#once he's sure you love them both the same

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain

↳ chapter 3

previous chapter // next chapter(coming soon)

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: a/b/o, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory

A/N: please enjoy this chapter everyone, like i said before my asks are open for any questions or to chat!!

Chan closes the door behind him once he enters your room, where you and Felix sit together on the bed. He doesn’t make any moves to sit on the bed, making sure he keeps his distance. You can smell the fear in him; he’s terrified that one wrong move will ruin everything.

“Feeling better baby?” The alpha gives you a warm smile.

“My baby is fine.” You speak unsure of your words, confused why Chan would ask that. Why does he care?

“Oh, I’m happy to hear that but when I said baby, I kinda meant you.” He raises a hand to scratch his neck, his ears turning bright red, Was he wearing fake pheromones? How was this an alpha? Nonetheless, unconsciously you blush like a teenage girl with a dumb crush. You can’t help but scold yourself for the behavior, you don’t know these people get it together. You’re left even more confused, You could chalk Chan caring about the pup up to his instincts but you? Why you?

“Ah, I’m okay.” Short and to the point, that’s all he needs to hear, nothing more and nothing less.

“That’s good, really good. Seeing you get sick like that made us kinda anxious so I called the omega specialist Felix and Han went to and I was able to get you an appointment for tomorrow morning! Felix can’t drive so I’ll be driving you if that’s okay, I can also go in with you, the alphas usually do the same for the other omegas’ appointments, which eases us a lot. But please if you don’t want me to go in with you say it, I won’t be mad, I just want to make sure you two are healthy, I don’t want to get in the way of that-“ The omega sat next to you swiftly cuts off the alpha.

“Babe you’re rambling.”

“Right. Sorry! So what do you say?” Chan looks at you sweetly, but as you look deeper into his eyes you can see his plea, he would never say it out loud, not wanting to sway your decision. You can’t bring yourself to defy an alpha’s wants, all you can do is hope you don’t regret it.

“You can come with me to the appointment.” Before you can even blink the bed in front of you dips and there are big arms wrapped around your shoulders. You flinch, well a sad attempt at a flinch, the arms keeping you stilled. A weak growl that could only come from an omega omits from next to you and the arms immediately disappear allowing you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Chan hyung, what the hell was that?” Felix speaks sternly, and yeah you’d only know him for less than a day but you’d never imagine him speaking in such a manner, especially not to his alpha.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me. I just got so happy that you want to let me be with you during such an important moment for you and your baby, that you’ll allow me to keep you both safe.” The alpha moves to kneel on the floor next to the bed laying his head on the edge of the bed, excited eyes looking up at you. His arm lies flat against the bed dangerously close to your leg, but you don’t move, no matter how much the hand calls to you. Your omega purrs loudly.

Alpha. Alpha protects us. Alpha loves our pup.

Your breath hitches at the thought and you pray nobody hears. This is the worst part of being an omega, these instincts that are simply just that, instincts, there’s no logic or thought behind them, just your biological need for an alpha to take care of you. Your instincts are what got you into this situation in the first place, you know better than anyone that your omega isn’t always right.

“When you came down for breakfast today it got so silent because we all felt this pull towards you. The three of us felt it last night, but it hit the others this morning when they got to see and smell you for the first time. I really think, fuck, I think you are meant to be here. And if you let us show you how true that is, we will go at whatever pace is comfortable for you, this is a promise from my pack to you. You are still free to leave, but I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”

The silence is heavy and almost suffocating. His words were simple but they pulled on your heart in a way you’d never felt before. Your omega began to purr so loudly in your mind, it felt like your brain was vibrating. This was going to be a real problem. You were split, a part of you that you wanted to chalk up to instincts that felt the same pull to this pack, and the other part of you, beaten broken and bruised that wanted to run, so terrified that this was all a sham and they too would hurt you just the same as everyone before them had.

“I don’t know you people. Every single person I was supposed to trust ended up hurting me, Why would I trust strangers I just met?” The two pack members frown at your answer, they were determined to help you no matter what that looked like. This was just a bump in a larger road, and god was there a long road ahead.

“We get it. I wish we could take away all the pain you’ve ever felt, believe me. We will never push your boundaries or scare you okay. Having you here, it feels like we found something that was missing, it’s second nature to take care of you, like this is what we were meant to do. I know wolves are known for rushing into things because we can sense when someone is for us but we’ll hold back for you, like I said, we go at your pace.” The pack alpha continues to look up at you, never breaking eye contact, but it’s not a suffocating alpha eye contact, it’s almost submissive.

“I can’t lie and say I don’t feel something, but I’m scared. I’m really scared. Chan, I’m broken. The people who have been in my life have done a lot of damage and I can already tell there are a lot of things I’m going to have to unlearn and change. I don’t believe any of this is real, You guys treating me as kindly as you have is so foreign to me and it probably will be for a while. In the past less than 24 hours I have felt more love than I have ever felt in my life and I never want it to end but I have to keep my guard up, because I may deserve to be hurt but my baby does not, I have to protect them. If this is real and you guys can be patient with me, I’d be willing to try being a part of your pack.” You squeeze your eyes shut trying to hold back tears, keeping your head down terrified of what’s to come out of Chan’s mouth next.

“All eight of us will do everything in our power to get you to want to be here with us. You do not deserve any of the pain you’ve been caused and we will turn the earth upside down trying to prove that to you. That’s a promise.” You give a tearful smile and Chan doesn’t hesitate to give you one back. You look to your side to see a teary-eyed Felix.

“Y/N, he’s right, we’ll do anything for you.” He speaks, taking your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“So, I have to head out to the studio soon and the other guys also have work but Seungmin will be staying back here with you and the other omegas okay? Felix will probably want to show you around the house and help get you settled in, hopefully you’ll find time to get to know Han and Seungmin, I already told Seungmin to be on his best behavior and he really is a sweetheart but if he bothers you, you have my full permission to put him in his place.” Chan moves over to the other side of the bed to place a kiss on Felix’s head and you couldn’t have known but he fights the urge to give you one as well, instead, he leaves with a gentle smile shot your way.

You lie down on the bed with a sigh, unsure of how to proceed, your mind is running a million miles a minute. Felix places and gentle hand on the curve of your shoulder and once again you don’t flinch at his touch. You can’t wrap your head around how easily he’s wormed his way into your space, Something about Felix is special, like everything is okay as long as he’s there. You lay there like that for a while, going over every possible outcome in your head before Felix interrupts you.

“If my nose doesn’t betray me it seems as though the alphas are gone for the day, we'll have free rein to explore the house and I’ll be sure to show you all the best spots!”

Felix gives you a big smile as he watches you get up off the bed gesturing for him to show you the way.

The house is huge. Each pack member has their own room, then there are guest rooms, and there’s an office that Felix lets you know that it’s mainly Chan’s office but the whole pack will use it here and there. There’s a massive fenced backyard that is surrounded by trees leading into the forest. You take note of the pool, you’ve never had a pool and have never learned how to swim, would the pack be annoyed by that? You shake your head at the thought and look at the deck, it’s pretty, littered with different flowers and plants, and tons of places to relax or eat. And all that doesn’t even include the large basement that has been turned into the pack den. Felix takes you down into the den and your mouth waters involuntarily. It’s perfect, the biggest nest you’ve ever seen lies on the floor, there’s a TV and a mini fridge. There’s lots of storage space, which you assume holds anything you could ever need for heats and ruts, and then even more stuff.

“You are free to come down here whenever you’d like, I’ll speak for Han here when I say we’d love your scent in our pack nest. A blush spreads across your face and in embarrassment, you face towards the door letting Felix know it’s time to move on.

The last place Felix takes you is in the large living room, where Han is sitting on the couch with his legs crossed under him watching something animated.

“And that’s the end of the tour! Is it okay if I leave you here to relax with Han while I make us some lunch?” You nod at Felix and as he leaves you take a seat on the couch leaving one cushion's worth of space between you and Han, not wanting to disturb him. You decide to watch along with him to pass the time before your skin begins to crawl with the feeling of a pair of eyes on you. You turn to see Han’s round brown eyes on you, and he jumps a little once you look at him.

“I’m sorry! It’s just, you’re, god you’re glowing! I know that’s cliché but it’s true! Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer.” He asks nervously and you take a deep breath before nodding.

“What’s it like? You know, being pregnant?” Han gives you a nervous yet curious look, his full attention on you and you can’t help but find it endearing. Your mouth falls open thinking of a response.

“I’m not that pregnant yet but it’s nice so far. It’s kinda like having a friend with you everywhere you go. I’m a little more tired all the time and I don’t like morning sickness though.” He lets out a soft laugh.

“I can’t wait to have my own pups one day, but for now I’d love to help you take care of yours.”

“I think, I think I’d really like that.” You speak softly, as if you said it too loud the wrong person would hear. But Han doesn’t judge, he doesn’t scoff or make a sly comment, no he gives you a warm smile. An unfamiliar feeling settles in your chest, not quite sure what it is but it feels good.

“Minho saved me too.” Han blurts out, and by the way his scent sours, you can tell he didn’t mean to. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“What?”

“I come from a long line of alpha men, I think my parents knew I’d be an omega before I presented. I got called pretty boy and some meaner names growing up. Yet they were still so disappointed in me for presenting as an omega, they put me on intense blockers and rarely let me leave the house. Almost a year after I turned eighteen I made my escape, that’s where I found Minho. I showed up at his dance studio asking for a job, desk work, assistant, anything. I didn’t know this at the time but Minho doesn’t like omegas working for him, he doesn’t think omegas should have to work at all but he especially doesn’t want them to feel like he is above them as their boss, but he felt that pull, the same way we feel with you. He put together some bogus application for me to fill out and once he saw that I left the address line blank he didn’t ask or push he just offered me a bed at his apartment, no questions asked. He ended up basically paying me to sit at the front desk of the studio every day and look pretty. Months later, we met Chan and his pack and the rest is history.” Han smiled fondly at the memory. Your mouth was ajar, unsure how to respond to such a deep confession, Han trusted you with his story, and that meant more than he could ever know.

“Thank you for telling me that, I’m sorry you grew up like that.”

“Chan told us what you told him about your story. I hope you don’t mind, it’s good for us to know. I’m sorry that happened to you, but you’re safe now. Not all alphas are bad, especially not these big puppies in our pack.” Han giggles turning to face you, you both let out a contented sigh before Felix shouts that lunch is ready.

You’re sitting in the same seat you sat in during breakfast, Felix taking his spot next to you with Han and Seungmin across from you. You happily eat the food as the guys try their best to include you in their conversations. After the food is long gone and the other two have wandered off Felix leaves you in the kitchen for just a moment to use the bathroom. With nothing to distract your mind, it wanders as well. An internal fight between your logical human mind and your omega, unable to agree on what’s best for you in this situation. It’s all too much, you feel suffocated. So you find air, taking a step onto the deck outside, and taking a seat on the steps trying to catch your breath. The sound of the sliding glass door opening and closing rips you from your thoughts, and the smell of fresh laundry pierces your nose.

“Chan doesn’t like it when the omegas go outside alone.” It’s Seungmin.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is shaky, and you don’t even know why you tried to lie.

“I know you are. But Chan would kill me if anything happened to you or your pup so I will stay over here by the door until you’re ready.” You let out a shaken sigh, Great now he had to babysit you out here because you couldn’t even hold yourself together.

“I don’t mind, I like it outside.” It’s like he could hear your thoughts.

“You don’t have to lie, I know this sucks. I know I’m being annoying, I know I should leave and never look back so you guys can live your lives as normal.” Fat tears fall down your plush cheeks, you don’t dare look at Seungmin, nobody needs to see you like this, especially not a stranger.

“If we didn’t want you here you wouldn’t be here. As a pack, we are very territorial and we tend to stay with our pack except for necessities like work stuff. Us wanting you to be a part of our pack is a big deal.” He’s blunt, but maybe that’s what you need right now.

“And what if I don’t want to?” Your mouth moves faster than your brain, and your omega scolds you for your words.

“So leave. You’re free to go. But you won’t, because I know you feel the pull too.” Who the hell does he think he is? You could leave right now, it wouldn’t matter, none of this matters. And yet, you don’t move to leave the yard, you don’t run away. Instead, you get up and move past Seungmin into the house. Running head on into what you were so scared of.

[prentisssmut]

Unexpected | Emily Prentiss x Reader

pairing: emily prentiss x bau!reader

summary: you get some unexpected news and confide in your girlfriend, emily

content/tw: pregnancy, mention of abortion, established relationship, AFAB reader

a/n: my first fic! i imagine this happening sometime around season 4.

Sunday - your apartment

Pregnant.

Positive.

+++++++.

There was no denying it now. You were pregnant. Your period had always been irregular, you wrote it off as a result of your high stress job at the BAU. But then it didn’t come a second month in a row. There was no way. You hooked up with that guy once. And he was wearing a condom…right?

You were wasted and lonely on a night out with your friends, craving some form of intimacy and he was just the first person that approached you. Your friends couldn’t believe you’d gone home with him…with a man in general. You hadn’t done that since college.

Tears began to stream down your face. Your chest was tightening and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t believe that you had fucked up this bad. 

Your first urge was to call someone. Let them make the decision for you. You were tempted to call Emily, but it was 11 pm on Sunday, no doubt she’d be asleep. 

Fuck.

You stood up and walked over to the mirror, lifting up your t-shirt. There was a slight curve to your belly, but whether that the result of your recent voracious appetite or the pregnancy, you weren’t sure. You quickly put it back down.

Should you call Emily? No. No.

Walking over to your bed, your buried yourself deep beneath the covers and prayed that when you woke up, it would all be a bad dream.

Monday - the BAU

Not a dream. Still pregnant. Still fucked.

At your desk, you reread the same line on the press release for the tenth time, chin resting on one hand and pen in the other.

“Long weekend?” You looked up at Morgan, who had a glint of mischief in his eye.

You gave a weak laugh while rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

He gave you a pat on the back as he sat down at his respective desk.

Emily eyed you across the bullpen. She always knew when something was up with you, and you with her, even before you two had begun secretly dating. It had only been a few weeks, but you two were happier than ever.

You used the term “secretly” loosely; you worked with a team of professional behavioral profilers, so you two weren’t fooling anyone.

She came over to your desk, mug of coffee in her hand. “Hey,” she said softly, holding out the mug to you.

“Hey,” you replied, taking the mug. Were you even supposed to be drinking this? Could pregnant women have coffee? Whatever. It’s not like you were going to stay pregnant.

“You okay?” Emily asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, no yeah like Morgan said, long weekend.” You gave her a sheepish grin. “Thanks for this,” you said, gesturing to the mug. 

“Can I give you a ride home tonight?”

You hesitated. You were so full of shame and embarrassment that the thought of telling Emily made you want to vomit (or maybe that was just the morning sickness). But she had been the first person you thought to call when you found out. Maybe you could make something up to satisfy her curiosity and just keep this a secret. A big, fat, bloated, pregnant secret. But also you’d taken the Metro to work and would love to not have to deal with rush hour commuting on public transit.

“Sure, thanks. I’d really like that.”

--

The day flew by yet seemed to stretch 100 hours. It was a blur of paperwork, meetings, and coffee refills. Emily was at your desk promptly at 5:00 pm, coat and car keys in hand.

“Ready to go?” she asked, giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

“Let’s hit the road.” You quickly shoved a few files into your bag, fully knowing that you weren’t going to be looking at anything tonight.

You both walked to the Quantico parking garage. Emily unlocked her RAV4, opening the passenger door for you.

You raise your eyebrows. “Wow such a gentleman.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she gives you a quick, chaste kiss, closing the door after you slide in.

After hoisting herself into the driver’s seat, she turns to look at you. “Okay, what’s going on?”

You can’t even meet her eyes. Putting your head in your hands, you burst into tears. After holding them back all day, they flow freely now.

“Hey, hey,” Emily reached across the console to hug you. She held you as you cried and cried. She didn’t pester you to say anything or reveal more, just stroked the back of your head. She eventually broke away, starting up the car and pulling out of the garage.

“We’re going to my place to properly talk, okay?” 

You sniffled and nodded. With her left hand on the wheel, Emily used her right hand to grab yours. She held it for the entire 30 minute drive.

Monday - Emily’s apartment

Sergio greeted you and Emily as you walked in the door, nuzzling up against your leg. Emily dropped her keys in the ceramic bowl on her entryway table and headed for the kitchen.

“What do you want,” she called. “Water? Wine? I have a cab sauv but if you’re feeling white I think there’s some chardonnay in the fridge. I also have tea.”

You plopped yourself down on the couch. The same couch you’d sat on countless times before, drinking and laughing; more recently kissing, learning the shape and curves of one another’s bodies. “Um, I’ll just have some water for now, thanks Em.”

Emily filled two mason jars with water and set them on the coffee table.

“Okay babe, now I’ll really ask you — what’s going on?” Her deep brown eyes were filled with concern.

You took a deep shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry again. “Um, well, like in February, I was at a bar with my friends and we were drinking and I got like…so trashed. Like so, so trashed it was really embarrassing. I was also just like so emotional that night and was really craving some kind of just like human touch.”

You put your head in your hands again, the tears coming back in full force.

“And this guy started talking to me and then we like started making out and I went home with him. We slept together and I could’ve sworn he put a condom on but again I was so fucked up. And he was too.”

You pulled away from her.

“I’m pregnant, Emily.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Oh, honey.” She enveloped you in a hug. “It’s okay.”

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in that position, Emily holding you on the couch as you cried. When she pulled away, she tucked your hair behind your ears and held your hand.

“Do you know what you want to do?”

“I mean there’s no way I can keep it, go through with it. I’m 28 and have only been on the team for like 8 months.” You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your shirt. Emily grabbed the tissue box from the side table and placed it in your lap. “Thanks.”

“And that’s totally okay. You absolutely don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” She held your hand again. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I don’t even know who else I would’ve told.” You looked into her eyes. God, the urge to kiss her hit you like a ton of bricks. “I guess I’m also, you know, like, I don’t want this happening to like…mess anything up.”

Emily was confused. “What do you mean?”

You looked at the ceiling and sighed. “I mean…us. This thing we just started. I don’t want you to, like, hate me or think less of me or anything because like—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Emily said. It was her turn to take a deep breath. “When I was 15, I got pregnant. By my best friend, Matthew. We were just two ambassadors kids in a foreign country making dumb decisions to piss off our parents. We didn’t fully realize the consequences of it. He helped me.” Her eyes began to water. “He found a doctor, brought me there, held my hand, never told another soul. He saved me, in a way.”

“Oh Em.” You wiped a tear from her cheek.

“All that to say, I have been in this position, okay? You are not alone in this.” She took both your hands and kissed them. “This is not going to mess anything up. This happened before we even kissed for the first time, right? That was March, you said this was in February. I do not think less of you, I do not hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

You pulled her in and kissed her softly. “Okay,” you say almost under your breath. “Well, I guess I have to figure this out. Soon.”

Emily stroked your hair, pulling you in close to her. You nuzzled into her neck. She smelled incredible. She smelled like home. “We can worry about that tomorrow morning, okay? For now, how about we order some Chinese and watch Real Housewives?” 

You hummed into her neck. “That sounds really nice.”

[freakmcnastyy]

Cha Woo-min x Short Reader Headcanons!

Cha Woo-min x f!reader

Warnings: Can fit any chracter of Woo-min.

Note: Anon request!

⸻

He always teases you about your height — especially when you’re drinking.

The moment you grab a drink, he narrows his eyes and smirks:

“Hmm… Pretty sure your tiny body wasn’t built for this stuff. You can get drunk easily.”

You’re never quite sure if he’s serious or just messing with you, but that sly grin on his face? Yeah. That gives him away every time.

⸻

Sometimes he hides your everyday stuff on the top shelf just to watch you struggle.

You try to get it yourself (you almost fall off a chair once) because you’re stubborn like that. He lets you struggle for like 10 seconds before picking you up like it’s nothing and placing you on his shoulders.

“Stop putting things up there!”

“Can’t help it. You look too damn cute when you’re mad.”

⸻

He always loses you in crowds.

He seriously considered tying a balloon to your wrist so he wouldn’t lose sight of you. But instead, no matter how many bags he’s carrying, one hand is always holding your wrist.

⸻

You can never both fit in the front camera.

You’re either jumping to be in frame or he’s crouching like a folding chair.

“Let's just sit down somewhere, dumbass!” you grumble, half laughing.

“Where exactly? The middle of the street?”

Eventually, he just hoists you onto his back and boom—perfect selfie. Problem solved.

⸻

He loves dressing you in his clothes.

There’s something about seeing you drowned in his oversized t-shirts that drives him insane. Once, when you were shivering from the cold, he gave you his jacket — it was so big you looked like a kid playing dress-up.

You tried wearing his boxing gloves once too, but no matter how tight he tied them, they looked more like oven mitts on you.

⸻

When you hug, your head always lands on his chest.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in until you can barely breathe — but hearing his heartbeat is worth it.

When you wanna wrap your arms around his neck, he just picks you up without saying a word. Legs around his waist, hands in his hair — and he grips your hips like you belong there.

Same goes for kissing. You’re either tiptoeing for your life or he’s basically folding in half. There’s no in-between.

⸻

He finds it hilarious when you’re angry.

Hands on your hips, ranting away — and he’s just standing there with the dumbest grin on his face.

Even in serious moments, he won’t stop messing with you. He’ll randomly squish your cheeks or ruffle your hair mid-lecture.

“God, you’re like a pissed-off kitten. I wanna bite you.”

And yeah… he actually does. Cheeks, ears, even the tip of your nose.

⸻

There was this one time the Wi-Fi wasn’t working outside…

You were on your tiptoes, phone raised like you were trying to catch a signal from space. He watched you for a second, then casually grabbed your leg and lifted you up like a crane.

“It’s working! I’ve got signal!” you cheered, and he just laughed and set you back down like it was nothing.

⸻

He’s always the big spoon.

Sometimes he even rolls over you like a human blanket. But most nights, you’re the one sprawled across his chest like a human teddy bear.

“Can you breath?” you ask, looking up.

“Can’t even feel you. You weigh like a feather,” he says before pressing a kiss to your nose.

[eclairemaire]

Meeting the Missus pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Wife! Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: The Team finds out Bob is married and wants to meet the missus.

Warnings: Reader is described very similarly to Rhea Ripley, Reader and Bob are very much in love, No mention of Y/N used, Southern Reader (she's like all southern ladies sweet like iced tea, but can knock you on your ass if she has too), Express mentions of reader and Bob's Child, Lemme know if I missed any.

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes: This is the third part of 'Meeting the Missus'. I'm genuinely so surprised at how many of you are reading this; it makes my heart swoon. I hope everyone enjoys!

Heading to the cafeteria for lunch, as soon as Bob sits down, he’s surrounded by the rest of the squad. Phoenix on his right, Fanboy on the left, Rooster across from Bob, Hangman across from Phoenix, Payback across from Fanboy, and Coyote on the other side of Hangman. All of them leaning towards him as though they were high school kids waiting for the newest piece of gossip. Fanboy was almost completely pressed against Bob’s side as he started to unpack his leftovers from last night’s dinner.

“So are we going to get to try any of your Missus’ lovely food at this cookout that you mentioned yesterday?” Fanboy asked as he ogled the food that looked mouth-wateringly good. Bob hummed as he got up to reheat his food, like a pack of strays, the rest of the squad started to get up to follow him to the microwave.

“You will,” he said non-committedly as he put the food in the microwave and started it up. Looking up and seeing the team still surrounding him, he quirked up a brow, “Don’t y’all need to go get your own food?” Watching with an amused glint as the team seemed to realize they did not, in fact, have any food of their own to eat for lunch yet, and seemed to scatter to retrieve their respective meals.

Meeting back at their table, Bob was quietly typing on his phone and smiling fondly while waiting. Once everyone arrived, he stowed his phone into one of the pockets of his uniform. “Missus has decided that the cookout will be next Saturday, you will be expected to bring food or drink, you don’t have to bring both, but if you want to, you can to get in my wife's good graces.” He said after finishing the first bite of his lunch, letting out a low hum of satisfaction at the flavor.

“So what can we expect from this cookout? Will there be games? Any more munchkins besides yours?” Hangman asked as he started to dig into his food, Coyote nodding along beside him.

“Is it going to be similar to the one Riley talked about from when you were stationed at Lemoore?” Phoenix drew her attention to Bob as he thought of an answer to the questions.

Deciding to answer Hangman first, “There will be games, board games, and some digital. Maybe some dogfight football if we’re lucky. As for other kids, I’m not sure,” there might be some of Rileys friends, but that entirely depends on whether you wanted to host a sleepover, which wasn’t likely; your social battery would be pretty drained after having so many people over all day. “ We’ll likely be eating lunch around one-ish, do games for a little bit afterwards, then Riley’ll konk out for like an hour and a half for a nap, and then it’ll just be us adults for a while.” Turning to face Phoenix, he answers her question.

“Yes, and no, none of our relatives are going to be here this time, and her friends likely aren’t either. It’ll be the same in the sense that it’s essentially a party of sorts, but with y’all instead of our families.” He stated while continuing to eat his food.

“Ok, so for food, does anyone have any allergies that might have detrimental effects if said allergen is ingested?” Fanboy asked as he examined the group and turned back towards Bob. Nos and nope's flowed from everyone's mouths after pondering for a moment. “Great!” he exclaimed, shifting back towards his food.

“Sounds like we’ve all got an idea what to expect. What time should we be there?” Rooster asked.

“Shoot for around 12:30, that way Missus can have a time to have everything fresh and hot to go,” Bob stated. 

After that conversation flowed as usual, talking about drills and other happenings going on throughout the base, and the day continued. 

Before leaving, Maverick pulled Bob aside, “What’s this I hear about a cookout?” he inquires as he looks at Bob with curiosity.

“Oh,” Bob fumbles briefly, “My wife and I are hosting a cookout next weekend, and we invited the squad over. Are you interested in coming as well, Mav?” Bob asks, while twiddling his thumbs behind his back at the sudden inquiry about personal plans.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to meet your wife, whom I’ve heard so much about from Penny. Is Amelia welcome to come as well?” He asks as he looks at Bob’s face. Bob relaxes, remembering that you get along quite well with Penny and have been mentioning wanting to introduce her to Riley

“That sounds like a good idea, sir. I’ll make sure to let her know that you all are coming as well.” Turning to leave, Bob remembers that he needs to tell Maverick to bring food or a drink. “Sir, please, bring a drink or food dish with you, otherwise my wife may not let you into our home.” He smiles sheepishly before heading to the parking lot. Once in his car, he messages everyone your home address and the date and time to be there. 

~

Arriving home followed a similar fashion as the day before, Bob was greeted first by Nuggs, who was eagerly awaiting pats, before almost being bulldozed by your second dog, Beans, who was significantly larger than Nuggs. Followed by a “Welcome home, Sweetheart,” being shouted from the direction of the kitchen. 

“We’re still making dinner,” you say as Bob enters the kitchen to see you sprinkling cheese over a pizza. “How was work?” you ask as you grab the pizza stone to put it into the oven. Riley runs over to Bob and gives his legs a squeeze and a big grin at him before going into the living room, where he then proceeds to hear the opening of ‘Magic School Bus’ play in the background.

“Good, everyone has a vague idea of what to expect for next Saturday,” He says, coming up behind you and wrapping you up in his arms, and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Mavrick heard about the cookout, I’m assuming Hangman and Rooseter were talking about it in the hangar,” He mumbles into your hair, as you hum as a response and turn to start cleaning up the kitchen while you wait for the pizza to cook, Bob clining to you like a koala all the way.

“Is he coming?” You ask as you continue to maneuver around the kitchen.

“Yeah, he asked if he, Penny, and Amelia could come. I told him yes, I figured you’d likely hear from Penny about what she plans on bringing,” he answered.

“Amelia's coming? That’s good, I wanted to meet her soon, plus I think she and Riley would get along quite well.” You finally finished cleaning up. Spinning around in Bob’s hold to lean him against the counter. You give him a kiss and a sweet smile.

“What do you plan on making for the cookout?” He asks, there's a teasing smile on his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle just around the edges.

“You’ll find out with everyone else.” You giggle as he starts to pout just a little bit.

“But I’m your husband!” He squawks indignantly, starting to gain a flush in his cheeks.

“And you’ll find out with everyone else,” giving him a mischievous smile, as reach your hands around him to place them right below his ass, and with a firm grip you hoist him up and over your shoulder and start to head to the living room where your daughter resides. 

He lets out a harrumph and then proceeds to yell, “Riley, come save me! I’ve been captured by your mama!” Entering the living room, you hear a squeal from Riley followed by uncontrolled giggles, as she sees you with Bob slung over your shoulder.

“Da–Dad–Daddy,” giggles, interrupting her as she tried to speak, “I can’t help you, Mama’s too strong!”

“You Traitor!!” He yells in false devastation as he feigns going limp in your hold.

a/n: I swear we will actually get to the cookout in the next part, but I'm a sucker for buildup and domestic family fluff. Thank you for reading, and see you in the next part!!

[lxstxr]

Sanctus

summary: Emily finds herself at your apartment after “Demonology.” 

word count: 2.0k

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, past relationship, fem!reader                          

warnings: heavy focus on religious trauma, mentions of queer religious guilt, mentions of blood (nosebleed), mentions of emily’s abortion 

a/n: healing my religious trauma one ethel cain song and demonology fic at a time

You’re not expecting anyone. It’s past midnight, and the snow outside your apartment window has swallowed the streetlights whole. The kind of storm that makes the world soundless, weightless, like it's been erased and rewritten in white. You’d almost drifted off on the couch, half a glass of wine forgotten on the end table, when the knock comes.

Three quick raps. Then silence. You sit up slowly, heart stuttering once. Maybe it’s the wind. Another knock. This time firmer. Urgent, but not panicked.

You move to the door, barefoot, careful. You don’t ask who it is before you open it. Somehow, you already know. She stands there like a ghost made flesh.

Emily Prentiss. Older, sharper, yet exactly the same. Snow clings to her lashes, her dark hair tangled and wet, tucked into her half-buttoned coat. There’s a thin smear of blood just beneath one nostril, and her eyes look like she hasn’t slept in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You just stare. You wonder if you’re dreaming. Her voice finally breaks the spell. It’s quiet. Raw. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You don’t answer. Just step back, leaving the door open behind you. She enters slowly, like she’s not sure she’s allowed.

She doesn’t say anything as you help her out of her coat. It’s heavier than it looks, soaked clean through, the shoulders sagging with unspoken weight. You hang it by the heater. She stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room, arms crossed, like a child sent to the principal’s office, like she expects to be scolded or forgiven and can’t decide which would hurt more.

You disappear briefly into the kitchen and return with a warm cloth. She flinches as you raise it to her face, but doesn’t stop you. The blood beneath her nose has started to dry, turning to rust against her skin. “What happened?” you ask, gently pressing the cloth just below her nostril.

She shrugs. “Nosebleed.” You don’t press.

Up close, you can see the lines under her eyes, the way her lashes clump from melted snow, the tension wound tight in her jaw. She’s older, sure, but not as different as she wants you to think. She looks like Rome.

You pull the cloth away and sit on the edge of the couch. She doesn’t sit yet. Just lets her eyes sweep over the room, maybe searching for proof that you’re still the same person. Maybe hoping you’re not. “You still have that painting,” she says after a long silence.

You follow her gaze. It’s the one above your bookshelf, a faded icon of Saint Agnes, cracked varnish and all. You found them together, two of the same, in a street market behind the Vatican, years ago. She pretended to hate them. You both loved them.

“I never threw it away. Did you?” you say.

Emily steps toward it slowly, as though it might vanish if she moves too fast. She folds her arms.

“I wanted to,” she says. “Back then. I thought maybe if I let go of everything from that year it would stop hurting. But I couldn’t. I thought maybe if I got older, it would mean something different.”

“Does it?”

“No,” she pauses.“You never said goodbye.”

You flinch, looking down at your hands. “I know.”

“When you left I was broken. I tried almost everything to fill that void.”

That silences you both. You know exactly what she’s talking about. 

She walks to the window, presses her fingers against the glass.. “You were gone,” she says, like a knife. “Back to the States. School. Normalcy.”

“And you were still in Rome.”

Emily nods. “Matthew stayed. After you left. He—” her voice falters, like it’s been bruised by years of silence. “He took me to the clinic. He held my hand through it. He sat with me after. He told me I didn’t have to be forgiven.”

“Did you believe him?”

“No,” she says. “Not then. Not when the Church renounced me. Not when I walked out of that hospital feeling like I’d lost everything I didn’t know how to name.”

“And now?”

Emily turns to face you. Her eyes are glassy. Not quite crying, but close.

“Now I know I didn’t lose it. I just left it behind.”

She looks at you like maybe she’s asking if you’re still there.

“You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant,” you say, quiet.

“I couldn’t. You were the last part of me that still felt clean.”

The silence that follows is thick, almost sacred.

You don’t say I would’ve stayed. You don’t say I would’ve gone with you. You don’t say anything.

Instead, you reach out, slowly, and rest your hand over hers where it grips the back of the couch. Her knuckles are cold. “I’m not clean either,” you whisper.

Emily laughs, just barely. A bitter, hollow thing.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s why I came.”

-

You make tea because it gives your hands something to do.

Emily doesn’t ask for anything, just sits on your couch like a houseguest in her own memory. Her damp hair clings to her neck. She hasn't looked at herself once since she walked in.

You hand her a mug. She holds it between her palms like an anchor.

“You remember the chapel?” she asks, eyes fixed on the window.

“Which one?” you say, already knowing.

“The one near Campo de Fiori. The blue ceiling. Gold trim. We used to sneak in after Latin class.”

“Right. The quiet one.”

“We called it the quiet one,” she murmurs. “But I think we were just quieter there.”

You sip your tea. That chapel. You do remember. You remember the air always smelled like lilies and burnt dust. You remember kneeling beside her, the way your pinkies would brush on the pew between prayers. You remember watching her mouth form words she didn’t believe.

“That’s where we kissed the first time.” She says it like she’s confessing.

You close your eyes. You haven’t thought about that night in years. Not consciously. But your body remembers: the rush of blood, the sharp panic, the taste of her lips and fear.

“We thought God would smite us,” you say.

“We were fifteen,” Emily replies. “Everything felt like damnation.”

She sets her tea down. Her hands are trembling. You pretend not to notice.

“I’ve thought about that night,” she says. “More times than I want to admit.”

You look at her. Really look. She’s not the girl you knew in Rome. But she’s not someone else, either. She carries the same ghosts. They just have new names now.“You disappeared after that.”

Emily nods. No excuse. Just acknowledgment.

“I wanted to believe I could scrub it out of me,” she says. “The desire. The guilt. I went to confession the next day. Told the priest I’d kissed someone I shouldn’t have.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked if it was a boy. I said yes.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Did it work?”

She stares at you, eyes rimmed red. “No. Of course it didn’t. I kissed you again two weeks later.”

“And then you left.”

Emily doesn’t answer. Instead, she leans forward, elbows on knees, fingers locked so tightly her knuckles pale. “When I got pregnant, I think I wanted it to be penance. Proof that I could be good. That I could do what they expected. But when I saw the ultrasound, I didn’t feel God. I didn’t feel redemption. I just felt scared.” You say nothing.“Matthew didn’t judge me,” she says. “He didn’t quote scripture. He just said, ‘You’re still you.’ And I wanted to believe him. But I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

You watch the way her voice thins.“And now?”

She shrugs.“Now I feel like a walking contradiction. Queer. Faithless. Ashamed. Still grieving something I chose.” She looks at you, finally, like the weight’s too much. “Do you ever stop being fifteen in your head?”

You don’t answer. You just reach across the space between you, take her hand, and squeeze. “No,” you whisper. “But you learn how to carry her.”

The snow has stopped. The window is rimmed with frost, and the city looks softer now, like it’s holding its breath.

Emily’s fingers twitch beneath yours, then settle. “I haven’t told anyone else,” she says.

“About the abortion?”

“About you,” she breathes. 

You inhale. You don’t want it to hurt, but it does. Not because you thought she’d carried you with her all these years, but because she did, and kept it buried.

“You were the only thing I didn’t regret.” She says it fast, like if she says it slowly, it might come out differently.

You study her face — the dark circles, the scar near her hairline, the line between her brows that probably came from years of silence. You see the teenager underneath, still curled in on herself. 

“I used to think it was my fault,” she says. “That I ruined everything. That I took something pure and twisted it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you tell her.

“I loved you,” she whispers. “I didn’t know what to call it then. I thought it was a sin. I thought God was watching.”

You nod. “He probably was.”

“Do you think He hated us for it?”

The question is so small. So sincere. “No,” you say. “But I think we hated ourselves enough that it didn’t matter.”

That breaks something in her. Not loud, not explosive, but soft, the way grief always returns. Her hand covers her mouth, and she leans forward, breath catching like she’s afraid to let it out.

You shift closer and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She presses her face to your neck, trembling, not sobbing but near it. A woman cracking open after decades of holding still.

“I’m tired of being ashamed,” she whispers into your skin.

“Then stop.”

“I don’t know how.”

You hold her tighter. “We start here. You say it out loud, and I stay. That’s how.”

She nods against you. Her breath is warm. Her voice, when it comes again, is steadier.

“I was fifteen. I kissed a girl in a church. I got pregnant.. I chose not to carry. I left everything that made me feel whole because I was told I wasn’t allowed to be.”

“Keep going.”

“I loved you. I still do. I’m not asking for anything, I just needed to say it somewhere that feels real.”

You lean back, tip her chin up with your hand. Her eyes are wet, but clear.

“This is real,” you say. “We’re not ghosts anymore.”

You don’t kiss her, not yet. That’s not what she needs. You just rest your forehead against hers and let her breathe.

“You didn’t lose your soul, Emily,” you murmur. “You just forgot you still had one.”

For a while, neither of you speaks.

“Do you still believe in anything?” she asks eventually, not looking at you.

You don’t answer right away. You think of how faith used to taste like incense and blood in the mouth. How guilt clung to everything. How you kissed her once in a cathedral and spent years repenting for it without knowing what you’d done wrong.

“I believe in choice,” you say finally. “I believe in second chances. In people being more than the worst thing they’ve survived.”

She looks up then, and her eyes are soft in a way you haven’t seen before. Raw, yes. But lighter.

“You should’ve been there,” she says, quietly. “At the clinic. I wanted you. I just didn’t think I deserved to want anything.”

You hold her closer to you. “You were fifteen. You deserved love, not punishment.”

“And now?”

“Now?” You squeeze her hand. “You still do.”

She nods. Blinks hard. “What now?”

“Now you drink your tea. You take a shower. You borrow some clothes, because I know you didn’t bring any. And then we talk about whatever version of God we can stand.”

She huffs a laugh. “What if I can’t stand any of Him?”

“Then we make something else. Something new.”

Emily breathes deep. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s start with that.”

[mcrdvcks]

congratulations on 2k!!! 💐💕

logan always seem like a giver, i wonder how he'd react having a significant other who adamantly takes care of him? maybe not in the same way he takes care of others, but in small, soft ways?

logan is the type of person who says he's "not a hero" yet his actions consistently proves his words are lies. same with him saying that he's "not a good person." like?? you protected rogue and were willing to sacrifice your life for a teenage girl you just met?

anyways, this is a bit short, but i hope you enjoy it!

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: established relationship, soft!logan, fluff

Logan’s not used to being taken care of. He’s the one who patches people up, does the heavy lifting, and quietly steps between others and danger. It’s instinct. Automatic.

So when you start doing it—bringing him water after a mission, setting out fresh clothes without a word, making sure the heater’s on when his joints are stiff—he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

He notices immediately, though. You fold his laundry the way he likes. You learn how he takes his coffee without asking. You remember he sleeps better when there's rain sounds playing. It makes him blink, still and quiet, like he's not sure how he earned it.

He tries to wave it off at first. “Don’t fuss,” he grumbles, even as he lets you rub tiger balm on his shoulder. But the way his eyes flutter shut? The soft noise he makes when your fingers find a sore spot? He loves it.

The first time you run your fingers through his hair to help him sleep, he jerks like he’s been shocked. Then he goes completely quiet. Eyes closed. Breathing even. Gone.

You always have something warm waiting when he comes back from patrol. You leave his boots near the heater when it’s snowing. You slip a protein bar into his jacket pocket when you think he’s skipped lunch.

He’s rough around the edges, but the first time you kiss the scars on his knuckles instead of commenting on them, he stares at you like you’ve just spoken another language. Doesn’t say a word. Just pulls you in and breathes you in like a prayer.

He’s weirdly flustered by quiet affection. You press a kiss to his temple. He grunts. Looks away. But later, you find him still touching the spot absentmindedly like it’s some kind of talisman.

He starts catching himself checking for you in every room. Not to protect you—though that’s always there—but just… looking. For your presence. For your little rituals. The cup of tea cooling by the window. The folded towel left for him by the shower. The way your hand finds his wrist and squeezes once when you pass him in the hall.

He keeps trying to repay every act of care tenfold. You bring him soup when he’s sore? He chops wood for two hours. You tidy his flannel drawer? He fixes the leaky sink in your bathroom before you notice it’s dripping. (You have to sit him down and explain that it’s not a competition. That taking care of him isn’t a job. It’s love.)

He has to learn how to receive. He’s not used to the idea that someone would choose to take care of him, without expecting him to carry it all. So he fights it at first. Shifts his weight, changes the subject, mutters “m’fine.” But you keep showing up. Keep being steady. And eventually, he starts to believe it.

When you run errands, you always come back with something small for him. A new bar of the soap he likes. A snack he thought no one remembered he liked. “Thought you said you weren’t one for soft stuff,” he teases. “I’m not. I’m just nosy,” you reply. But you both know it’s love.

You started rubbing lotion into his knuckles one night without saying a word. He sat there completely frozen like a bear being tamed by the gentlest trap. Didn’t say anything, just stared at your hands and thought about kissing them. He did, later.

[hey-itsdollie]

Helloooooo, I really liked the cake fic. Could you do it with Yoichi, Kunigami, Otoya, Yukimiya, Karasu and Oliver? Thank you so much and I love you. Kisses.

You got some flour on your face

ofc! I hope you enjoy mwah<3

‧₊˚ ┊ Blue Lock boys with s/o that cooks/bakes!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » isagi. kunigami. otoya. yukimiya. karasu. oliver.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, female reader, might be a lil suggestive, use of pet names, established relationships!, aged up!

Part 1, Part 2 -u are here!-

── .✦ Yoichi Isagi

“So what do you want me to make?” You asked, pulling your boyfriend into the kitchen excitedly. Isagi tilted his head with a soft smile—“Uhm how about some croissants?” He suggested watching you nod. “Chocolate or glazed?” 

The male’s mouth watered from thinking about the pastries. “How about both?” He finally stated making you laugh, “Don’t be greedy Yoichi.”

Your boyfriend scoffed as he moved to help you grab the bowls and pans you would need. At the same time you grabbed the ingredients, making sure you had enough supply to make the batter for the croissants.

“You know you don’t have to help me? Didn’t you want to get some more practice before your match this weekend?” You questioned raising your eyebrow towards Isagi, who had already gotten flour on his nose.

Leading to you walking closer to him and wiping the mess off his face.

With a blush the male backed up and wiped his nose again due to it becoming itchy. “I can spare a night– I wanna spend time with you…” He murmured, looping his arms around your waist.

Leaning back into his chest you let out a soft content breath. “Alright, can you crack some eggs for me? Remember no shells.”

Raising his hand to salute, Isagi went over to the tray of eggs and began to crack them into a separate bowl.

You watched him for a few seconds before prepping your own part of the cooking.

Once the two of you had placed the pastries into the oven the both of you began cleaning up the mess you created. Isagi, after cleaning, relaxed on the couch lazilly welcoming you over to him.

He opened his arms as you climbed onto his lap, hugging him close as the two of you just breathed in each other’s scents. “So glad I didn’t choose practice over this.”

Humming you pulled back from your place against his shoulder. “You know I’ll have to go and check on the croissants right?”

“Yeah, but stay like this until then.” He groaned, pulling you closer against him, in which you melted into his touch once more.

── .✦ Rensuke Kunigami

After a long winter, you and your boyfriend were quick to leave the house on the first warm day of the season. Packing a picnic basket pull of hand sandwiches and pastries. A blanket to sit on and Kunigami also brought a football to use at the park.

You sat on the blanket smiling as you watched your boyfriend do tricks with the football, clapping if he did something cool.

Deciding to take a break Kunigami came and joined you on the blanket. “What’d you pack for us?” He asked his eyes gazing from you to the basket. Mindlessly moving his hands into the basket to dig out the first thing he’d find.

Laughing you swat his hand away, sitting up on your knees as you opened the basket and pulled out the drinks and snacks you brought. “Sweet or snacks first?” You questioned looking at him with a toothy grin, which made Kunigami’s heart melt.

“Uhm, sweet.” The male watched as his girlfriend pulled out a wrapped pastry–placing it before him on a plate.

“I tried making cream puffs–hopefully they’re good.”

The ginger was quick to unwrap the pastry and took a bite out of it. Humming at the taste of the sweet cream you professionally placed inside the pastry.

“Is that a good hum or a bad hum?” You asked leaning forward as Kunigami glanced at you. “It’s delicious, do you have more?”

Nodding you pulled out a few more wrapped pastries. Kunigami smirks at the sight, internally thanking any supernatural being for gifting you to him.

“You have to eat one of the sandwiches though, not just the pastries.” You scolded knowing how he could get. Rolling his eyes, Kunigami agreed–completely planning on not listening to you. 

── .✦ Eita Otoya

“Eita! Stop!.” You laughed as your boyfriend grabbe you from behind and smeared frosting across your face. The exact frosting the two of you–mainly you–made for the cake you were currently trying to decorate.

“Oh come on! It’s just a little bit of cream–normally you like getting my-” You groaned, pushing him away, easily getting frosting on his face. “Damnit.”

You laughed as you wiped the cream off your face, going back to decorating the cake as the white-haired male went to wash his precious face.

“You’re so not cool.” Otoya scoffed sitting up on the counter causing you to roll your eyes. “If I’m not cool, that just makes you a loser.”

“I am not a loser!”

Turning you watched your boyfriend huff and cross his arms over his chest. “Oh great, my girlfriend is laughing at me.” He groaned, leaning his head back. “You make it hard not to sometimes.” You say innocently.

Otoya stayed quiet trying hard to keep his frown on his face as you cut a slice of cake for him. Bringing it to him as you grinned. “It looks half decent.”

“Half decent? It looks amazing!” Otoya’s mood changed quickly as he snatched the plate from you and placed a piece into his mouth moaning in content.

You laughed, shaking your head at the sight of your boyfriend. Turning around, you cut your own slice of cake to see if it was just as delicious as Otoya was making it out to be.

── .✦ Kenyu Yukimiya

Yukimiya had just gotten home after a modeling gig, hanging his coat up on the coat rack. As he smelled the familiar smell of your cooking. A small grin growing on his spotless features while he moved to the kitchen.

Immediately placing his attention on you in your apron while holding a loaf of what he could only say was lemon blueberry bread.

“Oh Kenyu, welcome home.” You smiled, placing the tray down and going to give him a hug. Yukimiya welcomed you with open arms as he pulled you close, not even caring about the apron you were wearing.

“How was the shoot?” You asked gazing up at him as he hummed, his eyes trailing all over your features as if there were new details he never noticed.

“It was alright, just the normal college practice shoot.” He replied calmly.

With a hum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the baby hairs at the end of his nape.

“Are your new glasses helping?”

The brunette looked to the side trying to think of an answer before agreeing with you. “Yeah, helping as much as they can at least.”

“I’m glad- Oh right! I made a lemon blueberry loaf, want a slice?” You tilt your head pulling away–already heading to a cabinet to pull out two plates.

“Yes please, I’m starving–it smells delicious.” Yukimiya walked over to help you, by getting the utensils for the two of you.

── .✦ Tabito Karasu

You stared at your boyfriend, the tension in the air was grabbable. “Mm… it could use more chocolate chips.” Karasu’s deep voice finally spoke–his judgemental tone making it seem impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

Letting out a groan, you placed your head in your hands. “Tabi, I put two bags of chocolate chips into the muffin batter!”

Your words fell upon deaf ears, Karasu sticking to his words as he mindlessly continued to eat the sugary treat. The male glanced to look at his girlfriend, catching the unamused glare you were shooting at him.

“Fine, I won’t make anything else for you.” You sigh tired of his bs. Karasu quickly gave you a pleading look. “Hey- hey, no need to get extreme here. You got mouths to feed!”

You scoff walked over to the kitchen threshold. The dark-haired male jumps out of his seat and goes after you. “Listen babe! You know I’ve been watching those cooking battle shows with you!”

“You watched one episode!”

“Yeah, a whole hour!” Karasu tried to defend himself at the same time to get you to forgive his words. “You’re my boyfriend, not some celebrity judge, Karasu.”

“I know, my apologies baby.”

You huffed as your boyfriend slinged his arms around your waist. Pulling you back into his chest, “You know I love your cooking… it’s my life line…” He murmured into your ear as he laid his head on your shoulder.

With a sigh you turned and gave him a full hug. “Did you like the muffins? Be honest.”

Karasu quickly nodded with a grin. “Of course!”

“It could use more chips though…”

── .✦ Oliver Aiku

Music surrounded the two of you, following the sounds of water moving, as the two of you sat in your home hot tub. Next to the tub was a table that held your drinks and a plate of pastries you had made earlier that day.

A hobby of yours as your boyfriend was out practicing or at the gym.

You straddled Oliver’s lap as you fed him the pastries you made for the two of you. Oliver smirked his hands placed on your hips respectfully under the water. Not seeming to mind the water dripping from his chin or the steam surrounding the cool air around you.

“I have such a talented girlfriend.” Oliver praised, greedily squeezing your hips as you bit into a pastry. Your smile brightens at his words, “Someone has to cook for us. You almost burned the house down last time you tried to cook.” You laughed causing Oliver to roll his eyes.

“It was one time.” He groaned, fixing his position to get more comfortable.

“You were making soup.”

“It doesn’t matter!” He scoffed, leaning his head back.

Your eyes softened, raising your hand to caress his face not minding the bit of scruff he had.

Oliver’s eyes met yours, softening as well as he smirked. “What’s with that look?” He questioned his rough voice, making your body weaken. “Am I not allowed to look at my boyfriend?”

“Nope–there’s a price!” He teased as you groaned playfully, pretending to think as your eyes trailed around him.

“Will pastries suffice?”

“Hmmm fine.”

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[omgfangirlland]

If the yautja and reader were to go on a date and the yautja was the one to have planned the date.. Where do you think he'd take her and what are they going to do? (Kinda want to ride a spaceship and go to space or maybe visit his homeland.. Idk)

-🔱

Part One and Part Two

It's been five years since you left- a lot changed. Your Demodog grew again and became what Cetanu called a very bratty whiny Demogorgon. Really, Goober only acted like that with him, with you, he was a very calm and loving boy- Cetanu called it two-faced once, and all he got back was the smug thing cuddling closer to you.

Fluffs was as dumb as ever(Cetanu's words), lazing around and playing with the few toddlers running around, can't catch his own tail, let alone help Predator or any of the other hounds hunt.

And Tux, an old tabby cat, you've been informed is an alien, a Flerken or whatever(Cetanu: Not whatever, that thing is dangerous!), she's still baby... Murderous baby. She ate a Xenomorph that snuck onto the ship, Fluffs still hides behind you when she comes strutting by.

But you've also lost Ve'sto in the hunt. Echa, despite trying to hide it, was a mess for a long while, burying herself in making sure her twin goes back to Yautja Prime for the ceremonial burial, and in being your fourth guard dog. Cetanu didn't have it in him to tell her off.

And every year, it would have been every month if Cetanu could, he took you off the mother ship, just the two of you, and showed you whatever planet he vetted was safe for you (and had no alien life you could get attached to).

He'd taken you on dates before, nightly outings on random planets he and a few others stopped to get resources or trade information, but the yearly vacation was different.

Cetanu would take you to non-populated worlds, all nature and wilderness, and while he loved looking at you, watching you admire and photograph or draw anything and everything, he enjoyed the night more.

Holding you close at his side or on his chest, warm and fluffy blankets and pelts surrounding you both, slowly feeling you fall asleep- he's never been more at ease, happier-

And he won't change it for anything in the world, not when you looked so lovely in the jewelry he made for you, with the delicate ring on your finger, something another alien brought to his attention.

You didn't want the ceremony your people had, but it was clear how much you appreciated the matching ring he wore, and maybe you didn't notice the pattern, but the yearly vacation would happen on the same day he presented you with the bands. And today wasn't any different.

On the other hand- Bruce and Dick could have a better day... Or years, honestly. The family may have gone a bit overboard- granted, Richard had been going mad since day one, since you first gave him an uninterested shrug, and he felt vindicated when it finally clicked for Bruce.

He was the only one who believed you left willingly. The others just went straight to the Justice League station, and Hal immediately recognized the symbols on the ship Batman showed him.

Bruce wasn't happy about anything he found out about these aliens, but he sure as hell wasn't backing down. He had plans over plans, when he broke into their ship with Hal and Martian, he wans't surprised when Dick snuck in as well, and he wasn't surprised when a fight broke out-

He didn't expect the fucking Demogorgon or dog Xenomorph to come out fight at the Yautja's side.

"I thought you said these Yautja don't do other aliens." Dick pouted at the green lantern. "Fuck you, too, kid." Hal grumbled, trying his best not to lean against the wall surging with electricity. They were quickly captured.

But Bruce and J'onn were looking right at the two Yautja women arguing near the door. "... They're talking about you." the Martian lets Batman know. "A useless mate who can't take care of all his young has no right trying to come back for any of them." And Bruce hates the implication. They're talking like they know you.

Speaking of- Cetanu is grumbling the whole way to the "prison" floor of the mothership, the only thing stopping him from just storming there and stabbing everyone is your warm hand in his. And Goober was just mimicking his grumbling with some growling of his own.

The anger comes back when he sees the mug of your father. While he immediately turns to talk to Echa and Ni'yteer, you walk closer to your brother and father, just staring at them for a bit.

Dick immediatelly jumps, happy to see you again, yapping faster than you can process, andthen he whispers, nudging you towards where he saw the aliens open and close the cage.

"... Why would I free you?" Dick flinches at your words. "You snuck on the ship and started causing chaos. You should feel lucky, others would be dead."

"We came for you-" Bruce cut in, but stopped when you snorted. "You're more of an idiot than I thought you to be if you came for me." The more you spoke, the more Dick looked ashamed, and the more Bruce settled in his nonbelief.

There was simply no way in his brain that you'd willingly leave him the family for some- alien-man thing. And as he started speaking, talking nonsense about you being brainwashed, you just sighed.

"If 10-year-old me knew that all she had to do was run away from you to get a crumb of your attention, she would have done it daily. Sadly for you, I stopped loving you and your merry crew years ago. Do your powers still work, Green Lantern?"

"Uh- yeah?" Hal cringes at the non-existent confidence in his voice. "Better think quick, then." You shrug and turn to Gobber, nodding at him once.

The Demogorgon does its best to show them the finger while pulling the lever. The floor parts in two, and they fall through- the only thing keeping them from dying is Green Lantern's hamster ball.

You would have to plan on how to avoid them. Bruce seemed crazed enough to try again. But for now, Cetanu wanted to shower you with some love to make up for you both being pulled away from your one on one time.

Taglist: @ye-olde-trash-panda @fscomet101 @legendarylearner18

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

No Reservations - Chapter two

Restaurant Owner Lottie Matthews x Chef!reader

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After graduating culinary school you have been building up your portfolio, to become a street level legend in the culinary world. And after years of hard work you get hired by a renowned michelin star restaurant Matthews’ kitchen to help design a new menu that’ll star in their new brick and mortar in New York. And there you behold the new heiress of the Matthews’ Kitchen, your boss, is your old situationship from culinary school…Charlotte Matthews.

You fucking hated planes.

So when the plane touched down with a lurch that rattled your bones, and you didn’t care if you were the only person who clapped when the wheels kissed the JFK runway. You couldn’t tell if it was relief or nerves in your stomach…probably both.

The taxi ride over the Verrazzano Bridge was full of familiarity: the way the air smelled different out here, like salt and pavement; the endless scaffolding; the sight of your block still trapped in the early 2000s. You didn’t even make it past the driveway before your mom ran out of the house and threw her arms around you.

“Y/N/N! Look at you! All skin and bones, they don’t feed you in California?”

Your dad followed with a grin and arms wide open. “God, I missed my girl. The time difference was killing me. I’d call and it’d be like 3 a.m. for you!”

You laughed, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth. “It’s only three hours, you guys.”

“Exactly,” your mom scolded, grabbing your face. “That’s three hours I couldn’t see your beautiful face.”

You let them fuss. For a moment, it was almost easy to forget why you came back, and how big everything you left behind felt.

Inside, the house smelled the same. Sofrito, old leather, and lemon Pledge. Your old room was “waiting” for you, according to your dad, but the fact that it had been converted into his office told a different story. Still, your stuff was boxed and labeled in the hall closet like little time capsules.

“Maybe now with the northern air in your lungs, your sinuses will clear up,” your mom said, already boiling water for tea. “That coastal breeze was making you sound like a foghorn.”

You shook your head. “Pretty sure that was the stress, Mom.”

“Well, that too.”

Then came your uncle. Lounging on the couch like he never left, remote in one hand and coffee in the other. You chuckled as you sat beside him, Tombstone playing on the tv.

Classic.

That man loved himself westerns, card games. You both sit in a comfortable silence. That’s the thing about your uncle, he was a man of few words. And when he did say something it was calculated, held more meaning.

“So, guess who else moved back to the city?” he said after awhile with a smirk, not even looking up.

You didn’t like that tone.

Your eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Nat,” he said casually, like the name didn’t land on your chest like a steel pipe. “Got a job with that custom build crew out in Red Hook. Big-shot now, traveling to conventions, teaching these rich yuppies about classic carburetors. Still brings her own tools. You know, all leather and eyeliner and attitude.”

You freeze mid-sip of your tea. Blink. Once. Twice. He always had a damn soft spot for Natalie. You know it’s because she was like the daughter he never had. She worked for him in his shop for years. Thats how you even met her.

Summer of sophomore year you worked in his front desk and she came in all grease, and a goofy grin, asked if you ever had tacos across the street. So you get it they have a special bond and not that you wanted to erase that when you broke up with her.

But still…she’s your fucking ex. There was a reason you broke up with her.

Your mom chimes in from the kitchen, unaware of the ice forming in your bloodstream. “Oh! I always liked Natalie. She was so respectful and cute. Always said ‘hi, Mrs. Y/LN’ before disappearing under a car.”

Your dad laughs. “Didn’t she fix my transmission with a hairpin once?”

“Yeah,” you say finally, voice flat. “She did… Look guys that was…a long time ago.”

It shouldn’t bother you. It really shouldn’t bother you.

Natalie was a high school moment. And maybe tiny a college blip too. And a little bit of the messy years after. But mostly she was the person who could kiss you like she invented the concept and then ghost you for three weeks without a second thought. You were done with all that.

You cleared your throat, standing up and forcing a grin. “This year is about new beginnings, remember? Fresh starts. No looking back.”

“Sure,” your uncle says with a sly look. “But looking sideways never hurt nobody.”

You flip him off with affection and head toward your room, the fake office, already planning to unpack your knives and your playlists. Your fingers swipe until you’re suddenly typing her name in the search bar like second nature.

“Nat-“ and it doesn’t even let you finish typing her username before it’s showing you Natalie’s profile. You exit out and sigh, throwing your phone on the bed. You shouldn’t be looking at her. Your heart is racing in your ears.

This is not what you need. To see your unfortunately hot ex, doing whatever the fuck she’s doing. So you don’t. But then you do because fuck it. You tell yourself you just want to see if Natalie’s profile is still private.

Spoiler: it isn’t. And she looks good. Goddammit.

The restaurant wasn’t open yet, but Charlotte was already in the kitchen.

Not in heels, not in one of her designer suits. Sneakers. A Matthews-branded apron cinched tightly over a soft blue oxford shirt. The sleeves rolled up as she adjusted the open shelving with a critical eye. The light fixtures weren’t exactly right, the gold finish was too shiny, too nouveau-riche. She made a mental note to replace them with something warmer. Something quieter.

The way she wanted the entire space to feel: intentional, elegant, impossible to replicate. This flagship was supposed to be her proving ground.

No, she thought. Not supposed to be — it is.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand over the custom concrete counter, smoothing down nothing in particular. The space was pristine, still untouched by the chaos of dinner rushes and health inspections. A blank slate. The press didn’t know what to expect, and her father had made it very clear that failure was not an option.

“Your name is going to be on this one, not mine,” he had said, after sliding over a budget that made her palms sweat. “Don’t just open another Matthews. Make it yours.”

No pressure.

The board had raised eyebrows at her hiring choices. “Inexperienced.” “Unproven.” “A risk.” One of them even had the gall to call it “emotional decision-making.”

Charlotte had smiled and reminded them that a calculated risk is still a calculation. Because she didn’t need a Michelin-vetted executive chef with a stack of press clippings and a predictable ego. She needed someone who could burn the rulebook and start over.

She needed you.

When Lena her assistant had sent her your resume and the article on you in Eater and Grub Street. Your name on the résumé had made her pause, sure. The articles were short and sharp and…god, it still felt like a punch. Because there you were smiling with a plate of your best dish. And when you emailed back the initial proposal job, being interested.

Charlotte had read it three times before having Lena respond with: “Let’s talk. I have something in New York you might want to see.”

It wasn’t about the past. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t about dorm rooms and after-hours kitchens and the way your laugh used to echo across the campus courtyard.

It wasn’t about that night at fucking Kelly’s house party. Or what came after. Because that was years ago, and this was now. This was about you being the best damn chef she ever met.

She remembered it so clearly. The finals during second year, when your sous vide duck breast made the room fall silent before the head judge actually moaned. You weren’t polished. You didn’t posture. You didn’t give a shit about the faculty’s approval, and that’s what made you dangerous.

Charlotte hated you for it.

And admired you more than she could say. She sighed, staring at the menu mockups on her clipboard. Her thumb brushed over your name printed at the bottom of the page-Executive Menu Consultant.

A wild card. A gamble.

But Charlotte Matthews didn’t make bets she couldn’t win. She flipped the clipboard shut and checked her watch. You’d be arriving at the restaurant for your first walk-through in thirty-five minutes. That was enough time to pull herself together and pretend like her pulse wasn’t about to outpace a KitchenAid stand mixer.

She wasn’t twenty one anymore. And this wasn’t a fantasy. This was business. This was legacy. And you(god help her)were her secret weapon.

[tiredslepz]

HATE IS A STRONG WORD ! – where it all started: scara's pov [1.5]

scaramouche x f!reader

(timestamps kinda matter for this ch)

scaramouche gave a glare to childe (who was across the room) and held back on throwing the nearest item at him. he got up with a sigh, already dreading the situation. seriously, what lost and found has people wait outside the room?

he walks out of the dorm, looking from side-to-side. wait, where even is the lost and found? he swears that wasn't included in the tour (he was listening with half an ear).

he glances at the signs, walking through the hallways as he finds for the lost and found room.

LOST AND FOUND

surely that's where aether's notebook is, no?

scaramouche walks over to the door, knocking once ... twice ... thrice before someone opens the door to acknowledge him. he's given a flurry of apologies (apparently it looked like he was waiting for an hour? hah, he'll play into that).

...and despite the amount of excuses and apologies, they still make him wait outside. great!

and to make matters worse, he sees those annoying fangirls of his that followed him from highschool. they're huddled up behind some girl he's swore he's seen before, holding a glittery sign with an overtly written love confession—hold on, didn't he reject one of them just recently? they're even stifling giggles. archons, he's going to need a good brew of coffee after this encounter.

they're also obviously aware of his feelings on this matter, so like any other mature person—such as scaramouche himself—he flips them off with half a mind. reputation his ass, he couldn't care less.

and with his little stunt, the girl unintentionally shielding them—who he now registers as childe's crush's friend—gives him a look, and... flips him off? his own brows furrow in confusion, wondering why in teyvat they just did that.

scaramouche opens his mouth to explain, but the girl simply brushes past him with a scoff, leaving him to think about what just happened.

"the fuck...?" he mutters under his breath, crossing his arms as his eyes dwell on her retreating figure, before the opening click of the door behind him snaps him out of his thoughts.

aether's notebook, right.

...more about this chapter!

✦ scara just assumed yn didn't want to hear his reasons and decided to dislike her based off of that

✦ the fangirls, unfortunately for scaramouche, did not disperse after seeing what had happened (it actually fueled their efforts)

✦ when asked by his friends, scaramouche literally just said "she flipped me off out of nowhere" (which is only half-true, so...)

HATE IS A STRONG WORD ! masterlist ✧ prev ✧ next

synopsis: your friends have had enough of you being the only single person in the group chat. on top of that, they're also fed up of being caught in the crossfire of you and scaramouche's constant bickering. so, of course, being the great friends they are—they devise a plan to fix both problems! fortunately for them, the other side shares the same sentiment. seeing this in foresight, scaramouche counters with another plan. or: you unfortunately get set up with your greatest, most annoying enemy who goes by the name of scaramouche—who offers you a deal.

taglist: @lizzie-harper @sketcheeee @rumitome @kyouzki @starzoutlet @swiftieapollon @loveberrie @yu-yumii @thingforxiao @tamikahoshiko @bananasquash

a/n: origin story done, heh

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Dutch Van Der Linde Headcanons

this is a request! / about a proposal & marriage / gn!reader / 18+ / pic creds / divider: @aquazero

A/N: am so sorry this took like fucking years 💔 I did as much as my brain allowed me and also why did it end up being more me headcanoning reader KSJDJD but idk he just has a headstrong personality yk? I luv you and miss you @kelpiekidd I tried my best 😭🫶🏼x

I think this man is not someone who settles down but if he did, it’d be with someone who absolutely keeps him on his feet and doesn’t buy any of his lies. Who he can’t really pin down. That the only way he’ll feel like he wins is by marrying you.

That and also if you have the same drive that he has. Just refusing to settle and this insatiable need to be more.

Even then, I think you’d have to be just as toxic as he is and a tad smarter and maybe use a little black magic. Cause like it or not, that man is charismatic as hell and usually gets his way. If you don’t have him absolutely hooked, he dgaf I fear.. like he HAS to be obsessed.

I think you’d also have to be like “useful” enough to make him respect you? Like a Susan role or a planner or someone really good at pickpocketing or something. And again, smart.

I think his proposal could actually be romantic as fuck ngl… maybe on your anniversary, he’d hire a coachman or something and take you to a show and then fancy dinner, ending in the nicest hotel with a good fuck 🙂‍↕️ and then he proposes in bed, during aftercare, with the most poetic words.

But I think he wouldn’t bother and it would probably happen mid fuck OR after you threaten to leave him or something……… and then again, end in good makeup sex 🙂‍↕️

I do not believe in the fact that he can’t make people come or else Molly and Hosea wouldn’t be that kind LOL it’s THE LEAST he could do to keep them. And there’s NO HELL WAY Susan stayed for a man that…. Low.

Whether it’s love or something else entirely, you always end up going back to him and vice versa.

The ring, to say the least, is eye-catching and maybe not even your taste. Expensive and has him written all over it. Making sure everyone knows you belong to Dutch Van Der Linde.

I think he would be too busy to plan a wedding ironically…… you know better than to ask him of that.

But if there was a wedding, it would be like the usual parties with the gang and he puts on his best suit for the picture.

Would be laughing and drinking the entire time, happy to know he’s finally bagged you.

Handsy as hell and have probably quickly fucked you three times throughout the occasion, behind the trees or wagons..

And he isn’t done yet 😋

Married life would be so fiery. It’s like he’s found his match. You’re the only one who drives him crazy enough to the point that he’s turned on.

Fighting, sex, fighting, sex 🙂‍↕️

But the fighting can be very crazy…….. manipulation, threats, pushing him into lakes…… only among the rest..

When he’s successful with a robbery or something, he’d be very nice. Lots of kisses and compliments and sex is gentle and more giving. Spends all night talking to you about your shared dreams <3

You’re good at being good to him — you’re not obedient enough to bore him yk? You know when to outsmart him and when to pretend to lose. But at the end of the day, you’ll let him take this “alpha” role.

Both of you are always the best dressed anywhere despite the budget 😬 He likes showing you off <3

I fear his spiral to insanity doesn’t leave you out of it 😔 though you are the last to leave him.

Somewhere down the line, he seems to die more and more that you can’t even see anymore the man you had fallen in love with. So you leave him in that cabin.

He’ll spew curses at you and say he’ll be fine but it’s kind of calm like he’s seen it coming. He isn’t even sure he still loves you like that.

But he still imagines talking to you sometimes about the dreams you once pictured together </3

[skulkiee]

Its midnight. I do not know if this is good. I should have gone to sleep hours ago i have exams. But also Epic exists✨

"You miss them." Hermes shouldn't be here. He doesn't need to be here, he has jobs to do, messages to take, gods to annoy, he shouldn't be in Ithaca, perched on the high back of his great grandson's throne, "You're grieving your friends."

Odysseus stares up at him- the poor guy looks haunted, his once strong frame now old and tired and bent and thin, his pale grey eyes dark and shadowed, "Hermes."

Hermes hops down from the back of the throne, draping himself over the seat like an oversized cat, "I get it darling." He says, rather softly for a god, mortals are fragile things after all, "I have lost family too, you know."

"It's different." Odysseus mutters, "Theres so much i never told them, so many apologies and-"

"Shush, shush!" Hermes chirps, "Ody, darling, how about you write some letters to your dear brothers, i know that that helped 'Mene with the loss."

Odysseus looks at him then, "But Polites and Eurylochus are dead." He snaps, "I can't just write them a letter. I don't care if that's what my sister does, i can't just- it's not like they'd ever see it."

Hermes shrugs, sure, with that attitude they wouldn't see the hypothetical letters, "Okay, you be like that, I'm just giving my expert advice." And then the god of messages is gone, never one to stay in one place for too long, his restless nature and his duty calling him away from Ithaca and his poor great grandson.

When he returns though, a week later, there is a pile of papers addressed to two certain ghosts sat on Odysseus' desk, red string tied neatly around them, keeping it all up together.

Hermes grins at that, clearly Odysseus took his advice, and the god scoops the papers up and adds them to the masses of paper and parcels in his satchel, promising to take them to the Underworld next time he goes to visit Tiresias.

Odysseus writes about all sorts of things, Hermes finds out through Polites and Eurylochus. At first he just spoke about how sorry he was, how he regretted losing them so very much.

And then, slowly, over the course of several months and many trips back and forth between the Underworld and Ithaca for Hermes, Odysseus started to explain- and really understand himself- why he did the things he did, and why his brothers did the things they did. Hermes is delighted to see how Eurylochus lights up when he reads those letters, delighted to see Polites lean over, grinning, and say, "He understands! I told you he would understand!"

And then Odysseus starts talking about Telemachus, and Penelope and Ctimene- whose letters Hermes was already bringing down to the Underworld- and Polites and Eurylochus love those letters even more. They both positively light up when they see that Odysseus has written about small, unimportant things with the fondness only a king can hold for his country. It's simply adorable for Hermes to watch.

If Odysseus figures out what Hermes is doing, then he doesn't mention it. He just leaves paper on the same exact spot on his desk, tied neatly up in that same red string, for Hermes to collect every now and then.

Polites and Eurylochus are always absolutely thrilled when Hermes arrives with letters from Ctimene and Odysseus, and every now and then they'll even read them out to the other men- excitedly telling them about the new king of Ithaca, Telemachus, and how the harvest was that year, and about the storms and the olive groves and the mountains that Odysseus and Ctimene write about.

Hermes finds that he is happy that he has done this, and that he will continue to do this until his great grandchildren pass into the Underworld themselves. Even if until then it has added to his workload.

Hey, it's an excuse to see more of Tiresias and Persephone and Hades- on that note he really needs to drag Apollo down here at some point, Hermes is sure his lover would enjoy meeting the blind prophet and, also-

[chronosdawn]

A little Xavier x Reader youtuber/streamer AU idea I had this evening:

Xavier is a fairly well-known gaming streamer, having gained a reputation for maintaining his soft tone of voice even while absolutely thrashing his opponents any time he plays anything PvP.

For a subscriber milestone, he decides to record a video where he bakes a cake and it does not go well. The video blows up with a bunch of comments accusing it of being staged because they cannot believe anyone could set fire to their kitchen that many times while trying to bake a simple sponge cake. There are a bunch of more supportive comments, however, long-time fans Xavier recognises from his chat who seem genuinely concerned at how badly his baking attempt went.

One of them recommends a small cooking channel that they say posts well edited videos with easy to follow recipes. Out of curiosity, Xavier searches the channel name and the first thing he's met with is a thumbnail featuring your beaming face as you hold up a small but beautifully decorated strawberry shortcake to the camera.

He clicks on the video, and then the next one and the next. By the fourth he's already smitten. There's something about the way you carry yourself in front of the camera, the lack of any sort of performance that makes it seem like he's really in the room with you. You include both the successes and the mistakes, carefully explaining to your audience why something did or didn't work. When your flour falls out of your cupboard, turning you and the kitchen white mid-take, you simply laugh, and Xavier thinks it's the loveliest sound he's ever heard.

He subscribes to your channel and donates a ludicrous amount of money to your ko-fi. It's worth it though, when you mention the name he used for the donation in your next video, thanking him for being the reason you can finally retire your old mixer, your shiny new one on the counter behind you.

His own subscriber count keeps growing and eventually he decides to redo the cake video, this time following along with one of your videos. It goes better than last time, but the flat, yellowed lump he pulls out of the oven still doesn't look right. As usual, the comments fly in, with a couple of them actually tagging you asking you to help him before he burns his apartment down.

In spite of reading through all of them, Xavier is still surprised when a couple of days later, he finds a message from you in his inbox. It mentions that you've actually been watching his streams for a while and couldn't believe it when you saw he was following your recipe. You go on to advise him on what went wrong in the same kind and friendly tone you use in your videos, enough so that he reads the words with your voice in his head. The message ends with you encouraging him to have another go, saying you're sure he'll be able to get it right next time along with a cute kaomoji.

Xavier moves to type out a thank you before pausing, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Eventually he deletes what he'd written and instead relays his long-time struggles in the kitchen, asks if you might be interested in a collab as a way to keep his oven safe from any more possible fires. When your reply comes, he finds himself letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he reads over the part where you say you’d love to make a video with him. The next few weeks pass with you messaging regularly, at first simply to sort out the logistics for your upcoming collaboration and then the conversation turns more casual, familiar.

By the time you show up on his doorstep, a grocery bag in each hand as you shuffle your feet awkwardly in the hall, your strawberry-patterned sneakers bright against the dark grey carpet, he thinks he might be in love with you.

The video goes off without a hitch, save for once instance where he reaches for the hot cake pan and you grab his hand to stop him. There’s a beat where you both just stare at each other, your fingers wrapped around his palm. It’s broken by the sound of the oven timer you’d forgotten to turn off and time restarts, both of you slotting back into the flow you’d established. You don’t bring it up, whatever unspoken thing passed between you, not even when he sees you to the building’s entrance and you linger on the goodbye, only climbing into the awaiting taxi when it’s clear the driver’s becoming impatient.

Neither of you expect the internet to bring it up for you, but it does. Stills and gifs of the moment get posted and reposted as both of your fans go wild. Predictably a couple of people aren’t happy, and Xavier spends an evening reporting and blocking every user who laments that wish they’d been the one holding your hand. The majority of responses, however, are supportive, with a ship name for the two of you already created and trending on social media.

You message him later that evening, asking if he’s free for a call. He accepts almost instantly, and moments later your voice is coming through the speaker, the words like something out of a dream.

“Look, I know we’ve not known each that long, and I don’t want you to think I’m bringing this up just because of all the stuff the fans are coming up with, but I’ve really enjoyed talking to you these past couple of weeks and seeing you in person was… Well, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to give this a shot? The two of us.”

Xavier doesn’t need to think before he replies, “if you’re not around, who’ll stop me from getting the salt and sugar mixed up?”

Your laughter crackles through from the other end of the phone, and moments later Xavier joins you and it just feels right.

[mlmarcmarquez]

Pedro and Fermins homosexual relationship situationship is so wild I really really need to rant to you because they make my head hurt

IMAGINE being friends from such a young age your families are basically like celebrating everything together, and pedro and fermin have so many young cute pics of them together

AND THEN something something happens in moto2 WE DONT KNOW according to Fermin they just. Different personalities and they drifted away(i can spot a liar fermin I bet you wanted to kiss that boah and he broke your heart and I'm 100000% sure pedro has Capital Letter Internalised Homophobia)

AND THEN. You both get into motogp together 1 year apart and you CANNOT SAY EACH OTHERS NAME ,Only . Like once. And Pedro still has Capital Letter Internalised Homophobia and Fermin still is not over his Pedro feelings and so they fuck it out on track by battling each other.

THEY MAKE ME SICK. SOMEONE GET THEM TOGETHER. OHMFG

We also cannot forget the many homosexual moments of each other the many Fermins omega Pedro neckobsession, or the very very straightbro thightouching. And countless others

Rant over im so tired of them.

Oh AND I ALSO LOVE how they are literally like . Pedrenzo 2.0 because Jorge and Dani also had a homoerotic rivalry SO MUCH THEY WOULDNT EVEN SHAKE MFING HAANDS and they actively wanted to. Punch each other and yet they ended up being the cutest fluffiest husbands of motogp history and I love them I love my dads #pedrenzoforever I WISH THE SAME TO THESE MFING COWARDS. Im fine

first of all 100% pedro has internalised homophobia. i just know he does. (i need to make a fic about this, methinks) and fermin is just so confident in who he is that pedro got a bit scared and came up with an excuse to end their friendship otherwise he was gonna do something that would make his brain SO UPSET and just yeah, i'm lowkey writing fic atp 😂

when i heard fermin say pedro's name after the aragon sprint, i just GASPED like WOW maturity, growth (a motogp podium really does change a man, huh?)

i love the sharkrose/pedrenzo dynamics, YESSIR!! such delicious dynamics, genuinely, i love them both so much haha - may sharkrose have the ending that pedrenzo got BCUZ OTHERWISE I WILL CRY !!

anyways yes, obsesssion is valid :P

[toasttt11]

invite

July 15, 2024

Ophelia had spent two weeks in New York after the awards in Vegas with Quinn, Jack and Luke. She met more of their friends and it was fun vacation.

She realized she has officially know the Hughes for a year now and so much changed in the last year. So much for good and it’s been years since she has been this happy.

Ophelia was now at the airport waiting for Connor. She looked around and smiled seeing Connor coming out of the airport doors.

When she saw Connor in Vegas she had invited him out the lake house in Michigan so Connor was now coming to stay in Michigan for a little bit.

“Hey!” Connor started smiling once he saw her and he quickly crossed the cross walk walking right to her and they shared a hug.

“Hellooo!” Ophelia beamed hugging him happily back she is excited to get some time with Connor and show him the place that has become one of her favorite places.

Connor gave her a smile as they pulled back and she opened the door letting him put his suitcase and hockey bag into the backseat of Quinn’s car.

Ophelia and Connor both got in the car and she started driving them back to the lake house as they began to catch up.

Connor and Ophelia haven’t really seen each other a lot during summers and the off seasons before but Connor noticed how she was letting him closer lately and he was never going to complain about that.

Quinn and Jack shared a look hearing Ophelia laugh as the front door opened and they knew she was back now with Connor.

Quinn and Jack were both so excited when Ophelia told them she invited Connor, they are just so happy she is getting comfortable enough here and they want her happy.

Quinn and Jack both stood up to say hi to Connor having now met him a couple times now.

“Come on i’ll show you your room.” Ophelia told Connor once he was done saying hi to Quinn and Jack and started leading him out of the living room and down the hallway to the guest room she set up for him.

Ophelia opened the door to the guest room with the best view and the TV knowing Connor loves a good view and had a bad habit of falling asleep with the TV on.

“The boys want to go on the boat for the rest of the day. Is that okay?” Ophelia asked Connor as he set his bags down.

“Sure sounds good let me get dressed?” Connor agreed easily.

“Course i’m gonna go get dressed too.” Ophelia gave him a smile and closed the door behind her and she headed up to her own room quickly changing into a pink bathing suit and one of her new blue hoodies she got in New York.

She tossed her hair into a messy ponytail and headed downstairs and then outside seeing Connor out at the dock with Jack and Luke already as Quinn was sitting on the boat already.

She smiled to herself seeing Connor just easily talking with them.

“Bee!” Jack tossed an arm over her shoulder as she padded down the dock.

Ophelia hummed in response leaning into Jack’s side.

Ophelia got onto the boat and Connor followed her to the front of the boat and sat down next to her not even looking surprised as she grabbed a blanket even if it was extremely hot.

Connor knows how easily Ophelia gets cold and didn’t even blink at her hoodie and blanket in ninety degree weather.

Ophelia laughed softly at how much Connor perked up as Jack brought up wake boarding.

Luke came over taking the spot next to her as Connor and Jack started trading off turns wake boarding as Quinn drove.

Ophelia smiled seeing Connor throwing his head back and laughing at something Jack said. She knew it usually can take some time for him to get comfortable people but he seems to have gotten pretty comfortable around the Hughes quickly and she understood because it was the same for her.

Ophelia is really glad to have Connor in Michigan for a couple days and she was looking forward to the time she will get with him but also to skate with him again.

[clocainiac]

For the pride event thing, Transfem rusty please?

Maybe about her coming out to the yard/other characters

PRIDE ONESHOTS PT.3

(I love the way i’m doing part 3 on the 13th :3 as you can see i’m a procrastinator and i apologise so much so have this as a sorry 🙏 ALSO rusty starts off with they/them pronouns before they start to get more comfortable with their transition and use she/her! there may be a bit of prusty… also also peep the way ive managed to add electra in again, so sorry but i must for if i don’t they will tie me on the tracks)

(Not only that, but i’m not trans so trying to figure out how to word this took alot of consulting with my trans mates, so if some of this sounds a bit awkward during the read I apologise profusely as obviously I have never been in this position myself, but I hope i’ve tried my best as i’ve only gone off what my mates have told me!)

Poppa was the first.

They were both sat in Poppa’s shed, the comforting heat from their boilers encompassing the room. Still Rusty felt a creeping sense of unease, a twisting terrible feeling in their stomach.

“You alright, Son?” Poppa’s deep voice questioned, almost sounding like a hymn.

It was an innocent question from an outsiders perspective, but to Rusty? It felt like sick jab. The nickname itself prodded at something they tried to keep hidden, a feeling they knew wouldn’t go away. Although they tried to forget about it, you can’t slap a plaster on a gaping wound and expect it to heal. There was always this feeling of being wrong, looking wrong, sounding wrong; everything about Rusty was just wrong.

Soon they realised Poppa was still looking at them for an answer, now he had more of a concerned look on his face.

“I need to tell you something,” Rusty blurted out.

Poppa hummed, “Go on then.”

“I’ve been… thinking about myself. A lot. For a long time really, even before the race.” Rusty took a shaky breath, wetting their lips, “I think I always knew. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Poppa listened intently, letting Rusty take their time. Although he was set in his traditional ways, he was a very good listener and advisor.

“I’m not going to be the Engine you’ve always seen,” their voice trembled. “I’m going to transition, to live as who I want to be. Poppa, i’m a woman.”

The silence that followed stretched.

But then Poppa bumped their shoulder, “Soon you may not look like the same Engine i’ve always seen, but you will be the same Engine i’ve always known.”

Rusty couldn’t help the tears that started to build. After all, Poppa was like a father to them and to have not only validation but acceptance from him? Rusty couldn’t even describe the feeling.

“I’ve already got a lot to thank the Starlight for and helping you realise who you truly want to be will be amongst them.”

“Oh, Poppa,” Rusty whimpered sniffling.

They hugged for a long time that day.

It was harder with Pearl.

Not because Pearl wasn’t kind; she was the best. But because Rusty loved her.

She’d practiced saying it a hundred times. Out loud. To herself. She had even started referring to herself as She/Her in her head!

But now, sat beside Pearl, who was bathed in the moonlight. All previous bravado had disappeared.

“Pearl, can I tell you something?”

“Sure!” She chirped back, always merry even at the most mundane questions or actions.

“I’m not going to be the Rusty you see for much longer…”

Pearl’s head tilted to the side, “How? Not to sound impolite but once you’re corroded there isn’t really a way to go back.”

Rusty laughed awkwardly, praying for the butterflies to go away. “Let me explain it better, i’m still going to have rust physically but not i’m not going to look like the Rusty you’ve always seen.”

Pearl waited, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Pearl, i’m a woman and i’m going to start transitioning.”

Just akin to Poppa’s reaction there was silence. This time however, Rusty felt the need to fill it.

“I know i’m not fancy or sleek or modern; but when I look in the mirror, I feel so trapped under all these layers not from the rust but from looking so masculine. Pearl you may think this is out of the blue after all i’m quite old now but I have always felt this way, I just didn’t figure out what it was until recently and being a Steamer has been bad enough let alone wanting to transition too-”

Rusty stopped rambling as Pearl put her hand on her trembling fist.

“Pearl, i’m scared. That no one will believe I feel this way, that they’ll laugh, that i’ll be shunned for this.”

Pearl didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicked down, pink lips parted, the gears in her mind turning.

Rusty braced for rejection. Even though Pearl was kind, she was naive and this was vulnerable news.

When Pearl finally spoke, her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Rusty blinked, “I… What?”

“You were hurting this whole time and I didn’t know, that… I never want you to feel like that.”

Rusty’s throat tightened, “I didn’t even know why I was hurting so much myself until recently.”

Pearl turned to her and placed her own polished hands against Rusty’s calloused ones. “You’re still you. You’re still the brave Engine who stood up to Greaseball, who sang to the Starlight when no one else believed in…”

Pearl paused, “Her.” Rusty finished the sentence for her softly, just a gentle push in the right direction.

“Her,” Pearl repeated, “I quite like that.”

“Me too.” Rusty sniffled, “I thought you’d leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Rusty and i’m going to keep loving you.”

“Even her?”

“Especially her.” Pearl said softly before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

When Rusty pulled away she realised they were both crying. It was pretty fitting.

The next person who Rusty told was not who she had in mind.

The race was over. She came second, Electra was first. Rusty huffed sitting on a small grass patch as Electra skated around showboating.

“You sulking, Steam Train?” They teased skating over; surprisingly without their components.

“No, well done.”

Electra’s lips pursed together, “I don’t believe you.”

“What?” Rusty questioned baffled.

“You’re sulking but…it’s not about the races, is it?” They questioned.

Rusty spluttered trying to find an excuse before Electra chuckled triumphantly.

“I’m correct aren’t I? Well now you have to tell me, it’s the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The ‘I know you have a secret’ rules, now tell me!”

Rusty bit her bottom lip, “You ever feel like your whole body is screaming at you that it’s wrong? Like you were built backwards?”

That caught Electra and their brows furrowed, not in judgement but in thought.

“Electra, i’m transitioning. You can tell people, it won’t be a secret for much longer.”

“I understand,” Electra said softly.

Rusty stared.

“I’m fluid,” they said. “Gender is… too static for someone like me. I shift and i’m proud of who I am. But I found it hard to start telling people too.”

“I am proud of who I am, just scared of the reactions.”

“Don’t be. You’re becoming you. That’s one of the bravest things someone can do.”

This time the silence was comforting, no shock, no rambling, just a mutual understanding.