#and is listed as such in from what I can tell all of her other logs

[acourtofthought]

If you like feral mates:

Touch her, smell her, taste her—

Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.

But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—

His russet eye flashed with simmering rage. An uncontrollable instinct—for a mate to eliminate any threat. But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair.

If you like protective mates:

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.”

“My mate is none of your concern.”

“She is my mate and in my enemy’s hands—”

If you like mates who believe in the FMC:

But Mor tried again. “There is a reason why Elain is seeing these things. She was right about the other queen turning old, about the Ravens’ attack—why is she being sent this image? Why is she hearing this queen? It must be vital. If we ignore it, perhaps we’ll deserve to fail.” Silence. I surveyed them all. Vital. Each of them was vital here. But me … I sucked in a breath. “I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke.

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

If you like mates who will fight their way across the world to find her:

“I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

If you like concerned mates:

And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

“Let me do something. About Elain.

“Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.”

“Should we—does she need …?”

If you like loyal mates:

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

“I’m a mated male now.”

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness. Then almost two years later -> Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.

If you like mates who are completely gone for her:

But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

“No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

I hereby declare Lucien, King of All Mates

[fuyuu-chan]

"You Are More Important To Me Than Anything Else"

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Warning: mention of blood loss, death (but not the one who was being paired), not proofread

Fuyuu-chan: adrenaline is running through my veins rn, this was my second fic that i made today but will be the first one i will be posting because i was waiting for something before i post the other one. (spoiler alert: its a yandere fic lol) also this fic was made with no thought process i just kept typing all the way until i was satisfied or smth hahahha

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

The day for the 4th raid in Jeju was coming closer. The S Ranks and other hunters who signed up to come with was preparing for the day to come. The S Ranks in Korea that would be coming with was listed: Choi Jong-In Baek Yoonho (Name) Cha Hae-In .....etc.,

Byunggu was supposed to come but Baek recommended that he shouldn't since (name) would be coming along anyway. Which means they have one of the most strongest hunter with them, the second to Jinwoo. And since Jinwoo "wouldn't" come, she would be the strongest from Korea to go there other than the S Ranks from Japan.

As the day approaches, everyone was prepared.

. . .

Once the day arrived. Everyone arrived at the Island. There were so many ants everywhere, standing, crawling and even flying. The other hunters were terrified just by the sight of it but (name) silently observes calculating the risks and such.

As the raid goes on, the plan was for the Korean hunters to be inside the place where the Queen. They have to kill it before it could produce more ants.

(Name) was outside attacking the ants that was approaching the cave while the others inside kills the queen. While some of them was trying to destroy the eggs.

It was all supposed to come to an end, they thought they can finally finished this raid not until this one ant came....the aura was way different from the other ants they fought earlier. This one seems stronger. The happenings was so fast. The ant attacked Cha first making her flew and land hard at the ground. With that attack she was already bleeding hard, she was loosing blood so quickly. The others tried to fight off the ant, to attack in hopes of trying to weaken it and defeat it if it was even possible at this point. There was no healer with them and they couldn't put their attention to Cha because if they did, they will all die here inside and they couldn't take that risk.

Choi managed to talk to (name) through their communication device asking for them to come and help them. (Name) didn't hesitate to come inside to help her friends. She attacked and dodged, doing the best that she can to fight with this strange ant. Her abilities and such was almost comparable to the ant, like they were the same level. The others watch in amazement, of course by now they knew how the ant was most probably an S Rank level if not more stronger but that's probably the most definite answer. But of course who are they to complain about how (name) was so strong she was able to keep up? Definitely not. They would be dumb if they do.

Choi checked up on Cha who was surely dying due to the sudden loss of blood. But what could they do? No one inside with them could heal. And even if he carried Cha outside the cave what are the chances that they would just be met by more ants to go to the helicopter. Its basically...a dead end both literally and figuratively.

. . .

As most of the S Rank hunters was in Jeju Island fighting and hopefully to finish the raid...Jinwoo was with his family, he didn't come especially because his mother just woke up from the eternal slumber. He didn't wanna worry her and he also wanted to spend time with his family. But one of the shadow soldiers he placed on (name) because..well that doesn't matter for now, was sending distress signals. He went to the restroom and went to look on the soldiers eyes and saw what was happening in there, he could tell (name) was doing her best to fight and to save the others but he knows (name) has her limit. if no one would back her up....something terrible could happen...and he couldn't bare the thought of what could possibly happen...at least not to her.

. . .

(Name) could feel her body getting tired, with how fast she and this ant was going back and forth, she knew she was in the losing end at this point but she couldn't give up...not when the others are relying on her right now. They were injured and she heard even someone was dying, and right now she was the only one who can keep up with this battle. She should not disappoint them...definitely not....

If only Jinwoo was here. She knew they have would have a chance on winning. But alas....he wanted to be with his family and she respect that....but... If only....if only she could be like Jinwoo and be everyone's anchor and keep them safe. Will it seriously only remain as "If only"?

With her body almost gonna give up, she could feel she was gonna fall any moment but just then...an arm wrapped around her body, steadying her...she could smell a familiar perfume...she looked up and saw the familiar eyes, the eyes of the person she was thinking about moments ago, the one she hoped who would be here...is finally here.

. . .

Jinwoo exchanged with the shadow soldier almost immediately the moment he saw (name)'s worried face, even though anyone who would see her right now might think she looks unbothered he could tell the slight hint of worry and anxiety. He knew her well enough to be able to know the difference and change on her face.

The moment he appeared behind (name) he catches her the same moment she almost lose balance and almost fell. And with the way she looked up at him, he could tell the hint of relief once she saw him. He gazes at her softly and smile reassuringly and said "I got you, everything would be alright now"

Jinwoo quickly carried her and put her away from the battle but still inside the cave. "Stay here, okay?"

"What about the battle? I could help-" you said almost after he spoke but ended up getting cut off by him.

"You've already done enough, you are tired, let your body rest now. You did good, thank you for protecting the others. So now please let me protect you." he said as he tucks the strand of hair behind her ear away on her face.

"Be careful...please" you mumbled but still enough to let him hear.

"I will...before that drink this so you can regain your energy back" Jinwoo said as he moved the vial of potion closer to your mouth.

You shake your head. "I don't need it...you have to help Cha...she..she was hit hard and is loosing a lot of blood...she needs this more than me" you said as you catch a glimpse of her body on the ground when Jinwoo carried you over here.

Jinwoo looks at the direction where Cha's body was. The pool of blood around her and the way she breathes...its like she is taking her final breaths slowly and painfully as if any second her heartbeat would stop, which is probably the case. Jinwoo could tell you were worried but he didn't want you worrying about someone else when you need help yourself. And how can he tell you that there is nothing he could do now to help Cha? Her case was hopeless at this point. Even if he gave her the potion for healing and this energy potion, there is no reassurance that it would help to keep her alive and even if it did it will only keep her alive for a few moments. That will only be painful for her because of the wound she has, so basically having another long moment with that will only torture her. Especially since there was no healer who would be able to help with the wound.

But he couldn't tell that to (name)...not now at least especially, when her mind is probably running thousand times a minute.

"(Name) listen to me, alright? You need this, this will help you. If i gave this to Hunter Cha...it will only be pointless and a waste since she wouldn't be able to use it, it wouldn't be worth it." He explains. He told quite the few truth in it, but he knew (name) wouldn't understand what he meant right now.

"h-huh..what do you mea-" "sshh you'll understand later on, just please...please drink this, you are more important to me than anything else" he says softly but with a hint of pleading since he couldn't leave (name) without her drinking this and her being weak because of the fight.

She finally relented and got to drink the potion...slowly her energy was coming back as if she had just taken a good nap and woke up refreshed.

Jinwoo breathes out a sigh of relief. He stood up and said "I'll be back, you can stay here and once you are definitely okay, you can help the others to get out of this cave"

"Would you be alright? " "You trust me right?" "I do" "Then I'll be most definitely be okay"

. . .

The time Jinwoo was fighting off the ant, and the moment you regained your composure and energy completely, you went to the others and helped them out to leave the cave as soon as possible. You don't know what Jinwoo is planning but you trust that no matter what he is thinking about, it would be for the best. And maybe because you were so busy with helping out the injured hunters out, it slip off of your mind about Cha.

You don't know why but Choi seems to be hesitating for some reason, he kept looking back inside where they were earlier. Unbeknownst to you, they didn't get to bring Cha's (dead) body due to they needed to help the other hunters and bringing her body would only be a bothersome, they wouldn't be able to move freely.

The moment everyone left the cave, Jinwoo didn't hold back anymore on fighting.

It took probably a few minutes than expected. But soon Jinwoo was finally seen leaving the cave and after he was a bit away the cave starts crumbling, and soon it was just like a pile of soil.

There was a hint of regret and guilt in Choi and Baek's faces, why? You thought. You look around, seeing the other S Ranks and Hunters...wait a second, where is Cha?...don't tell me...how come you didn't realize sooner?...

You glance at Jinwoo and he was already looking at you when you did. He can tell that you just realized what happened. Of course you would, you were always looking after everyone anyway.

Jinwoo went over to your side. "(Name) come on lets go"

"Jinwoo...we can't...Cha-"

"If you're panning on blaming yourself or anything like that, then no I wont allow you to. Its not your fault and we cant do anything about her situation anymore."

Jinwoo pulled you away as everyone was now walking back to the helicopter as soon as the shadow soldiers returned after finishing all the remaining ants.

. . .

Jinwoo kept comforting you and trying to get your mind off of what happened at the Jeju Island. You shouldn't have been guilty on that when it was not your fault anyway. You even tried your best to save everyone until your body almost gives up.

, , ,

When Jinwoo reassigned shadow soldiers to be on your side, the ant whom Jinwoo defeated at the raid in Jeju who is now called Beru...requested to be by your side, and be one of the soldiers who would have the privilege to protect you. Beru first hand experience your skills and powers and he definitely respected that and you of course. He wanted to spar again sometime. Jinwoo saw the determination in Beru's eyes and the slight twinkling in them, like a child pleading their parent for something they really want and so Jinwoo put Beru on (name)'s shadow.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other Social media, Thank you.

[crushmeeren]

// prompt list ideas!

⋆ ⬪ note ; been in a terrible, no good, awful writing slump lately. and i’ve been itching to write some nsfw, so here i am. she told me i didn’t need to credit her (but i’m gonna anyways for letting me use the ideas from her list). thanks @dollyfetti !

⋆ ⬪ note x 2 ; these are short and silly one shots to help raise my motivation to finish other projects, so have fun reading them! it was also to challenge myself not to make these a million paragraphs long… i failed.

| CW ; sex, sex, and more sex — do i really need to put everyone is at least in their mid 20’s in all my fics or????? |

⤷ ⋆ ft. itachi, megumi, kenma, shouto ⋆

master list

⋆ itachi ; ⌜ ¡! do you still hate me? ¡! ⌟

“Itachi?”

No answer.

You arch a brow, eyes rolling with a fond shake of your head. One more callout should get him to show himself. “Itachi, come out here please! I know it was an accident baby, I’m not mad, promise.”

Itachi pokes his head out the door, then sulks his way out of the bedroom and towards the couch, looking like a kicked puppy. He’s clutching a bundle of material to his chest. “Do you still hate me?” He pouts.

You giggle, rising to your feet, and grab the bottom of his shirt to pull him closer. “Clothes can be replaced, my love.”

“But I ruined your favorite t-shirt! I can’t get the god awful coffee stain to come out.”

“Itachi,” you say firmly, coaxing the wadded shirt from clenched fingers, regarding it briefly before tossing it on the coffee table. “Stop worrying. Please believe me when I tell you I’m not upset.”

Itachi’s presses his lips together. “If that is what you wish, princess.”

He doesn’t believe you.

You stare at him and he stares right back. “Fine,” you sigh, dropping to the couch. “Make it up to me.”

Itachi’s eyes widen, glancing between your legs. “I’m sorry?”

You point to the floor. “If you insist on feeling so guilty, show me you’re sorry. Eat me out, Itachi. Once I cum all is forgiven,” you offer.

Itachi kneels before his queen. Chilly fingers slip under your waistband, hips lifting as he tugs off your soft sleep shorts and panties. He presses your knees wide open, trailing soft kisses up your inner thigh, pausing to inhale deeply at the crease next to your pussy. Itachi moans.

A warm tongue dips inside, laying flat and dragging up to your clit, kissing it. He traces slow circles that curl your toes.

Itachi loves eating your pussy, and he’s fucking amazing at it.

Two slender fingers slip into your pussy and curl right away, petting your g-spot over and over. He places slick lips on your clit and shakes his head side to side.

Your stomach tightens, twitching thighs kept apart by his shoulders. “Tachi,” you moan. “Your fingers — mm fuck, gonna make me cum,” you whine, fisting silky hair.

He doesn’t stop, eyes fluttering shut to focus. You’re balanced on the edge of the couch, giving the perfect view as his free hand vanishes into his sweats, pulling out his heavy cock. He strokes himself twice from base to tip and heat surges through your veins, pussy clinging to Itachi.

You cry out his name and yank his hair, tipping into the backrest. Your husband whines, doubling his efforts. With a squeak, your heel comes up to push his shoulder. Itachi gets the message. When he pulls away his lips are cherry red and swollen.

Chest heaving, you crane your neck to peak at his cock, noticing the desperate grip he’s got on his base. He shifts in place. You meet his blown out gaze, loving the bright pink flush on his cheeks.

“Say you believe me and I’ll let you fuck me.”

Itachi rushes to answer, “I believe you.”

⋆ megumi ; ⌜ ¡! goodnight to my wife, fuck the rest of you. ¡! ⌟

Drunk Megumi does not often come out to play.

He’s a little louder, a little more vulgar, and it’s a breeze to crawl under his skin. Despite all of that, he’s a sweet puppy for you and you alone.

An empty bottle of sake tips over when Megumi’s hand side swipes it. You’re quick to right it, giving the waitress a sheepish smile and telling her it’d be best not to bring another, regardless of Gojo’s insistence that it’s his birthday and they should drink themselves sick.

“Sorry,” Megumi mumbles, slumping against your side and resting his forehead on your temple. He presses a lingering kiss to your cheek in apology, the sweet alcohol on his breath tickling your nose.

You laugh in good nature, pushing him to sit up straight. “It’s okay gumi, I want you to have fun tonight,” you reassure with a soft smile, brushing stray hair off his face.

Megumi’s lids lower, a small smirk twisting his mouth. “I want to have fun with you when we get home,” he murmurs.

“Megumi-chan!” Gojo sings from across the table. “How will you have fun if you have whiskey dick?”

He receives a middle finger in return.

The two of you leave earlier than the rest, everyone calling out their goodnights, Yuji giggling into Nobara’s shoulder when Gojo teases Megumi about whiskey dick again.

Megumi whirls to face the table, unsteady on his feet, and points at Gojo. “Ya know what? M’only sayin’ goodnight to my wife, fuck the rest of you!”

Everyone bursts with laughter, and you cover your own with a cough, holding Megumi’s hand tight the entire walk home.

Getting inside? Easy. Getting to bed? Quite difficult.

Megumi decided to make out hot and heavy with you in the kitchen, ignoring the glass of water you’d offered, and has managed to bend you over the counter. Pants and underwear pooled at your ankles.

“Gumi!” You gasp, pussy being stretched by a cock it’s not quite ready for, pleasure burning white hot in your belly at the same time. You press your forehead to the cool marble surface, hands outstretched in front of you.

“Fuck me,” Megumi says through his teeth, searching for your wrists and twisting your arms to secure them behind your back. He thrusts in short, sharp snaps of his hips, like he’s got something to prove. “M’always fuckin’ hard for you babygirl, promise.”

“Oh god! Y-yeah, I know you are. Faster gumi, please!” You plead, spine arching, chest lifting off the counter.

Megumi gathers both your wrists in one hand, freeing one to hike your knee up on the counter. “Anything you want, baby girl,” he breathes, fucking you until you squirt all over.

Your husband makes a mess of you in the kitchen and sends Gojo the middle finger emoji the next day.

⋆ kenma ; ⌜ ¡! i wish you’d just listen. ¡! ⌟

“What the fuck dude!” Kuroo’s irritated voice crackles through Kenma’s headset, loud enough for you to hear. “We’re getting our asses kicked, are you even paying attent — shit!”

Kenma, in fact, is not paying attention. Not to Kuroo, not to the video game, not to the live stream he paused.

His undivided attention rests on you, riding his cock sweet and slow, knees shoved between his thighs and the arms of his gaming chair. The leather keeps sticking to your skin. Kenma moans low in his throat when you bottom out, grinding hard in his lap, pussy squeezing the life out of his cock.

Thank god he flipped his mic to mute.

Originally, Kenma’s plan was a brief break from his stream for a snack. He’d sat down, popped open a bag of chips, and jumped a foot in the air when you appeared out of nowhere. Your husband had lost track of time. You pouted, reminding him of his promise to have sex when you got home. He swore only thirty more minutes and it’d be done.

So, you climbed into his lap.

It was too easy to get his dick hard. Trade a few soft kisses with him, place the sharp sting of a hickey on his neck, and he was throbbing between your legs.

The slow roll of your hips has Kenma’s head tipping back into the headrest, eyes disappearing into his skull. Your arms slip around his neck as you dip down to place your lips to his ear.

“I wish you’d just listen, Kenz,” you murmur, breath catching when Kenma’s hips jerk up, hitting your g-spot. “Then I wouldn’t have to fuck you in the middle of your stream. I bet you want your fans to see your hot wife riding you, right Kenma?”

Kenma whines, cheeks flushing dark pink, gaze growing heavy lidded. “Uh huh. Your pussy’s so pretty — oh fuck,” he gasps. “M’ cumming!” He grips your hips harder, pushes you up, yanks you down, and grinds his hips upwards. His cock twitches a few times, whimpering when you tighten your pussy on purpose.

You allow him a moment to catch his breath before moving, using his shoulders as leverage to bounce. His protests are cut off when you tell him you haven’t cum yet.

When you leave, Kenma’s shorts remain pulled taut around the middle of thighs, dick out. He gives some lame excuse about bad WiFi being the reason he’s ending the stream early.

He sounds fucked out when he speaks to Kuroo, breathless and happy. As you stroll naked from of the room, Kuroo’s boisterous laugh hits your ears.

“Bro, did you just fuck your wife on live?!”

⋆ shouto ; ⌜ ¡! we’re not going to bed until we’ve made up. ¡! ⌟

The longest day of your life ends when you leave your agency.

Until it doesn’t.

You’d forgotten to stop by the store for dinner, so you had to backtrack. You arrive in a rush only to find said store is out of the specific sauce that’s vital to your dish. Frustration builds in your chest, but you remind yourself hanging a left in a few blocks will put you at the other location.

About a million people stop you to talk — it’s what you get for wearing your hero costume in public. To be fair, you were under the impression you’d be heading straight home. Finally you’re able to break free, glancing at your phone to see Shouto’s sent you a text that’s a bunch of question marks.

You were supposed to be home an hour ago.

You don’t reply, too caught up in hurrying to the other location. Your chest is tight, agitation becoming a physical lump in your throat. In the store, you see a bottle that vaguely familiar, buy it, and start the long trek home.

Shouto’s in the living room on the phone when you shut your front door and lock it. You toe off your shoes and stop to wave at him. He smiles, but it’s tight, and you know something’s wrong. His Father is probably on the other end.

You frown when he turns out of sight and go to the kitchen, seeing as it’s best to leave Shouto be right now. Setting the grocery bag on the table, you pull out the jar of a sauce.

It’s the wrong. fucking. jar.

You slam it on the counter, cursing to the heavens as your eyes burn, tears welling up. Shouto rushes in, hand covering the speaker to his phone. He asks what’s wrong, checking you from head to toe for an injury.

Your lower lip wobbles. “I got the wrong sauce.”

Shouto’s expression pinches, the sound of his Father being obnoxious carrying across the room. “Stop overreacting. You scared me,” he snaps, tone icy.

Tears flow over your lash line and down your cheeks, stomach dropping. “Fuck you, Shouto. Don’t talk to me like that, asshole,” you sneer.

His expression morphs into shock, then flattens to something blank. He hangs up the phone in the middle of his Father’s sentence.

You fight. Not the worst you’ve ever had, but you do slam the door to your bedroom shut in his face. You remain in there the rest of the night, too upset to eat. Shouto doesn’t come to you either.

You crawl into bed early tonight, eyes puffy, nose stuffed, with a pounding in your temples. The door creaks open slowly, muffled footsteps approaching the bed. You face the wall and ignore Shouto. The mattress dips.

“Baby,” Shouto tries, voice apologetic. He places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You sniffle. “Okay.” You don’t want to talk Shouto. At all.

“Please,” he begs. “We can’t go to bed until we’ve made up. My Mother and Father used to go bed angry. I — I can’t.”

Guilt squeezes your chest. With a sigh you flip to your back. Shouto looks heartbroken, chewing his bottom lip raw.

“I’m sorry for calling you an asshole,” you relent, opening your arms. “C’mere, giant baby.”

Shouto lights up, shifting to get between your legs, snaking his arms around your waist, and buries his face into your neck. He squeezes, hard, and kisses your throat. The spot tingles. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. “I love you, I never want to hurt you.”

Your hands run through soft, short hair. “I love you too Sho, it’s okay.” He makes a sad sound, so you frame his cheeks and lift his head, making sure to lock eyes. “I forgive you, Sho.”

Shouto eyes flicker back and forth, searching, and he kisses you. Sweet, tender presses of his lips, shifting towards heated and needy. His tongue pushes into your mouth, a hot glide against yours, hands already fumbling to rid you of your underwear.

His are gone even faster.

You open your legs further to fit his frame, the blunt tip of his cock catching on your pussy when he angles his hips.

“Will it hurt?” Shouto whispers. His brows furrow in concern, forehead resting on yours.

You shake your head. “It won’t. I want you, please.”

He pushes just the head in, rocking with shallow thrusts until he’s bottoming out with each roll of his hips. You plant your heels on the backs of his thighs and Shouto grabs your wrists, pinning them on either side your head.

It’s sweet and fragile, how Shouto makes love to you. He forces you to keep eye contact, the pleasure in your pelvis building one thrust at a time. You plead with him to move faster, harder, he refuses.

“No baby, I want you to appreciate every single stroke.”

Your face shatters in pleasure when you cum, and he keeps you pinned with ease. Never changing the rhythm of his hips, fucking you through the high, whispering, “good girl, you look so pretty on my cock.”

Shouto’s voice cracks when his dick throbs, smothering you with a kiss, begging you to swallow his moans. You do.

Shouto clings to you after, wrapping you in his warm embrace, and you realize he’s right.

Never to go to bed angry.

[g4rvez-r3id]

(Not) A Jinx

S7! Spencer Reid x Clumsy!Barista!Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Spencer has been going to a new coffee shop recently and that’s where he finds you — a clumsy barista who screws up orders and asks for help all of the time. After a confrontation with a customer, Spencer sees you and assures to you that you’re not a jinx like you seem to think you are.

Category: Fluff, with a hint of angst

Warnings: reader is a barista at a coffee shop (not a very good one) i love projecting, based on a semi-real situation, reader is overwhelmed/has a breakdown, spencer being a comforting softie, crying, cute nickname used (cutie), i think that’s it- otherwise fluffy

Author’s Note: i love projecting into all my fics hehehe/ divider belongs to bestie erika @esote-rika (as all cute dividers i use are) i hope you enjoy this, it’s based on a semi-real situation i go through at my new job lmao (i hate making drinks)

Spencer had just recently started frequenting this new coffee shop a few blocks from Quantico. It was quaint, the pastries were delicious, coffee was self-served and usually very busy around the time he’d go. And though it’d be busy, he still enjoyed it.

By now, all of the workers knew his name as well as his order. A large coffee with a lot of sugar and a blueberry muffin. He’d even indulge in a warm croissant for Garcia every now and again.

To say that he found his new favorite place was an understatement. A quiet place he even decided to gate-keep from the rest of the team so they wouldn’t hog all over what he’d created for himself. It was also the place where he’d met you.

Not that long ago, you’d started working at the coffee shop. You’d taken his order a few times and spoke shyly to him whenever he’d show up, he found it endearing about how timid you were, it reminded him of himself when he was in his early twenties.

The one thing he’d noticed whenever frequenting this coffee shop was how much you’d been on the registers as a cashier. Specifically on Mondays and Tuesdays, not that he was keeping track or anything. He’d never seen you in the kitchen, prepping food or even prepping the long list of ingredients for an iced latte. And when he did, your coworkers were quick to send you to the registers to take orders. He’d figured that maybe you were just always set to cashier whenever you’d come in or maybe you already had enough people handling drinks.

And then he’d come to the realization to why he didn’t see you working on drinks that often. He’d had gone in to get his regular coffee and blueberry muffin this morning during a rush hour. He was actually still waiting on the blueberry muffin when he saw you.

You’d been moving a million miles per hour anxiously as you looked on your screen, frantically muttering to yourself — “How the hell do I make an iced caramel macchiato again?” “What the hell is an americano?” “Wait, was that four or five pumps for the large cups?” People had been watching and waiting for their orders, staring hard— even glaring at you as you tried making four orders at a time.

There was then a point where you eventually gave up trying yourself and asked for help. You said sorry for bothering them and your co-worker had just given you a deep sigh and helped you anyways.

As you tried your best to help her without getting in her way, a man who obviously wasn’t patient enough to wait any longer quickly chided in, saying he’d been waiting for his iced coffee for nearly fifteen minutes now. You politely tell him you’re working on it and you’ll get it out in no time. The man rolls his eyes but nonetheless waits.

And then once you got him his order with shaky hands. Once he was gone, you’d returned to the other orders and within a minute, the man marched right back in towards your area and shouted something about how the drink was disgusting and how badly can you screw up a simple iced coffee?

He could see the defeat in your eyes as he called you ‘stupid’ and decided to chime in with a firm grip on his coffee cup. “Sir, I don’t mean to cut in but I happened to overhear and as much as I understand your frustration, she’s new and maybe you could… I don’t know, give her a break? She’s just learning.” Spencer was never one to speak up. He hated to, but for you? He’d felt the need to. Especially when he saw you working very hard and even shaking to the point where he worried he may need to call a doctor before you pass out on the floor.

“Listen, pipecleaner,” The man scoffs at Spencer. “Why don’t you just back off? This doesn’t concern you.”

Spencer ever rarely pulls this card, but again, for you — he pulls out his badge out from his pocket and flashes it towards the man. “Actually, sir, I’m with the FBI and since I am with law enforcement, I can report and say you’re causing a disturbance to the store and verbally harassing an employee to her face. That could get you banned from the store, maybe even the police will be involved. And you don’t want to risk that over a simple iced coffee incident, do you?” The man looks at him dumbfounded and slack-jawed and when Spencer turns to you, your cheeks turn a soft shade of pink as you stare back, a little frazzled at the fact that he’d stood up to a customer for you. Sure, you had disgruntled customers in your life every now and then, but rarely did anyone stand up for you.

The man grumbles something under his breath and inevitably decides to leave the store and you look at Spencer, grateful and eyes widened, “Thank you.” Spencer nods, with a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, he was being a jerk.”

And the conversation ends there, you go back to trying to make drinks and Spencer finally gets his muffin but before he can leave, there’s a large clatter heard and he turns over to see you looking at the ground at the three coffees you’d just made and you frown, almost as if you’re on the verge of tears.

Your co-worker, who looks like she’s ready to wring your neck out, speaks to you calmly and tells you that she will handle the drinks and to just go on your break. You figure that’s the best thing you can do at the moment, without screwing anything else up. So, you walk out from behind the counter with your head in your hands.

And Spencer watches the whole thing and decides to follow you outside. He doesn’t know what it is that draws him outside to you, he was ready to leave. He got what he needed and didn’t need to be there any longer. But he was willing to spare a moment or two when he saw how distressed you were.

Once he entered outside, he saw you kick a chair over and quickly flinch when you kicked the chair too far towards the table and the umbrella outside had fallen on the cement and you quickly picked up the umbrella before anyone else witnessed you kick it over and you shut your eyes as you squat down and Spencer frowns as you let out a heart-wrenching sob that aches inside him. And you cry and cry and cry.

He doesn’t really know what to do, but he knows you’re upset. He stands there awkwardly, contemplating on going to bother you when you clearly don’t want to be bothered. But he musters up enough courage to walk towards you and clears his throat as he simply says — “Hi.”

You gasp and look to him before quickly wiping away your tears that cascaded and stained your cheeks. You take a moment to calm yourself down before wiping your hands on your apron. “I’m fine. Sorry.” You say, still looking at the ground and avoiding his eyes as you stand from where you’re sitting.

“I didn’t mean to just… invade your—” Spencer pauses, not knowing exactly how to refer your current breakdown. Would it be offensive to you if he did call it a breakdown? “Are you okay?” He manages a more simple approach, a friendly approach.

You exhale, hands on hips as you look up at him— “I’m normally not this bad, I swear. I just… today’s just been really overwhelming and I hate making the drinks, which is very ironic considering I work in a coffee shop and literally all they have me do is just be on the registers since that is the only thing I can’t manage to screw up and I really need this job because I need the money and I’m just so so tired all of the time since I work two jobs and I’m just… ugh.” You cover your eyes with the palms of your hands and look at the man and sigh more, “I’m so sorry, I’m very prone to ramble and to drone on and on and on, feel free to tell me shut up any time.”

Never, Spencer wants to say. I, too, am prone to rambling. And it’s refreshing to be on the opposite end of a good ramble.

“It’s okay,” He tells. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day.” You sigh, “It’s not your fault. I really do appreciate you sticking up for me, you really didn’t have to.” Spencer shrugs a bit, “It’s really no problem. And he was being a jerk.”

“I kinda deserved it, though,” You say and Spencer furrows his brows in confusion because why would you think that? “I’m not that good at my job, if you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s ridiculous—” Spencer tries but you shake your head, disregarding his input. “No, I’m not. Every time I’m alone on drinks, I always have to ask for help. I always ask for help when I shouldn’t have to. I’ve been here two months, I should know all of this stuff by now. Why do you think I’m always on the register? I’m just a big fat jinx. I get in the way.”

It then clicked to him now. Your co-workers decided to continuously put you on cashier because they didn’t want you in the way. And when you tried, it ended up going awry. Spencer frowned, he believed you’d tried. No matter what, you were still trying to do your job. He pitied you, you didn’t deserve to feel like this about yourself. Because as far as he was concerned, you were trying. And not a lot of people did that. They often admitted defeat before they even had the chance to try.

You turn away from him so as not to look him in the face. You’d just poured your whole heart out to the man about how you felt about your job and he was a complete stranger. Somehow, it’d felt a little embarrassing but it was easier opening up to a total stranger than to someone you already know, at least to you.

“I don’t think you’re a jinx,” Spencer spoke up. “You’re still learning. It’s not your fault. Everyone works in different ways. You know, working styles typically fall into four unique types — idea oriented, logical, detail oriented and supportive.”

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, “And what type do you think I fit?” You wonder with a cross of your arms, intrigued by the conversation. He gawks at you for a moment before thinking to himself. “I think you’re the supportive type. You’re empathetic and people oriented. At least from what I’ve seen when you take my order. You really do try, even if you don’t think you do. You are. At least you’re trying. That’s more than what other people do.”

You stare at the man interestingly, studying him almost. He was nice to you, you were just as much a stranger to him as he was to you. “Thanks.” You smile. You stare at each other for a minute before Spencer pauses — “So you said you’ve only been working here a few months?”

“Yeah, I can’t really afford living in this economy nowadays. Had to get two jobs to live.” You reply and Spencer nods, “Yeah, I’ve only seen you a handful of times, so I… I just happened to notice.”

He wasn’t going to add onto the fact that he watches every time that you do work, he notices when you scrunch up your nose when you’re focused, he notices that you sing to yourself every once in a while or that you walk around like you’re on a mission.

“Really?” You ask.

Spencer nods, “Yeah, trust me, you’re not an easy person to forget. That and I do have an eidetic memory, so it’s easy not to forget.”

“So, like… a photographic memory?” You ask and Spencer winces as he corrects— “It’s not quite the same, considering eidetic memory is a more short-term form of memory while photographic memory, on the other hand, is thought to be a more long-term form of memory.” You chuckle a bit, already admiring little quirks you’ve never seen before. Especially not in a man as delicious as him.

“S-Sorry, I… I tend to ramble.” Now, he was the one apologizing.

“Hey, I’m not judging. I just poured my heart out to you not that long ago.” You chuckle again and look around. “I should, uh, probably get back to work. I only get ten minutes.”

Spencer nods with wide eyes, “Yeah, uh, I should go, too. I… I work, too. At the BAU in Quantico, in fact.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, another interesting thing to mark down in your mental note. “FBI?” Spencer nods, “Yes, I, uh—” Before he can even go into detail about what he does for a living, someone calls your name and informs you to come back in since you’re ten minute break was now up.

Man, time flies when you’re speaking with a handsome stranger that doesn’t think you’re a jinx.

You turn back to Spencer with an awkward chuckle, “Well, I should get back. Maybe I’ll see you around again soon?” Spencer nods, “Yes, I hope to see you again soon, too.”

You wave at him goodbye and begin to walk back towards the doors. “Uh,” You hear Spencer and whip your head back around to see his gears turning in his head. “If you ever… want to, uh, go get coffee— at another place, that is… sometime, would-would you… be up for that? S-Sometime?”

You smirk at him and his attempt of asking you out. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You say and Spencer gives you a crooked smile. You go to push the door open, only then realizing it’s a fucking pull door and pull it open and walk back in without another word, leaving Spencer with a large smile on his face the rest of the day.

He’d gone back to the coffee shop the very next morning and ordered the usual. Only this time, he’d saw a little message written on the side of his cup. Your phone number etched with a heart and your name right next to it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

ㅤ♡ Y/n

call me sometime, cutie!

Needless to say, Spencer kept going to the coffee shop. And it wasn’t just for the coffee anymore.

[rafecambabydoll]

AFTER SUN, drew starkey

pairing: loveisland!reader x drew starkey, smau & rl

warnings: suggestive jokes (?), language, mentions of alcohol, breakdowns, cheating (?) and drama

content: fluff & angst

This summer the heat and hearts were risen up by Love Island US, season 6, and also by one of the main cast members, Y/n, also known as 'the dolly' or ‘barbie’ of the island by the public, gaining the hearts of many and becoming a fan favorite. Y/n was introduced from the very beginning, getting coupled up with Kendall. Her man-eater, fierce and irresistible personality combined with Kendall's goofy and extroverted personality made them one of the favorite couples of the villa, resembling the 'sun and moon' trope. But like every other relationship in the villa they had their bumps and end, specially with the bombshells. With the arrival of two new bombshells, Nicole and Andrea, one girl was set to be single, and unfortunately it was her as Kendall decided to re-couple with Nicole. Luckily for her she had a big fan back in her hometown, and it was no other than Drew Starkey. He had been binge watching the show on set breaks and our lovely Y/n managed to capture his heart with her bold but sweet personality, even though the nail in the coffin was when she said "Shut up when I'm speaking to you" when talking to Connor on how he did her girl JaNa dirty. He just loved how she stood up for herself and for her girl! Now she's back home and being tagged on multiple videos of Drew talking about his latest obsession being Love Island and how his favorite contestant was Y/n, and how sad he was to see her leave as he was expecting to see more of her. So what will happen when she decides to just say 'fuck it' and drunkly slide into Drew's dm with a witty remark that makes him all giddy as his all time favorite (love island) girl decided to pull a move before he did. Will Y/n be able to find her one true love outside the villa? Will Drew regret dating a reality TV star? Only time can tell.

Episodes

chapter one

Extras

profiles

a/n: eeek! this is my first post ever and im so exited, ever since re-watching love island us and uk I've been dying to make a smau based on it. y/n is deeply inspired by grace, and yes, she did replace hanna in this fic but its just for the plot line! plus I wanted her to be friends with ppg, liv & kaylor once they got of the island as the smau is based right after she leaves (episode 10.)

if you want to be added to the tag list just comment ♡

[rave-rz]

Those critiques were everything I hoped they would be. Now tell us about MHA.

Are your grievances the same as our grievances? Where'd the show lose you? What arc had the glasses come off?

A lot of my issues with My Hero Academia are pretty easy to find on tumblr, I reblog some of my favourite posts from time to time but the posts I tend to agree the most about are from Justatalkingface, Bibibbon and Saphhic-Agent, as well as A List Exists on Youtube. This is gonna be hard to explain my thoughts on so LONG RANT Incoming lmao. My thoughts ended up going everywhere so nothings really all that ordered rip.

Regarding when the show started to lose my interest? It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but I started off enjoying my time but once we got to the Sports festival I started to lose the wind in my sails. I already have loads of issues with Bakugo but my main gripe with him started during the sports festival, how a big of a deal the story made his fight with Uraraka. How he was taking her seriously from the very beginning. Except that's hard for me to believe when this is pretty much the only time I can remember him ever fighting the way he did during the manga, standing still and waiting for his opponents moves. When does he ever do that?? Starting at this point in the story you realize Horikoshi has favourites and you can tell which ones lol. It's Aizawa, Bakugo and Endeavor. Now I understand these are the characters that people love and they make money but still, if I can feel your favoritism through the pages? That's not good. Horikoshi has a habit of stating things and just sorta expecting the readers to deal with it? Like there's no easing into anything it's just 'this is happening, I hope you accept it cause we're moving on, now turn the page'. He states there was GENOCIDE that happened towards people with mutant quirks, moving on. He implies quirkless people are also discriminated against, moving on. He introduces the quirk singularity and the possible end of the world, we're moving on. Hell he kills off his main 3 antagonists, having his 3 main characters effectively fail and yet we still move on, only Uraraka got to actually react to anything and even then it's not great since she's blaming herself for getting stabbed.

He also seems to develop a hatred for introspection as the series goes on? By the end we're left mostly speculating on major character's thoughts and motivations, we don't really know why Deku decided to become a teacher or what he thought of Shigaraki and what happened to him, we don't know how Dabi felt in his last moments, or more importantly how Shouto felt about the ending of the fight (I mean, he specifically invented a move to beat Dabi without hurting him (cold fire, sure) but not only is his brother going to die but his 'failure' caused his other siblings and mother to step in and get permanently injured, how does he feel about that??). Characters slowly become a hivemind towards the end, all having the same opinions on the events (Everyone reacted pretty much the same to Aoyama's traitor reveal, despite no one ever really interacting with him and if they did, they didn't seem like him all that much). Characters just aren't allowed to be wrong it feels, in the sense that if they come to a conclusion and it's not the factually correct one, it's pretty quickly corrected by another character like Deku. Admittedly this one might be spotty since I remember thinking this but at the same time my mind cannot come up with a specific example, it might be in the todoroki family sub arc.

Now when it comes to the characters, I actually like the idea of characters more than the actual characters since I don't like how Horikoshi decided to write 90% of his characters. Like Hawks could've been really cool if he wasn't regulated to a sidekick by the end. One character I have very strong opinions on is Dabi, I hate how he was written and by extension Endeavor and the rest of the Todoroki subplot.

Now uh, here is a hot take: I didn't like Dabi's dance (as a reveal). As a chapter it was really cool! But as a reveal of Dabi is Touya it felt less like a reveal to the characters and more of a confirmation to the readers that they were right and this chapters a little treat for waiting so long for this reveal to happen.

Cause let's be honest, almost everybody pegged Dabi as a Todoroki, even before people knew Shouto had multiple siblings and Touya was revealed to be 'dead'. It was practically treated as canon for fanfic writers. But as the manga went on it never brought up Touya or the traitor at all until the last sprint and boom we got Dabi's dance and THEN we'll get his backstory. Because readers got Dabi first, tying him to Touya who we don't get any info on until after he's revealed to be Dabi. A lot of their reactions end up being

because logically, why should they care? Who Touya was has been essentially a non-factor to the entire story. No one has every talked about him, we know absolutely nothing regarding who he was until after Dabi's dance. The reader's opinion on Dabi has been made by this point in the story (290 chapters in) and it's too late to change it with just a sad backstory. (haine-Kleine made a really good post regarding it). Not to mention everything Dabi did meant literally nothing since not a damn person reacted to him brocasting that he was 1. a murderer, 2. the #1 hero's supposed dead eldest son (now a murderer), and 3. abused by said hero along with the rest of the family. Like nothing came from that at all, even the main character told him that Endeavor's trying to change as a rebuttal. So nice going Dabi, your on roll with failing lol. Onto Endeavor cause I'm gonna be quick lol. His atonement arc sucks since not only did he not really do anything to acheive that. He just kept repeating how he intends to atone, and the best (and probably only) way to work towards that would be for him to confront Touya as a father and not a hero. Except no, he not only sends Shouto to deal with Touya (so he and hawks can fight the more important thing), but when he does deal with Touya it's cause he had too (and it was done as a hero). In the end he just sorta lost nothing of significance? He's in a wheelchair yeah but that's not really what I call a concequence to his shitty behavior. He retired as a hero sure, but he was always gonna do that. Bro could've been cool if the story kept him as a heavily flawed individual who actively tried to improve knowing he'd lose more than he'd gain, but instead every character gasses him up lol. This is getting too long so I'm gonna touch briefly on 2 more things and that's it lol. The ending 'solves' most of it's issues by essentially saying 'our people are in charge so we're doing it right'. Hawks is HPSC president and he's just better at it I guess, Uraraka is expanding quirk counseling (despite not know what the issues were? And also just not mentioning Toga ever) and Shouji is helping stop the heteromorph racism peacefully. Again, we're back to 'we're moving on' since these guys are fixing these issues! How? Don't worry about it, turn the page. Finally, a I would've loved to see more focus on the 'academia' part of the story. Despite Horikoshi clearly being uninterested in UA as a concept. He tries to make you believe 1-A is this found family which given their interactions, I don't believe for a goddamn second. We know barely anything about the any character and any tidbits we do know are from character sheets outside the story. The 'academia' in My hero Academia could've been the time to learn about characters and develop them/their relationships. Learn why each of them wanted to even be there. Cause every character is quite literally a 'good person' in the 'I wanna be a hero to save people' way. Which isn't inherently bad but if every character is like this? No thanks. This is why I don't like Stain (Man showed up in the end, was a hinderance and then died), he's introduced along with the idea that people in this world choose to be heroes for multi reasons. Some do it to save people but some also do it for the paycheck. Yet every character we see has that 'instinct to save those in danger' no matter their attitude, the only exceptions to this are Endeavor and Mineta. One of which is admired as a good hero or person who's trying to be good by the cast and the other is someone no one takes seriously. Even Uraraka was introduced as being in it for the paycheck, but pretty quickly overshadow by her learning how much she wants to help others. Okay I'm cutting myself off there lmao. But yeah, A lot of my complaints are pretty common I think. I started having issues with the story starting at the Sports festival/Stain arcs but Overhaul was awful. Final arc was even worse lol.

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Four: Playing the Part

Series Masterlist

Reader stood in Sylus’s penthouse, her mind spinning from the bombshell he had just dropped. She had spent the better part of the last few days adjusting to her bizarre new role as Sylus Qin’s personal maid-turned-fake fiancée, only to find out she had unknowingly become a pawn in a much larger game.

An auction house. Underground. Illegal. Dangerous. And Sylus—Sylus was at the center of it all.

She sat stiffly on the edge of the leather sofa, gripping the hem of her dress. Her gaze flicked up to Sylus, who was casually pouring himself a drink, his movements unhurried as though discussing criminal enterprises was as mundane as reviewing hotel operations.

“You run the auction house?” Reader asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sylus smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “What gave it away? The part where I knew everyone there, or the fact that I bought you for a billion dollars?”

Her stomach twisted. “That’s not funny.”

“Relax,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I didn’t put you there. That was an… oversight.”

“Oversight?” she snapped, standing up. “You mean to tell me that people like me—people who accidentally break a vase—end up being sold in cages, and it’s just business as usual for you?”

Sylus set his glass down, his red eyes sharp as they locked onto hers. “First of all, I don’t sell people. That’s not my business. The auction house is a means to an end—a tool to build connections with… powerful individuals. And before you ask, yes, some of those individuals are less than savory. But you’d be surprised how useful those connections are in this world.”

Her brows furrowed. “Connections like Maria?”

Sylus’s lips twitched, a mixture of annoyance and amusement crossing his face. “Ah, Maria. The lovely daughter of a renowned mafia boss from Linkon.”

Reader’s eyes widened. “Wait—mafia boss?”

He nodded, a trace of exasperation in his tone. “Her father is one of my biggest ‘clients.’ He sent her in his place to attend the auction, and she’s been… attached ever since.”

Reader crossed her arms. “Attached, huh? Sounds like she has a crush.”

“An unhealthy one,” Sylus muttered. “Maria has a penchant for getting what she wants, and she’s convinced I’m on her wishlist.”

Reader raised a brow. “And you don’t like her?”

Sylus gave her a pointed look. “Do I strike you as the type to tolerate people like her?”

“Well,” she began, shrugging, “you are tolerating me.”

A laugh burst from him, deep and genuine. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Why don’t you just tell her to back off?” Reader pressed.

His expression darkened slightly. “Maria isn’t the kind of person you brush off. Not without consequences. And upsetting her father isn’t exactly on my to-do list.”

Reader frowned, piecing it together. “So, you needed a way to get her off your back without causing a mess.”

“Bingo,” he said with a grin, tapping his temple. “And then, as if the universe handed me a solution on a silver platter, you showed up.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sylus shrugged, unbothered. “What can I say? I’m a problem solver.”

Before Reader could retort, Sylus glanced at his watch. “Speaking of problems, we have a party to attend.”

The grand ballroom of the Onychinus Casino was alive with glittering lights, soft jazz music, and the quiet hum of conversations between the rich and powerful. Reader adjusted her red dress nervously, feeling out of place among the opulence.

Sylus, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, dressed in a sleek black suit that contrasted sharply with his white hair and striking red eyes. He rested a hand lightly on Reader’s back as they entered, his touch sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

“Smile,” he whispered. “You’re my fiancée tonight, remember?”

Reader forced a polite smile, though her nerves threatened to undo her. “Do I have to hold your hand too, dear?”

Sylus chuckled, leaning down to murmur, “Only if you want to sell the act. Or is it that you want to hold my hand?”

She shot him a glare, which only made him smirk wider.

As they mingled, Sylus seamlessly navigated the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and sly remarks with his guests. Reader tried to keep up, but her attention was pulled away when a familiar figure entered the room: Maria.

Maria’s emerald-green dress shimmered under the lights as she approached with her usual confident stride. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on Sylus, narrowing slightly when she noticed Reader by his side.

“Sylus,” Maria greeted, her voice honeyed but icy. “You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing… company.”

Sylus’s smile was perfectly measured, his arm tightening slightly around Reader’s waist. “Maria, meet my fiancée.”

Maria’s eyes flicked to Reader, her expression skeptical. “Your fiancée? How… sudden.”

Reader took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “It’s nice to meet you, Maria,” she said with a polite smile.

Maria’s gaze lingered on her, and for a moment, the tension was palpable. Then she smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Likewise. I wasn’t aware Sylus had settled down. You must be very… special.”

“Special doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sylus said smoothly, his tone dripping with amusement. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Reader clenched her jaw, trying to keep her expression neutral. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Sylus bit back a laugh, clearly entertained by her forced tone. Maria, meanwhile, didn’t look convinced.

“I suppose I’ll have to get used to the idea,” Maria said, her voice laced with false sweetness. “But Sylus, you know how I hate surprises.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Sylus said, his red eyes glinting mischievously.

Reader held back a groan. This man was impossible.

As the evening went on, Reader found herself enduring Sylus’s constant teasing remarks and Maria’s thinly veiled hostility. But despite the chaos, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had somehow passed a test she didn’t even know she was taking.

By the end of the night, Sylus leaned down to her, his breath warm against her ear. “Not bad for your first performance. Keep this up, and I might actually start enjoying having you around.”

Reader rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “I’m not sure I can say the same.”

Sylus grinned, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, you’ll warm up to me. They always do.”

Reader wasn’t so sure about that. But as she glanced at him, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already taken the first step into a game she wasn’t ready to play.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @seris-the-amious @paninisstuff @mysticcollectionvoid @animegamerfox @mcdepressed290 @fries11

[danger-xylophones]

Hello there! I’ve just been looking at some of your Tolkien asks for the elves and I thought you were a really good writer, so I was wondering if you’d be open to writing about how the elves would react to finding out their human friend had parents that didn’t get along that well or argued a lot, and just really disliked each other? I don’t even know if they’d even have a concept of that, because elvish couples love once and forever. If you don’t want to write that, it’s perfectly ok. I understand that this is a sensitive topic for a lot of people, but I just wanted to ask :) Regardless, have a nice day!

Warnings: discussion of unstable/unhappy house holds, illusions to abuse/neglect

Note: I’ve included some elves invented for ROP and The Hobbit movies

Note 2: thank you for this request, it led me down several rabbit holes and now I know exactly how fucked up Celebrimbor’s father was

Masterlist

I think the elves understand on some base level that it is possible for parents to hate each other, especially the ones that interact with humans more often like Elrond.

They’re timeless beings after all, who have seen the rise and fall of countless kingdoms of man. They know the propensity for greed and malice.

But it’s always abstract to them the same way true death is.

In the back of their minds they think it must have such an adverse effect on the child that it would be easy to spot.

Some are naive enough to assume that every person that chose to follow Morgoth and Sauron must have had parents who hated each other.

So when you reveal that you grew up in such a household it rocks their shit it startles quite a few of them.

In order from least to most surprised:

Arondir

As a guard of the south lands, he is constantly dealing with humans. He understands, I think best of all those listed, the broad range of dynamics possible in a human household and I’m sad to say he’s probably had to break up quite a few fights between parents.

So when you tell him, he’s rather unfazed. Not to say that he doesn’t care that you grew up in such a household but he knows that it isn’t something some people like to talk about. He offers you a firm squeeze on the shoulder and offers his ear should you ever want to talk about it though.

If you still live with your parents, he makes a point to start watching them more closely. He wants to be ready should he have to do something.

Elrond

Given his past list of parental figures and him being half-human, Elrond understands the best out of Tolkien’s elves. That’s not say his parents were bad but he has the best experience with uncommon households out of the elves on this list.

Younger or older, he approaches your situation with empathy. Similar to Arondir, he doesn’t try to pry but makes it clear that he is here for you if you want him to be. He also offers up a room in his house if you still live with your parents. He goes a step further though to offer a place to stay to any siblings you have as well.

He doesn’t claim to understand exactly what growing up around people like that does to one’s mental health but he is willing to do the research needed to become an advocate for you and for those who grew up like you.

Galadriel

Galadriel as we know her in the books and PJ’s films has the best intuition about the situation you grew up in. She’s incredibly mature and has a cunning to her that isn’t present in the other elves on this list.

Honestly, she might figure out that your home wasn’t exactly happy before you even tell her - catching all those little signs; the hesitation before mentioning your family, the careful censoring in certain anecdotes, or the complete lack of mentioning them. She catches them and puts two and two together.

I’m torn on if she’d ask you directly or wait for you to tell her. The first option wants for tact but I believe Galadriel can almost see the scars on your psyche and wants to help them heal. Regardless, you are always welcome in Lothlorien should the need arise.

Celebrimbor

Despite how low he is placed, Celebrimbor I think has the closest lived experience to you. He’s down this low because he thinks the shittiness of his father is an exclusive trait to him. It doesn’t actually cross his mind that humans deal with awful parents as well so he is quite shocked to learn this about you.

To be fair, we don’t know who his mother is and by all accounts her and Curufin could have had a wonderful marriage but I find this unlikely given his temper.

Celebrimbor understands best of all the shadow that rests on your shoulders - the creeping dread that rests in your heart whenever you hear a raised voice. Celebrimbor is a good person to rant to because he understands the anger the best and while his father may have committed atrocities in the name of avenging his father - he is careful not to overshadow your own tumultuous feelings whenever you do express them. He just listens, adding scathing commentary when needed.

Honestly, you revealing the truth about your own parents relieves him a little - not because you grew up like that but because someone finally understands what it’s like for him as well. None of the other elves get it. But you do.

Arwen/Elladan/Elrohir

So, the reason these three are grouped together is simple - they’re raised by Elrond. They understand the weird direction of their father’s life and he talks openly about its effect on him with all three of them as they grow up. So, they are a prime example of the elves understanding that parents hating each other is a thing that happens, but none of them have first-hand experience with it.

Arwen, to her credit understands the best out of Elrond’s children. I fully believe she inherited Elrond’s foresight and uses it to intuit what she doesn’t understand already. Still, she is surprised to hear about your parents and tries her best to get her head around it. But she is not immune to the “why did they stay together” question. In her defense, she doesn’t expect you to have an answer.

Her brothers on the other hand do ask you fully expecting you to have some wisdom about it that they don’t. Being some of the youngest elves on this list, it makes sense. They’re mature enough to know that they don’t know everything but not mature enough to comprehend that you don’t know everything either.

All three of them have a million questions but try their best not to bombard you with them. They do, however, insist to their father that he help you with housing if you or your siblings should need it.

Lindir

I believe Lindir to be a smart but sheltered elf. We don’t know how old he is so I personally believe he is on the younger side, maybe barely older than Elladan and Elrohir.

He’s bookish and as a result of that he has a very scholarly understanding of the world - so he has possibly read stories about dysfunction households. But I think he believes them inventions of the author. As in, he thinks they are isolated incidents and not unfortunately common truths for the children of men.

He is floored when you tell him. He is good about not bombarding you with questions but he will ask you why your parents married in the first place. Whether you tell him they were in love once or were a political marriage he can only nod slowly as if he understands (he does not, he is so confused). He can only offer to do what he does best - listen to you if you choose to tell him.

Gil-Galad

Gil-Galad is someone who falls victim to his own preoccupations. It never crosses his mind that the attraction patterns of men are different from elves. He’s not so sheltered to think it impossible but it’s like an out of sight out of mind thing for him. He just doesn’t realize it’s a possibility.

In his defense, he does have a lot of things to worry about as high king and unfortunately the interpersonal politics of humans are not top of the list.

But he’s curious when you tell him and he listens attentively. Whether your parents married for social gain, love, or convenience - he asks careful questions about what it was like to grow up in such an environment. He wants to help and after you tell him this, he resolves to find a way to help other humans currently caught in unhappy households. Depending on your relationship with him (I.e. if it’s platonic) he kind of adopts you. He feels like he wasn’t there for you then but he can be here for you now.

Haldir

Haldir’s hard for me to place. On the one hand, as a border guard he has the chance to interact with more humans than a lot of elves on this list. So that should put him towards the top. But I also think he has a rather insular way of thinking. As in his main concerns are for the elves of Lorien and not the travelers he meets which means he might not inquire about their family lives.

Ultimately, I think he is similar to Gil-Galad in the sense that he just doesn’t think about it. If the few men he speaks to on his travels make a reference to a singular parent, he just assumes the other died because he can’t fully wrap his head around the idea that some people have a potentially volatile home life and might only feel close to one parent. Or neither. His immediate assumption is that the reason a human doesn’t mention their parents is because they died. He doesn’t mean for it to be, it just doesn’t cross his mind on its own.

But, he actually talks to you and when you explain to him that no, they stayed married because it was easier to raise you and your siblings that way but they always fought with each other - he is so shocked. His immediate thought is why didn’t they just leave each other, but he tries to puzzle that out on his own. Ultimately, he is very thoughtful about your circumstance and tries to be someone you can vent to when you need it. If your parents are still alive, he offers to accompany you to visit them if you ever need. And he does his best to secure you a safe place in Lorien should you need it.

Glorfindel

Glorfindel is a great elven warrior able to face many things and take down balrogs. He has no idea that childhood can be one of the most challenging parts of life. And I mean that sincerely. Glorfindel is rather oblivious to the affairs of men prior to his fall. His concerns are Gondolin and the safety of his people.

Now he was alive for the kinslaying, so he is not a stranger to violence against kin. But he thinks that the bond between parents and child is almost sacred and not something easily broken. He is sad when you tell him that the children of men are excluded from the idyllic home life guaranteed to the elves.

But he’s also impressed by you. You’re a good, kind-hearted person despite the tension you grew up in. And he thinks that is something to be admired. He devotes himself to helping establish safe homes for children who grew up like you, especially post-fall and him being sent back to middle earth. And he holds up his promise long after you have perished - committing the house of the golden flower to be a symbol of safe haven.

Tauriel

So, Tauriel, I think is the most understanding of the Woodland elves - she’s a guard, she patrols, I have a feeling she comes into contact with the people of Laketown regularly enough to have experienced a variety of family dynamics.

But she doesn’t expect you to have grown up in a household like that. I think because of Laketown’s apparent poverty post the fall of Dale there is a noticeable uptake in crime. And, unfortunately a lot of crime comes from the broken homes of Laketown - youth acting out to escape their parents bickering, parents causing distress to their children and partners, things like that. I think, subconsciously, she associates unhappy homes with unhappy people.

But you don’t fit the way she thinks. You’re sweet and caring and she feels the weight of cognitive dissonance like a shackle. It takes her awhile to reconcile her view of you but she does her best not to let you see. And she’s decently good at it until she starts asking questions. But she listens carefully and starts to look for warning signs in the people of Laketown that they may need help. She petitions Legolas to speak to his farther to offer refuge to those in Laketown that may need it and asks the dwarves of Erebor to do the same.

Thranduil

Thranduil, I think, suffers from some of the most insular thinking on this list. He focuses on the affairs of his elves and pays no mind to the problems of men. It’s how he’s kept his people safe.

Now, I personally, think Oropher was not the kindest father. I think he was stern and hard to please because he expected the best of himself and his people. So, this affects Thranduil’s perspective on parents quite a bit. He may feel that he was unloved at times but he can attest that his father loved his mother even if he was not good at displaying it. His views are skewed to say the least. So he thinks you’re exaggerating at first.

If two people hated each other as much as you claim, why would they have a child together? Let alone stay together to raise that child?

It takes a lot of explaining for him to realize exactly what you grew up in. And when he does, he feels awful for not believing you. He’s not the best at apologies but he tries to make up for it by extending his services to Laketown. He does eventually find it within himself to apologize to you, directly. And asks that you help him understand.

Legolas

He is gobsmacked. Genuinely, so shocked. I firmly believe that Legolas is one of the youngest elves on this list and as a result he still has some maturing and learning to do.

If this is during the fellowship, he has to ask Boromir and Aragorn if you’re telling the truth - that two people can stay together whilst hating each other. And that it’s common amongst humans. He then gets to learn about Boromir’s childhood as well.

His heart breaks a little. He wants only the best for the people he cares about so he’s saddened and angry to hear the pain in your voice even if it. Is well hidden. He promises, as your friend, to never let you be reminded of your family’s pain. It’s a naive promise but one he means full heartedly.

Note 3: thank you so much for this request, it was a much needed break from King’s Herald and actually helped me solve a plot hole I got into. And thank you for the kind words, I’ve been worried my writing’s gotten stale but hearing that people enjoy it helps me to work out of those funks. Thank you so much.

[jelloapocalypse]

Holy moly that was a good video!

Sorry for the long ask. I am very excited!

The List itself was so well done and cutting right before jubun wo got a good laugh out of me. So many emotions all at once and the way it was put together got me genuinely emotional enough to cry.

Number one was such a great pick too. A masterpiece. A gesamkunstwerk, even! Just like the list itself! I feel as though with this list, far more than most, I've really gotten a glimpse into your genuine sense of taste and not just a parroted repeating of what people think is popular. Even (especially) though I definitely disagreed with parts.

I have two questions, though:

1) At the very beginning, it mentions submissions for this project. Was there a submissions form somwhere that i just completly missed somehow? Or does "submissions" here just mean "the anime needed to have aired prior to this date"?

²) The whole time watching, i was wondering where any monogatari series opening would place because i was 100% confident at least one would on account of many of them being among Shaft's best works. But then seeing the final number one pick made me almost certain Renai Circulation and Mousou Express should have gotten the same treatment AND that you probably would have liked them had you been aware of them, so:

2) are you simply somehow unaware of the monogatari series, or was there something about those openings that just didnt have the jennies?

Obsessed with your numbering system here that has "square" between 1 and 2, lmao

1) "Submissions" in general just means we were done accepting new entries for consideration as of February, but we did ask literally everyone we knew for suggestions. I also did some informal asks on Patreon, Twitter, etc.

2) I would hope it's obvious we do know the Monogatari series considering it shows up in the video several times! I used clips from Hanamonogatari and Owarimonogatari. The latter was even the title card for the "Theming" overview.

This is the best Monogatari OP, by the way. I would not mind popping this one onto the 90s to replace one of the lower entrants. But almost nobody talks about this one!

Shaft is great at picking a weird, fun, artsy thing to put in almost every opening they do, but a lot of them are kind of a one-trick pony if you zoom out from that.

Staple Staple, for instance, has a strong color palette and the clicking staple trails is such a fun visual. And then you watch it and realize... Oh. This is like 90 seconds of the exact same idea with almost no iteration on it. It really is just CG staple trails over black and white footage. That's such a shame.

We didn't talk about this in depth, the biggest thing that eliminated OPs from consideration (other than credits) was the "Should this be 90 seconds long" factor. So, so many openings have enough ideas to make a great 30 second opening, but not a good 90 second one. Steins;Gate and Blue Exorcist are great examples of that. Nichijou too.

Meanwhile a lot of other famous Monogatari OPs like Renai Circulation are like... just a good song. Can you watch this muted and tell me it ticks any boxes besides "nice colors" and "this girl wants to fuck her brother"?

I'm comfy with our Shaft representatives on the list being Pretty Boy Detective Club, Maria + Holic, and Yet the Town Moves. I think all of those are holistically better than all the Monogataris, which we watched twice in desperate hope of putting one on there.

[11queensupreme11]

Cu shows up to the Luofu and casually flexes on all the long life species (Vidadhara specifically, who CANNOT reproduce because they're all infertile and can only reincarnate) with his 101 children.... 💀💀☠️

Hes storming into government buildings and introducing a Sécy Alert (instead of Amber Alert, for his and Percys kids specifically) on every planet he goes to, giving them copies of pictures of his kids and going. Listen. If I find out they're here and you didn't find them before me or they come here and you don't tell me IMMEDIATELY 👹 I 👹 Will 👹 Fuck 👹 Your 👹 Shit 👹 Up 👹 do you hear me?? Your planet will be HISTORY. SOMEBODY FIND MY DAUGHTERS RN. TELL THEM TO COME HOME TO DADDY RIGHT AWAY. IF YOU SEE MY WIFE TELL HER THE SAME SHIT. (translation: baby I miss you, come back.

The way he probably actually says it: TELL THAT DUMB BITCH TO COME BACK RN)

Whole planetary populations gon be panicking bc. Ain't no way their existence ends with some crazy guy who's just way too invested in his family and won't shut up about his wife and daughters. Their lives come to an end and THATS the reason for it.

Some kids (looking at you incest freaks) would be in the direct parallel situation where THEY'RE too invested in GETTING BACK to Percy 😭 like if they ended up there as an accident or thought it'd be a fun field trip and they could sneak out for a bit but now they have no idea how to get home. If they get too impatient or bores they may end up colonising a few planets and converting them from Aeon worship, or introducing a new religion featuring their divine ✨️ Mother ✨️. They're improving lives this way!! Percy is soo much cooler and nicer and better to worship than those smelly Aeons after all 😊 and the however many billion people who live on those planets better agree or its extinction for them.. The universe is being torn apart from several directions and poor Percy is at the centre of the destruction. She'll show up to one of these planets completely by accident and find them worshipping her and she's like ??? Well this is uncomfy, but at least she knows one of her kids has been here/is still here somewhere probably standing proudly ij the middle of it all like 🥺 look mother I did a thing for you 🥺 do you like it 👉👈🥺 (Poor Belobog would probably be on this list of locations because they probably wouldn't be able to fight back. They'd just get forcefully converted and the Percy Kid/s would be like 😊 Mother is a way better object of worship than some Aeon who doesn't give a shit about you!! Hypocritical because neither do most of the actively worshipped ROR gods in the ROR-verse bur can you tell me that wouldn't be their mentality anyway 😭)

(Meanwhile some of the more bloodthirsty kids are out there trying to square up to Nanook or some shit just to see if they can. Percy gets whiplash collecting her kids from dominated planets and having to go stop them from fistfighting God next)

Multiple factions are observing these in-universe developments from the shadows... The Stellaron Hunters don't even DARE to interfere with any of the planets that have gotten visits from Percy spawn.. Even Stellarons aren't as destructive as the Percy Kids.. They bounties are gonna be overtaken in days, numbers that don't even exist are gonna be attacked to the Percy Kids.... Elio doesn't need future sight or whatever to he able to tell that messing with them/the planets they're involved with wouldn't end well.. Kafka's whole thing is that she can't feel fear?? Percy kids will find a way!! Or have fun tormenting her in other ways. She might find it fun actually. Until she dies or smthn because they don't play fair.. Blade wants to die but he can't because he's immortal? Better hope Beel never finds out about him, what a perfect and convenient test subject for his purposes!! Silver Wolf and Firefly are the most sane members so they're probably staying at far the fuck away as they possibly can.

The Genius Society is quaking at the implications of all these god-tier threats and God forbid they find out about whatever Beel is doing. They may make the fatal error of extending an invitation to him if Nous acknowledges him because. Aeons work differently to God's and its nature would probably demand that it recognise him as a genius. (I'm pretty sure they have to be acknowledged by him to join the genius society, which is why Ratio was done so dirty :(( because he has too much empathy or something to be acknowledged is the theory, he's too 'human' to cross certain lines that would elevate his genius status/do some evil 'in the name of science' shit) Beel would find their invitation hilarious. And a very poor choice on their part 😊 for their own sakes.

The Memokeepers/Garden Of Recollection are also meant to be passive observers.. they're probably eating this shit up. Quality media for them.

The Luofu follow the Path of the Hunt, which is to eradicate creatures of Abundance so they probably have beef with Percys kids who fulfill the same destructive roll.

Galaxy Rangers kill evil people to they're also probably sending assasins/bounty hunters out like 'Go kill God, K thanks'

The chaos would truly be never ending because there are infinite factors 😭 the Percy Kids' mere existences upset the balance of the universe, everyone would be scrambling from encounters like what the fuck do we dooo

💫 Anon

💫 anon YOU'RE THE BEST FOR THIS LOL

you have cú chulainn's tsun-yan ass so accurately done LMAO and also captured his love for his daughters + wife 😭😭😭

"SOMEBODY FIND MY DAUGHTERS RN. TELL THEM TO COME HOME TO DADDY RIGHT AWAY. IF YOU SEE MY WIFE TELL HER THE SAME SHIT. (translation: baby I miss you, come back. The way he probably actually says it: TELL THAT DUMB BITCH TO COME BACK RN)"

10/10 perfect 😭👍

AND LMAO YEAH THE OTHER KIDS WHO ARE A LITTLE TOO OBSESSED WITH THEIR MOTHER WOULD ABSOLUTELY COLONIZE A BUNCH OF PLANETS AND FORCE THEM INTO THE PERCY RELIGION 😭😭😭😭 i can just imagine girly entering a planet and immediately being greeted by a giant ass statue of her, and then a bunch of other statues of her. along with temples, shrines, etc. she is SO creeped out, but she knows at least one of her kids would be here after that 😭😭😭

and when they go all "🥺 look mother I did a thing for you 🥺 do you like it 👉👈🥺" she's gonna be smiling in utter pain while saying "omg YESSSSS sweetie, it's beAUUUUTIFULLLL hahaha oh my godsssss 😃 good job baby!!!! 😀👍" while dying on the inside 💀💀💀💀

when she takes them back home, she is ABSOLUTELY gonna go back to those planets and try to undo the shit her kids did 😭😭😭 give them all the money, resources, etc that they need to recover and everything. she's probably gonna have to do this with HUNDREDS of planets, but she's trying her best 😭

and omg now you're telling her that some of her kids are trying to fight AEONS NOW???? first she has to deal with her annoying ass husbands who she called here to HELP HER, but some end up causing more problems for her instead (cú chulainn, beelzebub, loki, poseidon 💀), one half of her kids are terrorizing planets, and now the other half are out there trying to pick a fight with aeons 💀 she's grounding ALL OF THEM after this, she swears

and what do you mean the genius society tried to send beelzebub a letter to join? 😭 how'd they even find him what 😭😭😭

"Galaxy Rangers kill evil people to they're also probably sending assasins/bounty hunters out like 'Go kill God, K thanks'" oh great now percy needs to find a way to protect the assassins that were sent on suicide missions to try and take out her kids 😭😭😭😭

[thewardenisonthecase]

There Used to be Five of Us

Chapter 4: Malcolm

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

Series Summary: Snapshots of different moments between Elizabeth Hawke and her family.

Chapter Summary: Malcolm reflects on his past choices and his new life. Elizabeth tries to help him while he is sick.

A/N: i may or may not have cried real tears writing this thing.

Word Count: 1676

Laying on his bed, Malcolm wondered if he wasn't living somebody else’s life. 

In the Gallows, he never would have dreamed of marrying, and much less of having a child. He couldn’t think of a world in which he returned to his homeland, Ferelden. 

He didn’t think he would ever be free. 

And yet, here he was, in his own bed, Leandra fast asleep beside him and a child on the way. He didn’t know if this was the Maker’s plans for him. The darkspawn, the Wardens, the blood magic…his actions lay heavily on his consciousness. 

But it didn’t matter now. 

Malcolm shifted in the bed, his head near Leandra’s belly. A midwife had told them that the child would be due soon. Everything he had done had been for them. 

He and Leandra had yet to decide on a name. She had suggested using their parents name, but Malcolm did not remember them. He was young when he was taken, and his memories of a family had long since faded away. 

He would not allow the same fate to befall his children. 

Malcolm’s hand fell on Leandra’s stomach, and not soon after he felt a kick. Smiling, he bent down.

“Don’t tell your mother, but I hope you’ll be a girl.” He whispered. “And I hope you’ll be every single bit like her” he kissed her stomach as softly as he could “and nothing like me.” 

A few moments later, he felt Leandra stirring.

 “Malcolm?” She said, sitting up on the bed. 

“Sorry, love, did I wake you?” 

“No, but your child’s incessant moving around did.” She huffed. 

 “They must be excited to join us.”

“Maker, I hope so.” She sighed. “Especially after all the trouble we went through…” 

Malcolm cupped her cheek. “I know.” He leaned forwards, kissing her forehead. “But nothing will separate us ever again.” 

She smiled, faintly. “Is that a promise?” 

“It is.”

. 

In the weeks following their daughter’s birth,  Malcolm and Leandra struggled to come up with a name. 

One evening, while Leandra slept, Malcolm decided it was time to change that. He picked up their daughter from her cradle, being as gentle as possible as to not make her cry. He sat on a nearby chair, holding her close. 

“Hello, love.” He said, rocking her in his arms. “I think it’s due time you had a name, little girl.” 

She looked at him, and he wondered if she could understand what he said. He doubted it, but it was fun to see the way she always seemed to be paying attention. 

“Now that we know you’re a girl, the list will be much easier to get through. Let’s see…” he thought for a moment about all the names he and his wife had discussed over the months “how about Moira?” 

When the baby began to fuss, Malcolm took that as a no. “No, you’re right, it would look bad. Besides, your mother’s cousin already has a child with that name.” 

“Marian, then?” He looked at his daughter. “No, you don’t look like a Marian.” 

As Malcolm kept saying names, none seemed to fit, the baby almost coming to tears at some of the suggestions. 

“I’m running out of options, love.” He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of any other name he hadn’t said yet. 

One came to mind, of a young girl he knew at the Circle. They hadn’t been exactly friends, but she became famous amongst the apprentices due to her successful escape. He never learned how she did it, or what had become of her. He wondered if she had made a life for herself just as he had. 

He hoped for that, at the very least. 

“What about…Elizabeth?” 

He stared at his child, and for a moment, he swore he saw a hint of a smile. “Elizabeth Hawke…it has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

Just as he said that, Leandra walked into the room. He looked at her, beaming. 

“Love, I think I know what we can name her.” 

. 

Elizabeth was only three years old when Malcolm realized she was a mage. 

It happened very quickly. She was on the floor, playing with one of her toys, while Malcolm was setting the table. When he heard her crying, he turned around, only to see a spider headed her way. 

Before he could even run to kill it, Elizabeth waved her tiny hand and the spider suddenly caught fire. Malcolm rushed towards her, lifting her in his arms before putting the fire out with a spell. 

Later that day, when they had put her to bed, Malcolm walked outside the house, the cool night’s air on his face. 

His daughter, a mage. Just like him. 

Malcolm had adored magic when he was young, something he attributed to his proficiency at it. It had brought him good things, namely, his wife. Even when the templars told him it was a curse, he refused to believe it. 

But after the prison…he wasn’t so sure anymore. Images of what he had done plagues his mind - the demons, the darkspawn, the blood. He had bound all of those creatures but at what cost? A dark stain on his soul? 

Perhaps there had been some truth to the Chantry. Perhaps magic was both a gift and a curse. 

He didn’t wish this life for his child. He wanted her to be free, truly free. But for a mage, there were only two options: to be taken to the circle or live on the run, all because you had been born with something you did not ask for. 

Malcolm walked back inside, slowly entering Elizabeth’s room. She was fast asleep on the bed - the one he spent nearly a week making the frame of - holding one of her cloth dolls close to her. 

He kneeled beside her, brushing some hair away from her face. It was brown, just like his, he chuckled remembering Leandra’s complaint. ‘Months carrying this baby only for her to look just like you.’ she had said. 

In that moment that he looked at her, he remembered all the promises he had made to himself over the years. All the things he had done, he would do so again, for it had brought him the greatest gift. 

“My Elizabeth.” He whispered. “I won’t let you have the life I had. You’ll be happy, and free.” He kissed her forehead. “And you’ll never have the doubts I have about magic.” 

.

Everyday, Malcolm’s health only got worse, and everyday, Elizabeth found herself spending more and more time in his room, trying to help. 

It was the eve of her 21st birthday, and all she could was try and mix some bloody herbs she never even heard of in the hopes that it would help her father. 

“I should have let Bethany do this.” She said to herself. 

“You really should have.” She heard her father say from his bed. “You’re terrible at potion making.” 

She turned around to look at him, annoyed. “That’s not helpful, Father.”

“Neither is shoving herbs that you know won’t work down my throat.” He said, and Elizabeth looked down, sighing, knowing he was right. 

He made a movement with his hands, motioning for her to come over and she did, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Malcolm took one of her hands, covering it with both of his. “Do you remember the first spell I taught you?” 

“The light one?” She asked and he nodded. Malcolm closed his eyes, and a few seconds later, he opened his palms and an orb of blue light hovered above Elizabeth’s palm. 

“Do you remember what I told you then? When you questioned why I was teaching that first?” 

She narrowed her eyes, thinking back to that moment and said “You may not always need to summon a thunderstorm, or throw a ball of fire.”

“But you’ll always need a little bit of light.” He completed the quote.

“Uncharacteristically wise, coming from you.” She joked. 

“I have my moments.” He said, smirking. He dismissed the light, as his tone grew serious. “I don’t know what the future will hold, Eliza. But I want you to remember that.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll try.” 

“Good.” He opened his arms, and the two hugged, and Elizabeth held her father for longer than she intended. 

When they finally let go, Malcolm smiled. “You grew up so fast. Just the other day, you were a little girl, asking for me to kill the monsters under your bed, and now…you’re a woman.” 

“Well, if you ask mother, I’m still a girl.” 

“All three of you will forever be babies in her eyes. It's what mothers do.” He chuckled, and then looked down for a moment. “I have an early gift for you. Go check the wardrobe.” 

Elizabeth raised a brow, and did as told. She opened it, and alongside her parents' clothing, she saw her father’s old staff - a yellow one, with a woman carved on the top of it. There was a red ribbon tied around it. 

She grabbed the staff walking towards him. “This is it?”

“Could you sound less ungrateful? I know the ribbon is poorly tied, but it’s hard to do it with shaking hands.” 

She shook her head. “But…it’s your staff. You’re giving it to me?” 

“I don’t have much use for it anymore these days. But it's a good staff. It’ll serve you well.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And you’ll know I’ll always be nearby.” 

Elizabeth wanted to scold him. She didn’t like it when he spoke as if he was about to drop dead. There was still time, he could still recover. 

But she didn’t say any of that. She ignored the voice in her head that told her that she needed to cherish these moments, as there wouldn’t be any more soon. She ignored the ache in her heart when she thought of the grave they would have to dig. 

Instead, she nodded, thanking her father for the gift. 

.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging it and leaving a comment, they're extremely appreciated!

[youngsadlesbian]

Taylor Swift x daughter

Taylor is your biological mom, who was separated from you since you were born, since your dad wanted sole custody, your dad was a player on the Seattle Seahawks, and he overdosed a few weeks before now, he died, you are 13 but you turn 14 soon Taylor gets a call from CPS, Taylor also hasn’t seen you since you were born.

COMING BACK TO YOU | taylor swift x daughter!reader

summary: after losing the father who raised you, you’re placed in the care of your biological mother. as you struggle with trust, grief, and self-worth, taylor patiently proves that love isn’t conditional—and she’s never letting you go.

a/n: thanks for the request. hope you like it!

word count: 3,7k

warnings: angst but with a happy ending.

Taylor Swift was used to unexpected calls.

From record labels, producers, friends needing advice, and even fans who had somehow gotten a hold of her number. But when her phone buzzed on a quiet afternoon, she never expected to hear the words—

"Ms. Swift, we need to talk to you about your daughter."

Her what?

Taylor nearly dropped her phone. “I—I think you have the wrong number.”

The woman on the other end, a social worker named Margaret Carter, sighed. “I know this must be a shock, but this is about your biological daughter.”

Daughter.

A word she hadn’t allowed herself to say in thirteen years.

Taylor’s chest tightened. She had always known this day might come, but she had convinced herself it was a distant possibility.

“Her father recently passed away,” Margaret continued. “There are no immediate family members able to take custody. You were listed as next of kin.”

The room spun.

She had spent over a decade not being your mother—because your father had fought for sole custody and won. He was an NFL star, a household name, and had resources far beyond what she had at the time. The court had ruled in his favor, and by the time she had the means to fight back, you were already growing up in his world.

And now, just like that, he was gone.

Leaving you behind.

“I—I need a second,” Taylor whispered, gripping the kitchen counter.

“Of course,” Margaret said kindly. “But I need to be honest with you. Your daughter is in a vulnerable state. She’s grieving, and she barely knows who you are.”

Taylor closed her eyes. The pain of losing you all those years ago came crashing back.

“Where is she now?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“In temporary foster care. But if you want custody, we can start the process immediately.”

Taylor inhaled sharply. There was no hesitation.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Tell me what I need to do.”

You sat on the edge of the unfamiliar bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper of the foster home. The place wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t home either.

Not that you even knew what home meant anymore.

Your dad was gone. Just like that. One moment he was larger than life, a hero in the eyes of Seahawks fans. The next, he was a headline on the news.

And you? You were just left behind.

You clenched your fists. Your dad had never been perfect—far from it. He had been distant, always too busy with games and endorsements. But he was all you had.

Now? Some stranger was coming to get you.

Your mother.

A woman you had never met.

You barely even knew her name, other than the whispers from tabloids and social media.

"Taylor Swift’s Secret Daughter—Where Is She Now?"

You had seen the articles. People speculating about you like you were some mystery to be solved. But none of them knew you.

And neither did she.

So why did she want you now?

Taylor’s heart pounded as she stood outside the foster home, hands trembling.

The door opened, and a social worker led her inside. “She’s in here.”

And then—

There you were.

Sitting on the bed, arms crossed, guarded.

Taylor’s breath hitched.

You looked so much like her.

The shape of your eyes. The way you furrowed your brows, the same way she did when she was nervous.

But there was distance in your gaze.

You didn’t run into her arms. You didn’t cry or say “Mom.”

You just stared.

And she didn’t blame you.

Taylor took a tentative step forward. “Hi,” she said softly.

You didn’t respond.

She swallowed. “I—I know this is a lot. And I don’t expect you to be okay with this overnight.”

Still, you said nothing.

Taylor felt her heart sink.

But then, so quietly she almost missed it, you whispered, “Why now?”

Her throat tightened. “Because I should have fought harder for you.”

You finally looked her in the eyes.

And for the first time in thirteen years—

Taylor felt like a mother.

The car ride was silent.

You sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window. Taylor didn’t push you to talk. She just gripped the steering wheel tightly, sneaking glances at you every few minutes.

It was surreal.

She was your mother—but you didn’t know her.

You had imagined this moment before. Back when you were younger, you used to wonder about her. You’d picture a warm smile, soft hands braiding your hair, a voice singing lullabies at night.

But that had never been your reality.

Instead, she was a stranger sitting beside you, trying to act like she knew you.

You sighed and turned away, eyes fixed on the passing buildings.

Taylor finally broke the silence.

“I, um, I didn’t know if you’d be hungry, but I stocked up on some food at home,” she said cautiously. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything.”

You didn’t respond.

“I also made up a room for you. But if you don’t like it, we can change it. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Nothing was going to make this comfortable.

But still… you couldn’t ignore the slight warmth in your chest at the fact that she was trying.

After a long pause, you finally spoke.

“You don’t have to try so hard,” you muttered.

Taylor’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“I just… I just want you to know that I care,” she said softly. “Even if I wasn’t there before.”

You turned to look at her.

And for the first time, you noticed something in her eyes—guilt.

Real, raw, aching guilt.

It made something inside you waver.

But you weren’t ready to let that wall down. Not yet.

So you just looked away again, resting your forehead against the cool glass of the window.

And Taylor, respecting the silence, just kept driving.

When Taylor pulled into the driveway, you blinked at the massive house in front of you.

It was nothing like what you were used to.

Everything about your dad’s house had been modern—gray, cold, minimalist.

But this?

It was warm. Soft yellow lights glowed from the windows. A porch swing swayed slightly in the evening breeze. Flower pots lined the steps.

It looked like something out of a movie.

Taylor hesitated before stepping out of the car. “Come on,” she said gently.

You followed her inside, dragging your duffel bag behind you.

The moment you walked in, you were hit with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. It smelled like freshly baked cookies.

You hated that it made you feel safe.

“This is your room,” Taylor said, leading you down the hall.

When she opened the door, you froze.

The room was decorated in soft tones—warm beige, deep blues, and fairy lights strung along the ceiling. There was a cozy reading nook by the window, shelves lined with books and records, and a big bed covered in plush blankets.

She had put effort into this.

Like she had been preparing for you.

Your fingers grazed the bookshelf.

There were titles you loved. She must have asked someone about what you liked to read.

A lump formed in your throat.

“You can change anything you don’t like,” Taylor said from the doorway. “This is your space.”

You swallowed hard and turned away.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

Taylor nodded. “Okay.”

An awkward silence stretched between you.

Then, hesitantly, she added, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

And with that, she left you alone.

For a long time, you just stood there, staring at the room.

You wanted to hate it.

You wanted to hate her.

But as you sat down on the bed, fingers running over the soft comforter, you realized something terrifying.

A small part of you didn’t want to hate her at all.

Taylor was nervous.

She had performed in front of thousands of people. She had given speeches at award shows. She had stood in rooms filled with industry giants and held her own.

But sitting across from you at the dinner table?

That was terrifying.

You poked at your food with your fork, barely eating.

Taylor had made pasta—simple, safe. She wasn’t exactly a five-star chef, but she had tried.

She cleared her throat. “So… how was your day?”

You gave her a look.

Taylor winced. “Right. Probably not the best question.”

You sighed and set your fork down. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like we’re some normal mother-daughter duo catching up after school.”

Taylor swallowed. “I’m not pretending.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “Then what are you doing?”

She exhaled, gripping her napkin tightly. “Trying.”

Something about the way she said it made you pause.

You expected her to be fake. To be distant. To be like every other adult who had tried to act like they understood what you were going through.

But there was something in her eyes.

Something real.

You glanced down at your plate, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” you admitted quietly. “Any of this.”

Taylor nodded. “I know.”

You hesitated before asking the question that had been sitting on your chest since you got in her car.

“Why didn’t you fight harder for me?”

Her breath hitched.

She set her fork down carefully, as if the weight of your question had knocked the air from her lungs.

Then, in a voice so soft it almost broke, she said, “Because I was young. And scared. And not strong enough.”

You blinked.

You had never heard an adult admit something like that before.

Taylor’s fingers twisted in her napkin. “I tried, but your dad… he had more power. More influence. And when I lost, I thought maybe… maybe you’d be better off without me.”

Silence stretched between you.

Finally, you muttered, “That was stupid.”

Taylor let out a short, breathy laugh. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It was.”

You looked at her again. Really looked.

And for the first time, you saw something more than just the famous pop star.

You saw someone who had lost just as much as you had.

You still weren’t sure what that meant.

But for the first time since you had arrived, you picked up your fork and took a bite.

Taylor noticed.

And though she didn’t say anything, you saw the small, relieved smile on her lips.

That night, sleep didn’t come easy.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like a stranger in a borrowed life.

Your dad’s old house had always been cold, but it had been yours.

This place? This person?

It was all unfamiliar.

You reached for your phone and scrolled mindlessly, trying to distract yourself.

That’s when you saw it.

A post on some sports gossip page.

"NFL Star’s Daughter Reunites with Taylor Swift—Is She Just Another Publicity Stunt?"

Your stomach dropped.

The comment section was worse.

“She just wants to look like a hero.”“Where was she for the last 13 years?”“Bet she’ll write a song about it.”

You squeezed your phone tightly, anger bubbling in your chest.

This wasn’t her story.

This wasn’t some PR move.

This was your life.

And now the whole world thought they had a right to judge it.

You threw your phone onto the bed and buried your face in your hands, trying to push away the familiar ache creeping into your chest.

Why did it feel like you didn’t belong anywhere?

A soft knock on the door made you freeze.

Taylor’s voice was hesitant. “Can I come in?”

You quickly wiped your eyes and sat up. “Yeah.”

She stepped inside, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

“I, uh, used to drink this whenever I couldn’t sleep,” she said, handing you one.

You took it cautiously, letting the warmth seep into your fingers.

Taylor hesitated before sitting down at the edge of your bed. “I saw the article.”

Your jaw clenched. “It’s stupid.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You stared into your mug, watching the tiny marshmallows slowly melt.

“I just hate that people think they know me,” you admitted. “They don’t. They never have.”

Taylor was quiet for a moment.

Then, softly, she said, “I know exactly how that feels.”

Your grip tightened around the mug.

Of course she did.

Taylor Swift had spent years being picked apart by the world.

You glanced at her.

For the first time, you wondered—

Had she ever felt this alone, too?

The next few weeks were hell.

It didn’t matter that you barely posted online. It didn’t matter that you tried to ignore the noise. The world had found you.

And now, it wouldn’t let go.

Paparazzi camped outside Taylor’s house. Articles were published daily, analyzing everything from your relationship with her to the way you dressed.

Worst of all, people from your past—kids from your school, people who had never cared before—suddenly started reaching out.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were Swift’s kid. That’s crazy! Wanna hang out?”“Wow, guess you were hiding this the whole time. No wonder you acted like you were better than us.”“Bet you’re rich now. Lemme borrow some money.”

You never responded.

You weren’t stupid.

They didn’t care about you.

They just cared about Taylor Swift’s daughter.

And the worst part?

You weren’t even sure who that was supposed to be.

Because the real you?

The one who had spent her whole life feeling like an afterthought? The one who had spent years fighting to be seen by a father who never really looked? The one who had learned to bury her emotions because it was easier than being disappointed?

The world didn’t care about her.

But she was the only version of you that existed.

It started small.

The first panic attack came when you saw your father’s name trending online again.

"NFL Tragedy: Remembering the Career and Downfall of a Football Legend."

People painted him as a hero. A lost talent. A misunderstood man.

But they didn’t know.

They didn’t know how many times he had forgotten you at school.

How many times he had brushed off your tears with a distracted, "Not now, kiddo."

How many times he had left you alone in a house that never felt like home.

Now, suddenly, everyone wanted to talk about what a great father he had been.

Your hands had started shaking. Your chest had gone tight. It felt like you couldn’t breathe.

And for the first time in years, you had felt small again.

The second time was worse.

A reporter had shoved a microphone in your face outside a bookstore.

"Do you think Taylor Swift is a better parent than your father was?"

The words had slammed into you like a truck.

You had frozen.

Because how were you supposed to answer that?

How were you supposed to explain that one of them had abandoned you, and the other had never had the chance to be there at all?

You had run.

Not even caring that cameras caught it.

You ran until your legs burned, until your chest ached, until you found yourself sitting on a cold park bench, hugging your knees to your chest.

And that’s where she found you.

Taylor.

She had searched for you.

And when she sat beside you, she didn’t demand answers. She didn’t scold you for running off.

She just… sat there.

Like she was giving you permission to fall apart.

And maybe that’s why, for the first time in your life, you did.

The tears came before you could stop them. Silent at first. Then shaking, gasping, unstoppable.

And then—warm arms around you.

Taylor pulled you into her chest, holding you like you were something precious.

Like you weren’t a burden.

Like you weren’t too much.

And for the first time in your life, someone didn’t tell you to stop crying.

She just held you.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured into your hair. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

And for the first time in a long time…

You let someone have you.

Things didn’t magically get better overnight.

You were still angry.

At your father. At the media. At the unfairness of it all.

And Taylor?

She was patient.

She never pushed. Never demanded.

She just showed up.

When you couldn’t sleep, she left a light on in the hallway.

When you felt like you couldn’t breathe, she sat with you until you could.

When you got overwhelmed, she gently reminded you that you weren’t alone.

And little by little…

You started believing her.

You still had scars.

But for the first time, you weren’t carrying them alone.

And that?

That was something worth holding onto.

You weren’t sure what brought it on.

Maybe it was the weeks of tension building up.

Maybe it was the way Taylor never pushed, never forced you to talk.

Or maybe it was the simple fact that, for the first time in your life, someone actually wanted to listen.

Either way, it happened one night, completely out of nowhere.

You were in the kitchen, staring blankly at a bowl of cereal, appetite gone.

Taylor walked in, wearing an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks, looking more like a tired mom than a global superstar. She poured herself some tea, glanced at you, then casually sat down across from you.

She didn’t say anything at first.

And then, softly:

“Can I ask you something?”

You tensed. “…Sure.”

She took a careful sip of tea. “Are you okay?”

That was all she said.

Three words.

Not “You should be grateful.” Not “Talk to me.”

Just—Are you okay?

You weren’t.

And suddenly, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

Your hands clenched around the edge of the table, knuckles white. Your throat felt tight.

And then—it all poured out.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, voice shaking. “I don’t know how to be your daughter. I don’t know how to let you care about me.”

Taylor didn’t flinch.

She just set her mug down and nodded, like she had been expecting this.

So you kept going.

“My dad never… he never wanted to know me. He said he did, but he didn’t.” Your voice cracked. “I used to think that if I was better, if I was easier to love, then maybe he’d see me. But he never did.”

Taylor’s eyes filled with emotion. She didn’t interrupt.

And you… you just kept unraveling.

“So now, you’re here. And you keep trying. And I don’t know what to do with that.” You met her gaze, heart pounding. “What if you wake up one day and realize I’m not worth it? What if you change your mind?”

Silence.

For a second, you felt stupid. Exposed.

And then—

Taylor reached across the table, covering your hand with hers.

Her fingers were warm, steady.

“I will never change my mind about you,” she said quietly. “Never.”

Your chest ached.

Tears burned behind your eyes.

She squeezed your hand. “I missed everything, baby. Your first steps, your first words… I missed all of it. But I’m here now. And I want to be here.”

You swallowed hard. “But what if I mess up?”

Taylor gave you a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then you mess up. And I’ll still be here.”

Something broke inside you.

Something you had been holding in for too long.

And before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “Thanks, Mom.”

Taylor froze.

Her breath hitched, and for a second, you thought maybe you had made a mistake.

But then—

Her eyes filled with tears.

And she let out a soft, choked laugh, like that one word had just healed something inside her, too.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her voice wavered. “Say it again?”

Your throat tightened.

“…Thanks, Mom.”

And just like that—Taylor broke.

She got up and pulled you into her arms, holding you so tight, like she was afraid to let go.

You buried your face in her shoulder, fists gripping her sweater.

For the first time, you let yourself believe that this was real.

That she wasn’t leaving.

That she wasn’t going to disappear.

That you weren’t alone anymore.

“I love you,” she whispered into your hair. “So much.”

And this time—

You let yourself believe her.

Things didn’t change overnight.

You still had bad days. Days where you doubted everything. Days where you flinched at kindness because you were still learning that love didn’t have to be earned.

But slowly, things got better.

Taylor taught you how to bake (even though you both sucked at it).

She let you pick the music in the car (and laughed when you played Taylor Swift songs just to mess with her).

She showed up to every therapy session, waiting outside with a hug and a milkshake afterward.

She let you take your time.

And little by little…

You started to trust her.

To trust that she meant it when she said she wasn’t going anywhere.

And one day, when the world wasn’t watching, when it was just the two of you on the couch, watching a dumb reality show—

You leaned against her, rested your head on her shoulder, and said, “Love you, Mom.”

Casual. Easy. Like breathing.

And Taylor?

She didn’t make a big deal out of it.

Didn’t push. Didn’t cry.

She just kissed the top of your head and whispered, “Love you too, baby.”

Like it had always been this way.

And maybe, in some way—

Maybe it always had.

[overnightheartbeats]

"Okay, but wasn't that like, not your choice?" Ezekiel did remember the early days, Nate being so gloomy all the time. It took so long to see him crack a genuine smile. "Hm, yeah understandable. I mean, you know me, I'm always on the side of doing the best thing for you, not for others. But, this is your place - makes sense you want to leave it in capable hands." And, after hearing a bit about all the things he wanted to make better, it made sense that he was so determined. It seemed like his mom had gone a bit overboard. Seeing his friend's smile, he just rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, so funny. But, hey see that's what I like to hear. Yes, we'll get you that closure one way or another. The bucket list will do that for you."

Ezekiel could only shrug because he was just speculating. He couldn't assert anything one way or another. Still, guessing was never a terrible idea. "Okay true that. If he didn't like you dating his daughter, then yeah he could've said something. Then again, I don't know. I'd be afraid to tell my boss anything like that, could lose my job like that. Dude, who isn't afraid of your mom? No offense." He had only met her a handful times, and she was nice enough, but he could see the slight fear portion. Still, it was interesting knowing that the girl's dad knew the letter's content. That seemed like a big thing to keep from someone. "Well, you sent your ex-girl on a mission to find out what happened to that letter, so who knows? You might find out years later, aunque no venga al caso. Ay, uh huh not a thing anymore, but doesn't mean you wouldn't want to. I saw you guys dancing last night, looked like a very intriguing blend of fun and awkward. Never before seen, almost made me believe in love," he added sarcastically, though his humor just spilled right through.

Oh. Maybe bad time to bring up the dancing last night, that sounded rougher than expected. To not see someone the same way. "That sounds right. I mean, haven't seen each other in years. I have cousins I see more often y every time I see them, they're completely different. But, not caring, well that comes with a lot of time and what's that one expression?" His favorite one, a motto that ironically carried him through boarding school. "Oh yeah, un clavo saca otro clavo. You'd care less if you were busy elsewhere. Would make working together more bearable."

Seeing Nate's smile tug on his lips, Zeke figured his expression might've already been at work. "Hung up on an ex, check. That's both of you, what's the harm in a little rebound thing? Yeah, she sounds like a hoot." Another sarcastic comment considering Zeke barely knew anything about her, but Nate always had an amusing note about her. He followed through the gate he was led, finding the trip to be peaceful despite the intriguing conversation they had going. "For what it's worth, it doesn't sound like a rebound thing, if you can leave your ex behind and maybe her too. At least you're both familiar with the starting point. Or, just something super casual, which is the more fun option anyway."

Would he ever leave, now that was the question. "Technically I did leave once before. I want to get the hacienda up and running before I actually leave it in the hands of someone who knows it as much as I do." That was his entire thing, he agreed to come back if he could make it his own. Keep it running and change whatever his mom had ruined. "Well, I was born here." A smile shot at him as he continued. "But, I get what you mean. I told you once I wanted closure. To finally move on from her. If this is what it takes then, let's get our bucket list done." He rolled his eyes as he threw him a leaf. "That's what I like to hear."

"He was one of the main ones around here. I feel like he was afraid of my mom. I don't blame him but wish he'd been honest with me. If he also thought his daughter and I shouldn't have dated then he should have spoken up. Not continue the lie that told her that he approved if he didn't." Liars never bodded well with him. He hated that as much as fake people. It wasn't often Zeke made sense but now he brought up good points. "He knew what the letter held. But who knows what he did with it. Probably no viene al caso now since ivette and I aren't a thing anymore."

"I wish I didn't care though. Take a page from her book. I don't blame her. I don't see her as a villain but I just don't see her the same way anymore." That hurt to say as he lead them out into the field. "Now we have to work together. The pen pal," he couldn't help the smile. "She's something else. Like a breath of fresh air. I like talking to her. But she's so hung up on her ex. I don't want to be a rebound to her."

[liminalmemories21]

⭐⭐⭐ (anything, really, but I'd love some of those sweet sweet DVD extras from 911: SG-Yay!)

Legitimately, I think everything made it into that fic. Normally @cecilyv restrains me (goes - yeah, okay this scene ended five paragraphs ago, please stop talking now, and makes everything better) and we have cut scenes that don't make it in. But this time I think we were both too in love with the universe to not put everything in, and absolutely everything found a home.

And, okay, we joke about how I write whatever @cecilyv tells me to - and this is true. But also, SGA was such an enormous part of my life for so long, and I loved it, and getting to participate in that fandom - even 20 years later - is kind of amazing and I love it.

All that being said, I can give you a snippet of the sequel we are (probably?) not writing.

Tommy stares at the list on his tablet, flicks back to the liberty request from two weeks before. And three weeks before that. Pokes the tablet some more. Leans back in his chair, resting his boot on his desk. Picks up the radio, “Sergeant de Luca, over?” 

A few seconds pass, then Sal’s voice over the radio, breathing heavily, “Sir?” 

“In my office, please.” 

“Sir.” Pause. “I’ve got a student.”

“Now, Sergeant.” 

Another pause, and then “Copy, sir.” 

Less than five minutes later, Sal knocks and Tommy waves him inside, gestures for him to sit. Stays leaning back in his chair, because  -- oh, he’s going to enjoy this. Looks down his nose at Sal, taps his tablet. “Liberty again, Sergeant?” 

Sal’s lips twitch slightly, but he says, “Yes, sir?” 

“We working you too hard here?” 

No response. 

“Or did you find something… interesting on the mainland.” De Luca stayed quiet, impassively staring at him. 

Tommy finally gives in. “Who is she, Sergeant?”

“Who is who, sir?” 

Tommy raises an eyebrow, scrolls through the list on his tablet. “I guess you don’t want leave this weekend.” 

Put upon sigh. 

And that’s how Sal is the first one to get married.

*********

Of all the ways that Pegasus has been a learning curve, has been a case in point of making up new protocols, this is probably his favorite. Athosian-Earth Wedding. Dr. Buckley is dealing with the paperwork (inventing the paperwork). He gets to officiate.

Also gets to watch Eddie cross his arms and glare at Sal sternly and ask what his intentions are.

While Elona stands behind Sal looking exasperated with them all. "I am a grown woman, Eddie. You're not even my father." Looks at Sal. "Where did he even get the idea that he had a say in this?"

Sal shifts uncomfortably. "Well, I had to ask someone's permission." Tommy takes in Elona's eyebrow, and winces. Sal sees it too, because he says hastily. "Shit. Not permission. Obviously not permission. Blessing? Is blessing acceptable?"

He kind of wants popcorn.

When Sal gets tired of watching Tommy gloat, he asks pointedly if he should be asking young Doctor Buckley what his intentions are towards Tommy? As Tommy's oldest friend and the closest thing he has to family in this galaxy, and probably in any other if he's being honest. Tommy contemplates it, and contemplates Evan's reaction, and almost (almost) says go for it, just to see what Evan would say.

It's less funny, when Dr Buckley (the elder) holds him back after morning briefing and leans back in her chair and studies him. "So, you and Buck?"

He shifts. "Yes? Ma'am."

"Yes? You're not sure?"

"No. Or yes." Tries again. "No, I'm not unsure. Yes, me and Evan."

Isn't quite sure what the edge of him and Evan are, what the shape of them is yet. But it's something, and he wants it be more of something. And they're taking it slowly.

Well, they're taking the emotional part of it slowly. The rest of it .... well, slow isn't the word he'd use.

[mercysought]

Small stack of unanswered letters addressed to Asharen Lavellan - to the small house in the outskirts of Antiva City. Around 9:44-9:45 Dragon (post trespasser)

A small neatly folded letter. without wrinkles except of recent use. Left unused over a stack of other papers.

As for the aspects of the fade and the intricacies of the veil as to the physical attributes, I'm afraid I have reached my own limitations on knowledge of the matter. I would, however, refer you to my other colleagues within the Necropolis. Here is a list of names: Professor Emm—

A longer stack of papers. Sturdy handwriting. The stack says that that most of the letter was kept unread.

— tells me that you've not been keeping up with the letters we've been sending. You're starting to worry me. Now, you don't have to tell me what you have been up to, it's not like I would likely understand it, but I do miss seeing that enthusiastic script on my desk. Charter has sent someone to check on you, just so you know. I almost stopped her, but you know how she is, if you find a nevarran mage with a new set of tea cups, you know who sent her. I think you'll like her. Say something, Scribbles. I hope yo—

A small piece of paper. The letter is written in half elvhen, half common. There are typos, but it is more of a note - the parchment closer to the closest piece of paper one could find. Some of the text on the edges is worn out.

Papae is worried sick, Asharen. I had to convince Mamae to not come herself. Please. I will remain in Antiva City for the next three days at the Andorinha Inn. Please come talk to me, to at least know you are still alive. Or let me in, I know you are in there, I see candle light burning at night. Papae thinks that you are still angry at him since the last visit, but if you were still mad at him - why not let me in? Surely this is not enough to cut us out of your life. Ameridan wants to come but he cannot and you are worrying them too. Please, you don't even need to let me in, just tell me you are ok.

the letter smells of warm mornings in late spring. It is kept by a small bench on the side of the door towards the orange trees that one can see in the window.

Do you still watch the swallows? The way they build their nests almost always underneath your door frame? I think I will come by, to hopefully see the swallows with you. I miss our talks. Miss hearing you talk about fish nets and the waving of curtains when you press your hand against it. There are days your presence grows darker, like swathed by night. Or perhaps the depths of the ocean. I will visit soon.

the letter is written in elvhen, solely so. A dialect unknown to the dalish.

I'm afraid I do not know more. Most of our bretheren have chosen to remain, but many more have left the temple. I am unsure what they would have done, to chase after the path of Fen'harel would not be the choice of many in ages past, but the world is not what it was and neither are we. I suppose this is my way of saying I cannot tell you what you wish to know. Only that I'm sorry. I hope you find peace.

The handwriting is sloppy and with multiple crossed out words. It is still beautiful, despite all the crossing of words with typos. Whoever was writing the letter, was holding the quill too strongly, pressing too hard.

Inquisitor, I know you do not like me calling you that but I am at my wits' end. If I do not receive a missive from you or someone around you I am going to march myself to Antiva City and tear down your wall - no, I will not care about your books or notes. And no, I will not care that Varric told me not to do it. If you were to answer your missives then I wouldn't feel the need to do this. I am worried, you didn't sound like yourself on the last letter - and that has been a while. Don't make me contact Lady Montilyet.

[chappellrroan]

sometimes you need to stoop down to other peoples' level