#is still somehow very domestic it's like my perfect scene)

[zorrasucia]

"Just sleeping and fucking all day," I AM DEAD!!! and i revived just to BEG you to expand on this please i just love them so much 😭

I'm so glad you liked it, Anon! I came up with something but I'm like 90% sure it's not what you were asking for - I aimed to write more smut and it turned into saccharine fluff somehow. I apologize. Rest assured that the next update for this fic is business as usual, very spicy and contains Carmy finally ******* ****** :)

Teach Me Tonight - Deleted Scene 2.0

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] Deleted Scene: [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Mature (1k)

Tags: Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Smut, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Domesticity

"Hey, baby," Carmy mumbled with a smile, rolling over in bed and looking at you with sleepy eyes.

You had padded into the room and leaned over to kiss his neck, waking him up from his third nap of the day. In between, you had fucked - slow and loving, then quick and hard, then a mix of both. You felt tired in the best way - and still somehow you wanted him. But you could wait.

"Shhh. I'm not here for another round," you soothed, moving a lock of hair out of his face. "Got us some pizza," you settled across from him, laying the box between you.

He sat up and ogled you shamelessly. You were wearing jeans and one of his shirts, your nipples showing through the white fabric.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he shook his head and focused on the slice of pizza you handed him instead.

"I mean," you gestured at him, his naked torso and satisfied smirk, "likewise, Carm."

You shared a hungry look while taking a bite of pepperoni. He broke first, looking up at the ceiling, away from you.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

"Mmm?" you nudged his leg with your foot.

"You come like two, three times when I can only do one and be just useless..." he blushed, curiosity tinting his skin. "I was just wondering what that was like, if all women were like that."

You smiled. Sometimes you forgot that he was a virgin before you.

"A lot of women can, uh, come multiple times," you explained. "If it's done properly, if you work for it," you cleared your throat. "Some women can't come at all."

"That sounds, uh-" Carmy struggled.

"Miserable?" you supplied and he nodded. "It can be. But sex isn't always about coming, you know? It's about being close and getting to know each other."

Carmy hummed pensively.

Just now, between one round and the next you had fallen asleep still intertwined, spent, his arms around your waist and his softening cock inside you. It was nice, to be so close with zero expectations of it going anywhere.

"What've you learned about me? With sex, I mean," he asked, his blue eyes wide.

"That you're giving, uh, determined, a fast learner," you pondered for a minute while you chewed. "A bit of a control freak but we knew that from before," he chuckled. "And you think you don't deserve good shit, even though you do."

"Pretty spot on," he let out a shaky breath.

You caressed his calf over the bedsheets. It felt strange to be talking about this but it had been a fucking weird day, and discussing orgasms with Carmy while eating pizza fit right in.

"You're a great fuck, Carm," you said softly. "And that takes patience and care and- I love that you want to make me feel good. I do," his gaze was downward and you reached for his hand. "I just don't want you to think you need to be perfect for me here too, you know? There's no pressure."

Carmy nodded and his eyes met yours, he gave you a soft smile.

"Thanks," he brushed your knuckles with his thumb. Then his smile turned mischievous. "Just to be sure, you do like coming though?" he looked for confirmation, head tilted.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Obviously, yeah," you poked at his side and reached for another slice of pizza. "I'm just saying there's no pressure, okay?"

"Okay," he took a big bite of crust. "You didn't answer my question from before," he prompted, raising his eyebrows. "How does it feel?"

"Uh. Well, you don't know how good it's going to be until you're coming. Sometimes it slows down, becomes softer. Or you get halfway through the next and get stuck there," you shrugged. "Sometimes it builds up, becomes more intense each time-"

"Like the last one?" he asked.

You blushed - the memory of him on top of you, his chain dangling near your mouth, his hands holding your wrists above your head, taking up all your thoughts. He had fucked you through your first orgasm until you saw stars and your moans turned into cries of pleasure.

"Exactly like that," you replied bashfully like it wasn't you that had begged him to keep going and fuck you harder.

"How many have you done?" Carmy asked after a while.

"Huh?"

"How many times you've come in a row?" he repeated, that calculating look back on his face. "What's the max?"

"I don't know, five?" you laughed nervously. "I think you're getting the wrong message from this, Carm."

"No, I know," he shook his head. "I was guessing we could start with all that 'no pressure' thing tomorrow. And I think I still have one more round left in me today, so..."

"What the fuck, Carm?" you giggled.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding how flustered you were.

"I'm serious," he said, amusement still showing in his tone. You finally uncovered your face and looked at him. He was smiling but he wasn't joking. "I don't know how to be calm," he explained. "I don't know how to fucking relax and be normal. I never have. Being with you- That's the closest I've come to that," he said softly. You cupped his face tenderly. "But sometimes it gets so crazy that the only thing I know I can do well is make you feel good. That's why I can be a control freak and competitive and insane..."

You shushed him.

"You're fine, baby," you caressed Carmy's shoulders, scooting closer to him. "I love that you're all those things. I just- You push yourself to the limit. You can hurt yourself trying to make everything perfect," your thumb traced the edge of the dark circles around his eyes - all from early mornings and late nights at The Bear. "I don't want to be that for you - another weight, another thing that needs to be perfect."

"You're not," he whispered. "You've never been that, okay?"

"Okay," you sighed and surged forward to kiss him, his face between your palms.

Even after the kiss was over you stayed there, your forehead on his, and your noses touching.

"So," you said after a while, "how about we finish this," you pointed at the pizza, "and watch a movie?"

You had learned that watching a movie with Carmy was shorthand for a nap on the couch since he was always so fucking tired.

He chuckled against your mouth.

"I think I can manage that," he replied, guiding you by the hand to the living room.

~

[Part 8]

~

@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp

#replies #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x you #carmy berzatto smut

[theflyindutchwoman]

I have 3 things to talk about…

1. How nice it was to see Tim talk to the guys about his fight with Lucy. I’m literally shocked that he was so open with them! I love that he’s growing, opening up and confiding people that aren’t just Lucy and Angela (And Genny to an extent) he was so many friends now!

2. I am unable to move past how married™️ and sweet and domestic it is that Lucy calls tim to get the bugs at home 🥹 and how she suspected that he was just killing them but didn’t say anything and Tim was like pretending to set them outside even tho he wasn’t because he appreciates how empathic she is to even bugs 😭 I just can’t get over the idea that badass Lucy Chen is scared of bugs, well maybe not scared but whatevs, and makes her grumpy boyfriend take care of them but still insists he doesn’t just kill the scary bugs — do we think post Jackson death, pre-Chris she would call Tim over to handle the super big ones? Omg can you imagine? I’m dead

3. Can we talk about how the dance was like the biggest indicator we’ve ever had that these two are so FREAKIN TACTILE WITH EACH OTHER! Like it was kinda obvious before that their shared love language is touch, but I feel like you really, very clearly see that in the dance. And I just 😭 they love each other so much and just want to touch and snuggle and be with the other so much.

I am still very unwell. And I haven’t even processed the ILY’s fully yet so we’re not gonna go there 😂😂😂

Just when I thought I had recovered enough, you decide to send me this. This is a live footage of me right now :

. The 'bug scene' Listen, after the dance, this might be my favorite part of the episode. This scene was the cutest thing ever… and yes, it was peak married energy. Let's be real here : what is the point of having a boyfriend if it's not to have him take out the trash and deal with the bugs? (just kidding!). Seriously though… Lucy once said that she used to treat the coackroaches in her first apartment as pets (3.11 I think), so it's not like she is fundamentally scared of bugs. Neither is Tamara for that matter. She just wanted Tim to take care of them, in a very Lucy way. But the fact that she knew he was killing them all along but pretended not to know is perfect. Again, that is so her. And then, add the other layer to that scene. Out of all the questions she could have asked, she chose this one. I feel like it was her way of diffusing the tension, of making Tim more comfortable by asking such an innocent question, with no stake at all, before bringing up the real issue between them.

. Tim at the bachelor's party scene You have no idea how much I wish that part had been a little bit longer, so we could see more of the reactions. Still, I love how this scene was cut, with the back and forth between the two parties. How both of them needing to confide their frustrations to other people. And you're right, this is huge for Tim. At best, he would open up to Lucy (obv not an option here) or Angela. Maybe Genny. But certainly not someone like Randy who he barely knows and who can't keep a secret. Or even Aaron… His former aide. That's how much this relationship is important to him. It may have started as a way for him to vent but he also wanted to hear some advices. And he did listen to Randy's suggestion - of all people.

. The dance On the one hand, did anyone still have any doubt that these two are so tactile with one another? The undercover mission was all the confirmation we needed, really. But on the other hand… I didn't think it was possible for them to be even more tactile. It's somehow more intense, more intimate… It just shows how much they craved reassurance. They needed that touch to ground themselves. Lucy needed to play with his lapel and he needed to pull her in closer to him. And don't get me started on how she was playing with his hair or caressing his face. IN PUBLIC. There was no room for Jesus in that dance. She was looking at him the same way she did before 'naked times'… And where did they sneak off after that dance? 👀

#little talks (with bestie) #the rookie #chenford #6.02

[ladamedusoif]

Baking (Dieter Bravo x OFC! Andie Wallace-Bravo)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 2

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar (click for masterlist)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC!Andie Wallace-Bravo

Rating: Teen/Mature

Word count: ~1500 words

Warnings: Mild drug references, alcohol references, strong language, implied smut

Summary: Although he’d once been more known for getting baked, these days Dieter is more interested in baking of a different kind. 

Author's note: This entry in A Merry Fic-Mas is inspired by the very wonderful Curls series by @farawayfromwanting/@agentjackdaniels and @julesonrecord. It's an honour to have the chance to add my own tiny little scene to the Bravo-Wallace family story, and I hope their wonderful creator likes this humble little tale of Holiday Dandie.

Dieter Bravo was not what anyone would call a wholly domesticated man. Marriage and kids had encouraged him to embrace the joys of basic family cooking, but he still struggled with anything beyond the simplest of recipes. 

“I’m an actor, Mamá,” he’d protested as his mother tried to teach him a few of her staples. “It’s basically a given that we’re gonna live on takeout and on-set catering.”

But Dieter had a culinary secret. Baking. In the literal, not metaphorical, sense. Though that was a specialism, too. Less so, these days. 

Even at his hedonistic peak, he’d somehow still retained the ability to produce the best cookies - weed optional, though usually a given - anyone had ever tasted. He didn’t have an exact recipe, just went on vibes. It was soothing, all that gentle mixing and rolling and cutting and baking. He’d made full use of the in-house kitchen in rehab, churning out variations on his failsafe cookie recipe as a kind of therapeutic exercise.

Now, Dieter is swiping through holiday baking ideas on Pinterest while the kids dance energetically to the Bluey opening credits. He’s been the stay-at-home parent for the last couple of months, the strike and production delays for season two of When You’re Lost in the Darkness offering him a welcome chance to stay put and just be a dad. 

Andie walks into the family room dressed in her favourite smart casual outfit of stylish grey coat, white blouse and jeans, makeup subtle and dark curls arranged over one shoulder, her purse slung across her body. She’s in demand, these days, and with Christmas fast approaching Dieter wanted to give her a proper day to herself: get her nails done, have a facial, whatever she wanted. 

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? I feel bad heading out and not staying with you guys on my day off.”

Dieter looks up from his iPad and smiles at his wife. “When was the last time you had a day just for you, angel? We’re fine. Go! Relax! Shop! Do whatever!” He stands up from the couch and shoos her affectionately towards the door, barely letting her pause to kiss the kids goodbye.

Charlie and Ezra do not take their eyes off Bluey for a moment.

Dieter sits beside the kids on the big rug in front of the TV. “So…how’d you guys like to make a surprise for mama?”

Charlie shoots him a look so uncannily similar to her mother’s that Dieter has to pause for a moment. “We’re watching Bluey.”

Ezra nods, bright blond hair gleaming. “Boo-ee.”

“Okay, how about this: we make some cookies for mama, we have lots of fun, and then you can watch more Bluey. Hmmm?”

The children turn to each other as if conferring over their father’s offer. Charlie, as the eldest, assumes the role of spokesperson.

“Okay. But we get to eat cookies and watch Bluey.”

The Pinterest post Dieter had selected as inspiration showed a perfect, well-scrubbed family enjoying a platter of gorgeous, golden holiday cookies frosted and decorated with surgical precision. 

His kitchen, however, had disintegrated into a case of Pinterest versus reality, soundtracked by Dieter’s personal holiday playlist.

Ezra’s wails drown out the sound of Run DMC while Charlie protests that she wasn’t trying to eat Ez’s bowl of frosting. Her dark curls, meanwhile, are streaked with flour, dough, and sugary globs of red and white fondant icing.

They seem to have somehow used every single bowl in the Bravo-Wallace household, the kitchen countertops crowded with mixing bowls of various sizes and coated in flour and sugar. As Dieter turns to comfort Ezra he skids on what he rapidly realises is an errant egg white.

“Motherfuck- sorry, Charlie. And Ezra. Sorry, Charlie and Ezra!”

No sooner has he picked up his son than the oven timer pings, and Charlie is off her stool and opening the oven door - bare-handed - like a shot. Dieter throws himself across the kitchen as best he can, half-diving to get Charlie away from the hot surfaces while somehow still maintaining his balance with little Ezra in his other arm.

Now Charlie starts wailing. “I wanna take the cookies out for Mamaaaaaaaaa!”

Ezra joins in. 

José Feliciano entreats the Bravo-Wallaces to a feliz Navidad. 

Dieter takes a deep breath and tries to summon up what's left of his holiday spirit.

Andie Wallace-Bravo has had a manicure, a pedicure, a facial, and feels like a new woman. She even managed to get in some Christmas shopping at The Grove, stopping at the Farmers Market for a coffee before heading home. 

The house seems eerily quiet, though, as Andie opens the front door and steps inside. No TV. Just the faint sound of holiday music coming from the direction of the kitchen. She drops her purse on the hall table and goes in search of her little clan.

“Dieter? Kids?”

“Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I made you cookies! Seeeeeee!” 

Charlie collides with her mother and Andie becomes conscious of something sticking to her favourite grey coat: a freshly-baked sugar cookie, shaped like what she suspects is meant to be a Chrismas tree, and dripping in frosting and sprinkles. 

“Oh! Yes, I can see - hey, where’s your brother?”

Right on cue, Ezra toddles around the corner. He is, from head to toe, almost entirely green. 

He extends his chubby arms towards Andie, who shucks off her coat and picks him up. So much for this blouse, she muses. 

“Dieter, why is our son green?”

Dieter is leaning against the kitchen island, sweatpants covered in what looks like flour and tiny white handprints all over his dark grey t-shirt. He turns to look at his wife and reveals a face covered in splodges of red and green frosting, and hair rendered white with powdered sugar and flour. 

“Hiiiii, angel. We, uh… we wanted to surprise you. With cookies.”

Andie’s heart swells so much that she’s able, somehow, to ignore the apocalyptic scene in every corner of her kitchen. “You made cookies, for me?”

Ezra claps his little hands together. “COOKEEE MAMA! COOKEEEEE MAMAAAAA!” 

Charlie joins in with the chant, beating a loud tattoo on an upturned mixing bowl, oblivious to the dough plopping onto the floor. 

“Dee, my love? How much frosting did they eat, exactly?”

Dieter had protested when Andie insisted on helping with cleanup. She silenced him with a kiss to his sugar-coated lips, tugging on a pair of rubber gloves to protect her sparkling festive manicure.

“We’re a team, baby. Anyway, if we didn’t tackle this together I think we’d still be cleaning it by New Year’s.”

With the last of the bowls finally washed and put away, Andie reaches into one of the high cupboards and retrieves a bottle of Irish cream liqueur. 

“It’s Christmas, after all, and I have been looking forward to this all day. Come join me on the couch? There should be some cocoa in the cupboard if you want.”

Dieter smiles and nods. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, angel. Just want to check on one final batch of dough.”

When Dieter finally emerges, still in his deconstructed cookie-coated clothes, he’s holding a plate of plain cookies and carrying a mug of hot cocoa for himself. 

“The final batch of cookies.” He places them on the coffee table and sinks into the couch beside his wife, resting his head on Andie’s shoulder. “These ones are, uh, a little different. Special.”

Andie looks at him dubiously. “Special?”

He exhales and stretches out, picking up a cookie and nibbling at it. “Weed cookies. For some much-needed relaxation.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh.” Andie giggles and puts down her glass, picking up a cookie. “Well. Holiday cheer, indeed. Thank you, baby.” She takes a bite, chews, and turns to Dieter in astonishment. 

“Holy fucking shit, Dee? These are insane?!” 

He quirks a floured eyebrow and grins. “Still got it. Still making the best cookies in Hollywood.”

Andie is two cookies in when she starts to get giggly, tucking her feet under her and whispering sweet nothings at Dieter as he munches on another of his creations. 

“Merry Christmas, Mr Bravo. You’re the best, you know?”

Dieter hums happily to himself, a soft, blissed-out smile spreading across his face. “Mmmm. No. You are. You’re the best. The best best.”

She giggles again and rests her head on his shoulder. “We’re so fucking lucky. Aren’t we?”

He grunts in assent. 

Andie kisses Dieter’s broad shoulder through his t-shirt. “Hey, Dee. Hey. Wanna make out on the couch?”

No answer. 

“Dee?”

A soft snore. Andie melts a little at the sight: her beloved, still the handsomest thing she’s ever seen even if he’s covered in half the contents of their cupboards. She studies his face, reaching out to gently trace her fingers over his gorgeous features, and leans in to kiss his forehead. 

He tastes of sugar.

Another kiss. More sweetness. Andie giggles, and proceeds to kiss and lick the rest of the frosting off her husband’s face.

Dieter opens one eye, half-awake. “Angel, are you…licking me clean?”

She giggles before standing up and helping Dieter to his feet. 

“Sure am. So let’s go to bed where I can finish the job.” She reaches down to pat her husband’s ass, flour rising in a cloud of dust as she does so. 

“Always said you tasted sweet, baby.”

Dividers by @estrelinha-s

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x OFC #dieter bravo fanfic #curls series #dandie at christmas #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

[cutestkilla]

Fic Rec Wednesday

Hey hey! So while I actually am hard at work on CO content for the Picture Book Project (several illustrations of the gang in third year for @captain-aralias’ amazing take on Simon Snow and the Third Gate), I have nothing that’s really ready for main in terms of sharing. Thanks to everyone who continues to tag me over these past weeks (I tag you all back under the cut for today, or Sunday or to share your own fic recs)! I do love to see what you all are working on even when I have nothing shareable.

I thought I might do a little fic rec post today instead, dedicated to one-shots that were posted in the mad rush of December that I love and think are a little underappreciated. There’s such a flood of amazing content during COC that it’s hard to keep up, and then once we move on to January, there’s still new amazing content coming out. As a result there are some real gems that folks may have missed out on. And so, here is a short (no doubt incomplete because I myself am still catching up) list of my fave hidden gems from December 2022.

And We Still Do by @facewithoutheart (T, 8K)

This is the fic that inspired me to write this post, actually, because I was discussing it with @facewithoutheart earlier and saying I can’t believe more folks haven’t read it. Anyway, it’s so great! The story includes a bunch of AU meet-cutes/meet-uglys framed by post-SFC Simon and Baz being fluffy and cute, with a bonus ACTUAL first time they met via the crucible. Each AU is a great little one-shot in itself and to quote the comment I left on AO3, “I loved them all, I would read a full fic of literally ANY of these”. (That is not actually a direct quote because I appear to have misspelled the word “would” somehow, but I digress.) You get post-canon fluff, a Boy Band AU, a Royalty AU, a couple of really neat canon-divergence AUs, and a combo Coffee Shop/Sci Fi AU all rolled into one, with amazing results. I think it’s brilliant like everything that comes from Christina’s mind and everyone should check it out.

Baby It’s Cold by @larkral (T, 2.6K)

This is a post-canon story told through a series of vignettes with Simon helping Baz accept something (something cold, maybe?) about himself in a really cute and creative way. It’s just really sweet, the prose is lovely as one knows to expect from this author, it gave me the warm fuzzies in a major way and guess what else? IT COMES WITH 3D LEGO ART. It’s short and sweet so you have no excuse not to check this one out folks.

Nice Spread by @messofthejess (T, 1.2K)

Post-canon Brobelove! The age old mystery of whether tea actually can be served on Niamh’s thighs is solved! And just generally this is packed with excellent banter, excellent novelty mugs and excellent tea puns. Very fun!

Another Way We Match by @thewholelemon (M, 1.7K)

Gotta include some spice, amirite? This one is post-canon and packed with great dialogue and banter that pays homage to some of my favourite fanworks (This Will All Go Down in Flames by @facewithoutheart, Monsterfucker, Baby by @sillyunicorn and Property of Tyrannus by @starwarned and @seducing-a-vampire, to be specific) in the funnest way. Simon and Baz are doing sexy roleplay! Only all of Simon’s suggestions are causing Baz eye-rolling injuries. Really hilarious, sexy and also with the perfect amount of domestic fluff mixed in. I love me a sex scene full of funny dialogue and awkward moments, and this sure fits the bill.

I could go on and on with this list, only I’m supposed to be working instead of writing this post, so I’ll stop here for now. Hope you all check these out!

Tags: @alleycat0306 @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @basiltonbutliketheherb @blackberrysummerblog @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @forabeatofadrum @frjsti @hushed-chorus @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @johnwgrey @larkral  @martsonmars @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @shrekgogurt @stitchyqueer @takitalks @tea-brigade @technetiumai @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @whatevertheweather @you-remind-me-of-the-babe                             

#fic rec #fic rec wednesday #carry on #snowbaz fanfiction #snowbaz

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv! I appreciate your recs so much, even as I am constantly weeping at your feet for increasing my Marked For Later list at an exponential rate.

I'm curious to know what fics you would rec that are deliciously depraved, debauched, and downright dirty. Smut so filthy and/or kinky that you can only read it from between your fingers as you cover your blushing face with both hands. My guilty favorite that has lived in an eternally-open tab is The Curse of Wanting by nothing_left_sacred, and I am ever on the hunt for something on that level of perverse indulgence. Help a degenerate out?

Hi anon! Lmao I’m sorry (or am I 😏) for your ever increasing mfl list, I am very familiar with the feeling and have given up on being up to date with my reading 🥲 @pennygalleon and I were just talking about this and I’ve considered deleting everything and starting a new mfl from scratch but am too lazy to do it right now, will prob try it later this year!

As for your depraved ask, I love it so much hehe let’s push the debauchery agenda forward pls and thank! My answer might be underwhelming but full disclosure: I actually haven’t read much filth in the Drarry fandom, or at least not a lot that makes me blush and cover my face (that rarely happens these days…). I am listing below a few Drarry fics that I find very hot and here’s a shoutout to Lokifan as one of my favorite smut authors - but tbh my followers might be more knowledgeable than me on this topic! Oh and thanks for reccing The Curse of Wanting, I’ll definitely check it out :)

Utter Cockslut (A Worthy Cause) by Lokifan

Harry sells Draco’s arse to all comers for a night. After all, it’s for a very worthy cause. Fluffier than it sounds.

Keep your hands on me by tenthousandyears

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

The Adventures of a Pureblood Slut series by asphodellic

Draco Malfoy is arrogant, selfish, sarcastic, and let's be honest, drop dead sexy. But sometimes purebloods aren't as pure as they appear. A series of adventures involving Draco and the things that get him off.

It Started in the Shower series by chickenlivesinpumpkin

When Harry finds Malfoy in his shower at Grimmauld Place, the two boys struggle to keep their hands to themselves, not realizing that their 'enemies-with-benefits' relationship will eventually become considerably darker and more powerful. That relationship will influence the search for the horcruxes--and the war--in unpredictable ways.

Toeing the Line by shiftylinguini (Drarry + Teddy)

Draco wasn’t sure why watching his partner fuck Teddy until he screamed was somehow less morally iffy for Harry than just doing it himself, but Draco wasn’t about to judge. Not when he was balls deep, anyway.

+2 long angsty fic with lots of hot smut:

Another Mask Behind You by lettered

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

Unhook the Stars by jad

For HP Sexstars 2012. - "Love is like a Rubix Cube: there are countless wrong twists and turns, but once you get it right, it's perfect no matter how you look at it." Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words.

#asks #anon #drarry smut

[clovermunson]

early morning [e. munson]

author’s note: the eddie brain rot still reigns supreme, and this is the hard-evidence proof of it, you wonderful little internet cryptids that make this hellsite go 'round. a domestic bliss eddie fluff fic idea would just not leave me alone until i sat down and wrote it, so the result of it is this quick little mess of a fic. boyfriend eddie just lives in my mind rent-free and somehow managed to pull me out of me writer’s block. this fic isn’t much, but it’s honest work lmao as always likes and reblogs (especially reblogs!!) are very much appreciated. however, i ask that you please do not repost my work and claim it as your own!! —morgan🖤

warnings: very vague mentions of recurring nightmares and trauma from previous adventures in the upside down, mentions of food and eating, eddie being a dork, tooth-rotting fluff, this could’ve been a much better written fic if my brain would just fucking woooork

pairings: eddie munson x reader (no specific pronouns are used, but certian descriptions can really be taken any way you want them to be— first time really writing something that’s gender neutral so please excuse any errors!!)

word count: *1.4k

tags: @ardent-musings (because i know you’re a sucker for domestic bliss eddie)

The early morning sunlight peeked through the blinds and curtains, illuminating your features in such a way that Eddie was completely and utterly mesmerized by them. It wasn’t often that he woke up before you, but when he did, he always found himself in awe with you.

He couldn’t help but memorize every small detail of your features, from the way your lips curved up into a tiny smile every now and then to how the light freckles danced across the bridge of your nose and your cheeks. Despite the mess of blankets and pillows that your shared bed was, the scene in front of his eyes looked absolutely perfect.

You looked so peaceful that Eddie was afraid he’d barely move and disturb your slumber— something he didn’t want to do since you now had recurring nightmares after everything you’ve both been through, causing you to lose the much needed rest.

Carefully, Eddie sat up in the bed, gently throwing the covers off of his body so he could quietly leave the room and begin making breakfast for you, a quick, yet brilliant little whim he’d had that he thought could make your morning even just a little bit better.

He padded his way to the kitchen, careful to avoid the one creaky floorboard in the hallway. Once there, he began rummaging through the cabinets and fridge to find everything he’d need to make your favorite breakfast— pancakes with fresh strawberries, syrup, and whipped cream.

“C’mon, this can’t be that difficult, right?” Eddie mumbled to himself as he read the instructions on the box of pancake mix, “Easy stuff.”

He set the box on the counter, grabbing a mixing bowl from the lower cabinet, pouring the pancake mix into it before adding the necessary ingredients and whisking it until it was a smooth batter.

Using a measuring cup, he scooped roughly the entire ⅓ cup of batter, carefully pouring it into the skillet that was already heating on the stove.

“Shit, almost forgot.” Eddie muttered, grabbing a spatula from the utensil jar.

After a couple of minutes, he skillfully flipped the pancake over, the cooked side perfectly done. Eddie took a minute to admire his own handiwork before lightly pressing the spatula against it to ensure it evenly cooked.

Within a few minutes, he’d already made four pancakes for himself, topping them with a little bit of whipped cream, syrup, and some chocolate chips that he’d gotten from the bag you kept in the cabinet. He began making four more pancakes for you, making sure they all turned out perfect as well.

Eddie reached over to the utensil drawer to grab a fork for you, but he pulled it open with just a little too much vigor, causing it to fall right off of the track, and onto the kitchen floor. He let out an exasperated sigh, thankful that he at least managed to grab a fork before everything fell.

“Shit shit shit.” Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper as he frantically turned to see the mess to his side. “Goddamnit.”

The clattering of metal against the tile floor of the kitchen had stirred you from your slumber. Upon waking, you’d immediately noticed that Eddie wasn’t in bed.

“That was definitely Eddie.” You yawned, stretching your arms out and over your head as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes focused on the clock, reading 7:15 AM. You felt a slight shiver as the cool air of your home hit your skin, the thin pajama top and shorts you wore weren’t offering much warmth on their own.

You yawned once more before finally heading to the kitchen to see what was going on, but stopped at the end of the hallway that opened into the living room and kitchen area.

The mess of utensils still laid on the floor beside Eddie, as he’d taken the time to make a little whipped cream and strawberry smiley face on your pancakes, hoping it would help ease any tension he may have caused if he had accidentally woken you up.

“Eds?” You asked, voice still sleepy and slightly raspy. “Everything okay in here?”

“Huh?” Eddie turned around, his mouth hung slightly open in surprise, yet he was still just as amazed by you even when you’d just woken up and didn’t look the least bit presentable to the world yet.

“Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah! Everything’s fine.” He sheepishly smiled, “just making breakfast.”

“And a mess?” You asked, a giggle escaping your lips as you eyed the mess of spoons, forks, and butter knives on the floor.

“Yeah…” Eddie muttered, “guess I just pulled the drawer open with a little too much force and it just…fell out.” He chuckled, shrugging.

Your heart couldn’t help but get warm and fuzzy at the scene in front of you, Eddie’s hair in its usual wild state, his various tattoos all on display from his choice of not wearing a shirt to bed or putting one on when he woke up, the dark green and white plaid pajama pants that he wore almost religiously since you’d given them to him last Christmas hugging a little snugly against his hips. The feeling was only amplified by Eddie holding out the plate of pancakes to you, a goofy grin plastered on his face as he did so.

“Does the strawberry smiley make up for it?” He bashfully asked, hoping he hadn’t angered you even in the slightest.

“You’re safe for now, Munson.” You giggled, making your way over to the small dining area of your kitchen, “even though it’s still entirely too early.”

“Well.” Eddie rushed over, pulling out a chair for you. It was a habit for him ever since you first showed up during a Hellfire campaign, and he’d be damned if he just stopped being chivalrous to you. “at least I didn’t sleep in until noon, right?”

All you could do was smile and shake your head as you sat down and Eddie pushed your chair in.

“Who would’ve ever guessed that Eddie Munson, famed Dungeon Master of the Hellfire club would be such a master chef.” You teased as he set the plate of pancakes down in front of you, quickly returning with his own to sit across from you.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking his seat, “if the rest of the guys knew about this, they’d practically be burning me at the stake with all the teasing.”

“Maybe I should get you a little ‘kiss the cook’ apron then, hm?” You hummed, teasing your boyfriend as you took a small bite of your breakfast.

“Don’t you dare.” Eddie cracked a smile, the dimple on his left cheek showing prominently.

“Awe c’mon!” You fake-whined, “it would look so cute on you though.”

“Nope.” Eddie shook his head as he began eating, “nope. Still not happening.”

You felt a smile begin to part your lips, and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that accompanied it.

“Okay, fine. I won’t get you an apron.” You held your hands up in surrender before licking the little bit of syrup from your fork so it wouldn’t make a mess.

“But…” Eddie drawled, teasing you in retaliation, “you could buy me something like a ‘greatest boyfriend ever’ t-shirt and I’d wear that. Just an idea, y’know.”

“Oh yeah.” You nodded, playing along with him, “you’d definitely look cute in that. But you don’t need a shirt to prove that fact.” Your tone shifted to a more serious one, even though you knew Eddie would still joke around.

“But the shirt would be a nice little notice for everyone else.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair, “plus it’ll let everyone know I’m spoken for if they didn’t know it already.”

“Alright Mr. Munson, calm down over there.” You giggled again, gesturing to the pile of utensils and the drawer that still laid on the floor, “who’s gonna clean up that mess?”

“I’ll get it after breakfast and you can just go back to bed if you want to.” Eddie chuckled, “you can sleep in until noon today.” He finished his breakfast, offering to take your empty plate to the sink for you.

“I love you.” You made your way over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back as he rinsed the plates, “I’ll be waiting for you.” You slowly pulled away from him, giving him a playful smirk as you made your way back to the bedroom.

“I love you too, angel.” Eddie called after you, smiling to himself as he turned off the faucet and gathered the mess of silverware, wondering just exactly how he’d gotten so lucky to have you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fics #here’s more brain rot lmao #morgan’s writings📝

[keithal]

Do you have any supernatural fic recs?

ANON. i have been waiting since 2019 for someone to ask me this. prepare to regret this decision (FYI: i'm taking all these recs & following notes from my public bookmarks on ao3, which you can find here. i'm cutting the notes short, so if u don't mind spoiler-y drawn-out comments, check that out too if u want!)

deancas focused:

A Reasonable Amount of Trouble by xylodemon -> an spn au where dean is a p.i. and a hunter on the side, cas is still an angel, and they get caught up in a plot that's a mix of seasons 4, 6, 8, and 9. this was my introduction to spn and deancas. the characterization is flawless and the prose is beautiful (very cs pacat-esque). the plot is crafted with close attention to detail and the pacing is perfect

the point of our being by noviembre -> a post-s15 fix-it that takes place immediately after the penultimate episode. noviembre is undoubtedly my favorite spn writer of all time. one of the best dean voices i've ever come across. this ties up the narrative threads into a beautiful, sound, satisfying ending, and both destiel & saileen survive. despite the odds, they're happy.

i projected onto dean winchester when i was twelve years old and now im making it your problem by alittleduck (amidsizedfrog) -> another post-finale fix it. and, to date, the funniest thing i've ever read. every fic in this series has a good balance between scenes that make u laugh so hard u hurt ur throat and Scenes That Make You Want To Gurgle Cement.

So Says The Sword by komodobits -> a s4 au and a fandom classic for a reason. if u haven't read this, i'm of the firm belief it's best to go in as blind as possible. but definitely keep this verse in the back of ur mind while reading: "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father" (matthew 10:29)

sir this is a wendy's by noviembre -> yall remember when misha collins said that a modern au deancas would be like if a wendy's janitor and the president of the usa fell in love? well noviembre took that seriously and now we're here. and u should all be thankful bc it's somehow the single funniest and most romantic thing i've ever read

the pie isn’t a metaphor (it’s just pie) by noviembre -> post-finale s15 domestic deancas fic that's the emotional equivalent of drinking tea and lying under a warm weighted blanket. it makes me so happy and i think abt it every time i eat a pastry. i just sit there chewing like “dean and cas are eating fresh pie in their kitchen” and it puts a smile on my face.

Muscle Memory by komodobits -> a "50 first dates" au that i think abt every single day. i'm not joking. it's so sad and touching and sweet and unexpectedly funny, and no one writes deancas like komodobits. it just FEELS so them and i'm obsessed w it.

Strandlines by aeli_kindara -> au where s4 cas meets stanford-era dean. dean's voice and characterization is incredibly in-character with the early seasons and his voice doesn't falter once. and of course castiel! robotic s4 cas with this tremendous power and this fierce yet wavering loyalty to heaven that eventually focuses solely on dean! likewise, his character is spot-on and i enjoyed reading from his pov immensely.

[podfic] right hand on his rife, swore it on the bible by be_brave13 for quensty, floorsirens -> u can't possibly expect me NOT to include this. YES my friend and i wrote the fic but be_brave13's love and appreciation for it makes it feel like a completely separate work. my favorite podfic (and gift) of all time so i implore u to give it a listen.

something suddenly everywhere by noviembre -> the finest post-s15 fix-it of all time. cas is in the empty, they've defeated god, jack is gone, and all that's left is sam, eileen, dean, a bunker, and trying to move on. i know i already said that but this is the same author so it still counts! i cried, i laughed, i grieved, i jumped from excitement. it's a rollercoaster of emotions. it should be put behind a velvet rope at a museum so we can all gather around and clap.

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess -> au where dean writes star trek fanfiction. it follows him from the beginning of the show to the older seasons and is told entirely thru his fic summaries, reader commentary, and livejournal dms. warning that it is unfinished, but it's a masterpiece

saileen focused:

Loveletter (Dear Eileen) by voynichs (Xenerik) -> a short and beautiful meditation about love and eileen from sam's pov. it's only 300 words but it feels like 15k. definitely at the top of my fave saileen fics of all time. when i first read it i stayed up until 2 am crying abt it

Livin' on a Prayer by Dredfulhapiness -> EILEEN MEETING EARLY SEASONS DEAN AND SAM I'M SCREAMING. do u understand how this could've changed the timeline but, more importantly, me as a person. eileen there when dean and sam were trying to find a way out of the deal, there when everything happened with ruby, there for dean's resurrection, there before they met cas, there after sam dies and dean retires and cas goes m.i.a. and DEALING with the aftermath of a foiled apocolypse. everyone hates the winchesters but the winchesters are gone and all that's left is eileen to deal with the brunt of it.

With Hands Clasped by Xenerik -> a handful of snippets from the eileen wedding that explores gender and religion and love so beautifully. i haven't been able to read it completely yet, but i can tell this is going to be another saileen fave.

other pairings/no pairings

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim -> told from the perspective of a guy cas had a brief affair with as a semi-drunken story he tells a friend in a bar. it's technically deancas but since cas's relationship with another man takes main focus, i elected to put it here.

Ten Years by Margo_Kim -> a bela talbot character study and the best i've been able to find, no contest. *rowena voice* good girls are pathetic here's to evil skanks <3

The Archangel Gabriel Is Dead by seizethefire -> fics that have half a million kudos in my mind. it's about how and why rafael comes to think that god is dead. it expertly explores the familial relationship between gabriel, lucifer, michael, and rafael. it's devastating and beautiful in equal measure. definitely a personal favorite and one i think everyone should read

put them in a box somewhere by amidsizedfrog -> a mary & dean fic told from mary's pov from before she died. a gut-wrenching story about performative/toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia and mothers.

lastly, if ur interested, i also write spn fic >:) which u can find by clicking here. happy reading!

#i have so much love for all of these i hope u like them anon! #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #spn fic #fic rec #keith gets a question

[dual-domination]

Twenty questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @forerussake Thank you very much! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

43 works public works, 4 anon works (because of harassment), total 47 works

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

388,480 words 

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, only Guardian and DMBJ (Detective L and GYADL count as Weilan Derivatives, so… still Guardian somehow skjsjsk)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Closer to my heart, back to our home - MDZS/Nieyao (139) Stars aligned in a perfect sky - Guardian X DMBJ/Zhaoxie/Pingsang and later Weilanxie (77) Completely Yours - MDZS/Nieyao (69) Shoot my heart - Guardian/Weilan (52) - Terrible, my first Guardian fic, written for a tumblr request, one day I’ll edit that fic bc I love the concept, but it’s not a good work at all >&lt; Maybe you just don't understand the brain of an ancient alien - Guardian X DMBJ/Weilanxie (52) 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I can take a while to do so, but I’ll always reply to comments, even if some get lost and I have to dig on my inbox to find out after months Ç_Ç (I’m sorry, I’m just messed when it comes to long comments and/or the ones that make me cry). I also love when authors reply to my comments on their fics.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Let me think for a moment, because I’m all ‘happy endings’ here. Probably Wrong side of Hell, a Zhaoxie Cop/Mob AU, because even when it’s tagged as happy/hopeful ending, it’s a momentary happiness, but the future prospects are against them

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

With the ending already posted? No idea But in general, I think it’s Maybe he's just an ancient alien who likes cute socks because everything here is just silly, domestic, sweet and warm. Like the panda print socks. Probably this fic will remain as the ending of this series because I’m not very enthusiastic when it comes to writing in Guardian Drama-verse 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Oh yeah. A LOT. Nowadays it happens once in a while, but when I started posting my first Zhaoxie fic, Stars aligned in a perfect sky , I got so much hate on my askbox and even dms from people that I used to see as friends. Mostly were anon on my askbox, really WTF things, people were truly upset that I was shipping Zhao Yunlan with someone else that was not Shen Wei. When things started changing and this fic showed a hint of what could be (or not) an OT3 fic (so, Shen Wei!), I got even more hate and a lot of bigotry about polyamory! It was an insane moment. If someone wants to know the outcome, this fic has almost 300k (yet only around 100k posted) and IT IS OT3 - also set my career as crossover + OT3 writer kjskjskjsj. My askbox is still open to anon and will always be. You can send hate or love, you choose. Hate will NEVER be responded, though. I delete all hate I receive.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

In English, usually no. In my 1st language, I used to, eventually, within long works, with plot. But once I fully stopped writing in my 1st language, I found it hard to write very descriptive sex scenes - also doesn’t help how confused I get having to explain where their legs and hands are and what the hell they’re doing with their tongues. But I managed it twice, one is in a posted work (2Luo) Love is a heart’s choice, and the other is in an upcoming chapter of a WIP (not the current series, yet I wish kjskjsjs)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Oh man, I’m a crossover writer. I LIVE for my crossovers and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back writing a non-crossover fic. (Also love reading crossovers, hello Fixa!) But craziest one? Guess it was a drabble for Fixa (and I loved that), DMBJ x LOTR, it’s not on ao3, but it’s here on tumblr… somewhere. It’s Wu Xie + a Palantír.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A whole fic? No idea. But concepts, ideas, dialogues, yes. Multiple times. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

It counts the fics I translated myself/wrote bilingual? If not, then no, unless that yes and I don’t know about sjkkjsjs

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Of course! Since the beginning of my life as a ficwriter (I started writing originals long before writing fics). I’m used to working with Vince @victorian-pirate more often, with Arjun @sagittariusdarkarrow when he wants to play specific characters in my fics, but in other fandoms I used to co-write even more than nowadays. With Tazzy, I have a 2Luo series, but we still don’t have a fic we fully wrote together, each part of the series is written by one or the other. I’m always open to talk about co-writing.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Only one ship? Look, I live in fandoms for 3 decades, but not always for shipping (Tolkien, for example), but there are a few ships that will always be appealing to me. I’m going for Weilanxie here, because I didn’t expect this OT3 to be so powerful to me and hold so deep meanings in my life (both fandom and real life).

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

It’s mine and Vince’s beloved fic, Seawater is tears shed in the shores (not posted). I don’t doubt we can finish, I doubt we will, because we’d have to rewrite a lot to have the results we want, and that WIP is HUGE, which makes us lazy… Now, about my MDZS wips, it’s not a doubt, I’m sure I’ll never finish because I have no interest in doing so. I wrote for fun and practice, but that fandom never got my heart the way DMBJ and Guardian did.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, long plots, worldbuilding. And The Shower - any idea I struggle with, I just need to take a shower to have it clear and perfect on my mind, so guess that counts.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sex scenes and fighting scenes - too many movements, too confused touching and hitting and doing this and that, but I still can manage a pretty decent fighting scene when needed. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it’s a language I speak, yep. If I don’t, but can make sure that it’s not only grammatically correct, but also culturally correct, also yep. Otherwise, I’d be committing a crime against what I love the most 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

HAHA GOOD QUESTION, I HAVE NO IDEA. I started writing fics when I was around 13 (25 years ago), about any and every media I loved, like movies, books, bands - no computer, me and my friends used to write on paper and everyone in the classroom would greedily read and wait for another chapter/story (I’m introvert, but never shy about my writing). But that I clearly remember because it was the 1st fandom I POSTED for, because we already could access the internet once in a while from other people’s computers at that time, was Saint Seiya. 

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I don’t even know how many fics I’ve written in my life. But maybe Forgotten Songs of Arda, (this fic starts at and with the beginning of The Silmarillion and goes until long post-LOTR. It’s a rewritten story, from the pov of an OC and Mairon/Sauron). It was written around 15 years ago, so I don’t quite remember enough, and despite being in my 1st language, Vince (who doesn’t speak my 1st language) translated that to read (that was one of the things that built our friendship). The few parts still alive are with him, I lost most of my old fics last year, when my previous laptop completely scattered on the floor. In EN, for sure Stars aligned in a perfect sky (main and side-stories)

tagging @tazzy-ace @jaimebluesq @lacommunarde @omaenanimonoda and I don't remember who else I didn't see already tagged in this Ç_Ç

#writing #tag game

[sionisjaune]

for the fic ask game:

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in a whole lot for me to settle? what was the hardest scene to write?

☉ what do you do when you get stuck writing?

and

❖ pick 2 fics and I’ll combine them somehow - i think you like it, laughed when you came down and dirty valentine series, if possible 👀🥰

The ask game

★ The scene I most wanted to write in a whole lot for me to settle was Seb keeping Christian's bees! I was imagining an unlikely domestic ending for the seb/christian from my other girl!seb fic, and Seb's bee obsession + Christian's backyard bee hives was too perfect. It was one of the only aspects of that fic that I actually planned out in advance. The hardest scene to write was probably the first sex scene. I just didn't know how to get them into bed, but I figured that this Seb would probably just go for what she wanted completely overtly.

☉ The only time I got stuck writing this fic was when I was just beginning. I wrote a couple different first scenes that I ended up abandoning. As soon as I figured out the non-linear narrative of it all, I was on track.

❖ The answer here is either a complicated semi-domestic endgame for het princess cake, or present day brocedes foot kink on a yacht. Just imagining the het princess cake option makes me very sad so... let's dig into it. Nico is divorced as in dirty valentine, and let's say that Jenson is too (it's his second time). Where dirty valentine revolves around Lewis's career, the princess cake version revolves around XE. I think Nico kind of hates Jenson for how he used to treat her in the paddock, and hates that he doesn't seem to be taking the gender equality part of XE very seriously. Because here's Nico, working in the most empathetic and welcoming racing environment of all time, and everything is perfect and comfortable, and there's Jenson, prowling the XE boat after discarding his second wife. I think the only ending comparable to dirty valentine is that they never have sex and become genuine friends. There's still that anxiety for Nico that Jenson only wants to fuck her, though. And Jenson is never redeemed... the fic would just sit in the space where they never sleep together so Nico never has to find out what would happen if they did... if the friendship is real or just the precursor to sex. Wow. I'm making myself sad...

#fic ask game

[roseposts-stuff]

once i rated doctor who series 11 episodes and said what i thought and i said i might do that with other series as well and as im currently on series 4 on my rewatch, i think it's time for series 1 ranking. btw im a very positive person and im NOT a storyteller (tho i want to be) and my rating is like 90% based on Vibes and all this leads to me going 'I LOVE THIS!!' like 98% of the time lol jajfjk

but! lets begin my ranking of series 1 👍

1. the empty child/the doctor dances (1x9-10): im sure everyone knows why this is my favourite story. i LOVE it, we get jack harkness, we get doctor who horror, it's such a good story and im sure we all know that so i won't elaborate further

2. dalek (1x6) this episode is so good, i LOVE the scene with 9 and the dalek y'all know what i'm talking about, christopher eccleston slayed i love that scene so much, i adore rose too, this episode has some of my favourite rose moments, the way she was so kind and compassionate in the best way, i LOVED it, could talk so long about how great rose was in this does someone want to talk about that?? anyway my introduction to daleks and it works very well

3. the end of the world (1x2) i really like this story too, i love jabe and i was so sad when she died :( and cassandra is iconic ofc, i liked how rose talked with the plumber, i really like that moment guys. i loved the atmosphere and everything, just a really good episode imo

4. bad wolf/the parting of the ways (1x12-13) this is such a good finale, i loved nine's regeneration scene so much it's perfect, i like that we visit the same place we did in 1x7, and the side characters are good, the plot is good, what more can you ask for, really? i loved the scene on earth with rose and mickey and jackie when rose tries to explain why travelling with the doctor is so great, i loved billie piper's acting in that scene

5. boom town (1x11) i LOVED the scene with nine and margaret the slitheen dining, and i'm so happy mickey finally told rose that how she's treating him is unfair bcs it totally was!! i really like mickey and the way rose treated him made me so angry, like girl break up with him if you don't like him?? so yeah, im glad mickey got to say what he has to say. also the scene where jack, nine, rose and mickey are having chips is short but great and i'd 100% watch 45 minutes of them just having chips and talking i loved the domesticity so much

6. rose (1x1) i like the introduction to rose, the opening montage is great imo, i like the set design too, it feels very real, idk a really good way to introduce us to both rose and the doctor

7. the long game (1x7) i liked the side characters in this (except adam, he was annoying and also stupid af like girl no?? are you actually so stupid??) anyway, i liked the story and the characters except for adam 👍

8. aliens of london/world war three (1x4-5) i like this story, but it's not the best you know. i love harriet jones she's great and i enjoyed having mickey and jackie there and tbh on my first watch this is what got me going like "i think i'm gonna like this", not sure why, but i do like the plot. it definitely had some great moments and i like this story!!

9. father's day (1x8) ahhh i'm not the biggest fan of this episode tbh, i definitely liked it more on a rewatch but i'm still not the biggest fan. it's good, don't get me wrong, i enjoyed rose and her dad and it was a beautiful episode, but something didn't click idk. i think it might just be that i didn't like how rose saved her dad, i understand her, i would do the same, but somehow it still annoyed me a bit?

10. the unquiet dead (1x3) im not a fan of this episode personally. idk it had some fun moments but i'm just not a fan, sorry unquiet dead fans. to me personally it's just a bit boring and i didn't really get into the story, not even sure why. maybe it's the fact that i haven't read any dickens and having him there just doesn't work for me because of that? i dont know

yeah, there we are! idk if you want to, feel free to tell me if you agree or disagree :D

#doctor who #doctor who series 1 #ninth doctor era #dw #rose's doctor who ratings

[myckicade]

Mayans M.C. - 05x04

Good grief. Let's roll around in some of this for a minute.

THE ACTUAL HELL IS EZ DOING TO THIS CLUB. Not only to the Mayans, to Santa Padre, but now he's getting the Broken Saints involved in it? Nothing good can come from this. Nothing. I swear, if we end up seeing more dead animals (fake, yes, but still deeply unsettling) because of this motherfucker... I've never watched Survivor, but isn't this grounds enough to vote him off the fucking island?!

Anyhow, to balance my bitching with a positive...

How fucking cute was Bishop's little smile, "It's early for us?" ^_^. That made me SO happy, and I don't quite know why.

I was hoping it would take longer for EZ to be identified as the rat. That could have been a fun little thing to watch for another week or two, watching Kody/Katie put things together, a bit at a time. While I realize this is all happening on a one-season deadline... Y'know. I was just hoping the pacing would be a little more exciting.

On that note, that's something else I feel that I am missing with these last few seasons is that feeling of excitement that a really excellent story offers up. It's a pacing thing, and a writing thing, so caught up in this sad little monologues from various characters, we lose out on plot.

Eh. Anyway.

GILLY. That was one of the other highlights of the episode for me. Whether or not there's actually a relationship there, at the given moment, that little moment of domesticity was just beautiful. I want that for him, which probably means that he won't get it in the end. -_-. Motherfucker. Anyhow.

I found the scene with Lobo disturbing. Not in a manner that left me wanting to hide my eyes. A dude wants to take a taste of pure, cooking-phase heroin ingredients, hey, that's just Natural Selection, right there. But, the fact that a group of his brothers stood around and watched him die? I dunno'. Something about that felt so cold and disconnected. Legalities of their activities aside, it's just the feeling that this Reign of Ezekiel is bringing with it, I guess. No real love, or loyalty, just fear, and the half-silent struggle of making it to the next day. Scarcity. This season makes me think of the Four Horsemen, that they've all somehow ridden into Santo Padre, and this is it.

I mean, sure, it is, but. Y'know.

Anyway. I'll unpack that Four Horsemen thing a bit later. It gives me an idea.

All the same, I was on Sofia's side on this one, despite the forced plot device. (Again, you'd think a full patch would fucking know better?!). Sure, there may not have been time to save the guy, and, yeah, there was the cook house to consider, amongst other things, but it had to have been pretty damned upsetting to watch no one give a fucking damn. I'm really stuck on that. It just doesn't arrange well in my head.

Postive: STEPHANIE!!!! I was very happy to see her, and that she was doing so well! Smiling! That poor girl. Seriously. I'm still crossing my fingers for her to get a Happily Ever After with Hank. <3 .

Negative: FUCK, do I miss Taza. While I'm glad that his being long gone means that I (probably) won't have to watch him die, it's just not the same without him around.

SAMDINO hit Yuma. Okay. Isaac has an interesting tactic. Makes perfect sense, but, again, it could have been presented with a bit more oomph. Every time someone gets nailed, it comes across as a, "Oh, shit... Ah, well." C'mon, now. If you're at war, be at fucking war. While the pipeline is important to their survival, so is, y'know, fucking surviving.

Sorry. People are dropping like flies around EZ, and he has tunnel vision on taking out the fucking Cartel. "Undermanned, with a half-assed plan." (Thank you, Dutch).

So, I think that that about sums up my major thoughts. Now, for some random things.

The List of Shit I No Longer Care About

Emily Galindo. That's it. I don't give a damn whether she makes it out, or doesn't. I'm just tired of seeing the inside of that fucking store, man.

The Angel/Adelita relationship. It's bound to go to shit (again), and it's not even all Angel's fault, this time!

The fucking pipeline. This one may be less about not caring, and more about not being particular on how it comes out. It will make for a better ending, I think, if they fuck it all up. But.

The entire Soledad vengeance thing. I need to re-watch a few parts, but that's where I typically tune out.

Sofia's ex? I hope that doesn't become A Thing.

Proper Fucking Grammar. This post is such a mess, and y'all, I am SO SORRY for it.

The List of Shit I Care Deeply About

I want the kids - ALL of the kids - to make it out of this okay. That includes Letty. Some real Sins of the Father shit she has going on there.

I know I already said it, but please, NO MORE DEAD ANIMALS. Thank you.

Bottles. Dude reminds me of my husband, especially when he talked about what he went through as a child. I wanted to give him a big ol' hug, just because.

ALSO. His friendship with Elio? LOVING IT!! That's about as deep a friendship as I've felt in this show, all season, and I am here for it!! P.S. I'm also pissed that they've been split up. >:(. >:C. I'm so upset, now!!!!

The Angel/Miguel scene teased for 05x05. *le sighs* I am sold-and-a-half on the Family Trauma Storyline, so this should be magical.

My work, which I should be doing right now, but hey. It's a slow day.

Catch y'all next week!

- Mycki

#Mayans MC #Mayans M.C. #Mayans MC Spoilers #Mayans M.C. Spoilers #Mayans #Mayans Spoilers

[thezolblade]

What is Martin into sexually? So far, I got the impression he's not nearly as kinky as Jon, but to be fair Jon is pretty hardcore.

Oh yeah, Martin's not nearly as kinky. There are enough points of overlap for compatibility if they work on it, at least.

Martin likes informal romance as a lead-in to calm his nerves. Cuddling up, having a laugh together, putting on music or TV as background noise and a topic of conversation while they relax. Thanking each other for thoughtful little gifts or home cooked meals, kissing while they're feeling all affectionate, and gradually getting more heated. Slipping hands under clothes to get hot and bothered before undressing, to make that part less awkward. Maintaining lots of skin contact, and being well cushioned by a good bed or sofa. Resting together for a good long while afterwards, and waking up together in the morning.

(He gets self-conscious and worried about anything too formal, like expensive restaurant meals, or events with a posh dress code, or the kind of clubs that are too loud and crowded for him, where everyone else seems to be showing more skin than he wants to, personally. He also feels really awkward about undressing in advance, all in one go, in front of a partner who's watching and judging. He's tried out casual sex, and come to the conclusion that he doesn't like it so rushed or impersonal, since it hits him too hard in the self-worth issues.)

He likes getting to take a break from feeling perpetually guilty and worried, by being told that there's nowhere else he needs to be, and nothing else he should be doing, everything's okay, he's doing great, he can relax now...

So that plays into the whole feelgood domesticity thing. When the atmosphere is set for a lazy day in bed with a boyfriend, it helps him feel like he's okay, and all is well.

He doesn't have as much experience with submissive play, but that can offer a similar appeal. When a partner who's promised to look after him takes the lead, and tells him that he's doing exactly what he's supposed to do, absolutely perfect, he doesn't need to worry about anything except being good, just like this...

Mm, he has a praise kink, and he likes abdicating responsibility when he can trust that it'll go well. He could really enjoy being tied up for gentle sex, and being held and soothed, with a partner stroking his hair. Though he'd probably be too embarrassed to ask for that, even at the best of times.

When he feels restless to prove himself, he'd also enjoy being of service; preparing treats and hand-feeding his partner, or being fed a few bites of a meal that he made for them. Giving a massage, and following it up with sex.

He'd find it very cathartic to hold the sort of scene where he makes a mistake, and gets reassured by a dom that he's still good and lovable, with lots of kissing and "I know you're doing your best". (He'd never think of that as something he could request, so it wouldn't happen unless they stumble into it somehow.)

He'd be up for occasionally doing a silly roleplay to help process his demons - probably not more than once every month or two, if he was following a schedule of his own desires. 'Oh no, a sexy monster has followed me home', or 'my boss is telling me off for being too sexy and distracting', that sort of thing. When he's feeling that adventurous, he wouldn't mind play-acting a struggle or a physical punishment, but only if he didn't actually have to do anything that really hurt.

All in all, he could deeply enjoy a lot of things that Jon would enjoy too. But so long as they have awful issues with trust, consent and communication, that'll get in the way.

#heart of the disaster #tma thoughts #rozzlynn's fanfic

[thatonedemonnamedlucifer]

SHADOW REVIEWS - MARRY MY HUSBAND

Decided to do a little series on this blog titled "Shadow Reviews" where I review some random shit (tv shows, books, etc). I'll start off by reviewing a webtoon I've been i n v e s t e d in for quite some time now, that webtoon being Marry my Husband! I won't give away too much, but the review is not entirely spoiler free so tread lightly! Additionally, please don't start discourse! These are all my personal thoughts. (Brief TW for mentions of domestic violence, financial abuse and illness)

PLOT SUMMARIZED: We start the story off with our protagonist, Jiwon Kang, who is dying of cancer. Minhwan Park, her husband is not answering any of her texts or giving her money she needs for treatment. She eventually returns home and finds Minhwan cheating on her with her best friend, Sumin Jeong (I'm hoping I spelled that right). And also finds out that Minhwan has basically been spending all her money. Jiwon attempts to confront the two, but Minhwan ends up murdering her in cold blood. But then Jiwon is brought back to life... back in time ten years before her death, and during the year she married Minhwan. Jiwon decides to get her revenge on both Minhwan and Sumin by making them marry each other. In the process, she develops a friendship with two co-workers, Juran Yang and Huiyeon Yu, and eventually falls in love with her boss, Jihyeok Yu. I won't go any further than that because I don't wanna spoil the story too much. WHAT I LIKED:

While I don't normally read webtoons, let alone isekai stories and romance stories, this one somehow won me over because of the plot alone. I love that while Jiwon is mainly focused on avenging her own death, she also tries to help her own co-workers, especially Mrs. Yang (who btw has the CUTEST KID :DDD) Also. Huiyeon. That's all I have to say here. While I wish Jiye and her friends got a bigger role, I still love those characters. From them crashing Sumin's wedding to helping Jiwon expose Sumin and Minhwan as assholes, Jiye and the girls definitely won me over. Lastly, Sumin. No, not the character herself, but how she was portrayed in the story. While Minhwan was the shitty ex-husband, I think Sumin is definitely supposed to be the main villain of the story, and the perfect foil to Jiwon. I don't have much complains about how she was written. Oh yeah. That one scene where Minhwan tries to confront Jiwon in her apartment... only to be greeted by a mean looking guy who immediately takes a disliking to Minhwan. That was funny lmfao. WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE:

Speaking of, Minhwan's character was... kind of flat to be honest. There's not much to know about him besides the fact he's a cheater, abuser and a murderer. I do wish I learned more about him. Additionally, Mr. Lee, Jiye and her friends, and the other minor characters definitely deserved more appearances than they had. I am DEFINITELY not a fan of the "prettier without glasses" trope that showed up here to say the least. Tbh, as cute as they are together near the end, Jiwon and Mr.Yu's first interactions were... uncomfortable to say the least. Lastly, and this is mostly my personal preferences rather than an issue I have with the story itself but I need to say it anyway: Can the fake pregnancy trope just FUCKING DIE already.

OVERALL THOUGHTS:

It's not the greatest love story by any means, and it's not for everyone, but I would definitely recommend for folks to atleast read up to Episode 47 to say the least. This is definitely one of very few romance stories that I actually enjoyed even with some of it's issues. I'm especially looking forward to the side stories which I might review as well! FINAL RATING - 9.5/10.

#shadow reviews #marry my husband #tw abuse #not spoiler free #webtoon #webtoons #manhwa #isekai manhwa

[honeypiehotchner]

Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources. 

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #tw domestic violence #tw abuse #criminal minds #version of you song fic #criminal minds songfic #aaron hotchner songfic #version of you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you

[sukirichi]

earned it [05]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. domestic abuse, car accident, slight angst, sexism, suggestive scenes, unedited and my naoya simping is obvious with this one, 

notes. TEAM NAOYA LET’S GOOOO *sighs* finally got this out from my drafts. anyways, here’s an earned it update while i recover from migraines because my schedule was so hectic last week and i’m so tired, might be sleeping a lot these days hence the hiatus :( also ik i keep saying this but future chapters will finally be more...UH SPICY AND MORE DRAMATIC, I guess? this is mostly an angst fic btw so please don’t expect too much fluff of heartwarming romance. there WILL be romance,,,it just takes some time hehe, anways ENJOY...or not :)

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Women were weak. Trained to be voiceless, compliant, and unable to fight – Naoya found them weak.

His own mother was the perfect epitome of that. For years, he’d watched her leave his father’s room with dried tears, wiping them away with the back of her sleeves. When she saw a little Naoya standing at the edge of the hallway, she’d immediately usher him back to his room, her tears replaced with a smile so convincing Naoya wouldn’t have believed she’d been crying if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. How could he be when day and night, he’s surrounded by tutors, expected to take over his clan and lead them all to a brighter future?

How could he be stupid when he can’t sleep at night, for the screams and cries of his mother, the sound of palm hitting cheek resonating just from the other room, accompanied with the insults directed her way by his own father?

How could he be so stupid when he looked up to his mother – who he believed was the only source of light in the rather desolate walls of their manor – only to see that her beauty faded with each passing day, the brightness of her eyes now filled agony, with pain, with fear? She no longer smiled; not even for him. She no longer came around his room to read him bedtime stories no matter how much Naoya pleaded because he’d gotten tired of reciting scriptures and poetry. She no longer kissed him on the forehead as a morning greeting, opting to stay in the sidelines with her head bowed, acting as if she was a servant and not his mother.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. As the future leader of the Zen’in Clan, it was his duty to hear and see everything, to be wary of everyone around him and to observe. He knew his father abused her. He knew his father hated her, looked down on her, stepped on her at each moment he could. And as if that wasn’t enough, Naoya found out they weren’t married in the first place.

She had been nothing but a mere concubine whose role was to birth an heir. Now that Naoya had come to life, her purpose to live ceased to exist. And people who had no role in the Zen’in estate had no reason to stay any further.

“Mother,” Naoya cried out, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “Mother, please don’t go, don’t leave me!”

She was crying again; he wished she’d stop doing that, that she’d stop being so weak. He wanted his mother to be strong and fight back, but she’s not even attempting to wipe her tears away this time, displaying her vulnerability and meek self to him. Had his father been there, she’d be scolded again, claiming that Naoya shouldn’t be exposed to behaviors of surrender and weakness.

His mother cupped his face, trying her best to keep the younger version of himself from dangling onto her robes; the expensive, silk material the last evidence she’d ever been a part of them.

“Naoya, baby, it’s okay. You need to grow up strong and be the clan leader, okay?”

“But why do you have to leave? Why do you never fight back?”

“I’m sorry, dear...” was all she said, finally kissing him on the forehead like she’d failed to do so for the past months. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better. Instead, Naoya’s cries grows louder with each minute, loud enough that he caught the attention of his manservants who paled at the Young Master’s wails that was sure to displease his father locked inside his study. His mother sent a glance their way that expressed messages he couldn’t yet understand due to his innocence. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller frame until they dragged Naoya away from his mother, the sight of a luggage behind her turning him weak in the knees.

“Remember, Mother always loves you.”

“No!” he fought against their hold. His servants did all they could to not harm the Young Master’s skin, but Naoya was too strong, too desperate that they were unable to hold him back.

Naoya kept running and running, uncaring of the fact his loose robes hindered him from going at full speed. He didn’t stop, even as his servants had trailed after him, desperate pleas for the Young Master to come back falling into deaf ears. His mother had arrived on a nearby bus from the open roads that led outside the Zen’in Estate’s outer gates, her hand frozen on the doors with her head slightly tilted to the side.

That slight moment of hesitance – to look behind or leave everything behind – was what made Naoya stop in his tracks. He breathed hard, sweaty palms on his knees as he silently prayed to the divine beings to bring his mother back, for her to look at him one last time.

But she didn’t.

And Naoya was frozen in his tracks, everything colliding into one crash and burn that he failed to make sense of everything. He stood there and watched his mother hop into the bus, her decision to leave him behind final and irrevocable. What had rung louder then? The way his heart shattered into pieces, or the loud honking of an incoming car that not even his skilled team of guards could protect him from?

Naoya figured it must’ve been the muffled cries of his mother behind the windows that rung the loudest even if he hadn’t heard it.

Until now, he carried the mark his mother left behind; a gnarly scar running inches from his kneecaps that throbs until now. It reminds him every day what could happen to someone once they’re weak, once they’re vulnerable, the horrifying consequence of not being strong enough to face in this world like a huge slap in his face. In a way, he felt grateful for the scar; at least it was proof he’d done his best to run after his mother, and this injury just taught him it was best to face things head on instead of running away.

This scar would always tell him that running away was never the option, and that was why Naoya felt so strong, so disappointed when he met you. Naoya saw much potential in you – the wrath firing in your eyes and the will to fight back is what pulled him in on the first place – and yet you were already trembling on the ground, your sweat dripping on the floor.

“Stand up!” he demanded, tapping his cane on the ground as he wobbled to his feet. “Do you really think being weak will make you survive in this world?”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” he spat out, matching the intensity of your glare. Had you been any lesser of a woman, a servant, he’d have your eyes gouged out. But to him, you were a vessel of hope, an embodiment of strength he could help you hone that he let you off. Still, he felt extremely let down that he expected so much from you, and you’ve been pathetic so far.

Naoya shook his head as he left. “You’re going to die the moment you step out of here. And to think I actually had high hopes for you. As expected, you women are weak and pathetic. Each one of you is useless.”

He didn’t get very far when his injury throbbed again. Naoya fell to his knees and immediately bit down on his lip to conceal his groans, but it was too late. You’ve rushed to him in an instant, already pulling his slacks upwards to get a good look at his knee. Worry is painted all over your features still drenched in sweat and exhaustion, and he pried your hand away, a frown deep on his lips.

“Get away from me. I don’t need a woman’s help.”

“You’re so uptight, you know that?” you rebutted with a roll of your eyes. Naoya watched as you skipped to the nearest medical kit he always kept in his training grounds (which he rarely used) and popping out painkillers to hand to him. “Just shut up and let me take care of you. Unlike you, I don’t walk around calling people weak, and you having this injury never made you weak in my eyes, but you’re not impotent either,” scoffing at him, you pushed the bottle of water to a very annoyed looking Naoya. “At least let me take care of you every once in a while.”

His whole life, Naoya knew nothing but the familiar bitter cold. Being served tea, scaring his servants with his mere presence, the toxic view that everyone was below them drilled into his own head – that had been his life, and his feelings about it were neither hot nor cold.

To him, it was just the way he’s supposed to be.

But the warmth of your hands, the tenderness of your touch to his scars not because you found him weak but rather you cared for him…it tugged at his heartstrings. That had been at least five years ago and Naoya still remembered that moment very clearly.

He couldn’t understand whether he hated his inability to run away or not, because to be around you confused him to no end. One moment, he saw you as nothing but his one way ticket to fortune, but when he was alone with you, he was beginning to see you more as a woman rather than a pawn to his game. Soon, you became more than that, and nothing had terrified him even more that he let someone in his heart just like that.

Did he love you? No, most definitely not. A man like him didn’t know how to love. But with you – every time he saw you – Naoya is confident to admit that he could somehow understand what love meant.

It had been a hellish trip – one he’d never admit it out loud that he wished to never go on again. He was just happy to be home before he laughed, because home? He’d never thought he’d ever say that, yet there he was, beaming at the sight of you pushing your weight off the limousine.

You looked as stunning as usual, running up to him even with your heels before wrapping your arms around his neck. Usually, Naoya didn’t like public displays of affection since it could greatly deter his reputation, but everyone knew both of you weren’t each other’s weaknesses that he didn’t care whether his people could see their leader grinning as his wife welcomed with a kiss. Naoya balanced himself on his cane to encircle a hand to your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you,” you mumbled with your head buried in his shoulder.

Naoya’s smile wasn’t any less affectionate. “I missed you more.” And he did – a whole lot. Even as you both made it inside the limousine, the tablet passed to him per the usual to update him on what happened on the few days of his absence, Naoya couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His cane balanced between his knee and the door, while his free hand intertwined with yours, mindlessly caressing the matching rings that symbolized more trust than love.

“How did it go?” he brought your knuckles up to his lips and kissed it, his attention still focused on today’s stock market. “Did you convince him to lend us the lab?”

“Yes, my love, everything is under control. I told you I had it.”

“Cunning little minx,” he smirked at the confidence and triumph dripping from your voice. Naoya shut his tablet off with a click, hauling you until you were resting on his lap. Giggles erupted beautifully from your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, both your smiles equally mischievous. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Satoru is still hopelessly in love with me, so it didn’t really take much to push him to the edge with a few tears and white lies,” you smiled at him, soon dropping from your face when Naoya’s eyes darkened with an unreadable – no, unfamiliar hint of worry behind them. “Naoya,” you caressed his leg, “I don’t care about him anymore, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I just want to survive and put everything behind,” you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eye, making sure he heard every bit of sincerity in your voice. “You know I love you, right? I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Him coming back doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know that,” he said, although deep down, in the dark recesses of his heart, something agonizing stirred within.

You were a smart woman – too intelligent that he may have feared you had he been any lesser – who could easily read through him, but Naoya wanted to be a step ahead of you that he caught your lips to stop you from seeking beneath his soul already. He knew that if you looked a little too close, you’d see everything, and that would be the last thing he wanted.

Snaking his tongue past your lips, he greedily swallowed your moans. Naoya’s touch was possessive as he gripped your thigh, seconds away from ripping off the material of your dress. He only stopped once he saw his driver pale in awkwardness, and he chuckled to himself, squeezing your hips to stop you from grinding on his thigh.  

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised, “I might just reward you once we get home.”

Home. Prior to meeting you, home had been nothing but a word in his extensive vocabulary. Home had been nothing but something that carried a meaning but no significance in his living, but now that he’d met you, home felt familiar. Home smelled like rose-scented shampoos, it resonated of bubbly laughter and curious hands finding its way to its belt. Home…you’d just given him something to lose.

As per the plan, you managed to sneak past Satoru’s defenses. Naoya had once said that your secret weapon was not your tempting nature as a woman, but rather your intelligence that sometimes put his to shame. He’d shamelessly announced his plan to use you again with the goal of taking matters into your own hands, looping Satoru into the picture until you have him wrapped around your finger again.

It turned out to be easier than expected. Truthfully, you wanted to refuse. It wasn’t because you were worried you’d beat yourself in your own game and fall for Satoru again, but because it felt so uncomfortable to hold him like that, to kiss him like that.

Each second you spent with him just served as a painful reminder of how he’d mindlessly pushed you to the side from a failed plan of ‘protecting’ you.

However, you couldn’t complain nor deny Naoya’s wishes. He wanted to use your abilities to the fullest of its extent and bring out your potential. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly that you’d never question his motives, even if it included seducing Satoru with crocodile tears and a faux broken heart to get him to bend and move at your will. After all, your will was also Naoya’s, and that was what made the both of you so dangerous together.

Standing here now in Satoru’s laboraty, sending him phoney desperate glances as you clutched your husband’s hand, the game had just begun.

He was giving you both a tour of what you could use from his laboratory, and Naoya had kept silent the whole time. The whole drug manufacturing was more your expertise than his. He simply observed everything with watchful eyes, his gaze darting between Satoru’s longing ones and yours. It was a play pretend of push and pull, everyone in the room except for Satoru unaware that soon, you’d bare your fangs to rip his neck apart, and then you’d stand aside and let Naoya finish the business.

You would’ve laughed had Naoya not tightened his grip on your hand. Both you and Satoru paused as Naoya desperately shushed you up, his eyes wide and floating from one corner to another.

Suddenly, a loud explosion came out of nowhere. The blast crushed half of the building to bare rubble and concrete and you saw nothing but black, inhaled so much smoke that your lungs quivered. The ringing in your ears didn’t stop as you wobbled to unsteady legs, waving the smoke away and coughing whatever filled your system. Satoru was right beside you, his long limbs quicker than yours before he hauled you up, checking to see if you had injuries but you were too scared, too desolate to care for his worry.

For your husband laid under a pile of rubble, an arm and his head the only parts of his body saved from the explosion.

“Naoya!” You screamed and pushed Gojo away, taking your heels off before darting straight to where he was. Jumping from broken debris to one another, your feet scraped and burned with each contact, the ringing in your ears growing louder along with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“Naoya, baby, no!” you tried to pick up the heavy slab of concrete that had crushed his body, tears blurring your vision until Naoya’s blond hair swiveled with his dark clothes. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t you fucking dare-”

“Gojo,” he choked out blood. You fell to your knees as you cupped his face and grasped his hand all the while, your entire body shaking. His name kept falling from your lips as you asked him to stand up but he pushed your hand away, not sparing you another glance as he glared at the shock still man behind you. “Take her someplace far – somewhere he won’t find the both of you. It’s T-Toji.”

“No, Naoya, please! I’m not leaving without you!” It was too late. Satoru had easily carried you and threw you over his shoulder, running away from the scene because that was what he was best at. You pounded at his back as the smoke enlarged and covered the entirety of the building that had fizzled with chemicals inside, your husband starting to disappear from view. “Satoru, let me go! We can’t just leave him there!”

“Listen to your husband! He knows what he’s doing!”

As the smoke cleared for a split second, your world stilled. Naoya’s face was smothered with dirt and stains, pain evident on his twisted features, and yet – he was smiling. “Go,” he mouthed, hands outstretched far enough for your matching rings to glint under the sparkling lights. “Live.”

You slumped into Satoru’s arms. It was too late.

You couldn’t comprehend the events that happened afterwards. Satoru had pushed you inside his car before taking off to who knows where. All you knew was that you’d left your husband behind, and you stared emptily at the streets that flashed by, unable to feel or understand anything. It wasn’t until Satoru dragged you out by the wrist and a plane whirring before you snapped you back to life, your feet turning heavy as you plant yourself on the ground.

Satoru looked back at you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shook your head, “I’m not leaving him behind, Satoru, he’s all I have. I need to save him – even if it means I die.”

“You’re not going to die,” he starts off slowly. Satoru moves to place his hands down on your shoulders as if to brace you, even going as far as to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you couldn’t really listen, not when the plane hummed to life and remnants of the explosion still clung to your skin.

“Listen, Naoya is a smart man, okay? You know that yourself. He’ll survive, you just need to trust that he’ll make it. Now we have to go before Toji catches up to us and we end up all dying here!” he shook you back to life when your sobs overpowered his speech that fell on deaf ears, and you cried harder, much less like a little girl who quivered in his arms. Satoru sighed, perhaps just as broken from seeing you this way. “He told you to live. Naoya isn’t asking you to die for him, he’s asking you to live and if you don’t get on the plane, we can’t fulfill his wish,” he convinced, but you only bit your lip, still looking back at the car. You could steal it – one punch to his nose and you could easily get away, get back to Naoya, until he said, “You love him right? So respect his wishes.”

You love him. You love Naoya. He would’ve wanted me to live. He asked me to live.

That was the only consolation you could give yourself as you allowed Satoru to take you inside. His right hand man, Geto or something, quietly closed the cabin doors behind you. He was making sure his boss was situated, who in turn was fretting over you. All it took was one last warning glare sent Satoru’s way before he backed off, raising his hands in surrender and falling back to his seat.

Sooner than you’d like, the plane had took off, leaving your heart right behind with each passing second. The higher you flew up in the air, the number you became.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a base in Italy. We should be safe there for a while. Gather resources, plan our next move, contact friends...we’ll be fine,” Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hard to believe things would be fine when he too seemed restless; whatever happened between him and Toji must’ve really left a scar; not that you cared. You huffed away from Satoru and stared outside the windows instead, your heart dropping the farther Japan was becoming. “Hey. You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Whatever,” you snapped at him. You couldn’t stand his voice, not even if he’s saved you.

The only thing that mattered now was living up to Naoya’s wish, and as much as you hated it, Satoru was right. You had to hope he would survive.

The chances of him making it out were low, but knowing Naoya, low chances weren’t zero. As long as he had a little bit of something, he would keep pushing. You just had to place your trust in him.

Kissing your dusty ring, you wiped away your tears one last time, eyes shut tight as you chanted over and over, live, live, live for me! Live! Naoya couldn’t give up that easily. You both had a long way to go, still so many places to travel, thousand more enemies to conquer and defeat. He promised you the fun was just beginning and that you’d get your revenge soon, and Naoya never broke his promises. So you had to trust, had no other choice but to believe that soon he’d be right beside you. He may not be able to completely walk anymore, though none of that mattered. You just wanted to be with him again.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until Satoru’s hushed whispers woke you up. Sitting up straight, you saw him scowling to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. He looked grim, long, slender fingers caressing his forehead as he sighed. Whatever he heard, it couldn’t have been good, and curiosity got the best of you before you could help it.

“What is it?” Satoru stilled at the sound of your voice, having not expected you to be awake. He refused to meet your eyes as he shut his phone. It angered you further and you stalked his way, slapping a palm down the table before him. “I said, what is it?”

“It’s Naoya...” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to look you in the eye. “He didn’t make it.”

notes. team naoya...let’s go...cry 😭 when I said I would write more gojo x reader scenes and that they’re still the pairing, I meant it, I just had to take a dark route anyways DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE THIS, I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS TO NAOYA BAE 😭 but on the bright side, italy arc is gonna be SHEESH

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @riri-marley @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant​ @mikiminaccch​ | bolder users cannot be tagged

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader romance #naoya x reader angst #naoya x reader romance #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #naoya x reader imagines #naoya zenin x reader imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukirichi: earned it #i hate this chapter so much #naoya bae i will bring you back to life in another series just for you

[childishfluff]

a compilation of unspoken agreements + common tropes in mcyt agere fics

I think we should talk about the unspoken agreements/common tropes in agere fics that no one talks about, specifically in mcyt agere fics. These were put together by me and my discord friends, feel free to reblog and add on/comment on these. This is also not a critism of agere fics! I use a lot of these! 

I just thought the common trends among the mcyt agere fics were interesting and thought I’d point some of them out. 

First of all, there’s the unlimited amount of little gear age regressors/age dreamers just have for plot convince and their caregivers aren’t constantly broke somehow. The elaborate playrooms, the bottomless toy boxes, the one million decorative pacis? They’re all free, they’re just there. 

Also everyone knows how to make angel milk naturally, and no one ever throws away their kid stuff. Unprepared cgs definitely just have sippy cups and childhood stuffied animals just because and when someone happens to regress they’re prepared, somehow. 

Oh and in mcyt agere fics specifically, Wilbur always knows a bunch of lullabies? no explanation he simply does. music interest = know every kid song ever to comfort the babies. 

The ‘i had a friend in high school/college who regressed’ trope is a common way of explaining why a cg/friend knows about agere things, too. again with the ‘conveniently having kids things for fluff reasons’, cgs always have kids books or fluffy blankets with the excuse of baby sitting younger family members or whatever. 

Regression always lines up with meet ups in rpf fics so that they can cuddle and domestic family fluff can ensue. Speaking of physical affection, caregivers are usually incredibly strong just so they can carry one/multiple teenagers/grown adults while they’re little.

If the little and cg aren’t already in the same place, they’re somehow able to get to each other really quickly. And if the fic *is* internet based, Discord calls/chats are the main form of communication. There might be a Discord sever for all the mcyts who are also littles/cgs used to quickly introduce to the readers who else in this universe is aware of agere-related things 

When there’s a confession scene, the person the little is talking to may or may not reveal that half the people they know are either littles/cgs and they might get added to the previously mentioned Discord server. Also! There might be an agere minecraft sever just because? 

If someone walks in on someone while regressed the ‘you weren’t supposed to know!’ ‘know what?’ ‘this! *motions to kid things*’ ‘*knows what’s happening for some reason/quickly picks up on it* it’s okay to be small’ conversation always takes place. 

Another version of the confession scene could be a situation where the person they’re telling doesn’t already know, they usually come back a day later talking about what they learned on their own, talking about how they were curious and ‘googled a whole lot’. 

Everyone is always awake to reply/answer to distressed littles at 3 am, and ‘reward from cg’ packages arrive the very next day. 

If littles go out with their cgs, no fan ever recognizes them or questions their behavior despite them never attempting to disguise themselves because uh...writers don’t wanna deal with it, I guess. 

Phil and Wilbur usually fill the role of ‘teasing family-figure’ who’s always great at making littles slip. Tommy is either ‘calm cuddly baby aww he’s so soft when he’s small’ or ‘chaos and only chaos’ toddler-younger kid when he’s the regressor in fics, not much of an in between. 

Ranboo is usually more well behaved and when he does act out, he gets anxious. Tubbo is either super little/just a bit younger then the other regressors or the friend who doesn’t regress but isn’t the primary caregiver either. Techno can go from the friend who ‘doesn’t like kids’ to the big-brotherly perfect cg, or be an older toddler-aged little, depends on who’s with him and what’s needed for the fic. 

There’s a lot more that we’re missing, but these were just some ones me and the server noticed! It’s actually really interesting to think about how we either silently agreed on these things or a few people did them and then so did everyone else, and about the actual reasons we chose these tropes/common things to stick with. 

Most of them are plot convience or based off our perseptions of the streamers and content creators, but it’s still cool, y’know? feel free to reblog/reply with more examples or comments on this little list! thanks for reading! <3

#mcyt agere #tommyinnit agere #ranboo agere #wilbur soot agere #tubbo agere #philza agere #technoblade agere #mcyt #agere fanfiction #cg!phil #cg!wilbur #writing tropes #agere writing #rambling