#sequel to wildest dreams

[silverscreenlipstick]

it’s… happening??

[xwisegirlx]

(via "Handsome Kylo " Classic T-Shirt for Sale by xWiseGirl)

[nmtltlz]

Yes yes yes yes yes!!!!!! I grew up on ACiT- the first game where ratchet i think is truly softer in his characterization. Something I find fitting given the context of the game. Ratchet was this abrasive kid and with Clanks disappearance he’s a lot sadder. It comes off as softer when comparing him to previous games, but upon reflection i think its melancholy. A kind of humbling (for lack of a better word) brought upon from a trauma- which it was. Clanks abrupt disappearance, the disappearance of his oldest friend and the first person to believe in him, was traumatic. Ratchet becomes a quieter person in ACiT. Hes tired. Something that is especially obvious in ITN.

I think thats why i really love his characterization in RA. Because instead of being tired, he is so happy. He is so happy in that content kind of way. There is something so deeply satisfying about seeing a kid who thinks the worlds out to get him be as kind as the guy who gave him that chance.

But IG cant just not acknowledge his past. I think thats where RA misses the mark for me. Kit is so tied up in her own fucked up self image that I am upset that Ratchet didnt get to speak to her about shameful pasts. No, Ratchet didn’t permanently disable someone, but he used to act very cruelly to someone he loves dearly now. And Ratchet understands how important it is to have someone understand your worth and to love you in spite of past mistakes

Ratchet and Clank size matters got added to the PSN store and I got a a major nostalgia pang so I went "eh, why not" and quickly played through it. And I do mean quickly, I know it was a PSP title but dang, last time I finished a R&C game this quick i played Nexus. Anyway, the thing that struck me about this game is that Ratchet is...a bit of an asshole here. And that struck me as odd because for the last few entries...he isn't.

Like this is still early series Ratchet, still on the PS2/PSP, released just before the first PS3 title, which was in retrospect a bit of an incredibly soft reboot. In the newer games, Ratchet is a fairly straight forward protag, nice, willing to help, only a little bit sarcastic if he's really strapped for time or dealing with someone especially annoying. Early Ratchet? Early Ratchet was a jackass, a dick, a selfish, quick tempered loner that only went on this quest because there was a tangible, direct benefit to him specifically. Seriously, in the first game Ratchet couldn't go two sentences without insulting somebody, and that's when he's in a good mood. In act 2 he's even worse, gnashing his teeth at everyone he talks to and threatening to sell Clank for scrap. It takes hours of in game time and half a dozen levels before Ratchet finally chills out, and a few more levels before he actually resolves to act like any sort of hero, and even that only happens after something he personally cares about gets threatened. Ratchet could give a damn, he can be convinced to help people, but he's still a selfish person who needs the situation rubbed in his nose before he realizes how dire it is. Clank having faith in him, throughout the entire game, even when he's being a dick, even when Clank himself is furious with him, meant something. When in the penultimate level he says "that's the Ratchet I always knew was there" and Ratchet brushes him off, you buy it, that beneath this sharp outside there's someone with the capacity to be a hero, an actual hero, a hero who isn't selfless, but one capable of overcoming his selfishness when it matters most.

Back when the first game came out, people complained about this, about their platformer mascot protag being a huge dick, and even the very next game addressed this by toning him down a smidge, but Ratchet in the PS2 trilogy is still very much not a perfect sunshine person. He's very sarcastic, pretty cynical, is very quick to call other people on their bullshit, and still has a very short temper. (Plasma city, anyone?) Ratchet had texture to him, he bounced off the much more straightforwardly nice Clank in a lot of ways, their friendship felt like it had weight and meant something because these two had so many differences between them that the fact they did get along so well and cared about each other so much showed that their friendship was genuine. I like the newer Ratchet and Clank games, played every one of them, but I've never been really happy with the direction they took with Ratchet. Each game made him nicer, friendlier, smoothing down his edges. And the reboot game had it the worst, they retold the first story, where Ratchet was at his worst and a major thread of the plot was him learning to get over his bullshit, but had the sanded down kitty cat of the later games instead of having confidence in their early work. Dickhead Ratchet worked, he had a place and it gave him a place to grow, while still maintaining his inherit sharpness. Ratchet should get to be an asshole again, just for a bit, let him get angry, properly. Sure, he's a hero who's saved two galaxies three times over and then some, but he did that while being a sarcastic little shit who made a joke about a plumber's ass crack showing and fired rockets at people while complaining about how high the prices are everywhere he went.

I dunno, maybe its a bit too late in the game to say this, but something got lost in the shuffle a while back, and getting a reminder of what was simply put it into perspective for me.

[holybibly]

girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

[sweatervest-obsessed]

You're Keeping Me Down

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her)

WC: ~5.8k

TW: mentions of trauma, mentions of Maeve, kissing, previous relationships, swearing, alcohol, so much crying, bad decisions, girlbossing

A/N: ayo....angsty teehee. I hope y'all like it! It's a sequel to Dedicated to New Lovers and was inspired mainly by Sara Bareilles's Gravity, some Harry Styles, and other sad songs. I hope y'all enjoy it!! I really do love reading all of your comments, and tags, and feedback because it makes me so happy to know you guys are enjoying the writing!! <3

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou

Something always brought you back to Doctor Spencer Reid. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you fought it, something about the universe could not keep you away from him for too long. 

It was like the two of you were attached at opposite ends of a string, always pulling you towards one another, ignoring whatever you had been feeling beforehand. 

There was nothing you could do to escape him. You had tried traversing the globe, studying in Greece and Turkey, or taking vacations in the most remote villages of China; you had even done a two-week expedition traveling to Antarctica. But somehow, some way, Spencer Reid stayed in the back of your mind. 

Sometimes, it was like he was right next to you. You could still feel him next to you in your bed, or if you were alone in your car, your hand was absently reaching toward the passenger seat, only to feel the leather and not his leg. 

Maybe it was because all of those stupid little facts he had spouted to you were resting in the back of your mind, popping up when you’d come across anything he would have told you about. 

It was something you missed. He would just ramble on about anything to you, watching the joy on his face as he continued to speak, so grateful to have an audience, to have someone who cared. But you’d have to remind yourself that Spencer chose her as his audience instead of you. 

Her. 

The guilt of Maeve’s death followed you around more than Spencer did. At first, it was anything to do with therapists. The thought of choosing someone to speak to outside of your circle was a betrayal you had felt, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Then it was your distrust of your friends, watching as they became less and less frequent in your life. 

Work was all-consuming. You knew this fact well. Being one of the top profilers in the FBI meant that news of your transfer went fast, and the job offers came even quicker. But you decided to take some time off to rediscover the girl you once knew, someone outside her job. 

The BAU was simply your life for the past eight years. You worked at the BAU, you dated inside of the BAU, and your friends were all within the BAU–It was honestly a joke that it all had decided to come crumbling down once you felt secure in your life, in your job, in your relationship. 

You had filed the paperwork that allowed you to take two months of paid leave, not to leave the department. Your social media suddenly became filled with images of Ancient Greek monuments, Italian Vineyards, the French and Swiss Alps, and cities you once only visited in your wildest dreams. 

Escaping reality was the best way to rediscover who you are. And so you tried.

When you returned from your two months, you had walked into the BAU bullpen and straight to Hotch’s office. Your skin was tanner, and your hair was a bit lighter from all of the sun. You were suddenly this confident woman again, but you weren’t who you were before, making you nearly unrecognizable. 

“Y/N, please come in.” 

You smiled warmly at Hotch, giving him a quick hug. 

“You look good. How were your travels?” 

You smiled and leaned against the wall, not wanting to sit since that meant you would be here longer than you wanted. 

“It was everything I needed it to be, Hotch .” You nodded to the file on his desk with your name on it. “I take it Garcia ‘accidentally’ discovered my file and decided to drop it off?” 

Hotch sighed and opened the file, looking over at you. “Of course she did. I thought you were just transferring after your leave; I didn’t know you were leaving the Bureau entirely.” 

You nodded, a sad smile making its way onto your face. 

Hotch looked at you, replicating the same sad smile. 

“I wanted to tell you in person since I didn’t want you to find out via paperwork, but I should have known to come to your office first and then file it instead of filing it on my way to your office.” 

A soft chuckle passed through Hotch’s lips as he nodded. “We’re going to miss you more than before, Y/N.” 

“I won't be gone forever, Hotch. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“I know.” He rounded the desk, giving you a quick hug, arm on your shoulder. “You have my number.” 

You gave him a quick smile, nodding, “Don’t worry, Jack will still be getting weekly updates about my travels, and expect a box of goodies occasionally. I have to uphold my reigning title of the coolest aunt ever.” 

As you left Hotch’s office, you didn’t notice Spencer at the coffee station. You didn’t see as he watched you quickly drop a note off on Emily’s desk and another on Derek’s desk before stepping into the elevator for the last time for the next two years. 

You didn’t notice the heartbreak in his eyes, and you didn’t notice the fact that he had overheard as you told Hotch you weren’t coming back to the FBI at all. 

But somehow, you found yourself back in that same elevator, visitor badge clipped to the new dress you had received as a gift from a friend during your month-long stay in India last year. The fabric draped across your body, highlighting how beautiful your curves were, and the colors brought out this newfound radiance in your skin, your eyes, your smile...

Color was the newest development in your life. The BAU meant that everything was in professional shades of blue, black, white, or maybe a subdued purple or green if you felt risky. But suddenly, your wardrobe burst through the rainbow as you experimented with patterns and shades, basking in this newfound joy beyond the world of suits. 

Eighteen months of experimenting–with life, with colors, with places you called home, with love.

You had two brief “love affairs” as Garcia lovingly called them. One was only two weeks long, but the other was a few months. Yet both were missing something special and could barely converse with you. Maybe that was how Spencer felt. And the sex wasn’t all that great either.  

And yet, after Eighteen months, an award, four nominations, a cat, a mediocre short-term relationship, and one groundbreaking dissertation that led to a Ph.D. later, you found yourself back in that damned elevator. 

You inhaled sharply as you heard the tiny ding, doors opening up to a sight that made your stomach twist. It was truly bittersweet to be back, to visit the place that once carried everything in your life, and to have it be so foreign to you. 

But what was not so foreign was how one Derek Morgan looked up as the door opened and his eyes filled to the brim with light. 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He dropped his file on his desk and met you in the middle of the side aisle of the bullpen, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “My woman.” He muttered into your hair, giving you an extra squeeze before pulling away slightly. 

“What’s up, sexy.” You laughed, thrilled to hear he hadn’t changed too much while you were away. 

“I’m sexy? Have you seen yourself recently?” He laughed, and you gave him a twirl, eager to show off one of your favorite dresses. “And where did you get this? Wait, wait, let me guess.” 

You pursed your lips, failing to hide the smile that was beaming across your face. 

“Was it your time in Taiwan? No no…Pakistan?” 

“So close. India. Maybe next time, champ.” You patted his arm, turning your head at the gasp behind me. 

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, world traveler extraordinaire?” 

“JJ, you saw me three days ago.” 

JJ pulled you into a hug. “Yeah, over Facetime,” she grumbled, not even trying to pretend she was upset at the sight of you in person. “You seriously have to stop sending Henry so much stuff.” 

“Some of it is for the other one, too.” You muttered to her, knowing she wasn’t fully public with her pregnancy at the BAU just yet. 

“I’ll be right back, I promise, I just have to say hi to Hotch first.” You placed your hands on their arms, turning towards Hotch’s office. As you went to knock on the door, it opened, leaving you face to face with the only person you weren’t ready to confront just yet. 

“Hi.” He breathed out.

And fuck you, he looked so good. 

“Hi, Spencer.” 

You watched as a wave of emotion rippled across his face. His name almost tasted weird in your mouth, not something you’ve often said in the two years apart. 

“I’ll, um..” He moved to step out of the way, letting you maneuver into Hotch’s office. 

But you had also tried to move, causing you and Spencer to almost collide, causing his hand to barely grace your waist. A spark flew through your skin at the thought of his touch, causing goosebumps up and down your body. 

You both muttered an apology, eyes not leaving the other until you quickly moved into Hotch’s office, causing him to move back, still watching as you closed the door in his face.

While you spoke to Hotch, catching up, Spencer was down in the bullpen at his desk, barely even trying to move them away from the windows. 

JJ and Derek stood around his desk, looking from the office to Spencer and back again. 

“She’s back.” He said simply when Kate approached them, wondering why they were all standing around, staring at Hotch’s office. 

“Who?” Kate crossed her arms, looking between the agents, hoping for an answer.

Spencer said your name for the first time in a very long time. And it was almost as if his brain whirred to life, like some part of him had been dormant for a long time. 

“Doctor.” 

Spencer gave Derek a weird look. “What?” 

“It’s Doctor Y/N Y/L/N now, Pretty Boy.” 

Spencer let his mouth fall into a small oh, letting his mind sink deeper and deeper into the pit of you. 

When you had originally left, Spencer decided to try and ignore you. It didn’t work, but he wouldn’t seek you out purposefully. He never looked up your name and tried to steer clear of the conversations involving you. But he wondered why you had never mentioned wanting to get a doctorate beforehand. He would have remembered something like that. He should have remembered something like that. ______________________________________________________________

The thought of Spencer’s fingers on your waist was the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day. Your skin hadn’t stopped tingling, and suddenly you wanted to drown in his touch, let his hands roam over your body and— “Stop it.” You said out loud as you put in your earrings. 

Your mind wasn’t playing far. 

“What did you say, sweetheart?” 

“Nothing, just talking to myself!” You called back, sighing as you smoothed out the front of the dress you had changed into. 

The team had decided to throw you a welcome-back party that night, generously hosted by David Rossi. And since they had all wanted an excuse to get dressed up, you gave them that much, meaning you had to dawn heels and a touch of makeup to accentuate the features you wanted. It also meant you got to pull out another stunning dress you had bought. 

Celebrating your doctorate, which you completed a year early, you had flown to Milan with Emily Prentiss and decided to go shopping, which is how you ended up with the current dress you were wearing. 

It fits you in all the right places, showing off just enough cleavage to be tasteful but maybe tempt something a bit more. You wondered if Spencer would like—

“God, I forgot how hot you look in that dress.” 

“Emily Prentiss, I could kiss you on the mouth.” 

Emily laughed and looped her arm through yours, staring at the two of you in the mirror. 

“Thank you for flying in on such short notice.” You whispered, unable to take your eyes off of the reflection staring back at you.

“We can call the whole thing off right now…”

You shook your head and smiled at her. “It’s for me. And I really want some of Rossi’s cooking right about now. Especially now that I can compare my worldly experiences with the Italian Masterchef himself.” You laughed, causing Emily to laugh with you. 

“Let's get going, yeah?” 

The ride to Rossi’s house on the outskirts of Washington D.C. made for a relaxing drive, filled with updates from your best friend about each other’s lives, even though it had only been a month since you had seen each other last. 

“I think you’re being perfectly reasonable, hun.” 

“You’re saying that because all I do is cry these days,” you grumbled, kissing the head of the black cat in your lap. 

Emily laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Or maybe I just know that you need a change of scenery. You’ve dedicated your entire life to the BAU and now you need to explore the entire rest of the world.” 

“I think you just want to go to Greece with me.” 

“You know how much I love Mamma Mia….”

You cracked a smile and picked up your glass. “Maybe Em, I’m not sure…I just…”

Emily watched as you looked up, trying to keep the tears from your eyes. 

“I know he’s not worth the tears,” you mumbled, but you exhaled slowly. “It’ll just hit me sometimes.” 

She stayed quiet, watching as you slowly worked through whatever was happening in your head. 

“It’s like he’s right next to me sometimes. I…It’s like sometimes my own head is against me for not talking to him. I heard a song the other day, and I immediately turned to tell him something about it and–It’s like he’s ruling over my mind—” You huffed angrily. “I feel like I’m not making any sense–god.” You downed your wine and placed the glass on the table. “Maybe I’m just meant to wallow and drink wine and be completely useless for the rest of my life…past my prime, past my worth. I was so—I was so fucking sure he was the one…Like there's this strong attachment to my chest and I’m connected to him for eternity, regardless of whether he loves me or not.” 

Emily pulled you into her arms while you cried, rubbing your back. 

“You are so much more than him, hun. You will go out in the world, figure out who you are again, and stand so tall, just how you’re supposed to.”

“So tall.” Emily looked at you as she parked the car in Rossi’s driveway. 

“Just the way I’m supposed to be.” You whispered, looking over at her, smiling.  ______________________________________________________________

You’ve been to Rossi’s more times than you could ever admit, but it managed to take your breath away every single time. After his first wife had passed away, he had put in a garden near the edge of his backyard, providing beautiful color for you to look at from the porch. 

Somehow, you always had a half-full glass, managing to have someone always get you a new drink when you seemed low. 

You managed to talk to Jack and Henry, telling them all about the wonders of the world you had seen, then being pulled away by Garcia to discuss that brief love affair you had in Argentina, which then led to telling Derek about your time in England, studying for your doctorate. 

Gratefully, you excused yourself when Rossi announced that dinner had been served, leading you to the tables set up in the backyard, filled to the brim with all your favorite foods. He had simply done too much. 

Dinner was filled with smiles, laughs, and chatter about the ‘good ol days’ and the newer memories being made. You had become acquainted with Kate Callahan, Emily’s replacement. She seemed nice enough, but you both were hesitant of one another. 

Spencer was sitting across the table from you. The two of you would catch glances at one another, passing moments where you couldn’t help but notice the way the wind ruffled his hair or the way the garden’s fairy lights reflected in his eyes. 

“So, what brings you back to Washington,” Hotch asks you the question every person at the table has been dying to hear the answer to. 

“Oh! Well…” You blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I was just offered a position at Georgetown as an adjunct professor. If I take it, I’ll teach classes for at least the next semester. That is if I like it more than King’s College in London..”

The table erupted into congratulations, ending with a toast from Rossi.

You all raised your glass in “Salut”, and took a sip from your drink, but you couldn't help but look at Spencer, who was already looking at you. 

Excusing yourself from the table, you went inside quickly, walking towards the kitchen sink. You ran your hands under the cool water before splashing it across your face. 

“Y/n…”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading. The two of you were alone, no one else to buffer you, no one else to take your arm and drag you to the dance floor. 

“Spencer.” You turned around, your body leaning against the sink. God, you felt so small, so unable to watch yourself. 

“That’s a–that’s a beautiful dress.” 

“Milan.” You mused, fiddling with the ring on your pinky finger, unable to look away from the man before you. 

“Ah.” 

The silence hurt. Watching the two of you must have been painful because you could feel it. You once told this man everything about yourself; he once knew how your day went by one singular sigh. He could have told you what you were in the mood to eat for breakfast just by how you woke up. 

But now, you didn’t even know what to say. 

“Georgetown.” 

You nodded and looked down at your nails, seeming that they felt like a safer bet to look at. “Yeah, uh…should be fun. Can I–” You looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?” 

Spencer’s head nodded, and you pursed your lips, looking out the window and watching as your friends and family all laughed together and ate together. 

“When I was…um.” You cleared your throat, willing away the tears that had instantly sprung to your eyes. “When I was packing up all my stuff two years ago…I found the…W-Was it for her or…” You braced yourself for impact. Waiting for him to respond. 

Spencer’s eyes glassed over, and his mouth formed a small oh. He fiddled with his ring finger and looked out past you through the window. He couldn’t bear to watch the travesty he was about to cause. 

“You.” 

“Oh.” Fuck this. Fuck. You had sobbed over finding it for three hours while packing and then  sobbed again as you moved out. Somehow, hearing it out loud was worse. 

He was going to propose to you.

Spencer Reid had wanted to marry you. And god, that hurt. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and then he told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. 

You didn’t care if you were reserving a spot in hell for yourself by damning an already dead woman. Her death meant Spencer could feel an ounce of the grief you just dug up. A sliver of the pain. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your jaw, a thumb on your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped your eye. “I am so sorry.” He whispered. 

And that broke the damn. 

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him, surrounding yourself with Spencer. Letting the smell of his cologne wash over you, letting him squeeze you tightly like he used to so long ago. The feeling of his chest rising and falling gave you such comfort that your brain was screaming at you to run away from it. You had finally built all your walls back up; you felt as if you could finally exist, but here in his arms, the world was silent. 

In his arms, you felt fragile; you felt so small. All of the strength you had was gone. And it felt so fucking good to not have to be the strong one, the person with the brave face. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

His lips kissed your hair, arm running up and down your back, trying so desperately to bring back that sense of comfort he once could provide you. And it was fucking working. God, why was it working. Why did it feel good? Why couldn’t you pull away? 

“Spence…” You mumbled into his shirt, that had been stained by your tears. You shook your head. “I can’t…We can’t…”

He pulled away from you slightly, eyes saddened, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you were rejecting him or because he still loved you just as much as you loved him. 

“I love you.” 

You pulled away from the kiss, hand on his chest, smiling brightly at him. “What?”

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked, Spencer decided. 

Your lips were puffy from how much the two of you were kissing, hair messy from his hands running through it, eyes wide with just as much love repeated in his own. 

“I love you.” He repeated, smiling beyond measure.

“Say it again.” You mumbled, yanking him back down to your lips, kissing him again and again. 

“I love you so much, y/n y/l/n.” 

You pulled away, laughter filling up the entire room. Pure joy echoed and bounced off of the walls. 

Spencer bit his lip, pulling away slightly. You hadn’t set it back. 

“Spence…” You cupped both cheeks with your hand, thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you too.” 

Just saying it caused you to giggle, full of love and pure joy. 

Loving anyone else would have caused you to gag–it still does. 

But the memory makes you shudder, causing you to step out of his arms, quickly wiping away your tears or trying your best to. 

The thought of love made you want to rip your head off. It made you want to sink to the bottom of the ocean and never resurface. 

Spencer said your name, making you shake your head. 

“You don’t love me Spencer. You haven’t for a long time.” The admission caused a resurgence of tears, making him take a step towards you. “No, Spencer, no.” 

You shook your head again. “I-I can’t…you hurt me. You…you left me for someone you had never even met. She was–god.” 

“I never loved her the way I love you.” 

“No.” You whispered, chest heaving. “No, no. You can’t..fuck. Don’t say that shit–why would you say that shit to me.” 

“Because it's the truth.” He said softly, too calmly for you to just ignore it. 

“How can you stand there and say that to me? You don’t mean it—You can’t..” The past two year’s worth of therapy, of moving on, of becoming your own, came crumbling down because fuck, you didn’t know what to believe anymore. “How can you just…You don’t fucking mean it.” 

“I know you don’t believe me, but I–”

“Don’t believe you?” You laughed at that, tears mixing with the stabs in your chest, dropping past your mouth as it laughed and laughed and laughed. “Then why did you fucking leave me. Why–Why–Why did you tell me to move out and…God Spencer, why did you come here tonight.” 

You were almost hysterical at that point; all Spencer could do was watch. He couldn't touch you because every time he tried, you’d move away or lose some part of your mind even more. 

“What about me was so–so–so, so boring, so understimulating to you, so desperately ignorant that you told me you didn’t love me anymore, that you kicked me out of our home, that made you reconsider wanting to marry me. And you know, I get it, I do. You found someone on your level intellectually, I get it. But still, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life–what did she have that I didn’t, huh? What about her made her more appealing to talk to than me? ” 

“She…”

“She what, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t–”

“No.” You were leaning back against the counter, trying to gain some semblance of yourself back from the spiral you were on. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t give me some ‘unworthy’ thought process because maybe you’re fucking eidetic memory doesn’t remember all of the conversations we used to have, but I fucking do. I couldn’t cut them out of my skin if I tried, and god did I try.” 

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t function. All he could do was watch the pieces of you shatter all over, reliving the exact moments you were, but instead of being able to make it right, all he could watch as you closed yourself off more and more. 

“Y-you tried?” 

“God, Spencer, did you even look at me during those months.” 

“I…” He just looked at you, really looked at you. “I couldn’t.”

You scoffed, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and straightened out your dress. 

“The only fucking thing I know is that if I don’t walk away now, then I will hate myself for the rest of my life for letting you talk me back into loving you again. And the worst part is, I still do. I don’t think I could ever love anyone again because of how much love I have for you, after everything we had been through, but—”

He kissed you.

Or you kissed him. 

You weren’t sure. 

But all you knew was that his hands were on your waist, and your hands were on his cheeks, and his lips were touching yours, and everything felt so right within the world, and your body was against his and just–

“Fuck.” You quickly pulled away, both of you panting, staring at one another, unsure about what happened. 

You two just stared at one another for what felt like forever until you heard Emily call your name from the porch. You took another step away, back against the kitchen counter, smoothing your hair and crossing your arms. 

Emily walked in and eyed the two of you, misreading the tension as something more antagonistic from before than what had actually happened. 

“Uh, Rossi made you a cake…” She looked between the both of you, watching as you nodded at her, standing up fully. You followed behind her, sparing one last look at Spencer, who was just looking at where you were standing. 

______________________________________________________________

“Uh, hi, sorry, could you point me toward Agent Hotchner’s Office.” 

The person whose shoulder you tapped turned around and gave you one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen. 

“Well hello, gorg–”

“Derek. Don’t be rude.” The woman next to Derek had elbowed him in the ribs, preventing more HR training for the both of them. “Hi. You must be Y/n. I’m Penelope, and that’s Derek, don’t mind him.” She looped her arm through yours and started to lead you towards the little staircase on the side of the room. 

“Hotch’s office is right up here.” 

“I–Thank you, Penelope.” You smiled at her. 

“I’ve read your file.” She whispered, smiling back at you. “I’m really excited to work with you because you are one impressive woman, let me tell you.” 

You blushed slightly, about to respond, but Penelope had knocked on Hotch’s door, causing a voice to tell you to “come in.” 

“Welcome to the team.” She pulled away, leaving you to enter Aaron Hotchner’s office for the first of many times. 

You opened the door and smiled at the man at the desk. “Hi, I’m–”

“Y/n Y/l/n, You have a very impressive resume. Please, take a seat.” He stood to shake your hand, gesturing to the chair before his desk. You quickly scanned the photos along the walls, the books on his shelves. 

“Everyone knows who I am before I know who they are.” You laughed slightly, taking the seat. 

“Yes, well, We’re all very excited to have you join us here.” 

The memory of your first day hit you like a wave when Aaron pulled your seat out for you back at the table outside. You stalled for only a second, but it was long enough for any of the various profilers at the table to notice something was off. 

You smiled through the speeches, and you laughed at the jokes and cried at the sweetness of your friends, but you were somewhere far away, dreaming about the moments that led you up to where you were. 

“And that is why I am glad to have you back because clearly, the universe respects you enough to let us all come together to celebrate the return of our Y/n.” You raised your glass and cheer with Rossi, standing up to hug him. 

“Now.” You smiled at all of the faces that looked up at you. “Let us eat cake!!” 

The table erupted and while Rossi cut slices for each of you, you sat back down, listening to what Garcia was telling you, but your eyes kept darting to the person directly across from you. 

You could feel his eyes any time they were on you, and you knew they were fleeting glances, but it was just too much. 

“Want to take a walk with me through the rose garden?” 

You nodded, standing up and accepting Derek’s arm, letting him lead you towards the garden, enjoying the fresh air and the sudden weight off of your shoulders. You couldn’t feel his gaze anymore but you knew he was still looking at you. 

“What’s next on your list of adventures.” Derek looked at you, watching the millions of emotions race across your face before settling on a smile and a shrug. 

“I’m not sure yet. You know about Georgetown, but I don’t know about D.C. anymore….”

Derek nodded and pulled out the chair at the small wire table. It sat under a trellis filled with gorgeously bloomed roses and baby’s breath. The smell was almost overwhelmingly fragrant. 

You gratefully took it and watched as he went and sat across from you. 

“You looked like you got a bit overwhelmed back there.” 

“What happened to not profiling me like I asked?” 

Derek chuckled, “It’s not profiling if it’s written on your sleeve.” 

You sighed and looked out at some of the flowers. “I don't…”

He let you work through it in your mind, just glad to keep you company while you figured your shit out. 

Eventually, you spoke up. “It’s weird.” 

Derek hummed in agreement. 

“I don’t know. Just. I felt like I was doing so well, and I was becoming my own person, figuring out who I was, and then I come back here, and suddenly I’m back to being that twenty-two-year-old kid who breezed her way through the academy. It’s like I did everything in my power to end up where I did, and then the universe told me I fucked up and should have done something else.” 

“I don’t think you fucked up in the slightest. Do you know how many people you saved?”

You went to brush off his comment, but Derek didn’t let you get a word in. 

“I know your entire world got completely fucked over, but you were meant to be in BAU. You were supposed to be there. I cannot think of my life without you, I know Garcia can’t, and I know Emily would tear you a new one if you even brought up to her the possibility that you being in her life was a mistake.” 

“Yeah, and now I’m thirty, with a doctorate and a cat, and no idea what to do with my life.” 

“But you also just spent the last two years seeing the world–how many countries did you go to…”

You pursued your lips, trying to count in your head. A blush spread across your face as you mumbled the number. 

“Sorry, wanna repeat that for me?” 

“At least fifty…” 

“That’s what I thought.” A very proud look crossed Derek's face, smiling at you. 

You looked down at your left hand, fiddling with your ring finger. No matter how hard Derek tried, no matter how much you enjoyed his company and the way he was keeping your ego healthily inflated, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have been married–you could have been happy. 

“He told me when he bought it.” 

Your eyes snapped to Derek’s, and he looked at you with such soft eyes. 

That was something you had always loved about Derek. No matter how much he cared for you, no matter how gently he was being, he never treated you like a piece of glass.

“He, uh, I was the only one he told.” 

You nodded, waiting for him to continue. 

“When did you find it?” 

“When I was moving my things out of the apartment.” 

“Damn…” 

“Yeah.” You laughed. It was colder than usual but still antagonistic at the whole situation. “I…um. I found it on the last day when I was cleaning out my bedside table. He knew I never went into the bottom drawer because I literally never kept anything in there, but I checked because, you know, I was asked to leave, and…there it was. It was just…It’s ironic, really, how perfect it was, too. They say that if a guy can’t get the ring right, then he’s not the one for you, but no one preps you on if it’s the perfect ring, perfect size, but you had just broken up two days before you found it…” 

Derek nodded, letting you ramble. 

“I feel like I’m being weighed down by a million different things, yet they’re all him.” 

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I have no fucking idea.” 

"Sometimes good things fall apart, so that better things can fall together." ~ Marilyn Monroe

Part 3

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Tags: @lilrios-world @gubzgirl @mynameisnotokay @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @mega-kittyglitter-1 @onlyspence

[cleo-fox]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

Pairing: James Conrad x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Series: A Girl Back Home (no masterlist for this yet, but that's what I'm calling this series). Come Back, Be Here is the quasi-sequel to this.

A/N: Sometimes, you're having a conversation with @sarahscribbles and something she says triggers your latent James Conrad brainrot and words happen. Saz, this is dedicated to you. 😘 (Also, everyone go read her stuff).

It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

You didn’t even think he was in the country—last you’d heard, he was somewhere in Vietnam. Not that he was exactly keeping you apprised of his movements. The nature of his work means that he turns up or calls unexpectedly and sends letters inconsistently. It’s something that you’ve grown used to over the years—you’ve had no other choice, really.

The question, though, of whether or not you’ll be waiting for him is not really a question so much as it is an inevitability. Of course you will. You always will. Like it or not, the man is your weakness, your Achilles heel, the crack in your armor.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the latch and chain and open the door.

There’s a moment where you catch his first, unguarded expression—a flicker of relief, so quick you might miss it if you didn’t know him as well as you do. It strikes you as odd—you’d expect him to be glad to see you, perhaps, but relieved? Not necessarily. Especially not after the last time you’d seen him—that disastrous Christmas two years ago when wine and seasonal sadness had prompted you to say more than you intended about your feelings for him.

He’d said you were better off as friends.

It still stings, even thinking of it now. You haven’t spoken of it since. He hadn’t been back since then, either—that in and of itself wasn’t necessarily unusual for him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his absence this time around.

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea, you’re stepping forward to embrace him. You always forget how tall he is, how he takes up space and towers over you, how that makes you feel small and safe. He still smells the same—Ivory soap with a hint of cloves and a little bit of musk—and your name still sounds too good in that deep purr of a baritone.

“It’s good to see you,” he says into your ear.

Is it just you or is he holding you awfully tight?

It’s probably just you. Isn’t that the sad theme of all of this? Just you with the feelings, just you with the broken heart. Just you, secretly pining for him since university and having it all come to nothing. Just you. Alone as always.

“You too,” you say, even though seeing him makes all the old bruises and scars on your heart ache with a renewed fervor. You release him and gesture to your door. “Come in.”

You notice a cut on his left cheek, a small, yellowing bruise blooming around the edges of it. It must be a few days old. He carries a duffle bag slung over his back—a huge, beat up leather thing he’s had since university. He sets it on the floor as you lock up behind him.

“What are you doing here?” spills out of your mouth before you can think about how it sounds, despite the fact that your eyes are drinking him in like he’s water in a desert. “I thought you were in Vietnam.”

“Pacific,” he says. There’s a slight shadow in his expression, like there’s something he doesn’t want to say. “Just got back this evening.”

“Do you want tea?” It’s the only thing you can think to do.

“Please,” he says.

You don’t need to ask him how he takes it because you know. English Breakfast, splash of cream, no sugar. You could make it in your sleep.

You busy yourself in the kitchen, fishing out a packet of shortbread biscuits from the back of your cupboard while the kettle boils. Out of habit, you take out the pair of chipped mugs you’ve had since university. You’d unintentionally taken one from the refectory during a particularly sleepless week in the middle of exams and been too embarrassed to return it. He’d teased you about it at first, but he had then stolen his own mug the following week in what he described as “solidarity with your crimes.” When you moved into your first apartment, he’d given you his as a housewarming gift.

“This could really hurt my career if they found out about it,” he’d said solemnly as his eyes danced with barely repressed laughter. “I thought it would be best to give it to you for safe keeping.”

You’d rolled your eyes and laughed at him then, but you always wrapped them extra carefully when you moved—as though by keeping those mugs whole, you could also keep Conrad safe.

The faint ghost of a smile that you catch when you bring the tea and biscuits out to the living room warms your heart and gives you a little spark of hope. Perhaps all isn’t lost. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before that disaster of a Christmas.

You set the mugs and shortbread down on the table and take your seat next to him on the couch.

Your tea is still too hot, but you pick it up anyway, just to give your hands something to do. Maybe the slight sting of the hot ceramic against your palms will help you keep you grounded.

“I presume you’re not telling me where in the Pacific for a reason,” you say.

He nods. “Correct.”

He looks tired, you think. There’s a tightness in his jaw that’s new, a distant look in his eyes that seems different than his usual brand of stoicism. You want to be annoyed by his lack of detail, but the weariness makes you pause.

“Are you all right?” you ask.

His laugh is short and humorless. “As I ever was.” 

You tilt your head. “That’s not really an answer.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It was a difficult job.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze sliding to the wall across the room, to a landscape painting you’d found at a thrift shop. “I didn't know if I’d make it back, to be quite honest.”

You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s somewhere beyond disorienting. Conrad is ruthlessly capable and appropriately confident; the idea of something being beyond his skill set is baffling as it is unsettling.

“I’m glad you did,” you say softly.

You expect him to give you a slight half smile, perhaps nudge his shoulder against yours. But instead, his gaze remains fixed on the middle distance, an odd, melancholy sort of cast to his blue eyes.

“You don’t really seem like you’re all right,” you say gently.

There at last is that little half smile that you were expecting. Somehow, it’s less comforting than you thought it would be.

“There’s a certain amount of clarity that you get from an experience like that,” he says evenly. “You're forced to confront a lot of things. Choices you’ve made. People you’ve hurt.”

You think he’s referring to what happened two years ago and you try not to flinch. He can’t know that you still think about that, that you’re still hurting. That you haven’t stopped loving him, even though you’ve pretended that you have.

He pauses for another moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “In the moments when I thought I wasn’t coming back, the only thing I could think about was you.”

Air vanishes from your lungs. You’re afraid to even hope, as if even acknowledging the possibility would jinx it.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He finally looks at you and your heart creeps into your throat. “I was not entirely honest with you at Christmas.”

You realize that you’re holding your breath, but you can’t help it.

“I thought that by turning you away, I was keeping you safe,” he says. “I thought by hiding the truth, I was saving you from a lot of pain.”

Your heart is pounding. You lick your lips. If he means what you hope he means, you need to hear him say it—you can’t believe it otherwise. 

“And what is the truth, James?” Your voice wobbles just a little bit.

His gaze is locked on you, infinite as the stars. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you for years,” he says softly. “And when I thought I wasn’t coming back, all I could think about was how much I regretted not telling you.”

In the moments leading up to this, it felt as though time was slowing. This is the moment, though, where everything stops. In this moment, it’s just the two of you—Conrad with those devastating blue eyes that peer right into your soul and you with your broken heart and wounded pride.

He wanted you all this time.

You raise a shaking hand to wipe away the tear that’s somehow escaped the corner of your eye.

All this time.

“You have every right to be angry with me.” His voice is low and soft, just for you to hear. “And I understand if you need time. But I came here tonight to tell you that if you still want me, I’m yours.”

You are feeling entirely too much. You want to kiss him. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him and never let go.

All this time.

“James, I—” Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath, fighting back a sob that’s bubbling in your chest. You set your tea back down on the table. Your hands are shaking. 

“I—I don’t even know where to start. I—” Your voice catches again on that sob in your chest. You pause again to collect yourself. You open your mouth to speak and a strangled sort of laugh tumbles from your lips instead.

“God.” You wipe another stray tear from your cheek. “You’re such a fucking idiot. I mean, not just for making all those assumptions about what was best for me, but also just—” Your voice catches again and you pause. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly and there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

You take a shaky breath. “Yes and no.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “You should have asked me if safe was what I wanted, instead of just making that decision for me.”

He nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing is safe, James,” you continue. “It’s an illusion at best. You could live a perfectly dull life in the suburbs and be hit by a bus on your way to your perfectly dull job.” You pause, weighing the words that you want to say next. “I never wanted safe,” you say, your voice catching again in your throat. “I just wanted you.”

There’s a moment of quiet and Conrad looks well and truly chastened.

You take another deep breath and reach for his hand. The look that he gives you then—like he’s afraid to hope that youstill want him—is almost enough to make you abandon what you want to say next and kiss him on the spot. 

“I know what I want,” you say quietly. “I understand the risks. You don’t need to throw yourself on the sword to protect me and you certainly don’t need to make those decisions for me. I need you to understand that if this is going to work.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Okay.” You exhale. “Will you shut up and kiss me now?”

The look of relief on his face is like sunshine.

“Come here,” he says softly, pulling you into his lap, your legs framing his hips. He cups your face in his hands, looking at you like you’re something wonderful, like he can’t believe you’re his.

Then he takes a deep breath and finally closes the gap between you.

You’ve waited years for this kiss. From the early days of your friendship coalescing around late nights and stale coffee and jokes that are only funny at two o’clock in the morning to the agony of watching him leave for basic training and then Vietnam and god knows where else. This kiss was never guaranteed—and in part, that’s why it’s so good. It could have been taken from you by any number of dangers or even just Conrad’s own foolish need to protect you.

But you finally have it and it’s everything you had thought it would be.

His mouth is slow and soft against yours, his tongue moving in a gentle caress that makes you feel every year of waiting and yearning and hoping. You mourn the years lost, but you can’t help but savor how perfect it feels as a result. Your hands map the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as your tongue traces the soft line of his lips. You want to remember every part of this moment—every part of him. 

It’s a few minutes later when you part, both of you slightly breathless. You rest your forehead against his.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he says softly. His eyes are still shut.

You press your lips against his forehead. “Make it up to me, then.”

He slides a hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you back into another kiss.

You can feel the press of his growing erection against your thigh, but for now, it’s enough to just kiss him, to let your body melt against his and feel his hands in your hair, on your hips, framing your face. He makes a low, soft noise in the back of his throat when you nip at his lower lip, somewhere between a moan and a sigh and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

But the longer you kiss him, the more you want, and it slowly begins to build a far more frantic need low in your hips. His hands become bolder, sliding along the curve of your waist and hips, stroking your thighs, squeezing your ass as he pulls you ever closer. You, in turn, press yourself more firmly against him, rolling your hips against his until he makes that low groaning sound that leaves you weak.

But it’s his hand wandering up to slip that first button on your blouse that makes you pull away from him, breathless.

“Bed?” You intend it as a question, but it sounds a little more like a plea.

His smile is devilish as he undoes the second button. “I thought you’d never ask.” His gaze slides back down to your open blouse and he quickly slips the third and fourth buttons.

“I thought we were going to bed,” you say with a smirk as the final two buttons come undone.

“We are,” he says as he pulls your blouse off your shoulders. You shiver under the weight of his gaze as he stares greedily at your breasts. 

“You seem a little distracted,” you say.

“Well, I can’t very well leave a job undone,” he says, trailing a finger along the scalloped edge of your bra. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Yes, you seem deeply concerned with propriety,” you say, shooting a pointed glance at his finger.

“Very much so,” he murmurs, his fingertips caressing the curve of your breast and then skimming behind your back to unhook the clasp in one single, swift motion.

The straps slip down off your shoulders and he tugs the garment away from you.

He lets out a low groan as he looks at you, which sends a bolt of slick desire straight to your cunt. His hands cup your breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his thumbs against the sensitive skin of your nipples. You squirm slightly in his lap and he gets a devilish look in his eyes.

His mouth quickly replaces his right hand on your breast.

He’s too good with his mouth. That’s the first thought you have as his lips and tongue cover your breast. But then he catches your nipple between his teeth and gently teases and pulls at the sensitive skin until it puckers and hardens in the heat of his mouth. Your hands rake through his hair, curling into a fist when he finds a particularly good spot. You are arching into his touch, your hips rolling mindlessly against his. 

“James,” you gasp out. “Bed, please.”

He laughs quietly against your breast. You expect him to release you, but instead he moves his mouth to your right breast.

“Fuck,” you hiss as his tongue and teeth exert the same kind of blissful madness on your right breast while his hand kneads and teases the left.

You find yourself torn between begging him not to stop and begging him to take you to bed and you’re honestly not sure which one you want more. But a minute or so later, he releases you, lips curling into a smirk. 

“I think you enjoyed that impropriety,” he says, eyes sparkling with a combination of desire and laughter that leaves you dizzy. 

“You’re on thin ice, James Conrad,” you say, though you can’t hide your smile.

Desire overshadows the laughter in his expression, like the moon eclipsing the sun. “Let me take you to bed and earn my forgiveness, then,” he says.

You slide off his lap onto wobbly legs, but you don’t have to worry about it for very long because he immediately sweeps you into his arms and carries you down the hall to your bedroom.

In your room, he sets you down on your bed and divests you of your jeans with such speed and efficiency you find yourself wondering if it was part of his training.

You slide back on the unmade bed, looking up at him as he looms above you, handsome and a little dangerous in the moonlight that breaks through your curtains.

He allows himself a moment to just look at you, his gaze moving slowly up your body, drinking you in like he’ll never have enough.

Finally, he crawls onto the bed, his gaze intent and hungry, filled with purpose.

He stops at your hips, spreading your thighs wide, licking his lips as he looks you over before lowering himself to kiss the gusset of your underwear.

You can feel the hot rush of his breath against your cunt, the thin, damp fabric the only thing that separates you from the warmth of his mouth. He kisses the fabric again, his nose nudging against your clit.

“James,” you choke out.

This is all he needs tonight. His hands immediately go to your waistband and pull the fabric down and off your hips.

You both groan at the first brush of his mouth against your cunt, though the noise you make is admittedly much closer to a whimper. His tongue circles your clit slowly at first, teasing and tasting and testing until he finds the motion that makes you gasp his name.

You’d thought he was joking about earning your forgiveness, but the way he moves is as though he believes his absolution is truly on the line.

Or maybe he’s just really good at this, you think. It might not be that deep. You don’t need to overth—

Almost as though he can tell that too many of your brain cells are available for coherent thought, he slides one long index finger into you, curling and searching until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and dig your heels into the firm muscles of his back.

He’s building a warm, whirling tension in your hips, burning bright as a meteor about to strike. You grasp at the bed sheets as the rolling crescendo of sensation threatens to overwhelm you. 

His free hand snakes up to find yours clasped in the sheets. His fingers twine with yours.

Something about this little gesture of affection after all those years of wanting and hoping strikes at something deep within you. You’ve never loved anyone like you’ve loved him. You don’t know that you ever will love anyone like you love him.

And maybe it’s that thought, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but this is the moment you come completely undone.

You cry out as your back arches, pleasure rushing through you. His grip on your hand feels like the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as your whole body succumbs to the feeling. He slows the pace of his tongue to match the rolling swells of the aftershocks as they roll through you.

“James.” It’s the first coherent word you say and he draws away from your cunt reluctantly, though not before placing a soft, lingering kiss against your clit.

Before you can make a joke about how he’s overdressed, he’s sitting up and peeling that ridiculously tight shirt over his head. Your lips part as you feast your eyes on that beautiful expanse of muscle, firm and perfectly sculpted—

—and painted with a massive bruise across his ribs, brilliant and purple as a sunset.

Your post-orgasmic stupor is momentarily forgotten as you roll to your knees, crawling over to him. “You’re hurt.”

He looks confused for a moment before following the path of your gaze. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Looks a lot worse than it is.”

“The same way your broken finger was nothing?” you say, fingertips trailing to just beneath the edges of the bruise. The broken finger had happened in your last year of university during an unsanctioned game of rugby. He had insisted it was just sprained, even though it was nearly black in color. You knew better and had dragged him to the hospital, where he was informed that not only was his finger broken, but that it was so badly broken that he’d need surgery to set it. Over the years, it had evolved into your go-to example of why he needed to listen to you, the damning piece of evidence that proved he could be too stoic and hardheaded for his own good.

Privately, though, it was also your way of saying that you cared about him, that you worried that his high tolerance for pain and admittedly impressive abilities might lead to him not asking for help when he needed it.

He rolls his eyes, but his gaze is fond. “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”

“Never. You should know that by now.” You put your hands on his shoulders. Should you tell him what you feel? You hesitate for just a moment, but it’s enough for him to notice.

“What is it?” he asks.

You suck in a deep breath. “I want you to be okay with me caring about you.” Your voice is softer than you intend.

He frowns slightly and places his hands on your hips. “How do you mean?”

“Stuff like this,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise. “I know you say it’s nothing but…” You swallow. “And maybe it is but…you’ve always acted a little like my caring about you—even as a friend—was this massive liability for me.” You place your hand over the bruise. “And it’s never felt that way to me at all.”

You can’t quite read his expression. “What does it feel like?” he asks.

You move your hand over his heart, feeling the steady, even beat under your fingers. “Like you’re someone that I love and I want you to be okay,” you say softly. “Is that really so horrible?”

He runs a thumb along your jaw, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not at all,” he says.

You pause for a moment, your hand on his heart. “I just—I don’t want safe, okay? Just you. Let’s start with that.”

“Okay.” His eyes trail down your face to your lips, but he waits for you to close the gap.

You do.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you said too much too soon, if you have instead succeeded in scaring him off, but he kisses you so deeply that it immediately mutes your anxiety, blunting the cacophony of your fears into a muffled background noise that’s easy to dismiss. When your hand starts to drift toward his belt buckle, he pulls away, the desire in his eyes setting your body aflame. “On your back, my lovely,” he says softly.

You lie back on the bed, staring greedily as he finishes undressing.

He cuts a striking figure, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the curtains. Even with that wicked bruise splashed across his ribs, he still looks like something divine and he’s staring at you like you’re equally remarkable. The thought makes you shiver.

The mattress dips as he crawls back onto the bed and positions himself over your body.

The tip of his cock nudges against your stomach. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of him. He’s long and thick, big in a way that makes your toes curl in anticipation. A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest.

He leans in to kiss you as you stroke him slowly, savoring every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath. After a moment, he places his hand over yours, guiding your hand away. You angle your hips up toward him, wrapping one leg around his waist.

He presses the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt and you suck in a sharp breath. He looks at you and grins as he slowly drags his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, coating himself in your slickness.

“You’re a tease,” you say.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me,” he says, eyes glinting too much for that to be the whole truth.

“I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”

The tip of his cock slowly slips inside you and you gasp.

“Can you?” he says casually, like you’re just having a chat over drinks. He eases back out.

“What happened to the man who was going to earn his forgiveness?” you say.

He grins, pressing his cock back against your entrance. “Oh, I think you’re enjoying this.”

It’s a difficult assertion to deny, especially with the way he rocks into you slowly, each time going just a little deeper—but never quite deep enough—before drawing back. It’s not long before your hips are rocking with his, urging him deeper.

“More,” you breathe.

A smirk curls at his lips. “More?”

You don’t know that you have the words to describe the particular empty ache you feel, or the fact that you know it’s only going to be soothed by the steady, rocking thrust of his cock fully inside you. “Please,” you say instead. “Please.”

“I’ve waited too long not to savor you,” he says. He eases inside you another inch or so before pausing.

“James.” There’s desperation in your voice that you’ve never heard before, a slight whimper that makes you feel wild with need. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me, darling,” he says as he leans in to kiss you. He’s easing forward slowly, but this time, he keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You whimper, relishing the feeling of him inside you, close as you can be.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t help the way your body reacts to his praise or the soft moan that falls from your lips.

He notices. Of course he does. You feel him smirk as he kisses you and he pulls back slightly to look at you. “Do you like hearing me call you my good girl?”

You nod, but you don’t need to—your cunt flutters around him, tensing.

“Oh, I can feel how much you like that.” He lowers his voice. “My lovely, good girl.”

He slowly rocks his hips once and your breath hitches.

“So very, very good,” he purrs. “You’re taking me so well, darling. And every time I call you my good girl, you feel even better.”

You shudder again as he settles into a devastatingly slow rhythm. Maybe it’s his size or maybe he just knows his angles, but he’s hitting every sensitive place inside you in just the right way and god, you never want him to stop.

“Do you want to be very good for me?” he says in that same low voice.

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s hard to describe how much you want to please him, how much you want him to say your name in that low, deep purr of a voice and tell you that you feel incredible, that you’re doing so well for him. You want to give yourself over to him, let him claim you as his.

“If you want to be very good for me,” he continues, “you’ll come on my cock.”

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” He’s shifting his weight slightly, propping himself up on his left arm, bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers slowly roll over the throbbing bundle of nerves and you moan.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he says. “I don’t think you’re going to last very long if I keep doing this.”

You whimper something that might have been words at one point, but disintegrated into an unintelligible mess of vowels and consonants somewhere between your brain and your mouth.

“In fact,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, “maybe you’re going to be a very, very good girl and come more than once on my cock.”

You whimper, your hips rolling with his. The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock inside of you is driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” he rasps. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You can feel your orgasm building, that coil in your hips winding tighter and tighter. You nod.

“Look at me and tell me what you want,” he says.

“I—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I want to come.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“I want to come on your cock.”

“Still not quite right.”

Something like a combination of a laugh and a whine falls from your lips. “James—”

“I want to hear you say it, love. All of it.”

“Fuck—” You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge. 

“Tell me.”

“I want—” You shudder against your impending release. “I want…I want to be a good girl—and come on your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Now come for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that he made you say it out loud or because he told you to come or if it’s just a very well timed coincidence. Either way, your back is suddenly arching and your cunt is clamping down hard on his cock as you careen into an orgasm that makes your whole body tremble.

But as good as it feels, you can’t help but be captivated by Conrad—the way he slows his pace, the sound he makes. You can tell he’s struggling to stay in control and the fact that a man noted for his cool head and ruthless calm is struggling to keep his composure because of how you are making him feel is somewhere beyond incredible.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to collect himself. He looks at you as you tremble through the aftershocks, drinking you in like he can’t quite believe the wonder of what he’s seeing.

“You’re heavenly,” he says softly.

You reach for him and he leans down to kiss you, his hips still moving at that agonizingly slow pace.

“I think it’s your turn, though,” you murmur against his lips.

He draws back and that intense, hungry look is back. “My turn?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not tell me you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“I just came on your cock,” you say. “Wasn’t that the agreement?”

“I believe I said that if you were very good, you would come more than once.” He accompanies this with a sharp thrust of his hips as he lowers his lips to your ear. “And I know you want to be very good.”

Your breath is already hitching, your back arching as your legs lock around his waist. “Fuck.”

His voice has dropped again to that low growl. “Do you know how utterly incredible you feel when you come?”

His fingers are back at your clit and you whine.

“It took every ounce of my strength not to spill myself inside you the moment your sweet cunt started trembling around me.” His breath is hot on your ear and you can’t help the way that your muscles clench around him.

He groans low in your ear. “Fuck. Yes. Like that.”

His pace is still so slow and steady and that almost makes the buildup more unbearable. You don’t understand how you’re already so close, but you can feel the tide of your orgasm rising once again.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“I can feel how close you are,” he growls. “And I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

“Come for me,” you say, your voice rough with desperation.

“You first,” he says. “Then I’ll make you mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you choke out before your voice cuts off with a cry as your orgasm starts to crest. It’s just as intense as your last one—the edges of your vision go white and fuzzy and you let out a primal moan.

Conrad’s pace increases as he fucks you through it, his mouth open in a soundless gasp.

“James,” you whimper.

He lets out a low moan seconds before you feel the warmth of his release inside you.

He leans down to kiss you and it’s as though you’re both moving through molasses—every touch, every sound feels slow and sweet. He finally lets his head drop to your shoulder when his hips still. He exhales slowly, the heat of his breath warming your shoulder.

“We should have been doing this for years,” he says after a moment.

“I mean, there was a reason why I called you a fucking idiot earlier.”

He lifts his head to look at you and he’s failing to hide his smile. “I suppose that’s difficult to dispute.”

You press a kiss against his forehead. “You can keep earning my forgiveness. I certainly enjoyed this first attempt.”

“Mmm, I have several other ideas.” He kisses you softly and slowly before slowly pulling away. “But let’s get cleaned up.”

He makes you stay in bed while he fetches a wet washcloth from your bathroom and carefully cleans you up. It’s sweet and intimate in a way you don’t expect—no one’s ever done this for you before. 

He returns to bed and you curl up together, your cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a bit, mulling the question that sits on the tip of your tongue like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall and smash your easy peace to bits.

“What is it?” asks Conrad before you can summon the courage.

“Hmm?” you say, though you’re pretty sure he’s going to see through your lie.

“You’ve got something on your mind.”

You pause, wetting your lips. “How long are you in town?”

His grip on you tightens, like he understands. “For now, as long as you want me to be.”

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. He strokes your cheek.

“I’ll have another job eventually,” he says. “But not quite yet.”

“Okay,” you say.

He’s quiet for a moment. “This part of it…it’s not going to be easy.”

You hear the unspoken part of this—he’s giving you a chance to back out, to call this a one off, to keep yourself safe.

“Once again, I never said I wanted easy,” you say. “I just want you.”

He draws you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of you head. “You have me, my love,” he murmurs. “I’ve always been yours.”

--

But wait: There's more! If you enjoyed these idiots, please check out Come Back, Be Here, a quasi sequel to this.

[kiwiana-writes]

hi MJ!! for the sleepover weekend asks, i'd love some fluffy and a few hurt/comfort firstprince fic recs! and and for fmk: bea, june and nora from rwrb! okay thats it byebye ~saturday xoxo

Forgive me: I sat on this one for so long it's now officially NEXT weekend, at least in my part of the planet, so I guess answering this is also me kicking off this weekend's slumber party 😅

I'm doing FMK first, even though I need you to know this is CRUEL. Fuck Nora, marry Bea, kill June, but I am absolutely relying on Nora's smarts/Pez's cash to get her out of this situation.

Anyway:

FLUFFY FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

take me back to San Francisco by @getmehighonmagic: this has a sequel languishing in my emails for that magical future day when I'm capable of reading again but I have no doubt it'll be just as incredible as part one, which is FUCKING DIVINE. Also I just... really wanna go to San Francisco.

You love me! You love me? by anarchyat4am: How often I shoehorn a rec for this fic wherever it might be even remotely applicable is sort of a running joke by this point but I stand by it actually. This is a massive comfort fic for my trans ass.

Confidential Memorandum by @sherryvalli: this fic is so stinkin' cute I feel like I need to book a dental appointment every time I read it.

Dick, Dick, Dick (You Down) by @everwitch-magiks: do I feel a deep abiding kinship with Henry's anxiety being read as rudeness in this fic? Maybe, shut up.

Getting Clinical by @cha-melodius: Yes I'm biased because this was a gift for me, no I don't care, IT'S A FUCKING DELIGHT.

In His Wildest Dreams by @myheartalivewrites: This fic is a fucking fluffy blanket of joy.

If at first you don't succeed by @clottedcreamfudge: I am lowkey obsessed with CCF second first impressions and Alex being blissfully unaware until he's not.

HURT/COMFORT FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

a shard or two by @aeithalian: you don't read WIPs? I don't care. Read this one. I beg of you. Hands down the most criminally underrated fic in this entire fandom in my opinion. It is so, SO good. I reread it all the time in between chapters, I am hoping DESPERATELY the author will let me ficbind it when it's done, and I will scream about it from the fucking ROOFTOPS to convince y'all to read it. No cliffhangers, no relationship drama, just the meatiest post-canon deliciousness.

(but i knew you) baby, kiss it better by saintsnames: age gap my beloved, sex bloopers my beloved, two idiots in love MY BELOVED.

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie) and even though we know it isn't true by @matherines: double-reccing even though these can be read separately because HAHA OUCH MY HEART. Both of these fics just fucking flayed me alive????

you were more than just a short time by @hypnostheory: DAVID 😭😭😭😭😭😭 mind the living fuck out of the tags but FUCK this is good. Heartbreaking, but good.

Downburst by @cricketnationrise had me clutching my face from start to finish I swear to god.

So I Will Weather the Storm by @sparklepocalypse: while reading this, picture me just screaming ALEX YOU FUCKING DUMBASS at my computer the entire time and it'll be like you were right here with me the first time I read it!

The Domestication of Household Spiders by @cultofsappho: if Spider-Man Alex has no fans I am dead etc etc. This is so fucking SOFT from start to finish.

[Sleepover weekend!]

[rorywritesjunk]

Master Post

Hullo! I am Rory. I write about Buggy from One Piece and One Piece Live Action. I decided to cobble a list of things. Unless otherwise specified, the fics can be read as either Anime Buggy or Live Action Buggy. Also I really like using song lyrics as titles so that's a thing. (Also my main account is @thehohwitch)

Requests are open as of 8/16/24!

Rules: No s-xual assault, *ncest, cheating, or age big age gaps (at least within a five year difference) things like that. I primarily write F reader with Buggy but I'm happy to write male as well, as well as nonbinary and trans. I don't do descriptions unless asked. I will also write for girl Buggy, just ask!

Also, if I am not vibing with a request, I will decline it, however I will also give it up to three attempts before deciding on it.

Also, please do not message me asking me to commission you for art. It is uncomfortable. I'm a friendly person but that is a boundary I don't want crossed. Works are under the cut! (Updated 6/17/24)

For Chapter Fics, please go here! *Fics in that link feature my OCs Sunny, Cupcake, and Birdie, as well as anything that is several chapters.

For one-shots, look below the cut!

Buggy is the Ultimate Girl Dad Headcanons Headcanons pt 1 Headcanons pt 2 (More indepth) Headcanons pt 3 (More!) Lil Buggy's Big Adventure (One-shot) One Shots "Pampering Buggy" PG-13 A fic of you pampering Buggy after he has a frustrating day.

"I won’t treat you like you’re oh so typical" Soft R Buggy wakes you up to help him with his makeup and he sometimes get grabby.

"All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me" Soft R, sequel to "...oh so typical" It was Buggy’s turn to do your makeup.

"I will never ask you for anything, Except to dream sweet of me" PG-ish Look, everyone has some kind of secret. You just didn’t want Buggy to find this one out. "We’ll cry later or cry now, but baby, Heartbreak feels so good" PG-13ish Buggy messes up, there’s a fight, and he realizes how much you mean to him.

"So let’s set out to sea, love, ‘cause you are my medicine" PG-13ish Buggy has another frustrating day so you cook him some comfort food.

"I have seen no other Who compares with you" PG-13. Buggy decides you need your own ‘look’.

"best be prepared to get all that you bargained for" PG to PG-13. Buggy isn’t used to the gentle touch you give him since you joined his crew three months ago.

"there’ll be space for you always in my harmony" PG. Buggy finds out you have a hidden talent. "Home is wherever I’m with you" PG-13ish. You wanted to keep your relationship a secret but Buggy just wants you to join his crew.

"And all of my wildest dreams They just end up with you and me" PG. Richie is a pretty boy, yes he is, but so is Buggy. "I know it’s just a number but you’re the eighth wonder" R-ish. Buggy loves that you have a pair of glasses for every day of the week. "breathe the freezing crystal air, watch my baby crack a smile" G-PGish. You and Buggy agreed on exchanging just one gift for the Winter Solstice, but he’s a pirate and doesn’t follow the rules.

"Suppose I never ever let you Kiss me so sweet" PG-13ish Your healing powers are limited to one person a day but that doesn’t keep Buggy from demanding you heal him. "Dancing kisses on my cheek, it’s the wonders that I seek" PG-13 Buggy just wanted your birthday to go smoothly.

"So hold my hand, I’ll walk with you my dear" PG-13ish It’s the three year anniversary since everything changed in Buggy’s life for the worst.

"Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen" PG-13 You decide to ask Buggy an important question but he has major doubts. "Close my eyes for a while Force from the world a patient smile" PG Buggy says something he regrets to his older sister.

"I don’t blame you for being you But you can’t blame me for hating it". PG. A prank goes wrong, punishment laid out, and an accidental first kiss all in one day for Buggy. (pt 1)

"And I’m just the boy who’s had too many chances" PG. You and Buggy are finding out that becoming a teenager is absolutely terrible. (pt 2, sequel to "I don't blame you")

NSFW One Shots MDNI!

"I’m aiming for full control of this love" NC-17. Buggy has a fantasy that you decide to try involving Mihawk and Sir Crocodile.

"Like lighting when I’m swimming in the sea" R. Buggy never made time for sex until he met you well into his 30’s.

"You’re the only thing I wanna touch" NC-17. Buggy only comes up for air every so often and it’s a beautiful sight.

"You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when" NC-17. Buggy’s been a bit of a brat today and you’ve had enough. "The stroke of your fingers The scent of your lingers" NC-17. You meet Alvida and get a bit of a crush, and Buggy is a rather supportive boyfriend with that. "If my velocity starts to make you sweat Then just don’t let go" NC-17. Buggy asks to try something new and you’re onboard with it.

[crowleysgirl56]

Something that I’ve been thinking about for a good 6 months now, ever since Good Omens season 3 was green lit, and that was the three sentence description of the plot that Neil gave in his official announcement interview:

The plans for Armageddon are going wrong. Only Crowley and Aziraphale working together can hope to put it right. And they aren’t talking.

It really makes me think about the book sequel he and Terry had discussed and what was going to be included in that story.

Season 2 was thought to be that story. But then Neil confirmed after the season aired that it was in fact a bridging season that he wrote deliberately in order to get us to season 3, which would be based on the story that he and Terry plotted together in the 90’s and early 2000’s.

Neil also famously never gives anything about his stories away, always excited to tell us to ‘wait and see’. The fact we get this much of a description is quite exciting.

At first glance it doesn’t seem like anything we didn’t already know:

The plot involves Armageddon: Metatron told us as much when he mentioned the second coming at the end of season 2.

Crowley and Aziraphale need to work together: they have always done so before, so this time shouldn’t be any different.

Crowley and Aziraphale aren’t talking: very evident from where we left off.

But did you notice something else? Something hiding in plain sight? The plans are going wrong. And they hope to put it right. So what are these plans? Why are they going wrong? Who made them go wrong? What exactly does going wrong mean? What does putting them right mean? Also, notice how Neil doesn’t say Crowley and Aziraphale need to work together to stop it. Interesting choice of words right?

Now let’s think about the book sequel for a second. For a moment, let’s pretend that the TV series doesn’t exist (*shakes everyone by the shoulders* HEY, STOP SCREAMING! CALM DOWN! The show STILL exists! Just go with me for a second here, and you can go back to remembering the show in a moment! It’s OKAY! *pats everyone until the screaming subsides*). The Good Omens novel is structured with flashback sequences of Aziraphale and Crowley together over time as the story of the Anti-Christ and the Non-Ageddon unfolds. What if the three sentence description of season 3 that Neil gave was the actual tagline of the book sequel? Like, this is literally what he and Terry came up with? Something happened between Aziraphale and Crowley between the end of book 1 and the beginning of book 2, and the second book is telling us the story of the second coming, whilst at the same time providing us flashback scenes of exactly what happened between A&C? That part of the book is the mystery of why these ineffable husbands who spent the last 6000 years together were suddenly no longer talking.

Can you imagine reading that blurb and thinking “WWWHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAATTTT?”

Whether the intended sequel involved the story of a memory wiped Gabriel is up for debate. But I understand why Neil devoted an entire season to telling this story, because I don’t think there would have been room to do the second coming storyline and devote enough time to exploring the relationship breakdown at the same time in just 6 episodes.

And if my theories are correct, this is why I don’t think we will get any further flashback sequences in season 3. If we’re really lucky, maybe we’ll get a 1941 part 3 flashback, and a “what happened when they went back to Crowley’s apartment and body swapped” flashback (I’ve drafted some wildest dream posts on these, so look out for them coming in the near future). But unless they’re relevant for the plot, I think we’re out of flashbacks. This next season is likely going to be focusing specifically on the second coming, the consequences, and answering the question what does putting it right mean?!

This is obviously all opinion and conjecture and I could be completely wrong. I just like putting my thoughts down and sharing with others. So if you want to discuss comment or reblog! Let me know your theories! (And as always, please don’t tag Neil)

[swearyshera]

Thank you!

This may end up being a long, rambly post because I'm a little emotional. But bear with me.

I am so incredibly thankful for all the love you've sent this week, and it humbles me to realise how much this silly little parody blog meant to people. Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, asking, going absolutely unhinged in the tags... I read them all, and they've spurred me to keep going through 32 months, over 5000 posts, 40GB of screenshots and the wildest, most brilliant time of my life.

I'd love to thank people individually, but there's so many of you that I would inevitably miss someone out and that seems unfair! But I will say a special thank you to the She-Ra Uncut team, who I'm proud to consider some of the greatest friends I've made through this fandom, and whether we make many wonderful things, or never make anything again, I hope we can consider each other friends for life.

(Sob story time, feel free to skip!) In 2015, I had a huge breakdown. I was off work for 8 months, in hospital for a week, had therapy twice a week for a year... It was fucking awful. And though I got better, I never really felt like I had a reason to, and that I was just treading water until the darkness came back with vengeance. Then, as She-Ra ended, I made some silly posts that ended up as Etheria Nine-Nine, which led me onto what would become Sweary She-Ra. I had no idea how much this would change my life.

The response to this blog led me to write a script for a She-Ra Uncut trailer, and I loved it. I wrote more and developed a love for the craft, that I wanted to continue. It became a joy, and gave me a dream for the first time I could remember. So I kept writing, I kept learning and improving. In September 2022, I was sat in the Lowry theatre in Salford surrounded by the laughter of an audience watching a play that I wrote. That was the most incredible feeling of my life.

And I wouldn't have had that without thinking "Catra should be allowed to say fuck".

So while, it may be over (and it was pointed out to me that Sweary She-Ra ran for longer than the actual show did!), it's hopefully not the end. I'm very keen to make an audio sequel if I can, maybe several, and I'm not going to disappear into the ether. And hey, I don't know what the future will bring.

But there is a future.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you, everyone.

Alice.

(PS - Hi Crew-Ra, if you're reading this as I maybe suspect one or two of you may be. I am sorry but also not sorry, but also hire me when the strikes are over 😁. Thank you for making She-Ra, I love you!)

[basketballanonsblog]

In My Wildest Dreams (you were beautiful)

Synopsis: Some memories and dreams are better left in the past.

A/N: The sequel to save the first dance, and it was a product of listening to Wildest Dreams by T.Swift and You Were Beautiful by Day6.

Flashbacks are in italics

TW: mentions of a plane accident (and character death), but hopefully, the rest is a bit more lighthearted (okay with a smidge of angst/bittersweet moments)

Flash

"That's great! Now let's try-"

"Actually y/n, maybe you should take a break."

"But-"

"Please." The newlyweds pleaded. "Enjoy the food, loosen up on the dance floor or something. We insist."

"I guess a break wouldn't hurt."

"Fantastic! Please, enjoy the party, you're a guest too."

You partially tidied up your camera equipment, when you dropped the camera lens cap. You briskly walked to retrieve it as it rolled away, but it thankfully stopped by one of the tables.

Quickly kneeling down to pick it up, you didn't expect the hit to your eye, knocking you off balance as you were standing back up.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The pained yelp you let out caught the attention of the other occupants at the table.

You were about to complain to the woman who punched you but the words fell flat.

She was beautiful.

Yet too close as she inspected your face.

Wow.

"Huh?"

Crap.You weren't supposed to say that out loud.

"I said, ow."

Yep. Act like an idiot. That will save you from embarrassment.

She didn't buy it, but hey, at least it broke the tension.

"Come on, I'll get you some ice for your pretty face."

You didn't even have time to blush from the compliment as she dragged you away.

"Unnie?" Eun Jung's voice pulled Nayeon out of the memory.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I asked if you want to accompany me to my cousin's wedding next weekend."

She hadn't been to a wedding since-

"You can say no if you want unnie."

"I...will think about it."

"Of course."

Despite Eun Jung's reassuring smile, Nayeon still felt guilty.

-x-

"Y/n, you know I love you, but are you almost finished?"

The ten of you were having a spontaneous photoshoot by the lake.

You had been waiting until sunset for the perfect moment, the other eight members too.

"Just one last photo jagiya. For this one, I aiming to catch the expression of surprise. I'll stand behind you, and on the count of three I want you to turn around with your best surprised face."

"1..." You pulled out the ring.

"2..." You knelt down on one knee

"3..." The love of your life turned around, and it was a picture-perfect moment.

"You're awfully quiet."

Chaeyoung observed as the group were resting.

"Unnie?" Still nothing, even when she waved her hand in front of her face.

Taking advantage of the situation, Jeongyeon ran her hand under the tap and splashed a little water in Nayeon's face.

The scream she let out, signalled her return back to reality.

"Yoo Jeongyeon!"

"Sorry! You weren't responding to Chaeyoung, now spill what's on your mind."

"Eun Jung asked if I wanted to accompany her to a wedding this weekend."

"Is that so terrible?" The group leader asked.

"No, but I thought our relationship was just casual. Her bringing me as a plus one to a family member's wedding feels anything but."

"You two have been going on friendly 'dates' for a month now, and not even fifteen minutes after meeting, you made out with her."

"That was y/n in Eun Jung's body!"

Jihyo stood, diffusing the situation.

"What Jeongyeon unnie means is that your relationship has gone beyond casual. Do you like her romantically?"

"I..." think I do. "Don't know."

"Then it's time to figure it out."

-x-

Eun Jung stared at her phone. It had been two days since she asked Nayeon to the wedding but it was radio silence from her end.

"Was it too soon?" She muttered to herself.

"Nonsense!"

The poor woman nearly fainted in shock when you appeared beside her.

"Y/n?"

"In the flesh! Wait..."

"How are you here?"

"They're pretty laid back, up there. They let people wander earth on occasion, as long as they don't interfere too much with the living."

There was a pause as she processed that information.

"So you don't mind if it's my intention to court Nayeon?"

"Of course not! I do watch from above and I can see how much she likes you."

"Have you visited her?"

A flash of sadness emerged within your eyes.

"No. I don't think I should, my presence might hurt her."

Seeing Nayeon would hurt me, too.

The sound of a message coming through cut the conversation, and Eun Jung let out a sigh of relief once reading the message.

She was about to share her delight with you, but you had vanished.

-x-

After much consideration, Nayeon decided to accept the invitation.

And with three days until the wedding, she was struggling to decide in what to wear.

"As long as you don't wear white!" Eun Jung jested.

"Still struggling?" Mina peered into the room.

"Yeah." She flopped back onto her bed.

"In that case, I have a suggestion."

"Great." Mina was concerned about Nayeon's defeated tone.

"Unnie, are you okay?"

"I guess so. I feel..."

"Feel?" Mina prompted.

"Never mind." She brushed off with an obvious fake smile. "Now, show me what you had in mind."

-x-

Eun Jung grinned when Nayeon entered the living room, her hair  cascading in slight waves."

"Wow, you look great. Lilac suits you."

Her date for the evening became bashful at the compliment.

"Ditto."

"Ready to go?"

"Lead the way."

-x-

The ceremony was intimate, and ever so sweet. She kept a low profile, not wanting to steal attention away from the happy couple.

But there was a pit in Nayeon's stomach.

"Y/n and I first met at a wedding."

Everyone was enjoying the music at the reception, but the pair decided to remain seated at the table.

"Oh?"

"She was hired as the photographer and I accidentally punched her in the eye." She snorted at the memory.

"Talk about a memorable first meeting."

"Indeed. She gave me her business card since she was still on the job, but in the following weeks, we just clicked. The rest was history."

I'm sorry your story had a tragic ending.

Eun Jung thought.

"Do you want to dance?" She offered her hand to the idol, who didn't hesitate this time.

"Sure."

Nayeon was taken aback when you twirled her around the dance floor.

"I didn't know you could dance."

"What can I say? There's a lot you might not know about me." Eun Jung ended her statement with a wink.

Looking at her brought Nayeon back to the past.

"High School Musical 3, really? Aren't we a little too old for this?"

"Humour me, sweetie."

You'd never admit it, but you were enjoying the film.

"Here!" She paused the movie. "This is one of my favourite scenes."

"So you've watched this more than once."

"Shhh. Just take my hand."

Fortunately, the front room was spacious.

You fell in love all over again when she began singing.

What she didn't know was that you could carry a tune too.

"Won't you promise me." Nayeon nearly stumbled in surprise when you sang back. To her credit, she recovered from it swiftly.

"Now won't you promise me

That you'll never forget.

"We'll keep dancing."

"To keep dancing."

"Wherever we go next."

She lightly punched you once the scene finished (not without a kiss first though.)

"Why am I only discovering now that you can sing?! After nearly a year together." The idol pouted.

"What can I say? I'm just full of surprises."

"Unnie?"

The memory faded back into the present.

Nayeon buried her face into Eun Jung's shoulder, not wanting to converse anymore.

She was grateful that her partner had picked up on the silent cue. Instead, she held her ever so slightly tighter while they continued swaying.

-x-

When the night was over, they ended up before Nayeon's door.

"Thanks for inviting me today. I enjoyed myself."

"I'm glad, and if I haven't said it enough tonight, you look beautiful."

"I thought you said no one would recognise me here."

"They don't."

"Then why are they staring?"

"Because you're beautiful."

"Sweet talker."

"That's a Twice song, right?"

"Oh shut up, and kiss me."

"Gladly."

She found herself unconsciously leaning into Eun Jung, who reciprocated.

The sensation of their lips brushing together just about broke Nayeon out of her stupor.

The pressure she had been feeling over the week finally bubbled over. She took a few steps back, shaking her head. Tears starting to form.

"Nayeon?"

"I'm sorry, I can't do this."

She slammed the apartment door, leaving Eun Jung outside, confused and desperate.

"Unnie, please. I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable.

She felt the lump in her throat worsen when she hear Nayeon crying on the other side.

"Please. Can you open the door so we can talk about it?"

"Eun Jung. Please leave me alone."

She listened this time, deciding that giving her space was best.

-x-

Nayeon continued sobbing in her room.

Every moment spent with her, felt like she was betraying you.

"Damn you, y/n! Why did you have to leave me in the first place? And just when I was starting to accept this loss, you come back. I ended up back at square one."

"I apologise, and if it were possible, I'd take away your pain, my love."

At first, she assumed she was hallucinating.

Until she wiped her tears, to see you lying opposite her.

That made her sob harder.

You patiently waited until she calmed down.

"How? Why are you here, y/n?"

"To relieve you from the guilt you're feeling."

"It's difficult when I still miss you, so much."

"Do you like Eun Jung?"

"Yes. I haven't felt this way about someone else since I lost you."

"Then go for it. Don't let her slip away. You shouldn't stay hung up on me, a ghost from your past. Live, and let yourself fall in love again."

Instead of resisting, Nayeon finally let your words wash over her.

You were right.

This could be the last time you'd see her, so you etched each one of her features into your heart and mind.

"Y/n?"

"What were your last moments like?"

"I was allowed to finish my part of the job a week ahead of schedule. The flight started normal, but we got caught in a storm..."

"Attention all passengers, please fasten your seat belts immediately."

Lighting struck the wing, causing a fire. The pilots fought hard to maintain control, but it was obvious that it wasn't working, as the turbulence hit hard. The oxygen masks dropped down, but the plane wouldn't make it to a safe landing zone.

You pulled out the photo of Nayeon you kept in your wallet.

The thought of not being able to see her walk down the aisle broke you.

My darling. If I don't make it out of this, I plead that you always remember how much I love you.

"The plane just kept going down, until nothing. The last thing I thought about before I died was you."

"I was a wreck when I found out from a colleague of yours. The members were around to catch me as my knees gave in. I never stopped grieving over you, but now, I'm ready to choose happiness again."

Her eyes shut, and all you wanted to do was touch her face.

It's time to let her go, y/n.

-x-

Eun Jung laid defeated in the comfort of her bed.

Not that she rested. She was to busy kicking herself for what happened a few days ago.

You fool! Why did you have to kiss her all of a sudden?!

She trudged towards the door when there was a knock.

"Hi."

"Hey." She thought she had ruined things with the idol, but to see her standing outside her door...

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"It was insensitive of me to invite you to a wedding since it's still a sensitive subject."

"It's not your fault, I said yes despite the fact I wasn't ready."

"Regardless, I got the sense that something wasn't right but I ignored it. For that, I apologise."

"I'll only accept your apology if you let me take you out for coffee."

"Deal."

The smile Nayeon gave her, made her heart skip a beat. She knew that from now on, she wants to be a reason behind that smile.

-x-

Nayeon sat in your office, fiddling with the trinkets on your desk.

"You always did like your organised messes."

She looked up, seeing you sitting on the edge of the desk, looking at her just as you had always done.

A smile gracing your lips and your eyes full of love.

"Sitting here doesn't hurt as it did a year and a half ago."

Her phone buzzed with a text from Eun Jung.

'Happy 6 months sunshine! I'm downstairs.'

'I'll be there now 💖'

Nayeon glanced back at you, remembering your last words to her.

"Promise me you won't be afraid to find happiness."

Just like then, her eyes began to water, but they weren't tears of grief this time.

"I kept my promise. I found happiness again."

She could've sworn your smile grew when you seemingly heard that.

Making her way out, she turned back for a final look around the office; the mirage of you, gone.

"Y/n, thank you."

Even if our story was short, it was beautiful. We'll meet again in our wildest dreams.

[yetanothersparrowofthedawn]

Love Songs and Shit (Extended Masterpost)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x YN

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Fluff, Smut (honestly it varies depending on the chapter)

Wordcount: if only I knew...

Plot: YN is a popular American singer-songwriter who, on a rainy evening in 2018, crossed path with the members of Greta Van Fleet. It didn't take long for the usually detached and fiercely independent girl to experience an unfamiliar itch. As she put pen to paper, it seemed a certain long-haired guitarist had her thinking about writing love songs and shit.

Concept: Each Album is a period of YN's journey, each track is a song she wrote after a specific chapter, so basically her discography is a chronological story of her life (with Jake, mostly). I'm currently not posting chapters in chronological order, but everything is organized in chronological order on this Masterpost.

Disclaimer: All the album covers are paintings by Norwegian painter Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen I edited. So, credit to that guy.

Also some chapters may involve triggering themes, I'll add the specific trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Stay safe, besties.

(PREQUEL)Debut Album: "Remain Nameless" => NOT YET STARTED

Old Money

Seven

Blue Velvet

Lost at Sea

Bel Air

South London Forever

This is what makes us girls

Dollhouse

All-American Bitch

Hope There’s Someone

Grace

idontwannabeyouanymore

Remain Nameless

Brutal

Rabbit Heart

National Anthem

2nd Album: "Sweet Nothings" => NOT YET STARTED

The Night We Met

Ride

Lover to Lover

Body Electric

Moves

Hiding

Hope is a Dangerous thing for me to have

Love Song

Sweet nothings

3rd Album: "Let the Light In" => NOT YET STARTED

Wildest dreams

All the girls you've loved before

Cornelia street

How Big, How blue, How beautiful

Dress

Love

Always Remember Us This Way

Let the Light In

Lover

4th Album: "How to Disappear" => NOT YET STARTED

The Next Best American Record

King

Brooklyn Baby

How to Disappear

Mariners Apartment Complex

Norman Fucking Rockwell

Watercolor Eyes

Sky Full of Song

One step forward, three steps back

Out of the woods

5th Album: "The Greatest" => NOT YET STARTED

Happiness is a Butterfly

Swan song

Too Good at Goodbyes

Favorite Crime

You're Losing Me

Without You

The Greatest

6th album: "Long & Lost" => IN PROGRESS

Hits Different (coming soon..)

Now that we don’t talk

Beautiful People with Beautiful Problems

Long & Lost (coming next)

Is it over Now? (coming soon..)

All This and Heaven Too

7th Album: "St Jude" => DONE

California

Secrets from a Girl

Style

The Way I loved You

St Jude

All You Had to do Was Stay

Honeymoon

Happier than ever

8th Album: "The End of Love" => ON HIATUS

The Bomb

Prayer Factory

River

All too well

Caught

Stargirl Interlude

Getaway car

Angels like you

Various Storms and Saints

Leave my Body

Cassandra

The End of Love

9th Album: "Dream Girl Evil" => NOT YET STARTED

Carmen

A&W

Hometown Glory

Dream Girl Evil

Swimming

Restraint

Sober

Sober II

Heaven Is Here

June

God knows I tried

Never Let Me Go

(SEQUEL) 10th Album: "Margaret" => NOT YET STARTED

Morning Elvis

Girls against God

Mama who bore me

Patricia

Did you know that there's a tunnel under ocean boulevard?

Kitsungi

Back in Town

I Drink Wine

Back to December

Margaret

[writer-in-theory]

the 'magic, madness, heaven, sin' collection

summary: 16 oneshots, each based on songs from '1989' in anticipation of 1989 (taylor's version). pairing: spencer reid x reader AND steve harrington x reader category: fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort a/n: we're back at it again, folks! first we celebrated red (taylor's version), and now it's 1989's turn. i will be releasing one oneshot every week until release day. this was really fun, as 1989 has quickly become a favorite of mine. important taglist update: due to this including an update every day, i don't want to spam my normal taglist. so, i made a new taglist specifically for this collection. if you want to me tagged in the fics for this, please fill out the taglist form here.

masterlist

➼ welcome to new york (steve harrington x gn!reader, fluff) “everybody here was someone else before and you can want who you want...”

when native new yorker reader finds out their partner has never seen new york, they’re determined to show him only the best.

➼ we never go out of style (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut) “and i should just tell you to leave 'cause i know exactly where it leads...”

in which spencer has the same stop each time they have a case in los angeles.

➼ are we out of the woods? (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut, angst no happy ending) “the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color...”

they know their relationship was meant to crash and burn, but they keep falling back together.

➼ i know places (we won’t be found) (steve harrington x fem!reader, hurt/comfort) “they take their shots, but we're bulletproof...”

in which reader and steve are scrutinized by his parents and hawkins for dating, and they risk losing it all.

➼ all you had to do was stay (spencer reid x gn!reader, angst with happy ending) “why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?”

spencer has a habit of pushing people away when things get tough—reader won’t make it easy for him.

➼ shake it off (spencer reid x gn!reader, hurt/comfort) “it's like i got this music in my mind saying it's gonna be alright...”

spencer can’t stand when reporters spreads rumors about his partner in the news—they prove to him it doesn’t matter.

➼ i wish you would (steve harrington x gn!reader, angst with happy ending) “wish you knew that i miss you too much to be mad anymore...”

years after the breakup, reader realizes everything they missed.

➼ you are in love (spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff) “and for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts...”

everyone knows that spencer and reader are best friends—everyone but them knows they both want something more.

➼ bad blood (spencer reid x gn!reader, angst with happy ending) “did you think we'd be fine? still got scars on my back from your knife...”

spencer immediately said he had no feelings for cat adams, so why was he kissing her outside of your shared apartment?

➼ wildest dreams (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut, angst with hopeful ending) “say you'll see me again even if it's just pretend...”

retired fbi agent spencer meet actress reader, who he’s been assigned to protect after threats were made against her.

➼ we found wonderland (spencer reid x gn!reader, hurt/comfort) “all alone, or so it seemed but there were strangers watching, and whispers turned to talking and talking turned to screams...”

a story of an fbi agent falling in love with a senator: it’s as messy as it seems.

➼ this love is good(bad) (spencer reid x fem!reader, angst with happy ending) “these hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me...”

a sequel to ‘wildest dreams’, reader comes to terms with losing spencer and he realizes he never should have left.

➼ new romantics (steve harrington x fem!reader, smut) “every day is like a battle but every night with us is like a dream...”

she was the last person steve thought he would fall for.

➼ finally clean (steve harrington x gn!reader, hurt/comfort) “just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it...”

after the upside down is finished, you help steve heal.

➼ and i’ll write your name (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut) “it'll leave you breathless or with a nasty scar...”

to him, she’s the agent everyone told him to stay away from. to her, he’s the bad boy agent whose team has never had to follow the rules.

➼ how you get the girl (steve harrington x fem!reader, fluff) “and now you say i want you for worse or for better...”

in which the party takes matters into their own hands when you and steve won't confess your feelings for each other.

[mistresslrigtar]

Master Work List 2024

One-shots inspired by song prompts featuring various Zelinks throughout the ages.

First chapter is up! Read on AO3 This is a sequel to my modern rock star au I Belong to You. Read it here on AO3 before September 1st. Weekly updates.

Summary:

As Zelda begins her doctoral fellowship at the Ghirahim Institute, she finds its founder’s intentions toward her may extend beyond professional admiration. Meanwhile, Link is forced to step in as the frontman for his band, Hyrule Warriors, when crucial member Revali decides to go solo.

They'll face the ultimate test of their relationship when they find themselves juggling their demanding careers and being caught in the midst of a scandalous tabloid storm.

Summary:

Link is a down on his luck pirate with a bounty on his head large enough he could buy an island. He thinks his luck may have changed when the fallen King Gustaf Harkinian implores Link and his crew to rescue his daughter, Zelda, before she's forced to wed the usurper of the crown, Ganondorf Dragmire.

Link isn’t as interested in a princess, all prim, proper, and boring as he is in obtaining treasure beyond his wildest dreams. However his tune quickly changes when he sees her and decides to woo her. Too bad she thinks he’s a dirty rotten scoundrel.

Read Captain Link Araki and the Harbinger of Destiny

Summary:

A written montage of snapshot moments between Link and Zelda post-TotK, as they come to terms with the traumatic events of the Upheaval and slowly rediscover each other and their love. How many times can two people be forced to start their lives over?

Each chapter will be under 1k, so easy to read. Read Third Time's a Charm

Summary:

Link’s stride slows to a stop as he holds her gaze. “Would you care to play hide and seek with us, Princess?”

Zelda blinks down at him, feeling a flush creep from her breast to burn her cheeks. Did he just ask her if she wanted to play? No one has ever before asked her that question–either in her past life or this new one.

Read Playtime With Zelda

Summary:

When Sophie’s son was born he didn’t cry and his skin was the dusty hue of blue nightshade after it’s been hung up to dry.

Sophie was determined she’d make the most of the time she had with him and nurture his spirit as best she could. She’d instill in him the kindness and compassion that his father possessed. Tucked away in the rolling foothills of the Lanayru Mountain range, she would shield him from the harsh realities of the world outside for as long as possible.

of recipes and courage is a companion piece to my series collab with the fantastic @bahbahhh ! Read mine and then click on the the series to read hers about Zelda's mother, the Queen

Summary:

Across Time - A zelink timeline project - Tears of the Kingdom

Zelda and Link have been so busy rebuilding Hyrule they’ve hardly had any time for themselves. When they’re invited to officiate the first annual Tarrey Town hot air balloon festival, they jump at the chance, hoping for some well-deserved alone time while there. Of course, it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Read Just Our Luck

My collab piece with the amazing @zeldaelmo for ZAT!

Summary:

Across Time: A Zelink Timeline Project — Skyward Sword

Zelda sneaks away to prepare for her performance during the Wing Ceremony, hoping Link heeds her advice to practice flying with his Loftwing. Link, however... well, let's just say that's not exactly how it's going.

Read Practice for Keeps

Summary:

It's an annual tradition in Hateno for women to offer gifts of appreciation to those they care about on Sowing Day. Little does Zelda know that the gift she gives Link expresses more than platonic affection. Will she realize that perhaps he means more to her than she has dared to realize?

Read Sowing Sees of Love

Summary:

Zelda surprises Link with an unexpected birthday celebration in a hidden courtyard of the castle. Written for my birthday prompt.

Read Moonlit Interlude

Marital Bliss at its Finest Summary:

Zelda tasks Link with the daunting task of building her secret study, but all he really wants to do is take a break. Written for CJRacing.

Hyrule Warriors Dénouement of War 'zine one-shots

Trials for a Chosen Hero summary:

Unlike Princess Zelda, Impa’s not so certain Link is the Chosen Hero. She puts him through his paces to test his limits. Will he prove himself worthy enough to wear the Hero’s garb?

Unconditional Summary:

How deep is a horse’s love? Just a sweet one-shot from Epona's POV after a long day's travel.

Residents of the Wild 'zine one-shot

Champions at Play Summary:

Today, a frazzled Professor Symin does his best to be heard over the cacophony of his young students' voices. His latest lesson plan, that he thought would lead to animated discussions and speak to his students' creative sides, has proven to only incite them to heated debates. As a matter of fact, he wonders if his idea to produce a school play reenacting the defeat of Calamity Ganon will ever come to fruition, and is beginning to rue the day he ever introduced the notion to his students. 

Drabble Challenge

Summary:

A collection of short, easily digestible one-shots

Previous lists:

Master Work 2023

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Event: Leon Dompteur sequel route release

Host: @aquagirl1978

Characters: Leon & your fav troublemaker & my prince OC

Words: 2944

A/N: I had fun writing this lmfao 😂😂😂✨❣️❣️

Previous prompts: Love, dreams, Royalty

Day 4 : “Brothers: What is Leon's relationship with his brothers like? Here's your chance to explore interactions with those brothers.”

Leon had lived a life woven in shadows, a tapestry of deception where every thread was spun from the fabric of the Fourth Prince's identity. He had mastered the subtle nuances of the prince's character—his refined mannerisms, his lofty dreams, even the way he wielded kindness like a sword toward those who were labeled as his brothers. The relentless training from his 'teacher' left no room for oversight; every detail about his siblings was meticulously impressed upon him. Yet, every day proved a revelation, for each brother unveiled new facets of their personalities that he hadn’t anticipated, and somehow, this felt entirely normal.

Despite the lack of blood ties, Leon’s heart had woven itself into each of their lives. What was meant to be mere impersonation mushroomed into genuine affection. He had entrusted his very life into their hands, a testament to how deep his blind faith in them ran—even with those brothers who flitted in and out of his life. Shenanigans were a common occurrence, particularly with the Domestic faction and their devious older brother, Jin.

But never in his wildest dreams did he fathom that a mere, small escapade could lead him down an unforeseen path of intimacy with one of his brothers, intricately connected through another. It was complicated, yes, but there was a beauty in the confusion. Each day, Leon felt the thrill of discovery, unraveling the intricate tapestry of brotherhood further than he could have ever expected.

The early morning sun sliced through the corridor, casting long shadows that danced along the stone walls. Leon paused mid-stride, the sounds of rustling fabric and metal clinking against metal piercing the stillness surrounding him. Curiosity tugged at him, drawing him closer to the source of the noise. He approached with cautious steps, his heart racing as each sound echoed with a sense of mystery that was hard to ignore.

Stopping just a few feet away, his breath caught in his throat. There, before him, was the unmistakable wisteria-colored hair that he could identify from a mile away. Clavis knelt on one knee, a clasp or lock opener gripped in his hand, his golden eyes narrowing as if he were waiting for a pivotal moment. “Clavis?” Leon called out, the name spilling from his lips in disbelief.

At the sound of his brother's voice, Clavis looked up, surprise blossoming in his eyes as if he had just been caught in a criminal act. “Ah, good morning, Your Majesty,” he said, rising gracefully. The air between them shifted as he greeted Leon with a polished demeanor, almost as if the earlier moment had never happened.

Leon took a moment to size him up, his gaze drifting from his brother’s poised figure to the door Clavis had been attempting to pry open. “I usually find you up early either stirring Chevalier awake or whipping something up in the kitchen. What’s this sudden change in your morning agenda?” The hint of sarcasm in Leon's voice was unmistakable, mingling with genuine intrigue.

Clavis, ever the gentleman, merely smiled, the corners of his mouth curling knowingly. “Worry not about my morning schedule, dear brother. It hasn't shifted much—merely expanded to include a new activity before I rouse Chevalier from his deep slumber.” His eyes flickered back to the door, a glint of mischief dancing within them.

“And what exactly does this 'new activity' entail? Trying to break into Vernard’s room, perhaps?” Leon crossed his arms, the challenge evident in his stance.

Clavis feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Tsk, tsk, Your Majesty. 'Breaking in'? I assure you, I am no common thief.” The laughter in his voice was palpable, deflecting Leon's serious tone.

“Sorry, but you sure look like one,” Leon retorted, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the wall.

“Ah, you wound me deeply this early in the morning,” Clavis laughed, though his eyes sparkled with mirth.

Leon’s brow furrowed as he regarded Clavis with an uneasy seriousness. “You really think he’s gonna be cool with what you’re doing?”

Clavis raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. “Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Leon crossed his arms, his tone sharp. “This ain’t Chevalier’s room you’re waltzing into. You know Vernard has a thing about his privacy. He’s not a fan of unexpected visitors, especially not you.”

“Ah, but dear Vernard is absent at the moment,” Clavis replied, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dripping with amusement. “As odd as it may sound, doesn’t it strike you as curious that he always slips out before dawn?”

“Curiosity? Seriously?” Leon scoffed, leaning closer to the door, intent on hearing Clavis’s reasoning. “And you think you’ll find answers in his room?”

“Why not? If there’s nothing to hide, why the unyielding lock? Why shoo away the maids when they come to clean? There's clearly more to it than meets the eye,” Clavis responded, the corners of his lips quirking into a barely concealed smirk.

Leon huffed, defending the uncharacteristic behavior of their friend. “We all have our quirks. Vernard’s not the only one.” But his gaze remained fixated on the door, the tension palpable between them.

“Now, tell me, why are you still lingering here? Are you seriously trying to play the hero?” Clavis arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eye.

“I was on my way to finish my duties,” Leon shot back defensively.

“And yet, you stand here like a statue.” The grin on Clavis’s face widened as he produced a set of lock picks with practiced ease. Suddenly, a decisive ‘click’ reverberated in the air, the sound hanging between them like a dare.

“You actually did it?” Leon replied, surprise evident in his tone.

“Indeed! There’s no lock I can’t conquer,” Clavis proclaimed, puffing up with pride.

“Well, yeah, after the failed attempts in the past...” Leon mumbled, almost to himself, as Clavis slowly turned the knob, stepping inside as if he owned the place.

“I warned you.” Leon said, trailing behind Clavis, his tone half-jokey, half-accusatory as they stood on the threshold of Vernard's room. The air around them was thick with silence, both men taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere.

“They say a room reflects its owner’s personality, but this? This is excessive,” Clavis remarked, his voice laced with disbelief as he took his first step into the chaotic expanse. The room was a curious confluence of spaces, revealing itself like an intricate puzzle. A desk anchored the center, its polished surface aglow under the light of the window that offered an exquisite view of the palace garden. To the left loomed a large closet, and beside it, a lavish bed flanked by elegant nightstands. Every inch of the walls was adorned with paintings, while shelves overflowed with antiques vying for attention amid the stacks of books.

“Is Vernard really into all this stuff?” Leon asked, his gaze falling on a particularly ornate piece resting on a shelf.

“Intriguing, wouldn’t you say?” Clavis replied, gliding around the room like a connoisseur at an art exhibit. “Aren’t you coming in?” He gestured for Leon to join him, yet Leon lingered at the doorway, a contemplative frown etched on his face. It struck him as odd; this was the first time in ages he had seen Vernard’s space laid out like this. They had been raised together, or so his ‘teacher’ claimed, yet there had been no mention of Vernard’s peculiar tastes—at least not in the way that he spoke of the other siblings.

“Satisfy your curiosity and step inside,” Clavis urged, his tone light yet insistent.

“Why should I?” Leon shot back, crossing his arms defensively.

“Don’t you want to delve deeper into dear Vernard's world? After all, you are his closest brother.” Clavis flashed a knowing smile.

A hint of bitterness washed over Leon at the reminder. It was true; once, a bond had flourished between them before they turned six. Now, it felt more like Vernard cherished ‘Leon the Fourth Prince’ rather than the person standing here now.

“That doesn’t give me a free pass to invade his privacy,” Leon protested, desperately seeking to deflect Clavis’s probing nature.

“Oh, come now! If he knew it was you stepping in, he wouldn’t mind at all. Quite the opposite, I daresay! If he knew I was with you, he’d probably be grateful,” Clavis replied, a teasing glint in his eye. “dear Vernard understands the love we share, and that bond extends to what we cherish about him.”

Leon chuckled lightly at Clavis's gall, but the urgency lingered in the air. “That does make some twisted sense,” he admitted begrudgingly, though the idea of snooping still sat uncomfortably with him.

“Why do you insist on saying ‘we’?” Leon questioned, a smile creeping to his lips.

“Because, my dear king, it seems you have unwittingly become my partner in this little endeavor.” Clavis’s smirk was all too predatory.

Leon sighed, already anticipating where this was leading. “That’s precisely what I feared you’d say.”

“Think it through, Leon. You could have easily walked away, pretending you never laid eyes on any of this,” Clavis said slyly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I was trying to stop you,” Leon shot back, the determination in his voice tinged with frustration.

“And you failed.” Clavis’s grin was infuriatingly triumphant.

With a resigned exhale, Leon’s gaze drifted around the room until something caught his eye near Vernard's bedside. Before he could fully process his actions, he wandered toward the nightstand, completely unaware of Clavis’s stifled laughter echoing in the background.

There on the table lay a small notebook, deceptively ordinary at first glance. Yet, something drew Leon toward it, a magnetic curiosity that ignited memories from his childhood. As he picked it up, he recalled how Vernard used to carry that notebook with him everywhere, much like a child clinging to a beloved stuffed bear. The contents of that cherished item had always piqued Leon's interest, an endless source of speculation about what secrets it might hold. Just as his fingers brushed over the cover, a loud laugh erupted behind him.

“Would you like to look at this?” Clavis interrupted with mock astonishment, waving his hand dramatically. Leon turned, surprised, but his intrigue deepened when he saw Clavis rummaging through Vernard's desk. “Look at this!” Clavis exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out a stack of letters. “And here I thought dear Vernard discarded them every time I handed him one!”

Leon leaned closer, his eyes scanning the squiggly lines on the paper. “What’s this gibberish? I can barely make sense of it,” he muttered, recognizing the impossible ‘Lelouchian language’—a script that defied understanding, even for its creator, Clavis.

“I may not decipher them, but I can guess their main content,” Leon teased, glancing sideways at Clavis. “Is it what I think it is?”

Clavis puffed out his chest, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Ah, so Vernard is finally considering my proposition! A new member for our faction will soon emerge, I swear it.”

Leon shot him a skeptical look. “And you think a stack of letters means he’s on board with your crazy scheme? You know Vernard despises factions, right? He’s not gonna just change his mind because you keep pestering him.”

Clavis waved a dismissive hand, brimming with confidence. “And what if he’s secretly been toying with the idea? You underestimate him.”

Leon shook his head, chuckling. “You truly live in your own world, Clavis. A world where you picture Vernard happily joining your little faction just because of a few letters.”

Clavis's eyes sparkled mischievously. “Imagine the joy on his face when he realizes I’m doing this for him, not just for my own ambitions.” He paused, then changed the subject. “And what about you? Found anything to sate your curiosity, or are you too busy being boring?”

Leon’s gaze drifted back to the little notebook, his yearning knowledge unyielding. “You’re really no fun, you know?” Clavis teased, forcing a grin.

“I don’t have to be your idea of fun,” Leon retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Hah! Now I see where Vernard picks up that dry wit. Must run in the family.” Clavis laughed, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Vernard would probably kill you if he knew you said that,” Leon smirked, reveling in the banter.

“And he wouldn’t have the heart to take out his brother, would he?” Clavis replied, confident.

“Yeah? And what if he did? Would your impression of dear Vernard change?”

An abrupt silence enveloped them, the cheerful chirping of birds cutting through the tension. Both men turned toward the door, where Vernard stood, arms crossed over his chest. His jade eyes bore into them, cold yet perceptive. To an outsider, he seemed unfazed by their chatter, but Leon knew the storm brewing beneath that icy facade. If anyone compared him to Chevalier at that moment, it would be the ultimate mistake.

“Good morning, dear Vernard,” Clavis said, his signature smile adorning his face. However, Vernard’s expression remained impassive, a mask of indifference.

“They say curiosity kills the cat, but it seems this time curiosity might just leave two cats in peril,” Vernard replied, his tone as flat as his expression.

A look of confusion overtook Clavis and Leon, their brows furrowing together in unison.

“That was supposed to be a joke,” Vernard muttered under his breath, his disappointment palpable. “And yet, here we are, with Chevalier seemingly slumbering the day away—a rare occurrence, and you know who bears the blame.”

“Oh, damn it,” Clavis remarked sorrowfully, though the smile still lingered on his lips. It was clear one of them would soon be buried under a mountain of tasks, robbed of any chance for respite. Vernard stepped towards the door, pulling it open just enough for one of them to slip through.

“Just so we’re clear, I didn’t orchestrate this all by myself,” Clavis said, giving Leon a playful nudge in the side.

“Seriously? Now I’m getting dragged into this?” Leon protested dramatically, but Clavis merely brushed it aside.

“Good luck,” he declared, exiting the room and leaving Leon and Vernard behind in an enveloping silence.

After a lingering pause, Leon finally broke the quiet, “I tried to stop him, you know.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” Vernard replied sharply, a cold edge to his tone as he meandered to the table by the bed, shoving a notebook hastily into the drawer. “But I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“Don’t you care that we barged into your personal space?” Leon questioned, his voice laced with incredulity.

Vernard shot him a sidelong glance. “Not in the slightest. After all, I’m the one who implicitly permitted this intrusion.”

Leon blinked a few times, struggling to unpack Vernard’s words. “Wait, what?”

“If you want to rid yourself of an intrusive presence, give them what they crave or merely feign to give them what they desire,” Vernard explained cryptically, not entirely revealing what he intended.

“The letters…” Leon recalled the strange correspondence they had found together, his eyes narrowing in understanding. “Sure, they look like nonsense, but they must hold value for the writer.”

“Precisely,” Vernard said, his voice dipping into further ambiguity.

Leon’s mind raced, piecing it together. “You kept them on purpose, didn’t you? To make them irresistible for Clavis to discover here.”

A faint smile crossed Vernard’s lips. “Do you genuinely think he would have managed to unlock my door—the one lock in the palace he couldn’t crack?”

“You loosened it.” Leon exclaimed.

A resigned sigh escaped Vernard. “It'll need a change after this debacle, but it was worth the effort. I find it quite delightful, actually.” Their exchanged smiles hinted at an unspoken camaraderie.

“So, you’re not mad then?” Leon pressed, a hint of incredulity still in his voice.

“No, I handed him the chance on a silver platter... well, not entirely.” Vernard chuckled lightly, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Heh, you planned all this? Is that the intuition you keep raving about?” Leon teased, a playful glint in his eye.

Vernard smirked, “Good thing you caught on quicker than Jin with all his ‘seeing the future’ nonsense.” He chuckled, the sound laced with a hint of affection.

Leon’s expression shifted, leaning in with a hopeful tone, “So you ain’t mad at me, right?”

Vernard’s gaze was steady, his reply measured. “No. More surprised than angry, to be honest. It’s been ages since you’ve graced this room.”

The words stung a little; Leon knew the truth in them. “You’re right,” he conceded, the weight of nostalgia settling in. It had indeed been years since they last shared this space, the memories tugging at the corners of his heart.

As Clavis often noted, Vernard was meticulous—he entered his room and secured the door, an act that spoke of his desire for privacy. But Leon’s presence was a reminder of the passage of time, a thread that seemed to bind them together through the years apart.

“Since you’re here," Vernard said, cutting through Leon's reverie. He opened a drawer, retrieving a worn notebook and waving it in the air, “want to see what’s written in here?”

Leon blinked in surprise, a spark of curiosity lighting his features. “How did you know I was curious about that?” he started, but his question trailed off.

Vernard shrugged, a knowing smile gracing his lips. “You’re Leon. Reading you is like a walk in the park.”

Despite the indifferent tone, Leon couldn’t help but smile back, his heart warming at the sight of Vernard’s genuine expression. It wasn’t just about the notebook—this was Vernard reaching out, wanting to share pieces of his world, and that connection felt electric.

Fin ❤️✨

[the-star-knight]

THE STAR KNIGHT Is a Disney+ Original sequel series to RAPUNZEL’S TANGLED ADVENTURE

JK, jk, in my wildest dreams lol. This is what I always thought how my series would go, three seasons and it would be a Disney plus original series. I’ve always wanted to create a Disney Plus series mock up for my series. Swipe to see bonus old art from my first attempt years ago. The urge to be a show creator is so real. Disney hit me up