#GIFFED THIS THROUGH MY TEARS 😭

[beif0ngs]

Pew!

[whoreforsexymen]

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

[u3pxx]

WELCOME HOME, POLLY! ✈️☀️🪄

finally sharing the piece i drew for @aasiblingszine! :^D if there's one thing about me, it's that i will be VERY sappy about apollo and trucy <3

leftovers are live over on here! so feel free to grab yourself a copy of this siblimful zine if you wanna feel warm and fuzzy and maybe cry a lil bit about ace attorney and the siblingisms of it all pftt <33

extra stuff under the cut! :^P | like this art? it'll be a print in my shop once the leftovers are over! | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

help i just noticed that the timelaspe i had of this didn't record me rendering the rest of the drawing 😭 oh well, here's the progress gif too why not pftt

it's been maybe more than a year since i drew this so very wild to see how my art style has evolved since this! considering that i'm currently in an art rut pftt, i've changed my inking pen so many times by now lol. but i still like this a lot! what's a den drawing without too many add (glow) layers and the sun setting down in it lmao

just looking at all the art and writing made for this zine was such a treat! so many heartwarming and heartwrenching scenarios so beautifully written and illustrated! flipping through this zine, i teared up a bit, my man!! i'm so glad to have worked with such talented peeps! :'^] <33

this drawing of mine is kind of an expansion of this old doodle i drew, i'm just a big enjoyed of trucy and apollo ending up being the same height after a timeskip AND i am also just very weepy about missing people who used to be always with you, mayhaps.

once again reminding you that leftovers are live!!! here's the link, go get this wonderful zine!!!

[deans-queen]

You Belong With Me (Dean’s Version)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x You

Summary: POV - Dean sees you walking down the street with your new boyfriend and doesn’t like what he sees 🥺 ( this was a request that I was tagged in by @jackles010378 )

Warnings: language, spicy moments, jealousy , angst, possessiveness, emotional vulnerability, mentions of toxic relationship.

Pre Authors Note: BTW I needed to use this gif because it just does something to me like 🥵😩😭 I’m so down bad for this man it’s ridiculous — anyways happy reading!! 🫶🏻

Dean’s POV

I leaned against the Impala, arms crossed, sunglasses low on my nose as I watched you walk down the street, hand in hand with him. Some preppy guy, clean-shaven, all smiles, like he didn’t have a care in the world. My gut twisted the second I saw you laughing at something he said.

Damn, that laugh. That smile. It used to be mine.

You looked happy, but I knew better. There was something off, something I couldn’t put my finger on, and it gnawed at me. He wasn’t right for you, not by a long shot. Maybe it was the way he touched you—too casual, too cocky—or the fact that he didn’t even notice when your smile faltered.

I took a long drag from my beer, eyes still locked on you. When you passed by, our gazes met. Yours lingered on me for just a second too long before you quickly looked away. Yeah, you felt it too. That pull. That spark that had never really gone away, no matter how much you tried to hide it.

A week later, I saw you again, sitting on a park bench, alone this time. The sky was overcast, like it was about to rain, but you didn’t seem to care. I noticed the way your shoulders shook, the soft sobs you tried to stifle. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t stand it.

I slid onto the bench next to you, silent for a moment before speaking. “Hey.”

You looked up, your tear-streaked face breaking me. “Dean…”

“Where’s he?” I asked, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice.

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks. “We broke up.”

My heart surged with something I didn’t want to name, but my fists clenched as you kept talking.

“He was an asshole. Treated me like… like I didn’t even matter half the time.” Your voice cracked, and I could see how much it hurt to admit that. “I should’ve known.”

“I knew,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening. “What?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I could tell. The way he looked at you, the way he acted… He didn’t deserve you.”

You blinked, processing my words, and then something shifted. There was this tension hanging between us, thick and electric, the kind you couldn’t ignore. I reached out, cupping your cheek gently, my thumb brushing away a tear.

“I would never treat you like that,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “You know that, right?”

Your breath hitched, eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the whole world fell away. It was just us—just you and me—and the way your lips parted, your gaze flicking down to my mouth, told me everything I needed to know.

I leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you met me halfway, your lips soft, warm, and perfect against mine. The second we kissed, everything else vanished. All the frustration, the jealousy, the anger—I poured it all into that kiss, into the way I pulled you closer, needing to feel you against me.

You whimpered into my mouth, fingers threading through my hair, and God, that sound—made me lose it. My hand slid to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, and when you pressed your body into mine, I could barely keep it together.

I pulled back slightly, resting my forehead against yours, breath heavy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your lips curved into a shaky smile, but there was still that uncertainty in your eyes. “Dean… I don’t want to just be a rebound.”

I shook my head. “You think this is a rebound? Babe, I’ve been wanting you for years. This… this is way past that.”

You bit your lip, that little hint of doubt fading as I kissed you again, harder this time. You moaned softly, and I couldn’t help myself.

“You deserve better,” I growled against your lips, my hands roaming your sides. “You deserve someone who’ll treat you like the goddamn queen you are.”

Your breath was ragged, fingers clutching at my jacket as I nipped at your lower lip. “And you think that’s you?”

“I know it’s me.” My voice was dark, low, the kind that made your whole body shudder. “You belong with me, sweetheart. No one else is gonna give you what you need.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes heavy-lidded as you stared at me. “Show me.”

And hell, did I ever.

A few days had passed since that kiss, but it was all I could think about. You had to know you were driving me crazy—every time we crossed paths, there was that look in your eyes, like you wanted more but weren’t sure if you should ask for it.

I was about to give you more than you ever expected.

We met again that night, under the same damn streetlight where I first saw you with him. Only this time, it was just us, no distractions.

“You look like you’ve got something to say,” you teased, leaning back against the hood of the Impala, your eyes gleaming under the dim light.

I took a step closer, then another, until I was right in front of you, crowding your space. “I do.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t move, didn’t back down. “Yeah? What’s that?”

I ran a finger down your arm, watching the way your skin prickled beneath my touch. “That I’m done pretending. I want you, Y/N. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time.”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, I grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against me. The kiss that followed wasn’t soft like the first one—it was hard, desperate, and filled with everything I’d been holding back for too damn long.

You gasped into my mouth as my hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips, your waist, everything I could reach. You melted against me, your fingers curling into my shirt as I deepened the kiss, my teeth grazing your lower lip before I tugged it, just hard enough to make you whimper.

“Dean,” you whispered, breathless, and that was all it took for me to lose control. I lifted you onto the hood of the Impala, pushing between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around me, pulling me closer.

“Damn, sweetheart,” I growled against your neck, trailing rough kisses along your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You tilted your head back, giving me more access as I pressed open-mouthed kisses along your throat. “Then show me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And I did. Every single inch of you. Every kiss, every touch, every moan—it all belonged to me now.

Author’s Note

Hope you enjoyed this story! Thank you @jackles010378 for this suggestion, I def loved writing it! Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

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Tag list

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If you would like to be added on my Taglist for stories please send me a message or comment on this post

[peterparkouryo]

fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place. 

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming  about your bed. 

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears. 

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt. 

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour. 

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes. 

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

 All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly. 

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker." 

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

[babydollslibrary]

LAVENDER HAZE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

published: February 6th, 2023

summary: in which y/n has been dealing with hate from Trevor’s fans and journalists constantly speculating when they’ll get married.

specific lyrics: “i been under scrutiny. you handle it beautifully. all this shit is new to me.” and “all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.”

not my gif

“y/n, when are you and Trevor gonna get married?” a reporter asks as i walk through the hallways of Honda Center, away from the Ducks dressing room and up towards the seating. i send a stiff smile their way and continue walking, effectively ignoring their question.

i’ve been dating Trevor since we were sixteen. five years together and you’d think i would be used to this by now, but it’s harder than one would think.

of course Trevor and i have talked about marriage, when you’ve been together this long, it’s inevitable that you’ve talked about it. but we’ve mutually decided to wait until it feels right for us. we’re only twenty-one after all. but it seems that it’s the only question i get asked nowadays.

sure, when i ran into reporters in the past, they may have asked me this question a couple times, but usually they just asked me what it was like to be high school sweethearts with an nhl player or what kind of things Trevor does at home to get ready for a game. but now it’s always ‘when are you guys getting married?’ and ‘y/n has Trevor proposed yet?’.

having been dating Trevor since his USNTDP days, it’s definitely different dealing with him now having real fans and him being approached at restaurants for pictures. i don’t mind it, but it can get to be a bit much when with his fame comes hate towards me. girls telling me i’m not good enough for him or that they could treat him better and whatnot. every photo i post on instagram has at least twenty comments saying such things.

**

i’m sat on the couch waiting for Trevor to get home from his game. i left right after it ended, Trevor texting me that he had to do interviews and that Jamie would drop him off at home.

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @jackhughes and 14,628 others

@y/n11: the secret is out, i’m actually just @trevorzegras personal photographer 📸

Load more comments

@user1: y/n using her boyfriend for clout again lol

@user2: alexa play treat you better by shawn mendes

@jackhughes: i’m stealing Louie next time i visit

@y/n11: good luck, Trevor might actually disown you as a friend if you try

@jackhughes:@y/n11 sounds like a win-win situation to me

@user3: how has it taken me months to realize she changed the number in her username to match Trevor’s jersey number? didn’t she used to be y/n46?

@user4: yeah, and before that she was y/n9 to match his usa number. they’re so cute 😭 i wonder if she’ll change her username to y/nzegras when they get married

@trevorzegras: and you’re the cutest photographer there ever was

@y/n11: i wanna smooch your face 💋💋

@_alexturcotte: whipped

@trevorzegras: @_alexturcotte i don’t see you with a girlfriend so which one of us is really winning here?

@user5: oh look, another post of Trevor. anyone wanna take a guess on what her next post will be? hint: it probably won’t her ugly ass

@_quinnhughes: miss you! come visit soon!

@trevorzegras: aww miss you too Huggy!

@_quinnhughes:@trevorzegras did it look like i tagged you? you can stay in Anaheim

@y/n11: miss you too Hugs! i’ll come with Trev on their next game there and root for you! 🧸

@user6: lmao she’s rooting for another guy? slut. bet she’s bounced around to all Trevor’s old teammates + Quinn

—

i scroll through the comments on my recent instagram post, seeing all the girls insulting me or saying i use Trevor for fame. am i not allowed to post my boyfriend anymore just because he’s in the NHL?

i didn’t realize i had tears welling in my eyes until one drops onto my screen. wiping it off, i hear the front door open and shut, Trevor arriving home. i listen to the mundane sounds of him slipping his shoes off and dropping his keys into the dish by the door before i hear his footsteps coming towards the living room. i hastily wipe away my tears and sniffle before he can see that i’ve been crying.

“hey, baby.” i say, my voice not quite recovered from my throat being closed up while i was crying, but Trevor doesn’t seem to notice. he takes the seat next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so my head lays on his chest.

“hi, love. did you see that goal i made for you?” he asks and i chuckle.

“i did. you did amazing, babe. i’m so proud of you.” i tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist and squeezing him tighter to me. he drops a kiss to the top of my head and i can feel the smile on his lips.

“lemme see that pretty face.” he whispers, nudging my chin up with his hand. but when i look up at him, his smile drops. “hey, what happened? why were you crying?”

he rubs at my cheek with his thumb, tracing my puffy under eye with the tip of it. i shake my head slightly.

“it’s nothing, Trev.” he shakes his head and scowls.

“it’s not nothing if it made my girl cry. now tell me.” he says.

“it was just the comments on my instagram post. there were these girls—” i cut myself off, not knowing if i want to tell him what they said.

“hey, what? ‘there were these girls’ what?” he asks softly.

“these girls were commenting that i was using you for clout, and that i was ugly. and another one said that i’ve probably gotten with you and all your friends.” i whisper. his face contorts in disbelief before dropping into an angry frown.

“don’t listen to them.” he tells me. i open my mouth to rebut but he speaks again. “i’m serious, y/n. don’t pay them any attention. i know you’re not using me. i mean, you put up with my annoying, class clown ass in high school. if that doesn’t speak wonders then i don’t know what does.”

i giggle and land a light smack against his chest.

“i happen to have liked your annoying, class clown ass.” i tease.

“and i still wonder why.” he shrugs. “as for the other comments, you’re gorgeous, princess. you’re so beautiful. i still can’t believe i get to wake up every morning and see that pretty face. i can’t understand for the life of me, why you stay with me when you’re so out of my league. but i’m so grateful that you do, because i can’t imagine where i’d be and what my life would be like without you.”

i smile at his sweet words and lean up to kiss his lips.

“i love you.” i mumble against them.

“i love you too, babygirl.” he presses one more quick peck to my lips before pulling away “also, i know you’ve never been with any of my friends. i mean, c’mon, why would you want them when you can have this?”

he sweeps a hand down his body and i bark out a laugh. he smiles down at me, running his hand through my hair before he stops it at the back of my neck, pulling me in for another, deeper, kiss.

“you know, i’ve been thinking.” he tells me when he pulls back.

“oh that’s never good.” i say.

“ha ha ha.” he narrows his eyes at me, slipping the hand from the back of my neck in order to use it to shove my forehead, making me fall back onto the cushion of the couch behind me. “i was thinking, maybe next year?”

“maybe next year what?” i ask, face contorting in confusion.

“maybe next year we should get married.” he says. i pop back up into a sitting position quickly, nearly hitting my head against his. he chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Trevor Zegras did you just propose to me?” i ask, my tone incredulous. “on our couch?!”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he says. “what do you say? you wanna be my wife?”

“i could hit you right now.” i tell him.

“so, it that a no?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in questioning. i shuffle onto his lap, straddling him and grabbing his face in my hands.

“there is nothing in this world that i want more than to be your wife.” i whisper, leaning my forehead against his.

“oh thank god.” he sighs. he sticks his hand in his pocket, shuffling around in it before pulling his hand back out in a fist. he opens his fist to reveal a ring box. “because i’ve had this ring since we were eighteen.”

tears sting my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest as i pull my head back from his. he opens the box, showing off a beautiful white gold ring with a pear cut diamond and a twisted halo design.

“since we were eighteen?” i ask. “but that’s the year that we were fighting all the time.”

“yeah, and you stayed. despite all the stupid arguments, you still made sure we never went to bed angry at each other, and you stuck by my side.” he takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“i love you so much.” i whisper before capturing his lips with mine. he pulls back a second later to mumble out his own ‘i love you’ before he resumes kissing me.

but then a thought pops into my head and i pull away, furrowing my brows at him.

“why did you have the ring in your pocket right now?” i ask him.

“well i had this whole plan that i was gonna bring you out on the ice before warm ups and ask you there but, when it came down to it, it didn’t feel right. i wanted the right moment. and now felt right.”

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @colecaufield and 43,793 others

@y/n11: forever with you sounds pretty great @trevorzegras

comments on this post have been limited.

@trevorzegras: i’m pretty damn lucky that i’ll get to call you my wife 🤍

@jackhughes: finally! i was beginning to think he would never use that damn ring! congrats guys

@y/n11: you knew about the ring?!

@jackhughes:@y/n11 who do you think helped him pick it out?

@colecaufield: congrats you guys! can’t wait to be the best man

@jackhughes: think again bud, i’m gonna be the best man

@_alexturcotte:@jackhughes i think we all know that I’M gonna be the best man because Trevor likes me best

@y/n11:@jackhughes @_alexturcotte thank you cole! and i hate to be the bearer of bad news but the best man will definitely be Louie … gotta go 🏃‍♀️

@_quinnhughes: congratulations! so happy for you two!

@y/n11: thank you Huggy! get ready to go suit shopping because i can’t imagine anyone else being my man of honor

@lhughes_06: damn, Z beat me to it. i was gonna ask you this summer at the lake house! happy for you though 🥲😪

@y/n11: aww sorry Moosey! keep an eye out just in case forever doesn’t work out

@griffinzegras: can’t wait for you to officially be my sister!

@y/n11: aww you’ve been my baby brother for 5 years but now it’ll be legally true! can’t wait to boss you around!

@griffinzegras:@y/n11 i take it back @trevorzegras any way that you wanna take her back to the pound?

@trevorzegras:@griffinzegras nah, i like this one. i’mma keep her

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[perpetuallyconfused10]

Im the one who asked about requests lol, I just have this Hotch thought and I can't stop thinking about it 🫂😭

Imagine Garcia "screaming" about a video, telling the whole team about it (except Hotch and Reader), and that video is on tiktok. When they spill something about the video, Hotch and Reader ask which video they're referring to, not knowing it's from a tiktok account where the person makes videos on Hotch x Reader (like edits taken from some interview where they look at each other, slightly touches and things like that) and it's a whole profile with a lot of videos like that! So the whole team teases them and they obviously like eachother!!

Feel free to change anything!!

Gone Viral, Gone Wrong

Thank you to this anon for submitting my first request! I might have written it (and especially Hotch) be a little (way) too sappy, but I love your idea so much and I hope I did it some type of justice! WC: 3.3K

GIF by ssa-aaron-hotch-hotchner

There must be something on your face. Toothpaste, maybe, or coffee on your shirt, or a tear in your trousers. Something to explain the numerous pairs of eyes following you as you dash for the elevator, just as you always do. 

This morning’s been one for the books. Between a text from your highschool ex-boyfriend, congratulating you on your ‘newfound fame’ — whatever he means by that, you don’t know — and the incomprehensibly slurred voicemails you woke up to from your sister, you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

You tell yourself you’re probably imagining it. But Anderson doesn’t say a word to you as you both make your way to the BAU, just casts you sidelong glances between the rapid texts he’s sending. You hope to God it’s not you, that he's just having an awful morning, then scold yourself for it. If you’re not off to a good start, at least somebody should be.

It’s the silence in the bullpen that confirms your suspicions. Emily, JJ, and Garcia sit huddled around Emily’s computer, squeezed onto two chairs they’ve pulled together. Morgan leans over them to look at the screen. He’s in the middle of laughing at something Garcia’s said when you walk in. 

You don’t even need Reid’s not-so-subtle hiss of “Guys–” to know you’re not going crazy. The smirks that drop from their faces, the giggles that extinguish themselves as you enter through the double doors, are more than enough. 

Four profilers and a technical analyst, as it turns out, can be rather terrifying when the force of their stares are directed at you. 

A sheepish grin tugs at your lips as you hold up your peace offering: a tray of coffee. “Hi?”

You’ve come to know how the team works. You know exactly how they react when ambushed, how they spring to action like a well-oiled machine.

There’s something a little mechanical to them now, bared in their responses to your arrival. After giving you one of his usual tight-lipped smiles, Reid flips open a random file on his desk and begins to read. JJ grabs the computer mouse, clicks a few times, and turns away from the monitor to greet you. Morgan clocks the drinks in your hands and conjures a grin just a little wider than normal. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says as he plucks the tray from your hands, thanking you with a squeeze to your forearm. 

Garcia, eyeing the gesture, nearly chokes on the end of the pen she’s chewing. She stands to usher you over to your desk, her chirpy voice a balm attempting to smooth over what has been a very odd start to your working day. 

“What were you guys looking at?” You ask her, eyebrows raised. If anyone’s going to tell you what’s going on, Penelope is, without a doubt, most likely to spill.

You’re disappointed – and even more confused – when she stands her ground. Through her ramble, you just about make out the words “cat” and “spa” before she’s kissing your cheek and speeding away to your lair. 

You sigh as you switch on your own computer. One thing is clear. The team doesn’t like to be ambushed. And, somehow, that is exactly what you have done. 

—

After finishing off one of your consults, you suffer through a morning briefing that ends up being far more complicated than it needs to be. It’s only a paperwork day, by the looks of things. In theory, this is the ‘easiest’ your job gets; if you’re not called out on an emergency, you can bank on a day of case reports and shitty coffee. 

Nothing is ever easy at the BAU, not even now. Everything is out of order. There’s none of the usual idle chatter that precedes a briefing, just a fragile silence. Rossi moves from his normal position to take your place between Reid and JJ. He mutters something about the chair being uncomfortable and shoos you away from your seat. Though you can’t resist the opportunity to call him an old man for his pedantics, you acquiesce and take his spot instead. You find nothing wrong with it. 

Then Hotch walks in to start the briefing, and you find about a hundred reasons to curse David Rossi. He’s wearing the gray suit, again, the one he likes pairing with his red tie. That should be a crime in itself. When he takes the only seat available — his usual seat, the one now next to you — you’re almost sure you hear JJ snort. Emily pats her on the back as she conceals it with a very unconvincing cough.

Hotch frowns in your direction, probably mulling over the change in seating plan, then turns his attention to JJ. “Are you alright?”

The blonde clears her throat. “Fine. Thanks, Hotch,” she says. 

Garcia rests her elbows on the table, her mouth concealed by the palm of her hand. 

Hotch nods, casting another short glance your way. “Good.”

Then he launches into the briefing, and you can almost convince yourself things are perfectly normal, that your face isn’t alight with heat and you’re not avoiding looking at him, that everything is fine. When you’re dismissed, you scurry towards the door fast enough you almost miss it. 

“Garcia?” His voice is quiet, his tone soft with something disapproving hiding beneath it. “My office, please.”

Everything is decidedly not fine. 

—

By noon, you can’t take it anymore. “Emily Prentiss, what the fuck are you doing?”

The question comes out louder and more harshly than you’d intended. In your peripheral vision, you see Reid’s eyes widen at the desk next to yours. Emily, halfway through a sandwich, freezes. 

“I’m sorry?”

The grin fades from her face. 

You huff. “You’ve been looking between me and your computer for the last half-hour. What is it? Is there something on my face?” Morgan laughs from the other side of the bullpen, and you raise your voice a little in desperation. “Seriously. Have I done something wrong?”

JJ must have heard the commotion, because she pokes her head out of her office door. She takes one look at you and sighs. “Probably best to get it over with, Em.”

When Emily hesitates, your eyes narrow. “Get what over with?”

She stands and beckons you over to her desk, firing up her computer screen as you settle into her chair. JJ comes down the stairs to join you. Though they don’t move, you can practically feel Morgan and Reid staring at the three of you from across the room. 

What you see projected on Emily’s screen doesn’t make things any clearer.

“That’s—” you pause, dumbfounded. “Why are you looking at me and Hotch?”

The picture is easy to place. It must have been taken a few days ago, during a small-town case. Hotch had asked you to deliver a profile to the media when JJ was working on something else. It was far from the first time you’d faced the press head-on during your time at the Bureau, but Hotch had stood by your side anyway. 

You’re not sure why she’s chosen this photo, if any, to look at. The wind’s blowing your hair into your face, and you’re midway through changing expressions so it almost looks like you’re in pain. 

“Just watch,” Emily says. She presses the spacebar and the picture bursts into action.

—

“—If you believe you have any information that may relate to this case, we’d appreciate you calling the following number…” you say. You proceed to rattle off the number for the tip line JJ’s set up, but only get halfway through before everything derails. 

“How do we know this isn’t all just bullshit?” 

The voice overpowering yours is weathered, and so is the man who pushes through the crowd of journalists to get close to you and Hotch, whose posture you see straighten in an instant. You watch as the reporters from the city turn to look at the interloper, pens out and waiting, no doubt, for either you or your boss to slip up.

For a long moment, Hotch watches the man, his face twisted in irritation. He merely restates the tip line number and your request for any potential witnesses to come forward.

But the skeptic doesn’t let up. “This guy’s an outsider. Not one of us. Everyone here knows each other, they have done for years—”

“We’re not trying to cause a panic,” you say, your tone even, “We don’t want you all to turn on each other. But the man we’re looking for knows this town. He’s confident finding his way around the forest, even the areas that haven’t been mapped out yet. He knows the shortcuts, which roads are quiet and which are too risky to take. We’re asking you to exercise caution, and to report anything suspicious if you see it.”

“So what? A few pins on a map and you’re convinced it’s one of us?”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. This case has been harder on him than most, and you can sense that he’s on the verge of responding in a way he’ll regret later. You put a hand on his forearm as he raises it to retort, squeezing it gently in the hopes he’ll get the signal you really don’t have the seniority to be sending him: stand down. He takes a deep breath, and you let your hand slide down to meet his wrist, guiding it just a fraction backwards to rest by his side. The contact lasts only a second, maybe two, before you let him be. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, his eyes slow to drag themselves from your face. “We’re not here to defend the science behind criminal profiling. Our priorities remain finding the person responsible for these crimes and the safety of this community until we do. If you have any information at all, please don’t hesitate to contact us. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Even the most amateur journalist would know he’s done answering questions. Hotch gives a brief nod, turns and leads you out of the Georgia heat and back into shelter of the precinct. All the time, his hand hovers over your back, his gaze searching for any potential disruptions. 

Then there’s his voice, deep and almost inaudible. You feel his breath brush your earlobe. “Thank you.”

—

Oh. 

Now you’re looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, you do look a little…cozy with Hotch. Not enough to walk the line of unprofessionalism, but enough for you to notice it. 

Emily folds her arms, leans back in her chair. “What’s that about?”

Avoiding her eyes, you shrug. “What’s what about?”

“The canoodling,” JJ says with a smirk, and you slap her arm. 

You’re a profiler. You should know your little attempt at denial isn’t going to work, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. “Canoodling? Seriously, Jen? I don’t think anyone under the age of eighty has ever said the word ‘canoodling’.”

You hear Penelope’s kitten heels clacking against the floorboards before you see her. “Doesn’t mean you’re not doing it,” she sings. Her arms wrap around your shoulders from behind.

You groan. “Penny, you know I love you, but what are you doing here?”

“I got lonely,” she says, and her expression is so genuine that you can’t even bring yourself to be upset with her. “Just wait…”

Leaning over you to press the escape button, she exits out of full screen mode and points to the corner of the screen. When you read the number she’s showing you, your breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

“Would you look at that?” Emily laughs. “It’s gone up.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. And once more, for good measure. “Six-hundred-and-fifty thousand people have seen that?”

It all starts to make sense. The texts, the calls, the stares, the team’s behavior…you don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. On the bright side, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing that could get you fired. But more than half a million people have seen you practically mooning over your boss.

Emily makes a noncommittal noise. “Half of them were probably Garcia. And a good twenty-five or so were us, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” You resist the urge to slam your head against the desk. You’ll have to settle for burying it in your hands instead. “Six hundred and…fuck. And they all think–?”

“—That you’re in love with our boss? And that he’s in love with you? Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.” “They think that, too,” says JJ, sounding sympathetic. If it weren’t for the frankly dastardly smile on her face, you’d think she was on your side.

Picturing the general population witnessing you make an idiot of yourself is bad enough. How do you even conceptualize that many people? How many stadiums could you fill solely with people who have seen you head over heels for your boss? Even worse is the thought of Anderson, or your parents, or – God forbid – even Strauss having seen it. You’ll be suspended. Fired. Or, even worse, be called into a mediated meeting with Hotch and HR, where they’ll ask him if you’ve been making him feel uncomfortable. 

Emily’s voice pulls you from your shame spiral. “And there’s more, too.”

This world hates you. You’re certain of that as she opens Twitter, putting “FBI agents” into the search bar and bombarding you with hundreds, maybe thousands, of tweets with your image attached. Some are disturbingly sweet. Others poke fun at how obvious you are, and even more disturbingly, seem to think your feelings are reciprocated. That’s not a mental path you can allow yourself to go down. 

“So…” You say after a long ten minutes. “What do we do?”

Footsteps, then Rossi appears at the stop of the stairs. “You go back to work. Your break’s over.”

He’s lucky you’re so fond of him. Had it been anyone else (save maybe one person) to disrupt your shame spiral, you’d have been furious. More than furious. You’re still a little irritated now.

There was nothing wrong with his fucking chair. 

—

Your mission is simple. Avoid. Deny. Deflect. The rest of your afternoon drags along in a blur of paperwork and teasing comments you choose to ignore (mostly courtesy of Morgan — JJ and Emily have decided you’re nearing your breaking point and vow to leave you alone). 

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough. Even when it does, there’s no reprieve. Reid turns out to be the one to betray you as everyone else packs up to leave, their files in his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers. To his credit, he looks like he means it.

“Judas,” you hiss back, but you stand and take the reports from him anyway. 

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “Going somewhere special?” 

You flip him off, muttering something under your breath that sounds just a little like “your funeral”. 

The stairs to Hotch’s office feel much longer and much steeper than usual. At every step you reconsider. Reid’s probably still heading for the elevator now. If you catch him, you can guilt him into doing this instead. But your thoughts carry you close enough for Hotch to spot your approach through the blinds. He rises from his desk, opening the door before you can even reach for the handle. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes. “Hi.”

Stepping aside to let you inside, he says your name, and it sounds so warm coming from his mouth. You wonder if he knows about your newfound fame, too. He seems to be focusing his stare directly between your eyebrows. 

“I just came to drop these off.” 

As if your words aren’t explanation enough, you hold up the files for him to see.

“Thank you.” Hotch reaches out to take them, and you feel his fingers brush yours as he does. He stops before the exchange is over. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

It won’t be long now before the sun sets. It’s making its final play for glory now, golden light filtering through the window and settling over Hotch’s face. Hints of amber tones surface in his eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, making him appear much softer than usual. Safer.

You sigh. “I think some people got a little more out of that press release in Georgia than we intended them to.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You know about that?”

You wouldn’t half mind if a wormhole opened up, right there in his office, and transported you to another universe where you don’t even have to think about this moment ever again.

“I do.” He winces. “Garcia’s computer system is the most secure in the FBI, but she doesn’t have an inside voice.”

The dry comment shocks a laugh out of you. “No, she doesn’t. But…it’ll die down, right? No one is actually going to believe that. Us being together would be—”

“Unprofessional,” Hotch supplies after a beat. “Very unprofessional.”

He reaches backwards to put the files you’ve given him on his desk, somehow managing to do so without actually taking a step away from you. If anything, he gets a little closer. 

“Exactly. Strauss would kill us if we even thought about it,” you say, “Not that we would, I’m just…”

Now he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. You swear his pupils are dilated, that he slips for just a half-second and lets his attention drift down to your lips. “There’d be a lot of paperwork.”

You nod. “Too much, really. You’ve got enough already. It’d also be…”

“…Nice.”

Hotch stops breathing, lips downturned in a frown. You’re sure you’ve heard him wrong. But half a minute passes, and he doesn’t retract his statement, though he looks as if he’s close to doing so.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He’s close enough you catch a hint of his cologne, and the woody scent of it makes your head spin. 

“I can say it again,” he says through a long exhale, searching your face for any sign of discomfort as he takes another step closer. His breath ghosts your neck. “Or we can forget this ever happened.”

Your answer is almost immediate. “Let’s not do that.”

Hotch tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. You lean upwards to meet him halfway in a kiss that is soft and tentative, the sort that promises everything and asks for nothing in return. One of your hands cups his jaw, and both of his find their way home to your waist, rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. You smile against his lips. He leans forward as if to chase yours when you pull away.  It hits you, now, that this is really happening. The months you've been agonizing over this - whether to make a move or to shut the part of you that cares for him away - have led you here. There's much you've got to think over: what this means for both of your careers, the risk to the team's dynamic, whether it'll even work in the long run, if Hotch wants that too. You know he's thinking the same thing; his face adopts the same mask of concentration it always does when he's considering something. You take a deep breath. It might be hard, but does that stop it from being worth a shot? In the end, you don't think it does.

“I think I’m gonna order takeout tonight,” you say quietly. “There’s a really good Thai place down the street from me.”

Hotch clears his throat. “That sounds nice.”

Shaking your head, you rest both hands on his shoulders, laugh at him. “That was my way of asking you if you wanted to join me.”

“Oh.” 

His brow furrows. For a terrible moment, you think he’s about to say no. And then, “Haley has Jack tonight. I…I’d like that.”

You beam, pull back, and head towards his desk to find a pen and a scrap bit of paper. “Here’s my address.” A quick glance down into the bullpen, which is thankfully empty. “Give it ten minutes, then follow me?”

“Okay,” Hotch says. Even you can tell he’s grinning like an idiot, and you make a note of the rare expression. “Okay. I’ll see you soon?”

Squeezing his hand, you kiss his cheek and walk towards the door. “Soon.”

You feel his eyes on you until you reach the elevator.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I've watched a lot more Dharma and Greg than CM, lately, so I have a feeling that my version of soft!Hotch is currently just a grownup version of Greg Montmgomery????

[slytherinshua]

FAVOURITE TEDDY BEAR

genre. lil angsty. fluff. headcanon. warnings. fighting >:( kissing. pairing. woonhak x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. requested by anon: what if y/n and woonhak have an argument and y/n says "you are not my favourite teddy bear anymore" and cuddles her plushie teddy bear instead of him 😭 how do you think he would react a/n. gif by @/mattwooks <3 idk how good this is i haven't written for baby woon in a while skdjs but tysm for requesting!!

you never meant it to escalate into a proper fight

really, you had never fought with your boyfriend before— not even once

Woonhak was tired and you were on your period, cramping badly and grumpy

all these factors made it so that it didn’t take much to push your buttons when he came home and unfortunately, he did it in the first few minutes

you just wanted to cuddle him as soon as he came through the door

you definitely didn’t want to start fighting over something as stupid as his work schedule

yet you found yourself rambling angrily about how he was always busy and that he didn’t care about anything but his work

he was busy, and you understood that

being an idol was demanding, and you couldn’t possibly expect to get much of his time

especially with preparations for the year end shows, boynextdoor had been busier than ever

but you had really, really missed him

and when he didn’t immediately give you his attention when he came back home, it was like the last straw

you had woken up with a sore neck, gotten your period, had to deal with bad cramps all day, had a stressful school presentation, bombed a test, got yelled at by your teacher, cried on the way home, failed at making the food you wanted, ended up microwaving a tasteless frozen meal instead, and waited for your boyfriend to show up for 2 hours

of course, Woonhak didn’t know any of it

he had been at dance practice all day and his body and mind was tired at this point

when you suddenly brought up how he was never there for you, he was shocked

the fight only escalated, with you bringing up petty insignificant things that Woonhak did that annoyed you but you always brushed off because you loved him

Woonhak responded how anyone would while upset and tired, and decided to be petty back

it was unnecessarily stressful for both of you, and you hated every second of it

your boyfriend could take most of your hurtful words

he knew you didn’t mean half of the things you said, and he clenched his jaw to keep from spitting words back that he also didn’t mean

but there was something you said that made his eyes widen

“you’re not my favourite teddy bear anymore”

you shouted it in the heat of the moment, tears streaming down your face, and ran upstairs to your room

Woonhak stood in the middle of the kitchen, stunned for minutes

this was something he was scared you actually meant

Woonhak had always been your teddy bear— your favourite cute little soft warm teddy bear

from when he started dating you, he had quickly replaced your childhood teddy as your favourite thing to cuddle with

you even called him my teddy bear— and whenever you did, he melted completely, broken down into a puddle of a lovesick mess

he didn’t like you saying that he wasn’t your favourite anymore 

he hated it

his chest tightened up and he could feel the tears that he had worked so hard to hold back begin to build up

he had never really fought with you like this before

there were always little fights, given your and his immaturity

you were still only 17 after all, you couldn’t expect both of you to be the most mature when handling arguments

but it was usually something that he never had to worry about before because arguments never happened

he paced around in the kitchen for a few seconds, sniffling back his tears, running a stressed hand through his hair

he didn’t know what to do

he didn’t know what you wanted either

would you be mad if he tried to reconcile with you? did you want him to come to you or to give you space? why were you so mad at him in the first place?

he frowned, thinking back on the argument like a lost child— he hated feeling unwanted, and right now he felt like you neither needed him nor wanted anything to do with him

it took a while for him to work up the courage to go upstairs to where you were

he found you on your bed, hugging a stuffed teddy tightly to your chest while listening to some music

there were balled up tissues scattered near the trashcan from when you had thrown them and missed the bin, and Woonhak frowned at the sight

you didn’t notice him standing at the doorway until he awkwardly cleared his throat and you looked up

you already had some time to cool off from the heat of the argument, and when you saw your poor boyfriend standing in the doorway, pouting sadly and looking so so small, you broke

your lip trembled and you silently opened up your arms for him, feeling absolutely horrible about everything— you shouldn’t have taken your frustration about the day out on him

he hugged you so so tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, some tears slipping down to soak into your t-shirt

he just wouldn’t let you go which made you frown even more

how could you have shouted at this precious boy?

you stroked his hair and back and whispered apologies into his ear

“I didn’t mean what I said” 

“I just had a rough day, I’m sorry”

“I love you so much, I’m sorry baby”

this seemed to only make him cry harder and hug you even closer, squeezing you so tightly but it was exactly what you needed

“am I still your favourite teddy bear? please say yes? please?”

he asked you, truly scared that you had really meant that part

“of course you’re my favourite teddy bear. you’re always my favourite. nothing could replace you, baby bear.”

you kissed his face and wiped his tears and kissed him some more

seeing him sad and seeing him cry and knowing that it was because of you was infinitely worse than the bad day you had had

Woonhak always came first for you— he was impossible to replace

and you made sure he knew that, repeating the ‘I love you’s’ and praises to him without stopping

he returned your kisses and apologies with his own, and eventually got comfortable laying on top of you; his head nestled underneath your chin, arms wrapped around your waist

as much as he was your personal teddy bear, you were also his

he looked so small and cute all curled up on top of you, his warm breath hitting your chest as he relaxed and closed his eyes

and you napped with him like that, both exhausted

but not before swearing that you would never fight unnecessarily like that again

↳ boynextdoor taglist: @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @metalchick529,, @schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @edensgardenn,, @weird-bookworm,, @cyberpunksunwoo

[teyamsgrl]

fruit picking ✧ neteyam

THIS FUCKING GIF IS LEGIT MAKING ME CRY RN 😭 LOOK AT HIS SMILE I CANT DO THIS

anywho, here is my first fluffy fic! i normally stick to smut but figured i should throw some fluff (and a lil angst) into the mix so here we are! plus i love neteyam and the thought of him as a perfect mate 🫠

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, pregnant!reader, agedup!neteyam, l-bombs, a little angst, fainting mentions, worried teyam, happy ending dw - yawne: beloved

being three quarters of the way through your pregnancy was crazy to you and neteyam, wondering where the time had went. your stomach had quite the swell and neither of you could wait to meet your little one. despite being very pregnant, you didn't let it hold you back from doing what you loved. you had only taken a pause on your tsahik practices just recently, much to your dismay but mo'at insisted that you take a break from your duties and cherish the last bit of your first pregnancy. you still traveled through the village, picking fruit and even hunting.

today was just like any other day, out for a stroll while neteyam was doing his own duties throughout the day. you came across some fruits, deciding they would be a perfect snack for neteyam's arrival home later on. you pick a few, putting them into a woven basket that kiri had made you. you hummed as you continued on, suddenly feeling a sharp pain shoot through your head. "ah.." you wince at the sensation, placing your free hand upon your forehead. you move to lean against a nearby tree, pain becoming worse by the second. you search your surroundings, noticing that your vision has now become blurry. your eyes begin fluttering, and next thing you know you are seeing black.

"grandmother!" kiri announced as she barged into the tsahik tent, holding you up with the help of lo'ak. "what happened here?" mo'at questions, helping kiri lie your currently unconscious body down onto a woven mat. "go get neteyam" she gestures to lo'ak, urging him out the door. "i just found her in the forest, slumped down against a tree like this, i don't know how long she was like this before i got to her" kiri rambles as she grabs your hand, praying to eywa as her other hand rests atop your baby bump. mo'at collects items before she gets to work on you. neteyam bursts into the tent with lo'ak on his tail, breathing coming to halt when he spots you on the floor, his grandmother moving around you as kiri still remains at your side. "my brother, come" kiri motions for neteyam to take a seat beside her, "kiri, what happened?" he questions frantically, intently watching mo'at's actions. "i don't know, she passed out i guess? i was just walking and saw her like this, looked like she was picking some fruit.." she gestures to the basket that lo'ak had placed near the doorway. "fuck..." he mumbles and pulls on his braids, feeling angry and anxious all at once. "she will be okay, and so will the baby. grandmother is an amazing tsahik.." she hugs him from the side, his eyes filling with tears and dropping onto his crossed legs. "she has to be okay, they both have to be" he whispers, leaning more into his sister's touch. mo'at says one final sentence before leaning back on her knees, hand pressed against your forehead.

as if on cue, you take a sudden sharp breath and shoot up slightly, eyes flickering open. "stay down, my child, relax" mo'at says as she lays you back down onto your back. "yawne!" neteyam exclaims, moving to come into your view. "you're okay, i'm so glad you're okay" he exhales, placing his forehead on yours, some tears dripping onto your cheeks from his own. "i'm here, ma'teyam, don't cry" you move one hand up slowly to wipe away his tears, stroking his cheek after. he smiles softly and pulls away to kiss your forehead, looking to his grandmother, "grandmother, is the baby alright?" your breath hitches as you await an answer, that being your next question as well. "yes, healthy and well, as are you, y/n. your great health allowed your baby to be protected in this moment" she smiles and begins to clean up her items, kiri gives your hand a squeeze before getting up to help her. "both okay..." neteyam whispers, kissing your forehead again. "i don't even really know what happened" you sigh, bringing a hand to rub over your bump, "all of a sudden i got this pain, then everything was blurry... now i'm here" neteyam places his hand on top of yours, nodding as he listens to you. "i'm sure it was scary, luckily kiri stumbled across you" you smile and grab kiri's hand just as she goes to collect the last of mo'at's items, "thank you, kiri. you literally saved my life," you nod down to your stomach "and theirs". she smiles back, "you do not need to thank me, i would do anything for you and the baby". you allow her to grab the items, looking back to neteyam.

"can you help me sit up? i'm feeling a bit more steady" he holds one arm out for you to hold while the other helps you up from your back. you get a better look around the room, spotting your basket of fruit by the doorway. "my fruit!" you giggle, spotting lo'ak against the wall beside it. "lo'ak, did you save my fruit?" he nods and chuckles a bit, "i did, kiri was a bit ahead of me and found you first, then she called for me and demanded i bring the fruit as well", "well thank you, i'm going to enjoy that later after all this" you giggle a bit more and look to neteyam as he shakes his head. "what?! it was mainly for you, by the way" you smile and kiss his cheek. he laughs quietly, "are we okay to head home?", "yes, but be careful for the next few days, stay close to home and rested" you nod and stand up slowly with neteyam right beside you, "thank you, mo'at. you are not only my mate's grandmother and my teacher, but a wonderful tsahik. thank you" she places her hand on your cheek, smiling softly before gesturing you two to head out.

once you arrive home, neteyam hugs you as tightly as he can with your bump in the middle, hands rubbing along your back. "scared me back there, yawne" you nod and hug around his neck, toying with his braids. "i know, i was scared too, when i fainted... had no clue what was going on. and i worried about the baby... first thing i thought of when it all went black, same with when i woke up" you sniffle a bit and nuzzle into his neck. "well you're both healthy and both here, which is what matters most" he whispers as he continues rubbing your back, pure love and relief surrounding your bodies. you nod into his neck, relaxing instantaneously under his touch. "i love you, ma'teyam, thank you for being the best mate and best soon to be dad" you move out of his neck to stare into his eyes, sparkling with adoration, "i love you too, so much.. you're the best mate, honestly, and i know you'll be the best mother" he leans in, lips interlocking with yours in a devoted kiss.

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.1

GIF by bakemono04

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: Pregnancy, blood, mass k1lling, heavy themes kinda, angst, not proofred

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Finally done😭 This took so much energy and honestly I'm still deciding how I feel about it. Hope you like it tho.

You looked up from your bed, buried in your blankets as you watched your husband hurriedly get dressed in his sorcerer uniform, buttoning his jacket and rushing to reach for his phone before realizing that you were awake.

He looked deep into your eyes, his being covered by his signature blindfold, and although you couldn’t see them, you could tell that they held a chaotic medley of heavy emotions.

He slowly leaned closer to you, placing his right hand against your cheek and pressing his forehead against yours.

“Where are you going?” your feeble voice whispered.

“I have to work,”

“Do you have to go now?”

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll be back before you know it,” His heart ached as he lied to you. He knew his words weren’t true, but he had no choice.

“Promise?”

“Ofcourse, baby, I’m-”

“The strongest, yeah yeah, I know,” You croaked, feeling sleep begin to take over you once again.

Satoru chuckled softly as you slowly began to drift back into your dreams. His left hand slowly rubbed your swollen tummy.

“Keep our little Kikufuku safe until I get back, okay? He said softly, placing a kiss above your belly and then your forehead. 

As you hummed in agreement, he slowly moved away from you and walked towards the bedroom door. Every fiber of his being was telling him to stop. To turn back and stay with you. But alas, he had a role to play, and he was needed elsewhere, and there was nothing he could do about that.

As he closed the door behind him, he dragged his body away from you, from your child, and to his students and fellow sorcerers. He begrudgingly trudged himself towards the Shibuya station. 

He didn’t want to go but he had no choice, no matter what he wanted, he had to go…

He HAD to go.

Week One

You stirred from your restless slumber, shivers running down your spine from the cold latching to your skin. You groaned at the aches and pains that have been plaguing you for the majority of the latter half of your pregnancy. 

As you were still waking, you heard your doorbell ring. You slowly pushed  yourself off the bed and lugged yourself down the stairs.

As you opened the door, you were met with a somber looking Ichiji. He could barely meet your eyes as he whispered an apology, bowing his head and holding a letter out to you.

“What’s this,” you asked, heart racing because you knew exactly what it was but you didn’t want to accept the glaring truth.

“It’s from G-Gojo Sensei,” He feebly whispers, voice cracking slightly. 

Your shaky hand reaches out to grasp the letter, thanking Ijichi before closing the door. You made your way to your couch and went against every fiber of your being to open and read the letter.

Dear Y/N

Hello my love. If you're reading this it means something has happened to me.

I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. I know you deserved better and my biggest regret is not being able to give you a life you deserved. 

I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone, and as much as it would pain me to let you go, I can’t bear the thought of you having to deal with all the burdens that come with being with me.

If you choose to leave, I fully understand and don’t blame anyone other than myself.

Please take care of our kikufuku, I know you will be the best mother in the world.

Always know that I love you more than life itself, I always have and always will. Please never forget that.

-Satoru

Your hand covered your mouth as a sob was ripped through from your lungs. Tears flowed nonstop from your eyes as you cried and cried and cried.

You clutched your belly as you tried to stop crying for the sake of your baby. All you could think about is how you were going to raise the baby alone and you only ended up crying even more. But you decided to be strong. You had to for your little mochi.

Month One

You squeezed your mother’s hand as you pushed through the most excruciating pain you may ever experience. The nurses were trying to coach you through your breathing as you went through labour.

“One more push,” your doctor instructed you, causing you to put all your energy into birthing your precious angel.

Suddenly, the room was silent except for the crying erupting from the newborn.

“Congratulations, he's a beautiful, healthy boy!” the nurse whispered, placing your son on your chest. 

Tears blurred your vision as your precious angel on your chest, your mother hugging you and at that moment, all you could think about is how much you loved and would lay your life down for the happiness of your little prince.

“As he slowly opened his eyes, you were mesmerised by the sea of blue that met your eyes, matching his white hair. 

“Hello Kaito,” you said with a happy but simultaneously sad smile as you gazed down at yours and Satoru’s child.

Like father, like son.

Month 2

Satoru

Gojo layed silently, eyes bare and staring into the seemingly unending void of the prison he has been submitted to, and all his mind would drift to his thoughts of you and his presumably unborn child.

In the prison, no time would pass, and considering you were 8 months pregnant when he was praying to every being willing to listen to him that you wouldn’t give birth to your child without him by your side. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you had to go through that and handle the Jujutsu higher ups without him.

Although he was surrounded by darkness, his mind was racing because on top of all of this, he was trying to understand why he had seen his best friend’s being in the station, but that wasn’t his priority. That was getting back to you and his baby, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon

Y/N

Ever since you had given birth to your little prince, you had been constantly harassed by your husband’s parents as well as all the upperclassmen of the Jujutsu world. You hadn’t even been able to leave your house for the past week because It was surrounded by men trying to take your son away from you. 

You had always known that bearing the son of the strongest sorcerer in the world would come with its consequences but you and Satoru had always agreed that you would be able to face these things together. However, ever since his sealing two months ago you have been under constant pressure and harassment from the Jujutsu world telling you to give up your son, but you would rather take them all to the grave with your bare hands than even think of giving up your son to them. 

All of this had been building up even before your little mochi’s birth and it had reached a point where you don’t think you can handle this anymore. Although you were also a sorcerer, and a special grade at that, you wouldn’t be able to protect your baby from the dangers and toxicity and dangers of the Jujutsu world. You had to leave.

You wanted to raise your son in a place where he could be safe and grow happy and healthy. And although you didn’t want to leave your job and your students at Jujutsu Tech, you had to do what you had to do for the sake of your child. Even if that meant abandoning your marriage with Satoru.

Your heart ached as you looked back at Japan from the airport, baby in hand and family and friends bidding you farewell before you slowly made your way to the boarding gate. Tears filled your eyes as you thought about your now technically ex husband. You looked down at your now bare left ring finger, thinking of the future you could have had together, but you had  to do it. Not just for yourself, but for your son as well.

You had to leave.

Month 3

YN

It had been a month since you had left Japan and although it had been extremely difficult to settle in a new country with new cultures, a different language, and different people whom you know none of. Finding a new home and job to be able to provide for your son, but it was beginning to feel worth it by the end of the month you had finally begun to feel comfortable.

However, as you looked over your son, clutching his blue and white monkey plushie, your mind couldn’t help but drift off to Satoru.

Was he back?

Was he still sealed?

Would you ever see him again?

Although you knew he would never find you where you are, what if you met him one day. You had kept in touch with megumi throughout the move considering to you, he was always going to be your son. But other than him and your parents, you never really spoke to anyone back home, and you decided that you need to look forward and focus on bettering yourself and making sure you give your baby a happy home. And you weren’t going to turn back, at least not anytime soon.

Satoru

Gojo Satoru is free.

He had finally been released from the prison realm and before he could do anything, he went on a rampage, killing every curse and curse user within a 20 km radius, painting the city in all of their blood.

He finally stopped seeing red and immediately thought back to you. He warped back into your shared home, hoping to find you asleep and wrapped in the warm duvets on your shared bed.

His heart began to race as he warped into a dark, empty and cold home.

“Y/N!” He called, running through the house searching for you before reaching your presumably shared bedroom.

As he burst through the door, his eyes met your bedside clock. Three months. He had been gone for three whole months. Panic began to seep into his bones.

This means you must have already given birth. Were you okay? What if you didn’t even survive labour?

He quickly rummaged through the drawers, moving to the vanity, and his heart sank as laid atop the table were a picture of you in a hospital holding a bundle of blankets covering your precious child. The life you created together. As he held it with shaking hands, tears cascading onto it, his gaze shifted from the image to a letter, and to his regret, your engagement ring.

In the letter, you told him about the harassment you and your son had to endure, turns out you had a boy, and how you had to flee the country for both of your safety.

His heart shattered and he hated himself more than he ever had anyone else. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no no” He whispered, hand gripping your ring so tightly its gems began to cut into his palms.

He was overrun by countless emotions. Guilt, grief, regret, self hate, anger, all of them.

Sobs Ripped through his chests so violently that it ripped his throat, causing it to bleed. His knees gave in and he clutched the ring and picture to his chest and he cried. And as he cried, something inside him died. His happiness, joy, his smile, all left him at once, and his eyes lost their shine.

That night, Satoru passed away, and left behind Gojo, an empty shell of  what he once used to be. What he could’ve been.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

I tried. Longest imagine I've ever done, I'm so tired. lemme know if ya'll want a pt.2

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller

© gojos-fr-bae

[thatdeadaquarius]

imagine if reader is given an ancient scripture from around the time humanity founded out how to write and do the alphabet (somehow it was preserved so well that you can still see the words with no issue)

and it's the most heart wrenching, soul crushing, tear inducing, hyperventilating, sanity disappearing angst, misunderstandings, hurt/no comfort, it gets worse but never better, major character death, unrequited love story to have ever existed in teyvat.

and after reader goes through the whole thing, they can barely talk or breathe properly with how much they're crying.

(even better, it was smut not angst and reader is staring ar the scripture, jaw dropped to the floor with shaking hands.)

STOP- I avoid fanfics like that at all costs 😭 id stop reading it after the first angsty event LMAO

Im like... too emotionally affected by fanfics, esp angst ones 💀

Its just, ppl who write closer to my generation or just very psychologically honestly, are like fucking deadly writers. Got my day ruined and shit w/just fanfics 😭

LMAO THE GIF IS JUST YOU ON THE SPOT NOT EVEN HALFWAY THRU-

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short! Headcanons-ish

Stars: my first of the Fontians!! Fontainianes? Fontainains?? u get it

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: sobbing, discussion of vague smut/NSFW book at the end, okay for Teen/Mature audiences, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

no but it’d be hilarious if u got this crazy like hand-width deep tablet for each “page” of the book, like how every novel or info in genshin is like one page at a time 😭

Sumeru and other international academics are literally constantly harassing politely requesting your translation of these and sending them to you in whichever country you’re visiting at the moment

Fontaine was even more complex and pretty in real life than it could ever be in game and i can def see you at like Neuvillette’s office or a nice french fontaine cafe and just WHAM

huge ass tablet bc as much as the fic tortures you, you have to know what the fuck happens to these miserable idiots

Neuvillette, Clorinde, and Lynette are all the type to immediately try and dissuade you from reading it again, bc from their point of view you just pull out this huge old rock and start sobbing quietly about 10 mins into the read every time 😭😭

(unsurprisingly, Neuvillette would even go so far as to get the Marechaussee Phantom to sneakily steal ur most recent tablets of the story to hide them, which sucks for you LMAO)

Freminet, Wriothesley, Navia, Lyney, and Furina,all frantically try to distract you, and also theyre in order of who would be the most dramatic w/it lmao

NO BC I JUST HAD THE THOUGHT-

Ur tears absolutely are top priority to Neuvillette and Furina so when they inevitably find the memories in them (and the traveler too maybe)

of what the story is about, except its like all the feelings and stuff, so like its the best “translation” they get of the book so far, u best believe it rains for a week straight

it started out as a light drizzle, but as Neuvillette “read on” in ur tear’s memories if got worse HAHA

mans is out here trying to convince himself like, “this is a classic tragedy from eons ago, its about a human romance, im definitely unaffected, though im glad i could figure out what ails My Majesty so”

meanwhile the story gets worse and its just like that meme “ohHHhhhHH its got a little kiicckkk”

Neuvillette nearly floods the streets by chapter 5 when the miscommunication happens and then they cant get in contact with each other to fix it lmao

LMAO I JUST HAD A VISIONNN

ur in fontaine and while yes drinks were popular (like obv fonta)

business is rlly booming bc now everyone you know (like the Vision-users or archons Neuvill, etc) all have develop this habit of having a water bottle or drink on them to offer you when u start reading to rehydrate you 😭😭😭

Navia, Clorinde, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Lyney, Lynette all have a handkerchief on them at all times too 😭😭

Good God-

the moment you translate the now instant Shakespearean-level tragedy classic, it is a known tear-jerker thruout all of Teyvat,

like theres trigger warnings and age limits and shit 💀

◇

on another note,

if its smut,

ur desperately combing thru all the tablets and wall carvings and cave paintings to try and lowkey cover it up LMAO

and its not like a story with a smut scene either, its like what anon said,

just fully like the ao3 tag “Porn What Plot/Porn With Plot”

STOP

not u yanking the tablets out of Neuvillette’s hands when he curiously picks them up one time lmao

(he is now invested in getting these translated too bc of ur reaction lol)

☆

consider supporting me with an iced coffee? :0

Spooky Season! Spooky Season!! Spooky Season!!!

still not dead btw

just got hired at my new job so ive been training and busy!! :)

im a host at Olive Garden lol its weird and kinda hard, my feet hurt a lot and i havent had a full shift yet ;-; its a brand new one so it opens the 23rd

dw that eldritch one shot is still coming btw, just talking with betas and editing it now lol

hope if you read this you have a great upcoming weekend!!

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

☆

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Why Me? || D. Targaryn x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: When a heated argument between Leyla and her father lead to something more worse than she could have ever imagined.

a/n: ngl this one made me so sad for my girl Leyla 😭 she doesn’t deserve this

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Give me the respect that I deserve!” Otto yells, standing up from his seat behind his desk. “You forget yourself sometimes Leyla. It is I who I arranged this union between you and Prince. Without me, you would have been nothing!” His hand makes contact with the table causing a loud banging noise.

“I never asked for any of this! I was just a pawn in your sick game I never asked to be a part of,” Leyla spat. “And yet here you are, expecting another child from the Prince.” He glances at her swollen belly. Leyla’s hands protectively move to her stomach. The audacity Otto had to say such a thing when he in-fact pressured her for more children.

Leyla furrowed her eyebrows, “You pressured me into giving the Prince more children-“ Otto interrupts her with a chuckle, “I did no such thing daughter, it is you who pressured yourself.” He stares her down as Leyla felt sick to her stomach. “Why are you doing this to me!” She screamed, salty tears streaming down her face.

“Ever since I came back to court when mother died, you have done nothing but treat me as an outcast, an object for your little games!” She sobbed as Otto sat back and stared at her. This was the first time she had really ever spoken back in such a manner to her father.

All her pent up emotions were finally spilling. “I will never, forgive you for what you put me through when I was ten-and-five. I fucking hate you!” She grabs the closest object near her, a vase, and throws it in the direction of her father.

Otto was quick to his feet and dodged it, shards flying everywhere. “I think it’s best you leave, Leyla. When word of this comes out, you better hope they don’t think of you as mad.” He steps towards her, taking ahold of her shoulders but Leyla shoves him off of her. “Don’t touch me,” She snaps before leaving the room.

The young Hightower was hyperventilating the whole way back to her bedchambers. Pregnancy sure as hell did amplify hormones. She quickly walked into the room and was glad to not see Daemon in sight.

She paced infront of the firepit as she picked on her nails, an old habit she had picked up from her older sister. Leyla couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down her face. She was hyperventilating bad.

She attempted to calm herself down but it only intensified when she felt something dampening her small-cloths and eventually, running down her leg. Leyla quickly reached up her skirts; she was horrified as she looked down at her hand that was covered in blood.

A loud scream emitted from her lips as she fell to the ground. All the way from his study doom down the hallway, Daemon rushed into their shared bedchambers to see Leyla on the ground, her dress darkened in a shade of red and the carpet beneath her.

Her face red and wet from crying and her hair disheveled. “W-w-why is there so much b-blood Daemon?” She said through sobs as she looked up, teary eyed at her Husband.

Daemon quickly moved to his wife and took her in his arms, rocking her slowly as he kissed her forehead and whispered “You’re okay” over and over. The room smelt of copper. Daemon couldn’t care less if he was covered in blood himself either. He focused on Leyla and only her.

“Just let it happen, Leyla. Everything will be okay,” He held her tighter as he felt a tear roll down his own cheek. He might have seemed composed on the outside, but deep down, he was fucking terrified. He’s never had to handle anything like this and he knew that Leyla was equally terrified. She sobbed loudly in Daemon’s chest as they both grieved their unborn child. Her wails woke everyone in the castle.

Not even a few seconds later, a few footsteps could be heard before they halted infront of the door. Alicent, Otto, and a few other maids and knights had came to see what the commotion was about.

Alicent let out a horrified gasp as her eyes take in the scene before burying her head into her father’s chest. Who only looks blankly at her youngest daughter being comforted by her husband.

Leyla slowly turned her head to the direction of the door where a small crowd began to form. She then made eye contact with her father as another wave of tears fall down her cheeks. The young girl couldn’t bare looking at her father so she turned her bead back around. “Leave us!” Daemon yells as he rubs Leyla’s back in comfort.

“I’m sorry. I failed to give you another heir,” Leyla quietly spoke as her tears calmed down and the only thing she could hear was Daemon’s heartbeat and the crackling of the fire. His heart broke seeing Leyla so broken in his arms. “As long as you are okay, sweet girl.” Daemon said against her hair.

[joaofelix70]

69 WITH JOÃO FÉLIX | a concept.

author's note: first of all, thank you for reading this and my first story that was boycotted by his ex's fans, lmao (i know joão's flopping here, actually) 💀

many people are not writing for him anymore and that's why i'm doing justice to him, so you're welcome, lol. please, tell me what you think about this work, polite feedbacks are VERY appreciated. i get inspired in the morning and wrote it kinda quickly. really random, but i need to say how obsessed i am with joão being religious, like this gif shows. the way he's crossing himself, kissing his hand and pointing to the sky 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'M CRYING, SOBBING ON MY KNEES AND BEGGING HIM TO HAVE A RELIGIOUS FAMILY WITH ME. also, my requests are open. i'm waiting for you to talk to me there <3

warnings: self-explanatory sex position. +18 content. smut, nsfw without context. plus, he's also fingering you here (our dream 😭).

words: 461.

"holy shit, what a good pussy. i missed it, princesa (princess). i missed you!" his fingerprints wrap in your midst of the hot, overflowing fountain: causing an insatiable thirst, to which no other substance would be able to succumb.

"i always need you so badly, gatinho (handsome). i fucking belong to you!" your whimpers exude despair in the name of pleasure, making joão laugh and his ego to inflate.

"of course you do! all this shit, all this is only mine. fuck, i'm such a lucky guy." your walls tighten and compress his beautiful bones, sending sinful sensations to his area of hardness and dampness. then, you're empty. his tongue curls around his fingers, appetizing you.

"so fucking delicious!" wet kisses are deposited on your neck and boobs: delighting his face on each, vehemently sucking and biting them.

"use my body to show it, joão. i'm yours!" your hands involve around the structure of his cock, lips swallowing the resplendent pre-cum from the head and witnessing it run down your chin. stroking and tasting the testicles, you lift your mouth and enter every inch of it into your throat, scratching his toned tights. your hair is pulled by félix and your head guided to have him deeper, completely.

"yeah! just like that! be the good and grateful girl that you are. i'm so proud of you, princesa." joão's destabilized, moaning in portuguese, echoing your name with his beautiful accent, while eyes are closed. however, he doesn't stop. his saliva spread throughout the shape of your torso, hickeys pigmenting the place below where you're most begging to be touched. his mouth explores your intimacy, painting formats and drawings, like you're his work of art: his nose rubbing your clit and offering continual instigations, the tip of his tongue persistently granting the beg leave in the entrance. so he persists, controlling your greedy movements against his face: firm pressure on your waist.

"let me know when you're close, ok? wanna take care of you!" félix grabs your ass, flattening and reddening your skin. tears are shed over your flushed face, your voice weakened after so many verbal liberations. you hold his dilating dick and slap it on your cheek, teasing it through licks and your light, sensitive touch.

"tell me how much you love me, gatinho. i deserve this for being your good girl who is about to cum on your face." you testify his acts getting intensified: ecstasy, along with sexual spasms, protruding from joão. his head goes back and, at this point, he's worshiping you. you're his religion.

"i fucking love you, y/n. gonna cum in your precious mouth and throat!"

"that's my man who i fucking love! please, come for me and i'll do the same for you!"

[book-place]

Deja Vu

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Diego Hargreeves x daughter reader

Request: idk where to request for them but it would be sooo cool if you did diego hargreeves x platonic reader where the reader is a teenager and has a stuttering problem and it starts off angsty then diego comforts them and ends w like fluff?? i’ve never requested anything before😭

Request by: @ominaisugly

*not my gif*

Summary: Diego helps you with something he had to go through once too

A/N: Sorry this is so short!!

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“H-hello,” You tried saying, staring at yourself intensely in the mirror, “M-my n-n-name is… is…” You paused, breath picking up slightly, “I-is Y/n, an-and t-today-“ You cut yourself off, unable to go on anymore.

You let out a loud groan of frustration, pushing the heels of your hands into your eyes to try and keep the tears that threatened to show themselves at bay.

After a moment, you sniffed and dropped your hands, trying again, “He-Hello, m-my nam-name i-i-is-“ You cut yourself off with a small yell of frustration, glaring harshly at your reflection through blurry vision.

Diego was walking by your room on the way towards the kitchen when he paused in his step, hearing your voice.

“H-hello, m-my n-n-name-“

He peered through the slightly open door in curiosity and his heart seemed to freeze as his breath hitched.

You were standing in front of your mirror, a look of determination slowly slipping off your face into one of despair as you tried to speak, and a sense of deja vu hit him like a speed train.

“Y/n?” Your father called out hesitantly after a moment, making you whip around to face him, “What’s wrong?”

“T-this st-stupid speech f-for c-class!” You sobbed out in between hiccups, “I-I can’t do it w-with th-this s-st-stupid s-stutter!”

Young Diego, standing in front of his own mirror in his own room, unable to speak the sentences he so desperately wanted to because of his stuttering tongue.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He moved to stand right behind you, placing a hand gently on your shoulder and rubbing it comfortingly, “It’s okay, I understand. I used to have a stutter too.” Diego admitted.

You sniffed, craning your neck to face him, “R-really?” You asked sadly.

His mother, Grace, entering his room and comforting him.

He sighed slightly, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head, “Yeah, I couldn’t master it.”

“Wh-what did y-you do about it-t?” You looked up at him with those wide, doe eyes of yours.

“Picture the words you want to say in your mind, Diego.” Her soft voice floated through his ears, “I believe in you.”

“Here,” He gently turned you so that you were facing the mirror again, “Try picturing the words in your mind before you say them. It helps, I promise.”

You took a deep breath before you shakily moved your eyes to meet your own in your reflection once more and were silent for a moment before you spoke, carefully thinking over each word, “Hello… my… my name is… my name is Y/n. Hello, my name is Y/n.”

Your eyes lit up immediately following your success. One that seemed so small, but meant so, so much to you.

Grace cheering him on when he was finally able to do it.

“You did it!” Your father cheered, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you began jumping up and down excitedly.

“I did it!” You echoed back, still managing to be void of your normal stutter.

“I’m so proud of you,” Diego breathed out. And he meant it, pride swirled in his chest in a way that made him feel so good inside.

“Thank you, dad.” You rested your head on his chest for a moment before turning yourself back to the mirror and continuing your speech, Diego there to coach and encourage you the whole way through.

The Hargreeves 🦹- @lovanitu @your-local-questioning-agender @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @mukbee @i-writes-things @wolfmoonmusic

[dramalove247]

Favorite Things: Brewing Love

This show had so much to love about it! A unique male lead that is empathetic to a fault. An independent bad ass for a female lead. Complex characters that grow and learn to treat themselves better. The pretties male cast in a Kdrama. Some HILARIOUS bromance. Brewing Love was a great mix of quirky comedy, sweet romance, lots of cute, and a bit of heartbreak.

GIF by @dramatictrajectory

Here are some of the posts about the series that we've loved (spoilers ahead):

Just like @ofredribbonsandpreciousgems, we found empathy to be an interesting character trait for the male lead. They did a great job of creating a unique character and story centered around this.

The scene at the funeral where Min Ju cries and breaks the dam Young Ju was using to hold back her own tears was so devastatingly beautiful and well done. Here's screen shots posted by @factorygirlsstuff

This edit of the funeral scene by @i-got-the-feels is 😍! So many feels!!!

Enjoyed this post by @kangsongpyeon with thoughts on the early characters. It's fun looking back at the beginning of the show because the characters grow so much. Really well done story.

Min Ju was so real in this moment... thanks @ryoun

The male cast in this show was ridiculously pretty. We couldn't make it through a single episode without saying it out loud at least once.

The fascial expressions, drunk pouting and bromance jokes were epic in this show. We loved them so much! This was just a few that we couldn't get over, but we could have made a post like this for every episode!

We agree with @dramatictrajectory 😍 The bromance was seriously bromancing. These two were EPIC! The writers were hilarious. We are fans.

This entire scene, the words, the tears. Killed us. They declared a truce 😭

What did you think about Brewing Love???

[saintship]

okay just hear me out!! 13 but with tf141 wherein reader HATES physical touch like they’re completely repulsed by it but they know they can trust tf141, it’s just a matter of getting used to it and time. i’d imagine like it would be them slowly noticing it like if price pats reader on the shoulder for a job well done or if soap just surprise hugs reader from the back and in each scenario the reader freezes up 🤭 also it’s 1 am and i’ve been bingereading your work it’s so good 😭

Prompt #13 - "Take your time."

Thank you so much<3

I’ve struggled with touch aversion my whole life, and it can be upsetting at times so this is free therapy for me,

Hope you enjoy!

Reader & 141 - A little getting used to

Insert excuse to use this gif

The first time they learned of your aversion was at a loosely named ‘work party’, when Gaz had thrown back enough liquor to kill a small animal, Ghost had gathered a few empty pint glasses, and Price drank Soap under the table, literally, when he collapsed to the wooden floorboards of the bar.

You had quickly helped him to his feet and turned to return to your seat when he suddenly enveloped you in a drunken bear hug from behind you, nearly toppling the both of you over with his staggering balance.

You made a low noise of surprise before freezing in place, your hands held up awkwardly as Gaz hiccupped tears of laughter at the scene.

Soap had apologized profusely through the winces of his hangover the next morning, assured when you told him it wasn’t just him, it was touching. But when you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but recall how warm it felt, how he held you to him like you were something precious.

It wasn’t long after that night that the 141 had completed another operation, mingling conversation echoing throughout the hangar as they filed out of the jet. Your boots had just touched the concrete floor when you felt a Price’s gloved hand pat your shoulder twice, along with a gentle squeeze and a smile.

“Good work.”

Your rigid body made him retract, but you surprised him by laying your own hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks to the Captain..” You murmured with a nod.

What he took as a small gesture was an act that kept you up that night. It had always seemed like you would always hate touching in general; and you did, but it felt different when it was them.

Maybe it was because they never treated you like a child. Some thought your touch aversion was the result of something terrible, and wanted to talk to you like you were some kind of rescue. But on this team, in this job, they just didn’t care. And it felt good.

You and Ghost shared the same hesitance; he showed his love in different ways. Whether it be his humor, pulling you out of a tight situation in the field, or just staying up when neither of you could sleep because of the flashing images that played behind your eyes. So he was the one who surprised you the most.

The operation hadn’t been going well; there were more hidden explosives than they had prepared for, and the task force were clinging to the only truck that wasn’t shattered into a grotesque metal skeleton. The truck wasn’t meant to fit five bodies, and the uneven weight careened it into a small cluster of metal beams and half-walls that had collapsed from a singed building. The crash wasn’t overly harmful, Price hadn’t been going fast, but you were tossed into a pile of concrete rubble, disturbing a metal beam that fell on your upper arm, snapping the bone and pinning the limb underneath.

Your instinct to struggle only tore at the flesh and ligaments more, a white-hot clamp from your shoulder down. Your nerves spasmed and ricocheted, a fuzzy coating of needles trailing up from the smallest finger of your left hand.

You screamed in a way you likely never would again, your guttural cries of pain alerting Ghost. He knew what you sounded like when you were lacerated, or even shot; you would breathe through the groans, often treating it yourself despite his lecturing that would follow.

Now, there was no breath, no quiet murmurs of discomfort. There was only your screams. Not a high-pitched, piercing tone, but a cry, erupting from deep in your ribs, desperate and hollow.

Gaz was stuck as well, a chunk of concrete the size of a car toppled precariously near him and blocking any route of escape. Price and Soap ran to him while Ghost ran to you, an unspoken divvying of effort. Ghost knelt by you, his adrenaline momentarily halted by your grasping of his gloved hand.

“Please.. please help, please, please-"

You were sobbing from pain, but the beam was too heavy for Simon to lift on his own.

“You’re in shock, Sergeant. You need to keep breathing, you got that?” He spoke steadily, though his eyes darted from one part of your broken body to the next frantically.

“Hurts..”

You felt weak saying it. But that was all that was on your mind. The blinding, stabbing pain.

“I know..” Ghost seemed to murmur under his breath, as if the words escaped him involuntarily.

“Got him!” Soap’s voice rang clear as Price dragged Gaz free. Soap vaulted a pile of brick and cinder blocks, quickly assisting Ghost in lifting the beam off your broken arm. The absence of Ghost’s hand made your palm feel cold.

The pressure being released incited more pain. Your screams increased in severity before you were finally free, Soap discarding the beam roughly. You could see in his eyes he was out of his element. It was unlike you to scream or cry.

“We’ve got to set your arm, we’re too far from a hospital to leave it for later.” Ghost stated. You shook your head vehemently.

“No, no, no..”

“It’s alright, Sergeant..”

He sat behind you, holding your torso in his arms as your injured arm continued to swell.

“Look at the clouds. Don’t look at him.”

Soap had knelt beside you, preparing to set your joint. You obeyed, your eyes fixed on the hazy grey clouds that decorated the muted sky. The season being Autumn accompanied by the fact it was nearing sundown made the sky a gorgeous deep blue, stained with a grey overcoating.

“Just keep looking up..”

Soap set the joint in one fluid motion, and a choked cry escaped you, your flinching only held steady by the arms of a man you hardly even looked in the eye.

“Good.. good job..” Soap touched your knee gently, and any panic seemed to ebb, if only for a fleeting second. You could hear Price radioing for a medical evac through the pounding in your head. You would have slipped into the warm blanket of unconsciousness, had Ghost not been behind you. He had fully settled on the ground, at first to secure you, but now at will. For the first time in a long time, you felt arms around your middle and didn’t want to shrink away.

On the gurney, his gloved hand stayed on your shoulder.

In the helicopter, he held your body steady as the cabin shook during takeoff.

In the medical wing, his palm rested just at your ankle while you were treated.

Every so often, you glanced at his hand, the skeleton print of his gloves stained with grime and blood. And with the warmth of his palm, you figured the touch of someone else might not be as repulsive if it's someone like him.