#accurate anyway! i mean one of those is how i decided to seek out my adhd dx

[unclewaynemunson]

Eddie has this habit of feeding the stray cats around the trailer. Sometimes, he’ll even give the occasional raccoon something to snack on. He’s done it ever since he moved in with Wayne, spending hours crouched down on the ground with a pile of tuna cans beside him and an ever-growing flock of cats around him.

‘Just don’t let ‘em come inside,’ was all Wayne would say about it, keeping his distance from the whole circus around Eddie’s legs.

And Eddie sticks to that rule. He tests Wayne’s limits by letting the animals come up onto the porch or feeding them scraps through the kitchen window, but he never lets them set foot inside the trailer, respecting the very last bit that’s left of Wayne’s personal space.

Until he doesn’t, of course.

Wayne comes home one day to find Eddie stretched out on his back on the wobbly old couch with the tiniest black-and-white kitten curled up on his chest.

‘Ed, you know the rule,’ Wayne reminds him without so much as a greeting, annoyance dripping from his voice. ‘Can’t afford shots and cat food. Not enough space. And I don’t wanna find cat hair everywhere.’

‘But look at him, Wayne!’ says Eddie, almost begging - and if the baby cat does nothing to melt his cold heart, his nephew’s wide eyes most certainly do.

‘He won’t survive out there by himself,’ Eddie whines. ‘I found him hidden under the trailer because the other cats kept attacking him! And I promise you he isn’t mean; he didn’t bite me even when I picked him up! I’ll pay for everything and keep him in my room, you won’t even notice he’s here!’

Wayne wants to argue, he really does, but honestly, what argument can be made against those eyes? It’s goddamn unfair is what it is.

‘You sure that’s what you wanna be usin’ your hard-earned drug money for?’ Wayne grumbles. He’s never felt like he had the authority to reprimand Eddie about his sources of income, nor does he have the energy to lecture him about it, but he’s definitely amused by the extremely non-badass way the boy decides to spend his shady money.

Eddie grins, looking like the textbook definition of innocence with that tiny kitten on his chest and the dimples in his cheek, his black clothes and tattoos not doing anything in the slightest to counter that - not in Wayne’s eyes, at least.

‘Yeah, what else would I be using it for?’ he says, completely serious, and Wayne can see so clearly how well Eddie knows he’s got his uncle wrapped around his finger. There’s still nothing he can do to stop it, but maybe that’s not so bad. He doesn’t really mind being wrapped around Eddie’s finger, anyway.

So Wayne only huffs, knowing there’s no stopping Eddie and resigning himself to the fact that he apparently has a new roommate now - no matter what Eddie promised, there’s no way he’ll keep that little monster confined to his own bedroom.

---

And so it happens that Shadowfax becomes the third member of the Munson household. Or at least, that’s his official name, the one Eddie uses. Wayne prefers calling him “the little monster,” which is a way more accurate name if you ask him - which, needless to say, nobody does.

Eddie spoils the little monster rotten, with the consequence that Wayne has to share his food with him whenever Eddie’s out and that he’s always crying for attention when Eddie isn’t present to give it to him. That’s how Wayne ends up, not even three weeks in, with the little monster nestled in his lap as he’s watching tv. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that his purring has a relaxing rhythm, or with the softness of his fur, or the warmth of his tiny body... And certainly not with the disarming effect of a stubborn little stray cat seeking his company, feeling comfortable enough around him to let himself fall asleep in his lap. No, that doesn’t remind him in the slightest of that one evening about two months after he had taken Eddie in and Eddie fell asleep on the couch with his head against Wayne’s shoulder. Not at all. He’s just too lazy to put the little monster away when he dares to invade his personal space.

And when Eddie comes home that night to find not one, but two Munsons snoring in Wayne’s armchair, both jolting awake when Eddie softly closes the door behind him and looking at him with tired eyes, it’s not at all obvious that both of them were waiting equally eagerly for their Eddie to get home.

#insisting to dislike an animal whilst letting said animal fall asleep in your lap is peak dad behaviour tbh #oh the complicated relationship between a gruff old man and his pet #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #wayne munson my beloved #eddie munson #wayne munson #fruity ficlet

[dream-phantasm]

Leona Kingscholar x Reader: Love Letters (6)

motivation flopped :(

Rook shows up as well as a surprise guest...

Hope you enjoy! No spoilers or warnings for now but this might change in future installments :)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 [!] | END

"Beauté! How merveilleux!" You squint, shielding your eyes.

"Fygaa! He's so shiny dazo!" Grim grunts. "You've finally decided to seek me out, a smart decision, Trickster!" Rook Hunt was a very bizarre student. As a Pomefiore student, an NRC student on top of that, he was naturally eccentric and beautiful. 

Yet he has that edge to him that makes you want to run far, far away from him. "Uh, I'll just leave you all to it…make sure Rook doesn't blow anything up." Trey quickly closes the door behind him. 

"Trey, don't leave us!" Ace whines, placing his hand on the door. "Tell me when you're done." They could hear Trey's voice getting further, he has definitely ditched them. "It's not time to be a coward, Ace!" Deuce nudged him. 

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hunt." You decide to wave as he stood up and took you by the hand. He gives a light peck to your hands and looks up at you with those cunning green eyes. You squeak and flinch. 

"Oh my great sevens, ew." Ace groans, covering his eyes. Deuce stands on the side awkwardly watching the interaction. "You smell funny dazo." Grim sniffs the air, looking warily at the Pomefiore vice dorm head. The more accurate assumption was that Rook Hunt simply did not smell, at all. 

"Don't be rude, Grim." You scold him. "I've already known about you for a while, mx. It's merveilleux to meet you in person! My name is Rook Hunt, at your service." Rook introduces himself properly. "You can just call me Rook, Trickster." He adds with a smile. 

"Okay." You simply nod, this guy weirded you out. From the way he had spoken to you, you could already assume he knew of your situation. You are fairly sure Rook was stalking either your admirer or you. 

"So, you know about the thing…?" You ask just to confirm. "Oui! You've come to the right person to find your prince charmant!" Rook nods eagerly. "Good! Then, spill! Tell me who it is!" You also eagerly lean forward. 

"Fufu! But I cannot expose one's secrets as le Chasseur d'Amour!" Your face freezes before it turns into an empty expression of despair. You slowly sink to the floor, you wish to become part of the floor.

Life might be easier if I were the floor. I could just exist all day…not needing to worry about any overblots or secret admirers. I could get stepped on all day by hot- Wait. I don't want that… You blinked blankly.

"[Name], are you okay!?" Deuce shakes you frantically. "Why am I here…just to suffer?" You weakly grunt, flailing limply in his arms. "Henchman, you owe me tuna dazo!" Grim joins in shaking you, the best he could with his little paws anyway. 

"Oh my! What a tearful display of peine d'amour!"

"Alright, enough being dramatic! Hey, you! This is your fault." You hear Ace snap. "Oh, how your compagnons care for you." You spot Rook wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Ugh." You grumble.

"There's no need to worry, Trickster! As Monsieur Dandelion said, he indeed has eyes the colour of emeralds and he is indeed a student of Savanaclaw as you merveilleusement guessed!" Rook finally provides you a few hints. Deuce stops shaking you as you slowly get up. 

"Ace, I think we are going to be looking into every Savanaclaw students' eyes." You turn to face Ace, with a serious look on your face. He scrunches up his nose. "No way, you can do that on your own." Ace rolls his eyes, looking away from you. "Maybe we should ask Cater again…" Deuce suggests. 

"There's no way he would keep track of something like that, idiot." Ace scoffs. "Oi! I don't see you making any helpful suggestions!" He glares at Ace. "Aghh, I'm getting hungry again from thinking about our lost sandwich dazo!" Grim groans, rolling on the floor. "I'm sorry!" You wail, you really didn't mean to give Ruggie the sandwich. 

"Excuse me." The door to the alchemy classroom opens suddenly, a tall man with teal hair and mismatched yellow eyes stepped into the room. 

"Monsieur Prémédité!" Rook greeted him cheerfully. "Hello, Rook." The new student smiled politely in response. His eyes did a quick scan of the room, those heterochromia eyes landing on…you?!

You wave awkwardly. Ace slaps your hand down. You give him a questioning look but he continues staring skeptically at the student. You look to Deuce to find he looks a bit unsure as well. This might've been some weird dorm tension so you observe the student's armband. 

Octavinelle? You try your best to recall what Cater and Trey had told you that day. It's based on the Sea Witch and its main trait is compassion. Probably has a lot of mermen, right? You still don't understand how this relates to beef with Heartslabyul or Ace. You swear to the Great Sevens, how did he get into the bad graces of so many students already?

"Oh, are you busy at the moment? I could come back later." He turns back to Rook. "Hold on a moment, Trickster. What are you here for, Monsieur Prémédité?" Rook asks, turning his attention to the Octavinelle student. 

"Just the special fertilizer for mushrooms. Are they still in the cupboard?" He asks politely, staring at the cupboard behind you. 

You quickly shuffle aside nervously. The Octavinelle student notices this and you hear him chuckle quietly. Please hurry up and leave. The audacity of these guys. 

"You've gotten Crewel's permission, oui?" Rook tilts his head. "Yes. For my alchemy project this week." He nods. "You're working on luminescent fungi, correct? It's in the cupboard, Monsieur Prémédité." He gestures to the cupboard. 

"Fufu, yes, that's correct. I wonder how you figured out already." The Octavinelle student laughs, he walks toward the cupboard and crouches down.

"If I may be so presumptuous, your name is [Name], correct?" He suddenly asks you. You weren't that surprised. You're rather infamous due to the welcoming ceremony incident and then the chandelier one. 

"Yeah, it's uh, nice to meet you, Mr…?" You trail off awkwardly. "Jade Leech. Fufufu, I saw you were running around campus, asking for someone." He smiled, amused. You flushed. You probably did look like a headless chicken, huh?

It was too late for your dignity here anyway. "O-Oh, uh, yeah." You nod. "Do you by chance know a Savanaclaw student with green eyes, Leech?" Deuce asks hopefully. "Hey, don't go asking everyone, it's too vague anyway, stupid." Ace scoffs, he's still staring skeptically at Jade. 

"A Savanaclaw student with green eyes, hm? Why exactly are you looking for them, if I may ask?" He tilts his head, still rummaging through the cupboard. "Reasons…?" You offer unconvincingly. "Fufufu, well, if you don't wish to tell me, I wouldn't want any student getting into trouble because of me." Jade replies, pulling out a bag of fertilizer. He easily pries Grim away from trying to get into the bag of fertilizer.

"Fygaa! You're too crazy strong dazo!" He scowls, shuffling to your side. "Can you even eat fertilizer…?" You squint at him doubtfully.

"We don't need your help then." Ace snaps, yanking you further from Jade. "Fufu, there's no need to be so wary. I'll offer you a free hint. He's an important figure in the Savanaclaw hierarchy." Jade smiles, standing up to his full height. 

Important position? You weren't quite sure what that meant. The only thing you could think was either the dorm head or the vice dorm head. You don't even know if this information is to be trusted. Before you can even thank or ask him about that, he turns toward Rook. 

"I'll be taking my leave now, thank you for allowing me to borrow this." Jade thanks Rook with a nod. "No problem, Monsieur Prémédité! Just be sure to return it when you're done." Rook beams back. 

"[Name], if you ever need any assistance or advice, the doors of Mostro Lounge are always open." Jade offers before shutting the door behind him. His heterochromia eyes twinkle with amusement and you're definitely freaked out by this guy.

"Ugh, that guy gave me the heebie-jeebies dazo!" Grim declares rather loudly. "Ah, watch it! Don't say stuff so loudly like that, you're gonna get caught!" Ace hurriedly glares at him, still glancing warily at the door. "Um, that was…interesting to say the least." You laugh nervously.

"We won't take up any more of your time now, Rook. Thank you for the information." You want to leave as quickly as possible to collect your thoughts. "Thank you so much for the help!" Deuce adds as well.

"You're welcome, Trickster!"

"I don't wanna be here any longer…" Ace grabs the both of you by the wrist and drags you out of the Science club room. "Fyga! Wait up dazo!" Grim growls, scampering after you three.

Ao3: HERE If you see it posted anywhere or by anyone else, it's not me.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #rook hunt #jade leech #gender neutral reader #love letters #valentines day #valentine #fluff

[lovebvni]

Hi! This is Ani again. Just wanted to let you know that your reading was literally SO accurate. Istg you’re living my life

I’m gonna admit, I was expecting something much more negative. I usually expect negative things, which isn’t good, but that make the good things all the more exciting. This whole thing was also kind of new since this was my first intuition reading. My previous ask was also my first ask ever on tumblr so I was kind of nervous as well. It felt like I was writing an email lolol

But I’m so happy that I did do it because, you were right, I did kinda feel like I’ve been grazing rock bottom. I had this weird mixed feeling of being close to the void but also never getting in and holding both those feelings kind of drained me, on top of being burned out from school. This is the first time in a while where I’ve been truly excited for something.

Something that I recommend people do is something I did earlier this month, where I basically manifested seeing angel numbers and using their meanings as guidance on my void journey. I kept getting a lot of 444’s and 777’s which apparently both are related to seeking guidance from angels or something. I didn’t really know how to do that so I assumed that maybe I had to reach out to someone on tumblr, but even then I didn’t know who to ask. I didn’t even know what I should be asking. But this was really helpful and honestly, is making me so excited for my REAL new life instead of a daydream.

Also another thing is, I am a shifter! Or I’m planning to be one, anyway. The life I’m going to shift to from this one will be similar to my current one but better. But all my other realities after that, are pretty much going to be a totally different life with different people, like you said.

Also, can we talk about how in literally the beginning of the post I was called out in so many ways, like “Repressed emotions + feeling left out” 😭✋ Chill out man I can’t afford therapy rn ok?? Lolll all jokes aside though you are right, and I don’t really talk about what I’m feeling. I do think I am also very disconnected from people. I have a wide variety of interests so I can be part of multiple friend groups at the same time, which is why I feel so lonely, because I am never in one deeply enough to find true connections. I have a feeling I know who my new group of people are though!

Over all though, I am so excited to enter void. I have always known that I will, but it was just up to me to decide when. I’ve been putting in extra effort and I’m glad to see it’s paying off. And most of all, I’m excited to shift and be whatever I want to be! I don’t think anyone would be really, truly free until they experienced shifting, but then again, this is coming from someone who has never consciously shifted before (but I’m sure that’s still true).

Anyways, sorry this was so long, I think I kind of just went on a tangent with this one haha 😅 But fr tho, I can’t thank you enough for this, this has really helped me and re-inspired me a lot. I think everyone should give your intuition readings a try because it’s never bad to ask for help and advice, regardless of where you are in your void journey. This is also a great source of positivity for people who may feel stuck in their journey.

(Btw, I love how you complimented everyone in your response to the reading asks, it’s literally so sweet 🥹)

Thank you again for the reading! ♥️

OMG AAHHHH IM SO HAPPY WAIT

i literally read this whole thing during my lunch period and it made me so happy n smily (my friends probs think i have a new bf or something but no 😭😭 it’s this insane!!)

during my time in this earth, both before and after I shift i strive to be a guide. i want to help others reach their goals and get better in this life. every time i feel as if i help others, it brings new light and energy to my spirit. <3

im so glad i have you some hope and motivation, and i REALLY hope u get the help u need sometime!! i know financial issues r a real hinderance w mental health n to genuinely drives me insane 💀💀💀

i love u sm!!! i’m glad it helped!!

#abyss .reviews #reality shift #reality shifting #intuitive messages #intuitive readings

[hp-shameblog]

Love that you got into the fandom without consuming any of the source material. I'm so curious about how you perceive the story versus those of us who have been involved with it since the days that only the canon material existed.

Very excited to see you around!

thank you so much!

I'm gonna be honest with you, this is not my first rodeo. I got into a good third of my fandoms I'd guess without having consumed any source material first, although in most cases I did eventually consume it after getting into the fandom. that will not be the case here lol. in my experience it works like this: I see posts about a show/movie/book/etc on tumblr, I get curious about it, I read a fic on ao3 that really catches my eye, and if I like it I'll just continue reading fics. I'll sort by the fandom's most popular works and read a dozen before I start getting a hang of the characters, and then as I keep reading I start to understand the story and what happend in canon.

this was the case when I got into Harry Potter: I have never watched the movies or read the books and I was never particularly interested. all the knowledge I had was absorbed through cultural osmosis through the decades, but other than a few character names I knew basically nothing. "Harry is the main character, he's a magic orphan and lives in a cupboard, his friends are Ron and Hermione" "Voldemort is the bad guy and he looks hilarious (snake faced)" "I always get Dumbledore confused with Gandalf" "Snape and McGonagall are teachers" and that was about it. I didn't know pretty much anything about any of the characters beyond their names. I had previously read a few (and by few I do mean like six at most) fussion fics with other fandom's characters going to Hogwarts but I tended to avoid those and crossovers (with HP) tbh.

anyways, I got into HP bc I was in my era of binging time travel fics and I came across one and decided, why not, let's give it a chance. that was fun, so I went and found more fics. on the shorter side to start with, to try and get a feel for the characters, and the world building was quite interesting. so I kept at it and then I came across one fic where the first time Harry goes to Diagon Alley he takes a detour to talk to a lawyer and it really showed me what worldbuilding would look like in this universe and I knew that was it, I was definitely interested now.

I continued my way through reading time travel fics and fix-its and slowly a picture started forming in my mind of the story: the things that were repeated time and time again across multiple fics had to be canon events, although the details varied and not everything was always present in every fic. as I started reading more and more fix it's that would rewrite the entire timeline I started getting a clear picture of what happend year by year, although I was still very fuzzy on the details. I believed Umbridge was a squib for a while, from a fic I read. but like I said, the more I read the more I noticed the patterns repeating and from what was and wasn't said I eventually got a very clear picture of the timeline of canon events. I admit I'm a bit more fuzzy on stuff like the Marauders era; because there's much less canon about them and their era there is a lot more fanon, therefore it makes it harder to pin down actual canon fact versus everything else, (and besides I don't tend to seek out marauders era fic as much,) but I think I've got a pretty accurate picture of at least the Marauders and Lily and Snape. I'm a lot less clear on pretty much all their friends and everyone else from their era (maybe because afaik most of them are only ever mentioned by name and they have like, basically no canon at all?), and I admit I don't know much about post-Voldemort's resurrection Wormtail, but I don't think there is much to know.

and well, after a while, when I had a bit of a clear picture about the more general stuff I came back to tumblr in search of content. mostly fanart and fic recs, as you can probably tell from my blog, but I obviously came across a lot of really interesting meta that expanded my understanding of some canon stuff.

beyond that, if you're interesting in my perspective on stuff I can only say this: I have now probably read accurate and inaccurate portrayals of most characters. I have probably read flattering and very unflattering (critical, unfriendly, straight up hostile) portrayals of most characters too. this exists in every fandom and, where I have consumed the canon material I generally have my own opinion formed but I don't tend to mind, from time to time, reading fic that expresses opinions about characters that are in complete opposition to my own. but u do have very clear preferences. because I have not consumed the canon material here my preferences are not based so much on the characters themselves but rather on how I like to read them. which tends to vary from time to time.

like, say for example (and this may be a controversial opinion? if there's something I'm not at all knowledgeable in is fandom drama lol), the manipulative Dumbledore trope. do I like and agree with all that Dumbledore has done in canon? no. do I think canon Dumbledore was an evil bastard who didn't care about Harry at all and simply wanted a pawn? also no. but it is very fun to read those stories most of the time. but then I can also read stories where he has funky old grampa vibes, or when he's a funny troll with the teachers, or a million more characterizations, and I have fun, I don't care. I'm not attached to one Dumbledore portrayal. I did chose Dumbledore for this example because I thought it'd be less controversial but the same thing can be said of most everyone else: I can read Molly as having adopting Harry as an honourary Weasley and being his mother and loving him so so much, and I can read her as having been in cahoots with Dumbledore and stealing from Harry's vault, and I don't mind either.

the thing I probably enjoy the most is that I'm not burdened by canon, if that makes sense? like, controversial opinion time but I think that Snape is a really cool character. that said, canon Snape is an abusive bastard and if I'd read/watched canon I'd hate him. and sometimes it's great to read him as a villain, but sometimes it's also great to read him acting as a guardian to Harry and taking care of the Slytherin kids, and when I do that I don't have to make myself forget what a bastard he is in canon, does that make sense? because I haven't read the canon so him being an abusive bastard is like. just a thing I know. a fact I know about him, like the fact that his robes bellow behind him. I haven't read that, I haven't seen that, so its just a data point I have in my Snape characterization checklist (not literally), if that makes sense. so when I read some fics I don't think "this is so out of character, canon Snape would never, I'll chose to ignore canon Snape for now" I just think "cool, nice fic".

Snape (and Dumbledore and Molly above) are easy examples of this, but it applies to pretty much everyone. reading dark!Harry fics is so much fun and not once do I think "he wouldn't actually do that" as I bet lots of people do. to be fair, I am very flexible about reading fic in all my fandoms, even canons I have consumed and characterizations I am attached to, I don't mind from time to time reading something completely different and going "they would never do this" but then I just go "cool tho, I love it" because I'm that kind of person.

I have been writing forever but I guess I do like talking about it and my experience getting into fandoms without consuming the source material.

thank you so much for the ask and the warm welcome to the fandom 💖

#hope nothing i said here is enough to get me lynched but considering this blog has like five followers im not worried #hp #harry potter fandom #fandom #fandom experience #i dont know how to tag this #ask #mine #fic rec #technically #hp fic rec

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 182: Tokyo No. 2 Colony, pt. 2 - Not JJK getting existential + Mangaka appreciation + Some bs about the future and probability and anyways I’m probably wrong

Happy JJK-Sunday everybody!

What kind of headcanon bs will my brain spew today? I do wonder...

This week’s JJK chapter had a certain je ne sais quoi about it that I can’t quite put my finger on. In other words, this week’s chapter was a total mood.

Gege got super existential and gifted us with manga references to what I headcanon must be some favorite moments that really moved him to the core...

Then, to top it off, he gave us some poetry of his own to complement those moments.

Ohlala... what a mood. What 👏🏼 a 👏🏼 mood 👏🏼.

This chapter is unlike any of the battle chapters we had seen in the past where amazing fighting scenes go down. Rather, in this chapter, a certain mood underscores Parisian Hipster F*ckboy and Hakari’s battle of selves.

And, to me because I always feel the need to emphasize that my analysis are from my subjective perspective, this chapter felt as though the underscoring message is how in the middle of one’s existential despair, a positive reason to fight, to gain power, to exist can be found.

Or at least that’s the mood I caught from this.

Seriously caught the mood like one catches the flu.

Not JJK getting existential

If Gege’s age as listed by Wikipedia is accurate, then he is a Millennial who grew up watching and reading 90s anime and manga.

And if you’ve seen 90s anime then you know that 90s anime is the mother of all moods.

Bang. 

See you Space Cowboy.

Right. Existential angst.

See the original post here.

To be fair, as the last decade before we all turned into hyperconnected monkeys, the 1990s were a mood. 

I simply can’t imagine classics like Shinichiro Watanabe’s Cowboy Bebop, CLAMP’s x/1999, or Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit coming out of today’s global culture. We simply live in a different world.

Also, they would all probably be canceled by “well-intentioned” but ultimately short-sighted Karens.

Anyways, if you want to read more on the topic, check out this reddit thread to read about the possible reasons why 90s anime and manga explores existential dread as part of the plot and character arcs.

Wait, but wtf is existentialism?

Ah, existentialism my beloved ♥.

So... in simple terms, existentialism is a philosophy about living life that explores the mood (empowered vs. dread) that is “taking responsibility for your free will (the decisions you make day about how you live life day in and day out) in a world that is devoid of meaning”.

From an existentialist perspective, a tragic event like the Culling Game is neither a bad thing or a good thing that happens to you. Rather, existentialism is more interested in your personal reaction (free will) to the event.

Will you despair like Charlie? Or will you find a “positive” reason to fight and overcome in the face of tragedy?

Something like that, don’t quote me on this.

So if you are like Charlie I love calling him Parisian Hipster F*ckboy but it takes too long to type so Charlie it is who is feeling existential angst because he is struggling to break into the manga industry, then it is up to you to decide what meaning you give that experience.

Will you let it break you?

Or will you make the choice to find a “positive” reason to fight?

And given Hakari’s fever, I love how he wants to “break” Charlie. I head canon Hakari, as the amazing senpai that he is, wants to help Charles find a way to channel that burning fire within him straight into his nipples into a positive reason to exist and seek strength.

Shiguri

Ok, but for real. I loved how Gege brought in panels from other manga that were charged with existential dread...

I especially loved the panel referenced in Shiguri chapter 20 because it captures the existential angst of knowing that a part of yourself has been lost when you have your first experience of heartbreak.

Side note: I did read chapter 20 of Shigurui and, without context, all I got out of it is that the man depicted above may have had his heart broken over a woman. So I am not 100% sure how this relates to the current chapter.

And when talking about the very human experience of heart break in the face of disappointment (aka when life doesn’t go according to how you want), is there a more accurate depiction of heartbreak other than the storm of emotions that flow from our shattered heart?

“How naive, my vessel has already shattered to dust! And all I am now is the turbid flow of emotions that spilled from it!”

Ah, look at Gege writing poetry...

Mangaka appreciation

I can guarantee you that Google searches for Katsura Hoshino, Captain Tsubasa and Shiguri went up this week. GUARANTEED. 

I can’t quite pull Google Keyword data just yet but I am pretty sure that these three keywords just got typed into Google or Bing if you a masochist like that by thousands of people worldwide.

According to Danchou, this JJK chapter’s release coincided with the new chapter release for Katsura Hoshino’s D’Gray Man.

Katsura Hoshino

Which brings me to the other amazing theme in this chapter. 

Thanks to Danchou for sharing this screenshot of the reference to Hoshino Katsura’s D’Gray Man that Gege used this chapter.

As a creative person with an insane imagination and a propensity to retreat into my imagination it’s way more fun inside my head than the real world I am telling you... I just love this so much?

What I love about this quote in particular is the idea that a mangaka, or anyone who creates for the sake of creating, is sharing with the world their innermost being. 

Mangakas, in that sense, are revealing to their audience not just how they perceive the world, but their psychic fantasies--the stories and characters living in their brain rent free. 

So I love that Gege used this quote and name dropped Hoshino because this kind gesture just drew more attention to her work.

Captain Tsubasa

The other work referenced was Captain Tsubasa.

And let me tell you... This is nostalgia.com on steroids!

Captain Tsubasa was actually one of the very first anime I was exposed to in my childhood. To this day, when I think of my favorite examples of the Shonen Duo trope I always think of Tsubasa and his friend (can’t remember his name).

What I love most is how Gege is using Charlie’s love of manga to create this mood of nostalgia about some of these stories. 

And here are the panels referenced:

Also... this panel below...

Clearly Hakari has never read CLAMP.

But I love that Hakari is calling Charlie out. Like... dude... use your imagination for a good cause, not to hurt people just because you’re butt hurt.

Given the manga references Gege used this chapter, I have to wonder whether some chick broke Charlie’s heart and that is why he’s so whiny trés miserable.

He’s literally just whining about his despair and disappointment and blablabla like spare us your misery please Charlie, we all have it rough. Learn something from Tsubasa’s chivalry at least.

Some bs about the future and probability and anyways I’m probably wrong

Ah and here comes the best part.

Hakari showing us his Cursed Technique at last!

What I loved most about this moment is that despite Charlie having the upper hand due to being able to see into the future, as of this chapter, it looks like Hakari’s Cursed Technique is all about chances or gambling. 

Thus implying that as long as there is the probability of a different future, then the future is not yet decided.

At least that’s what my headcanon is. Who knows. Gege is unpredictable so we’ll see.

A word on fan scanlations

You may or may not have noticed I use fan scanlations.

Ah. So I am really big on supporting mangaka, right? I don’t own every single JJK physical volume, but I do own several of them.

So I am not about to encourage you to go read fan scanlations but I’d be a hypocrite if I did not admit that I do. I actually tend to read both the fan and official translations.

Why?

Because the official translation is too localized for my own taste. I really appreciate that TBC scans has taken the time to go and look up the manga references that Gege baked into the plot this week (down to the chapter number) AND to mention the play on words that Gege used with kanji this week.

To me, knowing about little details like how Gege spelled the Japanese word for fiction using the kanji for cursed technique is absolute genius use of the Japanese language. 

Compared to...

It elevates the reading experience for me and this chapter had a couple of examples like this one.

That’s not to say official translations aren’t good, they just omit details I am a nerd about.

That said, I want to use this tiny platform I’ve grown to encourage you to support Gege by buying the manga volumes.

Mangaka pour their heart and soul into their manga and we, as fandom, owe them the privilege of getting a peek into their innermost selves. So, yes, let’s read fan scanlations AND support mangaka as much as our wallets will allow.

Also, there is a high probability that these babies will be worth a lot more money in the future. JJK is a classic in the making after all, and it isn’t called Next Gen Shonen for no reason.

Oh check out Danchou’s really cool JJK shrine by the way. I don’t necessarily have a shrine myself but I love my small collection anime/manga too (the rest is in a storage unit in H-town).

ANYWAYS.

If anyone made it this far, thank you as always for reading my nerdery ♥.

#jujutsu kaisen meta #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk analysis #jujutsu kaisen manga #jjk manga #gege akutami #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoilers #jjk ch 182 #god I love jujutsu kaisen

[loosesodamarble]

And your darling devil divine for the ask game please ❤️

Ah yes… My beloved Nacht…

BINGO! We got a bingo!

Man do I have thoughts about Nacht. Ever evolving thoughts too.

At first I was neutral. Then I started to like him when it was revealed he was a self-loathing hypocrite who was not so above it all. And now I’ve analyzed his character twice in a matter of weeks.

I believe Nacht is a well written character. He has a compelling backstory which influences his present ideals and actions. It's only my personal bias saying that Nacht needs more screen time. In reality, what attention he does get is used effectively to tell the story of someone who has damned themselves to living in the shadow of another, "better" person and deciding that eternal punishment is what he deserves for the mistakes he's made.

Tabata did Nacht a disservice by rushing Nacht's whole arc. He was laying it out so nicely and then one conversation with Yami seems to fix it. (Maybe it's not totally resolved yet and we just have to wait and see?)

And the fans do Nacht a disservice by like... Oh here are the opinions that would be like hitting a wasps nest...

The way I see it, Nacht only seriously hurts people he cares for on accident. He pushes away people like Morgen and Yami, creating a rift, but Nacht's intent was to save them rather than harm them. Even Nacht's greatest sin, Morgen's death, was an accident and not entirely on him since Morgen was the one to put his life on the line. Nacht is similar to Nozel in that both characters don't intend to harm their loved ones but it happens anyways because of poor/a lack of communication. Nacht's first interaction with the Black Bulls doesn't count because the Bulls didn't know Nacht at all and he was still projecting onto them. Not a good first introduction but it really doesn't hold the same significance to Nacht causing Morgen's death. Also, Nacht does eventually acknowledge the good the Bulls have done and how incredible they are. Yes, Nacht has said bad stuff about Yami, his best friend, but that still circled back to Nacht seeing the worst of himself in Yami instead of actually disliking Yami. So the way I see it, depicting Nacht as being whole-heartedly and intentionally malicious towards those he truly cares about is... not right.

Another mischaracterization of Nacht would be the idea that he wants forgiveness and redemption. Nacht doesn't want to be forgiven. Nacht never seeks to become good and instead believes he will always be evil. He even says he will "fight evil with evil" instead of determining that he will do only good after Morgen's death. Nacht ran away from forgiveness... Up until Yami talked away his issues all too easily. (But like I said, that's Tabata's fault.)

Does it sound like I'm absolving Nacht of guilt? Oh absolutely! Like, I know he did really shitty things. But I also want to point out the context and and possible emotional significance to the characters that gives the situations nuance. Still, I said these opinions would be like a bat to a wasp nest so I know these thoughts won’t be taken well by some.

Also these my opinions so if you’re reading of Nacht is different. We can keep it to ourselves.

Moving onto more light-hearted things about Nacht...

Yeah the music thing sure is accurate. I mean... I did do the whole Music of Faustsele series. And I still have yet to talk about the Yonzeu songs that I think relate to Nacht alone and one's that express his thoughts about Morgen! As you can see, Kenshi Yonezu and Nacht Faust go really well together./lh

And I do think about him so much. I mean, did you read the meta I did of his character? One of my most complex ocs exists thanks to me being absolutely taken in by Nacht's story! I want to learn more about him! Have more to analyze and study!

As you can probably tell, I really like Nacht. In fact, I love him. As a character. A plot device. A vehicle for themes and narrative progression.

Still debating if I'd like him if he were a flesh and blood human though. I wouldn’t be able to handle his criticism well if he had anything to say to me at all. Maybe. Depends on if he keeps the devils. The Bremen crew make him 10x more attractive, let's be real./lh+j

#questions from the ask box #ask game #nacht faust #black clover #soda asides #laura the writing senpai #i can't say the popular ships for nacht sucks because i think there's only one popular ship for him #and that's yami x nacht #and it's fine it makes sense #but also i think it's funnier to imagine them as exes #exes that can hang out but should never get back together again #i do admit that i have a bias as i have an oc i ship with nacht...

[delusion-of-negation]

what the actual fuck are you talking about? the passage of time literally isn't constant. it changes based on gravity, speed, and it wouldn't even be wholly accurate to describe it as "passing", but relevant to the post, people's perception of it changes through a bunch of mechanisms and for a bunch of reasons, then it "goes" faster when you get older - something nobody believes when an adult tells them when they're a kid, then they get slammed with years passing like months and they feel out of their depth and in need of a moment to catch their breath that can't come. and we haven't even gotten into how losing your entire childhood to the things like trauma, war, severe ill health, etc, that plenty of folks feeling lost now went through, makes it even harder to watch an eternity crumble to dust, to realise you're in the final stretch and racing towards the finish line and you've got no brakes and your entire existence is going to end and everything will stop forever. nobody needs to hear your sardonic holier-than-thou bullshit, if they're struggling you can shut your mouth and leave 'em alone.

anyway, I have another post about this gross attitude you have:

this screen isn't the only person to leave something on the post about wii, one started off like "I do understand, but..." and gave whatever speech about how actually it's beautiful and good and exciting when time happens. for the record, what I said, what all these dudes are replying to when they reblog from me, was this

literally just left those tags on a post about time, right before I'd reblogged an original post of my own from earlier about how I'd stumbled upon a trigger, then I had kept reading or seeking out things that actively worsening the suicidal feelings I was having, following having had a particularly bad other thing triggered...

[note: the original triggering post mentioned wasn't the wii one]

that's why it bothers me so much that everybody is leaving this bollocks in my notifs. go back and read the tags at the start, you literally saw me say "I'm miserable" and went "well, that's just all because you decided to hate time you dumb bitch go suffer lol". whereas I "hate time" because I didn't have a fucking childhood, because of severe trauma and poverty and a load of awful shit, because I'm severely disabled, because I'm slowly dying and the years you have to grow comfy with being an adult don't exist for processing my grief and loss, I get to watch everything just sink between my fingers like sand, and realise I never had it anyway, before my heart, lungs, or brain finally fail and I die "young", but absolutely yeah that's not difficult at all nope I just hate time ig. actually fuck people like you, who think mean sarcasm to mock struggles people have is the way you target unhealthy attitudes, people who assume the motive and reasoning for everyone who experiences feelings, who blame them for their own trauma, etc

[itcamefromthetoybox]

Disney’s “The Godfather”

Growing up as a child of the 90’s and early 2000’s, I absolutely adored Boba Fett. And why wouldn’t I? He was the mysterious, badass bounty hunter who turned out in the EU to have a warrior’s code of honor. He looked cool, he kicked ass, and he was generally awesome. Unless you only watched the movies, in which case, he’s that chump who got taken out by a blind dude. Anyways, Disney wants to make new “Star Wars” content, which means that almost every single character’s getting a show or movie. But the thing is, the average, non-super nerd has only seen Boba Fett go out like a loser in the movies and has no reason to think he’s all that. So Disney, seeking to fix that, decided to bring him back in “The Mandalorian” and show people that yes, this guy is in fact the biggest badass in the galaxy. And after reestablishing Fett’s cred, he was then given his own series, where he pretty much goes through the plot of “Dances With Wolves” and comes out as a major crime lord. It was awesome. He rides a kaiju and fights a mech. Anyways, I love him and grabbed the “Star Wars Retro Collection Boba Fett (Morak).” The question is, though, as awesome as Boba Fett is, is this figure a worthy addition to your “Star Wars” collection?

We’ve talked about the Retro Collection before, but let’s rehash for any new readers. The line recreates the figures and aesthetics from the original “Star Wars” toyline In the 1970’s. This means that the figures tend not to be screen accurate a lot of the time and have very simple designs with limited articulation, but this is very intentional, since it’s meant to look like a toy you’d find in those ancient days of old. The figures as a whole tend to come with a few accessories, at most, and articulation in the legs, arms, and neck.

The friendliest little mob boss.

This Boba Fett is no exception to that rule. In terms of articulation and design, he’s not exactly revolutionary. What you see is what you’re going to get, but this does give an excellent trade-off. This Boba Fett is actually pretty screen accurate, with a great amount of detailing. Unlike the first Retro Collection Boba Fett, which was designed to look like the original toy from “Empire Strikes Back” instead of the actual character, this figure is very screen accurate, which is due to how he’s meant to match an on-screen character. He has deep, fresh colors that reflect how the character is restarting his life and sculpted clothing under his armor that doesn’t get in the way of the toy. As a nice call-back to how the first Boba Fett toy was supposed to have a firing missile, this Fett’s jetpack looks like it can fire a missile at first, though it can’t.

Awesome supporting cast sold separately.

Boba Fett comes with two guns he can hold in his hands: his iconic gun and a space pistol. This actually brings me to my two big complaints with this toy. First, he doesn’t have a tight grip on his guns. If you’re not careful, he can and will drop them easily. Considering they’re small and black, you can imagine how easy they are to lose. The other complaint is that they can’t be stored anywhere. Fett has a sculpted hoister on his leg, but it can’t actually store either gun. Basically, you will lose at least one of those guns. There is no denying it. It is the will of The Force. This is actually a step up from the first Retro Collection Boba Fett, though. Only one of that Fett’s hands could hold a gun, and even then, he couldn’t hold it well. So in comparison, this is great.

Looked away for two seconds and already have no idea where these went.

Retro Collection Boba Fett (Morak) is supposedly available at retail for about $10. I say “supposedly” because the Retro Collection tends to be very hard to find in physical stores, at least where I live. I actually got lucky and grabbed the last one Walmart had. The figure is meant for collectors, but kids would like it a lot too. Just make sure they’re above the “eating small items” phase. Would I recommend this toy? Honestly, yes. Aside from my complaints about his weapons, he’s a fun toy who would go great in a “Star Wars” collection. Now remember, the Retro Collection is hard to find, so if you see Fett in stores, don’t hesitates. This is JL, signing off and wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

#boba fett #star wars #star wars toys #toy #toys #action figure #action figures #review #toy review #The Mandalorian #the book of boba fett #retro toys #star wars retro collection

[bisexualmaedhros]

i am constantly trying to figure out whether i am autistic or if my adhd and ocd just interact with each other in a very specific way that makes me relate to certain autistic things

#i am SO FRUSTRATED!!! #i talked to my therapist about it and her answer was vague as FUCK #but i hate bringing that stuff up bc i feel like the adults in my life just think i'm doing it for attention #i sent info to my parents and said i related a lot to many things (esp lesser talked about symptoms like hyperempathy) #but they were like ''idk it doesn't rlly sound like u to us but ofc u know urself best :-)'' #but like NO!!! I DON'T!!! I DON'T KNOW EHO I AM I CAN'T TRUST MY OWN BRAIN TO BE ACCURATE THERE'S SO MUCH ROOM FOR BIAS! #BUT ALSO I DON'T FUCKING TALK TO MY PARENTS ABOUT HOW I /ACTUALLY/ SEE THINGS BC I FORGET THEY DON'T KNOW. SO THEY END UP NOT KNOWING! #but then i have no external record of Me and i have a terrible memory esp wrt emotions #BC THERE'S NOTHING TO PROVE THEM! THERE'S NO. THERE'S NO HARD EVIDENCE! WHAT IF I'M MISREMEMBERING WHAT IF I'M WRONG! #and it's a huge hassle to set up a dr appointment and i bet the wait is even longer than usual rn AND i've heard ppl saying a professional #autism dx can be really expensive but idk how to check how much it would be for me and i don't want to waste my parents' money and AAARGH #all the autism tests i've taken online i've scored pretty high but again that could just be Other Shit and ik those tests aren't very #accurate anyway! i mean one of those is how i decided to seek out my adhd dx #and i DEFINITELY have adhd lmao #but i just. ghrrg i hate this so much i just want something i can LOOK AT and see for SURE that i am something or i'm not i just want #something solid can people please stop telling me i know myself best i don't know jack shit #anyways #finielspeaks #sorry folks hdgdv

[pixelatedtaken]

Happy New Year!

Or at least I hope it is bc timezones are different, still!

And how am I gonna start this year? With cut out content from season 1 of Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun! Yay!

Season 1 of Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun has 12 episodes which covers up about 7 volumes, more or less, bc chapters were cut.

Those chapters being:

The Young Exorcist (chapters 9-10)

The Three Clock Keepers (chapters 23-27)

The Searching (chapters 28-29)

Let's see...

These chapters happen in between The Confession Tree and The 4pm Bookstacks.

Although it's not a big cut, it has character and relationship development that I would have liked to see.

I can understand why they cut it, it doesn't seem so important but, if/when season 2 happens, I would love to see it. Will we? Maybe not.

Next...

These chapters happen in between The Tea Party and Reach Out Your Hand.

And these chapters are IMPORTANT! At the last episode of season 1, a.k.a episode 12, the rumor about clocks is teased. But with the season ending and these being important chapters which would confirm in a way a second season, they were cut.

First of all!

Hanako can do THIS!

Though he gets slapped out of her body later on. 😂

Anyway! And...

We get more Akane plot or more like, we learn who the No.1 of the Seven Mysteries is, which consists of 3 people, the Past, the Present which is Akane and the Future. And we get a bit of Aoi plot which by the way...

Does she even tell this something? Am I dumb that I have not noticed if she has or not? Someone tell me...

But anyway, these chapters are not only important for the introduction of No.1 but also about the information that Yashiro has about a year of life and that Hanako cannot be summoned by anyone but only or mostly only from people that are close to death.

Which makes me question, does that mean Sakura also has a shortened life span? Or is it different? You know, because she is bound to Tsukasa but instead he is someone who grants wishes to the dead. Which also, how is he bound to Sakura? Why? And how did she summoned him?

And Last...

Ah, yes, what a panel. I mean, if you are this low in the post, you have already entered spoilers territory, so it don't matter!

These chapters are the aftermath of The Three Clock Keepers events where Hanako decides to play hide and seek-- joking but I mean, it's accurate.

And honestly, Hanako is moping around, and then when Yashiro finds him, he is looking at the sky which btw bc he wanted to be an astronaut and he generally had a love for the sky/stars etc. Looking at the sky could be bringing him some kind of comfort, or maybe a longing feeling, I don't know but he does it a lot.

And to end on a positive note/panels.

This. This is the kiss. And I died when I saw it. The aftermath of it's funny though.

LOOK AT THEM BEING FLUSTERED!

And then he goes on to tell her she shouldn't do that bc she's a girl and just, they are so close when he says it... and I'll be honest, I don't know who ruins it first, Kou or Hanako himself by saying whose the letter addressed to. 😂

I'm done and this was a chunky one. Probably the next post will be about my favorite panels since I got the cut content out of the way. I did reach the limit in this post as well and I do like all the panels I put so it's like, part 1 of me talking about old manga chapters but part 1.5 of my favourite panels. 🤣 To anyone who read all of this. Thank you. I don't know how you wouldn't get bored with a long post. And I'm making it longer by babbling.

Bye! See you in the next post! 💖

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #jshk manga #jshk spoilers #jshk hanako #jshk nene #jshk kou #toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk #tbhk manga #tbhk spoilers #tbhk yashiro #tbhk hanako #tbhk kou #jshk yashiro #tbhk imagines #ok bye

[probably-haven]

after binge reading i have come to a new revelation: I’m not a fan of most Xiaoven fanfics

Don’t get me wrong, I love the ship and its one of my favorite to think about.... but most of the fanfiction for the ship just- doesn’t sit right with me for a number of reasons. 

Disclaimer: these are personal opinions from my own taste and are in no way an attack against any authors out there, because frankly fanfic authors are great and not like i could do better lol. As these are personal opinions, I acknowledge here and now that a number of people disagree and that they are under no obligation to change their opinions in any way as it is not and never will be my intention to tell others what they should be thinking That said- read at your own risk if you want- meh, anyway-

time to share some opinions that have been on my mind lately

The biggest reason.... is how they handle Xiao. And I don’t even mean mischaracterization because Xiao is such a complex and yet simultaneously simple character that as long as you’re somewhere in the range of “Xiao vibes” it’s really hard to write him out of character because of his complexities. What I mean is something that i actually completely agree with as being accurate to his character. In nearly every single fanfic I’ve seen, there is some element of idolization that Xiao has for Venti, or for the sake of reference, Barbatos. He tends to think himself beneath Barbatos and/or indebted to him, whether that be because he’s an archon, because he saved him, or simply because of Xiao’s tendency to dehumanize(yes i see the irony in that word usage) himself.  This by itself isn’t an issue but its often how this trait of his is treated.

Imma just list a few ways I’ve seen this be handled within Xiaoven fics. - It isn’t handled, it’s just there and accepted as a part of who he is in the story - It isn’t handled but his trait is treated as source of humor within the story - Venti(and others) roll with it (finding humor in it, just cant change it, encouraging it, making jokes about it, etc.) - Venti takes advantage of it(whether accidentally or purposely) - it’s actually addressed(by Venti or someone else or the narration- can go a number of ways, but just- even a brief reference to the fact that its not a good mindset fits in here) - savior!Venti(Where venti disagrees with it but the way it’s written gives off “god among mortals” vibes- like he’s just being humble and truly is above him in reality) - its the focus of the story  - not directly addressed but shown to be destructive.  - they chose not to not include this in the story’s characterization of Xiao(just saying that this is valid ahead of time) Theres others but i have a lot already.  Note that I tend to read more ‘serious-toned’(idk if that makes sense) fics so that may skew my perception

Now there’s a few that i have issues with on their own- both instances of it not being handled, Venti(and others) rolling with it, Venti takes advantage of it(purposely(and without good intent)), and savior!Venti. Xiao not only has this trait, but he is unfamiliar with what is normal in relationships or emotions as a result of isolation and inexperience. He is also either not aware of or not concerned with what is considered strictly “healthy.” Combining these makes for a rather dangerous combination and just accepting it as “oh he’s just like that, it’s who he is” or making it out to be something funny- It’s not wrong or bad by any means necessarily, and I could still possibly enjoy it to an extent depending on a series of different factors, but its- not as often.  Even in the case where I do enjoy reading it however, I would still feel uncomfortable sharing it with or recommending it to others because in the first instance it feels like normalizing a destructive and dangerous mindset, and in the second case it does the same while simultaneously making a joke of it. It’s the same deal with Venti or other characters rolling with it, but that’s probably gonna be mentioned later too. Not to say that this is a “wrong” way to handle it, that it makes the fic bad, or that authors even are normalizing anything by doing so, just that in my specific instance- not a fan. 

I’ll get to the others when i talk more about Venti, but for now: It’s the focus of the story. I think I saw like... 2? where the story was like- focused on this and why its a problem which- power to them, address those real world problems like a boss- but also i wouldn’t actively seek it out or anything- like, good job, but doing so just leaves it open neutrally for other factors to decide how good a story i think it is. 

not directly addressed but shown to be destructive. You’d think i wouldn’t like this- but frankly in fanfiction not everyone wants to address every character flaw verbally because it can through off story, narration, dialogue, and general flow to do so. This can be with an event, an action, a dialogue, a mere comment, making it actually fit into the it’s actually addressed category except that its- subtle enough to make its own category. plus i live for show not tell- in everything- its a thing. im- very much a fan of when the fics do this but the subtlety is easy to miss and its not common so- 

It’s actually adressed- doesnt have to be a lot- just mention anywhere or imply anywhere that maybe idolizing someone as a god and savior and being in a relationship with them while having little knowledge of standards, emotions, relationships, or healthy behaviors in general- maybe isnt the smartest idea in the word. (”Call me Venti, not Barbatos” by itself is not enough to fit in this category tho as a note)

-

Now lets talk about Venti...

uh.... those who have followed me for awhile will probably already know this but... I have a lot of opinions on Venti and a pretty- “niche(?)” perception of his characterization that isn’t shared by a lot of others- so I don’t actually read as much Venti fanfic in general as you might expect because I often end up disagreeing with how writers portray him, which again, in no way is their characterization wrong, but- “their perceived truth” conflicts with “my perceived truth” and by extent so does the characterization, though neither is any more correct than the other from an objective point of view, if that makes sense... but anyways now that that’s said, moving on before this becomes a philosophy lecture, as fun as that would be for me.  I’ll try to keep my “perceived truth” out of this for the first bit. 

Venti’s response to this: 

He rolls with it: this depends on the mood of the fanfiction. If they dont put a lot of stress on that trait of Xiao’s it totally fine but if the trait seems to be a major part of Xiao’s character, it seems like normalization once more. (more on this later)

he takes advantage of it purposely: if its an AU or something and Venti’s like a villain(i saw a few) then- villain venti isnt my cup of tea but i have no qualms. If they don’t portray Venti in a negative light while having him take advantage however that’s a bit uncomfortable to read for me because it feels like normalizing taking advantage of that mindset as well as the mindset itself. However, i did see a number of instances of Venti using it as leverage for like- self care- which i definitely have no qualms. Xiao: [insert probably destructive idolizing statement about being indebt] Venti: How bout you pay me back by actually sleeping for once smh or other variations are okay and depending on the vibe are actually a really fun dynamic as long as it doesnt turn into romanticizing or normalizing it, y’know?

Venti accidentally taking advantage of it.... I love angst- and in most of these theres a sense of guilt when he realizes- and i just think thats a lovely way of addressing the dangers of such a mindset for both sides. As long as it doesn’t keep repeating to the point of romanticization its totally cool to read in my eyes(not irl ofc). If Venti never realizes he accidentally took or is taking advantage it feels a bit like normalization, and if he does but just- doesn’t care thats- a rip.

savior!Venti...... i- i hate. the story giving off vibes that Xiao’s mindset is technically correct while Venti oh so humbly tells him to treat him as an equal like the wonderful and charitable person he is.... i just- no. of course thats over dramatizing it- I think the main thing that gives it this vibe is when Venti doesn’t seem either concerned, surprised, uncomfortable, or otherwise have a negative feeling towards Xiao’s mindset. Just- it makes the whole thing weird in my eyes when Venti doesnt really seem to have his own reason to oppose the mindset idk- 

-

fact time!

Venti is the god of freedom. His backstory is freeing Mondstadt from a god’s tyrannical reign. His origin is a windsprite, just another breeze bringing changes for the better. His form is a nameless boy who played an instrument and then died, thus failing at his only dream and only ever accomplishing anything because of the help of others. He slept for a thousand years after the archon war to avoid putting Mond under the rule of yet another tyrannical god. He only even became a god because Andrius chose to let him. He wouldn’t have even had that chance if the nameless bard had survived, he’d remain just another wind while his friend ascended to godhood. Venti sacrifices his own power for his people’s freedom. 

now that I’ve laid out a number of canon facts, time for opinions:

Venti has little to no desire to be seen as a god. He thrives in, comes from, and emphasizes a lack of superiority in quite nearly everything. The first Ragnvindir, who canonically turned his back on Venti after Decarabian’s fall, likely did so because one- he anticipated power would corrupt and Venti would soon become just another tyrannical god, two- he suspected Venti used the nameless bard in an attempt to rise to godhood, or three- idk insert other possibilities to acknowledge again that i could totally be wrong.

Look me in the eyes and tell me Venti wouldnt trade godhood for his friend in an instant. His godhood was only granted to him because his friend died and could easily serve to constantly remind him of what could have been and what he lost. Venti takes no enjoyment from being seen as superior and in my opinion, I feel that it could actually make him largely uncomfortable when his divinity and abilities as an archon get involved-

also self promotion for my favorite posts- check out #archon war era venti if thats interesting to you

so anyway Venti rolling with it or making jokes about it just doesn’t sit right with me.- 

-

Okay! enough talking about that mindset!

idk- i have... a few/lot of other gripes and stuff or just things that kinda throw off the vibe for me but that’s the main one plus my general personal pickiness when it come to Venti fanfics- but this has gotten long enough already- 

idk i just felt like rambling about it and i haven’t done a long post in a while so-

again, I love the ship and its actually one of my favorites- just the fanfic isnt my thing..... that doesn’t mean i don’t still love it and come up with a whole ton of brainrot and ideas on it tho lmao

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin venti #xiaoven #genshin barbatos #opinions #discourse #? idk ill tag it just in case #dont mind my constant backtracking and justifying and repeated disclaimers- #i just have a crippling fear of being cancelled lol

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hopefully I’m not too early but What if Jiang Fengmian went “they only asks for blood heirs” and gave Jiang Cheng up to the Wen Indoctrination Camp because he cannot bear Wei Wuxian going and possibly getting hurt. JC is very hurt by the blatant favouritism of his father but still went as his duty dictates. He somehow become close friends with Huaisang, MianMian, and Jin Zixuan. Please give me Jiang Cheng Protection Squad. MingCheng sort of happens? Thank you so much!

“…wow,” Nie Huaisang said when Jiang Cheng finished explaining. “That’s – that’s bullshit.”

Jiang Cheng flushed. Secretly, in his heart, he agreed a little bit with Nie Huaisang’s assessment, but at the same time he couldn’t just sit around while someone said things about his father…

“Before you say that I can’t say something like that, I’m not being cruel or dismissive, I’m describing the situation accurately using crude words,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “It’s not the same.”

That…sounded wrong.

“Back me up here,” Nie Huaisang said to the others in their group. They’d been put into a single group by the Wen sect, all of them but Mianmian who’d snuck over by climbing a tree, and given a too-small, too-crowded tent to sleep in and a single fire pit to warm themselves. How that had let them to sitting by the fire and sharing stories of how they’d been sent here, Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure. “Sect Leader Jiang deciding that because the Wen sect only asked for blood heirs that he wouldn’t sent Wei-xiong here alongside Jiang-xiong because he might get hurt is a situation can be, and indeed must be, accurately described as being total bullshit, right?”

“…it kind of is,” Jin Zixuan said. “Sorry, Jiang Wanyin.”

“It definitely is,” Mianmian said, emboldened by her sect leader’s agreement. “Absolutely bullshit.”

Even Lan Wangji hummed. It was a pretty neutral sound, but it might be an affirmative hum.

Well, if everyone agreed…

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders went down a fraction from where they’d been hovering around his ears. 

“I wasn’t just taking it too personally?” he asked, seeking confirmation. “I mean, Father’s right – it doesn’t make sense to give the Wen sect two hostages when they’ve only asked for one, and there’s always the risk that Wei Wuxian would get hurt –”

“Your father should be concerned about whether you get hurt!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, slapping the ground. “They don’t feed us, they make us work in the fields, and who knows what else…! When my brother heard about their request, he nearly killed the Wen sect’s messenger, he was so angry!”

“My mother was angry, too,” Jiang Cheng offered. “She and my father got into a big fight –”

Nie Huaisang jabbed a finger at him, rather rudely. “From the story you told, your mother only got really angry when she heard Wei Wuxian was staying behind.”

“…so?”

“There’s a difference between being upset over your son’s well-being and being upset that – that – that, I don’t know! That your favorite dog is losing the race!”

“My mother threw a vase at my father’s head when she heard that he’d agreed to send me here,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. He was actually a lot more tolerable without his retainers puffing him up and egging him on all the time, and having to work side-by-side in the fields had revealed that under the flash and arrogance there was an introverted boy who disliked dealing with people nearly as much as Jiang Cheng did. “Then she spent the next two days trying to find a way out of it, then hovered for the rest of the week before I left.”

“My father punched a wall,” Mianmian recalled. “Mother had to sit on him before he tried something crazy, like petitioning to remove me from the sect or something. Not that’d I’d ever have let Jin-gongzi come here alone, of course.”

“See?” Nie Huaiwang said, gesturing at them all. Lan Wangji hadn’t volunteered, but obviously no one would ask him, either; they’d all heard about the burning of the Cloud Recesses. No one had agreed to send him here. “Violence in response to an unreasonable request! Violence! Anything less is unacceptable!”

“You know, for the very first time, I think see your resemblance to the rest of the Nie sect?” Mianmian said, chin on her hand.

“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said. “No, not about the resemblance, about – the other part. It’s not anywhere near as bad as you’re all making it out to be; Wei Wuxian’s always been my father’s favorite, and Mother’s always been angry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“They should not compare you,” Lan Wangji said. He didn’t talk much, so everyone always listened when he did. “It is inappropriate.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do with that. He’d never not been compared to Wei Wuxian, not since he’d arrived at the Lotus Pier all those years ago…and maybe even before.

“Even Lan-er-gongzi agrees,” Nie Huaisang said, pulling his knees up and putting his chin on them with a pout. “It’s all bullshit, I’m telling you. I’m taking you back with me to the Nie sect when all this is over. If your parents want you back, they can come ask nicely.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jiang Cheng told him.

“You could come to Lanling if you prefer,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng turned to stare at him. “What? Your mother and mine are friends. It’d be fine. I wouldn’t – it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m the heir of the Jiang sect,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I can’t not go back!”

“Don’t think of it as not going back,” Mianmian said. “Think of it as taking a long detour.”

“You’d like Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang put in. “My brother’s really cool. He gives great hugs.”

“I bet he does,” Mianmian muttered appreciatively.

“Gross, Mianmian.”

“He’s seventh on the list of most attractive male cultivators, and in my personal opinion should be a good few places higher up. Get used to it.”

“I don’t do hugs anyway,” Jiang Cheng interjected before he somehow got sold up the river – he knew how this sort of thing went. “Father doesn’t like them.”

“…your father hugged Wei Ying when he arrived at the Cloud Recesses to collect him,” Lan Wangji said neutrally.

“Fine. He doesn’t like them with me. Never did, not really, the whole time I was growing up…well, I mean, I guess he did sometimes when I was really young, before Wei Wuxian came...”

“Are you seriously saying your father hugs Wei Wuxian and not you?” Jin Zixuan asked. “And that he - he stopped hugging you when Wei Wuxian was there? Because that’s – that’s…”

“Bullshit?” Nie Huaisang suggested.

“Bullshit,” Jin Zixuan agreed with surprising vehemence.

“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“No, what? No they’re not exaggerating, no they’re not –”

“No. It is bullshit.”

“…did we just get a Lan to curse?” Mianmian asked, eyes wide. “I didn’t even know Lans were allowed to do that. Ever.”

“It is not a curse,” Lan Wangji said with dignity. “It is an accurate description of the situation.”

“Vindication,” Nie Huaisang hissed. How Jiang Cheng had missed that he was such a vicious little snake during their time at the Cloud Recesses, he had no idea, and judging by the amused expressions on everyone else’s faces, they felt much the same. “See, Jiang Cheng, this is why you –”

“Time to sleep,” Lan Wangji interrupted. His internal sense of time was more reliable than any clock when it came to sleeping and waking, and no one complained – if they stayed out much later than nine the Wen sect guards would come to accuse them of making trouble, and no one wanted to be labelled a trouble-maker.

Mianmian disappeared back over to the women’s camp – boring in comparison, according to her, but more likely she just wanted to keep her word about watching over Jin Zixuan – and the rest of them shuffled back to bed.

Some time later that night, when Jiang Cheng was lying in the middle of a pile of arms and legs he could no longer differentiate, he stared at the ceiling and asked quietly, “…is it really that bad?”

An arm looped around his waist tightened, and a foot lightly nudged him from the other direction.

“It’s not that it’s bad,” someone said, and their voice was so faint that he couldn’t tell which of the boys it was. “It’s that you deserve better.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say to that.

He continued not to know what to say the next day, but that was the day that they got forced to act as bait on a night-hunt into a giant lightless cave and Mianmian nearly got herself killed, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji for standing up for her.

Under normal circumstances, Jiang Cheng would think first about his sect and only later about everyone else, and he tried, really, but – well, the Wens were attacking anyway, and somehow it’s Nie Huaisang of all people who hisses, “Get Wen Chao!” and Jiang Cheng had, and for a moment there it looked like they were going to be okay.

And then they all got stuck in a cave with a corrupted Xuanwu.

Minus the Wens, which was at least something.

“There are fresh maple leaves on the water,” Lan Wangji said. “There must be a way in and out.”

“I can dive in and check it out if someone distracts the Xuanwu,” Jiang Cheng offered. When they stared at him, he shrugged. “I’m a good swimmer.”

“You’d better be an amazing swimmer,” Jin Zixuan said. “I don’t want to have to plan your funeral.”

“I don’t think we get funerals here,” Nie Huaisang put in. “So if you die, you’ll stink up the whole place and we’ll all be very upset. I mean, gross!”

Jiang Cheng had by this point gotten used to Nie Huaisang’s – Nie Huaisang-ness, but it couldn’t be denied that everyone was a lot less terrified after listening to Nie Huaisang complain about nonsense for a bit. So much so, in fact, that it abruptly occurred to Jiang Cheng that maybe Nie Huaisang was doing it on purpose which…he wasn’t sure what to do with, so he decided to just put out of his mind.

Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan put their heads together and eventually decided on each of them using a fire talisman as a distraction, alternating between them, while Jiang Cheng crept to the water and found a way out, which he reported back.

“Someone will need to stay behind as a distraction,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. His hands were clasped together, and Jiang Cheng knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“No way,” he said. “You’re not staying behind. If anything, I should; I’m the best swimmer, I might be able to get around it even if it’s not distracted.”

“You know where the exit is; it is better if you lead those going out.”

“A description will do the trick just as well,” Jiang Cheng argued. “And anyway, it’s not – it’s not as if I’ll be missed at home, the way all of you would be.”

They all glared at him, then, and he shrugged angrily.

“It’s true,” he said, and he could say it only because Wei Wuxian wasn’t there to stop him. He wouldn’t even think it, if Wei Wuxian was there; Wei Wuxian always knew when it was coming and interrupted him with a smile or a joke or something, and so the bitterness never got a chance to be let out. But he wasn’t here now, they were, and everyone else seemed to think it was all bullshit and maybe it was, okay, maybe it was. But it didn’t make it any less true. “My father has always said that Wei Wuxian understood the sect motto better than I did. He wouldn’t be upset at all if the sect went to him instead, and if I was dead or injured he’d probably just give him the Jiang surname in my honor or something. Let me be the one to stay.”

“Uh, question,” Nie Huaisang said. “Why does anyone have to stay? Can’t we just set up a trap or something?”

“A trap?” Jin Zixuan said. “What do you mean?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged and looked at Lan Wangji. “Do you know Chord Assassination?”

Lan Wangji blinked, surprised, but nodded.

“Okay, so, here’s the idea…”

It was an extremely stupid idea, based on using the chords as part of a pulley, some Wen sect soldiers and swords used as counterbalance weights, but as a distraction it worked pretty beautifully right up until the last moment when Jiang Cheng was helping Lan Wangji – whose leg was broken – swim through the water and the Xuanwu abruptly noticed that they were all going to leave and dashed after them, getting its head stuck in the exit hole they were using.

“Should we behead it or something?” Jin Zixuan asked, staring at the thrashing beast. “It can’t be allowed to hurt others.”

“Using what?” Mianmian asked, holding up a Wen sword in disdain. “These pieces of – well. These swords? It wouldn’t work.”

“I can still do Chord Assassination,” Lan Wangji said, and with all of them heaving together they were able to hold the string down tight enough to eventually cut the thing’s head off at the neck.

Nie Huaisang even used the opportunity to go pick out some sort of sword that was sticking out of the creature’s side, which he’d declared to be extremely ‘aesthetic’ if you looked at it from a certain perspective.

By that point, they were all exhausted, but no one wanted to stay a second longer in Qishan than they had to – especially since one of the small sect cultivators who’d wandered further away had seen Wens incoming – so Jiang Cheng put Lan Wangji, now totally exhausted, on his back and they all ran away.

“Come visit me in Qinghe sometime!” Nie Huaisang shouted, waving as the Nie sect disciples split off in a different direction. “I promised you some high-quality proper affection hugs from my da-ge, Jiang Cheng! Just you wait, you’ll see how good they are!”

(They are every bit as good as promised.)

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #mian mian #jin zixuan #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #jikazu-sama

[spencers-renaissance]

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for. 

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia 

Pairing: Gen 

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered. 

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis. 

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label. 

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information. 

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods. 

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised. 

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well. 

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases. 

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps. 

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes. 

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?” 

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case. 

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner. 

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better. 

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.  

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully. 

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that. 

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively. 

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away. 

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air. 

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand. 

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning. 

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important. 

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.” 

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you. 

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it. 

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it. 

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch & spencer #spencer #hotch #my writing #autistic spencer reid #autistic spencer #dad hotch

[jjkpls]

Mean Yoongi 4 - Finale (M)

> genre : angst (a hell of a lot), smut

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> total words : 11k+

> warnings/content : takes place post rona quarantine, explicit sexual content (bj, fingering, dirty talk, lowkey cum play), bad writing (it’s been a while, i hope you don’t feel the struggle too much)

> summary : You haven’t talked to Yoongi in so long, now that you’re allowed to see him again, you’re not sure how to do it anymore.

> previous

"Your hair has grown a lot."

I don't say anything. I stare, probably a bit cold, I don't make an effort to answer. There's a lot of things to say but no words seem right. Her attempt sucks anyway. I can tell, from the way she nibbles on her bottom lip, eyes shying away, that she thinks the same.

The moment is filled with tension. The bad kind of tension. She's fidgety, feeling awkward. I feel it too but I'm better at hiding it. I've always been. Sitting back in my chair, observing her attentively, I can't help my insides from twisting on themselves, my heart from squeezing painfully in my chest. She's the same, mostly. With a shadow under the eyes she didn't use to have, a pallor I hate on her cheeks -usually painted that lovely shade of crimson, whenever I'm here to watch, as if the colour exists only for me- a slump in her stance. I wonder what I'm like to her. My hair's changed, as she mentioned. It's quite long, it's grown indeed, and enough for my natural colour to take over my whole head. I am tired, both in body and mind. So much so, I don't find the energy to tease her like I would before. And maybe, that's the biggest thing that's changed about me, and this sole thing is turning me into someone else entirely. I may as well be a whole someone else. Not the man who used to, every now and then, sprinkle glimpses of an awkward grin I've never gotten used to wearing but that I know, she loves. Certainly not the one who teased her with a relationship she could graze but not catch, with my fingers deep in her cunt, using crude and harsh words foreign to my lips straight in her ear, because she secretly loves it. Dancing on her feet, playing with her own fingers, gesticulating and waiting, hoping for an easy way out to manifest somehow. Probably for me to grant it to her because no matter how difficult I make myself to be, I've always been good at that. Dictate and guide how things go between us. I am sweet even if I wouldn't ever admit it aloud and it's been convenient, always, for her. I'm sort of curious to see how it'll go, how it can go if for once, I'm not making any effort for the both of us. I raise from my seat, eyes dropping from her. (She's wearing Converse, I note. This probably because she didn't plan on seeing me.) Hands digging deep in my pockets, I'm not sure I can approach her. These weird, implemented reflexes raise in her too. People don't do it so much any more. Getting close. And I can see her flinch in impulse before her eyes grow big and demanding. "I got tested-" She cuts herself short. It sounds weird. To speak in this deafening silence, she can hear it as much as I can. And to say those words too. She doesn't have to finish the sentence, I get the idea and from the shade of her voice, I can tell her results have turned out negative. Maybe I'm a bit irresponsible. Maybe a bit too desperate. In any case, it makes me scoff, roll my eyes. Staring down at my feet, hair hiding most of my face to her, I have to bite back on my tongue the words that almost roll out. Something about not giving a shit about that, and her being ridiculous. I don't really trust my mouth, I have no idea what would come out of it, therefore I don't speak. My hand reaches forward, bony fingers catching the front of her shirt before I'm dragging her to me. Very naturally, as if it hasn't been months since the last time I've touched her, as if even before that we were used to holding unto each other like that, she melts in my arms. "Why didn't you call?" She could, technically, ask me the same thing: I could have done it. I hope she doesn't ask. I wouldn't know what to say to her. How honest to be. I'd probably say that I was waiting for her to do it first. Which sounds ridiculous, childish as hell but couldn't be more true. I'd say, if I had a different tongue, that wouldn't get tied up anytime deep feelings are involved, that I was worried and terrified and sad, like I had not been in a long while. And all this because she wouldn't call, she wouldn't reach out for me and my heart, probably too profound and too serious, couldn't quite comprehend and certainly not accept her silence. Those months drove me crazy. Literally. I came to ask myself if I didn't make it all up. If the special bound between us had ever really existed or if it was just all projection. "You didn't either." She ends up saying. Clearly, she's as speechless as I am when it comes to explaining months, almost half a year, of pure dumbassery. It's not like it's necessary to explain anyway. She should just know how to tell me that she missed me. And I should know to do it too. She's better at that stuff. Not that good but still better than I am, I think. If she can't do it then I'm not sure I can even try. But today I'm different, as I said. And when she accuses me like she just did, I tense but don't let go. I can hear the way her breath catches in her throat, her shoulders rising to her ear. She's probably expecting me to back away and start cursing at her. I only squeeze further though, sliding my chin along her shoulder so to tuck my neck nicely with hers, humming pure appreciation, when it feels as comfortable and warm as it possibly can. She smells wonderful, she's warm and so willing to let me wrap myself around her. "I wasn't at my best so- I thought I'd just wait for you to call when you would-" I found the courage, apparently, to say all the things that's been heavy on my mind. It's easy when she's this tender. Embodiment of warmth, of welcoming, of loving, I can only be serene, voice low and soft. "But you never did." The only reason I allow myself to reproach the things that technically she can also blame me for, is because I know, that pressed that hard and that close against her, she can feel my heart beating insanely, exposing and telling on me. "You should have!" I don't need to say anything for her to gather that I'm not amused. I unwrap from her, deciding she's being too much of a stubborn brat. I sigh, watching her pointedly not watching me. She yelps and finally grants me her pretty eyes when a pinch to the back of her thigh, right under her ass, scalds her. Here's her "Mean Yoongi", as she so calls me, according to the Snapchat conversation she shares with Taehyung. I see her bite back a smile, her pretty lip flushed when she releases it. "What was that for?" She whines as if it's not fair, rubbing the soreness of her thigh with one hand. I smile mostly with my eyes, deciding to ignore the tears that have gathered in her eyes while I wasn't looking. I back away, taking a stand against the top of my desk, arms crossed tight on my chest. "You deserve way more than that. Lucky for you, I feel lazy." Her gaze follows mine, aimed at the leather sofa. The thing presently empty but virtually filled with the substantial memory of that one fateful time I touched her for the first time, her ass made red by my ministrations. I can't do that today. I'm too soft for now. I still enjoy seeing her squirm, blush and shy away while simultaneously loving thinking about it though. "I could tell you the same, Yoongi. You could have-" I'm losing patience. It's not entirely against her. It's more accurately against us. We're playing the same pointless game. The unnecessarily torturing game of denying, of dismissing. I should probably just drop it, even if it hurts and leaves me with too many pressing interrogations. I might look a bit more serious when I start studying her face with great attention. She's beautiful. I missed seeing her. The mental picture I had kept of her, along with the real ones I'd spent months looking at, didn't do her much justice. She looks somewhat surreal. Prettier than I remember, yet printed with the same aura I recognize. "I told you why already." I whisper to her. My own voice surprises me. It's as if my heart, that's been too hurt, has been left tender, exposed and I'm turned weak even in demeanour. I bet it's confusing for her. It is for me. Feels disarming. "But- what's the point then? If when you're down you don't call-" To that, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to admit to her, if she hasn't guessed it yet, the extend of my inability to seek for what I need, for what makes me feel good, for her who I've wanted and craved for. Of course, I needed her. Of course, I wanted her to be here for me -and be needed and wanted by her. I don't know how to say it though therefore I kiss her. A soft press to the corner of her mouth. I smile, probably looking dumb, when I see her wide eyes blinking, sending one lone tiny tear on her cheekbone. Her cheeks turn red because apparently, she's not immune to me and my kisses anymore, her immediate, strong reactions turning out to be the same as the ones she used to have, in the very, very beginning, when she was so putty, so lenient, such a good girl and also, the shyest and most innocent little thing. She needs some time to accommodate, to say the least. She's barely kissing me back. Simply letting me pepper her mouth with kisses, closing her eyes, hands reaching for my sweatshirt yet not so much giving me back.

After too long of not enough, I need to stop. Because what I think I know might not be so right anymore. Maybe I read things wrong, yet again, and she's not in the same place I stand. After looking at her face, and her eyes, who struggle to dry up and look at me, I ask, "What's wrong?", granting her all of my attention. "Wha- you, what's wrong?" I scoff. She looks like she's about to cry while snarking like a brat. "You're really testing my patience." "You're different. You don't have patience normally." I tilt my head to the side, a tiny smile lifting one corner of my lips. I can't say it's not true. "I thought you wanted me sweeter?" She stares, frowning. Confused, embarrassed and almost upset. I know I'm a weird fucking version of myself right now. The one that hasn't come out a lot these past few years and that she'd certainly never met before. I'm scared she doesn't like it. Maybe she hates it. If she liked me before, there's no reason she'd like that one Yoongi, is there? "I'm just messing with you. I'm tired and-" Gentle fingers wrap around her hands, intimating her to walk forward, forward and close enough for me to close my lips on hers again. "It's been a while." I let her look into my eyes, read the longing and probably the sadness. "Sorry if I'm weird. If you don't like me like that just- bear with me for today, hm?" "I bear with you all the time." Well. That's not even the last thing I expected her to say. Pretty mean for a sweet girl like her. "What does that mean?" She shrugs. She knows but she won't say. She has that pout on her mouth. The tilted one she does whenever something's been said loud and clear in that little head of hers but she's not generous enough to indulge in sharing. I stare, disapprovingly, thumb chastising kindly her cheek. "That's rough." "I don't mean it like that-" "Then what do you mean?" My mouth finds her again for an instant. It's a soft gentle kiss that doesn't hint at anything more. She remains silent. "Cats got your tongue? You usually can't shut up but you're so quiet today." Through her cute pout, she mumbles, "I guess I'm weird too today." My phone buzzes where it lays on my desk. With a quick glance, I can tell it's a text from Namjoon. I don't even need to read it. I can guess it. He's probably calling me an idiot while simultaneously demanding me not to be one.

I heard him earlier, I bet she doesn't know, when he held her hostage by telling that I was awake and that she should go say hi. He held her hostage because she was just passing by. From how loud Taehyung and Jimin were when the front door banged opened, half an hour ago, I could tell they were drunk as hell and she had just planned on dropping them off and leave. And Namjoon, being the good man and even better friend that he is, wouldn't let that happen. How could he when he's seen me all those months in states he probably hoped, back when we were young trainees, that he'd never had to see me again in? It hurt and it still does a little, to imagine that for the first time after so long, after finally being freed from the government harsh but necessary restrictions, she would come so close to me yet consider pass by me, without saying hi, without inquiring if I'm here, even. If it were not for the firm, absolutely non-subtle suggestion coming from Namjoon, she would have done it. She would have left ignoring me. Then she knocked gently on my door, I could tell she was terrified when I opened it and faced her, quiet. And maybe it was pure projection but I felt she wanted to be here. She was scared and embarrassed, didn't know what to say, what to do with herself and me, but she wanted to stay and try to untie this shitty intricate ball of knots. The thing is, it's late. It's super fucking late and I'm reminding when the screen of my phone lights up again to remind me to check the text I just received. She arrived too late at the dorms. We wasted, collectively, too much time not saying much and here we are, standing in the dimly lighted studio, facing each other with too much of an ambiguous tension surrounding us. Everything is unclear. The kisses she would allow me to leave on her lips but not give back to me, tasting lovely but with an aftertaste, a bitter taste of confusion, raising questions as far as their meanings – are they greetings or goodbyes. It's past one in the morning but I'm not ready to let her leave, especially when I don't know what she'd be leaving behind. Anxiety is creeping in my bosom. It's pissing me off. Vainly I bend over, to my side, tapping my finger on my phone to have it lit up. Maybe Namjoon is not just insulting me and has left actual practical advice for me to follow and not fuck this up. "Yoongi?" My ears perk up but I don't look up yet. My eyes are messed up from the exhaustion and I struggle to read. I see keywords: idiot (as expected), asshole, chance, upset. I see the word "love" even, that makes me wince. How can he believe he'd help me by sending me this word when she's standing right in front of me? She called yet she still has not talked further. I shut my phone instantly, worried to have been too lowly engaged to her, to have vexed her in any way, to have been an idiot, precisely what Namjoon threatened me into not being. I raise an interested eyebrow, inviting her to talk and she finally does so, fast and barely audible, "Can I spend the night?" She grimaces. I mean to frown but I realise my face is already squished in a scowl. Maybe her grimacing makes sense. "You mean here, at the dorms?" I ask, forcing my expression to quiet down by a tonne because my shock seems wrongly interpreted by her. That seems to help. She looks at me with her big demanding eyes, the ones I know. The ones that beg, unapologetically for my affection. She nods. "With me or- in the spare room...?" She nods again. "That doesn't answer my question, ___." "Yoongi." Here comes the little brat tone half-whining, half-menacing because she doesn't get her way straight away. How lovely to meet her again. I decide to spare her from any torture, for now, shutting the light off and guiding her, with my hands on her waist, through the dark and out my studio. "Why do you even ask? How many times have I invited you to stay?" I whisper in her ear, adoring the way I feel her tremble against me. "It's different now." She huffs, not the least hiding her annoyance. I can admit things are different now. Sort of feels like a whole different fucking life, if you ask me. I wouldn't have imagined that I needed the world to be taken upon such a devastating global catastrophe for my lover to accept spending one full night with me, for the first time. I don't even see the correlation, honestly. I don't even know why she didn't want to before. I forced myself not to dwell on this question too much. Simply accepting that she wouldn't and that's her right to not want to. But that was weird. "Is it?" My arm reaches before her, turn the handle right because she's left lost and awaiting in the dark. There's a gust of her smell coming to me. The sweet, comforting, familiar and magically charming, addicting scent. There's the click of the knob in the dark, and the door opens up on the hallway's bright lightening. No words are exchanged as I lead her, a hand gently pressed to the bottom of her back, so close to her ass the idea that I could just let it slide down can't leave my agitated mind. Most doors are closed shut, there's no much noise being heard in the whole apartment apart from the occasional high pitched giggles from the two drunk kids in the living room. She's too quiet to be entirely at ease with the situation. I don't even think she's ever come inside my and Seokjin's bedroom. Seokjin.

I wonder how aware she is of the fact that I'm sharing my room with someone else. If she does, she didn't seem to mind when she asked, with her battling lashes and irresistible pout, to spend the night with me. If we do end up making him spend the night elsewhere, he might curse at me or give me the cold shoulder for a minute or two tomorrow, but he'll live. "Is it? Different?" I ask again. We've reached the bedroom and I decide to lock the door for good. If Seokjin were to, perhaps, come to our room to head to bed, he'd be met with a locked door.

She doesn't answer, still. I'm pretty sure she allows herself that because of how lenient I am with her today. She knows I'm not going to force the words out of her. I sigh calmly, resolved, black eyes patient as they fix her. "Of course, it is. Isn't it to you?" "What is?" Hands raised to the sky, eyebrows high in bewilderment, her confusion, so big it's almost revolt, couldn't be more explicit. "I'm asking because I don't know, ___. You don't talk to me, how am I supposed to know?" "Sorry." She mumbles. Blushing from embarrassment, as she lowers her hands, looks down and sinks on herself. "It's ok." My hand leads hers to my lips, I kiss its back. "Why didn't you call?" "Yoongi, sometimes I just don't know how you feel. No, always- I mean, never, I never know how you feel-" I'm not sure how much she means to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure she knows, if the way she seeks for words, not to offense me, is any tell. But she sucks at preserving them. Her words sting like hell. "During- I just- I didn't want to force myself into you if that's not what you wanted, that's all." "And that's not what you wanted? Just hearing me, you didn't want that?" I have to ask. It's probably better talking about her feelings than mine, right now. "Course, I did..." She sulks. "Then why not try? At least for yourself, I don't get you." Maybe resentment of a tortured, sensitized heart is unleashing. I don't want to ever harm her but she's done it, a lot. I don't want to believe it but maybe we've parted too long for a cold, unpenetrable wall not to have taken place between us. At least, provisionally. It can't be that unpenetrable. "I'm sorry." She lowers her head, whispering. Looking all saddened. Guilty. Nervous. And of course, I'm too soft. "You used to force yourself into my life all the fucking time, sneaking in my studio like an affection craving puppy, you didn't care back then but now that I like you, you don't want it anymore." Her eyes blink, shift suddenly up. Wide and alarmed. They scrutinize me sitting on the bed, checking my own nails, pretending to be nonchalant about the bitty bomb I've just dropped. "Wouldn't peg you for the heartbreaker type but ok-" "Don't say stuff like that." "Like what? Stuff that I mean?" I roll my eyes because the moron watches me with an emotion in her gaze, anger, she's menacing me. "It's not funny." "It really isn't." I shake my head along. "I talked with a friend and he said the reason you didn't call is probably that I was messing with you too much, not saying anything you wanted to hear. That you got tired of waiting for me." "Namjoon?" I nod. I had to talk to Namjoon. Because I had to talk about her to someone. Taehyung was simply out of the question. He's her best friend. One of the closest of my own friends. He probably knows me too well, knows I'm not that well-off in my personal life, in my heart and mind to be with his non-biological sister. And Namjoon is kind and loves me a lot, even if we wouldn't talk about that. So much so that it makes him genuinely happy to see me excited about someone. "It's not really- that. I'm just a coward, Yoongi. I didn't know how to talk to you and ask you the things I wanted to and-” She's staring down, at her own fingers pkaying with each others. Cute. “Yeah, I don't know, I didn't know how you felt about me." "I thought I was obvious." She shrugs. She shrugs. It should anger me. I'd have the right to be mad. I was obvious. I've been obnoxious. Letting her mess with me and my stuff because she owns me and therefore, by definition, also everything I have. Letting her in. Filling up all the room, all according to her own whims. "Com'here," I demand, rather gently, spreading my legs and leaning back, hands holding me up. She obediently steps forward, takes her seat on my lap, right where I want her. That's perfect. Everything I needed to obliviate the fact that she hasn't confessed liking me back yet. "What is it you wanted to ask me?" She's hovering over me, slightly taller, should feel superior. But her pretty face is turned down, eyes avoiding mines from shame, staring at her hands toying with the strings of my sweatshirt. The bubble, so intimate, is small, very very small and it's hard to live in it. The air she's breathing is mine, the same way the air I'm breathing is hers, and she must be aware of the way all I'm seeing are the tiny, pretty details of her face. "Yoongi. You really like me?" "Course, I do." My cheeks burn from embarrassment. I kind of hate it but I live for the grin she struggles to hide. "Stupid." Totally free and unnecessary but not unjustified, I deem. "Then can you be my boyfriend? Or like would you- would you like to be?" With a hurried press of my lips to the corner of her mouth, I attempt to hide the grin growing on them. "Took you long enough." I fail miserably as I can't help but smile against her mouth, poorly kissing it. "It doesn't answer my question." She points out. I know it doesn't. I hate how happy and rather emotional I felt just having her ask me to be her boyfriend. Who would have thought I would mind this much? Honestly, I wouldn't have guessed it. I never thought it'd move me that much. But I suppose, I should have known by now, that, that's what she does: she moves me. It's a breathtaking kiss, stolen or given while I press her down on her back, body not hovering but laying on hers, every inch of hers pointedly connected to mine, that shuts the conversation down. It does not have to matter. Now that we've found each other back, we believe again we have all the time in the world. Maybe it's a mistake. The state of our world, these days, tend to suggest we don't, we never know how much time we'll have and what exactly it'll be made of. I didn't actually answer but maybe the answer is so fucking evident, she should trust my lips and my hands and my eyes each time they linger on a part of her they seem to have a liking for. And perhaps, she could just accept me and everything else along and assume rightfully that if I wasn't saying it all, it wasn't because I didn't feel it, didn't want to, didn't have anything to say but because I could not. "The gears in that head of yours are killing the mood," I mumble against her cheek, bothered by her loss of commitment, here again, to make me feel lonely when she's just right fucking here. "What is it?" I ask in a gentle whisper.

Here above her, close enough to still share breath but far enough to see her face, it's impossible to act like a dick. Her eyes are shiny, dripping emotions. I can see them clearly without knowing exactly how to read them. She's held back by so many things but as always a timid mouth won't let them slip. I've yet, after all this time, to decide if I love or hate that about her. She can be so open, in appearance, she's animated, she's enthusiastic, she's bright and welcoming. But at the same time, the corridor she lets you in hides a door at the end that she simply cannot allow to let you slide through. I've caught glimpses of this room when she left the door ajar a few times, mostly when I'm balls deep in and maybe a bit too soft when I whisper sweet words in the shell of her ear. She's mostly a mirror of myself, a better version though. When my eyes can look bored, uninterested and sometimes borderline mean, hers are always soft, always kind. It doesn't matter what or who they are set on. Even when she's upset, when I've said something she didn't like to hear, when she's been teased one too many times by Taehyung or her boss has been a fucking asshole all day long, she'll have her eyebrows cutely dropping down, mimicking anger and failing poorly because the eyes, right under it, are still as tender and bright and beautiful. Right now the door is ajar and from what I can see in her eyes, she looks like she's in love with me. It's pure torture because I know, and I can see that too, that even if it were to be the case she wouldn't say, she wouldn't say the words, not to me, not like that anyway, she couldn't. Perhaps I'm seeing things. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, or worse, my own reflection I catch in her eyes without recognising it. After a few seconds of her deliberately ignoring my question and me not getting impatient because I get to just watch her, I decide it doesn't really matter if she is or not in love with me if she keeps looking at me like that. The illusion so realistic, shocking my heart with delicious waves of electricity, I could live with that. "Yoongi?" And if she keeps saying my name like that, like a whine, like a shy little girl, I'll be spoiled forever. She says my name a lot today, I realise, as my spine is taken by an umpteenth wave of chill. Maybe she missed saying it. I surely missed hearing it. "Yeah?" I'm even more breathless than she is. Hovering above yet hanging from her mouth. I must look desperate to her. Even if this has the potential to tickle me the wrong way, I decide not to mind. It's pointless to fight back innate facts, isn't it? I am desperate for her, have been for fucking months, before even circumstances distanced us, I thought it could even end up killing me at some point. It was bad after a couple of weeks when I realised she'd still not called me. Not even a text or a word passed through Taehyung. Nothing at all and I had the sickening feeling growing in my stomach that it wouldn't change. After making sure she was ok, wherever she was, with whoever or maybe alone, she was fine and she was simply not reaching out for me, the torture really started. I just didn't get it. How could she, the most annoying little bug, stop doing what I thought her to like best, it is to say, bugging me? The last time we saw each other was fantastic. She had left slamming my door but with the pretty shade of infatuation on her cheeks, I had no doubt, even if things were not entirely cleared out yet -because I thought the cat and mouse game was entertaining to her as much as it was to me, and because at the time, we still felt like we had all the time in the world for this and for everything else- that we were good, better than good actually. I was confused, utterly lost. Too coward and too upset to reach out myself. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have done it, wouldn't she? She used to before. "Can you lie down? On your back, I mean." The request makes me raise an eyebrow. "You're always sorta on top of me, and I-" The sentence is never finished. She's embarrassed if the cute button of a mouth she wears along with the stealthy avoiding eyes are any teller. For some reasons, my heart beats faster in my chest in an uncomfortable thumping. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man. A grumpy control freak of an old man who's terrified by the least changement. Because Change to me, in all honesty, sounds horrifying -which sounds ridiculous given chances were bet on changes that ended up bringing the life that I now live, some rollercoaster, made of the worst up and downs sitting on top of the least trustworthy, stable ground. It's scary, feels ominous even when it's just my now-girlfriend sweetly starting to ask, and demand for things in my bed. Maybe I need to chill. Match better the chaos that's inside with the unbothered, emotionless exteriors. All I can think about is how lame her justification sounds given, "I can recall quite a good amount of times when you were on top.", and therefore, freak out about what's really behind her request. She frowns then glares, right in my eyes, at last, and sighs. She's being the snarky little girl who doesn't want to discuss and that's cute. That's adorable because I'm on top and I decide but she thinks she can control, demand from me. And she'd be right. She can ask anything from me. She always could. Rolling my eyes like I don't care, lazily rolling on my back like I'm not nervous as hell to just lay there for her, I watch carefully and savour the way she bites on her smiling lips, ecstatic as she is to have been granted an upperhand over me. She takes the seat she owns on my thighs, a mischievous glint decorating her gaze. "Do you remember our first time?" It does the trick. Her ephemeral sense of confidence flatters and she sinks down a little on herself -conveniently on my crotch-, flushing darkly. "I'm not senile, 'course I remember." Softly, the pads of my fingers press on her covered thighs. My eyes fixed on her lively face. She can't really bear it, they might burn her a little. She tries to flee, falling over, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. Her lips brush my skin, she sighs there, it's a wonderful, dip into her. "Remember the first time?" "I just said yes." She whispers the same way I do. I pinch very lightly the back of her thigh, not to hurt, just to warn her because she has a little edge to her tone. Of course, she'd be so impatient when I find myself able to be patient. "When we met for the first time." She leans back, curious eyes peeking at me. A lock of hair is brushing her cheek, I drag it behind her ear, kissing her lips with my thumb because I'm too lazy and laid too comfortably to try and raise up to her mouth. She frowns for a second before she shrugs. I can see she doesn't get where I'm going with that. If she can't even remember, she surely won't see. "You were in the kitchen with Tae, being loud as hell until I came in and you just stopped talking altogether." She rolls her eyes. "I thought you hated me." "I was just shy." She's a bit vexed that I'm bringing it up. I know that she hates that, when it's pointed out, that she gets shy and embarrassed and timid. I understand because I'm the same. The difference between us is that I hide pretty well my inner turmoil with a mask made of coldness, of confidence or disinterest. "You were, weren't you? Now, look at you..." Her eyes don't quit mine. She knows damn well what I mean. "Sitting on me like you're sitting on a throne." She actually giggles at that, tilts her head to the side, gaze going up to the skies as if she's considering the thought, a blatant giddy feeling of importance and timid pretension written all over. She knows it's right. I'm not sure to what extent she understands how much she owns me but she knows there's something big that's unsaid if she's allowed to just have me like that just from asking -only mildly politely. "Could have imagined that, princess?" She's too honest, shakes her head no. I smile lightly, amused because now that I've raised the question, I realise I couldn't have imagined that either. I didn't like her too much at the beginning. Or to be more precise, she gave me a bad first impression. I'm never good with new people but this girl, it just went wrong. I'd been chanted so many praises about her and when finally, I got to meet her because she was for once hanging out at the dorms when other people than Taehyung and Jimin were here, she shut off as soon as I walked in, for some reasons I didn't get at the time, decided to be unfair and that I was not deserving of her infamous sweetness. The stark contrast between her bright boisterous peals of laughter before I entered the room and heavy mean silence once I'd sat on one of the bar stools made me livid. I thought it'd be the end of it. I wouldn't get to know the person, the "amazing person", I've been told about because I wasn't meriting somehow. And after months of forced proximity, because she kept being invited over, involved with outings, something clicked within her and she became the annoying little brat I've known her to be and just had to grow fond of -because it was easier than to just stay reluctant to her advances and become mad each time she'd come to me. It didn't take too long, if I'm being totally honest, to go from deeply confused vexation to an out of character giddy fondness. I've never said it. Don't really plan on doing it. Even now that I'm feeling all mellow and sappy as fuck. She doesn't need to be told from my mouth anyway. I'm pretty sure Namjoon, if he hasn't had a word about this yet, will do later. And from her ever insistence, her never flattering determination even when I, from self-admission, had been harsh or mean in the way I could have told her off, I suspect she knows, she's always known. Her dizzying smile tastes the sweetest and her annoying voice is addicting, as if dipped in a thick layer of dopamine. And I'm too weak for pretty smiles matching pretty eyes, and for brats harassing me with their affection. Therefore when she starts peeling my shirt off of me and spreading her kisses everywhere she can reach, I don't say anything even though I half-hate it. I hate feeling exposed like that when she's fully clothed and on top of me. I don't really like in general being too naked especially for her knowing what she has for me compared to what I've got for her. And she's touching me, one of her hand pressing my wrist onto the mattress and I know what it means, she doesn't want me to protest or try and touch her. I don't because I want to be good for her, for once, not be an ass and impose everything because she seems to want peculiar things today and I can do that for her. But I adore the way she's humming against my skin, smiling uncontrollably against it and sprinkling the most tender kisses. For once, I'm letting her have her way, and won't thrash and push her over to get the upper hand I prefer to hold, bear with the flush burning my cheeks and speeding my heart. It is nice to have her being so willing to take her time with me, with loving me, as if she really wants me. She's also very much hot precisely where she presses her centre to my cock and my patience, if exceptionally efficient today, has limits. "You-" I'm cut off by a strong shudder born from her tongue swiping along my jaw and the little suckle on my ear that follows. "Undress." I groan once half of my composure found back. "No." The short but firm answer triggers me, without taking a second to think, my hand, the one she hasn't been holding hostage, raises and seizes the back of her thigh meanly. "What do you mean no?" "Yoongi, listen. I think I'm tired of you bossing me around." My eyes grow wide at that. She has the acutely tiny singing edge to her voice, the one that I know well for it rings louder every time she's embarrassed or doesn't feel the most confidence. But she's standing straight and tall on her throne, pressing steadily on my crotch as she slowly explains how this will go, her way. "Now that I come to think of it-" A hard grind stealing a huff from me. "You couldn't even- you couldn't even ask me out properly! I did it! I do everything all the time and you still get to choose? That's not fair." "If I remember correctly I always make sure you come first, don't I? So how unfair is that, princess?" She pouts. Stops moving altogether. I can picture her in a second raise her arms to her chest and cross them tight there, frowning and sulking. The little girl is upset. She's adorable. I suppose she hopes to intimidate me somehow or to make me swoon enough to give in. It does the opposite though. The more she pouts, the brattier she gets, the more she tickles my fancy. And I always want more. She's all the more fun when she's feisty too. "I have something in mind, Yoongi." I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Hers lower down, condescending, unwilling to give up her position. "I want to take care of you." She says, voice quieter from her prior disdainful approach. The Adam apple seems to double in size in my throat when I try to swallow this time, struggling so much so it's audible. I think I knew. I suspected something the moment she started to stare at me with those eyes. I just thought I could get away somehow, I managed to many times before. She's pretty easy to manipulate, a firm precise press of my fingers, a hot whisper to tease her core and she'd let it go. I'm pretty weak today though and here she is saying words that set me off, reach someplace dusty and far, so far away hidden within me that it feels uncomfortable. The trigger is uncomfortable. It's scary. I don't know what it'll be. I don't know how I'll handle it. I don't know if I ever want to try. Sincerely, the greatest and easiest pleasure I've ever had to indulge in has been hers. In her pleasure and her body. Her orgasms I tasted on my tongue, the ones that hug me tight, have always been the most spectacular. "You don't need to take care of me." I need to take care of you. I'm not sure where it comes from. I've come a long way in my own personal journey, I now know I deserve more than I used to believe I did. Yet I don't, I can't imagine her being the one taking care of me. It needs to be me. I need to spoil her. "You don't like that? When someone... focuses on you?" I think about a lie or a little distractive thing to say. I choose to be frank. If there's a day to be and a moment and a person with whom to be, it must be it. "Not really." "Maybe because you're not used to it. Wouldn't you like that? Because I want to. I thought about it a lot." That's the issue with her. She owns the power. Ultimately she does. Even if she doesn't feel like it, she does. Always. Today it shows in more ways than one. She's so eager, so excited, I don't know how to disappoint her. Reluctant but kindly enough, I ask. "What did you think about?" My mouth is dry as hell. I don't understand how I can be filled with so much anxiety, still. When I feel this old and this wise, and so pleased and spoiled yet, still, terrified. It should just be heaven. I don't get why sometimes the sweetest things have to be so scary to take a bite of. She smiles to herself, satisfied to find me willing to hear her. It's a shadow of promise. I will judge later on if she'll get what she wants or not. For now, I'm just hearing her out. She's sweet and she deserves to express herself. In no time, she meets me centimetres away. She's leaned over, forearms pressing a bit on my chest to keep herself from crashing completely onto me. She's beaming through her eyes, mostly, shining intensely in the dim light as she observes my face from up close. There's the scent of her shampoo, the vanilla coconut mix that I used to be obsessed with, smelling around me even when she wasn't there. It's awfully comforting to have that too sweet smell again, for real this time, teasing my senses and waking up a lovely nostalgia. With the tips of her hair brushing slightly the bare skin of my neck, how am I supposed to refuse anything she asks me. "I realised that we've never- I've never got to- taste you." The last words are not even pronounced out loud. There's the t I read on her teeth biting slightly her pink tongue, the rest of the syllabus she just gives up on and it's for me to read on her lips. Given how obsessed I am with them, the task is not that demanding, her request couldn't be clearer to me. I should be ecstatic, shouldn't I? I'm not. I'm nervous as hell. I don't know what's wrong with me. "That's what you thought about a lot? My dick in your mouth?" She flushes bright pink but doesn't waver. She decided she's a big girl and gets to fantasise about what she wants and she won't be shamed for it, not now that's she's grown the courage to ask aloud. I chuckle humourlessly. "Princess." I can almost see her ears point out at the pet name. She seems to like it. I think I'm keeping it. "You're too pretty to have a dick in your mouth." Her face twists in the loudest mask of indignation and revolt. Straightening her back again to stand tall over me, she looks down on me under her severe set of frown eyebrows. "What does that even-" Her hand falls flat on my chest, meeting the skin hard enough for a sharp slapping sound to resonate in the quiet room. "Yoongi! It doesn't make anyone any less pretty to- what are you even saying? How can you- Why are you diverting? You're always diverting-" She raises her hands to the sky in pure bewilderment. Her face is still contorted in anguish though, I can tell she's not done arguing about this. "I'm telling you I want you in my mouth and you- what do you say to me?" I can't really hold back the cackling laughter erupting straight from my bosom. She's startled by it, upset still but unsure of how serious I am and for some reason, when she stares at me laughing, the tiny shadow of a smile colours the corner of her mouth. The tempting beautiful thing suddenly appears only a few centimetres from my face. She looks down on me with all the seriousness she can gather, eyes squinted tight. "Are you serious, Yoongi? Do you really not like that?" How honest should I be? The ever same existential question. How honest can I be? "Because you- like everything else and I thought you liked going down on me but- do you not like receiving?" Because my own personal question is loud, louder than the soft whisper of her voice, and so much more pressing because finding the answer seems to be more essential, it'd answer her questions and a lot more, the ones she may have but never dare ask. I hope to find the answer or at least a hint of it in her eyes. I don't know any other more evident places where to look for it. My quiet gaze shuts her off a little, I see how she doesn't physically back away but there is something in her eyes wavering and suddenly she looks kind of sad. She might just be disappointed but the effect is immediate, I feel my heart cracks. "I just," I raise for a second just to find some courage on her mouth. "I'm better at giving, it's all. I feel weird just sitting here and taking, it's just weird." It's just hard. "But it's the very principle of Lo-" She cuts herself off before she finishes but too late for me not to make out the last syllable. "Of what?" I ask, a growing crooked grin teasing. I allow myself that because I know that I can't get her there. She might even be more scared than I am. That's funny how I find ease in teasing her in those places yet I know that if we really do get there and start being serious about it, or if she'd dare tease me back, I'd lose my shit. I can hardly handle her calling my name in a whine as if she needs me so much she can't handle me not being a constant part of her. "Do you really not like that? Like not want it?" She asks, eyes boring in mine, looking all serious and grave. I can't disappoint her when she looks at me like that. I don't want to. "I don't want to do anything you wouldn't want or like but-" Gently, the pad of my thumb caresses her soft cheek. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve her. I'm pretty sure there's been a mistake somewhere, an error in the matrix. While I'm not bad, I'm quite good as a person, I'm persuaded that pretty girls with hearts that gentle can't be for me. I can't even tell her how beautiful she is. "Actually no buts. Just, do you want it or not?" How could I say no? When she asks so nicely, so many times to and of course, she looks the way she does. I might be a huge hypocrite. Turning this into her using her charms to get what she wants rather than me accepting to be selfish because it's easier that way. Nonetheless, it's almost reluctantly, with a fat lump in my throat that I let out a tiny, "'Kay." She leans over, eyebrows high. "Was it a yes?" I hum, rolling my eyes a bit. I'm feeling embarrassed, too embarrassed, and she's bouncing on my cock like it's the most exciting news she's heard all year -which might actually be given the circumstances.

It's nice but confusing.

Does she like me that much or is she just really into giving heads? Suddenly I have flashbacks of all those times she got on her knees to fetch something from a low hanging shelf, or under the coffee table. I just thought, innocently, that she had no sense of adulthood and she didn't realise, that once adults are grown they don't get on their knees like children, looking up to you talking like it's not weird at all. Like it's not suggestive at all. Like if I were just to ask nicely she'd probably say yes and I'd be the opening of a pants' fly away from sitting comfortably on her tongue. I can't lie and say that I've never thought about it. Evidently. I have. Probably each and every time she's done that little supposedly innocent thing, and then, a few other times in between. She's giddy when she leans even further, sliding off to the side of my lips when she tries to smooch them. She's even giddier when she crawls down my body, hoping to the side so that she can start unfastening my belt and jeans. She's giddy but quiet when she starts pulling my pants off of me. She's feeling timid, I can read it on her cheeks, but she can't possibly be as much as I am. I don't think I've ever had her undress me like that, in the open, when the light is too bright for comfort and her eyes so focused on me. Now that I come to think of it, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been naked with her. And it's never been like that. With her not fucked out enough to not pay so much attention. With her eyes roaming over me, and every now and then glimpses to my face, gaze smiling and tender. The gaze doesn't leave me as her tiny hand tentatively reaches for my covered shaft. It still remains there, attached, for the longest time, while her fingers pressingly roam over it. I twitch under the touch, heart pounding harder, full of anticipation and anxiety. "Don't drag this shit forever." Maybe I could be nicer. Maybe I could show more patience -if I hadn't been so challenged all evening, I'd probably have some left but clearly, I don't. Maybe I could be less of an ass, I could precisely be the sweet, lovely boyfriend she deserves when she's moments and centimetres away from swallowing me down her throat. Probably I should make more efforts. Or learn how and when to make them. I'm probably not the most practical right now. Being rough when I should be sweet and sweet when she needs me to push her a bit. "But I wanna take my time." She says that with a smile on her pink lips, not vexed at all. And here she proves once again that maybe I don't know shit about her and women in general. Because when I feel like she should get offended or at least aggravated, she just takes me in and finds something that she likes in my insufferable self. I simply bite on my lip, pensive. Doesn't say much to her but she sees it and translates it a way that fits me well. A lazy blink later, I have the ghost of a new kiss on the corner of my mouth and then her lips tightly wrapped around my tip, concealing the fresh breeze of air that her undressing me completely brought. It's undefinable, the sensation of her hot wetness wrapped around me. She doesn't waste a second, visibly having changed her mind about taking her time, trying to have me as far as she can. Bobbing her head and sucking me in with so much enthusiasm, I have red flushing my cheeks when I hear the sounds that she makes, wondering if I seem as desperate, as voluntary, as messy when I do eat her cunt - and the rash comes directly from the blatant, easy answer: a big fat yes. Of course, it would feel that good. When her pussy feels like some Heaven, naturally her mouth would have me like that. In no time, my cock is rock hard and balls tight and ready to blow. It's been months since I've felt this good and even then, I didn't have that treatment. Having someone and her, at that, giving so much of herself, I see the way she tries to catch back some air, frowning because I'm pretty sure her jaw is hurting a bit, jerking me off fast to compensate the lack of warmth and her pretty, pretty eyes, smiling at me, doing the most. My thighs are tensing, my right leg keeps jerking upward uncontrollably, fists holding tight onto the sheets, overwhelmed. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this. And maybe I'm going to doubt the universe placing this stupid princess on my way even more now that I've had her been so good to me, by just being herself, especially given that she's turned out to be an expert and a passionate at sucking my cock. "Fuck" Here goes my tip hitting the back of her throat again. And her hands, soft and encouraging, playing with my balls, pad of her thumb pressing sometimes between my perineum. "S-stop, I need to-" "You'll fuck me later, come in my mouth." She demands, breathlessly, diving back in before I even get to protest. "You can't say shit like that." I whiningly stutter, she's brought fucking tears to my eyes. I see blurry as I stare at the ceiling, vainly trying to hold back my climax. It makes her chuckle a bit, hum something I can't possibly understand with her mouth full and bells ringing in my ears, all I capture is the vibration it sends to my whole shaft, tickling along my spine, making me bent it embarrassingly. "Really wan'you to come-" She mumbles, lips making out with my tip in the process. "Then swallow me down." It comes out before I plan on it, before I mean to say it, through gritted teeth. She slides down my length, taking me in, like my every word is her command. The unexpected rush of pleasure, like an electric shock, seizes my hand which jumps to her head and decides to stay there, fingers fighting against the very weak remain of my brain cells to grab and clench and tear the head of hair they laid on. It's when I meet the back one more time and she decides to swallow down just then that I reach it, spilling down her throat, growling aloud without meaning too, spurring few words I probably wouldn't say to her if my mind wasn't so cloudy. I'm somewhere else. Body empty of any tension and I realize that a blowjob is exactly all I needed all those months. I haven't felt this relaxed and satiated and satisfied in so long, I feel dizzy and a bit lost. Even my own bed feels foreign, maybe it's just because she's on it. Smiling down on me with her small fingers painting shape on my skin and her pretty smile kissing my chest. She kisses her way up, leaving a path of warm sprouts, takes her time right on my drumming heart, smooches my cheeks with a tiny giggle that blooms probably from the red dots I assume are on them. She looks down on me, eyes sparkly and lips stuck in an upward curve. I see her hesitating. She's unsure of something I don't get because she just blew my mind off. My fingers knead gently the flesh of her thighs, inviting her to speak if there's something she needs to say. Her soft finger presses on my lips and she raises an eyebrow. "I don't know if I can kiss you..." "Why?" I ask, probably a bit too abruptly because I'm stupid right now and I don't understand under what circumstances she couldn't press her mouth to mine. She rolls her eyes evidently, scoffs and finally points at my crotch then her mouth, flushed all over her cheeks, when she sees me still struggling to understand. "Course you can. You always can." She shrugs, eyes fleeing away. I kiss her hard on the mouth, the hand buried in her hair pressing her further onto me. I consider vaguely how gross she might believe me to be when really, I'm just a bit too whipped for her and cum, no matter if it's mine or hers and shockingly enough I realise anyone else's too, I don't fucking care, any of her kisses are kisses that I want to consume. I roll her over on the bed and kiss her harder, licking and sucking her tongue until she's just wide eyes glinting up to me. "You can always kiss me." She nods, swollen lips tilting up. She doesn't find me too gross, it seems. Good. "And thanks." One kiss. "Was really nice." She tries to bite back her grin but fails, tittering even as I pinch lightly the side of her waist. "Was it nice for you?" I kiss the side of her jaw, smiling against her as I continue, purring close to her ear, "Just like you imagined?" I can feel her frustration before she even expresses it by raising a fist ready to punch me. It makes me chuckle. That's what she deserves for putting me in this situation anyway. I can't be the only one embarrassed, especially when I made an effort to content her -even if to content her was to content me but it doesn't matter. When my hand slides so naturally down her stomach, fingers strumming teasingly along the hem of her pants, the nagging and the arguing should be postponed for now. "You're an-" I slide easily under her clothes, palm cupping perfectly her cunt, it cuts her off. She gasps, eyes growing wide as they stare off at the ceiling, biting on her lip. "I'm what?" "Nothing." She grunts between tight jaws, both mad and horny and that's just too funny. I'm enjoying this immensely, torturing her kindly, while my fingers dip in her soaked heat, with her lips centimetres away so that I can kiss them as much as I want. She responds to all of my kisses. Tense her neck every time I part away for a second to take a look at what I'm doing, at her overall form, her laying in my bed with her twitching legs parting to give me more access. "I'm nothing? That's mean." "Yoongi, not now." I catch the curse she doesn't spit in my face before she gets to swallow it back down. The prospect that things should be cleared out now and that this will happen again, and again, and again until the day she decides she's tired of me drives me wild with excitement. It means I'll get to push her buttons and piss her off enough she'll curse at me the way she rarely ever does Taehyung when he's reaching her very limits of patience. Maybe I'm a bit gross, at least a bit freaky, if the idea of her mad beyond herself, calling me names yet simultaneously letting me play with her body like that turns me on so much. "When if not now, princess?" She pulsates around my fingers at that. It has to be the name. How lovely. How adorable. So adorable I can't help but grin giddily, effectively hiding my face in the crook of her neck so she doesn't catch me when I do. "You're so close already." "Shut up." "All worked up just from having my cock in your mouth." She groans, closes her eyes tight as if she's trying to focus all her attention on my fingers fucking her. "So easy to please, I'm a lucky bastard, am I not?" I keep mumbling next to her ear because I don't care what she pretends, I know she loves hearing me and I can bet with great confidence on what she loves to hear me say. "Having a girlfriend like you-" "Oh my Go- Yoongi-" "Come for your man." So easy to please. I know I'm not reaching the spot she likes best because her fucking pants are in the way. I've learned that the stretching is something she enjoys thoroughly and from how tense and on edge she got herself, my three fingers are doing wonders, dragging the ring along with every thrust. But I'm sure, I know, what's triggering her. She's too much like me. Probably worse than me. So desperate to feel the love, and here she is, coming around my fingers but mainly around my words when I'm just calling her mine. It takes her ages to come back to her senses, to stop desperately drinking my love straight from my mouth, and for her sweet cunt to stop kissing the tip of my fingers and let me slip them out. She's fucked out when she's back. Hair I barely touched all over the fucking place, eyelids heavy, mouth red and swollen, eyebrows low and eyes wet the way they get when the pleasure is so good she becomes a bit too soft and sensible and sometimes a tear or two escape. I get to clean her up a bit, rearranged her clothes and then realise that she's actually spending the night with me so I might as well get her pants off, throw my own pants away and put some shorts on, turn off the lights, and catch her in the most comfortable spooning session I've personally ever had before I feel her alert and with me entirely. "You okay?" She nods her head, blinking a few times more than necessary when she watches me raise my fingers to my mouth and mechanically lick them clean. In a whisper, after too long of laying quietly in the dark -apart from the angry stomping going on in the hallway along with mumbled curses that can only come from Seokjin and that we both decide to ignore- she timidly asks, "So we're dating, Min Yoongi?" "We've always been dating, dumbass." Which is not exactly true, not exactly false. To me, anyway, if she'd ever come to decide that the whole thing was just a fling then, it would have been just that. But I'm pretty sure she's always liked me as much as I have and even if I never expressed it clearly, I don't just fuck around like that. Especially with girls as sweet as her. And I don't really get that words define what we are anyway. Nothing changes now that I've said that. Maybe she's happier with the situation and that's all I want therefore I can give them to her, but honestly, yeah, to me we've always been each other's. "You're an asshole." "I'm your asshole." I don't know if she can hear my grin but the exasperated sigh suggests she does. "That's- gross." She still kisses my cheek and then my chest, huddling to my side, humming to herself when my arms wrapped around her squeeze a little harder. She's warm and soft and all mine, and when the realisation hits, that just a few hours ago she was infinitely far away from me, and now she's here in my arms, in my bed, (kind of) officially just mine to please and enjoy, my heart swells. That's all I've needed.

A/N: Guess what, it’s one of my new year resolutions to STOP taking a break from writing and this blog. *clown*

I hope it wasn’t too bad, too stiff. I meant to give this couple a nice ending because I got attached to them as quite a lot of you have. Hopefully, you’re not disappointed and sorry if it was so angsty but I guess, my heart felt a bit heavy writing it. SOZ

I'm already working on another story I’m really excited about and inspired for. I’ll try to have it release very soon. 

If you’ve come this far, THANK YOU immensely. I LOVE you.

I hope all of you and your loved ones are doing fine. My best wishes for this new year. Let’s meet here more often.

#ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts scenario #my writing

[realcube]

everything i love about you // kei tsukishima

tsukishima’s has to write a journal for his english class - so he writes about you because he is a simp.

tw// (she/her) reader, cussing, too much fluff- ?

↳Thursday, October 1st 2020 

This is my journal for English class. I will be writing about my girlfriend - (Y/N) (L/N) throughout the day. I’ve chosen her opposed to a friend or a family member because she is very interesting, unlike most of my friends who are just annoying - whilst my family are plain boring. If you can’t already tell, this journal will be written in whatever tone I desire, which is sarcastic 99% of the time. 

Well, to begin on a high note, one of the reasons I love like my girlfriend - (Y/N) (L/N) - is because she is tolerant/patient. 

For example, this morning she waited an extra 3 minutes for me to arrive at the bus stop - where we usually meet to walk to school together - as I was running a few minutes late due to a ‘bad hair day’. This displays patience.

Also, her friends are some of the most annoying, god-awful people I’ve ever met yet she still hangs out with them. That shows how tolerant she is of their bullshit - it’s honestly quite impressive to see someone throw away every last bit of their dignity just to spend more time with the people that are tearing them down. This could be considered stupidity but I’ll call it tolerance for now because I was told to start this journal with the positives. 

↳Friday, October 2nd 2020

“The English language is one the most stupid ones out there.” - that was a factual opinion. 

I’m finding it challenging to write this journal with the assistance of google translate and a whole years worth of English notes. It’s a hard language, anyone would agree with me on that. So imagine what sort of genius you’d have to be in order to know the language fluently? 

Well, what if I told you that (L/N) can speak English with little to no errors? As well as Japanese! It’s insane, honestly. Which brings me onto my second point, she’s extremely intelligent; another reason I love her. Well, she’s an intelligent dumbass - and I know that’s an oxymoron but let me explain.

Again, she can speak English fluently so if she had taken it as a subject, she’d definitely be the top of the class. She is also passing all her classes with straight As. However, she is still very dumb; throw-back to that one time she mixed up Chernobyl and Auschwitz. 

It’s perfect - just the right amount of intelligence that I don’t have to baby her but humble, so she’s not cocky about it. And just the right amount of idiot that she still makes me laugh..sometimes. 

↳Saturday, October 3rd 2020

This next point kinda ties in with the last one but she is very confident and is able to take a joke which is something that  - I personally believe - is crucial to have in a significant other. 

I am aware of the fact that I am not always the nicest, most optimistic person to be around; but she has thick skin and knows that whenever I call her a ‘dumbass’, I either mean it as a joke or as a term of endearment. 

Also, anyone would find it quite annoying if their special someone always was seeking attention, validation and compliments. I mean, every once and while it is completely fine but if your whole self-esteem is based off of whatever people think of you and you need constant reassurance in every single thing you do - I personally - would find that a bit annoying. As I mentioned before, I am your lover, not your babysitter. 

So, that’s another reason I love like her; and as Abraham Lincoln once said, ‘what’s sexier than confidence?”

Source: https//:pornhub.com 

↳Sunday, October 4th 2020

She is so hot. 

Now, please, don’t get wrong; I hate the objectification of women and physical appearance isn’t everything as they all deserve to be treated equally and with respect. 

 But I am looking respectfully 👀

Actually, perhaps ‘hot’ wasn’t the best choice of words as there are so many different phrases/words in the English language that would be more fitting to describe not only (Y/N)’s physical appearance but how she acts. Words such as: gorgeous, classy, alluring, angelic, elegant, divine, stunning, captivating, radiant, tempting, adorable, ravishing and most accurately, beautiful. 

She’s modest about it too. Understandably, she prefers compliments on her character rather than her look because she says, ‘People that compliment me on shallow things like my appearance are either toxic, wanna get with me or they are just naïve.’ 

However, I do believe that she dislikes those sorts of compliments because she simply doesn’t need them - she knows she is beautiful and so does everyone around her, I mean, it’s kinda hard to ignore. 

Like seriously? Who could miss those enchanting (e/c) eyes of hers? Or her shapely figure that would make any person ‘act up’? And have I yet to mention her pristine lips that lift to make that charming smile of hers? 

Okay, well, you see the point. (L/N) = very sexy, inside and out. I am done complimenting her for today. I need to go lie down. 

↳Monday, 5th October 2020

The last day of the week. Well, according to my professor, anyway. 

This is the part where I tell you the 5th and final thing that I love like about (Y/N). And honestly, I can’t decide between the following; so I’ll just roll a D20 and let that choose for me:

1. She is very funny

2. She is an amazing cook

3. Her singing voice gives me goose-bumps

4. She is so gentle towards animals, it’s precious

5. She is so talented 

6. She is very supportive of everything I do

7. She makes an effort in our relationship and to understand the things that I enjoy eg. volleyball, paleontology

8. She’s is a good communicator

9. She’s loyal 

10. She doesn’t get feisty or petty during arguments, we keep it classy

11. Her passion for the things and the people she loves is so attractive

12. She is one of the most diligent, hard-working people I’ve ever met 

13. She just generally has this sort of charm about her, that’s why she gets on so well with people 

14. She’s honest

15. I would trust her with my life

16. I know that she’d be there for me when I need her because she always has been

17. Explain how there is no one real reason I love her, it’s just that everything she does comes together and forms..her! She’s so special and unique, there is no way I’d be able to pin it down to one key feature.

18. She’s human 

19. I envy her

20. Roll again.

I rolled a 20. 

Then I got a 17. 

I know I probably seem like a love-sick sucker for writing all of this about my girlfriend but I can assure that even if she was just my friend, I’d still write this journal about her because she is the most interesting and extortionary person I’ve ever met. I can also assure you that if you ever meet her yourself, you’d be writing novels about her for a minute of her time. 

To me, she’s perfection. And I’d rather die than say that aloud so that it partly the reason I am writing this for her. It is easier for me to express what I feel through this journal than it ever would be to say this stuff out loud, especially to her. 

I like love her.

good job, Tsukishima! A very sweet journal and your vocabulary is quite impressive. I'm sure your girlfriend will adore this haha. What I will say though is that perhaps you could try use less contractions and real words - by this I mean that 'kinda' and 'sorta' are not real words in the english laguage so you should try and avoid those. Another than that, superb work!

#no it is not ooc #he is a simp #he won't admit it tho #obvs #tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu!! #haikyu #hq tsukishima

[writinglionqueen]

A Favor

Summary: Being Roman’s babygirl comes with it’s own set of things for you to do, bookkeeping and knowing some of the people Roman meets was one of this things. But this new meeting with a certain Scottish businessman provides something, new. Drew McIntyre is a little bit of a mystery to your knowledge but he comes seeking a favor from Roman; a debt to be repaid. But, his suaveness and looks enraptured your own attention. Must to the behest of your man. 

Warnings: A part to the Mafia Boss Roman series. Something a little later down the timeline. This was an idea I couldn’t get rid of which is why I wrote it now. I mean....their interaction on Friday was 🔥. And like I said in the previous one....this isn’t to be accurate...as much as it’s self indulgent.....just fyi

It’s been a while since Roman had asked you to sit in on a meeting. The very first one you’ve attended with a businessman who was very less than kind to the fact you were at Roman’s side, listening in on their business. Roman, on the other hand, loved having you at his side. And, in all honesty, you loved it as well. It meant the man was trusting you, allowing you to get a taste of the way he conducted his business. 

At that very first meeting, he filled you in on your role in those meetings. You were allowed to speak and have your own mind. You were not meek, only their to listen. You weren’t “Roman’s bitch” as you thought you were in the eyes of the businessman. You had a critical role. Be Roman’s witness. Be a second pair of eyes and ears. It was later, after the meeting had ended that Roman entrusted you with the knowledge that, if you wanted to, you could have a more critical role in his meetings. He wanted you to be a little birdy; rounding up rumors and knowing the truth on those who he conducted business with. 

Technically, it was Heyman’s job to be on tabs with everyone Roman conducted business, but the little stubby man could only know and keep tabs on so much information. Roman just wanted you to round up rumors. When you were not in Roman’s presence, or even around him, no one knew who you were. It was, almost, ingenious that it happened that way. Being the outsider to all of this had it’s perks in that way. If Roman gave you a name, you had the looks and intuition to figure this person for who they were, knowing their rumors in the interwoven webs of this life....and it wasn’t that hard. 

Some men loved having...intimate, interpersonal relations with their staff. Some loved to blab to the right ear or just in general. You were able to slip into their circles, get the information you needed and report to Roman. And when he conducted the necessary meetings, you were at his side, whispering into his ear of the rumors you heard while the people would drone on about things. Often lying in the face of Roman, which you were not afraid to correct with a purr into your man’s ear. It was fun; having Roman’s hand around you, his large fingers stroking your side as he listened to you in his ear when necessary, and even watching the color leave people’s faces as Roman corrected them on the information they tried to spout, being figured out for their truths. Your role was, indeed, fun. 

It wasn’t really a daily thing or an occupational thing. It was only necessary when Roman needed to talk with these people. And, that wasn’t often. People tried their best to ensure that the Samoan man didn’t need to speak with them. Because, usually, a meeting meant a warning. 

Or, in some cases, some business partners wanted to speak with Roman. In that channel, things were different. You still, usually, did your best to learn what you can, but....the reasons for those kinds of meetings varied. Whether it be asking for assistance, checking in with Roman, cashing in a debt, catching up as if Roman was an old friend, or...in the dangerous case....threatening Roman. 

The latter reason was dangerous. Not only to witness but for the person in question. And you’ve only witness it twice. One instance was with a man who was desperate, spouting about how he was going to get the FBI involved. The notion made Roman smile, before Jimmy and Jey gave the man a reason to keep his mouth shut, and Roman reminded the man of who he was and reminded him that he had eyes and ears everywhere, connections like no one else. There would be no way for Roman to get into the trouble the man thought he would, but....there was every reason that the man could lose a loved one, or even his own life for the threat at hand. That definitely made the man quell on his threat.  The other instance, was a threat the Seth Rollins had made to Roman. That one was different. Seth was almost as dangerous as Reigns. Seth has influences and just as many eyes in places as his counterpart. So when he felt as though Roman was stepping into areas that “did not belong” to Roman, Seth was vocal about it and had said so in a meeting. With a look of indifference to the other man, Roman agreed to stick to his own turf. With a smile, Seth left happy to hear that. 

And those two instances answered a question for you; For what reason would a sheep threaten a lion in his den?

Well...if the sheep was a lion just the same, they would have no fear fighting. 

That question and answered always set you on edge when Roman was contacted to meet with someone, instead of Jimmy and Jey picking up the person. 

And it was that small fear you had as yet another businessman had contacted Roman to meet with him. But curiosity drove you more than your own fear. You didn’t know what terms this meeting was coming about. But there was an issue on your end, you couldn’t find a lot of personal information about this guy. 

Drew McIntyre.  

Heyman grumbles about hos this man embarrassed his last client; taking all that he had, leaving Paul to find new work....which is how he came about working for Roman, apparently. That notion was intriguing to say the least, and you tried to get more information on him, but.....he didn’t mingle with his own staff, or enough to cause rumors or anything. He wasn’t in any bad deals or anything, as far as you were aware. And....it seemed, he and Roman went a ways back. You tried to get Paul to spill but the man wouldn’t say much except for what he already told you. Jimmy and Jey also confirmed they had no dirty or anything on this guy. He was clean in that regard. And, he didn’t mingle in public affairs, so you weren’t able to find a clear picture of this man. Drew McIntyre left you curious as to who he was dealing with Roman. And, as such, that curiosity would get the better of you. Especially the night of the meeting. 

As you and Roman waited for this man to be arrive, you took it upon yourself to ask from Roman directly. He was very honest with you anyways and wouldn’t spare you any details. 

You were on the couch, plucking invisible fuzz from your cocktail dress while Roman was at his desk, Heyman not too far away from his boss. Both were looking over documents. Whether or not they pertained to this Drew guy, you didn’t know. But now was an opportune time to ask. 

“So, who’s Drew McIntyre to you, babe?” you asked Roman, your eyes peering over to him. He looked up at your curiously, a document in his hand. Heyman gave you a small look that read he was displeased that you were so upfront about asking Roman about this matter. You gave both men a look of nonchalance and curiosity. “I couldn’t find many rumors about him. He leaves me feeling very curious.” Roman’s lip quirked at that notion. 

“We’ve known each other for a bit,” Roman said. “A couple years ago, the man helped me when I needed it. Now, it seems he wants to cash in on a favor.” A favor? Now that was very interesting. 

“Any particular favor?” you asked. Heyman’s frowned deepened as Roman chuckled. 

“Babygirl, that’s what this meeting is about,” he answered. “So I wouldn’t know. I could guess, however.” You gave a slow nod before you stood up. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” you murmured, moving over to Roman’s desk. The Samoan’s brown eyes watched you approach. The sparkle of playfulness behind them as he started to collect his documents and hand them to Heyman. 

“Take care of these for me, Paul,” Roman murmured. The small man collected the documents in his hands before leaving the room, to do whatever needed to be done with those documents. You smirked at Paul as he left before you moved around Roman’s desk and to where he sat at the grand chair behind it. 

Roman had moved out from under his desk a little, allowing enough space on his lap for you to sit there, and sit there you did; one leg over the other and your arms wrapped around Roman’s neck. 

“I can tell you’re very curious about him, babygirl,” he said to you. You gave a quiet sigh.

“Not being able to find much has left me feeling like I won’t be helpful to you,” you said back. One of your hands lowered to scratch under Roman’s beard. The action made him smirk. 

“Having you by my side is way more helpful than you know,” he murmured before leaning down to give you a quick kiss. Roman’s phone buzzing on the desk had you turning towards it. Your man reached for it, looking at the message on the screen before putting it back down. “Drew’s here.” Your heart rate started to pick up with the small thrill that was sure to come by this meeting. Roman say the nerves on your face with his inquisitive, dark eyes. “This meeting should run without a problem, babygirl. I don’t think Drew is here to be a pain in my ass....this time,” You giggled at that. 

“Alright, if you say so,” you murmured before giving Roman one last kiss before hopping off his lap. “I’m just....excited to meet someone knew that runs in your circle.” Roman hummed. 

“I bet you are,” he said to you, standing to his feet with a small groan. You looked back to Roman, peeking at the outfit he decided to wear for tonight with a small bite of your lip. The same textured, navy shirt he wore when you two first met, dark dress pants and dress shoes. He looked good but, then again, he always did. 

“Anything I should know about our guest before he’s actually up here?” you asked Roman. The man’s brow quirked in thought. 

“He’s...a very large man,” Roman said. 

“Large....large how?” you questioned. 

“He’s a little taller than me, some would find it imposing,” he answered. “It will be a lot more apparent the closer you are to him. He also loves his wife more than he cares to be around people. Which is probably why you didn’t find a lot on him. He saves interactions for when he needs to. He’s a very reserved individual, which is more than I can say from when he was younger.” 

“Really? you asked. “How come I didn’t find any news on that?”

“He got a favor from a man in Hollywood named Dolph Ziggler, had some things wiped for Drew,” Roman answered, checking his phone one last time. You gave a nod. No wonder you couldn’t find things on him. But....you’d probably learn a few things about this man from this meeting. 

A knock sounded from the door, drawing your attention. 

“Come in,” Roman called while moving closer to you. His hand settled on your waist and he drew you into his side. 

Heyman opened the door, leading in a man who’s size had you frozen in place. Roman wasn’t kidding when he said he was ‘large.’ He didn’t look like a businessman though for the way he was dressed. He had on a deep maroon shirt under a leather jacket. He was clad in dark jeans and a pair of dress shoes that, surprisingly, fit the look. His long dark hair was neatly pulled back and his own, dark beard was trimmed to perfection. He was just another definition for gorgeous. Something alike Roman’s own looks, but yet...unique and intriguing to you. He had your full attention. 

Jimmy and Jey followed Paul and Drew in, closing the door behind themselves before taking their usual place behind the couch reserved for the guest. Both made sure to have their hands clasped in front of them, standing with respect and discipline.  

“Roman,” the guest greeted brightly in a thick Scottish accent with a voice just as deep as Roman’s. His smile gleamed in the lighting of the office and, you couldn’t help but watch as he reached for Roman’s outstretched hand. 

“Drew,” Roman greeted with politeness. Drew’s bright blue eyes panned to you. He wore a pleasant smile on his face and....you did your best to ensure you knees didn’t buckle under his soft stare. 

“And who is this?” Drew asked reaching for your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles like a gentleman. His accent was so nice to listen to, something deep and mellow but nothing that would make it hard to understand him. And you were so caught up in how the Scotsman talked that it barely registered you didn’t answer his question until Roman answered it for you, giving Drew your name. The man couldn’t help the smile on his face at your lack of answered, but he allowed your hand to fall back at your side. “I heard you found yourself someone new after all this time but I didn’t expect her to be a such a lovely sight.” The compliment from a man like Drew had your face feeling hot.

“Yes, indeed. I lucked out in that department,” Roman said, motioning towards the set of couches to your left. “Shall we get on to business?” Drew gave a nod.

“We shall,” the Scotsman answered with a tone of playfulness as he sat his large form on the couch opposite of the one you and Roman found yourselves in. Heyman made it his mission to stand right behind Heyman, watching in on this meeting. The man in front of you got comfortable where he sat, sitting all the way back, arms across the back of the couch and one of his legs crossed over the other. “The drive over here was awful,” Drew commented. “After work traffic and I see they’re building a new bridge on 27th street.” The man’s eyes looked between you and Roman before landing on you. “It’s just awful. Nearly got out of my own car because someone wasn’t paying attention to the road. Would’ve knocked their teeth in.” He was smiling at you, observing the way you gave him a small polite smile in turn. 

“What do you do for work, Mr. McIntyre?” you asked politely, in part to get to know Drew but get information you needed for later. Drew smirked at you, lip quirked in a way that made your heart flutter. 

“Please...call me Drew,” he said off the bat. “Mr. McIntyre is a little...too formal for me. Just call me Drew.” You did your best to not smile outwardly at that. 

“Ok then, Drew....what do you do for work?” you corrected with a small, intrigued smile to the guest before you. 

“I run a firm that deals in business consulting,” Drew answered. “Basically help others get to where they need to be in life by giving them honest truths about certain aspects of business.”

“So like....the hard knocks of business....the economy, business deals, branding and things like that?” Drew’s blue eyes held a level of pride and amusement to your question. 

“Pretty much,” he answered, “My own business has been knocked down in the past and I took that as a learning opportunity, show, I’m just helping others so they don’t go down a self destructiveness my own business did years ago. And I’d rather be blunt about that information than sugar coat things.” You nodded along to his information. You were going to look into it later....just in case.

“Sounds like an interesting niche of work,” you said to Drew. He smiled. 

“I like it,” he said, happily. “Lately it’s been better after I’ve taken care of Lesnar’s business. Huh Paul?” Drew’s eyes looked to Paul who was standing behind Roman. “His company’s management could’ve been better....or at least....on his own part. I see you found it good here with Reigns. I’m impressed with you Paul. This seems like a better fit and better line of work than what you had with the old brickhead.” Heyman stayed silent at Drew’s teasing but the Scotsman paid that no mind as he looked back at you. “Lesnar wasn’t a very great boss in his own right. Not showing up when his employees needed him, skimping them of their own hard work and money. It was no wonder why it went to shit under him. When I got involved with his business, things improved and we figured the only issue was with the boss and not the employees. But, I figured he couldn’t handle that hard truth and left then I took it upon myself to appoint someone who was better fit for the job. I didn’t think they’d let you go following that incident, Paul. In all honesty.”

“I also left on my own cogeneses, thanks for asking,” Paul mumbled.

“That’s good on you Paul. I hear Kofi and his partners have transformed that business into something fun and unique,” Drew said absentmindedly. “Good for them.”

“And what is Lesnar doing now?” you asked in curiosity. The man would probably still hold a grudge on Drew for him interfering. 

“Probably on a farm somewhere away from people,” Drew answered. “Paul would know more about that though, I’m afraid.” Drew couldn’t help the teasing bits at Paul and, you couldn’t help but smile that he was trying to annoy Roman’s own little consultant. “I kinda want to know a little about you. What do you do?” 

The question made you freeze. No one had asked about your own occupation. And....you weren’t sure if you were allowed to answer it. 

“Currently I’m a student,” you answered Drew’s question. His eyebrow raised and he looked a little curious himself.

“What do you study?” he asked. “Besides the people Roman hangs around.” You smiled at that. The little bite of playfulness from Drew’s part almost made you forget about the Samoan beside you. 

Almost.

“We’re off topic,” Roman said, his arms tightening around you. Drew’s eyes casted to Roman, trying to decipher the tone you could hear as well; the smallest zest of jealousy from your man. “It’s late, Drew. I have things to take care of tomorrow.” That was a lie but you didn’t want to say that in front of your guest. 

The man looked to you, a little smile on his face because he probably knew the tone in Roman’s voice as well. 

“What made you want to cash in your favor from a couple years ago?” Roman asked. The blue of Drew’s eyes went to Roman a the question. The playful and happy nature of his seemed to wash away. A neutral look replaced the smile and he sat up straighter on the couch, choosing to lean forward. He rested his thick forearms on his thighs while looking to Roman. 

“I’ve been having a problem with a certain viper as of late,” Drew answered, lowly. 

The “viper” Drew was referring to could only mean one person; Randy Orton. You figured out after a while of being around them that the boys had their own nicknames for certain people. For Seth, he was called “The Messiah” sometimes. The CEO of LEGIT BO$$ fashion company was none other than called “The Boss” when talked about by the men. Everyone that Roman knew or had been in contact with in his circles had a nickname. “The Viper” was just the chosen nickname of a guy who ran a company that was infamous in keeping people hidden. 

Why would a guy like Drew be having problems with a guy like Orton?

You looked to Roman who nodded. 

“Has he been causing problems of merit for you?” Roman inquired. Drew snorted. 

“Understatement of the century,” the Scotsman muttered. You looked back at Drew who crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “He’s been threatening to take something I care about away. Make...” Drew paused to look over at you. “Make them ‘disappear’ like he tried to do to Wyatt all those years ago. Just, poking his nose into my business. Figured I could use the favor to look into this matter for me.” 

“I see,” Roman murmured. “Are you asking me to take him out....or ensure he stays away from what’s yours?” Drew sighed, deeply through his nose. 

“I won’t be sure until Monday,” Drew answered. “I wanted to be sure he isn’t a threat. Especially after. So....I am asking for your men to look into seeing what his plan maybe....and who he has in his corner.” 

“Orton usually works alone,” Roman commented. 

“I meant in terms of bringing his own troubles with him,” Drew said. “I hear Wyatt may be trying to get back at him for the incident from a few years ago.” Roman nodded. 

“Makes sense,” he said to Drew. “Wouldn’t want Wyatt to be your problem as well.” 

“Precisely,” Drew murmured. “So....is this a favor you can provide for me?” You looked to the man at your side, seeing him think. 

“To cash in the debt you provided me a couple years ago...yes, I can look into Orton and his matters, and make sure he won’t be your problem....or Wyatt,” Roman said with finality. Drew let out a small breath of relief. 

“Thank you, Roman,” Drew murmured. “I’ll consider that debt to be repaid when you can say, without a doubt, Orton or Wyatt won’t cause me anymore trouble after Monday.”

“You know I’ll try my best,” Roman agreed. “If that is all you wanted to inquire about, then I think this meeting is over.” With that, Roman’s arm left you and he went to stand, followed by Drew. Both men reached out for each other, shaking hands in finality to the favor Drew wanted. 

“Again, thank you,” Drew said to Roman. 

“You’re welcome, McIntyre.” The Scotsman gave Roman a small smile before his blue eyes flickered to you. Standing to your feet, recalling the difference in height as the man towered over you. However, you reached out your hand to shake Drew’s nonetheless.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you said to the man. Drew smiled, his hand accepting yours to shake a couple of times. 

“The pleasure was all mine,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your knuckles one last time before dropping your hand. The way your face felt hot at the small act. Your hand moved to fiddle with the fingers of your other hand as Roman’s hand draped along your shoulder. It was an act of Roman being a sweet kind of possessive. He obviously jealous by the large, imposing man, but not in the way you would’ve expected. 

The way Drew smirked at that, made your heart skip a beat. Why did that look good on him?

“The boys will see you out,” Roman said. Drew gave a nod. 

“Until next time, little one,” the Scotsman murmured before he followed the twins out of the room while saying, “I’ll keep in touch, Reigns.” Roman said nothing back but watched as Drew left the room just the same. 

“That man can be such an arrogant jackass,” Heyman commented behind Roman who hummed his agreement. 

“He can be,” Roman muttered. You looked up at Roman, seeing his eyes casted tot he door still. 

“Aww, are you jealous?” you teased Roman. The man looked down at you. He was frowning. 

“No, I just didn’t approve of the way he was looking at you and how you were looking at him,” he answered quietly. 

“Baby, that’s jealousy,” you teased, turning to Roman fully. 

“This isn’t funny, babygirl,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help the smile and giggle that escaped you. 

“And what are you going to do about it, huh?” you asked Roman, encircling your arms around his neck, drawing him down just a bit.

“I think, I’m going to make sure you remember who’s babygirl you are,” Roman said, lowly. You giggled because the notion sounded delicious. 

“I look forward to it,” you teased before kissing Roman. The Samoan made a noise as his arms encircled your waist. 

“I’ll take this as my que to leave,” Paul muttered as he went to leave the room. Roman pulled away from your lips. 

“You and the boys can go home and lock up, I don’t need anything else tonight,” he was quick to say to Paul before his lips moved back to capture yours, enthralling your heart into a quicken pace because you knew where this was going to lead off to. 

You already know that your his babygirl. 

And no one else’s.  

In all honesty I got a little sleepy close to the end so I don’t think the ending is all that great...but I hope that this kinda was the expectation of the reader meeting Drew and Roman getting a tad bit jealous....idk lol ~Bri

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#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #mafia boss series #mafia boss au #mafia boss roman #drew mcintyre