#Had to throw in longing because of course I did | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leonarecs · 2 days ago

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it’s been far too long since i read a sweet little fluff fic with mattheo being a lovestruck, pussy-whipped idiot, and this was the perfect comeback 🤭🫠 i was already laughing when you first mentioned this idea, but now having actually read it and seeing how much emotion was poured into it?? the vulnerability, the insecurity, the love?? pizza, your pen is DANGEROUS.

Mattheo had a talent for attracting trouble, or more, it had a way of finding him. It sniffed him out like a dog detecting a buried bone. It didn't seem to matter what he did, for it always caught up in the end, the blame easily latching onto him.

firstly, i adore how you characterize him, and second, i love your metaphors sm 😩

Depending on the nature of his “crime” he’d done all from writing lines, a total snooze fest, to cleaning out bedpans in the infirmary with the absence of magic making him nearly have to clean his own vomit

THE WAY I GIGGLED PLSSSS the image of him gagging and having to take a deep breath to steady himself is killing me

Mattheo, of course, wasn’t oblivious to his difficult personality, disorder and predictions that clung to him like a deathly plague, as if being tied to the Riddle name wasn’t bad enough.

i just really like this sentence so i had to highlight it, you ate down here girl!!!

But with Mattheo’s stubborn nature, your comment hadn’t affected his efforts, only pushing him harder, making him resilient for he was far too smitten and prideful to shove his ever-growing crush back down and well you hadn’t completely rejected him after all.

AAAAHHHH i can’t explain to you how much i fucking love this trope, when she keeps rejecting him and it only motivates him to keep coming back for the challenge 🤭 it’s the cutest fucking thing ever. also mattheo actually having a crush???? I’M SCREAMINGGG

Because finally, one lesson had knocked some sense into Mattheo, that making you mad was something he wished on avoiding at all costs. One wrong comment and he could be obliterated with a single glare consumed by a thousand suns.

mattheo being scared of his girlfriend is something i never knew i needed. GIVE ME MORE!!!!

He enjoys observing you from afar, taking the time to study and admire the treasure that is his.

i died here. give me a man obsessed with me please 😔✊

Except for now, when he had to watch the not intended for-you-slug land right on the pretty apple of your cheek, the way it slid slowly dragging a disgusting trail of goo. Fuck. FUCK.

I’M LAUGHING SO HARD RIGHT NOW HAGDHFG girl this idea is really something else n i love it, the second FUCK really resonated with me

Smile with smug satisfaction at the fact he’s evaded any penalty from his immature antics, till he hears her mention your name, serving the detention to you instead of him.

OH HELL NAHHHH WTF THE WAY I WOULD—

She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.

SHUT UPPPP HE’S SO FUCKING CUTE IN THIS MY HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS RIGHT HERE

“how do you put up with him?” “yeah. like he’s so immature.” “If he was my boyfriend, I wouldn’t stand for that level of embarrassment.”

IT WAS AN ACCIDENT YOU LITTLE BITCHES 🙄 some fuckass friends they are, i would not put up with this kind of talk about my man 😒 and the fact that he heard it omg poor baby 😭 he’s already so insecure when it comes to relationships, don’t do this to me please.

how i’m looking at them “friends” ^^

“Did I fucking ask for an opinion?”

PERIODDDD SHUT THOSE BITCHES UP QUEEN DEFEND YOUR MAN!!!!! the pride and happiness he felt in that moment while still being afraid to approach her AAAAAHHH they’re fucking adorable

“Why don’t you keep that piggy nose out of the muck you're trying to create and close your fucking trap? Nothing useful is coming out of a dirty trout like that.”

THE WAY MY JAW DROPPED PIZZAAA YOU’RE SO FUCKING FUNNY FOR THIS I CANNOTJSNDHDHS

His eyes roam the agitated and dry look you're throwing back at him, arms tightly crossed, pushing your chest upwards, which only makes it harder for him to behave. For despite the terror, you hold over him, you look way too tempting when you're pissed.

this little pervert omfl, this is not the time riddle 🤭 (it’s always the time)

mattheo rn ^^

Your expression only deepens to one of repugnant as if you couldn’t stand his touch and it pangs at his heart a little. He doesn’t show it and leans in to kiss your cheek, trying to suck up to the obvious sign that you're still mad at him. “Did I tell you how pretty you look today?” Another delicate kiss closer to your ear before his back slams against the wall and he groans, shooting you an unappreciated glance. “Got it. Not in the mood for flattery, huh?”

i’m obsessed with this whole paragraph— the vulnerability from mattheo at the start, the CHEEK KISS??? (sorry i love cheek kisses), the compliment to change the subject without apologizing, the way he instantly submits to her jshdfh pizza i swear you somehow know how to always add in the tiniest little details that catch my eye and make me go feral

You start, sliding your hand up to tangle into his hair, holding onto him with a tight grip that has him eliciting a small grunt.

PULLING HIS HAIR LMFAOOOOO SHE’S TOO FUNNY the way he doesn’t even do anything about it kills me, i love this dynamic so much

You mutter with little hate, exhaling a huff, leaning your forehead to his. His presence, warm and inviting, brings comfort and you close your eyes, instinctively massaging his scalp lovingly.

it’s so soft, i’m sobbing. i would read an entire book of these two.

Only to groan as you bite it and he pulls back. “Fuck! Woman.”

this made me giggle so hard bc it makes me think of how you always call me “WOMAN” when i piss you off with my stubbornness in dms 🤭

“I get it ow stop whacking me. Save it for the bedroom, baby.”

STOPPP HE’S SO ANNOYING I CANNOTTT AJKHFDBS also “baby”?? i’m melting. (giving johnny kavanagh heheh)

also me @ mattheo bc he never knows when to give it a rest 🤭 ^^

That he loves you with every fibre of his body, every vein pumping blood to his thriving heart that seems to beat faster just at the thought of you. How his soul feels completely entangled with yours and how he’d rather deal with a thousand howlers from you than be with anyone else.

there’s something so soft and all-consuming about this paragraph— it captures that intense, wholehearted kind of love without sounding cliché. the way it moves from the physical (“every vein pumping blood”) to the emotional (“his soul entangled with yours”) is just really beautiful. and that last line? he’d take all your fire over anyone else’s calm, choose you over anyone else in the world I’M BAWLING.

listen here girl. i demand at least five more works about this pairing of hotheaded reader and mattheo, you hear? 😤😤😤 i’m so in love with this characterization of mattheo in a relationship, he’s so perfect with he’s all soft and obsessed with someone <3

THE TROUBLE WITH YOU

based on this goofy idea! Mattheo has a tendency to create trouble whether he wants it or not which doesn’t bother him until he accidentally drags his temperamental girlfriend in. warn: fem!reader, bit of swearing + wc 3.7k

Mattheo had a talent for attracting trouble, or more, it had a way of finding him. A frequent problem that followed him all his life like a shadow, clinging to his soul, unable to escape the labels that tainted him; troublemaker, scoundrel, hellion or a vermin pest, he only seemed to add to problems when he was around.

It sniffed him out like a dog detecting a buried bone. It didn't seem to matter what he did, for it always caught up in the end, the blame easily latching onto him.

Mattheo, by nature, thrived off adrenaline and the rush of rebellious acts, and so he didn’t take offense to it, learning to embrace it as just a part of him. He started wearing the title of Slytherins delinquent, hot-tempered bad boy as a badge of pride, an honorary medal that earned him a fearsome rep amongst the halls of Hogwarts.

He made himself comfortable around a similar pack of friends that only aided in fueling his need for mischief by scheming in all sorts of shenanigans, usually in targeting Peeves.

Detentions were an easy breeze, having done every form of punishment under the sun. Depending on the nature of his “crime” he’d done all from writing lines, a total snooze fest, to cleaning out bedpans in the infirmary with the absence of magic making him nearly have to clean his own vomit to missing out on trips to Hogsmede which he didn’t care for too much enjoying the extra solitude.

He took each penalty like a walk in the park, each lesson he was supposed to learn going in one ear and out the other, never cowering from disappointed looks he received or scoldings. That is until he met you.

It didn’t take Mattheo long to realize you and trouble weren’t exactly acquainted. You weren’t even on a first name basis, which left him completely dumbfounded because he’d never met someone who matched his temper level, even topping over on the scale past him, who hadn’t ended up in trouble.

People with attitudes and uncontrollable tempers don’t bypass discipline. They’re like magnets, the first kid to be provoked for a reaction from the class. He knew all too well the inner turmoil of trying to control himself from snapping, before the rage would just take over and he’s being dragged away back to the cell of detention.

You grabbed his attention instantly, completely intriguing him, a mystery that made him excited to unravel, but he knew you had your doubts, hesitations that originally held you back from agreeing to that first date.

You weren’t wrong to keep your distance. Mattheo, of course, wasn’t oblivious to his difficult personality, disorder and predictions that clung to him like a deathly plague, as if being tied to the Riddle name wasn’t bad enough. Cursed, he liked to think. He recalls how you had shot him down, the way your eyes had rolled so ethereally with an amused smile and the simple but clear words; you’re pretty to look at, but your trouble.

Naturally you came around, and he remembers watching how you smiled, eyes softening, illuminating with bright gleams of sunshine, and he swore his whole body exploded as if someone had set off fireworks inside his stomach. His face stretched, his lips widening to impossible limitations, his heart taking on the beat of a fast-paced drum solo, and he knew he wouldn’t let his doomed and darkened life impede him from your inviting warmth.

For two powerful forces of intense energy, the two of you didn’t butt heads nearly as often as one would suspect a couple of hotheads would do. Because finally, one lesson had knocked some sense into Mattheo, that making you mad was something he wished on avoiding at all costs.

A pissed girlfriend was not a task many boyfriends wanted to achieve, but for Mattheo, it tangoed between life and death. Already needing shades just to roam the levels of hotness you radiated from head to toe. One wrong comment and he could be obliterated with a single glare consumed by a thousand suns.

His first encounter he had handled oh-to-naively, enchanted by your sweet way, often made him forget about your temper. For how could someone so lovely and precious even produce the levels of anger you conjured upon him. As if the god of Ares himself had possessed you, and for once he felt ready to run as if he had a tail dragging between his legs. Since then, he promised to do all he could to exclude you from trouble, and keep you happy, very happy.

Unfortunately, trouble had a way of finding him even before he could spot it. It all had happened so fast, what had started as a fun little challenge; Enzo pestering him like usual with an opportunity too good to resist. An easy target of Longbottom's drooping mouth, a boring ol lesson stuck with skittish Porlucks and a few slimy slugs as ammunition, the perfect recipe for a harmless prank.

He wasn’t sitting with you, not unusual, for you often stayed with your friends during lessons, wanting to actually learn something. He’s not sure what you’re able to understand with old rambles Grubbly-Plank practically spitting the information at you. He preferred to keep his distance, but he didn't mind. He enjoys observing you from afar, taking the time to study and admire the treasure that is his.

To watch the cute little crease crinkle between your brows as you lean closer squinting, the obvious reasoning Mattheo had continued to point out that you definitely needed glasses. To the way your eyes brighten with awe and fascination, examining the small creature nervously trotting around before you.

You loved to learn, wanting to absorb as much knowledge, commonly spending hours in the library till Mattheo would wake you snickering at the ink stained on your face. Your commitment to academia had always left him anxious about his life and personality. He never wanted to dim your spark by spreading his problems onto the weight of you. It's why he tried to keep his antics to his friends, promising you he’d keep you out of the playing field.

He studied your eyes again. They were certainly a feature he could lose himself in for hours, a true piece of art. Except for now, when he had to watch the not intended for-you-slug land right on the pretty apple of your cheek, the way it slid slowly dragging a disgusting trail of goo. Fuck. FUCK. His eyes widened with pure shock, flicking his gaze back between you and his now empty-handed slingshot. That wasn’t supposed to happen. How could that have happened?

Another loud sneeze rings out beside him and firm fingers dig into his shoulder as Blaise clings to stabilise himself. “Argh!” Blaise’s grip tightens, practically leaning his full weight onto Mattheo, as he exhales what might just be a full on exorcism. “Fuck I hate spring.” Blaise grumbles, wiping under his nose, scrunching it as the specs of hay left out for the Porlucks continue to leave an irritated itch.

Mattheo can hardly contain his temper, realizing that Blaise had startled him with his bloody allergies and in doing so made him lose his balance and his target. There's a collective shriek of screams when the slug comes whizzing back, narrowly missing him, before it smashes flat into a tree. He dodges, ducking his head, his hands flinging up reflexively, whipping his head over to catch the smug grin you’re shooting his way.

His brows raise with amusement, happy to see you’re finding the humour of the situation, though his attention is quickly grabbed as the anxious Porluck’s neigh disturbed. Startled by the screams, they turn aggressive towards the class, already uncertain around humans.

The entire class explodes into stressed energy, trying to save themselves from the new threat of an ankle bite, submerging back to the stair banks as Grubbly-Plank attempts to calm the creatures.

He almost wants to laugh at the scene, join in with his buddies who are pissing themselves beside him at the chaotic commotion unfolding, soak in the joy of the period ending early at the call of Grubbly-Plank's aggressive dismissal.

Smile with smug satisfaction at the fact he’s evaded any penalty from his immature antics, till he hears her mention your name, serving the detention to you instead of him. Desecration of a creature, Merlin, what a fucking joke. He snickers at the idea, hardly agreeing a slug's life is worth crying about, but clamps his mouth shut, catching the loathing glare you shoot him.

Eyes narrowed into two thin slits of pure anger and he gulps, offering a sheepish smile, knowing he’s fucked up. He watches your expression for a further reaction, for you to blow your top at him and explode into your usual fiery rage, but it never comes.

Instead, he’s left staring at the back of your head, your hair flicking like a crack of a whip before your storming off up the stairs, the force of your steps strong enough he’s just waiting for the earth to split and swallow him up.

Enzo, who's trying not to laugh, comments, “She seemed to take that quite well, don’t you think?”

Mattheo’s face stiffens, shooting a grave side eye at his mate snapping, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What? Come on mate, I didn’t know all that was gonna happen!” Enzo defends himself, finally spluttering out a laugh.

The others follow behind the rest of the class. They chatter between themselves, finding amusement in the drama that just took place and how they look forward to the lash out waiting for him. He grumbles childishly, ambling in thought behind them, his stubbornness fighting with himself whether to follow you, conjuring up any and every single way he can apologise for getting you in trouble.

He hates apologising, he’s. He's never been good at it. Opening up vulnerably to someone, having to swallow his pride and admit to a fault, he’d much rather get torched by a dragon than face that kind of confrontation.

Not to mention it's your rage he’d be coming face to face with. His stomach churns, the strings of his fear tightening, and he considers giving you all the bloody space you could ever need. But he knows that would only make things worse, leaving it to fester and create a deadly divide between you two.

When the group reaches the top of the castle grounds, he splits from them, ignoring their not-so-helpful yells of encouragement. His eyes scan the area for your distinct features, wiping his hands on his trousers, reaching into his back pocket to fish out his lighter and cigarettes. He lights one, inhaling deeply the rich hit of nicotine, shaking his hair to try to at least appear aloof as he finally spots you. She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.

His thoughts do little to calm him, his legs hesitantly taking shorter steps to prolong closing the gap between the two of you. It’s then he overhears your friends gossiping about him, with judging whispers;

“how do you put up with him?” “yeah. like he’s so immature.” “If he was my boyfriend, I wouldn’t stand for that level of embarrassment.”

He feels the usual spark of irritation creeping up. He’s never liked your friends constantly nagging to you about it. The way they stick their snooty little noses into his business, your business, if only you’d let him, he’d give them a piece of his mind.

Their words irk him, digging into his insecurities as his steps slow before he ducks behind a column. He takes a long inhale to soothe his shaky heart, each beat rattling in his ribcage as the ringing of sudden doubt and anticipation grows louder.

His ears stay tuned, listening for your response, his eyes sharpened on your body language and how you stop walking. He can’t recall you ever claiming to be embarrassed or ashamed of him, despite all the chaos and destruction that swells around him, like dust kicking up in a storm. Always turning the cheek whenever trouble ventured into the conversation, he knew your view on the subject wasn’t always in agreement, but you never scolded him.

It's something that's always made his heart swell with pride, glowing a little warmer with happiness and love, tucked in the safety of your accepting nature. Though his promise to keep you excluded had stayed true till today, he suddenly begins questioning his whole relationship and the foundation of your trust.

Feeling as if he had taken you for granted your acceptance and love, and the undeserving pill starts bubbling back up. He takes another inhale of his cigarette, needing to calm himself and wait to see your response before he spirals into a black hole of anxiety.

Your brows arch offended, stopping mid walk. “Excuse me?” Your tone is anything but polite, as they slice through the air, making the rest of your friends pause their chatter gazing at you.

“What? Just stating the obvious, babe.”

Mattheo peeks his head further around to catch the awaiting fury from earlier seep out, steam evaporating off your body.

“Did I fucking ask for an opinion?”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, overcome with pure pride and delight at you having his back. His cheeks burn from the wide smile that's brimming his face, unable to take his eyes off you, feeling the need to just walk over and kiss the shit out of you. If he wasn’t still scared of the anger radiating off you, he would, but he leans back instead, not eager to be spotted spying.

“Why don’t you keep that piggy nose out of the muck you're trying to create and close your fucking trap? Nothing useful is coming out of a dirty trout like that.”

The insult leaves your mouth with little remorse, not appreciating your friends trying to trash talk Mattheo. He may have his moments you don’t exactly approve of, but at the heart of him, he’s a misunderstood boy just trying to have fun, and you have no intentions of being the one to dampen his cheeky spirit.

He lets out a laugh, coughing on the smoke, unable to contain his amusement at your feisty defence at shutting down their remarks. Your head turns, catching the peak of unruly brown curls behind the stone and you excuse yourself, done with the conversation anyway.

His eyes meet yours and he pulls back at the speed of light, banging his fist against his chest to ease his coughing fit. He opts for a charming, relaxed smile when you appear around the column, scratching the back of his neck to appear natural. “Baby! hey just wondering where you wandered off to.”

It's a dangerous combination, wanting to ravish you while you look ready to cut his head off. He stubs his cigarette out on the stone before dropping it and reaching out to embrace you, hands sliding around your stiff waist.

Your eyes narrow at his resort to sarcasm. “Why are you spying on me?”

He places a hand on top of yours flat against his chest, his thumb caressing your skin and suddenly he lights up, smiling. “What? You mean…overhearing you defend me?” His smile curves, unable to contain his smug pride. He knows he's dancing with the devil, but if you're talking to him, that's one step closer to forgiveness and Mattheo’s all about taking bold moves.

“Don’t get all cocky. That doesn’t mean you're off the hook.” You start, sliding your hand up to tangle into his hair, holding onto him with a tight grip that has him eliciting a small grunt. “You got me fucking detention, Mattheo. I swear to Merlin I'm beyond pissed. That's the one thing I asked- to keep me out of your bloody trouble, but no! You're like-.”

You halt the nearing destructive rant, noting his eyes, the vulnerable look he’s expressing back to you. Spotting the remorse, his brown eyes lidded with a softness that makes him look like a wounded puppy. His curls slip loosening in your hold as you relax your hand, taking a deep breath counting to ten in your head, to contain yourself from saying something you’d regret.

“I should really slap you.” You mutter with little hate, exhaling a huff, leaning your forehead to his. His presence, warm and inviting, brings comfort and you close your eyes, instinctively massaging his scalp lovingly.

A small habit between the two of you, allowing your focus to shift to the way his curls feel between your fingers. Soft and thick, you coil a finger repeatedly around a strand as he hums, appreciating the calming and wholesome moment.

His hand rubs gentle caresses on your hip, his lips pressing another light kiss to your forehead. He releases a deep sigh, relishing in the sweet hold you have him in. Like a mother scolding their favourite child, he relaxes into your touch. He chuckles, “You could if it makes you feel better.”

Lifting your eyes to give him an incredulous look, before you roll them playfully, glad he’s lightened the mood. “Don’t be ridiculous.” A smile slips past your lips in amusement, always stubbornly fighting how easily he breaks your tough barrier. “You’d probably like it knowing you.”

He reaches down, cupping your cheeks as the last remaining anger melts, flashing you a cheeky grin, “Mm, only if it's you causing the pain. I'd gladly be your sexual punching box.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, passionate, apologetic and full of love. He adores kissing you, the softness and curve of them sliding with him so perfectly. He enjoys moulding your burning energy to a sweet, almost pliant demeanour as he devours you.

His tongue flicks, pushing greedily for entrance and he protests when you don’t grant it instantly, clearly playing hard to get. He groans, wrapping his arms around you fully, suffocating you in his need and desire, his hands tangling into your hair. Tugging for a redo and grinning wickedly at the delightful gasp you utter, his tongue sliding dominantly inwards to clash with yours.

Only to groan as you bite it and he pulls back. “Fuck! Woman.”

You grin with gratification, “Told you not to get cocky, baby.”

He rolls his eyes with feigned irritation. “Leave the decapitating to the slug, ye-ow!” He groans again as you whack the side of his head before he laughs. “Okay! Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He drags out the word dramatically before he cups your cheeks again. He licks his lips, gazing more sincerely at you. “I am sorry, though. I wasn’t even aiming for you. Truly!"

You snort, rolling your eyes playfully at his defensiveness. “Uh huh, sure it's not throw-a-slug at your girl's day?”

“Ha ha, no. You know I'd never throw a slug purposefully at you.” He grins, finding pure amusement in the conversation. “I'd throw a bucket of water to cool your crazy ass down-okay! I get it ow stop whacking me.” He laughs, loving your angry reactions. “Save it for the bedroom, baby.”

Another eye roll slips out naturally. “You’re such a menace.” The words are sweet like a compliment, and a glimmer of a smile slips out. “Yet, somehow, I still love you.”

Mattheo’s eyes brighten, spotting the tension easing between the two of you, his heart flushing at your words, strengthening the security between the two of you. “A fuckin miracle is what it is.” He jokes as he pulls you to his side, planting a loving kiss on your head. “I love you too, sweetheart, though not sure how I ended up with a girl who can give me a heart attack by being sweet and deadly.” He teases before rubbing your side tenderly, “but I feel damn lucky to be loved by you.”

He walks, guiding the two of you around the column further down the vacant corridor. He sighs troubledly, his fingers drumming on your skin, anxiously preparing his next words. “I know I can be a bit much sometimes, cause nothing but trouble-"

You cut him off quickly. “You're not.” His eyes flicker down upon your face, instantly listening in, his ears tuned in like a dog. He doesn’t exactly want to spill off into a massive vent about how he’s a wreck, a mess of a man who can’t help that trouble follows him.

“Yeah, so what? You're a bit of trouble. But you’re more than that, Mattheo..” There’s a pause as you look up to him, finding that there’s never a real reason to get mad at him. For if someone can accept the uncontrollable temper that pumps through your veins that you must be the luckiest girl.

You don’t care what anyone thinks, whether he’ll care about the titles that have followed him his whole life. They don’t own him, and he continues to push past the boundaries of a meaningless label. With eyes shining brightly, you smile lovingly, expressing affection for the man who makes trouble look too damn good. “Besides, it's starting to grow on me.”

ty to my bestie @acourtofchaos for reading and letting me nag her <3 and tagging the pookies who encouraged me to write it: @thatdammchickennugget @papercorgiworld @weirdowithnobeardo dividers from here! ty for reading lovelies!!!!

navigation. masterlist. mattheo masterlist. ©️pizzaapeteer 2025

#— 𝐥𝐞𝐨’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬 ༯ #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader

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galwaygirl83 · 12 hours ago

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I love Nicola. I adore her. I have for years pre-Bridgerton. But what happened to the woman who spoke so clearly at the Harper’s Bazaar event about how it felt awful to google herself and find one of the most common searches were about who her partner is/who she’s dating?

After last night’s ridiculousness, guess what comes up about her immediately? She has literally made it all about that.

The BAFTA nominees party was an opportunity to celebrate her, to celebrate the biggest nomination she has received to date with her fellow nominees. And yet all anyone is talking about today is who she was with.

Was it to cause a distraction from all the hates she’s been getting for her trans support? Maybe!

But Nicola, you did yourself dirty. You’ve gone from being the most private person relationship-wise (she lived with a boyfriend for years and we still don’t know who it was) and now suddenly you are this huge “I’m throwing my relationship in your face” kind of person?

What happened to that part of your speech about not making your life and career about who your partner is?

You’ve gone against everything you said you wanted and made it all about him. And in turn, the dumb ass articles being written have also made it about your (and his) age, the other thing you said you didn’t feel great about seeing on Google.

I will also add this is not about being a Lukola or about believing Luke & Nic are endgame. Had Luke been with her, of course I would’ve been delighted but he’s also part of the BAFTA nominations with the Luke’s carriage scene declaration being a memorable moment nominee. So it would have been a lot less about “the man on her arm” and more about their celebration of the impact of that scene and the success of their season.

IMO, and yes this is MY opinion so piss off with any comments of I’m wrong or I’m a hater, she diminished all of her hard work, all of her words against the scrutiny women face by showing up with Jake and making the evening more about that.

As a woman, I’m disappointed. I truly am.

I’m not sure where your head is at Nicola, but I hope this doesn’t hurt you in the long run as a role model to women of all ages.

Because right now, that amazing speech is just looking like lip service.

I guess we’ll see in a few weeks how the actual awards night plays out.

(ps: I don’t for one second believe this is anything more than friendship for her and Jake but she’s trying to push this fake love interest so hard, she’s become invisible and he’s at the forefront)

#my thoughts #my opinions

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supernotnatural2005 · 1 day ago

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Clowning Around

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You’ve got a crush on Dean, your best friend’s brother. The catch, he's only in town for a few more days. However, all it takes is a haunted house, a punch to the face and a surprising confession to know where you stand.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: Fluff! Eventual pairing. I love everyone involved. Mentions of unintentional assault.

AN: Okay, so I hadn't expected to get something out so quickly, but I guess I was just inspired and this is what came of this wonderful mood board and challenge from @chevroletdean ❤️ I've never written from a mood board inspo before, so I hope I did okay? 😅 I also took a bit of inspo from New Girl S2 Ep6. (gif not mine)

Congrats on 500 friend 🎉

Masterlist

The evening air was crisp, swirling with the scent of kettle corn, hot cider, and woodsmoke from the fire pits set up around the Stanford fall carnival. You stood just outside the haunted house, the multicoloured lights of the fairgrounds casting a warm glow on your torn and bloodied zombie costume.

Fog machines hissed faintly behind you, and a dark sinister voice echoed from the entrance speakers, adding atmosphere for the next wave of thrill-seekers waiting to be terrified.

You should’ve been hyped. Halloween was your absolute favourite time of year. Spooky costumes, haunted houses, candy, cozy sweaters—this was your season. You’d even signed up to volunteer as an extra for the haunted house this year, practically bouncing when Jess suggested it. But tonight, the buzz just wasn’t there.

Because Dean hadn’t shown.

A week and a half ago, Sam had introduced you to his older brother at your local bar just off campus. You’d heard stories about Dean Winchester—grease monkey, classic rock enthusiast, had practically raised Sam after their parents had passed. You expected to like him on principle alone. You just hadn’t expected how much.

And man, you were crushing hard.

You’d hit it off immediately—easy banter, shared love for horror movies and greasy diner food, the way he actually listened when you talked about your thesis like it was interesting and not soul-draining. And his eyes—God, those green eyes—had this way of locking onto yours like he saw you. Really saw you.

He’d been in town for two weeks, crashing with Sam and Jess, and since you’d been the honorary third wheel long before Dean arrived, it was only natural that the four of you had spent a lot of time together.

However, nothing had happened. Nothing beyond harmless flirting or the occasional teasing glance. Sure, there were moments—his thigh brushing yours when he sat too close, fingers grazing as you passed each other a drink or walked side-by-side—but it never led anywhere.

Dean was leaving in a few days anyway, heading back to Kansas, back to a life you weren’t part of. Maybe that was why he’d kept his distance. Or maybe it was your own insecurities whispering that he just didn’t see you that way.

Jess swore up and down that he was into you.

“He asked me if you were seeing anyone. Twice,” she’d said just this morning, practically bouncing on her toes as she dabbed fake blood onto your cheek. Jess had clocked the chemistry from the start, maybe even before you had.

A part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been her plan all along. That she’d hoped something like this would spark before Dean even got to campus.

Sam, of course, seemed blissfully unaware—just happy to have his brother around again—but even you had started to get suspicious of the hushed whispers between him and Jess whenever you and Dean were in the same room.

Still, despite yourself, you’d smiled—nervous, giddy, full of hope.

Tonight was your chance to find out for sure. You’d invited him to the carnival, hoping he’d show up. Maybe even join the haunted house with you. Your plan was to finally bite the bullet and just ask him out. Long-distance? You could try it.

There was just something about Dean that made you want to throw caution to the wind—to be bold, reckless, brave. He was different. Special.

And maybe it was crazy to think that way from only knowing someone for such a short period of time, but there was something electric about Dean—like he was carved out of your daydreams and dropped straight into your life.

But then Jess and Sam arrived without him. She had tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice when she said he had to drive out of town for something work-related.

You’d played it cool. Nodded. Smiled. Shoved the disappointment down into the pit of your stomach as you took your place in the haunted house, ready to scare the ever-loving hell out of strangers.

But, your heart wasn’t in it. You did your job—jumped out of coffins, hissed from behind tombstones, chased a couple of high schoolers with a plastic axe—but your enthusiasm had taken a hit.

And then, just as you were leaning against a gravestone prop, waiting for the next group, you heard a noise behind you.

“BOO!”

A clown—huge mask, frizzy hair, red nose, and all—lunged out of the shadows right into your face.

You yelped and reacted on instinct.

CRACK.

Your fist collided with the clown’s face with a satisfying thud, and he stumbled back with a sharp groan.

“Shit—”

You blinked, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins, as the stranger pulled the mask away from their face.

“Dean?!”

Dean stood there, eyes wide, one hand clutched over his nose, which was rapidly turning red and beginning to swell.

“Oh my God!” You rushed forward. “I am so, so sorry—oh God.” You cupped his face in your hands without thinking, scanning his features with guilt.

He winced, but his grin was lopsided and teasing. “That was one hell of a right hook.”

You groaned and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the carnival grounds, guiding him to a picnic bench beneath some newly lit orange lanterns. People milled around you, kids in costumes darting between booths and couples sharing funnel cake, but your world had narrowed to the man nursing his nose beside you.

“Sit. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You returned minutes later with a paper towel-turned-cloth from a nearby food stall and a small paper cup filled with ice. Dean took them both with a grateful grunt as you sat beside him.

“You really clocked me,” he said with a chuckle, pressing the ice to his face. “I’m gonna feel that tomorrow.”

“I feel it now,” you muttered, horrified. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“That was kind of the point,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Jess and Sam passed by just then, and Sam burst out laughing the moment he saw Dean’s face.

“Oh this is everything?” Sam wheezed. The kid was turning purple almost as he clutched his stomach, and Jess was no better as she giggled beside him.

“Yeah, hold this jokester.” Dean threw his mask at Sam who caught it on reflex and then recoiled instantly, dropping it to the ground when he saw what it was.

The two of you burst out laughing, Sam’s bitch-face in full bloom. His phobia of clowns clearly not lost on the pair of you.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” The brothers exchange before Jess looped her arm through Sam’s, tugging him back towards the line of stalls.

“Come, we’ll leave the zombie to nurse her victim, maybe even sample his flesh.” Jess shot you a sly wink despite your pointed look, before they wandered off, leaving the two of you alone once again.

Dean leaned back, ice still to his face, but he offered you a crooked smile. “So… Hi.”

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh and cover your face with your hands. “I can’t believe I punched you in the face.” You groaned.

He laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah, but come on, at least it was memorable.” You laughed softly, and he smiled at the sound.

The moment stretched out, neither awkward or uncomfortable. The fading sun had cast the sky in a hue of deep oranges and purples and you found yourself admiring it before Dean spoke up again.

“I quit my job.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

He nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Told my boss to shove it. I’m done busting my ass for sixty hours a week just to get talked down to by a guy who thinks a compliment might kill him.” He huffed humourlessly and shook his head.

“I mean, I've been dreaming about opening my own garage for years—figured it was about time I stopped dreaming and actually did something about it. So… why the hell not, right?”

Your eyes softened. He’d told you about this dream one night while the two lightweights had passed out on the couch, leaving you and Dean to keep the party going, which essentially consisted of eating your weight in multipacks of halloween candy and watching b-movie horror films.

You remembered the way his eyes lit up as he talked about it. Of wanting to be his own boss, about the freedom, about building something for himself. You’d been more than encouraging, having to refrain yourself from sounding like every positive, uplifting bumper sticker ever.

“But it’s more than just the job,” he went on, voice quieter now. “Kansas hasn’t felt like home in a long time.”

Your heart twisted at that. You already knew from Sam about their parents—how much they'd lost, how empty that place must feel without them. A ghost town full of memories.

Without thinking, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his and giving it a soft squeeze. He looked at you then—really looked. And for a moment, everything around you seemed to slow, like the world had paused to catch its breath.

“Now I’ve quit. There’s nothing keeping me there. But…” He trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze flickered between your eyes. “There’s a lot pulling me here.”

Your heart skipped, like it had hit a bump in the road. Hope bloomed fast and fierce in your chest.

“I found a shop,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Small place, not far from here. Needs some work, but it’s got good bones. I’m thinking of buying it.”

You stared at him, mouth parting. “You want to move here?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost shy. “And I was kinda hoping that… if I’m gonna be sticking around, that maybe I could take you out sometime? If you’d be interested?”

He barely got the words out before you leaned in and kissed him.

It was fast, impulsive. One full of pent-up nerves and relief, but when he let out a soft grunt and you jerked away.

“Oh crap—sorry!”

Dean winced, but the crooked smile spreading across his face was pure mischief. “No, no—it’s good. Totally worth it.”

You snorted, but your laugh dissolved as he hooked a finger into the neckline of your torn costume and tugged you gently toward him. This kiss was much slower—sweeter. His lips brushed over yours with such softness it made your breath catch, his hand warm against your cheek.

You melted into him, smiling against his mouth as the carnival lights flickered behind your closed eyes like the very fireworks exploding in your stomach.

Halloween had always been your favourite holiday, but now you have one more reason why.

AN: I hope you all liked this one, it was a lot of fun to write 💗, feedback is always welcomed 😘

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @amberlthomas @illicithallways

#chevorletdean's 500 #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #spn #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #sam winchester #lovely mutuals

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deezee112 · 2 days ago

Note

Hey deezee, I hope I’m not bothering you with a request for our fae boys x Yuu/Reader.

Slight Spoiler for the movie Maleficent

In the movie a human throws away his iron ring (his most valuable possession) without a second thought, because it was hurting Maleficent. Could you write a scenario where the reader does the same for our fae boys, please?

A/N : Of course! But I might not be able to write it exactly the way you want since I’m kind of out of ideas right now 😔 But if you end up liking it, that would make me really happy.

Sorry it turned out bad...I just...haven’t felt inspired lately.

The first time I wrote about a character whose name I kept forgetting.

Title : The Ring You Cast Away

Pairing : Yandere!Malleus Draconia x Reader

Word Count : 3200

Warning : OCC??? , I can't think because I'm sick.

Summary : You fled into the forest, wearing iron to keep Malleus away even if it hurt. But when you realize the pain cuts deeper for him than it does for you, you make a choice. One that binds you to him forever.

English is not my first language.

The forest was thick with thorns and silence. You hadn’t meant to walk this far, but something about Briar Valley’s woods always drew you in like the trees whispered secrets only you could hear.

The sun had fallen behind the hills long ago, casting the world into shadows thick as oil, and the wind bit at your skin through your coat.

You stopped walking.

The stillness wasn’t just silence anymore.

It was presence.

He was near.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t need to.

Malleus did not sneak. He did not stumble. He appeared like mist through cracks in the world, slow and graceful and eternal.

You spoke first.

“ You followed me again. ”

A pause.

“ You knew I would. ”

His voice was velvet and winter, soft and cold in the same breath. Familiar now. Too familiar.

You turned. He stood just a few paces behind you, tall and regal even in the half-light, like the forest was his court and every thorn bent for him. His eyes glowed faintly, green fire flickering beneath the darkness. The sight of him used to startle you.

Now, it just made your chest ache.

“ I told you I needed space. ” you said.

“ You did. ”

“ And yet... you’re here. ”

Malleus tilted his head, as if the concept itself was strange. “ I am always here. ”

You tried to ignore the way your pulse spiked.

“ Because you’re watching me? ”

“ Because you are precious. ”

You flinched.

There it was again. That possessiveness wrapped in silk. That terrifying gentleness. Malleus didn’t yell or demand or trap you with chains. He trapped you with devotion. The kind that suffocates slowly.

“ I wore this to keep you away. ” You said as you grabbed your ring.

Iron.

It was a simple thing. A ring, old and blackened and heavy with heat. Humans told stories of how it repelled fae kept their charms and dangers at bay.

You weren’t sure if you believed in old tales.

But you believed in Malleus.

He stiffened.

“ You still wear that…thing. ”

“ I didn’t want you to follow me. I didn’t want you to come. ”

A long silence. The kind that drags your breath out of your lungs.

When he spoke again, it was lower.

“ You would rather hurt yourself than be near me? ”

You look down the ring has slipped into your skin as you walk. The burn marks are just starting to spread, red and searing beneath your collarbone.

“ I didn’t know it would do that. ” you muttered.

“ I did. ”

Malleus stepped forward once. Then stopped. You saw it the way his fingers twitched toward you, then curled into a fist instead.

“ I felt it burning. ” he murmured. “ From the moment you left the castle. It is agony. ”

You looked up, startled. “ You…you felt it? ”

“ I feel everything when it comes to you. ”

Your throat dried.

That should’ve terrified you.

But instead…it just made you want to cry.

“ I don’t hate you, Malleus. ”

That earned a flicker in his expression. The slightest shift in those ancient eyes.

“ But I don’t want to be your prisoner either. ”

“ You are not. ” he said, too quickly. Too gently. “ You are mine, yes. But not a prisoner. Never that. ”

“ And yet I’m afraid to breathe the wrong way. ”

He stepped closer again. This time, he didn’t stop.

You stood still, barely breathing as he approached one slow, reverent step at a time. When he reached you, he didn’t touch. Just stood close enough that the heat of him tangled with the cold of the air.

“ You are wearing something that causes you pain. ” he said softly. “ Because you thought it would drive me away. ”

You looked away.

“ I wanted it to. ”

Malleus didn’t speak. Not right away.

Then, in a voice that trembled like candlelight.

“ Then why are you crying? ”

Your fingers touched your cheek. Wet.

You hadn’t noticed.

You shook your head, voice cracking. “ I didn’t want to be afraid of you. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted a walk. I just wanted...to breathe. To live. ”

“ You think life exists without me? ”

That should’ve sounded cruel. But it didn’t.

It sounded broken.

“ You could’ve taken it off days ago. ” he whispered. “ You could’ve burned it. Yet you didn’t. ”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

Because you’d felt the weight of it every day.

The sting on your skin. The barrier between you. The wall you didn’t even understand. And now, standing here in the dark, you realized something horrible.

You didn’t want that wall anymore.

Even if it meant falling.

Even if it meant drowning in him.

You reach for your finger the chain is so hot it’s almost blistering. It digs into your skin as you struggle with the lock, but you don’t stop. You take pleasure in the pain.

And then, with a snap it fell away.

The ring hit the ground with a dull, lifeless sound.

And the world changed.

Malleus exhaled like he hadn’t breathed in a hundred years.

His hand shot forward.

Not to grab you.

To catch the ring.

You stared as he held it in his palm burning, still glowing faintly with his magic. His expression unreadable.

And then he let it fall through his fingers like dust.

The chain turned to ash before it even hit the dirt.

“ You threw away your protection. ” he whispered.

You couldn’t look at him. “ It was hurting you. ”

Something shifted in the air. Like the forest bowed in reverence.

And then

His hands were on your face.

Gently.

Trembling.

Like you were made of glass and every part of him wanted to shatter you but only so he could piece you back together and keep you forever.

“ Do you know what you’ve done? ” he murmured.

You nodded. Barely.

His breath touched your skin. “ You cannot take that back. ”

“ I don’t want to. ”

His eyes closed. As if he’d been waiting a lifetime to hear that.

And when he opened them again, they burned with something ancient. Something dangerous.

His lips hovered over your forehead. Close enough to feel.

“ I will never let you go now. ”

You didn’t answer.

Because maybe, deep down…

…you didn’t want him to.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere twisted wonderland x gn reader #gn reader #man reader #boy reader #Readers are gender-neutral

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demonlovingsheep · 3 days ago

Text

Designing and found lore…?

Ok so I was half-ass designing a new backpack because the one announced was just horrendous. As much as I have a feeling towards the brothers, I’m not willing to walk around being misjudged for being a weirdo (to put it lightly. Not to say people cannot wear what they want, but I’m built extremely self conscious in terms of reputation certain genre of medias or games can carry…).

(Imagine if a Hazbin Hotel fan came up and says “That’s not Lucifer. Lucifer is blonde” 🤡).

Anyways so here is my redesign:

Thought during design (with a little sprinkle of sleep deprivation):

If they are going design something relating to school, they are under utilizing the fact that RAD is essentially a demon college.

The bag itself was grabbed as reference from Ibis Paint’s collage, I did not draw it. But I rather like the fact that the quality is more fitting for RAD. But under this economy, cheaper materials could suffice as long as the backpack is durable enough to make moneys worth (cause the merch be expensive 🗿).

Secondly, unlike the original where it just felt like they copied and pasted Lucifer’s Arcadia cover onto a black backpack and called it a day (lazy work), I designed the bag with more attention to color schemes that represents RAD but also included symbols representing Lucifer.

I added his symbol, demon sigil, wings (I butchered drawing it properly), and even throw in bits of feathers. I wouldn’t say the design has to be solid because I had other ideas that could also work. Like instead of his demon sigil, an apple can also work in its place.

Lastly I just added a RAD badge but I think that’s way too much. At this point, I would not be surprised if they decide to sell the badges separately as either pins or keychains, and sell each for $70. (Don’t sue me Solomare).

Anyways here is the lore I found while playing around with the colors. Originally instead of gold, I tried using Lucifer’s designated colors:

But as I was messing with the settings (I was using my fat fingers to draw 🤡), I accidentally inverted the colors and this is the result:

Celestial Realm colors…

I’m not sure if other people have already found this out, but I certainly did not know the fact till now.

I have see his angel form, and of course his demon form. But never knew that while one is holy and another hell, they are deeply connected with another.

At one hand, I can sort of see why Lucifer’s designated color isn’t red, but dark blue.

It symbolize how much of a flip it was for him to be the highest and most looked up to angel versus his reputation now as the Avatar of Pride. A figure of evil, even the face of hell (mostly in the human world).

A story hurts the most spread out before coming back to bite. And it bites hard in face of those who know the real reality but it shall forever be overshadowed by grief and personal suffering.

Will this change my life in any way or form? No. But it is rather sad when the awe and realization factor simmered down.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, brain fart of the night, etc.

I would highly suggest others to give it a whirl to design backpacks for Lucifer or even other brothers. I guarantee it will be 100% better than mine.

#obey me shall we date #om! shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me brothers #obey me merch #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #shall we date obey me

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alwaysthebiggerbear · 3 days ago

Text

Follow Me Into the Dark - 1: Never Thought I'd See You Again - Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Story Summary: Tragedy has struck in your life, quickly and without warning, leaving you completely devastated. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dean Winchester rolls into town and he and his brother are starting to ask questions. Questions that you are not prepared to answer though you have a question of your own: just what the hell is Dean doing darkening your doorstep again? Chapter Summary: Your ex shows up on one of the worst days of your life. As if things weren't bad enough, he's asking you questions for some sort of sick true crime podcast he and his brother doing...or something.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader Series Masterlist A/N: Here we are. Part 1. This was what I originally intended for the "Sleep. I"ll keep you safe" prompt response but I ended up changing it because this felt too long to simply be a prompt response or even a one shot and I couldn't bear to cut it down to try to make it fit. It felt like the more it took form as I wrote, the more it deserved a proper fleshing out. So, alas, a short story. It's just an idea that I really had to explore. Not gonna lie, this might get a little dark. This would be taking place during season 15. All unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Warnings: implied familicide; implied deaths of children; angst; heartbreak; grief; language; John Winchester being an ass Word Count: 4814

You sat in the pristine living room and stared at the coffee table as people milled around you. You could hear the hushed whispers of mourning for them, pity for you, and worst of all, judgment and condemnation of him. If you could, you’d throw each and every one of them out of this house right now. But it wouldn’t change the fact that they were gone. Every single one of them…gone.

You glanced up and caught sight of a framed picture of your niece holding onto her baby brother, smiling wide for the camera. You would never get to hold either of them again, chase Thea around the house and hear her squeals of laughter, tickle Tanner’s belly to hear those happy gurgles that only a baby could make — never again. A tear slipped from your eye that you quickly wiped away.

You were just about to get up and head into the kitchen to try to escape the harpy on your right, loudly whispering about how she’d always known something was off, when two tall men wearing suits entered your vision. Your eyes widened when you recognized one of them, and his expression mirrored your shocked one.

“Dean?” You asked in disbelief. You felt as if you had been sucker punched. Of course, on the absolute worst day of your life, he would show back up. The universe clearly had it in for you and wanted to destroy whatever little piece of you that was left. It had already brought you to your knees but that wasn’t enough. As if you weren’t already hollow inside…it wanted to finish the job.

The taller man to Dean’s left glanced back and forth between you. “Uh, do you two know each other?”

Dean looked at a loss for words for a moment but managed to answer with “You might say that.”

Seeing your face, Dean immediately looked apologetic. No, you couldn’t do this. Not today of all days. Not here, not now. “Right,” you muttered before making a hasty retreat to the kitchen as you’d planned to do prior to their arrival. You didn’t even bother looking back. Hopefully, Dean and his friend would just leave.

You busied yourself with doing the dishes; you figured you’d get a head start on them now. A kindly neighbor had offered to do them but you shook your head and took over, not saying a word. Thankfully, whoever had been in the room had vacated it, giving you your space. You were grateful because you weren’t sure if you could take one more “I’m so sorry, dear” or “Did you have any idea?” You threw yourself into the mundane chore, opting not to use the dishwasher next to you. You needed the distraction, to focus on something other than how you were broken inside. You did your best not to cry when you came across the coffee cup your sister-in-law had helped Thea to make for Father’s Day this year. It was similar to the “Best Aunt Ever” one they’d sent you for your birthday.

Several dishes later, you heard a quiet throat clearing behind you but you refused to turn around to look or stop what you were doing. You knew who it was; you’d practically felt him walk into the room.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry if—”

“Why are you here?”

That question seemed to throw him off guard. Good. “I wanted to say I’m—”

“No,” You cut him off before he could finish saying the two words you now hated with a passion. God knows he’d said it enough to you before he’d left you in the dust back in Sedona. “Why are you here?”

“We— I mean, my brother and I, we were in town and—”

You spun around, your eyes wide. “That was Sam?”

He gave you a nervous yet proud smile. “Uh, yeah. That’s Sammy.”

After a moment, you nodded and went back to doing the dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Dean had moved closer, looking unsure and slightly fidgeting.

“So you… You knew the family?”

You stopped for a moment, thinking maybe you didn’t want to have this conversation that he seemed intent on having. You’d closed the book on him years ago and there was no reason to rehash any of it. It was the same old story anyway: girl meets boy; girl has incredible sex with boy; girl spends a few weeks holed up with boy; girl falls hard for boy and makes the mistake of telling him; boy immediately breaks her heart by telling her he doesn’t feel the same and then leaves girl behind to deal with the fallout of a shattered heart alone. Definitely nothing to rehash there. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Sam and I were in town and we just happened to see an article online about what happened.”

You huffed out a snort as you slipped another wet dish into the drying rack. “Article online about what happened…”

“I meant that we—”

The anger that had been simmering all day suddenly started coming to the surface as you replayed his words over and over in your head. “Is that what you and Sam do? Look around for funerals to crash and poke around because you and your brother have some morbid curiosity you need to satisfy? To set up your next true crime podcast or YouTube channel? What?”

“What? Podcast? No. That’s not what I—”

“You know what, Dean, I don’t even care. Just take your brother and get out. I have enough to deal with today without you screwing up my life yet again.” How dare he? He was definitely not the man you remembered. Or maybe he was; maybe he was the man who had used you and left you behind without once looking back.

He laid a gentle hand on your shoulder but that was it. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

You shirked his hand off. “Just go,” you yelled, feeling a sudden rush of fury charge through you. “That’s what you’re good at! Just leave, Dean, and don’t look back!” At the same time, the glass in your grip suddenly shattered, making you gasp as red rivulets began to run down your palm.

Dean was suddenly there with a dish towel, gently cradling your hand as he slowly pulled a small shard of glass out, making you hiss in pain. He then ran your hand under the water, eliciting another pained hiss, before wrapping the towel tightly around your hand. “There a first aid kit here somewhere?”

“In the bathroom, I think.”

Dean glanced over to where you gestured and nodded. “Alright, hold this tight and take a seat. I’ll be right back.” You did as he instructed, quietly thinking over what just happened. Dean was incredibly focused and on it, no hesitation, but that wasn’t what gave you pause. Where did that spike of anger come from? And more disturbingly, why did you have the strongest urge to throw that glass at him before it actually broke in your hand? You weren’t a violent person by any means; you never put your hands on another person, never had the urge to. Sure, you’d imagined slapping a guy that deserved it when he got too handsy while being an arrogant jerk one time but you never actually felt the burning impulse that you felt just before. You glanced over at the photo mug in the drying rack and tears sprang to your eyes as you felt your heart break yet again (how was there anything left to break at this point?) when you realized maybe you actually were that type of person after all. The very worst sort of person that had some darkness or bad inside them that was lying dormant waiting for the right victim to come along so you could unleash it on them.

You tried to shake the hopeless thoughts from your head. You knew that was your shock, grief, and misery speaking. Instead, you changed the lens to a logical one and began to explain away what had happened. Perhaps it had been Dean’s words or his very appearance. Or it could be what had happened and why you were here today. Or maybe it was even a combination of everything. The glass you had broken hadn’t been light, sure, but perhaps there had been a crack in it before that you hadn’t noticed. And it absolutely made sense that you were lashing out at Dean. He had shown up out of nowhere and began asking questions because of an article he’d read online, not even one of them being a simple ‘how are you?’. He hadn’t seen you in years and while he might not have known exactly who you were in relation to this situation, you were here for a funeral and you were washing dishes, everyone was trying to give you their condolences and watching you with pity — didn’t that account for something in his mind?

You didn’t have much more time to think on it when Dean suddenly reappeared with the first aid kit in hand. He laid it down on the table in front of you and slipped his jacket off, throwing it over the back of an empty chair. He quickly rolled up his shirt sleeves and took the seat next to you, gently taking your hand and carefully unfurling your fingers. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

You watched as he studied the slice in your palm. “Not too deep,” he approved. He then began checking your skin for any other glass fragments or cuts. When he determined you were good, he began to soak a cotton ball with peroxide before turning a wide smile on you. “Did you hear the one about the priest and the cop?”

Your brows furrowed. He was now trying to make jokes? Seriously? Not to mention, no, you’d never heard of that one nor did you want to. “The priest and the—” You let out a loud hiss and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Fuck,” you painfully whispered.

You moved your gaze from the cotton ball being dabbed against your broken skin to Dean who was watching you intently. He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s fine,” you forced out as he continued to clean you up.

“So you didn’t tell me how you knew the family.” It was obvious he was trying to distract you from the painful stings of the ointment he was using but it also set your teeth on edge that he was still trying to get answers out of you that he wasn’t entitled to.

When you didn’t respond, he glanced up at you expectantly.

Fine. Whatever. Let him judge along with all the others. I don’t care. It’s not like he matters to me anymore. “He was my brother,” you whispered.

Sure enough, his green eyes opened wide in surprise. “He was your brother?”

You gave a reluctant nod, choosing to glance around the room rather than look at him.

“So the kids, they were…”

Your vision blurred slightly and you were unable to speak due to the lump that had been in your throat all day, making it hard to swallow. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. You were resolved that you would not cry in front of anyone today, and you definitely would not cry in front of Dean Winchester. He’d seen enough of your tears back in Arizona.

You felt the movements on your hand cease altogether and you turned back to see the pity you’d been getting all day staring back at you. You hated it. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded as if on autopilot and dropped your gaze back to your hand, waiting for him to finish so you could get out of here, away from him, away from the pity and the judgment that was sure to follow. He resumed the bandaging a moment later and you both spent the rest of the time in silence.

His brother’s appearance broke it. “Everything okay in here?”

Dean glanced up at you before looking at Sam. “Uh, yeah. Just a little accident but she’s good as new.” You saw him wince slightly at the words though he tried to hide it. That ticked your irritation a little higher though you had no idea why.

“May I?” Sam asked you, pulling out one of the empty chairs. At your subtle nod, he took a seat. You knew you should introduce yourself, finally officially meet the younger brother you’d heard so much about years ago, but you didn’t have it in you. You also weren’t surprised when Dean didn’t move to introduce you or that it was painfully obvious that he had never told Sam about you which just made you feel worse. It didn’t hurt, not in the way it would have back then, but it was like someone scratched a nail lightly along a long healed scar you had which would make you flinch slightly, hoping the nail would go away and forever leave the injury site untouched. Like a crater in the earth from a small asteroid; best to just leave it be and let nature take its course.

You flexed your hand as Dean put the dressings back into the kit.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam offered.

Feeling that autopilot mode come back into play, you mumbled, “Thank you.”

“I can’t imagine how tough this has been on you and your family.” You nearly snorted; what family? Perhaps they hadn’t noticed but you were it. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about Scott and Leah.”

You briefly closed your eyes in pain at hearing their names, but not before you saw Dean’s head snap up to give Sam a look. “Not now.” He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument.

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion and he tilted his head questioningly, but remained silent.

You decided you’d had more than enough and you slowly got to your feet. Dean stood up as well, his hands reaching out to you as if to steady you, hanging in the air and unsure. You simply stared at him until he lowered his arms and compulsively swallowed. You spared a glance over at Sam and then turned to leave.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in your tracks but didn’t turn around.

“Is there anything we can do? Anything you need?” Dean softly asked.

Anything they could do…anything you needed… You needed your family back, you needed to turn back the hands of time and get here sooner when Leah had called you out of the blue last week and begged you to come talk to Scott, saying he wasn’t acting like himself and she was worried. But since that didn’t appear to be an option, you simply shook your head and quietly answered, “Thank you for coming.” You then continued your trek out of the room, past the people who continued to offer you empty condolences or mutter statements like “They seemed like such a happy family”, and headed up the stairs, not caring in the least that you had a house full of people expecting you to be present so they could offer meaningless sympathies to someone. You ran to the bathroom and shut yourself inside it, sinking down behind the door and burying your face into your arms, hiding until everyone left and you could be alone again. You may have let out a few tears, a few quiet sobs, but no one would ever know.

“Dean, we can’t just leave her,” Sam tried to reason with his brother as they passed the crowd slowly making their way out of the home and headed towards the Impala. “We don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket, opening the back door of Baby to toss his jacket into. After you’d gone upstairs, he’d finished the dishes so you wouldn’t have to. He wouldn’t admit it to Sam but seeing the glass sticking out of your skin, you bleeding — it bothered him tremendously. It might have been a simple cut that had been easily patched up but it was you. It didn’t sit right with him just like this whole case hadn’t from the get go.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting to see you after all of this time, while he was on a case of all things. He had hoped you were off living your life somewhere, happy as could be, in love, maybe have a kid or two — whatever you’d wanted. He had wanted you to have a normal life, a life untainted by the things that go bump in the night, something he would never get to experience himself. That was why he’d done the impossible and left you back in Sedona all those years ago. Granted, he’d been young and untethered and idiotic but those weeks he spent with you, those he would never forget. You were gorgeous, funny as hell, great in bed, you had a killer smile, and oh did you have one hell of a kind heart. You were a good girl with a wild streak who for some reason picked him though you could have had any number of guys knocking at your door. How could he not have fallen head over heels for you? And when you told him you loved him, being the first to say it between you, he’d felt something he never had before. When he was sixteen, he thought he knew what love was but boy had he been wrong.

Dean had wanted to stay with you back then, to hunker down and see where things went between you. After all, what would it hurt to put down roots for a little bit and not have to travel from motel room to motel room? To not have to sleep in the Impala for once? Besides, if Sam got to go to college and live his life, why couldn’t Dean do the same for a little while? It’s not like he would be quitting hunting or abandoning his dad to it alone, so why not? He may have only been 23 but he wanted to experience something he had always dreamed about but was told he would never have, and he wanted to experience it with you. Hell, you didn’t even need to stay in Sedona; you could settle down in Phoenix or Mesa or Tucson — or even travel to a different state. As long as he had you, he didn’t care where the two of you settled.

But of course, that had only been a dream, a momentary fantasy that felt real enough to almost touch before it was snatched out of his reach. John had called and demanded that he haul ass to Las Cruces to help him on a werewolf hunt, reminding him that he had an obligation to the family. Especially now that they were one man down thanks to Sammy’s big college adventure. Dean had tried to tell his father about you and the plan you both came up with, he really did, but John wouldn’t hear of it. The older man insisted it was infatuation, not the real thing, that he was too young to think about settling down, not to mention he was a hunter. And his dad scoffed when Dean mentioned that the way he felt about you reminded him of the stories John used to tell him and Sam about their parents meeting when they were young. He even proudly mentioned that you knew the words to every one of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs; he’d checked. He just knew John would love you if he’d be willing to meet you.

John then hit him with the truth that Dean had kept buried deep down and refused to acknowledge. If he stayed with you, you would never be safe. Even if he left hunting to be with you, you’d forever have a target on your back from every nasty evil thing he’d ever hunted. Just look at what happened to his Mary after she’d left hunting for a normal life. It followed her right up to Sammy’s nursery that night back in 1983 and killed her in front of his eyes. Dean’s own eyes had misted up as John’s words registered and from the silence, John knew he had been heard.

“Do what you have to do, son. I’ll see you in the morning.” The line clicked and Dean stared at the phone, a tear slipping down his cheek.

Needless to say, Dean had broken it off with you that very day, determined to ignore your tears and heartbroken pleas, knowing he was doing the right thing by you. He said what he knew you needed to hear, though it cut him up inside to say it.

“I love you, Dean. Please,” you’d tearfully begged him. “Don’t leave.”

“I have to. I didn’t realize this was getting serious. I mean, we holed up together for a few weeks, we had some great sex, we had some laughs, some drinks, and a good time together, but that’s all it was ever going to be. You had to know that going into this, when you took me home from the bar that night. I’m pretty sure I even told you that I was only looking for a fun time while I was waiting for my next job. No strings attached because I’m just rolling through, remember?”

As he watched the heartbreak play upon your face, he cowardly looked away as he rolled up his spare pairs of jeans and threw them into his duffel. If he looked at you, you’d see just how much you meant to him and just how much this was hurting him to have to do this to both of you.

“I’m 23 for Christ’s sake. I’m not looking to settle down, move in with a girlfriend, or get married and start cranking out kids. I want to live my life before I even start thinking about any of that crap.”

“But you said that you wanted to find a place together. You said you wanted to be with me. You said—” You whispered brokenly.

Dean’s jaw hardened and he turned away from you under the guise of grabbing his t-shirts and Henleys from the dresser drawer, shutting his eyes tightly. “It was just all talk. You know, us talking about what we’d do if our lives were different, what we’d want, like in a fantasy future. That kind of thing. I never actually meant any of it.” He heard the tiny gasp behind him and his fingers clenched around the material in his hands. Just get it done already. You’ve got work to do. The thought had been in John’s voice but Dean knew the thought was his own. He had to do this. He didn’t want to hurt you but he didn’t have any other choice. He couldn’t tell you why he had to leave and why he had to go without you. He couldn’t tell you that he was breaking your heart to keep you safe. He couldn’t admit that he was breaking his own so you could go and live a normal life, something he would never get to experience himself, so you could be happy after you forgot about him and dismissed him as a fun and wild lay that one time when you were young. That thought cut deeply into his chest and his resolve strengthened. No more drawing this out. You needed to let him go and move on; it was the only way to keep what he hunted in the shadows from ever touching you.

“I didn’t think you did, either,” he forced out. Though he heard the beginning of a sob behind him in response, he made himself open his eyes and turned around to pack the rest of his stuff. He never allowed himself to look over at you to see the pain he’d inflicted on you; he heard it well enough.

Even when he threw his bags in the backseat of Baby and slammed the door shut, he refused to meet your wet gaze. He kept his hands glued to his sides, clenched in fists, because they itched to pull you into his arms for one last hug, for one last kiss to your head, but he wouldn’t allow himself to. He didn’t deserve it. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Without waiting for your response, he got into the Impala and started her up, revving the engine before pulling away from you for good.

He would never forget the devastated look on your face in his side view mirror as he drove away from you, how you’d hugged yourself and brokenly turned to go back into the motel room the two of you had shared. It wasn’t any consolation but he was glad he’d handled the bill earlier and he’d even charged another week to one of the cards he had so this way you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. You could take a little time to figure out where to go from there. Sure, if his dad knew, he’d tear him a new one, but he never intended on telling John or anyone about you. You’d be better protected that way. No demon or witch could mine that information. And since he himself didn’t know where you’d go, they wouldn’t be able to get it out of him either. Not to mention, he told himself over and over that he didn’t love you until he began to believe it. That you two wouldn’t have worked out and you had just about run your course before John had called him. Who was to say that you two would have even been able to settle on an apartment or house to move into together? You barely knew each other. Plus, you were both young and you would change as you got older, as people do, and your dreams, desires, and needs would change. Either hunting would have taken a toll on the relationship or you would have grown apart. So, though it had been harsh, he had actually done you both a favor. He spared you both heartache later on by causing you a little at that moment. Dean was very good about compartmentalizing things when it suited him. You were safe and that was all that mattered. So yes, he made himself forget about you and how he felt about you, and he didn’t look back. That look of yours, though, that destroyed and heartbroken look…it had haunted him for months. But he told himself that if that was the price of protecting you, he’d gladly pay it. With enough alcohol, hunts, and faceless women, the memory of the look all but faded into the distance of the past.

Eventually, time passed and then of course, Cassie had come along. He’d learned from what had happened with you and he’d been up front with Cassie about who he really was and that didn’t end well. Not to mention his time with Lisa and Ben. But over this period of time, he had also finally convinced himself that you had probably gotten over him and found somebody else who could give you the life he never could, the life you deserved. He wanted that for you and yet it seemed that no matter how hard he’d tried to give it to you in his own way all those years ago, the supernatural and all the pain and devastation it brought seemed to have found you anyway.

“We’re not leaving her,” Dean assured his brother after breaking himself out of his reverie. Ignoring Sam’s confused expression at Dean opening the driver side door, he glanced up towards the upper level of the house, knowing you were hiding away somewhere beyond those walls. An elderly neighbor had assured him that she and her husband would stay in the home for the next hour or so in case you needed anything.

He slipped into the driver seat, followed by Sam getting in on the passenger side, and started Baby up. He put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, intent on getting to the motel to change and ready himself for the conversation he knew he needed to have with you now. Truthfully, it was a conversation he should have had with you a long time ago. It was time to give you the talk. He’d left you alone back in that motel room all of those years ago; he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

A/N: Part 2 coming soon...

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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twyudai · 1 day ago

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pls soft dom jo ik everyone sees him as a sub but i will forever defend shy soft dom jo. just imagine yapping about ur day to him but he cant seem to focus when all his focus is on the way how your lips move...

📬 i stand firmly on the soft!dom jo agenda—he reminds me of a lover boy who dates to marry and not for fun. i can see why people think he’s a sub but but he gives me soft puppy boyfriend. i also write predominant dom!idol so that could also be my daddy issues talking + jo is my top 3 so. i’m gonna enjoy writing this one.

he’d be staring so hard. listening to you, or not. throwing it random ‘damn really?’ or the iconic ‘oh wow,’. “yeah and then the manager, comes to her and it’s like a whole thing. she literally curses the manager out! i mean i understand but damn girl now you don’t have a job.” you laughed, rambling to your boyfriend like you did everyday after a hard day of working—but it was something about today.

joist couldn’t seem to focus on the topic at hand, the conversation. the way your curled up next to him with his hands placed on your legs. in which he’d placed over his lap when you both finished settling down for the night. “and she so annoying jo, seriously.. it just gets to a point.. i should probably start looking for another job.” he watched your lips, your eyebrows when the furrowed from talking about what was going on—how pretty you looked for him right now.

“baby,” jo blurted, his finger rubbed circles over your thigh, ghosting them “you know i love hearing you talk… but you’re sitting here looking like this.” his eyes were dark, the energy in the room changed just in an instant. “this good.. how could you expect me to focus so well?” he moved closer, placing a kiss on your jaw, you let a smile form on your lips. “shut up…” you muttered playfully.

but jo made his way between your legs, resting his body there as he kissed your lips, softly. with intent. and of course you’d melt underneath him—kissing him back with quickness because missing out on that would not be an option. “keep talking baby,” he whispered, lips moving down your neck—his hands slipping underneath his your shirt.

“well..” you felt his hand brush across your chest. rubbing your nipple and kneading your breasts, eyes fluttering shut. “i-.. i.” -/ “you what? what happens next baby?” you were lost in his touch. the way his fingers dragged so carefully and softly across your chest, like he was scared he’d break you. his hand began traveling south.

it was like you knew to spread your legs a little wider, bending the knee gently as his hands slipped into your panties. that could be another reason why he was so distracted, you weren’t wearing any bottoms—nor were you wearing a bra. you were ready for bedtime, but not on jo’s watch. once he felt your hips buckle under him—he knew he had you.

fingers pressing down on your clit, he gave them small rubs in circles. cutting your breath short—getting caught in the back of your throat. the soft padding of his long finger always sent you places—places you love visiting. because when no touched you it felt real.. like he could take his time with you and not worry about either of you getting bored.

“that’s it baby, those pretty sounds..” he listened to your moans, ears next to your mouth. was it a reach to say jo (or you) has a voice kink. and it was so obvious, the minute you’d start talking—your voice would drip down his ear, or down his chest. and sometimes he just could help but get hard—cock twitching in his boxers. feening to be touched.

jo slips one finger into you, earning a gasp from you, which sent him over the edge. “you’re doing so well for me..” he added another finger, a drawn out moan slipping. louder than before. it was deliberate—every thrust and curl of his fingers we feel and meant something. and when his thumb rubbed your clit—you were heaven sent.

“oh my god..” you whispered, fingers lightly digging into his wrists. back lightly arching off the couch. he stared at you, eyes dark but filled with pure love and lust for you. he looked at you like a fine china, handling you carefully and delicately. “r..right there.” your whimpers grow shakier, your hand gripping his hoodie, head buried against his neck as he keeps you close, murmuring praise right into your skin.

the sounds of your soaked, sopping cunt is what really sent him. the wet sound of your cunt, his wet fingers dipping in and out repeatedly—oh god jo was in love with every part of you.

biting my fist… that should be ME.

#jo.#user twyudai.#📨 — hotbox.#jo smut #&team jo smut #andteam smut #andteam jo smut #jo imagines #asakura jo smut #asakura jo #andteam imagines

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fmnxpl · 1 day ago

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All mine

Pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

Warnings: none its fluff:P maybe a lil angst at the begining

Summary: You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with your other friends recently, so as a result Xavier has started to feel a little…left behind. You make amends.

A/N: i have way too many new fics lined up guyssss and all the guys will get atleast one fic because i just cannot for the life of me decide who my fav is…so all it is!:)) The next fic will prob be a Caleb Fic

!English is not my native Language!

You didn’t really mean to do it.

You and Xavier had so many plans these past few weeks that just never manifested.

 At first, it was Monday—you two had planned to visit that new cat café down the road you’d been gushing about for absolute weeks. But then Zayne called you with an emergency: a wanderer had injured another child and wouldn’t talk to anyone else. You texted Xavier on your way to the hospital, letting him know you wouldn’t make it, followed by a cat sticker that apologized. You postponed it to Wednesday. But that day, Rafayel called you, claiming he was “injured” and also “dying,” so you rushed off to him while Xavier was waiting just outside your apartment door. Again, you apologized and postponed it.

Friday, Saturday, then the following Monday. If it wasn’t one of the boys, your work would call you in, and your heart broke for Xavier even more. Never once did he complain or say anything, but you noticed the way his smile became more tight-lipped each time, and how his eyes had gone bored, as if already accounting for the fact that the two of you simply weren’t going.

So after returning home from a rough mission, you immediately turned your phone off—after alerting the other boys not to disturb you under any circumstances. You quickly went through your closet to find something more fitting than your blood-covered work uniform, then closed your apartment door behind you and rushed upstairs to Xavier’s.

In front of his door, your hands had gone clammy, and you didn’t even know why. How long had it been since it was just you and Xavier? God, you missed him so much. You knocked softly before saying, “It’s me, Xav. Can you let me in?”

The door yanked open in thirty seconds flat.

You didn’t even let him open his mouth before throwing your arms around his neck and planting a sweet, solemn kiss just below his jaw—where you know he’s ticklish. His hands flew immediately to your waist as he stumbled backwards with you, closing the apartment door behind him.

“I missed you so much, Xav. I’m so sorry for postponing our plans.” You raised your head from his neck to look at him.

He’d grown a soft shade of pink across his cheek before lowering his head too, nuzzling into your hair.

“It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy and—”

You cut him off by placing your hand on his lips, shaking your head vigorously.

“No. You do not get to go sweet boyfriend on me. Xav, you’re allowed to be mad. I know you missed me too.” Your hand went to cradle his face mid-sentence, and you stroked his cheek.

His hand flew to your wrist, pushing into your palm before planting a kiss there. “Can we stay in today? I’m not really feeling up to going out,” he muttered into your hand and between kisses.

You let out a huge grin, whispering against his lips, “Of course. Whatever you want.”

As you walked into his apartment, he made his way to the kitchen to finish what he’d been cooking before you’d interrupted him. Looking around, you noticed his place was a bit more… messy than it usually was.

“Xav? Why is your apartment so messy?”

No answer. You assumed he couldn’t hear you from the kitchen.

You moved to the couch and sat down in the corner, leaning against the armrest with your legs tucked beneath your chin. Your eyes darted around the apartment before Xavier finally returned and sat down—what seems like an entire ocean away from you. Or at least, that’s how it felt. You furrowed your brows, looking between him and the empty space beside you. Xavier always sat close. Even if it was just a leg brushing yours. The gap between you two now feel less like distance and more like hesitation.

“Xav?” you muttered.

“Yeah?” His eyes focused on yours, then scanned your face like he was mapping out every feature. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, something raw and a little desperate.

“Why are you so far away? Can you—”

You didn’t get to finish before he moved hastily and threw himself between your legs, burying his face in your neck, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head.

“Xavier?” You heard a small whimper as your hand threaded through his hair, trying to pull him back. He refused to move.

“I missed you. So much,” he mumbled, and you felt your heart shatter into tiny pieces. Xavier was usually far more composed than this (sometimes), but you could tell he’d been sitting on these feelings for some time. “I’m so sorry. I’ll call in sick for work and tell everyone I can’t be contacted. I’ll stay with you the whole week. We’ll do whatever you want.”

Your last sentence was followed by a trail of kisses from his eyelid down to the side of his neck, giving a little extra attention to that small mole of his.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Your eyes darted between his before you raised your hand to smooth the tension from his furrowed brows, then let it drift to his lips, brushing over his bottom one. You let out a soft sigh, leaning in to kiss him.

His hand slid down to your waist, slipping under your (his) shirt. As your lips parted, he helped you take it off, placing kisses down to your lower stomach, where he looked up at you.

“I missed you.”

#xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #lads #lads x reader #xavier x you #love and deepspace #xavier fluff #l

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 10 hours ago

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JayTim Body Swap At First Touch Soulmate AU?

Titans Tower is an even worse disaster than canon

"I'm NOT switching back," Tim said loudly in Jason's body.

"Fuck you," Jason grunted out.

"You beat the ever loving SHIT out of me, I get to be as petty as I fucking want over this, thank you," Tim told Jason. "It was only when our skin touched we swapped."

"Fuck you," Jason grumbled. "...How's the Pit?"

"Still makes me want to throw you off the roof," Tim admitted. The rage coursing through his body made it hard to think straight. It explained a LOT if this was what Jason's default was. Luckily swapping bodies had removed the influence from Jason so long as he was in Tim's body.

"Fuck," Jason grunted. "...why did I never notice?"

"Because this shit is potent. By the way, I'm blowing up your marijuana plant."

"FUCK YOU."

#batman #jaytim #soulmate friday #jason regrets things #is it canon it's the pit #no #but I'm using it for drama

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littlelambscandyland · 1 day ago

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Hello! I've seen that your requests are open so if it's alright, is it okay if you write platonic yandere Tenth Doctor with a teen companion whom he just sees as his little one? And teen reader got so creeped out and tries to leave the TARDIS and him which in turn made the doctor forced to keep them in the TARDIS (kidnapping) with a special room already prepared for them Incase they tried to leave and it's basically a nursery where he would try to force the reader to age regress because in his words, reader is too young to make such assumptions and shouldn't be by herself.

Anyway thank you!

I'm literally living for this request rn. I really do think that the Tenth Doctor is a delusional yandere and I really love this concept and tying that in a little. I still feel new to writing for Doctor Who so I hope I characterized him properly. I hope you enjoy the story!

Surprise

^^Live reaction of when reader said she was going to leave^^

It's not that you didn't care for the Doctor, you just had to leave. It was all just too much. Every moment, every touch just felt wrong. Felt off. It was like he saw something that wasn't actually there when he looked at you. So you packed your bags, and you know he isn't happy about it, but you had to leave. Maybe you were overthinking, but you didn't think so. You thought this through, and things were weird.

Eventually, the little things just pile up. A few examples include...

Just the other day the Doctor insisted, in public, that you couldn't possibly understand how to feed yourself the food. Eventually you gave up fighting and were left with the alien hand feeding you in the middle of the foreign restaurant.

He's constantly explaining things to you like you were a toddler. Of course you thought he did that with all humans, but when he interacted with others, like Donna, he spoke to them like an adult. Yeah, you're a teen, but you're not a toddler, and you are definitely not stupid.

Another thing is, the Doctor insists on carrying you around places. He'll suddenly ask if you're tired then start carrying you around with his freaky alien strength.

You noticed he always pushes people away from you. Anytime someone tries to talk directly, unless it's one of the other companions, he stands between the two of you and dominates the conversation. It's quite isolating.

One time, during a particularly long adventure, he kept introducing you to people as his kid. Once again, he easily explained it was for the cover, but the way he acted and the way he said it felt deeper. The Doctor kept you by his side that entire trip; quite literally, as he held you on his hip half the time you were there.

Maybe it was just in his nature. You don't know anything about aliens, but you can't handle the oddities anymore. You need your life back without a lanky man, alien, dude trying to dote on you.

You didn't have too much to pack, most of your stuff was provided by the TARDIS. Of course, you wanted to take some more with you, but it just didn't feel right. You did pack some of the little trinkets the Doctor had gotten you over the past few months. Was it a few months or was it years? You haven't aged, so you're almost certain it's only been a few months, but then again, it feels like it's been a lot longer. You shake your mind clear and continue packing.

You throw your final outfit into your bag and zip it up. A sigh passes your lips as you sit on your bed. You feel terrible for leaving, you feel exhausted, you feel nervous, and you feel kinda liberated. You'll miss going on adventures, and you'll miss the Doctor. You just have to live your own life. You have to grow up, and it seems like he doesn't want you to do that.

A light knock startles you. Looking up you see the Doctor peeking his head inside nervously. You're glad he doesn't seem as upset as he was earlier when you told him you wanted to go home. You watch as he looks around your room. Seeing all the trinkets missing from your shelf and the suitcase on your bed he deflates a bit. Did he not realize you were serious? Watching the sad look in his eyes you assume he was more just hoping you weren't.

"All ready to go?" He holds an incredibly sad smile.

Guilt eats at your gut. "Yeah..."

The alien looks around one more time before clasping his hands with a forced enthusiastic smile. "Wonderful!" The Doctor looks at you for a second. "Well before you go I do have one last thing to show you."

You hesitate for a moment.

"C'moon one more mini adventure before you're off!" He smiles, almost devilishly. "We don't even have to leave the TARDIS."

"An inside adventure." You muse with a small smile. It wouldn't hurt. You couldn't lie, you were curious.

The Doctor holds his hand out to you with a bright smile. Slightly giddy, you grab his hand and let him lead you out of your room. Now that you think of it, that's another thing he enjoyed, he was always holding your hand. You both walk down the halls of the TARDIS in a silence that was much less awkward than earlier. The Doctor's mood already seems to have lifted from earlier.

After a few minutes you start to wonder more frequently where the two of you were walking. You always forget how big the TARDIS really is.

"What are showing me anyways?"

The Doctor smiles back at you. You always did look at him with stars in your eyes. "It's a surprise."

"Ugh, lame!" You jokingly complain.

Eventually you end up near a pretty familiar looking door. It was the Doctor's bedroom. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You've been in there once or twice before. Your most prominent memory was when you were sick and the alien insisted on having you stay with him instead of sleeping alone.

"Why are we here?" You question again.

"Still a surprise." He leans down with a slight playful whisper.

He opens the door, swinging it open with a playful "Allons-y" and a gesture to go in. You roll your eyes at him, but follow in anyways. Waiting for him to direct you, you take a second to look around. The room looks as nice as you remember. It was the stars randomly placed that really interested you. The different decorations take your attention for a few seconds.

"Little Star?" The Doctor calls to you.

You were waiting for him to finally call you one of his random nicknames again. Either way, you draw your attention back to him. He grins wider as he points at a door. A door you don't remember being there before, but then you've never really investigated the Doctors room before.

"Well... Open it." He says with a dramatic push.

You grin, he really thought you were gonna make it easy on him. "What if I don't want to?" You challenge.

The doctor quickly falls into a playful scowl. "Oh, you know you want to."

You giggle at the goofy face he makes.

"C'moon!"

You laugh again before opening the door. Once again, your face scrunches with confusion when you walk through the door. You're greeted with a very colorful, very pastel room. No, not just a room, it was very obviously a nursery. Some of the items seemed off size-wise, like the crib was much too big for a baby and the princess dresses hanging on the rack wouldn't fit a child.

You're a bit frozen in place as you try to figure out just exactly why the Doctor wanted to show you this. Frozen as you try to figure out what exactly this is. When you shake out of it, you turn to look at him. Creepily, he's just staring at you with a big smile.

Seeing your confused face he frowns just a bit. "Don't you like it?"

"It's a nursery right?" He nods. "Then, why would I like it?" You're almost angry with the situation and the confusion he's causing.

Really you're just scared to be proven right. Scared to be proven his actions were far from normal.

"Well it's yours!" His laugh borders hysterics. A nervous, excited noise. "I wasn't going to show you so soon, but you've come to that silly conclusion that you can just pop off on your own, and well I can't just let you run off like that."

"Doctor, you're scaring me."

Your facade of calmness fails you as both your voice and hands shake. What the hell is he going on about?

"Oh," He steps forward and you step back. "I know. Such a small thing," The Doctor shakes his head. "So naive and sweet. Of course you're scared. But! That is one of the reasons why this is good for you. You're so young and you make all these silly assumptions, you can't possibly take care of yourself."

"Doctor, I want to go home." You interrupt his rant.

"The TARDIS is your home!" He sounds close to anger when he shouts it.

You can feel your chest tightening. The alien looks a mixture of manic and lovesick. You've never seen him like this. You were terrified.

"I've taken very good care of you, but I can take even better care of you here. Isn't that nice? No more worrying, no more problems." The Doctor comes up to you too quickly for you to back away and wraps you in his arms. "You're so young, pet, you don't know what's good for you," He says, running fingers through your hair. "But I do."

"I want to go home."

His arms tighten around you. "No."

Tears fall in lumps down your face. You try to push the Doctor off of you but he doesn't budge. Instead, he lifts you off the ground and starts rocking in his arms.

"Please, let me go." You sob out.

"Oh, I know it's so much to handle for you right now, but I promise it'll be okay. Papa's got you."

#age regression #age regressor #agere #little space #yandere agere #doctor who agere #caregiver the doctor #caregiver tenth doctor #platonic yandere

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stellarsverse · 2 days ago

Text

it's all in the past — mingyu x younghee x dk

a short drabble inspired by mingyu & dokyeom's younghee skit

tags: ex!mingyu, boyfriend!dokyeom, fem!younghee!reader

genre: romance, a little bit of angst

enjoy!!

"Who you said we're going to meet?"

The question was followed by your unsure yet anxious expression. A minute ago, a familiar name—that you wished you've become unfamiliar with—came out of Dokyeom's mouth.

"Mingyu, a close friend of mine."

You prayed a thousand times that you heard it wrong. You hoped there was a million Mingyu in this world. You hoped, at least, the one that Dokyeom referred to wasn't the same Mingyu you knew by heart. Your anxious face was luckily went unnoticed, but all the stars in the universe knew your heart was trembling in unresolved emotions.

"There he is—Mingyu, over here!"

You weren't given time to be prepared, to at least mask your surprise with a fake hospitality. You couldn't hide it. The next thing you knew, his familiar tall figure was approaching your table.

"Bro, it's been a while." They exchanged greetings.

Your body froze as soon as Mingyu's deep voice greeted your ears. It was exactly as you remembered it, deep but warm and honey‐like. You didn't dare to look in his direction. You couldn't. Your tensed body was in contrast with Dokyeom's delighted one upon seeing a long-time friend. Little did he know, Mingyu was a long-time friend of yours, too. The only difference was that you both grew deeper into lovers and grew apart again into strangers with shared memories.

"Can I leave you guys for a moment? I need to go to the bathroom." Dokyeom stood after some moment.

Only then, you raised your head, meeting directly with Dokyeom's eyes. He gave an assuring gaze as a reply to your confused one. His smile said, 'Don't worry, Mingyu is a good person'. Of course he was, because you were the bad one. You were the villain that made us crumbled.

"Um, I don't think—" Mingyu trailed, glancing timidly between his friend and you. Dokyeom noticed it. His eyebrows furrowed.

"What's this? Why are you awkward?"

Your heart skipped a bit upon the question. Fear washed over you, like a little kid afraid of being caught hiding a candy behind their back. You were hiding my past relationship between his back.

Luckily, Mingyu acted fast.

"It's just that, I just arrived..."

Dokyeom's expression went back to normal. He patted his friend's shoulder casually.

"I won't be long. Keep her company for a moment, okay?"

Now, you were left with Mingyu. The atmosphere was cold and awkward. Mingyu just stood there, watching as Dokyeom's figure disappeared into distance. Your vision was everywhere but him, avoiding eye contact. Although, deep down, you knew you had to face him. You had to face the truth. Running away from something wouldn't make it disappear.

"Hey." he broke the silence between the both of you, smiling awkwardly.

"Hey." Your reply was almost inaudible. You looked at him only to drop your gaze again immediately. Your fingers fidgeted nervously on your lap. The time felt like it went ten times slower.

"It's been a while."

Eight years, to be exact. It had been eight years since you two broke up.

"It's been a while, indeed."

Mingyu was your ex-boyfriend. The two of you dated back in university. He was this sweet guy you met at the library. Every time you saw him, he was always on his laptop. Until one day, you caught his eyes fixed on something else—you. Long story short, you talked to each other and found out you fell in love. The relationship lasted for two years before you moved abroad and decided to put it off. You got offered to your dream job, but in order to chase it, you had to sacrifice something. He was the only thing you could throw away, so you broke up with him. You booked a one-way ticked to another country the next day, leaving him behind.

It was the truth you had been hiding from your current boyfriend, Dokyeom.

That wasn't even the worst part. When you told him you chose to leave, he pleaded, saying he'd wait. He could wait, so you could chase every single one of your dreams. Until then, he'd wait for you with unvawering heart. Little did he know, you were the wavering one. Your heart changed its direction as easy as the wind blew. Your love for him faded away on each second you spent away from him. When you flew back home, your heart was an empty canvas ready to be filled with another painting. Apparently, Dokyeom was the one.

"I didn't know you're dating Dokyeom now." He went straight to the point. Pain flashes behind his curious eyes.

"I..." Your voice disappeared into thin air, as if every word you knew left your brain. You didn't know what to say—if you deserve to say anything at all. Would your words ever be enough to explain everything? You broke up with Mingyu, and you made him wait. But when you came back, you fell in love with his best friend instead. Name a crime worse than this. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I guess you didn't tell him too?"

You nodded weakly. The guilt washed over you once again. This time, accompanied with anxiety. You were scared he would spill everything to Dokyeom. You became a villain to him once. What if he sought revenge? But the thought was washed away by his next sentence.

"I'll stay as your secret ex, then."

Mingyu was the second nicest person you've ever met besides Dokyeom. Back when you were dating, you used to tease him a lot, but he never got offended. He always laughed it off. You made a lot of mistakes, too, but he brushed it off. It was as if your flaws were invisible to him, and your fault wasn't yours.

He was so nice to you. Why did you break his heart?

"I—I'll tell him when I'm ready..."

Mingyu smiled and nodded in understanding, which caught you in confusion. How come? How come he could be so calm about this? He deserved to be angry at you, but why did he stare at you like he was seeing someone he missed so much? You could be wrong, but you sensed longing in his eyes.

"You changed a lot." He started a new topic. The air felt lighter, making it easier to breathe. His awkwardness disappeared. Your nervousness also slowly left my body.

"So do you." you replied, finally taking a proper look at him. Mingyu had always been tall and big, but he looked twice as his size back then. He was more muscular now. The features of his face matured with time. He nodded in agreement.

"We met when we're what...twenty? Twenty-one? And we were twenty-two when we broke up." His voice was laced with nostalgia as he stared far behind you. "We're twenty-nine now."

There was a sharp pang in your heart upon his words, especially when he mentioned the breakup. Somehow, the pain felt as fresh as yesterday. You weren't always like this. Most of the time, the story of the both of you lay at the very far back of your head, untouched. Enough years had passed for you to establish a life without him. Enough years had passed for you to find a new love. You truly loved Dokyeom. You believed he was the right person you met at the right time.

However, a part of you still mourned your breakup with Mingyu.

"Time flies." you looked away, too, staring outside of the cafe.

You could feel Mingyu directing his eyes at you again, probably thinking of the questions he had kept for years but could never ask. It was a relief he never asked because you didn't have the courage to spread the truth; that your love was fleeting, and his presence was interchangeable.

"I'm sorry." you said, staring at your lap again, unable to keep your head up. "For everything."

"Don't be. It's all in the past." His answer was quick. It was almost like he knew he would forgive you within seconds. "We were young. We all had dreams."

"My dreams hurt you."

"That's also in the past." He smiled. "I was hurt back then but now, I'm glad to see you doing well and happy."

But are you happy?

The question never left your mouth.

After a moment of being consumed by silence, he let out a breath. You finally turned your head at him again. At the same moment, Mingyu rose from his seat.

"We shouldn't stay like this for too long. I'll go get Dokyeom."

Not so long after, he was back in sight. Dokyeom walked beside him, seemingly telling a story to his friend. You smiled in an instant. He asked if you and Mingyu had gotten along well. You told him a sweet lie that you'd ask for forgiveness later. Dokyeom was always nice to you, too. You shouldn't hurt him.

After some talk, Dokyeom decided it was time for the both of you to leave. You bid goodbye to Mingyu as you walked away from him. You've done it once, but it never gets easier. Your feet felt heavy, and you had to drag myself. Your neck was itching to turn around to give your last glance at him. Mingyu watched until your figure disappeared behind the cafe's door.

Everything that happened between you and Mingyu was in the past, but you would always mourn over it.

---

#seventeen #seventeen fic #svt x reader #mingyu x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu angst #seventeen au

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neidhart · 2 days ago

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kcd oc 🧎🧎🧎 WHO IS HEEEEE

WOW, this is the first time someone had asked about my characters on social media, so thank you for reaching out!!

he is still a work in making, so i don't have a lot of definite lore set in stone yet, but i can talk about what i already have, and maybe do a proper post about him some other time

he's also not that much tied to the kcd plot, as he strays away from the main conflicts, just because he is an opportunist and prefers to profit from them while not necessarily taking part

this is basior (polish for a male wolf in hunter's jargon)

he's a bandit leader who roams various woods, poaches in them, terrorizes the local peasants and out of personal vendetta, attacks nobles passing by the forest trails where he currently resides

and that's mainly the idea i had for him!! i'm not very good at explaining things so my desriptions can be a little all over the place, but i'm also gonna throw in here some loose thoughts i wrote about him in order to get more familiar with his character:

Nobody really knows where he hailed from, as the man himself never spoke about his past. There were rumours, of course, the kind you'd hear spoken in hushed whispers at places where no unwanted ears would hear them. Rumours, that claimed he was a werewolf, some swear he struck a pact with the devil, or even that he actually was the embodiment of the devil himself. And maybe they were true. He never did anything to disperse those hearsays. Common people feared him, the nobles found him repulsive, and that gave him power and control which he very much enjoyed. He didn't bear any personal name, at least none that mattered to him anymore. However, the people gave him a title - Basior, due to the fur cloak with wolf's head that served as a hood, which always obscured his face whenever he went hunting. It was like a second skin to him, once he wore it, it became one with him. He himself became a beast in those moments. The man didn't care much for the name, but he allowed it, because it presented him more as a symbol or a wild animal than just a person, and that was very much to his liking. He was a threat to be reckoned with, and the forests he occupied were always treated with utmost caution, as the local residents refused to enter them at any given occasion, fearing that harm could come upon them if they dared to step inside. Strange things happened before to those who did, either they were never found again or came back so shaken, that they swore they had seen wrathful forest spirits among the trees, not just a common band of bandits. He and his pack never lingered in one place too long, there was no reason to. It was easier for them to keep in move, as it would prevent them from being located easily by the local lords and their soldiers, who would want to deal with them for good. Outside the woods that they spent time poaching and living, they acted as scavengers and vultures - always following the trail of armies and scourging the battlefields after fights for loot and maybe even captives, if they could find some still breathing noble. It was the only case in which he allowed nobles to stay alive upon encountering them. They were wounded, helpless, but overall - useful, if ransomed. He wasn't so merciful to those, who happened to travel through the forest paths, or the ones who hunted in the woods he occupied at the given time. Those encounters rarely ended well for those who opposed him. There was a deep-rooted hatred in his heart. At times the man thought it was the only thing that has kept him whole, the only thing that made his life thrive. And so, he fueled this spite that grew inside his heart with the blood of others. At first, it was only of those who wronged him in some way or another, he justified his wrath as something that was inevitable. It was simply their fate. They would be judged by God after death, but why wait so long? Is it not better to quicken the process? They would die either way, as every living being. Later, he found that it didn't satisfy him anymore. He craved something else, something more fitted to his newly formed, cruel taste.

and that's basically it for now!! thank you for coming to my ted talk

#oc #original character #kcd oc #artists on tumblr #art #sketch #doodle #traditional art #kcd #kcd2 #kingdom come deliverance 2 #kingdom come deliverance #oc writing #writing

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eddieeddieeddieeeeee · 2 days ago

Text

It's a Saturday morning when Eddie finally sits down to talk to Chris.

He's not feeling particularly great, having been up until 3am the previous night googling things like 'how to come out to your kid', anxiously reading blogs and parenting articles and Reddit threads until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He doesn’t exactly want to do this. He’s pretty sure he’s not ready, and he thinks he might throw up. But he also doesn’t want to die driving an Uber in El Paso when he could be in LA with Buck. And the road to that starts with being honest with Chris about this, now.

So Eddie finishes his coffee and heads into the living room. “Hey, can I talk to you about something? It’s kind of important.”

“Can it wait?,” Chris asks. He's setting up to play Playstation and looks annoyed at being interrupted, which doesn't feel like a great start.

“Uh, no not really, sorry,” Eddie says. He’s got to get this out now, even if he does throw up. At least he knows Chris will understand if he does.

He sits down on the couch and turns to Chris. "I know we've had some chats recently, about how you maybe don't love El Paso so much. How maybe there are things you miss about LA." Chris is giving Eddie his full attention now.

"And the truth is," Eddie says, "there are things I miss about LA as well."

"Like what?," Chris asks.

Eddie sighs. "Well. I miss my job. And the weather. And - Buck."

"Right," Chris says quietly. "I miss Buck too."

"And you know," Eddie says because he really wants Chris to understand this, "you are more important to me than any of that. If you were happy here then I'd be happy here and I wouldn't even think about it." It's not quite true, but it's close enough.

"But what I'm thinking is, if you miss LA, and I miss LA, then maybe that's a sign that we should, um, be in LA."

Chris’s mouth quirks up a bit and Eddie’s heart soars. But he needs to get this off his chest first.

"Before you - there’s something I need to tell you first."

He wipes his hands on his jeans.

"I’ve had a lot of time to think, these last few months, being down here. Away from everything. About who I am, and what I really want. I’ve realised something, about myself. And I want to tell you because - I don’t want to lie to you. If we're going to go back to LA, if you want to, I want to be honest with you."

Eddie wonders if it's too late to back out of this now. His throat is hurting and there are tears in his eyes. He isn’t sure what he thinks is going to happen, but he’s terrified anyway. He can feel his heart rate picking up. He thinks he might be shaking a bit.

Chris is looking at him with increasing concern, eyebrows drawing together, and Eddie doesn’t want to freak him out any more than is necessary. He looks down at the coffee table and forces himself to say it. Takes a deep breath and lets the words out with it.

“I’m gay.”

Chris doesn't say anything. Eddie looks up from the table, meets his eyes and says it again. "I'm gay."

Chris doesn't look concerned anymore, just a bit confused.

"Is that - is that it? What you wanted to tell me?"

Eddie feels slightly hysterical. Is that it? He's never said it out loud before, even to himself. It's not been long that he could even think it in his own head. "Yes," he says. "That's it."

Chris looks at him for a second and then shakes his head like he thinks Eddie's being stupid. Like he's on the verge of rolling his eyes. "Dad. It’s 2025. You’ve got loads of gay friends. Buck’s your best friend and he’s bi. It’s fine. Why are you so upset?," he asks.

He's fucking this up. Eddie feels ashamed all of a sudden. He doesn't want to make Chris think there's something wrong with being gay, which there isn't, it's just...always been different for him.

Trying to course correct, he shakes his head. "I’m not. I’m not upset. I know it’s fine. It’s just… taken me a long time to understand it. It was hard. And I don’t want you to think that I didn’t - I loved your mom. I did." He has to stop.

Chris doesn't say anything, he just looks at Eddie and nods.

They sit in silence for a little bit and Eddie's just starting to wonder what to do next. He remembers something from one of the articles he'd read. "Do you... have any questions?," he asks, wildly unsure he'll have any answers if Chris does.

Chris shrugs and says "So, are you going to start dating guys now?" Eddie coughs. "Um, I'm not sure - I'm not sure that's the most important part of it. I think maybe just figuring this out was the important thing, for now."

Chris considers this. "But you’re not going to date women anymore?," he asks.

"Well, no. That’s sort of the point."

Chris looks a bit relieved at that and Eddie guesses he can't really blame him. He’s relieved as well.

"OK, well are you done?," Chris asks, gesturing towards his Playstation controller.

Eddie feels a little lightheaded. Was that it? "Er - yes," he says, slightly awkwardly, and gets up from the couch. "Oh wait - what about... what did you think about LA? You don't have to answer now, just think about it OK."

Chris stops booting up the Playstation and looks at him. "Yes," he says, "I think we should go. We can go back to LA and you can be gay." He says it in a sort of funny movie trailer voice and Eddie can't help laughing.

"When can we go?," Chris asks. If we left now we'd be back there by tonight Eddie's brain supplies, but he has to be practical.

"I'm not sure, mijo. It could take a little while. We need sort out school for you, and figure out what to do about this place."

"We could burn it down," Chris supplies. He hates this house. Almost as much as Eddie does.

Eddie laughs again. "Mmm," he says, scrunching up his face. "I'm a firefighter. I don't think it's going to help convince Bobby to give me my job back if I've just been arrested for arson and insurance fraud."

Chris sighs dramatically. "Fine, I guess."

Chris turns his attention back to his game, and Eddie's nearly out the room when he says, "Oh hey - what did Buck say? About the gay thing I mean?"

"Oh well. I haven't - I haven't told Buck yet," Eddie says.

"How come?"

"I wanted to tell you first. Before I told anyone else." Even Buck. "And honestly - it feels like more of an in person conversation." Honestly, it feels like a conversation that might kill Eddie. Even hearing the words 'Buck' and 'the gay thing' in the same sentence has made him feel like he might have a heart attack.

"Hmm," Chris says. "I suppose." Eddie feels like he's judging him, but he's not sure what for.

#911 #buddie #eddie diaz #christopher diaz

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triptychgrip · 3 days ago

Text

That banquet plot twist, Inside Out style

“At last year’s Final, I was always by myself, even at the banquet. I couldn’t even talk to Victor,” Yuuri cheerily announced.

*cut to the Mind Palace Conference Room within Viktor’s Inner Psyche (VIP)*

VIP Intercom: CODE RED. We repeat: THIS IS A CODE RED *alarm bells blaring*

“WHAT?! What did Yuuri just say?!” Passion cried.

He began to claw at his long, silver-colored locks in distress, while Pragmatism impassively kept his eyes glued to the room’s main tv screen. On it, a very unflattering GIF of Viktor doing a spit-take played repeatedly.

At that very moment, Cynicism waltzed in, wearing a triumphant smile and looking like he was intent on making himself at home; indeed, in one hand, he was carrying an unopened bottle of Beluga vodka, while the other balanced a sizable tray loaded with pickles, caviar, crackers, and several different kinds of cheese and condiments.

“Well, you heard the man!” he cried, setting the vodka and snack tray down on the conference table before gesturing at the screen with overt glee. “It’s like I’ve been telling the rest of you idiots for months; the banquet meant way more to us than it ever did to Yuuri!”

He sank into the room’s plushest armchair before grabbing a pickle and chomping on it with relish. It was with an undoubtedly smug expression that he glanced at Passion, who’d begun rocking back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest. With each forward and back motion, the glint of cross-hatched sparkles on the arm of his Lilac Fairy costume caught the fluorescent overhead lights.

“Awww, Passion, you poor thing,” Cynicism cooed, tauntingly, with his mouth full. “You always get carried away by your romantic, flighty notions, don’t you? And then either Shame or myself have to clean up your messes.”

As he made a grab for the vodka, Cynicism glanced back at the tv, which now displayed a slack-jawed, frazzled Yuuri saying “A dance-off?! With Yurio?!”. In the very next moment, Yuuri’s entire face had broken out into a sweat.

And speak of the devil, because Shame had now slunk into the room, muttering to himself distractedly with his eyes on the floor. He was wearing his usual stained and wrinkled t-shirt/sweats, and so of course Pragmatism – who was in the perfectly pressed Armani suit he always wore on Thursdays – didn’t seem to be able to help throwing him a withering look of judgment. (And incidentally, the others had heard Pragmatism’s “dress for success” lecture far too often by now.)

When Shame finally decided to look up to see who was already gathered, his eyes immediately honed in on Passion with a glare. The latter flinched back, nearly tumbling out of his panic-rocking stance.

“See what you’ve done, Passion?!” Shame cried, before throwing himself into the nearest chair, defeatedly.

Without even a word he made to wrestle the Beluga away from Cynicism and began chugging from the mouth of the bottle, directly.

“Thanks to your full-steam-ahead mantra – glug glug glug – we’ve made a complete ass of ourselves in front of Yuuri and the Katsukis, and all of Hasetsu, for that matter!” Shame went on, only getting two more gulps down before Cynicism wrested control of the bottle.

Now bereft of any alcohol to drown his sorrows, Shame began to slump down in his seat so that only the very top of his (expansive) tomato-red forehead could be seen over the table.

“Oh my GOD, the utter indignity!! We were stark naked the first time Yuuri saw us in Hasetsu!” he went on in a strident cry, and though his hands weren’t visible, the room’s other occupants knew that he was likely wringing them under the table. “That moment when we touched his lip and asked whether he could show us his eros…no wonder he looked like he wanted to die!”

Having remained silent up until this point, Pragmatism thought it prudent to weigh in. He sat up straighter in his seat and fingered his silk tie.

“Shame, I know you’re stressed, but this isn’t the time to be blaming everything on Passion,” he spoke up sternly, then gave a long pause when said man stared at him, his lips rounded into a perfect “o” of surprise.

“If you want to take your anger out on anyone for not suspecting Yuuri didn’t remember that night, well then, you should…”

His voice trailed off, and his shoulders slumped in a manner very unlike him.

“...you should take it out on me,” he meekly continued.

This shrinking tone was so foreign to the others that Cynicism actually stopped his caviar-on-cracker slathering and Shame peeked his head out from under the table to gawk.

An awkward silence stretched out before Shame spoke up, sounding incredulous.

“And how do you figure that?” he asked Pragmatism, sitting up a bit higher. “After Sochi, you were fairly watchful over us all. I’d even go as far as to say that you’re the only thing that stopped Passion from convincing Viktor to send Yuuri all that cringy, pining fanfic he started writing.”

“Hey! It wasn’t cringy!” Passion interjected, appearing predictably affronted. “It was sweet! And not to mention, very romantic; Makkachin even told me so!”

“Ohhhh, well if Makkachin said so, then that settles the matter,” Cynicism sarcastically drawled while resuming his snack assembly. “I’m sure Yuuri would have been immediately charmed and not at all creeped out after reading that draft in which they become the competitive pole dancing world’s most beloved Power Couple.”

Passion’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but before he could lob back a retort, Pragmatism thumped his hand against the table a few times.

When all eyes refocused on him, he opened his trusty notebook – the one that could always be found on his person, even when he was in bed and fully in the nude – and gave a long exhale.

“I’m the one to blame, because I’m the one in charge of stepping in when Viktor gets ahead of himself,” he resumed. “And whether that be due to Passion or some other influence–” (at these words, Passion, Cynicism, and Shame couldn’t help but furtively look at one another, noting a conspicuous absence from their usual group. However, no one felt brave enough to wonder aloud at where Discipline was) “–, I’m the one who’s supposed to remain impartial and keep everything in check.”

Pragmatism paused and when he next spoke, there was an indecipherable expression on his face.

“After Sochi, even though I harbored the fear that Yuuri had been too drunk that night to remember our dancing, I never said anything. Because the truth is, Passion…after the banquet night, you were…around a lot more than you’d been before.”

He paused again and gave a shrug, looking oddly shy.

“When weeks went by and we never heard from Yuuri, I could have easily voiced my suspicions, but by then, I’d remembered how nice it was, to–, to have you around. And so regularly, too?”

His voice turned up at the end in a way that shocked the others.

That pitchy manner of framing something as more of a question rather than an answer was actually a habit that Pragmatism was known to roll his eyes at. “If you’re going to say something, then commit!” was a sentence they’d all heard him say at various points.

Pragmatism’s hands had curled into tight fists, placed on either side of his notebook.

“What I’m trying to say is that in December and January you were suddenly hanging out with all of us again like you’d never left the group. And come February and March, let’s be honest: nobody could get Cynicism to shut up for more than a few minutes at a time.”

Cynicism gave a wounded-sounding gasp from around a mouthful of cracker (which caused him to spew bits of caviar across the table), but Pragmatism went on before he could get a word in, edgewise.

“I could see you getting more and more discouraged every time he opened his mouth, Passion, and while I was inclined to agree with a lot of what he was saying, I didn’t want to be the one to give you reason to leave again by “raining on your parade”. Because I–”

He gave a noisy swallow, looking supremely uncomfortable.

“ –because I’d missed you, ok?!”

A collective gasp rippled around the room.

Such a gooey sentiment wasn’t completely out of the norm for Viktor, but for it to come from Pragmatism?

The unexpected, teetering energy that had been building since the Code Red alert seemed to have come to a head, and more than one of them appeared shell-shocked by this admission. Indeed, Pragmatism found Passion’s eyes, and actually blushed when he saw the way the latter was staring at him.

That very uncharacteristically emotional outburst had lent something distinctly starry-eyed to Passion’s countenance, and there was a sort of collective understanding hanging in the air as everyone thought back to moments over a decade in the past: the first day Viktor brought Makkachin home (15 years old), his first kiss (16 years old), Viktor’s first Olympic gold medal win (17 years old)…

These core memories were all ones in which Viktor had been at his best because Passion had been the star of the show, rather than a part of Viktor that was merely being tolerated, or outright being shunted to the side so that Discipline could “helm the ship”, so to speak.

Indeed, even Shame had been begrudgingly happy to let Passion take the reins in these moments once he’d seen the light returning to Viktor’s dulled gaze. And, once they’d all seen the way the black veil of depression that Cynicism sometimes wielded seemed easier to grapple with.

And speaking of which, Shame now looked at Cynicism.

He was fully expecting the other to offer up a cutting remark that would dispel the mushy atmosphere that had formed, but for once the quick-witted, sharp-tongued Cynicism seemed to be at a loss. His second cracker was still aloft in the air, and he’d clearly forgotten what he’d been in the middle of doing, because a sizable glob of caviar had fallen, splattering across the table.

With another gargantuan exhale, Pragmatism scratched the back of his neck and then poked a finger at his open notebook.

“So anyways, about the banquet meaning more to us than it did to Yuuri and the various reasons for why that might have been the case…I had many theories, even if I never voiced them.”

In that weird, synchronized way that none of them could really explain, they all turned in unison to look at the tv, which had been paused on a freeze-frame of Viktor at the banquet, before the dance-off and pole-dancing had begun.

He was staring at a very glum-looking Yuuri over his shoulder, with an expression of overt curiosity (no doubt recalling that anticlimactic “commemorative photo?” exchange from the prior day).

Celestino Cialdini had an arm slung around his former student, and all 4 of the Mind Palace Conference Room occupants experienced a moment of gratitude that they were able to “pause” the other parts of Viktor’s Inner Psyche to talk through this particular evening of tumult and its aftermath in detail.

“Back in April, there were more than a few times Yuuri said or did something that made me question if he even remembered the banquet, but every time Cynicism approached me for my take on things, I found a way to rationalize the evidence away,” Pragmatism continued, now sounding disconcertingly sheepish.

At this revelation, Shame gasped, theatrically, then began to swivel his head between Cynicism and Pragmatism.

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful to know!” he practically spat, standing up from his seat, abruptly. “Back then, I was having a breakdown practically every other day, worrying that we’d made the most colossal mistake of our lives, while you two were…what? Having Side conversations?!”

Pragmatism's perfectly arched brows knitted and he brought a fist to his forehead in obvious frustration.

“Yes, Shame; we did. And before you get back up on your high horse to berate us, let me point out how difficult you are to reason with when you’re really in your element," he sharply countered.

Now it was Shame’s turn to flush brick-red, and he crossed his arms with a huff before sitting back down in his seat. He looked like a scolded child, and everyone knew why: the dreaded Cup of China parking garage incident.

That Shame-Spiral once they’d gotten back to Hasetsu had not been pretty, and it had taken the combined efforts of Pragmatism, Discipline and Passion to make him see reason; indeed, Passion had been particularly cross, as he’d wanted to bask in the glow of Viktor and Yuuri’s first kiss without any guilt around that empty “take responsibility and resign as your coach” threat hanging around.

Another awkward silence had settled over the room, but this time, it was interrupted by a very out-of-place whistle.

Looking better fit to be out on a walk with Makkachin rather than sitting in on this tense deliberation, Discipline strolled into the room with one hand in the pocket of his expensive trench coat, and the other looping his International Skating Union coaching credentials badge around and around his finger, like a lasso.

“Oh, the gang’s all here!” he exclaimed, looking genuinely shocked to have arrived late before beaming, his mouth turning heart-shaped. “Excellent! I’d been meaning to call a meeting so that we could do a fashion strategy session!”

He literally galloped forwards, making for the seat at the head of the table.

“Tomorrow is such an important day for our Yuuri, so we need to look extremely professional, even more than our Regionals debut! Should we do the Gucci suit or the Tom Ford one?” he went on, bouncing a bit in place while surveying the others.

He then froze in confusion at the multiple deadpan expressions he was met with.

“Can you believe this guy?” Passion muttered, grabbing the vodka and drinking a good quarter down in a matter of seconds.

“Unbelievable," Shame chimed in, swiping a hand over his face.

"Discipline, let me be the one to broach the elephant in the room: when you got the VIP Intercom Code Red alert, did you just…what? Think that was a joke, or something?” Shame continued, sounding irritated. “It’s nowhere near April so don’t try to tell us that you thought it was an April Fool’s type of deal.”

Discipline opened his mouth, looking blithe as ever, but Cynicism was the one to speak first.

“Heh, heh, do you guys remember when Yakov declared that the entire month of April should be called Georgi month?” he asked, making Pragmatism cringe in disgust at his continued habit of talking with his mouth full. “You know…because love and heartbreak and all that mushy-gushy stuff is for fools?”

“It IS for fools!!” Passion cried, despairingly, waving the vodka around with such fervor that it almost smashed into Pragmatism’s face, the latter man trying to confiscate the bottle entirely. “For fools named Viktor Nikiforov who hightail it to Japan without even once stopping to wonder whether the love of their life might have been blackout drunk as a skunk the night they first met!”

Cynicism began to snicker, and Discipline just looked at Shame, who immediately face-palmed.

“So, I’m starting to feel like I missed something…” Discipline said, slowly, after a few beats had elapsed.

------

For anyone who’s ever wondered about the inner workings of Viktor’s mind in those world-upending moments after that episode 10 bombshell, I hope you enjoyed this little Inside Out style dramatization!

HUGE shoutout to my friend @korruptbrekker not only for beta reading but also for the idea to give each of Viktor’s personality facets distinct clothing styles (i.e. Passion is depicted with long hair and wearing the Lilac Fairy costume to represent Viktor’s teenage years, when his passion for skating was at its peak...before he became jaded *sob*).

Brekker is also a Sanders Sides expert, and Thomas Sanders' amazing YouTube series, perhaps even more than Inside Out was a huge motivation for my wanting to write this (I got into the heartfelt/hilarious Sides several years late, but better late than never, right?). In fact, there are elements of this that parallel some of the take-aways from amazing Sides episodes like Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, and then there's also the fact that unlike Inside Out, my characters represent facets of Viktor's personality rather than the emotions that are depicted with Riley's character in Inside Out.

I’ll likely expand on this with a Yuuri version of the same scene (starring characters like Anxiety, Confidence, etc.), so if you liked this, be on the lookout! And if you like my writing style, you might enjoy looking through my YOI fanfiction on ao3 :)

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