#and he had decided that The One for him was grace

[ultravi0lence14]

Thoroughfare

DEAN WINCHESTER X DOE!READER

WARNINGS: sexual content (MDNI), fingering, hair pulling, finger sucking. first smut, pls i know it’s bad🫣

SUMMARY: with a light whisper of ‘do you wanna see the west with me?’ dean had you right where he wanted; by his side and sitting pretty in the front seat of his car.

WC: 3.3k

the humid air of the western skies lingered on your skin, bringing a humid and sticky sheen to your arms and shoulders. dean had all the windows rolled down, a testament to the light breeze that broke through the stickiness of montana.

your cotton tank top stuck to your skin, slick sweat making you feel like it had melded with your body. the cutoff’s you wore weren’t any better, adhering to your thighs like glue. the stubborn weather of a mid july afternoon didn’t allow for any cold; no chill wracking you through the bone, only a sickly, immobilizing heat that crashed through your senses and made it’s way into your dna.

though some part of you didn’t seem to mind. the rolled down windows allowed you to stick your head out the open space, wind blowing in your hair as you took in the blurred and rolling sights of crooked leafless trees and dried up fields.

dean wasn’t any better. one of his hands rested on the steering wheel, long nimble fingers clutched tightly so he could steer you to wherever the road leads you two. his other hand — firm in it’s grip, rested on your thigh. his fingers travelled into the inside of your leg, fingers delicately dancing across the seem of your shorts as his eyes stared at you from his peripheral vision.

you were ethereal, an angel sent from God just for him. your hair, unruly in how the wind tossed it about, was flowing behind you like a fairy with her wings. the side profile of your face was directed towards dean, your back facing the passenger side door as you stuck your head out in the placid and dry air.

the fullness of your cheeks was properly on display to dean’s eager eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to run his lips across the skin, brushing delicate kisses onto your cheeks and face until you were covered in his love. he could faintly see the plump pout of your own lips, eyes shimmering with admiration and desire as he pictured running his tongue across them; your soft lips pressed timidly against his as he pulled you into his body, almost swallowing you whole.

he loved you, so incandescently. you were the face of beauty, a true goddess in the eyes of the eldest winchester. it wasn’t just your delicate features that pulled dean in, it was the way you carried yourself, a graceful mist following you wherever you went.

softness rolled off of you in tidal waves, and dean loved how your gentle nature contrasted and grounded his frequent pessimistic and grumpy behaviour. the human embodiment of a doe; a creature full of love and life, who walked through flower gardens erupted by spring like it was her calling.

it didn’t help that your eyes resembled one of the animal; big and round, always so soft and caring. he loved you so much, it physically made his soul ache.

you were always there for him, never wavering even when times got tough. you didn’t love his job, believing that hunting was dangerous and the stem of all of his childhood and lasting trauma. but dean always waved you off, saying that this was his life, and he would never do anything that would jeopardize a life and future with you.

but he could still see the emotional tole it was taking on you, weighing on your heart like a heavy burden that you shouldn’t be carrying. he ached for you to feel secure in this life that he was giving you, but dean also knew that everyone needed breaks. so, he decided to give you one.

a couple nights ago, the two of you found yourselves tangled in the sheets of a nebraskan motel, limbs intertwined as dean embraced you in his arms, your fingers drawing small hearts on his chest.

“let’s go to california.” the random outburst from dean had you pulling away from him slightly, lifting up on your elbows so you could get a better look at the man who’s eyes glimmered with hope and mischief. “what are you talking about, dean?”

“what i’m trying to say is,” dean sat up as he spoke, resting against the headboard and grabbing your hips so he could pull you into his lap. “let’s go to california. you are always begging me to go to malibu, and you deserve a vacation every now and then.”

the smile on your lips was beaming, a shine that could light up a thousand skies. dean wanted to bottle it up, put it in a jar, and never let it leave his side. he felt your hands move to his shoulders, those big, beautiful eyes staring at him with unbridled excitement. “you’re being serious right now? this isn’t just some sick joke?”

“no jokes baby,” he drawled, hand brushing your soft hair away from your face. pulling his face closer to yours so he could brush his lips against your ear, dean whispered so softly you believed you were imagining it. “do you wanna go see the west with me, pretty girl?”

you were elated the whole car ride, excitedly babbling about all the things you two would do in the golden state. as the nights rolled into days, the air started to get more and more humid, which led to the very moment that dean was in now. he shook his head from the memory of how he got here, watching your smile take up your whole face as you giggled at something unbeknownst to him. he didn’t really think about the why, he was too busy getting drunk on the sound of your laugh.

lightly patting your thigh, dean grinned over at your windswept and sticky frame as your giggles danced alongside the flow of the wind. “c’mon crazy girl, get back in here. can’t have you falling out.” his words held a joking lilt, yet you could see the concern in dean’s eyes. with a joking huff, you retreated back into the car, legs immediately sticking to the leather as the hot air melded your skin like sticky glue.

“oh c’mon dean, it’s so hot.” you groaned out, another giggle rippling through your lips as you saw dean playfully role his eyes in your peripheral. “i can basically feel my skin melting off.”

“you’re so dramatic,” his teasing was palpable, you could feel it in the way his smile reached his eyes and how his fingers clutched a little tighter onto your thigh. “what do you think cali’s going to be like, baby? think it’s going to be an ice box?”

letting out a grunt as you smacked his arm, dean watched with love struck eyes as your grin got impossibly even more wide. “you’re such a jerk, dean winchester!” dean swore he has never smiled harder in his life than when he was with you. that sweet, playful nature always brought out the best in him, and he didn’t even dare think about a life without your brightened presence.

crossing your arms over your chest, those pretty pink lips dean loved so much puffed out in a pretty pout. dean’s hand itched on your thigh, wanting to reach up and pull down your bottom lip. “i’m prepared for the weather in california, dean.” your voice broke him from his revere, making dean slightly cough as he intently listened to your ramble

“we won’t be spending all the time in the car. we’ll be at the beach, santa monica pier — oh i’m so excited for all the rides!” the vibrant glimmer of your excitement shined through the car, hitting dean straight in his heart, spreading until it was pumping through his veins.

“yeah, no rides, doe.” the previous excitement in your eyes dwindled, a shocked expression breaking through. “what? we have to go on the rides dean! it’s almost like a birthright.” he just loved how you expressed yourself, loving how when you defended the things you loved, your eyes got wild and your cheeks tinted. it was such a pretty sight, though dean was starting to believe everything about you was pretty.

dean’s words came through his lips in a chuckle, a grin etched onto his face as he looked at your pretty features. “i don’t do rides. never have, never will. sorry, sweets.”

shaking your head in disdain, a sad pout decorated your face, turning towards dean as he continued to drive down the desolate, montana road. “you’re such a buzz kill, do you even know what fun is?”

your question was a joke, your voice light and airy as it always was, but this time with a twinkle of comedy. but dean was already so wound up from the image of how pretty you looked with the wind blowing in your hair, illuminating you like a framed painting, that an idea slid into the depths of his mind.

a smirk adorned his lips as he shifted the wheel, pulling the impala off to the side of the road. your face twisted up in confusion as dean pulled the gear shift into park, cutting the ignition and turning his body to face you. your lips parted in question, about to voice your thoughts before dean’s hands grabbed at your calves.

with a squeak from your lips, dean hauled your legs onto the front seat, moving your body so your back was leaned against the door. he then tracked his fingers down the smooth expanse of your skin, grabbing at your ankles and pulling you down until you laid flat on your back.

the space was cramped, but dean somehow found a way to make it work; bending your legs at the knees and spreading them open so he could fit in between them. words were lodged in your throat, a sputter of air leaving your lips as dean situated himself. he had that shit eating grin on his face, and you could already tell that he had something wild up his sleeve.

“dean!” you exclaimed, hands going to rest against his chest as a laugh erupted from your lips. “what are you doing?”

he just smirked, trailing his hands from your ankles up your thighs, one hand gripping your waist as the other worked to pop the button of your shorts. “just showing my girl how fun i can really be.”

the words that fell from his lips were amplified with the sound of your zipper undoing, and your eyes widened suddenly at the realization of what dean had in mind.

“we can’t do this now, dean.” you exasperated, hands pushing at his chest as his fingers worked to take off your pants. “someone could drive by, they could see us for christ’s sake!”

dean just leaned down to leave a lingering kiss on your forehead, shimmying the waistband of your shorts a little ways down your waist before his hand on your hip shifted to go under your ass. “no one’s been on the road for miles, sweet thing. we’re alone, everything is going to be okay.” his words were followed by the softening of his eyes, the hand that had been undoing your zipper went up to stroke your cheek. “do you trust me?”

sliding your hands up from his chest to around his shoulders, a soft, serene smile graced your lips. you brought your face upward, brushing your mouth against his as the shallow breath’s leaving dean’s lips hit your own. “of course, i always do.”

you felt him smile against your lips, placing a delicate kiss on your nose before he pulled back slightly. “good,” he breathed, hands going back to your waistband. “now, lift your hips f’me, baby.”

a dusty blush adorned your cheeks as you obliged, hips lifting slightly as dean slid your jean shorts from your legs. when they got to your ankles, dean helped you kick them off, picking them up and throwing them somewhere in the backseat with a grin.

“that’s much better.” words wrapped around a grin as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties. the giggle that left your lips at his comment turned into a shallow whimper as one of his fingers dipped into your folds, his fingers slipping through your already wet cunt.

a breath left dean’s lips, eyes blowing wide as he watched your face twist in pleasure from the finger he had down your pants. “jesus, sweets, you’re already fucking soaked. did i do this to you? was it my words and my finger that got you this wet?”

a high pitched ‘mhm’ left your lips as you nodded your head, eye’s half lidded as you watched dean stare down at his finger teasing your folds. moving the finger that was teasing your entrance towards your clit, lightly pressing down and eliciting a sharp moan from deep in your gut. “there’s my girl,” dean cooed, his fingers moving in tight circles on your sensitive bud. “you’re doing so good for me baby, such a good fucking girl.”

the sensation was overwhelming, a shot of bliss the curled in your gut and wound into your soul. your half-lidded eyes caught sight of dean, his head down as he watched the way his finger played with your clit. the mid-day sun was washing over his figure, bathing him in such a light that made him look almost angelic.

as dean pulled his finger away, you felt a sense of emptiness unfurl in your stomach. a deep whine left your lips, hips lifting upwards to try and chase the high that dean was providing you. “more dean. please, give me more.”

“patience, pretty girl.” his voice was soft, but there was an air of demand and dominance that hid behind the cracks of his voice. “i’m just getting started. didn’t know you were so needy for me.”

another whine tore from the depths of your throat, whimpering as dean slid the side of your underwear out of the way, exposing your cunt to his eyes and the cold air that was whirling through the car’s vents. a groan rumbled in his throat, your eyes half lidded as you watched him put the finger covered in your slick in his mouth.

“jesus christ, you taste like a fucking dream.” his words sound slurred, and they were heightened as two of his fingers went back to your leaking pussy, prodding at your entrance as tiny whimpers left your throat. “i can’t wait to see how you look stuffed with my fingers, gushing all over my hand like the good girl i know you are.”

the whine that would’ve left your lips at his words turned into a deep moan, dean’s middle and pointer finger entering your tight walls, his own ragged breaths mixing with yours as he felt you clenching around him.

he watched as your breathing grew ragged, chest heaving up and down as you gripped onto his shoulders for dear life. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so dean waited until you gave him the green light, his other hand smoothing down the hair the fell in your face.

after a couple of moments, he felt your hips rut into his hand, eyes screwing shut in pure pleasure. that was all he needed to thrust his fingers into your tight walls.

high pitched whimpers left your lips as dean’s fingers prodded at your cervix, a guttural moan leaving your lips as he brushed against your g-spot.

“there it is,” he breathed, hollow breaths leaving his own lips as he watched his fingers go in and out of you. “that’s the spot, isn’t it baby? you like it when my fingers make you feel good?”

all you could let out was a guttural moan, hands clawing at dean’s clothed chest for any sign of resolve. too caught up in your own pleasure, you didn’t realize that dean had forgotten to roll up the windows, your loud moans and whines flowing through the wind and alerting anyone who drove by about what was going on inside of the impala.

but in the moment, you didn’t seem to care. dean started to move his fingers faster, your hips rutting up to meet the frenzied pace of his hand. the coil in your stomach was starting to tighten more and more, and you couldn’t help but scrunch your eyes closed and slightly turn your head as the euphoric feelings started to intensify.

though that didn’t last for long, because without a warning, the hand that dean had previously used to smooth down your hair tangled in it’s strands, gripping tightly as he pulled your head upwards so you were face to face with him.

“open those pretty eyes for me, sweetheart.” his voice held that same softness with a lilt of dominance, fingers quickening as he felt your orgasm approach. “i wanna see you when you cum. see how good i make you feel when i fuck you with my fingers.”

your eye’s shot open, lips parted and heavy pants and whines leaving your throat as dean kept going with the relenting pace. “i can’t- fuck, dean! i’m gonna cum!”

the pace at which dean’s fingers were moving inside of you was relentless. each thrust of his fingers hitting your g-spot as his piercing green eyes stared into yours. at your words, he moved a little faster, lips brushing yours as his voice travelled from his lips to yours. “c‘mon, my sweet girl, come for me.”

you could feel it, the bliss that started in your core and creeped it’s way into your entire body. the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening until, like a crashing wave, it gave way.

you came with a loud cry, back arched and head leaning into dean’s hand embedded into your hair. you watched as dean kept moving his fingers inside of you even as you gushed around his fingers. he was transfixed, completely enchanted by the bliss that took over your face.

“there you go,” he cooed, the hand in your hair lessening as his fingers started to slow down. “pretty girl, all messed up, coming on my fingers. you look fucking unreal.”

his words were mixed in with the small whimpers that left your lips, mouth parted and cheeks flushed with bliss. there was drool running down the corners of your mouth, and you felt as dean took his hand out of your hair and wiped it away with his thumb.

you whined as he pulled his fingers out, feeling empty without his fingers deep inside of you. looking down, you watched as your juices spilled out of your entrance, dean immediately dipping his two already wet fingers in the mess and putting them in front of your mouth.

“open up for me, doe. want you to taste yourself on my fingers.” with wide, wet eyes, you parted your lips for dean to place his two fingers on your tongue. when you closed your mouth, sucking on the two digits, you felt as the pads of middle and pointer finger prodded at the back of your throat.

“that’s my girl.” dean breathed out, watching in awe as he stared at your pretty face sucking your juices off of his fingers. he swore you weren’t real in that moment, too good to be true. yet as you swirled your tongue around his fingers, he realized that you were his, and he was yours, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world.

as you came down from your high, dean cleaned you up with a napkin that he found in his centre console. when he was done, he helped you sit up, moving your underwear back into place and allowing you to take a breather.

realizing your shorts were in the backseat, you leaned over the seat to try and find them, jumping as you felt dean land a smack on your ass.

“jesus dean,” you laughed, grabbing your shorts and sitting back down. “can’t get enough can you?”

“when it comes to you?” he grinned, turning the car back on and starting to pull back onto the street. “i can never have enough,”

TAGS: @haunteres @starzify @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @foolinthera1n @vaiieydoii @bluemerakis

NAT BABBLES: i’ve been so wrapped up with my angel series, that i wanted to reset and write a little dean story. also, this is my first time writing smut, so i know it’s probably ass, but just bare with me😭

[gh0stsp1d3r]

i love your work sm!! could i request something with nerd!rafe? like reader never normally wears her glasses, so she decides to put them on while she reads and gets insecure and rafe comforts her?

beautiful with them.

NERD!RAFE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: insecurities w/ glasses, angst to comfort

A/N: thank you sm! LOVE THIS. agh so sweet.

You flipped through the pages with anticipation, your eyes darting over the sentences. The world around you faded into the background, the rustle of the pages the only sound you heard. It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye that you realized Rafe had entered the room, leaning against the doorway.

As your gaze caught him entering the room, your eyes widened in surprise. You fumbled to remove the glasses that sat on your face, the frames slipping through your fingers as you set them aside. The suddenness of your actions caught him off guard, a look of confusion flickering across his face, but he dismissed it as he stepped toward you. A warm smile graced his lips as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

“Hi, baby.” He murmured against your lips.

“Hi.” You breathed out. “You’re home early.” You noted, him moving away, putting the briefcase on the bed as he shoved off his suit jacket.

“Meeting finished early, and I was free the rest of the day.” He replied, you nodding, glancing down at your book and your glasses. “What have you been doin’ all day?” He asked you.

“Reading, mostly.” You replied, him letting out a chuckle.

“I thought so.”

Even though he’s seen you read so many times, you always wore your contacts. He’s never really seen you with your glasses. And if he has, it’s been only a few times.

You glanced back down at the glasses, and then back at him. He was taking off his clothes, changing into sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

He sat on the bed, phone in hand. He got comfortable, settling underneath the covers as he began his scrolling.

You turned back in your seat, putting your glasses back on and making sure you were facing away from him as you began to read again.

About thirty minutes passed when he stood up, making his way to the door. You moved your hand, resting your head on your palms as an attempt to hide the frames on your face.

He came back in with two cups of water in his hand, coming back over to your desk with them. He leaned against the desk, offering one of the cups to you.

You took off your glasses, looking back at him for a moment. You gave him a small smile, and he gave you one back.

“You know,” he rasped out. “I like you with your glasses on.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, smile faltering.

He picked them up in his hands, going to put them over your face when you gently grabbed his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it.

You plucked them from his hands, him quirking an eyebrow.

“Thank you.” You replied quietly, setting them back onto the desk.

“Why don’t you wear them?” He asked you, and you knew he was gonna keep pressing until he found out, because that’s just how he is.

You hesitated before answering, “I just… I don’t like how they look on me.” You admitted softly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s why I wear the contacts.”

There was a flicker of sadness on his face, watching you with a visible frown. He knows how you felt, because he’s thought the same thing about his own when he was younger.

“Well, I think they look good on you. You wear them better than me.” He spoke honestly, you letting out a chuckle, thinking he was joking.

“Stop.” You told him, but he didn’t, instead, he reached for your face.

He gently grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him. With his other hand, he grabbed your glasses.

He let go of your jaw, and put both hands on the glasses, before moving your hair, putting the lens over your eyes, and tucking the tips of the glasses behind your ears.

“I’m serious. Maybe you can’t see it, but you really do look beautiful with them on. You were beautiful without them, and you’re beautiful with them.” He told you, holding your face in his hands.

“You really think so?” You asked him quietly, to which he nodded, removing his hands from your face.

“I think, that you should wear them more, if anything.”

He watched the corners of your lips quirk up, small smile making its way onto your face. He leaned down again, and cupped your face once more, pressing his lips softly against yours, both of your glasses clashing as he did so, causing him to look at you, both of you beginning to laugh together.

You settled for putting your foreheads together, soft giggles still escaping your mouth as he smiled at you.

“Thank you.” You told him quietly.

“Course.” He responded in the same quiet volume, “If I didn’t say something, what kind of fiancée would I be, hm?” He hummed out.

Taglist:

@10ava01 @mileyraes @moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0 @wintertxt @teenwolfbitches28

[kiame-sama]

How would the HAE boys react to finding out the reader is pregnant with their child(ren)? (I’m unsure if you’ve answered a similar request but either way, I love your writing!!!)

This is only one half of the yanderes, Including the Hoard (Sebek, Silver, Lilia, Malleus), Poisonous Beauty (Vil and Rook), Octo-Trio (Azul, Jade, Floyd), and Idia. I will do part two with the other NCR characters

Warnings: as the request states, Yandere, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, pregnancy warning, afab reader (though I will keep pronouns they/them), large mention of poly relationships with the fellas (many mention poly relationships and some require a poly relationship to be in any relationship [ie. The Hoard and Malleus]), by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content, some have oviposition based on the species, mainly ficlets, any appearances made by Grim or Ortho are solely platonic, some graceful responses, some not so graceful responses, all positive responses, mostly fluff minus some teasing and confusion, not all take place at the same time, various 'relationship routes', mostly poly relationships, various poly group dynamics*

*Special note; In The Hoard, Lilia and Silver are NOT romantically interested, they are father and son and hold firmly to that.

*Special note; In the Octo-Trio, Jade and Floyd are NOT romantically interested, they are twins and have always shared things.

The Hoard:

Malleus Draconia (300+)

"You... what?"

Malleus stood in complete disbelief and surprise, waiting for it to be some kind of joke made in poor taste, but the serious expression of his beloved Human never once left their face. It took only a few moments longer for him to realize his beloved Human (Y/n) was- in fact- not joking. A momentary pause gave way to genuine jubilation and joy as the air seemed to noticeably warm.

The Dragon was quick to fall to his knees and press both clawed hands eagerly to his beloved mate's stomach, as if he were trying to see the egg- hopefully eggs, plural- forming in their soft womb. Though he couldn't see them yet, he was more than elated to know that inside of his mate was the formation of his young. He would make sure that his hatchlings had what he never got the privilege of having- both parents. He never got to meet his father or mother, but he would be damned if the same ever had the chance to befall his own children.

"Are you... happy?"

"Of course I am! I am thrilled we will bring the next generation of Draconias into our humble home. Lilia is an expert in raising Dragon hatchlings- he raised me after all- so I am certain the others in the Hoard will be so thrilled to hear you are with child. Our child."

Malleus continued to hum and purr, nuzzling his nose ever so gently against the soft stomach of his beloved. How many times he has wished and hoped for such an event to come to pass. He knew there were many things to prepare for; forming the proper foundation of a Hoard for his new young, preparing the 'Cradle' to imbue the egg with his magic, just getting the egg here in the first place, deciding names, announcing it to Briar Valley, all of it. He had to make sure it was all perfect for his perfect family.

"Come, let us share our wonderful news with the rest of the Hoard, I'm sure young Grim is going to be thrilled to be an older brother."

~~~~

Lilia Vanrouge (800+)

"Repeat that for me?"

"I'm... Pregnant?"

"One more time."

"Lilia."

Lilia chuckled at the gentle scolding tone that his wonderful Human grumbled out in, their frustrated frown making him acquiesce. He had asked at least five times for it to be repeated because he just loved the sound of those words coming from someone he adored ever so much. Naturally, he was elated and looked forward to any young running around the gloomy castle of Briar Valley.

"Do you know which of us is the father yet? I'm certain Malleus will be thrilled to hear the royal clutch of eggs will have siblings."

"Yeah, the palace doctor told me based on the wings growing, they have to be yours!"

This actually made the old Bat Fae visibly pause, turning to look with wide and almost hesitantly excited eyes. Surely the sweet Human was joking right?

"They...?"

"They're... yours? Are you okay Lilia? You're not... you're not angry, are you?"

Lilia realized how his surprise must have been perceived as he was quick to immediately try and soothe the somewhat stressed and worried Human he adored. Of course he was happy, he just wasn't honestly expecting to get young of his own so soon. He figured Silver or Sebek would be next.

"No! I could never be angry, not about this! This is wonderful news! It may be a bit confusing for Silver, but he is smart and I know he will adore them as their older brother. How could he not? I'm sure Malleus himself will be more than taken with our little pup!"

Lilia was clearly happy and seemed to be bouncing as he stood behind he beloved Human, wrapping his wings around their body, all while holding their soft stomach in his hands. He had long decided to adore any child borne into the Hoard, but he knew he would be especially gentle with this one. How could he not? They were his, after all.

"Let's go tell Malleus the Hoard will have more than the Royal Clutch to take care of."

~~~~

Sebek Zigvolt (19)

"Your Majesty!"

Sebek cried as he rushed forward, keen to help despite the fact the soft Human in his arms had merely stumbled on the edge of the large rugs lain across the floor. As a retainer for both Malleus and the Human, Sebek was always keenly alert for any sign of discomfort or potential threats. Naturally, even things that weren't genuine threats were treated as such, even as Sebek growled angrily at the rug.

"Vile thing! Tripping up my Majesty (Y/n), you will burn for this!"

"Sebek."

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"I've told you that you can call me by my name, you're one of my mates, you don't have to call me 'Majesty' all the time."

"But I must! As one of your loyal guards, it is my sworn oath-"

The loud half-Fae was hushed gently by a finger over his lips, immediately swallowing down his words and paying apt attention. Of course the half-Fae was loyal, he came from a long line of guards and his non-Fae half happened to be a guard-dog species in the literal sense. He was genetically wired to be a good guard and a loyal companion.

"I just returned from a visit to the palace physician, he has confirmed I am pregnant again."

"This is wonderful news! We should-"

"Not done yet."

"My apologies."

"Sebek, when they checked, they found several heartbeats and confirmed that the embryos growing are canine in appearance with long tails. Meaning you are the father of this current litter."

It took a moment for Sebek to fully understand what was being said to him, his eyes widening and his ears sitting up at attention. His tail began a slow wag that quickly evolved into a whipping force, as he slammed his tail back and forth with barely contained excitement despite the stress inside of him.

"I'm- I'm going to be a father?"

"Yes."

"Truly?"

"Yes, you adorable crocodile-dog."

"I... I NEED TO TELL EVERYONE!!"

~~~~

Silver (24)

"Are you too cold, (Y/n)?"

"Silver, I'm fine. I promise if there was anything bothering me, I would tell you."

"I simply don't wish for you to be uncomfortable..."

"I know, and I appreciate that."

The Reindeer happily trotted through the almost jagged gardens of the Briar Valley Palace, his adored Human resting on a specially made saddle strapped to his secondary back. As the official steed, it was Silver's job to ensure that he checked in regularly with the soft Human on his back, especially after the recent announcement that they had become pregnant once more. He would be damned before anything bad happened to the Human he adored whole-heartedly.

"Silver, since we have some peace in the gardens, I wanted to talk with you about something."

"Of course. Whatever you need, I am here to listen and aid."

"At my most recent check-up to see how the pregnancy is coming along, and they made an interesting discovery. I was a bit dubious at first, but after more examination, the Palace physician discovered this one has hooves."

"... Hooves?"

"Yes."

Silver didn't really seem to understand what he was being told and vaguely thought it odd that his beloved Human emphasized the presence of hooves in regard to their newly forming young. It took several long beats of silence before the Human tried again to gently lead Silver to the right conclusion.

"Out of Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, and you, it would only make sense that the hooves were inherited from the one that is the likely father."

"That would make sense."

He wasn't getting it. A more direct approach was clearly needed.

"That means you, Silver."

This got the Reindeer to pause in place, his head cocking from one side to the other before he turned, auroral colored eyes wide in surprise.

"... Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'm.... I'm gonna be a Papa?"

"Yes."

"Does Father know?"

"Not yet. You're the first I've told."

There was a clear excitement in the typically tired Reindeer's eyes as he hoped slightly, turning and almost dashing to the doors that lead deeper into the palace. Naturally, the increased pace meant the soft Human had to reflexively hold onto the horn of the saddle to not lose their balance.

"Silver??"

"We have to tell Father! And Malleus! And Sebek! They'll all be as thrilled as I am!"

~~~~

Shinigami Woes

Idia Shroud (88)

"Oh, fuck. Like, irl?"

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"No! I didn't mean it like that! I just-! I mean-! I'm a sweaty, gross, gamer nerd. I honestly didn't think you would want to stick around with me or have-"

A sudden excited voice broke through what was meant to be a private conversation between Human and Shinigami, as the previously eavesdropping Ortho burst into the room. He was so excited his leg locked up beneath him, making him stumble into the kind hug of (Y/n). Of course the child Shinigami was listening, he adored both his older brother and the Human as siblings and wanted the two of them to be together since day one.

"That means you're going to have a new baby! I won't be the baby of the family anymore!"

"Ortho," (Y/n) gently scolded the excitable young Shinigami, unable to stop the smile tugging at their lips, "You know better than to eavesdrop when you weren't part of the initial conversation."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just so excited! I'll have a new friend in three years!"

This made a soft sigh escape the Human, as it was quite vexingly true; Shinigami pregnancies- even half Shinigami- took three years of gestation. Of course, no one was excited to be pregnant for that long, but such was the nature of Shinigami young.

"Yes, and you'll be an uncle. so I hope you'll teach your new family member everything you can so they are as kind and smart as you."

Ortho whooped at this, leaping up excitedly and turning on his jets to fly from the room, his voice fading away as he clearly shouted the news to everyone within earshot. This left Idia to face off with his loving and adoring Human mate who was a little less than pleased with his initial reaction.

"Why is he more excited about this than you are?"

"Ghk! I didn't mean-! What I was trying to say is-!"

The Shinigami sighed and then gave a genuine smile, one of happiness twinged with a bit of stress, but a true smile none the less.

"I am thrilled we will have a tiny ankle-biter together. I can show them all the ways technology can be used and Ortho will finally have someone closer in age to play with. But, it is a long pregnancy, and I would wage a guess it won't be easy. But fuck it, I'll grind out some parenting levels and see what Papa Hades thinks is best. We're going to have the most skilled and smart gamer-kid to ever exist with all the best stats!"

~~~~

Poisonous Beauty

Vil Schoenheit (25)

"Yes, (Y/n), my Dear, what is it?"

The ever popular and busy Harpy actor glanced over his shoulder from the script he was reading, a warm smile pulling at this lovely face as he saw his beloved Human standing in the doorway. His door was always open to his two mates, (Y/n) and Rook no matter what he was doing or how busy he was. Even if he was actively hashing out contracts and deal signings, he would always have time to speak to his lovers.

"Vil, I have some news, not sure if you'll find it exciting or not, but I think Rook will be over the moon."

"Oh? And what is this 'exciting' news?"

"Since I've been having such an upset stomach recently, I decided I should go see a doctor just to make sure everything is alright with me. He said my white blood-cell count is high and the eggs are doing just fine in their now calcifying shells."

"That is wonderful news, I-" Vil paused for a moment, his neatly groomed brows furrowing ever so slightly, "eggs?"

"Yes, actually. Four healthy eggs."

"... and they have calcium heavy shells?"

"Yes. I was worried I wouldn't be able to tell if they were yours or Rook's given you both are egg bearing species, but-"

Vil couldn't wait to pull his sweet and adoring Human into his embrace, burying his face in their shoulder as he spun them around. Naturally, the ever observant hunter was keenly aware of the sounds of mirth and cooing made by his two life-partners and came to investigate what the commotion was all about.

"Roi du Poison, mon Trickster, why the sudden excitement? Has something wonderful happened?"

"Rook! (Y/n) is-! We are going to have-!"

(Y/n) gave a gentle chuckle at how much Vil struggled to get the words out, smiling adoringly at the Harpy who was cooing and fluttering his wings, his tail feathers shaking in excitement. It was clear the Harpy was besides himself with joy as his tail feathers and crest rose up into a full display, very loud cheerful calls escaping the throat of the Harpy.

"Dieu merci! What has happened to put our lovely Roi du Poison in such a radiant mood?"

"My visit to the doctors today revealed something wonderful, Rook. I am indeed healthy- despite my recent bouts of illness in the morning- and the four eggs I am carrying are healthy as well!"

"Merveilleux! My beautiful mates! We will make excellent parents!"

Rook Hunt (19)

~~~~

"Rook?"

"Yes, mon amour?"

"Is now a good time to chat?"

"Of course!"

Rook turned around from the deer he had brought home after his most recent Hunt, his smile wide despite the red that tinted his hands a dark color. He was quick to set his skinning tools to the side and wipe off his hands on a nearby rag. Often, the Drider would be unable to resist putting his hands on one of his beloved mates, so he would have to make sure his hands were clean before that happened.

"What do you need, mon Trickster?"

"Well, you know how Vil and I ran errands today?"

"Oui. Roi du Poison wanted to scope out that new skin-care line that launched and you were going to have a quick health check with the doctors. I trust they were polite to you?"

"Of course they were. You and I both know the fit Vil would throw if they weren't."

"Roi du Poison does have such a way with words."

Rook chuckled in a good-natured and equally good-humored way as he curled his legs slightly, kneeling down to smile at his beloved Human. It was a habit he picked up after seeing how far his dearest had to crane their neck back to look at him, given his height advantage.

"Well, the doctor said all the numbers were well within expected range and that the eggs are thriving."

"... Do my ears deceive me? Eggs? Could it be true?"

"It is true! I wondered if they were your eggs or Vil's, seeing as we are in such harmony most times, but based on size, number, and lack of calcium in the shells, they are more than likely Drider eggs!"

Rook was quick to sweep his beloved human off of their feet, cuddling them and holding them tightly against his chest as he peppered their face in soft kisses. Of course Rook was elated, he would be even if they were Vil's brood and not his own. There was little more the could think of that would make him any happier in that moment than to hold is beautiful mate close. Well, perhaps he would be happier if the beautiful Vil were present as well to share in the information, but now doubt the Harpy had taken a step back to allow Rook his space to celebrate.

"This is the best news you could have possibly given me! Were I skilled enough to entangle the stars in my silk that I could snatch them from the sky as payment for the joy you always bring into my life! Now we will have more joys to cherish! No doubt Roi du Poison is already ensuring everything is being set up appropriately for this next step we take on our journey as mates! Allons-y!"

"Go? Go where?"

"To rejoice with our beautiful mate Vil of course!"

~~~~

Octo-Trio

Azul Ashengrotto (20)

"Come in."

The successful and business savvy entrepreneur didn't even glance up at the knock on his office door, writing up yet another contract for someone seeking to create a join business venture in the empire that was Azul Ashengrotto's Lounge. He had long moved past the Monstro Lounge of his school-days and had become quite the tycoon in the food industry as The Human themselves had bolstered his culinary reach and now their combined efforts had taken Twisted Wonderland by storm.

"You got a minute, Azul?"

The Octopus looked up quickly at the familiar voice of his lover and business partner (Y/n), watching them approach with keen interest as he set his pen down and moved his papers to the side. It didn't matter how much was promised or of what, his beloved (Y/n) came first and was ranked above every past/current/potential client.

"I always have time for you, Angelfish."

"Still refuse to call me 'Shrimpy' like Jade and Floyd?"

"I don't know why they insist on calling you such a name as 'Shrimpy' as if to imply you are a bottom-feeder!"

"I think it has more to do with the symbiotic relationship of Cleaner Shrimp and Moray Eels instead of bottom-feeders, but I digress. I do hope you have divvied up our shares adequately these past few years."

"Yes..." Azul seemed tense and uncertain now, worried that perhaps his beloved Human planned to divorce him and the twins based on the question, "I have. Mostly equal for you and I, Jade and Floyd get a little bit less, but still fair. ... Are you unhappy?"

"What?"

"Because I can fix it! I promise! Just give me a few days and-"

"Azul!"

He fell silent, swallowing back tears as he tried and failed to keep himself from spiraling. Why else would his beloved ask about shares being split if they did not intend to split from him? He had to fix it, but his own tears were making it impossible to speak.

"I'm asking because we need to split them up further and I am happy to give more of my share so you don't have to redo the book-keeping."

"Why would we need to split them further? There is Me, You, Jade, and Floyd. The only reason we would need to split any of our earnings is if another mate entered the fold or-"

Azul's mind finally caught up to him and he was struck dumb. Surely not? The several doctors he kept on retainer would have let him know if there were any difference in your hormone levels. Right?

"Congratulations, Azul, we're going to really have to split up the shares if all of them make it to term and hatch. Hope you can handle having everything split that many ways."

Azul couldn't speak after the emotional rollercoaster he had been on in such a short period of time. He didn't need to though. His tentacles- which he could usually keep on a short leash- suddenly rushed forward, wrapping around his beloved Human and pulling them to him as he kissed their face and any exposed skin excitedly. They gave a sweet laugh under the affectionate barrage of kissing, holding his face affectionately even as the many tentacles gripped at their soft flesh.

"You..! I thought you-!"

"Scared you, didn't I? I figured that's why Floyd and Jade wanted me to ask you that way, since the clutch is entirely Octopus eggs and they're both mad they didn't get the chance given how 'eager' you were to keep going."

"I should have known..! Here I was terrified you were going to make me into Takoyaki for Floyd."

"Eh, it's still on the table~"

"(Y/N)-!"

~~~~

Floyd and Jade Leech (20 & 20)

"Ne, Jade, when is Shrimpy coming home?"

Floyd whined a long complaint, dragging out each syllable as he complained to his patient twin. Jade was busy looking over recent numbers in Azul's absence while he ran errands with their shared mate (Y/n). It was sure to be a long day and everyone knew Floyd would get bored quickly after the first few stops, but he would be bored alone. Still, even with Jade mostly entertaining Floyd's whining, the Eel Merman was bored.

"They are on their way back now, Azul told me a few minutes ago."

"Well why didn't you say so sooner, Jade?"

"It didn't seem like you were in the mood to listen when you ripped that pillow to shreds."

"Whatever. If Little Shrimpy is on their way back, things are gonna get interesting again. Always is! I'm gonna give them a good squeeze for going out and leaving us behind!"

"You chose to stay-"

"Don't care!"

The door to the room swung open and in came Azul, taking the coat off of the shoulders of their shared mate with great care. He glanced up quickly, glad to see Floyd and Jade were waiting by the door. At least then he wouldn't have to go find them.

"The both of you, we have news to share."

"That can wait for me to get a squeeze of my Shrimpy-"

"No, it cannot, Floyd."

"You're no fun, Azul."

The Octopus man was annoyed with the eel but Jade was eagerly awaiting whatever news it was that they had to share. Clearly it was something important if they simply could not wait to settle and let Floyd go about his usual routine.

"If you squeeze her too hard, you'll harm the eggs, Floyd."

"Egg- oh my, has our sweet (Y/n) taken to a clutch? Congratulations."

(Y/n) chuckled at this while Azul pouted and a certain surprise overtook the Eel.

"You don't mean to say..?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure how many are Floyd's, and how many are your eggs but the doctors said they looked fine and seem to be growing properly."

Jade couldn't even respond as Floyd quickly lifted their precious Human, spinning them around while also being careful to not squeeze too hard. Both eels were elated with the idea of having their own fry and Floyd was eager to see these cute combination young. Jade was curious how it would show the combination of genetics between himself and the Human.

"We're gonna have a bunch of Shrimp Eels!"

Floyd laughed as Jade smiled good-humoredly. He looked forward to sharing his ever increasing culinary expertise with the soft Human that he was fortunate enough to share with his twin and comrade.

"Careful, Floyd, you can see for yourself when they hatch. It certainly seems our lovely family is growing."

[look-at-the-soul]

When you love a woman

Tommy Shelby x reader one shot 🎄

Summary: Tommy initially was trying to courtship Y/N when Grace broke the news of her pregnancy, so he had to step back and be responsible for his child. That was the only reason he decided to be there for Grace. Until one day he accidentally heard a phone call that would change everything.

Word count: 2,200

This was meant to be a request I got but somewhere down the road I decided to change it, no worries I’m still working on the request 🤭

Y/N took a step back to admire the Christmas tree she had been decorating for a few hours, she had a tight budget so going back home for the holidays to spend it at her aunt’s place wasn’t an option unfortunately. She had already made peace with the fact that she’d spend the holidays only with her grandma. Studying the tree it looked nice, she made a few ribbons and added faux pearls around it as decorations.

Tommy was fuming, he walked like a wild animal in a cage, his footsteps could be heard so loud even before he reached her door. It was so late now and unusual of him to show up like this. Specially after not having seen each other in months.

“What happene-” Y/N asked in confusion.

But Tommy wouldn’t let her finish her question, his mouth crashed hard against her lips taking her by surprise. The kiss was hungry and desperate.

One of his hands was holding her head in place while the other traveled down her back.

“You were fucking right…” he managed to say between heated kisses. “I heard Grace talking to someone on the phone, said the baby isn’t mine.”

His words made Y/N froze and she pushed him by the shoulders to look him in the eyes.

“What?!”

She had heard him, but she couldn’t believe his words.

“She tried to trick me into that husband infertility bullshit and she played her cards so well…until now.”

Y/N took a step back, trying to process this new piece of information. Her head was spinning.

She met him right after the Grace disaster, she knew all about his former partner and how she had left to go somewhere else but then she came back into his life, but he had only used her for revenge.

Tommy assured Y/N that with her he felt completely comfortable, that’s why he wanted to do things differently this time around. Their courtship actually started the right way from the beginning, he asked her out on dates, sent her flowers, walked with her on her way back home, he was truly a gentleman. He even started inviting her to the Garrison for a drink, sometimes in his office and other times at the betting shop, They were getting to know each other, but they weren’t officially a couple.

For a few weeks it was heaven, she was able to discover his sense of humor and how intelligent and interesting Tommy was. She still remembered so well when he kissed her for the first time, standing by her doorstep, Tommy cornered her between his body and the doorframe, his fingertips holding her chin while his other hand rested against the wall. It was tender and slow, it tasted like hope and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

She thought she found her chance to be happy with Tommy. But they were in the phase of getting to know each other and little did she know how things would change overnight.

Until one day he knocked on her door looking pale and so serious… she remembered it so well. She knew something was wrong right away.

And how wrong.

He confessed her then that the woman he had a one night stand with for revenge was pregnant with his child.

It took her several minutes to understand what that meant. Tommy would take full responsibility for that baby and the mother and that meant they couldn’t be together. Their relationship wouldn’t continue.

With a heavy heart she advised he shouldn’t leave the child unprotected and that the mother’s reputation would chase her all her life if she started showing without being married. Even though that she had feelings for Tommy, she couldn’t be the reason between he and his baby. And as much as he made his own rules, society wasn’t ready yet for a children to grow apart from their father, even if he didn’t love the mother.

At least they weren’t officially together when Grace announced her pregnancy, so it was supposed to be easier. Whatever that meant.

He apologized a million times, paced the room from side to side in an attempt to calm himself. But it changed nothing, he had to do the right thing and deal with the consequences of his decisions.

Tommy didn’t have feelings for Grace, she knew it, he was clear about that but she thought eventually after getting married and raising a child together she thought feelings would start to show up, that he’d fall in love with Grace and forget about her for good.

At some point she suspected Grace got pregnant on purpose and let the infertility issue drop so Tommy would step up for her child, like a prophesy he was caught up between his feelings for her and Grace’s unborn child, his sense of responsibility and lack of paternal figure won and Tommy took Grace under his protection, even heard they were planning a wedding after the baby was born. And in the end she was right, Grace had lied about the paternity and the mask finally fell.

“Talk to me, ey?” Tommy’s voice brought her back into reality.

“I knew she was fooling you.” She shook her head.

“Hey, look at me… let’s forget about that, yeah?”

“Just like that? And what about all the times I cried?” She slapped his arm. “What if you never found out about the truth?”

A lump installed in her throat, all of the things that could’ve happened crossed her mind.

“Let’s focus on what’s happening.” Tommy’s hand caressed her cheek carefully, he could see all of her emotions in her eyes. “I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I know deep in your heart you can’t hold onto to that forever.”

He was standing right in front of her, with his eyes full of hope, but also worried that it would be late for them, in the few months they got separated because of Grace’s pregnancy they cut all kinds of commutation, and even though he still checked on her, Y/N knew it was for the best, they wouldn’t have an affair no matter what.

“So… you’re free?” She asked with her voice and her heart trembling, thinking of the possibilities.

“It’s over now, there’s no child and no woman between us.” Tommy assured her, his hands on her cheeks to force Y/N to look him in the eyes. “I ordered the maid to pack her bags, and the driver to take her somewhere else.”

He took another small step towards her, their bodies touching and their breaths mixing in the middle.

This new reality changed everything, yet somehow it all felt the same.

“It took me a couple of months to learn the truth, but all I need to know now is… do you still want us to be together?”

Even though they were alone, his voice was just a whisper, a secret between just the two of them.

The thought of her finding someone else crossed his mind, she was beautiful after all, no doubt a long queue of men would be happy to take his place. But could she give her heart away to someone else?

“What about the wedding?”

Although she tried to forget about him and didn’t want to know anything of their lives, she overheard the rumors, there was a big wedding planned for the next fall right after the baby was born.

“If the baby isn’t mine… why would I still marry her? The wedding is canceled. I know I messed up, but I need to know, if there’s still a chance for us?”

Tommy held Y/N’s hands in his, when he decided to step back from their courtship it broke his heart, he had been really looking forward to see where they’d go.

Tommy felt his heart beating hard, he really hoped learning the truth wasn’t so late for them.

“Yes. I do… do you want the same?”

Tommy released the air he had been holding in his chest, but instead of answering with his words, he let her know with his actions what he wanted.

Grabbing her head with both hands, he pulled Y/N for a slow kiss. He needed to believe it was really happening.

Feeling like he had been walking in the dessert for a long time, but he was finally home. He was finally able to do what he had wanted for so long.

Tommy decided he wanted to savor her slowly, without rushing, without hesitation.

There was nothing and nobody between them. Nothing that would keep them apart. Cherishing having her in his arms once more, he could taste her tears in his lips.

“Thank you, thank you.” He murmured against her mouth without breaking apart.

The kiss became more heated by the moment, it was intense and demanding, trying to make up for the lost time. As Tommy’s hand traveled down her thigh, she pressed both hands against his chest to stop him.

It was suddenly so much information in such a short period of time.

“Wait.” Y/N stated breaking the contact, Tommy stared at her disheveled hair and messed lipstick. God she was the most beautiful little thing. “I’m glad you realized the truth before it was too late… but you will have to talk to my grandma, she’s still mad at you.”

Tommy nodded profusely. “Will do.” And tried to kiss Y/N again, but she stopped him by placing a fingertip against his lips.

“And you’ll ask her blessing to ask me out properly again.” She stated firmly.

God he loved to see her like that, bossing him around it was such a turn on.

“Yes. Anything you want.” He tried to sneak his hands around her waist again.

“Who is that, Y/N?” Her grandmother asked from her bedroom.

Scandalized, Y/N covered Tommy’s mouth with her palms. “It’s Vanessa grandma, she needed something. Go back to sleep.”

Tommy used her distraction to pull her closer, he didn’t want to waste more time. Being away from her for a couple of months was enough.

“Ugh it’s past bedtime now, couldn’t it wait?”

Tommy chuckled when she tried to get away from his hands.

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” She tried to push him but it was impossible his hands were like a lock around her.

“Can’t wait for you to take care of me, love.” He wriggled his eyebrows and licked his lips all while giving her a mischievous look.

“Stop it!” She hissed, worried that her grandma would return. “You’ve to go.”

“No.” Tommy stated firmly. Scared that she’d change her mind. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“Tommy I mean for tonight.” Y/N explained, but he shook his head.

“How do I make you understand that I’m not going anywhere?”

“You can’t sleep here.” He stole another kiss.

“Fine. I’ll sleep in the car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Y/N frowned seeing he was determined to do so. “Oh my God, you actually mean that.”

“I need you to understand how serious I am about us. You’re all that I need.” He could now see it all so clear, he was willing to do anything for her.

Because only when you really love a woman you’re able to understand.

And by just one look in his eyes, she knew he was telling the truth.

Y/N could hardly process what was happening. Their relationship ended right before it could even start because another woman was pregnant with his child, then they found out the truth, their engagement was called off, Grace was out of his life and he was able to finally do what he really wanted and not do something to please anyone else.

“What plans did you have for these days?” He whispered, still holding Y/N close.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. “Just grandma and me and I’m cooking a little dinner.”

“How about you and your grandma spend the holidays at my place? Think about it.”

The shock of his plans made her open her eyes wide. They were just starting over, how would they spend the holidays together? That was everything but traditional. What would people say? That one day he was engaged to another woman and the next one he brought home a different girl.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Tommy could read it all over her eyes. “And honestly? I don’t care, we’re doing nothing wrong and it’s none of their business.”

“Let’s take one step at the time, yes?” Y/N proposed feeling more worried about her grandmother’s reaction.

It was crazy to give in so easily, yes. But what options did she have? Pretend to still be mad at him or turn things over and be happy finally?

“Try to get some sleep.” He showered her face with kisses before grabbing his coat and walking outside. “Goodnight love.”

From the window, Y/N saw him climbing in the back seat, he was really going to sleep there!

That was insane, but it was a small sacrifice he’d have to do after everything that happened.

A/N: thank you for reading! I know in today’s world you’d say oh they could still be together while Grace had the baby or he could always take a DNA test, but remember back then those things weren’t possible and this story is based in that period of time… if you want to leave a comment your feedback is always appreciated! ♥️✨

Edit- please don’t come at me, it was just an idea that crossed my mind, the possibility of Charlie not being Tommy’s son due to the bad timing in the series 🫢🤔

Master list

list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney

@gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan

@stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts

@moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @narlytude @winchestergirl22

@zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144

@peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219

@adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x

@everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest

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@mythicalcowboyatheart @jbrownta @cljordan-imperium @outlander

[haikyu-mp4]

November

word count; 1033 – f!reader

Kozume Kenma did not want to be in the library right now. If he had his way, he would be asleep under a warm duvet all day now that classes had ended for the semester. Unfortunately, he had a lot to learn before exams, and there was no time to waste.

He chose a seat by the table in the back, which was only occupied by one other student, who he didn’t acknowledge at all. You eventually took notice of him, though. The cute guy with the outgrown bleach was looking down at his schoolwork with a frown, and you were very amused. You stretched your arm out to get his attention, and Kenma eventually looked up with a face that bridged between annoyed and confused. He looks like a kitten, you thought. "What did that book ever do to you?"

"It mocks my lack of will. So if you could try not to distract me, that would be great," he answered, which ended your conversation abruptly. You smirked to yourself, picked up a pen and got to work on your next drawing after taking a sip from your water bottle. Kenma calmly put on his headphones, a sign to please leave him alone.

After about half an hour, Kenma sat back in his seat to stretch. His spine cracked, and he clapped his cheeks to stay awake. You took this as your opportunity and flipped your drawing pad to show him the newest masterpiece. Kenma turned his head at the motion, and his face quickly fell in disbelief. You had drawn him how he looked today, except with ears and a nose that resembled a calico cat. He frowned when he noticed your wide and proud smile. Annoyingly enough, he was impressed by your unusual art style. When Kenma looked down at his notes again, he couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. A light rosy colour tinted his cheeks despite his efforts to stay cool, and your heart fluttered. Mission accomplished.

A week later, even closer to exams, Kenma made his way to the library again. To his surprise, the woman he still didn't know the name of was there too. With a quick rundown of positives and negatives in his head, he decided to take a seat across from you.

You sat like that every day for the whole school week. Kenma tried his best to cram as many facts as he could and actually started to feel like this exam might go well. He didn't quite know what the person across from him was working on, but you had several different coloured pens and even a small box of watercolours along with a brush that somehow stored the water you needed in the handle. He started wondering, and before he could stop himself, "Are you allowed to paint in here?"

Your eyes met, unconsciously having a staring contest for one too many seconds. Oh, so he wants to talk to me now? When his eyes wandered around your face and hands, he noticed that you weren’t exactly being careful with your colours either.

"No one has told me not to," you said slowly as if trying to convince him. A small smile graced his lips, and you felt greedy for more of it.

"Sounds like solid reasoning to me," Kenma agreed and leaned back in his chair. His hand lifted to point at the back of your large notepad, "What are you creating now, then?"

Abashingly, you turned it around. You had filled the whole page, and he recognised it as the library you were currently in, but with much more sunshine and colours, orange flowers growing from the books and pink cows making their way across the floor in the back. "I study visual arts. We have to create an exhibition, and my theme is perspective." His mouth fell open slightly as he nodded in understanding when you explained.

"It's cool. You're good at that." Kenma kept his voice low, and something about it was so enticing to you. He spoke so calmly and every emotion of his was a mystery. "I'm Kenma."

"I'm y/n." After settling down from your little conversation, you kept sipping from your water bottle. Kenma’s mouth dried every time he heard the sound. He did his best to clear his throat, realising he hadn’t brought anything to drink.

“Do you have an inspiration?” he asked, mostly wondering if you actually saw the words that way.

The corner of your mouth quirked. “I’ve always like games, it’s affected the way I see the world. Sorry, that probably sounds like childish imagination.”

Kenma thought back to the things he’d imagine when he ran in high school for volleyball practice. The way he’d make it into a game. “No, I… Uh, I totally get it.”

You two naturally fell into silent, individual work again. Kenma kept glancing over at your paintings, but whenever you met his gaze, he would look away. Eventually, the sun went down, and you both started clearing the table, silently packing everything into your bags. Come on, Kenma. Just smile at her and say something. However, somewhat luckily, you beat him to it.

"Hey, Kenma?" He lifted his head swiftly, eyebrows raised, happy that you started the conversation. "Do you want to get a drink?" You weren’t necessarily nervous, but undoubtedly hopeful for his answer. The corners of his mouth lifted in a kind, small smile. You had both picked up your bags and stood beside the table.

"A drink? Yeah, sure." Kenma’s voice sent a shiver down your spine again, and you straightened up with an even broader smile.

"Fun! Cool, cool, cool- The student bar?"

"I've only been there once or twice before, never saw the charm." The student bar had a certain vibe that didn't fit him when he just wanted to drink. A lot of people were there to socialise with new people, and Kenma was not interested.

"The beer is cheaper there," you said in a sing-songy voice to try and convince the handsome man. Kenma wasn't entirely convinced, but if you wanted to go there, then he wouldn't argue.

"Lead the way."

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

[httpsserene]

Hello hello! How are you?

I wanted to request a Yuki Tsunoda one-shot before you close your inbox.

I was thinking of a GN!Driver!Reader (if possible) and Yuki going out for a stroll after the Japanese GP in which the reader got P1. Yuki is showing them around, local places to dine and such... Seeing them be so interested in his ramblings he starts to realize some stuff and decides to act on it!

Please and thank you! Have a nice day! ☀️

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 ��𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 - 𝐲𝐭. 𝟐𝟐

summary: yuki's private tours include exclusive features, just for you. pairing: yuki tsunoda x gn!driver!reader (reader's race/ethnicity/appearance is not described but, they're bi-poc < 3)

2.7k words. oneshot & smau. yuki pov. fluff. feelings realization. pre-relationship. explicit language. alcohol consumption. flirtation. horny thoughts. author's never been to suzuka (or anywhere in japan) but did a little research for this. i apologize for anything that's incorrect or inaccurate :) requested by @anicega < 3

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. serene returns with a yuki fic/smau she was hoping to post in celebration of him being promoted to RB...have this as consolation instead. belated happy holidays and happy new year, 2025 will be all you wish it to be x

title inspo from one direction's why don't we go there (miss u liam🕊️) they were my #3 artist of 2024 and i'm not ashamed to admit that. when i read this request for the first time i instantly thought of this song and it just had the vibe of realizing you're crushing on somebody.

in other news, my 3k followers celly will serve as my v-day special this year and will last the entire month of february (this is how u properly celebrate black history month) !!! so, trying to finish writing the last of my requests so i can focus on doing the 3k celly requests :) more fics and info coming soon but in the meantime, enjoy reading xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

twitter • april 7th, 2024

Yuki watches your expression bloom with awe as you take in the endless sprawl of Sakura trees within Suzuka Flower Garden. Your hand grasps his forearm gently, tugging happily and exclaiming in delight as pink and white petals float through the sky. The flowers (while not as novel to him as they are to you; he’s seen many Sakura seasons growing up in Japan) make him feel nostalgic, memories of his youth—before F1, before karting—tingling somewhere at the back of his head. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Your mouth remains open in amazement until you end up sputtering around a mouthful of blossoms, and Yuki laughs. 

“Take a picture of me, please?” Yuki accepts your phone, not complaining as you make him take hundreds of photos before you find two or three that you deem acceptable. 

Yuki remains silent during your stroll underneath the trees. He allows you space to inhale the vanilla-like scent, to marvel at the image of graceful, falling petals. Every so often, the comfortable silence is interrupted by a passing fan sharing congratulations. They smile kindly while praising your first-place finish, but grin wildly while cheering for Yuki’s first home-race point. 

“She sounded happier about your point than she did about my win,” you remarked, not offended or annoyed, but charmed. 

Yuki denied the idea, but his pink cheeks undermined his credibility. The earlier silence is absent, but not missed as Yuki begins to explain the significance and traditions of cherry blossom season in Japan. 

“The sakura is our national flower. It symbolizes Spring—the time of renewal, life and death, beauty and violence, the fleeting nature of life. The blossoms only last for two weeks, which tells us to appreciate what we have,” Yuki relays, recalling what he was taught in elementary school verbatim.

“We have cherry blossom parties,” he grins at your envious gasp, “—called hanami. The translation is ‘watching blossoms.’ It can be just a walk like we’re doing now, but we also have picnics under the trees with family, friends, and even colleagues. There is also something called yozakura, which is doing the same thing but at night. My middle school held a hanami every year.”

You come to an abrupt start, turning to look at him with pleading eyes, “Let’s do a yozakura! Can’t we have dinner here? I want to see the trees at night—it must be beautiful! ”

Sympathetically, Yuki frowns, “We don’t have enough time to have dinner here if you still want to make it to the shrine before it closes.” His resolve weakens at the growing pouty downturn of your lips, “…I guess, we can have a snack here before leaving.”

He lets you drag him to the closest takoyaki cart, pleased to see the vendor’s patience as you order in choppy Japanese. While the food is being prepared, Yuki tasks you with finding the perfect tree to sit underneath while he stays near the cart.

“The two of you make a cute couple,” the vendor comments, smiling adoringly.

Yuki chokes on his exhale.

The two of you are far from resembling anything near a couple. Or, at least, Yuki thinks so. He thinks of you as a close friend but, do you see him as a friend? What if you view him as a colleague, or worse: just another annoying, backfield, competitor? Banishing his spiraling thoughts, Yuki considers there is no need to correct the kind lady. She doesn’t seem to recognize him. And, if she did follow Formula One, she would know you two aren’t a couple.

“Arigato gozaimasu,” he utters after a beat, reaching for his wallet as she begins plating the snacks.

She refuses to accept payment, ushering him to grab the small plates, “You’ve earned this meal; for your point and their race win—it is free.”

Yuki nearly exhausts himself expressing his gratitude to the vendor as he thanks her and deeply bows. When he finds you sitting underneath the chosen tree, he realizes he forgot to correct her assumption about his relationship status. Instantly, he forgets again, as you reach toward him to tuck a blossom behind his ear with a smile.

“Kawaii, Yuki-chan~,” you tease, grabbing your takoyaki dish off his stunned-still hands. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he flusters eventually, cheeks burning at the sounds of the word cute and his name leaving your mouth in quick succession. Even if the grammar is incorrect and it’s nothing more than a joke.

Yuki practically swallows his snack in one bite. He didn’t know he was terribly longing for authentic street food until his first bite. Not wanting to rush you to finish, he busies himself by searching for the most unblemished flower he can find on the ground.

Yuki waits for the perfect moment when you're distracted by brushing away the petals clinging to your clothing and tucks the near-perfect blossom he picked behind your ear.

“Now we match; kawaii desu~,” he chirps, his grin deceptively innocent. “Close your mouth, it would be a shame if you swallowed more petals.”

Yuki snorts at your offended gasp and dodges the soft punch you throw out as you both dispose of your trash and head back to the car. 

The drive to Tsubaki Grand Shrine is filled with anecdotes about his childhood mischief on these very streets you're passing by and questions about shrine etiquette. He didn’t realize you were so concerned about acting respectfully in the temple until you forced him to quiz you on appropriate manners and the important steps. Your dedication to having the perfect etiquette makes him think you’re one of the kindest people he’s ever known. It’s characteristic of you to be mindful of different cultures and kind overall; the fact that you willingly chose to celebrate a win by letting Yuki show you around Suzuka is telling. 

Yuki parks smoothly, and soothes your worries calmly, “You have no reason to panic. It sounds like you have it memorized—and if you forget anything, that’s what I’m here for. I would be a terrible tour guide if I let you fuck around and get cursed.”

With a healthy amount of side-eye, you quip, “I will write an extremely negative review and give you one star on Yelp. If you decide to fuck around, be ready to find out! Is this your intricate plan to get me cursed with bad luck so I don’t win another race this year?”

With an appalled expression, he earnestly denies, “If I had to pick any driver to win besides myself, I would pick you,” Yuki sees your eyes soften sweetly and he swallows nervously, needing to deflect the attention, “And, maybe Pierre. Only because he would be mad if he found out I chose you over him.”

The soft tinge of your stare remains even as you roll your eyes at him and giggle, “Of course! I could never compare to your lil’ boyfriend Pierre.”

He shrugs, the two of you exiting the car and making your way to the entrance. Feeling devious, he speaks loftily, “Hey. we both know there’s nothing little about Pierre.”

Yuki can admit he deserved to be deafened by your shriek of disgust. His ears continue to ring as you adamantly state that you don’t need any image of the Frenchman in your brain besides the view of his car shrinking away in your mirrors.

The distraction was effective, your earlier panic about proper manners is nowhere to be found as you confidently navigate purifying yourself at the chozuya, only looking toward Yuki once for reassurance. While you’re busy being awestruck by the architecture and natural beauty, Yuki carefully makes sure you don’t stray into the middle of the pathway and finds himself taking candid photos of you. He knows you’ll be disappointed that you forgot to take any, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your reverence. Hopefully, his idea of what makes a beautiful picture satisfies you. He pauses at the thought, wondering if it’s odd that you’re in the forefront of all the images. 

You’ve always been attractive—photogenic, to him.

The two of you reach the shrine and Yuki lets you pay your respects first. He offers you a handful of coins to choose from, reminding you that the amount doesn’t matter, any coin will do. You decided on a 5-yen coin; Yuki’s certain you’re unaware of the belief about that coin increasing your chances of finding a significant other. Although, he is aware that it’s an urban legend. It doesn’t stop his chest from tightening when he thinks about you in a relationship, with somebody who isn’t him. He tosses a 5-yen coin in the offering box to match.

He doesn’t believe in the myth, but if there’s any chance it helps him get together with you he’ll take it.

Burning incense at the temple comes without any more romantic realizations. Buying omamori, on the other hand, has Yuki thinking that what he feels for you is more than a simple crush. He forces himself to not stare at your selections and focuses on his purchases. An en-musubi (for finding love) for himself, and he’s chosen two for you: kotsu-anzen (for safe driving—he thinks it’s a little ironic) and katsumori (for success and victory—he knows you don’t need it).

On the way to dinner, Yuki notices your shuin and asks needlessly, “Is that to remind you of visiting?”

He can feel your gaze as he watches the road in front of him, hearing you ponder over your response, “Of visiting the shrine with you? Yes. Um, I don’t know if this is weird but, I bought you a couple of omamori, if that’s okay?”

Your tone is bashful and when he spares a glance, you avoid eye contact, fiddling with the shuin anxiously. 

Yuki sighs giddily, relieved, “It’s not weird because I bought you a couple too. We can exchange at the restaurant?”

He sees the shock on your face from the corner of his eye, as if you weren’t expecting him to do the same. It angers him slightly, his previous obliviousness. If you didn’t ask him to show you around tonight, he never would have been aware of his budding feelings for you, nor the feelings he thinks you already reciprocate.

You’re overwhelmed with the number of choices at the hole-in-the-wall sushi establishment Yuki chose for the night, eventually slamming the menu shut and asking him to order for you. He sits up straighter at the responsibility, rattling off the plates he’d like to the server, mindful of any preferences and dietary restrictions you have. 

A flight of sake samples is brought to your table, and Yuki finds it fitting that you enjoy the sweetest flavor because it compliments you. The alcohol loosens the tension gathered in him, helping him maintain a semblance of a regular conversation while he refrains from thinking about the shape of your lips, your attentive shining eyes, the length of your neck, your inquisitive questions as he recalls his childhood, the dip of your waist—Yuki doesn’t take another sip after he feels his eyes straying. He’s enamored with your undivided attention and it makes him feel hotter than he was in Qatar last year. 

He asks to see the omamori you’re gifting him before you can comment on the flush spanning from his cheeks down to his collar. Receiving kotsu-anzen (for road safety) and katsumori (for success and victory) from you only serves to make him redder. He thinks about asking for your hand in marriage when he reveals he’s bought you the same and your flush blooms to match his. 

With impeccable timing, the server begins to deliver the endless amount of plates Yuki ordered and the moment passes without being addressed. He almost whimpered aloud when your eyes fluttered shut at your first bite of food, moaning appreciatively at the taste.

Desperate to distract his hindbrain, he stutters, “W-What was I talking about before?”

Yuki feels like you know what he’s trying to hide, your eyes omniscient. He spots the corner of your lips tilting upward into a smirk, but it vanishes before he can be sure and you remind him, “You were talking about beating Natori in Motegi to win the F4 title in 2018.”

The rest of the meal remains lighthearted, intrigued chatter flowing around bites of food as you compare and contrast your junior careers and hometowns. It carries to the final stop Yuki brings you tonight, Isozu Beach. The vast, dark ocean is bathed in moonlight, the salty breeze cooling the air, and the coastline is lit up with buildings. The sound of waves crashing against the shore melts away as the heart-to-heart you’re sharing becomes his sole importance. He’s holding both pairs of your shoes in one hand, listening to your occasional giggles as the tide slips high enough to wet your feet and tickle your ankles. Your lilted and somewhat slurred speech tells Yuki you’re tipsy, but you’re insistent on simply linking your arm with his to prevent yourself from stumbling as you continue to walk the length of the shoreline. The stroll resumes and you slowly lean more of your weight into him; your head nestled on his arm, hand wrapped around his bicep, and Yuki feels you shiver at the next wind gust.

Like a gentleman, Yuki pulls off his sweater and helps you into it when your arms prove to be too clumsy to manage on their own without ending up stuck. Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut to regain his composure after you bury your nose into the collar of his sweater with a pleased hum. 

“Okay,” he says, sounding strangled, “Let’s get you back to the hotel—you’re more drunk than I thought.”

He suffers quietly during the short trip to the hotel you're staying in. The way you’re humming quietly as you play with the hem of his sweater has his grip tightening around the steering wheel, stopping him from reaching for the handbrake to halt the car and leaning over the console to kiss the tiny grin on your lips. Yuki escorts you to your room door, making sure you arrive safely.

He takes the keycard from you and unlocks the door after you fail at your first few attempts.

The door clicks open and Yuki speaks, “This was…nice. It’s the best celebration I have had in a while. We should do it again, sometime.”

You smile shyly, agreeing quietly, “I think so too. Thank you for showing me around.”

Nervously, Yuki’s voice wavers, “But, next time, I want it to be a date.”

“I think…I think I would like that,” your small smile grows into an unrestrained grin, pupils wide with infatuation.

He exhales roughly, the tight pressure in his chest lightening as it sounds like you like him, want him, too, “W-wait—really?”

Yuki looks on as you hold onto the door for stability as relieved-sounding laughter overwhelms you. Your amusement quiets when you straighten up to meet his eyes once more, probably seeing how he’s honestly shocked at your returned feelings.

“Yuki, babe—” Oh. He’s going to sing in the shower when he gets back to his hotel room. “—I tucked a cherry blossom behind your ear and called you kawaii. I know the 5-yen coin has that myth about relationships, and I bought an en-musubi omamori for myself because it’s for finding love. Obviously, Yuki—I would like to fall in love with you.”

Lost for words, and with his mouth gaping, stunned, he says, “...You do?”

You’re kind enough to spare him with a roll of your eyes, “I do.”

“I bought the en-musubi, too,” he reveals for no other reason than not knowing what to say.

“I know, babe,” Yuki’s heartbeat skips, “I saw it in the bag during the drive back here.”

“When is your flight scheduled?” He asks suddenly, a plan beginning to form in his mind.

“Tomorrow morning?” Your brows are furrowed in confusion at the change in topic, glancing down at your phone screen to confirm, “—Or this morning, I suppose, since it’s the next day already.”

He swallows, eager again all of a sudden, “Is it too soon if I ask you to cancel your flight and spend the rest of the week here with me?”

instagram • yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, f1, selenagomez and 652,113 others

yourinstagram missed my flight because i got lost in suzuka. not because i got hammered 👍🏽

view comments

user1 when i put "two f1 drivers start dating e/o" on my 2024 bingo card, i meant for it to be lestappen… happy for you though haha...

user2 WHERE HAVE YOU BEEEEN ???!!!

user3 BEDS EMPTY 😡 user4 NO NOTE 😵‍💫 user5 CAR GONE 😫 user2 i was going quoting rihanna but this works too LMAO

danielricciardo well well well

yourinstagram are YOU doing well 🤨 danielricciardo i’m not the one who told their team that they needed to reschedule their flight bc of food poisoning yukitsunoda0511 it’s me! i’m food poisoning 😁🙋🏻‍♂️ user6 YUKIII PLS 😭😭😭

user7 no shot u missed your flight when u told your team to be ready for it on the radio 🤡

yourinstagram do as i say, not as i do—is the phrase, i believe :) user7 okayyy mother gothel since u know what's best 😝

oscarpiastri hey you never gave yuki his sweater back, in case you forgot 😀

yourinstagram oscar please stfu i’m never telling u anything again landonorris hey don’t speak to osc like that…he’s just a boy :( yourinstagram lando u can stfu too? tf ??? these hands are rated e for everyone 🤺 user8 the threat of violence almost distracted me from the sweater exchange…keyword being almost

user9 no post about the race win and no tag for yuki on the last photo…

-yourinstagram hey i won the suzuka gp in case anybody forgot :p -yukitsunoda0511 hey i’m in the last photo in case anybody didn’t know :3

instagram • yukitsunoda0511

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, nicorosberg and 739,926 others

yukitsunoda0511 i do private tours 🇯🇵🍣⛩️🌸🌊🌖😚🥇

view comments

pierregasly no point in asking who took that last photo 😏

yukitsunoda0511 your mom did pierregasly yuki please yukitsunoda0511 is what your mom said last night user10 your honor, my client pleads: boy best friends

user11 that’s a lotttt of emojis yuki-san

user12 he graduated from the charles leclerc school of emoji usage with honors 🧑🏻‍🎓 charles_leclerc i am a very good teacher 😊 user12 chuck legleg responded i can die happily now

yourinstagram do you have any tours available in shanghai next week?

yukitsunoda0511 there’s a spot open at a discounted price! yourinstagram how much will it cost me 🥴🤧 yukitsunoda0511 five or six kisses should cover it :) yourinstagram payment is on its way rn 🏎️💨💨💨 user13 this could have been a private whatsapp message… user14 going to say taylor swift sucks on twitter so death comes faster

visacashapprb when you tell your driver to have some decorum and he decorates his caption instead 🫠🫠🫠

user15 WAITTT WHY WAS THIS ACTUALLY A FUNNY JOKE💀💀😭 user16 when you tell your driver to score a point and he decides to score a date as well 🫠🫠🫠 pierregasly when you tell your driver to stop harassing pierre and he cyber bullies him instead 🫠🫠🫠

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[shizuturnspages]

Just yandere ayato and diluc with reader who has been through a lot. Like war, abuse, losing friends and death? You name it

And yet reader remain gentle and kind through it all.

I like this one because we all know diluc turns cold after his father's death, meanwhile ayato had to put up a face and gets crueler in order to keep the peace around his clan,

Yandere Ayato and Diluc with a Gentle S/O Who’s Been Through It All

Yandere Ayato

The Facade Falls for You

❥ Ayato is a master manipulator, wearing a calm, collected mask to navigate the storm of Inazuma’s politics. Yet, with you, it crumbles. Your gentleness is disarming in a way that terrifies him; he feels like you’re the only person who truly sees him beyond his strategic facade.

❥ He becomes obsessively protective, not just of your safety but of your kindness. He sees the world as something cruel, unworthy of you, and he’s determined to shield you from anything that could tarnish your purity.

Fixated on Your Strength

❥ Ayato admires your resilience, though he’d never outright say it. To him, your ability to endure so much and still remain gentle is nothing short of miraculous—and it feeds his obsession.

❥ However, he also hates the world for what it’s done to you. While you forgive and move forward, he quietly seethes, plotting ways to punish anyone who’s hurt you. They won’t even know it’s him pulling the strings until it’s far too late.

Subtle Possessiveness

❥ Ayato’s control over you is subtle but firm. He makes it impossible for you to leave his side by weaving himself into every aspect of your life—offering you comfort, opportunities, and protection under the guise of kindness.

❥ “You’ve done so much on your own,” he murmurs, taking your hand. “Let me carry some of that burden for you. You deserve to rest.”

A Calculated Protector

❥ Ayato will eliminate threats to your happiness without a second thought. Whether it’s someone from your past or a current obstacle, he’ll handle it quietly and efficiently. You’ll never have to lift a finger—or even know.

❥ But if you insist on staying connected to anyone he deems harmful? His tone sharpens, his smile a little too tight. “You trust me, don’t you? Then let me decide what’s best for you.”

Scenario:

You were sitting in the gardens of the Kamisato Estate, the sun casting a soft glow over the flowers. Ayato watched you from a distance, his heart twisting. How could someone who’d faced so much still look at the world with such warmth?

He approached, offering you a cup of tea. “You seem lost in thought,” he said, his voice gentle.

You smiled, though the melancholy in your eyes was impossible to miss. “Just thinking about the past. It’s strange, isn’t it? How the world can be so cruel yet still so beautiful?”

Ayato’s jaw tightened. He hated hearing you speak of the pain you’d endured, even if you did so with such grace. “You shouldn’t have to carry those memories alone,” he said, his tone firm. “Let me share them with you.”

“You’ve done so much for me already,” you replied, your smile soft but hesitant.

“And I’ll continue to do so,” Ayato said, his hand brushing yours. “Because you deserve more than what this world has given you. And I’ll ensure you have it—even if it means bending the world itself.”

Yandere Diluc

A Mirror to His Own Pain

❥ Your ability to remain kind despite your suffering resonates deeply with Diluc, who turned cold and distant after his father’s death. He sees in you the person he wishes he could have been, and that admiration quickly turns into obsession.

❥ He clings to you like a lifeline, desperate to keep your warmth in his otherwise dark and lonely world.

Overbearing Protection

❥ Diluc’s protective streak is intense. He knows first-hand how cruel the world can be, and he refuses to let it harm you any further. Whether it’s sheltering you at Dawn Winery or accompanying you everywhere, he’s always there.

❥ “You’ve suffered enough,” he says, his voice low and serious. “Let me take care of you now.”

Anger at Your Past

❥ While you forgive those who’ve hurt you, Diluc cannot. His anger burns hot and relentless, and he channels it into ensuring no one from your past ever gets close to you again.

❥ If he finds out someone who hurt you is still alive? Well, the Darknight Hero has another mission.

Struggling with Your Independence

❥ Diluc struggles with the fact that you can stand on your own after everything you’ve been through. While he respects your strength, it also feeds his insecurities—he wants you to need him.

❥ This can lead to moments of conflict, where his overprotectiveness clashes with your desire to handle things yourself.

Scenario:

The crackling of the fireplace filled the quiet room at Dawn Winery. You sat curled up on the couch, staring into the flames. Diluc watched you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

“You’re too quiet,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it—an undercurrent of worry.

“The past,” you admitted. “It’s strange. I’ve been through so much, but I’m still here. Sometimes I wonder why.”

Diluc crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling in front of you. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re here because you’re strong,” he said, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “Because you’ve endured more than anyone should have to. And I swear, as long as I’m alive, I won’t let you suffer anymore.”

You shook your head. “Diluc, you can’t protect me from everything.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can try. And I will. Because I can’t lose you—not to this world, not to anything.”

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when spencer was dealing with a migraine, he definitely preferred staying home with a good book or just going to sleep. but after losing a bet to morgan, he couldn't escape—he had to show up for a blind date.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid (s6-7) x diva/bombshell!female reader, spencer's pov, alcohol consumption, suggestive content comes back in flashbacks, scratch marks.

𝐚/𝐧: okay, question for you — what kind of bet could spencer possibly lose to morgan?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.5k

Spencer could offer anyone one piece of advice.

If, at any point during your— let’s face it, pathetically short — lifespan (the average human life expectancy is approximately 73 years, though this varies depending on environmental factors, lifestyle choices, genetics, and a laundry list of other variables you probably skimmed past in some middle school biology textbook) you ever get the idea to make a bet with a man like Derek Morgan, stop yourself immediately.

Seriously.

Tuck your pride deep into your pocket, crumple up your honor like a piece of paper, and toss it straight into the trash. Not every moment of your life has to be spent proving to the world that you’re always right. Especially when there’s even the slightest chance you might not be. Save yourself the humiliation.

You could spend this Friday night at home, nose buried in a book, instead of perched on a stool in some dimly lit, cramped bar, the kind where you keep glancing over your shoulder, half expecting someone to jump out and stab you in the ribs. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic. Spencer just really didn’t want to be there.

On this date. This blind date.

This blind date with some friend of Morgan’s whom he had never seen before, didn’t know what she looked like, what her name was, or what she did for a living…he knew nothing about her. And that, among other things, made him feel like the meeting could only go terribly.

The second reason was his migraine, which decided to strike that day, bringing that awful pressure back to his temples and turning him into a snappy, irritable jerk. The third reason was that his date was already twenty minutes late. How could he expect to spend meaningful time with someone who didn’t even respect him enough to show up on time?

At least he was in a relatively quiet bar instead of some nightclub bursting with lights. He probably wouldn’t have survived that. At least here, he could lean his elbow against the bar and press the cold glass of his drink to his temple, hoping it might soothe the awful sensation pounding in his head. He had specifically asked for the drink to be served with as much ice as possible.

He glanced at his watch. Twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds...

Someone slid onto a barstool. Not right next to him—there was one empty seat between them. Spencer cast a fleeting glance at the woman and almost snorted. That definitely wasn’t her.

Sure, he didn’t know what she looked like, and she didn’t know what he looked like. But Morgan wouldn’t have set him up with…someone like that. He wouldn’t be that cruel.

This woman looked as if someone had just fallen to their knees in front of her, begged her to step out of the pages of a high-fashion magazine, and graced the room with her presence. Or like the kind of person you stumble across while flipping through profiles of major mob bosses on Garcia’s computer and click on the tab labeled wife. Calling her pretty in this context would have been the greatest insult, a blatant lie, and a complete disregard for her actual presence.

No one in their right mind would have set someone like him up with a woman like this. An average-looking brainiac, often losing his train of thought and completely getting lost in his own words. Awkward. Currently also irritated and exhausted, but that’s beside the point.

Besides, the woman didn’t look like she was waiting for her date to show up. She sat facing the bar, not looking around, not scanning for anyone with her eyes. In fact, her gaze was fixed on one spot. On her phone, which she kept tapping on with her long nails. It couldn’t be her.

However, there was no other woman in sight. So, his date was already thirty minutes and twelve seconds late…wait, hold on. Had he really been staring at her for six seconds and twenty-five minutes? That was almost creepy. He was really being strange that day.

He shook his head in pity at himself and…still waited.

And waited.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her adjust herself in her seat. Her posture straight as an arrow, her thighs widening from the pressure on the seat. Long fingers with long nails, incessantly clicking away on her phone. Her jaw slightly clenched. What could be so important that she was completely ignoring the world around her? Some exciting gossip from her best friend? Or maybe when you look like that, you simply stop paying attention to your surroundings because it doesn’t deserve it? Or perhaps he was just projecting the irritation he had built up onto a woman who hadn’t done anything to him, creating degrading assumptions about her based solely on her appearance?

He placed the untouched glass with his drink on the counter. The ice clinked. Since he’d already wasted so much time preparing and leaving his apartment, it would be foolish to waste it even further without saying a word to his, well, potential date? Besides, he already felt humiliated. Why not embarrass himself even more?

"Hey," he said, fixing his gaze on her again. Damn, his voice sounded weak. She didn’t even flinch, probably hadn’t heard him. He cleared his throat and restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Of course, she hadn’t heard, she was too absorbed in her phone. "Hey, are you…are you maybe Morgan’s friend?"

Without rushing, she finished typing a message on her phone, then rested her chin on her hand, stretching her long fingers over it. Spencer tried to decipher what that unfazed look in her eyes meant. Boredom? Disdain?

"Spencer Reid," she said after a moment, nodding almost imperceptibly to herself. Her gaze drifted over his figure, leaving behind the faint trace of something—some kind of shiver—that he worked hard to ignore. He preferred to focus on something else. She knew his name, but he didn’t know hers? “I was starting to think you wouldn’t speak up.”

He frowned, and an unidentifiable sound escaped his throat. Somewhere between a startled sigh and a derisive scoff.

“You knew it was me?” he asked, immediately regretting the stupid question. She had just made it blatantly obvious! For reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, he felt as though there was a strict limit to the number of sentences he was allowed to exchange with her. And he’d just wasted one of them. “So why didn’t you say something first?”

She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was tapping something else into her phone. He rolled his eyes, not even bothering to hide it. After all, she wasn’t paying attention to him anyway.

“I saw that,” she said, still not looking at him. “It’s rude to make faces behind someone’s back.”

Spencer had this particular trait: he was quick to form opinions about people. His job, after all, involved noticing patterns in others’ personalities and using that to predict their next moves. This time, though, he abandoned the idea of a deep psychoanalysis and focused on one simple thing.

Her insolence just plain pissed him off.

To the extent that, instead of getting up from his seat and leaving the bar with a sarcastic thanks for the date, he slid off his stool and onto the one that had been separating them. His drink stayed in its original spot. Not that it was doing anything for his headache, anyway.

“It’s also rude to be late for an agreed-upon meeting time and ignore the other person in favor of your phone,” he shot back, this time without a hint of hesitation.

Either he imagined it, or a brief tremor took control of the corners of her lips.

She turned off her phone and placed her hand over it, as if to show that while she wasn’t using it at the moment, she could always pick it back up whenever she felt like it. Once this fleeting interest in him had run its course. It was like throwing down a challenge to the court jester. Entertain me.

“You’re right,” she admitted, without a trace of remorse. “It is rude.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other in complete silence. He tried not to swallow at all, even though saliva was pooling in his mouth. She seemed like an incredible observer, the type who would notice the slow, too-slow movement of his throat if he dared to let it happen. He had no idea what to say. No clue why he’d even joined her, why he was prolonging this conversation. He felt that if he spoke first, he’d seal his defeat in this interaction.

Not that he wasn’t already standing on that losing ground. And though he couldn’t believe he was actually saying it, sitting under her gaze was somehow worse than the potential humiliation. He cleared his throat.

“Morgan set us up,” he said.

“A blind date.”

“You lose a bet, too?”

She laughed. With that slight raise of her brow, it seemed like a genuine reaction. To his surprise, Spencer regretted his words. Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted to the woman he was on a date with that this was just the result of a wager. No matter how brazen or mean she might have been.

“Don’t worry,” she said, catching the look on his face. “It’s new. A completely exciting novelty, really. To be on a date with a guy and know he’s only there because he has to be. Not because he just wants to fuck you.”

Spencer shifted slightly in his seat. Once again, she was putting him in a position where he had no idea how to respond. For a moment, she watched him, her gaze piercing, her lips slightly parted to reveal hints of her teeth. But when he hesitated too long to say anything, she turned back to her phone. He’d lost her attention. Not that he particularly cared to keep it. Well, maybe he cared a little, but not in the most obvious sense. He saw it more as a game, a test of who she was.

She might not have been the most pleasant type of woman, but there was something undeniably fascinating about her. With that appearance, with that magnetic aura, she had to be used to crowds of men trailing after her, trying to impress her. He wondered how long it would take before she completely stopped paying him any attention. How susceptible to boredom she really was.

In the meantime, he let out a quiet sigh, turning to retrieve the drink he’d left at his previous spot. When he returned to his seat, however, he nearly spilled it on himself. She had shifted. Where before she had been angled toward the bar, only glancing at him sideways over her shoulder, now she was directly facing him, her knees nearly brushing his. She was entirely exposed to his gaze.

Earlier, Spencer had mostly registered the aura she projected—commanding, cool, utterly detached. Her beauty was breathtaking, but it had felt... out of reach. Untouchable. Now, up close, with more time to truly look at her, she became tangible. A shape—every curve and detail of her figure. Her lips, which, despite the sharp-edged words they formed, looked incredibly soft in texture.

He felt a bit pathetic for the fact that the first two things he noticed were her figure and her lips. But, in his defense, he’d already dissected everything else about her earlier.

“Sorry,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. She gestured vaguely toward her phone, the motion dismissive. “People won’t stop bothering me. My subjects.”

She uttered the word with a hint of sarcasm, her face lighting up as if she were joking, but considering her earlier behavior, Spencer found it genuinely difficult to tell whether she was serious about calling them that.

His mind should have been focused on sorting through the information, filing it neatly into the overstuffed yet impeccably organized shelves of his thoughts. He should have added the detail about her being someone’s boss to the appropriate folder, then used it as a springboard for conversation. After all, he didn’t know a single meaningful thing about her yet.

But instead, he was far too preoccupied with staring at her exposed knee like some pathetic fool.

Another second of silence, and she’d stop looking at him again—he’d already learned that pattern. He didn’t hold back and let out a short laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. But then he added, “Do you call your employees subjects? Like you’re, I don’t know, Catherine the Great on the Russian throne?”

“I knew you’d latch onto that. Just didn’t think you’d compare me to her.”

“Were you hoping for Cleopatra?”

The sound of her laughter caught the attention of the men at the table in the corner of the bar. Spencer wouldn't have been surprised if one of them approached her right then, completely ignoring his presence. Her head tilted slightly back, exposing her neck. He hurriedly took a sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol would dull his perception and stop him from paying such religious attention to such details. At that moment, he wasn't sitting there because of the lost bet. He was there because the chair physically had a grip on him.

“You’re cute,” she said.

Another surprising choice of words. A buzz filled his head, possibly a mix of his migraine and alcohol, or maybe something else entirely.

"Weren’t you supposed to say funny?" he muttered.

"I know what I wanted to say. I’ve never been on a date where someone compared me to two such powerful women."

He felt strangely pleased, and tried to push that feeling away as far as he could. She’d said one nice thing, and he was forgetting about the rest.

"But once, I was called the leader of a group of real angels," she added almost immediately, glancing at him with a small smirk. "So you could always try harder."

So many potential sarcastic replies flashed through his mind that he ended up saying nothing at all. Their knees were touching now. When did that happen? There had been a few inches of space between them earlier. Had he moved closer to her, or had she moved closer to him?

He considered pulling back, but that would have been an admission—both to her and to himself—that her touch was making it harder for him to think clearly. And after all, one of the defining traits of Spencer Reid was that nothing could cloud his intellect.

"Well, considering how biblically accurate angels look, I’m not sure if that was a compliment," his lips answered for him, without much consultation with his brain. They consulted instead with the center of humiliation, and received its approval.

Her eyebrows rose again as she slightly leaned toward him.

"Are you saying it was an insult?"

Being this close, she didn’t even need to raise her voice. Her words barely brushed the air, yet they were still audible. She was preventing him from interrupting her. How could he do that when he was barely able to come up with anything reasonable?

Without taking his eyes off her, he reached for his drink. The glass appeared between them, becoming an object that separated them, allowing him to—what a paradox—clear his thoughts for just a moment. He took a slow, tiny sip.

"Maybe the guy had good intentions," he replied with a feigned, dismissive shrug. "It’s just that his execution kinda gave him away. What I’m saying is, you should appreciate my compliment more." A bit of the drink remained on his lower lip, which reflected in her eye when she turned her gaze toward it. Spencer felt like he was on some kind of roller coaster, speeding in an unknown, slightly dangerous direction, not knowing how to stop it. Did he even want to stop it? He definitely needed to slow it down somehow. Before it crashed. He inhaled deeply, thinking of something that could, if only for a moment, give him control over the conversation. "Although maybe it shouldn’t even count, since this isn’t a real date."

"A compliment is a compliment. By the way, in your case, it was the other way around. The execution turned out well. The intentions, not so much. You didn’t want to make me feel good, right?" She tilted her head slightly to the side, curling the end of her sentence.

"I’ll leave that up to your interpretation," he replied after a moment. He was staring at her so intently that he almost unconsciously copied her movement. Control over the conversation, yeah, right! It was a struggle to swallow. "Does...does this not bother you at all? That this isn’t a real date?"

Constantly reminding her of that fact felt like clutching a damn sharp razor while drowning.

Her short huff synchronized with a roll of her eyes, a flash of white.

"I’m devastated by that fact," she groaned theatrically, tapping him seriously on the knee for dramatic effect. A shiver ran from his leg all the way through his body, the glass trembled in his hands. "I’m falling apart, I swear. Will you let me rest my head on your shoulder so I can cry?"

She looked at him from under lowered lashes, pretending to beg. Spencer was finding it increasingly hard to resist the buzz in his head and the thoughts that often wandered in strange directions. The tips of her long nails were still brushing against his leg through the fabric of his pants.

"Sarcasm," he muttered, struggling to tear his gaze away from them. Struggling to breathe. "How original.”

"I know this isn’t a real date, you don’t have to keep reminding me, Mr. Grumpy," she said, ignoring his mumbling remark that didn’t really mean anything. "By the way, even if it wasn’t obvious that this was a lost bet, I would’ve figured it out right away. All it took was one look at you when I walked in."

For a moment, Spencer managed to ground his feet in the reality beneath him. He furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean?"

She made some gesture with her hand.

"You were sitting here like you were being punished. Head down. Irritated look. Posture suggesting people shouldn’t approach you." She tried to demonstrate, slumping her previously perfectly straight back. It looked incredibly unnatural on her. "I’m so glad Morgan invited me here instead of some sweet, affectionate girl. She would’ve run away crying."

"That...is not true," he blurted out, shaking his head. "Okay, I admit, I didn’t want to be here, but I definitely didn’t suggest people should stay away from me."

"Maybe not you," she shrugged. "But your body language did."

He snorted.

"Look who’s the expert in reading body language."

“So now you want to be here?"

"What?"

"You said you didn’t want to be here. So, do you want to be here now?"

With some refined calmness, she followed his face. Their knees were almost touching, one of her legs was practically between his. Their bodies were facing each other, heads leaning toward one another. A glass in his hand. He tightened his grip on it, slightly pulling his shoulder blades together. He tried to escape the sphere of her scent, her gaze, her overpowering presence, which he was still relentlessly sinking deeper into. He couldn’t stay in that separation for long and soon returned to his previous position, placing them closer than ever before. Something in her eyes flashed with challenge.

"Apparently, you know a lot about body language," he said slowly, watching the flash in her eyes with the same breath. Surprisingly, he sounded quite confident. "Won’t you figure it out yourself?"

She hadn’t blinked for so long, yet her eyelids didn’t even flutter. After his question, there was a moment of silence, during which the corners of her lips curled up progressively. During this relatively short meeting, he’d barely seen a smile on her face, and none of them were like this one. In its way, it was ruthless, victorious, in its way cruel, in its way addictive.  It made him want to take some kind of action, to tear it off her face in a radical way.

He felt the drink slipping from his hands. For a moment, he was afraid he’d lost control over his limbs, and it would fall to the floor. But soon it dawned on him that her fingers were slowly beginning to wrap around the glass. Slowly, but surely, she took it from him.

"I could," she admitted, taking a sip. Spencer stared at the movement of her lips as they slowly embraced the glass, leaving their mark on it. "But why should I bother when you can tell me yourself?" she asked. She tilted her head slightly, and the next statement that came from her mouth was almost amused. "I don’t chase."

In the silence that fell, he felt as though she was listening, in some wicked way, to the sound of his heart beating. Like in some movie, where the world around fades into insignificance, other sounds melting into the atmosphere.

It seemed to Spencer that his voice had caught in his throat in some defensive gesture, trying to stop him from responding before properly considering his words. At the same time, so many sentences rushed to his lips—not just those that made sense. His mind was veiled by a black curtain of unbreathable fabric. In that moment, he could’ve just as easily recited the formula for the sum of an arithmetic sequence.

He swallowed hard.

"I don’t chase either," he finally replied, not breaking their gaze.

For a moment, she continued to stare at him. Her expression unreadable, the smile long forgotten. She shifted the glass in her hand, then tilted it to her lips, drinking the rest of its contents in one go. She set it down on the counter again, with force.

"Fuck you, then," she said indifferently.

For a moment, Spencer had no idea how to react; he couldn’t process it. His jaw slightly dropped, but he had no words to follow. And before he could add anything, she simply stood up from her seat, effortlessly untangling herself from their complex positioning, then walked away.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, unmoving, until he was finally forced to take a breath. It was only with that rush of air into his lungs that he was able to somehow, in a distorted way, begin to rationalize everything.

First, he felt strangely disappointed.

Then, he found himself swept up in a wave of ordinary irritation towards her. The same kind of irritation he'd felt at the beginning of their conversation, which had subtly slipped out through the back door as the talk continued. And now, it had returned with double the force. He remembered her face, and when he imagined looking into those eyes, all he saw was the grotesque expansion of her inflated ego.

In its own way, it was justified. She was damn attractive, unattainable. Some level of excessive self-admiration was almost natural for her. At least, not surprising. That didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Spencer rubbed his eyelids as if waking from some dream. And then he saw it. Her phone on the bar. Left behind by her.

And although he grabbed the phone and even turned his body toward the door, he hesitated for a long time, unsure if he should follow her. She’d practically ignored him during the first few minutes of their conversation, absorbed by that very phone. On the other hand, it was supposedly some business matter. On yet another hand, he didn’t care in the slightest. When he left the bar, it wasn’t out of some deeply ingrained sense of altruism. He did it because his legs demanded it. His subconscious. The blood pulsing in his temples and the rapid breaths nervously coursing between his nose and mouth.

He stopped outside the bar, surrounded by the nighttime quiet. A yellow cab zipped past him, so close he could feel the air ripple in its wake, as he wondered which direction she might have gone. How was it even possible that she’d vanished so quickly? For a moment, he stood there, feeling a growing sense of pity for himself. He slowed his breathing, as though that might help him catch the faint sound of her heels striking the pavement somewhere in the distance. He wanted to hear it.

His grip tightened on the phone as he turned back toward the bar. He’d leave it there, hand it over to the bartender, and then go home. She’d figure it out eventually, realize where she’d last used it, and return.

But just as he took a single step, he noticed a silhouette leaning casually against the building.

Watching him. And smiling with triumph.

*

"Once again, why exactly are we, profilers, being called in for a contaminated water case?" Spencer asked, clearly frustrated with himself.

He couldn't focus. And he was hungover. Well, no, he wasn’t. He’d had less than one drink two days ago on Friday night, and now it was the start of the week, and he was at work. He’d gotten a decent amount of sleep last night, had an excellent coffee, and even eaten breakfast. So why did he still feel like there was some dull, persistent throbbing buried deep in the recesses of his skull?

The entire team stared at him for a beat too long in silence.

"This is the third such incident in the past two months," Hotch finally spoke, his tone patient. "The first time, a chemical contaminant got into the water supply of a small town, causing mild poisoning symptoms in a handful of people. The second incident was nearly identical, except more people were affected. The third time, it happened in a different, more populated area, using a much more lethal toxin. And now, we have fatalities."

For a moment, Spencer stayed silent, processing the information. In front of him lay a case file, its contents neatly compiled. He focused his gaze on the first page, his expression thoughtful. But as he read the words, they seemed to blur together, offering little clarity and yielding no significant conclusions. A bitter urge to scoff at his own incompetence bubbled up within him. He was distracted.

“You forgot to mention this is a top, top, top-secret case,” Rossi chimed in, breaking the silence.

Spencer furrowed his brow. Was there a hint of irony in Rossi’s tone, or was he imagining it?

“Sorry, man, but what planet have you been on for the past thirty minutes while we were going over this?” Morgan asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head, his tone light but teasing.

He tried to avoid his gaze. He had this strange feeling that Morgan could see right through him. After all, he was the only one who knew about his date. Well, in theory. The details and the outcome were still unknown to him, and they were meant to remain that way.

“There’s suspicion that all these contaminations are the work of one person or organization,” JJ spoke up, glancing at him from the corner of her eye with some pity. Not mockery, it’s worth specifying. “They’re testing the effects of various poisons, their toxicity, as well as gathering data on the response times of emergency services, procedures, and residents' reactions. And that, in turn, could mean…”

“Mass panic,” Prentiss finished.

JJ nodded at her, agreeing.

Thanks to this explanation, everything began to slowly form in his mind. Another case shrouded in secrecy, meant to be kept hidden from literally everyone, starting with the public, and even ending with other agencies.

“We’ll meet at the jet in fifteen minutes,” Hotch informed them, standing up from his chair. “We have a field interview to conduct. A chemist will join us to collect samples of the poison.”

Spencer dragged himself up from his seat, but before he could follow the others out of the room, Morgan stopped him with a gesture.

"You're staying, man. We need to talk." He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression full of curiosity.

Spencer sighed.

"Hotch said—"

"Fifteen minutes, if I heard right."

"Well, fifteen minutes is more than enough time for someone to drink contaminated water and end up six feet under."

"The water system's been shut off, so slow down with the doom and gloom. Besides, this conversation wouldn’t be happening if you’d called me back over the weekend," Morgan said, his tone firm but without any real anger—just pure, friendly curiosity. A grin spread across his face. "So, how was it? Did you have a good time? Did you like my friend?"

He knew that question was coming, yet he hadn’t prepared for it. He had no idea how to answer, no clue how to summarize an encounter that had somehow lodged itself so deeply in the recesses of his mind. It kept surfacing, unbidden, pushing certain images into his vision—and sensations into his awareness.

Spencer hit the doorframe with his shoulder.

Or maybe it was her? Either way, there was a sound of impact, one of them must have collided with something on the way. The way they both traveled, immersed in each other's faces, bodies heading out on a trip despite the layers of clothes separating them.

It was probably him after all. It was from his mouth that this short, sharp sound escaped. It didn't take them long to cover the distance between the bar and his apartment. They needed little conversation to shift from the topic left in the phone to the joining of impatient, curious lips. Curious whether they could once again tap into the tension created just moments earlier, when they sat across from each other on the bar stools.

And when the initial curiosity was satisfied, they couldn't stop. It was replaced by a need, driven out by the surging desire, as if they both had drunk a poison that clouded and darkened their minds.

How else could one explain that, despite barely knowing each other, going to bed together had suddenly become an unquestionable priority, one that didn’t concern such mundane things as doorframe or furniture?

Even now, his hand twitched as if instinctively reaching for his chest. Beneath his buttoned-up shirt and vest, his skin bore faint, fading marks that, while diminishing with each passing day, were still visible. Sometimes, they even felt tangible. When he thought about them long enough, he could almost feel the stinging sensation of sharp nails dragging across his body.

He shrugged slowly. Something he’d learned in the past few days—sometimes the best way to deflect was to redirect the question right back.

“Morgan, why did you set me up with her specifically?” he asked, his tone serious, genuine curiosity lacing his words. His friend furrowed his brows slightly in response.

“I mean, what was the goal here? I bet you have plenty of friends, but you chose her specifically,”

When he referred to her with that pronoun, it carried a weight of unspoken adjectives. Her. So attractive, so alluring. Confident to an intimidating degree, capable of making him feel like the most extraordinary man in the world and a complete nobody—all with a single glance.

Morgan didn’t get a chance to respond before Spencer continued, diving headfirst into what had consumed far too much of his thoughts lately.

“Did you hope I’d, I don’t know…embarrass myself in front of her?”

“Did you?” Morgan countered, his brow twitching upward. He quickly sobered, though, when he noticed Spencer’s serious expression.

“Listen, man. I don’t know why you’d think that. We’ve known each other a long time. She set me up with her friend once, so I figured she’d be open to it. Besides, I had a feeling you two would get along. She’s incredibly smart. I just wanted you to have a good time—you’ve been so…withdrawn lately.”

He felt a little guilty for snapping at him like that. After all, Derek could have used his lost bet for far more devious purposes instead of trying to give him a good evening. Spencer sighed, apologetically.

“Okay, sorry, I was just curious.”

He shifted uncomfortably, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.

“No harm done, man. But now spill—did you have a good time? Was it worth crawling out of your den? What did you two do? Stay in the bar the whole time, or did you end up taking her somewhere—or maybe she took you…”

“We…” Spencer hesitated, swallowing hard. He didn’t know why it was so difficult to admit it—especially to Derek, of all people. Maybe because casual, one-night encounters with people he barely knew had never been his thing. And this one…this one felt different. She lingered in his mind so vividly, and he was terrified that saying anything out loud might make her slip away, like a fragile dream dissipating at dawn.

“You are—”

His fists clenched from the feeling that lingered within him, a feeling so intense that he doubted he could physically find any outlet for it.

“I am, what?” she asked, her words a mere murmur between rapid, heavy, and loud breaths. But despite their softness and their blending with other sounds, she managed to imbue them with a tone of unmistakable assertiveness. 

Spencer couldn't respond, his forehead resting momentarily on her collarbones. He felt a shiver rising up his shoulders and then his entire back as the tips of her nails barely perceptibly sank into his hair. They gently glided through the strands until they tightened around them when a short, hiss-like moan broke out her lips.

"What, you won't even say it out loud?" she asked, sliding her fingers down his neck. The trail she marked caused his back to straighten, tension building from the delicate, burning sensation of her touch. "You were more willing to compliment me earlier. Or maybe you wanted to say I'm rude again—"

"You’re incredible," he interrupted her with a sudden exhale, lifting his head finally to meet her gaze. Her lower lip stayed slightly parted the whole time, and he couldn’t ignore the invitation, nor refrain from placing a chaotic, messy kiss on them. "And rude, but I feel you so well..."

She laughed into his mouth, which turned into a sudden, pleased sob when he accidentally bit part of her lower lip. 

"Sorry," he muttered instinctively, before it dawned on him what a wonderful sound had escaped her when he did it. Before it dawned on him that he wanted to hear it again.

She gently shook her head, as if in disbelief.

“You’re cute,” 

"Yeah, we stayed at the bar," he finished his thought, briefly rubbing his forehead. Lying was so incredibly stupid in this situation. She was Morgan's friend, for crying out loud. He’d undoubtedly ask her the same question, and she’d give an entirely different answer—because unlike him, she wasn’t an idiot afraid to admit they’d slept together. Where had his so-called brilliance gone? “And it was fine. It was a good night. And you’re right…she’s smart, interesting. We had a good conversation.”

If only he sounded believable. Derek’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, he stayed silent, watching Spencer intently.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he said briefly. For a moment, they stood there, Spencer certain that Derek would say something else, waiting for it. But he just merely nodded toward the door.

“Okay, time for us, I guess. Before anyone decides to brew themselves a cup of tea, unaware of the special ingredient.”

Spencer watched him head toward the door.

“You said the water supply’s been shut down?”

“In small towns, you never really know.”

*

“I don’t want to say anything, but we should probably get going,” he started, glancing at his watch. The fifteen minutes that Hotch had mentioned were still firmly planted in his mind.

Even though Hotch stood right next to him, waiting as well. It was hard to tell if he was starting to feel impatience with his stoic expression.

Prentiss sighed, her hands resting on her hips. The rest of the team was already on the jet, with only the three of them left waiting for the arrival of the last passenger. The most crucial one for this case.

Spencer understood, though barely, that people could be late for personal reasons. But at work? That should always be a priority, to get there on time and do the job. His mind wandered back to when he’d been leaning over the bar, counting the minutes and seconds, with a cold drink in front of him…

“Is that her?”

He looked at Emily, unsure why there was such surprise in her voice. Then he glanced toward the person they’d been waiting for and asked himself why the universe seemed to enjoy playing tricks on him so much.

Of course, it was her.

Hotch, as the head of their team, extended his hand towards her. Her gaze never fell on Spencer, but not because she was avoiding him, rather because… she seemed lost in thought? Dressed in formal attire, just as striking as that evening, with a slightly furrowed brow and a less playful expression on her face.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he introduced himself briefly, shaking her hand. Then, he gently shifted his gaze towards the two other members of his team. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss and…”

“Can someone explain to me why I couldn’t bring my team with me?” she asked in a firm tone, as always standing perfectly upright.

She looked at each of them in turn, this time not skipping over Spencer. But her face didn’t even twitch when their gazes met. Something that couldn’t be said about him.

Just to be clear, it wasn’t that he was staring at her like some lovesick puppy. After all, they shared only one night, not a twenty-something-year marriage. It was simply that reconciling such a twisted turn of events took him a moment. Her pretentious tone didn’t even irritate him that much. He was too busy staring at her face, comparing the sophisticated silhouette in the daylight to the one that stretched beneath him when the space around them was still consumed by the night.

He cleared his throat, trying to return to the present moment. And once he did, his lips almost spoke on their own.

“This is a matter that requires particular discretion,” he began to explain. He tried to adopt as neutral a tone as possible, but inside, a sense of amusement began to fill him. The whole situation was almost theatrical, as were their actions and glances. He analyzed her face, still unmoved, listening to his words with complete focus. Wow, she was definitely more professional than he was.

“We're dealing with contamination in the water supply. The information about this could cause widespread panic among the public, something we certainly want to avoid. That’s why you’ve been assigned to this task, and only you. Without your subjects.”

He saw it, that barely noticeable movement at the corners of her lips. When he caught it, a sense of euphoria surged through him. But it was quickly replaced by nerves, as it suddenly hit him that they'd be spending the entire day together. How should he talk to her? Should he treat it all like a regular day, as grown adults should, or pretend it never happened?

As the amusement faded from his face, hers seemed to double. Emily watched their expressions like a tennis match, glancing from one to the other. Hotch, as always, remained stoic, but it was likely that questions were swirling in his mind as well.

“Thank you very much for the clarification, Dr. Reid,” she responded with an overly polite tone, nodding at him as though granting him an honor. And, well, he couldn’t help but feel that deep down inside, that’s exactly how he felt when faced with her smile. “It’s good that you’re here to dispel any potential doubts this case may undoubtedly raise for me. I’m sure I’ll consult with you further. Now, I suppose we should get going.”

She said it as if she were the only boss in the entire operation, giving one last glance over all three of them before walking confidently toward the jet.

They were, more or less, confused.

Hotch was the first to shake himself out of it and followed her footsteps.

Prentiss slightly parted her lips, casting a look of full suspicion at him.

“Wait a second,” she began, pointing at him with a finger. “How did she know who you are, when Hotch didn’t have a chance to introduce you?”

He hesitated before answering, still watching the figure disappearing aboard the jet.

“I guess my scientific accomplishments have finally made me famous,” he replied flatly.

Spencer couldn't deny it. An incredibly interesting day was coming. 

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukog stomped his foot, glaring at his Master.

"Master, they would not hesitate to kill us! Why should we show them mercy when they hold up signs of remorse or change!?" Wukong growled, gesturing towards the bandits, one dead and all other either unconcious, beaten, or tied up, "All letting them live does is let them free to kill and rob more people!"

"It is not out place to decide their fates, Wukong." Tripitaka simply stated, hand held in a prayer sign, "Karma shall come to all eventually, but it is by the Buddha's will, not our vengeance."

"And what if that's why we met them!?" Wukong shot back, "We are on a mission ordained by the Buddha's will, it'd make sense for those who deserve retribution to be put in our path and face karma!"

Tripitaka's brow twitched in annoyance as he smacked the monkey lightly upside the head with his shakujō, "Enough. It is not our place to question the Buddha's intentions. Or have you forgotten that you yourself once faced death and destruction at the hands of those who would not have shown you mercy if not for the Buddha's grace? Many would claim that you and our fellow brothers would deserve no second chances, yet the Bodhisattva Guanyin had chosen to give her mercy upon you and gave you this opportunity. Would it not be prudent to share this blessing to others?"

Wukong grumbled as he turned away, rubbing st the spot where the staff had lightly tapped him. It wasn't meant to hsrn or cause pain in any way, not at all like Sutra. Guess the argument wasn't enough to invoke the monk's wrath.

"I still say it's a stupid risk."

"I would listen to your little master, monkey." The bandit leader, a demon cat with a missing eye, sneered, "Who knows what you might lose if you don't!?"

"I have no reason to listen to a cutthroat!" Wukong lowered back at the cat. How a group of humans managed to get a cat demon amongst their ranks he has no idea. One who apparently found his annoyance amusing as he jsut laughed at Wukong's threat.

"Hey, Shut up!" Wukong barked, shaking him by the scruff. He only stopped, throwing the cat to the ground and stomped off when Tripitaka's voice barked, "wukong, thats enough! Put him down! He is just trying to get a rise form you, ignore him."

"Oh yes, ignore me!" The cat snickered, "But then, if you do, what would happen to the dear prince?"

Wukong paused, tail twitching as Tripitaka furrowed his brows. Their fellow Pilgrims, having been watching the show from the sidelines, glanced at each other in confusion. What prince!? They were ambushed on the side of a road. Miles from any civilization.

"I'm not sure what you mean." Tripitaka admitted, "We... aren't anywhere near any kingdom we know of, much less a prince in peril."

"Your king know what I'm talking about." The cat purred, "You might hold the Monkey King's leash, but how loyal is he when faced with a decision."

"How dare you!" Wukong snarled, "I would never betray my brothers!"

"Even if it meant the life or death of your son?"

Tripitaka sucked his breath his as Wukong's grip on his staff turned white with stiff he got. Silence rang through the clearing as they absorbed what the cat demon had said. Eventually Baije coughed, splattering.

"You must be lying, Brother Wukong doesn't have a kid! We would know, right?"

All eyes turned to the monkey. His fir was bristled, his hands trembled, and his face darkened as he hid it, refusing to look at any of them. Ao Lie tentatively approached, reaching a hand out to touch his arm. "Brother? You're shaking."

He flinched as Wukogn shook his arm off, hands clenched at his side, face tilted inwards.

"...Where?"

The first sign of life out of Wukong was a whisper, do quiet and chilling, it took a moment for Tripitaka to realize it had been his student who had spoken. Air got heavy and magic roared to life within it, Wukong's emotions squirling into a typhoon of magic centered around himself, only percievable as a heavy aura about him.

"Brother?" Sha Wujing cautiously questioned pulling Tripitaka closer. When Wukong finally turned they caught their breath as his eyes, blazing red with the most terrible rage they'd yet seen glowed, highlighting the tears hidden behind them.

"Where his he?" Wukong demanded, voice rough and deep, cruel. He pushed past everyone, a raging god on a mission, to confront the laughing demon. "I just tried to sense him. No matter how far i could always sense him. What did you do to him!? WHERE IS MY SON!?"

Even still the cat laughed.

"The Havoc King wasn't too pleased about your last meeting. He has an ultimatum for you, oh Great Sage?" The demon spat, "The little princling for the monk and scriptures. You have three days."

With that the cat stiffened, becoming inanimate. It hadn't been real, a false creature given life only to serve the purpose and then returned to a mere toy once said purpose was finished.nwukong roared in raged, staff shattering the wooden doll. And then the ground next to it. Wukong raged and struck out, not stopping until the puppet was completely turned to dust and the surrounding area was little more than a crater in the ground.

They only dared to approach once his rage had calmed.

"Wukong..." Tripitka started, "You must calm-"

The Monkey King, no longer the friend he once knew, turned on him. Fangs bared loud and proud, fur bristled, he looked every bit the monster his legends used to portray.

"NO! I will not calm down while they have my son!"

"And raging like this will not help." Tripitaka spoke plainly, calmly. It surprised even himself, as Baije and Wujong both cowered and even Ao Lie looked frightened to approach Wukong at this moment, yet all that he felt was a sense of calm and kinship towards his disciple. "This reaction is exactly what they want from you. If we are patient, if we had a true, proper plan before we confront them, not in rage, then we can get him back."

Wukong looked taken aback.

"We?"

"He is your family. Therefore, he is our family." Tripitaka smiled, gently, encouraging, and he dropped his adornments and knelt down to meet his student eye to eye, taking his arms into his own in a show of support, "I know your rage intimately. You're scared. Terrified even. And you're lashing out, but we are here for you, Brother. We will get him back!"

Yeessss. The Hidden Egg AU we discussed.

You know how we joke in the other Stone Egg aus that upon learning of Wukong's condition, the Celestial Realm thinks the Havoc in Heaven was basically a hormonal rampage?

In the Hidden Egg Au... it's true.

Wukong had been pregnant during his time in Heaven. He only discovered for himself around the time of the Bimawen incident. Him and Macaque panicked, barely adults themselves. A honeymoon baby if there ever was one.

So they keep it a secret from everyone. The Brotherhood, the Celestial Realm, even Guanyin is left out of the picture. The only people Wukong trusts to know is his Stalwarts and DBK (who learned on complete accident).

The Peach Banquet had been a step too far for a hormonal pregnant monkey, and Wukong indulged to his hearts content on the food. He wandered into Lao Tzu's not for a hangover cure, but for something to quell his severe nausea and heartburn.

The Egg was born literally hours before Wukong and Erlang's fateful battle. The King's War Form bursting out from maternal rage.

Wukong laughed at every failed execution. At least he could sense that his child was safe at earth, still resting in their shell.

However...

Wukong saw Macaque flee the battle, not knowing that his mate had been taking the Egg to a safer location. Hateful words were shared under the mountain, and many accusations were tossed around in the heat of the moment.

But when Macaque attempted to return to apologise and tell his mate that their son had hatched; he found that the Buddha had sealed the Mountain shut. It appears their meeting had been Wukong's "One Phonecall", and now no one, aside from the Mountain Gods and the Buddha's diciples themselves, could enter or leave to speak with the prisoner inside.

Both Wukong and Macaque spend the next 500 years regreting their words.

Macaque found it only suitable to name the baby what Wukong had suggested; Xiaotian. Their Little Heaven. The Heaven that tje Monkey King fought for.

Xiaotian is very sheltered. His father/bama is overprotective, but is quickly finding that Xiaotian's powers are developing faster than anticipated. The Prince does get to see the outside world at times; Macaque allows his son to attend his performances on the road with the Nine Tailed Vixen. Though these trips are under tight observation.

Basically its sort of an Odyssey Au. A King far from home, his mate holding down the fort of their kingdom, and a lonely Prince wishing more than anything to finally meet their missing parent.

And weeellll...

Xiaotian gets himself into trouble after hearing his mother/baba is on a probation from Buddha, and runs off to seek him out. Only for the Demon King of Havoc to find him first...

When Macaque finds his mate he is going to slap the everloving heck out of him and the monk who's keeping him from home. And hug and kiss him and never let him go again.

Also bonus funny lore; Tripitaka has a sore spot regarding kidnapped family members. He *did* rip out Liu Hong's (murdered his dad/SA'd his mom and kept her hostage for 19+ years) liver while he was still alive, and sacrifced his body to a river dragon to revive his dad. We joked that Tripitaka be fighting some mad rage demons when families are involved.

Ironically, when Tripitaka is captured (a given, and because Wukong refused to bargain) he ends up being the first Pilgrim to meet Xiaotian in person! The scared boy is assured that the monk's diciple is the most loyal, cunning being he knows, and that Wukong would never stop until he has saved those he cares about.

After the incident is said and done - lots of hugs and kisses are shared between the fanily of monkeys. Especially the son and mother who have just met for the first time.

The Pilgrims' journey gains two unoffical members!

The entirety of Heaven feels a chill run up its spine.

[ultravi0lence14]

WHEN ANGEL FALLS (IN LOVE)

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.9k | fluff, hurt/comfort, szn nine

summary: as dean withers away in the confines of his room, waiting for his angel to say she loves him back, the girl who stole his heart sits in her own, wondering if the man who showed her hate at the beginning of their story is worth her love.

WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

the few small feet between yours and dean’s room felt like miles, the clocks ticking by as the bright blue of the morning dipped into a solemn teal of the afternoon. your day was spent wondering, thinking all things dean winchester.

it was all so new; these feelings, having a choice. you didn’t have one in heaven, always following orders by some higher power. so now, being able to decide your own future was overwhelming.

though choosing was a mental battle in your brain, and everything seemed to go back to the moment you and dean shared in the kitchen the night prior. you saw the good in dean, you really did, but he also had baggage, trauma that plagued his mind and took control of his life. you didn’t know if that was something you were ready to endure, something you knew how to handle.

but the hurt in his eyes, the true sorrow that became aglow from the dim kitchen lights. dean was a man who was riddled with trauma, someone who let his past troubles weigh on him like a smouldering heat.

dean was somebody who instead of letting himself live with what happened to him as a kid, he let it fester in his soul. growing ugly and green, allowing it to retract teeth and bite at anyone who tried to come in.

you realized now that you wanted to break those barriers, you wanted to let those gnarly teeth snip at you sometimes; because dean winchester was worth fighting for, and saving him, showing him that he was capable to love and be loved would be the greatest achievement in all the years you’ve lived throughout.

that mean, cruel hunter dean showed the rest of the world didn’t scare you. yeah, when you two first met he was a jackass. but as you thought in the kitchen, it was just a facade he used to hide away the scared little boy who just wanted to be cared for.

the rest of your day was spent hallowed in your room, the minutes on the clock slowly moving by as you anticipated the approach of 12am. would dean even show up to your room? during your trials and tribulations, was he in his room realizing how silly you were? and that he didn’t want to settle with a stupid girl like you?

it was all so maddening, and when the clock struck 12am, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. he wasn’t going to come, you knew that much. if you still had your wings, you knew for a fact they’d be curled around you right now, providing you comfort against the rocky currents of your brain.

when a tentative rap of knuckles against wood graced your ears at exactly 12:02am, you felt bile lurching up your throat. you knew your answer, that wasn’t the issue. but did dean know his?

admittedly, dean had been worrying the entire day too. his leg couldn’t stop bouncing as he sat hunched on his bed, eyes languid as they stared at his blank wall for hours and hours.

he trusted you, more than he probably should’ve, but allowing yourself time to think made dean wonder if the trust was one sided. could you really see past all the blockades and walls he put up? thorns that pricked at your skin when you tried to enter? it was a hell on earth for dean, and he had to stop himself from running over to your room and beg you for his love more times than he would like to admit.

the confines of his heart clenched as he heard shuffles of feet beyond the door, a testament to the future that laid beyond the crumbling wood. when you opened the door, dean swore he was seeing you for the first time; hauntingly beautiful, the throws of earth and wonder clutching onto your skin.

the soft ringlets that flowed around you like a halo had dean mesmerized, assuming you’d put some type of curlers in your hair during the day. your face was barren, a beautiful, fresh canvas that dean wanted to paint in his love, decorating your skin with his kisses.

a satin, night gown flowed down your shoulders, leaving dean to believe you truly came out of his dreams. a beauty, possibly god’s best creation, and dean was about to find out if you were going to be his or not.

he must’ve been staring too long, for the faint blush that danced across your cheeks looked like a blooming rose on the spring solstice. you opened your door a little wider, breathing a small, ‘hi dean’ that the man in question didn’t even hear. he was to busy admiring the vision in front of him.

the pinks and pastels of your room swam around him like a void, reminding dean that he was in your territory now. whatever you said goes, and dean had no say in it whatsoever.

his sock clad feet slipped a little as he moved to sit on your bed, frilly sheets scrunching beneath him as he stared up at your looming frame. you stood stagnant by the door, hands around your body like you could disappear at any moment.

“so,” dean breathed awkwardly, a cough leaving his lips as he mentally beat himself up for the awkward moment he just brought forth. “have you come to your verdict, angel?”

straight to the point. you didn’t know if you liked that about him or it terrified you in this situation. though in the moment, you couldn’t help but let the flood gate of all your thoughts open, allowing yourself to fully bare your soul to dean winchester.

“you’re not a bad man, dean winchester,” you watched as his eyes widened, watching as you walked a little ways closer to where he sat on your bed. “but you believe you are. you let what happened to you as a child get the best of you, allow how you were raised and all the messed up shit that came after it to define you.”

as harsh as the words were, dean understood that he needed to hear it. he also understood that as an angel, you probably didn’t know how blunt you were being.

“because of all that, you build up walls, and you push people away.” tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you awkwardly wrung your fingers together as you spoke your next words. “you pushed me away, dean.”

shaking his head, dean attempted to stand up, wanting to reach out to you in comfort and tell you how sorry he was. “i know angel, and i’m so-“

“i’m not finished.” you spoke softly, lightly pushing him back down on the bed. you bent down yourself, lowering your body until you were in dean’s lap. you could see the shock in his eyes, but his hands immediately went to your waist, holding you steady so you’d didn’t fall.

“you pushed me away dean,” your hands carded through his hair, moving them down so you could cup his cheeks. dean immediately leant into your touch, eyes half lidded in content. “but you don’t need to do that. you put up these walls, allow yourself to believe that everyone is out to get you. but i’m not. i’m here for you dean, i always will be.”

watching as dean turned his head to kiss your palm, his brilliant green eyes flashed as his lids opened, vibrant and now full of life. “please tell me you mean that.” he breathed, voice soft in disbelief. “please tell me this isn’t some joke. that after all i did to you, you would still want to give me a chance.”

smiling, you leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “you deserve all the chances i’m willing to give, dean.”

you’ve never seen a smile so bright, like pure sunlight bathing your room. it was beautiful, and as dean leaned in to hug you, burying his face in your neck, you could feel it tickle against your skin.

as dean moved his face in front of yours, preparing to lean in to deliver a kiss on your lips, you stopped him with your finger on his own, a joking smile on your lips. “ahh ahh, winchester,” you breathed, hand moving to lightly tap his cheek. “not so fast. you were really mean to me when we first met. so if you want to kiss me, i want you to get on your knees and beg for it.”

his lips parted in disbelief, eyes locking with yours as he gaged the expression in your eyes. “you can’t be serious?”

dean honestly had no idea where you got that from. a movie you watched, some video that came across your computer, dean didn’t know. but as you swung your legs off of his lap, standing a few feet in front of him with your arms crossed in front of your chest, he knew you were being serious.

“tick tock, dean,” you teased, foot tapping on the ground in joking impatience. “i don’t know how bad you’re wanting to kiss me, but i could wait here all day.”

that was a lie. both you and dean knew it as such. but dean liked this side of you; the joking and less serious version that’s smile grew so big it crinkled your eyes. so with a mischievous smirk on his lips, dean slid of the bed and fell to his knees, arms going around your waist and chin resting on your stomach.

you placed your hands in his hair, melting under his gaze as those damn green eyes stared up at you through thick lashes.

“sweet girl, i am so sorry for how i treated you. please, find it in your heart to forgive me.” the smile on his lips was joking, a smirk that matched your own grin. though you could still here some truth in his words.

letting a giggle rip through your lips, you ruffled his hair a bit, watching as his smile widened with yours. “okay, okay. get up here you goof, and kiss me before i change my mind.”

dean didn’t have to be told twice. with such speed you almost got knocked over if it wasn’t for hands clutching your waist, dean stood up and pressed his lips to yours. his hands were on your waist, holding you upright with one of them snaking up your back.

the kiss was passionate, a testament to all the feelings you two kept covered. dean’s lips covered yours with no remorse, a soft yet relenting pressure that had you seeing stars.

your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling at the strands of hair at the back of his head. the groan the emanated from his throat rumbled in your mouth, making your body arch into his touch.

with one quick swoop, dean pulled away and lifted you up bridal style, spinning you around as you squealed in his ear. he then lightly placed you on your bed, hovering over and pressing feather like kisses to yours skin that felt like the melody of an angels song.

“i’ll never leave you,” he breathed into your cupid’s bow, breath mingling with yours as he panted heavily. “you and me? we’re in it for the long run. those walls i put up, i’ll break them down just so you could come in and get warm. but only for you, my darling girl.” you just smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck for a second time so you could bring his body on top of yours.

that is how you two fell asleep, dean eclipsing your body as he nuzzled deeply into your neck. it was perfect, something you didn’t know you needed when you sobbed underneath that wilting willow, but now something you couldn’t live without.

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @haunteres @honeyryewhiskey @starzify @fallbhind @rubyvhs @foolinthera1n @taurus-0-queenie-33 @vaiieydoii @bitchykittenconnoisseur @galacticalllcafffeine @jasvtsc @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @angel-inspiredblog @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys @chxrrybobaby-sin @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @hoyoooo @misatxox

*we love a man who grovels😏😻

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 14/?)

Series Masterlist

Kingslanding 

113 ac

Your pov

I try to ignore the wails and screams that fills the halls. The swish of maids dresses as they rush down the halls with bloody rags trying to find clean ones. The whispers of courtiers trying to decide if the babe will be a boy or not. 

I try, but I find even a deaf man would hear the wails that fill the keep. 

All this pain for a babe? I think solemnly looking down at my flat belly. To think that one day a babe would one day grow there is baffling. 

“Her Grace needs more hot water.” I hear a frantic maid say most likely to another maid. 

I remember how happy I was finding out I was gonna be a big sister, now I wish I wasn't if only for her. 

Papa and Ali asked for me to come to his chambers. I try to figure out on the way what it could be about. 

Maybe there's gonna be another wedding? Nyra is betrothed to Laenor. I think just before the doors to Papa’s chambers open. 

“Ah wonderful you're both here!” Papa says when I enter. I notice Nyra sitting next to him scowling towards Ali who only hangs her head and twists her fingers.

“Yes we're both here, now what do you need?” Nyra asks in that tone of hers. She's been speaking this way ever since Ali married Papa. I don't get why she blames Ali, Ali said she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to, and it seemed like she wanted to. 

Papa grimaces at Nyras tone before smiling again. 

“I-no we have wonderful news. The Queen is with child!” Papa exclaims taking Ali's hand in his not even looking at her.

I smile ear to ear when I hear this. “I'm gonna be a big sister?” I ask excitedly as I rush over to Ali touching her belly.

I never got the chance before, Papa said Mama was too sick that it just wouldn't happen for a while. But then she did, but then she passed. 

With that thought I look up at Ali worriedly and she seems to notice my fears as she speaks next. 

“The Maesters say it should be a healthy pregnancy. No complications, at least from what they can tell as of now.” 

I smile wider, staring at her still flat belly trying to figure out if I'm gonna have a sister or brother. But then Nyra scoffs and glares at Ali.

“It's only been three moons since your wedding, and you're already with child? Interested.” She says as if she knows some dark secret and is all too happy about it. 

I'm confused why the time between their marriage and the baby being here is important. I mean we all saw them kiss at the wedding, and many times after. It was only a matter of time those kisses made a baby. 

Before Ali can cry from Nyras cruel words or Papa yell at Nyra I decide to speak. 

“This is great, do we know if it's a boy or a girl?” 

This makes Ali laugh as she looks down at me stroking my wild hair back. I know she knows own. I just went for a fly, I had told her that Srromchaser has been sad lately and I hoped a fly would help.

“We won't know until they are born. But what do you hope for?” 

My immediate thought is that I hope Ali lives and doesn't pass away like Mama. But I know I can't say that, this is a happy moment, no sad thoughts allowed. 

“I want a,” I start stopping to think one last time before responding. “Sister!” I decide with a nod.

She smiles down at me, she finally seems happy again. Like the Ali I knew before Nyra was mad at her and Papa married her. 

“Oh but a son would be helpful, don't you want a brother, Darling?” Papa says with a forced grin.

I try not to frown at his words, Papa always wanted a son I never understood why though. 

But what made me the most upset was how his words took away Alis smile. She was finally happy and he just had to ruin it. 

I'm brought back when the screams finally stop, I feel my heart stop, I can't breathe.

Why is it so quiet? Shouldn't there be a babe crying? Surely if I can hear her screams all the way across the keep I would hear a babes cries? I think frantically as I climb out of bed clutching my Caraxes plush. 

I move to open the door only to find Ser Criston. He doesn't seem to have noticed me having seemingly also been co fused by the sudden quiet. 

“Is she alright, oh please say she's alright Criston.” I beg tears rolling down my cheeks. 

He looks down at me frowning before kneeling and taking my hands in his much larger ones. 

“I don't know, but I am going to find out. Stay here, a guard will be in front of your door. I will be back as soon as I can with news.” Ser Criston says before standing and turning down the hall in search of a maid or maester with news.

I try not to think about how he didn't say good news, only news. I know there is a chance she could die, but I prayed, I prayed so much she wouldn't. I prayed to the Seven like she taught me, to the old gods, I even tried to pray to the Valyrian ones like Kepus taught me. So surely one of them heard me and will follow my prayers. 

I turn back into my chambers wiping my tears walking towards Orchid. She quickly sits me in her lap showing me the new hat she made for her son Noah. 

“I was thinking of putting little stars along the hem, and for his sister Clover well she will have flowers. She says trying to distract me from the cruel wait to know if all is well. 

I nod my head as I move Caraxes wings up and down pretending he is actually in the skins and not just a plush in my arms. 

Kepus wouldn't make me wait this long, he'd let me know right away. I think eyeing the door for any moment when finally after what feeling like moons a knock comes to the door.

“The Queen awaits you, Your Grace.” I hear Criston say through the door. 

Orchid quickly sets me on my feet and slips my wool slippers on as well as my silk shawl ‘to keep the cold away’ she says. Before running to the door with Caraxes still clutched in my arms.

“Is she alright? Is the babe? Oh please tell me they are alright!” I plead as he takes my hand in his guiding me towards the Queen's chambers. 

He smiles down at me before nodding and I feel all the worry leave my body. I fight the tears of relief that they are alright, that they are still breathing, that they hadn't passed like Mother and Baelon did. 

I can't help but notice all the courtiers who stand outside the Queen's chambers. I hear them whisper about how if it's a boy it would be the heir. 

If it's a boy it would be heir? I wouldn't feel all this stress anymore? I wouldn't have all of court watching me? I think excitedly before remembering that if it is a boy it will feel all this stress, fear, and crushing weight on him.

No please don't let it be a boy, I don't want anyone to feel this, let alone a innocent babe. I pray to any gods that will hear me.

Ser Ceiston pushes them all out of our way until we yet to the doors. 

“The Queen and King are excited to see you.” He says before opening the door and letting me in.

I step in taking in the sight of Papa talking to maester about something, and of Ali holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. I watch with bated breaths as she lifts her head to look at me. Her smile lights the room from its pure joy. 

“Come here.” She says waving me over. 

I waste no time running over to her tears of relief finally rolling down my cheeks. I climb into the bed sluggling into her side crying into her chest.

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” She asks stroking my hair back so she can wipe my tears as they fall.

“I thought something bad happened, that you would be like-like.” I can't even finish the sentence but thankfully she seems to understand as she hums before responding.

“Me and your brother are perfectly fine.” She says and I can't help but look up at her wide eyed.

“I have a baby brother?” I ask looking down at the black and gold blanket again. 

“Yes, his name is Aegon.” 

I smile big as I move the blanket to the side to see his chubby cheeks and silver gold wisps. 

“Like the conquer. I love it.” I say stroking his cheek. 

His skin feels so soft, so fragile, like the finest silk. His cheeks are red and he seems to be asleep as his eyes are closed and he has yet to open them. 

“I'm glad you like them, now I have two wonderful children. You and Aegon.” She says and I freeze turning to look up at her. 

I see the joy bit also the fear in her eyes. But I don't know why she is afraid, I would be over joyed to be her child as well.

“Well we are lucky to have such a good Mama.” I respond and I see her wipe at her eyes fighting tears. At first I think she is sad but then she smiles and kisses my brow and I know they are happy tears. 

“Can I hold him?” I ask to which she nods telling me to sit with my back against the head board and hold my arms out in front of me. 

When Aegon is set into my arms I'm shocked how heavy he is. He's so tiny surely he isn't that heavy? I think looking down at him once he is in my lap. 

“He's so cute.” I whisper excitedly to Ali.

“He truly is.” She says shifting her position only to whince in pain. 

I frown going to ask if she is alright when she kisses my cheek and looks down at Aegon again.

“He looks just like you. Just with Papa’s hair, and I don't know what his eyes look like.” I whisper to her.

“You think so? All of the men say he looks like the King. And I hadn't gotten a close look at his eyes, but I do know they are purple.” She says stroking Aegons nose making him scrunch it up in annoyance making us both giggle.

It always strikes me as odd how she always refers to Papa as ‘the King', they are married and yet they only call each other by their titles. King, Queen, Wife, Husband, anything but their names or a sweet nickname. But instead of bringing it up I shrug it off like always looking down at my little brother again.

“I'm your big sister, I'll always protect you. Even when your big and strong, I'm gonna protect you from the bad people here. I'll guide you, teach you Valyrian, I even have toys you can pick from. Just not my Caraxes and Stormchaser plushes. Oh and not my dolly either, she looks just like me, even had my eyes.” I whisper down to him excitedly.

In my excitement I miss how Nyra walks in only to storm out once she hears its a son. But what I wish I didn't miss was how Papa stares at Aegon with disdain, and how the Hand looks at him like a tool. But Ali does, and because of this she holds me and Aegon closer silently swearing to the gods to always protect us even if it meant her demise.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @fallenxjas

[quirekey]

pretty please write more abt d-16 and megatron im THIRSTY for more of him

Okay so anything about D16 / Megatron? Aight bet lets do this….. I MADE IT ANGST AAAAA

[ D16 / MEGATRON ] x [ GN!READER ]

[ d16 / megatron x cybertronian!gn!poet!reader ]

READER INTRO

You were a famous Cybertronian, known for your poetry. You loved to write about melodramatic stories that would give deep and unheard meanings. You are graceful and seemingly magical, being able to put somebody at ease with a few simple words. Your poems consisted of many types of romance because you thought that romance is something that really digs deep into somebody’s spark. You never had many friends because you weren’t social, but you did admire others that could socialise. Many cybertronians look up to you and you stay humble, including D16. Just to mention, you did have a cog.

HEADCANONS

- D16 has many idols that vary and one of them is you. He admires your fantastic vocabulary and the amount of emotional depth you are able to add to your poems. You looked so dreamy, the way you spoke, walked and wrote. D16 may or may not have a small crush on you.

- D16 was one persistent fan and his relentless want for your attention did give him a wanted ending. When you are out, many Cybertronians are talking to you and are wanting to receive writing tips, signatures or even just small glances and waves. D16 knew this so he made a gift (a little piece of energon and a letter) and was able to give it to you despite the crowd.

- You opened your gift when you got to your quarters and this warmed your spark so much. His gift was so miniture and cute. You then read his letter and it felt like you melted on the spot.

“From- D16 To- (Y/N)”

“Hi, I really wanted to talk to you in person but you seem out of my league so I thought a letter would fit best. I made this letter to tell you that you have inspired me to start writing myself. Your poems are so nice to read after every mining shift and I hope you make more in the future.”

- After you read the poem, this tiny miner has been lingering in your mind. You thought you had these thoughts because of his tiny gift, but they have gotten pretty far. You wanted this tiny bot in your arms, you wanted to show him the love and affection he deserves. You made a personal poem about how a mere gift has grown into undefined feelings.

- When you see him, you would talk straight to him first. This did catch him off-guard every time because his idol was talking to him. You would bring him gifts that you thought he would like and you would also give him one of your treasured pens. Though it was hard for him to take care of these gifts, he did try pretty hard to keep them clean and in-quality.

- You guys eventually became close friends and he does confess his love for you. He tried his best to be stoic but it was hard to keep his fluster away. You couldn’t resist him but decided that it’s best to be friends due to his and your part in society. You did like him back so there was still a chance.

- One day you were able to build the courage and tell the cogless bot how much you loved him. How you yearned to have him in your arms and for you to whisper words of sweet affirmation into his audio receptors. You had a serious problem with this lingering love so you had to spill it.

- Fortunately, you two started dating in secret. To make it short, it was very wholesome. Though you two were constantly distanced, you both knew that you were in each other’s processors.

- When he went from being D16 to Megatron, this conflicted you. Your brain told you to stay in Iacon with the autobots and Optimus Prime. Your spark told you to leave with the bot you have loved from the beginning and join the Decepticons with Megatron. Your spark that has been growing and blooming took over and you left Iacon for Megatron’s love.

- Megatron still had love for you and gave you a special role that did not require you to do any work. You wanted you to be happy. Just because he changed, doesn’t mean his spark has changed.

- All you do is write poems in your spacious and dim quarters. It's hard to feel comfort due to the yelling outside your room and it’s hard to get inspiration for your poems because all you are doing is evil. Sure, it isn’t impossible but it feels like it is in the situation you were in.

[vent-blogin]

I am obsessed with X-Men: Evolution right now and wrote this ~2000 word drabble about Logan being a good dad to Scott haha

Summary:

Scott grimaced as he pushed around the food on his plate. His appetite had been gone since their latest mission a few days prior, which had gone wrong in all the worst ways, and had almost ended with half the team being killed, and the other half being captured. If it hadn't been for Logan showing up last minute... Scott sighs and pushes the plate away.

(fic below cut)

Scott grimaced as he pushed around the food on his plate. His appetite had been gone since their latest mission a few days prior, which had gone wrong in all the worst ways, and had almost ended with half the team being killed, and the other half being captured. If it hadn't been for Logan showing up last minute... Scott sighs and pushes the plate away.

He excused himself quietly, mentally reassuring Jean that he was okay when he felt her gently nudge his mind. No one else was paying attention, caught up in a story Kurt was excitedly telling, and that was fine by him. As the noise faded behind him, Scott mumbled quietly to himself, because going from overstimulated to under stimulated was jarring, and he needed a bit more sound. He went over battle tactics, and when he found he was losing his focus on those, switched over to the facts he needed to memorize for a quiz tomorrow.

He wandered around the institute for a while. He knew the whole place inside and out- he'd been there for a while, after all. Longer than anyone else. Eventually he ended up outside the professor's office, and after a moment's hesitation, knocked.

No answer.

Professor Xavier must be elsewhere then. Probably having dinner, with the other staff members. Scott sighed and pressed his forehead against the door, startling when it swung inwards. He- completely gracefully- flailed about for a moment, barely managing to keep himself upright. The office was empty, as he'd suspected, and he quickly shut the door. No need to have the professor question what Scott was doing in his office while he was away, he wouldn't want to do anything that could upset him, not after their last mission.

Scott had been on the receiving end of a very long, and at moments harsh, lecture after the mission debrief, along with some additional lessons every day since. His only saying grace was that the professor had decided that they didn't need an audience, and had dismissed the rest of the team beforehand.

His words of disappointment still rang in Scott's ears as he shuffled away from the office. Perhaps it would be best to just head to his room, away from where he could find any trouble.

He began the walk- silently, this time- and tried to relax along the way. He had been too worked up since the mission and it was affecting him; he wasn't eating, he was talking to himself (though that wasn't new), and he didn't even notice Logan at the end of the hallway walking towards him until he was halfway through, and it was too late to turn back without it looking that he was avoiding him.

And Scott wasn't avoiding him, not really, but things had been tense between them since the mission, and Scott didn't know why. He had thanked Logan repeatedly, after the battle, after the debrief, after his lecture with Xavier, and apologized too, but Logan was still being weird around him. Maybe Scott had started smelling bad because of the stress, Logan always complained about how awful they all stank before midterms or exams. Regardless, Scott had made sure to steer clear of the man for the past few days, and now they were walking right by each other.

He was so tense that it was almost a miracle that his power didn't activate when Logan clapped a hand on his arm walking past. Instead, he jumped a foot in the air and nearly tripped again, in his haste to get away. Now a few feet away, Scott froze as Logan looked at him slightly dazed, hand still outstretched. "Um." Scott said eloquently, looking behind him and debating if Logan would chase him if he ran. "You startled me, sir." Scott mentally cringed- he never called Logan sir, why could he not just act normally?

"You... alright there, kid?" Logan asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and talking a few steps towards Scott, but not getting too close.

"Just tired," Scott answered easily, eyes flicking towards his possible exits. That was one good thing about the visor, no one could ever tell where he was looking. Logan made a dissatisfied noise and tapped his noise, grinning as Scott wilted a bit.

"I can smell a liar from a mile away. Now do you want to tell me what's wrong, or should I get the professor?"

"Don't!" Scott swallowed and forced himself to relax a bit, "Don't get Professor Xavier, please. I'll- I just-" Scott stammered for a moment before closing his mouth and swallowing. Logan stared at him expectantly.

Scott felt hot, and tugged at the collar of his shirt, breathing a little bit quicker. Was it just him or was the hallway suddenly a lot smaller? "Professor Xavier hates me now, and so do you, and I let down the whole team, and I can't eat and the extra training is making me paranoid and I'm so scared, Logan." The words fall out of him in a rush, and he's fairly certain half of it is incomprehensible, but he can't stop himself from continuing, "I'm scared because we lost, and I couldn't fix it. Good leaders aren't supposed to lose- not when it counts, not when people are in danger-"

"Scott." Logan's voice is firm as he cuts off Scott's rambling explanation, and Scott shuts his mouth with an audible click. It's probably a good thing, because Scott had no idea what he was going to say next, and also he was running out of breath to talk with. "I don't hate you, and neither does the professor. Everyone on the team made it home alive with no major injuries. You did good, kid."

Scott stares at Logan, mouth slightly open, and the tears he's been trying very hard to suppress this whole conversation come spilling over his cheeks. He opens his mouth but nothing more than a strained whimper comes out.

"Ah kid," Logan huffs, slowly approaching Scott until he's close enough to touch, and then wrapping him in a hug. Scott hugs back, clinging tightly to Logan's jacket as he leaned forward, practically collapsing into Logan, who grumbles about it, but still stands there until Scott has calmed down.

"Sorry, and thank you." Scott mumbles hoarsely after he pulls away, sniffling. "I'm going to go to my room now." He starts to walk away, mentally praying that Logan is just going to let this go, and that they never have to talk about it again-

A hand snags the back of his shirt and Scott stops, sighing dramatically. He turns back towards Logan, cringing at the clear wet spot on the man's jacket (Should he offer to clean it? He knew how to use the laundry machines.) Logan is giving him a look that clearly says 'where do you think you're going?' and Scott half expects him to say it.

"Where do you think you're going, bub?" Logan asks gruffly, "You need to talk to the professor about this, clearly it's upsetting ya." Scott cringes.

"... I'll do it tomorrow?" He offers, giving Logan a pleading look. He deflates when Logan gives a sharp shake of his head and begins to march them back in the direction of the professor's office. Mentally, Scott pleads that Xavier will be anywhere but his office.

I hate to disappoint, but your prayers will not be answered this time. Xavier's voice replies inside Scott's head, and Scott immediately regrets having a single thought ever.

When they arrive at the office, true to his word, Professor Xavier is sitting at his desk, a small smile on his face as Logan drags in Scott by his sweater. "Logan, will you leave the two of us alone for a moment please?" Xavier asks, then looking to Scott and inclining his head at the seat across from him.

Scott stiffens, just a fraction, at the idea of being alone with the professor again. It's not a big deal, he's just scared of getting another lecture that will have him crying himself to sleep again. So totally chill. Logan lets go of his sweater, and Scott feels like he's going to puke, and then Logan sits down in the chair next to the one Xavier nodded at with a shrug. "Think I'm gonna stay around for this chat, Chuck. If that's alright with you?"

Scott stares at Logan like he's grown a second head as he slowly takes his seat, utterly confused. Logan's tone was challenging, and based on the matching squinted expressions on both of their faces, Scott assumes they're currently mentally arguing. He tries to be quiet as to not interrupt them. After a few long moments, Xavier sighs and faces Scott. "Do you want to tell me what's been going on, Scott?"

And the thing is, Scott really really doesn't. So instead, he opens up his mind a bit, the same way he does with Jean when he wants to start a conversation with her, and when he feels the presence of the professor, he picks a few memories and shoves them in his direction.

He chooses carefully; a couple of the mission, how he felt after Xavier's lecture, some of the harder moments of the additional training Xavier assigned to him (it's so much harder to work alone than on a team, Scott had forgotten that. Gotten comfortable. He wouldn't forget again.). He lets Xavier see them, and then pulls back until the connection is severed, and waits. The professor looks... thoughtful, and Scott internally cringes. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it was something more than thoughtful. Scott grips his thighs tightly, letting his nails dig into his pants until small bubbles of hurt block out all the other thoughts in his head.

"You no longer have to do the additional training if you do not want to, Scott. I only thought it might help you develop stronger strategies, but perhaps I was remiss to not consider your thoughts about it." Scott cringed, shrinking in his chair as Xavier continued, "As for the rest, well all that can be avoided in the future if you continue to improve as a leader. And I most certainly do not hate you, Scott, I simply want you to be the best leader possible, and sometimes that requires some tough love on my part, but I do care for you Scott. I care for all of you, and that is why I am hard on you, because I do not wish to see any of you get hurt and you are responsible for everyone out there on the field."

Scott nodded silently, biting his lip as hard as he could without making it bleed. "Thank you, professor." Xavier smiled and nodded.

"Of course, Scott. Now why don't you head to bed, it is approaching curfew-"

"Now hold on a minute, bub. What the hell was that?" Logan interrupts with a snarl. Scott bristles, looking at him with a shocked expression. "The kid had a goddamn meltdown, and all you have to say is that you don't hate him? Tell him you're proud, for-" There was a loud crashing sound somewhere near by- "sake. The kid is terrified of you right now, as scared as he looked staring down Juggernaut last week. That's not right, Charles, not right at all. Now fix it."

Both Xavier and Scott were speechless. Scott started at Logan with stars in his eyes, because when was the last time someone stood up for him like that? Not because they had too, but because they wanted too? Because they believed in his happiness? Not since Xavier had taken him in, surely.

Scott could feel the professor in his head, looking for something. Maybe a sign Logan was wrong? Right? Scott didn't know, but he let him look. Maybe the professor was feeling as shaken up as Scott was about the last mission. He deserved a little grace, especially after everything he's done for Scott.

"Scott you- I am sorry, that I have made you afraid and upset." Xavier says after several long, quiet, moments have passed. "I never wished to hurt you, but I can see now that I did, and I apologize for that. I know that you did everything you could during that battle, and I am proud of you for holding on until back up arrived."

Scott nodded, staring down at his lap. "Thank you, professor. Really." He replied in a small voice, thick with emotion. Scott refused to cry again today, or at least in public, so he stood up and quickly escaped, but Logan followed after him. Of course.

When he reached his bedroom door, he waited for Logan to catch up, and then leaned against it. "Thank you," Scott mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "For everything today." Logan gave him a small smile and nodded.

"You're welcome, kid. Get some rest." Scott nodded and slipped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a sigh. He grabbed a protein bar off his desk and slowly ate it as he got ready for bed, and finished it just as he prepared to brush his teeth. Things may not be perfect, but they were better, and Scott would be eternally grateful to Logan for that.

[darkeralmond]

UNCHARTED WATERS

Prologue > next

Pairing: Macklin Celebrini x Emilia Richardson

Summary: Macklin has had feelings for his best friend, Emilia, since freshman year. After her winning lacrosse game, he nervously gives her flowers and confesses that he’s been in love with her since their first kiss. What happens when Macklin finally decides to step out of his comfort zone and dive into the unknown?

Warnings: nothing except Macklin being adorable

Apricot Speaks: HIII!! i missed u guys soo much, but im finally back!! yay!! hope u all enjoy this as much as i did writing it!! there will other parts to this so be on the look out!

“Flyers on me, Flyers on 3!”

“1 2 3, Flyers!” Emilia and her team shouted as they pointed their lacrosse sticks in the sky in celebration.The homeside of the bleachers erupted into cheers as the girls on the field embraced one another.

Mrs. Richardson held her phone up like the proud mother she was, documenting the team's victory. “Macklin, honey? Did you get her goal on video?” She asked as if the video on her phone wasn’t rolling.

“Right here,” Macklin said as he directed her attention to the video.

It showed as Emilia moved with such grace around other players on the field, with incredible speed that made her look like a track star.. She left everyone, including her own teammates in the dust.

With the goal only being protected by the goalie, it was like watching a face off between two duelers. As the defenders grew closer and the clock running out of time, Emilia grounded herself before pulling her stick far behind her head. She launched the ball with all of her power, causing the ball to hit the bar and land in the goal. She slammed her stick on the ground, screaming in celebration as the clock buzzed, implicating the end of the game. Her team stormed the field and swarmed around her like bees.

Rewatching the video made Macklin’s smile as it reminded him of his own hockey team’s celebration when it came to a victory like that.

By this point, Mrs. Richardson had stopped filming and mumbled under her breath that Emilia’s dad would be hoping for a video. Emilia’s parents’ divorce was still fresh and a very sensitive subject to Emilia, causing Macklin to shutter due to the distaste in her mom’s voice.

To change the topic, Macklin said, “Emilia’s gonna love these shirts. Well, she’ll probably be more embarrassed than anything….” He directed his attention down to the t-shirt with Emilia’s face plastered on the front along with her number and last name on the back in bright orange lettering.

“Well, it’s our job to embarrass her of course!” She said with her signature cackle. Her mom then noticed some of the girls making their way off the field towards the locker room. “Oh, they’re heading off! Do not forget the flowers!” She pointed at the bouquet next to Macklin while sporting a huge smile.

“How could I forget,” He said as he snatched the flowers from the spot. He trailed behind Mrs. Richardson as they went down to the gate which led to the field. The closer they got to the bottom, the more anxious he got.

Tonight was the night Macklin was going to finally confess to Emilia. Ever since freshman year, he’s been head over heels for her, but both their parents argue he’s been obsessed with her longer than he had realized it. The last time he got her flowers for his homecoming proposal, it went well. It’s why he decided to do it again.

While Emilia’s mom chatted with some of the other players’ moms who also waited to congratulate their daughters, a couple of the girls on the team noticed Macklin and the flowers in his hand. It was obvious who they were for, so a few of them began whispering to one another. The more stares he got, the clammier his hands became.

It wasn’t until a group of freshmen girls were about to make their way into the locker room when the redhead girl, which Macklin recognized to be Emilia’s little for senior night, spotted Macklin and the flowers.

She stopped the whole group and turned their attention to Macklin. “Are those for Emilia?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a small smile on his face. “They are.” He shouldn’t be to display his feelings for Emilia, but something about these girls intimidated the hell out of him.

“Oh em gee!” She squealed as she held up her finger before saying, “I’ll go get her!” She abandoned her friends, sprinting back onto the field while her friends surrounded the gate. They were obviously excited to witness this moment between her and Macklin, but this drew even more attention to him. It would be different if he knew a majority of these people like he did with hockey, but this wasn’t his scenery so he was prone to stage fright.

The redhead came back faster than Maclin expected, dragging Emilia by the arm. She was obviously confused about why there were so many people waiting around for her. The other freshmen parted for her, making a path which led straight to Macklin, resembling a something similar to a wedding.

The realization dawned on her as soon as she made eye contact with Macklin. All Macklin could do was stare at her with admiration, captured by how beautiful she was even after kicking ass on the field.

She let out a loud cackle, similar to her mom’s, causing Macklin’s heart to swell. “I thought we were done with these types of grand gestures” She then looked around cautiously before joking once more, “There’s no posters spelling out prom, right?”

“Ahh, you’re not so lucky this time,” Macklin said before pulling her into a tight bear hug. The tension he had felt before loosened in this embrace. She fit perfectly in his arms, making him never want to let her go..

He knew he had to eventually, so when they pulled away, he held out the flowers for her to take. “What would you have done with these if we lost?” She asked before bringing them to her nose and smelling them.

“Consolation flowers?” He shrugged, which won another laugh from her. It was a sound he could never get tired of, and the euphoric feeling knowing what he’s said made her laugh could never be topped.

Emilia’s mom finally strayed from the other moms, coming back to Macklin and Emilia. “Before you go back to the locker room, I want to take a picture of you two!”

The little audience that congregated around the pair had finally vanished, now leaving Emilia alone. Macklin felt even more relieved as he wrapped her arm around Emilia’s waist, her head naturally landing on his chest.

After her mom snapped a few pictures, the two broke apart and Emilia announced, “I have to go, butI’ll be back out shortly.” She turned to her mom and said, “Is it fine if I go with Macklin to get some food?”

“Yes of course, Em. I’ll see you at home,” Mrs. Richardson said before Emilia ran off into the locker room. When the door shut, she turned to Macklin and squinted. “You two behave,” She joked, but Macklin wasn’t sure if she was 100% joking or not.

He flashed her a thumbs up and said, “Got it.”

Once alone, all of the thoughts he originally had came flooding back. What if she said no? Then what? Would it be awkward? Would they be normal like they used to be? Then, what if they broke up and stopped talking to one another?

Macklin closed his eyes and collected his thoughts into one. All these thoughts were trying to hold him back, but he knew to overcome them. Now’s not the time to stay silent. He knew what he wanted.

He wanted Emilia.

…

Emilia plopped into the passenger seat, as if her often sitting in it granted her ownership, and shut the door behind her. She had thrown everything else in the back except for the flowers, which she made sure were treated tenderly. “So, where are we heading off to?” She asked, looking over in Macklin’s direction.

Macklin shut his door and looked over at Emilia, realizing how close they were. Their faces were only inches apart making it to where Macklin could see every detail on her face.

Her eyes twinkled in the light of the night sky, she hadfreckles scattered across her face, and her lipslips were slightly parted. He paid extra attention to her lips, pushing down the urge to kiss them right then and there. It’s not like he hasn’t before.

“Macklin?” Her voice drew him out of the daze she put him in.

His eyes shot back up to her own, watching as her eyebrows furrowed. With the memory of their kiss conquering every other thought in his mind, he spoke,. “You remember when we kissed during that game of Spin the Bottle?”

She was taken aback, twitching before responding with,, “how could I forget? I mean, it was my first.” She had a lighthearted tone, contradicting Macklin’s serious one.

He licked his dry lips before pulling away from her.. “You know it was mine too right?” He came across as charismatic and smooth when really, Macklin had the lingering fear of his feelings not being reciprocated.

Her eyebrows drew together as she scoffed in disbelief. “Nuh-uh.” She mirrored his body language before looking off to the field with her mouth still open. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She looked back at him with her brows still furrowed.

“Because I was embarrassed,” He answered truthfully. He held eye contact as he felt the air in the car grow thicker as the tension between them grew.

“Why, because your first kiss was me?” She was trying to maintain her playful tone, but Macklin knew better than anybody she knew what was coming next. They’ve had many interactions like this recently where one of them, mostly Macklin, have come close to crossing the friendship line into uncharted waters. Emilia always back peddled by making something into a joke when things got too real.

Typically Macklin would drop it and retreat back to safety and pretend nothing happened, but curiosity into what was in the unknown caused him to timidly cross over the line. “No, because everyone says you get attached to your first… and I did.” Emilia stopped talking.

The silence crashed into Macklin like a monstrous wave, trying to pull him beneath the water to make him accept defeat and swim back to the friendship shore. He knew he wasn’t backing out now. With his head above the metaphoric waters, he continued.. “Emilia, you have no idea what that kiss did to me.”

“Macklin, that was 3 years ago.” She was trying to guide him back to shore, trying to save him from facing uncertainty head on. Macklin thought of giving up, taking her hand and letting her pull him back to safety, but the hand had different intentions. “Why are you saying something now?” She asked, letting Macklin guide her into the water, dipping her toes in to get a feel.

It caught Macklin off guard, but her eyes pressured him to keep talking. “That’s the thing. I can’t keep living in this fantasy world that we’re just friends. I can’t keep seeing other girls and lying to them that we’re only friends..” She had inched closer, but she was still behind the line. She still hadn’t left the safety of their friendship, but the glint in her eyes spoke to Macklin more than her words. She was considering diving head first.,

“I want our friendship to change into something more.” He blurted without a second thought. Her eyes widened, causing Macklin’s heart to sink with disappointment.. “That’s not the look I was hoping for.” He began to let go of her hand, letting himself drift off with the current.

“No Macklin! I…” Her hand stretched out, catching him before he fully descended and lost her. In doing this, her body became more submerged into the water, but the look in her eye told Macklin she didn’t care, she might’ve not even realized it. .

“I like you, a lot actually, but I’m scared.” She finally confessed before licking her dry lips. Macklin could’ve imagined it, but he could’ve sworn seeing her eyes briefly fall to his lips before meeting his. “What if we cross this line and we can never go back to the way it used to be?”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take for you,” He answered without hesitation. “But what I do know is I’m tired of hiding this from you and everyone else.” He pulled on her hand to convince her to join him, to cross the line and make the passage to somewhere more. “Emilia, I want you to be my girlfriend.”

His question was able to force a smile to appear on her face as she nodded her head. She dove head first into the metaphoric water by answering, “Yes. I thought you’d never ask.”

[lyrakanefanatic]

so i think lyra and grayson won’t end up together at all. their relationship is wayy to predictable it just won’t happen. Rohan and Savannah definitely won’t either due to the betrayal Rohan is planning later..but you see in the grayson family they have a thing for latinas (it’s a genetics thing) so savannahs gonna go for lyra, and they will connect perfectly because well they can both relate on their dads dying from the hawthorne family (avery’s basically apart of the hawthorne family). okay and the. grayson going to probably walk in on them making out so he is gonna go for savannah’s man rohan, and that’s not only gonna make savannah jealous but also jameson. jameson is going to be so annoyed and he is going to have revenge sex with brady to get rohan back for cheating on him. rohan will be INSANELY jealous and agree to a foursome between him, grayson, jameson,and brady and will decide who’s the best. he then will choose brady and leave jameson and grayson. I know it’s a long theory but personally i feel like this is the route this story is going if you don’t believe me just look at the interacations between the characters, it’s quite evident. quite a stretch of a theory if i do say so myself but well i know i’m right so why bother defending it. let me know your thoughts! x

okay so ur 100% right and anyone with a different opinion is wrong!! 🥰🥰

although i personally think that in the end rohan will choose jameson, as dear old jamies his one true love and brady (TRAITOR TO MY BABY GIGI 🤮) could never compare. (he is fineee tho 🥰😜)

i wonder how jameson and grayson will recover from this love square (??? idk what else to call it foursome idk LOL), and if their brotherhood will ever be the same 😔😔. but then again they had a foursome so idk if we can rlly call them brothers anymore??? grayson and jameson wtf i guess blood isn’t the only thing you two are sharing

thank you anon for gracing me with ur theory, and if ur reading this and disagree…… don’t. 🥰😊😇

also can rohson make a comeback please. im not done shipping rohan and jameson yet.

[djarinova]

Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you / Oh, damn, never seen that colour blue

satoru gojo x reader content - alcohol mentioned, gn reader, first date, Gojo has a crush on you, friends to lovers - divider by @/saradika words - 1.2k reputation event masterlist

♡—This bar is nice, too nice, and Gojo is acting differently than usual... Hey wait! Is anybody else invited or is it just the two of you?

The night is warm, just a light breeze flowing through the city as the two of you sit together in the dimly lit bar. Your eyes follow the movements of the people walking on the pavement—a couple holding hands, an elderly man adjusting his cap, a young boy hopping across the tiles and his mother laughing as she pulls out her phone. All of them are gone from your view just as soon as they arrive.

The sound of Gojo thanking the waiter pulls you away from your people watching, his voice is low, and considering how loud the bar is tonight, quiet. You spin yourself back towards the white haired man, the waiter has already slipped away, but you spare a final glance back towards the window—the boy and his mother are laughing together.

“I'm sorry, I- What did you say?” You feel your cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze.

Gojo laughs, tilting his head back, and you think for a second that he's going to fall out of his chair. You roll your eyes at him, at his overdramatic need to tease you for zoning out, and he rolls his eyes at you rolling your eyes, knowing that you have no idea just how adorably cute your zoning off truly is. You knit your eyebrows together and watch as Gojo starts fiddling with the paper straw that the waiter left.

You eyes flit from his hands to his face and you both end up smiling at each other when you look up and find him already watching you. The sound of his laughter puts you at ease, but you can't seem to shake that weird feeling that's still sitting in your chest.

“I asked if you wanted to order another drink.” He smiles again, that gorgeous toothy smile that he does when he's trying to charm someone. And you think it's working. “This place gets jittery if you sit too long with empty glasses on the table.”

You huff out a laugh, and skim your eyes over to the bar where you find the barman and a couple waiters talking a bit too enthusiastically. They point fingers around the room wildly and pass pieces of paper between one another like children passing notes in school.

You can see why they get jittery about empty glasses, this place is nice. The kind of nice that comes with private booths, plush cushions adjourning each stool, sparkling champagne popping every 15 minutes and those warm bulbs that sit hidden under every shelf of alcohol on display. You decide that it's one of those places you pass with friends on a night out, one of you expressing interest about going in, but a single look from the bouncer having you walking past the entrance with your tails between your legs and talking shit about how it's far too pretentious in there anyways, but still secretly feeling that bit of dejection at your rejection.

The place isn't as stuffy as you'd imagined, but you still feel out of place amongst the sparse crowd of people that directly surround your table. Not that that was particularly your fault, Gojo had given you barely 3 hours notice ahead of these plans tonight. By some grace of god you had managed to scrounge something out from the back of your closet—a long forgotten garment bag from a wedding or something—and you had hoped you'd be able to get lost within the others that Gojo had invited. But there weren't any.

It was just you and him. So far anyway.

And even though you know that Gojo always thinks he looks good, something about the way he looked tonight had made you unable to hold in your compliments. He had taken them unusually humble… And something about the way his eyes had lit up when you called him handsome had had your stomach doing flips.

You look at him now, pausing only to quickly flit your eyes across the menu that sits in front of you—you already know what you want, double shot of coconut rum and fill the rest of the glass with lemonade please, but maybe this place is too fancy for that… The dim lights reflect beautifully off of his hair, from certain angles you could almost believe the strands are golden, and the dark blue shirt he's wearing makes his paleness almost angelic. And although you can't see past his waist from where you sit now, you know he's wearing a pair of dark jeans (and his trustworthy black and white nikes) that make him look even taller and more slender than you thought possible.

Gojo coughs. His fingertips tap against the side of the menu.

“Perhaps we could get, I don't know, a bottle of something?” He gulps. “To share, I mean. A wine? Or…”

You narrow your eyes at him, amused. You've never seen him act like this before. He's usually much more suave and put together when he tells you the stories of all his successful dates. The image of him lounging about on your sofa with his heels kicked over the arm and his head in your lap flashes into your mind.

Wait–

“Are we on a date right now?” You blurt out.

It's his turn to be amused now. He sits straight up in his chair, moving to the edge and getting as close to you as possible before he leans forward onto his elbows. The table is small, he's barely 10 inches from your face.

He smiles, more genuinely than you think you've ever seen him smile before.

“Oh!” His hands fall atop yours. “You mean you didn't know? I'm wounded.” He sighs dramatically, but he has a glow in his eyes that makes you roll yours at him.

“Shut up.” You huff. “I'm serious, Satoru.” Your heart flutters as he loops his fingers through yours.

He blinks at you, tilting his head comically. The angle makes you laugh but your eyes are still narrowed.

“Well, yes. We are. Do you like it?” He indicates to the room, as if he made the place himself, just for you.

Your eyes flit once again from his face to the bar—the waiters are no longer standing there and the barman is busy making drinks. You feel your cheeks warm and you think about making a move towards the glass in front of you.

“Oh, I forgot.” You whisper. The reason for this conversation is now ringing through your head again.

You clear your throat. “We can have… God, I don't know…” The menu suddenly looks horrendously intimidating. “Anything is fine for me. As long as it's not white wine—or any type of champagne—and maybe not a rosé either, you know how I was the last time we drank that together.” You pause. “But I'm happy to–”

He's smiling at you again. Wide, toothy, and extraordinarily handsomely.

“What's the matter? Why are you– Oh.” You sigh, you just can't seem to stop yourself from rolling your eyes tonight.

“Yes, Satoru, I like it very much.” You match his smile with one of your own and you feel his hands squeeze yours.

Three times.

One.

Two.

Three.