#but we already established that in the asks

[g4rvez-r3id]

Naughty Boy

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Unit Chief! Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer are trying to have a little fun in secret until Emily walks in… Spencer decides to make it a little more interesting underneath your desk.

Category: Smut

Warnings: established relationship, power dynamics, reader and spencer keep their relationship private so it’s a bit of forbidden love trope, kissing, smut warnings: lowkey sub!spencer, and also lowkey perv!spencer, spencer has a boner, straddling, stroking, cunnilingus, getting caught, exhibitionist kink? fingering, cumming in pants, use of ‘sweet boy’, ‘good boy’ and ‘naughty boy’, spencer lowkey pathetic- idk that should cover it

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! lowkey this one kinda sucked but i wanted to write a smut oneshot 🤭 got this idea watching a sitcom lmao anyways post prison sub spencer supremacy 🛐 debating on writing a part two to this one where reader punishes spencer hehehe let me know! please enjoy this one!! <3

A lot of changes happened since you’d become unit chief of the BAU. It wasn’t your intention of becoming unit chief but Emily Prentiss believed otherwise. She passed down the tassel to you since you’d had so much experience on this team for years. And she also knew Hotch would’ve wanted it, too.

After Barnes tried to take the BAU down, Emily was given back her job and hiring authority. Feeling as if you’d earned the spot, she promoted you. Of course, you were a little anxious taking charge at first but Emily assured she’d stay every step of the way and even offered to take over when you felt the power to be a bit too much.

You and Spencer’s relationship had become more balanced since he got back from prison and you felt the need to keep your relationship under wraps for as long as possible. Nobody knew you two were together, you both were very careful when it came to your relationship. You’d only been dating for a year and a half since he got back from prison where he’d finally confessed his undying love for you and that he’d show you just how much he loved you when he got out.

You’d both been pining after each other for years before the fact. And since then every moment you’d shared together has been wonderful, despite keeping it hidden from your colleagues. It was for the better, especially now that you were a higher power. If it wasn’t strictly forbidden before, it definitely was now that you were unit chief.

You were lucky that you’d chosen someone that was usually good at keeping secrets. You both never arrived to work together, you both left work at separate times and only ever spoke in a professional manner to one another. Of course, nothing too far as to not speaking to each other entirely. You were surprised that no one had suspected a thing for the year and a half you’d been together.

Today, you were in your office, filing everyone’s paperwork and signing off on them one by one. You’d just finished JJ’s when there was a knock on your door. “Come in.” You spoke and behind the door had been your loving and doting boyfriend.

“This a bad time?” Spencer asked as he waited for your okay to come in. “No, no, not at all. Come in.” You smile and turn towards your already closed blinds. If you hadn’t already closed them, it definitely would’ve looked suspicious if you closed them now.

As soon as he shut your door, you stood up from your seat with a sly smirk and walk over to him. “So, what can I do you for?” You ask. “Oh, nothing, I just—” Spencer rests his hands on your hips. “I just missed you.”

You smile as you hold him close. It’d been a minute since you had a moment together. Cases were often disrupting already what little time you two had together.

“I missed you too, my love.” You say, looking into his eyes with a loving smile. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? I’m working on the paperwork now so I won’t have to stay here too late tonight.” You suggest and he smile right back at you. “I’d like that. We could use a date night.”

You pull him closer to kiss you on your lips and as you pull him flush against your body, you feel it. It’s definitely unmistakable that he’s hard in his pants.

“Uh, baby?” You ask, pushing him a bit. “Yeah?” He asks as he leans his head down towards his collarbone. “Are you… hard just from a few kisses?” This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten an erection just from a few simple kisses from you. He pretty much gets turned on by anything you do. And you secretly love it.

“I can’t help it, Spencer admits into your neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blush at his words and smile, “Aw, thank you, my love.” His mouth stays on your neck, sucking on your pulse point. You pull him towards your chair and push him into it, getting on top of him and straddling him with a smirk etched on your face as you lean down and kiss him on his lips.

He tries to speak into the kiss, pushing you away for a brief moment. “Wait, wait, wait.” He says and you look down at him, your index finger tapping on his plump pink lips, staring down at them. You had a bit of an oral fixation when it came to Spencer Reid. Whether it was for yourself or for him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I just don’t want us to get caught, that’s all.” Spencer stated and you smile, “I know, sweet boy. But you let me worry about that, okay? Right now, I just want to take care of my boy.”

You run your hand towards the front of his slacks and palm his hard cock through his pants. He moans a little too loud and you are quick to clasp your free hand over his mouth. “If we want to this to work, you’re gonna need to be a good boy and be quiet, okay?” He nods vehemently into your palm.

You stroke him a few more times through his pants and you check and see that your sweet boy’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. You wonder how long you can keep him on the edge, how long you can make this until he’s shouting that he can’t take it anymore, how much he’ll—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You and Spencer look at each other in horror before you quickly usher him underneath your desk and fix yourself up to the best of your ability, sitting in your seat. Surely, you could’ve explained that Spencer was just in here for a moment but you acted quickly and couldn’t risk whoever was coming in to talk to you to see what you two were doing. You two didn’t exactly have the best poker faces in the world.

“Come in.” You say, attempting to sound as normal as you can. The door opens and in walks Emily. “Hey, Y/n. Care if we talk for a moment?”

“Of course, come right in.” Emily nods, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the chair in front of your desk.

As Emily begins to talk with you about your most recent case paperwork and begins on giving you pointers on how to handle it quickly, Spencer is crouched underneath your desk and he has a perfect view up your skirt.

You’re too distracted with Emily being in the room to feel how his hands — his gorgeous hands — glide up and down your calf and they begin to reach in a higher place and you flinch as his nimble fingers touch your underwear.

Your eyes widen as Emily furrows her brows at you and seems to notice you’ve flinched. “Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, “Oh, yeah, super. Just too fidgety today,” You hold up your mug. “Too much coffee.”

Emily continues her advice as you feel Spencer removing your underwear down your thighs. You don’t see how he stuffs them in his pocket. He bunches your skirt to the best of his ability and you look down just for a brief moment to see that he’s become in a trance as he gawks at your wet pussy.

You’re so lucky that your desk is too high up for Emily to see what you two are doing. This is so wrong. You should definitely try and stop him but the fact that he could be caught underneath your desk — it just turns you on even more. Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?

“Another thing that I recommend that you do is—” You hardly listen to Emily as you try your best to give your undivided attention to her but it’s really difficult when the man you love is underneath your table, lapping at your pussy with his useful tongue.

You feel everything as he begins to suck on your clit and sticks his fingers into your hole and you try your best to keep a straight face. You bite your lip and try and keep yourself as hunched over as you can to not draw suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily asks, once more. “Uh, yeah,” Your cheeks redden. “I’m… just not feeling very…” You feel as he rolls his tongue in a figure-eight on your bundle of nerves. “Well at the… the moment.”

“If you need to go home, I can take over the rest of the day.” Emily offers and you think about it. You definitely need the time to punish your sweet boy for being needy and impatient, so maybe going home would be a good idea.

“Uh, that’s probably a good idea.” You say. “Why don’t you let the rest of the team know?” Emily nods and leaves the room and you wait for the door to shut to finally gasp and whimper.

As Emily exits the room, she walks away from the door and shudders. Yeah, she knew what the hell was happening. The team pretty much knew you two were together already. You guys didn’t have the best poker faces in the world.

“Oh, you naughty boy.” You back your seat up a bit as you run your hands through his hair. He takes his mouth off of you for a second to breathe. “I like seeing you in an authoritative position. It’s sexy.” With that, he dives back in, running his tongue through your folds again.

You take your hand through his locks, pushing him impossibly deeper into your pussy. “Oh, my God!” You exclaim softly, eyes rolling back as he finishes you off. “Come on, cum for me. Please. Please. Baby, please.” He pleads in your pussy, moaning and sending vibrations through your body as he sticks his fingers back inside.

You bite your lip to contain your moans in your office and you feel yourself gush over his face and look at him, his eyes blown with lust and love. “Did I do good?” Spencer asks, wiping his mouth of your essence and you smirk.

“You did.” You admit. “Now, that Emily’s gone, maybe I should finish what we started.” Spencer looks down and shakes his head, “No, I, uh, actually don’t need help with that anymore.”

You furrow your brows, look down and sure enough, Spencer’s slacks are a shade darker near his crotch. You should’ve expected this, he’d cum at the slightest touch.

“Somebody definitely wants to get punished tonight.” You tease, dragging a finger to his chin and he holds his arms up in surrender. “Hey, sorry I wanted to look good for my boss.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. He can be so impossible sometimes.

So, you tell him to exit the office as discreetly as he can with his blazer over his crotch to hide the evidence and to call in for the rest of the day, making an excuse that there’s a bug going around so you can edge him for hours on end when he gets to your apartment.

[lunebulous]

How would Xavier react to seeing you dressed as a bride? - Bonus Chapter

C.w: fluff, non-established relationship, silly, xavier x reader, sfw, corpse bride mentions, not proofread.

Stirring a purple juice that seems to be thicker than it should, Xavier is startled by his own doorbell. He’s not waiting for anyone - didn’t ask for any takeout today - so he knows it’s you. He tries not to smile to himself as he dries his own hands in a dish towel nearby, only then realizing the mess he made in the kitchen. He starts desperately trying to tidy up before you ring again - so this will have to make do. He turns off the oven and rushes to the door. 

“Coming.” He says in a soft and happy voice. And as if you didn’t hear, you start repeatedly ringing it again just to annoy him. 

He opens it. “What’s all this for? Is someone chewing your arm off?” He smiles, just genuinely content in seeing you smiling at him, even if there is a hint of suspiciousness in your eyes. “No, but with the time it took you to answer me, I already could have started decomposing!” You retort, making him softly roll his eyes before taking a look at you. You are so adorable. There is what seems to be a pink photo album in your hands. He furrowed his eyebrows before letting you in. “It’s from the photoshoot my friends and I did, the pictures are ready and Anne just delivered it to me!” You say, taking your shoes off. Xavier giggles to himself when he sees your shark socks, but decides to not tease you about it - for now. “Since you were very kind and brought me food, I wanted to have my first look with you!” You walk towards his sofa, and he follows soon after, gazing at the top of your head. He wishes he could kiss it. “First look, huh. Did you have fun?” He asks, taking the photo album from your hands. It’s a baby pink hard leather cover, his fingers grazing against the texture. There is embroidery in the middle of it: a heart with an arrow through it. First look… Now he could say he had this experience once. “A lot. It was very funny, none of our costumes blended with each other so we were laughing the whole time.” You scoot closer, signaling for him to open it already. 

“What were you again..? Dead bride..?” He places his arm on the back of the couch behind you, giving some space for you to move freely. “Corpse Bride, Xavier! I thought you knew who she was!” You stare at him, slapping his knee playfully. 

“I do!” - He doesn’t. - “I just.. don’t remember the names, that’s all.” He shakes his head, looking down. “And you didn’t look like a corpse.. You looked like a cute-” “I know I didn’t! I wasn’t ready yet. You’ll see! Open it! Hurry!” Xavier sighs softly, his heart beating out of his chest. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed he didn’t get to compliment you. But he opens the album anyway. The first few pictures are you and your friends arriving, holding lots of bags. The photos are mostly made of ‘backstage’ moments, just as you and your friends requested. Throughout the pictures you can see the process of you guys taking out the makeup, some of you suddenly in costumes, Sam opening a package of a bald cap while Lexy laughed in disbelief. You haven't appeared in a lot of pictures yet. “Here Lexy is laughing because Sam chose to be Pitbull. It’s an old singer known as Mr. Worldwide. He’s bald, so she had to be too.” you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Pit. Bull..? Why did she choose.. a bald man? Out of so many..” He takes a look at you, meeting your ‘why-not’ gaze. “You girls...” Xavier is smiling too. He’s happy you’re happy with your weird little friends. “It’s the only time she’d have the opportunity to be photographed professionally as a bald man. That’s enough reason, I think. I get her.” You simply say, as he turns one more page. Finally, his pretty girl. You’re still in your normal clothes, painting one of your friend’s face orange. The picture is - in its own way - beautiful. It captures you both smiling to each other, even if your friend is half-orange in it. You’re not wearing that hairpin yet though. “Where did you get that hairpin..? It was pretty.” He stares at you in the photo. “Oh, Anne, the short-haired lady that photographed us gave it to me. First she just wanted to try making a hairstyle on my hair but she decided I should keep it after all.” You answer, mindlessly getting closer to him and turning another page, against his will. He wished he could look at you longer but he’s happy you’re leaning on him now.

“I understand.” Now he’s facing a picture of you, just the way you were when he saw you in-person there. In a bride dress, hairpin in place holding your bun up, with a smile so bright and beautiful it makes his heart clench. You’re leaning against the window, looking to your side and probably laughing at something one of your friends did. The natural light casts an ethereal glow around you. He can’t help but place a hand on his chest, disguising it as an itch. He quickly glances at you as you’re concentrating on the picture beside it. You are so precious to him and you have no idea. But someday he'll show you, by having you wear a white dress again, accompanied by a beautiful blue sapphire ring on your left hand. And you turn the page again. He frowns imperceptibly, letting you have your own special experience. After some chuckles and curious questions, you guys are almost at the end of the photo album, where lies a group picture. Xavier suddenly snorts at the scene. Getting startled by it, you look down to see what made him get that reaction, and your hands immediately press on your mouth, shoulders starting to shake from how much you’re holding back a loud laugh.

It’s you - Corpse Bride - along with Lord Farquaad, Morticia, Lorax, Gojo and Pitbull. There is no possible way this photoshoot made sense and you started thinking that this was the most irresponsible financial decision you have ever made - but worth the laugh. At the same time, all Xavier can see is you, almost melting on his lap over the album - laughing so hard it’s silent. It doesn’t take long before you sit up correctly again and he takes another look at the picture, now chuckling. You try to say something but there’s tears in your eyes and everytime you look at the picture you find something new to laugh at.

Finally getting to the end, he closes the album and you let out a heavy sigh, two tears streaming down your face. Xavier looks at you, and carefully dries them with his thumbs, using a light touch as to not ruin your makeup - just the way you taught him. 

He himself sighs a bit too, feeling a mixture of love and pure admiration for your laugh and your own kind of weirdness. He cradles your face in his hands, the moment suddenly intimate between both of you. Calming down, you look at his eyes, searching for a feeling’s name you don’t even know. 

He is not drying up your tears anymore, just.. holding you with adoring eyes. It makes you blush and panic a little, suddenly getting up. “Xavier, I-!” He looks at you with parted lips and wide eyes, before quickly going back to his smirking face. You try to not feel like there’s a lingering desire to hold each other close as you look down at him in silence for some seconds. “Uhm..Oh!” You start patting your pockets. “Anne said you paid her a sandwich before you came to the studio! She told me how she forgot her money and all, and how lucky she felt when you appeared and offered to pay for her!” You take out an envelope out of the inside pocket of your jacket, as Xavier stares at you with the most confusing expression you have ever seen etched on his face. But you keep going. “So she.. wanted to pay you back. Here it is.” You give him the envelope. Xavier takes it hesitantly, immediately noticing that the envelope feels firmer than it should. He has an idea of what it may be in mind, but he’s not so sure of it. You quickly take the photo album from his lap, breathing deeply as your heart starts calming itself down. You take a last glance at him - he’s staring at the envelope. 

“Tell her I said thank you.” Xavier softly analyzes the envelope, not opening it. “I will. Then.. I should get going.” you point to his door behind you. “I left my windows open and I don't want all of my reports flying down the window.” You blurt out, making things up just to leave. Xavier can tell you’re nervous, so he doesn’t insist. He gets up and accompanies you to the door, waving bye. Slowly walking back to his living room, he opens the envelope. He knew it. It's two pictures of you, his beautiful pretend-bride. Both of them are identical - taken moments apart. You are sitting on a low stool, legs close to your body and a bottle of orange juice at your feet. In one of them you are taking a full bite of the sandwich he brought you, and in the other one your eyes are squinting in pure joy as you chew with round cheeks. There’s a soft blush on your face and he can tell how happy you were. Xavier caresses the picture as if you could feel it. As if you could feel how much he wants you by his side. He’s just waiting for the right moment. For the right moment to hold you close, to kiss your soft lips, to claim you as his. To ask you if he can be your boyfriend, just to wait some more before asking if you’d like to be his wife. But right now, something takes him out of it. He sniffs something. He startles like a cat, running to the kitchen. Shitshitshitshitshit! Instead of turning off the oven, he turned it all the way on. He sighs. “Not again…!” Turning off the oven - correctly, this time -, he takes a look at your pictures again. Turning them, he found out Anne had written “Your future bride looks cute enough to make a grown man cry, indeed.” And he blushes immediately. She still has no idea Xavier isn’t even her boyfriend yet, but it’s not like he’ll correct her anytime soon. He looks at the overheated oven, smelling like burnt iron.

First, he must learn how to cook to be a good husband, after all.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little series - and if it's of interest for anyone, Xavier kept these photos under a pile of clothes in his wardrobe - but he took some pictures of it with his cellphone so he could gaze at his bride anytime he felt like it - constantly.

[miwiheroes]

Hii

I am a mileven shipper comoletely open to byler, so I watched the lawyer vid

And all the things are pretty convincing but...I don't think Mike was jealous in the airport scene, because then he would have known the painting Will was doing was for him, but instead, even Finn confirmed Mike was clueless about it, so maybe Mike was just...idk....distant from Will and only was trying to rebuild their friendship, remember that he tried to call Will and Will never called him, so maybe he thought Will was mad at him and that's the reason he acts that way, plus Cara said thah you only see a friendship evolving so uhm- idk, ty for reading this and I hope you can adress this "doubt" I have

Hi!

El said in her letter 'I think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting 'weird'", which is for the benefit of the audience's view of Mike's emotions later on.

That's the first mention of the painting, and it's already established that it's an object with romantic intentions (but it's to the audience). So when the viewer sees Will holding the painting in the airport, they get the inkling that Will likes Mike, because it's for him, and he's been acting weird about it.

As for Mike's feelings about the painting.... you're not supposed to know.

Let's lay out the facts of the painting storyline here:

He doesn't want to hug Will at the airport.

He panics when he sees a painting that he has been told is is maybe for a girl.

He pretends to ignore Will all day and is overly affectionate with El (but then the viewer finds out he has actually taken notice of everything he's done).

He is annoyed when Will accuses him of not reaching out.

He feels like he lost Will.

When Will has more confidence in his relationship with Mike he takes the painting with him in his bag.

When Mike finds out the painting is for him he is amazed.

When he finds out that 'el commissioned it' he's confused.

From the Rink o Mania fight, we find out that Mike has been paying attention to Will all day and claims that it ruined the whole day. We also see him offended that Will's annoyed he didn't call, and he's offended that Will didn't call. He asks 'why am I the bad guy?' as if to accuse Will of doing the same thing that he's being accused of.

So, back to the original point about him being jealous. Yes, he is. He saw that Will had made a painting, and then he asks nervously what the painting is (the tone of his voice makes it sound like he already has some idea, but just wants confirmation). Will then brushes it off.

I don't think his non-hug and the painting are linked, I think the reason he didn't hug him is because he didn't want to feel something yknow. He romanticises any sort of interaction with Will, and he doesn't want to show his true feelings in front of everyone.

When Will brushes it off, he is instantly no longer interested. Miscommunication occurs, because while Will never said 'it's not for you', Mike assumes it's not for him because of the way that Will doesn't bring any attention to it, and makes it seem unimportant. The reason he's jealous is because yeah, he did just get confirmation that El could be right.

SOOOO when Will attacks Mike for not calling, Mike gets angry because he's like 'well you did the same thing by moving on with someone else' aka painting for someone else . (Will giving Mike his drawings has always been their thing as well, so it hurts even more that its not for him this time). That is why he later apologises by saying 'I feel like I lost you'. It is his explanation for why he got annoyed at him in Rink o Mania. The 'I feel like I lost you' basically means he was jealous and a self-pitying idiot (his words lmao), and has decided to own up to things and say that Will didn't deserve that. That was why he got angry in the first place. Because he felt like he had lost Will to someone else. So yes he was jealous.

To make this romantic.... is easy. El in the beginning could have easily said he's painting it for someone, maybe he's painting it for a friend, but Mike heard that it's specifically for someone Will likes, so the fact he feels like he lost Will to someone in a romantic sense, means that he also wants him romantically. He never gets this possessive when Dustin or Lucas get girlfriends.

Now, when the painting gets given to Mike again: He realises it is for him and gets super excited. Will doesn't need to tell him explicitly it's for him, because it's a painting of their DND characters.

But when Will said that El commissioned it, we can see the weirdness and the uneasiness on his face, because he's having an internal conflict that the audience cannot see. And again, WE ARENT SUPPOSED TO OKAY

Finn Wolfhard was also confused about this interaction, asking the Duffer Brothers why Mike's so clueless here. (he said this at a con or interview or something) He's also said in the past that Mike does not know about Will loving him. When asked, the Duffer Brothers responded with: "Don't worry, it'll pay off in the end". Meaning we will eventually know what Mike was thinking/ Mike will find out the truth. And the fact it's being dragged over 2 seasons and left for the final one, means it's important.

oof okay sorry that was such a RANTTT AHH but seriously, he was definitely sad about Will making the painting possibly for someone else, shown in his anger in the Rink o Mania fight, and the fact he said he thought he had lost him as a reason for his anger.

As for your comment about Cara? That is not what she said. You're saying that she said 'You only see a friendship evolving', which is not what she said.

She says "Mike goes on his own journey... and Will is not ready to grow up and leave that friendship." then she says, "So I think in season 5....' which Noah looks at her very suspiciously about, so she says something else.

She then says (keeping in mind the Season 5 comment), "Cause I know that as an actor, you're thinking about things as you're approaching it from an actor's perspective" THEN SHE SAYS "But i think from a story perspective, you just see like a friendship evolving" "People come apart and they come together"

Then Noah begins to say "And I will say that..." and then goes "No im not gonna say anything."

What does this mean? Well, she's saying that as actors, they know what is going to happen to Mike and Will in season 5. But from the audience's perspective, they may only see a friendship evolving. In season 5 that might change. She's not saying 'oh they only have a friendship' no no, she's describing the fact they're changing, and describing what the audience likely sees and what the audience may be confused about. Also this is a FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC,,,,, of course they are sometimes going to be described as having a friendship.

and dont take the actors words as gospel! they were put on the spot anyways and dont have time to figure out everything they wanna say

[its-weeping]

⤷ 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖. | gojo satoru .ᐟ

content. ⋆. 𐙚 ̊ fluff, mentions of the itadori trio, soft!gojo, fem!reader, pet names, established relationship

✶ there's a faint chant of whispers all around you, and despite all the stares too, you're scoffing and rolling your eyes. satoru turns to you, face tilted in a tone of question. you pretend not to notice and continue walking, hand gripping his tighter.

he hums with furrowed brows, but the next moment he's scanning the mass of people around you and clicking his tongue at the sight.

"what do you think they're whispering about?"

your boyfriend's voice makes you jump a little, causing you to stagger over a phantom bump on the ground. you spare him a glance—even in your irked mood.

"you probably."

satoru offers a whistle at your response, "i'm flattered you assume that, pretty."

judging by the way he tugs your entwined hands closer to his side, he knows your peeved by all the eyes on him. not to mention the constant whispering as you pass.

"i'm annoyed you think it's an assumption." you mimic a laugh.

your boyfriend doesn't seem to appreciate the sourness in your voice and quickly takes a detour. you call out his name, asking where he was taking you.

"we're gonna be late, 'toru. itadori, nobara, and megumi are already there." satoru only hums—albeit distracted.

he stops just as you enter an alley and before you could get a word in he speaks.

"you don't have to be jealous, you know that right?"

now you're confused, a little flustered even.

"what are you talking about?" the words feel unsure as they leave your mouth. satoru stares you down through his blindfold and you shift under his gaze; you're nervous all of a sudden.

"i'm all yours, baby," your boyfriend affirms, "you don't have to worry your pretty little head over a few people staring." and you realize he's long dropped your hand, instead he's got a hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek.

"it wasn't just a few people," you mumble out, "but– yeah, i know. it's just a little disheartening having so many people gawk and gossip about your boyfriend when your right there."

he laughs, "you've got a point." and he pouts, "i don't understand how people can overlook such a beautiful, amazingly gorgeous, and sexy woman like you."

you laugh and lightly smack satoru's arm, he only retaliates with a grin and a squeeze of your waist.

it's then that he's pulling you flush against him, "i love you, pretty girl. don't ever forget that." his words make you sag into him more, at this point very content in your boyfriend's hold.

when satoru taps your cheek, you take a peek at him, only to feel the weight of his lips on yours. the shock quickly fades, and soon you're kissing your boyfriend back. his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you so impossibly close that you could vaguely feel how fast his heart was beating as he kissed you.

yeah, you really don't have to worry about losing him.

and then he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head to tilt it up more so he could deepen the kiss. it's so full of passion—as if satoru is pouring all his love and affection for you into how his lips slid against yours, how he made sure his hold kept you safe and grounded, how he was so reluctant to withdraw.

you're both heaving as you pull away, eyes wide and lips just a little swollen. satoru smiles—a soft one this time, not the usual coy, flirty ones he flashes you.

"uhm, 'toru..." you start, "we should be going now. the kids are probably wondering where we are."

he shrugs, completely detaching from you in favor of intertwining your hands together once more as he guides you out of the alley, "i'm sure megumi is keeping things under control."

"right, but it's still part of our job to be there." you scold gently.

satoru nods along to your words, "guess you're right, pretty. but we should get some sweets while we're at it too!"

he picks up his pace, leading you to the many stalls and shops lined up ahead. you shake your head at his antics, scanning your surroundings on instinct; people are still staring, gaping at your boyfriend, but it's not a bother to you anymore.

[scary-grace]

Off-Script (Act 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura's been Dabi's stunt double for almost a decade, and he's not easily impressed, but when he squares up with you for a fight scene, he finds himself caught off-guard in more ways than one. As the shoot progresses and sparks fly between the two of you, Tomura has to decide if you're worth the risk -- or if the best sparring partner he's ever had is all you'll ever be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Act 1 Act 2

Act 3

The party’s in full swing, and even though you’ve been here for an hour at most, Tomura’s already ready to kill Spinner for forcing him to invite you. You’re the only actor at the party. Everyone keeps asking you why you aren’t at the other party, and Tomura’s getting really sick of listening to you explain that you aren’t important enough to go to that one. Once it’s been established that you’re a nobody like the rest of them, one of two things happens. If the person you’re talking to is a woman, they ask you about the fight scene you filmed with Tomura. If you’re talking to a guy, he asks you to dance – and you say yes.

Tomura thought you’d dance with him, since he’s the one who invited you. He made the mistake of saying that to Magne, who switched out the beer in his hand for the double Malibu shot she was holding and told him that unless he’d asked you to go to the party with him specifically, he hadn’t asked you out. Then Twice came by, stole Tomura’s Malibu shot and replaced it with a Long Island Iced Tea, and informed him that just because you play a mind reader in a movie doesn’t mean you can do it in real life.

Tomura threw down half the Long Island in one swallow and almost gagged. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“She’s not gonna know you want to dance with her unless you ask her to dance,” Twice said. Magne nodded sagely. “So ask her to dance. Or – do that, I guess! That works too!”

Tomura had just finished off the rest of the Long Island. Twice patted him on the pack and he almost threw up. “Go get ‘em, Shigaraki! Or go home!”

Tomura thought about going home. Then he decided that he wanted to be drunker first, so he went back to the makeshift bar for something a little less instantly neurotoxic. But that hit pretty fast, too, and it hit hard enough that Tomura decided to sit down rather than try to walk to the shuttle stop and pass out on the way. So that’s what he’s been doing instead of dancing or talking or even drinking more. Sitting on a rock and watching the only actor at the party make herself at home.

Spinner sits down on the rock next to Tomura. Tomura tries to shove him off. “No. Go away.”

Spinner gets comfortable. “Heard anything from Dabi yet?”

Tomura fumbles his phone out of his pocket to check. “Nothing. He’s going to text you, not me. You’re the nice one.”

“Not hard to be, when you’re the one saying shit like I don’t care about this,” Spinner says. Tomura rolls his eyes and gets dizzy. “Look, it was – not great – when you were just being a dick to her. Now you’re being a dick to everybody.”

“It’s your fault for making me invite her.”

“Nope,” Spinner says. “You’ve been in a shitty mood about this since you guys filmed that scene. We all think you should just –”

“Ladies, and those of you who are not ladies, eyes up front!”  Yamada’s in Present Mic mode, which gives Tomura a headache on his best day. “It’s been brought to my attention that everyone is now sufficiently wasted enough for us to begin – drumroll! – the karaoke contest! Who’s up first!”

Nobody wants to be up first, like usual. The first round of the karaoke contest is usually just people bullying their friends onto the stage. Tomura turns to glare at Spinner. “If you even think about it –”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” Spinner actually looks insulted. “We’re best friends, not mortal enemies!”

“Since you all are being shy, I’m going to pick a volunteer,” Present Mic announces. It’s not volunteering if somebody makes you do it. “And I’m picking somebody who has the pipes for this for sure! Give it up for Jiro Kyoka, who’s going to give us her best Dolly Parton impression on Jolene!”

Jiro smacks Present Mic on her way up to the makeshift stage, and he’s apologizing right up until the music starts. Tomura doesn’t know why, and neither does Spinner, but Jiro’s a good singer even when she’s had a few. The next person who goes up is Mirio, who’s tone-deaf on zero drinks but has had enough to volunteer himself. Attention grabs aren’t really Tomura’s thing – he’d prefer to go unnoticed most of the time – but he knows why the crew gets so into it. They spend all day doing ridiculous amounts of work, only for the actors to get all the credit if the movie does well. If they want to clown around, he’s not going to blame them.

“Room for one more?”

Tomura jumps and so does Spinner. It’s you, holding a water bottle and looking sort of tired. “Go for it,” Spinner says, shoving Tomura to the side and scooting away himself. “Right there.”

You sit down next to Tomura. Tomura hasn’t said a word to you since you got here. He looks around for something to say and comes up with something stupid. “You don’t want to show everybody up at karaoke?”

“If Yamada calls on me I’ll go up,” you say. “If he doesn’t, I’d just look like an asshole for grabbing the spotlight.”

“Isn’t that all actors do? Grab the spotlight?”

“Do you actually want it?” you ask Tomura. Tomura blinks. “You and the other stunt guys are closer to the spotlight than anybody else here. Why stay out of it?”

“That’s the stupidest question anyone’s ever asked me.” Tomura thinks that’s probably an overstatement, but he’s also on the not-fun side of drunk, so he’s giving himself a pass. “Why do you think?”

“So you’re telling me that if I waved a magic wand and changed your face to whatever you think it’s supposed to look like, you’d suddenly want to be famous?”

Tomura should have been paying less attention to who you were dancing with and more to what you were drinking, because while he’s pretty trashed, you’re sober. He’s miscalculated, big-time. “It’s not a trick question,” you say. “I just want to know why you pick on people for chasing something that you don’t even want.”

“Because it’s a waste of time for most of you,” Tomura says. Spinner protests, but Tomura ignores him. You came over here. You started it. “For every big star there’s a thousand people paying union dues who will be extras for their entire careers. How long do you plan on hanging out waiting for a big break that’s not going to happen? Find something else to do that’s – not that – and stop running around getting all starry-eyed. It’s pathetic. Sue me for being annoyed.”

Silence falls. “I’m getting another drink,” Spinner says. “Want anything, Psylocke?”

You shake your head. “I want one,” Tomura says, but Spinner ignores him. Like it’s his fault, somehow, when inviting you was Spinner’s idea in the first place. You haven’t said anything yet. Tomura replays what he just said to you, and guilt strikes him like a sandbag to the back of the head. “Uh –”

“Did you ever think it’s because we love it?”

“Huh?”

“If I was doing this to be famous, I’d have quit a long time ago,” you say. You pass your water bottle to Tomura and lean back on your hands, head tipped to look up at the sky. “Most of us aren’t stupid, or naïve. We know what our odds are like. Making it on the acting side – theatre, movies, TV, whatever – takes getting lucky. Or it takes knowing somebody who knows somebody who owes your mom a favor.”

That’s how Dabi got into it. His dad’s rich, his dad owns a production company, and his dad got him a bit part in some spy movie when he was thirteen that launched his entire career. Dabi’s career is Tomura’s career, so Tomura doesn’t bitch about it. Besides, Dabi’s good at it. But lots of people are good at it. Being good at it doesn’t mean shit, even when it should.

“I know it’s not going to happen,” you say. “Getting steady work is an achievement all on its own, and even that doesn’t pay the greatest. I could make more money doing almost anything else. But I really like what I do. The win for me is getting to do the thing I love every day.”

Tomura tries to wrap his head around that one. It doesn’t work. “Actors want to be famous. That’s why they’re actors.”

“There are other ways to get famous,” you point out. “Do the right kind of porn and you’ll get famous in a hurry.”

Tomura nearly chokes on thin air. “If I wanted money, I’d do something else. If I wanted fame, I’d do something else,” you say. “That leaves you two possible answers. Either I’m really stupid, or I really love what I’m doing. What do you think it is?”

“You’re not stupid,” Tomura says, still coughing. He twists the cap off the water bottle and sucks down a few swallows. “Except maybe for sitting here and putting up with my shit.”

“I’m still trying to figure out what I did to piss you off.” You take the water bottle – your water bottle, Tomura remembers too late – and take a few sips before handing it back. “Is it really just that I’m new?”

“No.” Tomura can’t even remember why. No, he can. “It wasn’t you at first. It was supposed to be Dabi’s fight and he made me do it instead, so I was pissed. And you wouldn’t take the stupid compliment, so I was pissed about that, too.”

“And right now?”

“Who said I’m pissed at you right now?”

“You, five minutes ago, when you were calling me and ninety percent of the actors in the world stupid and naïve,” you say. “What did I do this time?”

Even though Tomura’s starting to sober up, the alcohol smacks him one last time, and it’s a critical hit. “Danced with everybody but me.”

It’s quiet for a second. Then you get to your feet in a smooth, fluid motion that Tomura probably can’t even accomplish sober. “Okay. Now I need that drink.”

You don’t invite Tomura to come with you, but he follows you anyway as you make your way back towards the party. Partway there you stop and he walks into you. You twist around to face him. “You’re mad because I didn’t dance with you? You didn’t ask.”

“I asked you to the party with me, didn’t I?” The sooner Tomura finds something to lean against, the better. He might be sober enough to know he fucked up, but he’s still pretty drunk. Not drunk enough to forget what Magne told him. “If this is just because I didn’t use the exact words –”

“No, it’s because you’ve spent the last two weeks acting like you hate me,” you say. Tomura wants to say you’re exaggerating, but given that Toga and Spinner both called him out, he can’t really say that or anything else. “Now you want to dance? What am I supposed to do with that except get trashed?”

At least now you’re both on the same subject. “Dance.”

“Do you even dance?” You give Tomura a skeptical look. “I don’t know if you can keep up with me.”

Maybe this is how you felt when Tomura acted like you couldn’t swordfight. “I can dance. I was going to go easy on you –”

“Oh, shut up.” You grab Tomura’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. Tomura barely has time to ditch the empty water bottle before the crowd closes ranks around the two of you, locking you in.

Tomura knows how to dance. More accurately, sober Tomura knows how not to dance, and avoiding that looks enough like knowing how to dance that he can get by. But that’s when he’s sober. When he’s drunk and there’s someone who clearly knows what they’re doing standing in front of him, he’s got absolutely nowhere to hide.

He studies you, trying to see if he can copy your moves, but you don’t really have distinct moves. What you’ve got is pinpoint control over every part of your body, which is what Tomura has, except instead of using it to make it look real when you have to fake getting shot, you’re using it to make dancing look like it’s what you were designed to do. He’d never know you dislocated a rib today if he hadn’t seen the bruise. All he can see is how your moves match the music, how confident you look. It’s hot. Tomura doesn’t think you’re trying to be hot, but he’s still not sober, and he’s paying way too much attention to everything your hips and your ass are doing. He’s supposed to be dancing, too. How is he supposed to look away from that?

Someone bumps into him, and he stumbles forward a few steps, right into your personal space. It doesn’t throw you off even slightly. “I was wondering when you were going to join in,” you say, barely audible over the music. Probably only audible because you’re pressed up against him and your mouth’s barely brushing his ear. “Is this you going easy on me?”

Tomura thinks he could be the best dancer on the planet and he still wouldn’t be able to compete with you. His hands come up of their own accord and settle on your waist, like the two of you are slow-dancing at a junior prom, completely out of sync with the music. You laugh, quiet and dark, but you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck and rise on your toes to whisper in his ear again. “Pretend we’re fighting.”

You were just fighting. Weren’t you? It takes Tomura a second, but once he gets it, he gets it, along with a rush of adrenaline that’s absolutely insane. He pulls you in tight against him and you lean in, lining your body up with his centimeter by centimeter, limb by limb. One of your arms peels away from around his neck and traces down along the line of his shoulder, and Tomura raises his arm to match, ready to catch your hand by the time you reach his wrist.

Once he takes it, you spin out and away from him, like the two of you are ballroom dancing or some shit. But you come back closer than before, your back pressed to Tomura’s chest, leaning against him. Still holding his hand.

The handholding is fucking with Tomura’s head. He lets go and wraps both arms around your waist, and you twist in his grip to face him, a moment before tipping sideways on purpose. Tomura knew you were going to do it. He felt you telegraph it, the same as you did during the fight scene, and he’s ready to catch you. It looks like you’re ballroom dancing – again – and Tomura’s friends are probably losing their shit watching it, if they’re watching – but you trust Tomura to catch you, and he does.

He sees a smile cross your face before he pulls you back up, and you instantly tip the other way. He’s not as ready for that one, but it doesn’t matter as much, because you’re hooked one leg over his hip and caught yourself.

It’s like you want to break Tomura’s brain. Fuck it. If you’re fighting, he can fight back. He wraps one hand around your back to help you up, but he catches the crook of your knee with his other hand and pulls you tight against him. He feels you startle; then you lean into him again, not quite grinding on him but close enough that his cock doesn’t notice a difference. Or it wouldn’t, if Tomura hadn’t drunk so much earlier. He’s never been so thankful for whiskey dick in his life.

He doesn’t let go of your leg, and you don’t pull away. You wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck again and you tilt your head, studying him, your gaze flicking downwards, then back up. Tomura’s pretty sure you were looking at his mouth, and with your head tilted like that – do you want him to kiss you? Is that why you’re looking at him like that? If he’s reading this wrong, he’s going to fuck everything up, whether he kisses you or not. So he might as well get one kiss in. Tomura squares his shoulders beneath your hands and leans in.

“Hey!”

It’s possible that Tomura’s never been as pissed off at anybody as he is at Spinner right now. Spinner’s standing right there, looking sort of panicked, and you pull away from Tomura instantly, clearly embarrassed. “What?” Tomura shouts at Spinner. It’s lucky that the music’s loud. He can get away with shouting. “What the fuck is –”

Spinner holds up his phone, the screen brightness cranked to maximum. Dabi’s texted – both of them, only Tomura didn’t notice, because he was with you. get me the fuck out of here right now

Shit. Spinner turns and heads off the dance floor, and Tomura follows him. He grabs your hand on the way, so you won’t think he’s ditching you completely, and instead of pulling away, you come along. Once the three of you are clear of the dancers, Spinner turns to Tomura. “If he texted us, that means it’s bad,” he states. Tomura’s not going to argue. “I’m too drunk to drive.”

“So am I,” Tomura says. For a little while longer at least. “If we wait fifteen minutes or something –”

“He said right now,” Spinner says. “It’ll take fifteen minutes at least to get there. He fucked himself over in thirty seconds last time.”

Thirty seconds is generous. Dabi’s managed to get himself into cops-calling trouble in fifteen seconds or less before. Tomura didn’t want to be involved in Dabi’s sobriety, but he didn’t want to fuck him over, either, and this qualifies. That’s not even mentioning what’s going to happen to his career if Dabi drops out of this movie. “We blew it,” Spinner says, his face ashen. “He’s never going to forgive us –”

You tug lightly at Tomura’s hand. “I can drive.”

Tomura looks at you. So does Spinner. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” you say, “but I can tell it’s urgent. I don’t need to know what’s going on to be your designated driver.”

“You didn’t drink?” Spinner asks. You shake your head. “Great. Can you drive stick?”

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, i hope you don't get asked this too much, but could you recommend some established relationship fics? canon or au is fine, but not kid fic, if that's possible. Thank you.

Hey. We have an #established relationship tag you can check out. Here are some more to add to the collection...

Where the Cliffs Meet the Sky by springofviolets (M)

Crowley plans a meaningful, romantic anniversary trip to celebrate 1 year of being openly in a relationship with Aziraphale, but things keep going wrong! How will our hero cope? A South Downs Cottage origins story.

One Hundred Days by Lady of Prompts (G)

They should have discussed it more. Wasn’t that what humans did? Spend weeks and months talking about what sort of home they want, what sort of life, dreaming of what moving in together will be like. Making sure their dreams matched up, their expectations. They didn’t buy cottages – in the middle of a forest, no less, half a mile from the nearest village – without considering questions of…of hobbies, and use of space and…and living arrangements. They certainly didn’t take such a step without…defining their relationships. -- Aziraphale only begins to consider the implications of *moving in together* after they've already done it.

Hozier Missed A Trick When He Called It 'Real People' Instead Of 'Joe Bloggs Snogs' by indieninja92 (E)

Months after Armageddoff, Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy a cosy night in. A brief moment of anxiety about a completely invented turn of events sends them off on a rambly, giggling conversation that asks, if they were human, what kinds of humans would they be? Very silly ones, it's safe to say.

Five Times They Weren't Very Sexy and One Time They Aced It by ZehWulf (E)

“Have you ever wondered what it feels like?” Crowley asks while contemplating the dregs at the bottom of his wine glass. He’s aiming for philosophical but fears the faint wheeze at the end of the question might have given him away. “Have I ever wondered what ‘what’ feels like,” Aziraphale asks finally. “Sex,” he says, much louder than intended or reasonable. They both wince.  “Oh, have you never…?” Aziraphale asks with polite disbelief. “You have?” Crowley demands. Look, when you're largely inexperienced sex-favorable asexual ineffables, it takes a bit of practice, a lot of communication, and some bull-headed persistence to get your sex life in commendable working order. Or, five times things got (hilariously) awkward during sex, and one time after they've got it mostly figured out. A companion fic to "Scratching That Itch." (Sex acts, such as they are, tagged per chapter in chapter notes!)

a moment's silence by viperinz (T)

Crowley rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Then you know that you shouldn’t have done that.” “It was the only choice I had. If you got smitten—” Aziraphale swallows, feeling his back throb in pain. “You would have died right where you stood. I could not allow that.” Crowley’s mouth turns into a thin line, his fury radiating through the room. “So, what? It was better if it was you rather than me that took the hit?” “Yes!” Aziraphale exclaims, sitting up in bed. He winces as his back protests the movement, but he needs Crowley to understand. “You deserve better than what I was able to ever give you, and you need to help Muriel and the Messiah. If I ceased to exist, nothing would change the outcome of stopping all of this.” “No, you don’t get to say that.” Crowley walks up to the bed. “If you think I’ll ever stand to lose you again, then you’re bloody wrong. The outcome would be different because I wouldn’t have you, you daft thing.” After everything is said and done, Aziraphale has to learn to adjust to life on Earth after seven years of being in Heaven. Luckily, Crowley is there to help him heal, and to give him the love that he feels he's lost.

we shall have the world forever for our own by quitequaintrelle (M)

Your new beginning starts here! Lying wholly within the South Downs National Park, the village of Wood’s Bottom is your destination for an idyllic retirement. This quaint hamlet is a short five miles away from the seaside resort of Brighton, with its vibrant array of shopping, culture, and leisure attractions. Boasting stunning landscape views, entirely average weather conditions, welcoming neighbours, and intimate rural charm, Wood’s Bottom is your opportunity to live the exceptionally normal and relaxing lifestyle you’ve always dreamed of. Aziraphale and Crowley have finally found their forever home after successfully ensuring there is still a “forever” to share. Surely they will integrate perfectly well amongst their new neighbours. Surely.

- Mod D

[milkb0nny]

Second Option

Pairing: Dean Winchester x neutral!reader

Summary: You’re tired, tired of begging for attention, love and time. You tried your best to support Dean and Sam with their job, making them space and time for those activities. Though at some point, you feel like a leftover mission, and not the priority anymore. Dean had been treating you as if you were invisible, and at some point you snapped.

Note: I craved some angst so here we go, deep down into arguing… I‘m currently taking requests to get back into writing again, so don‘t be shy.

Warnings: established relationship with Dean, cursing, swearing, heavy arguing, shouting

Word count: 1350

You heard the motel door creak open, followed by heavy, dragging steps and the deep, tired sigh of someone who used to walk in with so much more life. You expected this mood already, even though you had hoped it would be different. You turned toward the sound, moving quickly, but the man who once lit up at the sight of you barely looked your way. Another shot, another aching pain in your chest and another moment where you questioned his love for you.

Where you once saw a smile, a mixture of desire and longing, you now faced a distant, cold gaze. Nothing that would charm a romantic person like you. Nothing that would comfort anyone - yet alone you. The eyes, that avoided yours as if meeting them might shatter something fragile, belonged to Dean. That look made your heart sink to the bottom, filling you with a hollow ache.

This situation had been building for weeks, that gnawing weight in your heart did so too. Especially the little moments hurt you; the sting when he turned his back to you in bed or the tears you swallowed because asking for love felt like begging.

Dean barely acknowledged you as he tossed his duffel onto the cluttered bed, already peeling off his jacket to head for the shower. The same routine, the same expression, the same tiring air between the two of you. The brothers’ endless hunts had become a black hole, pulling him farther away from you with every passing day. You watched him enter the bathroom, your chest tightening as you wondered if saying anything would even matter. You’d tried before, only to feel ignored; brushed aside like your feelings were just noise.

But tonight, the silence was crucially suffocating. After some moments where only the sound of water ruled, he finished cleaning all the sweat and dirt off of his body, yet one bother remained sitting in the other room - you.

He stepped out of the bathroom, towel draped over his shoulders, his expression taut with irritation. When he finally broke the quiet, though his words cut sharper than any blade.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? You mad?”

You stared at him, battling for self control. Of course, he couldn’t see it. Of course, Dean Winchester, with his armor of deflection and duty, couldn’t take a moment to notice the pain in your eyes.

“Dean, really?” you began, your voice trembling with frustration. “Do you even realize how you’re talking to me right now? Like I’m some burden you have to deal with?” Again, you felt as if you would just hit a wall. A wall that would push you back into your little corner, a wall that would distance itself in the same moment too. Dean, you wondered, why was he running away from you, when you did nothing but try to love him?

His brow furrowed, confusion giving way to irritation. “How should I know? I was...”

“Working all day,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know. It’s all you ever do. You haven’t done anything else for weeks!”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, years of bottled-up anger coming to the surface. Dean threw his towel on the bed, his hands on his hips, his jaw tightening as he stared at you. The tense air intensified, and while you begged and cried, you met someone who didn’t understand you. Oh, where did it all go wrong?

“My job is to hunt! To save lives!” he shouted, his voice ringing out like a slap. His cold tone sliced through you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Flashbacks of the person you encountered a year ago popped up, a loving smile, a cocky tongue and someone who would adore and admire you all day. Someone, who you fell in love with - though you felt as if the person in front of you was someone else.

“And what about my life?” you choked, standing now, your hands trembling at your sides. “What about me, Dean? I’ve been begging you for love - begging! And I get nothing. Do you even notice me anymore?”

The tears you’d been holding back for weeks finally broke free, spilling down your face in hot, stinging streams. Your voice cracked under the weight of your pain, the rawness of it echoing in the room. Your face turned so pale, yet you were on fire.

“I’m not just a convenience for you! I’m not some... some chore!”

Dean looked away, his shoulders stiffening, his lips pressed into a thin line. Like a kid, he tried to avoid this uncomfortable conversation, he didn’t want to deal with this right now. He refused to deal with … you. His silence only made it worse, fueling the anger and heartbreak clawing at your chest.

"Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to hurt. “Just tell me what you want instead of blowing up at me.”

Your breath hitched. “What I want?” you repeated, your voice trembling with fury. “I want you to think for yourself, Dean. To notice me - to really see me. Should I start wiping your ass too? Would that help?”

The vulgarity in your words shocked even you, but you couldn’t stop. Months of hurt and neglect poured out in a flood. “I’ve been here for you, Dean. I’ve cleaned up after you. I’ve cheered you up. I’ve stayed up waiting for you to talk to me, only for you to shut me out over and over again. But what have you done for me? When was the last time you made me feel like I mattered?”

His face twisted, and for a moment, you thought you saw regret. A little light of hope. But then his voice rose again, defensive and brittle. “Baby, I’m doing my best. We’re in the middle of a war, for God’s sake! The world doesn’t revolve around you!”

You sat down onto the chair as if he’d struck you. The words hit so deeply, they felt physical, leaving you breathless. Weren’t you his tiny world? Didn’t he say that at some point in your relationship?

“A war,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “And where am I in that war, Dean? Somewhere at the bottom of your priorities? Another thing you have to take care of? A second option?!”

Your voice broke completely now, your sobs wracking your body as you looked at him, defeated. “I feel lonely. I feel like I’m invisible to you. Like I’m just... a placeholder for something you’ll never have time for.”

Dean took a step forward, but you flinched, shaking your head. He stopped in his tracks, guilt flickering across his face. Now he got it, but was it worth? The cost for this realization was your fragile love, your shared bond, was that the price only to realize he had been wrong? It ached in his chest too, and he felt helpless. Just as you did.

“Babe, I -” His voice cracked, softer now, but it was too late.

You grabbed your jacket, your movements shaky and desperate. It was enough for today. You didn’t want to think about that situation any further. It pained enough already, so why should you force yourself to endure more?

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice laced with panic.

“I need space,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to figure out if this… I don’t know… if we are even worth it anymore.”

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving Dean standing in the emptiness of the room. He stared at the space where you’d been, his chest tightening with a pain he couldn’t name. His eyes burned as he sank onto the edge of the bed, tears slipping down his face.

„Fuck,“ his voice whispered. He would have preferred you to snap at him, but to leave him alone just made everything worse.

For the first time, Dean Winchester felt truly alone. And it was his own damn fault.

[alternate-universe-archivist]

Fae AU where Viktor is a fairy (with butterfly🦋 wings of course) and Jayce is obsessed with proving the Fae are real.

//conceptual, hurt, happy ending 1k words

Some believe in the supernatural and some don’t but most neighbours agree that young Talis has always been unhealthily obsessed with what they call the Fae, especially fairies.

Claiming he was once rescued by one in the forest on a cold winter night when he was lost, Jayce spends hours of his time trying to find that magic again. He has been called crazy and worse, even the best willing people told him that such efforts come at too great a cost, for even if they were real, the Fae keep themselves hidden from humanity.

Jayce doesn’t know though, that there is indeed one fairy that is just as intrigued by other spieces as him. Viktor remains small and invisible, hiding himself behind the books in Jayce’s room, beneath unworn clothes and fabric or the plants he tenders to. For the Fae must never expose themselves.

As years pass Jayce grows curious and desperate enough to try even more unsafe methods of establishing communication with the Fae. Viktor stresses each time another dangerous ritual is done, for the human seems to underestimate the danger some of the Folk pose—not all are gentle. For that very reason Viktor steals the cookies and milk Jayce leaves at his doorstep, takes the seeds left at the fairy altar, rings the carefully strung up bells, dusts the precious crystals, all so no entity more malicious can accept the gifts.

Jayce’s believes grow stronger each time milk is missing, the flowers bloom overnight, when he hears music coming from the windows, when he finds shimmering dust on his pillow. People only call him more and more insane.

Viktor feels a little guilty, would he have listened to his fairy mentor Heimerdinger had he never gotten himself in this predicament. But he can’t just leave him be now. Jayce is only attempting more dangerous rituals, his room ever more fanatic but cozier, the tea he brews smelling so divine. Sometimes he considers revealing himself—against all what he’s taught before. It could bring devastation to those he belongs to…

One day, on a particularly cold autumn morning, Viktor wakes on top of a messy shelf in Jayce’s room. Strangely, the bed below is empty. Delicate wings flutter through the house. No one seems to be around.

Viktor panics when he sees the latest research laying on the table. The notes mention fairy rings: mushrooms growing in circles that lead to the fairy realm. They’re made to lure in children, not adults, and not all fairy families are kind to visitors.

Viktor scouts the forest, trying his best to fly as fast as possible even with one disabled wing. Eventually he finds Jayce only a few seconds away from stepping into a huge fairy circle.

“Please let me interrupt!” tiny Viktor yells while dashing in front of Jayce. Before he can stop and think he has already exposed himself.

Jayce seems to be frozen in place, either by fear or amazement.

“Please go back,” Viktor urges him. “This isn’t safe.” Jayce’s eyes follow him as he flies closer—trying to push him farther away. It’s pointless.

“I knew you were real,” Jayce finally speaks. There’s tears in his eyes. “I knew it.”

“Yes,” Viktor admits. “But you still need to go back. And don’t ever try to contact us again.”

Viktor goes invisible once again. He feels terrible about it, but it’s for the best.

Months pass. Jayce’s experimental rituals have stopped. There’s only one ritual he follows now.

Even when no one’s around he talks, praying that who he saw in the forest that day is listening. All he wants is to see them again.

No one answers.

Jayce went back to the fairy ring of course. Only it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, he couldn’t find one in the whole of the forest.

“Don’t you talk because I’m not a child anymore?” Jayce asks. “Can’t we see each other because I’m human or do you not want to be seen?” he can only ever ask one-sided questions. “Do you dislike humans for what we do to nature?“ His shares everything that comes to mind: his feelings, his thoughts, hopes, dreams, childhood memories.

Jayce tries his best to draw the face and wings he saw that day. He can never get it quite right.

One night Jayce falls asleep crying under the sounds of calm rain. He has never felt more alone. All he has is short memories. Years of research all for a single moment that will never be repeated again.

When he wakes it feels like he’s still dreaming: there’s colorful dust laying right beside him.

Things slowly go back to how it was before. Milk and cookies start to go missing, music plays, sometimes he spots a flicker, and now he even finds notes scattered around the house.

“I can show myself, but do you promise not to tell anyone?” one such notes asks one day.

“I promise,” Jayce swears. “Please. I just want to see you again.”

One morning Jayce wakes not only to dust or flickering light or music, but a small creature sitting on his desk.

He has never been so happy before. They talk for hours, asking each other so many questions, Viktor gets to sit in Jayce’s warm palm, Jayce finally learns Viktor’s name.

Apparently fairies age much differently than humans. Humans age faster, for one.

In an effort to be together forever they do one more ritual. Jayce loses the mobility in his legs, but he gains one of Viktor’s wings.

Finally they can go wherever they want together.

…Heimerdinger is a little upset when he finds out but eventually forgives them.

[coraniaid]

I really like After Life (and, specifically, that scene of Buffy admitting to Spike she wasn't trapped in a hell dimension that I just reblogged). I think I would probably put it somewhere in my top five episodes of Season 6 (along with Dead Things, Bargaining and [somewhat lower down the list] Tabula Rasa and Doublemeat Palace).

And yet, as I've said before, I really don't like the way that some fans take it as canon that Buffy literally was in heaven (and that, in particular, something like the popular Christian notion of heaven exists in the Buffyverse despite everything else the show has ever said or will say about it; or that Buffy would go there by virtue of being a virtuous person despite her very explicitly not being at all religious ["note to self: religion, freaky" in Season 2, or telling Holden Webster in Season 7 that there was "nothing solid" to suggest God exists].

I really like the metaphorical reading of this part of Season 6, in which The Gift ended with Buffy making an (ultimately unsuccessful) suicide attempt, and in which she resents her friends for not letting her die, and in which she considers her life in Sunnydale to be a (metaphorical) hell which she compares unfavourably to some nebulous feeling of being 'complete' and 'finished' which she experienced after The Gift. But I just don't think the show is better if you start adding things like a literal heaven to the world's lore. something that nobody had ever even suggested as existing before this season. (I kind of loathe the whole concept of The Powers That Be on Angel for much the same reason; it just doesn't feel like it belongs in the setting the show had previously established).

The thing is, I think Buffy's speech in After Life works just as well -- arguably, even better -- if you don't assume she's right about actually being in heaven. I mean, we know she's wrong to have thought that "everyone [she] cared about was all right". We've just watched Bargaining, after all. Not only is everyone in Sunnydale in very real physical danger without a Slayer to protect them, all of Buffy's surviving friends and her kid sister and her Watcher are all manifestly miserable without her. Plus they'd still have had to deal with the Trio and (almost certainly) Willow's growing reliance on magic [even without the big resurrection spell, are you seriously suggesting Willow wouldn't keep using magic more and more if she lived on a Hellmouth with no Slayer?]. And all the money problems Buffy will find out about later would still have been an issue without her coming back to life! Were they going to send the Buffybot to work a second job to pay the bills? Were they going to send Dawn? And that's not even mentioning Angel, or asking about the people Buffy loved who have already died [are they in heaven too?]. I actually think it's more accurate to say that nobody Buffy cares about was all right while she was gone.

But After Life works because, to Buffy, none of that is relevant in the moment. She convinced herself that the people she loved would be better off without her when she jumped in The Gift, and now -- freshly emerged from her own grave, having been cheated by her best friends of her one chance to quit being The Slayer, told that she can't just pass on the impossibly hard task of living in the world to her sister -- of course she's going to keep believing it. Of course she's going to try to believe it for as long as she can. Because the alternative is admitting that she herself is still needed, and that she can't give up on the world just yet. And she really, really doesn't want to have to do that. Arguably she won't do it until Grave at the end of the season.

The important part of After Life isn't that Buffy thinks she was in heaven; it's that she's convinced the world around her is hell.

[satureja13]

While Sai and Kiyoshi implement the Astromech scanners they'd bought on Batuu into Great A'Tuins systems and Skully and Malfoy watch the bridge,

Vlad is holding Ji Ho in his arms. Ji Ho is still exhausted from traveling and the stress over Winterfest and New Year. Vlad feels over the Bond that he is on the verge of sleep. Since they still haven't figured out how to properly communicate, it's the best time to ask this one question that is haunting him since they left the First Order Headquarter... He would never dare asking Ji Ho this while he's fully conscious. Maybe Ji Ho would even lie to him to not make him upset. But he needs to know. Vlad whispered: "Did he touch you?" ... Ji Ho was already breathing deeply and snuggled even closer: "... don't worry ..."

'Don't worry'?! Vlad expected an honest answer from the core of Ji Ho's unconscious - and all he says is 'don't worry'?! Vlad is even more upset than before. If this Sith touched Ji Ho, he would kill him! They are still in Batuu's orbit until they'll continue their odyssey to hunt down Tiny Can and try to track the meteorites. It's now or never. Kylo and Vlad already dueled before. No one won though. But Vlad feels he'd have the upper hand when he'd let his hatred and wrath consume him. (Yeah, Vlad. That's the exact pathway over to the dark side!)

Vlad got up. He's so upset. He can't lie here beside Ji Ho. His rage would disturb Ji Ho's sleep over the Bond... Lenny also tries to encourage Vlad to follow him so Ji Ho can sleep in peace ^^'

He went to the bridge to tell Sai and Kiyoshi about what happened. But they are busy and only listen half heartedly. Time is money and they can't afford staying here much longer. Parking a ship as huge as Great A'Tuin here at Batuu is expensive as hell! So Skully nudged Vlad to tell him and Malfoy his sorrows... Well, Malfoy and Vlad hadn't the best start and Skully is no one you'll want to have around but Vlad needs to vent or he'll combust ö.Ö'

And of course Sai and Kiyoshi listened. Saiwa: "Gods Vlad! So you finally have Ji Ho in your arms at night. Nothing is holding you back anymore. That's what you ever wished for. You even died for him. And then you do something that stupid? It's as if you don't want to be happy, huh?" Kiyoshi: "I think it's very wise of Ji Ho. Would you love him less if Kylo had touched him? No. So what's the point of knowing? Seeking revenge? And sacrifice the peace we just established? What would be the consequences? For us, the people on Batuu and the diplomatic relationships. Is it really worth it? 'Don't worry' was the best he could say. If he said 'No' you'd feel his worries you might not believe him and his disappointment over you accusing him over the bond and you'd think he lied." Skully: "Man. I always thought such a Bond must be the peak of love and romance. Always knowing how the other feels. But in realtity it's a course!" Then Vlad's phone blared:

'Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

Every move you make And every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you'

The Police - Every Breath you take Vlad: "How did you do that?" ö.ö But Skully just chuckled. And Malfoy yelled at Vlad - in chicken... And this how they ended this stupid 'Vlad denying himself to be happy' conversation...

Since Vlad (Jack's best friend) and Sai (Jack's oldest friend) are here together, Kiyoshi thought it's time they learn that Jack and him had scratched the 'just' from 'we're mates, just mates'... Kiyoshi: "Jack and I are having a romantic relationship again." ... No one said anything. After all Jack had to go through during his relationship with Kiyoshi and after their break-up. The nightmares and the months of pain. And Kiyoshi also paid for it. 60 years he'd been suffering in this tree... They both almost gave their lives. Kiyoshi also his humanity - almost. But they are fated mates. And even Ms Coombes had to admit that troublemakerJack is the reason why their precious minor deity/demon Kiyoshi is still with them.

Vlad knows how much Kiyoshi loves Jack. They'd spend nights together beside Jack's pod when he was in his coma. So Vlad came to the conclusion that Jack's happyness is the most important and he'll support him in his decision to try again with Kiyoshi. Saiwa though, is worried beyond measure. Jack is like a little brother to him and Sai wants to spare him from getting hurt again... Saiwa: "Omg why?! You just left all that crap behind you just to do it all over again? After you healed Jack from his heat you promised us you won't go down that road again!"

But Sai also knows that nothing can keep Jack from wanting what he wants... Kiyoshi tried to reassure them. Kiyoshi: "I'm truely sorry. We tried. But he's my fated mate - and I'm his Alpha. What are we supposed to do? These bonds are holy and we learned the hard way that they can't be broken. I will take good care of Jack and won't let him down again. And if something goes wrong we'll be honest and won't keep anything from you. No secrets anymore. I love Jack and I want to make him happy."

And what is Sai supposed to say to this? He knows he's beaten. He also wants Jack to be happy. They are both grown-ups (yes, Jack too ^^') so who are they to stop them? So he just said: "Ach!"

Kiyoshi: "I' would like to promise that you won't regret it, but even I can't see the future. But I would give my life for him." Vlad: "Fair enough. That must do. Hm? Sai?" Saiwa sighed from the dephts of his soul.

Outtakes

Ji Ho dreaming of Jeb again...

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[sludgekludge]

can you elaborate on your feelings on vassago?

this blogs becoming what i use to kill time while i wait for my laundry to finish hi. first thing i did today was spill my entire water bottle on my bed. i think vassago is, at best, introduced too early, and at worst, shouldn't exist.

best case is that i think they gave him a poor introduction with functionally no personality outside of 'are you winning son' 'OMG STOLAS!' i genuinely don't get what people like about him. he doesn't do or say anything substantial. it's bc he's yaoi bait and that's it

worst case i think he's just a bad character for the plot. it seems like this dude has some history with stolas (if we ignore that stolas awkwardly does not acknowledge the weird fan behaviour whatsoever lmfaoooo) when stolas was like…established to be living this miserable lonely friendless life. no one likes stolas and he's not respected by his peers. he seems to have pretty bad people skills, and that's being generous. the one real light he has in his life aside from his affair partner (an affair of which should be motivated by that loneliness), allegedly his daughter…and fucking guy we've never heard of until now hiii vassago hi!!! i'll eat my words if i'm wrong but i can't really fathom how stolas having 1 guy who's been in his corner this whole time aids in his narrative, like, at all.

utterly baffling introduction. it's awkward and bizarre. it acts like we should already know who this guy is, almost. if he's going to be important later, fine, but he should've been introduced later then. mastermind was basically nothing. it's barely an introduction at all. equivalent of like, someone asking me to introduce myself, and all i say for 5 minutes is I UFUCKING LOVE THE COLOUR YELLOW, like ok. what else man

[studiogrimm810]

Florida Heat

pairings/characters: (established) sam winchester x gn!you, dean is also there

summary: trying to wipe out a vamp nest goes south when more than expected monsters emerge from nearby

warnings: humidity (ick), blood loss, vampires, drinking blood, disorientation, graphic depictions of experienced pain

word count: 3,182

A/N: i’m such a sucker for physical hurt/comfort, so enjoy!! ^.^

———————

The hum of the Impala was something that could soothe you to sleep like a baby regardless of its destination. Whether it was 12 hours into a boring road trip or speeding to a nest like it is right now- it was always a lull to ease the churning nerves in your stomach.

It was nearing sunrise so you three were really banking on the vamps being blood drunk and passed out by now. That was your only advantage to the half dozen you assumed to be camped out just outside of town.

You and the brothers had been in town for a few days already, tracking the disappearances of fraternity brothers who all were seen last with one Theo Williams. Theo was a transfer student who slipped into the school year just last month and has now not been spotted outside of the eye witness reports made by students on the nights of said disappearances.

After background checks run by the police department, it was concluded that Theo, who was a fraternity brother of the school he claimed to transfer from almost 8 years ago, he's been reported missing for almost a decade.

The piece that led you three to become certain it was a nest, was one specific witness who swore that Theo had jagged and “shark-like” teeth.

And after hacking traffic cams and tracking so many vehicles, you, with Sam’s consistent vigilance and Dean’s ‘words of encouragement’, had successfully pinned the location of the nest.

Dean parked about half a mile away, far from sight, and you all climbed out of the peaceful bubble of the Impala and into the veil of sticky summer heat of a Florida morning. On the horizon, a honey stained sky glows bright and confident with piercing UV rays slicing through creamy clouds. The picture reminded you just how early it was and you had to stifle a yawn that follows an instinctive stretch from exiting the car.

You’re quickly sucked back to the heat rolling over your skin, collecting humidity that worked overtime to quickly produce a layer of tacky sweat that loose pieces of hair stick to like glue. The sensation led you to mumble out a quiet ‘yuck’ that made Sam chuckle fondly to himself. You tried not to let the itchy sweat get to you and instead focus on the weapons lined in the trunk of your safe-haven that you already missed dearly.

“Alright, stay close, no splitting up,” Dean instructs as if you and his brother aren’t grown adults who’ve been hunting for years. It doesn’t really bother you much when he does so though. You know he only does it because he worries. It’s how he copes hunting with those he cares for, and that’s enough for you to just sit back and be led. “Careful with these, don’t wanna poke yourselves,” he says, passing out a few vials of Dean Man’s Blood for you and Sam to pocket.

It was honestly sweet how consistently caring and protective Dean was of not only you, but Sam. Sam was a grown ass man- 30 some-odd years of painful, firsthand experience of the job under his belt- and yet Dean still treated him like a precious trinket that must be kept pristine at all times.

“We ready?” Dean asks, checking over his machete, darting his eyes up through his brows to look at both you and Sam.

Sam looks over at you before answering his brother. You give Dean a curt nod, sheathing your machete, and Sam gives Dean a simple ‘yeah’.

Dean slams and locks the trunk with a few pats on the silky metal out of affection before leading the way up a road so slim that there aren’t even any lane markers. The three of you fall into your usual line of approach- Dean in front, Sam on the flank, and you in between.

It isn’t long before you spot a crooked trailer that clearly wasn’t hitched properly. There’s a fire pit emitting lazy flakes of ember into the swirl of air above it. A few bodies lie around the pit, slow rising if their chests being the only hint that they’re still breathing.

The bodies are slack and mouths stained with red that have dribbled down their chins and soaked into their clothes. A set of fangs peak past one of their lips and it’s the cherry on top of the confirmation you need to classify this group as blood-thirsty killers.

From here you count four vamps, but the arrhythmic rocks of the trailer behind the lifeless pit suggest more.

A silent look from Dean, with accompanying hand motions, signals a loose plan of action. Dean continues to lead the way and you make sure to stick to his heels as Sam stays a few feet back to keep a clear picture on both of you.

As the group gets close enough, Dean ticks his head to the vamp opposite of you, Sam the same, and with a quick swift spiral of limbs, three heads slice off of their hosts and thud into the swampy mud beneath them. The sound startles the remaining vamp and it bolts up with a dizzy sway from its blood-drunken state.

Its anger is clear as his teeth flash razor sharp fangs and a piercing hiss. Dean, who doesn’t waste time with intimidation, advances the vamp with his machete held high and ready to strike. Before his blade can meet its second victim of the morning though, Dean is tackled by the vamp in front of him. It bucks its shoulders into Dean’s abdomen like a linebacker and lands him into the moist ground with a wet smack that sprays mud everywhere.

“Dean!” Sam barked, heading straight to his brother to decapitate the vamp attacking him.

Your instinct pulls you towards the fumble but the prickle of skin on the back of your neck alerts you back to the now idle trailer. A fresh new wave of crimson lined fangs flash at you from the doorway of the trailer and out pours six more besotted vamps with their sights clearly set.

“Shit,” you utter out as if the dropping of your stomach forced it out. You stumbled back, slipping in the mud but solidifying your grip on your weapon.

Sam has successfully beheaded the vamp who attacked Dean and secured Dean's forearm to hoist him back up to his feet just in time to ready their next attack.

The bundle of vamps seem to split into three and three. One group heading towards the brothers and the other towards you. And unfortunately for you, you and the Winchesters mirrored each other around the fizzled fire pit, putting- well not much- but just enough distance between you to potentially be lethal.

You try not to focus on that and instead put all of your attention into fighting off the three recently turned, frat bro vampires who were out for more blood. The first grabbed your upper arm with a bruising force that made your teeth clench and you swung up your machete to make a sloppy aim for its neck. The blade landed into the monster’s clavicle, however, and only served to further piss it off.

As you swung the blade back out from the pinch of bone you created, the now free blade sliced across another vamps throat, digging a few inches deep into its carotid and spraying blood on its allies. It stumbled back a few feet and was grabbed by Sam who finished the job with a successful flick of his machete.

The vamp who initially grabbed you was not even bothered by the action behind him and instead only cared about the shimmering skin exposed along your neck. You tried to hold off the creature but with a menacing crack, a surge of white-hot pain oozed down your arm and settled into your fingertips before going numb. The pain did continue to radiate around your shoulder and it caused you to lose a vital weapon- your dominant hand.

You cried out at the shock of nerves that erupted in your shoulder and the vamp used the feathering weakness of your body against you, digging its fingernails onto your opposite trapezius and angling you just perfectly for it to sink its fangs into your salty skin.

The sharp stab following the first ache was enough to reverse the air in your lungs- rendering you mute. Your mouth fell agape and eyes wide as all you could do was just take it. The pain weaseled itself under your skin and settled deep like barbed wire before trying to yank back out as the vamp drained you of your blood.

The feeling was uncanny.

Past the vamp, you could see that the beautiful sunrise has finished its display and now the morning sun dominates the sky, shining down on you like rays of warm amber. It sizzles in the far, far distance but still singes your skin with its blistering heat, only adding more insult to injury.

Muffled voices and slick swipes of mud are blocked from your ears as the sounds of sickening slurps and hungry grunts emit up your jaw and into your eardrums.

The wet heat between you and your attacker provided even more sticky humidity to coat your skin under a shrink-wrapped layer of cloth. So when the body is torn off of you and the harsh rays of the morning sun settle upon you, you can almost feel steam roll of your skin.

A brush of wind blew past you and you felt it card through your locks of damp hair as it provided a fresh blast of air. It was enough to settle your nerves enough after the vamp has been torn off of you. But it relaxes you too much as your knees land into the mud beneath you before you can stop yourself.

In the midst of an unfortunate mix of thick, salty air around you, the feeling of cool mud seeping through your jeans is yet another thing that helps to soothe you. It sends little chills up your body and you start to feel colder than you should.

“-hear me? Hey-.”

You let your hands settle into the mud next, but only one hand feels the sensation. Why can’t you feel the mud?

You dig your fingers in further, just enough to wiggle them under the muck, hoping to spike even a hint of feeling in your tips.

But nothing.

What’s up with that?

Your shoulders slack, and- wait, how long have your eyes been closed?

“-to me! Stay with-.”

The recent memory of a firm hand on your shoulder sends a reminder wave of pain through your upper body and causes your teeth to grit.

Oh yeah.

Fucker shattered your shoulder.

Your sharp intake of air stretched your lungs past their capacity, almost shocking you back to the present. The noise around you fades back in and you peel your eyes open.

Sticky mud has sucked you under its skin and you pull back out of it with a ‘smuck’. This motion starkly heightened the throbbing pain in your shoulder that hasn’t stopped screaming at you. You drag your head up just enough to see that Dean is nowhere to be found and Sam is fighting a vamp. You assume they’ve been at it for a minute because mud cakes the side of Sam's body like icing. You recognize the vamp as the one who latched its fangs under your ear.

Sharp slams of feet pull your attention behind you and Dean reappears from the inside of the trailer and aims at Sam.

Dean is quick to aid Sam and soon enough, you watch the vamps head fall into the slop.

When did it get so cold?

Sam hurries towards your swaying form that’s crumbling into itself in the messy grass. You sat back between your heels and shoulders slack, holding yourself up only by the way your posture is bent.

Sam grabs the sides of your face, fixing your gaze onto him. He’s speaking- saying a lot.

Nothing he says settles into your ears yet though.

The pretty sun shines down on you, blinding and warm.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he assures like there’s no other answer. His voice sounds pretty when it’s desperate and full of love.

So, so pretty.

“Dean, they’ve lost a lot of blood,” Sam calls back to his brother, heart in his throat.

“So cold,” you grunt out, trying to find any way to lean your torso so that your shoulder doesn’t hang with such ache.

“Shit,” Sam mumbles to himself, holding a cloth to your neck and brushing some hair out of your face. Dean stumbles over to the scene, blood sprayed across his face matches the splatter of mud across Sam’s.

“Can you hear me?” Dean pats at your face, using a soft pet name to try and coo you back to yourself.

“Sh-shoulder,” you grumble, your face pinched at the tedious pain.

“Let me just take a look,” Dean’s voice is gruff and filled with worry but you can tell he’s doing his best to use his ‘hurt Sammy’ voice.

You feel the cloth peel back, exposing the pierced skin. You hiss at the lack of pressure, revitalizing the itching sting in your wound but a warm ooze settles over the itching just enough to take it down just a notch.

“Okay, okay,” Dean settles the cloth back over your wound and Sam keeps you steady. “It’s not pretty, but it’s not too bad, okay?” Dean says, his eyes lasering into your own. “Just stay awake, okay? You gotta stay awake,” he insists, nodding to show that there’s no other choice. You don’t respond but you think he can tell you’ve been listening. “We need to get them outta here,” Dean finished, standing and surveying the surrounding area.

“C’mon, honey, I’ve gotchyou,” Sam hums, snaking his arm around and under your own arms, holding you close. The sudden rise of your body makes your vision blacken for a moment followed by a flood of heavy pressure against your eardrums. “I’ve gotchya,” he repeats, waiting patiently for you to adjust to the minimal altitude.

As your vision blurs back into colorful place, Sam begins to lead you to the rumble of the incoming Impala.

Damn, Dean was fast.

Sam continues to mumble soft assurances and sturdy words into your ear as you two approach the vehicle.

Sam guides you into the back seat and follows behind.

“You still with us?” Dean looks back to make sure you’re awake before taking off back to the motel.

“‘M head hurts,” you whimper, leaning into Sam.

“It’s the bloodloss, honey, you’ll be okay,” Sam kisses the top of your head that must be disgusting at this point, sweaty, frizzy, and muddy.

“My shoulder too,” you’re starting to find your voice again and that makes Dean's shoulders lighten in relief.

“Yeah, it looked dislocated.”

“God, that’s what that feels like?” You groan, trying to sit up a bit in hopes that a different position will help the dry throb behind your skull.

“Yeah, and it won’t be great goin’ back in either,” Dean scoffs with a tight smirk, trying to gauge just how present you are. Sam gives Dean a sharp look of warning.

“Don’t worry about that right now, love, just focus on staying awake for me,” Sam pushes some damp hair out of your face, keeping soft eyes in you.

He hates to see you like this. It’s like a punch to the gut, keeping him breathless and aching. He just wants you to be better- happy and safe and painless.

The soft hum of the engine brought you down a bit, soothing you like a loving whisper. It held you close and consistently sang its soft tune as the tires brought you closer to your destination. But what exactly was your destination?

“Am I-, are we going to a hospital?” You ask, feeling a wave of nausea coarse through your stomach. You hate hospitals.

Sam locked eyes with Dean in the rear view but this went unnoticed by you. Ideally, yes, you would go to a hospital but this isn’t ideal. The motel was closer and there was no use in worrying you farther, so Sam settled on a simple, “No, honey, we’re gonna fix you up at the motel, no need for a hospital.”

You found comfort in his words and the anxiety started to settle enough to ease your nausea. The pain still snaked from your shoulder and your neck throbbed around its gash.

There’s no way the motel was this close, but you’re already being led out of the Impala by Sam and back towards your room.

The heat of the Florida morning ripples over your clammy skin and causes a wave of heat to tickle up your spine, but once you pass the doorway of your shared motel room, the cool air settles onto your skin and settles your temperature back into place.

Sam sits you into the bed as Dean gets the necessary items to clean you up. Sam peels back the cloth on your neck and the quick smile he flashes lets you know that things really would be okay and he wasn’t just trying to make you feel better.

“The bleeding has stopped, it looks good, sweetheart,” Sam nods softly, the fire in his eyes warming the exhausted ice in yours. You smile weakly at him. “You’re covered in mud, we really should get you cleaned up before patching you up,” Sam places the dirty cloth off to the side.

“Should take care of that shoulder first though,” Dean interrupts and a soft wince could be seen under his stony exterior. You knew it was coming, but the reality of it was sickening.

“Yeah, he’s right,” Sam agrees and you could see his hesitation.

“Js’ get it over with,” you mumble weakly.

Dean sighs and steps forward, positioning you just right to line up your throbbing bone back against its socket. “One… two-,” he shoves the joint back into place before he gets to three and you let out a strangled cry, sucking in a deep breath at the sudden stab back into place.

“Fuck!” You huff, glaring up at him, “what the hell?” You rub your shoulder, your chest rattled with your voice. Dean smiles proudly with a shrug, glad you seemed to be getting your energy back from the lack of blood.

“Go shower, your highness, you both look awful,” Dean scoffs lightly, headed towards the fridge that only housed a recently bought 6-pack.

“You’re one to talk,” Sam joked back lightly, helping you stand again. Even if you were getting some energy back, you’re still quite dizzy and disoriented. “C’mon, love,” Sam's hand rests on your lower back, guiding you to the shower that you both very much needed- you just didn’t want to outwardly admit it to the smug man who winks at Sam as Sam follows you in to the bathroom.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest)

>>check out my other works here

[useless-catalanfacts]

Hola!

I know that inclusive grammar is oftentimes not set in stones.

From quick research, I understand that “elli” is one suggested gender neutral pronoun in Català. Is there an accepted inclusive definite article like “el,” “la,” outside of the confusing to speak suggestions with “x”.

It is an earnest ask as I don’t see any info online in the places I am looking.

Thank you in advance and thank you for sharing your knowledge on Catalan culture.

Hello! Thank you :D

Yes, there is. Every word (determinants, adjectives, nouns, pronouns, etc) are turned into non-binary grammatical gender by taking the feminine version and changing the gender marker -a for -i (in the case of singular) or -es for -is (in the case of plurals). Thus, the article is "li" (singular) or "lis" (plural).

I would also like to clear up a couple of minor things from the ask, I'll add the whole answer under a cut because it's a bit long.

You mentioned an "accepted" article. Accepted by who? Do you mean widely accepted by speakers, or accepted by the official institutions that regulate the standard and make dictionaries? Because those are very different questions.

Being used and understood by speakers comes first, and only after it is widespread do the academies incorporate it in their standards, dictionaries and lists. A dictionary is never a place to propose new words, only to compile the ones already part of the language. That's why academies that make dictionaries and regulate the standard, regardless of how much they want to, just can't add new things so quickly, they must wait to see if a trend really ends up becoming part of the language of if it's a short-lived trend that leaves and never takes root.

The third grammatical gender is still a recent proposal which many speakers haven't heard of, don't know how to use and don't understand (in fact, they would understand a different thing if they heard it*). For this reason, it's too soon to talk about being included by language academies. But yes, the -i ending (including elli) is the most used and most widely accepted proposal of third grammatical gender.

*replacing the vowels for the vowel "i" has always been used as a way to ridiculize a sentence, way before the -i got proposed for a non-binary grammatical gender, so people who are not familiar with this new proposal will likely interpret it as a joke.

So from now on I will answer assuming we mean what is the most widely used or socially accepted (which is what I assume you meant anyway), because as we've established it's too early to talk about being or not being accepted by official academies.

2. We are talking about third grammatical gender or non-binary grammatical gender, not gender-neutral.

In English, the singular "they" is used as a gender-neutral pronoun when we don't know the gender of the person we're talking about, but Catalan and most other Romance languages don't have this. The idea that has been proposed is a new, third grammatical gender which is neither male nor female. This third grammatical gender is used by non-binary people who prefer to use neither male nor female. But if it were gender-neutral we would use it to talk about people who aren't non-binary or for mixed grammatical genders (remember that grammatical gender does not equal human gender, the word is only a coincidence and in many cases it could be better translated as "type", "class" or "genre"), for example "there they are, the dishes and the mugs" = "allà els tenim, els plats i les tasses". We use the unmarked/masculine for that, but there's some people who also have other proposals but that's a whole other very, very long conversation.

Same goes for people, we don't use the third grammatical gender when we don't know someone's gender, unlike English this isn't part of our language. We simply tend to add the multiple options. Until now it was 2 (male and female), now it should be 3. In some other occasions, people might use the unmarked/masculine or write in reference to "person" (can be an elliptical construction that simply looks like a feminine sentence).

3. The -x.

You also mention the confusing -x. Luckily the -x is not commonly used here. It's not very useful because it's very online-only (it can't be pronounced, so it can never become part of the language more than just virtue-signaling in written form).

It's normal to have to try out different forms before finding out what will work, but we're lucky that this one never really took root because it will be easier to teach directly the new one (-i) to the broader public who isn't as invested in this.

That being said, going back to your question:

"Elli" is the personal neopronoun (equivalent to ell and ella), as you said, and the -i termination is the proposed new grammatical gender. It must be the -i because it's the only vowel in Catalan that isn't directly associated with one of the two other existing grammatical genders: -a is used for the singular feminine, -e is used for the plural feminine (as well as singular feminine in some accents), -o and -u are used for the plural unmarked/masculine. The singular unmarked/masculine grammatical gender in Catalan doesn't have an ending, so it can end in any letter (including -i). Thus, only -i is (most times) left, even though it's already used as an end in some pronouns (like "hi", meaning "there", "-li" meaning "to him" or "to her", etc). So the rule is this: for every gendered word (nouns, adjectives, pronouns, etc) just take the feminine form and in singular change the -a for -i, or in plural change the -es for -is.

The article would work the same way: li. For example:

♂️: El mestre és alt. Els mestres són alts.

♀️: La mestra és alta. Les mestres són altes.

Neo: Li mestri és alti. Lis mestris són altis.

If you want to know more details about this new proposal, there's a book called Guia gramatical de llenguatge no-binari that explains everything.

I hope this answers your question! And thank you very much for your interest.

[arcane-ish]

I'm not an expert on internalized misogyny, but I think it's not so much about not being allowed to have a negative read or take on female characters. I think it's more "okay, why do we make excuses for mediocre men". Why don't we apply the same harshness to Jayce for example?

Devil's advocate: he's just marginally less privileged than Caitlyn. His sponsors are the most powerful people in Piltover. Yes, he angst about his life, but so does Caitlyn. Yes, he defends some undercity people he likes, but so does Caitlyn. Yes he gets put through the ringer, but so does Caitlyn. Yes, he is willing to sacrifice himself to get the big win, but so is Caitlyn. He pitches himself one of the most powerful positions in Piltover, he kills a kid, he continues to give weapons to the enforcers, he is the one who ends up acting as boss of Piltover in the end and who invites Zaunites to act as canonfodder for Piltover.

Why would we read him clearly as "he's just trying to help people" vis a vis "Caitlyn is just out for revenge". Why don't we read "Jayce became a scientist because he was just into mysterious/feeding his own magic kink", "Jayce rose in the ranks to feed his own ego", "Jayce is callous and duplicious", "Jayce uses people left and right to rise up in Piltover's society", "Jayce arms up the police", "Jayce poisons the undercity with this hybris", "Jayce kills a kid and it doesn't cause him to turn his back on violence", "Jayce probably is also motivated by fear and revenge after experiencing multiple terrorist attacks on Piltover".

This isn't to say that I think Jayce is actually that bad, but questioning, how much are we NOT having those reads just because he's a run of the mill hot dude with a pretty face? If Jayce was a woman, would we perceive her as way more of an asshole than we do Jayce?

How much are JayVik fans making excuses for his motives because they want to fawn over his relationship with Viktor just like ViCait do with Cait and Vi?

That said, I do think there's a logic to why people may perceive Cait as "the worst" that goes beyond "people hold her to higher standards than the dudes from Jayce (already talked), Viktor (killed a fuckton of people), Silco, Vander etc".

1.) There is a way of hierarchical morality thinking that basically applies highest standards to the people with the most power/privilege (where just the passive act of having and being surrounded by power is considered a mark/a sin to be cleansed of) and makes the most excuses for the people with the least power. I think within fandom spaces we sometimes forget that not actually everyone shares this moral value system in the real world [in the real world you will find way more "same rules for everyone" or "no blame for passive crimes"], but it is a well established system. And within that hierarchical system season 2 establishes Cait as being highest/having the most power. (this was less present in season 1 when she was still below in rank to Marcus and her mother in some ways, but in season 2 we see she always had this authority via the scene where she demands the right to do her strike team [Mel is just slightly below her, she was born into Noxian privilege and she's a councilor, but she's a foreigner to the city, while Caitlyn is full birthright)

2.) When it comes to people hurting a partner, whether fairly or not, people tend to apply different standards to whether or not the characters are in a relationship. So people might be forgiving of Ekko trying to bash Jinx's head in because they are not in a romantic relationship, so "relationship rules" don't apply, but combat rules.

Again it's worth asking maybe a little bit why we judge "Jayce blasts Viktor" so differently even though they at least within fanon are supposed to have this almost most pseudoromantic bond compared to "Cait shoves Vi". Yes Vi and Cait have kissed, but they arguably aren't really in a full on relationship yet. But imo that scene happening so close to them sharing a romantic kiss just triggers people's "relationships rules/logic/standards should apply" instincts and within that logic system a shove can be judged worse than a murder attempt between people who aren't in a romantic relationship yet.

3,) I think Caitlyn's s2 dynamic of "after a terrorist attack I grow fearful of an entire group of people and start voting for fascists/bigger police complex/carpet bombing" feels particularly close to real life and so it feels particularly unsatisfying that isn't cleanly resolved. It's kind of the logic where people will sometimes judge characters who commit adulterly more negatively than characters who commit murder. Because for most people being cheated on feels like a much more realistic threat, something that might actually happen in their lives compared to being murdered. We react more strongly to things that feel close to home and we handwave things that seem far away or just typical fantasy bullshit (Viktor tries to mind rape the world) more easily.

Sooo I been thinking a lot about the fandom reception of Caitvi, and Caitlyn Kiramman herself, and how that reception is negative compared to other, equally or more morally dubious characters and toxic ships. More specifically I've been thinking about my perception of Caitvi and Caitlyn, because I wanted to do some introspection on why I dislike her and the ship compared to others, to evaluate if it really is internalized misogyny or holding female characters to an unfairly high standard or if there was an objective reason that made people react more negatively to this ship/character than others. I came to some conclusions, that if you've been curious about this discourse, you may find interesting, but it's kind of a long read.

While I think in situations like this there is always a factor of implicit misogyny, I've come to the conclusion that, at least for me, there are bigger reasons to why I dislike the ship (and Caitlyn) that may speak to other fans as well.

On the outset, looking at it objectively, Caitvi should be one of the least toxic ships in the fandom. They're pretty much the only one that at no point actively tried to kill each other (Ekko was going to kill Jinx on the bridge, even if he did stop himself, Jinx tried to blow him up along with herself like four times and also fired a machine gun at him. Vander and Silco,, well we all know what happened. Jayce blasted a hole in Viktor's chest. Viktor didn't try to kill Sky but he did. Maddie uhhh fucking tried to shoot Cait in the neck) I think Meljay is the only other mainstream ship from this show that didn't try to fucking murder each other at any point. So why is Caitvi disliked, or at least considered unilaterally less wholesome than Timebomb (who takes the cake for "murder attempts per ship" while also managing to be considered the least problematic in the fandom lmao)?

I came to the conclusion that it ultimately boils down to the ending. I loved Caitvi in season one, I really did, and I kept loving them throughout the beginning of season 2. Caitlyn made mistakes, and she was a cop, but it's a show and I can look past that, Vi made mistakes too. They started to lose me, not when Cait asked Vi to become a cop, but in the later scene where we learn from Maddie that Caitlyn had had Vi enlisted as an enforcer despite her outright rejection of the proposal AND after apologizing for said proposal. This is a huge violation, but Vi's lesbian ass was just touched that Caitlyn complimented her while doing it, so it never gets brought up and she agrees to go along with it? Don't love that. It's literally never brought up. Maybe I got the timeline bungled since it happens off screen but,, yeah.

We then see Caitlyn terrorize the undercity with fucking toxic fumes, as many people bring up. I actually don't think it's OOC for Vi to have gone along with this, she's shown multiple times that she is in support of any level of brutality levied against the people of the undercity as long as they're the ones she doesn't like. No, what got me was when she was aggressively threatening Huck with borderline torture in Stillwater, the thing VI HERSELF EXPERIENCED, and she pulls her aside not to reprimand her, but to make out with her and ask her not to change.

HUH?

Remember in S1 when Vi got incredibly mad at Jayce for "bandying the threat around" when he threatened to arrest her, and got justifiably furious at the unfairness of Topsiders who have no idea what Stillwater is like to wantonly throw people in there to rot? Where was that energy, girl?

Then of course is the part where Caitlyn strikes Vi in an already injured spot to punish her for not letting Caitlyn shoot at a child, which, characters in this show are always being violent to each other, every other ship is. If we can get over Ekko repeatedly pummeling Jinx in her FACE we can get over this, but here's the kicker-

She reduces Vi to her lower class status before hurting her. "I keep telling myself that you're different, but you're not."

In that moment, all of Caitlyn's "ally" sentiments to Zaun fly out the window. In that moment, Vi ceases to be "one of the good ones" to her and she resolves in her abject bigotry towards Zaunites. Vi is no longer worth the dirt at the bottom of her shoe because she's just a Zaunite, like her sister. That's the kicker. The Caitlyn from season 1 who genuinely wanted to do good is gone. She doesn't care about doing good anymore, she only cares about punishing Zaun for existing.

And I think this is why people dislike her, because with most other characters, they consistently wanted to do good and thought they were doing the right thing even if they were absolutely wrong.

Viktor thought that turning humanity into flawless, mindless robots would eliminate suffering.

Jayce constantly fucked up but every fucked up thing he does is because he thinks it will help people.

Ambessa wanted to protect her family and was willing to make any sacrifice to do so.

Singed wanted to save his daughter and was willing to make any sacrifice to do so.

Mel wanted to keep Piltover and Jayce safe.

Sevika wanted the Undercity to be independent and free

Silco is the most similar to Caitlyn in this regard, because his character was mostly motivated by wanting revenge against Piltover, but at least somewhere in his little rat brain, he felt like he was doing it for Zaun and so the people of Zaun could be respected, free, and prosperous.

Caitlyn just wanted revenge.

And then we get to the ending. In the last couple episodes every single character is punished by the narrative for their crimes. With only two exceptions.

Singed and Caitlyn.

Jayce, Viktor, Jinx, and Ambessa all fucking die (I'm not discussing theories of the first three being alive because this post is only going into what the show actually shows us so for the sake of this argument, they dead)

Mel loses the man she loves, has to kill her own mother, and leaves the city she loves to return alone to Noxus.

Ekko catches a glimpse of everything he ever wanted, gives it up to save his own timeline, and the girl he loves still fucking dies and he is left completely alone.

Vi loses her sister and what's left of her dad, and it's her fault Jinx dies, and she has to live with that, and the only support system she has left is her partner who called her a slur then hit her

Cait uhhhh *checks notes* loses her eye. That's. That's all that happens to her. I mean her mom died but that was before she went off the rails, not after, and I think the only character who ended the series with an alive mom was Jayce so it's not like that makes her unique.

Now I can actually see how making her disabled in this way would be an interesting narrative tool, similar to the end of the Comic Nimona, where the Cop love interest becomes disabled when he finally tries to fight for something good, and in doing so his disability frees him from the role of being a cop, without which he can live peacefully and happily. If they'd taken this approach with Cait it would have been very interesting, because she's a sharpshooter. If her newfound lack of depth perception compromised her ability to do her job, and she was no longer an enforcer, that would be an interesting ending.

But they do nothing with that. She's still a cop but she has a cool eyepatch now. Like what a fucking waste.

Now I do know that she supposedly learns from her mistakes. She clearly knows what she did was wrong, she lets Jinx go, despite Jinx being her white whale the entire fucking season, which is a huge sacrifice to make and she does it because she loves Vi. That's sweet, it is, and she gives Sevika her seat on the council I guess to show that she reformed her hatred of Zaunites. It's good that she did those things.

But the fact that she is never held accountable for the worst of the things she does, not by the narrative, not by Vi, not by any other character, and the story ends with her STILL being a cop indicating that she actually learned fuckall, and most importantly: The series ends with her, a cop, who has been violent and discriminatory with Vi before, being Vi's only remaining support system.

Her odds of becoming a victim of the 40% statistic don't look great.

So I hope this explains my and other people's issues with Caitlyn and Caitvi. Ultimately I don't hate the ship I just don't like it, and I'm not some anti who takes issue with other people shipping two Consenting Problematic Adults from "Problematic Adults: the Cartoon, inspired by Problematic Everything: The Video Game." I guess I just wanted to put out an explanation for why I and others don't like them in the hopes of reaching some understanding in the fandom. I'm glad to have my canon problematic lesbians at the end of the day.

[akanemnon]

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