#it's a good thing they never met because if they looked at each other it might've ripped a hole in the fabric of space 🙈💖

[gwydionmisha]

My parents did it similarly, though not entirely the same as the OP (I'm an Xer) and I absolutely agree with their conclusions. I can not stress enough how good the explain why thing is.

We were expected to stop if an adult yelled stop. We could ask why after, but generally, there was a very good reason, like a car was coming. (We did do logical consequences, like throw a tantrum and we leave, so you don't get to do the thing we were going to do. Scream in the restaurant, and we don't get to eat in the restaurant. That sort of thing).

The answers to why made sense. It gave us the idea that rules had reasons and you should think about reasons before deciding to break one.

We had a process for rules changes. We could go and say, "I think this rule should be changed, and here's why." We could then make a case for it using reason and wherever possible evidence. They would discuss it and get back to us, usually in a day or two, never longer than a week. They might change the rule. They might offer a compromise or a negotiation towards a compromise. They might say, "We think you're a little too young, ask again in a year." They might say no and here's why. At which point there was a chance for a counter argument. If that failed wait a year and try again.

This is a far better preparation for adulthood than because I said and violent punishment. Sure, I would break rules now and then, but I always did it with forethought, weighing reasons and risks and consequences. If caught, I could explain why. Ex.: "I snuck out because a friend was at a party turning ugly and I went to take them home." I avoided a lot of stupid and dangerous behavior my friends and relatives my age got into because they were stuck in a punishment and rebellion cycle with their parents or parent. (I wasn't an angel, but every rule I broke was something I decided was worth it after thinking it through).

My parent's relationship style of discussing things calmly and negotiating solutions with each other served me pretty well in my own dating life, as did the fundamental sense that we were all on one team, working together as a family to achieve goals and solve problems. If you are all on one side, you don't fight to win or fight to hurt the other person; instead you negotiate to get your needs met and to make sure everyone can live with the outcome whether the issue is dishes or not having enough money for the electric bill or big life questions.

It also is way better prep for living in a Democracy. I think the reasons why are pretty obvious. Rational argumentation and negotiation is a way healthier approach to government than the one authoritarian parenting sets you up for. It's good to question the whys of rules and systems in place and if they aren't working, look for ways to fix them. Preferably as a group.

Because we do better as a group when we are all trying to improve things instead of putting all our energy into winning or hurting the other person.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[slapmeshigaraki]

౨ৎ "Are you scared, sweetheart?" ౨ৎ

♡ warnings: meanie!sylus x reader, spit, gunplay, daddy, condescension, improper evol use lmao, actually pretty tame ngl the dirty talk is kinda gross though, sylus is out of character in this in case that bothers you

♡ a/n: okay i lied and said i wasn't posting this until later in the week, but i finished editing it early so... idk happy valentine's day i guess. another old fic that i just edited. enjoy pretties !!

♡ Sylus doesn't ask you for much other than to leave him alone for a few hours on Sundays so he can clean his gun collection, but after a few interruptions too many, he decides that you can stick around just this once. Afterall, maybe you can help? ♡

“What is it?” he said after letting out a deep sigh, not bothering to look up at you through the lenses of his glasses. They sat loosely against the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his lap, softly polishing one of his most prized possessions: a gun. You weren’t sure whose death he’d pictured on the other end of it, but he treated it like the last bite of dessert, savoring it, keeping it hidden away for a special occasion. No one could touch it, look at it, breathe on it, except him. When Luke and Kieran gave you your first tour of the house, they wouldn’t even walk you down the hallway of the safe, scared that ‘Boss would smell your scents when he returned.’ It wasn’t until months later when he’d decided that your firearm wasn’t up to par any longer that he’d invited you in to 'shop' for a new one. That’s when you saw it, hung up on the wall in a glass case so high that only he could reach. It was wrapped in a fine silk fabric, a pristine black cherry gun whose make or model was so far beyond your pay grade that you’d never heard of it before.

Every Sunday he disappears into the safe for hours before dinner. He was not to be disturbed. It was the only thing that he was really particular about, but he needed it just to clear his head—some solace after a long week. So, the fact that you were interrupting him for the third time with a knock on the door was grating, to say the least.

“Nothing I just-“

“Is something on fire, darling?”

“No, Sylus.”

“Has someone managed to break into the house?”

“No.”

“Has Mephisto spontaneously combusted, leaving a feather lodged into one of your eyes?”

“No.”

“So, you can clearly see that I’m busy? Then I’ll ask again, what is it that you need?” His eyes still wouldn’t meet yours, eyebrows furrowing as he spoke, his tone strained.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted rice or mashed potatoes for dinner, but since you’re so caught up in tending to an inanimate object, I’ll decide for you.” He was snippier than usual, the darkening of his voice making it obvious he was not in the mood for witty banter.

“Be careful there, sweetheart. I’d hate for that pretty mouth to get you into trouble.”

“Or what? Will you get trigger happy and let that precious gun go off? No, of course not because we must keep it clean for a hypothetical threat that doesn’t fucking exist.”

“Kneel.” It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It was a command, an order barked at an underling.

“Go fuck yourself,” You said, venom in your voice as you made a move back towards the door, hand clenched around the golden handle.

“If you make me get up to come catch you sweetheart, you’ll be sorry.” His eyes met yours for the first time, a fiery crimson illuminating your line of vision. His gaze was dark, challenging you to disobey him. When Sylus told someone to do something, they did it and you were no exception. You might bite back once in a while, but he always knew that you’d do what he told you to at the end of the day.

So, you kneeled, perhaps too slowly because it wasn’t before long that your knees were forced to buckle beneath you, Sylus making good use of his evol to bind your ankles together. The cool marble tile flooring chilled your flesh as your heartbeat ran wild, your mouth getting wetter with each second, practically drooling as if you were waiting to sink your teeth into your favorite meal. In the same breath, your hands were bound as well, moved behind your back against your will and stuck together like glue.

“Go on, crawl to me.” There was amusement staining his expression, a sinister smirk plastered across his face.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Can’t you get to me? A big strong girl like you with such a dirty mouth, surely you can move just a few feet on your own.” You relaxed your legs, letting your knees spread apart to rest them.

“I can’t…” You mumbled under your breath, unable to meet his glare any longer.

“Speak up, pet. You were so loud a few moments ago. Speak to me with that same tough voice now that you can't run away from me.” His slender fingers kept moving, cleaning the trophy with such grace. It was rhythmic, methodical, and calculated. It made you wet just to watch him, reminding you of how easily those same fingers could make you fall apart in his arms.

“I can’t move.”

“You can’t move?” he whined, pouting, mocking you without remorse.

“Well, I want you kneeling in front of me. So how do you suggest you get over here, sweetie?”

“Sylus…” You pled, which was slightly better than flat out begging.

“Tsk tsk, where are our manners?” The same red mist that bound your wrists and ankles now curled around your throat, not hesitating to squeeze abruptly, threatening to rob you of all of your air altogether.

“Please sir, help me.” Without letting another second pass, you were pulled into the air and inched over to him by the mist, roughly thrown back to the ground before him. His legs were spread in his seated position, gun resting on one, the other resting between your thighs.

“Thank you,” You said, hanging your head to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Aw, so polite. See what happens when you ask nicely? See how sweet I can be when you aren't a fucking brat?” With that, his foot adjusted, the tip of his perfectly polished leather shoe gently pressed against your core. You struggled not to writhe against him, desperately needing some form of friction to soothe the ache between your legs.

“Look at me, darling.” You did. The fervent desire in your eyes obvious, bottom lip bloody from biting it so hard, restraining yourself from any more unnecessary commentary.

“You look so needy like this, my foot pressed against your cunt, pouting underneath me. You look like you want to ask me for something? What is it, baby? Do you need something from your daddy, hm?” A whine fell from between your lips against your control as you tensed your legs, begging them not to move without permission.

“Please can I- can you fuck me please?”

“Can I fuck you? Do you think that I should dirty myself--” the hold on your neck tightened once more, “by fucking someone so pathetic that they’re getting off at the thought of grinding on my leg? Someone who can’t go a few hours without my attention shouldn’t get my cock inside of them. Someone like that shouldn’t get to feel my cum filling them up and spilling out of their tight little holes. They shouldn’t get to feel daddy’s tongue cleaning them up, kissing and sucking every inch on their pretty little pussy, should they?” You couldn’t get yourself to say no, but you knew yes wasn’t what he wanted to hear, so you stayed quiet. The cool sensation of metal burned your skin in an instant, tilting your jaw up, forcing your vision toward to ceiling, your eyes getting lost in the gold detailing of the mural above. Silence filled the space between you two, the only sound to be heard was the quickening of your heartbeat and the flip of the gun’s safety that was pressed against your flesh. A lump grew in your throat at the noise. You could feel the sole of his shoe pressing into you even more, gently moving back and forth as you bit your lip again.

“Let me hear you, baby. Tell daddy how good it feels, go on.”

“Th- Thank you daddy. That feels so good.”

“Say ‘thank you daddy for making my cunnie feel good.” You whined at the request, embarrassment causing tears to prick and sting at the corners of your eyes.

“You don’t want to use your words? How ungrateful.” It wasn’t long before the coolness against your jaw was gone. You dropped your gaze to look at him once again. The man before you was starved, his face void any sign of amusement. You wondered if this is what his prey felt when he looked at them, a lamb waiting to be eaten by the lion, forced to let him play with his food before he could be thoroughly satiated. He put the barrel of the gun against your lips now, his thumb languidly dancing on the trigger.

“Open up for me. Let me see that pretty tongue.” You hesitantly stuck your tongue out, the spit that had been building up in your mouth finally free to drip onto the metal as he pushed the barrel against the back of your throat. Your eyes widened at the sensation, the realization that his prized possession was being soiled by your drool far too humiliating. The tears flowed freely now. Your cheeks grew damp as you cried out against the obstruction in your mouth.

“Aw sweetheart, are you crying? Do you want to push your hips against me? Will that make your cunnie feel better?” You nodded, sniffling softly as you shifted uncomfortably, the realization that you couldn’t move at all finally catching up with you.

“Go ahead, hump my leg. You have permission. Make yourself feel good for daddy.” You tried to do as he asked, moving your hips slowly back and forth, the ache only growing in between your legs, but all you could think about was how dirty that gun was getting your mouth. Sobs fell from your lips now. His face contorted slightly at your cries.

“M-s-sorry daddy,” You struggled out, words muffled by the metal. He slowly pulled the gun out of your mouth,

“Are you scared, sweetheart? Is that why you’re dirtying this pretty face with tears, hm?” You felt his skin for the first time against yours, his free hand gently caressing your cheek, thumb making small circles on your flesh.

“No I just… I hate that I’m getting your gun dirty. I know how much you care about it. I’m sorry I just can’t stop drooling on it.” His fingers softly pressed under your eyes, catching the tears.

“Your spit is the sweetest thing I could use to clean this gun. It’s just an inanimate object, huh?" he said, being sure to use your choice of words exactly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl.” As he spoke, your wrists and ankles fell freely, the stress on your throat lifting as the red mist fell away.

“Come up here,” he said, fingers beckoning for you to stand and sit in his lap, your back pressed against his warm and muscular chest. Hooking his arm under your knee, he spread your legs apart, resting your ankle over the arm of the chair. His fingers wasted no time finding their way beneath your skirt, softly pulling the satin fabric of your panties to the side as he slipped a finger inside of you without warning.

“Oh my god,” You moaned out desperately as he hummed in amusement.

“I’m jealous. Your god is getting all of the praise, but I’m the one that's making this pussy leak all over my fingers. That doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

“Fuck, daddy thank you.” His pace quickened, every inch of his long and slender fingers making you gasp and writhe beneath his touch as you bucked against his palm.

“You are very welcome sweet girl. Next time you want daddy’s attention, you can just ask and we can skip all the theatrics, hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Aw, ‘yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy.'” Such pretty words from such a dirty mouth. The same mouth that stained my gun, isn’t that right?” he said. You threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as his thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, your wetness forming a spot on the fine fabric of his pants as you felt his cock growing beneath you. It only made you squirm more at the thought of its thickness filling you up after being empty throughout this whole ordeal.

“Relax for me.” This was the only warning you got before you felt that same cool metal slide between your folds, the ridges of the firearm serving as a new source of friction to grind on before Sylus slid his finger out of your walls, replacing it with the tip of the gun against your entrance. He felt you tense up immediately in his grasp.

“No no no,” he said, thumb gently caressing your inner thigh, his touch burning you with ease.

“Relax baby. Let daddy’s pussy open up for him, hm? I just want that sweet little hole’s juices to cleanse my gun thoroughly.” Your mouth hung open, moans escaping as he spoke. Your head rested against his shoulder, hair messily rubbing against his shirt. He pressed his soft lips against your forehead.

“That’s it, puppy. Gooood fucking girl, you're taking it so well for me, huh sweetheart?” his fingers found your clit once more, melting away any tension. Slowly, the tip of the gun pushed its way between your tender walls, your flesh clenching around it tightly, making it hard for him to slide it in and out of you.

“That’s a greedy pussy, isn’t it— holding onto anything that it can, my fingers, my cock, my tongue, my gun. She just wants to be filled, hm? She just loves daddy so much that anything he puts inside, she doesn’t want to let go of?”

“Y-yes daddy, she loves you. Please please please keep touching her.” So, he did. Slowly but surely, he pushed the metal in and out, salivating as he watched the way your flesh gripped on to the tip before he’d shove it back inside.

“Fuck--you wanna cum for me? Gonna make a big mess all over daddy’s gun, sweetheart? How fucking filthy,” You nodded as Sylus’s rough hands gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. Without warning, his spit filled your open mouth, slowly dripping from between your lips, coating your chest.

“Don’t swallow it. Keep my spit in your mouth when you cum for me. Stick your tongue out and cum all over me like a good little puppy,” He sped up even more now, the tip of the gun pushing against that spot inside of you that made your body heat up like white lightning that was trapped in a bottle and begging to be let out. He hit that spot over and over again, making your head fuzzy as he held your gaze captive with his scarlet eyes.

“Daddy—fuck—please, I don’t think I can take it.” You panicked, your hand desperately reaching for his wrist, hoping for some freedom from the incessant pleasure only for the mist to trap you once again, binding your hands up above your head and around Sylus’s neck, pressing your bodies even closer together.

“Shit—you’re so wet, you’re making a puddle in my lap. Are you gonna squirt around my gun, baby?” He said, emphasizing his point with a sharp push of the metal against you g-spot.

“No I- I can’t. It’s too embarrassing please don’t make me.”

“Come on, listen to your daddy and let go all over me. Squirt, cum, cry, I don’t care, but I’m gonna pull it all out of you either way. So, give it to me, it’s mine. I worked so hard for it,” he said, fingers finding their way into your open mouth, but you didn’t dare close your lips around them, just letting the spit drip down onto yourself and he bullied your pussy over and over again until you just couldn’t take it anymore. Tears streamed from your eyes once more as you let go. Your wetness spilled all over his lap, pulling guttural screams from your throat that were muffled by his hands.

“Good girl, that’s it. Come on, let go for daddy, baby. Poor baby, so pent up. It must feel so good to let go now, huh?” Streams of ‘yes�� and ‘thank you’ echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as you squirmed against his grasp. He pressed his full lips to your face again as he pulled his finger and his firearm from your holes slowly. You watched him with tired eyes, as you were covered in your own wetness. The gun dripped with your juices, but he wasted no time putting the metal to his own mouth this time, flattening his tongue against the barrel of the gun and licking it clean.

“You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart. Maybe you should let you help me clean my guns more often.” Dazed, and far too exhausted to protest, you closed your eyes, resting your head against him once again, your hands finally free. He pressed small kisses against your sweaty face, gently brushing any hair from your skin before you spoke up again.

“T-thank you, Sylus.”

“The pleasure is all mine, pretty girl.”

[cwritesforfun]

Hey can I request an emporor geta x reader, like them growing up together, maybe reader is the daughter of one fo the senators. As they become teenagers they fall in love with eachother, like cute first kiss and first time kinda thing

Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader: Teenager In Love (Request)

Y/N - Your First Name

They will not follow the Roman style of speech - it will be written in modern language.

*I do not own the Gladiator 2 characters or plot.* I do change some of the plot and add new characters. *

Your POV

You grew up living in Rome with your father, Senator Titus. (Yes, a new character!) Your father was good friends with Senator Gracchus and met with him many times in secret about how to overthrow the senators.

You spent your days braiding hair, drinking wine, dancing, socializing, and entertaining guests. You were a pianist, and your talent was in demand by whoever sat on the throne in Rome. Your father let you go and play for guests as long as you took 2 of your security guards. So you did.

This experience of playing in the palace introduced you to Calla and Geta. You met them at a young age as they were both maturing. They were lanky and pale and soon to rule. They intimidated you.

One day you got close with Calla after talking to Dundus and giving him snacks.

You became friends with Geta quicker. He trusted you and you would help him throughout the day. You were often at his right hand side much to your father’s dismay. Your father disliked your closeness to Calla and Geta.

You were intrigued with the relationship between Calla and Dundus because you had never seen someone so trusting and needy of a pet.

Then there was Calla and Geta’s relationship. It was not one you wanted for yourself. Geta watched over Calla to where it took a toll on him. You could see the light dimming from Geta’s eyes day by day.

…

It was to your surprise that one night, when you were already asleep at home, you were awoken to your guards announcing Geta’s arrival. You quickly threw a robe over your pajamas, slid your knife into your pocket, and ran downstairs. Geta was pacing at the bottom of the steps, and he looked worried. You bow and quickly ask, “Geta, what may I do for you this late?” He answers, “I need to talk to you.” You nod and lead him into the sitting room closest to you. You sit on the couch next to each other, and he confesses, “I’m not fit to rule. There are so many things I haven’t done and so many things I still haven’t learned. I’m not ready for this.” You place your hand on his rubbing circles on it and say, “Geta, you are ready. You’ve always been strong and confident in your ability to lead. Whatever is shaking you up tonight, push it aside because you are fit to rule.” He says, “I haven’t even kissed a girl yet.” You reply, “Oh well, that’s easy to check off. It also does not affect your leadership... You should just kiss me.” His eyes widen, and he asks, “Really? Do you mean it?” You answer, “If it’ll help you sleep tonight and make you feel fit to rule, yes, I mean it. I will kiss you.” He smiles, leans in, and kisses you.

…

If people thought you two were close before, then that is nothing compared to after the kiss.

Geta never failed to find you in a crowd. If you were there, he would know and he would request your presence.

Once, you had just entered into the palace into a big crowd and Geta’s guards found you just like that. When you made it over to Geta, you ask, “How’d you know I was here already? I just arrived.” He answers, "I'll always look out for you." You smile, and he softly presses a kiss to your cheek. He pulls you into a different room and says, “I’ve been thinking about our kiss, and I think we should do it again.” You wrap your arms around his neck and ask, “Are you really going to do this every day that we see each other? It’s been 6 months.” He shrugs, wrapping his arms around his waist, and says, “Why? It could be our thing.” You smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips.

That night ends differently than your usual nights. Geta requests you to walk with him in the gardens. You notice he seems fidgety and off. You ask, “Geta, what’s wrong?” Geta answers, “Nothing, I just have something on my mind.” You keep walking and reach an area with your favorite flowers. Geta asks, “Are these still your favorites?” You answer, “Yes, they’re truly beautiful too.” He nods, bends down on one knee, and exclaims, “I bow to no one. But... as tradition goes, when a man asks a woman for her hand in marriage, they should kneel. I am entranced by you, my sweet, beautiful Y/N. You bring me light, and you are always supportive. I have come to rely and depend on you. I find myself wishing you to be here every night and every day by my side. So... I guess what I’m asking is will you marry me?” You answer, “Yes!”

…

You move in within 2 weeks after Geta proposes.

Geta can hardly handle his excitement that he throws a feast to celebrate your engagement.

That night, Geta's hands don't leave your body. They're on your waist, your shoulders, and tracing your body as you spend your first night together.

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 122

falling back into a routine with jack was easier than you had expected.

you'd spend the nights at his place, or he would spend them at yours, without feeling like much had changed. if you couldn't fall asleep in each other's arms, then at least you could facetime until sleep took over. and now that you have heard from him every day, you can't fathom how you could have ever ignored him.

it wasn't completely as if nothing had happened; you were a bit more on edge, and your mind had a habit of flickering back to your argument those weeks ago. but instead of letting it consume you, you tried your best to move past it, to accept the fact that it happened, but also understand the fact that it didn't have to mean too much. that you can both grow stronger from it, instead of let it break you down.

it was difficult at first, though. jack's concussion was still present in the room whenever you met with him, despite the fact that he assured you that he was feeling much better. he wasn't allowed to get back on the ice just yet – that's how severe it had been – but he was definitely improving. you knew he still had headaches, even though he tried to tell you that they were completely gone, plus he was a little bit slower and had a harder time multitasking than usual.

this, combined with the fact that he already couldn't cook before his injury, was not exactly a recipe for success for your date tonight.

you were supposed to cook the same dish as the first time he made dinner for you, but this time, he would not allow you to interfere. he had invited you over on the premise that you'd do it together, so how did this make sense? whenever you even came close to the stove, he shooed you away, insisting that he could do it himself.

he definitely couldn't.

when you had sat on his couch for far too long – after eventually being exiled from the kitchen – you began to smell something… that definitely wasn't part of the pasta dish he was making. it smelled burnt, and you no longer could stay away.

but when you made it into the kitchen, jack was moving all over the place, not even noticing your presence. he was trying to handle one pot of spaghetti (currently boiling over) and one pan of bacon (which seemed like it was done frying about five minutes ago) – but you stopped yourself from interfering when you realized that his focus was shared with yet another thing.

"sorry, mom," he groaned into the phone he was balancing between his shoulder and ear. "i'm a bit distracted- trying to cook some dinner."

he grabbed a spatula and flipped some of the bacon onto a plate. yup, definitely burnt.

"ha ha, the whole my son can't cook deal is getting boring. i can cook if i want to." a pause. "well, maybe i want to because i want to do a nice thing for a girl. is that too much to ask?"

your breath hitched in your throat.

"yes, we're back together again. kind of, i guess." he was talking to his mother about you? so casually? "she's good, i'm good, we're good. can i call you back later? yes, my head is okay- no, i'm going back to practice on monday. yes, i'll be careful. i love you but i have to focus on cooking, okay? okay, bye."

he let out a loud groan the second he hung up the phone, clearly dissatisfied with the chaos in front of him. it wasn't until your stifled laughter met his ears that he turned around and acknowledged your presence. "dinner coming along nicely?" you asked, feeling guilty when you spotted the disappointed and frankly shameful look in his eyes.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled as he turned the stove off, hand reaching out for your side when you stepped closer. "i really thought i would do better this time…"

"it's alright," you hummed, one hand reaching for the back of his neck. "you can't be the best at everything. it's sweet of you to leave something for the rest of us."

your lips met in a sweet kiss, one you never wanted to part from. one that made you question how you could ever go weeks without feeling his lips against yours. one that made your heart swell in a clearly uncomfortable, yet warming way.

"i'll order some pizza?" you asked, to which he pouted ever so cutely yet nodded.

every second you spent with him, you were forced to remind yourself of how you couldn't allow yourself to fall too deep.

and yet, with everything he did, he made you want it so badly.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part ten

Not to randomly air out my business but getting my heart viciously broken a few days before Valentine's Day was not on my 2025 bingo. Jesus Christ. Lmfao, anyway! Here's a new chapter!

Warnings: Rossi once again knows Hotch too well, Hotch makes A Decision (a choice is certainly made...whether or not we agree with it is tbd), these two bickering their hearts out

That night, Hotch agrees to Rossi’s offer of a drink at the hotel bar, albeit with an ulterior motive.

They’re barely two sips into their whiskey when Rossi reminds Hotch that he’s smarter than him. “So. You heard us talking.”

Hotch almost laughs as he hangs his head. Nothing will ever get past David Rossi, will it? Honestly, Aaron should know better by now.

“Yes,” Aaron replies, thumbing at the condensation forming on his glass from the ice. “And…” He sighs, figuring he might as well admit what he’s done. What Rossi told him not to do. “I had Garcia pull her file.”

Rossi freezes. “Aaron…”

“I know,” he says before Rossi can even start. He raises one hand in surrender. “I know.”

Rossi shakes his head. “I told you to let her come to you.”

“Well she hasn’t,” Hotch argues. “And she won’t, Dave, I know she won’t.”

Rossi hums, like he’s having the strangest sense of deja vu. “You think she needs help?”

“I think keeping this a secret is impacting her ability to do her job.”

Rossi scoffs. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming her because we haven’t found the guy yet.”

“What?” Hotch reels back, clearly offended at even the thought of that. “No. What makes you think that I am?”

“You two get under each other’s skin, Aaron,” Dave laughs. “You’ve said multiple times, to each other, even in front of all of us, that you don’t like one another and would rather work with anyone else.”

Aaron scoffs. “Yeah, but we don’t actually mean it, it’s…” It’s how we’ve always communicated. We don’t know anything else.

“Don’t you?” Dave asks, that damn knowing look on his face. “If you don’t mean those things, you should probably tell her.”

Aaron’s eyes widen slightly. “Did she say something to you?”

“Nothing I’m going to disclose,” Dave shrugs. “And before you ask, no, it's not impacting her ability to do her job.”

Aaron hangs his head for real this time. “Alright, I walked into that one.”

Dave takes a sip of his whiskey, leaning onto the bar. “You’ve got to trust her, Aaron.”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“She does,” Dave says. “Even if she doesn’t like you.”

Ouch. Walked right into that one, too. 

Hotch straightens up, sipping his whiskey before hitting Rossi with the next thing. “So you met her when her father was caught.”

Rossi smirks. “I was wondering when you’d put the pieces together on that one.”

Hotch shakes his head through a laugh. “You could’ve just told me.”

“With how you’ve been about her? No, no I couldn’t,” Dave says with a incredulous laugh. “I wasn’t positive until yesterday, and I didn’t need you to confront her about it before I even had a chance to ask her. And I wasn’t so sure you wouldn’t turn that same anger on me.”

“Sorry,” Aaron grimaces. “I’ve been trying to…cool it.”

“Hm, good luck with that,” Dave says, tilting his head with a sigh. “If you two are on good terms now, you better cherish it while you have it. The second she finds out you pulled her file behind her back, she’s not going to be happy.” He pauses, fixing Aaron with a look. “And I can’t help you there.”

Aaron knew already that it wasn’t his brightest idea, but surely it’s justified. When the safety of an agent is at risk, that has to be worth something?

After talking with Rossi, he’s not so sure anymore.

+++

The unsub never strikes again. 

The BAU stays in town to further investigate and chase down any leftover leads, but all have dead ends. You wait for an entire week. Nothing.

“It’s…It’s pissing me off!” Garcia’s frustration can be felt through the video screen. She squeezes a stress ball so tightly you’re worried it’s going to pop. “It’s like this guy doesn’t even exist!”

“I know, babygirl, I know,” Morgan sighs.

You lean into frame, almost resting your head on Morgan’s shoulder. It’s been a long week and you’re bone-tired. “At least we’re coming home this afternoon.”

“I know,” Garcia says, dropping the stress ball to prop her chin in her hand. “I just wish it was because you caught the guy.”

“Me too,” you murmur, finally giving in and dropping your head onto Morgan’s shoulder.

Through the blinds of the conference room, you see Hotch and JJ talking with the other detectives, giving them the inevitable news. The BAU will continue to be just a phone call away should they need anything, but there’s nothing else they can do. They can monitor things just as well from headquarters in Quantico, and, unfortunately, there are more pressing issues to return to.

The “pressing issues” are just the usual mountain of paperwork, Morgan says. You hope that’s all it is, but something in your gut is telling you otherwise. Your meeting with Strauss flashes in your mind, namely a certain prisoner who seems set on speaking to you again one day.

You still have no idea what to do about that one.

“Travel safe, my loves,” Garcia blows a kiss with a sad smile. “I’ll be here when you land.”

“See you soon,” you reply, waving as she signs off.

You close your eyes as Derek shuts the laptop, letting out a sigh.

“I know,” he says, leaning his head onto yours. “I know.”

You practically jump when Hotch’s voice sounds out damn near right next to. He somehow walked in here without making a single noise, and of course Derek couldn’t warn you.

“We’re heading out,” Hotch says, eyeing you from your seat next to Morgan. “Got everything?”

You nod silently. You and Derek were already packed, your bags loaded into the trunk of the car that you’ll take to the airstrip in town. Your plan is to curl up on the plane and pass out the entire ride.

You and Hotch have gone back to your speaking-non-speaking terms. When you have spoken, it’s been about the case. When you’ve argued, which hasn’t been as much as you anticipated, it’s about the case— you blame your lack of sleep for your lack of witty comebacks. He doesn’t ask any prying questions like you were certain he was gearing up to do, and he overall doesn’t bother you.

Except when he, you know, breathes too loud in your general area.

Or when he looks at you too much, like he’s doing right now.

“What?” you don’t mean for it to come out as forcefully as it does. “Do I have something on my face, or…?” You touch your cheek, expecting to find pen ink there.

“No,” Hotch says, but he doesn’t look away.

You roll your eyes, standing up from your chair. “Then take a picture or something. And blink like a normal human being— thank you.”

He looks away from you then, after you thank him for blinking, of all things.

Hotch has tried his hardest to “cool it” as he told Rossi he would, and it has seemed to do absolutely nothing to calm your attitude toward him. It’s a losing battle, and he has no idea why he’s even bothering to try.

As Hotch watches you and Morgan finish gathering the last remaining things from the conference room, he spots Rossi taking an evidence bag from a detective.

A moment later, Rossi comes into the room with the bag in hand, giving Hotch a look he doesn’t see often. Alarm.

“This was left in the mailbox outside the door,” Rossi explains. “They’re checking the cameras now.”

“What is it?” you ask, ears perking up when you hear Rossi’s tone. He’s never sounded…startled like that.

You stand a little too close to Hotch on accident, apologizing when your shoulder brushes his arm as you try to get a good look at what was left.

It’s just a simple card in a white envelope, except where the addressee’s name should be, it just says Behavioral Analysis Unit. The note inside only has one word: gambit. Hotch flips the bag over to read the back of the card: Are you ready to play a game? 

In the bottom corner, in tiny script: see you soon.

You take the bag from Hotch, blaming the spark you feel in your hand as your fingers brush on the chills you feel when reading the words before you. 

Morgan reads the words from beside you and scoffs, “Oh, so he’s taunting us now?”

“We don’t know,” Hotch says.

“We can’t just leave,” you argue. “Not after a note like this. Leaving is what he wants us to do.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Hotch replies, like it’s the simplest thing in the universe.

“Are you serious?” The anger is back, always simmering just below the surface when you’re this close to him. “He’s going to strike again the second we’re gone.”

Hotch levels his gaze on you. “You don’t know that.”

“Hotch, I don’t like the sound of this,” Morgan chimes in, holding up the note. “This guy doesn’t do anything for a week, and then just drops this off?”

“We don’t know that the unsub dropped the note—”

“Who the fuck else could it have been?” you nearly yell. Judging by the detectives who turn their heads, you aren’t as quiet as you hoped. You try again, lowering your voice, but keeping your glare focused on Hotch. “Who would do that, if not the unsub?”

“We’re leaving,” he says firmly, looking both at you and Morgan. “My decision is final.”

You look to Rossi for help, but find none. He doesn’t look like he particularly agrees with Hotch, but he doesn’t disagree either, and that’s just as bad.

“You’re making a mistake,” you say.

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” Hotch deadpans. “But I won’t let my team feed into this unsub’s delusions.”

“It’s not—”

“This is not up for debate, Y/N,” Hotch cuts you off. “We’re leaving. End of discussion.”

He turns and holds his hand out in front of Morgan, silently asking for the note. Morgan looks about as delighted as you feel as he hands it over. He shakes his head after letting it go, grabbing his bag and heading out of the room. Rossi follows behind him.

You wonder if either of them realized what they were doing. Leaving you alone with Hotch once again. If either of them realize the inevitable.

“I’m not finished,” you say, catching Hotch’s attention when he tries to leave. You cross your arms over your chest. “Give me one good reason why we can’t stay.”

Hotch shakes his head. “I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Tough fucking shit, Hotch. All we know how to do is argue, so you know damn well that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Tell me.”

For a second, you think he’s going to turn and walk out of there without answering you. Leave you standing alone in your irritation. He takes so long to answer, so many seconds stretch out of him staring at you, looking down at the note, then back to you.

“If we stay, the safety of this team might be at risk,” he starts.

“What about the women in this town?”

“He hasn’t struck in a week,” Hotch fires back. “Before it was every other day.”

“I know the facts of the case, Hotch.”

“I didn’t say that you don’t,” he replies, unusually calm. “But we can’t stay. We need to return to Quantico. They’ll call if they need us.” He pauses. “And this note? The unsub is trying to taunt us. If we unpack everything now and change our plans, we look scared. We can’t look afraid. We have to leave, like we’ve planned to do, and we’ll continue to monitor the case from Quantico.”

“That’s not good enough,” you murmur, voice unusually quiet. You don’t like this — not the leaving, but the way you’re both talking. It’s not like either of you to not get angry, to not yell, for one of you to not storm off. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, only this time, he sounds genuinely remorseful. “We can’t stay.”

When he walks away, he pauses just outside the door to glance back at you, nodding for you to follow him.

You don’t know why, but you do. You admit defeat, and you follow him out of the precinct.

+++

On the jet, you sit toward the back by yourself, not caring that you must look like a child pouting because they didn’t get their way.

Maybe half of that is true. You didn’t get your way because you wanted to stay. But that’s not what you’re upset about — not really. Sure, it’s a piece of it, but it’s nowhere near the biggest piece. Not even close.

The biggest piece, though, you can’t say. Not out loud. 

You can’t help feeling like it’s somehow your fault, that this unsub wasn’t caught. The same way Lila’s kidnapper got away, too. Even with the sketch artist’s drawing — because Lila’s mom did eventually convince her to speak with one — there haven’t been any new leads. It turned into a dead end, just like this one.

Aside from the cryptic note, there’s nothing to go on. The precinct’s cameras don’t show anyone dropping the note off on its own. The best they can assume is that it was mixed in with the regular mail, but there’s no way to trace that. Another dead end.

You curl up into the seat, looking out the window as the clouds fly by. The first two cases you work on with the BAU, and both end with the unsub getting away. You must be a bad luck charm, or something. There has to be some explanation, but clearly you can’t see it yet.

Distantly, over the whirring of the engines, you can hear Reid rambling about the note and what it might mean. No one seemed nearly as confused and upset as you and Morgan about leaving right after the note appeared. 

Granted, it’s not like Hotch gave them much choice. He didn’t bring out the note until the jet was already in the air.

You aren’t even angry with him. Not really, you guess. You don’t know what’s eating at you exactly. When it’s too many things at once, it’s hard to pinpoint.

Reid goes on and on about the definition of a gambit, specifically in chess. How they’re used, why they’re used. To get multiple steps ahead of your opponent.

You’ve never liked chess when you’ve played it, but you especially don’t like this feeling you have now — because it seems you’re in the middle of a game you’re inevitably going to lose.

[cherrysurf]

Ushijima wakatoshi always was one to wake up before sunrise and get his daily jog in. He was a man of routine, one that he hardly broke even after dating and moving in with you.

As much as anyone liked to argue, he was still human. Wakatoshi wasn’t always going to be perfect, as weird as that sounded to most. He would be forgetful, lose a few things, and maybe even wear his running shoes backward if he was extra drowsy that morning.

Yes, those things bothered him slightly, but he never took any of it too seriously because it wasn’t of importance to him.

When you first moved in with Wakatoshi, he had to adjust certain things in his life because there wasn’t just one schedule or routine in the house, now there were two.

Two alarms, two slippers by the bed, two toothbrushes, two keys, double the amount of shower, skin, body products, and lastly, two warm bodies in the bed.

Two warm bodies together throughout the night, sleeping closely and soundly next to one another, sharing the same rhythm in their hearts. One warm body that made it hard to leave the bed in the early mornings now. One warm body that he craved to sleep by now and forever.

One warm body that made him skip out on a morning run every blue moon—that warm body being you.

It was the weekend: no job, no practice for either of you. Even on days like this, when Ushijima would still carry on his day as if it were a normal day of scheduled practice. He’d wake up, go for a jog, eat, go to the gym, practice volleyball, eat, jog, and then head to bed.

Today was different though. The air was colder. The side of his body that you clung to at night was warmer and more inviting to stay by. His body was more relaxed; his brain turned off all the “important” stuff he had to do. He turned off all his alarms before they woke you up since he knew you liked to sleep in and have very lazy weekends.

He stayed in bed with you, letting himself fall back into a deep sleep with the scent of your shampoo hitting his nose as he leaned his head back on his pillow, you and he being just inches apart. He liked moments like this; he didn't know he was one to crave such domesticity with someone.

You woke up around 11 a.m.; usually during days like this, you’d find the other side of the bed cold. You didn’t mind. Toshi had his routine, and you had yours. They might not be the same, but you still had time for each other, and he never judged you. He knew you worked hard but that you also had days of self-indulgence and a good balance.

To your surprise, you felt something warm behind you and an arm wrapped around your waist. "Was it… no, it couldn’t be,” you thought. You turned your head slightly to be met with his face looking so peaceful and content.

The sudden shift caused Ushijima to stir awake, his eyes now meeting yours as you turned your body so you two could face each other.

“Mr. Ushiwaka sleeping in? May I ask why?” A giggle escaped your mouth as you looked at the fluff-haired man in front of you, his eyes never failing to make your heart flip.

“Mm… you were too warm for me to leave today. It was cold,” he said softly as he practically buried himself in your chest.

“Ahh, I get it; that's understandable.” You adjusted yourself so you could be more comfortable as you carded through his hair since he lowered himself to hug your waist as he leaned on your chest.

Ushijima was never much of a person who sought physical affection, especially at the beginning of the relationship. Over time, he became more open to it, more so because he craved it; this only happened to him after you two started dating.

One time Ushijima heard Semi say something along the lines of, “The right man won’t have to force himself to change; it'll come naturally to him, he’ll want to change to be better for his girlfriend.” He never really understood that term until it happened to him. He was glad he could experience that.

“Should we make breakfast? I'm kinda hungry..” You know that your stomach will start speaking for you if you don't say it now.

“Yes, what should we eat?” he murmured into your skin.

“I was thinking banana bread... maybe eggs and toast too.” You leave the suggestion out in the open, hoping he’ll agree.

“That sounds good. Do you want to cook it together?” He lifts his head to glance at your features and how they look in the late morning.

“I think that’s a perfect idea, Toshi,” you giggle, staring back at him.

“Great! Let’s go.” He gets up from the bed slowly but surely, just taking his time. He eventually picks you up bridal style to take you to the kitchen so you two can get started on breakfast.

hq taglist; @heartmaddie @ellsarchive @vertejay @massacremars @bakery-anon @pneumosia @na-i1 @cryoarm

[temporarywelcome]

Conversation with Agent Hotchner - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: Hi, love your work ❤️ Request: What is kleptomaniac!reader went to the BAU but instead of seeing spencer see goes and sees another BAU member and starts yapping to them about everything and nothing (probably amusing [annoying] the fuck out of them too) and it gets to the point where Spencer has to drag them away. [I can totally see her doing this to Hotch with no fear] Thanks, bye :3 - anonymous

CW: language, some suggestive comments, technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series though this can be read 100% standalone. Though, if you want to learn more about reader's relationship with Henry, you can read "Babysitting" and "Turkey". not required tho! :)

AN: Spencer comes in more towards the middle lol

_______

Words: 1.5k

She was no dog. 

Yes, she was being dramatic, but Spencer telling her to sit and stay made her huff, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance (while doing as told, sitting and staying). Spencer had his reasons, considering she was a diagnosed kleptomaniac and was very likely going to steal things. It was better she stole from his desk and not someone else’s. 

So she sat as he ran to help JJ and Garcia with something. Sat and ate her Subway sandwich with a pout on her face. She had brought Spencer lunch, a toasted sub that was surely getting cold while it waited for him. A shame, because she had made sure the employee making the sandwich had warmed up not just the bread, but the contents inside as well, knowing Spencer and his tastes. 

Soon, her sandwich was gone, along with objects that were on Spencer’s desk (to her pockets they went), and she was swinging her legs back and forward like a child. Looking around and scanning other people in the office. People watching. 

Boring. 

Then her eyes landed on a familiar member of the BAU, and she grinned. Entertainment! Someone to keep her company while she waited for her lovely boyfriend to return from his treacherous adventure into the unknown (the filing room). 

That someone was Agent Hotchner. Hotch. 

“Aaron!” she said brightly, giving him a big wave. 

Hotch, who was walking towards his office, nose buried in a manila folder, looked up at her, “Hello, Y/N,” he said politely, giving her a half-smile. Quarter smile? Something. 

She shot up from the chair Spencer had provided for her, strolling towards him, “How is everything? How are Jack and Haley?” 

“They are good, I appreciate you asking,” Always the professional one, Agent Hotchner. “Jack actually said he missed you,”

Huh? 

Somehow, Y/N, who didn’t even like kids, was like a BAU-kid magnet. JJ’s son, Henry, adored her, and was practically on top of her every time they saw each other. Just recently, Jack met Y/N at an event, and it seems she left a good impression on him. 

“Oh, really?” she asked in shock, brows raised, “Cool! He’s a nice kid,” her eyes landed on the file in Hotch’s hand, “So, whatcha got there?” 

“...a file,” Hotch replied vaguely. 

“For what though?” she was not taking a hint. 

“Work,” 

“Hm,” she nodded, in thought, “I work at night,”

“You do?” he went back to looking down at his folder. 

She nodded again, “Yes! As a dancer,” she paused, “Wait, that sounds weird. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being that kind of dancer, it’s just I am not one of them, y’know? I do professional dance and musical theatre, my rehearsals are at night-”

“I know what you do for a living,” Hotch interrupted, “JJ and Will took Henry to one of your shows, correct?”

“Yes! They did,” Y/N confirmed proudly, “I could hear Henry cheering from afar!”

“How nice,” 

Her brows furrowed, surveying Hotch’s expression. You don’t need to be a profiler to see how uninterested he was. “You don’t give a fuck, do you?”

“Language,”

“Sorry,” she awkwardly looked down, like a scolded child, “You guys don’t swear? What if it is a really stressful case? You never say ‘fuck this stupid shit’ or anything…?

The older man looked up, making eye contact with her. “No,” 

“Why not? Are you not allowed to let out frustration or anything? Is letting out a good swear really that bad?” she began fiddling with something in her fingers, Hotch’s eyes trailed down to her hands, seeing what she was fidgeting with.

“...what the fuck,” 

“Hey! You just swore!” she exclaimed, before eyeing the object in her hands. His ID badge. She didn’t even remember swiping it during this conversation. “Oh. I see why,” Awkwardly clearing her throat, she handed it back to him, cheeks rosy. 

“This is the second time you’ve done this,” a sigh left him, clipping the badge back onto his suit jacket. 

An equally awkward laugh escaped her lips, “That’s nothing compared to the amount of times I stole Rossi’s keys- I mean, I mean…” she clamped her mouth shut. “Nevermind.” 

As she dug herself into an even deeper hole, Spencer returned from the filing room with JJ and Garcia. “...yes, a cluster of bananas are called a “hand”, while each individual banana called a “finger- hey!” he gasped as Garcia gave him a little wack on the shoulder. 

“Y/N is out in the wild,” she said, eyes locked on Y/N enthusiastically telling Hotch something. “Talking to Hotch,”

“Better than Rossi,” JJ pointed out. Rossi liked Y/N the least, only recently beginning to tolerate her. She tilted her head to the side as she examined Spencer’s girlfriend. “She’s moving like a Sim,” 

Spencer looked at JJ in confusion as Garcia burst into laughter. “What does that mean?” 

She ignored him, “Go save her, Romeo, she’s drowning over there,” 

And so Spencer rushed over to join his girlfriend in her conversation with Hotch. 

“...why, yes, I’m great with my fingers,” she explained, “-on piano! Holy hell, I should have said that better. Holy hell-” her face burned red as she silently prayed for an earthquake to hit so she can be swallowed by the Earth. 

“-Y/N, can you help me with something?” Spencer placed a hand on her shoulder, grip slightly tighter than usual. A message. Shut the fuck up. 

Alas, her savior has arrived! “Yes, of course. I’ll gladly help you,” 

And with that, Spencer was dragging her off by her wrist. 

“I told you to stay seated,” he scolded, pushing her down into the chair by her shoulders, “I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You know I get bored easily,” she shot back. 

“Imma have to get you one of those bookbags with a leash on it,” the genius pinched the bridge of his nose, “Like a toddler,” 

The frown quickly left her lips, replaced with a big smirk, “I know what I can do with a leash,”

“What do you mean- Y/N!” he looked around frantically to ensure no one was listening, “We are at my job!”  he placed a hand on his throat protectively, as if to keep her away.

She wiggled her brows playfully, “C’mon, you know that was a good one. I’m a genius for that.” She then noticed Hotch scurry off to his office with his usual pitbull expression. “Ugh, that conversation I had with him was so awful. I couldn’t stop being annoying,” 

“Great with your fingers, huh?” 

A look of horror formed on her face, jaw falling in shock, “You heard that?”

“Mhm,” Spencer finally seated himself next to her, clicking his pen and beginning to write on some paperwork. 

“Well,” Scooting her chair closer to him, she whispered, “I can always demonstrate,”

“Piano?”

“Ugh,” Forget it. She leaned back, unamused. “You’re no fun,” 

And with that, Spencer went back to work, complaining because his food was cold now, which she wanted to hear nothing about considering she had made sure his food was warmed up to his liking. He worked, complained, ate, she listened, also complained, messed around. The usual experience. 

Occasionally, Y/N found herself glancing back at Hotch’s office, a sense of dread filling her each time. Rossi, her number one hater, entered the office, making her grimace.

“What if they start talking about me?” 

“Why would they?” her boyfriend didn’t even bother looking up from his work. 

“Because they hate me, of course,”

“Nobody hates you,” 

“Liar,” 

Rossi eventually left Hotch’s office, and soon so did he, making his way towards Reid’s desk. Fuck. Y/N reached out, grasping Spencer’s hand tightly, which in turn caused him to scribble and scold her for being so dramatic and now Hotch was directly in front of them shit-

“Reid,” 

“Yes, sir?” Spencer yanked his hand back, looking up at his boss apologetically. 

“Would you like to have dinner with Haley, Jack, and I?” he asked, surprising both Spencer and Y/N equally. 

“Dinner?” he repeated slowly, eyes darting to his girlfriend then back to Hotch. 

“Yes. You and Y/N,”

‘And me?’ she almost pointed at herself for clarification, instead clasping her hands in her lap. 

“Um, that should be fine. Y/N, do you have work tonight?” 

“No,” she choked out, “I do not,” 

“Perfect,” Hotch gave his signature quarter-smile, “Jack will be very excited to see you. I’ll let them know,” 

He turned on his heel, walking off and leaving both Spencer and his girlfriend completely in shock. This obviously was not the first time Spencer would be having dinner with Hotch, but the fact Y/N was invited as well, especially after that whole debacle, was incredibly surprising. 

“...do you still think he hates you?” Spencer asked playfully, pinching her cheek before turning back to his desk. “No one can hate someone like you,”

[librarygarten]

Holiday Special: Links x Reader - Valentine's Day HC

Happy Valentine's Day, babes! Hope you have a good holiday, whether you're single or in a relationship. Let's take a look at how our heroes celebrate their relationship with you.

Sky

Bro went to Knight School. He was taught how to be chivalrous and such

So for Valentine’s Day, he goes old school: flowers, chocolates, card, etc.

If you’re on the surface, options are a bit limited, so he’ll cobble something together with the help of Zelda and Groose

I’m imagining him putting up some lights in tree branches and arranging a picnic. It’s a very nice time spent with just the two of you (and Groose in the background, trying to see what ya’ll are doing. And Zelda behind Groose trying to get him to leave)

He’ll want to say something romantic, but when he looks at you, the way you laugh, the way the fairy lights make your eyes sparkle like the night sky, the way your lips curve slightly upward each time you glance at him, any words die in his throat

He’s so embarrassed by it too. His entire face turns pink and he buries his face in his hands, mumbling something unintelligible about how dare you be so cute

Give him a moment, okay?

Four

He is obviously making you something.

He probably snuck around you, trying to figure out what you wanted or needed months in advance so his gift would be absolutely perfect.

On the day itself, he just plans for a relaxing day at home with you. There’s always so much to do at the forge and serving the princess, he rarely has time to just… exist with you.

You make dinner together, making an absolute mess in the process because you thought it’d be funny to put a dollop of batter on the tip of his nose, which led to him putting batter on your nose, so you smeared some on his cheak… etc.

Watching you laugh and use a spare dish towel to wipe the food off your face, he is suddenly struck by the domesticity of it all.

Decides then and there, with food dripping out of his hair onto the floor, that the next thing he’s making for you is a ring.

Time

This man grew up in a forest of children, then spent most of his growing years time traveling

Needless to say, he has limited knowledge in this area

Begs Malon for help figuring out gifts, things to do, etc.

That night he surprises you by dragging you far away from Castle Town into Hyrule Field, pretty close to where the entrance to Kokiri forest lies.

You lay down on the grass together and stargaze, trying to find various different constellations you know. He doesn’t know that many on account of never going to school, so he will just make up new constellations with you.

He may get distracted watching how the stars reflect in your eyes. You turn your head to check on him because he suddenly got so quiet, only to be met with perhaps his soft gaze and a sheepish smile for getting caught staring

Legend

This guy is probably the richest Link in existence. So, it’s a given that he buys you something.

He almost gets you a protection ring, but he doesn’t want to seem too eager, you know? He has a reputation to uphold here!

No, you’re getting a couple tools he thinks you’ll find useful. Fire rod, pegasus boots, etc. (Even if Ravio did up his prices because of “Holiday Supply and Demand”)

Would prefer to stay in and spend time with you, but he will begrudgingly take you to a fancy restaurant if you want

He just doesn’t want to be in an over-crowded, over-priced restaurant with dozens of couples making goo-goo eyes at each other at every table

(he loves you. he hates literally everyone else)

Hyrule

As far as date activities go, his Hyrule doesn’t have a lot of options

He can’t even take you out on a picnic without tripping over a monster that wants to use his blood to bring Ganon back

The towns are somewhat safer, but even then most buildings are just. Someone’s house.

He feels terribly guilty. If you were dating a “normal” person and not him you wouldn’t have this problem. He hates that he’s dragged you into his mess

Then you remind him that YOU chose to be with him because you LOVE him. He didn’t “drag you” anywhere, you sprinted after him

Due to necessity, you spend the day at home, but he goes above and beyond to make sure it’s the best date he can give you. Snuggles, kisses, waiting on your hand and foot, lots of little presents, you name it

Please stop him from trying to cook you something. He will burn your house down.

Twilight

LISTEN. LISTEN. I grew up around farmer kids. The good ones ALWAYS knew how to treat a partner right. Twi is LOCKED IN on Valentine’s Day.

He keeps playing it off as if he planned less than what he actually did.

Takes you on a ride with Epona. So romantic. Time to talk with each other AND you get to wrap your arms around him. Wonderful date, right?

WRONG. He’s not even close to done. He steers Epona to a restaurant in town and reveals he somehow got a reservation to a decently fancy place.

You walk out after eating and then it turns out he also got tickets to that play you wanted to see???

He just showers you with affection the whole day.

Warriors

He’s not the biggest fan of the holiday. When he was a kid, it was nice receiving Valentine’s Day cards from friends and secret admirers, but after the whole… thing with Cia? He’d rather not have that kind of attention on him in large amounts.

He doesn’t want to do nothing. That wouldn’t be fair to you. He’s just not comfy with anything too grand.

He gets you flowers and chocolates (classic), then takes you on a romantic walk around a sparkling lake.

He holds your hand, fingers intertwined as you walk along the trail. You’re talking about something that’s got you excited, your eyes sparkling as you chatter distractedly.

He closes his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. This is nice. He likes this.

Wild

You wake up and there is absolutely no sign of him anywhere in the house.

He comes back a few hours later, covered in mud, a mischievous glint in his eye that tells you he’s planning something.

After you force him to clean up, he gives you his Sheika Slate. He’s got an album full of pictures, and you recognize almost all the locations.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he laughs, saying he got the idea from his adventure.

The first picture is pretty close: the place he first asked you out. When you two get there, you’re surprised to see a gift waiting there.

The next picture location has another gift.

You two spend all day following the trail of pictures across Hyrule. (Don’t worry, he made sure the route was safe! He swears!)

At sunset you reach the last picture location: Lover’s Pond.

He tells you that he’s heard if you meet someone there, you’ll be destined soulmates or something. He’s not sure if it’s true, but he knows YOU are his soulmate, and he wants to spend every moment for the rest of his life with you, if you’ll have him.

Wind (Aged Up)

You're probably on Tetra’s ship with him, so there’s not really anywhere to go.

The next island is days away yet, and Tetra won’t change course just so he can celebrate this holiday with you. He already asked.

There’s also not anywhere to go on the ship that’s very romantic. It’s all rooms that serve a purpose: cabins, kitchen, etc.

He swipes a bottle of wine from the supplies and takes you up to the crow’s nest when the sun begins to go down over the horizon.

You spend the evening joking around, flirting, and recounting the last year of your relationship.

The setting sun reflects in the water, the entire sky shades of pink and orange. He watches as you laugh at something he said, turning your head slightly towards him, sunshine streaming around your face in a halo and sunlight reflecting in your eyes.

He can feel the breath leave his lungs as he falls in love with you all over again for the nth time that day.

[traincat]

Hi! I was rereading your fics and noticed that in Sticks and Stones you mentioned referencing Claremont's F4 run. Now it's haunting me because I can't find where their origin is brought up 🥲 So sorry if this has already been asked/answered, but perchance do you remember which issue it was 😅 (if not or even so, do you have any other good F4 origin moments?)

No worries, I've got you. It's a little hard to find if you don't know where to look.

This is a flashback from Fantastic Four v3 (1998) #11-12, which recontextualizes the crash and turns it into a horror story for more than just Ben. Claremont is really interesting as a Fantastic Four writer, and he loves thinking through the implications of Johnny's powers. Here, Johnny absorbed the heat from the shuttle crash, but he can't hold onto it and he goes Nova. The only reason he doesn't kill Reed and Sue accidentally is because Ben shields them with his rocky body. It's a really interesting interpretation because it sets up this dynamic between Ben and Johnny where they can fight with each other because they can't really physically hurt each other unless they're really trying. Ben has a degree of protection against Johnny's flames, and Johnny is fast and fiery. Claremont loves Johnny's powers, though, and he puts a ton of thought into what Johnny can and can't do with them. He also writes a very introspective Johnny. He's one of my top writers of all time for Johnny characterization.

(Just don't go into his run expecting the plot to make sense. It won't. But the characters are fun and the interactions are all really charming. He introduces three new female characters who are all great, too.)

In terms of Johnny's relationship to his powers -- specifically a negative relationship, not just the joy we usually see from him -- I also really recommend the Burn! storyline, which encompasses the first six issues of the Human Torch (2003) miniseries. It's kind of an origin story? It starts before Johnny goes to space with the others and then picks up after the crash, when he returns to high school suddenly not the loser weird kid. Fast forward a few years and his old high school enemy looks him up to ask for his help solving a series of mysterious murders involving the victims being burned alive. Fun stuff, really great ruminations on Johnny, his understanding of fire, and the amount of control he has to exert every day.

(Human Torch #3) You're going to have to put up with a lot of very early 2000s art. It's worth it.

Also not really an origin story but useful in understanding Johnny's origins is the Sue and Johnny power swap arc.

(FF #520) To save Sue's life, Reed swaps her powers with Johnny's, but the timing is pretty bad. Galactus takes Johnny as his herald, while Sue struggles with keeping Johnny's powers under control.

But okay, Fantastic Four origin stories, a crash course. This isn't totally comprehensive, just kind of a collection of my favorites and ones I find interesting.

Fantastic Four (1961) #1: The mother of all origin stories. Pretty one and done. We have to beat the commies to the moon! Cosmic rays! Shuttle crash! We've changed in horrible and fantastic ways! The world will never be the same! It's worth reading if you haven't read it before, but it's no Amazing Fantasy #15.

Byrne's retcon: Byrne doesn't particularly do anything interesting regarding the crash, but it's useful to know the changes he did make to the origin, because they were a point of contention for a long time. In Lee and Kirby's run, Sue and Reed are established as next door neighbors and childhood sweethearts. It's all very sweet. Byrne, though, LOVES an age gap with an older man and a younger woman. This is a theme you'll see repeatedly if you follow his work. Byrne retconned things so Reed first met Sue when he was renting a room at her aunt's house when he was in college and Sue was twelve. It's not great, but it does introduce the concept of Sue and Johnny living with their aunt after their father's incarceration. No run previously had ever mentioned such a thing. While the age gap was both immediately retconned out (Simonson did it as soon as he took the reins, establishing Reed and Sue as college friends, but it didn't stick) and eventually retconned out (Fraction retconned it so that Reed did stay at Aunt Marygay's boarding house but that Sue was over eighteen), the boarding house origin stuck. Not much to do with the actual "getting powers" aspect but interesting in terms of where Sue and Johnny were living when they met Reed and Ben.

Fantastic Four Mythos: Now we're cooking. Mythos is a beautifully illustrated oneshot retelling of how the Fantastic Four gained their powers. It's gorgeous, fun, and emotional. It's probably my second favorite origin story after Claremont's take.

Mythos posits that the emotional state the four were in at the time they were cosmically irradiated is responsible for their powers. Sue was trying to hide, Reed was trying to reach her, Ben was shielding Johnny, and all Johnny could think was that it was hot. It's an interesting interpretation. Sidenote, I'm pretty sure the new Fantastic Four movie is drawing inspiration from Mythos, just based on the visuals.

I love him so much. Idiot baby.

Fantastic Four: First Family: Oh boy where to go with this one. I don't dislike it, and I think it explores the origin in a much more realistic way, but I wouldn't say it's my favorite. First Family is a miniseries that takes a more grounded approach to the origin story. After the crash, the four are imprisoned on a military base as they adjust to their powers.

I think there's a lot of interesting ideas in this version, but I wouldn't really recommend it to any new readers as an origin story. I think it's more of an interesting way to examine things after you're already basically familiar with the FF's early days if you want to see a more grounded take on the origin.

Fantastic Four: Season One: Another miniseries retelling the origins. Is it good? Not particularly. Is it shiny? Yes. Does aged up Johnny work as a pinup model before the accident? Also yes.

It's giving the Chris Pine leather pants desert photoshoot. Again, not my first pick for an origin story by far, but if you want to read some mildly campy nonsense, you could do worse. If you don't want to read it, which is like, probably the smarter idea, please note that Johnny registered the domain name hottieonfire.com and that he's obsessed with the whale from the American Museum of Natural History. Samesies.

Ultimate Fantastic Four #1-5: This feels like the equivalent of going "want to make some bad decisions." Ultimate FF is NOT good. I know I've said that a hundred times. I've also read it a hundred times so who's the idiot now. I do think the origin is an interesting take on things, though, and like First Family it's more grounded in the exploitation of the Fantastic Four by the military. So not good, wouldn't recommend it as baby's first Fantastic Four origin, but not completely not worth reading.

Origin stories I don't recommend:

Fantastic Four v2 (1996): This is when the FF got bubble universed. It's basically a retelling of the early days that doesn't add anything new or interesting.

Fantastic Four: Life Story: Life Story was an interesting experiment. The idea was to have a six issue miniseries where each issue took place during a specific decade -- issue #1 would be the 60s, #2 would be the 70s, etc -- moving the characters through those decades aging in real time and dealing with both the major storylines of those decades as well as the real world events that were happening. Like I said, interesting experiment. The actual comics, though, and I'm counting the Spider-Man one here too, were bad. Like so bad. I'm going to give you the only thing of note in it here and then you don't have to read it. (Don't let this fool you into thinking the rest of the comic is progressive in any way; the writer decided Jewish Ben should say pork was "the food of the Gods" and also that Romani Dr. Doom should put people in concentration camps. Whole yikes.)

(FF Life Story #2) That figure sitting in bed with Johnny sure looks like a guy. Interestingly, for your value of interesting, "perpetual bachelor" Johnny dies in 1986 in issue #4, and issue #5 immediately opens with T'Challa creating a cure for AIDS. Take that one as you will.

One final kind of a rec. This isn't really an origin story for the Fantastic Four as characters, but rather a retrospective meta take on the creation of the Fantastic Four as a series. Fantastic Four: Unstable Molecules is an Eisner winning miniseries dedicated to the fictionalized "real people" who inspired the Fantastic Four, positing that one night at a dinner party on Long Island, two comic book creators encountered a family fight so epic it inspired them to create a comic book. Deeply introspective, it's take on Johnny and the Mole Man (yes really) really shines.

(Unstable Molecules #3) Sorry to turn this into a "Johnny is flaming" discussion once again. It just kind of comes up naturally when you look at his origin stories.

[graceisinthelibrary]

It’s my first time ever asking but since I love your writing so much I’m giving it a go! I’d like 15, 26 and 27 please!!😘

Here's the last one. Thanks for the amazing choice of prompts! The prompt was "There's a letter on the table waiting for you".

Siegfried operated on the apple with meticulous precision. He peeled, sliced, and dissected. He was a surgeon after all. He cut things for a living. 

The truth was, he concentrated on the apple at hand, because he couldn’t rip open the letter on the kitchen table. Lately the Royal Mail had become his nemesis. The telegram from Tristan and its vague announcement that had left him in a dark limbo between hope and despair for over twelve horrible hours. Edward’s Christmas Card, well intended, but a cruel tease that had caused more agony for days for Mrs Hall and everyone else who loved her. 

And now this. Again the letter was addressed to her and the sender happened to be an old friend. This case case “friend” was an euphemism for “Gerald”. As far as he was aware the chap hadn’t written to her in ages. Why now? 

By now the apple was cut in enough pieces to be used to cook apples sauce. With the harvest being good this year, his housekeeper had cooked a lot of it, because she didn’t want it to waste. She was ever so resourceful in everything she did. 

The backdoor opened and she came in, a basket over her arm and Dash at his leash. 

“Afternoon,” she greeted him, visibly pleased to see him. “You’re back early!” 

“Oh well…” He shrugged. “How was it in the shops? Anything left for us?” He asked, pointing at her basket. It was fuller than usual, which was a good sign. 

“For once I got everything I need,” she said, beaming with accomplished pride. “But it’s grim for some people out there.” 

“I know.” Only too aware how much the rationing and the ongoing fear for the life of the many soldiers were nagging at people, he hesitated to feed Dash with a piece of the apple, but eventually he did. The little beggar was just as lovely as his mistress, who was now taking off her jacket, revealing her grey short sleeved sweater. 

“There’s a letter on the table waiting for you.” 

He gave Dash another piece of the apple and the spaniel leaned against his leg, grateful and keen for more. He patted his side, marvelling how soft his fur was. 

“Oh…” She leaned over and took a look at it. “Oh,” she repeated when she noticed who had written it. There was no nervous flush, no sign of unease or joy. Just surprise mixed with a mild curiosity. He relaxed a bit. So she hadn’t been anticipating a message from him. Good. 

He watched her as she stored away the groceries and ate his apple, sharing every second bit with Dash. Then she put the kettle on and sat down. To his surprise she opened the letter in front of him and began to read. Another good sign. Whatever the homewrecker - that’s what he silently called him - wrote wasn’t a secret, at least not to her. 

As the next “Oh” reached his ear, he furrowed his brows. 

“Any news?” He asked as casually as possible, pretending not to know who the letter was from. 

“Kind of. He got married…” 

“Oh… Who?” 

Her eyes shot up, aiming at him. Her amusement was obvious and he blushed, caught red-handed. Why could he never lie to her? 

“Gerald,” she explained and made sure he knew that she knew. She just made her point silently and stabbed him with it. He should know by now that nothing escaped her notice. “He met an old flame of his. Ruth.” 

“Good for him.” Siegfried cleared his throat. 

“That’s what I think. Though…” She shrugged and he didn’t dare to ask why she had wrinkled her flawless forehead. 

“Don’t you think this sounds a bit petty?...” She leaned in a little and began to read, “I won’t say it was love at the first sight, but we know and understand each other. She’s a marvel and she likes Lilian a lot. It’s nice to come home to someone in the evening without wondering whether they will be waiting or not. I hope you will find whatever you’re looking for. Someone’s told me you’re a warden now and I wonder how little time you have left to put up your feet. Life here at the Lakes is a bit slower…” She broke off and Siegfried figured it took her a lot of willpower not to roll her eyes. She had always been very much in control when it came to the homewr… banker. As if she had never dared to be her true self in his presence. Maybe that was what he had hated mostly about the bloke. 

“I have everything I need!” 

“He sounds… wounded,” Siegfried said, trying to sound neutral. 

“Petty,” she repeated. The kettle whistled and Siegfried noticed that she spooned more leaves into the pot than the rationing allowed. 

“I think we deserve a little treat.” Feeding Dash the last piece of the apple, he rose and returned with a bottle of sherry. Dash, sensing, there were no more treats left, climbed into his basket and curled up for a well-deserved afternoon nap. 

“Let’s put up our feet,” Siegfried suggested upon his return. He poured them two glasses and placed them neatly next to their saucers. She chuckled. “Not exactly an ottoman, but thank you.” 

He settled down and looked at her, his eyes steady and beaming. “You’re a marvel. You keep us fed, you hold the fort, and you make us safe at night. Don’t let anyone tell you, that’s not enough or unheard of.”

Audrey, never able to accept a compliment, lowered her eyelashes. Now a tender flush built up in her cheeks. The silence became a bit embarrassing and she sipped her tea, and then from her sherry. 

“I love me life and me home,” she said, her voice steady. “I see no reason to change anything about it. And I’m not looking for anything…” 

“Brava.” He smiled, but felt a little sting in a corner of his heart. There was something he wanted to change about her life, about them. He ached to tell her that he loved her, more than the banker ever had. That he would never belittle her for caring for others or wanting to make a difference to their community. That his home was her home and that she had built it for them. There were so many things he wanted to admit but felt he wasn’t allowed to. 

“You’re making a difference every day,” he finally said. “Especially to me.” Three little words. He knew his voice had sounded shaky, even squeaky. 

Her eyes, right over the rim of her sherry glass, widened and then she smiled. Almost coy, she put down the glass and reached out. He took her hand without hesitation. Her fingers, so warm, a bit rough from the hard work, yet so well cared for, interlaced with his. “It means a lot to me to hear that.” 

In a moment of boldness he later described to himself as madness, he led her hands towards his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. 

From the way she stared at him, he thought for a moment she would faint. He didn’t know how many men had kissed her hand before, but he had the feeling the banker had never done it. So he did it again. 

“You’re daft,” she breathed, her eyes fixed on the place where his mouth had touched her skin. 

“No, my dearest. I’m in love. Quite a difference.” 

[baestruly]

heyyy!! i love your works!! i was wondering if you could maybe do a single dad!jj maybank x single mom! reader? maybe jj is in the store with his daughter/son and suddenly they throw a tantrum because they can’t afford a toy or something.. and jj is getting frustrated and trying to make them quiet down.. and reader is like “it’s okay” and giving him advice and stuff. and she and jj is like so thankful and then they go on a date and her daughter/son, and his daughter/son have like a play date and they’re js so happy. idk if this makes sense😭😭 i’m sorry

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 )  jj maybank x fem!singlemomreader

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ IN WHICH you and jj are out to get a gift for each of your sons when you cross paths

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - fluff

a/n - this was lowk requested a while ago so i'm sorry for how late this is </3

You pushed open the door, having to let go of your little one's clammy hands. You never complained, though, because he would never let you go, and you had no problem with it.

Theo was your son, and yes ━━ you’re young, blah, blah, blah, that’s what everyone says! You’re so sick of hearing the same things every day, especially the weird looks of people. Why were they so quick to judge? For all they knew he could be your little brother!

But he wasn’t and you never regretted having him for a second. Okay ━━ you regret ever getting with your now ex-boyfriend, but you’ve always tried to look for the good in situations. If you’d never met him you wouldn’t have had Theo.

Theo was a ball of joy. He loved the outdoors, especially playing near the water. The small boy would build castles with sand and collect rocks to decorate them with. Sometimes, if he found prettier ones, he would bring them back to the house and add them to the collection on his shelf. He just loved anything that had to do with nature, and it made you smile. He was growing up to be like you.

Today was his fifth birthday and to celebrate, you decided to treat him to a visit to the closest toy store not far from the beach. He had plenty of toys at home, but Theo was always grateful for anything you offered him, like new toys, books, or foods he’d never seen. He was always curious to try and learn something new.

The doorbell rang as you entered the colourful room, the walls painted with rainbow and different safari animals. Theo was already in awe as his eyes excitedly scanned the tall walls. It was funny that was the first thing he’d noticed, but of course, his eyes shifted to the Lego on the back wall and he immediately sprinted to it. 

Of course, only resulting in him knocking over another kid in the process. 

Oh no. Please don’t start crying━━

People have assumed you were the mean snobby type based on not only how you dressed, but what you were classified as━━a kook.

Not all kooks were snobby. So, you quickly ran up to Theo and helped him up before turning to the boy he’d knocked over, he hadn’t hit his head, but you could tell he wanted to cry and was trying his best not to.

“Oh my gosh━━I am so so━━”

Suddenly, a guy about the same age as you━━maybe his older brother? ━━ came into view above where you were crouched on the ground to talk to the little boy. He looked worried and confused about what just happened.

Immediately, you tore your eyes away to help the boy up, meeting his small blue eyes. “You okay, buddy? I’m so sorry━━Theo, say you’re sorry.”

Theo sheepishly looked up as he’d been staring at the ground, ashamed. “Sorry.” He drawled, playing with his fingers. 

You were glad no one got hurt and then you remembered the other guy standing right beside you. 

“Hey━━I’m so sorry for all of this, I'm glad he’s okay, sorry for the trouble—”

“Relax, relax. It’s fine, right bud!” He poked the boy in the arm, making him giggle and squeak with laughter. Then, he eyes Theo. “Just a slip-up, no need to feel bad.”

You smiled, grateful that he wasn’t that type of person and just nodded before following Theo to the legos.

After about three minutes, Theo picked out the Lego trucks as his birthday gift. Guiding him to the check-out, you noticed the boy from before stomping his feet angrily and the other crouched down trying to hold him still. He looked frustrated and it was obvious he was trying to keep that emotion at bay for the sake of everyone in the store.

But a little boy wouldn’t get that, so he just continued yelling━━something along the lines of “You promised!” And “you said that last time!.”

Scrunching your brows, you went in line behind them, hesitant because you didn’t want them to feel pressured, but that only made the boy scream louder after eyeing the toy you held for Theo.

The guy firmly placed his hands on the little boy's shoulders. “Here, listen, when I finish working for the Cameron’s boat next week, I can get you two toys instead of just one, how does that sound?” He whispered with a tough smile, trying to reason with him. 

The boy had stopped his meltdown, but his anger quickly turned to disappointment with the news as his shoulders sagged once the guy took his hands off them. “Okay.” 

You watched with sorrow as the guy stood up, ready to leave. But before you knew what you were doing, your hand grasped his arm.

Okay━━maybe that was bad on your part━━y’know, touching a stranger and all, but they were in a hurry, and you wanted to do something good for someone, which could also make up for the little mishap that happened earlier. 

“Hey! Uh━━not that I was eavesdropping or anything, but━━um, it’s okay, y’know? I can get it, it’s no big deal.” You offered with a welcoming and reassuring smile. 

The guy's face turned confused with the offer like it was the weirdest thing he’s heard in a while. Maybe it was, especially coming from a kook, to which all pogues viewed as rich stubborn brats. But that wasn’t the case with you and nor did you want Theo to be brought up like that either.

Then he shook the confusion away, face turning cold. It wasn’t some kind of setup, but he’d seemed to be going against you. “No━━I can’t accept that, thanks for the offer.”

Your voice turned into a whisper. “No, really, it’s okay.” You smiled. “Do something nice for him and forget about this, okay? I don’t know you guys, but you deserve it.”

The guy seemed hesitant as he nodded, still weary and unsure. But he looked down at the small boy standing at his side, completely unaware of the conversation between the two of you, and he stood taller. 

You nodded back, going ahead to pay for Theo’s legos and an art set you guessed the other picked. The cashier seemed to notice the good deed and gave you a smile before handing you back two gifts after you paid. 

Outside the toy store sat the two boys while you held the art kit in your hand. 

“Hey! it seemed to be a glitch in the system, I think the person ahead said this was for you?” You looked at the boy, and his eyes immediately lit up. 

“You did get it?! Wow━━thanks so much, Dad.” He yelled, bubbling with excitement as he jumped in his━━you guessed━━dad's arms.

Dad.

The words that flew out of the boy's mouth made the guy look sheepish. You knew that look all too well, the same kind where you felt you were being judged with every move. Little did he know, you were free of any judgment here!

“Hey━━uh, thanks so much, I really appreciate it.” He said gratefully, a smile on his face as he looked at the little boy and Theo, who were showing off their new toys to each other. 

“It’s no big deal.” You said back, but you could tell what he was thinking━━you were a kook pitying a pogue, but that’s not what it was like at all. You’d been at his position once before and everyone deserves to live happily, whether it was just a nice gesture or a little help with problems at home. “Really. This is my little one too.” 

You smiled at Theo, now immersed in some sort of giggle fit between the two boys. 

“He looks a lot like you, he’s a really sweet boy.” 

You smiled, “thanks.” Your heart warms at his comment. He was smiling too, but not at the two boys below, but at you. As you look up and his eyes meet yours, he awkwardly smiles again with a nod, going to grab his son's hand. 

“Time to get going, buddy.” He says to him cheerfully. “It was nice to meet you guys.” 

“Wait!” 

His head snapped back, stopping in his tracks as his son turned too. 

“I never really got your name, did I?”

━━━━━━━━

The date was set. After more talking between the two of you ━━ JJ, asked if you wanted to grab dinner later that day, of course, you said yes. 

You weren’t sure where you were going to go, but in the outer banks, there were lots of nice outdoor places near the water, complete with good music and mellow lights. You couldn’t hide the excitement on your face.  

“Mommy ━━ why you so happy?” Theo questions, head turning to the side momentarily before he continues driving his red toy car up the side of the wall. 

You smiled. “Remember the nice man at the toy store?” 

“Oh, ya! Can I pretty please have a playdate with the other boy?” Theo pleaded, abandoning his truck and running up to you, wrapping his arms around your legs. 

You laugh, playfully prying him off of you. “Don’t dirty my new jeans you rascal!” 

As you begin running after him, Theo’s giggles all around the room as he screams before the doorbell rings suddenly.

Did he come all this way? You could’ve met up with him, so he didn’t have to go to the kook side. Apparently, he had some enemies ━━ if that’s what you would call it. 

You open the door, heart pumping fast. You’re met with a mop of blonde hair and a charming smile. “Hey.” 

“Hello!” His son. 

“Wowo, Mommy he did come back!” Theo screamed excitedly, not because he was talking about JJ, but because his new friend was there too. 

JJ smiled sheepishly, “he couldn’t stop talking about Theo. I figured we all could see each other.” 

You laughed, looking at the two boys as Theo ran inside to show JJ’s son his red toy car. 

“I know a great recipe for chicken alfredo?” You question, unsure of the new situation. 

JJ claps his hands, head swinging. “It’s a date.” 

━━━━━━━━━━

masterlist              jj masterlist

[balrogballs]

happy valentines day to everyone but especially to ✨ wife guys ✨ as a treat, have a little Celedriel ficlet about how much they love each other because they simply are not leaving my skull atm:

The Homecoming

“They face everything hand in hand every time they must, from hornets to sorcerers, blinking and bewildered by what the world has become. Long oceans and lost homelands; floors of green grass grinning below treetops, they are limitless.”

He first met Galadriel under an upside-down tree and she had asked him whether it was his tree. Celeborn was not certain as to whose tree it was but in the face of her hair he felt himself succumb to spontaneous moral depletion and barefacedly told her that it was not only his tree, but that it was him that put it upside down, because he thought seeming artistically inclined would work in his favour with the Nolde. On the evening they exchanged betrothal vows he felt so ridiculously guilty about his little lie that he admitted it and watched her laugh until she cried and frankly, felt quite pleased with himself.

Celeborn enjoyed sitting around just looking at her and there were people who said that such pursuits were pointless for an elf of his lineage, militaristic credentials and bearing.

Absolutely, he would agree quite seriously. They absolutely are pointless. This is such a problem, thank you for pointing it out. I’ll sit right here, just where I am, look out of the window into her garden, and wonder what to do about it, say for the next few hundred years. Now it is a difficult task, please, leave me to it.

“Most know my father is like a raincloud if rainclouds shat gold,” Celebrían once told Elrond, who apprehensively glanced at the fearsome commander he spent a century under siege alongside, as if he would twist off his head for not only conversing shamelessly with his daughter but gossiping about him. “But few remember that my mother picks up every coin and spends it with glee.”

She does indeed.

Galadriel never did anything as Celeborn as sitting about gazing adoringly at people, but that was only because she, with her strange and awkward stubbornness, wrestled the vague shape of him into most things she beheld. She could be on a deserted shore and she would trick her own eyes into finding him atop a marvellous shipwreck or petrified salt-rock. Every space and time in her life which required courage to pass through, she would conjure him and he would appear like a — no, not a phantom, Celeborn was too easygoing and frothy-laughed and light-footed to be particularly good at melancholic hauntings, he’d be far too happy drifting about in the empty spaces of the world. Perhaps a poltergeist, then. Or a very controlled mirage.

Lothlorien was intimate solitude, the quiet before fireworks. They never told others of how they love and live, they were the two of them, and then one day their remarkable Celebrían. Cello-baby, he called her because she hated it. Monkey-child, Galadriel named her, because she was. They shared each other wholly and without care and it meant all their joys were tripled and it meant that when Cello-baby left for good the loss was thrice as unbearable than it would have been otherwise.

Nothing endures for so long as love between the Eldar. As the centuries pass, their love shapes the world and shapes itself to it. Galadriel, scrying mirror and treelit hair, the world in her hands and Celeborn in her heart. They shape the forest and through the forest, the world: the Cello-baby shaped vacancies between their embraces, the hunting grounds and tree-top love affairs. They covet sameness and turn it to difference. The slow rot spreads across Arda and they cling to each other through time to feel alive in the dying world, like bees suspended in a jar of sticky honey, fleas in the rough, matted neck of a stray-cat. They do not cling to a folded-down page in history but burrow their way through the book itself.

Mithrandir once asks her if she does not feel inconsequential in the forest. Without the marauding ranger circle around Imladris, away from the corrosion of Mirkwood, he asks her if she never longed to fly further. Whether she could not see the forest for the trees.

“Perhaps our landscape makes you feel inconsequential, Mithrandir,” she says dryly. She doesn’t wear shoes at home — a habit her daughter carried to Imladris and passed on to her three, and then to Eldarion, and then ever onwards. But yes, Galadriel spins in a dizzy circle in the little room and says, “but I have all the world I need. I can see what I must, and I will do what I will when the world and the Valar will it. But inconsequential? Amidst hornets nests and horsefly season? In the forest fire of the previous year, this sunset and the next, for these little things I am time and space itself. We are.”

Celeborn has Galadriel feeling limitless even in the smallest of rooms. They face everything hand in hand every time they must, from hornets to sorcerers, blinking and bewildered by what the world has become. He has her back and she has his heart. With his solid weight behind her she can swallow future after future with dangerous abandon. He is not the risk but the reason for it: he is so alive it is almost irritating. Long oceans and lost homelands; floors of green grass grinning below treetops, they are limitless.

Age after age rolls by and they do not stop loving each other in their strange, incomprehensible way. An oddly domesticated love language seemingly apathetic to external perception, the way the spool predicts the pattern of its unravelling, how even on the darkest nights they can reach out to the other and find the little hook where their truest selves hang, trusting in the mnemonics of homecoming. They are an arithmetic problem that never asked to be solved. They are simply Galadriel and Celeborn, under an upside down tree, always and ever.

[coldlovehotblood]

Heyyy, i LOVED your writing so if possible, could you write a Izzy x rockstar! reader where the reader is the frontwoman of an all girl band, and she's like, a femme fatale yk those vibes

Izzy/ gnr and her/ her band have know each other for about 1 year, but these two are like, OBSSESSED with each other so so in love but they prefer to just keep flirting subtly and blah blah blah until in her birthday, they have their first time (finally)

Ma'am I'M BEGGING for some filthy eye rolling juicy smut (only if you're comfortable ofc) and some fluff to keep the balance hihi 🧘‍♀️

˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

PRETTY TIED UP (p.1)

the persona you’d created as front woman of a major band comes crashing down. strong liquor paired with your hungry heart lead you to places you thought never possible: the other side of your crushes bed.

w/c: 3,205

warnings: steven is a little shit, alcohol consumption

a/n: so umm.. *gulps* hello anon from december! this spiralled completely out of control and somehow ended up so big it needs to be split into two parts. life, writers block and working on too many things at once have all been eating at me. sorry for the wait. i hope it was worth it😇 big thank you to @rocknrolldecadence for being a star as always

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Your manager threw open the door and launched a folded magazine at you with a growl.

“When will you lot be done with this heartthrob bullshit?! You know, I can’t clean up for your asses forever.”

You grimaced as he paced (read: stomped) back and forth by the doorway of the dressing room your group had been given. It felt as if someone was chipping at your skull with a chisel, and the addition of your manager’s huffing and puffing wasn't helping to ease the harsh thump between your temples. 

The poor makeup artist's hand started to tremble slightly above your bandmate's brow at the sight of the man’s agitation. You couldn't really blame them. He was intimidating. It took years to become used to seeing how easily he flew off the handle, and a couple more to realise that it was all in good faith. He was tall and brawny, made of sharp edges and biting words, seemingly built for battle and not spitting through phone receivers for the majority of the day. There was this eternal furrow to his brow that made him look as if he was glaring at every person he met, and honestly, he probably was.

“Quit your whining. You read the job description years ago.”

“Yeah, well nowhere did it say ‘convincing the media every story they catch wind of is fake news’ would be on the daily agenda.”

Your drummer groaned and reached to grab a water bottle from the floor, voice snarky as she commented, “Read the fine print next time, then.”

“You shut up,” he snarled through his teeth, jabbing a finger in her direction as she rolled her eyes, “because I'm not just talking to miss centre stage here. All of you need to be a bit more careful about where you show your faces and who you hang around. I’m only after seeing this headline, and I swear to God, if even one word of it is true, I am disbanding you.”

“Sure you will,” you yawned, reaching for the magazine that had landed beside you.

'ROMANCING ROCK STARS REUNITE: Pour Femme members photographed once again sharing drinks with rock and roll powerhouse Guns n’ Roses, further feeding fan theories of unspoken courtship. Read more on page 5!'

“Ooh, what have they said about us this time?” your bass player wiggled a bit in excitement from the other side of the sofa, “Did they get my good side?”

You flicked through to page five and turned it in her direction. Some other members craned their necks to have a peek too.

“See, this is why I don't mind that magazine. I look great—”

“It doesn't matter how you look! It's your other image I'm worried—” he sharply exhaled, pinching his nose bridge to centre himself before continuing, “What I'm getting at is that we've been through why you shouldn't be seen with some other artists in public, especially those guys. If you had even an ounce of common sense, you wouldn’t have to put up with me giving you an earful every minute!”

You gazed down at the spread. Your bandmate was right, she looked amazing. You all did in the low light of the Whisky A Go Go, smiling and laughing. Your lead guitarist was leaning over the table to pour another round of whiskey into everyone's glasses, beaming wide at something, if you remembered correctly, Duff had said. Slash was leaning in towards your drummer’s ear, probably shouting over the electric buzz of screaming people and loud live music. It had been a good night out. You smiled, recalling the trek home being full of cheers and laughter.

That smile dropped as soon as you spied yourself. Your glass was raised to your lips, eyes cast to the other end of the table. No, towards Izzy Stradlin.

In the previous year, you and your band met Guns n’ Roses at an award show. The interaction caught the eye of the public, as you couldn't turn the radio on without hearing the gritty drone of electric guitar from one of Pour Femme’s hit songs or really any GNR song at least once. The two were big names, so of course, fans went bonkers when they saw their favourite bands conversing.

You admired GNR. They were great, their music was phenomenal, and you had to admit, all of them were handsome as well, but someone that you couldn't seem to stop thinking about was Izzy fucking Stradlin. You loathed that fact.

You hadn't really spoken to him that night, and in general, very few words had ever been shared. But there was no need for them, for the tension that hung thick like smoke when you shared a room said enough. He was alluring in every sense of the word. You wanted to know more, but he never gave you the chance. In fairness, you didn't give him one either…

Look, you pranced around the idea of having a proper conversation with him because you had a reputation to uphold. You earned the title of notorious heartbreaker many magazine issues ago, and fans went insane for it. You were keeping up an image, and clearly, nothing ever stays private when you live in LA.

You closed the spread up hastily, pages warping at the sides from how tight your grip had become, and dropped it beside you, reaching for your temples instead. You’d had enough of thinking about him. The focus should've been on the performance just minutes away, and your birthday the day after. It was supposed to be a good day. You weren't about to let yourself ruin it by thinking about something so trivial. He was good-looking, yes, but there was a time and a place to be admiring him that wasn't in the dressing room before going on stage. 

Some small, needy thing in your brain called out to you ‘Would there ever be a time when you'd let yourself truly look at him?’

One of the stage crew peeped their head around the door frame to give a five-minute call. You heaved a sigh and pushed yourself up off of the sofa. You’d settled on thinking about it later.

The next day, your bandmates woke you up with a shout, jumping on your bed and singing silly, screechy versions of ‘Happy Birthday’.

You don’t know when it happened, but you got to an age where you didn’t see a point in doing anything on your birthday. It was a great excuse to eat a little more unhealthy than usual and go easier on yourself, but you saw no reason for extravagant celebrations.

“Fuck off,” you mumbled, pulling your quilt up over your head.

“It's your birthday and you're acting like a grump?! Booo!” your bassist teased from your bedside as they shook you back and forth.

“Get up! I didn’t make a cake this morning for you to not even look near it,” a voice called firmly from the doorway and you made your displeasure known with an overdramatic groan, muffled by the covers.

“Come on! We have a couple of things to do before tonight so get your ass up!”

Someone pulled the covers fully down and you blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. “What’s happening tonight?”

“Obviously we’re all going out. I refuse to let you sit in this apartment and be all sad about getting older like last year. No chance.”

Of course, it was your guitarist who was taking charge of this assault. You knew how stubborn she could be, and therefore simply did as you were told, slipping out of bed and wandering to the kitchen with the rest of them trailing you like ducklings. You wanted to be mad at all three members for ganging up on you, but you couldn't find it within you to keep up the irritated furrow in your brow. It was nice to know they cared and wanted to see you happy, and they looked so pleased with themselves when you lit up at the sight of the cake, squealing and nudging each other excitedly. How were you ever supposed to be firm when they had such good intentions?

The three of them took you to lunch, afterwards tugging you in and out of an absurd amount of shops, telling you to choose something and insisting they would pay. You ended up back at the apartment with more bags than reasonable. They were having none of it when you started to argue that all of the presents were entirely too much, instead pushing you into a chair and playing dress-up, adding to your makeup, doing your hair and making you model all the clothes they’d bought you.

One thing you had managed to stand firm on saying no to that day was going to a club. They had wanted so desperately to bring you to one, begging with big, sparkly puppy eyes.

“Come on!” your bassist pleaded, actually clasping her hands together and leaning your way, sweetening her voice the best she could, “It’ll be so good. We promise to go easy on the booze–”

“Uhh no? That's the point–” your drummer was silenced by an elbow to the ribs.

“We promise to keep it light until we’re home again.”

You shook your head at the two, a smile creeping onto your face against your will.

“It would be fun to go to one. I know she was talking about going to the Whiskey tonight,” you jerked your head towards your guitarist who was rifling through every item of clothing you owned, “But I just don't think I would enjoy myself. I want to have fun with you all, but where can we have fun without the media breathing down our necks and watching every move we make?”

“I mean,” your bandmate spoke with a raised voice, knowing the sound would be slightly dampened by her position. She was basically downing in clothes at that point, “we could always go to The Cathouse.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go to another habitat of GNR’s. Our manager would rip us a new one.”

“No, that's actually a good idea. I like it in there.”

“What?! You’ll go to The Cathouse but not The Whisky?”

You shrugged your shoulders before simply replying, “Apparently the Whiskey can't be trusted. That spread had a great picture of us, but it’s proof we’ll get no privacy.”

Just then, your phone rang, buzzing against the vanity you sat beside. You picked up and were met with your manager's gruff voice.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, but I'd like to think I know you a bit better than that,” you spoke, admiring your bandmates' artistic skills in the mirror as you did, “What's wrong?”

He had his moments in which his well hidden soft spot for you all shone clear as day, but he never called just to say nice things.

“You lot better behave yourselves tonight. If I wake up tomorrow to your faces all over the news or on the front page of another magazine for the wrong reasons–”

“I’ve told them already to be sensible. We’ll be fine.”

“Who is that?” your drummer questioned leaning closer to hear the voice coming through.

“Our dear manager telling us to behave.”

“Oh for fuck sake! Get off our backs and mind your own business!” your guitarist yelled, coming towards you with an outfit in hand and signalling for you to give her the phone. You traded items. She leaned against the vanity and sighed deeply in annoyance. Even from a slight distance, you heard your manager's static voice ring loud and clear.

“Shut up you!” he bellowed back, loud enough your guitarist flinched slightly and had to pull the phone further from her ear, “You all need to start listening to me! Some of these days, one of you is going to get into bother for one reason or another. I will not take any shit from anyone on that fateful day because I have done nothing but try and keep you all on the straight and narrow–”

“Yap, yap, yap! Go jerk off or something!”

She quickly hung up as his outraged roars became deafening, putting your phone back in its original position.

“Put this on and then we’re leaving.”

It was relatively quiet as the four of you walked in, expected for a random Wednesday night. You may have been a bit overdressed for a mostly empty bar, but getting ready was half the fun. It was worth it when you were able to strut through the entrance knowing you looked hot. The outfit your bandmate put together, highlighting your best features. The makeup another had carefully done for you, making you look striking. Head-turning even. Dressed up, you felt confident. That was all that mattered.

You all filed in one after the other, talking and laughing as you went, but the smile on your face dropped when you saw who was sitting at the bar, sporting a brilliant grin of his own and tilting his head back to swallow the rest of his drink. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat, watched as his dark hair fell back around his face once upright again, unaware of your group, instead focused on something his own bandmate, whom you recognised as Steven, had said.

The night suddenly didn’t look so fun anymore, and it hadn't even started yet. You did not expect them to be there. It was an odd night in the week to be out drinking in a bar. Why on earth would they be out having drinks?! It was only three of them sitting there on the bar stools: Steven, Axl and him, but two of their unit missing didn’t make you feel any better about it. You might not have even minded it, but Izzy's presence made you unsure, a nervous shiver making its way through you.

There was a reason you kept yourself a distance away from him. You knew that if you got to know him properly, you'd end up in it too deep because you found him devastatingly attractive. From the shape of his lips to the way he carried himself, he was flawless in your eyes.

You longed to chat casually over a drink or two. You longed to charm him a bit and see how, if he was even interested, he'd reciprocate that curious flirting. But you felt like you had to stay away as you feared both of your reputations. Celebrities dating was nothing new, but when things went south it left a bruise on each of their images.

At the height of Pour Femme and Guns n’ Roses’ careers, that was a far from ideal situation.

Your bassist noticed how your steps had become hesitant, leaving you half-hidden behind the other two. She asked if you were okay, eyes worried. You looked at her, bit your lip and looked back to the three men sitting at the bar. She followed your gaze and sighed when she realised, slowing a tad to match you as your other two bandmates walked on. They either didn’t notice or just didn’t care, too engrossed in an argument over something no doubt ridiculous. Your drummer's eyebrows only ever furrowed like that if they were trying to explain something, which was not an area they excelled in.

“Ignore them,” your bassist whispered, leaning very slightly towards your ear.

“I love you, but that might be one of the stupidest things to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Okay fair. But look,” she said your name gently, “You can't run from him forever. I get why you are doing this, but… why not loosen up a bit? Just for tonight.”

Your face twisted up against your will and she playfully pushed your shoulder with her own.

“Come on. There's no media here, you look smoking and it's your birthday. You should be allowed to have a bit of fun on your birthday of all days.”

You considered her words. Maybe you were a bit too cautious when it came to him, but so what? You had good reason to be! Although your worries were justified, she made a good point. You should've been allowed this at least. If you weren't going to get shitfaced, you'd let yourself have that wiggle room.

Just for the night.

You sharply inhaled through your nose and straightened your back, looking your bandmate dead in the eyes and nodded. She let out a quiet squeal and threw an arm over your shoulders, tugging you in for a side-hug.

“Go get 'em girl!”

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the bar, stride more sure than before. If you were going to do it, you needed something in your system.

Your two other bandmates had already taken their seats, of course, sitting right beside the three men your gut screamed at you not to look near for even a second, so you didn’t, instead going to the free seat right beside Izzy at the other end of the bar and ordering yourself something strong.

You were shuffling your stool in when you heard his voice.

“Brave choice for your first drink.”

“Well, you’ll get nowhere without bravery.”

He hummed and a beat passed before he spoke again, “Who taught you that?”

“No one. I learnt it with time.”

“Interesting.”

Your drink was placed in front of you and you thanked the bartender, winking at them.

“I don't think I've ever properly introduced myself, but I also don't think I need an introduction.”

“Cocky,” you said with a smirk, raising your glass to your lips and taking a swig, ”I assume I don't need one either.”

He said your name. You’d imagined him doing this, shaping his mouth to fit around the word, low timbre making it sound almost like a purr, but your imagination did a poor job at doing the real thing justice. You liked how it sounded coming from his lips. Very much so.

“Of course, I know you. Those magazine journalists can't seem to keep your name out of their mouths. They say a lot about you, you know.”

“I'm aware.”

You felt him looking at you before spying him doing so from the corner of your eye, observing you as you studied the liquor bottles lining the wall behind the bar. You waited for the prickling sensation like insects burrowing under your skin that often came with unexpected eyes, but it never came. His gaze didnt feel as… intense as you imagined it'd be. Actually, it felt good. You liked knowing he was taking a somewhat interest in you. It was exciting.

“Magazines talk a lot of shit,” he started suddenly, and you giggled.

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“It’s unbelievable the amount they've spewed, and yet, after all of those paragraphs, I still don't really know anything about you.”

“Well then. Here’s your chance to shoot,” you said quietly, looking him straight in the eyes as you went for another sip of your drink, an easy grin still on your lips despite the sweat gathering in your palms. He mirrored your expression.

part 2 coming soon…

[deadqueerboys]

HII, could you do Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity headcannons in which they give a ftm reader who has been on t his first “blow job” (bottom growth) ? hwjejejfkkfkf I am so gay 💔

Bottom Growth

Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity x Ftm! Reader (separate)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Tommy

Since you started T, he has been crazy to see your changes. He noticed how your boobs got small, and now they could fit on his hands. Your grow, chest, and pubic hair, maybe a little of a mustache coming soon. He analyzes your body every night, touching where he could and especially looking at your clit. It scared him when it started to grow, a small dick instead of just the sweet spot. He clearly tries to please you too, since he's so touchy, he needs to check if it feels good. He was avoiding sucking it, at least until the last night.

He was in bed, layd down with only his pants on. Tom was quiet for some time now, only thinking about how he could easily make you a mess. He silently gets between your legs, pushing your underwear to the side and licking your pussy. It quickly takes a moan out of you. It makes you slap the sheets. He sucks on your T dick, doing it slow, knowing this is a sensible area. You grab his hair, his head buried between your legs. He brings his two fingers to penetrate you. He's good at it, possibly the best. Tom knows how to touch and how to make you feel good. Such a simple touch can make you a mess. It doesn't take long for you to cum, Tommy licks all of it without letting anything behind. All of this without a word. He's hard, but he can deal with it later. Right now, he just wants to cuddle with you and kiss your neck.

Tubbo

Toby wanted it to be special. He never had a trans boyfriend, and he didn't want to blow this chance. It was easy to lead you to the room, a red light and music playing on the background. It was more funny than sexual, but you could tell he was giving his best. His hands desperate to touch you while he makes you sit on the edge of the bed. He gets on his knees and spreads your legs, his takes everything on his mouth. He doesn't know how sensitive it is, causing you to slap his cheek. Tubbo looks up, pity on his eyes and his hands on your thighs. He says a quiet "I'm sorry.." And comes back to suck it, going slow and more calm.

You start to like it. It's your first blowjob and it feels good because of Tubbo. It feels special, like it was supposed to. He nuzzles on your pussy, his mouth doing a great job while he sucks on you. You cross your legs around his neck, bringing him closer. He never gets tired. He's used to bigger things on his throat, so doing this was just part of what he could give you. If you ever think about doing the surgery to have a cock, he will gladly help you out. Whatever you want, you can get. His eyes close while he sucks on you. It feels great to him and probably feels good for you, too.

Quackity

Alex hasn't seen you much since you started T. It's been almost a year of travel, streams, and him meeting his friends. With it, the sex has become almost inexistent. But usually you two send pics to each other. You have a full collection of him shirtless and without his beanie on. It's your secret treasure. He has a lot of you with your toys and touching yourself. He doesn't like that much. He loves the ones where you're shirtless with tapes on your tits. It gives more space to his imagination. When you two met up, he was shy, giggling and blushing whenever you looked at him with that beautiful smirk.

He was watching you get out of the bath, a towel around you while you got inside of the room. His smile is big. He runs into your direction to grab you and put you on his lap. Alex kisses your whole body, his hands taking the towel out of you. He pushes it to the other side of the room, making you lay down on the bed. It was easy for him to go down on you, kissing your thighs before going to your dick. He sucks it with difficulty. He had never done this before. He's in the minimum inexperienced. But he does it with pride, sucking it with sensibility.

[pedricos]

hector fort prompt #8? x

Héctor Fort – don't cry, i hate it when you cry .ᐟ

a.n: its been so long since i wrote a angst, sorry if its not so good.. also, english is not my first language, srry for any mistakes

warnings: light angst, comforting ending, light suggestive joke at the end (1,4k words)

why were they so mean to you?

you meet your boyfriend way before him becoming a barcelona star.

you two were only six when you met, both your families already being friends for ages. you basically grew up together! he was your first crush at middle school, when you would watch his games when he was still so little. he was also, your first kiss.

before entering high school, you never had kissed anyone. you were painful inexperienced, but héctor was the one teaching you how to kiss properly, and being patient with you, no matter how many times you got the tongue timing wrong. you can almost get a laugh from the way he tells the story.

he asked you to be his girlfriend when you both were 15, so young and full of love and admiration already. he thinks you're the prettiest girl ever, and he never liked a girl this much before, and for you, he's the cutest guy! he's just so sweet and always made you laugh so much.

and by the eyes of everyone around you, you two were the cutest couple! just by knowing eachother so well for so long and having so much charisma together. it was a joy to see how much you love and the good you do to each other. his family loved having you around in the holidays, and yours always welcomed him so well on the weekends.

but suddenly, nothing you do is enough anymore. you can't even tell the moment you started to try and prove yourself to the others. and you know, if he wanted, there would be thousands of girls by his feet, waiting the right moment of your fall.

in the stadiums, the hysterical girls screaming his name to get his attention wouldn't even bat an eye at you, completely ignoring your presence; pushing you to the side to crowd him and ask for a photo, or for him to sign their shirts.

you let slide. maybe this time they didn't see you. right? it happenes!

then, his fans cut you out of the photo he posted, but kepts his non-player friends in it. its okay, right? it's a fan page for him and not for you anyways.

but when when you post a picture, they did the same things. obviously cropping your whole body out of the picture. the picture you liked so much because it's you, walking hand in hand, with your boyfriend by the beach of the aphrodisiac island you were visiting with his family.

you let slide the comments on your body.

“she deff gained a lot of weight 🤣”

⠀⠀⠀→ “is she pregnant???”

“why your body look like that lool”

“héctor deserves better smh”

⠀⠀⠀→ “he so doeeess!”

what does this have to do with the photo? it was just a sweet picture of you and your boyfriend sat side by side in a nice restaurant, the photo was taken by his parents, who sat parallel to you.

and everything suddenly became too much.

why did they hate you so much? was because they wanted to get to héctor? was something personal? what did you do besides being his long term girlfriend? were they mad that you're not a plastic, fake-blonde, face sculptured ig model who was with him just for his fame?

you were so much better than them and their fake white teeth.

héctor always complimented your natural beauty so much, he even gets mad seeing you compare yourself with these full edited ig models. you have such a natural aura, your little crooked smile, your natural light freckles, the little moles caused by the sun, your natural blush.

sometimes he would think you're the one that is too much for him. he loved you so very much, but was just as scared of loosing you to a better player. but you never thought that way, because he was the one for you.

since you were 15, he was the one. since you were 6 years old holding a little flower he picked up for you. since you were 12 crying because nobody but him showed up for your birthday party. he was the one to be always there.

and why now being with him was so hard since loving him is so easy.

you didn't even noticed when you started crying in the shower. the water running along with the tears, a mix of your sobs along with the water running. you just ducked your head under the shower, letting it clean away your sadness.

you came out of the shower just as sad as you came in, but what could you do? the evening was silent as you wondered around the house by yourself, héctor still training. you only put on your comfiest pajamas and layed down on your empty king bed.

“i'm home!” your boyfriend announced, only to find a dark living room. he was so used to have you on his arms as soon as he stepped back home. he took his shoes off, wondering if maybe you were in the kitchen; but nothing. just as dark and empty as the sofa.

“y/n? hermosa?” he enters the shared bedroom, eyebrows immediately frowning as he found you crying your heart out on the bed. your eyes were puffy and your nose a dark pink color, signaling that you've been crying for a good while now, “hey, it’s me, it's fine” he pulls you in a tight hug.

you could only burry your face in his chest, smelling his fragrance as you tried to control your breath, sighing repeatly, trying to catch your breath. “qué pasó? why are you crying?” he cups your face to have a better look at you. (what happened?)

your puffy eyes and cheeks, tears never stopping to roll down your face and your nose pretty pink; he could almost find you cute. you tried to explain why you're so sad but couldn't even stop crying, chocking on your own tears as they fell uncontrollably, “shh, breathe first!” he runs his hands up and down your back.

“why do they hate me so much?” is all you can verbalize before hiding your face on his chest once again, letting yourself cry out loud, “who’s 'they', princesa?” he reaches to grab your phone as it sat unlocked next to your pillow.

he almosts cry along with you. if his fans really loved him, why would they attack the person he loved the most? they had no reason to call you all this names, you were his princess, his little girl, not any of these bad words on your comment section.

he pulls away your body from his, fixing a loose strand of hair that sat on your face, putting it behind your ear. one of his hand find your cheek, caressing it so softly with his thumb. why do they hate you so much? he was so full of love for you, why would anyone hate on you?

“i’m with you, y/n. i’m with you because i love you so much and i chose you! i choose everyday since i was fifteen years old, and i didn't stopped loving you a day ever since!” he kisses your forehead, hand creeping to the back of your head, caressing your neck through your hair.

“don’t cry, okay? i hate it when you cry” his words make you realize how luck you are.

after all, you're the one he comes home to, you're the one he brought a ring you can only buy once in your life, you're the one he's waiting to marry since he was a kid.

“i even brought flowers and your favorites snacks to celebrate our anniversary.. but i don't know if you're hungry” he sounds so calm, but you can't help but blame youself for forgetting such an important day, “no preparé nada... lo siento” you wipe away your last few tears. (i didn't prepared anything.. sorry)

“i don't mind it, i just want to be with you” he pulls you for a sweet kiss. no fight for dominance nor lust, just love and caring. just the longing he felt the whole day, thinking about you every second, wanting to be home as soon as possible, just to be with you.

“i can make you cry more later.. happy tears" he gives you a smirk.

“héctor!” you laugh as you slap his chest.

he's right here, with you.

check out my masterlist .ᐟ

i have such a annoying migraine rn, but ill try to write some more requests!! 🥹

i will be re-opening the requests soon!! bye bye, hope u like it 💋

[italoniponic]

Dear Freckles | Rook Hunt

Synopsis: When you have to help Rook clean his face, you finally discover that he has freckles underneath his foundation. It was simple but also a very nice little detail about him. One of a lot of reasons why you loved him.

Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / established relationship / fluff / mention of science club / 750 words / use of “you” pronouns 

Notes: The problem when some mutuals love a character is that you slowly understand why that character torments them night and day. In this specific case, I'm looking directly at you @pandoa dear! Dedicated to you <3 Hope you all enjoy this short story! 

Dear Freckles

“How are you, lovely Trickster? I hope you don’t mind but this humble hunter is seeking your services at the moment. How can I say this? I’m in trouble,” Rook said, his chuckle soft like the song of a nightingale in the morning.

You would’ve laughed along if he wasn’t covered head to toe by a strange and unknown liquid, recently dismissed from the Science Club day’s activities. It was by chance that you met your boyfriend in the hallway.

But, maybe, it was actually really fate. Probably because he was at risk of being attacked in Pomefiore before he could step foot in the dorm state — and you couldn’t even blame them for this. In that moment, Rook was the stamp face of dirtiness, despite his own good humor. 

As you two took shelter in a bathroom that was rarely used in the castle’s tower, Rook told you about the experience he was conducting at the club and the fantastic yellow explosion it caused.

He went on a narration detailed enough that you could almost see the scene as if you were there. Though, honestly, that was making it difficult to help clean his clothes and face without you constantly breaking into chuckles. And Rook didn’t even understand why you wanted to stay stoic-ish like that.

Were you trying to reprimand him for being a dreamy scientist? He was just a little curious by nature. Science knows no limits to the imagination. And, last but not least, you looked much prettier with a free, big smile playing on your lips.

At one point, you both sat down on the floor — shiny and clean, just like the room around — and you continued with the hour-long task of running wet cloth over Rook’s face to remove the yellow liquid remains. 

Surprise surely hit you when a bit of his skin foundation came off along with it. Lucky for you, he kept his eyes closed, leaving you alone to enjoy the fascination of the moment.

Underneath the yellow liquid and hidden by one of Twisted Wonderland’s best skincare products were some freckles. You swallowed hard to complete your work until his face was completely clean. Every passing second you discovered new spots in Rook’s cheekbones that were splattered with the natural ink of the Hunt family’s genes. 

Nothing but small freckles, yet it gave Rook a special touch that you had never imagined he could have. And you already thought him to be the most handsome man in the whole world.

You were brave enough to throw hands with a combo attack of Vil and Neige’s fans if you had to!

Perhaps the discovery was the greatest advocate for the intensity of your fascination. You wondered how long it would take before you found out that Rook had other secrets beneath his surface. At the same time, taking things slow seemed more fun and productive. You would have more time to enjoy each little revelation as if it were the most important thing of your day. 

You could play around comparing and imagining two or more versions of Rook in your head, all to come to the inevitable conclusion that you loved him in every possible way. Any and every Rook was your Rook. 

“Trickster? Any problem?,” the boy in question suddenly inquired, still with his eyes closed.

However, you had a feeling that Rook could see better beyond your momentary pause than if he was with his eyes wide open.

“Nothing, mon cher,” you replied, glad the use of French had melted and distracted him soon enough. Always worked just fine. “Um, actually... Rook?”

“Oui?,” Rook opened his eyes and smiled.

But his gaze grew in surprise when you suddenly held his face in your hands. A delicate and careful gesture, full of devotion. It no longer seemed right for any of you to simply act as if all that was nothing.

“I just want to say that… you’re very handsome. In any way and shape. I’m glad the Beautiful Queen is dead, or I would have to duel with her to have your heart, o’ handsomest of all,” you declared, gallantly.

You felt a little embarrassed to put those thoughts into words, but Rook’s smile didn’t fail to elicit in you a giggle. He held your hand and kissed the back of your palm, invigorated by your sudden surge of romanticism, feeling a little warm in his freckled face himself.

“And you’re all that I’ve been wishing most, my amour.”

Special Notes: I’m wishing~ for the one I love~ my trickster~ my dear~ Ok Rook. Now get out of my head!! And remember, Savana Rook and Pome Rook are just two sides of the same coin. It’s just a matter of outfits at this point, so pls love him dearly. If not for him, for me!