night?" you asked, shrugging your tote bag onto your shoulder. 
"Every night," he mumbled, and he watched your lips part slowly as his eyes went wide. "I mean, yeah, tomorrow night, yes. I do still need you tomorrow night."
"Right." 
Your gaze dropped down to his lips, and Bradley was slowly moving before he could stop himself. At first you were frozen in place, and he knew he should be slamming on the brakes, but your tongue darted out to glide across your glossy lips. 
Then you closed the distance between his body and yours with one decisive step, and Bradley was reaching for your pretty face. The skim of his thumb along your cheek as he grazed your neck with his fingertips had your eyes fluttering closed. 
You were perfect. He wanted you. He considered the fact that if he let himself, he could grow to need you. As the tip of his nose brushed your face and his lips barely met yours, he heard Noah call out from his room. "Daddy!"
And with that one word, you were jerking out of his soft grasp like you had been burned. 
"Noah needs you," you said quickly, hoisting your bag higher onto your shoulder as you looked at the couch.
"Yeah," Bradley whispered, wishing you would still meet his eyes. 
But you turned toward the door and waved over your shoulder. "See you tomorrow at 6."
And you were gone. And Bradley was making his way into Noah's room. But Noah was already asleep again.
------------------------
Your heart was pounding as you drove home. You and Bradley had kissed. Just barely, but still. You moaned at the memory of his mustache brushing your upper lip. "Oh my God," you whispered, running your fingers along your lips. Your crush on him was hopeless. Ridiculous. But was it unrequited?
If his date hadn't gone well tonight, why did he need you there again tomorrow? He hadn't even taken that woman to the movie theater after dinner. Was he really going to take her out again? 
What if... what if he wanted to hang out with you? He had mentioned making you some coffee or getting the beers out. You were an idiot. You could be sitting on his couch with him right now, sipping a microbrew IPA and sharing a bag of Skittles. He could be kissing you senseless into the couch cushions. You wouldn't have been stopping him.
"Shit," you gasped, almost turning your car around. But you were already turning onto your block, your little rental house coming into view.
What if. There were too many what ifs. You really liked Bradley. Noah was so sweet, you loved being around him. Their house already felt cozier than your rental. You whined helplessly as you parked and hauled your books inside. 
You spent most of Saturday morning and afternoon blasting music and making snacks while you tried to study. Every time you thought about Bradley, you made yourself run up your stairs to your bedroom and back down, getting a really nice workout in. 
When you checked the time on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor.
Bradley Bradshaw: I wish we hadn't been interrupted last night, Princess.
"Oh, fuck." The text was from nearly an hour ago. You scrambled with clumsy fingers to write back as quickly as you could.
Same. But I hope Noah was okay?
But he didn't write back. So you got yourself ready to go, taking extra care with your hair and makeup.  And an hour later, you were on your way to his house with homemade snacks and so much hope in your heart. Maybe he wanted to spend the evening watching a movie with you and Noah.  
But when you pulled up, there was an SUV in his driveway next to his Bronco, and you had to park on the street. You grabbed your bag that contained just one of your textbooks and a bunch of snacks and eyed the SUV warily as you opened the front door. 
And there stood such a stunningly beautiful woman, you froze halfway through the door. She had dark hair and perfect skin, and her brown eyes were searching you like you were a science experiment or something to examine under a microscope. Just as a smile curled along her lips, you heard Bradley call from the kitchen. "Hey Nat, get in here and help me! You know I need you."
Your heart sank at the sound of his voice beckoning to her. And now she was smiling at you fully as you shut the door behind you and set your bag down. 
"Nat!" Bradley called with laughter in his voice. "Don't make me come get you!"
But this woman was paying him no attention. Rather, she was making her way closer to you and holding out her hand. "Hi, I'm Natasha. You must be the babysitter," she said, a teasing, singsong tone to her voice. You instantly felt like this beautiful woman was making fun of you. Putting you in your place.
"Yeah. That's me," you said with as much courage as you could manage. Was this the woman Bradley went out with last night? Was this someone else he was seeing? Maybe a fling he was giving a second chance? God, they would look perfect together. You could honestly picture it.
"Well, I've heard a lot about you, sweetheart." Her eyes were positively twinkling with mirth at your expense now. "It's nice to meet you."
You were just about to ask exactly who she was and why she seemed to know so much about you, but then Bradley appeared in the living room. "Natasha!" his voice boomed, but then he paused when he saw you. "Oh, you're here." His voice softened considerably when he looked at you. He was wearing well worn jeans that clung to his perfect body and a plain, white undershirt. He was so sexy, you could barely think straight.
But why had he texted you that he wished you hadn't been interrupted by Noah if he had this other woman here now? You watched this Natasha walk past him, patting his flat belly as she went into the kitchen.
You felt like crying. You could feel your brow creasing as you tried to hold back the stinging sensation behind your eyes as Bradley made his way over to you.
"Princess." His voice was so soft and he was smirking down at you. 
"Bradley?" But his name fell from your tongue like a question. 
"Come on into the kitchen."
You didn't want to go into the kitchen. You wanted to leave. But he pressed his hand to the small of your back and guided you along. 
"Who is that woman?" you blurted just before you reached the kitchen doorway. 
You felt Bradley's huge hand grip you a little tighter as he laughed. "She's truly horrible, isn't she?"
"What?" you gasped as he guided you into the kitchen. Noah was sitting at the table, making a huge mess with cut up construction paper and a glue stick. And Natasha was fiddling around with Bradley's fancy coffee maker like she freaking lived here. 
"It worked last time I tried to make a latte. What did you do to it?" she asked Bradley, bending over the counter and showcasing her perfect body. 
You thought you might actually hate her. 
"It was supposed to be her treat," Bradley said at the same time that Natasha finally got the machine to do what she wanted, because she stood up and clapped. 
And then Noah spotted you and jumped out of the chair, wrapping his arms around your leg and saying he missed you, even though you'd seen him last night. You almost dropped your tote bag on the floor in all the commotion and emotions, but Bradley caught it and set it on one of the chairs. 
"I was trying to make you a vanilla latte, but I needed Nat to figure it out. Always saving the day, huh?" Bradley said, sharing a high five with Natasha. 
"You're terrible at everything," she told him. "I can't believe they let you fly a Super Hornet."
"I can't believe I've been putting up with you for nearly fifteen years," Bradley told her, running his fingers along your back briefly before he handed you the latte when it finished brewing in a mug that said Noah's Dad.
You held onto it with both hands and whispered, "Thank you." Then you watched Natasha clean up some of Noah's construction paper mess and pat him on the head. 
"Aunt Natasha promises to take you for ice cream next week if you're really good for you dad and your babysitter. Sounds fun, kiddo?" Noah lit up at her words.
"You ready to go?" Bradley asked Natasha, and she just nodded and said she would meet him outside.
"See you around," she told you with a wink. 
You just nodded like an idiot and tried to sip the blazing hot latte. Then you looked up at Bradley's handsome face.
"I might be kind of late tonight. I'll be at Nat's mercy for a ride home."
"Oh," you whispered. "Okay."
But now he was looking at you like he had been last night, as if he wanted to stay here with you instead of going out. 
He sighed deeply. "She's kind of making me go out and socialize with our friends. I guess that's what best friends are good for? Making sure you don't fall off the grid?"
Your heart perked up immediately. "She's your best friend?" you asked softly. He had told you his best friend was a woman. She referred to herself as Noah's aunt. She must be the one who had installed the dating app on his phone. She's the reason you met Bradley in the first place.
"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "And unfortunately I think it's too late to try to trade her for a better one."
You took a sip of the latte. Suddenly it wasn't too hot. It was perfect. Bradley was perfect, and so was Noah. Even Natasha was truly a delight. You couldn't wait to see her again. 
"Bye, bub," Bradley said, accepting a kiss on his cheek from Noah who was now holding approximately nine colored pencils in each hand. "See you later," he told you with a soft smile, brushing past you on his way out of the kitchen. 
"It's a beautiful day, Noah. Let's go for a hike."
------------------------------
Bradley was five beers deep at the Hard Deck when Jake handed him a sixth. "Thanks," he mumbled, kind of hating that Hangman was being nice to him. He wasn't used to this. But Nat must have been telling Bradley the truth when she said everyone missed him. Even Penny had paused for a minute to ask him how he was, and also to make sure things were going well with you babysitting Noah.
"Tell me, Rooster," Jake drawled, "how is your foray into online dating treating you?"
Bradley glared at Nat. "Have you told everyone about the dating app?"
"Not everyone. Javy doesn't know," she replied. 
"What don't I know?" Coyote asked her as he paused on his way to the pool table.
"That Rooster is on a dating app. Oops," Nat said with a grin toward Bradley. "Now everyone knows."
He just shook his head and tried to search out someone else to talk to while he sipped his beer. But Penny was slammed at the bar, and Bradley didn't want to chat up any of the women here. He wanted to chat with you. He wanted a second chance at kissing you, too.
It was late, and Noah would have to be in bed by now. He wondered if you were curled up at the end of his couch reading one of your textbooks. He could picture you placing a single Skittle in your mouth, watching it drag across your bottom lip. He wanted to taste it in your mouth.
"Fuck," he mumbled. He wished he had an excuse to text you. Without giving it too much thought, Bradley took a selfie of him with Nat and Jake. He looked okay in it, so he sent it to you. 
"Who are you texting that to?" Jake asked. 
"Nobody," Bradley replied, and after another sip of his beer, he had a text back from you. 
Babysitter: Who's that other guy?
Bradley's shoulders slumped. He should have known better. All women loved Jake. 
His name is Jake. But trust me, Princess, he wouldn't be good for you.
Bradley realized too late that Nat was reading over his shoulder. "Oh my goodness, she's asking about Jake. Poor Bradley," she said, teasingly. 
"Who's asking about me?" Jake drawled.
"Nobody," Bradley said at the same time Nat said, "The babysitter."
Bradley really didn't need that last beer. He was pretty drunk now, and quite frankly his friends were pissing him off. 
"What's she look like?" Jake asked. "And if she's cute, my next question is going to be is she over eighteen?"
Bradley rolled his eyes at Jake. "She wouldn't like you. She's smart."
Jake just laughed. "Oh, Rooster. All women like me." Bradley hated that grin. 
"Rooster has a photo of her saved on his phone," Nat sang, and Bradley wished he could tape her mouth shut.
"Show me," Jake said, and Bradley felt cornered. He pulled up that photo of you in the crown that he already loved so much and held it up for Jake and Nat to look at.
Nat was smirking, but Jake looked like someone had placed a juicy steak in front of him. 
"Holy shit. So how old is she exactly?" he asked, trying to take Bradley's phone. But luckily he wasn't too drunk to pull it away in time. 
"It doesn't matter," Bradley told him, trying to find a way to change the subject. 
"What the fuck are you doing on a dating app when that's waiting at your house? I would be tapping that nonstop," Jake said, shaking his head at Bradley. "In fact, tell her your good buddy Jake is on his way over. Tell her I want her number."
"Absolutely not," Bradley growled. And then there was another text from you.
Babysitter: He's kind of cute. For a blond. 
Bradley sighed and shook his head. He would not allow this to happen.
I can assure you he is not. He has a burgundy car, Princess. And his entire condo is beige. And he hates salad dressing.
Bradley's heart was pounding, and his head was starting to swim. He never drank this much anymore since he had to be attentive to Noah all day long. He was really regretting that last beer when you texted him a photo. Bradley's breath caught in his throat as he looked at a selfie of you laying on his living room area rug and laughing. You looked so young and sweet and perfect.
Babysitter: Nevermind. He doesn't sound like my type at all.
"Atta girl," Bradley said to nobody in particular. Everyone had wandered away from him at this point as he typed out a response.
He's definitely not your type.
Babysitter: You think you know my type?
He watched as Nat paid the tab and waved him toward the door.
I hope so, Princess. I'm on my way home. We can talk about it then.
-----------------------
Okay. These texts were getting a little flirty. That Jake guy was cute, but Bradley was definitely more attractive. Jake looked like an older version of Greyson, like the kind of guy you would usually go for: clean cut with an attitude. 
But Bradley. Well. He was definitely something different. He was older, sexier, and you were pretty sure he'd never give you an attitude. Unless you wanted him to. 
And now you were rolling around on his living room carpet, biting your lip to keep from screaming. Then you heard someone pull into his driveway, and you rocketed to your feet.
When you peeked out the window, you saw Bradley being led up the sidewalk by Natasha, which was hilarious, because he was roughly twice her size.
"Bradley," she said, pausing to scold him. "You need to stop laughing and focus on walking."
"I'm fine, Nat," he said, chuckling. 
"You did not need that last beer, did you?" she asked, fumbling to get his keys from him. You could have opened the door for them, but you were frozen, looking at the way his face was bathed in moonlight. 
"Nat, she's inside," he mumbled. 
"Yeah, she is. And you better be sweet so she doesn't ask for Jake's number."
"Fuck Jake," Bradley grumbled, and you covered your mouth to keep from laughing as Nat opened the door. 
"Hi," you said, greeting both of them with a smile.
"Hey, Princess," Bradley said, a crooked grin on his lips. 
Nat shoved him into the house. "Want me to help you get to bed?" she asked, but you held your hand up as Bradley inched closer to you.
"It's okay. I can stay and make sure he gets there."
"Excellent," Nat said with a grin that reminded you of the Cheshire cat. "He's all yours, babe."
And then she was gone, and you had Bradley towering over you, looking at you like he wanted to touch you. 
"Did you have fun?" you asked softly.
He nodded at you, his eyes half lidded as he chuckled. "Yeah. Was Noah good?"
"An angel," you promised, taking him by the hand. "Let's get you to bed, Bradley." Your heart pounded as you tried to pull him to his bedroom, but he wasn't budging. His hand was huge and warm, and he used it to pull you a little closer. 
"Do you like Jake? You think he's cute. He said he wanted your number, and it pissed me off."
You looked up at him wide eyed. He must have had a lot to drink since he was rambling a bit. "It pissed you off that I think he's cute? Or that he wanted my number?"
Bradley scoffed and pulled you against him. "Both. He's not good enough for you." 
"Oh," you gasped, running your palms along his torso where you were suddenly touching him. He was so solid. Substantial. You wondered if he had started to regret that almost kiss last night. You wanted to know what he was thinking about you. "Bradley?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't like Jake. He looks like Greyson, my ex boyfriend." 
He just shook his head a few times, running his big palm along your back again. You could feel yourself melting into him. "You can do better than either of them. You're so pretty."
"Bradley," you whispered as your entire body clenched in need. You couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. 
"You are," he told you, his brown eyes so steady and honest. "You're so funny and smart and pretty." And now he was looking at your lips. 
"Of course. I'm a princess," you told him with a small smile. And then his lips were on yours. His mouth was warm, and he tasted like beer. But you liked it. You really liked it when both of his hands wrapped around your waist, dragging your shirt up a little bit in the process. 
Your lips parted on a gasp as his fingers grazed the bare skin below your ribs. And then he was tasting you, groaning softly as your tongue met his. He was surprisingly soft and sweet, never demanding more than you were giving. Every experimental nibble on his lips led to him reciprocating the actions, making you a little crazier for him. 
When you ran your fingers up along his neck and his cheek, he groaned, "Princess," against your lips. You pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging a bit, and then he was backing you up against the TV stand. 
"Bradley," you whined when his lips found your neck. "Oh, God. You're drunk."
"Not that drunk," he mumbled against your skin, his breath hot, his lips dragging against your earlobe.
You did not want him to stop. That was literally the last thing on your mind right now. But you'd die next time you saw him if he said he regretted this. 
"Bradley," you said a little louder, planting both palms against his chest and pushing him firmly away. 
He released you completely and just stood there looking at you like he couldn't figure out what was going on.
"You're drunk, Bradley," you said softly. "Oh, God, I'm sorry I didn't stop you sooner." You took a few steps away from him, and he followed you like a puppy with sad eyes.
"I wanted that. Since last night. Since last week."
You just shook your head. "But you're drunk. You're the epitome of an unreliable narrator."
He just looked at you like he couldn't get enough and laughed. "How are you so funny?" he asked softly, brushing his fingers along your cheek. You were terrified that you'd follow him to his bedroom if he asked, but he wasn't in the right mind to be voicing any sorts of opinions concerning you or your lips or how funny he found you. 
"Just, go sit on the couch, okay?" you instructed, guiding him that way with a hand on his massive bicep. He dropped down onto the couch, all rosy cheeks and long, splayed legs, looking up at you like he expected you to join him. "I'll get you some water."
You dashed into the kitchen without another thought, gripping the edge of the hard granite counter with your shaky fingers. 
You wanted him. You wanted Bradley. And he was on a quest to find the right woman while you were simply here to watch Noah for him. You needed to get a grip on things. You needed to straighten this out. 
After a few deep breaths, you filled a cup with cold water and reached down the bottle of Advil you noticed on the top self next to the mugs. If Bradley was able to hold a conversation when you went back into the living room, you'd try to get him to explain what was going on. You squared your shoulders, but when you saw him, he was sprawled across the entire couch, sound asleep. 
With a deep sigh, you set the water and the Advil on the small table next to him. You watched his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, his face calm and smooth. His lips were parted slightly, and you could see the perfect white of his teeth. Gently, you pushed his wavy hair back from his forehead, letting your fingers linger in the soft strands. 
He might not even remember kissing you tomorrow. 
You took a sheet of paper and a pen out of your bag and left him a note next to his water. Then you checked that the back door was locked before giving Noah a kiss on his forehead. And with one last look at Bradley dozing peacefully, you left, locking his front door behind you.
-------------------------------
Wow, Bradley. Do it when you're sober, bro. I hope you enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 6
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maybelacrimosa · 1 month
Text
Fastpass spoilers
I think one of the largest issues I have with Lore Olympus is Rachel Smythes tendency to ignore her favourite characters wrong doings or to try 'justify' them with poorly executed retcons. In the latest chapter we get yet another "Zeus bad" retcon that somehow feels worse than the prior "Zeus bad" moments. Im not going to deny Zeus is a very VERY flawed person in LO, I am all for Hera divorcing him. But here she is trying to justify the Metis/Zeus plot point by saying "oh she was protecting her daughter all along by sleeping with someone who she met when he was underage!!!!" That feels really creepy? I dont think she really considers the implications of the things she writes and thats not a good thing. She cant even try argue "oh kronos time shenanigans make it ok" or whatever stupid logic she might use because she has established his time powers had run out from his fight with Ouranos at that point in the story.
Like lets take the catastrophe that was the Dio birth arc, she tries to retroactively justify Persephone being a terrible midwife who steals a baby without letting the father hold him by being like "oh actually he didnt care about the baby he chose to carry in his leg for about 10 years Persephone was in the right!!!" instead of having her ask to take custody or do anything other than demanding she be given the baby like a few minutes after Zeus finished giving birth.
Its not just Zeus either, she tries to justify Persephone invading Leuces home by being like "Oh Leuce never really got any texts shes delusional!!!!" ignoring the fact that Leuce thought the texts were valid enough to show to Persephone when mrs pink tyrant was being a home invader and neglecting the baby she just stole a couple of hours ago. Dio is treated like a purse dog and we get some off hand comment where Persephone blames the neglect (which was so bad the child got into TARTARUS) on the sitter she hired rather than being like "oh I should have made actual arrangements for Dio instead of giving myself a makeover". Theres also the way she tried to claim Thanatos was as much to blame for Hades' terrible parenting as Hades was by being like "well the abandoned child had an attitude can you blame Hades for not being a good dad?" Like yes. Yes we can blame Hades, he was an ADULT and Thanatos was a CHILD.
I guess the point Im making is, if she wants her characters to be morally grey, she needs to stop twisting the narrative into a gordian knot to justify every bad thing her favourites do whilst condemning other characters as being 'the worst' like hold them all to the same standard and actually let them develop instead of making excuses.
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inbarfink · 8 months
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So the AA Fandom has no shortage of jokes about how our favorite Anime Laywers generally prioritize stuff like the Power of Friendship above more mundane concerns like 'getting paid for doing their job' but...seriously now, how often do they actually get paid for lawyering?
Well, welcome to...
The Big Overview of WAA Lawyers and Actually Getting Paid!!
The vast majority of AA Cases do not discuss payments for legal services explictly, so I will be Ranking how probable I feel it is the Lawyers got Paid. With a 0 standing for 'explictly and unambigiously did not get paid' and 1 standing for 'explictly and unambigiously did get paid'
The First Turnabout
That's an easy one, it is actually explicitly mentioned that no, Larry did not pay Phoenix for his services as a Lawyer.
And so, my first trial came to a close. Larry slapped me on the back and said, "Gee, Nick, it's good to have friends!" But I'm pretty sure he's not going to pay us. Unless you count the clock he gave Mia.
Which is brought up again months later during 'Turnabout Goodbyes'
Butz: Whoa… Nick. S-so, is that why you helped me out for free? Phoenix: Uh… yes. I helped you because I believed in you. (Except I don't remember saying I'd do it for free…)
So Phoenix expected and wanted to get paid, but he’s just, like, not assertive enough to get his money off Larry. And thus a long legacy of Not Getting Money was born!
Probability of Getting Paid: 0
Turnabout Sisters
Okay, so the subject of money does not come up directly in ‘Turnabout Sisters’ but like… Maya does not seem to have a lot of liquid funds on her at this point. For most of the games she generally relays on Phoenix to pay for things for her. At best right now she is semi-dependent on Morgan for cash - and considering her motivations, she probably came out with some excuse like ‘oooh Mystic Maya must prove her independence in such a dire situation or something, the whole Fey Family is broke we can’t afford to give you any more money I feel so bad ooooh’.
So I think if Phoenix got paid for defending her that was mostly a token symbolic gesture of gratitude more than actually anything that’ll help him pay the rent. And obviously Phoenix wouldn’t gain anything if he paid himself for that second trial of the case lol
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.1
Turnabout Samurai
Okay, so this is the first case where I think it is more likely than not Phoenix Actually Got Paid. There’s nothing textual, but I think with the implications of Phoenix starting the case fretting over how to pay the rent:
Phoenix: A month has passed since my trial. Mia's murder was the talk of the town for some time… But no one paid any attention to the Wright & Co. Law Offices… How am I going to pay the rent this month? Maya: It'll be okay. I'm sure some big client is just around the corner! Phoenix: Hmph.
And THEN his new Client is Will Powers who is:
a fairly sucessful actor whose life and career seems to be unglamorous but financially stable.
the first cilent Phoenix has who isn't a friend, a relative-of-a-friend or Literally Himself
generally just a really nice and wholesome guy.
It seems pretty likely to me that Phoenix and Maya got paid for this one!
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.8
Turnabout Goodbyes
OKAY so, I've seen folks say that Phoenix would've probably done this for free cause he sees this whole thing as repaying a debt for Being Nice to Him in Fourth Grade because as we all know, Phoenix is a Certified Ridiculous Human Being.
Phoenix: This is my chance to finally pay you back. Maya: Pay him back…? Edgeworth: Pay me back? For what? I don't remember ever doing anything for you. Phoenix: Never mind… I guess you don't really need to know.
Buuuuut... Larry at the time was also part of that Class Trial Bestie Pact and Phoenix did expect him to pay I mean Larry is not the Love of His Life but still.
And more important, this case ALSO established that Miles has a problem expressing gratitude and overcompensate using financial gifts.
Phoenix: Thank you. Oh, wait! Umm… I was wondering, how much is bail going to be? Gumshoe: Don't worry about that. Mr. Edgeworth is posting the whole amount. Phoenix: What? Edgeworth…? Gumshoe: Didn't I tell you? He's grateful to her for what she did. Alright, pal. Well don't forget to go pick her up, okay? Phoenix: (Hmm… Maybe I can get Edgeworth to pay this month's rent, too…)
So I feel, like, regardless of what Phoenix wanted - at the end of this trial - Miles IS going to make sure he is GETTING PAID. Dude was probably shoving checks into his mailbox like a full month after the trial concluded.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.9
Rise from the Ashes
So... the person who initially hires Phoenix to the case is Ema Skye, a 16 year old girl whose main funds are her allowance. And Phoenix was kinda willfully ignoring his financial situation at the start and only took this case for sentimental reasons. (just more evidence that Miles was STILL sending him payments for 'Goodbyes' lol)
It's been two months since Maya left the office… Two months without a single trial. I've had offers… But none I took. That is… until the day that girl showed up.
However he does get 'formally requested' by her probably-well-off-considering-prosecutors-in-this-series older sister shortly thereafter.
Lana: … Mr. Wright? Phoenix: Y-yes? Lana: I believe our discussion here is ended. The rest… I leave to you. Phoenix: …! Um… you mean, you're requesting my services as your defense? Lana: Don't lose any sleep over it. Your client has confessed, after all. The case is over. Phoenix: Right… I'll do what I can to get to the bottom of this. Lana: …
And after a very long and harrowing journey of being in-conflict with his own client, Lana did end up being very grateful for what he did. And again, this case espacially emphasizes that 'prosecutors make the big bucks' - so she had both the means and will to pay him.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.6
The Lost Turnabout
Alrighty, so, Maggey is generally a nice girl and also a fangirl of Phoenix Wright and that gives her an incentive to support him financially...
Actually, I really love to watch court proceedings, and I always root for you to win! When I'm off duty, I like to come here and…
But with how unlucky she is, that might imply that she could have Money Troubles. Although on the other hand she at least has a stable job at the moment... But on the other OTHER hand she does mention how all the other lawyers 'laughed her off'
Just when I thought all hope was lost; when all the other lawyers had laughed me off… "Leave it to me!" you said! You! The one and only Phoenix Wright came to save the day! And just like that, I was moved to tears, sir! I'll never forget what you're doing for me, EVER!
Which usually I wouldn't note as a financial thing. Usually when an AA Defendant is like 'oooh I have no one else to turn too, all the other lawyers turned me down......" this is because the case is considered too impossible to win or Unbearably Wacky (or some sort of conspiracy like with Maya in 'Sisters'). But, like, this is a Tutorial Case. Phoenix won that one with Fucking Amnesia. The 'impossibility' of the case was not the issue, so, yeah, it might legitimately be the money?
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.4
Reunion, and Turnabout
It's Maya Murder Trial Time Again! Pretty much the same as before with the two added factors being:
Maya is now officially employed in the Wright & Co. Law Offices during the duration of the trial.
AFTER the Trial, when Morgan is like, in jail - Maya might have a bit more acess to her family funds. Although they are established to Not Be Doing Well Financially in general....
A piece of cloth with a ton of finely-written characters jammed onto it. Probably esoteric knowledge only mediums should know. …Hmm, let's see… Here's one in English… It says… "100 Ways to Save Money". … Being a medium sounds like a rough way of life…
I think all in all these kinda even out to the same Chances of Getting Paid at last time??
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.1
Turnabout Big Top
So if you ever start discussing how pointless the AA 'middle cases' are - just remember this one crucial detail; they are the most reliable way Phoenix Wright gets food on his plate! We once again have a stranger (that Phoenix won't feel obligated to defend for free) that is very explictly Fabulously Wealthy.
He's not as nicey-nice as Will Powers is but I feel like paying Phoenix's legal fees is not something Max will bet an eye at.
Phoenix: It's a table for guests… There are some papers scattered on top. Maya: Ah! Look at this! Max's salary is written on this piece of paper. YIKES! Phoenix: W-What is it? Maya: I didn't know a magician… This salary is incredible! Phoenix: (She looks like she's about ready to pass out from shock…) How much is it!? How much is it!? T-T-THAT MUCH!? Maya: Incredible, huh? Phoenix: You can say that again.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
Farewell, My Turnabout
Okay so this is the Big One. This one’s a really complicated one to determine.
Let’s just get the first thing out of the way, the fact that Phoenix “”lost”” the case does not matter one way or another. Criminal Defense Lawyers, as a general rule, do not work on a Contingency Fee Basis. That means they are paid regardless of the result of the trial. So if this was a normal trial, Phoenix would probably be paid.
But this was not a normal trial, was it?
Phoenix was FORCED to work as a Defense Attorney due to a KIDNAPPER. And, like, my first instinct is ‘if you are already forcing someone to work via criminal means, why the hell would you also pay them??’ 
Buuuuut….. This is MY instinct, not the instinct of goddam Shelly De Killer. 
Since Shelly’s whole thing is being the Honorable Assassin, and he has some level of respect towards Phoenix as like a Fellow Professional. I can see him thinking maybe wanting Phoenix to get paid for the work he is Coercing Him To Do Under Threat of Murdering His Best Friend for the sake of Honor. 
But also also, Phoenix’s terms are not officially with De Killer, it’s with This Asshole!
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And Matt Engarde is absolutely the kind of guy to casually take advantage of Phoenix’s frantic ‘please please just let me be your lawyer or my Friend is gonna Die!’ thing where, like, obviously getting paid is NOT gonna cross through Phoenix’s head atm in order to not pay/severely underpay the guy even though he can obviously afford it.
All in all, things are not looking good for this case’s probability, which is a shame considering how it ends.
Powers: Um, anyway… So, who's paying for this lovely dinner party? Maya: As if you need to ask! Everyone say, "Thank you" to Nick! Phoenix: Huh? Gumshoe: Ah, yeah… I'm kinda at the point where I can't even buy instant noodles, pal. So I kinda already put your name on the bill.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.3
Turnabout Memories
First time covering a Lawyer that’s not Phoenix!
Now, Mia’s client in this case is a college student who probably doesn't have tons of personal funds, and considering her own motivations for taking on the case she probably would’ve done it for free but…
At the time she was employed at the Grossberg Law Offices, and Phoenix hired just the office in general and then Mia took over the case just last night.
Grossberg: Still, you surprised me… What, with your earnest request last night… "Let me handle this case!" you suddenly said. And quite forcefully, too! Mia: I just found out yesterday. About the case, I mean.
So... really this is just the Vibes I get from the Grossberg Law Offices, being generally the more professional and by-the-book law offices compared to the utter chaotic energy of Wright and Co, that makes me assume that they usually reliably charge their clients and pay their lawyers.
There’s some evidence further down the line (which we’ll get to soon) that some of their lawyers do some pro-bono work - but I dunno if Phoenix’s case was extreme enough to necessitate that (I mean he might be a broke college student but his family would probably help him with the legal funds although that assumes they even exist) . So my assumption is that Mia probably did get paid. Probably?
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.75
The Stolen Turnabout
So, Ron DeLite used to really financially struggle to keep up with his wife’s shopaholic habits - but that seems to have stabilized ever since his ‘benefactor’ showed up. So I’d assume he still has some funds left to pay his lawyer. I mean I guess it won’t be totally implausible if Desiree did manage to blow through them all…. Or maybe being a a high-spending shopaholic means that she’d want to pay extravagantly for her lawyer as well?
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
Recipe for Turnabout
It’s Maggey again! And now she’s:
Closer to a friend, or at least a friend-of-friend. Rather than Just Another Client.
Is probably in a more dire financial state than before, on account of being unemployed and also in jail for the last two months.
Also being a waitress isn’t that prestigious a job anyways 
And if anyone is gonna help her cover her legal fees it could only be Gumshoe which… does not bode well to anyone involved!
Pissed at Phoenix cause it took her some time to realize that no, that guy who got her found guilty two months ago is not him
So basically everything that changed since her last trial makes it less likely that Phoenix charged for his legal services. I'm sure she'd try her best by the end, but Phoenix might just wave it off to save everyone a headache.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.3
Turnabout Beginnings
So first things first I want to reiterate that Criminal Defense Attorneys generally get paid regardless of if they ‘win’ and while I couldn’t find any concrete statements about the matter - I believe they get paid even if their clients die mid-trial??? I mean, the legal fees just get added to their posthumous debts? So the lawyer would hypothetically be able to claim their due payment from the deceased’s remaining funds and possessions. If they wanted to, that is…
Cause, well, this is why I said the Grossberg Law Offices might do some pro-bono cases. Terry Fawles was, like, a part-time tutor who has been incarcerated for the last five years. If he has any family or friends outside that could help him with his legal fees, he never mentions them. 
So I’m really not sure if he bought Mia services or if she volunteered to do this pro-bono after hearing he had no options for legal representations out of concern for, like, prisoners rights. 
And even if he was supposed to pay Mia for her service, after the grim ending of the case - I’m not sure if she would’ve even tried to pursue getting her legal fees from Fawles’ posthumously/from his next of kin. From how deeply traumatized she was by that trial, I think that would’ve only made her feel worse about the whole situation. 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.05
Bridge to the Turnabout
Iris is a nun from a small temple that is mentioned to not-be-doing-so-hot (cause it’s tied with the Kurain Channeling Technique and it’s been on a downturn since DL-6), but she does have at least enough personal funds to have her own cell-phone and occasionally go into town. So it’s not a lot, but I think it’s enough to get Phoenix at least a a symbolic token-of-gratitude payment.
Also, it might be possible Phoenix will wave off the fees due to the Personal Connection to the case. You know, he was doing this primarily to Uncover the Truth and get some personal closure for the Dahlia mess.... Or maybe not, cause he did still get paid (or tried to get paid, or forced to get paid) to save his two Fourth-Grade-Life-Debt Childhood Best Friends in court?
(And I do mean just Phoenix, Miles probably would never charge for his services as ‘acting defense attorney’, we don’t need that farce to get any farcier)
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.3
Turnabout Trump
Now this is a complicated one, let us list the factors here one-by-one:
1. As per Apollo’s comment in the next episode, the Gavin Law Offices probably operated strictly quid pro quo.
(Good-bye, quid pro quo. Hello pro bono. sigh)
2. Phoenix is supposedly friends with the boss of the Agency. And in reality, Kritoph Gavin has a very VERY vested interest in making sure the trial goes According to Plan. Incentivising him to at least give Phoenix a discount.
3. Phoenix is also not doing that great financially right now. 
4. Oh right, that entire law agency disbanded once the boss got arrested at the end of the trial!
…Speaking of which, I may be out of a job. I work for Gavin Law Offices, after all. (I still can't believe I just saw Mr. Gavin get led away in handcuffs…)
I think it is most likely that Phoenix got some sort of “”Friend”” Discount from Kristoph. But I really don’t know what happens if an entire law firm gets disbanded right after the trial cause the owner got arrested as a result of it. It probably depends on whether Phoenix was in agreement with the Gavin Law Offices who then assigned Apollo on the case or if Phoenix had an agreement with Apollo directly.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.5
Turnabout Corner
Oh hey, look! Another rare case of an Ace Attorney that actually discusses the issue of money directly!
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Well, I mean we know how much Apollo got paid for solving the case of Phoenix’s accident and Trucy’s panties (nothing) and for solving Eldoon’s Noodle Cart Theft (a free bowl of ramen). We don’t see them directly discuss the subject of payment regarding Apollo’s Actual Job…
Apollo: Your request… let me guess, something's been stolen? Alita: Um, your flyer… It says "now defending" so I thought… Apollo: Whaaaat!? You mean, you mean you want me to defend you? Me? Trucy: Maybe you can tell us what happened? Were you hit by a car? Did someone steal your stand? Or your panties? Alita: No! No… I'm not the client, actually. The client would be my… well, my fiancé, I suppose you'd call him. Apollo: Fiancé…? What happened to him, then? Alita: He was arrested this morning. The charge… was murder.
But as he was complaining before about not only being pigeonholed as some sort of a detective, but also not getting paid for anything…
Um… I was wondering when I get paid? We solved the case of your accident, and um, found a missing article of clothing.
And then getting this job and being so happy about it...
Trucy: Polly! You look as happy as a clam in its shell. Apollo: For a lawyer this is it, the place where the battle begins!
Implies that He’s Getting Paid - just as much as with Phoenix’s rent stuff in ‘Turnabout Samurai’ if not more. 
Also, I don’t think the fact that the person who hired him wanted him to fail and is now going to prison is a factor here.
As I already mentioned, Defense Attorneys get paid regardless of the outcome of a trial and logically that would apply both when they lose and when they win. Plus, I am pretty sure Alita filed her request officially through Wocky’s name or the Kitaki family in general and they were obviously very grateful for what Apollo did, and they had both the wins and wills to pay him.
So let’s give a big round of applause for Apollo Justice, the WAA Lawyer most likely to get paid!
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.99
Turnabout Serenade
These kind of showbiz-focused Middle Cases are generally pretty good for Getting Paid Probabilities, but this case is a bit more complicated.
Cause the plot of this case hinges on Machi being so desperate for money that he was willing to risk death via cocoon smuggling,
Situation… I cannot explain. But money. I needed. Very much money.
That doesn’t necessarily mean he was unable to afford a lawyer - without details of why exactly he needed that Sweet, Sweet Cocoon Money we can’t be sure.  But it’s plausible that hiring Apollo was not out of his price range but he was desperate for something far more expensive. 
Considering his young age and… you know, until the final day of the trial he pretended to not understand a word of English, it’s also possible hiring Apollo was a matter handled by Lamirior and/or the duo’s agency. Both of which will probably feel committed to Actually Paying, each from their own angle. 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
Turnabout Succession
Now, HERE’S a complicated one! 
Going generally over the usual stuff, Vera is a pretty nice person and she’s clearly grateful for what Apollo and Trucy did for her. And while the Misham Family was driven into forgeries by financial desperation, at the present-time they seem stable enough that Vera could at least afford the rates of the WAA. If this was just another case, it’ll get like a solid 0.7 at minimum. Pretty typical stuff by now.
But this isn’t just one more ordinary case. This a weird sort of ‘Test Trial’ for the Jurist System with every factor - including the Defendant and the Attorney - arranged by Phoenix’s weird little committee.
Well, for one, I'll be chair of the Jurist System Simulated Court Committee. The chair constructs the ideal situation… choosing the case, the jurist candidates… …even the judge and the courtroom.
Apollo: So… what kind of case is the trial simulation about? Phoenix: Well, since it is the first run through of a new system, I wanted something simple. Trucy: Good thinking! No sense wearing yourself out on something too serious! Phoenix: True. The case is a murder. Apollo: That's not simple at all!! Trucy: By "simple", did you mean that the defendant is… Phoenix: …Guilty. Yes. Most likely. …So, good luck, Apollo. Apollo: Um… with what? Phoenix: With the trial tomorrow. You're defending, of course. Recall that I said it had something to do with you.
So I guess the question here, did Phoenix basically make Vera officially hire Apollo? Did the committee hire Apollo and they’re the one paying him? Is this another case of Phoenix trolling Apollo into doing Free Volunteer Work for him?
Honestly I wouldn’t put that past the AA4 version of Phoenix..............but also if he did that I doubt he would’ve missed a chance to crack a joke at Apollo’s expense about that. 
...You know, I started this thread of thought with the thought I’m arguing for a lower Getting Paid score for this case but I think I just talked myself into increasing the probability.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.8
Also bonus round: THE TRIAL OF SHADI ENIGMAR!
Zero fucking chances Phoenix got paid on this one. HIS CLIENT DISAPPEARED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURT PROCEEDING! And even if Phoenix gets paid before a trial is concluded (unlikely, since he didn’t know Larry wasn’t paying him until after the case was closed), he was his attorney for like half-a-day before he disappeared so wouldn’t have much of a chance either way.  And considering Zak’s character (and how he also tried to sabotage Phoenix’s current Poker-based career seven years after that), I doubt he put that much thought into Phoenix and his financial considerations to give him a down payment in case he had to to do his disappearnce act or whatever. The only thing Zak left Phoenix with when he left was his goddam abandoned child and ONE LESS BADGE!
So I think this case deserves a very special score!
Probability of Getting Paid: -1
Turnabout Countdown
It’s time for Athena’s first case! Or second case, depending on how you look at it.
Now, one of the major ways that Dual Destinies is gonna shake this Deep Serious Analysis up is that before we had, like, one Active Full-Time Lawyer at any time (maybe with a backup lawyer for Flashback Cases), and we now have Three Different Lawyers actively working together on the same cases. My main concern is primarily not which WAA Lawyers get paid for these cases, but IF any of them got paid at all. Still, shenanigans of cases changing hands officially and unofficially are gonna play a factor in my analysis as well.
And it’s here right from the start! We once again have a Lawyer defending their bestest friend in the whole world, and while some people’s instincts might suggest that means that Defense was for free, well… First things first, we already established Precedence for that back in the first trial of the first game with Larry (not for Lawyers getting paid by their friends, but at least expecting payment) and Juniper’s family is probably doing Just Fine considering she attends this super-fancy-pant prestigious Lawyer High School - so she would want to financially support Athena I would think.
And ALSO, Juniper technically didn’t hire Athena, Apollo was the one supposed to defend Junie in court at first. And although Juniper is… growing closer to Apollo at this point in canon, I don't think it's quite the ‘defend me in court for Free’ point of their relationship, compared to where Juniper and Athena are at. So this is just, like, one extra point to the Final Score!
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
The Monstrous Turnabout
So in this episode, we actually have two different jobs we need to make sure if Apollo actually got paid for. We have the actual criminal defense case, and we also have Babysitting Trucy.
Trucy: Oh, we'd better hurry. Doesn't look Daddy's going to make it, so let's get going. Apollo: Huh? Where are we going? What about the job he mentioned? Trucy: This IS the job, Polly! You're supposed to keep me company today! Now, come on! Apollo: Another day of not being a lawyer. Should've seen this coming. Trucy: Well, this is the "Wright ANYTHING Agency," y'know. And there's no law-related work at the moment, so… Apollo: (Tell me again why I chose to "work" here?) Where is Mr. Wright, anyway?
That being said, Phoenix might still be a bit of a troll but the WAA is doing a lot better financially now that Trucy has those Sweet Gramarye rights and he’s not quite as mean to Apollo as he was back in Hobomode. So I get a feeling that even with this little runaround, Apollo is probably at least getting paid for chaperoning Trucy around?? Probably?
The actual case is actually a lot more clear cut. It is directly mentioned that Damian Tenma could probably afford lawyers much more prestigious than the WAA, it’s just a matter of the WAA being the only ones crazy enough to take on this ‘doomed’ case. 
Trucy: Apollo! Maybe this is your chance. Apollo: Chance for what? Trucy: To do the right thing and defend Jinxie's dad in court! Apollo: Who, me? Wouldn't a man like Mayor Tenma have access to more experienced lawyers? Jinxie: Umm… You wanna know what the detectives said? They doubted there was a lawyer who could get a not-guilty verdict in this one.
And with Mayor Tenma’s personality being based around being almost overly-generous and grateful…
Tenma: How… incredibly… RUDE! Apollo: Umm, sorry. Did I do something to offend you? Tenma: A visitor when all others shun me like a common criminal! And here I am with nothing to offer! I am the epitome of rude! Apollo: (………Wait, so he wasn't mad at me?)
I feel like it is almost a certainty that Apollo and Athena did get paid for this case! 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.85
Turnabout Academy
Okay so, it’s Junie again! Or Junie for the first time depending on how you look at it!
So all of the points I already brought up about Juniper from ‘Countdown’ still apply (save for the stuff about Apollo, of course) but ALSO this is right when Athena and Juniper reunited and their whole emotional arc in this case is about Athena feeling Juniper is being Uncharacteristically Cold and Distant towards her. So defending her on a Friend Discount would be a bit strange at this point. Maybe I can see Athena trying to insist she’d do it for free but Juniper refused?
Although I think that IS a bit weird that they had this big whole scene with Professor ScaryStatue taking over Juniper’s case and the issue of payment doesn’t even come up in passing. I mean, yes obviously, the issues of Trust and Truth and Aristotle Means being Sus as Fuck are the important things in this narrative but I’m suprised there’s not even a mention in passing. Like Means accusing Athena and Apollo of wanting this case back for the Money but they refute him???
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.8
The Cosmic Turnabout
Okay, look, I know I keep bringing up the Larry Precedence but it really IS quite relevant. If Actual Overly-Sentimental Human Disaster Phoenix Wright tried to charge a rate for his childhood best friend who was drifting through life doing weird odd jobs at that time. - Then Apollo, who is generally more practical minded, is probably going to charge a rate for his older acquaintance with the stable Astronaut Job. And while Solomon is a bit of a Space Larry, I don’t think he’d try and avoid the payment in quite the same way. Probably.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
Turnabout for Tomorrow
This trial has Phoenix defending one of his own employees in a trial forced on by a hostage situation. I feel silly even extending this paragraph any longer. 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.01
Turnabout Reclaimed
First things first, yes, an Orca cannot pay for an attorney - but I assume that the person who hired Phoenix is officially Sasha Buckler. Who IS a human being with her own funds capable of hiring a lawyer. Especially as we know that other lawyers turned her down specifically because her case is ridiculous (and not for financial reasons). 
Phoenix: What's the real reason you picked me, Sasha? Buckler: …Well, to be honest, I asked a whole slew of lawyers, but they all refused. They said stuff like, "There's no merit to taking your case," or "I'm not sure I can help." They're all as cruel as sharks, with hearts punier than whitebait!
She does mention doing a performance as thanks at the ending of the trial but that’s probably no replacement for Actual Money.
But I think most notable for our analysis about this case, is not actually any of the Orca stuff - it’s this exchange right here.
Blackquill: Today, the orca. Tomorrow, Sasha Buckler. You intend to save them both? Hmph. You say you "believe" in your clients, but isn't money really your true motivation? Why not admit you're only doing this for your own benefit? I could understand that much more readily than your empty, righteous talk. Athena: Our own benefit?! That's not why we're doing it! Phoenix: Now, Athena. Try not to let him get to you.
Yet another rare case of the game Acknowledging Lawyers Are Paid As a General Rule! And notably, when Phoenix and Athena deny it, they don’t deny the fact that they are getting paid - just that it’s not why they’re doing this. This is not exactly an explicit confirmation of Getting Paid to get the score up to a full 1, but it’s probably as close as we’re gonna get. 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.95
The Foreign Turnabout
Okay, so Phoenix basically just bursted into the Courtroom and bluffed his way onto the empty defense bench despite the protests of his own so-called Client. Said client also only started unlearning his Defense-Attorney-Hate during that same trial. And is ALSO a tiny little child who has to work part time as a tour-guide to make end’s meet. I highly doubt Phoenix asked for anything more than, like, a very token rate or maybe a discount on his next tour. 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.1
The Magical Turnabout
Considering how this case has a WAA Lawyer defending the actual CEO of the WAA, I highly doubt the WAA got any money from it. But maybe Trucy could give him some of her personal funds as a token of gratitude?
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.2
The Rite of Turnabout
It’s MAYA TIME again! And while some consideration has to go to her bond with Phoenix or the possibility of some sort of Frequent Accused card the WAA issued for her - the fact that she is not currently a Coworker at the law office and has been an Actual Independent Adult for quite some time now means it is actually a lot more likely she’s able to pay Phoenix now than in any case in the Original Trilogy!
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.5
Turnabout Storyteller
This one’s a pretty average case. The Defendant is not a total stranger, but he is more of a friend-of-a-friend (and Simon was originally planning to get Apollo or Phoenix into the courtroom so the connection was even more distant when he contacted the WAA). He seems to be doing alright financially with his own noodle business, and he’s a pretty alright kinda guy. The only possible concern is that he’s too totally slushed to remember he’s supposed to pay his attorney. But then again, Simon might be ‘officially’ the one who hired the lawyer for the case.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.6
Turnabout Revolution
It’s time for the THREE CASES IN ONE SPECIAL!! Because we don’t just need to consider Dhurke’s trial, I think it’s only appropriate that we take into account both Apollo and Phoenix’s side of the civil case. They are both WAA Lawyers, after all.
On Apollo’s side, he is defending Datz Are'bal, an escaped prisoner/wanted revolutionary criminal in his own country hiding away in an abandoned building and making homemade lizard skewers for food- but Datz did apparently enter Japanifornia legally via legitimate means.
Apollo: What are the charges this time? Datz: Unauthorized entry, or something like that. They think I'm an illegal alien! And I can't prove otherwise ‘cause I lost my passport! Trucy: Is there any way they'd let you go? Datz: Not without my passport… If only I had it! Dhurke, AJ! You gotta find my passport! Apollo: …All right, we'll find it. (One more thing to add to our to-do list. Now, where might Datz's passport be?)
So he presumably has some sort of funds to pay Apollo for his legal services, at least a little bit. 
And with him being Dhurke’s best friend and knowing that he also struggled financially to make end’s meet as a defense attorney at first - I would like to think that’ll incentivise him to support Apollo financially if he can?
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
Meanwhile on Phoenix’s side, while Phoenix uses the word ‘hire’ when talking about working for Atishon. Phoenix was once again coerced via kidnapping into the position of attorney. 
And THIS time, there is no Assassin with a Code of Honor who might consider paying Phoenix a fair rate. Both Atishon and his ‘benefactor’ are sleazeballs who would not pay Phoenix a dime if they can get away with it. Plus, with this being a civil case, there might actually be a Contingency Basis going on when Phoenix basically quit and then they lose.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.001
And finally, the grand event of this case - the Trial of Dhurke! 
So… Can a summoned undead spirit pay for an attorney? I suppose it’s probably easier in Khura'in than in other places. And it’ll mostly work the same as if the client died before the case finished, right? It’ll be considered a debt to be carried by their next of kin. Who in this case will be Nahyuta… but also maybe Apollo? Still, considering all of Dhurke’s living family ranges between ‘wealthy and well-respected’ and ‘Literal Royalty’ - I’m going to assume they’d be more than happy then to pay their Weird Brother for his help. 
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.75
Turnabout Time Traveler
And here we are! The last case, and a relatively straightforward one at that - at least compared to the last one lol!
Ellen herself does not have many funds as a housemaid, it seems - but since she literally just married one of the richest inventors in the world, I assume her husband is gonna cover the legal fees. The WAA Legal Team and Also Edgeworth and Ema also got an invite to the Wedding but I assume this is not instead of actual payment?
That is, of course, unless it’s technically Larry who hired Phoenix actually.
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Then he’s never getting the goddam money he deserves for his labor.
Probability of Getting Paid: 0.7
Average Probability Score for All Cases (not counting the Zak Bonus Round): 0.51721875
So what have we learned today? I think that while the WAA’s reputation for basically giving away legal services for free is not entirely unearned, it is perhaps somewhat exaggerated. While there’s certainly a lot of Shennanigans and their rates are probably not high (especially not for people they know), they still get paid for a decent amount of high-profile cases. I mean, this Getting Paid Probability Score is over the 50% mark at least....
And… the odd thing is that the First Turnabout really is the only time the subject of the lawyer getting paid is really brought up directly. I get that it might, y’know, ruin the Drama if we acknowledge that our Brave Heroes are getting paid to save people from being convicted of a crime they didn’t commit - or on the other hand of the equation, that they should get paid cause They Need Money to Live. But still…
Is the fact that the only time payment is brought up directly is when Larry isn’t paying Phoenix a bad sign for the general financial situation of our Anime Lawyers? Or is it actually a good sign? Like, that they only mention Larry not paying implying that every time it is not mentioned that means the client did pay them?
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demilypyro · 9 months
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Okay since this doesn't seem to want to go away here's me addressing every single "allegation" that I've heard about. I hope to have at least given a good explanation where the horrible things being said about me came from, and why I consider them either just totally not true or badly misconstrued. Some of my friends have recommended I don't say anything at all, but I've always preferred openness and honesty, so I hope that's appreciated.
I understand that some people will still dislike me even though the things being said about me are not true. That's fine. I don't need everyone to like me, but it's when I'm being consistently harassed and lied about that it interferes with my mental health and ability to work. So I'm gonna try and end things with this.
"She's racist"
From what I can tell this is about one time when I said I keep my interest in anime to myself around new people. I do this because showing you're a Huge Fucking Nerd right off the bat can make a bad impression. I could have said the same thing about Star Trek or comic books, I just happened to be talking about anime in that moment. Someone seems to have misconstrued this as me finding Japanese culture something shameful and lesser than other cultures?... Which I would call a total willful misinterpretation. The rest of this seems to stem just from being Dutch, because the Netherlands is a country that has a problem with xenophobia. This is true, but uhhh I'm mixed myself so I'm pretty well aware of that, and I obviously don't support our infamous "blackface holiday." Just because I live here doesn't mean I agree with everything this country does, be that historically or in the modern day.
"She's friends with racists/misogynists/transphobes"
The only thing I can guess this is about is when I was mutuals with a user called porko-rosso at least 5 years ago and didn't really believe it when people told me they were a bigot. I haven't interacted with this user in over 4 years but people still claim we're like best friends, which was never true in the first place, we just knew a lot of the same people. Most of the resentment from the people who repeatedly spread these rumours about me seems to have started here. So for the record: no, I am not friends with any racists, misogynists or transphobes.
"She thinks she's better than other trans women because she passes better"
This is just not true. This idea seems to pop up just whenever I post about enjoying the benefits of HRT or surgery, but most recently this was misconstrued from a post where I said being trans is about being yourself as much as possible. Since this was in response to someone saying that me trying to pass is "erasing my identity", people thought I meant trying to pass is the same as being good at being trans, which was not what I meant, but some people didn't seem to want to believe me when I clarified. My apologies for the misunderstanding I guess, but that's all it was. So no, I do not hate people who don't pass as well as I do, nor do I think all trans people should be transitioning medically, and I resent the implication.
"She has a secret discord server where she makes fun of pictures of other trans women and calls them slurs"
I had absolutely no clue what this was about when I first heard it. I was sent screenshots that supposedly prove this but all they show is me being rude about someone's appearance one time in january of 2022. I actually thought these were faked because I don't remember this happening and the things said confused me, but one of my friends says she found it was in her server, where she had showed a picture of someone and asked everyone present (mostly other trans women) if they were hot. Apparently I did not think they were hot. So yes, I did insult someone's appearance back in january 2022, but it was an isolated incident. Frankly even I find my remarks in these screenshots distasteful, I don't know what I was on when I wrote that stuff. I'm sorry to that person specifically. What I said has weighed heavily on me and I apologize for it. It's not something I approve of, and don't intend to repeat that mistake. Still, to say it means I hate trans women and I love to make fun of them in my secret discord server and call them slurs is just... a super-villain level of exaggeration. I didn't even know about the word that was named as an example. It's not true.
"She's often rude"
I can't deny this one. Autism gonna autism. I've seen many therapists, doctors, experts, what have you, to try and help me with this, but it seems my particular brand of autistic in combination with the cultural differences between mine and other countries just really often ends with my foot in my mouth when I speak English. I apologize! I have never meant to personally offend anyone. It just keeps happening and I can't stop it from happening.
If after reading all this, you still consider me bad enough to hate my guts, I can't stop you, but I wanted to have at least had my say. I swear that everything in this post is the honest truth as I understand it, and that I've never acted with purposeful malicious intent.
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jazzyoranges · 7 months
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Birthdays and Stress
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: Tara meets some of your family during your father’s birthday
Words: 3.4k
A/n: i haven’t written fanfiction since 2020 so please proceed with a little caution 🌚
Warnings(?): fluff, mentions of sex, very tiny hurt/comfort
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You had a big family
Like a really big family
Tara didn’t have the pleasure of having a family like yours. You were close with your cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and everyone else in between. While Tara on the other hand can barely remember her dad’s face, she tries to forget her mom’s, and her sister left due to personal issues. Granted, her sister did come back
Shaking her head, she had to push these thoughts to the back of her mind. Instead Tara had to focus on her rapidly beating heart and the internal screaming at the fact your entire family was only about 5 minutes away
Tara wanted to make a good impression. An amazing impression, that is. But what if your family knew she was related to the Woodsboro killings? What if they knew her sister was related to the very cause of the Ghostface killings? Would they kick her out? Deem her not good enough for you? What if they called her a liability and then kicked her out? This really was a bad idea, why did she agree to doing this?
“Tara, I love you with all my heart. I promise my family won’t throw you out of the house.” You rested a hand on her thigh, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb just how she liked it
Perhaps her internal screaming hadn’t been so internal
“Oh, but what if they do, babe? What then? They’re gonna hate me.” the shorter girl groaned, throwing her head back and covering her face in annoyance
“Tara I’m literally so madly in love with you. They’re going to love you, baby. There’s not a universe out there where they don’t absolutely adore you like I do.” you say seriously, taking her left hand in yours and bringing it up to your face to give her knuckles a feather-light kiss
Tara pouts. A very childish pout, that is
“When you realize I’m right, I will happily say I told you so tomorrow.”
“…You promise they’ll like me?”
“I pinky promise, baby.”
Tara loved that about you. Only do you swear by your pinky during very serious times, almost as if you were swearing upon the river Styx. Never once have you broken one of your pinky promises, and Tara found it utterly adorable. You turned something kids would do under the playground slide into a life-bound oath that you’d never imagine breaking. The thought was endearing enough to help relax Tara just the tiniest bit. She was still scared as fuck, though
“If you get overwhelmed at any time, we can always go back home or to my room, baby. How about we come up with a safe word?”
“I can last all night, babe. This mama doesn’t need any safe word” she says proudly. Your girlfriend was an absolute dork under all those layers of trauma
“Tara.” you playfully cock an eyebrow at her
“Sorry…” she mumbled “how about black licorice? I hate black licorice.”
“Black licorice, it is!” you beam, starting to pull into the driveway of your childhood house
It was your fathers 55th birthday. You’d been with Tara for about 2 years now, which you heavily insisted was enough to consider her a part of your family. Tara ignored how her heartbeat quickened at the implications of being in your family
Tara had still been in her thoughts when you parked the car and rounded the front to the passenger side. Opening the door, you made sure to make a big display, as if you were ushering the queen of England herself
“My liege.” you say in a faux British accent while holding out your hand as you bow, awaiting her response
“And society dares say chivalry is dead.” she laughs at your antics, intertwining your hands as you help her out of your car. There was cars upon cars parked on the road. Tara would’ve guessed this was a frat party and not a birthday party with how many cars were present. Birthday gift in hand, Tara was now worrying if it was enough
When you rang the doorbell, Tara’s heart quickened again. A week prior, you two went shopping, looking for the perfect casual dress Tara was going to wear. You were persistent that it didn’t matter what she wore. Tara ultimately won that argument when she pulled up an entire slideshow on her laptop and presented it to you sitting 5 inches away from your face. You tell yourself you let her win that time
Before she could say this was a bad idea for the umpteenth time, the door opened with your father behind it
“Well, I’ll be dammed! If it isn’t my favorite child!” he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, a wide grin on his face
“Dad!” you smile “You don’t look a day over 80”
“Oh hush, you.” he laughs, turning to Tara
“And you must be Tara!” he reaches out to shake her hand, Tara reciprocating the action.
“We’re all excited to meet you. Our Y/N likes to brag about you quite a lot! Welcome to the family, Tara. It’s a pleasure to have you here” the older man pats her shoulder, his grin bright enough to be seen by astronauts on the Moon
“Thank you, Mr. (L/N). Please, the pleasure is all mine” Tara smiles, and you interlace your hands once again
“Oh, hush with all that formal crap. You’re making me feel old! Frank or Frankie is perfectly fine, darlin’. Come on in!”
You give Tara’s hand a supportive squeeze, offering a smile. You’re proud she didn’t pass out while talking to your dad. He could definitely be overbearing at times, but the older man only had good intentions
Setting down you and Tara’s gift on a nearby table, she was hit with an immediate sense of home when she entered the living room. Tara felt nostalgia that didn’t exist. Perhaps it was a sense of longing. Tara could definitely imagine a small you running around and tracking mud all over the floors. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to see your baby pictures. The shorter girl felt something brush up against her legs, snapping her out of her thoughts
“Ares!” you say excitedly, reaching down to pick up the orange cat. Part of his left ear was missing, but it added to his charm
“He always takes a while to warm up to people. I wonder why he came up to you?” now you were holding the cat in such a way that invited Tara to pet him — which she happily did. Ares quickly started to purr
“Maybe it’s ‘cause I smell like you?”
“I like to think it’s ‘cause you’re the chosen one” you shrug, noticing how Tara’s cheeks redden the tiniest bit
“Why’s his name Ares? That’s a greek god, isn’t it?” Tara didn’t know much about greek mythology when she first met you, but after long rants (in which she happily listened to), she now knew some surface-level facts
“Mom let me name him when I was 13, and I might’ve been going through a really bad Percy Jackson phase at the time. Ares was a real ass when he was younger. Always messing shit up, and I guess it just fit at the time.” you smiled at him. Tara noticed the look in your eyes. You were recalling all your past memories of Ares, getting ready to talk about the orange cat if she asked. Tara liked observing you
“C’mon, how about we say hi to my Mom? Are you ready for another parent?” You asked, setting down Ares on his cat post as he stretched and let out a big yawn.
“Yeah, definitely ready.”
“You sound uncertain. I know you’ll fuck shit up out there, babe” you press a kiss to the bridge of her nose, making her subconsciously scrunch it up in the way you found sickeningly adorable
“Y’know, you should really be a professional motivational speaker, baby. I feel better already” she says in a sarcastic tone, but she fully means her words
Making your way to the backyard doors, Tara is starting to feel a little better about meeting your family. Your Mom was seated on the patio deck with a few of her sisters — your aunts. Before you could say hello, the three of them were already up
“Mom, Auntie Rosie, Aunt Amelia, meet my girlfriend. This is Tara” you smile at her, and she returns your smile
“Tara! You’re even prettier in real life!” you’re lovingly shoved out of the way as all the attention is now drawn to your girlfriend
A slew of praise bombard her, compliment after compliment meeting her ears. You come up behind her and place your hand on the brunette’s shoulder, offering a little comfort. Instead of being met with her eyes of discomfort, all you can see is happiness behind her smile. She happily engages in conversation. Answering questions about your relationship, her education, and plans for the future. Tears prick at your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You loved seeing Tara happy.
“Well, it was wonderful meeting you, Tara. Don’t be a stranger, sweetheart. How about you two enjoy the party, now?” your mom smiled
“Likewise. It was wonderful meeting you too, Mrs. (L/N)”
Before you can turn around, there’s a sudden weight on your back that makes you topple onto the grass. You can hear the faint giggling of Tara as you’re causally making out with the floor
“Lilith (M/N) (L/N). I swear to god if you don’t get off of me, I’ll make sure to-“ you never finished your sentence as more weight was put on your back. Not as heavy as your sister, but the weight was still there. By the sound of high-pitched giggles, you could only assume your nieces — your older brother’s daughters — were now on top of you as well
“Auntie Y/N! Auntie Y/N! Who’s that over there?” Your nieces say in union. Lily gets off your back, but the other two decide to stay and bombard you with questions
Tara can’t help but laugh at your state
“You’re Tara, right?” your sister was now at your girlfriend’s side as you struggled to bribe your nieces with candy (they were surprisingly resilient)
“Mhm, you’re her sister, aren’t you? Lilith is what Y/N said?”
“Lilith is my real name, but family and friends call me Lily” she winks at Tara with a smirk on her face
“Did you know Y/N had a crush on you in high school? She said she’d kill me if I told anyone, but every single day she’d tell me about her fat crush on you” Lily playfully bumped her and Tara’s shoulders together. “Even more than Elizabeth Olsen is what she’d say to me”
“Oh? Please continue, I insist.” Tara can’t contain her smile as she learns about your crush on her. Now fueled by not getting embarrassed more than you already have, you practically wrestle your nieces to get back up on your feet
“Lily I swear to everything holy, if you don’t shut up, I will make sure you never see another sunrise.” you’d probably be scarier if there weren’t two little girls hanging off your arms with some dirt and grass smudged on you face when you got up. Tara and Lily doubled down laughing, and you could feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment
“C’mon you two troublemakers, don’t give Auntie Y/N back problems just yet” your brother calls out from behind Tara. You two were the absolute splitting images of each other. You’ve already shown pictures and videos of him, but now she’s actually seeing him. Face shape, hair texture, you and him may as well be conjoined twins
“Tara, is it? Y/N hasn’t stopped talking about you since you two have met. I’m Joshua” he gracefully picks up his daughters, finally giving you breathing room to mutter something about “working out” and “bodied by toddlers”
“You don’t know how many times i’ve heard that today” Tara’s teasing grin was so wide, her name may as well be the Cheshire Cat. She looks over Joshua’s shoulder, meeting your flushed cheeks and embarrassed look
“I don’t appreciate this slander, thank you. I’d like to take my girlfriend away, now!” you say in a sing-song tone. Your siblings and nieces wave you two a goodbye before starting a conversation of their own
“Embarrassed, much?”
“Hush, you get embarrassed when Mindy tells me about your ‘longing looks’ as she’d call it”
“All the more reason for me to hear about how much you liked me~” Tara pokes the side of your ribs, and you pinch her cheek in retaliation
Before you know it, you’re inside your house again. This time, way more family and family friends occupy the main area. Tara could handle smaller interactions with your immediate family, but this stressed her out. She never liked admitting it, but crowded places freaked her the fuck out. More chances of Ghostfa-
“Black licorice?”
“Black licorice.” she nods, looking at you. Tara liked how well you knew her.
“How about my room? I have a record player in there” You guided her up the stairs, your hand not leaving Tara’s for a second
Entering your room, she noticed how you it was. Band and movie posters were all across the walls, and she could clearly picture a middle school Y/N in their Hot-Topic phase. Vinyl records and a multitude of books sat on shelves all over your room. Above your bed, under your bed, you name it, there wasn’t a shelf that was empty
“Lana, Arctic Monkeys, Taylor, Slipknot for some reason…” You listed off artists you had records for, and they were all so you. She could practically feel your entire soul in this room, just wafting around
“Lana. Definitely, Lana” Tara makes her way to your bed, feeling the soft sheets on her thighs
“What’s on your mind, baby?” You sit next to her, letting Tara rest her head on your shoulder
“Do you think i’ll ever stop being scared? I don’t like feeling scared around your family. I don’t like how they’re all still affecting me”
“It’ll take time, Tara. Months, Years, you name it. But however long it takes, I promise I’ll be there with you.” Tara fidgets with your hands, and you press a kiss to the side of her head
Before you can fully move away, Tara pulls you into another kiss. She feels soft against your lips, and smells like absolute heaven. She kisses you like you’re her last meal, and you’d happily be devoured. She straddles your waist as your back hits the headboard. You kiss until air is required, and pull away with a small smile on your face. It’s not long until you do it again. And again. And again. Until your lips are cherry red from Tara’s biting, and her dress a little crinkled from your urge to always be close
“We can stay up here if you want? I’ll tell my parents you aren’t feeling well.”
“No, that’d be bad manners. Can we just… stay like this a little longer?”
“Whatever you want, baby.” You shimmy out of her straddle, and opt to lay on your bed
“Lay down with me?”
“Y/N, i don’t want my hair to get all messy”
“So what? You’d look pretty either way”
“Your family is gonna think we had sex, baby”
“I hate to break it to you, babe, but they probably already think we’re on our third position right now”
Tara sighs.
“Moments like these are when I question why I said yes to dating you” She groans, laying down on her back next to you
“I’m irresistible” you say with a smug grin on your face
“If it helps you sleep at night, baby”
“Where did Tara and Y/N go?” your mother questioned
“Y/N whispered something in Tara’s ear, and they went upstairs. Ten dollars they’re gonna fuck”
“Lily! Language!” your sister laughed as your mom lightly slapped her shoulder
“You should probably wait 10 minutes before calling them down here”
“I’m grounding you.”
Ten minutes of laying on your bed and a few kisses later, a knock is heard at your door
“Are you two decent over there?”
“We aren’t fucking, Lily” this time, it’s your turn to groan
“Just make sure to air out your room before our nieces and nephews get up here”
“I hate being related to you” Tara laughs behind you, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d wrestle you if I wasn’t so strong” you open your door
“We both know you’re all talk. I’m the real winner, aren’t I, Tara?”
“As long as it’s not Y/N” Tara shrugs while walking down the stairs, and she can practically feel the betrayed look on your face
“I’m the real winner, aren’t I, Tara?” You say in a higher pitch, mocking Lily. “C’mon, we both know I have more experience.”
“Sex isn’t the same as wrestling, Y/N”
“You’d be agreeing with me if you actually got some, Lily”
“Alright, I think that’s enough about sex. I’m gonna have this on my conscience while we sing happy birthday to your father” Tara just couldn’t stop thinking about how you two bantering was so similar to her family bantering with Mindy and Chad. The shorter girl’s family was maybe definitely more complicated than yours, but you never made her feel bad about it. Tara liked that about you
“Your girlfriend is cool” Lily whispers, but Tara can hear her
“You’re saying that like I don’t already know” You smile, swinging an arm around Tara’s shoulders. Finally making it to the bottom floor, your family is around your father, getting ready to sing happy birthday. He requested two simple five and five candles, but it seems he lost that battle as 55 regular candles sat on his sheet cake
A few of your nieces and nephews of different ages swarm to your side like bees following their queen. Tara has to push away her baby thoughts when she sees you take one of your nieces into your arms and smile all the way up to your eyes. This barbie is having baby fever
Someone dims the lights, and a happy birthday is sung to your father. She joins in the makeshift choir, meeting his eyes and smiling. The man looked a little awkward, but honestly who didn’t while being sung happy birthday. When the crowd was finished singing, the older man closed his eyes in thought of a wish. As quickly as they closed, his wish was made
A spew of cheers and congratulations erupted as he was handed a knife to cut his cake. Kids rushed to grab a slice, and Tara had to actively try and not get her toes stepped on. The shorter girl felt someone lean onto her from behind, and she could tell it was you from how your chin rested on her head
“How’re you feeling?” A slice of cake was now in her hands as of your delivery. “Let’s sit outside and you can talk me through it”
“This is all so new to me, but i’m enjoying it. I’m still scared and nervous, but you’re making it easier” she bumps your shoulders together. “Your siblings are also pretty fun to be around”
“Thanks for coming today, baby” you kiss the side of her head. “I’m really proud of you for agreeing to come with me.”
Tara lays her head on your shoulder, and you two stay like that for a little while, appreciating each others presence to take a small breather.
“Thank you for being patient with me” The shorter girl says softly after a while
“As long as Atlas is holding up the sky, I promise I’ll wait for you”
“Baby, you’re so lucky I love you. I would’ve cringed if you were anyone else, but somehow you make it endearing”
“I always told my siblings I’d get a girlfriend that appreciates my Greek Mythology references”
“You’re a dork.” Tara smiles before leaning in to kiss you. She was looking forward for another day like this.
Bonus:
You and Tara are cuddling on her bed when the clock turns to 12am
“Hey, Tar?”
“Mmm?”
“I told you so.”
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hotchfiles · 3 months
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ lay down with me ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb
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pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: they find out maybe bars aren't all the same. content warnings: alcohol, suggestive talk. not proof read. word count: 2.1k
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"were you... brushing your teeth?" yeah he was. and yeah they were still on the jet, but as soon as they got back to hq he would be on his car for the 45min ride to arlington to see you. he couldn't risk bad breath on your first date.
before aaron could even answer emily's inconvenient question, derek came in with another one "hair freshly cut too, anyone noticed it?" well he cut his own hair, it would be simply rude not to look his best when he so easily could.
he knew jj was coming in with something too when she passed by him, so he had to cut it out before "hey, enough. i'm meeting an old friend after work, just trying to use my time wisely here." his eyes scanned the room for the reactions and even though no one replied, he could see all the little smirking around and whispering between emily and derek mostly.
so much for a private life.
he's not the hiding type, if he's in a relationship he has no problem letting people know it, as long as that is it, he enjoys keeping the details to himself. and right now that's all he can really say about you, you're an old friend, just an old friend.
for now.
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he was running late now, and very stressed about it. of course it wasn't the greatest of ideas to go from quantico to arlington by driving instead of taking the train, but he wanted to have the choice to take you somewhere else if you wanted to and to get you home safe when the date ended. he was also aware that trains didn't run as late as he might be staying.
he planned the haircut, the hotel shower right before leaving, brushing his teeth while in the jet, having his car ready, but god, did he not plan for the traffic he would have to deal with after 6pm.
but he's a gentleman, so he calls from the car system to warn you about it and he's nervous and anxious because not being present enough and being late or not there at all ruined his marriage and he wants to do better, he really really wants to.
"oh don't worry babe, i'm still enjoying my wine in my living room. thought it would be better to wait 'til you were in town to leave, yeah?" aaron hopes the loud sigh of relief he let out isn't so obvious to you, but it is. you find it endearing. you were reading essays still just minutes ago, you understood him.
you weren't very sure how well would you two work considering that. but you sure as hell wasn't going to give up without at least trying it. and definitely not without a fight.
"send me your location then, i'll pick you up in... twenty."
"uuuh, picking me up? look at us, it's a real date date now, curfew's at 10pm then, don't forget it." you make him laugh easily with that, your father was a strict man, sometimes you both went to the movies or the park nearby and if you got home at 10:03 was enough for him to sit aaron down in your living room and tell him all about responsibilities and how he was the boy and so he was supposed to protect you and ensure you were home in time.
"i am curious about what the consequences of not following the curfew will be this time though." oh he's teasing you now, as if this wasn't your first date and the implications of consequences weren't so... suggestive, to say the least. but he feels comfortable enough for that.
"guess you'll have to wait and see then, agent hotchner." your voice drips like honey and he's pretty sure he just figured out some sort of deep ingrained fetish he didn't know he had until now. "see you soon, airhead!" you laugh innocently before finishing the call and it drives him mad in the most delicious way.
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he thinks those are the most torturous 27 minutes he's ever had to go through his life, but the feeling is completely overrun with almost childish glee as he parks in front of your house. he could fit the choice for a house instead of an apartment easily on your own profile but he didn't need too, you liked your space. apartments have no space. no privacy. he remembers vividly of a conversation you both had after your cousins were forced into an apartment because of your aunt's divorce.
he dries his palms on his pants quickly not sure if he should go to your door, stay where he is or what. he hasn't done this, the whole date ordeal in a while and it just got to him that he has no idea how people do it these days. what's too much or too little?
aaron finally decides on leaving the car and waiting near by, after sending you a quick text to inform you he was there. it was a middle ground of sorts, he felt confident in it. kinda.
it doesn't take you long to leave and lock your door and the sight of you immediately takes his breath away, your smile takes him back some years but your thighs remind him quickly that you are both definitely not fifteen anymore. he shakes his head softly, directing his eyes to a more suitable place for a first date: your hands. you were holding a flower bouquet.
flowers.
"fuck." he mutters to himself in frustration, "i forgot to bring you flowers." you don't seem bothered about it, in fact it makes you smile more as you hand him the bouquet in your hands. "you got these... for me?" aaron grabs the gift softly with both hands, afraid he's going to break it somehow.
"yeah, wanted to test my theory that you're still a sap." the way his eyes were shining and his lips turned into the sweetest of smiles were enough proof to you. aaron was always loving, caring, soft. it was interesting seeing him on the news nowdays, stoic, serious, unbothered. you wanted to see how easy it was to break him.
turns out very easy. at least to you.
"a sap! i'm surprised i got flowers from a beautiful woman, sue me." he opens the passenger door so you can get in, which you quickly do with a cheeky smile on your face, the gift is carefully placed on the backseat before he's back to your side, seat belt on. nosy as you are, you're already typing some address on the gps.
"i heard people talking really good things about this place." you muse while he turns the car on, already following the instructions. "apparently the beer is great and it stays open til late." he doesn't ask for any clarifications, if that's where you want to go, that's where he'll take you.
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the food you've both ordered hasn't arrived at your table yet but aaron has already gulped down two large beers and is trying so very hard to not show how annoyed he is, it makes you laugh, hard. he follows, laughing along and shaking his head.
"who told you about this place?" he asks accusingly, you take a sip of your own drink and pretend you didn't hear it. "who?"
"i don't want to tell you."
"your students then. you trusted a bunch of twenty somethings with our date. pitiful." you don't reply, instead you just keep laughing to yourself while you drink. the place is loud. loud music. loud college students. loud busy street. you tell him that's exactly the type of place you would hang out with your girl friends to hook up back in london, his experience isn't the same, the lover boy committed since high school.
"how do they even get to know each other over this nooooise?" laughing at his annoyance only lasts so long and now you're the one not being able to sort through your thoughts, the food is good though, you both agree while munching on the appetizers that accompany the beer.
in retrospect you should've imagined it would be this time of place by the countless mentions of beer whenever a student recommended it.
"look around, i don't think they're actually trying to." you follow his gaze and notice that as the hours passed, the more couples formed and the less they were actually talking. exactly as it was in your own college days. "i'm a bit tipsy so i'll let my curiosity win, you never told me why you divorced the second time." it was out of the blue, you told him the first one wasn't that bad, conflicting views on family and you both married too early in the relationship. the second one was... harsher.
"bastard cheated on me." you shrugged, but it was obvious it still got to you, aaron could see it in your eyes, in your voice tone, and that had nothing to do with being a behavior analyst, and everything to do about how he just... knew you. "his whore also pressed charges against me when i wasn't even trying to hit her, she just got in the way." he chocked on his beer and almost had to spit it out after that tiny little piece of information you hadn't mentioned before.
"you have a record?"
"he made her drop the charges when i left the apartment to him without a fight. that's why i moved back to the states." he blinks once, twice. maybe he should be worried, but he also knew that could get a bit aggressive when losing control. just it always happened to terrible people. "i'm obviously joking, airhead." the relief he feels is followed by an annoyed face for believing such a lie, you touch his forehead softy, smoothing the lines so he doesn't look mad anymore. he takes it as a sign, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, then your hand, and pulls you to him, letting go to touch your chin.
if he wasn't drinking the proximity would inebriate him alone, the way your eyes closed and your cheeks blushed in anticipation, he's sweet, lips touching yours with tender patience, much more patient than you, you who lifted your body just a bit from the chair and pulled him by his collar to deepen the kiss, almost causing a disaster if any of you fell over the table with all the glass cups.
you let him go just after hearing some snickering from the table behind yours, not blaming them for it, it probably looked like an awkward kiss from the outside. but it wasn't.
"that was certainly better than our first one..." you smile sheepishly at him, putting your hands on your lap, nervous.
"you blushed and gripped my shirt." he says looking deep into your eyes, making you tilt your head slightly, showing him your confusion. "it's been thirty years, you did the same thing... you blushed and gripped my shirt."
"so you're telling me you make me feel like a school girl."
"i'm telling you you've just acted like one." you take the comment as a challenge, getting up and taking your chair with you to sit closer to him, brushing your lips to his before going to his ear.
"you're drunk and staying over, so why don't we get a taxi and i'll show you the school girl." you can see the way his neck shivers at your little teasing, but he takes advantage of the new found closeness to kiss you again, with much more hunger but also much faster than the first because he's ready to pay the tab and get out of there.
it wasn't really that hard to find a taxi, being a night time neighborhood, they knew to stay around. aaron had your bag on one of his hands and the other on your thigh. your arms went around his and your head laid on his shoulder. none of you talked the whole way there, just feeling each other's presence and the alcohol twirling around your minds and your stomachs.
and you did show him you were not a school girl anymore when you both got to your house: you got him your largest t-shirt and pyjama pants, your coziest blanket and after you both changed and took aspirins to try and prevent the headache that would inevitably come, you got your pillows and went to the living room and laid on your big couch with aaron, cuddling with him as some tv show re-run lured you both to sleep.
it was almost 2am, and while you could take him to your bedroom and take his clothes off like you wanted to, you both knew it was the middle of the week, he had to wake up early to get his car, you would probably pass out under him anyway.
cuddling was more than enough for a first date. and at least for aaron, he was sure he wouldn't let go of your embrace anytime soon.
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impyssadobsessions · 15 days
Text
Excerpts from my WIPS ;3 Guess Which story and when- or if its a story even up. If ya want.
----DPxDC
“Keep communication lines on, we'll be moving towards your location.” Batman had replied, which made Nightwing clicked his teeth. “How much should I bet you're not going to do that?” Dick turned to ask Jason as both of them hopped off the bike. “Do what? I didn't hear anything.” “Okay, so a hundred at least.” Nightwing hummed, as he followed Red-Hood back towards the abandon lab.
----DPxDC
"-One time she sent DASH! To babysit ME! I'm older than both of them now. Y'know how awkward that was? Though the look on Dash's face was hilarious.” Dick smirked, raising a brow. “The guy that bullied you? Why did she ask him?” “Ah, probably because he's a puppy that'll do whatever my sister asks. She knows it too.” Danny clicked his tongue as his face grimaced at the implications of it. “I may or may not have... scared him a few times. I do like a disappearing act.” Dick grinned as he could imagine what Danny meant. He did seem to take any form of “keeping tabs” on him as a challenge. Danny smirked back, a mischievous glint in his eye, before dropping his face. “Jazz was REALLY upset about it. I had assumed this was her being overbearing and protective like usual-I didn't realize how hard this was on her.” The guilt thick in his throat. “She broke down crying and.. I promised her I'll stay out of the house when she's not home. 'Cause I didn't know what to do.. or say. I just..” “Thought of the easiest solution?” “Yeah... I guess.” Danny shrugged, defeated.
---------DPxDC
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shouldn't you be resting, sir?” Alfred scolded. A small amused smirk on his lips as he carried lunch on a tray. Bruce just made a grunt. His eyes glued to the screen of the laptop. Images, news articles, videos. Whatever he could find was displayed on the screen, while he bit at the end of his pencil. A notepad next to him. “Ah yes, very informative answer, Master Bruce.” Alfred set down the tray on the nightstand beside his bed. There was more than just lunch on the tray as it carried a medical kit. Bruce sighed. He shoved the laptop to the side and struggled to sit up more so Alfred could replace his dressing. “This whole situation just crawls under my skin.” “I say it does, sir.” Alfred's hands move quickly to help replace the doctor's handy work. “Secret government organization, children in peril, and the boarder between life and death getting thinner by the day. Certainly sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
---------BULLY
Pete glanced back up at Mr. Smith. The man was eyeing him carefully, waiting for a reply. He must care about Gary in some way to go through this much trouble, right? And... it would be easier to contact Gary's grandfather than dealing with the headmaster. Pete bit his lip as he thought. “Um, Okay. S-sure.” “Atta boy! Hahaha!” Allen laughed as he smacked his hand on Pete's shoulder, making him stumble. Pete really needed to work on not being pushed around so easily. “Though, if you can mange to keep little Garreth in line, I'll add in a little bonus for your trouble. Since you're doing more than half what I was paying this damn school to do.” “That's not-” “Some good advice. Never work for free, Pete. Consider it a token of gratitude. After all, I think we both know watching my grandson isn't an easy task.” Allen winked.
--------DPXDC
Tim had no idea how he was going to pull this off. His eyes glancing from the Fenton parents to the boy he met yesterday, Danny Fenton. He knew he was dead. At least, was ghostly in some way. Danny didn't act or looked how Greta did, but Greta was visible as Deadman wasn't. So perhaps ghosts varied drastically? Either way, Danny being dead wasn't even the part that was bothering him. It was knowing he had to pretend he didn't know- while Danny sat right next to his oblivious killers. Well, the word killer might be too harsh. Tim theorized it was an accident regarding with a portal that opened on top of Danny. Which might also explain Danny's unique qualities.
---------DPxDC
“...Danny has traces of... Lazarus pit... stronger than yours.” Tim answered, with a concerned tone. They were afraid of how Jason would take it. And Jason was not taking it well, as he felt cold rage deep in his veins. The icy chill as he acknowledged that not only was Danny his blood... he shared the worse part of his blood. The reminder that they... Had died. Those scars... that was how Danny died and so far knowing their luck, he doubted it was painless. “Little Wing? Jay bird? You there, I'm almost at your location. How's Danny?” Dick called on the comms. Jason pulled the boy more into his jacket, giving him the best attempt of a hug he could. “Better than the fuckers who did this to him will be.”
------DPXDC
Danny had made an unfortunate discovery. His powers, like all ghosts, were based on emotion. Other's emotions. Even worse, the strongest one was fear. Fear fed on itself and grew stronger and stronger. And what made him discover this, made his heart sink with dread. He was stuck powerless in Gotham as his friends were laughing themselves to death along with other hostages in the room. Danny cursed at himself for listening to Sam. He should have phased them out of there, regardless of Batman's no meta rule. Now the only fear emitting into the room was his own. They were too far from others for him to feed off of, and ectoplasm was low. No.. more like the ectoplasm was being pulled away from the ground of Gotham and seeping into some other being that was far too greedy. “Well, well, well~ Look what we have here? A little party pooper!” A man with green hair and clown painted face cackled, as he waltz his way over to Danny. The black-hair teen ripped his eyes from his friends, glaring at the man. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, while he stayed knelt over his friends. “Funny, most parties I've seen at least has music.” Danny was feeling sweat dripping off his face. He needed to do something fast, but if he couldn't transform.. then he wasn't sure what else he isn't able to do. Not like this man looked fit, but... Danny knew danger when he sees it. “Ah, but this is music! To my ears at least, ehehehehe!”
----------CAMP CAMP
“Ah. Smell that, Gwen?” “Smell what.” “That fresh breeze! We had gone a full twenty-four hours without a single camp activity catching on fire.” “Huh, I guess you're right! This camp only smells half as shitty-” “Where's Max?” Both Gwen and David utter out in realization as it had dawn that neither of them had seen the troublesome trio since breakfast. --- “Don't worry Max! We'll save you once I finish chewing off my leg-” “Nikki! DON'T!” “Well... I'm fucked.”
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acourtofthought · 5 days
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The Asteri arrange bondless matings in Midgard to produce powerful offspring. The Asteri corrupted the Cauldron. ACOTAR is the only world where the Cauldron has influence. ACOTAR is the only world where we know some matings bonds can be wrong. Rhys says mating bonds may be from the Mother or the Cauldron, and might just be to produce powerful offspring. If SJM wants to make Elain and Azriel true mates she's already done all the work. It's all in canon. Elriel, Nessian, and Feysand could all have bonds from the Mother, just like in CC and TOG. Elucien could have a bond from the corrupted Cauldron. It's not that hard.
In 15,000 years.
After Danika / Baxion, Kallias / Vivianne, Feyre / Rhys, Rowan / Aelin, Bryce / Hunt, Nesta / Cassian, and so on.
In 15,000 years, ONLY the Elucien mating bond is corrupt? Those are some fucking odds, let me tell you. And damn, Elain and Lucien must be really important to be the sole recipients of such a unique plot with such far reaching implications.
It's really strange how the Asteri, who have never met Elucien and will never meet Elucien considering the ones on Midgard who are responsible for all this corruption are (spoiler) DEAD, would have gone to so much trouble.
If you're trying to claim Elain and Lucien were mated only to create the most powerful offspring than I feel pretty bad for E/riels future children since you're telling me they will just never measure up and that Az is in fact the weakest link.
It's also really strange how this same corrupt Cauldron created Elain and Nesta. Maybe it's not the bond that is corrupt but Elain herself, right? Since everything that comes from the cauldron now has the potential to be tainted I guess neither Lucien or Az should end up with a girl with that sort of questionable creation. I mean, the author did include the line about Elain having tightness on her face and Cassian suspecting she wasn't telling the truth about something. Clearly, that's SJM already "doing the work" to support Evil Elain and Az and Lucien will need to put her down together.
You know what's not hard? Understanding why some bonds are poorly matched.
You're referring to Rhys's parents, correct?
Rhys's father was cold and vicious and stole his mother away the second their bond snapped because he felt entitled to her. He also refused to ban wing clipping despite his her begging him to.
Rhys's mother was soft and fiery and beloved by many.
Elain sounds like Rhys's mother, does she not?
Cold and vicious, cold and vicious, feels entitled to a female. Gosh...that just doesn't sound like Lucien.
But it kind of does sound like someone full of an icy rage who is a far better liar than Rhys himself and knows how to perform a symphony of pain during his torture sessions. The guy who feels he should have gotten Elain as a mate for the simple fact that his brothers are with her sisters.
Elain and Az will never be true mates and let me tell you why.
Because as Elain was violated in the most horrible way possible to her character, Az was crying out for Mor.
As Elain was depressed and traumatized, Az never bothered to ask how she was doing, did not visit her for weeks after she was turned, and actually drew straws so he didn't need to stay and guard her.
After Elain lost her father, Az was relieved not to get her a Solstice gift and blushed and stared at Mor with heat and yearning.
I don't even need an Elucien mating bond to understand he is by far the better male for her.
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hclymoonsblog · 2 months
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Memory Arc
GN!Child of Aphrodite x Luke Castellan
Author’s note : I imagined the reader as female but could also be read as gender neutral. Listened to Memory Arc from Rivale Consoles as I wrote.
Warnings : Angst to comfort, with a bit of fluff at the end. Mentions of self-isolation, self-deprecation, nostalgia, fear of death, smoking, acne breakouts, implicit depression from the reader, Luke is insensitive but makes up for it. 
The Aphrodite cabin was awfully quiet. It had been for a while, considering all of your step-siblings had, once again, failed at the tedious task of getting you to attend the nightly campfire. 
It wasn’t their fault, really. But there was no try. Putting on a face and trying to maintain somewhat a form of social life among your peers had been the very least of your concerns. They knew it, and so did you, which is why assuring them that spending your evening listening to music, dining off a few snacks and enjoying silence was perfectly fine with you, had been enough to get them to go. The cabin residents had eventually agreed to leave you on your own, abandoning you to your chosen isolation. 
And, indeed, that’s precisely what was happening. Faint Lana Del Rey was playing in the room – Thunder, the unreleased version, to be exact. You could have recognized the song among a thousand, thanks to its distinct first notes and the familiar grain of the device it was being played on: the mp3 Luke had stolen for you about a year ago, when you first arrived at camp. 
A wave of nostalgia hit you as the boy crossed your mind. You mindlessly inspected the small, grey box, letting your manicured nails trace over the small stickers glued onto the metallic surface. He had never outwardly expressed where he got it from, nor why he chose to gift it to you, among all people. 
You remembered the moment vividly.
***
This was on your second day at camp, at breakfast. You had barely slept, plagued by distressing nightmares all revolving around the implication of being the child of a literal god — or goddess, you weren't sure. It all seemed too surreal to you, and the fact you hadn’t been claimed yet wasn’t helping with it either. Luke Castellan, for some reason, happened to be sitting right next to you at the Hermes table, which welcomed unclaimed children like you, as Mr. D had said in a way that you guessed to be willing to remind you you didn’t belong. Hopefully, that wouldn’t last for long. The thought made you frown unconsciously.
The camp counselor had observed you fiddle with your food for a while, almost thoughtfully. Without a word, he pulled a small object out of his pocket and handed it to you.
“You talk in your sleep.” He commented, giving little to no context regarding his gesture.
Your eyes went from the item, to Luke, to the item again, not moving an inch.
The lack of sleep, combined with all of the information you had to interiorise, made you glare at the box both with curiosity and suspicion, waiting for him to elaborate. Was this another unknown, mystic artefact to, magically, grant you a dreamless sleep?
He blinked, staring back at your emotionless eyes from the insomnia, and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“This, is a mp3,” He explained, gesturing to the small screen and the music note on the back of the device, maintaining the eye contact between the two of you, as if it was trying to get his point across. “You can download songs, and, y’know, listen to music with it.”
“I know what a mp3 is.” You cut him a bit defensively, your cheeks flushing a bit from the slight embarrassment. 
To punctuate your sentence, you pressed a button to switch it on, in order to let him know you actually had owned a similar thing in the past, back when things were still normal for you. Why was this guy showing you off his mp3, anyways?
“I’m sure you do.” The slight mocking tone and the faintest smirk you detected onto Luke’s lips left you questioning the whole point of the conversation. 
Conveniently, the look on your face must have told Luke everything he needed to know as he picked up the conversation. “I thought this might help you relax. Take your mind off things, and, hopefully, make you feel a bit more at home, with songs you like.” 
Your eyes softened. The slight irritation you were feeling towards him evaporated from your body. His friendly gesture had taken you aback, and in a good way. The mp3 may have been in a questionable state, the fact the boy — which was just as much of a stranger than you were to him — had tried to make you feel good, and therefore, welcomed in your new place, was touching.
“… Thank you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Luke’s whole face brightened. An unfamiliar warmth spread across your chest. He ran a hand through his dark curls, looking to the side for a split second.
“How did you get that, though? I didn’t know there was a mystery Apple Store at camp.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I stumbled upon it.”
***
Unexpected was the word. Nevertheless, you had truly appreciated the friendly gesture. He had been the first person to act kindly towards you ever since your arrival – at least, not in a way that felt exaggeratingly forced, unlike some other camp residents. You could say this present had sealed the beginning of your friendship. As you stared at it, it left you reflecting onto the day you first met Luke and wondering about where the two of you stood. 
Soon enough, you had no choice but to face the harsh reality of things, which led you inevitably into spiralling into your thoughts.
The two of you hadn’t had a real conversation in months. You didn’t spar together anymore, neither did you share the mp3 he had gifted you, one earbud each, to make him listen to music he claimed to hate — a supposed disdain which had never prevented him from singing, quite awfully, the lyrics along with you. 
You didn’t sit next to one another anymore, didn’t hang out anymore. All of that was quite simply gone.
You had to content yourself of occasional, fleeting from across the hall, nods of acknowledgment. 
People had noticed. They came up to you, asked you about him, probably as much as they asked him about you. 
Of course, you knew. Deep down, you knew why it all went down. 
It is an obligation for demigods to demonstrate constant, unwavering strength and courage. For all you knew, those two had never been qualities that you particularly lacked. 
But when it came to the dark haired boy, it seemed like all the traits you thought you owned came crashing down, and you were left bare, defenseless, while he could see right through your soul.
And you hated that. You thought befriending — though the verb doesn’t quite fit — the best swordsman in camp would help you get rid of the weakness Aphrodite children tend to be associated with. But, truly, it had in fact only been the opposite.
Your barriers all came undone, without fail, one after the other. Your heart only grew fonder, more passionate. And yet, one thing you learned the hard way about being a demigod, is that there is no room for weakness. 
You knew you wouldn’t be capable of balancing both courage and attachment, so the only option left was to flee, to disengage yourself from such a bond, before it was too late. 
Once you got back from your first ever quest, the one in which you almost got violently murdered by a giant scorpion and a bunch of other terrifying creatures, the one which sent you into a concerning amount of sleepless nights, you were convinced of it. 
You wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of forcing yourself through this life without him.
You had believed, foolishly, your avoidance would make things easier.
The truth is that it had only made you feel more heartachingly miserable.
Time had flown by, and despite all your efforts, Luke was still the first thing you thought of when you woke up and the last thing on your mind when you went off to sleep.
For a daughter of Aphrodite, you sure sucked at love. 
The irony of it all left a bitter taste in your mouth.
This was why listening to Lana, despite the affection you held for her, was so dangerous. It always sent you into an uncontrollable overload of emotions.
Fully intending to get rid of the sadness wave before it fully hit you, you stood up from your bed and switched off the device before carefully putting it away in a drawer.
Then, you picked up a pink hoodie, not sure what step-sibling you were borrowing it from, and carelessly put it on. 
As much as you loved the tenth cabin and its coquette aesthetic, you weren’t really feeling that coquette at the moment, which is precisely the reason why you got on your knees in order to grab the pack of Malboro’s carefully hidden under your bed. 
You were glad any of your step-siblings hadn’t picked up on the fact you were smoking, or you would not have ever stopped hearing about it. You could already hear Silena lecturing you about the effect it would have on your lungs, or worse, on your skin. 
Surely the Silena you were imagining in your head was right, though. The frequent smoking, which had been intensifying lately, could explain why you had been breaking out a bit more than usual. 
Thankfully, the perks of being part of the Aphrodite cabin always involved somebody always being kind enough to help the other with spots coverage, so it hadn’t been much of an issue to you. Ever since, you had been perfectly capable of doing it on your own.
You walked out the wooden cabin, shutting the door behind you with a barely audible creak. Immediately met with the cool air, goosebumps erupted on your skin. Maybe cotton shorts weren’t the move for such weather, after all. Too bad. You felt like you had gone through worse — you were more than capable of fighting off the not-so-warm spring evening air. 
It was dark. The moon was your only source of light, since you hadn’t thought about picking up a flashlight before leaving, but that was quite good enough already. Your legs were always bringing you to the precise spot in camp you had in mind, and as you walked, you were straying further away from the woods. 
As tall grass tickled your ankles, you silently prayed to your mother you wouldn’t stumble onto any harpy. The thought still emitted a dry chuckle from you, picturing the creature interrupting your smoking break in the middle of the night. If things went shit, you could always try to charmspeak them away. That would be, in fact, surprisingly entertaining.
Harpies rarely roamed around the beach. That was a reassuring thought to you — firstly because you weren’t too keen on the idea of fighting a monster so late at night, and secondly because that’s precisely where you were heading.
Before you knew it, the smell of salt had invaded your nostrils. The crisp touch of the sand underneath your feet made you shiver as you made your way to the shore, intending to sit down for a while — and enjoy your well-deserved cigarette. 
You put your hand down and shoved it in your pocket, instinctively expecting to get a hold of the familiar surface of your lighter. It was even more unexpected to realize there was no lighter to be found, sending your brain into a haze. The possibilities were endless. You could have either forgotten it in the cabin, accidentally dropped it into the tall grass as you were walking, or dropped it somewhere among the sand–
“Looking for something?”
You spinned around, eyes widening, looking up at the person the masculine voice belonged to.
Luke Castellan. Standing in front of you, holding the silver lighter, but not quite handing it to you. You got a weird sense of deja vu as you both scrutinized the other. 
His hair had definitely grown. The dark curls were more defined than you remembered them to be, and there was a new scar down the sight of his face. The sight made you raise a brow, and you met his eyes once again, examining them as much as the distance allowed you to. As a matter of fact, they looked pretty much the same, except for the lack of emotion. They looked weirdly bland, almost glacial, full of indifference. You weren’t used to him looking at you in such a manner.
“Thank you. I must have dropped it earlier.” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice neutral, hoping he would simply give you the object back, so you could both escape the awkward situation. You didn’t believe for a second he had accidentally found it and magically brought it to you at such a late hour of the night. You didn’t feel like confronting him about it anyways.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” Luke stated, letting his deft fingers trace over the small object. Then, he lit it, as if he were checking if it did work. Was there a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice or had you imagined it? You were unsure.
“Happens, from time to time.”
The dry chuckle your ex-friend let out only left you made you grow more confused about whatever was happening. You were left with an uneasy feeling in the chest.
“Sure. Then, I guess you haven’t bought, like, three packs from Connor in less than a week.”
“It soothes me!” You defended yourself, feeling small under his disapproving glare. “Why do you keep records of who he sells cigs to, anyways?”
“I don’t know, why don’t you try to get into meditation, or some yoga shit, detox tea, guided hypnosis from Cabin 15, or anything else, really, for all I care? Why’d you have to destroy your health for some temporary relief?” The dark-haired boy snapped back, gradually rising in temper.
“I don’t know, maybe because, unless you haven’t noticed during all the years you’ve been stuck at camp, there’s not much to cope with here?” You mirrored his voice, hastily getting up from the small pile of sand you were sitting on.
“Oh, all right then, I get it.” He threw his arms in the air as he spoke, his brown eyes flashing in anger. “You’re a little depressed, but there’s no psychiatrist available here to help you fix your issues, so you choose to ignore the hell out of me and throw your health out the window instead. Real smart choice.”
Your mouth opened in shock, and before you knew it, your vision was blurred from the tears building up in your eyes. You felt your heart twist painfully in your chest at his insensitive words, and you choked back a sob.
“Why would it matter if I fuck up my health, wether that be to me, or to you? (You had to pause to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down from the mix of negative emotions invading your body.) “I’ll be dead in no more than ten years, maybe less— We’ll all be.” You inhaled, your voice cracking at the end of your sentence. “You know it.”
His brown eyes widened. Your two last sentences seemed to take out the anger out of his body, leaving the two of you in a heavy kind of silence. Luke’s face went from great anger to deep sadness. He took a step up, gradually lessening the distance between you two, and put his two arms on each of your shoulders. The boy knelt down, so the two of you were on eye-level. You were able to see every one of each of his features now.
“Don’t say that.” His voice was lower, and his brown eyes had considerably softened, and it’s as if you were back to when you first fell in love, about three months ago. “We can’t think of life as just an end, or we won’t live at all.”
Your eyes dropped to the sandy ground, unable to hold his gaze any longer. You hadn’t cried in so long that the sensation of the pearly tears dripping down your eyes felt almost foreign, to you. “I can’t help but think of it that way. Knowing our days are counted, threatened by the doings of the gods, is too much to bear, on most days.” You sniffled. “Makes me wonder if there’s truly a point living it all, and if it’s not better to try and lessen the pain as much as you can.” 
Luke was silent for a bit, reflecting onto what you just said, carefully picking out the words he was about to use next. “The one thing about being a demigod is that we’re fundamentally different compared to regular mortals.” He mindlessly wiped a tear off your face with his thumb. “We die young, and most of the time, terribly. This is what differentiates us significantly from mortals.”
You pursed your lips. “Is this how you think you’re gonna make me feel better?”
The dark-haired boy chuckled, a small smile etching its way on his lips. “No. Of course, it’s unfair, but what I mean is that not much mortal philosophy actually applies to us. We have to look up to those who worshipped the same gods we did. See— take Horace, and his whole Carpe Diem belief. He happened, in fact, to be quite right. We need to enjoy our days, live them to the fullest, and make the most of what we have.” He paused, looking away for a split second, before looking back up into your eyes. “You can’t just deny yourself from happiness. Not only you don’t deserve that, it’ll only make your existence as a demigod even more complicated than it already is.” Luke first hesitated before tucking a hair strand of yours behind your ear. “And, especially as a daughter of Aphrodite, you can’t deny yourself from love.” His voice was barely above a whisper now.
His words really resonated with you, for some reason. Of course, all your problems wouldn't disappear out of thin air thanks to his philosophical words, but they were all you needed to close the remaining distance between the two of you, crashing your lips against his. It was a bit bold, and indeed, it took Luke aback. He froze for a split second, but the camp counselor was quick to come to his senses. One hand went up to caress your jaw to deepen the kiss, almost desperately, and the other pulled you in his chest, a strong arm securing you against him. 
You were the first one to pull away, gasping up for air, and he begrudgingly imitated you, his dilated pupils betraying him. He let out a slight chuckle and ran a hand through his hair, trying to play it off cool.
“Didn’t expect you’d be taking my advice so soon.” The boy joked, still squeezing you against his side, practically towering over you. “I’m not complaining, though.” He hurriedly added.
“I didn’t know you’d gotten so wise. If I knew ignoring you would turn into a son of Athena, I would’ve given you silent treatment earlier.” 
Your playful words only made him press you into his side even more, until your cheeks were squished into his hard chest. It was actually quite enjoyable, except for the fact you’d probably end up suffocating and it would then ruin the romantic mood set between the two of you. “Don’t you dare. I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” He replied, a bit of a warning in his voice.  “Even if that means locking you up in the Hermes cabin and tying you down to my bed.”
That made you chuckle. It didn’t exactly sound like a bad situation to you, for numerous reasons, although you wouldn’t admit all of them out loud. Luke must have noticed the slight blush dusting your cheeks since a shit-eating grin appeared on his face. But before he could say anything about it, you spoke up. “I’m sorry. For pushing you away, for keeping you at distance. I—”
“It’s okay, I get it. I appreciate that you’re apologizing, but I’m not blaming you.” He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head, wrapping both his arms around your midsection. “I’m sorry, too, for the way I talked to you, earlier.”
“We’re good, then.”
“Never better.”
“ … ”
“ … ” 
“Does that mean I’m getting my lighter back?”
“Well-tried.”
----------------------------
© hclymoonsblog - Tumblr, 2024.
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nomazee · 6 months
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hihi!! i love ur writing sm and was wondering if u could do a chuuya x also mafia executive reader (similar to the dazai friends to lovers u did a bit ago) with the unestablished relationship but so obviously in love trope
thank u sm!!
i went so overboard omfg FORGIVE ME... i hope this is cohesive i kept working at it at like deep into the night so it's a little hazy omg but i loved this so much im such a sucker for this trope and chuuya and dazai are like the best characters for this kind of genre i feel
pairing: chuuya x gn reader word count: 2.8k content: fluff, hurt/comfort (an abundance of it), friends-to-lovers, mentions of sickness (vomiting, fever, etc), domestic fluff, sweet stuff, also hand-wavey teenage timeline because i didn't read all of stormbringer forgive me...
°+..。゚。゚+.*.。.
“They said they might promote me, did you hear?” 
Chuuya glances to the side at the sudden sound of your voice. You’re leaning over his shoulder from behind him, face mere inches from his as you grin widely. He has to fight the twitches of his own lips to stop himself from smiling back. “And who’s they, exactly?” 
“Oh, you know. The grapevine. Just some whispers in the organization. And Kouyou.” You lean back, the radiating warmth of your body suddenly escaping Chuuya. He walks behind you as you make your way down the hallway, a little jump in your step as you recount the news to him. 
“It’s what you get for working so hard. Guess it paid off.” 
“You think I’m hardworking! You’re a flatterer, Chuuya Nakahara.” 
“Sure am,” he quips back with amusement. Banter with you is different than with Dazai. With you, it’s lighthearted, and silly, and makes him feel like he’s fourteen and messing around with the Sheep again. With Dazai, it’s… charged, and fast-paced, and builds up a kind of aggravated energy within him that works well in fights but not in a room of Kouyou’s antiques. 
“But guess what,” you start again, looking over your shoulder where Chuuya follows close behind. Your pace slows down to let him catch up to you and walk side-by-side, now. “I think you’ve got a good chance, too. You’ve got some executive qualities, you know?” 
It makes Chuuya pause for a moment, because he hasn’t really thought about it before. After the mess that was the Sheep, he hadn’t considered taking up any kind of leadership or executive position in the Port Mafia. It wasn’t really his thing—too much work, too much responsibility. And as much as he loathed to admit it, it would probably mean even less time to spend with you and Dazai. Being mentored by different people already limited your time with each other. 
He tries not to think too hard about the implications of it—of you and Dazai working under Mori’s hands while Chuuya gets Kouyou’s firm, but gentler palms. A vague kind of sickness washes over him that he tries to shake off. 
“I don’t know about that. I think I do better in a quieter position, don't you think?” 
“Nothing is quiet about you. Especially not with that partner of yours,” you joke back. “I could put in a good word for you! Once I get promoted, I’ll have, like, a bunch of power and influence, and I’ll be all high and mighty, and you and me and Dazai can all take care of the Port Mafia and be all cool, and everything.” 
It’s a pipe dream. Both of you know that. Chuuya knows best about your hidden resentment of this organization and all that it stands for, all that it does. He’s heard whispers about your plans to take over—plans that would never come to fruition. Plans that were more like dreams and wishes and hopes. Something to get you through the day. The budding smile on his face falters when he turns and sees that distant look in your eyes. A sigh bubbles in his chest, but he holds it down. 
“Hey, slow down. You don’t even know if you’re getting the position or not.” His comment is met with a roll of your eyes and a chest-deep groan. You launch into a big speech about how qualified you are for the job, and all the different things you’d institute as a mafia executive (nap time, stress room with cats, petting zoo, iced tea dispensers), and Chuuya nods along and laughs for as long as he can.
===
You do, in fact, get promoted to an executive, but at the cost of a lot of things. Dazai leaves the mafia with no warning to you or Chuuya. You don't see him at all for two weeks leading up to his defection, and it all happens in a blur that leaves your head swimming with vertigo and your body much too frail to handle everything. 
Chuuya finds you sobbing in your en suite bathroom, kneeling on the floor and crying so hard that you’re dry heaving. He hasn’t seen you like this before. Even in your rare moments of vulnerability, it was never something so visceral and uncensored. He stands in the doorway, looking down at you, and freezes. His palms itch with the desire to do something, something that he hasn’t learned.
“You… Hey, hey,” Chuuya drops to the floor once he snaps out of his daze, crouching next to your curled up form as you shake with the force of your tears. He tentatively reaches out a hand, easing onto your shoulder. When you don’t give any sort of negative reaction, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for an embrace. 
It’s odd. This isn’t something that the three of you did. For all that you and him and Dazai kicked and pushed and shoved each other jokingly, this kind of touch is unfamiliar. It’s scalding in the way that sitting in front of a space heater in the dead of winter burns you.
He shushes you like a child because he’s not sure what else to say. He’s just as shaken by Dazai’s defection, but he knew that you and Dazai had become so close over the last few years. Being trained under Mori together does that. His chest squeezes at the sight of you like this, broken down and shivering and sick at the loss of your friend. 
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. Shhh, it’s— it’s okay.”
Chuuya smooths a hand over the top of your head, sliding down to rest between your shoulderblades. His mouth presses against your temple in a gentle kiss, feeling how cold and clammy your skin has gotten. He doesn’t know how to heal you. His hands are made to weigh people down and hurt and subdue, and he’s not sure if he can handle the gentler things like holding you and swathing you in blankets and cooking you soup. 
But, he thinks with a renewed determination. There’s no harm in trying. 
Three months later, you take Dazai’s executive position at the age of nineteen. Chuuya follows suit after another year and a half and becomes executive at twenty. You only think of Dazai when your head swims in gin and when you can’t feel the heat of Chuuya’s hands near you.
===
The both of you find yourselves in Chuuya’s apartment drinking the night away. At this point, you’re both twenty-one, and being in the mafia has offered you countless resources for alcohol and the like. A warm haze has blanketed you as you take another sip of whatever sweet fruity drink Chuuya has concocted for you. He drinks a glass of wine, because he’s weird and bougie, which you tell him straightforwardly. 
“Wine’s just an acquired taste,” he tells you.
“It’s glorified grape juice. It tastes like yeast.” 
“That’s… kind of what it is.” 
You laugh so hard that tears bead in your eyes and you hit him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. It’s not even that funny, really, and he wasn’t even trying to make you laugh, but it’s so late into the night that you don’t even know what time it is and everything is funny when you’re this drunk.
“I’m hungry, Chuuya. I miss your soup,” you say, a whine in your voice as you throw your head back against the armrest of the couch. You’re stretched out on his velvet upholstered couch with your feet in his lap, and he’s been tracing circles against your bare shins while some documentary plays in the background on the TV. “You haven’t cooked for me in forever. I thought it was your duty as a househusband to cook every night, or something.” 
“Hey! I’m not anyone’s househusband,” he shouts in protest. When you push your head up from the armrest to glance at him, his tanned face is flushed a warm red and his brow is furrowed in playful indignation and you’re struck with the urge to bite him like a chew toy. Instead, you let out a soft kind of laugh and roll your eyes. 
“Yeah, you are. You’re my husband. Have been since the day I met you.” In a burst of newfound energy, you propel yourself up and off the couch, swinging your legs off his lap and standing up. “Let’s go make some soup. Your pantry’s probably stocked, right? Since you’re on top of all your housekeeping.” 
“Geez. You’re never letting that go, are you?” 
“Of course not! Come on. You have to teach me how to cook now.” 
Chuuya has reserved bone broth in his freezer, because of course he does. You submerge a container of it in hot water and wait for it to defrost while he helps you dice and saute vegetables in a pressure cooker. 
(“Don't pressure cookers, like, explode, or something?” 
“...who taught you that.”)
It’s a miracle you can even use a knife safely, because your head is still swimming a little bit and the line of empty bottles on the coffee table taunts you and your bad decisions. You also blame it for the way you stick close to Chuuya, bumping your hips together and leaning your head on his shoulder for a few fleeting moments until the pressure cooker starts hissing. 
He serves you a heaping bowl and when you tell him you’ll puke if you eat the whole thing, he pushes the bowl at you from across the counter and says, “I’ll guess I’ll just clean your puke for you too, then.” 
“Gross. You’re really a househusband if you’re brave enough to do that.” 
“Househusband this, househusband that. All I do is cook.” 
“And clean up the vomit of your lovely lovely spouse.” 
“Sure,” he says, and he turns back to you and puts his own bowl next to yours. Then, in a swift, undeterred motion, he reaches across the kitchen island, over both steaming bowls of soup and kisses you straight on the mouth. It shocks you right into lucidity, eyes blown wide and lips nearly parting at the sudden contact. Before you can really think about it, Chuuya pulls back, circling around the kitchen island to sit next to you with two spoons so you can both eat. “As long as that lovely lovely spouse is you.” 
You feel—light. Airy, sick, nauseous, more at peace than you have been in the last three years. A stupid smile starts forming on your face and you hide your giddy laughs into your soup. 
Chuuya would never act like this sober, you think, still cherishing the little moment you have. Thankfully, you’re proven wrong when he keeps doing it—walking you back to your apartment the next day, going out to a mafia-affiliated diner the next week, in an empty meeting room after everyone has left.
===
Another year passes. You find yourself in the throes of the cannibalism incident—not as a bystander, but as a victim. Because that’s just your luck, really. 
You don’t know how you were caught in the crossfire between Fyodor and Mori, but somehow you were infected with the cannibalism virus and bedridden for nearly three days, in-and-out of consciousness while you hoped and prayed that somebody would save you. For the entirety of the conflict, you were left alone in the PM infirmary, sweating off your perpetual fever and coughing up stomach bile into a metal garbage can. 
It was awful. There’s no blame to put on anyone, though. Everyone who was able to stand was on the front lines, so to speak, and from what you understood you weren’t as big of a target as Mori. Three days alone in a sterile bed was worth it for the survival of the organization.
At the end of it all, in the calm after the storm, sitting in your dorm, Chuuya visits you. 
You don’t look too great, still recovering physically and emotionally, but you can’t find it in you to care. The second you hear the familiar cadence of his knock and the shuffling of his stupid heeled boots, you rip the door open and are met with his wide-eyed expression. 
“Hey,” he says, and you burst into tears because god. It hasn’t hit you until now, seeing him in front of you, his warmth radiating from his hands as they reach out to hold you, but you could’ve died or he could’ve died and then what would’ve happened? Years and years of knowing each other, seeing each other at your worst, taking care of each other. Cooking in your kitchen and sleeping on his couch and kissing him like it meant nothing. It could’ve all been gone. 
The mafia isn’t a safe occupation to begin with, but this entire thing has made you realize how fleeting everything is. So you sob, and you let him hold you and bring you to the couch, and you let yourself be weak.
“Hey,” he says again, tone now placating, gloved hands resting on the back of your head and between your shoulder blades as he sits next to you on the couch. You have no regard for where your body is right now, legs sprawled out somewhere beneath you and arms reaching up to grab at Chuuya’s clothes in any way you can. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” 
You cough wetly into his shoulder, a whine forming from between your violent sobs. Your body shakes with the remnants of your sickness and the exhaustion of the week and a small voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s embarrassing, that it’s unbecoming of a mafia executive to be so affected. 
Death threats and poisonings and shootings—you deal with it every week. You choke out another whine of distress as you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids in an attempt to quell the tears. It doesn’t work. You’re still weak, no matter how hard you hurt. 
“Shit, Chuuya,” you cough out a weak sob, shivers wracking your body as the weight of everything crashes onto you. “I was so sick. I was alone. I thought I would die. God.” You pull back from his hold to rub at your eyes with your raw palms.
“Stop that,” Chuuya says, with a gentleness you swear you haven’t heard in so long but in truth it’s been with you for the last two years. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Cold fingers wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. 
The white-hot heat of embarrassment scalds the back of your neck. You feel like a scolded child with the pitying look he gives you, and with your hands locked between his there’s no way to hide. 
“Stop,” you tell him, “quit it, Chuuya,” and you don’t know what you’re begging for, but it’s the lowest you’ve ever felt—a feared member of the mafia on their knees crying and asking for some kind of mercy. 
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he mumbles, and he pulls you just a bit closer with the grip he has on your hands. His chin rests on top of your head and you shove your face into the crook of his neck.
For once, he doesn’t smell like his gross luxury perfume. He smells like your laundry detergent and grass and the city and even more tears spill over your cheeks. Your fingers curl into his and you clench his knuckles until you feel them creak through the gloves. 
“I wouldn't let you die,” Chuuya’s voice is no more than a whisper, but it’s the most determined you’ve heard him sound. “I wouldn’t let it happen.” 
“I don’t need your protection,” and it’s a weak protest, and you’re grasping at straws to argue with him and push him away and make him stop before you make yourself sick with how hard you’re sobbing. You feel one hand slip from yours and slide up between your shoulderblades and start trailing along the nape of your neck, tracing circles in a lulling gesture. 
“I know you don't,” he says, “but I would really like it if you let me. Just once in a while. Let me cook you soup alone and wash your face and clean your hair. All that stupid stuff.”
You cough out a weak laugh. Your househusband shtick from a year ago comes back to you, and so do all the warm evenings spent together in the kitchen and the kisses left on his cheek and the ones left on yours. You feel the warm press of his mouth against your temple and let out your last weak sob before you hold him tight again, squeeze him hard against you to make sure he’s still there. And that’s where he’ll stay.
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ghostsy · 7 months
Text
Forever Hold Your Peace
WARNINGS: yandere, mentions of death, mentions of murder, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping, hand kink if you squint
A/N: another quick short drabble, pls enjoy a deranged lil wedding crasher dabi.
read at your own discretion.
yandere ! DABI X READER
“Give me one good reason not to kill you.”
She’d never known blue to be such an angry color, but even glowing with barely contained rage, she couldn’t help but find his eyes beautiful. 
“I can’t.” 
It was growing all around them now, ice-colored fire licking at the tattered remains of her white dress. Still, she thought the heat was less threatening than warm. 
Her answer seemed to physically wound him, the soft tremble in his brow almost begging her to say something. Something to justify whatever confusing ugly thing he felt finally standing in front of her after all these years. Something that would let him sleep at night if he were to burn her bones to ash that moment, give into that cruel voice in his fractured mind demanding he destroy any and every memory that had ever made him feel something. 
“You broke your promise.”
“I wasn’t aware there were promises to keep with corpses.” There she was, that quick wit he remembered her for, loved her for, once upon a time. Even with his hand at her throat, even with the blood of the man she’d just sworn to love until death–another corpse, whose promise had quickly been fulfilled–even with his blood smeared across her cheek, she still stood tall, dignified.
“Is that what I am to you?” He breathed, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, fingers flexing at the feel of her racing pulse under her neck, “A corpse?” It was a silly question; the patchwork wounds stapled to his rotting skin suggested he was anything but a real, living, man. If he thought about it, he really hadn’t been living for quite some time.
“No, I suppose not,” Her voice was shaky, and he couldn’t tell if the mascara-stained tears wetting her cheeks were for the mass of burning bodies behind them or for him, “More of a ghost.”
The corner of his lips quirked up, huffing a short, bitter laugh, “A ghost,” He pondered for a moment, “I like it,” His other hand made its way up from her hip, brushing at the underside of her clothed breasts, “Here I am haunting you, after all.”
“I think,” Her hands balled into fists, but he made note as they stayed trembling at her sides, “That you’re here haunting us both.”
“I guess you’re right,” His eyes fell to scan her singed gown, “In another life,” Ignoring the clenching of her jaw, he continued, “You’d have worn that dress for me.”
She swallowed, “In another life,” Her eyes left his now, sweeping the mutilated remains littering the pews, “You’d have loved me enough.”
All of a sudden he tore himself from her as if she’d burned him, “Loved you enough?” An incredulous laugh as his arm stretched out to the scene behind them, “What the fuck is all this if it isn’t enough?” 
“It’s really so devastating,” She sighed out a name that was once his, and he was surprised at the weight one word could leave on his heart, “That you would consider this love.” But his anger had returned full force, and he thought maybe now he’d be able to kill her.
“Did you love him?” 
Here it was, the answer that would seal her fate. He could do it if she said what he knew she’d say. He would do it.
“No,” His heart skipped a beat, “I do love him.” And all at once, the mangled coal in his chest crumbled to ash. Do it. You said you’d do it. Do it, you fucking coward.
No, he needed more. His fingers twitched at his sides, sparks of blue igniting and snuffing out in nervous repetition. Just one more thing, and he could do it. 
“You can’t keep a promise to a corpse,” He spat, “But you can love one?” He stepped closer to her, glowing eyes narrowed, staring down at her.
“Not any more or less than one can love a ghost, I’d imagine.”
His hands flew back to her throat, and he wrenched her face up to meet his, “And do you?” His voice fell to a raspy whisper, and he couldn’t tell if it was out of fury or desperation, “Love a ghost?”
“I don’t want to,” And again more tears welled and fell, “I really didn’t want to.”
“That’s not what I asked.” His words were shaking with anticipation, fingers trembling as they cradled her cheeks.
“Does it matter?” She sniffed, eyes flickering to the carnage, “I shouldn’t. Especially now, I shouldn’t,” There was a wrinkle in her brow that betrayed her self-disgust, “I never should have.”
He swallowed, gaze catching on her lips, “But you do.” He’d meant it to come out as a question, but there was a sort of finality in his words. She makes you weak. Kill her. Do it. Now. Do it now. Shut up.
She tried to pull away from him, but he held her face firmly, “No matter where I go,” The turn of her voice was bitter, “You haunt me.”
A soft, manic laugh, “I think,” He leaned down, lips brushing hers, “We’ve both been haunting each other.” And after a month-long moment he surged forward, crashing his mouth against her own, tongue swallowing the strangled yelp that died in her throat.
He stepped forward as she stumbled back from the force, and her fingers flew to grip at his wrists in an attempt to stabilize herself, nails digging into the ruined skin. His leg steadied between both of hers, the bones in his patchwork hands straining as they pulled her into him, as if he were trying to make her body melt into his; make him whole.
Finally she ripped herself from him, stumbling, and wiped furiously at her lips, “I don’t want you,” Her voice was hoarse as she caught her breath, “Nothing else matters, because I don’t want you.”
It was like someone had poured ice water in his veins, and he’d come to the terrifying conclusion that it didn’t matter what she said or did; she could tell him she wanted him dead, and he’d still find an excuse to keep her here with him. 
“I don’t care,” A breathless confession.
After years without, he hadn’t realized just how starved the idea of letting her go would make him feel. He intended for his flames to swallow her whole when he'd found her again, but there was an entirely more appetizing option. He’d starved himself long enough.
The tapestries along the walls had caught fire, and the light shone through the stained glass windows, casting a blue tint across her skin. Like it was marking her as his. His hand shot out to wrap around her wrist when she tried to turn away, and he yanked her back to him.
“Nothing else matters, because I don’t care.”
She tried and failed to pull her arm from his bruising grip, feet sliding as she used her full weight, “Kill me, then,” She choked on a sob, “Why don’t you just kill me, then?”
He stared at her a long moment as she struggled, streaks of ruined makeup painting her cheeks, that once angel-white gown stained black with ash, a gloss in her eyes he could only describe as heartbreak, and he couldn’t help but think that she’d never looked so beautiful.
“I can’t.”
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ellsieee · 9 months
Text
Stay With Me didn't let us down! 😭 We got kisses and a confession. There is no way anyone can say it's not a BL now. 🙄 Not that there was any doubt even before that. The subtext was just too obvious.
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I can't believe they went there. Super sleuths have already found that it really is just lip balm, but the implication is clearly that Wu Bi's dad found his lube. Wu Bi why did you do your dad dirty like that? Don't smear your lube on his mouth! 🤣
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Wu Bi was about to confess but he chickened out. 😅 Shy Wu Bi is so cute. Wu Bi really can't live without Su Yu. He had never been that bitchy and rude to Mo Yi before, but now there's someone at home he wants to be with and has no time for Mo Yi's shit.
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First almost caught by Wu Bi's dad and now Mao Chong. Su Yu's nervous shifty eyes cracked me up. We all know he and Wu Bi have been doing something something in his room.
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They are so happy to see each other!😭Their smiles. Really, I can't. I love how much they love each other. I could not stop smiling watching them hug.
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Oh how I squealed. THEY ARE SO FRIGGIN CUTE!!! AHHHHHHH! This might literally be my favorite moment in the entire series.
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"Go cough somewhere else" lol. Poor Mo Yi. Right in front of his salad.
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Su Yu's little smile is EVERYTHING. I feel like we're missing a scene before this though. It just seems a bit out of place that Wu Bi would run up to kiss Su Yu at school and for Su Yu to not be surprised or embarrassed. I'm counting on that uncut release later. Actually I felt like the editing for these two eps was a bit choppy. I'm going to guess it's because they cut a bunch of stuff because it was too gay.
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I love all the subtle ways they show us they're boyfriends. Su Yu casually using Wu Bi as a leg rest, Wu Bi teasing Su Yu about him not knowing he's Wu Bi's most important person, Su Yu taking care of Wu Bi, and Wu Bi making not so subtle hints about their relationship in front of everyone. Why always in front of Doudou? Always! 😅
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The normally aloof Su Yu kissed Wu Bi! Again it's Su Yu's little smile after the kiss that makes it so sweet. The spoilers were actually true! I didn't think this would happen because in the behind the scenes Jiongmin had said there was no scene where he kisses Xu Bin, but here we are! Xu Bin's dream has finally come true. 🤭
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I was not expecting such an explicit confession! They tried to hide the gay a little by having Su Yu add the ocean part, but Wu Bi's qq screen name is 我想我是海 (I wish I am the sea) and so when Su Yu shouts 我爱你, 大海 (I love you sea), he is not so subtly telling Wu Bi that he loves him. Awwwww. ​​​🥹
But also, I have to drag production a bit on the terrible green screen CGI here. It looks so fake! Did they run out of money? How hard is it to film a sunset at a beach?
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No. Don't you dare Mo Yi. Fuck off. If the last two eps break my heart I'm going to consider SWM as having only 22 episodes where the boys are together and happy.
The girls on weibo only went a little crazy. I can't say I blame them. I was internally screaming last night too. I didn't see SWM on the main hot search but they were trending for a little while. Hopefully it was short enough where it didn't draw too much attention. 😅
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