#but now i am better and will be going through my asks

[corkinavoid]

Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )

a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.

He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).

If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”

Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”

But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)

Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.

JASON TODD ── .✦

At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.

“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”

But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”

He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.

Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”

Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.

He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”

If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.

Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.

Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”

He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.

“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”

He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.

Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”

You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.

Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.

He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”

At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.

Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.

When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.

You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.

He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[kooqitas]

♡ [18+ mdni]!! # loss of virginity, rival to lovers (?).

you weren't surprised when seungcheol brutally threw you onto his bed. i mean, you spent the last few weeks fighting for any stupid reason that appeared. it was obvious that every unfounded hatred had something behind it. he kissed your neck in an uncontrolled way, biting and sucking the sensitive flesh as if he wanted to mark you. you spent most of the makeout in silence, knowing that if you opened your mouths it would only be to tease the other. it was a little pathetic, yes, but it was hot, and seungcheol was hot. fuck, you choked when you saw him take off his shirt, his strong arms completely exposed to you, the silver chain hitting your face. he laughed before grunting and kissing you again, pulling down his pants in a somewhat clumsy way. you just did the same, pulling your dress quickly and getting rid of your panties as soon as you saw him get rid of his underwear. okay, fuck, that was fucking big! you saw seungcheol grab a condom from the drawer, and you avoided thinking about how normal it seemed to him, and then he put it on, going with his glande in your cunt. the sudden act scared you, enough for you to stutter. "c-cheol!" you called him, receiving a look from man. "can you… take it easy? i… i'm a virgin." cheol's mouth opened in a perfect 'o', at that moment he removed his member from inside you, and at the same moment you protested, asking him to go back, just be… calm. "fuck, why didn't you tell me this before?" "you would give up…" "what? of course not, i just…" he shook his head, showing was better than telling. he removed the condom, but didn't get off your body, his hard cock was now touching your groin, while he sucked on the tip of your tits, the light bites on the hard nipple making you moan a little louder than expected, seungcheol lifted his head sometimes just to see you with your eyes closed while moaning, he went down kissing your belly, the wet kisses making your skin tingle. and seungcheol always checked on you, letting out a few laughs when their eyes met. "open" he said kissing your thigh, and you trembled, obeying. fuck, you'd never felt anything like that, the way his tongue went through every part of your cunt, the way he seemed to want to devour you. your moans and contortions becoming greater as he inserted one finger, and then another, and another... he kept 3 fingers inside you, and you clung against the sheets, wetting his hand. "cheol~" you groaned, as a request. and he laughed. you rolled your eyes. but the next second he took another condom, opened a tube of lubricant and poured it into it, there was not so much need, you were lubricated and the condom already had some lube, but he was worried. and then he entered, slowly, feeling you relax on his cock. 'so hot!' he moaned in your ear as he started to thrust, you couldn't even think. "you look so much prettier like this, under me, moaning" cheol was slow in his movements, yet precise, and you thought you were gonna die when his thumb went to your clit, making a pressure there that made you cum. "hold on a little, please" he basically begged, waiting for your nod to re-thrust, shit, you were so sensitive after cumming, your sly moans were making him crazy. he squeezed your left nipple and the loud moan you gave made cheol cum in the condom...

''damn... that was... fuck" he said, lying on your side after removing the condom. "who knew our academic rivalry would end... like this" you teased. "i was able to cum inside you then... i kind of won this game like hell," he laughs. "you only say that because you took my virginity, in fact, if you tell someone that, i'll kill you" "tell someone? damn, never! you're mine, i'll never tell anyone what happened here." "i am what?" "that's right. shhhhhh." he kissed you before you could say anything. "you need to pee" you stared at him confused. "something about needing to pee after sex, don't ask me, i don't know very well either, i saw it on tiktok" you laughed, getting up and going to pee, even if you didn't feel like it. when you went back to bed, you ended up in a silent agreement to sleep there, and that's how you fell asleep nestled in seungcheol's arms.

and that's also how you ended up having your first morning sex.

[lyricwritesprose]

So I've known Winter since she was a weird little goth egg who borrowed my jewelry, but she's never asked for my expertise as a large animal veterinarian before. Winter doesn't have large animals. Winter has three cats, brothers, named Sauce, High Fructose Corn Syrup, and Bobby. (Bobby is the ginger one.)

So I wasn't sure what was up when she told me to bring my "hoof stuff" and not to tell anyone, but you know, she's my friend. An hour's drive and a little secrecy is nothing.

She met me at the door and escorted me upstairs and into her bedroom, and there was a demon lying on the bed. Red. Horns. Tail. Winter's grandma's quilt over him. Very confused expression.

"He says he hasn't had hoof care for a long time," Winter explained. "Apparently conditions in Pandemonium kind of suck."

Well, that, at least, was straightforward. "Yeah, I'll take a look at them. You owe me an explanation or five."

"Not really much to explain," Winter said apologetically. "I needed help with biochem."

"There are about ten thousand ways that statement does not lead to this situation."

"Oh, come on, like you've never tried to summon a demon to do your homework."

"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't, because that's academic cheating and as a vet, it could be a life or death matter for me to actually know stuff. Also demons aren't—" You can't exactly say demons aren't real with one watching you. "Necessarily any better at biochem than I am. So you tried some spell and—oh. Ouch. Yeah, that's a gnarly looking hoof, you're going to need some treatment on that. Looks like maybe you haven't been walking around much?" That was to the demon. "Because the edges should wear down if you have proper room to move."

"I don't." His voice was softer than I expected. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Hoof trim," I said, "first of all. Have you had anything to eat? Do you need anything to eat?"

"I ordered door dash from the Indian place half an hour ago," Winter said. "Should be any minute. It's the only decent vegetarian place around here and I really don't want to deal with the whole question of which critters are acceptable to eat across cultural differences, so—yeah. See, the problem is, Asgrvanisaghl has been through a lot since some asshole 'higher demon' put his name in a grimoire, which means that we've got to find a way to block summonings as necessary or at least keep him from getting controlled when they happen."

"I don't do magic," I said, laying out my bag of tools, "I do comfortable hooves. Although, you know, you could call in Shawn. He's got that mythology special interest going on."

"I texted him. He can come by tomorrow but he's doing a thing."

I nodded. "You are probably," I told the demon, "going to have to repeat the name you want me to use for you several times before I get it. I'm not great with pronunciation. Right, so hoof trimming tools probably look different where you're from, but the principles should be the same. This is—"

"Why are you doing this?"

I shrugged. "I mean. We're humans."

"But—no. Humans want great wealth, or they want their rivals removed, or they want the love of the most beautiful woman in the land, or they want—other things—"

"Humans are bastards sometimes and they should not have treated you like that."

He didn't seem to know what to do with that statement.

"But the main thing about humans is that we clump up in groups. You wanna guess what group me and Winter were in, in high school?"

He shook his head wordlessly.

"The group of kids that didn't fit in. Queer, autistic, whatever. And believe me I'm going to call in all of us until we can make sure you're safe."

"But. I'm not one of you."

I shrugged again. "You are now."

The demon collapsed onto your bed. A vacant stare in his eye as he uttered “this is the 10,000th time I’ve been summoned. can we make it easy? Please?”

[letaliabane]

Trip Up - Valet!SimonRiley and Maid!Reader

The abbey was on alert today. A telegram from the Lord Price's sister stating she would be visiting along with members of the Crawley family who had moved into the village.

This included the new heir to Downton Abbey Matthew Crawley, John's third cousin, who was rumored to marry Lady Mary, John's oldest daughter.

'I can't stand the thought of my only purpose being to marry. To be thrown at every heir to Downton so that the money stays in the family,' Mary said in frustration, putting on her earrings as you did her hair, 'All I want is to be chosen for me any only that.'

You nodded, putting the last of the beaded pins in her hair. She had chosen a lavender skirt with a cream blouse for the day, finished with a simple cardigan.

'It just feels so belittling. What do you think Y/N?' She asked, looking thoughtfully at you through the mirror.

You gave her a gentle smile, 'I agree m'lady. If it were my choice, I would indeed marry for love. It's more important than most things.'

'And of course position. I could never forget that! This new heir is apparently quite middle class and I just won't have that!'

You couldn't help but sigh at her words.

Mary was a kind young and beautiful lady, but at times had a cold heart and hard exterior to protect it, which included a cruel nature to those she despised.

'How is that new valet doing? Mr Riley wasn't it?'

'Oh, he's quite settled in m'lady, now that it has been a few months,' You said as you moved around the room, clearing and folding clothes away to where they belonged, 'I think he's still shaken the staff up but much better than it was previously.'

Mary tapped her perfume to her wrists, saying, 'Thank goodness, I felt terrible for Papa. He talks about Mr Riley like a dear old friend, it would be a shame if he doesn't feel welcome here, even as a valet.'

'Agreed, now I should probably head down. Will that be all m'lady?'

'Yes, thank you Y/N.'

You made your way down to the servants hall, putting away anything that needed cleaning from the daughter's rooms. Before too long, the staff were rounded up at the stairs, Mr Garrick doing final inspections of uniforms before we went up to meet our guests.

'We should go out to greet them all, now be on your best behavior. I'll have nothing less!' Mr Garrick said, the younger staff nodding nervously while others remained silent.

'Remember to not go running off William, I'll need your help with the bags,' Graves muttered to the youngest and newest of the footmen.

Mr Riley who was standing at the base of the stairs turned to him. 'I'm happy to assist you if needed.'

'No need! Don't more mistakes do we Mr Riley?' Graves was quick to quip back. You couldn't help but shake your head, following the other maids up the stairs.

The staff were lined up at the front of the incredibly beautiful house as the cars rolled in one by one through the gates, coming to a halt just in front of the tall double doors.

Lord John pushed forward first, her Ladyship Liliana close behind him to also greet Matthew. From the look of him, he looked like a kind man. Young, blond and blue-eyed just like his mother, Isobel, who followed close behind him. Older, a little grey-haired, but back straight with a smile.

The daughters greeted their aunts happily, while awkwardly greeting the newcomers. After brief chatter was shared amongst the family, they began to move into the house slowly.

Suddenly a scuffle erupted, the maids gasping as your eyes turned to see Mr Riley crash hard onto the pebbled ground, stones flying about messily and, to your horror, his mask.

You glanced up and saw Graves, an ugly smirk on his face as he looked down on the valet, his foot strangely kicked out in place before walking towards the back entrance.

'Riley, are you alright?'

You looked to see John coming to his side, grabbing the mask from the ground and handing it to him. The rest of the family watched on in shock.

'I am my lord, my apologies,' You heard Mr Riley grumble, keeping his face down as he placed his mask back on properly.

When his lordship had turned back to usher his family inside, Johnny, who stood tall at the door awaiting their entry, gave you a nod which you returned.

As the staff quickly dispersed, you went to Mr Riley's side, gently pressing a hand to his shoulder.

'Here, let me help you, Mr Riley,' You quietly said, grabbing his arm and slowly assisting him until he was steadily back on his feet.

You shook off the pebbles and dust caught onto his suit jacket and pants. 'There, much better–'

'Don't!' He suddenly snapped, slapping your hand away.

You gasped, taking a step away. Though his face was covered, there was a deep anger in Mr Riley's eyes that you had never seen before. It almost frightened you.

Mr Riley froze, taking in your change of demeanour. With a sigh, he uttered so quietly you almost missed it, 'Please don't pity me Miss ... I don't need it.'

He pushed past you roughly, his loud footsteps quickly becoming distant against the pebbled walkway as he left you behind.

The day continued as usual except, you noticed very quickly, the distinct absence of Mr Riley for the rest of the day. You had overheard Mr Garrick say he had taken poorly and couldn't continue to work.

Like bees that had caught the honey, the staff buzzed excitedly with the sudden gossip of his possible resignation or firing. Though the staff had calmed down since his arrival, it didn't change their stance that he didn't deserve the job.

It made you furious. Why should a man who had been at the house for a few months be let go just because of a small mishap? Something that wasn't even his fault. Nothing even happened!

Soon drinks for the family were complete after their meal, and dinner was being served in the servant's hall, but there was still no sign of Mr Riley.

After nibbling at your meal and failing to work up an appetite yourself, you found a tray and dished up some stew and some hot bread that had been served.

'What are you doing love?' You looked up to see Mrs Patmore enter the kitchens, clearly having finished her dinner.

'Oh, I was just making up a plate for Mr Riley, him not being well enough to join us. You won't mind Ms Laswell?' You addressed the head housekeeper who had appeared behind Mrs Patmore.

She nodded with a smile, 'Of course, just this once. The poor man has been through enough in one day.'

With a nod, you finished piling up the tray before making your way carefully through the corridors of the attics where the servants lived in and at end of the corridor, a light shone from beneath a door.

Making your way over, you peeked into the room. Through the mirror that hung on the cupboard, you could see sitting on the bed there sat the shaking silhouette of Mr Riley, and in the quiet, the soft sobbing emitted from him.

You couldn't help but feel your heart break at the site. Taking a step back, you cleared your throat. 'Mr Riley? Are you there?'

A shuffle was heard from within the room, footsteps approaching before the door opened to reveal Mr Riley. His eyes were swollen and red, his hair dishevelled and his shoulders tense.

You gave him a reassuring smile. 'I brought some dinner up, in case you were hungry.'

Immediately he deflated at the sight of you, eyes softened as he took in the tray of food neatly placed. 'That's very kind Miss. Even after what I did to you earlier ... you are still so generous.'

'It's nothing really,' You placed the tray in his hands which he placed off to the side, looking back to you.

'But it's the very opposite of nothing. I-I really am sorry for this morning, that was very unkind of me Miss.'

'No need for apologies Mr Riley,' You said, trying to keep your voice steady, 'You've been wronged since you arrived here and I hate to see you like this. Please don't let them drag you down. You are so much stronger than they are.'

He sighed heavily, eyes shying away from yours, leaning against the door frame. 'I hate to admit it ... it's very humiliating. Couldn't stomach any more of it.'

You shook your head firmly, stepping closer to him. 'You shouldn't be made to feel that way. Be proud of being here, John–I mean ... Lord Price chose you to be here for a reason. You've earned your place and you shouldn't have to hide or be ashamed.'

Mr Riley looked down at you, his eyes finally meeting yours and scanning your face. He clearly could see the tears in your eyes and heard the tremble in your voice.

'Why do you do this Miss?'

You were stunned, almost at a loss for words. Couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes, a thousand words and emotions even in silence. So instead, stepping even closer, chest to chest with him, you carefully reached for his hand. You felt him stiffen beneath your gentle touch momentarily before he allowed you to clasp your hands with his.

'You don't deserve to be treated as such. I don't like to see it,' You said, looking up into his eyes.

Not wanting to encroach on him any longer, you slowly pulled away, unable to hold back a small smile when you felt Mr Riley hold tight to your hand just a little longer before letting it drop from his grip. 

The next morning the servant's hall was busy with the staff filing in, breakfast of hot porridge with honey and buttered toast was served by Daisy and Mrs Patmore.

As Mr Garrick sat down, allowing everyone else to follow suit, Mr Riley appeared at the entrance to the hall and you couldn't help but smile, ignoring the scowl of some of the other staff.

'Ah, Mr Riley!' Ms Laswell greeted as she passed on bowls of porridge down the table, 'Good to see you up and about!'

'Indeed Ms Laswell, can't keep me down too long,' He muttered, looking straight at you as he did.

'That's good to hear, come and get yourself some breakfast we have a busy day ahead of ourselves!'

He nodded, making his way around the table and taking a seat beside you. And as a bowl of porridge was placed in front of you, you felt the fleeting caress of his gloved hand across your own beneath the table.

Call of Duty Masterlist a/n: I'm on a roll I tell you! And I love writing for these two.

@lostintransist @teapartydreams

[revelboo]

Revel- Revel, please, my bank account can’t, I’ve ordered too many little guys- Where am I even gonna put them all?! 🤣 Happy holidays, hun, and take care!!! If it wouldn’t be too much to ask, I’d love a little more Ironhide or IDW Bee if you’d be willing to spare some!!! Much love!!! ♥️

They don’t take up any space- and I just saw the new ones not released in the U.S. yet. They’re even smaller 😆 I may have bought a box���

Last Night Pt 7

IDW Bumblebee x Reader

• Glancing at where you’re wrapped in a blanket on a counter watching Ratchet work on him, he resists the urge to joke about you worrying over him. To tease, because you’re obviously not in the mood. That look on your face when you’d seen he was hurt had shook him. He’d known you were slowly starting to open up to him despite being unhappy about the circumstances, but he hadn’t thought you’d really cared. Hadn’t dared hope. “You’re going to have to take the whole arm off, huh? Can you please beat him with it when you do,” you say and as his head turn’s in surprise, your eyes are dead serious, but you’re smiling. Teasing him now that you’re sure the danger is over and his spark warms.

• “I ought to lock him in alt mode for a week,” Ratchet mutters. “For being careless.” Hear Bumblebee’s weak ‘hey, now’ of protest as his head turns sideways to stare at you. Making you uncomfortably aware of the way he’s smiling at you. Like he’s happy to be in Medbay getting poked and prodded. Because you’re there. Not sure how you feel about the warmth spreading through you at that stupid grin, you pointedly ignore him in favor of watching Ratchet work. So maybe he’s growing on you. So what? You’re still here against your will. Even if it’s not his fault.

• “You love me, admit it. You were worried,” he teases since you’d started it. Grinning when you scoff at him, looking everywhere but at him and he knows he’s right. That anger of yours at the situation no longer aimed right at him. Accepting that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been trying to help. There’s still guilt about trapping you in the Ark, there probably always will be, but he likes it better when you’re not actively blaming him.

• Love? Yeah, right. “I was only worried they might stick me with someone worse if you die on me.” Because in all honesty, he’s not so bad. It’s not like anyone you’d dated in the past was ever half so attentive unless they wanted something. Since sex is so far off the table to be laughable between your species even if he had the necessary parts, it’s hard to keep your guard up. Having decided he’s just lonely and he likes having you about. Having someone to talk to. And you might like talking to him, his optimism wearing you down.

• “You care. You like having me around.” Grinning when your face flushes and you shake your head in denial, too flustered and embarrassed to come up with a retort. And teasing you? Watching you get aggravated with him, but not truly angry? It’s nice. Being on the smaller side means getting forgotten or left out sometimes among the Autobots. Knows that and fully intends to make sure that it doesn’t happen to you even if he gets on your nerves. Because he likes having you beside him and can’t help reaching after you even if he’s getting on your nerves.

Previous

[oimitocat]

IT’S YOU | HC/DB

myung jaehyun x m!reader

fluff + idol!au + established relationship + sfw (wow) + 7th!member reader

a/n; i saw him once and spiraled down the bnd hole. why is he just so shufjfdhshhd.

dating him means having no self restraint

he doesn’t make it easy either, he likes to mess with you

playfully makes you jealous

he doesn’t order you around because he’s the leader: he orders you around because you’re so wrapped around his finger you’ll do it with no hesitation

”i need you guys to copy my move today, no backing out,” jaehyun announces with a mischievous grin.

“oh what will you make us do now?” leehan groans.

you simply smile, because fulfilling whatever your dear leader wants is something you’re willing to fulfill every time. seeing his adorable smile is everything you need to survive. he’s just so-

“y/n you’re squeezing too hard!” he whines as you pinch his cheeks.

“mm well who’s fault is it for being so cute?”

“ew,” dongmin gags playfully.

“jealous prick,” you playfully hit taesan’s arm as he walks past.

having taken advantage of you letting you to hit taesan, jaehyun runs off complaining about how he’ll look puffier.

he’s not insecure but he does show signs of discomfort in his own skin sometimes but you always make him feel better without being told how he feels

he always seeks you out just how he is with woonhak

he LOVES physical touch, could you not tell?

always holding your hand or hooking his arm with yours when walking next to you

LOVES IT when you give him piggy back rides

sometimes while all of you are getting touch ups, he’d be sitting on your lap and both your stylist and his have to deal with it

he didn’t like to be all over you like that before

you make him NERVOUS most of the time despite how shameless he is

will STARE YOU DOWN for a kiss because he literally gets gushy to ask for it

the two of you would be laying down on his bed, him cuddled into you. your phone is somewhere in the bedsheets, your cheek is rested on his head and your eyes stare at his phone as he scrolls through social media apps. one of your arms is under him, wrapped around to where your hand is above his hip.

he seems like he’s scrolling mindlessly, but he’s hyper focused on the way your fingers mess with the hem of his hoodie, raising it a bit and your fingertips grazing his skin.

“you’re zoning out,” you accuse when the same video repeats a third time.

“i am not, i was just trying to understand the video.” he argues, moving his head to look up at you.

“what is there to understand?” you chuckle, tilting your head to look at his pout, “the guy gets hit with a water ballon.”

“shut up,” he huffs, glaring at you, but you know better.

“yah, just say you want something,” you tease, leaning in to touch the tip of his nose with yours.

jaehyun makes a face before looking down at your lips. the tips of his ears are reddened, you grin.

“want a kiss?”

he nods, still not looking at you. you bring your hand out from the back of your head, shifting to a different position to lean in well. your free hand grabs his chin and tilts it up. your lips capture his in a soft kiss, you smile when he relaxes.

“next time don’t even ask baby,” you tease as you peck his lips again.

jaehyun huffs, trying to scoot away but your hand grips his waist and keeps him in place.

constant sleepovers

the two of you have different dorms but he still comes into your room and stays the night

that’s IF he’s not in the studio

“i brought you food,” you announce as you go inside the room he’s been cooped up in for the past five hours.

“i already ate-“

“when?” you huff, setting the food on the table behind him, “in the morning? it’s five pm.”

he makes a face, “i was thinking of doing a diet-“

“for what?” you cross your arms.

he stares at you before looking at the food.”i can start tomorrow-“

“or never.” you take out the food and assort it over the table, “come on, let’s eat.”

jaehyun makes a small noise of complaint before getting out of his chair and coming over to you. he sits next to you and patiently waits as you take out the utensils from their packaging. there’s an innocent look on his face, one you recognize very well the second you look at him. he tilts his head and smiles.

“fine, i’ll feed you,” you sigh as you pick up meat from his bowl and guide it to his mouth.

you can’t help but attack him with kisses while he munches down his food. he gives you cuteness aggression so bad, especially when he does his little dance when taking the first bite of food.

both of you work out so good because both your love languages include kisses

when he gets really excited or happy around you he does the same thing he does to the group— pauses and admires you

you catch him looking at you a lot more often than him catching you

he loves it when you pull him by the waist

AND IF YOU KISS HIM ONCE HE’S AGAINST YOU? he’s get all gushy

super sassy with you

doesn’t really like it when you worry over him but he gives you REASONS

normally that’s a cause for arguments but you genuinely show him you just want to care for him the way he cares for everyone

your big baby, always getting all soft and mushy and ends up crying if you two randomly get into a deep talk

literally bby girl

your bby girl

[autisticcatnip]

Andy Weir beat you to it

The Egg

By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

Imagining a world where reincarnation is real and everybody suddenly remembers their past lives BUT it turns out all of humanity is just a single soul reincarnating over and over again irrespective of time and space so nobody can talk shit

[heavyhitterheaux]

Love Bites (NSFW)

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You bite your husband out of affection that leads to something else

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Did… baby…. Did you just bite me?” Joe asked as he glanced over at you noticing that you had now moved your position and was laying your head on his shoulder.

After you had bitten it of course.

“No.”

“Then what did I just feel on my shoulder? You know… the one that you're laying on?”

“I don't know. Beats me.” You replied as Joe was still eyeing you.

“I don't believe you.” He told you as he turned back to the movie that was playing on the television.

“Okay? And what am I supposed to do with that information?” You asked him as you picked your head up to slowly bite down once more. This time on his upper arm.

“BABY!”

“I can't help it! You look so biteable today! Well everyday but I have to stop myself because I would literally bite you for hours. I watched your presser and went FERAL.”

“You literally go feral from the moment you open your eyes. And is that why you sent me a text calling me a whore?”

“Says the person who got me pregnant. And yes those are MY ARMS not anyone else's!” You told him as you softly bit down again except this time leaving a kiss on the same spot in your path.

Joe didn't say anything in response except slip his tank top over his head and throw it across the room as he eyed you.

“Get over here and sit on my lap.”

“Oh?”

“Are you going to continue to stare at me or do what I told you?” Joe asked as you felt a light smack to your ass since your body was already slightly turned towards him.

He didn't even bother waiting for you to move before he literally pulled you onto his lap.

Several kisses were placed on your lips as he reached underneath the t-shirt that you were wearing and started to play with the waistband of your thong.

To give him easier access, the t-shirt was pulled over your head and added to the pile that Joe had originally started. Seeing you weren't wearing a bra, Joe smirked and began to place kisses on both of them, but before he did, little bites were placed on your sensitive skin first.

The wetness between your thighs began to increase and you knew on days like this that you needed for your husband to give you his undivided attention.

Joe's mouth found its way back to yours as your thong was pulled to the side and his fingers started to lightly graze across your folds making you moan as one of his fingers was placed inside.

He wasted no time in breaking the kiss and telling you to stand up so that he could get rid of the rest of his clothes along with the last piece of clothing that was covering you.

As he put you back in your original spot on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you slowly eased your way down making a moan escape from both of your mouths.

When you got into a comfortable pace and began to ride him, Joe took this opportunity to leave small bites accompanied with kisses all across your body where he could reach.

“Mmm, baby.” You breathed out as you threw your head back in pleasure and Joe held onto your hips tighter.

He then placed one of your nipples in his mouth and bit down lightly before he began to suck on it making the moans escaping from your lips grow louder.

“Shiiiit.”

“You better ride me and act like you want it. How bad do you want to cum, baby?” Joe whispered in your ear and your only response was riding him faster.

“That's what I fucking thought.” He told you as you felt another light smack to your ass.

Joe could tell you were tiring out and decided to help you from underneath. After a while his movements became sloppy and both of you hit your peak at the same time.

Your arms were still wrapped around Joe's neck as you were trying to catch your breath and moved to rest your head on his shoulder.

As he was rubbing small circles along your back, you lifted your head to kiss him, but as you did, you also bit down at the same time and could feel Joe smirk as you continued to kiss him.

“If this is the result of me biting you, I need to do it more often.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby. Now lay down because I'm nowhere near done with you.”

[wings-of-ink]

Hello, my friends!

Just wanted to pop in with some info and updates.

*The "Cursed Birthday" won the 2k follower celebration poll. Sorry dads! I don't have an ETA for that just yet. I may write it here and there until the end of the year as the motivation strikes. I think the easiest way to tell the tale would be from Oswin's POV or even a shifting POV between him and Da (Kip). I'll decide for sure once I begin to write it. Also playing with the idea of doing this in Twine to make it playable. That way you could put your MC's specifics in for maximum emotional damage.

*I will still write things about the dads though, so all my Papa and Da fans out there won't be left in the dark forever.

*I will be "patching" Chapter 5 in the near future. I redid Zahn's scene (again) which gave me such a headache on release day. I formatted the beginnings in a much more streamlined way and fixed some bugs. When I have more time to sit and go through error reports, and make more corrections to typos, grammar, and code - then I will put the patch through.

*All chapters will be getting a scrub for issues in the text in the coming months. I will do my best to find them, but self-editing is very difficult (there's good reason that professional editors exist). In the future, I may need to ask for testers/editors.

*ASKS will be changing a bit. I do not know the full extent of how because it's a trial by fire. The rules will be updated as I come across things. But, here's why:

Spoiler prevention - as much as it is possible, I want to limit spoiling content for both new and existing readers. Not just for the plot points that are developing, but also for our mystery suitor who will have a lot of unraveling in the coming chapters. I will probably make a specific tag for answers that may contain spoilers, but some of the issue is the information in the Ask itself, which I can't hide. I may opt to compile these in a big post like once a month or so. This way, if anyone does not want to see anything spoilery, it's easier to avoid.

Time management - reaction asks specifically will remain limited and they will honestly have to be a lower priority depending on the condition of my inbox. I am very sorry for this, but these can take an inordinate amount of time. I write this IF in my downtime from work and personal life, and I also use those moments to manage Tumblr. I need to balance those so I can work toward releasing more of the IF.

Patreon - I still plan to give Patreon a go probably starting January. This will help me fund things for the game, such as art, and help me justify spending even more of my time writing chapters and extras. But like everything else, I will need to allot time to work on these things.

Personal Development - I'm taking a coding class! I can work on it at my leisure and it won't take a ton of time during the week, but it will take me out of my Tumblr time a little bit I think. Fingies crossed, I will learn a lot that will help me code a better game for you!

*Inbox - I have several Asks awaiting responses about chapter 5. As noted above, I am holding these due to spoilers to give readers a chance to catch up. (I may opt to compile these in one large post.)

Anyway, that's all for now (it's at least all I currently remember, lol).

Take care, all!

~Lunan ^_^

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴏꜱɪᴇʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I Appreciate You.

Short summary: After some persuasion, Tom joins you for Christmas dinner. Only then he finds out your parents haven’t exactly treated you well and seizes the opportunity to show you what it means to be truly appreciated.

Warnings: nothing, just fluff (for now…)

A/N: I have entered a bad case of writing block halfway through this, so I cut it short. I AM SORRY. I’ll take a day or two off and write a pt 2☹️

wordcount: 1,6k

Tom and you have been friends for a while – or rather study accomplices, as he would call it. Though lately, you have grown closer. Oddly close, at least if you knew Riddle, who wasn’t one to interact with others unless it served a purpose. You have known that from the beginning, so it never really appeared to you why he would be different towards you exactly – but you weren’t going to complain about someone tutoring you after all – someone who was equally as smart as pretty.

“You forgot pearl dust.” he sighs in disappointment, not looking up as he fidgets with his quill. “Tom it’s been two hours, my head is a mess. Let’s take a break?”

His gaze flicks from his quill to your eyes and stares at you briefly before speaking up. “I don’t take breaks. If you want me to keep being generous enough to help you, you do it my way.”

That’s how it goes every single time. You don’t argue against it – you just do what he says. The desperation to become better at Potions is greater than your ego after all and you have also come to notice it is better not to talk back to him. The last time you did, he wouldn’t even speak to you for two weeks after.

Tom clears his throat and you return your focus to the present. “It’s been an unnecessarily long time since you have started staring at me. Focus on your textbook.”

“Right, right! Sorry.” Your cheeks heat up and you repeat the brewing process from the beginning.

After what feels like an eternity, he is satisfied – as much as he could be. Tom obviously is never fully satisfied, always has something to criticize that you didn’t do right, something he says you would need to work on the next time you two meet to study.

There was always going to be a next time.

As you two pack up, you see house elves working on the Christmas decorations just outside the library, putting up a pine tree and some red and golden ornaments. It’s the Thursday before winter break, and you would soon go home to spend the time with your family. They have told you to bring a friend, though all of them have declined so far. You would just go alone. Until – well, you think about Tom.

“Uh, I actually have one more question.” You start, turning to face him. He raises his eyebrows expectantly signalling you to continue. “Soooo, I have been wanting to ask you whether you wanted to join me for Christmas dinner at home. My parents have asked me to bring someone along.”

“We aren’t friends. Besides that, I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

That’s exactly the answer you assumed he’d give, but you weren’t going to give up that easily. Your family has been talking about him often lately, about the Gaunt family, purebloods just like you. All the things they say you don’t understand anyway. It’s been like that since you were born, they always favoured your older brother over you. You have stopped arguing against it.

“Come on, Tom! It’s just a dinner, one evening. I know you don’t usually leave Hogwarts for Christmas break, I just wanted to give you the opportunity to meet my parents. They have been talking about you.”

He contemplates for a moment then. He is aware that his family, at least his mother’s side, has caught people’s attention. Apparently also the Rosiers’. Rosier family, part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It would only be to his benefit to get to know them personally. And he hated admitting it, but lately - he has found himself strangely intrigued by you. A smart girl, who wouldn’t normally need his tutoring, not if he didn’t tell you to come back every week for another lesson.

“I suppose I will think about it. If I decide for it, I will join you at the train station.”

Your lips curl into a bright smile. “Thank you, Tommy! You are the best.”

He sighs. “How often have I told you to stop calling me that?”

“Sorry, sorry! I am just super excited to introduce you. They have been pestering me with questions about your mother’s family.”

You swear you see a slight spark in his eyes at the mention of his mother, though his usual stern expression returns just a second later. “Have a good evening.” he replies and leaves you behind at the library without saying another word.

-

There has not been a single sign of Tom when you board the train. Secretly you have hoped he would come and join you, though as soon as you leave the station you find yourself at peace with the fact you’d be going home alone for the break. The scenery shifts as you look out of the window, a thick layer of snow covering the otherwise green Scottish Highlands. You see deer scavenging for any grass they can find, scraping at the frozen ground with their hooves, the nearby hares’ white winter fur blending in perfectly with the scenery.

There aren’t too many students in your wagon, meaning you get to have a compartment all for yourself. Just like normally, your eyes grow tired, voices around you turning into a blur, and you fall asleep.

It wasn’t long until someone clearing their throat, taking a seat next to you woke you again. “So, what’s for dinner?” he asks, and you turn to face him.

Your face lights up at the sight of the person in front of you. “Tom! I am so happy you decided to come along!”

“I suppose it’s a welcome opportunity to connect with another renowned family.” he replies, and you nod, though slightly disappointed. “Of course.”

The rest of the journey, both of you don’t speak much. It’s a weird energy between you, something you don’t quite recognize. You are glad – as glad as you could be, knowing your family awaits you just outside – when the train arrives at your station. Both of you get off, and your mother’s and father’s faces light up at the sight of, not you, but Tom. They greet him first, ask him how the journey has been.

It’s only when you arrive at home that they ask you to help prepare dinner while Tom’s being shown around the manor. Even at dinner they won’t let him be and you wonder whether it was a good decision to bring him home with you.

In a moment of silence, your mother first looks at you, then at him. A smile forms on her face, something you only rarely get to see and you wonder what may be behind it.

“We are so glad you have decided to join us. Our daughter really couldn’t have chosen a better boyfriend.”

Oh.

You feel your heart drop in your chest at her words. They must have misunderstood the situation. Your cheeks heat up and you see Tom’s face changing into one of confusion.

Trying to save the evening, you quickly try to explain. “No it’s- we are not-“

“I am pleased to hear I am meeting your expectations.”

Tom’s words cut you off, and for a moment you aren’t sure whether you have heard him correctly. You blink a few times and shoot him a confused look, and he smiles at you.

Smiles.

You nod quickly, lowering your gaze onto the plate in front of you as you feel your cheeks heat up. For the rest of the evening, you don’t say much, even when you all gather around the Christmas tree. They ask questions about your relationship, which only Tom answers. He sits next to you and as the night progresses, his hand wanders up your lower back, snaking around your waist. You visibly shiver at his touch but decide to play along.

As soon as everyone has excused themselves to bed, you move away a little, escaping his grip. “Tom, I am sorry, they must have completely misunderstood.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“No really I-“

“Sshhh.” he whispers, his face inching closer to yours then, capturing you in a tender kiss. His hand rests on the back of your head, softly pressing you against him. You inhale deeply as you break apart, your eyes trailing up from his lips to his eyes. It’s only the candles on the Christmas tree that shine a dim light on both of your forms, yet you are able to make out the changed look on his face.

“We shouldn’t.” you murmur, shaking your head.

“I see the way you look at me in the library. And you perfectly know why I want to keep meeting you. Yet both of us are too stubborn to admit it.”

Though you hate to admit it, he’s right.

“I just didn’t think you would like someone like me.”

Tom huffs. “You never acknowledge your worth, and I suspect that is what your parents have taught you. They don’t see your potential. They diminish your achievements. Why do you let them?” he asks, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I have stopped caring a long while ago. You know how it is.”

Tom doesn’t reply after that, though his hand continues running up and down your back soothingly. You stay like this for a while, until he slowly turns his head, facing you.

“I will show them what it means to appreciate you.”

His voice is low and controlled as his face is a mere inch away from yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I will show you what it means to be appreciated.”

[flowery-moth-angel]

Oh boy I got answers.

1: Reconnecting with Yahweh. I grew up christian and became very traumatized and felt abandoned. I suffered a lot and religion played a part too. I rejected God fairly early on. Because on of the energies I felt was distant and uncaring, that I had to just trust him for no reason. But over time, listening to other religions and people that genuinely have a relationship of some kind with him, started to heal. And I also just always talked to him. But when I talked to him, he felt so different to the God I felt before. Like they were so vastly different. And recently I decided to just start learning about Yahweh. I learned a lot already. About him having a wife, how he was worshipped long ago, the way Christianity and Catholicism came to be. And how much was also lost due to them trying to erase Asharah as well. And the energy I feel lines up with the more neutral/calm energy I felt from God.

It makes me proud because it is bettering me and the energy I feel from him now is what I always wished it was to be. I don't believe the other energy I felt was God. I have felt intense or heavy energy of some deities that are more serious or even distant. But that other energy was just awful. Yet it was what was "God" in my childhood and with my parents. One theory some have is it's an egregore that evangelicals really believe in which is pretty much I believe. Cause it is so vastly different from the God I am closer to now. It just makes me happy seeing a heavy spot that was so traumatic to me is becoming better and that I'm learning a lot about what he is really like and a lot of history too. Religions and beliefs and faiths and practices are a special interest too outside my practice so I also just like learning about it.

2: Reconnecting to my roots. Since I was young, any time I asked my parents about our ancestry or lineage, I got told we were just American or that we don't know and it doesn't matter. I hated feeling so culturally separated. It's clear our family has been in America for a good while now and let a lot of our cultures go from the past. And it's been something I've never liked since I was a kid. While I don't know everything that I have and want to do a DNA test, I already try to learn about a lot of my roots. I'm mostly focusing on Celtic/Irish now and had German a bit ago. But there's also English, French, and Scottish. I want to really reconnect to those old roots that were left forgotten or colonized and left behind. That old magic and ancestral importance that was forsaken for how it is today. I'm just starting with Celtic/Irish since I feel the largest draw, but I'll get there one day too. A lot was lost through colonization and all since even before they colonized many other nations, white nations very much did colonize themselves first. And so I want to learn about that history and ancestry and come to have it as a part of me. It's gonna be a lot of work, but like. It's important to me. Whatever lineage I have that dates back before many many many eras, I wish to honor it the best I can. So much culture has been lost due to colonization and christianity/catholicism so I feel it's important. It's a shame really. But still. It's especially not going to be easy for like English history either because just a quick look into it and yeah. A lot of it was very much lost to time and to the roman influence and anglo-saxons as well. And it is a shame seeing how much history, culture, and beliefs are lost due to so many influences throughout time. Again, I've only really focused on Celtic/Irish for now so that's the one I'm most well versed in currently. But I know it's going to be a journey with how far back it'll need to go and how much truly was lost. But even if it's not much, I'll do what I can to give it some form of life in today and through me. So little is known about our family and it really shows how much we conformed and paints an ugly history too. We don't know much beyond great grandparents and great great grandparents and I know even less about my dad's side of the family. I barely know anything about his grandparents or his life. So with that and having always wanted to understand my culture and my ancestry, I really want to focus on it with studying and learning what I can and incorporating parts of it into my practice if I can. It's been a strong draw since I was young. This strong pull and desire to know where we come from. Even if I'm the only one in my family, it makes me proud to know I'm gonna do it. And I've already begun to do so.

3: Coming into my own. Lately been feeling Marquis Andras a lot. And he has been helping me for sure. But I feel more renewed strength and learning to trust myself and communicate. Even if his lessons are very intense and painful since, ya know, he's a demon associated with sowing discord. He's not the easiest teacher, but I appreciate that. But even at the start of my journey years ago, it helped so much with my trauma and delusions and hallucinations then. I'm prone to paranoia and I'm schizospec and psychotic so like. I have issues. But since becoming a witch and feeling protected and understanding more of what I feel, it's been better. A lot of the trauma I dealt with back then has eased a bit to where I'm not always angry or scared. And I'm far less frightened at night or in the dark. I feel less powerless. And right now, I'm working on better communication and trusting my gut. I usually downplay my abilities when telling signs or feelings the presence of deities and stuff like that. So. I'm learning to trust it. And to go with my gut more. Cause I am often right. But I'm pretty insecure and have low self esteem and low confidence when doing things myself. And it's been better. Marquis Andras is one of the focuses right now, but all of the deities that have helped me and will help me even if I do not know them yet or can identify them or feel them yet makes me very happy. They have shown me more love than I have ever received. They're important to me. So just. Really becoming more confident and self assured, figuring out what works for me as a really disabled and traumatized person that is financially dependent and not well off, what I'm drawn to, learning to trust myself, and so on. It feels like I really am growing. That every single time, I become a better version of myself. And that makes me proud.

Pagans and polytheists, what are you most proud of in your practice? Lessons you've learned, new methods of worship you've implemented, offerings you've given - that sort of thing. 🧡

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:19 am]

(cw: f!reader, surprise genre hehehe)

Doyoung's breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. You looked gorgeous, he always thought so but today... today you looked ethereal, like an angel. The flowy material of your dress makes you look like you came down from heaven to grace him especially with your presence.

"Doyoung," you breathe out, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Your eyes are wide with surprise, eyelids sparkling with the glitter dabbed across your eyelids.

Doyoung feels his breath hitch in his throat, his heart pounding so hard and fast he fears it might jump out of his chest. "You look... you- wow." He stutters out, his cheeks flushing with surprise and admiration.

The bridal party hustles around the small room behind you, a flutter of sage green chiffon and small bouquets of flowers. You step outside the door and shut it quietly behind you, not wanting your bridesmaid to know you're with him. "What are you doing here?" You ask nervously, fingering fumbling with the lace of your veil.

"I wanted to see you," Doyoung answers softly.

"No, Doyoung. I mean what are you doing here. You weren't invited," you reply coldly.

Ex-boyfriend!Doyoung sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be out of the country by now or at least 10,000 feet in the sky. He didn't want to be anywhere near this event! Yet, here he was. After hearing that one of your mutual friends was coming last week, he'd known he wasn't going to actually be on his flight.

He found the same friend, found a selfie they'd posted on their story, and narrowed down the venue to a few different places. He got lucky that he got it right on the first try.

He runs a hand down his face, "I wanted to talk to you. See how you were doing, hopefully- hopefully..."

"Hopefully what? Change my mind? Convince me to leave my fiance?" You question while crossing your arms across your chest defensively.

"Not that, I just... I can't let you do this. I can't let you marry someone else, we belong together," Doyoung explained, reaching for your hands with a hopeful look in his eye.

You pushed his hands away, "no, you don't get to let me do anything. We're not together and we haven't been for 4 years. We've barely talked in all that time and you decide that the day I'm getting married is the day to try to make amends? What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Doyoung repeats as he feels his throat get thick, "What's wrong with me is that I've been miserable since we broke up!"

You sigh tiredly to keep yourself calm, "I broke up with you. Do you know why?"

"It was the wrong moment for us. We were always going to come back to each other. We're soulmates," Doyoung stammers out.

"No, I broke up with you because you couldn't compromise. You refused to make changes in the life we were building together to benefit the both of us. It was your way or the highway and I was tired of forcing myself to be who you wanted me to be. I'm not leaving with you, I'm not leaving my fiance for you, I'm not ever going to force myself to make a decision that you've already made for me ever again. I'm happy, I'm marrying the love of my life and he's not you," you tell Doyoung in a calm, collected voice.

You'd dreamt of this moment since you both broke up and he refused to acknowledge the truth. He refused to believe that he was the problem or could ever be a problem in general. Every couple of months he'd reach out, trying to rekindle things, but when you tried to address the issue, he deflected and the conversation became useless. After a couple pointless conversations, you stopped replying, stopped holding out hope for change. You allowed yourself time to heal, to get out there, meet new people, and fall in love with someone who was the human embodiment of your better half.

One of your bridesmaid opens the door, a surprised, "oh" ringing out in the tense silence between you and Doyoung. "It's time to head out for the first look," she tells you quietly.

You nod, looking Doyoung in the eye, "Bye, Doyoung."

He knows that if he speaks, he'll barely be able to get any words out with the knot he feels in his throat, so he just nods. He walks away, blinking rapidly to try to keep himself from breaking down and bawling like a baby. As he leaves, he spots your fiance with his groomsmen. He can see the radiant smile on his face and hear how excited he is, hear the way he gushes about you in a way Doyoung doesn't remember doing himself.

[koalapastries-writes]

okay which drivers do you think would want to come out as a couple and which ones would you have to ask to come out as a couple?

also congrats on 250!!! so proud of you ❤️

thank you milo <3333

this one's interesting because i could kinda see a lot of them in either category but here's my current thoughts:

warnings: suggestive content (lando, kimi a, rbr + ferrari!seb), mentions of affectionate bullying (lando), mentions of having kids (am + retired!seb, kimi r), mentions of marriage (am + retired!seb, jenson), mentions of joke flirting with someone else (ollie), mentions of violence (logan), mild angst (kimi a, logan), autistic!oscar bc i said so

asks you to go public:

alex albon:

something you will notice about when i write alex is that he is just a goofy guy

like he'd ask to go public but only because he's either a) already accidentally revealed the relationship or b) wanting to post goofy boyfriend photos of you

if it's the first one he's got a back-up "i'm sorry" gift in case you're not exactly ready

if it's the second one he's already got a post drafted and you better believe he will post it the SECOND he gets approval

he's silly and bad at keeping it a secret but he'll try his best for you

franco colapinto:

yappatron 6000

he's probably already told the whole grid and every mechanic who would listen to him for more than five seconds

knows it's only a matter of time before he starts talking about you in interviews

definitely the type to forget that he's famous

his family knows, lewis hamilton congratulated him on being a (sort of) out F1 driver ... everyone else can just find out randomly as far as he's concerned

mick schumacher:

wants to post all the couples pictures he has of you two

how can you possibly say no to this golden retriever?

it's impossible

you hard launch ten minutes later

lando norris:

so i don't usually write for lando but i do sometimes so 🤷‍♂️

would probably ask to go public just to prove that he actually can get a date (he doesn't like to talk about his instagram attempts)

it backfires immediately

now instead of being teased for being single he's being teased for being whipped

tells everyone you asked him to go public and then forgets to turn his mic off while streaming and accidentally reveals that he literally begged you

needless to say, his friends refuse to let him live it down

charles leclerc:

ok listen he's a pretty boy and he wants to be shown off

he wants to follow you around and be your arm candy

will get very very pouty if you hesitate or refuse

he'll understand, but he will be pouty until you either kiss him, cuddle him, or agree to go public

when you're out he's just a happy little bunny wandering around the paddock and abandoning his team responsibilities if he sees you

(ferrari tries to ban you from the paddock, charles cries until they give in)

aston martin + retired era sebastian vettel:

if he can't win races he wants to make it VERY clear that all his flirting over the year was just for funsies

like with his whole cool mature twink-death phase, he brings up the idea of settling down

you're not impressed

"sebastian we have three kids. if you still think this is 'casual' i don't know what to tell you."

... he does sleep on the couch for a couple nights

eventually he will convince you tho and you'll go to your first race with the whole paddock knowing you're his husband and not just his Really Close Friend Who He Happened To Touch A Lot.

ollie bearman:

i know this is kinda contradictory to the crossdressing post but i think ollie would bring up coming out before you?

like, prema knows, haas knows, ferrari knows, his family knows ... he knows he's pretty secure

does joke about bearnelli with you

which results in you (jokingly) flirting with dino or arthur and a very whiny baby bear

probably wouldn't want to do it until after / part way through his rookie season

just so he's a little more settled yk?

you ask to go public:

jenson button:

this one might be a lil controversial

i think jenson would actually to prefer to stay private for longer?

like, he won't tell anyone when you're dating

but the second you're married he's like

EVERYONE LOOK AT MY HUSBAND HE'S SO HOT

sky tries to reprimand him and jenson shows up to the next race with one of those "i ❤️ my husband" t-shirts and rainbow trousers

he looks like a dork but it's okay because he's cute

kimi antonelli:

absolutely adores you and talks about you at prema all the time

talks about you at mercedes all the time

george already knows your shoe size (among other things)

but the idea of going public and everyone knowing he has a boyfriend? absolutely terrifying

he kinda just posts the same sorts of things he posts with ollie and hopes everyone will assume you're just a friend

you're fine with it, because you know you're always the one he runs to for celebratory kisses after a win :)

kimi raikkonen:

shouldn't be surprising

he's not actively hiding you or actively trying to tell people

he just ... doesn't really talk about his personal life?

some of the drivers know, some don't

he's 100% been wearing a wedding/promise/whatever ring for years and nobody notices

there's a chance nobody knows he's ever dated anyone until your kid starts karting and he posts a video of the kid everyone thought was just his calling you dad and the internet explodes

lance stroll:

would rather die than have journalists asking you invasive questions

everyone knows he's dating someone but nobody knows who

lawsuits + bribes to any tabloids who get photos of you

insists on getting you a bodyguard if you ever come out

you try to get his dad to reason with him

lawrence thinks lance could be worse

overall, billionaire boyfriend just wants to cuddle at home and will do anything to protect that

10/10 very cute and whiny when he realises that means you can't go with him to Official F1 Business™ things

logan sargeant:

might've been half-out in the junior formulae?

like kind of an open secret in the paddock but he doesn't post about it

then he gets promoted to f1

at first he's super excited because he knows you get along really well with lily (alex's gf) and with all the talk of williams being a family, hopes you'll get to do normal wag/hab stuff with her

then things go downhill

logan absolutely refuses to let you anywhere near williams

half out of fear that somebody would say something rude to you

half out of fear that you'd light v*wles on fire if you got close enough

oscar piastri:

this man is Oblivious with a capital "O"

he tries his best really but he just. doesn't pick up on cues like that.

(yes this is me pushing my autistic!oscar agenda idc i'm autistic i'm allowed to say it)

has a massive folder of cute photos that either include you or remind him of you

it takes up about a quarter of his phone's storage

he refuses to delete any of them

still keeps it pretty private if you do ask to go public

he likes that he can just be oscar with you

he doesn't want the media taking that away from him

will only delete some of his photos when they're copied onto two separate usb's that are both in fireproof safes (one in his apartment in monaco, one in his childhood home in melbourne)

rbr + ferrari era sebastian vettel:

i recently saw this era described as feral twink energy and. yeah.

he's flirting with anything in the paddock that has a pulse

fans? yes.

journalists? yes.

drivers? yes.

team members? yes.

fia officials? yes.

EVERYBODY

eventually you'll ask if he could just please mention that he is, in fact, taken and (here's where it depends on if you're dom/sub) either make you beg or push you to the point of fucking it out of him

if anyone saw one of you limping in the paddock one day?

no they didn't.

this was fun, i definitely enjoy going deeper into what i think the drivers would be like in relationships :D

[kiya-sparks]

Uhm-

This is my first ever post so here’s a small fanfic about Gaz from modern warfare adopting a child he finds on a mission :|

Uhm here it is ig:

The heat was oppressive, the kind that seeped into your bones and made you question every decision that led you here. Kyle Garrick, better known to his comrades as Gaz, adjusted his grip on his rifle as he moved through the desolate town. The mission had been straightforward—intel suggested that enemy forces had been using the abandoned area as a weapons cache. What they hadn’t expected was the eerie silence, the stillness that felt wrong.

“Clear on my side,” Price’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Same here,” Soap chimed in.

Gaz swept through a crumbling house, his boots crunching on broken glass and debris. The wallpaper was peeling, the furniture overturned. It was a ghost town. But as he moved into the living room, something stopped him in his tracks—a faint sound, almost like a whimper.

“Hold up,” Gaz whispered into his mic.

“What is it?” Price asked.

“Not sure. Checking it out.”

He followed the sound, heart pounding, until he reached a closet. Slowly, he opened the door, his rifle raised. What he found made his stomach twist—a little girl, no older than six, huddled in the corner. Her blonde hair was tangled, her face smudged with dirt, and her wide blue eyes stared up at him in fear.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz muttered, lowering his weapon.

The girl flinched, curling tighter into herself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, crouching down to her level. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her eyes darted to the gun, then back to his face.

“Gaz, report,” Price’s voice came through the comms.

“I… I found a kid,” Gaz said, still trying to process it himself.

“A kid?” Soap sounded as surprised as Gaz felt.

“Yeah. She’s scared out of her mind. I don’t think she’s been here long.”

Price’s tone shifted. “Bring her out. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Gaz extended a hand to the girl. “Come on, love. It’s not safe here.”

She hesitated but eventually reached out, her tiny hand slipping into his. It was cold, and it broke something in Gaz to think of her alone in this place.

---

Back at the makeshift base, Y/N , as they learned her name was, sat wrapped in one of Gaz’s jackets, clutching a cup of warm tea. She hadn’t spoken much, just short answers to their gentle questions.

“Parents?” Soap asked quietly as the three of them stood off to the side.

“Gone, I’d wager,” Price said grimly.

Gaz’s jaw tightened. “We can’t just leave her.”

“We’re not going to,” Price said. “But this isn’t exactly a daycare. She needs a stable home.”

The words hung in the air, and Gaz felt something stir in his chest. He looked over at Y/N , who was staring into the cup like it held all the answers. There was something about her—maybe it was the way she’d clung to him during the ride back, or the way she looked at him now, like he was the only safe thing in her world.

“I’ll take her,” Gaz said, surprising even himself.

Price raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, son? This isn’t a short-term commitment.”

“I know,” Gaz said firmly. “But she deserves better than being tossed into the system. I can give her a home.”

Soap smirked. “Didn’t peg you for the dad type, mate.”

Gaz shrugged. “Guess I am now.”

---

The transition wasn’t easy. Y/N was shy, often retreating into herself. But Gaz was patient. He bought her toys, books, and a tiny pink bike she instantly fell in love with. He learned how to braid her hair, how to pack her lunch for school, and how to comfort her when nightmares woke her in the middle of the night.

The rest of the Task Force became her extended family. Soap was the goofy uncle who taught her Scottish slang, and Price was the gruff but caring grandfather figure who always seemed to have a Werther’s Original in his pocket for her. Even Ghost, with his intimidating demeanor, had a soft spot for Y/N, often bringing her small trinkets from missions.

One evening, months after he’d taken her in, Gaz sat on the couch, watching Y/N color in one of her books.

“Daddy?” she said suddenly, looking up at him.

Gaz’s heart stopped. She’d never called him that before.

“Yeah, love?”

“Are you gonna go away?”

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He set his mug down and moved to sit next to her.

“I’ll always come back,” he promised, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No matter what.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. She went back to her coloring, and Gaz sat there, overwhelmed by the weight of her trust.

For years, he’d thought his purpose was on the battlefield, protecting the world from threats. But now, as he watched Y/N hum to herself, he realized his most important mission was right here at home.