#ALSO IGNORE THAT I GOT MY LEFT AND RIGHT MIXED UP DON'T LOOK AT ME

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette didn't particularly get the idea of music translating into words. To her, music was music and words were words; you could mix the two in a song to evoke more emotion, but that wasn’t the same as one becoming the other.

That was the reason she was there, she supposed. Luka had intrigued her with his offer, and if anyone could make her believe it or learn something new about music, it was him. Sure, he was also kind of handsome, had soft blue eyes, and a dazzling smile, but she was there for a potential new understanding of the creative process, nothing more.

Not that there would've been anything wrong with going for both, of course.

She looked at the note once more to make sure she was at the right park. Luka's handwriting was unique and identifiable as his: not wild, but not "standard" either, while still being totally readable. It made sense for someone who had to write a lot.

After triple-checking to be certain, she stepped out onto the smooth walkway leading in, looking around for the fluffy black-and-blue hair she'd met only a week ago. There were some couples with little picnics set out that she couldn't help feeling jealous of, but she tried to ignore them.

She heard Luka before she actually saw him, which was a weird thought. A quick set of notes from a guitar had made her turn, spotting him sitting on a bench in the pleasant shade of some trees and waving at her.

She smiled, waving back and walking over to him. "Hey, Luka! How—" She stopped in place, catching herself before she could properly ask him. She raised the cellophane bag in her hands to her mouth, biting into the side to both free her hands and keep herself quiet, then made a flurry of hand movements to ask how he was doing.

He blinked rapidly in surprise, then gently rested the neck of his guitar on the bench so he could sign in return. His gestures were more natural than hers - had she been signing to herself, it might as well have been the language of aliens - so she could easily tell what he was asking.

"Yff—" She brought her hand back up to pull the bag out from her mouth, then answered proudly, "Yes, I learned a little bit over the weekend!" She waved her free hand from side-to-side like she was casting a spell, despite the sheepish look on her face. "I might've forgotten how to sign 'yes', but I knew what you were signing! That's something, right?"

The dazzling smile that she remembered, showing just a little bit of teeth but not too much, had returned. Luka nodded at her, pulling out a notepad and pencil from his pocket to write while she got herself settled in. He'd already left enough room on the bench for her to sit, so she took up the empty space and got comfortable.

He went to hand her his notepad, but she lifted up the cellophane bag first, giving it a shake to show off the assortment of macarons, cookies, and candies inside. "Here! Trade me."

He visibly perked at the offer, their fingers brushing as he took it from her.

She only realized what she'd done when his notepad was already in her hand, hurrying to say, "Oh! I put that in my mouth without thinking, didn't I? You don't have to—"

He'd already loosened the string so he could open it, grabbing one of the candies and unwrapping it before popping it into his mouth. He'd clearly heard her, but it was quickest to eat one to prove his point rather than tell her it was fine.

Plus, she had one of his forms of communications in her hands, so that had been out. She looked down to read what he'd written.

You didn't have to dress up for this, but you look nice. I hope this is enough shade for you.

She blushed at the first line. It was one thing to be complimented verbally, but in writing, she could read it over and over again. She checked Luka's reaction to see if he had any regrets about it, but he was cool as a cucumber, chewing on the candy she'd given him whilst getting the guitar back in his hands.

The second line was more confusing to where she had to actively dig through her memories to think of what it could be referring to. She did recall sitting down with him after the chaos had settled down, having some juice together, and her rambling unnecessarily long about everything from her job to—

"Wait—" she began in realization, "was this all because I complained about how hot it was that day?! That was one thing in all the nonsense I was talking about!"

He shrugged, smiling innocently and holding his hand out for his notepad. She pouted, feeling like he was being unfair with how sweet he was to someone he'd barely just met, but relented and gave it up to him. She just couldn't quite believe it, having felt so bad for how chatty she'd been with him, but he'd apparently paid attention to every word of it.

She wasn't sure if that was more or less embarrassing than being ignored the whole time.

"O-okay, so..." She looked down sheepishly at his guitar, trying to change the topic as casually as possible. "How are we going to do this? You showing me how you talk with music?"

One hand still holding the guitar's neck, he flipped through the pages of his notepad with the other. He showed her a pre-prepared page with his answer, which stated:

I'll play something for you. You don't have to do anything but listen and imagine a story in your mind.

A story? What kind of story? She wanted to ask, but knew that she wouldn't get a response.

Squinting at him, still skeptical, she gave into the request and closed her eyes. "Alright. Ready when you are."

There were a few small, short notes at first - either Luka warming up or being genuinely nervous to start - but then an actual melody began to develop. She shut her eyes tighter, like it might ruin everything if she looked, and her nose scrunched up as she tried to focus on what he was playing and the instructions he'd given.

It sounded... regal? No, adventurous? Maybe both? It reminded her of movies that she would watch as a child, where a knight would go off somewhere for the sake of a princess. The music would get more dramatic as the knight was surrounded by dangers, then victorious as he triumphed. She caught herself smiling over this imaginary character she'd literally made up in her head, returning to the princess and receiving a favor from her for his efforts. It really was like a film, but shortened to a few minutes long and somehow familiar to her.

Her eyelids popped back open when the music ended, then blinked to readjust to her surroundings. Luka was staring at her curiously, the hand that'd been strumming resting more casually on his guitar as he waited.

"Erm..." She trapped her chin, slightly anxious and feeling like she was being quizzed. There weren't any real stakes involved, but what if she failed? "I... thought about a knight? He met and saved a princess, and she gave him her thanks? Maybe she even offered him something for it?"

The actual image in her head was more vivid than she let on, but it was difficult describing it when she figured that it could've been her overactive imagination.

Not missing a beat, Luka shot her a smile and flipped a page in his notepad to present to her. No way.

That's us, on the day we met.

Her mouth dropped open. She got it right? But then... "Uh—! So I'm the knight?! You're joking!"

Not that Luka wouldn't have made a pretty princess though. If he had just the right dress that accentuated—

She shook her head, trying to focus on the matter at hand. He, meanwhile, was unphased by the mental struggle she was having and flipped another page.

You were so cool. I've been trying to figure out how to say it all week.

"It wasn't a big deal!" she insisted, flushing pink. "They were judging you because of your looks and how 'quiet' you were, so I—you know—"

She made a few wild gestures that in no way resembled sign language but she hoped would convey the full dismissal of whatever he'd apparently been imagining their first meeting to be like. Worse still was that what he'd written implied that he'd been working on that melody all week in order to have it ready for her, and she knew what it was like to pour one's creativity into something.

He meant it and she'd heard as much.

Dropping her hands into her lap shyly, she had to relent, "But... I guess I get what you mean now, about saying things with music instead of words, even if I feel like your notepad should be confiscated."

Amused, he smirked, purposefully holding the notepad to the side furthest from her, out of her reach as she teasingly swiped at it. Using only the tilt of his head and look in his eyes, he asked her a playful 'why?'

"Why? I—" she began, then stopped when she needed to actually think about it. One disadvantage to not being mute like him was that she wasn't required to think before saying anything, such as how Luka needed to take the time to write out a full thought and read it before showing her.

Clearing her throat, she started over, "I can't believe you had fun last week? I mean, I guess it made sense if you invited me here, but I thought it was just from me helping you a little! Since we were there for a whole hour and I felt so bad because—" She realized what she was about to say, but it was too late to stop it. "—I was doing all the talking!"

Luka laughed outright at that, and the only thing keeping her from crawling under the bench and wishing for death was that it was actually pretty cute. He had a breathy sort of laugh, making it more quiet than a typical one but somehow incredibly charming.

Marinette leaned forward and rested her elbows on her lap, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth as her lips tried to both smile at him and grimace at herself at the same time. The fact that he hadn't fled at her flubs was a relief but also utterly perplexing.

She dared a peek over at Luka, who'd finished laughing and was trying to write something. It was taking him longer than usual and she noticed a little twitch in his brow, a contrast to what had otherwise been him being totally calm the whole time. Eventually, he tore the page out, scrunched it up, and stuffed it in his pocket, opting to put his hands on his guitar instead.

Marinette grew curious when his fingers twitched without playing any actual melody. He did start, but stopped, then started and stopped again, biting his lower lip in contemplation. Hand motions were also useless without a full understanding of sign language on her part.

He ended up settling on the notepad again, this time being unexpectedly quick in writing something. She hadn't realized how much suspense she was in until he presented it to her, her hands practically snatching it from him to read it.

You make me feel speechless, Marinette.

She blushed all the way up to her ears, speechless herself. She could excuse being told that she looked nice as some casual remark or pleasantry, the music as his only way of teaching her what she'd asked about, and not being put off by her constant talking as him being extremely polite, but this—

Was he flirting with her? There was a mild possibility of it being a joke at his own muteness, but when she checked his expression, he was watching her with a half-lidded gaze without any sense of playfulness. If anything, she could've sworn she saw a hint of shyness. Had he never put himself out there for someone before?

"You—" She looked at the notepad again, forcing herself to relax her grip before she wrinkled the pages. "You make me feel... um, speechful? I've never talked so much to someone I just met." She ducked her head. "You look nice too, by the way."

That was all she could really manage without feeling silly. Her experience with relationships was laughably limited and she didn't know how to flirt back or assure him that his flirting wasn't unwelcome. She just knew that he was thoughtful, adorable, and sweet, and that every time she glanced at his mouth a little too long, she'd catch herself thinking about other things it must have time for if he couldn't use it to talk.

She became alert as she felt a tug on the notepad - Luka having reached over to take it back - but she impulsively resisted, blurting out, "C-can I have this? The note I mean, not the notepad!"

He grinned, any of the previous nerves she thought she'd seen before gone as he nodded. The notepad slipped easily out of her hands this time, him far more careful tearing the note off than the other paper he'd scrunched up, and he wrote something extra before handing it off to her.

You can have more than that.

Underneath the line he'd written was his phone number, a rush of heat and relief going through Marinette at the confirmation that she wasn't the only one who wanted to meet up more. Whether Luka's directness was from the inability to speak or simply part of his character, she wanted someone like that; no misunderstandings, just his honest feelings.

She wasn't quite sure what she'd gotten herself into in the long term but, going off the matching pink on Luka's cheeks, she was sure that it was a good thing.

[churchydraws]

made an Ultra oc based on my fwuma plush! Ultraman Dart, often called Fuzzy by humans, is a native of CM78, which is often called the planet of love and peace, and for good reason, as the planet has essentially achieved world peace, only have been invaded once, which ended in failure. Dart came to Earth on accident, but after experiencing life off the sheltered planet he was born on, he doesn't think he could go back and settle back into a sheltered lifestyle, and chooses to stay on Earth to help protect it from danger. He typically stays in his basic form, the one on the top right, which is around a foot tall, though he can of course become Ultra sized or human sized. his Ultra size is maintained by how stressed he is, rather than how much light he has access to, as is the case for all CM78 Ultras. CM78 Ultras also all have a layer of fur.

[a2l1y1]

Jealous Ellie.

Summary ➜ : it’s Ellie’s birthday and you go around shopping with your location off. You muted Ellie and avoided her the entire day to not spoil your secret surprise to her until she assumed you were cheating.

WARNINGS ➜ : smut, use of strap, sex, cursing, degrading, praising, a lot of jealousy. ETC.

PS : my grammar isn’t the best but enjoy !! Ignore mistakes or horrible spelling.

It was Ellie’s birthday. Ellie was super attached to you, as in VERY. you loved it but it was also a tiny problem when it came for her birthday or general gift giving. Her birthday was getting closer each day and you had nothing. No clue on what to give her and more since she always followed you everywhere. And then you realized, Ellie had bragged about getting this cologne she always wanted but she never had the time to buy it, that was your ticket. Only problem was, Ellie.

When Ellie felt asleep on one of her naps, you decided that it’ll be the perfect cue to go quickly to the store, so you put on your pants and left to find that perfume. You were gone for hours, and Ellie woke up without your presence near her.

- -

Yes, Ellie had tracked your phone to see where you were - but for her defense, you weren’t replying and she grew angsty and worried. But those feelings immediately changed when she got to your location, only to see you inside a store, talking to a man. She was about to turn around until she saw that man putting his hand on your shoulder.

‘Oh fuck no’. Ellie walked in, jealousy and possessiveness crawling inside her body. She stopped besides you, only to give a cold glare to the man. “Move the fuck off.”, she grunted and the man confused walked away. Ellie’s face turned to you. She didn’t say a word before grabbing your hand and walking to the store restrooms.

She pushed you inside, locked the door before talking. “Trying to get a new best friend, huh? I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to.”, she told you, as she was undoing her belt with one hand. “F-fuck Ellie what are you doing??!” You widened your eyes as you couldn’t understand why was Ellie this harsh. Ellie smirked, her eyes dark with possessiveness. “Oh, baby, don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm just here to remind you who the fuck you belong to,” she growled, her voice dripping with a mixture of dominance. She took a step closer, her body pressed against yours, her hand gripping your jaw tightly. “You think you can just talk to some random guy without my permission? Play nice, sweetheart, or I'll have to teach you a lesson.”

You couldn’t understand what was Ellie yapping about but you were certain you could feel her strap poking you slightly from her jeans. “Babe I wasn’t doing anything wrong I swear”

Ellie let out a dark chuckle, her grip on your jaw tightening slightly. "Oh, babe, you really think I give a fuck about what you were or weren't doing? You're mine, and that means I get to decide what's right and wrong," she said, her voice laced with a mix of smugness and possessiveness. Her fingers trailed down your neck, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "But hey, since you're so eager to prove your innocence, how about you show me just how loyal you really are?"

She pressed herself against you, the unmistakable bulge in her jeans pressing against your thigh. "Get on your knees, baby. Show me just how sorry you are for even thinking about talking to someone else," she commanded, her voice dripping with a heady mix of desire. Your face was entirely flushed. How on earth did you got in such position? Obediently, you got on your knees, embarrassed by whoever got into these bathrooms. “Els.. these bathrooms are public, people can hear us..” you lowly spoke as you tried to grab Ellie’s hand.

Ellie's eyes flickered with a mischievous glint as she looked down at you on your knees. She smirked, her gaze filled with an intoxicating mixture of desire and lust. "Oh, baby, don't you worry about that. Let 'em hear," she replied, her voice low and husky. She ignored your attempt to grab her hand, instead using her free hand to grip your hair firmly, her fingers tangling in the strands.

She tilted her head down, bringing her lips close to your ear, her voice a low growl. "You think I give a fuck about who hears us? I want them to know who you belong to." With that, she slowly unzipped her jeans, the sound of the zipper cutting through the silence of the restroom. Her strap sprang free, thick and hard, and she guided your head towards it, her grip on your hair not allowing any resistance. "Now, darling, show me just how much you want to please me," she commanded, her words filled with a mixture of demand and eagerness. You shut your eyes off immediately, gulping down at the feeling of just being caught. Ellie was always this jealous for the least situation possible but deep down you knew you loved it. “Baby, what if instead of sucking it we can just talk things out…?” You gave her a worried and fake smile, trying to avoid any scenes and specially from old granny’s who loved calling the police.

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she looked down at you, her grip on your hair tightening slightly. "Talk things out? Oh, sweetheart, we've been talking for fucking years and it hasn't done shit. Actions speak louder than words," she scoffed, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and desire. She pressed her cock against your lips, the tip grazing your mouth teasingly. "But hey, if you're so eager to avoid a scene, how about you use that pretty little mouth of yours to keep quiet while I fuck it? We'll save the talking for later, when I'm done with you."

She leaned in closer, her voice a low, seductive whisper. "Or maybe you want everyone to hear you scream, huh? Maybe you want them to know just how much you crave my cock?" Her words were filled with a mocking edge, taunting you with the idea of being caught and exposed.

You couldn’t help but to look up at Ellie’s face. Opening your mouth softly as you couldn’t help but to admire her lustful green eyes, darkened by the dirty thoughts she’d been running with. She knew she could take full possession of you, you’d obey her immediately.

Ellie's lips curled into a smug grin as she met your gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and dominance. She saw the flicker of obedience in your eyes, and it only fueled her own lustful desires. She tightened her grip on your hair, guiding your head forward until her cock was pressed against your waiting lips.

"That's it, baby," she purred, her voice laced with smug satisfaction. "You know exactly who you belong to. Open that pretty little mouth of yours and show me just how much you crave me." With a firm yet gentle push, she slid her strap past your lips, the taste of the thick plastic filling your mouth. Ellie’s eyes stayed locked on your face, relishing in the sight of your obedience and submission.

You were hers, completely, and she was going to make sure you never forgot it. You gagged as tears formed on your eyes. You hated being teased and specially when you would normally become needier for more. You tried to grab Ellie’s jeans a little tighter, begging her to stop.

Ellie’s grip on your hair loosened slightly as she noticed the tears welling up in your eyes. She could sense your need, your desperation, but she also knew the power she held over you. She leaned in closer, her voice filled with a mix of concern and dominance. "Aw, baby, don't cry. You know I can't resist when you beg," she said, her tone a mixture of smugness and affection.

She pulled back, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, but her hand remained firmly on your head, guiding you as she dictated the pace. Ellie’s eyes never left your face, her gaze filled with a mix of lust and adoration. "Tell me, baby, what do you want? Use those pretty little words of yours and tell me exactly how you need it." She wanted to hear your plea, to hear the desperation in your voice as you begged for more.

“please baby… fuck me please.” You begged between stutters, your throat feeling fully weak. You have always been sensitive by Ellie’s touch and movements, you loved and hated that. You couldn’t help but to look at her with pleading doe eyes, needy for her to fuck you whole.

Ellie's lips curled into a wicked grin as she heard your desperate plea. She loved seeing you like this, vulnerable and begging for her touch. She let out a low chuckle, her voice thick with desire. "Oh, baby, you know just how to get what you want," she replied, her tone filled with a mix of smugness and satisfaction.

Without hesitation, Ellie released her grip on your hair and pushed you against the wall of the restroom. She wasted no time in unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, revealing your needy and soaked cunt. Her own desire was evident, her cunt throbbing with anticipation just to fuck you with her strap and feel your walls. She positioned herself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip before pushing in, a low groan escaping her lips. Swearing she could feel it as much as you did.

Ellie’s movements were possessive and intense, her hands gripping your hips tightly as she thrust into you with a hunger that matched your own. She looked into your pleading doe eyes, her voice low and filled with a mix of dominance and affection. "You're mine, baby. Mine to fuck, mine to please. And I'm gonna give you exactly what you need." And just by her words you could already feel yourself reaching your ecstasy. Needing to cum immediately, your loud and pornographic moans filling the restroom as you pleaded; “els els im s’close God I’m gonna cum—”

Ellie's eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and desire as she felt your body tensing, on the edge of orgasm. She could see the desperation in your eyes, the need for release, and she was more than happy to oblige. She continued thrusting into you, her pace quickening as she aimed to push you over the edge.

"Let go, baby," she growled, her voice dripping with arousal. "Cum for me. Show me just how fucking good I make you feel." Ellie’s hand moved to your clit, her fingers rubbing and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing you closer and closer to that sweet release.

And then it happened. Your body shook with pleasure as you moaned out her name, your orgasm crashing over you in wave after wave of ecstasy. Ellie watched, her own pleasure building, as you unraveled beneath her, your moans echoing through the restroom.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you cum," she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of adoration and possessiveness. She continued thrusting into you, riding out your orgasm, until she reached her own release as the strap bumped on her puffy clit. spilling herself through the strap, pushing herself closer just to try and cum inside of you with a low groan.

Ellie leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours, her voice a breathless whisper. "You're mine, baby. Always."

“Fuck els, I’m all yours.” You responded breathlessly.

“You better fucking know you are.” She smirked as she kissed your cheek and helped you pull your pants back in.

“But I’m serious now, please don’t come in scaring people away from me, I just wanted to buy you a birthday present.” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Oh, so that explains why we’re on a cologne part of the store.” Ellie quickly realized.

“Yes you idiot, let’s go home please.” You demanded as she chuckled at the sight of you.

[midwestprincesss]

how did it end?

part 1 || patrick zweig x fem!reader

"you cannot love somebody into loving you"

summary: your relationship with patrick has been on and off for ages. you knew him and he knew you. you love him but he only loves you when he can get something out of it. but then, can that even be considered love?

a/n(READ THIS BITCH): random ass specific fact about the reader but she is skincare obsessed like me. acne prone girlies yk what im talking about. btw I KNOW PATRICK DOESN'T GO TO STANFORD BUT WE WILL PRETEND HE SPENDS A LOT OF TIME THERE OK. also this series will only continue if u guys give me feedback. and hype me up. cause i have no motivation. patrick girlies help me i know ur out there💪 also this first chapter is like. they're friends but pining. no angst yet oopsie

2004, stanford college.

being in love with patrick was difficult. really, really fucking difficult. it was almost like you had to put in an effort to be in love with him. nevertheless, you didn't. to you it just felt easy. you wish you could get rid of the feeling, but it doesn't seem to want to go away.

patrick zweig could be very easily described in one word: player. and by that i don't only mean tennis player.

but he was easy to love, too. if we ignore all the mixed signals he always gave you, he's actually a sweet guy.

he remembers your coffee order. he listens to your problems. he calls you to check up on you. and he takes care of you while you're out partying. and after that. and in the morning. he holds your hair and rubs your back as you puke out whatever the fuck you drank last night. he gives you his clothes. out of all the girls he knows, he gives you his clothes.

this was one of those times.

saturday morning.

you woke up with a horrible headache and with a certain curly-haired boy next to you. you try to remember what happened last night, but you give up after about three minutes of staring at the ceiling in silence. who cares, really? at least you woke up in your bed, and not on a random bench outside. not that patrick would ever let that happen.

he has the key to your dorm. he spent most of his days with you, so you figured it would be totally fine for him to have it.

you rub your eyes sleepily as you look to your left- patrick was not sleeping either.

"morning." he said, simply. you groaned in response.

"glad you asked, and you're welcome." he said sarcastically. "you got fucking wasted, like usual. i had to carry you from the party. not that you couldn't walk, but you just insisted on it. when we finally got here you threw up all over yourself. and then in the toilet, like three times, i think."

your eyes widened in disgust. you looked down at your clothes, expecting to find a now vomit-stained white dress on. to your surprise, you were wearing a dark green tee - you remember you've seen it on patrick once- and a pair of uncomfortably large boxers. you're surprised they didn't fall off while you were sleeping.

"patrick." you said, terrified. "please tell me i took my makeup off before sleeping. or at least washed my face." patrick sighed. 'blah blah blah i have sensitive skin blah blah blah i'll break out if i sleep with my makeup on' you always told him, whenever he was sleeping over.

"you didn't." he said. then went quiet for a few seconds, but just for his own amusement. he thought you looked cute when you were worried. but worried was not a big enough word for the look on your face- you were more like, mortified, maybe? so he decided to stop joking around. "i took your makeup off. i couldn't find those circular white thingies you do it with so i used a towel-"

you cut him off with a laugh. you could actually kiss him. maybe you shouldn't, though. your breath smelled like actual shit. looking to your right, at the nightstand next to your side of the bed, you noticed your earrings and necklace and rings arranged neatly next to eachother and you swore you felt your heart flutter.

you knew patrick cared about you, but you didn't think he would be so attentive. usually, you don't get so drunk, so you can actually do what you need to do by yourself. even then, he insists he should do it for you. but you always refused him, partly because you didn't want to bother him but you were also pretty convinced he would not do things properly. he proved you wrong.

"for how long have you been awake?" you ask him.

"i'm not sure whether i even slept. you kept talking on your sleep. and tossing. and turning. and stealing the blanket. i think you even slapped me once-" he started laughing as you started muttering apologies, but he immediately told you not to worry about it.

you sighed, then you both went silent. you examined his face- he really did seem tired- droopy eyes, dark eyebags, eyelids partially closed. but still smirking at you. no one and nothing could ever wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.

"you look cute." he broke the silence, letting his thumb linger on your cheek.

"i feel like shit." you snickered, hiding your face in your hands but he immediately pulled them away, kissing your knuckles.

that took you by surprise. sure, you and patrick were affectionate with eachother, but this felt way more intimate than usual. what was going on with him?

suddenly, you looked at the time. 10:30 am. you were late for breakfast. like, really late. you figured there wouldn't be anything left in the cafeteria by now.

"shit. we'll have to starve until lunch, patrick" you told him, a hint of irony in your voice.

"don't worry, i'll go get us something from the supermarket." he said as he got up, pulling a grey hoodie over his head. he took his keys and wallet then looked down lovingly at you as you still rested on the bed. "call me if you need anything else" he said , kissing your forehead then leaving. leaving your dorm, but also leaving you swooning over him.

you were in it for good.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Where did this come from?" Hannibal asked. His hands were busy washing Will's hair. A bruise on his temple drew his attention, making him brush away the foam to get a better look. "It wasn't here yesterday."

"A guy we arrested showed some resistance. He hit me with the barrel of his gun." Will explained. His eyes were closed and he was almost purring in Hannibal's hands.

Hannibal made a disapproving sound.

"Shame you arrested him. I can't go after him now."

"You do realize you can't chase down every guy who touches me, right?"

"One can always try." Hannibal answered honestly and continued massaging Will's scalp.

"I never hear about stuff like that from you." Will suddenly said and opened his eyes.

"What kind of stuff?"

"About the people that do anything to you."

"That's because the people who do anything to me don't get to live too much, darling. I take care of them myself."

"Of that much I am aware." Will said and pictured the way the Ripper case file kept getting thicker and thicker on his desk. "It would be nice if you didn't. At least sometimes."

"Are you implying that you want to play the knight in shining armour? For me?"

"You're stupid." Will concluded. "But yes. Sometimes you are too elegant with these individuals. And I get it, that's your thing."

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully.

"You got me curious. I might take your offer."

"Do that."

*

"Alright. Now, let's discuss what the victims have in common." Jack said, looking through a few pictures.

Will's phone rang just when he was about to reply.

"Sorry." He apologized and was about to reject the call. Hannibal's name flashing on the screen made him do the opposite.

"Hey." Will greeted him.

"My dearest." Hannibal started. "There is a gentleman here at Walmart who left his shopping cart in the parking lot. Right in front of my Bentley."

"That... sounds annoying?"

"And agonizingly rude."

Will smiled thinking of the funny choice of words. He found it adorable that Hannibal had called to share that with him. Then it sunk in. He remembered about their discussion last night.

"You're at Walmart where exactly?"

"In Quantico. I wanted to pick you up later."

"I'm on my way. Don't let that son of a bitch go." Will said and hung up.

That was it. His knight in shining armour moment. The looks he earned from everyone in the room were mixed and confused.

"Sorry, I need to go. It's important."

"Of course. The serial killer can wait." Jack concluded as Will was already leaving the room.

*

"Hey." Will said as soon as he parked his car. "You."

"Huh?" The man who was already very bored with the conversation he was having with Hannibal turned his head towards Will.

"Yes, you. Grab your shopping cart quickly and put it where it should be."

"And who exactly are you? The shopping cart police?"

"I will be your worst nightmare if you don't do as I say. Trust me, this is me being nice."

"I'm not doing anything." He said and started walking towards his car. Will did not quickened his pace. He memorized the car plate and watched the man leave with a content smile on his face.

"That was me being nice." Will told Hannibal who looked like he was watching his favorite movie.

"I am looking forward to what will happen."

"Good." Will said, then kept on his shining armour. "Are you alright?"

"Bothered by this incident but I am slowly becoming more and more enthusiastic."

*

"I hope you understand why I also asked Dr. Lecter to consult on this case." Jack said as soon as Will and Hannibal arrived at the crime scene. "It's quite peculiar."

"The man was found dead in a shopping cart at Walmart. His liver is missing. The cut is quite sloppy so definitely not the Ripper." Jimmy explained.

"Was it really that sloppy?" Will asked unamused by the feedback.

"I mean, it shows that our killer has no medical training whatsoever. But he's good enough. Meticulous."

"What do you think, doctor?" Will asked, ignoring Jimmy.

"The crime scene shows high class. Power. It has something sensual to it. I would say that the killer must have been quite disturbed by a very specific behavior caused by the victim."

"What exactly?" Jack asked confused by the specific choice of words. He knew better than to question Hannibal.

"Maybe the victim left his shopping cart in the parking lot?" Brian suggested making Jack roll his eyes.

"I'm sure it's deeper than that."

[mochinomnoms]

thinking about punk!jade and piercing his ear for him. maybe jade decides that he wants to experiment with his sense of style more by having his other ear pierced and who better to ask than his mate? he sees it as his mate making their mark on him and feeling giddy about being known as theirs. finally the times come to pierce his ear and he closes his eyes to prepare himself. jade’s seen his fair share of blood, so he’s fine, but the prefect mistakes his actions as him being nervous. While he waits he hears the prefect’s voice to focus on them then he feels their hand on his face, their body pressed close, and best of all, their lips on his. he barely notices the needle when he’s got his lover smothering them in love. if getting his ears pierced means he has his mate all over him and some cool-looking earrings then perhaps he’ll look more into punk inspired looks.

this was spurred on by a gif exactly like this but i feel as though this might be kinda niche so if it doesn’t vibe with you please ignore me and my 2am thoughts ( ´ ∀ `)ノ

-🪸

See this is cute, but also you need to be very careful when piercing, so unfortunately for Jade, if his mate is the one piercing him they can't be distracted with kisses. HOWEVER if they go to a professional piercer:

“So you did this one.” The piercing artist pointed at the sturgeon scale earring on his left. “When you were 12. Under the sea—”

“With a fishhook.” Jade added, 'helpfully.'

“...with a fishhook, and by some miracle it didn't get infected?”

You snorted at the look the piercing artist gave Jade, a mix of incredulous and impressed. She was covered in a variety of silver jewelry, from her lips, nose, and eyebrows, to her cheeks and the many in her ears. They suited her very well, especially with her pointed ears and the skeletal tattoos on her arms.

“My mother found out the next morning when she woke us up for school. Just about scared the whole neighborhood awake with her screams.” Jade's lips quirked up, as he was fond of the memory.

“She'd agreed to have the doctor do it for us after school the next day, but my brother was rather impatient and wanted to wear the earrings right then and now.”

“Jade let out a soft chuckle. Indeed Ms. Nastasia. We did end up going to the doctor to clean the holes out and fashion the scales to a proper earring instead of a fishhook, as Floyd was already having a reaction.”

The artist sighed again and fiddled with the chain hanging between her ear lobe and the tip of her ear.

“Sounds right, so the rest of these,” she pointed two fingers around his ear lobes. “Are from the doctor later on?”

“Yes.” Jade clenched his hands uncomfortably as the pulled on a pair of black latex gloves. He thinned his lips as she started touching his ears.

You tapped your own fingers on top of his hand, which he opened and let you lace your fingers with his.

“Sorry.” Natasha gave Jade a small smile. “I'll quit poking you in a sec, I gotta inspect your ears. I gotta make sure that your old piercings are still good. Merfolk don't wear jewelry often, right?”

“It's fine.” Jade looked down, watching as you fidgeted with his hand. “No, we don't. You tend to run the risk of long or dangling jewelry getting caught in someone else's fins, in kelp, or in fishermen's nets.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Nastasia smiled as she leaned back, turning to her countertop to get her tools ready.

“Unfortunately, it seems that most of them did close over time, I'm guessing it got too long since you've worn jewelry in them. I'll have to repierce most of them, but I recommend doing just one today to see how you'll do, and we can do some more at another session.”

Jade nodded and tapped his free hand against his chin.

“I see...which one should I do...” He turned to you to ask. “What do you think of another earring on me?”

You gasped excitedly and bolted from his grasp, confusing him and Nastasia. They watched as you looked among the various jewelry, humming to yourself.

“Oh!” You twirled back around, grinning. “If you get another earring on your right ear, can I pick the earring?”

“Jade raised a brow at you, smirking as he crossed his arms. I suppose, what is it?”

“It's gonna be a surprise! Ms. Nastasia! Can you do this one?”

Nastasia got up, looked at the piece you pointed at and nodded.

“If he's fine with it.” She looked over at him, to which he nodded.

“Alright! Let me get everything ready.”

You took a seat next to Jade again, excitedly tapping your feet against the ground and playing with Jade's hand again.

“It's great! You're gonna love it Jade!”

“Jade smile and squeezed your hand in his. I'll trust your judgement then.”

Nastasia slid over in a rolling chair, pulling a wheeled trolley with her tools. Jade noticed that she was hiding something wrapped in plastic as she prepared her piercing needle.

“Alright, sweetheart? Why don't you talk to your boyfriend? Something sweet while I get his ear ready.”

You nodded, moving to his left side as Jade tensed at the cold alcohol pad being wiped over his ear lobe.

“Hey, Jade?”

Jade moved his gaze to you, lips quirking as you came closer to whisper in his ear.

“Yes?”

He felt a tingling feeling go down his spine as he felt your breath against his skin.

“Should we match too? Me and you?”

You giggled as Jade smiled, his left arm reaching to curl around your waist.

“Oh? Isn't that what humans use wedding bands for? To match to each other? Don't you want to be wed, my dear?” Jade murmured back, closing his eyes as you pressed soft kisses against his temple.

“Yeah, we can do those too. We can have matching earrings, bands,” You laughed again against his ear. “This is just so when people ask about your earring, you can tell them all about how I picked it out, cause you're mine.”

Jade closed his eyes, basking in your affections as you continued to flutter his cheek, lips, and forehead with kisses. A cough interrupted you two.

“As cute as this is, you're all done now.” Nastasia laughed at your surprised expressions. “Here, take a look and tell me what you think.”

Nastasia handed Jade a handheld mirror, who was currently looking flustered.

“Apologies, I hadn't realized that you even finished.”

“It's fine.” Nastasia waved her hand, smiling as Jade inspected the heart shaped mushroom stud in his right ear. “I try to get my clients thinking about happy thoughts so they're distracted from the pain. Most of them don't even realize that they got pierced.”

You rested your head against Jade's shoulder, waiting for his response.

“Do you like it?”

Jade remained silent, still staring at the silver mushroom.

“...Jade?”

He handed the mirror back to Nastasia, turning to you to grab your cheeks in his hand and squeeze them together, making you purse your lips.

You squealed, laughing as Jade returned your earlier favor and kissed your lips.

“It's wonderful, my dear.” Jade let you go, turning to Nastasia with a smile. “If we still have some time, perhaps we can follow through with their commitment and pierce their ear as well?”

Nastasia snorted as she looked at you for your response. “Oh? You want to match with your boyfriend?”

The teasing tone in her voice made you warm up as you nodded shyly.

“Yeah…you really want to, Jade?”

“Why, of course!” Jade moved to let you take his spot as Nastasia put away the used tools and grabbed sterilized ones. “You said you wanted others to know I'm yours as much as you're mine? We should make that a reality~”

[aangelinakii]

omg hii this is my first time requesting something, and i ADORE your works!! i love that you put songs alonf with your writings and they all suit it SO WELL ugh it makes me so happy omogkgkgmgm ok anyways!!!!

i was wondering if you could possibly write any type of childhood friends possibly to lovers(?) with bruce or jason! ive been itching for a nice childhood friends little storyy

please take care of yourself and feel free to ignore this if your requests are closed <3

DUVET.

— a shame that i can read your mind.

summary : charity balls are just as boring as they've always been. thankfully, bruce wayne is here to take the pressure off.

note : hey welcome ! sorry this took so long to write ! hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting pls request again !! <3 and also i kind of mixed this in with another request which is pictured at the bottom of the fic :)

these events never got easier with age. lots and lots of talking, nursing a flute of champagne you must consciously not drink too fast, being polite to even those your parents complain about at the dinner table.

memories of your etiquette lessons come flooding back to you, and you straighten your back, as if your tutor will be peering around the corner, waiting to grade you.

and then your eyes move to the corner, half expecting them to be standing there, but the person you see instead pulls the weight from your shoulders.

smile shining just as bright as the crystal chandeliers overhead, bruce wayne saunters over, making his big entry. and his first instinct isn't to introduce himself, it's to join you.

"(name)! how great it is to see you here!" he grins, pulling you from the conversation you're barely hanging onto.

he holds a hand out, more calloused now than it would have been a good few years ago, and you wonder what he does in his free time. you take it, and he pulls you in for a brief hug.

despite the change of things, his hugs have remained the same the whole time.

since that first night you met him, when his parents were... when you met his parents, he hugged you right before you left the event, lagging just behind your parents. it was tight, warm, platonic — but you always wonder now if he ever liked you growing up.

when he pulled away, he offered a firm handshake to the people you were speaking to.

"bruce wayne, lovely to meet you." he always had such a confidence when speaking publicly, or to new people, which, despite your etiquette lessons, you could never quite grasp. "i hope you don't mind if i steal away (name) here for a moment?"

he didn't waste another moment in sweeping you away, hand on your back.

when you were sure you were far enough away, you glanced back and spoke lowly to your friend. "god, bruce, what took you so long? i was dying there." you took this opportunity to down the rest of your bubbly, now that no one was scrutinising.

and he returned with that hearty, rich laugh you couldn't help but relish. if you thought hard enough, you could hear the echo of his old squeaky prepubescent laugh, so far from how he was now.

"i had... things to attend to," he responded vaguely, leading you to your own little space of the room. he always had "things" to attend to. although you were curious, you hadn't pushed yet, but it seemed like these things were making him busier and busier.

if it was a business agreement, surely he trusted you enough to tell you?

with a shake of your head, you diverged the topic. "but you're here now," you smiled. "and that's all that matters."

when bruce wayne looks at you, it's as if no one else in the room exists; not even in the entire city of gotham. a waiter passes with a tray, and bruce swoops two fresh flutes of bubbly, and you replace one of them with your empty glass.

he holds one out to you, the fullness of his eyes overwhelming — they're full of adoration, and your chest feels heavy, and you can't tell why to anything — and the corner of his mouth is curled in a half-smile.

who are you if you don't take it?

the chilled glass burns your fingers, or perhaps it's because you're holding onto the stem so tightly.

bruce leans in slightly, his free hand making its way to the pocket of his trousers, and he speaks lowly into your ear. "why don't we explore this place a little bit?"

at his proposition, you can't help but laugh. it would be just like before; after the death of his parents, at balls and events like this, you would make attempt after attempt at cheering him up. hide and seek always seemed to work, along with the thrill of being two little kids being somewhere you really oughtn't.

now you were of a certain age and you couldn't really play hide and seek, but when times got boring, exploration of a venue seemed a perfect idea.

it wasn't even a question of if, it was a question of when.

without missing a beat, you grabbed his hand and led him to the doors.

"if i remember correctly, i'm pretty sure i heard someone talking about an amazing garden," you muttered behind you. as the door closed behind you, the chatter of the event muffled, and the dome fitting just the two of you fell down over your heads.

"oh, garden?" bruce hummed, interest piqued. neither of you had noticed that it was time to stop holding hands. "sounds like it needs some inspection."

with a shared laugh, you walked down the halls of the mansion; whoever lived here was lucky, and if they were opening it up to the public (although esteemed and rich) they must be very trusting.

finally, the two of you came to a door, intricate and tall, glass looking out to a lushly green garden, illuminated by the full moon overhead.

as bruce pushed open the door, a soft chill brushed over your arms, and you took a sip of champagne to make up for it. the man allowed you to walk in front, stepping curiously onto the stone porch that led out to the rest of the green, before he carefully closed the door.

just the two of you once again.

from out here, you could just about hear the classical tune winding through the hall where the event was up and running.

finding the ledge of the fountain, trickling with water, you sat down and pat the space beside you. "come sit."

bruce eyed you for a moment, blue eyes twi kling in the night. he would never pass up a moment to sit with you, drinks in hand, ready to talk about whatever popped up.

it was always easy talking to you, the one who knew him best, like he were the back of your own hand. it was like getting in bed and tucking your duvet up to your chin, knowing you're safe, and only sweet dreams will come your way.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

First off, love your writing, IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS😭😭 but…

Can we please get more of yandre emo boy Ashton I JUST READ IT AND IM DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING GIGGLING AMD KICKING MY FEET😭🧎‍♀️🤪🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

THANK YOU❤️❤️🤭🤭🤭

(If not that’s okay, ignore this bae🫶)

Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

Ayo, thank you for the compliment! I'm glad my writings made you feel things (I don't know what though LMAO)

Actually, I'm not planning to follow up Ashton, but hey, at least it would break my writer's block (lol it's just laziness) so here ya go!

Sorry that it took days though 😔

FOR THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND READING THE FIC FIRST BEFORE THE DRABBLE (this one).

Read the yandere emo fic here!

💌Little Ashton was misunderstood a lot as a child. He never really liked the same things the other children liked, and he had this morbid curiosity with death and occult.

💌Of course, this undoubtedly scared his family, making him out to be some sort of psychopath.

💌This irked Ashton of course. He's just... That. He still loves his parents, and nothing would change that.

💌But the fact that they're so conservative that it's actually bringing Ashton down is what drove him over the edge to find a school far, far away from his family.

💌A small, quaint town, yet filled with teenagers. It was kind of a nightmare when Ashton found out, but he gritted his teeth and thought that maybe, with the current years, maybe they won't judge him. Maybe.

💌So, he indulged more in his Emo lifestyle. He religiously listened to green day, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance...

💌He even got into writing poems as a way to put out his feelings that he never got to tell other people.

💌 He's actually very sensitive with emotions and feelings. So technically, he should be a great friend candidate, right?

💌But once he got into the school year, that's when he knew, that his life would be living hell. Stereotypes left and right. Mean cheerleaders and jocks that ostracized his choice of clothing, snobby rich students that turn their noses on him just because he's not that rich, geeks and nerds that keeps getting in his way, thinking he's one of them.

💌"Fuck. Get me out of here. Nobody understands me."

💌He didn't realize himself, but he's also slowly being a stereotype. Always alone, writing poems, and being unnecessarily nihilistic.

💌Until of course, one day, you transfered. You, your pink rover, and your slutty little outfit.

💌God, just looking at you and your charming personality made Ashton hard fall for you.

💌He wants you. So bad.

💌So he dabbled back into the occults. He found an old book in an abandoned "witch's hut" that he went on a mad hunt for weeks. Apparently, the witch that lived there was a matchmaker witch, who gave love potions to those really desperate.

💌At first, Ashton didn't believe it. Especially that it involves sampaguita, a flower not native to his town. How did the witch even get the flowers?

💌But there he was, mixing and creating the potion under the moonlight and putting your hair and his in the pot. Creating a love potion that smelled like the sampaguitas he had to smuggle in.

💌He wrote you letters everyday, obsessing and hyper fixating on your allure and beauty. Confessing over and over again on paper that looks old and aged with writing that looks like it came from a fountain pen. With a spritz of the love potion, he would put it in your locker.

💌God, who knew that it would work?

💌Day by day, he watched you read the letters. At first, you were disgusted (much to his dismay) but slowly, you started to read the letters with a neutral face, then a smile, then with a squeal and then a desperate plea for him to come and fuck you already.

💌Maybe putting his... Semen on your love potion got you desperate for him carnally, rather than romantically.

💌But no fretting, he would just make you fall for him.

💌And as you moan and scream out his name as he pounds into your tight hole like the feral, fuck machine he is,

💌He was pleading to the moon to see his bleeding heart and bare soul to make you his.

💌And if the moon won't allow it,

💌Well, it's nothing more love potions won't do.

💌"my beloved, why don't you drink this sweet tea I made? Why is it pink and smells floral? It's a new tea from Japan. Sakura, from what I know. It's glowing? Nonsense, love. It's probably just the lighting."

💌"Now drink up, don't let a drop go to waste."

[koolades-world]

hello sorry if your requests are closed pls feel free to ignore this if they are :(

i just got this nice idea and wanted to share it and maybe you could do hc idkkkk anywayy !!

so imagine a mc but they're a poc (black, asian, whatever) and they always felt kinda like an outcast in the human world bc they lived in a white neighbourhood and now they're in the devildom and... wow Mammon, Simeon, Mephisto ?! (and maybe Dia and Raphael too cuz they can be mixed or something)

Like I am japanese and I live in europe and in my whole life I've interacted with like 3 or so poc ?? That's sooo little! I would be overjoyed to meet people (demons) that aint white- there is some common experience shared with all poc and i just need that 'bound' with someone lool

Anyway sorry this kinda sounded like a rant by the end but yea! even if you don't do it its ok! Have a nice day and ily !/p ♡

hello!! of course :)

i only moved once when i was younger but both neighborhoods were predominantly white, and i don’t think I’ve ever had a close poc friend that wasn’t an online friend. in middle and elementary i was one of like three or four pocs. high school was better but since I was a magnet kid, i always saw the same people and they were majority white. I’m almost certain I was the only mixed one in that program

bottom line, i can relate haha

enjoy <3

Poc Mc and the poc boys

poc solidarity!

of course the first demon you see is Diavolo, and while you don’t trust him right off the bat because you’ve just been basically abducted for this program, it’s nice to see a poc in charge

since mammon is assigned your caretaker, of course you’re quick to form a friendship

when he learns about your childhood since that comes up at some point, he goes oddly silent and listens carefully when you tell your stories

eventually he himself opens up a little about what it was like in heaven and his experience

gonna break format for a minute, simeon and I would be such good friends, besties even. a writer, very kind, a great baker and cook, a great fashion sense, and he looks like me? omg sign me up we’re twins. there is such a thing as two pretty best friends lol

simeon is so naturally effortless but sweet, so it wasn't hard to become his friend

he's more than happy to help you where ever needed

after you get over the whole kidnapping thing, you become fast friends with dia because he's just so wonderful to be around

and he's more than happy to be your friend because the poor guy doesn't have enough. he'll take you to do all sorts of fun stuff and even if your pictures together end up everywhere online, he doesn't care

you also are a little reluctant to warm up to mephisto because of what lucifer had said about him, but diavolo spoke highly of him, so you spent a couple afternoons with him

and you found yourself very interested in him and the rad newspaper, left wondering why lucifer hated him so much

if you want, you're more than welcome to help out and of course receive credit where credit is due

it was also kind of intimidating to get close to raphael too since he seemed so tough and unapproachable, but he was actually great to have a late night talk with and helped you out with any kind of fashion dilemma

maybe the devildom isn't so bad after all...

[barbarianbookhoe]

Artists and Muses

Requested by: @dreampissybaby

Request: "Hi! I was hoping you could write a request, please ignore this if you don't feel comfortable writing this. Alina introducing shy!reader to Nikolai. and she's just like quiet and in awe, but Nikolai loves. Like it took Alina three weeks to get reader to smile at her and it takes Nikolai 15 minutes to make her smile. And she feels super comfortable with him"

A/N: this is pure heartwarming fluff, though I added a lil twist to make it more exciting if that's okay. (The twist being Nikolai and reader were friends, I know, what a shock.)

Your time at the Spinning Wheel seemed to blend into one, long moment. You didn't spoke to anyone if it wasn't nessecary. Mostly because you didn't know what to say, but also because you were never the type to make small talk. You always had a hard time opening up to people, or just talk to someone without getting nervous about what you should or shouldn't say. You were shy in the sense that you favored comfortable silence over pointless conversation.

When the doors to the Spinning Wheel opened, you didn't look up to see who it was. Many people came in for the past week, and you felt less and less hopeful when you realized nor Alina, nor Mal was among them. As you walked down the big entrance hall to find more bandages, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Y/N?" You heard a woman say and when you turned, you saw Alina standing at the entrance, Mal right next to her. "Y/N!" She shouted and made a run towards you. You didn't know what took a hold of you, but you began running too, and the two of you met in the middle with a crushing hug.

The two of you squeezed each other with a painful grip, before another voice spoke up. "Can I have my girl back now?" Mal said with a smile and the two girl made space for him to hug all of them.

You basked in their warmth, before you broke the hug. "I can't believe you're here! I almost began to think that you..." You swalloed before you continued with a head shake. "It doesn't matter now. How did you get here anyway?"

"We bargained our way onto Sturmhond's ship, then found the Sea Whip and I got my second amplifier to finally end Kirigan, then we got here on a flying ship which ended with a shipwreck from the sky, and we found out that Sturmhond is secretly-"

"Nikolai Lantsov." You whispered as you looked behind them to see him step through the doors. You watched him with a mix of shock and amazement. So he's the one who saved your friends?

Alina noticed the way you stared at him, and she smiled briefly at Mal before taking your arm in hers and leading the two of you to him. "I'd like you to meet the person who saved and then betrayed us."

"Betray? That's a harsh word. And if I remember correctly, I got my fare share of punishment for it. Still hurts by the way," Nikolai pointed to the side of his face and Alina rolled her eyes at him.

"And who is that pretty lady next to you?" Nikolai asked all of a sudden and turned his head to look at you. You began placing yourself behind Alina, but she was quick to hold you next to her, where he could see you.

"Y/N, this is Nikolai, Nikolai this is Y/N, my and Mal's best friend. She's who I told you about, who helped me escape in secret. Also, an excellent storyteller." You looked at her with wide eyes, pleading to let you go, but she just sweetly smiled back at you.

"Y/N? I've been looking for you for quite some time now. I suppose you escaped with Alina, then." Nikolai extended his hand for you to shake and you accepted it. After you left go of his familiar warmth, you clasped both of your hands behind your back. You nodded in agreement.

"That's why you're here." He smiled at you, but your face remained neutral, looking at him with curiosity. "I don't want to sound like the flirt everyone seems to make me out to be, but I don't forget a face such as yours, Gorgeous." He exaggerated on the last word and it made you chuckle.

You smiled as you questioned him. "Are you sure that you're not a flirt? You seem like the biggest one, Your Higness." Your smile didn't falter as he looked back at you with amusement. "That's the worst accusation I've ever heard about myself, and believe me, I've heart quite a lot of nasty things." He said and you chuckled again.

Alina looked at the two of you with wide eyes as she tried to piece together what was happening. You connected with the prince under mere seconds. What took Alina almost three weeks to achieve, it took Nikolai only one minute to make you smile and talk to him.

Mal came to stand next to Alina and the couple watched you and Nikolai smile and laugh at each other, with genuine curiosity and confusion. They were trying to figure out the connection between you, because they didn't think that their shy friend would randomly have a conversation with the Prince.

They both noticed that you were quick to smile at him, even though you still didn't talk that much, but definitely more than you used to. They also noticed the look in Nikolai's eyes as he noticed your small movements, hoping to get a message from those, if not your words.

"This might be a wrong time and place to ask this, but I'm a naturally curious person as you know, so my question is, would you be willing to tell one of your infamous tales? I never heard a single one, while I was in the Palace." Nikolai asked you, and the question made the smile falter from your face.

For once in your life, you didn't think about the words that came out of your mouth as you answered. "There never will be a good time for this, Nikolai. Might as well do it sooner than later. Who knows when will be the next time we can enjoy our lives, without constantly worrying if the next day will come?"

Nikolai looked back at you with a newfound amazement as he looked at you. Your words certainly made an impact on him, because you were quick to look away from his intense stare, and onto the floor. You were about to excuse yourself and go away, but then Nikolai spoke up with a sweet voice.

"You've changed since the last time I saw you. You became a little more spontaneous. I was curious before, but now I'm desperate to finally talk to you." He said and you stared back at him for a few seconds, before you lightly smiled at him.

"And when should we-" Your words were interrupted by one of the Grishas, an Inferni who you've been helping in the last week.

"Y/N! I need your help! Could you come with me real quick?" She asked and with an apologetic look you nodded to Nikolai, and left with the Inferni.

------------Later at Night-----------

It wasn't until midnight that you met Nikolai again. You bid goodnight to Alina and Mal, after the three of you caught up on the past few weeks, annoying Mal to the point he almost went to ask Tamar to execute him. Twice.

You were strolling through the halls and quickly regretted not borrowing the coat Mal handed to you. The halls were cold and you only had your long sleeved, blue dress on you. Sure, you had a thin nightgown under it, but it was a sorry excuse for warmth.

You went down another corridor, when all of a sudden, the doors next to you opened, revealing a muscled chest buried in a thick green robe. After you were done studying his chest, you looked up to see a smirking Nikolai looking back at you. You quickly turned your head away from him, hiding your flushed face.

"Nice to see you too," Nikolai chuckled and from the corner of your eye, you saw him tying the robe in front of his chest, covering up the muscles. He closed the door behind him and pointed forward, indicating a walk.

He fell in line next to you, as you tried to think of something to say. You always felt comfortable in his presence, that wasn't a problem, but you were quite nervous after seeing his really-not-so-bad muscles. You never knew what lied beneath those shirts and waistcoats while you worked at the Palace.

"You know that you can talk to me, right? You don't have to be nervous about saying something wrong," Nikolai softly said and you thankfully looked at him.

After a few more seconds of silence, Nikolai stopped you dead in your tracks with stepping in front of you. You almost collided with him, had he not took a step back to make a little space between you two.

"This might come off like I'm pressuring you, but I'm dying to know, and you know that I'm not exactly the most patient person." Nikolai quickly said, and you opened your mouth to question him, but he was quick to cut you off.

"I know that I have no business asking this, especially right now, but where have you been?" He asked with genuine concern. "For the last year I was asking about you, but you vanished into thin air. I mean, with Kirigan and the attacks I understand why one might go and-"

"You asked about me?" You asked on a quiet voice, and it made Nikolai look at you like you just told him the sky is green. "Of course I did. I even tried to locate you, but it was like your entire being got sweeped off the land."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, amd you stared at him in shock. Did you really mean that much to him? Did he really try to found you of all people, during this war?

"But why?" You whispered and now it was Nikolai's turn to look at you in shock. "Why?" He breathlessly chuckled. "Why wouldn't I? You're the reason I did what I did in the last year. You kept me company while I sneeked out of the Palace, and quite honestly your words captivated me right then and there. You changed my entire perspective on everything I knew about Ravka and its people."

You looked at him with even more bewilderment than before, but took a risky step towards him, your eyes not leaving his. "And?" You asked on a soft voice, slightly tilting your head.

"And?" Nikolai asked back, and let out a slow breath before responding. "And I couldn't stop thinking about you. You were in my dreams, in my head, in the wind, you were everywhere. I couldn't stop imagining the moment I finally met you again. I could've even painted it if I had the talent for it." He swallowed as he looked down to his feet, like he was nervous.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat and you put a hand over your heart, while the other hugged your stomach. The nerves in your belly made your stomach turn in anticipation as you waited.

When Nikolai finnaly looked at you, you saw nothing but raw emotions in his eyes. Sincerity, pain and love. Yes, definitely love.

"I could write you poetry, I could paint you a hundred times, I could sing endless love songs to you. But I won't. I am no artist, Y/N." He closed that last remaining inch between the two of you and leaned closer to you, and you could feel his breath on your skin.

"Even if I'm a prince, even if I'm a bastard son, even if I'm a privateer, you are my muse. I am not an artist, but you are my muse, moye solnyshko."

[A/N: translation=my Sunshine]

His words made your heart practically burst out of your chest. You let your arms fall next to you, and took a quick look between Nikolai and his lips. Oh, to kiss him for just one moment. Would it be sweet like honey? Would it be soft like satin? Would it spin your head? You'd have to find out to know that.

"Can you," you started but the words seemed to die in your throat. Don't do this now. "I want you to," You whispered and despite what Nikolai said before, he stood there patiently, waiting for you to say what you wanted.

"Use your beautiful words, beautiful," Nikolai whispered and it was the only thing you needed to end the tension.

"I need you to kiss me." And within a second his lips were on yours. It was more than you expected. It was soft and warm, like a hug in the middle of winter. Nikolai was slow, like he was afraid you were going to vanish again if he let you go.

His hands found their way around your shoulders, and he hugged you close to himself. You clasped your hands behind his neck, keeping him from even attempting to pull away.

You had to break the kiss because you were running out of air, and the two of you panted as you tried to catch your breath. You looked at Nikolai with pure admiration, still not believing he spent an entire year looking for you, dreaming of you, thinking of you.

It made all of your sleepless night worth it. The nights you spent theorizing about where he could be, what could he be doing, if he even remembered you. This single kiss made this last year hurt a little less.

You were about to pull him in for another kiss, when a familiar voice interrupted you.

"Y/N, I've been looking for you every-" Alina said but when he saw the situation you and Nikolai were in, she quickly cleared hear throat. "Saints, I'm-I'm sorry for interrupting." She said. "I, uh, need Y/N for something. It'll be quick I promise."

She told the two of you, and you looked from her up to Nikolai, and before you could step away from him, he quickly whispered into your ear, so Alina wouldn't hear. "Meet me at your room."

You nodded while biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot. You let go of each other and you let Alina link your arms together, as she led you away.

You took a quick look back at Nikolai and saw him hiding a smile, which made you chuckle at him. The small noise made his face break out in a wide smile as he turned around.

"Mal and I were wondering if the two of you knew each other, because you were so comfortable with him earlier. Now I saw just how comfortable you are." Alina said with a light chuckle, before she continued. "You didn't seem so shy. Or is it just only with Nikolai?" She teased you and you attempted an angry glare at her, but she just giggled at you.

"Don't worry. You'll be back with your boyfriend in no time." Alina told you whick made your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden as you smiled to yourself.

For the first time in your life, you wouldn't be alone at night.

[ssentimentals]

f1 pairings as famous love tropes: charles leclerc x carlos sainz

love at first sight (fashion designer!AU)

'birds started singing and heaven fell down upon us the moment my eyes landed on you'

charles is panicking. he is also frustrated, but as of right now panic holds a bigger proportion in the overall share of his feelings. he is late and charles leclerc is never late. all final sketches for his spring-summer collection are ready except one final piece, the grand finale as charles likes to call it. frustration gnaws at his mind because whole collection apart from that final piece was ready and done in the first week - his short vacation in spain inspired him more than he would've thought. he locked himself up in his studio and let beauty come out of the drawings and god, he's never been prouder. every single piece of this collection reminds him of a gentle breeze, warm sea waves, pastel colored flowers on the beach. it's beautiful, it's wonderful and it's incomplete. charles might just kill someone.

loud groan makes everyone look up and he hastily throws last three sketches into the bin, wanting to set the whole thing on fire. clock on the wall almost mocks him, reminds him that he has only five hours left but five hours are not enough for perfection to be created and charles refuses to settle for anything less than perfect.

'go home, everyone.' charles announces, trying to keep anger out of his voice. it's no one's fault but his that collection is unfinished, anyway. 'you can finish your work tomorrow.'

at first no one moves, but when charles pointedly goes back to drawing ignoring everyone, his workers quickly free his studio, flocking one by one until only pierre stays. 'i decided that you could use some inspiration,' he starts, coming closer. 'so i invited several models to stop by.'

charles scoffs, not looking up. 'stupid idea. faces do not inspire me.'

'but those are models! you'll have to make a fitting check on some anways.' pierre tries. 'just be nice, yeah? i'll leave now, but like five of them should come now and oh, i prepared all the docs for the guy from audit, he should also be here shortly.' pierre reaches out and squeezes charles's shoulder lovingly. 'don't stress, calamar. you got this.'

'i don't.' charles cuts out, sighing. 'just go and don't forget to bring me something for dinner.'

pierre scoffs and mutters something about being used but charles is already focused on the drawing. twirling pencil with his fingers, he tries to imagine which look would fit the most for closing the show. his head is usually full of ideas but right now it's empty and only irrelevant memories from vacation spring up, carrying nothing helpful to his case. it's like he used up all of his creativity, which in itself is a very depressing thought; charles thinks it's time to add desperation to his mix of feelings. his eyes move from one sketch to another over and over again, hoping that answer is somewhere there. what is it that he's missing? which piece, which color combination, which-

'um, pardon? i came to-'

'what?!' charles barks out loudly at the interruption. fuck, he was getting somewhere, who dared to interrupt him now? 'what-'

oh. charles blinks at the sight of a tall man in front of him. he blinks again for good measure, just to make sure that his eyes are not playing tricks with him because he had too much caffeine. man in front of him looks like he stepped out of some editorial magazine with his stylishly combed dark hair and big brown eyes. charles is not a stranger to pretty faces; being a fashion designer somehow made him immune to shiny outer appereance of models and celebrities. his breath doesn't get knocked down, his pulse doesn't thrum and his heart doesn't beat faster from an objectively attractive face. it never did, anyway. until right now.

charles takes two steps closer, needing to inspect further. gorgeous tanned skin, plush lips, strong nose, thick neck. there's a bit of stubble on his jawline, which only accentuates how sharp it is. simple blue linen shirt hugs him nicely, stretches over his broad shoulders and only makes his skin tone look even more alluring with the contrast of light color on a tanned body. first two buttons undone are enough to make him look less formal but still not overly casual; peak of collarbones doesn't go unnoticed either. tucked in a fitted pair of straight jeans that make his legs look like they stretch for miles, hugging his thighs just a little to tease the shape - this man looks like -

'god,' charles whispers, awe unhidden in his voice. 'my god.'

perfect dark eyebrow rises up at this. 'i came for-'

'pierre told me,' charles interrupts, stepping even closer. 'you just need to stay here and not move, okay? just don't move.'

charles rushes back, grabs his sketchbook and starts working. 'what's your name?' he asks absentmindedly, chewing on his pencil.

'carlos.' thick accent sips through the cracks.

'perfect,' charles whispers, not looking up. 'absolutely perfect.'

carlos looks like sea. like when you stare at it and in the distance it's almost glowing from the sunlight reflected on it. carlos looks like lazy sunday afternoon, when you have nothing to do and nowhere to be, when your own company is your sole entertainment and that is enough. carlos looks like he is number one. it's in the way he is obviously sun's favorite boy from the way his skin is sunkissed all over; it's in the way god took it's time to make him the way he is to show people that perfection exists. carlos looks soft. his hair, his lips, his eyes - all is soft. god, especially his eyes. charles pauses and looks up, breath hitching at the way carlos is already looking back at him. non artistic people would've called those eyes 'doe eyes' or 'bambi eyes' but thankfully charles is an artist and he knows what those eyes really are. they are love. they are expressive even when their owner stays silent, they are talking and the stories they tell send a thrill down charles's spine. he feels it all - the breath knocked out, pulse thrumming, heart beating twice as fast thing. he stares like a masochist because it's painful to stare, charles doesn't think he should have a right to do so for free, but looking away feels criminal. carlos stares back, anyway. he doesn't say anything and he doesn't have to, his eyes talk for him. they are curious, swimming with possibilities and questions - charles wants to answer them all, wants to grab him by the hand and tell him that everything is possible, he will make it become possible for him.

'where are you from?' charles breaks the silence, looking down at his sketch and continuing his work.

'spain. madrid, specifically.'

god, of course this embodiement of a sun is from spain, from a region where sun shines with all the love and gentleness on its' people. it's so fitting, too. charles can easily picture carlos there, can see how he'll fight right in with all the incredible architecture and colorful nature and- that's it. that's the key. his final piece. charles works without breathing, overtaken by his vision - a modern piece, the kind which looks good for a stroll on the bustling madrid street and fits a nice time in nature. a perfect balance, one that attracts attention not because it's loud but because it's so confident. like carlos. huh, so much for 'faces do not inspire me'.

'from which agency you are?' charles asks, moving to another sketch. he needs to check angles but now that he's got an idea, everything else will come to him easier. 'you can start stripping now, i'll do the color check. i think terracota will look amazing on you, let me check if we have any samples left.'

he stands up to go check fabrics but stops, when carlos just stares back at him, unmoving. he opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, when someone knocks and several guys enter one by one. 'hello,' one of them starts. 'we are here for fit check. pierre sent us.'

charles frowns. charles is also not stupid so he connects dots quickly enough to realize that carlos is- 'you are the audit guy,' he breathes out and carlos offers a small smile in response. 'holy shit.'

'i'm flattered you thought that i am one of those guys,' carlos tilts his head to the side of newcomers. 'they are models, no?' charles nods and he chuckles, shaking his head. 'nice. thanks, i guess.'

'i'm so sorry,' charles mutters, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. god, blush doesn't suit him, can he not blush right now?

'you caught me off guard there with your stripping part,' carlos comments and his voice is so smooth and melodic, charles never wants him to stop talking. 'i was going to say that you could've at least asked me out to dinner first.'

charles stares at carlos with eyebrows pushed up his hairline. what is happening right now? throat clearance from waiting guys brings him out of his thoughts though and he quickly asks them to wait outside for few minutes, needing to stay alone with carlos. he finds docs that pierre left for him and comes closer, holding them tightly. this close scent of carlos's cologne makes his head spin a little: it's a wave of ocean at first but with a twist of something sweeter, darker, which pulls you in. charles feels like he's about to drown.

'those are for me?' carlos asks, pointing at the docs. 'from pierre, right?'

charles nods and doesn't make a move to hand them to carlos. carlos is also not taking them and they are stuck at this staring contest, which is ridiculous but how can charles let him go? his muse, his final piece? 'you are it,' he lets out, holding eye contact with carlos, which is not an easy thing when having carlos's eyes on him feels electric. 'my- i needed my final piece. i have it now, i know how it'll look. i drew it just now, you are-'

'can i see?' carlos interrupts.

charles doesn't show his unfinished sketches to anyone. he also doesn't fall head over heels for guys from audit but this day is full of firsts, apparently. carlos stands by his side when charles hands him his sketchbook and the way his eyes trace every single detail of the lines make charles feel giddy. he waits impatiently, practically buzzing with energy by the time carlos returns him the sketchbook.

'it's beautiful,' he says and his tone is different. it's softer than before, filled with honey, honesty and promise. 'very, very pretty.'

charles almost says something idiotic like not as pretty as you but thankfully he still has head to mouth filter. he bites his lower lip and feels a surge of power in the way carlos immediately looks down, the way those eyes instantly zero on this action. his eyes are always talking even when he doesn't; his eyes are love and right now charles's own hunger is reflected in them. kiss me charles want to whisper. you can take me right now and i will succumb to you the way artists succumb to their muses, wholeheartedly and inevitably.

'what's your name?' carlos asks and if there's a slight drop in his voice, none of them mention it.

'charles.' his own name feels foreign on his tongue. 'leclerc.'

carlos hums, tracing lovingly charles's face with his eyes. 'leave those docs here, charles. i need an excuse to come here again.'

there's no way that carlos doesn't hear loud beating of his heart. heat blooms in the short space between them and charles wants. god, how much he wants. he nods, not trusting his voice not to crack if he speaks.

'i will come tomorrow,' carlos says and there it is, the promise that charles heard so clearly in his tone. 'when you will not have five handsome models waiting to strip for you. when will that be?'

'come today,' charles lets out, not caring if he's acting desperate. 'after eight.'

carlos doesn't seem to think that he's desperate. fire in his eyes ignites and oh, he wants, too. he looks at charles like he wants to forget that he's on work and that there are people waiting for him outside of the door; he looks at charles like charles wants him to look at him. oh, this is wonderful.

'after eight.' carlos agrees and it's a promise again. sweet like honey.

charles stays under some spell for few minutes after carlos is gone and it takes a loud 'shall we start?' from a model to kickstart his brain again. he quickly fishes out his phone and sends pierre text message: 'audit guy dropped by. final piece is ready. do not come to bring me dinner, do not come at all' and takes a deep breath. time to work.

a/n: my love ode for carlos and his eyes is done, please take it and hold it with care :') come to my inbox with suggestions of which other pairings i should write for! - nini

my other formula 1 writings are here

my seventeen writings are here

[artemismoorea03]

Monkies Deserve Better References pt 1

This is a bit of a long one so to save people who follow me for my other series I'm going to put it behind a 'read more' line. Both for that reason and because I couldn't be bothered drawing clothes so the references are naked (not like anything graphic though, they're basically shaped like barbies, don't worry)!

The reference I used I found on pinterest but was made by Toresoza on Twitter for those who want a better high quality version with all the hand shapes will have to find it on Twitter, but for now have this low quality Pinterest one to start out.

Now! Onto the proper references! Keep in mind this is how the characters look from anything before Macaque's Not Alright! There might be some missing scars that the characters should have in canon that they don't have here (namely MK because it was 4 am and I forgot) so they might change slightly but for now here we go!

Let's start with Wukong! First with his glamours up and then with them down! (Peach included because I couldn't get the little shit's hand to work with me so I fed him).

The scar on his brow and cheek would very likely be canon as well as the one on his upper left arm and right elbow which would have all happened during the fight with Nezha.

Included on his face are also the headband scars, burns around his eyes which are red after the Demon Hospital fiasco. Also from the demon hospital fiasco are most of the dark patches on his body (realizing now I missed another burn spot on his inner right forearm that's older than the rest but that's fine). When he was tossed in the forget his fur was magically burned whever it was touching the table which is why he has lines on his tail, wrists and ankles (noticed another mistake on his tail but AGAIN IT WAS LATE LET ME LIVE /lh /j). I'll fix it later but I'm too tired to bother now.

The injuries on his chest and stomach are a mix of the Demon Hospital stuff and MK's Not Alright injuries while the white on his back, shoulders, sides and hips are all from LBD :3

Other details about MDB/MAA Wukong as well as all of the monkeys is that his fur and hair are slightly different shades that are barley noticeable (I'm even questioning if I did it for him but I'm going to hope I did x'D). Wukong is also covered in freckles which he doesn't bother glamouring due to how much energy it would take.

Wukong also shares a bit of a 'dad bod' with Canon Wukong (I'm still learning how to draw weight, so ignore that he looks pregnant he's just supposed to be a little squishy). He is also the tallest of the three monkeys I have done, standing at a super tall /s 5'6" (167 cm/66 in (according to Google)).

-----

Next is Macaque who until I actually did this I thought had the most scars. Nope. His scars are the biggest but he probably has the least amount of scars x'D

Macaque's canon injuries on his chest and eye are visible when he's not glamoured but not nearly as obvious as his newer scars.

On his back is a whip scar that he got from Havoc and Confusion - the timeline on this is messed up and will be edited sooner or later -but it happened when he was quite young and doesn't bother him nearly as much as some of the other scars.

The scar on his right thigh, palms of his hand, horizontally across his chest and through his stomach all came from the Seven-Star Sword.

The three scars across his chest are from Wukong's Not Alright when he was cut down by the giant cat monster. This is also when the edges of his fur started to grow in white when they grew back (he should have a couple of other white patches on his body from smaller injuries but they don't have set spots other than *maybe* in his inner elbows, but again, it's not set).

Then, the final and newest scars are on his hips which he gained during the most recent run in with Confusion.

The white on his fur and in his hair is his 'natural' color from before he was killed the first time (not when Wukong killed him) while the blue is from LBD. The blue will likely never turn fully white but might lighten over time to be a more gray color than blue, but that will take a long time and unless Macis willing to shave himself completely most of his fur will always remain black

Other details about Macaque are his six ears in his unglamoured form which are red, blue and teal based on the colors from the 2009 Monkey King series which also inspired a lot of Macaque's background and life story.

Macaque is the smallest of the three monkeys and stands at 5'3" (160 cm /63.6 In).

--------

Finally, there's MK and oh boy. I didn't realize how much of a break this kid needed after all of this but considering how his scars look I'm about to send him on vacation. A paid vacation with therapy included because holy shit.

After I finished making MK I realized I forgot to look for any canon scars that he would have, but considering most of them would be covered by fur I'm also not in a rush to go through and look through them.

His oldest scar is on his forehead mostly hidden by his hair which is the scar mentioned in the third chapter in the series. From there the scars get bigger and more dramatic the longer it goes on, so let's go through the list.

The scars on his right shoulder is from the snakes that infest the Earth Turtle! Also from his adventure on the Earth Turtle are his top surgery scars which he doesn't glamour (he spends too much time/energy glamouring everything else and he's proud of them, so why bother).

He has a matching wound to Macaque on his lower left stomach (which might be in the wrong spot but again i'm tired) came from Monkies Aren't Alright when Chang Liu stabs him with an immortal killing weapon to have access to what 'makes him tick'.

Then in MK's Not Alright he got attacked by another non-venomous snake that bit his left shin and left deep scarring there as well but oddly enough that was the only scar he gained from that one.

In Wukong's Not Alright he gained two scars, the one through his right shin and the wound to his left shoulder blade.

The rest of the scars - the one on his face, most of the ones on his cheek, chest, back, legs, and tail all came from Macaque's not alright with some other minor scars that I forgot about x'D. They are a mixture of whip wounds, slash wounds and burns all came from Havoc, Ginger and Confusion trying to control him.

Other details include slight discoloration on his fingers from the same torture he went through to get the majority of his scars. Part of his bangs are discolored to be white and he's covered in countless white freckles giving him a very 'starry' appearance to him. (which in a way makes his fur look like space with the scars being shooting stars and planets).

MK is the 'middle' monkey and stands at 5'5" (165cm/65in , only an inch shorter than Wukong.

-----

That's all that I have done right now but I'm hoping to make Loi, Red, Mei, and Nezha at some point as well as Tu, Yuanhou, Mihou, Changpu, Pengu and a super secret fifth option too ;3

That being said, if there are any characters you want me to try to make a reference for, just let me know. These were just some of the ones most requested by my discord and friends so I thought I'd do them first. Once I have the others done though, I'll post them.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know why but I got this idea in my head of Cater’s sisters being really into Ace’s brother. Maybe because I got Cater and Ace mixed up all the time when I first saw the character designs for TW.

Ah, yes. Putting more Heartslabyul boys in familial crises with the fear that their own [relative] may start a relationship with a [relative] of a classmate (the last one was Mrs. Spade + "Silver's dad") :)) That's been my favorite thing to write lately, lol

I wrote Cater’s sisters with the concept of bubbly, sociable girls and gyaru fashion/subculture in mind. There's a lot of "like" and "totally" in their vocabular! Ace's brother is 7 years older than him, so in my head I'm placing the Diamond sisters around that ballpark too. (We don’t actually know what the age difference between the Diamond siblings are, nor do we know that much about the character of the sisters other than having girlish interests and being somewhat bossy with Cater.)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Head-turning was an understatement for the effect the Diamond sisters had on NRC’s general populace. The gemstone of their surname might have implied elegance in the right context—but they were more the gaudy kind of jewels, shining so brightly it was difficult to ignore them.

The Diamond sisters dressed loudly, talked loudly, and lived, laughed, and loved loudly. It earned them no shortage of strange looks and stares. Attention, but not the good kind.

The cards that Cater held so close to his chest threatened to slip out from between his fingers and scatter. Putting on an act was one thing—but when his sisters were present? A whole different act to balance.

People looked too closely. They wondered. All things he worked so tirelessly to avoid.

His house of cards threatened to topple.

“Is this really your dorm?” one sister gushed, disrupting Cater’s thoughts.

She gazed at the red roses that wreathed the lounge. Cards were also strung above to give the illusion of floating down. Suspended clocks ticking away the time, racking up the seconds.

“Heartslabyul’s, like, so aesthetically pleasing!” the other sister declared. “It’s like I just walked straight into a viral Magicam pic.”

“Yup, it’s my dorm alright!” Cater said quickly, careful to not let his smile falter. “Hey, if you like Heartslabyul, then we should check out the other six dorms too. You might find a place that vibes with you even more!”

“Really? But I wanna soak up the atmosphere of your dorm first!!” The first sister fell back into a quilted couch with a pout.

The second shook her head and tutted. “Let’s stop and smell the roses, okay, Cay-Cay?”

“Eeeeh? That’s easy for you two to say… I kinda get tired of smelling roses all day myself. Don't 'cha find it a little stifling? There are other places we could hang."

His sisters looked at him incredulously, neither of them willing to budge. He had feared this--their headstrongness had been the cause of many disputes as children.

"Maybe we could hit up the gardens then?" Cater offered, changing up his tactics. "It's so big, and there's so much to see there! Lots of 'cammable spots! We could spend all afternoon wandering it and getting lost~"

Hopefully out of sight for the entire day. It was more energy than he had hoped to expend, but it was a concession Cater was forced to make.

At this, the Diamond sisters leapt up excitedly.

"Omg, pics with floral backgrounds are like, SO hot right now. It's the season for it!"

“Is there a flower archway? Or a trellis we could pose in front of?”

“All that and more!“ Cater beamed and gestured to the open door. It led into a twisting hallway, checkered in black and white squares. When he looked to his sisters, he mustered all the eagerness he could. “Come on, let’s shake a leg and check it out!”

“What, you’re checking me out?”

“… Eh?” Cater whipped back to the doorway.

A man was now there, casually leaning against the frame. He wore a confident grin on his handsome face, poised with the laidback sort of swagger of a street-smart alleycat.

Riddle would have blown a fuse at how he dressed—his vest was open, his shirt wasn’t fully tucked in, nor full buttoned. His tie was loose too, and tossed over the shoulder… and, worst of all, he had the same impish glitter in his cherry eyes as Ace did. Double trouble, it seemed.

“I didn’t think my lil’ bro’s classmates would be so into me,” the Ace-like man joked.

Cater blinked as realization kicked in. “Eh, could it be that you’re Ace-chan’s…”

Right on cue, the first year in question popped up from around the corner. He crammed himself in the doorway with his brother with a groan.

“Would it kill you to wait up for me?!” Ace cried indignantly. “Just cuz you’re visiting your alter mater doesn’t mean you can ditch me to run off and do whatever!”

“Can’t help it if you still can’t outrun me,” his brother smirked. “Maybe you oughta work out some more.”

“Yeah, right! You just got a head-start is all. I bet I’m WAY more in shape than you are!”

Yup, that pretty much confirms it… They argue like siblings—I’d know it anywhere.

"I didn’t know your brother would be dropping in," Cater began. Rapt gasps cut off the rest of his thought.

“O. M. G.”

The blood in Cater’s veins ran cold. He didn’t need to look to know that something had completely entranced his sisters.

They were both suddenly on either side of Cater, sandwiching him between them. "Cay-kun, who’s this cutie?! Where have you been hiding him?"

For once in his life, he was at a total loss for words. Cater stared pleadingly at Ace, his puppy dog eyes (a technique he had learned from many fake Magicam apology vids) on full blast.

The first year wiggled his brows at Cater, then strolled forward. He slicked hair back with both hands (he had seen it once in a movie) and made what he probably thought was an attractive expression. “Ladies, ladies! I know I'm hot stuff! No need to clamor, there’s plenty of me to go around.”

The Diamond sisters flew right by him, snubbing the boy.

"... Huh?"

Both Cater and Ace gawked as the girls clustered around the older of the Trappola brothers. One sister took hold of his right arm, the other, the left, in a desperate bid for his attention. The Diamond sisters giggled coquettishly, batting their eyes at Ace's brother and toying with locks of their hair.

"Hey, cutie~ You free right now? Cuz we totes are!"

"Let's ditch our bros and get to know each other better! You're, like, def our type."

"Oh, you've got to be kiddin' me," Ace groaned, face-palming.

His brother smiled languidly and shrugged. "Sorry, my dude. I can't help being a chick magnet. Better luck next time."

"You don't sound very sorry about it!!"

"What else is a guy supposed to do in a situation like this? I'll make it up to you somehow, promise!"

"Aw, you care about your little bro's feelings? I love that," one of the Diamond sisters swooned, a hand to her forehead.

"Hot and considerate? He's the total package!" The other traced a light circle on his chest, a longing sigh drawn out from between her lips.

"Oh, BARF." Ace yanked on Cater's sleeve, demanding, "Uh, a little help here, Cater-senpai?! You CAN'T be okay with this, right?"

"Eeeh, you seriously want me to get in the way of true love, Ace-chan?" he pulled back, both hands up--distancing himself from the situation. "Sorry, but I'm not up for it."

"Oh, come on! True love, my ass! You're fine with your sisters peacing out on you to flirt and make goo-goo eyes?!"

"Honestly, whatever keeps them out of my hair~" Cater replied with a mischievous wink. "And besides, I don't want to deal with the potential fallout if they kick up a fuss about it. Haven't you ever heard of 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'?"

With a grin, the third year wrangled his junior by the shoulder and brought him close. "I should actually be thanking you, Ace-chan! You got me out of a real tight pinch there~"

“Yeah, and now you put me in a pinch!” he groused back, shoving Cater away. There was no shame to his senior’s smile, only smug satisfaction. “Traitor!”

“Geez, that’s mean of you to say. I didn’t ever promise you anything, did I? We just happened to cross paths and things worked out in my favor 🎵”

"Well thanks for NOTHING, then!"

[toughguymatt]

Night Drive

Part 1/3

Pairing: AU!Nick x Male OC (Adrian Rivers) Summary: Curiosity getting the better of him, Nick takes up an offer to go on a late night drive. Warnings/Content: Language. Oral sex. Third Person POV. Posted in three parts, so it's an easier read. Smut is in the final part. A/N: When we say AU, we mean it. Nick bartends, is into cars, and knows how to drive? Crazy. Buckle up, get strapped in. Also, the FC for Adrian is Vinnie Hacker, but feel free to picture whoever you like.

“I think I’m gonna get a drink and head on out. This jet lag is kicking my ass,” Adrian spoke loudly in Tara’s ear. “Text me later, yeah?” He couldn’t exactly make out what Tara said above the raucous bass, but her nod and smile was enough confirmation. Adrian watched as she descended up the stairs to the private VIP entrance, a tray of shots balanced perfectly beneath her hand. She had insisted that he come by Nova so they could catch up on her break, but Tara was in high demand tonight. Adrian blew out a breath, trying to ignore the unread emails piling up in his inbox, and forced his way through the maze of drunk patrons to the bar.

He smiled at the busy bartender. "Hi, can I get a cherry Coke?" 

Nick's head swiveled toward the customer, automatically leaning in a bit to hear his order over the music. He spoke back, loud enough for him to hear, and maybe then some. "You want that on the rocks, big spender?"

He wasn't about to question the lack of alcohol in the drink, but a cherry Coke? Why could no one order a Starry or something? Aside from the fact that Starry was ass.

Adrian presented his credit card between two fingers. "You can close the tab. It's all I'm getting." He waited a moment before speaking again over the music. "I'm sorry, but were you the valet earlier in the week? I had the white- Well, you probably don't remember. But you look very familiar." Nick’s fingers clasped around the card and stuck it in the reader. While it was thinking, so was he. "White Camaro, black leather seats? Smelled like vanilla?" 

The tips of Adrian's ears burned red beneath his hair. He didn't expect the other to recall his car at all, or what it smelled like. "I got it detailed recently."

Nick hummed as he grabbed a mixing glass, replaying the image of last week in his mind while pouring in just a bit of grenadine. Of fucking course Nick remembered him. How could he not? That car was sexy as hell. "Oh yeah. I drove that thing up and down those streets. Side to side. Left and right. Had to drive it backwards on the way back, though.” He spun the reader back to the customer with one wrist, so he could finish the transaction. “Took the miles right off."

"Backwards, huh?" Adrian entered a 20% tip and his pin on the number pad: the date of his bakery’s opening. "Sounds like you could teach me a thing or two." His smile never left his lips as slid his card into his phone case. Adrian wasn't used to such confidence when people spoke to him. Usually there was a sort of trepidation, a fawningness. But not in this scenario. The bartender couldn't care less about how Adrian looked. The same couldn't be said for Adrian,  however, he was immediately attracted. Even the glint from the bartender's nose ring was sexy. "So," Adrian popped a cherry into his mouth, "should I ask for you personally next time I'm here, since you know how to handle my car so well?" 

Nick’s gaze caught on the sharp angles of the customer’s face and the way the cherry on his tongue matched the tint of his lips. “You want me to handle your car after I’d basically just said I’d taken it for a joy ride?” Had he? He’d never say for sure, especially since he could get in trouble and he wasn’t completely fucking insane. But a smile tugged at his lips nonetheless as he wiped his hands on the bar towel that hung just below the counter. “That’s crazy.” 

"But you brought it back without a scratch.” Adrian took a sip. “I think that's pretty impressive." Any other customer would probably swig down the rest of the drink, give their thanks, and go about their night without another thought, but Adrian never passed by an opportunity. "I'm sorry," Adrian blushed slightly beneath cascading lights, "I know this is forward, and I know you're working, but... I'd really like your number."

The way this guy went from ridiculously hot to cute was like a jump scare to Nick, and his hand flew up to his chest like the request was an insult. “Whaat?” His own cheeks flushed. “Why? No!” he said a little sharply before clearing his throat. Nick busied his hands, moving dirtied cups off the countertop. “You know, reporting me to the Better Business Bureau or whatever the fu—“ He corrected himself. No cussing on the job. Granted, no one told him anything yet, but he was trying his best before they did. “Or whatever that is won’t do anything. I was joking, and shi—stuff.”

"What? No. I'm not going to report you," Adrian chuckled. "I just wanted your number."

Nick eyed him for a moment. Again, this guy was way too hot to still be here. Nick should shut the fuck up and just give him his number. And yet… 

“Why?”

"Why?" Adrian was louder than he intended. The music thrummed inside his ears and chest. "I think you're hot. And I'd like to get to know you? Unless you're taken or something. Or not gay." 

“Oh, no, I’m definitely gay.” Was Nick hearing things? Was the music making his ears ring? He thought Nick was hot? Bullshit. This guy was, like, ripped out of a fan fiction or something. “And single.” He blurted. “I’m not supposed to give out personal information on the job.” Why did he say that? Fucking dammit.

"Okay." Adrian nodded. "Understood." He pushed his empty glass away from him. "Do you," he pointed to the register, "mind if I have my receipt?"

“Yeah, sorry, here.”

Adrian swiped a pen from the tabletop. "If you can't give me your number," he spoke as he scribbled on the paper, "I'll give you mine." He pushed it towards him. Adrian Rivers 555-6421

“Adrian Rivers,” Nick read out loud, eyebrows raising. His eyes shifted to him in suspicion. “Okay, you’re making this up. Even your name is hot.”

Adrian laughed. "Feel free to Google me. I'm a real person, I swear. Or just ask Tara." He pointed with his thumb behind him. "She'll vouch for me." Adrian moved from the stool. "I hope I hear from you. And I also hope that the next time I see you, I'll be buying you a drink instead." Adrian grinned and moved to exit. "It was nice to meet you, Nick."

Before Nick had time to question why he knew his name (and then realize why), Adrian was gone. Nick didn’t realize he was still looking after him until a customer stepped up to where Adrian once was. He crumpled the receipt slightly, but then tucked it in his pocket, and cut his eyes over to Tara who was now looking at him. “What?” he mouthed, though there was a slight smile to it, before getting back to work.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Nick had been stalking the hot customer’s Insta for the past few days - of fucking course he had. Being hit on at the bar wasn’t a new occurrence, but it was definitely new for Nick to be interested. In a scientific way, of course. In a who-the-hell-was-this-guy sort of way. Definitely. For sure. No other reason. The series of selfies, the majority shirtless, just so happened to be there. So what if Nick looked? That’s what they were there for. Duh. It absolutely did not mean he was going to text him back. No way.

adrianrivers just posted a photo.

Nick’s jaw quite literally dropped open. “What the fuck…” he whispered, eyes assaulted by tan skin and warm eyes and an unending expanse of tattoos. He stopped thinking and pulled up Adrian’s contact in his phone. He tried not to question why he’d added his number to begin with. 

Nick: wtf was that??? Nick: i didn’t expect to be assaulted by your abs when creeping insta Nick: but i like your tattoos Nick: btw this is Nick from the bar. you gave me your number for some reason

Adrian: oh? have you decided I'm a real boy now? Adrian: thank you lol. kind of lost count how many I have. do you have any? Adrian: some reason? I told you why. you're hot.

Nick: im still on the fence tbh Nick: shut up. anyway Nick: i do have tattoos. my arm is starting to look like a doodle board so i’m thinking i probably need to cool it for half a second Nick: what’s the first one you got then

Adrian: ok I'll bite. what do I have to do to prove it? Adrian: you only live once. why not get cool tattoos while you're at it. Adrian: first one? fuck. it's been a minute. I think it's the one on my arm. an angel. Adrian: what's the last one you got?

Nick: you’re a little TOO hot so I’m going to need some kind of embarrassing story otherwise I’m going to assume you’re ai Nick: u right Nick: cool. I’d like to see that Nick: the triforce. you can barely see it with the other ones I have around it Nick: okay, what’s your favorite one

Adrian: you sure you scrolled down far enough? you'll see a very dorky 8th grade me. braces. glasses. The whole thing. Adrian: so you're a zelda fan huh? I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Adrian: my favorite is always my newest. Adrian: are you at work right now?

Nick: god no three posts of thirst traps and i felt like i was entering creep territory Nick: now that you know i might scroll down more so now’s ur chance to private your shit Nick: sounds tempting but pretty sure im busy that day typing… Nick: shift doesn’t start till 8. why?

Adrian: just three? maybe I should post more. Adrian: no point in being ashamed of it. it's still me. Adrian: depends. when do you get off?

Nick: bar closes at 2 and I’m out by 3 Nick: are you planning on snatching me up and axe murdering me Nick: bc I have a right to know so I can make arrangements for the right pic of me to be on the news

Adrian: I don't even know how to use an axe. a butcher knife maybe. but really I was thinking we could take a drive somewhere after you're off. no murder involved. Adrian: you can even show me how you drive it in reverse.

Nick: a butcher knife. thats messy as fuck Nick: at 3am??? what if I murdered YOU Nick: don’t you have a bedtime typing….Nick: i feel like you know i can’t say no to that

Adrian: I don't mind getting my hands dirty sometimes. so are you going to murder me then? Adrian: my schedule is a little off. why? do you want to tuck me in? Adrian: hey if the only leverage I have is my car, I'll take it if it means I see you again.

Nick: it sounds like you want me to Nick: insomnia? and yeah. sure. that’s exactly it. ill even tell you a goodnight story- fuck off Nick: it’s working Nick: if you want to risk your life and your car, swing by a little after 3. I’ll drive it backwards and forwards for you. upside down. all of that.

Adrian: I'll take my chances. Adrian: something like that. love that one. read it again. Adrian: sounds like a date. I'll see you after 3. Nick: ill write up my will on my break Nick: and text you when im out

Part Two

[madlittlecriminal]

Heeyyy, not sure if your requests are open or not... If not, no worries, feel free to ignore this, lol. But I gotta say, I absolutely adored your mk fanfics! They were just so good! And it got me thinking, you know? What if, in Steven's date episode (the one in the series), the reader showed up? Like, maybe she could be the waitress or just someone who happened to be alone at the restaurant and saw him there. What do you think would make her approach him? I don't know, maybe a sense of sympathy, or just wanting to be cool? Or maybe he's just really good-looking? Who knows! Anyway, sorry if I rambled a bit, and please forgive any mistakes in my English. It's not my first language. Once again, I LOVED your mk fanfics!

- Anon🐌

Chocolates and Wine ☾ Steven Grant × Female!Reader

your English is great, don't worry anon! :) im glad you liked my fics though! it means a lot to be honest, especially since i was hesitant at first to write for the moon boys. but you and everyone else who has liked and reblogged my work has made my days so much better :') thank you and i hope you enjoy! :) also, i ramble too, so you can ramble as much as you want!

Warnings: being stood up, the so-called date of reader has no specified gender

You glanced at your phone and sighed when you saw it was now 7:30 and your date wasn't there. 30 minutes late and not one message to you saying that they were cancelling or at least letting you know that they were running late. Honestly, you were beginning to lose hope. However, when you turned around to see a guy looking a bit sad after getting off the phone, you felt bad. Had he gone through the same thing you were?

It was kind of unfortunate really. I mean, he was handsome. Not to mention that he looked good in black, but that was beside the point. You saw he had a heart shape box with him, and you quickly knew it was chocolate. The waiter walked over to him, and you quickly decided that there was no way you were going to waste this night and let him be sad.

He looked too good to be sad anyway.

So, you did what you thought was right and quickly ran up to the table and sat down across from him. The look of shock on his face was hard to miss and you let out a breath. "Sorry I'm late! I typed the wrong address and from rushing to get here, I forgot to let you know." The waiter smiled at you while the man in front of you was frozen. "Did you order yet?" He shook his head and you smiled. "Great! Can I get a glass of red please?" The waiter nodded and looked over that the man. "And for you sir?" He nodded and looked up at the waiter. "Y-yeah, I'll take the same. Thank you." The waiter left while scribbling the drinks down on his notepad. Once he was far, you looked over at the man, his dark brown eyes meeting yours.

"Sorry if I scared you, sir. I thought it was best if I joined you." He shook his head. "No worries. I saw you waiting and I thought it was for someone. D-Did you get stood up?" You look down at menu the man had and sighed. "Unfortunately. I don't understand why people do that, y'know? Did you get stood up too or did they have the decency to reschedule?" You scanned the menu before deciding what you wanted before passing it back to him. He took it and embarrassment was written on his face. "I got the days mixed up. Thought today was Friday when it's actually Sunday."

"Yeah, it happens. Especially when time goes by quickly, you lose track of days, right?" Something was written on his face as the waiter came back with the wine before putting it down and asking if you were ready to order. You and the stranger placed your orders and he walked away. "You could say that. Sorry, I'm Steven...with a v." You raised your brow with a small smile as you looked at him. "Nice to meet you Steven with a v. I'm (Y/N)." His embarrassment quickly faded, and a small smile crept on his face. "This date of yours, did he bail because he was nervous?" You shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Tried contacting them and they never responded, so I gave up and came to your table."

"Out of pity?" You took a sip of your wine. "Honestly? Maybe a bit, but I figured I would take my chances. You seemed decent enough to talk to." He chuckled. "Thank you...I think?" You smiled. "Plus, it was a bonus for me since you definitely are cuter than who my date was." He raised a brow. "A man?" You shrugged. "Male, female, gender neutral, doesn't matter. You're really handsome, Steven." He looked down at his hands and you tilt your head to the side. Did he not get compliments? Surely a man this handsome got compliments daily, right?

He gave you a shy smile. "I'm not used to flattery, so I'm sorry." You grinned. "It's fine," your waiter returned with the food and you both began indulging on the food, having a nice conversation. You found out he was an Egyptian mythology buff and you thought it was cute. He told you about how he wanted to be a tour guide for the museum he worked at, but his boss was, and you'd quote "a complete twat" which made you snort. You told him about your career and your different interests as well, causing him to look at you with so much focus that you honestly became nervous.

However, as quickly as this whole thing started, it came to an end; he paid and you gave the tip since he refused to split the bill, insisting that you did so much for him, the least he could've done was pay for your food as well. As you both began to leave, you traded numbers, agreeing to hang out again soon. He then looked at the chocolate box that was now under his arm and turned to you. "Do you like chocolate?" You were shocked by his response and nodded. He handed you the box of chocolates with a smile. "There you go, love. Enjoy, yeah? You did a lot for me today and it was great. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Steven. Do you need a ride?" He hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, alright." With that, you gave him your phone so he could put his address in it and got into your car. Honestly, you were glad your date stood you up or else you wouldn't have met Steven. After Steven handed your phone back to you, you send the person a text saying that you wished them the best, but you were no longer interested in them. You deleted their number and went back to your navigation app and began taking Steven home.

[the-guilty-writer]

We Need You That Way

Request from anon: Hey Gill, love your work bestie anyway I have a request for Spence being with BAU reader but she's dyslexic and idk there on a case and she's insecure because some of the cops/agents don't think reader could be an fbi agent yk and Spencer just consoles her super fluff stuff anyway feel free to ignore me 

Spencer Reid x gn!BAU!reader

Summary: Spencer reminds dyslexic reader that they’re a valuable part of the team.

A/N: While doing research on dyslexia I learned a lot about how it can affect more than reading and writing, but that it also presents differently in everyone. I remember reading a Spencer fic a long time ago with a dyslexic reader, but I couldn’t find it. (I will keep searching for it, though anon!)

I DID NOT HAVE A CONSULT on this fic, so if anyone with dyslexia has an issue with it, please let me know how I can improve. I do my research, but there is only so much a search engine can tell me. My messages are always open and I’m always happy to learn about how I can make a fic better when it features a reader with specific traits I’m unfamiliar with.

CW: reader is dyslexic (this shouldn’t be a warning?), the deputy makes a rude comment to reader, small southern town slander (I live in a small southern town and can confirm that the stereotypes are true. Someone save me from this hell please.)

---

“Why does every small town we go to have a bunch of roads named after a bunch of people from the same family?” you huffed slightly.

You had just gotten back from visiting a crime scene; something that should have taken about an hour and ended up being far longer. The GPS had died and there was no cell phone service, leaving you to navigate via old-fashioned map, which wasn’t exactly your strongest suit. Mixing up left and right, finding out that you were holding the map upside down, and old road names made the journey less than ideal and exceedingly frustrating.

Most people thought dyslexia only went as far as mixing up words and struggling to read, but it got in the way of other things as well; today’s backroad adventure was just one example. It wasn’t often that you let those things get you down, but today you couldn’t help it.

After seeing you come back to the station so defeated, Spencer took you to grab a much-needed cup of coffee from the small kitchenette. It wasn’t a real break, but it was enough for you to cool off from your frustrations.

“Looking back at the town records, the Baskin family owned about one fourth of the town land for three generations and the Silvan family owned a third of the town for two generations before holding prominent government positions. Given the regional tradition it makes sense that so many roads are named after them,” Spencer sprouted a fact. It made you grin.

“My great grandpappy held onto the land as long as he could,” one of the old deputies said, though you could barely understand through his thick southern-drawl. “Broke his heart when he had to let it go. It’s devastating the first murder occured on the road named in his honor.”

It’s more devastating that someone is… you know… dead, You thought, but kept yourself from speaking. “And which road was that?” you asked politely, opening up your case file, but knowing it would be faster just to ask.

“Harper,” the deputy said. “There’s only one Harper road in this whole town.”

“Are you right?” you looked down at your file again, taking your time as much as you could, but still in a rush.

“What is it?” Spencer asked.

“I thought I just came back from the scene at Harper,” you told him.

“I’m right,” the deputy replied defiantly.

“I wasn’t-” you wanted to explain that sometimes you would reach for a word like “sure” but a word with similar meaning, like “right” would come out instead. Dyslexia didn’t just make you mix up letters and sounds, but words sometimes too, especially since you were distracted by your files.

But the deputy didn’t give you a chance to speak any further. “I know I’m right! What kind of FBI agent can’t keep track of where crime scenes are?”

Spencer interrupted before it could go any further. “Let’s go note the difference on the profile board, okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied to him quietly and the two of you quickly made your way to the other room.

Spencer shut the door behind you and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. People questioned your ability to do things at times, but never so loud and direct; most of it was whispered behind your back. You’d spend time pretending that you didn’t hear the insults, pretending that they didn’t get to you until you were alone and could cry silently to yourself. This time you had no time, no room, to ignore the interaction that occurred. Your vulnerability was on complete display.

You threw your files down on the table and sunk into a chair, feeling crushed. “He’s got a point,” you muttered.

“He doesn’t,” Spencer said, sitting next to you.

“It took me two hours to figure out how to get to the crime scene today, Spencer.” You should have felt bad about using such a bitter tone with him, but you couldn’t help it. “It wouldn’t have taken Morgan that long. Or you, or anyone else on the team.”

“Well when Morgan drives it makes all of us carsick,” Spencer said. “And no one lets me drive.”

“Spencer, you hate driving,” you pointed out. “You get all squirrelly.”

“I did technically fail the offensive driving course at the academy.” Spencer smiled sheepishly. “But that doesn't make me any less important to the team.”

“Of course it doesn't. You're a literal genius. I'm… just me.” Your voice quieted at the end, what was frustration showing as what it really was— insecurity.

“I think just you is great,” Spencer replied. “And you help me slow down when thinking through cases.”

“Wow, I slow you down… thanks, Spence. That makes me feel so much better.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“It’s a good thing,” Spencer said sincerely. “I jump to conclusions sometimes. You make me slow down and catch the things I missed. My consultation profiles have been far more accurate since you joined the team, and when we’re out on cases we have to revise the profile less often.”

“Really?” You tried not to show how baffled you truly were. You knew that occasionally you helped slow down Spencer’s million-mile an hour brain, but you didn’t think it was helpful for anyone but yourself.

“Do you know why Hotch brings you to court the most?” Spencer asked.

You bypassed telling Spencer that his sentence could be taken in two very different connotations. “Because it would be a waste of time to have me review files when I can’t read them?”

“Because you can tell the story of the case as an experience instead of just a list of evidence. It makes it easier for the jury to understand what’s going on and more dangerous people get put away because of it,” Spencer explained.

“And Garcia always asks you to help review initial video footage for a reason. It’s like you can see the crime scene without being there, so when we get there in-person we have a better idea of where to start. Your spacial awareness is better than the rest of ours. We can build the profile faster.”

“Do I really help that much?”

“Yeah, you do.” Spencer looked at you softly.

He reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You let yourself fall into his arms. The comfort and reassurance of his words cradled you, building your confidence back up. “Keep being ‘just you.’ We need you that way.”