#and it grabs the first name and goes letter by letter to see if it's in the right order in the text i input

[pokemondetector]

How does your thing work??? I thought at first you were reading the post in as a string and doing like a key-dictionary thing to match a pattern with a Pokémon name but it didn’t do it with the Ask containing the pokérap. I am v curious and would love to hear about it if you have time

Pokemon detected :

How does your thing work??? I thought at first you were reading the post in as a string and doing like a key-dictionary thing to match a pattern with a Pokémon name but it didn’t do it with the Ask containing the pokérap. I am v curious and would love to hear about it if you have time

Ralts !

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑇𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝐸𝑥-𝐵𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Warning: Physical and psychological violence, blood, mentions of past infidelity, bad language, blackmail.

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Toxic ex-boyfriend who texts you every minute to find out where you are, who you are, and what you are doing while you just ignore him and enjoy your day with your friends.

Toxic ex-boyfriend who calls you and fills your inbox with missed calls until you answer his messages only to be disappointed when he reads that you told him to fuck off.

Toxic ex-boyfriend who can't accept this breakup... well maybe he was wrong to fuck that girl at that party you couldn't go to with him... but it's a small mistake that he'll make up for if you give him the damn chance.

Toxic ex-boyfriend who sends you flowers, letters, stuffed animals, and even jewelry when he gets more desperate, only to be disappointed when he stops by your apartment and finds wilted roses, torn letters, and dirty stuffed animals in the dumpster.

Toxic ex-boyfriend who goes crazy when he finds out from some friends that you're trying to date another guy, no. No no no no. Do you want to drive him crazy? Or maybe you want me to beat that bastard to a pulp? That's what you want right? Yeah yeah yeah that's what it should be.

Toxic ex-boyfriend who asks you to the school gym after school is over and you agree to go after he asks you nicely (he told you he'd post your intimate photos online if you didn't show up) like a true gentleman...

Toxic ex-boyfriend who when you walk into the gym makes his friends lock the door while you tremblingly approach him seeing the sweet boy you went on a date with now lying on the gym floor with his face swollen and bruised from the beatings he took.

Toxic ex-boyfriend who gets upset when you sob and say the name of the pathetic being lying on the floor and when he doesn't respond you try to crouch down next to him, only for your ex-boyfriend to grab you tightly by the arms his bruised fingers stain your shirt with blood as they dig into your skin that will surely have bruises tomorrow.

"What are you doing sweetie? Don't tell me you care about that pathetic piece of shit"

Shion says in a disdainful voice as you tilt your head slightly looking at the boy lying on the ground before he looks back at you and you try to get away from his hold without success you only get him to squeeze you even more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why did you do that to him?! Are you crazy?! Let me go fuck! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

Your voice comes out shaky from the sobs even though you're full of anger, you try to look at the bruised boy on the ground but Shion stops you one of his hands grabs your face tightly forcing you to look at him his fingers dig painfully into your cheeks and the pressure forms a pout on your lips.

"Don't say shit like that, you don't hate me, I know you're mad but that doesn't give you the right to be so cruel and act like a bitch, okay? Or you could piss me off and make me kill your little toy, you don't want that... right?"

He says in a firm and terrifyingly serious voice and his hand doesn't let go of my cheek until he murmured an affirmation and he lets go of my face with a bright smile on his lips he puts his arm around my shoulders and kisses my wet cheeks before guiding me to the gym door and before leaving he looks at his friends and says.

"Throw that idiot in the infirmary, but first make sure to burn his cute face."

[shiningjustforreid]

stains

glimpses through fem!reader and Spencer’s relationship, through four instances of spills.

word count: 3.5k ish

a/n: i love the idea that for some of us, our personalities are made up all the things we like about the people we know and see. the idea that we’re all little bits and pieces of the things we love, and our experiences. this sort of explores that. (also this was mildly self indulgent because much like reader i’m a klutz!) <3

warnings/tags: 18+ for implied intimacy and canon typical violence for cm, pet names up the wazoo, reader is lowkey clumsy, Derek Morgan being himself, reader gets injured but she’s fine, who’s Maeve?, anxious love confession, Spencer adores reader so so much, S1 and S6 (ish) Spencer, Spencer in and post prison, love letters, marriage, kids, and briefly mentioned pregnancy, girl dad!Spencer Reid my beloved

- ✩ -

coffee - the first stain

To be honest, at first, he’s appalled.

The mug you set down on his desk isn’t his, so God knows whose mouth was on it last. You - somewhat carelessly - plopped it down on the file he’s working on, grinning that thousand watt smile he’s secretly become fond of. You’re wearing a sweater he noticed that brings out your eyes - a berry colored wool garment that he wishes you’d wear more.

“Hey! Morgan said you were exhausted. Thought I’d make you coffee.”

You pick it up, and set it down again, for emphasis, and a few drops make their way down the side and onto his case file, surely creating a cinnamon toned half circle that Hotch will not love. You don’t notice, watching his face.

“I made it with a bunch of sugar. Just how you like it, right?”

Suddenly, he realizes he’s been staring up at you, and then his mouth is moving faster than his brain.

“Yeah, I uh, I am pretty tired, now that you say it. Didn’t sleep well, long night, you know?”

You nod, sipping your own coffee, fingers wrapped around the ceramic.

“I get that. Goes with the job, right?”

“Oh, absolutely, yeah, I- wait, Morgan said that? Did he— what else did he tell you?”

You grin, coffee mug to lips again.

Stop staring, Reid.

“Nothing, really. Just said you needed a boost. Thought I’d provide.”

Titling your head a tad, you look down, a mild panic crossing your face when you see you’ve stained his file.

“Oh my God - Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

He’s quick to shake his head, hands coming up to reassure, his eyes wide.

“No no no, it’s okay, truly, I-I made a mistake on that one anyways. I’ll need to have a new copy printed, honest.”

Frowning, you look him over, searching for a tell, something to let you know whether he’s lying or not.

“Are you sure? I can do it, I’m not that behind on mine, I could—“

Before he thinks - you’d assume, with all his brains, he would - his hand grabs your arm, that gorgeous sweater under his finger tips, his eyes locked with yours. He says your name, once, his tone more serious than he’d like.

“It’s okay. Thanks for the coffee.”

You blink, and then a slow grin takes over your face.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need more.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of his hand burning through the wool on your arm, until he lets go like you’re the one scorching his skin, like he’s just realized that he’s touching you. You laugh a little, awkwardly, and he grins with the same level of unpracticed nerves, and you head back to your desk.

He picks up the mug, and sips slowly, closing his eyes for a moment - it does have a mountain of sweetness, the saccharine liquid coating his mouth but soothing his senses. When he sets it down again, it’s on a part of his workspace not occupied by case work. Just as predicted, the file that once housed the beverage now bears a semi circle of dried java. His pointer finger traces the stain, clockwise and then counter, for a moment, before he glances up in horror to see Morgan, of all people, signature smirk in place.

“‘Thanks for the coffee’. I don’t what’s sweeter, that coffee you just got or-“

“Shut up.”

He mumbles, face flushed, small smile on his face despite the teasing. He traces the coffee stain one last time before he hastily tucks the soiled paper away in a drawer.

blood - the second stain

“What do you mean you aren’t getting a response from her on comms?”

He’s so scared, he can’t even stop to think just how breathless and afraid he sounds, as he turns to Hotch, who fixes him with a look that clearly says, Calm down, Reid.

“It could just be non-functional, or got knocked off, or caught.”

Hotch says calmly, almost maddeningly so. Spencer swallows back the protests, the arguments that swell up in his throat like bile.

They’d created, and given the profile, and once Penelope had narrowed down the couple possible properties their potential unsub owned, you, Morgan, and Prentiss had headed into an abandoned storage facility, silent and careful.

Perhaps not careful enough.

The voice in his head reminds him, almost sadly, and he grits his teeth inside tightly drawn and chapped lips. Shaky hands smooth over his slacks, again and again, as his eyes stay fixed on Hotch.

“Ask-ask Morgan again. If she’ll respond.”

He’s given a frown, dark brows pulling together in a very typical Hotch-like manner.

“Is there a specific reason you’re asking about her, Reid?”

Is there? God, he doesn’t know. You bring him coffee nearly every morning, but perhaps that’s just kindness. Then there’s the chocolate sprinkled donuts that start his work day from time to time - maybe you just enjoy pastry treats, and think of him, when you buy one. Oh, and heaven forbid he forget the way you’ll come by his desk, and ask for clarification on a piece of paperwork or a procedure - that you probably could’ve asked Hotch or Prentiss about. You listen, active listening too, eye contact, body still - when his explanations turn into rambles about statistics about this type of criminal, your eyes watching his face, your own voice quiet.

Is he deluding himself? Seeing phantom romance where there’s maybe merely nothing but platonic affection? Blinking, once, he shakes his head in response to his Unit Chief’s question.

“No Hotch. I’m just worried, she-well, she hasn’t responded, and Morgan has, and Prentiss has, and I—“

Speak of the devil, Morgan’s voice comes through, demanding and tense.

“I need a medic. Prentiss and I secured the unsub, but, not before—“

Oh God. Not before that bastard got to you with a baseball bat, to the back of the head, you unaware before your face met the concrete below. Spencer’s not even asking for permission, snatching the keys to an SUV off the desk nearby and flooring the gas pedal.

You can’t die. Not before I—

Driving there is like hell - his lungs burn like there’s smoke and ash polluting them, and fear feels like too tame a word to describe the overwhelming panic that seizes his heart the more he drives.

I’m a fool, he thinks wildly, as his knuckles grip the steering wheel like a vice. A damn fool if I don’t tell her-

He’s barely got the thing in park before he’s scrambling out the driver’s side door, Converse immediately coated from the dusty ground outside the facility.

When he finds Morgan, and you, head lolled to the side, eyes closed, face pale as his must be, he falls to his knees with little regard for his own pain or discomfort. Morgan watches, careful, his voice gentle when he speaks, trying to calm his terrified friend.

“She’s still out, Reid. Just a nasty whack to the back of her head, okay? Easy.”

Trembling thumbs trace and hold your face, like it’s made of paper, as he swallows hard to keep the ache behind his eyes from becoming tear tracks down his face. He spots the gash, trickling crimson down your ashy skin, onto his shaking hand, but doesn’t move from holding your face. A deep contusion, furious and violet-toned, on the back of your head, makes the air leave his chest like he’s been choked.

Beautiful girl, I couldn’t stop this.

He could sob, and he nearly does, until you make some sort of confused noise and force open your eyes. Light rushes through his heart, rekindled warmth as he meets your eyes, and yet, he finds himself almost frozen.

“Spencer? What, I thought-“

“Listen to me.”

He forces himself to speak - he has too. What if he doesn’t get the chance, and all he ever gets to associate you with is caffeine, sprinkles, and a listening ear? No, that won’t do. Not in the slightest.

You meet his eyes, hazy, but listening. Morgan’s brows furrow, as he protests,

“God, man, she just woke up, let her-“

Ignored, as Spencer often finds himself doing when there’s more pressing matters than banter, than propriety.

“You need to know. That I-care about you.”

Blinking, you swallow, and suddenly, the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is slightly dimmed.

“That I can’t let another sunrise or sunset go by where you don’t know that I’d give you the stars if you’d let me. Where I can’t touch you, where I can’t make sure you understand that I’ll protect the light you have inside you until I’m burnt from it. You absolute angel, I-“

He shudders, almost afraid of his own earnest, and says your name like it’s a prayer.

“I love you. Even if you don’t return it, my heart is yours.”

Morgan’s grin is wide, and he shakes his head, almost in amazement. Your own face is flushed, as you hear sirens and medics, your voice crackly and rough from pain, but still, that smile he’s grown to associate with his heart fluttering graces your face.

“My heart is yours, Spencer. Glad you’re finally realizing how absolutely in love I am with you, you goose, even if it took all this.”

He laughs a little, almost deliriously, and smooths his trembling hand over your face.

“Guess the doughnuts weren’t enough, huh?”

You manage, and he shakes his head, quick to push back.

“They were. You’re always enough for me, no matter what you do.”

Could he sound any more smitten?

Procedure says he can’t go in the ambulance with you - there’s no need, you’re just getting stitches and some ice and he can visit you at the hospital, okay? But as he heads back to the - oh dear, still running, he really was in a hurry, wasn’t he? - car, Morgan glances sideways at him, signature smirk in place.

“Pretty boy, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Spencer stares down at his hands in his lap. They’re stained, and a grimace floods his face when he realizes it’s not dirt, but your blood, coating his fingertips. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he bites back a nastier retort than his friend deserves.

“I guess I did. I can’t believe it took-“

Morgan sighs, stopping Spencer’s inevitable incoming guilt filled rambles.

“Hush. You told her. That’s what matters.”

Glancing down at Spencer’s fidgeting hands in his lap, he presses on the gas.

“Let’s get there, so you can get that off you. I’m shocked you got all dirty, with your germ thing.”

Spencer shrugs, looking out the window.

“For her? I’d-I think I’d do anything. No matter what it stained.”

Soap finds his hands at the hospital, but he finds you soon after, unable to stop the gentle press of his lips to your forehead, or the soft murmurs that follow as he tries to remind himself that much more of your blood didn’t spill.

ink - the third stain

Emily has to physically hold you back in the court room, when they take him out, his eyes fixed on you, and the team, almost hopeless.

“Then your client is a flight risk.”

You’re quite literally fighting her, suddenly terrified in a whole new way for your boyfriend, tears staining your face.

“Bail is denied.”

She’s got both arms wrapped around you, her soft, ‘I know’s, and ‘I’m sorry’s barely heard over your own pleas for her to let you go.

“Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

You hear someone sobbing - angry, fear-filled wailing - and until Emily has you turned around, your face in her shoulder, comes the realization that it’s you.

“He’s-Emily, what are we going to do, he’s not going to be okay, I-I can’t—“

The days that follow are dark. Going to the BAU without Spencer, let alone waking up without him beside you, is enough to send you into a spiral. You try to remind yourself that he’s worse off, that whatever hell he’s experiencing is ten times worse than your quiet fear and loneliness. So, to try to combat the weight that squashes your heart, you write him letters. Daily letters.

Spencer -

We have a case in Florida. Emily says it’ll be quick, but the Florida ones never are. We’d solve it ten times faster with you, you know? Geographical profiles are much harder alone, that’s for sure. The plane ride is quieter without you, and no one’s saying anything - you’d be saying something if you were here. Maybe that’s why we’re quiet. ♡

Every day. You don’t relent. If you can’t mail them in whatever town you get stuck in for work, you mail them in one big envelope when you get back home.

Spencer -

That case was rough. I cried twice - once when I spent over two hours staring at the map at the precinct and couldn’t find anything new, and once when Rossi accidentally snapped at me. He said he was sorry, that he’s ‘on edge’ right now - but aren’t we all? Emily’s working really hard to try to get you home. I wish I could come see you. I hope you’re safe. I love you. ♡

When you learn that he didn’t put you on the list of people who can visit him in that concrete hell, you almost lose what’s left your nerve, breaking down in Emily’s office, shaking. You don’t know whether you’re furious, in despair, or numb to it all.

“Emily, why? Why doesn’t he want me to come see him? If it was me, I’d want to see him every day, I wouldn’t want him to leave!”

She sighs, her face tight. Twisting your hands in your lap, you search her face for answers. Nausea claws at your throat.

“Honestly, my guess is it’s just that. He knows that if you come, he won’t want you to leave. It’ll hurt too much.”

“But Tara, and you, and his mother, and-

Spencer -

I think I understand. Sort of. I feel like there’s this pressure in my chest, and I can’t ever fully breathe. Not since you’ve been away. The weight on my heart never goes away. Missing you more every hour. ♡

Despite the slew of handwritten letters that reach him, you only get one back, after you and the team search his apartment - you keep it in your purse pocket, folded safe, and read it whenever your throat feels tight and your eyes burn. His untidy scrawl is enough to make you feel like a part of him is actually inside this letter - like he’s reading it himself to you, interwoven in the fibers of the paper.

Angel -

I wanted you to know I’m in solitary now - I made sure of it. I know you want me safe, almost more than I do. I love you beyond what I can say, my beautiful girl.

Yours, Spencer.

One night, you’re curled up in Spencer’s apartment, writing him a letter, as is your nightly routine. The ink stains the side of your hand now - an ever-present reminder of the fact that your heart constantly feels ripped out of your body. After addressing the letter to him, your phone buzzes - Emily.

Oh God.

“Hey. We figured out that- oh, you don’t care about all that. He’s coming home.”

She doesn’t need to tell you twice. Paper and ink pen tumble to the floor as you shove your feet in shoes and snatch your jacket off the coat tree. Tension is coiled in your body the entire way there. Ink still stains the side of your hand, a permanent reminder that every time you needed to just tell him something - you had to pick up pen and paper.

Heart in your throat, you push open the door with shaking hand. There he stands, your Spencer. He’s still him, you think, although his face is tight, and sleep clearly hasn’t been something he’s seen much of.

Three months.

You walk in slowly, body trembling. One hand reaches up, runs through the curls that have grown so long.

“Your hair.”

You breathe out, voice barely audible. He nods, his face almost impassive. Tentative fingers trail down his cheek, make a path to hold his face. He nods, and then, you notice his eyes are misty.

“My angel.” He murmurs, almost in awe, and takes you in his arms with a fervor. Crushed against him, face buried in the cool fabric of his shirt, you bite back a sob, arms threaded around him.

“No. Cry, my darling girl, I’m— I’m tired of doing it alone.”

How could you refuse him? Just hearing his voice, let alone the relief you feel at being touched by him again, is enough to satisfy you for days, you think. For a bit, all that’s heard is uneven breaths, until he speaks, his voice rough and shaky.

“I need to see your face.”

He pulls back, face shining with tears, and you swallow back the lump that just won’t leave your throat.

Calloused hands - less soft than you remember - take yours, and then he frowns.

“Your hand.”

Your right hand is held up, inspected, like the blue on the inner side of it is red instead. You smile, laughing a little, still breathless.

“Ink, baby. Just ink. I was writing you a letter.”

He shakes his head, rubbing at the navy stain with his thumb, as if that will remove it.

“I would’ve kept writing. Never given up. You’d be sick of letters from me.”

“Never, sweet girl. There is no part of me who could ever find himself sick of you.”

After you’ve come home, he wastes no time in pressing less than tender kisses to your mouth and jawline and the column of your throat. It’s not until he’s reacquainted himself with your contours and the dip of your hipbones and the soft way you gasp out his name when he does that, that has you next to him, so he can see your face.

He needs to see your face.

Hand in his, still faintly stained from ink, he examines it, and then, softly, hesitantly, he meets your eyes.

“You know ink poisoning is actually rare? Pens we use are designed with non-toxic ink, to decrease any chances of fatal ingestion.”

You never mind his information sharing, but your eyebrows furrow tiredly at his timing.

“Spence, I’m not saying I don’t care, but we just— you just—”

“Please. Let me look at the woman I love and pretend for a few moments that my damn eidetic memory won’t play back the last three months of my life like some wretched tape.”

You let him, as he holds your cobalt-colored hand and your eyes droop, his soft voice telling you that rubbing alcohol will probably get that stain out. It almost feels normal.

Almost.

paint - the final stain

“Spence! Can you get paint water out of carpet with any amount of ease?”

You call your husband, turning back to your mildly sheepish five year old, whose water color adventure on the coffee table has quickly gone south.

In walks Spencer, not even noticing the overturned hard plastic cup or purpley-blue spill, eyes going straight to his daughter’s nearly finished picture.

“Beautiful, Penny. Looks incredible.”

He murmurs, bending to be eye level with a beaming Penelope, hand on her arm, before turning to you, mild tension and stress lining your face. His smile is gentle. It’ll wash out.

“Rubbling alcohol, angel.”

You nod, tension easing from your shoulders.

“We’ll go get it - we always clean our messes up, right lovely?”

He asks your daughter, lifting her with practiced care. She giggles, nodding, as they head from the room, letting you take a breath and set up the paints and picture in a new location - the kitchen table, with some newspaper tucked underneath because she’s five, and you of all people know spills happen.

Once she’s set up again - she really is so quiet when she’s engrossed in something - you find yourself curled up with Spencer on the couch, head on his shoulder, watching her paint and sing-song to herself.

“Think she’s lonely?”

Spencer asks, turning to you, his grin wide.

Troublemaker.

“Hmm. I think you just like me pregnant.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Maybe. Maybe I don’t want Penny to be sad, ever.”

Silence, then, for a bit.

“She’s so much like you.”

Spencer muses, his fingers drawing patterns on the side of your sweater. You smile, fondly.

“You say that because I’m clumsy. She was dancing around with that paintbrush, that cup of paint water stood no chance.”

“No, I say that because she shines like you. No matter what tries to dim her.”

That night, when you peek in your daughter’s door to see Spencer reading her A Little Princess, she’s propped up against him, hazel eyes barely open. Affection swells in your chest as his voice carries on, even though she’s clearly almost in dreamland. In you walk, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then Spencer’s. He smiles gentle up at you - this is his favorite time of the day - and keeps reading.

“Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words, and everything in the world understands it.”

Once you’re back in the living room, you check on the earlier spill from today. All that’s left is a barely visible blue spot, no bigger than a quarter.

“No one will see it but you.”

Steadying, warm arms wrap around your ribs, and soft lips press against the side of your neck, washing away any insecurity about the state of your carpet.

“Besides, stains aren’t bad, sweet girl. They’re little reminders that things happened, good things, or bad things that brought us together. Memories, attached to splotches, attached to wounds, to paper, to skin. How convenient, to carry our most impactful moments like heaven-sent tattoos.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x best friend fem!reader

Summary: You find your best friend's love letters, and they're addressed to you.

Genre: Fluff 💋

Warnings: none

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL

You didn't meant to snoop into James' trunk.

In your defense, you were only in there looking for his Quidditch books. The ones he'd asked you to grab for him and Sirius to prepare plays for the upcoming quidditch season.

The paper's were hidden in one large envelope in the front drawer of his trunk. None of them were ready to mail, all of them scattered and unorganized as they peaked from inside the envelope you moved only to see if the books were behind it. They were in a completely different compartment.

You shouldn't look. You know that, but curiosity had won. You sit on your heels, your hair wet from having been swimming in the lake near the Potter's home. Water droplets drop onto your hands and you shake out the papers, accidentally reading the name scribbled on the top.

Y/n.

The letters are addressed to you.

Just as you open the first one, Lily comes rushing up. Her hair is wrapped in a towel and she leans against the doorway. "What's taking so long?" she asks you, watching curiously as you jump and stuff the letters into James's drawer again. You stand up.

"Nothing," you squeak and hand Lily the Quidditch book James had asked for.

Lily hums and sends you a suspicious look but she takes the book anyway and skips down the stairs, hollering to James and Sirius that you'd found it. You stay back, slumping down onto James's bed as you pull out the, now crumpled, letter you had hastily snuck into the pocket of your jean-shorts.

Holding your breath, you open it;

Dear Y/n,

It's been 4 long years now. I still haven't told you how I feel. It's okay. I'm scared that if I do everything will change between us. That we'll stop being friends and if that happens, I don't know what I'd do. So it's better that you don't know.

Yours truly,

Jamesie

"Y/n?" James's voice cuts into the room and you drop the letter, standing up from his bed with a jump. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is dry. James is standing by the doorway, his glasses resting lopsided on his nose, his hair a mess from playing in the yard with Sirius, and your gaze drifted to where a sliver of his stomach is exposed as he rubs his neck awkwardly.

"What are you doing?"

James sees the letter and his skin turns pale. He panicks. "You didn't read that, did you?"

You could never lie to James, he's your best friend.

"I did," you say as calmly as your beating heart could manage as you pick up the letter. You walk over to him and hand him the paper he knows all too well. James looks like he isn't breathing.

"What do you mean by this?" you ask him seriously, looking into his dark eyes.

"Nothing," James says and strains one of his famous lopsided grins. You don't look amused. You've known James since he was three. You know every one of his words and you can clearly see he's lying.

"Tell me honestly," you deadpan and cross your arms over your chest. "What haven't you told me? We promised we wouldn't have any secrets from each other."

James looks even more awkward as he pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Yeah, w-well, this is different."

"Different how?"

"Different because it's personal!" James is becoming more flustered and annoyed.

You narrow your eyes. "James."

"Y/n."

"James!"

"Okay fine!" James throws up his hands and presses his palm into his eyes. "Ithinki'minlovewithyou!"

The world around you goes silent and your heart is pounding. What did he just say?

"What?"

James brings his hands up and pulls on his dark hair, letting out an exasperated huff, "Seriously?! I said I'm in love with you! You don't have to pretend you didn't hear because you don't like me—" he goes into this rambling state, his cheeks crimson. He's too busy being self-loathing to register that you're approaching him. Cracking a smile, you take his cheeks in your hands. James's words die in his throat and his gaze locks onto yours. "W-what–"

You muffle his voice with your lips, kissing him passionately. Your hands dig into his cheeks as you stand on tiptoes to kiss better. James takes only a second to process what's happening because his hands find your hips and he kisses you back.

Fireworks explode in your stomach as the kiss continues and your damp hair skims James's cheeks. He brings his hand up and using his thumb, pushes some hair behind your ear as he leans in and kisses you deeper. You're practically devouring each other, the love letter forgotten on the ground now.

James pulls away and leans his forehead on yours. "Does this mean you're in love with me as well?" he jokes, tasting your strawberry lip balm on his lips. You laugh and cover his mouth with your hand as you look a little embarrassed. You make eye contact with him and those fireworks burst again.

"Shut up, Jamesie" you whisper, knowing he already knows the answer.

You are hopelessly in love with him.

You always have been.

[angelyuji]

SOME MOREEE YANDERE PINES TWINS THOUGHTS

stan pines thoughts and professor ford pines??? HOLD ON LET ME COOK

18+!!!!

tw // yandere themes, gaslighting, manipulation, power imbalance, pervy uncle lowkey, also lowkey bimboification, noncon (not explicit)

professor ford pines!!!!!!!! known to be the eccentric professor who goes on tangents about trans-dimensional physics and other science junk, but also superrr lenient grader like no possible way anyone could fail his class. you’re def teacher’s pet type and he’s definitely aiming to make you a TA. always getting you involved in weird experiments, but you’re always down cuz ur there to learn! ford invites you to his house, you guys hang out outside of class and research, you’ve met his brother!! like u knew it was getting weird, but at the same time…. you need a good rec letter. so one day you guys are in his office at his home, grading papers…

“(y/n).” ford calls your name, sternly. the lights were dim and quiet classical music played in the office. you hum and turn to him. before you know it, his chapped lips press against yours. you push him away, scared and surprised.

“professor, what the hell are you doing?” you try back away, but ford grabs your hand.

“i think you are one of the most brilliant minds i know and i want to be with you, (y/n).” ford stands, pulling you into a hug. you push back, stumbling away from him.

“no, i-i never thought that! i thought we were just friends!”

“but, i invited you to my home.” ford’s face saddens, “you met my family…”

“i never… i never realized…” you felt embarrassed for the old professor. you take a step back. you can’t see his face, but you watch his fists clench.

“i suppose that means you’re okay with losing your job, as well as any opportunities in this field.” his voice was low, words drenched in anger.

“no…. no, no, no, professor you can’t do this to me.” your heart feels like it was being ripped out of your chest.

“no, i can’t, but who will you tell? who will believe you? i am a respected scientist in our field, (y/n). think once more on your decision.” ford looks at you, a smug smirk laying on his face. you don’t respond, knowing that you had no other choice. you step back to him and he pulls you into a soft, loving kiss. his 5 o’clock shadow scratches your face. “now, please (y/n), call me ford.”

stan pines who had known your dad when he lived in texas and saw him again in gravity falls. stan pines who gets invited over to meet his friend’s family for dinner and sees you. a cute, little thing in their early 20s. stan’s instantlyyy enamored. you’re so cute and respectful, explaining how you’re living at home while you work and save money for a house, blushing when stan compliments you, serving him food first. you were acting like a perfect homemaker and stan was instantly obsessed. your dad’s gonna tell stan before he leaves that you’re all moving somewhere cheaper:

“yeah, pines, we’re moving some time soon. you know how it is with retirement and the market going down.” your dad sighs, wearily. stan nods, trying to listen to your voice in the house. “can’t move till (y/n) finds a job though. its gonna be tough on them especially with how hard it is to find jobs these days.” stan perks up at his words.

“y’know, (y/n) don’t have to quit…” your dad looks at the older man in confusion. “my grandkids have gone back to california, shermie’s grandkids technically, so my attic is open for them to stay in. they can stay at their job and you guys can move.” stan offers, fighting a giddy smile.

your dad clasps stan’s hands, “stan pines, you are the kindest man i know.”

stan for sure acts like a feeble old man around you to get you to take care of him. like cooking dinner, doing laundry, and more. he conditions you into acting like his stay at home partner. he starts making advances, subtle at first, to see what you would tolerate. soon he’s dictating what you wear and bending you over on the kitchen counter to make sure you stay full :) (dont get me started on somnophilia cuz i have thoughts on those but idk if u guys are ready for the things im gonna say)

here are those thoughts i was talking abt… :))))

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

First Impressions

Based on this requested prompt: Reader is friends with/related to Rossi in some way (niece/neighbor) and goes to visit Rossi at his house after he recently got in injured etc in the field. Rossi is looking after Jack for Hotch when he suddenly realizes something about the case so leaves Jack with reader etc. Jack finds out that reader teaches ASL for a living and Jack asks for her to teach him something and she asks what he wants to learn and it's along the lines of "you are my superhero dad, I love you". Aaron's reaction to meeting reader, having been ready to be angry or something bad to have happened but instantly liking and being attracted to her and his reaction to Jack signing to him.

Note: Loved everything about this request by the way. 🥰🥰

"Knock knock uncle!" you announced boisterously as you unlocked and opened the front door to your favorite relative's house. Him being your only uncle had nothing to do with that of course, you only liked him for his funny wit and cringy dad jokes.

"In here Gioia Mia!" his voice replied from the kitchen. Once you rounded the turn, you spotted him, dressed in a cooking apron, injured arm in a sling, trying to open a jar of tomatoes.

"Zio, you're gonna either drop the jar or hurt your arm again by doing that, let me help."

It wasn't until you went over to take the jar from him that you noticed a little boy no older than 6 sitting at the kitchen island, drawing on some scratch paper. You remembered your uncle occasionally mentioning watching his boss' kid from time to time but never actually got to meet him.

Smiling, you gave him a little wave when he looked up at you. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Jack," was all he said. He was polite but clearly shy. After opening the jar and handing it back to your uncle, you took a peek at what he was drawing.

"My name's Y/N. Rossi is my uncle. Whatchya drawing?"

Pulling his marker away, he slid the paper for you to see. "Superman."

You were honestly impressed with his artistic ability. From the flowing cape Superman wore to the big cartoon like letters that spelt out HERO he included, you knew he must be a very smart boy.

"Oh wow, that looks so good. I actually really like Batman," you told him, trying to relate.

"Batman is cool too." He didn't look you in the eyes when he said it, but there was a hint of a smile on his face as he went back to drawing. Turning your attention to your uncle, you watched him walking back and forth from the stove to the pantry, grabbing different spices and ingredients for whatever it was he was making. All while checking his phone every 2 seconds.

"Got a hot date?" you teased, taking a plum from the little fruit basket on the counter.

"Ha ha. No, I'm actually waiting for some very important details to a case the team is working on."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, which he caught onto and huffed. "I'm not doing any strenuous activity fragolina, I'm just helping out where I can. I staying out of the field, I promise."

"Yeah, and you opening jars and cheffing it up in the kitchen like a madman isn't strenuous?"

He made at you to pass him the salt by your hand, which you handed over. "Not when you compare it to breaking down doors and arresting criminals."

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his dramatic comparison. "Yeah, ok Zio. When's the last time you broke down a door? Isn't that the job for that Morgan guy you talk about?"

"Yeah. Well who do you think tells him to break the door down? Me."

He taste tested what you assumed was sauce he was making before adding a heaping load of garlic powder to it. You decided to not to bust his chops anymore and took a seat next to Jack.

"May I borrow a marker?"

He grabbed the pack of colorful tools and placed them in between the two of you before also handing you a proper piece of paper instead of the bill envelope you were planning on doodling on. Your heart melted at his caring act. The two of you scribbled together as you made small talk with your uncle before his phone rang. As he talked with the person on the other line, you noticed a shift in his disposition.

"Are you sure? No, don't worry about it, I'll head over there myself."

Ending the call, he looked around the room as if to gather his bearing and go over a plan in his head before speaking.

"Hey fragolina. I need to leave real quick to just check on something super imperative to the case. Anyway you can watch my buddy here for a little bit? I'll be back within a half an hour."

You glanced over at Jack who was looking at the both of you, a confused look on his face. You tried sounding as least bit intimidating as possible. "Yeah of course. Only if it's ok with you Jack. I know we just met."

"Jack, you can trust her, she's my closest friend. And I'll be back quickly," your uncle added while turning off the stove and removing his apron.

"Sure," was his short reply. It was a reply you could tell he wasn't completely sure about but said it to be polite, knowing his friend needed a favor. You gave him a smile and handed over the purple marker for him to finish coloring in his planet.

"Alright. I'll be right back. Y/N, you have my number, call me if you need anything."

"Sure thing Zio."

Walking around, he gave you a kiss on the head and an affectionate rub on the head to Jack before grabbing his keys and leaving.

The room was quite for a second as it settled in that the two of you were alone but continued drawing, not too bothered by the silence. When you absentmindedly signed for the color blue, he gave you a look of bemusement.

"What was that?" he asked, looking at your hands. Then it hit you that you had signed to a 6 year old boy who was still learning English vocab, let alone ASL.

"Sorry, it's a habit I have sometimes. I teach sign language for my job and when it gets quiet, I sometimes sign instead of talk."

"You know sign language?"

He asked the question with enthusiasm which surprised you. "I do. Do you know how?"

He shook his head. "No, but there's a kid at school that does. It looks cool."

You smiled at his answer, happy that he didn't think it was weird. Most 6 year olds wouldn't be so interested in the matter.

"Would you like me to teach you something? Anything you want."

He nodded excitedly and then took a second to think about it before speaking. "Can you teach me to say, you're my superhero dad, I love you?"

You could've cried right then and there if it wouldn't have made you look like a crazy person. How sweet this little guy was that he thought of his father instead of some silly inappropriate phrase any other boy would have asked for.

"Of course I can!"

So for the next 15 minutes or so, you two sat there and went over the motions, him mirroring you as well as he could which was quite well if you were being honest. It had taken way longer for some of your students to learn one word, let alone a whole phrase like Jack was doing.

"Ok, now I'm not gonna show you this time. You show me," you instructed, having all the faith in him. Slowly, he began signing each word slowly, focusing hard on what motion came after the next, looking down at his hands, practically getting it completely correct by the end of it.

"That was so good Jack! Wow, I'm so impressed. You are so so smart."

He beamed at your compliment, meeting you halfway for a high five. You both ended up moving into the living room and you watched one of his favorite cartoons. Wanting him to be more comfortable with you, you made sure to ask a bunch of questions about the show, loving how his personality was starting to come out the more he talked.

It wasn't much longer that you heard the front door open and multiple voices ring through. One particular voice that you didn't recognize, called Jack's name.

"Dad!" Jack hopped off the couch so quickly, Flash would've been proud and ran over into the arms of who you assumed was his father.

"Hey buddy," his dad greeting, looking over at you with a neutral expression. He was dressed in a full suit that fit him quite well and sported an expensive looking watch. You stood up from your spot on the couch and walked over, feeling a bit nervous at his intense vibe.

"See Aaron, I told you everything was fine," your uncle spoke, giving you a comforting wink. Wanting to be as polite as possible to your uncle's boss, you extended your hand out with a genuine smile.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, Rossi's niece. Everything's been good here, Jack is such a great kid."

He returned the handshake with a professional smile, taking a second to look at you, no doubt profiling you entirely, deeming whether or not you were a right choice to watch his son.

"Aaron Hotchner. Thank you, he is great. What did you guys get up to while we were gone?"

Thankfully, Jack ended up answering for you, saving you from falling over your words while trying not to crumble under his dad's strong gaze.

"She taught me sign language dad!"

He looked down at his son, a look of surprise on his face.

"Here, let me show you."

Everyone watched as Jack began signing to his dad, that same adorable concentrated look on his face. By the end of it, his dad was actually grinning. Teeth and all.

"It means, you're my superhero dad, I love you," Jack explained.

His dad's whole demeanor changed, becoming a whole lot softer and inviting as he bent down to hug his son. It took everything in you not to tear up at the loving interaction.

"That was awesome buddy, I love you too."

You caught a look from his dad, this time a bit more favorable, you now assuming he had made the decision that you were alright. Afterwards, Jack's dad told him to gather his things so they could leave as your uncle went into the kitchen to start the oven, leaving you and Mr. Hotchner alone together.

"I apologize if I seemed a little rude earlier. I'm just very protective of Jack," he explained.

You smiled and waved him off, not admitting that he did have shaking in your boots a little at first. "Oh, you weren't rude. I totally get it, he's your boy. I'd be the same way if he was my kid."

The minute that passed by as you two waited for Jack to return, you could feeling him looking at you again. This time you weren't sure if he was still sizing you up or what but it didn't prevent the raise in blood pressure and slight tinge of pink in your cheeks.

Soon after, Jack came running back, his jacket put on half hazardly and his superman drawing in hand.

"Here. I want you to have it," he told you, handing over the piece of paper. You noticed that he had signed his full name on the bottom corner with a little smiley face. It was definitely the best gift you had gotten in a while.

"Thank you so much Jack. I will put this up in my class so all my students can see how talented my new friend is."

He just smiled in return, taking his dad's hand in his. With his available hand, Mr. Hotchner offered another handshake accompanied with a small friendly smile.

"It was good meeting you. I'm sure this won't be the only time we meet."

You knew he meant it as a cordial statement but you couldn't help but let your girly imagination run wild. I mean the man was tall, professionally accomplished, and downright handsome. Every woman's dream.

"I hope not Mr. Hotchner. It was nice meeting you and spending time with Jack."

"Please. Call me Aaron."

You could've screamed. But instead, you held it together, just smiled and watched them leave, yelling a goodbye to your uncle before closing the door behind them.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and fanned your face.

"Setting up playdates already?" you heard your uncle tease from the kitchen entryway. Being a profiler himself and you a terrible keeper of emotion, he knew what was going through your mind.

"Not another word Zio."

He laughed and threw an extra kitchen apron at you. "C'mon. Help me with the zucchini, lovebird."

[jacaerysgf]

Hi, could you do an Aemond one shot where he and Reader (Rhaenyra's bastard daughter) are husband and wife and she and Aemond are married, based on the first episode of season 2 where instead of killing Aegon's son, kill the reader's son and aemond

a.n: hi hi ty for the request 🫶 i had a little too much fun writing this, this probably isnt what you wanted this is not a happy fic but i still hope you enjoy regardless 🫶🫶 slightly inspired by the events of ep two

Despite the halls of the keep being pure chaos everyone swiftly moved out of the way for the one eyed prince who rushed through the halls seeking out the one who he knew needed him.

They had been in his room. They wanted him. But they must have left his room when they knew he was not there and stumbled their way into the nursery which was attached to his room where his son had been. His son. his only child. and he was furious.

The door to the council room slams open and otto swiftly turns to look and stand before him, “where have you been-“ otto is shoved out of his way as he goes to kneel next to his sobbing wife on the floor who was clutching a blanket on the floor.

You look at him with red eyes and choke out his name, he grabs your face in his hands and looks upon you for a moment before you throw yourself into his arms. Shoving your head in his neck to breathe in his scent, to feel his pulse, make sure he’s real.

“they killed our son.” your words come out choked in between your sobs and he strokes up and down your back, “i tried to offer them anything, gold, myself, but they only wanted him aemond only him.” he shushes you and pressed a kiss against your temple, speaking into your ear. “Im sorry my love im sorry.”

He will return the pain they have brought to not only himself but worst of all to his wife and he will pay it tenfold. A lone tear streaks down his face as you say nothing more merely continue to sob into him while the other faces in the room can only merely watch with sorrow.

He picks you up, making sure to keep the blanket firmly in your grasp as he turns to leave the room ignoring the voices calling after him. They must want to discuss what they plan to do now but he wants no part in it, only wanting to comfort his wife.

“they were saying they want to blame my mother.” You had calmed down at some point, still delirious with grief but you had stopped crying, merely staring blankly up at the ceiling as aemond kept you firmly next to him. “she would never do a thing like this. my mother loves me, why would she send someone out for my son.”

Aemond is quiet and his hand on your back falters for a moment, “she wishes to punish me.” you say nothing but he notices how you shift ever so slightly.

With the way you two were right now nobody could tell the two of you have not spoken in those fourteen days since his return when he broke the news to the court. When he broke the news to you. Your own brother murdered in cold blood.

You could never forgive him despite his attempts to talk to you after, you swiftly dismissed him and his words would fall on deaf ears. Your baby brother was everything to you, you remember growing up side by aide and he was teary eyed the day you permanently moved to the keep.

despite your hatred for him and your hatred for your mothers usurpation you cannot go home. The people here watch you like a hawk you cannot even send a letter out to her but alicent is free to beg and plead to her like a pathetic dog. you hate them. Yet you allow him to comfort you because you know you will get no comfort from anyone else here.

“they wish to flaunt me around like a prized lamb. ‘gain sympathy from the houses.’ he says.” You ignore his words and continue to speak. “I will not allow it.” you shrug mindlessly and sit up, he stays laying down. His eye patch off and hair down from its usually prime and perfect state, he had thrown his shirt off at some point too.

You can see it, the hurt that laces his eye and his face, his hand finds yours and you want to rip it away but you cant, the warmth on your skin bringing you a small sense of comfort.

“i had thought we would work. That you would finally move on and forgive grievances of the past. But i hate you just as you hate me aemond,” “i do not hate you. i love you.” you shake your head as he says it, sitting up and gripping your arms tightly, trying to hold your gaze as he says it again.

“i will never forgive you. I will hate you for as long as a breathe.”

“i did not mean to i lost my temper that day.”

“you feeling sorry means nothing to me you know that. how would you feel if the men who murdered our son came in here and said they were sorry., that they didn’t mean to.”

He says your name and his grip tightens on your arms but you continue to merely stare off mindlessly.

“i will repent for the rest of my life. our son will be brought justice.”

he will kill every man in the keep if he has to, slay every man in all of westeros if they cannot figure out who had done it. For you. for his son.

“i love you.” the words come out strained as he begs and pleads to anyone who is willing to listen to him for you to say something else anything to him.

you do. you finally look at him. a look devoid of any love you had once had for him. and it kills him.

“you’re pathetic.”

[artdcnaldson]

yknow those wives who have affairs with men they meet at the gym? yea so that but its art fucking the pretty, young thing from the yoga class his trainer signed him up for. something about mindfulness and old joints, honestly art wasnt listening, too busy thinking about how embarrassed he would be trying to do yoga in a public gym, a nice gym, but public nonetheless. but the first time he goes he picks the matt next to yours, youre no professional but youre a hell of a lot better than he is, as is everyone else but he's not looking at them. you end up chatting afterwards and it just kind of become routine for you to share those classes when you're both there. grabbing a juice together afterwards. and before either of you really understand whats happening, juice turns to lunch, one class a week turns to 3 or 4, a cup of coffee on the weekend turns to regular dinners. and suddenly he's fucking you in the back of his car in the parking lot of your building, all the yoga really paying off with the ways he's bending you trying to make it work in the cramped space. he was really just going to drive you home, like he always does, but you're just so pretty and he swears he saw tashi texting a number with the name "p" last night... so he kisses you and then hes rutting into your pussy, begging oyu to cum around him, let him feel your pussy get tight like that, strangle his cock.... many a thought

-🐞

GODDDDD <3 <3 <3

He isn't going to cheat, he isn't going to cheat, he is NOT going to cheat. It runs through his mind every fucking class after that first one. He's there to improve mobility, to help him get out of his head and be mindful, to kick the horrible anxiety that he's developed since the injury, that's worsened since New Rochelle.

He's not there for you. Even if you're the only person there he talks to. Even if he looks forward to seeing you every morning when he wakes up. Even if he suffers through gross pressed juice after each class because it means more time with you.

You make him happy, in a way he hasn't felt in a really long time. Desirable, interesting, worthwhile. You smile at him across the table when you go out for lunch, and sometimes you duck your head to hide giddy little smiles when he says something sweet. He'll reach across the table and his fingers will brush against your hand, and you won't move away. Your fingers stretch out, feel his, and that's good, that's fine.

It's not cheating. Coffee on Saturday mornings when there aren't any classes scheduled isn't cheating. Texting with your name replaced with a single letter to be discreet isn't cheating. Getting dinner isn't cheating. Watching movies together in your cute little apartment isn't cheating.

Surely Tashi knows. But why would she care when she's got a secret of her own? He know's she's texting Patrick. She has been since the challenger, working out the minutiae of what her coaching him will entail, and it makes Art's stomach turn. That incessant buzzing in his ear like a gnat, the constant question of if Patrick is fucking his wife. Again.

Art had said he would try. He would try to keep playing past the open, and he'd try to fix their marriage. But that was an optimistic promise made in the aftermath of a great fucking game of tennis. It wasn't until later that the resentment and anxiety reared its ugly head.

And then there's you. You don't watch tennis, you don't care about his ranking, you don't expect anything of him. All you expect of him is the pleasure of his company. And god, you look so sweet, sitting in the passenger seat of his jeep. For the past ten minutes, you’ve been rambling on and on about the new show you started watching, how you swear he'd like it, really.

"You're quiet," you say once he's pulled into the parking garage and killed the car. You reach across the center console and put a hand on his arm. "Everything okay?"

No. He's thinking about Tashi and Patrick. Of a text that flashed across her screen that morning from a contact that's just P, "when are you telling art?" He's thinking about affairs, about how he wants one thing to himself, and why can't that be you?

So he kisses you, and you can feel the desperation and need in the rough press of his mouth against yours, in the slow lave of his tongue, licking into your mouth like he wants to savor the taste of you. And you just take it, moaning into his mouth, soft and pretty.

"You're married," you pant as you both climb into the backseat. You say it like you haven't been craving this exact moment since you first saw him walking into the class with an overfull gym bag and a plain gray mat slung over one shoulder. You say it because if you don’t, you’ll feel worse.

But he just silences you with another hungry, desperate kiss that you return in kind. You paw at his shirt, trying to tug it off without breaking the kiss. Art laughs against your mouth and sits back on his heels to peel it off.

He likes the way you look up at him, like he’s the best thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s never felt that from anyone before, never felt like much more than a second choice. A consolation prize. Your hand is small, sliding along the plane of his chest, dipping down to his abs. It’s like you’re marveling at him, appreciating his body the way you’d appreciate a work of art.

Your hand slides down and you palm him almost timidly, feeling the hard length of him in your palm. He groans, a low, masculine sound that makes heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. You’ve heard something similar, when he’s stretching out a particularly tight muscle, or when you’re doing partner poses in yoga class— a hot, panted groan in your ear due to the proximity. But this is entirely new— addicting in the best way.

You don’t care that he’s married. Well, you do, but you just want him to be happy. You can make him happy— can give him something more than what he has. Doesn’t he deserve that?

Your clothes are shed quickly, easily. Peeled off smooth skin, discarded into the floorboard. All of your senses are flooded with Art’s hands, the way they grasp at your exposed skin, feeling, holding, possessing— His mouth, searing hot where he laves at your throat, over your tits. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and it makes you mewl. Arching into his touch.

“I want— fuck— I want to do so much to you,” he mumbles against your skin. He nips at the plush skin of your tits, promising bruises that will remind you in the morning you hadn’t just dreamt it all. “I just need to have you.”

You’d let him do anything. You’d let him carve you open and replace everything inside with him, him, him. And he does, in a way. When he lines up with your cunt and drives in, burying himself deep inside, it feels like he’s all that’s left of you.

The car rocks on its axels as he fucks you, deep and slow. It drives gasps and moans from your lips each time he bottoms out, when you feel his cock deep in your cunt, when his balls press tight against your body.

Art moans a desperate, masculine sound, his breath coming hot. The windows fog, dripping condensation in slow trails. “I think I love you,” Art groans, the words slipping out as he gets closer and closer and closer.

He’s married. He’s probably only saying it in a fuckdrunk haze. It’s a bad decision, you’d both regret it in the morning.

“I love you,” you tell him, softly. Earnest as he’s ever heard it said. He cums hard, grinding slow and deep so it’s as deep as possible.

He walks you to the door, kisses your cheek, tells you he’ll see you at the studio soon. When he gets home, he doesn’t tell Tashi, but she can sense it on him. The secret seeps from his pores. Good for him. It’s about time he does something for himself.

His next tournament is beautiful— his best tennis in a while. And maybe it’s best for Tashi to turn a blind eye while Art’s winning again. Maybe.

[wordsofelie]

🔭mars

part of my observatory event, requested by @dearru <3

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

summary: you have the biggest crush on your neighbour—turns out he goes to the same gym as you.

content warnings: time skip setting, fluff, iwaizumi hajime is too beautiful for this world

words count: 1.3k

“I swear I’ve never seen something so magnificent,” you say in a fierce whisper.

Your best friend groans on the other end of the call. “Are you talking about that guy again?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous?” she asks, already exasperated, hoping you’ll finally change the subject.

“His awesomeness. This morning, he was on his balcony, hanging out the sheets and still he looked so cool and-”

“Oh god, I’m hanging up now.”

She should be used to it by now. For weeks, your not-so-subtle (and maybe slightly overdramatic) crush on your new neighbour has been the only thing on your mind—and on your lips. But you’re not the one to blame. The man is a pleasure to your eyes—in an unfair kind of way.

You first noticed him when he moved in two months ago.

His arms were stacked with cardboard boxes, his short hair was tousled from the summer heat and a few strands were clinging to his forehead. You were heading to the lift when he walked past, barely glancing up as he unlocked the apartment right next to yours. His brows were knitted in a frown, but the moment he noticed you, a quiet smile tugged at his lips. And you swore you’d never seen such beauty before.

You mumbled something like “good morning”, although you don’t even know if it reached his ears since you hastily turned your gaze away and stepped into the lift.

Then, you started noticing him everywhere.

In the hallway, where he nodded politely but never said much. At the mailboxes, where he always grabbed his letters with an effortless coolness. On his balcony, where he stretched after runs, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts that should probably be illegal.

His balcony isn’t directly aligned with yours—it’s angled just enough that, from your couch, you can see straight into his living room. So really, it’s not your fault if you watch him sometimes. And yes, on the rare nights when you let curiosity get the best of you, you find yourself peeking through your window, catching glimpses of him under the soft glow of his apartment light. Tapping on his laptop. Making coffee. Just being there.

Not that you’re spying. That would be creepy. You’re just—observing.

The gym is the one place where you can let go. Since work has been demanding, you figured exercising might help you find some balance. Physically, maybe—but mentally? Not a chance. Because ever since you laid eyes on him, your mind has been an absolute mess.

Which is how you find yourself, mid-run on the treadmill, calling your best friend for the fourth time this week just to talk about your hot neighbour.

“Wait! Please, don’t leave me alone in this crisis,” you whine into your earphones.

Your best friend sighs. “Crisis? You’re staring at a hot guy and refusing to do anything about it. That’s not a crisis, that’s just cowardness.”

The thought alone makes your heart racing faster in your rib cage. “I am not refusing. I just- I don’t know where to start.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe by asking his name?”

“No, no, no. I could never.”

“Come on, you’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing this guy for weeks, and you don’t even know his name. I told you—coward.”

You step off the treadmill and catch your breath. Your voice hovers somewhere between a whisper and a complaint as you wipe your forehead with a towel. “Excuse me, but I am not—”

“Hey,” a deep voice interrupts.

Your heart stops.

Your best friend is still talking in your ear, but you don’t hear a word. Slowly, so slowly, you turn your head—

And he’s there.

Right in front of you.

All lean muscle, sun-kissed skin, and olive-green eyes that are even more stunning up close.

Since when does he come to your gym?

“I, uh-hi,” you stammer, yanking out an earbud.

He nods toward the treadmill. “Are you still using this?”

"Yes-I mean no. I-I…"

The corner of his lips turns upwards. “Yes or no?”

Everything in your head seems to come out scrambled, in the wrong order. "No! I mean-I'm done! It’s all yours!"

“Is it your neighbour?” Your best friend, still very much on the call, says. She doesn’t wait for your answer to add, "Ask his name."

"Shut up!" you blurt out and you feel heat scorching your face when you realise what you said out loud. You wave your hands in panic and rush to explain, “Oh my god, not you. Sorry”

Your neighbour looks somewhere between amused and mildly concerned. "Uh… right. Thanks." He still remains polite, almost too kind even though you just made a fool of yourself.

And just like that, he steps onto the treadmill, setting up his workout while you remain frozen in pure, undiluted mortification.

You spin on your heel and flee.

And for the next week, you avoid the gym like the plague and close your curtains.

It’s late Friday evening when the universe decides to ruin you again.

You step into the apartment complex’s lift, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand shoots out, stopping them.

You don’t even have time to react before he steps in.

The hot neighbour, whose name still remains a mystery.

He barely spares you a glance as he enters—until his eyes flick toward you, lingering just long enough for a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth.

"You quit the gym?" he asks after a moment of silence.

You nearly choke. "What? No! I’ve just been… busy. With work. I work a lot… these days."

His smirk deepens. "Right. Then that’s even more reason to go back. It's good not only for physical health, but also for mental health.”

You clear your throat, grasping for composure. “You talk like a true professional.”

His eyes widen, you’re not sure why but he suddenly seems uncomfortable. He scratches the back of his neck and his eyes fall to the ground. “Sorry, that sounded like I’m mansplaining or something.”

“Not at all.” You smile a little. “But I guess I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

He immediately lifts his eyes and there's relief on his face, the frown that had formed a few seconds earlier, go away. You can see him tilting his head slightly, considering you.

"I’m going tomorrow morning. You coming?"

You swallow. "I-yeah. Sure."

"Cool," he says easily. Then, after a beat, "Wanna grab a coffee after?"

Your heart stumbles.

"Like… together?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah. I mean, no pressure, you can totally say no."

You open your mouth, then close it again. A week ago, you were a coward who wished to never bump into him again. And now—now—he’s standing in a lift, casually inviting you for coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"I-yeah. That’d be nice."

The lift dings. He steps aside, letting you go first. It only takes a few steps to reach your door, but somehow, it feels incredibly long. You finally turn to wish him a good night, but his voice cuts through the quiet first.

“Oh, and I’m Iwaizumi, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

You take a second to breathe in his words, his name.

You say yours in return—and you swear you see his cheeks redden just a little.

"Then, see you tomorrow, neighbour." He exclaims, throwing you one last glance over his shoulder.

And just like that, he disappears into his apartment.

While you stand there, staring after him, pulse thudding in your ears.

You finally know the name of your hot neighbour.

And he just asked you on a date.

You call your best friend that night to tell her everything. “What should I wear? More like casual? Or classy?” You ask her at some point.

Though she’s away, you can sense the smile on her face. “Gosh, I really should get paid for this.”

a/n: writing for iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer is the best therapy

special tag for @sahrii im glad i can share my iwa obsession with you <3

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when they read your diary entry about your feelings for them.

Mark Lee

IN HIS DEFENSE, Mark wasn't snooping around. It just happens that you left the page open on top of the coffee table. Mark's attention was caught because of how you design your journal spread. So he read it, thinking that it's just one of your poems but he realized that it's about him when you mentioned his name !!! He'll be so shocked that he dropped the diary the moment he heard your footsteps. Probably won't bring up the fact that he read your diary because he doesn't want to embarrassed you, but ponders on your feelings on him. 

Huang Renjun

He was curious!!! You always have your diary around, like you write even in public places. So it's not that secret for Renjun that you have a diary, but he was curious about what it contained, so when he found the opportunity, he swore to himself that he'll read just ONE page. Coincidentally, he read the page where you're venting out your feelings for him. Renjun couldn't believed what he just read, and he'll probably act like he didn't read your diary but after that, Renjun couldn't help but be more drawn to you. :<

Lee Jeno

As Jeno grabbed your notebook that you gave to him for some lecture notes, he began scanning it but was confused when he saw that it's written in letter formats and not those math formulas that he needed. He stops midway, reading the first sentence on the stage. His curious stare became eyes wide when he realized that he's reading YOUR diary and coincidentally, his phone rang and it was you! You apologized profusely, saying that you gave him the wrong notebook. Jeno only nods, acting as if he didn't just read your confessional diary entries about him. 

Lee Donghyuck

Like the playful guy he is,, I feel like Haechan wouldn't accidentally found your diary but more like, he'll snatch it away from you when you're too focused writing on it. Yes, that typical jerk move where he's too tall for your reach and he's tall enough to raise his arms as he reads what's inside and that's how he found out that you have a crush on him. His playful personality will fade away, embarrassed because of what he did. And when opportunity came, you quickly snatched your diary away from him and left the scene. 

Na Jaemin

WAIT I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING. But I feel like Jaemin's scenario would be that scene where you two bumped into each other, making each other's things fall on the ground. You were in a hurry, not noticing that you dropped your notebook. Jaemin had it, and because it's you, he was curious of what's inside, and there, he found out that you had feelings for him. :< He'll be flustered because it's you! But he thinks it's best for him to return your notebook, so he returns it but then, opens up to you that he read it...and yes, he also likes you back. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle was in your room, trying to look for an empty notebook that he can use as a scratch paper, as he looks through your pile of notebook, he found a unique looking one that stands out of the plain ones. As he scrolls through the pages, he found a photo of the two of you glued there, curiously Chenle reads the content and was surprised of its content. Probably had his heart racing and yes, he'll be that confrontational type, so he goes to the kitchen where you're cooking and just blurted out whether what you wrote in your diary is true or not.

Park Jisung

As Jisung helps you with deep cleaning your apartment, he stumbles upon a huge box that's a bit heavy. He asks you what it contains and you don't remember either, so you two open it together. You two were surprised to see that contains a lot of notebooks, Jisung grabs one and reads some of its entry. You noticed how he's turning red and before it can sinked in to you what it contains, your boyfriend hits you with a teasing tone, "You loved me since we were fifteen?" looks like he found your old diary. 

[biinaberry]

Did I make an au just for a rarepair? Yes, but heres my idea of a shen twin au

In my version Shen Yuan transmigrates into the body of 5 yr old Shen Shi, twin of Shen Jiu. It is very important to note that in this au SJ and YQ refer to SY with "A-Shi" and "Xiao-Shi" respectively, and SY takes up the identity of Shen Shi. SY is also fully cognizant when he migrates so he has the complete thoughts of a 20~ yr old while in the body of a 5 yr old. This causes some major dysphoria and also anger at the helplessness of being in a body that does not fit him and also the fact that he has no social nor physical power because he is a child. He also views SJ and YQ as his little brothers even if he is actually the youngest physically.

He eventually is taken in my the Qiu family alongside his brother. It is when SJ starts to bond with Qiu Haitang that it finally pieces together that his brother is going to be SQQ and grieves for the events that he knows is going to happen to him. The building rage and anger at the helplessness of the situation culminates in Shen Yuan starting the massacre with SJ instantly jumping in and causing the majority of deaths. When SJ carries out the unconscious body of Qiu Haitang SY realizes the opportunity in front of him. He knows that she is going to be the kickstarter of his brother's downfall and in that moment grabs the nearest weapon, and with a heavy heart, kills her as SJ watches in shock. He turns to SJ telling him "You can't leave any witnesses, they always eventually spill" before both run off. I dont know what to do with the Wu Yanzi so I'm ignoring it for now. And im also unsure if he gets a system but we'll see.

Eventually they meet up with Yue Qi now Yue Qingyuan and the anger SJ has towards him. SY is also angry but its more so for SJ's sake than his own. The two of them become a part of Cang Qiong sect and while SJ is taken in by the Qing Jing peak, SY is taken in by the beast and flora peak (which I do not have named). They both become head disciples and later peak lords. SY also is able to clock that SQH is not the original version due to airplane saying a modern phrase and a friendship forms. SY is also the one to start biting and defending his brother when QQQ or LQG take potshots at him. It's while they are still disciples that SY meets Su Xiyan while hes on a mission and they worked together for a bit before SXY split. They continued to meet up until eventually a friendship formed and SY meets TLJ a "companion" of SXY. SY clocks who the two of them are goes to SQH to learn all he can about them and their future. SXY and TLJ eventually fall for each other and SY makes sure to prevent the palace master from finding out as long as he can. He also warns them about the palace master and to not trust any letters not hand delivered by SY as he will act as a middle person to make sure no one intercepts them. It is also during this time that SXY and TLJ both gain interest in SY. Neither can explain fully why but his autistic swag, photographic memory and ability to name drop paragraph long information in seconds intrigued them. They start courting him, shen yuan is of course oblivious. It is also important that SY introduced himself to TLJ and SXY with the name "Shen Yuan" so only the two of them refer to each other as such. He also clocks when SXY is pregnant and tells her as such when symptoms start to show and again, not to trust the palace master. By this time he is now a peak lord alongside his brother.

Eventually the old palace master finds out and instead of targeting TLJ, he first targets their lynch pin, shen yuan. He sends letters to SJ and YQY about SY being a traitor. Showing him being a demon sympathizer and hanging out sect secrets that actually SQH was leaking due to the system. SY is captures, a trial occurs and SY is charged as guilty with the punishment of execution, but YQY and SJ object. Since it was CQ secrets he was sharing they have the official say. So instead of execution they instead lock him up on the beast peak using talismans and sigils. He is not allowed to talk to anyone besides fellow peak lords and his head disciple. He cannot leave the peak without another peak lord monitoring him and this also applies when teaching. This lockdown completely breaks him as he lost trust with his family and the confinement dives him crazy as a peak lord he commonly left to document and work upon his bestiaries. This leaves him in a depressive state and constantly paranoid as he cant trust anyone. And No One has told him definitive news if SXY and TLJ are safe, SQH has confirmed that TLJ was not captured and helped SXY but he has no clue where they are now and if baby LBH is with them. As SY is confined on his mountain he stops caring about appearances and starts wasting away seen in image 3. I havent figured the rest out with LBH but he does become a part of cang qiong sect under Qing Jing, the abuse he faces stays the same. If he is raised with TLJ and SXY or by the washer woman I do not know yet. LBH hearing about the rumors of a monster on the beast peak heads out and comes face to face with SY who is delighted to see him but also horrified that about 14+ years have now passed. This pushes him a little out of his depressive episode because now he has a son to take care of and he can't waste away in front of him. He needs to act strong. He teaches LBH the best he can while contained and tells him about his parents. The two form a father son dynamic where both cant really escape the situation they are in but at least have each other for company. SY also holds onto LBH's jade pendant so it isnt lost. He also tells LBH that if he meets a demon named TLJ, to mention the name Shen Yuan.

While on a mission LBH meets up with TLJ and tells him that he's met SY and TLJ loses it (pos). He asks where he is as SXY and TLJ have been trying to find him with no success. He is told that hes on the beast peak in cang qiong and has been contained there for the last 16 years. TLJ then hatches a game plan to free him and the decide to use the immortal conference as a distraction. Most of the cultivation world will be at that conference so minimal security will be held at the sect. They use this to their advantage. TLJ strikes a deal with MBJ to cause a distraction to keep the cultivation world on the two of them even if alarms go off that SY is escaping. MBJ agrees to this as TLJ allows him to target any huan hua disciple he sees (they dont tell SXY this). While they cause a distraction by appearing on the 7th day of the conference, SXY sneaks into cang qiong peak and works on the talisman and sigils. This works and eventually she gets to SY he sees the bad shape he is in, but it was better than what LBH originally saw. The two of them start crying and SXY activates a 2 way communication artifact with TLJ telling him it was a success.

TLJ then turns to MBJ and MBJ teleports, appears in front of SXY and SY and teleports the two of them to the demon world. TLJ then turns to his son who's demon seal now broke and decides to do some father son bonding and the two both go into the eternal abyss together, as this is a tradition for heavenly demons. The two of them return after 1-2 years and have MBJ teleport them out rather than using Xin Mo.

[plutosillywrites]

imagine plus size!reader going to the bar for a date— just to get to stood up.. but that’s okay, 141 is there for their night out, and could never say no to a pretty bird like you.

(i hope u like this nonsense :3)

you’ve never had much luck with dating, which you think for the most part you’re okay with, sometimes it just doesn’t work out when you think it will— but it does sting when all of your friends are snatched up and engaged or dating.

it leaves you asking if there’s something wrong with you— which you know is not true, but when you are so crushingly rejected every single time, you get sick of it.

and tonight, god you hope it’s different. you had been chatting up some pretty guy, and he was nice— attentive even, and you aren’t ugly by any means.your curves are to die for, the way your tummy is seen in dresses, and how your thighs and ass look in some good jeans— maybe you have a few more fat rolls than the average person, and your body held a plump look. but you looked damn fine with it too..

the cellulite— the hair, the skin. practically flawless, and as you slipped on your black dress with pearl accessories, and a beautiful vintage black bag. you were ready to go—

you slip your heels on, grab your keys and you’re out the door. locking your apartment door behind you (god forbid you forget again like that one time. you’ll always miss your good mixer that the thief stole.)

the walk there is quite nice, your date having asked you to meet up at a jazz club nearby, which was only a 10 minute walk.

you walk towards the front door of the place, bright LED letters adorned the top of the building. ‘THE JAZZ ROOM.’ it’s a nice, quaint place.

as you step inside the sound of the sax and sweet singing voice draws you in, you smile at the song being sung— and make way towards the bar, waiting patiently for your date.

what you don’t see however, is how 4 men sat back in their seats to get a better look at you as you walked in. johnny is the first to say something— “Fucking gorgeous ain’t she.” — the others hum in agreement.

you twiddle your thumbs, sipping on a fruity cocktail because— of course you can’t shoot whiskey, it’s been 25 minutes since you got here— you even showed up 5 minutes late.

you laugh, but not one filled with joy, one filled with disbelief. “i think im just gonna delete tinder. it doesn’t work— stupid apps never do.” youre mumbling as youre finishing off your drink, and fanning down the bartender.

johnny claps his hands, and goes to stand. “i think pretty bonnie over ‘er got stood up. blokes missing out— it’s alright though, i’ll go and swoop her up.” he shuffles out of the booth, the others make no move to disagree but simon chimes in by saying, “you better tell ‘er how fucking gorgeous she looks tonigh’. “

johnny then makes his way towards the empty seat beside you. the 3 men sit and watch— they trust johnny to woo you over, he’s just too good with words.

you ask the bartender for another cocktail, and as you go to take a sip you hear a gruff scottish voice from beside you. “what’s a pretty bonnie like you doing here alone?” you turn, and wow.

the man has a mohawk, and the most stunning blue eyes you have ever seen. he’s got a smile that has a warmth churning up inside— why is he staring at you like your the only girl in the world? and why does it feel so good??

“oh— uhm,, haha..” you trail off, “it’s a funny story, really.” you fiddle with the fruit on a toothpick in your drink, “i’m supposed to be on a date, but uhm.. he didn’t end up showing.” you grimace a bit, taking a large sip.

“well, he’s a bloody idiot.” the man says, he leans closer, resting his head on his hand. “my names johnny, you wouldn’t mind if i took his spot as your date, would’ya?”

a handsome, muscular man with a hot accent asking to be YOUR date? yeah, you’re not saying no to that! you smile, laughing so quiet johnny almost didn’t catch it under the music.

“no, i wouldn’t.. i’d prefer if you did.” you scoot your barstool closer, and tell him your name, your hand resting on the table dangerously close to his.

“you look stunning tonight, love.” he breathes out, he intertwines his fingers with yours, “fucking breathtaking— had my eyes glued to you since you walked in ‘ere.”

you look at him quickly, he’d watched you since you walked in? “you like what you saw that much?” you questioned with a frown, and his smile only grew. “fuck yes, and not just me—“ he leans you can see the rest of the group.

their eyes are hungry; with something else mixed in, and you can’t quite tell if its passion or lust. “—my whole team thinks you’re the prettiest girl in this whole place.”

your body goes slack just slightly, before letting a smile creep onto your face, resting your hand on johnny’s knee you leaned close to his ear.. “well, it’s rude to keep people waiting.. isn’t it?” you whispered.

“you’re right as rain, bonnie. why don’t we join them?” johnny mumbles back, already standing and tugging you near their table, his hand wrapped around your waist…

pt 2!! https://www.tumblr.com/plutosillywrites/775073803823890432/part-2-of-plus-sized-reader-who-gets-swooped-up

(an: johnny i love you. i love you and you just don’t know it.)

[weasleysbliss]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

pairing: tom riddle x slytherin!reader

summary: each week, y/n finds a new anonymous letter waiting for her everywhere she goes—poetic, mysterious, and increasingly intense. as the notes grow more captivating and unsettling, y/n becomes determined to uncover the writer’s identity. one day, she discovers it’s tom riddle. now, y/n must decide how to handle the dangerous boy who’s been watching her from the shadows.

warnings: slight cursing, small mention of smut

word count: 1.8k

➽────────────────❥

You sighed in exhaustion, using your remaining stamina to climb the stairs to your dorm room. As you reached the door, you unlocked it with your wand. Finally, you could rest, you thought. You glanced over at your bed—it had never looked more comfier.

You huffed, still remembering you had to shower. Placing your tote bag on your desk, you caught sight of a piece of paper in the corner of your eye. "I probably forgot to throw this out," you thought. But just as you were about to toss it into the trash, something stopped you, and you unfolded the note instead.

The note read, “You don’t notice me, but I see you. You are intriguing—more than anyone here. You have my attention, Y/N.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. "What twit is fucking around with me?" you muttered, raising your voice slightly as you slammed the note back on the table. You didn’t throw it out, though. Something told you not to.

Despite the irritation from the note, you carried on with your night and eventually fell into a restless slumber.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A week passes with no new notes in sight—not that you’ve given it much thought. The first one had slipped from your mind soon after you received it.

You were in your Charms classroom, half-listening to Professor Flitwick as his voice reminded you of those ambient sounds that help you fall asleep. You were about to doze off any second.

"Turn to page 416 in your textbooks," Flitwick instructed. You clicked your tongue under your breath.

You pulled your textbook from your bag and began flipping through the pages until you reached page 416. And there it was. A note. Without thinking, assuming it was the same as the last one, you unfolded it.

"You read by the fire every evening. Do you ever wonder if someone is looking back?"

no. fucking. way.

Fear gripped you as you read the note. Someone is watching me? Panic rushed through your mind. Am I being stalked? Too many unsettling thoughts swirled in your head.

The class wasn’t even over, but you couldn’t stay another minute without spiraling into overthinking. In a hurry, you grabbed your tote bag and the note, then stormed out of the classroom. You heard Professor Flitwick call your name, but you didn’t bother turning around.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The week after the Charms class incident, you began to expect the notes to appear wherever you went. But now, you found yourself paying close attention to anyone who might seem suspicious or could be the culprit behind this note fiasco.

Unfortunately, no one was able to catch your attention. This was a guessing game, and you were terribly losing. Not one person you could suspect.

You had classes with most of your fellow Slytherins, excluding females—Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Tom Riddle. But there’s no way any of them could be behind this, right?

Usually, you and your friends would hang out after school—whether it was catching up, gossiping, or filling each other in on the latest boy drama. Standing in the circle with your friends, you listened to them, but you made sure to stay alert, keeping an eye on your surroundings.

You still weren’t going to give up.

On this particularly chilly day, you were lucky enough to remember your jacket. Your hands were starting to freeze as the cold air bit at them. You stuffed your hands into the pockets, hoping for some warmth, but instead, you felt something—paper.

You pulled it out. Another note.

Excusing yourself from your friends, you claimed you had to go back to your dorm to start your pile of assignments. On your way there, you unfurled the note once again.

"You deserve admiration from someone who sees your true potential. I could give you the world—or take it from anyone who gets in my way."

Frustration bubbled inside you, eating away at your patience. You still had no idea who was behind these notes.

Once you reached your dorm, you tossed the note aside and began searching for the other two you’d hidden around the room.

To your luck, you found the other two. You laid all three notes side by side, carefully examining each one as you read them over again.

"Whoever this is, they must be really slick around me," you muttered under your breath, your annoyance growing with each passing second.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another week passed, and you were expecting a note once again. You silently hoped this would be the last one.

You were walking swiftly down the hallway, your hair swaying with each step. You noticed Tom Riddle approaching, but as he passed, he suddenly stopped.

"Something's waiting for you on your bed," he said. Before you could respond, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, vanishing in less than a second.

Your expression froze, a mixture of confusion and worry spreading across your face. How does he know something’s waiting for me in my dorm? Did he get inside? How? Or does he know someone who put something there? Is it another note? What is it?

You shook the thoughts from your mind and quickened your pace towards your dorm. Anticipation surged through you—you had to find out what it was.

Once you reached your dorm, your eyes immediately went to what Tom had mentioned—your bed. There, lying on the bed, was a note. You snatched it up and opened it without a second thought.

"If you’re bold enough, meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight. Let’s see if you’re worthy of the attention you’ve earned." Tom’s name was signed at the bottom.

It was Tom Riddle who had been writing to you all this time. He was the same person who had snuck into your dorm and secretly placed the notes in your textbook and jacket.

You had to admit, Tom was undeniably attractive. His masculine features were striking, and you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. Despite his looks, one thing about Tom—he always got what he wanted.

You had a small crush on him back in your third year, but it never lasted long—you never thought he’d reciprocate those feelings.

Now, though, what awaited you tonight was all you could think about.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

11:50 PM. Ten minutes until midnight. That gave you just enough time to make your way to the Astronomy Tower. You left your dorm room, silently praying this whole thing wouldn’t end up a disaster—and hoping you wouldn’t get caught by a professor for being out so late.

Your nerves were getting the best of you. Usually, it wasn’t an issue when it came to boys—after all, you were the one who flustered them most of the time. But this was different.

It was Tom Riddle. He was unlike any other Slytherin guy you’d met—more charming, reserved, and undeniably alluring.

As you made your way to the Astronomy Tower, your mind raced, running through different scenarios of how this whole situation could unfold.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed while your mind scrambled, but when you glanced up, the clock had already struck 12:00 AM. Thankfully, you were just in time. With one final step, you reached the top of the Astronomy Tower.

And there he was—the man himself, Tom Riddle. His back was faced to you as he gazed out at the night sky, waiting for your arrival.

You didn't even get a chance to make yourself known at the scene, because he already had. He felt your presence behind him, and turned to face you. Your eyes locked with his deep, dark ones.

"You came," he said, his voice smooth, a touch of satisfaction lacing his words.

"You wanted me to," you replied, your tone sharper than you intended. After all the trouble with the letters, it felt impossible to hold back. "What do you want from me, Tom?"

He took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "I thought I made it clear. I don’t want anything from you—I want you."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. "And if I don’t want to be part of... whatever this is?"

Tom’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, though his gaze softened. "I don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t. You’re curious, drawn to me, just as I am to you. Admit it."

You hesitated, every warning in your head screaming to turn and leave, but your feet stayed rooted in place. "You don't know me, Tom," you said, putting sharp emphasis on the word 'don’t'.

"Oh, but I do," he spoke, still stepping closer. His voice dropped, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve watched you, studied you. You’re clever, gorgeous, ambitious, and so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You could be extraordinary—we could be extraordinary together."

The weight of his words wrapped around you like a spell, leaving you dizzy and unsure. "What if I don’t want that kind of power?" you whispered, barely trusting yourself to speak.

Tom leaned in, his voice low and filled with something almost tender. "Then I’ll prove to you why you do."

His hand brushed yours, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you met his gaze, the intensity there making your heart race. "I haven’t decided yet," you admitted softly.

"Then let me give you something to think about," he murmured. His fingers tilted your chin up, and for a moment, he paused, his dark eyes searching yours. When you didn’t move, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both gentle and inarguably commanding.

The kiss was so intoxicating it almost felt like you were floating. His lips were astonishingly soft, almost unreal in their tenderness. They perfectly aligned with yours as you both explored each other’s mouths. His hands gently slid up your skirt, fingers tracing your smooth skin. The combination of his touch and the kiss sent waves of sensation through you, making it impossible to want to pull away from either.

It ended as quickly as it began, leaving you breathless.

His hands remained under your skirt, his palms hugging your curves as if they were made for you. His fingers trailed lower to your already-soaked cunt, grazing your sweet spot. He knew that touching you in a sensitive place would manipulate you into wanting him more—hence why he did it. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips at his teasing touch.

"You're already mine," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. "But I could show you so much more—if you let me." His hand came out of your skirt, and made it's way to your waist. He ended with a passionate kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a small bite that made you wince—though the sensation only fueled your desire.

"I’ll wait for your answer, darling." he said, his voice smooth as silk. With one final, lingering glance—seductive and full of promise—he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the cold night air. Your heart raced, and your mind was a blur, overwhelmed with thoughts of him and a deep, undeniable desire.

Needless to say, he undoubtedly won a chance with you.

He was yours, in secret.

[lurkingshan]

Random QL Superlatives: 2024 Edition

My friends! It is time once again to reflect back on the year and give out some random ass awards to the things that gave me joy in the many QLs I watched.

In no particular order, this year’s winners:

Best Long Term Glow Up: Off Jumpol as Jane in The Trainee

I've been simping for Jumpol since the Puppy Honey days, because I know potential when I see it! This year the rest of y'all finally caught up with me and realized this man is aging like a fine wine. We all won!

Most Valuable Prop: Aoyanagi Hajime Standee, I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama

Will anything ever make me laugh as hard as Akafuji opening the door to Aoyanagi Hajime while holding an Aoyanagi Hajime standee and then running for his life, standee tucked under his arm, to escape the mortification? If so, it's def another joke from this show.

Best Heart Destroying Angst: Every Moment of Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Sometimes you just want a show to break your heart into a million tiny pieces and then stitch it back together, and there is no better version of that experience this year than this beautiful show.

Wackiest Premise That Somehow Works: Caged Again

Whomst could have predicted that a BL about a penguin who turns into a human, goes to high school, and falls in love with a panther would be one of the sweetest, most compelling stories of the year.

Most Precious Bean: Taishin, Takara's Treasure

Just look at his cute little face!! My son has never done anything wrong in his life. He's adorable and I won't hear a word against him.

Drama Child of the Year: Young San, Century of Love

My soul fully tried to leave my body every time this child appeared on screen. I must congratulate this child actor--his name is Chayanan Akkharadumrongdet--on perfectly embodying the spirit of an old man trapped in a tiny body. Give this boy an award!

Best Love Theme: Di Inakala by Paul Pablo, Marahuyo Project

Such a gorgeous song, first used while King reads Ino's letter and realizes Ino has feelings for him. Hits me right in the chest every time I hear it.

Best Sex Scene - Almond and Latte's first time, Knock Knock Boys

Everyone else can throw in the towel, this is the best depiction of a loving but awkward first time that will ever be committed to film.

Star of My Vision Board: Yako, She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat

Oprah said it best: “She is the mother I never had, she is the sister everybody would want. She is the friend that everybody deserves. I don't know a better person.”

Outstanding Achievement in Old Man Yaoi: Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

It's not every day that a show manages to sell you on a 20+ year age gap, but this one did it without breaking a sweat and had us all rooting for Ishida to eat that old man up with a spoon.

Best Sight Gag: Rock Lifting Karan Over His Shoulder, Cherry Magic Thailand

Is it the way Rock bends down and grabs him with no warning? The way Karan still does a polite wai over his shoulder? The way Dujdao scurries after them? Idk but it's been 10 months and I am still laughing.

Best Absolute Mindfuck: Love for Love's Sake

Sometimes a scene from this drama will flash through my mind and I'll have to spend a few minutes just staring at the wall, and that's how you know it was damn good.

Most Brainrot Inducing: Unknown

The way this story had a chokehold on my brain for three entire months was no joke.

Swooniest Love Interest: Mahasamut, Love Sea

Just look at this glorious man! And on top of all that visual splendor, he's kind and generous and brave and smart and competent and high key a smart ass. In this house we love Mahasamut!

Best Classic Watch: The Miracle of Teddy Bear

The most delightfully surprising watch of the year for me, and a great reminder to never, ever trust anything MDL commenters say about a show.

Y'all know the drill: feel free to join in and post your own superlatives, and please tag me if you do!

[rottenherbs]

Lost to Family // G.W x reader

Request: I was wondering if I could request a George Weasley x reader where they have been dating in secret for a while because the reader's family are death eaters, but she doesn't agree with them and in the battle of Hogwarts she has to choose a side to fight and she goes with George? (also Fred lives please)

Word count:1.8k

Authors note: Happy christmas! I hope you guys are having a wonderful winter so far. I just finished this tonight , tis the season eh?

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige

———————-

Your life like many other hogwarts students, were ripped to shreds in a way that wasn’t anticipated. Every moment was under the threat of your demise, loved ones gone, friends choosing to fight with the enemy, face to face with death around every corner.

You were 17. Your life was allegedly in its peak, your body limber and amble, your mind sharp as a tack, your life romantic and soft. The moment the news that Dumbledore had been killed changed everything you once knew. You didn’t know who you could trust, only keeping your boyfriend's family close. Harnessing your new skills of defensive and reactive spells, you retrieved a letter in the mail from your parents, one that you thought would never come.

———

You and George had been facing a practicing dummy in the backyard attempting a new set of spells that Lupin had shared with the younger students in the order.

“Dear! A letter!” Molly shouted from the burrow, echoing lightly over to you and George.

“That’s for you.” He laughed nudging your shoulder. “She doesn’t call me dear, just George… or Fred.”

You chuckled, slipping your wand into your sweatshirt and kissed him on the cheek turning and leaving him to practice without you.

Walking into the burrow, Molly held the letter in her hands, noticeably fidgeting the paper in between her fingers.

“I’m sorry, we had to open it first to make sure it was safe.” She handed it over, the envelope ripped slightly revealing the corner to a dark black cardstock. You furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing it slowly

Our sweetest girl.

Please take this letter as an open invitation, to understand our way of life.

We have met so many wonderful people. We have learned the correct way of life. We have missed your presence dearly.

Power is held within purity. Your soul is pure, you can be saved if you choose to fight for the right side.

We wish to keep you safe, keep you civilized.

Keep you in the ascendency of moral righteousness

Mum and Dad

Your heart sank to your stomach, each passing word taking the breath out of your lungs. Your eyes stung, not realizing you had kept your eyes open for over a minute, reading and rereading the short letter. Your head began to shake in disapproval, tears streaming down your face.

You understood your parents had gone missing during the year, believing their belligerent morals towards Voldemort had gotten them killed. You had mourned them. You had gone through grief in a way you couldn’t describe. The new information that their existence was proven in a handwritten letter had opened a wound you thought was closed forever.

“Oh.” Molly walked over, holding your shaking body, slumping your entire weight into her short frame. You were too distraught to notice George entering the house, rushing over to you quickly. The letter had fallen from your hands, sliding across the kitchen floor near his feet.

Picking it up and reading, his ears had gone red in anger, though his body felt an uncontrollable sadness. He had been with you when you got word they had passed, now standing in confusion, all of the past year feeling like a lie.

It took you a few hours to calm down fully, but you ended up laying down in George’s arms, soothing you as much as he could. Not only had the war been coming closer with each passing day, the new information that your name had been wanted for voldemorts army had placed an intricate target on your back. Would you see your parents? would they kill you themselfs? Every thought that passed through your mind was morbidly macabre. Only the sounds of George’s sweet voice kept you from truly spirling.

“Me and you. I promise. I promise”

-

A letter had been sent to the burrow one night, unsigned yet a small inked paw print placed sloppily in the corner, signaling a message from McGonagall. She had been a set of eyes on the inside of Hogwarts, ready to dispatch help the moment it was needed.

Lighting has struck

Word had gotten to the snake

Unknown arrival

Preparation underway

The letter was short, incredibly succinct but told us we were finally being called to the front lines. Hogwarts would be under attack in mear hours. All of the Weasley family that weren’t at hogwarts had gotten dressed and hugged another tightly, a solemn silence over the family, understanding the implications of what is to come.

Holding George’s hand, he leaned down placing a kiss on your head shooting you a confident wink before apperating you both.

You both arrived in Mcgonagals office, looking around nervously hoping your presence wasn’t heard by the wrong crowd. You waited patiently both snooping around with eachother not ever having the opportunity to be in her office, and alone at that.

Soon the door swung open, a young blonde witch quickly closing it behind her.

“You're here! Wonderful!” Luna beamed, her smile wide and genuine as she looked at you and George. “Well come on. No time for pleasantries.” She quipped, opening the door and ushering you both out. She held up a finger to her lips, shushing you both as you stepped out into the hallway.

Nostalgia hit you the moment your feet clacked against the stone flooring. Memories of the 7 years of wonder and peace you spent in the halls quickly dissolved as you remembered why you were there. The memories break into just small crippling distasteful feelings, leaving you numb as you walk faster down the corridor.

Arriving at a plain stone wall, Luna looked around as the stone morphed into a beautifully intricate door, swinging open just enough to slip your bodies through. The other side was warm and lively, many students laughing together in small piles of makeshift beds and blankets.

You and George were taken into a hug by Ron and Hermione simultaneously, both squeezing you from all sides, comforting you deeply. Once they pulled away, all four of you looked at each other sadly.

“It must be really happening huh.” Ron mumbled, his smile faltering into a straight lipped grimace. “Its still nice to see you y/n, even with the circumstances.” Ron leaned, his smile returning momentarily.

“It’s always nice to see you Ron” You smiled looking around the room once more.

“Oh this is kinda like our headquarters.” Hermione spoke looking around at the room proudly. “Students made it themselves. Those who want to fight.”

The hundreds of students around the room felt comforting and disgustingly frightening. These teens are all willing to put their life on the line for what is right, just like you. All of these children, teens, barely adults, all stuck in a situation that is out of their hands.

———

The fight started abruptly. You and the members of the order took their places around the castle fortifying the sky with a powerful shield spell, hopefully holding out the enemy in anyways possible. George kept you close, determined to keep you safe. Keep you alive.

The sky went silent, the shield sending a glimmering cast over the stars. You and George sat, tired from the journey, holding each other close for as long as you could. You both didn’t know when the fight would begin, but for this moment you two were together and that’s all that mattered.

“I wish it was plant have to end this way” you mumbled resting your chin on your hand. George leaned back, his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

“I know love. We all do.” He mumbled back. Both of you stayed together for a few hours. Out of nowhere a deep pain struck your mind; a voice echoing as if they were inside your head.

Return Harry Potter

You fell to your knees, the pain lingering making you want to scream. George held his head next to yours, his eyes displayed and confused. Had you all heard it?

You both had the decision to meet the others in the courtyard, a feeling of yield over the fight. Having a limited time until they find Harry themselfs you knew you had to reconcile and replan.

Both of you walked hand in hand through the halls. Stone archways and paintings were broken to pieces, rubble scattered everywhere. You felt like you wanted to sob, to stop and feel all of the emotions flowing through your body but felt numb, unable to act on the feelings. You just sighed and gasped as you and George passed your favorite areas, the smoke still filling rooms from fires and spells.

Arriving at the main courtyard you felt safer, surrounded by all of the students you sat in the room of requirement. The feeling of power in numbers. Nothing broke your heart further than when you looked across the bridge two familiar faces looked back, eyes swollen with tears and clothes bloody from wounds.

“Darling! Y/n! Darling!” Your mother yelled eagerly, her smile unwavering and hands outstretched towards you. The crowd hushed at the sound, surprised at the courage of those who spoke so loudly. Your legs became heavy, unable to move or react. Your eyes widened but your lips tightens together, nothing but anger and frustration running through your veins.

How dare she adress you. How dare she show ties to you.

“Mmmm yes. The daughter of my most faithful new members.” Voldemort purred, his sharp yellowed teeth baring towards you. You didn’t move, your eyes making eye contact with the dark lord sent shivers down your spine. You wondered how easy it was to persuade your parents.

George’s hand tightened in yours, looking between you and Voldemort quickly, his body tense and stoic. It felt as if he was holding you in place, the thought that you’d take a step forward raced across his mind. The idea that you’d be pulled across the invisible line between the sides.

“Darli-“ she started again, her smile faltering slightly. Voldemort’s hand whipped up silencing her quickly. She swallowed awkwardly attempting to not show her fear.

“Let the child decide.” He bellowed, prone in this arms towards you, his followers enveloping into a loud cheers. You made eye contact with your mother once more, deciding that would be the last time you ever would.

“I do not belong with you.” You shouted, your voice shaking slightly. George’s hand shook yours lightly in reassurance, your body and mind feeling like it could take no more.