#they did say it would take a while to make a new messenger

[flecks-of-stardust]

shaking sig like a dog toy

[notreallythatlost]

I BLEED THE SAME

➴ annatar/sauron x female!elf!reader

PART ONE

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, angst, unprotected sex, p in v, slight biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

inspired by: this song

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 notreallythatlost

[skyahri]

Robes |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Your relationship with Zuko and how your friends found out.

Warnings: Implied intamacy???? Bed sharing. Kissing.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You were well acquainted with the Gaang. You'd served as a sort of double agent for them during the war once Zuko had teamed up with them. He knew they'd need some inside information, so he contacted you, knowing full well your ideals did not align with the fire nation.

You're the daughter of the prestigious Admiral Zhou, a ruthless military head who wouldn't hesitate to turn you in if he found out you were leaking information to the enemy.

It was easy to keep them updated. Your father had an ego the size of the moon, always going on and on about his achievements and new findings and whatnot. He was never home for long, leaving you in your mother's care and making it easy to sneak away. You mostly sent messenger Hawks, but once they'd infiltrated the fire nation you met in person.

You mostly met with Zuko, but occasionally, Sokka or Aang would take his place. You didn't mind. It was nice seeing more of the people you were risking your life for.

After the war, once Zuko took over as Fire Lord, he invited you to be a part of his cabinet. You weren't sure why, seeing as how the other members have some sort of military or consulting experience, and you're just a teenager who sent letters.

Strategy meetings were weekly, so you saw Zuko more often than any of the others. They visited when they could, but with the long list of air temple repairs, it was difficult to make time.

Not that you minded. You loved spending time with him, with or without the rest of the entourage.

Zuko was always accommodating to you, even going as far as to offer you a room in the palace 'if you ever need it.' He'd had the room fully furnished and closet stocked with spare outfits.

Occasionally, if meetings ran long, you'd stay in said room. It was a luxury the other members weren't granted, and honestly, it made you feel special.

When all the immediate post-war issues finally calmed down and Zuko had more free time, he always asked you to stick around or come keep him company.

He's the fire lord. He can't easily leave the palace, especially to do regular teenager things like laze around the shops or sneak into theaters, so you were limited to what the palace could offer.

You'd taken to gardening with him, something Zuko found very alluring. You played board games, baked pastries, and anything else you two could come up with.

Before long, you found yourself spending most of your time with him on the property. Occasional sleepovers quickly become several times a week. It wasn't long before you basically lived there, so you bit the bullet and brought the rest of your stuff to the palace.

Within a few months, you shared a kiss near the pond in the garden. Things slowly escalated over the next year or so. That first nervous kiss became the norm. You shared dinners and late night talks, often going so far into the night you'd just crash in his bed.

Before long, your room became obsolete. Your bed was hardly ever touched, your clothes were in his closet, items in his drawers, and toiletries in his restroom.

You'd heard the staff gossip from time to time, which you didn't necessarily mind, but it definitely made you blush. It felt like getting caught despite doing nothing wrong.

For a while, Katara would tease you mercilessly. She didn't know anything, or at least didn't lead you to believe she did. She just liked the idea of everyone finding someone, and you were the only girl Zuko ever talked to.

You went out of your way to cover up the obvious aspects of your relationship when your friends were around. You agreed early on to keep things under wraps, not wanting to harm the groups dynamic if things didn't work out.

But that was almost a year and half ago, and now it felt wrong to say anything. Like you had betrayed their trust somehow. You felt bad for lying to your friends about what was going on, but honestly, neither of you could bring yourself to admit the two of you had been dishonest for so long.

You woke up and patted the bed beside you. It was still warm, but Zuko wasn't there. You got up and picked up a robe off the floor to cover your nightwear. It was unlike him to leave without even waking you, so you'd go see what he was up to.

You exited his quarters and immediately saw the entire Gaang. They just stared at you in shock, having a hard time piecing things together.

"Did you just come out of Zuko's room?" Sokka asked.

"You saw me, didn't you?"

"Are those his clothes?" Katara asked.

You glanced down. They were, in fact, his clothes. You just stared at her, refusing to answer. Of course, Katara would notice they were his specifically and not just standard robes.

Zuko dragged his hand down his face. Of course, this is how they'd find out. Not after a long, thought-out conversation over a planned dinner or outing. They had to see you walk out of his room compromised after an impromptu visit.

They hastled you two for the rest of the day, asking horrifically personal questions and guilt tripping you into answering them. They bothered you for information about your intimate lives and dating preferences.

Late into the night, when the fire and excitement died down, Katara and Toph cornered you about the secrecy. You were huddled up in your room for a girls only sleepover when they decided to attack, giving you no choice but to be completely honest.

"We kept it quiet in case things didn't work out. Then some time passed... and we started feeling guilty about hiding it, and we just never found the right time."

"There didn't have to be a right time. Were your friends, not your subjects."

"I know. There's just a lot of pressure when you're with a friend who also happens to be the Fire Lord."

Luckily, you have amazing friends who understand people make mistakes. They squashed your anxiety about the whole thing, making sure you knew they weren't mad or disappointed.

But that absolutely did not stop them from holding over your heads for the unforeseeable future.

[comfortless]

Dungeoneer!König and his gf... I mean, traveling companion

but really this is how most of their practicing plays out. 😵‍💫

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. sliiiight dubcon, breathplay?, masochism (without real injury), masturbation, oral (m receiving), absolutely unhinged “flirting”.

König knows his way around a blade. From the delicate daggers that thieves pluck from cloaks when the chance to strike is opportune, to the curved, dainty shashkas. His favorite would always be the doppelhänder, long things that strike fear into any man who sees it swung toward him. It’s why he chose to pay good money for one now, tossed a sack of gold at the blacksmith’s feet and demanded to have an exceptional blade crafted for him within a fortnight or so.

He really can’t afford to be too choosy nowadays: he doesn’t live on his own anymore. Before, his course was decided by tattered parchment pinned to whichever acceptable sliver of wood a wandering messenger could find. Now, it’s dictated entirely by the little knight who parades around like the finest tease in all the land. Even the world, he would gamble.

She whispers molten sugar into his ear on nights she’s drunk, lonely or especially sympathetic. Perhaps all three. She climbs into his bed: a tattered, linen sheet on the rough, cold ground most nights. Sometimes, it’s softer, a feather-stuffed mattress at an inn. Those always reeked of sin. Something carnal right where a couple must have lain together only a night prior, yet to be drowned out and washed away in the streams by some hapless innkeeper. It’s all went to his head, more than a little.

The lady knight sits across from him, tapping the rim of her mug of ale with such disinterest on her face that it’s König who feels sympathetic now.

She chose this tawdry place. Chose to don some silly armor and pretend it’s taking her to kneel in service to the King. The jobs never dwindle, but the motivation does. She never knows what she truly needs, but König always seems to.

“You want to fight? Me?,” she asks, to the wooden table rather than to him. Sluggish and gloomy with her own disappointment in this place, her own perceived shortcomings, something that he can’t fix. The King should have his head on a spear for not giving her everything she’s ever asked for, woman and benevolent thief or not.

“It has been a while, hm?”

She nods once, curls her mouth into a subtle smile that sends his heart swooping and something stirring down below.

“I suppose I’ve gotten comfortable.”

He knows well enough that he can make her less so, always seemed to with his groping and hovering. Even if she’s fed into it, a moth to flame, he’s never seen her bed anyone this entire aimless journey. It’s the rush of adrenaline that sends fire into her belly, makes her eyes shine and her legs tremble each time, never the flirtations.

König’s yet to win a bet, but this time he would wager that playing nice won’t grant him a thing. It never has with what’s dwelling in each dark corner of the kingdom’s underbelly, and it never has with her.

So when the sparring begins this time, it’s real.

The look of shock and betrayal comes immediate when she’s easily knocked back, her blade landing in the grass at her side.

“Again.” And again, and again, she says it as though the exhaustion isn’t already evident in the way her breathing grows heavy. Each time it’s the same, because the only thing he holds back from is severely wounding her. Even if he could, even if he knows roughing her up a bit is just how this should go.

“You are tired,” he observes, cocking his head to the side as she scrambles to search for her sword beneath the dim light of the moon. “Do you need a break, little knight?”

The look she shoots him is something akin to scandalized. König’s never been the one to taunt her like this. It’s new and tentative, and he prays it’s something she likes. The dresses and sparkling gifts from the dungeons did fuck all for any sort of progression, and by the end of the night she would know how dull all of this has become to him, too.

“I am not—“ A parry, a feint, a jab that lands on the air rather than striking true. Not enough. “I’m fine.”

It’s never been in this impromptu plan to shove her down, but that’s what happens when she doesn’t take it seriously. She moves towards him again. Steel clatters against steel, sinks forgotten into the grass. With a hand adhered to the back of her thigh and another at curve of her back, he drops her down too. No briny sweat clings to his temple, all of this is more simple than even the training he had as boy.

She doesn’t even kick at him, docile as any doe when she makes the assumption that all of this is playing pretend. Just another game: he’s less fit to be a monster than even the weak things dwelling in the dark in her eyes.

“I do not want your mercy,” he growls against her neck, weaves his fingers into her hair and tugs her head to the side. Just a little. Just enough. “Be sincere. Hurt me.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice is a mere peep, lost to the wind that whips by and tousles all but the man affixed to her.

Explanations have never come easy for König. Not with words, not even with letters. He’s killed men without telling why, left wandering ghosts and their wives bereaved time and time again. It’s not something worthy of an answer, nor a thing he ever thought she would even ask. It’s never questions with her: only orders. Even a tamed horse can lash out, kick its master right off to trample if it sees fit. König is no different.

He licks a stripe up her throat, relishes in the way her breath catches and her hands rise to dig nails into his arms. His teeth catch right along her jaw, inhales against her cheek, and when she grows tense below him, claws her way down to his forearms, he knows she’s finally well aware of how this ends.

His hands study the expanse of her body, fisting the linen of her tunic upward to reveal all soft flesh and no more tricks. There’s an aching bruise on her neck, chest, below her ribs before the knight finally presses her palm to his forehead and kicks a rib to wind herself away.

“You’re so…” The word she searches for dies on her tongue when she scrambles over him, feels how greedy he truly is when his hips tilt skyward and the throbbing erection presses against her rear.

“Stupid, hm? Say it.”

She curls a hand around his throat and squeezes, her eyelids sinking to shield the dazed glimmer there as he slips a hand into the front of her trousers. A callused thumb brushes over her clit before drifting further, down where he realizes that he’s found a new treasure. She’s already wet.

“You are. Big fool. Brute..,” she grits out, delivers another blessed press of her hand. All another feint, because she remains stationed above him. Even mimicking the groan that rattles his throat beneath her palm with a sigh of her own. “I could kill you. You know that I…”

The knight dips her head to press against his chest as he spears a thick finger into her, and a greed surges through him at this sudden compliance. Poor thing is so winded that she does little else than blanket him and shiver whilst he grins as though he’s devil-possessed or the luckiest filth in the world. The thought of her fitting any cock- let alone his- seems unimaginable, so obscenely tight as she squeezes around one digit that it pulls even an appreciative grunt from him.

“You could try it.”

Her fingers dig into the skin at his neck, and none of it is enough. She’s so gentle with him, because maybe she even believes that she could. Killing wild men without masters or loyalties, just like the men in the stories she fancies. König guides a hand up to help her, presses down around his throat with more ferocity as she lifts her head and stares down at him like he’s truly gone mad.

“You want a leash..?,” she huffs, pretends she isn’t leaking onto his hand.

“Only if this—“ Another finger, a deliberate curl of both as they press to something soft deep inside of her. Something that makes her whimper rather than bark. “—is holding it.”

She only looks at him, sulky and humiliated when she’s pleasured, stumbles over some other mumbled insult as her back begins a slow arch. He guides his hand back to her thigh, pets along her softness and watches her with such adoration, a pleased purr rumbling in his chest.

“Look at you… cute thing.”

“Not a thing.” Her hissing only further goads him, because she does nothing to pull away, can hardly meet his eyes even with fire and hatred on her tongue.

“Ja… meine dame, is that right?”

Her breath catches as she grinds herself where she’s been impaled, legs trembling as his thumb brushes over the bud in repetition. It’s too soon, but he allows her to have her rapture, gaze drifting from her hair to the curve of a hip as her cunt gives a greedy pulse. All armor is shredded and ripped away, no defenses, catapults or blades, all are exchanged for soft cries and a burning ache. The hurried breaths she takes come almost stilted as she gives his fingers another generous squeeze, and he only feeds them into her with unhurried hunger.

“I want to feel it,” he huffs into her hair, savors the way she tightens the grip around his throat until his voice fetters to a whisper. “Just once, please.”

“No… not..,” is all she manages before the wave reaches the shoreline and she unravels over him. He feels the walls of her cunt throb as her head ascends to his shoulder, burying herself there in shame or bliss. The orgasm is soon but drawn out, some pent up need finally freed to open air, the very same longing that remains prevalent and urging inside of him. He fucks her through it with a bitter fervor, spearing and scissoring the fingers inside until her thigh draws up from around him and she detaches entirely to sit up at his side.

König is quick to rise before her, already untying the laces of what keeps him from the hope of sharing that same rapture she must have felt. The little knight only stares up at him with perplexed curiosity as his cock springs free, thick and long and angry after so many long months of suffering a callused fist or neglect. The tip drags over the seam of her lips as he takes the base of it into his palm, and the drooling maw above her only groans at the barest sensation.

“I will bite it off,” she declares, follows it up with a charming grin as though she hadn’t bruised him deeply hundreds of times prior to this.

“Ja, after… I don’t care.” And of course he does, but this is the closest he’s gotten to anything and he would be a fool not to take it, teeth or not.

She swallows pensively, then rolls her tongue over the slit of the enraged weapon in her face. Beads of salt aren’t fitting for a woman’s tongue, he knows, feels horribly dirty and miserable at the sight for a mere second before she takes him in earnest. Her lips wrap around him, send sparks of the purest euphoria through him.

“Is this how to shut you up, meine dame?”

Everything is gilded gates and ethereal meadows, the only damnation he suffers is the fact that he can’t move without bruising her: too big to feed himself down her throat, too untamed to hold himself steady should she ever allow it. He settles for her pace, watches in wonder as she allows half of him to reach into the warmth of her throat. The panting beast above her curls his hands into fists at his sides, certain that touching her would be the end of this boon of fortune.

Her tongue flicks over the weeping tip each time she draws back, hands grasping at his thighs to keep herself upright. Even when her teeth graze over the sensitive flesh, the cock in her mouth only twitches in agonized bliss. He melts before her, trembling in such pleasured fury that his nails threaten to break through the hardened skin of his palms.

“Ha… I need to… I’m going to come.” Only then does he reach for the back of her neck, forcing her in place to bear the taste of what’s to come. She doesn’t fight it, gazes up with a furrowed brow and delivers the gentlest bite along him. A warning or a dare. “Next time will be… fuck…”

Her titan crumbles before her as though wounded, can’t keep his hands in place then as he grasps at her face and his body grows taut. His hips press forward only to stutter as he tries in earnest to keep himself somewhat contained. She gags quietly when the thick ropes of seed meet the end of her, abrupt but as endless as the broken, pitiful noises that rise from his chest then. It’s miraculous how she swallows it all, bitter and hot as it spills in generous spurts.

It’s he who pulls back, giving the cock already softening a few more pulls before collapsing in front of her with acute love tucked away behind the glassy blue of his eyes. His little knight could feign indifference all she liked, but even those pretty tavern wenches and noble pricks she bats her lashes at could never have had a taste of what had just occurred here.

She wipes away spit and come with the back of her hand, tries her best to shoot him a look of disgust, but König does not miss the way that her eyes seem to twinkle in the same way his do now.

“I want to taste you, too,” he rasps, chest still rising and falling with rushed intakes of air. Even after he can’t keep himself from ruining any bit of sanctity or sanity within reach. Punctuates his statement by reaching toward her again, only to be pulled into the comfort of an awkwardly positioned embrace. His face lands against her breasts, and though he languidly runs a hand up her back, the other takes a tit. He toys with her in his palm, brushes a thumb over her nipple and rises up to kiss her cheek, silent pleas.

“You’ve had enough fun,” she answers, pulling his hand away with their fingers intertwined.

“You have more than just a mouth.” He flashes her the biggest, wettest puppy eyes he can manage. That may get him a scrap from her plate, but it’s worth nothing here. “I would make a good vater, yes?”

[sofiareidings]

Coffee Runs

Summary: The guy who's been coming to the cafe you work at finally asked why you've never called him by his name.

A/N: I'm sorry this story is so late, especially since I missed Monday's post. School has been so busy this week and I've also had a bunch if extracurricular lately. I'll try and be more on time from now on (Don't hold me to that) Also! I got the idea for this one shot from @hanllo-kitty

Word Count: 0.8k

Song Suggestions: Invisible String - Taylor Swift

It was a good job, a great job really. The cafe was in a nicer part of town and people would subconsciously give nice tips so your pay was good. Rarely were customers terrible. Most people that came in were students or really busy people rushing in and going.

There were a few regulars. Like Joe, Joe was an eighty year old man who came in everyday for a coffee and a sandwich. While he waited he would talk about the lotto numbers and how his kids were doing. There was also Lola, she was a journalist who spent most of her day sitting in the corner of the cafe while refilling the same cup until closing.

But there was only one regular you would think about while getting ready for work.

Come on, I don't know his name. Don't shoot the messenger.

He'd been coming in for the past three months almost everyday, right after the cafe opened for a coffee. He always looked a little tired and acted like it too. He barely made conversation and normally shuffled out of the store in the same fashion as the other overworked people; quickly.

You hadn't learned his name yet. He always seemed to forget to say it when you asked, which resulted in you making up something.

"Guy with the sweater vest!"

"Guy in the purple!"

"Guy with the scarf!"

You get the point.

He was your favourite regular because of his looks. God, even when he was incredibly sleep deprived he looked beautiful. He had brown hair that fell just below his sharp jaw. Brown eyes that always happened to be in the light from the cafe window, making the small gold flakes in his eyes shine. He was normally dressed in a sweater vest and neutral pants, he probably worked at some type of office. The one part of him that stood out in his outfits were his converse, odd for the rest of his outfit. You could've sworn a few times you saw brightly coloured mismatched socks.

***

The sound of the cafe bell echoed through the nearly empty shop, having only opened half an hour ago. Smiling in the direction of the person walking in you quickly noticed it was 'Guy with *whatever he had on*" who came in. Something was different, he had thick glasses on. That was new.

"Hey, just the regular coffee and donut?" You put the order into the computer, looking back up at him. Taking in the new look.

"Yeah, thanks." His lips creased into a line, you called it a tired smile, the same one he made everyday. He handed over his money and poured the change into the tip jar then stepped back to wait for his order.

A couple minutes later you came back to the counter with his order. "Guy with the glasses!"

He did his usual, smiled and grabbed his order saying bye. But just when he reached the threshold of the door he paused and turned. "Why do you do that?"

Having already turned around you paused, this was the first time he'd talked to you in a clear voice. You weren't really sure what he meant. "Do what? Did I get your order wrong?"

He cleared his throat and seemed a little frustrated. "You never say my name, you just call me guy with something. Is it just to annoy me?"

"What? No, you've just never told me your name." Laughing a little, realising the misunderstanding.

"I didn't?" His face changed to confusion, "Oh my gosh, I didn't." He realised his mistake then his face flushed a shade of red.

"Don't worry, it's okay. Guy with the glasses." You laughed, looking around the cafe for a minute, strange it was still pretty empty.

"I am so sorry, I thought I told you and you just wanted to annoy me. I feel like a jerk, you seem so nice." Genuinely sorry he apologised profusely. "Can I make it up to you?"

Deciding to take the chance, you'd been daydreaming about this guy for months. "Well, maybe you could take me on a date." A little shocked by your own boldness, your face went up like twelve degrees.

"Uh, yeah…" He trailed off, clearly flustered. "Yeah, I would really like that."

"Well then, it's a date." You beamed, internally jumping up and down out of excitement. Since when were you so forward? He made that smile he made everyday before turning towards the door again.

That's when you realised.

"Wait!" You shouted, louder than you expected. Causing your coworker to drop a cup. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Spencer. I'll make sure to be back tomorrow." He nodded again and chuckled lightly before finally walking through the door.

God could tomorrow morning come any quicker.

[feyhunter78]

I’m sorry I never ask for writing requests but your Elrond fics have stolen my heart. I was wondering if you could write about him and a reader who had been through some trials (bad parents preferably but whatever you’d like is good) and he talks about how brave she is? Like how he loves her because of it? And possibly some sweet smut if you could? If not that’s all good, I love love your writings!

So my requests areeee closed, but I do have a soft spot for Elrond and comforting people, so I thought I'd make an exception, there is no smut though I didn't feel like it would flow naturally

Courage and Comfort

It is strange the bonds that bind, the joys, and sorrows that collectively inhabit and pass down a family line, tainting one, honoring the other. An endless cycle of shared traits and habits, a history that one cannot blot out no matter how hard they endeavor to, and Valar knows you have endeavored for years upon years to cleanse yourself, to rewrite the past. But you can no more do that than the sun can refuse to rise in the morn.

Though when you hear news that your parents were in Lindon, to visit your sister, you feel as if the sun has refused to rise, darkness overwhelming you, choking you. The news is delivered by a young elf, who looks appropriately concerned when the scrolls you are holding clatter to the ground, stooping low to retrieve them for you. You take them gratefully and dismiss him, your feet taking you away from your previously chosen path, and back to your shared chambers with Elrond.

But fate did not favor you, and you passed by your parents in the gardens. You kept your head held high as you made brief conversation with them, moving about as if it had not taken all your strength, until you were blessedly at the door to your chambers, scrolls clutched tightly to your chest.

Elrond, your sweet husband who no doubt will be buried in his work with the High King, you do not wish to bother him with your fear, your sorrow. He has spent so very long comforting you, the last time your parents had deigned to visit Lindon. Your vision blurs and you wipe your eyes, angry. You will not cry because of them; they did not deserve your tears. And yet when you cross the threshold, depositing the scrolls on your desk, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and cannot stop them from flowing. How in such a short span of time have they wrecked you? They barely spoke a few words to you, and it has affected you so greatly.

Sinking down into a nearby chair, you bury your face in your hands, breathing slowly as you attempt to calm yourself. Attempt to push your fear and grief far from your body, to let it evaporate into the air and disperse, no longer plaguing you. After a while it works, a lightness replacing the heavy weight on your chest, the sunlight returning, the birds singing, and Elrond is there seated in the chair across from yours. You startle, having not heard him come in, your cheeks heating as embarrassment flushes through you.

“My love, apologies, I did not realize you had returned.” You say, giving him a weak smile.

Elrond shakes his head, reaching forward and taking your hands in his. They are warm, gentle, calloused more now that he has returned to training with his sword. “The messenger came and found me; he was concerned for your wellbeing.”

You give a soft, half-convincing laugh. “What a sweet boy, he simply surprised me, but it was very kind of him to be concerned.”

Elrond’s thumbs smooth over the backs of your hands, his oakwood eyes focused entirely on you, pulling you in, paging through your defense like they are a children’s book. You have never been able to hide your true feelings from him. “It brings me no joy to hear your parents are visiting, even if it is not to see you.”

It is an opening for you to speak your mind without judgement, a way to ease any guilt you may have for expressing reluctance, or anger for he has done it first. It warms your heart, how he cares for you, how he strives to make expressing your more difficult feelings and emotions easier.

“I ran into them, on my way here, I know it would bring them great pleasure if I hid while away for the rest of their visit, but I cannot—will not let them win. I have done well for myself, risen above their contempt, this is my home, I should not have to hide.”

“No, you should not.” He affirms easily, his expression steady but sorrowful. 

“I know I should not.” You look down at your joined hands, swallowing hard. “But why do I feel so afraid of the very idea?”

“Because you have never done it before.” He says simply, his voice calm, soothing the fluttering of fear in your chest.

You cannot meet his gaze. “Perhaps I am not courageous enough.”

“You are. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the act of looking past it, persevering even when you are afraid.” He reminds you, releasing one of your hands to gently tilt your chin up, your eyes meeting his. “You are very brave, my starlight, you proved it today. You did not run, you faced them head on.”

“I had no choice.” You deflect, though his words pull your heart further into the light.

“That does not negate the fact that you stood your ground, you could have run.” There is a smile tugging at his lips, one that makes you wish to smile as well.

You give a slight shrug, looking away. “I guess you are not wrong.”

Elrond chuckles and brushes his thumb across the center of your lips. “I am never wrong when it comes to the bravery of my starlight.”

His touch makes you shiver, all fear, and sorrow banished, replace by a warm, glowing feeling. “Oh?”

He nods and sweeps a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Your courage is one of the many things I love so dearly about you.”

“Is that so?” You ask, your head tilting up instinctively seeking out his lips.

“Yes, your courage and kindness, your beauty, your intelligence, it all ensnared me for the moment we met.” He says, his lips brushing against yours with each word.

Your heart skips a beat, even though you have heard these words hundreds of times, they still affect you all the same.

You loop your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his lap, his lips meeting yours with slow languid movements, soft and sweet, he tastes of sunlight, banishing any lingering darkness from your mind. Your body and mind align, tuning your senses to Elrond, losing yourself in his very existence. The scent of him, the taste, the feel of his hair, his hands, his lips against yours. You can certainly continue to be brave if this is your reward.

TROP tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace, @emmyspov, @elrondswifey, @victoria-styles, @90angiex, @lucypaulette

[ghostboneswrites2]

Girl of Your Dreams || Pt.2

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl was not in the mood for your pestering so he taught you a (very cruel) lesson.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, edging kink/punishment, oral (fem receiving), generally graphic smut

        Poor Sophia hadn't been found in time. The Farm fell to the freaks, and unfortunately you lost a few of the tribe in the process. You were relieved, however, when Rick said he had killed Shane. He was getting out of hand, and you were glad for the imminent threat of forced sex to be wiped away. Of course Daryl would protect you, and you weren't even sure he'd have to considering your own affinity for violence, but Daryl couldn't always be there and your guard would fall sooner or later.

        All things considered, it was going great. The only threat since you all had taken the prison was the Governor and he hadn't been seen in so long that he was nothing but a mere afterthought.

        On this particular day, you and Daryl were sent out on a run for some basic hygiene necessities, which were in high demand since Rick had taken in the remaining Woodbury residents some time back. You, as per usual, were pestering your favorite redneck with unrivaled fury. 

        Ever since the safety of the prison had relived some of the stress of staying alive, the relationship between the two of you had become rather evident to those around you. Frankly, they all just kind of assumed it was a thing, but to you and Daryl, it was platonic at best.

        "I'm just saying," you shrugged. "Wouldn't kill ya to shower every day. We got them working, if you haven't noticed."

        "I noticed, asshole." He grumbled. "I helped build the irrigation system, if you recall."

        You smirked at his particularly edgy attitude that day. Everything you said got under his skin to such an extent that his usual playful smirk hadn't made a single appearance.

        "Don't shoot the messenger, man. Not my fault you smell like a biohazard."

        "Shut up and cover me." He snapped as he scoped around the outside of the small shop. You rolled your eyes with a sigh, readying your gun and scanning the street for any lurking threats. When he found his way back to you, he told you it was all clear, so the two of you made your way to the entrance. Daryl tapped the glass loudly, waiting for the inevitable greedy rotten bastards to make themselves known. Only two came to the window, clawing and snarling at the glass, desperate for just a taste of your warm flesh. He opened the door and drove his knife into one, while you quickly did the same to the second. Once the two of you had silently cleared any stragglers from the premises, you each got to work, searching the aisles and taking anything that was on the list and a few extra things that just seemed useful.

        When the two of you met back up, it was behind the register, near an unassuming metal door. Behind it was nothing but some empty cardboard boxes and a set of stairs.

        "An attic?" You guessed.

        "Or storage, maybe." He shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

        You crept silently up the steps behind him. No matter how much of an absolute nuisance you were -- and believe him, you were definitely a nuisance -- he'd never let you go first into uncharted territory, and he'd never leave you behind. You were his unofficial sidekick, and the closest thing to a best friend he'd ever had in the world, before and after the rise of the dead.

        The top of the steps only presented another door, so you both followed the same process of carefully opening it and searching for any threats. To your pleasure, the small loft was empty of the undead or the living. It was some kind of living quarters. It had all the basic amenities; a sink and a fridge, a stove, a couch, a bed, miscellaneous furniture. It was quite dusty, though.

        "Guess somebody was stayin' up here." He observed.

        "Probably the owner or something." You agreed, walking around and taking in all the little details.

        "C'mon, ain't nothin' we need here." He sighed, turning to exit the small loft.

        "Aht-aht! Don't be so fast." You spoke up. He turned to you, impatience radiating from his very core. "Now, this," you said, lifting a floral blouse that was meant for a granny. "This would look so good on you."

        He didn't respond. To say he was less than amused was an understatement. With his lack of a reply, you felt compelled to keep it going.

        "I think this would look perfect under that vest of yours. It really suits your aesthetic, ya know? Here, try it on." You threw it at him. He swatted it down with unnecessary force.

        "Quit your shit and let's go. Ain't got time for this."

        "I mean, we literally have nothing but time." You argued. "Like, nothing but time." You emphasized.

        "Well, I don't wanna hear it today." He snapped.

        "What's got your panties all wadded up?" You mumbled.

        "What?!" He asked viciously. You were taken aback a little. You knew you got under his thick skin a lot but he usually was quick to strike back. It was all fun, after all. You guessed you weren't really on your A-Game that day, to be fair. Your insults were mundane at best.

        "What?" He repeated, or maybe growled, as he stomped over to you, looming over you like a dark cloud.

        "I--"

        He cut you off by gripping your jaw harshly with one hand.

        "I warned ya, didn't I?" He hissed. You were too stunned to respond. "I told ya time and time again, keep tryin' me and see what happens. Is this what you want? Its it?!"

        He was fuming, but you, being the sick little freak you were, couldn't help but notice how wet you were getting at the sudden display of dominance.

        His breath was hot and fast as it cascaded over your face. His chest heaved up and down. His eyes danced back and forth between yours as he decided exactly what he wanted to do to you. 

        "I--"

        "Shut up." He ordered, letting go of your face and dropping his crossbow on the coffee table. He kept making slow steps toward you and instinctively you stepped backwards until the side of a bed  hit the back of your knees and you fell onto the mattress. "Is this what you want?" He asked again, suddenly a bit softer. He searched your face for some kind of response, for any sign of consent.

        "Uh.." You breathed, not really sure if you were interpreting the situation correctly. "Is what what I.."

        Your eyes trailed down to his pants, following the slow movement of his hands as they unbuckled his belt and pulled it off of his waist.

        "Oh." You said, raising your eyebrows. Well, yeah, actually. This is exactly what I want, you thought. You looked back up at his face as he waited for your approval for whatever it was he was about to do. 

        "Ain't got all day." He urged.

        His expression was chillingly fierce, but somehow there was still a tenderness in the way he looked at you. 

        You cleared your throat, failing to mask your nerves with confidence. 

        "Finally ready to fuck the girl of your dreams?" You asked. Your voice betrayed you, so shaky and unsure. He chewed at the inside of his lip, smirking a little. You always made him squirm inside with your cruel ways of flirting, but now it was hit turn, and god was it easy.

        With no remaining patience for your antics, he gave you a firm shove backward, landing your back on the mattress. Determined to maintain some semblance of dignity, you propped yourself up on your elbows instead of laying down submissively. He immediately went for your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them as he yanked them downward. Though it was a hot day, the air on your bare skin made you shiver. He worked your pants completely off your feet and threw them to the side before he leaned over you, supporting his weight with his defined arms.

        His face moved toward you and you closed your eyes, awaiting the much anticipated kiss. That, however, was not what he had in mind. His mouth landed in the crook of your neck, biting, nibbling, and sucking at the sensitive skin. You sucked in a small gasp of air and jumped a little at the unexpected sensation. He trailed his nibbling down to your collarbone before he decided to pull your shirt off, then your bra, carrying those sweet bites over to your nipples. You squirmed a little at the pinching of his teeth. You didn't remember being that sensitive, but then again, you hadn't slept with anyone in ages.

        He brought his mouth up to your ear.

        "I'm gon' make you beg." He whispered, before dropping his knees down to the floor and tugging your panties down your thighs, tossing them away somewhere. He spread your thighs open wide, holding them up so that they didn't fall completely flat on the bed. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Was this really happening right now? 

        That question was answered quite clearly when his smooth wet tongue glided between your lips, torturously slow and painstakingly gentle. Your hips jolted slightly at his touch. He continued the same motion, sliding his tongue slowly up and down the entirety of your pussy, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips each time. Once he was sure you'd warmed up to his tongue, he focused more on your clit, finding a steady rhythm, pausing only to add some suction to the mix. You shuddered and moaned as you settled onto his mouth, fully surrendering to his skill. 

        "Fuck.." You gasped, rocking your hips a little as he worked you up. As soon as your breaths sped up and your body communicated the oncoming orgasm, he pulled away. You whined, snapping your head down as he smirked up at you.

        "Not yet." He shrugged, waiting a few seconds before he went back in, starting the whole process over. The whole process. The slow taunting was particularly hard to take this time, after him edging you so close and pulling away. You were relieved when he picked the pace up once more, flicking and circling over your clit, suckling every now and then. Your head fell back down to the mattress, closing your eyes and finding your comfort once more as you got excited for him to finish you. You were already so sensitive that this time it took no time at all to get you there, but alas, he pulled back, refusing to let you find that sweet release you craved.

        "Huh?" You whined, looking back down at him. 

        "Not yet." He said again. 

        And, again, he started the process over again, teasing you, working you up, and pulling away. You let out a frustrated cry as the tension built up in your chest.

        "Why?" You begged.

        "Told ya. I'm gonna make ya beg." He grinned, lowering his face back down yet again. You prepared yourself for another round of torturous edging, but this time was even more malicious. See, instead of repeating the process, he just barely grazed his tongue over every inch of you, everywhere except your clit. All around it, even grazing it a few times, but never fully giving it the attention it craved. By now you were throbbing on the inside, flinching at every instance of contact between his tongue and your pussy.

        It went on for ages, constantly teasing the possibility he'd get back to flicking his tongue over your clit, but it didn't happen, at least not for a while. You were certain by this point that you were so sensitive it would only take a few seconds to get you there if he'd only pay attention to the right spot.

        After a while he did find his way back into the rhythm of licking and sucking at it, but he'd only do it for a few seconds at a time. Still, not taking you all the way, only taunting you with the fact that he could, if he wanted to.

        The frustration was so big it began to spill out of you, a single tear spinning down your cheek.

        "Fuck, Daryl, please." You begged. "I'm begging, okay? Just -- please.."

        You had finally surrendered.

        He ignored you completely. You throbbed inside and out, aching for it to be over. The dance around your clit resumed, never actually crossing over it, bringing all kinds of unholy whines and pleas from your lips. You couldn't take it anymore, but you couldn't bare to tear yourself away, endlessly taunted with the possibility he'd let you cum.

        But he never did. He didn't even take his pants off. Once you were trembling uncontrollably, begging, inconsolable, he just.. stopped. He stood up, looped his belt back through his jeans, and buckled it.

        He calmly stepped over to your panties and tossed them to you.

        "W-What?" You gaped. "No!" You whined. He didn't even spare you a glance as he found your jeans and walked them over to you, setting them beside your bare bottom half.

        "Daryl, what the fuck?" You shrilled, gawking at him. 

        "Said I'd make ya beg, never said I'd make ya cum." He shrugged. Then, he walked away and shut the door.

[kingconia]

Hello! I love your works. I wanted to know if I could request the S/O who writes letters (the one you did for Diasomnia), but with Rook, Riddle, Idia and Cater. I think these would be funny combinations. Thank you and have a good day!

A/N: Thank you! Have a nice day as well.

The Diasomnia post is here.

IDIA SHROUD, CATER DIAMOND, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS AND ROOK HUNT WITH OLD-FASHIONED S/O, WHO WRITES AND SENDS THEM LETTERS, INSTEAD OF USING THE PHONE

Idia Shroud. 💙

— Idia is speechless. What do you mean you don't want to use your gadgets? What are, a victorian lady?

— He almost offended about your carelessness towards phones and messengers. Makes a whole PowerPoint presentations to help you understand the benefits of technology;

— If you accept his opinion, but still continue write him letters, Idia will easily get used to it, though, still through fuming. And, don't expect letters from him—he will only email you;

— But he decides that it is still a win. Because, you know what? You are almost from the pages of his favourite love interest in one of these manhwas he secretly consumes at nights.

•

”Hm,” Idia rests cheek against his palm, glancing at Ortho lazily. ”What is it?”

”Another letter from Y/n-sama!” The boy exclaims, extending a familiar beautiful blue envelope.

A tired sigh escapes Idia's lips, but he can't help but smile at this slightly.

There is something, indeed, charming in way you send him letters in a certain part of days, well-knowing when to catch him free.

’My dear king of the Underworld,

I recall you having an important meeting today, and so, I am sending you this letter only now, when there is less labour for you to deal with. Tell me, how was your day? Had you eaten well? Should I bring you some fruits when I come? Perhaps, a pomegranate?

My day was remarkable, yet...’

His cheeks flush instantly.

If you only knew how his heart aches for you...

Cater Diamond. ❤️

— Another chronically online person is here! Cater spends half of his free-time, scrolling through different social media, and so, he is surprised that you don't do that, too;

— But he is actually really amused by your unique habit. Cater sees it as a game, and he likes how interesting you make everything. Definitely will never judge you;

— He keeps photos of all your letters! He doesn't post them online—though, he can snap a photo of the closed envelope and write some teasing description—but he makes sure he has everything kept down;

— I think, sometimes he tries to write you letters, too. But it is rather an exception than something usual. And... He is much clumsier with words than you are.

•

”What are you doing?” Trey frowns, quickly glaring at his housemate.

Cater is sitting on the floor, with thousand of letters scattered around, shuffling through them desperately. There is a one piece of empty paper in front of him, and a ink paper that seems to be leaking for a while...

”I want to write letter for Y/n,” Cater announces, tongue sticking out as he searches for something in particular. ”But for that, I need to match this... Bummer language style they have... But, shit, it is hard.”

Trey huffs. He leans forward slightly, almost meaning to say that, surely, Cater can't be serious, when he actually stumbles across a few of your writings.

’Through the fleeting sounds of birds, singing their omnipotent hymns, I had heard a news worthy of a feast...’

’I have this ocean feeling, when I am looking in your eyes—which can be for hours, truly—and when I do so, it seems like the love consumes every inch of me, hiding in lungs, and...’

”Good luck,” Trey cracks out, clearly amused.

Cater sighs. Luck is exactly what he needs right now.

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— Honestly, Riddle is not a big fan of social media himself, so he doesn't mind your habit of writing letters at all;

— If anything, he takes your hobby very seriously. He thinks, it is a perfect sign of how truly mannered you are For him, it is almost you are a princess. And he likes playing a knight very much;

— He doesn't keep all of your letters, but, he chooses the most important ones to save. And the same goes with writing you back—mostly, Riddle likes to have you for a personal date, so it is invitation to his dorm he sends you usually;

— But the thing is... Riddle gets easily flustered by your letters. You write so beautifully and gently about him, that he can't help but blush... Sometimes, he can just space out for hours, staring at your letters.

•

”I wonder what is wrong with housewarden...” Ace asks, trying sneakingly throw another stare at Riddle over his shoulder.

”What do you mean...” Deuce asks absentmindedly, staring in the given direction. ”Oh.”

Riddle, their housewarden, sits in the opposite side of library. There is a paper in his hands, which he glares at without blinking—for a minutes now—and his cheeks are terribly red. He doesn't even move. He just stares.

”Maybe, he is sick?”

”Dunno...”

”He is reading another letter from Y/n,” a sudden voice appears out of nowhere, and as boys hardly conceal their yelping, Chenya smiles at them radiantly. ”Can you blame him? Even my cheeks heated when I read it!”

As Deuce and Ace exchange looks, equally annoyed by this stupid cat's sudden teleportation, Chenya starts to declare what he had read aloud, in a very thin voice:

”Oh, Riddle, a petal to my stem! There is not a single day, when I don't think about you sticking to my heart as if thorns...”

But, oh, isn't it Chenya? Surely he just being over-dramatic...

Right?..

Rook Hunt. ���

— Rook is absolutely happy to receive letters from you. After all, his eccentric character is very weak for such things—and here you are, spoiling him even more;

— He keeps all of your letters, and he hangs them all over the walls. Even the shortest ones! He just can't throw away anything coming from you;

— And, of course, he writes you back. Always. He would never forgive himself, if he does otherwise;

— Though, his favourite part of your games, when both of you hide letters in places, where only you could find them! Much like a hunt, but a very lovely one!

•

You sigh quietly, fingers massaging temples that harshly that it almost hurts. Sadly, it doesn't help in the slightest. Just as all medicine you took, in order to be saved from annoying headache.

There is a lot of things to do for you, but instead, you lay down on the bed, helpless and tired. But when you turn on your left side, you are suddenly met by the violet envelope with the golden seal that lays on the second pillow of yours. Instinctively, you smile.

You know from whom it is.

’Good afternoon, celui qui tient mon coeur.

I am aware of the headache that bothers you throughout this morning, and thus, I will not pester you with additional questions about the sudden absence of letters—please, keep your rest from me and the outside world.

I also made sure no one tries to take your time today. Teachers and classmates are warned. Tout pour toi, mon amour.

P.S: If you don't mind, I am planning to visit you later, with new made tarts of mine.

Much love, ton admirateur timide.’

You push the letter to you chest as you relax completely, knowing that you have unofficial day off.

Ah. What a caring lover you have!

A/N: Translation for Rook—’the one that holds my heart’/‘anything for you, my love’/’your shy admirer’.

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

One evening, I got possessed and redesigned Captain Marvel. Well, redesigned and rewrote.

Long explanation about it under the cut.

Captain Marvel is the gods' champion, but in canon, his capacities come from a mix of gods, from both the Roman and the Greek pantheon, and heroes, Greek or biblical. In comparison, Black Adam's capacities come only from Egyptian gods, making him their champion. Therefor, let's bring down SHAZAM to just Greek gods, as we need Zeus for the thunder. There's also a period during which Mary Marvel gets her capacities from a mix of goddesses and one god, so let's mix the gender again. Here is the new hexad:

S - the stamina of Selene - Selene is the goddess of the moon, who, like her brother with the sun, drags the moon behind her chariot. But, if the sun disappears each night (in Greece), the moon stays in the sky for weeks, so stamina! There aren't a lot of Greek gods with name in S, so let me have this (also, I love the moon and any moon goddess).

H - the speed of Hermes - Hermes is the messenger of the male gods, who is known for his speed, because of the wings on his ankles. Nothing more complicated.

A - the strength of Atlas - I kept Atlas, but I changed him for strength because holding the world up requires more strength than stamina imo. The representations of Atlas often show a man doing an extreme physical effort, it demonstrates more strength than stamina to me.

Z - the power of Zeus - Didn't change. The king of the gods and the thunder guy.

A - the courage of Ares - Ares is the god of courage, that's in his domain of expertise.

M - the wisdom of Metis - The first goddess of wisdom, eaten by Zeus, and the mother of Athena, the second goddess of wisdom. "But, she's kind of "dead"?" And Black Adam got his power from Aten, who was the only god of the Aten religion of Akhenaton, and so, not with the Egyptian pantheon.

As the champion of the Greek gods, Captain Marvel needs to look the part. I'm a hater of the original latex superhero costume, I want some real fashion. It has served its purpose, it's time to change. Ancient Greece's armors were the principal inspiration, but some other bits of Ancient Greece's fashion were also brought in. Sandals are a bold choice, I admit, but that's what Greeks wore to war and we are talking about an indestructible being. Soldiers also wore what would be considered a skirt now, so I want to include that, and I even thought of a joke: when Billy first transforms, he makes a comment about the "skirt", and the sorcerer goes "Ah yes! When men used to dress like men." (Did you get it? It's a joke about how those bigoted idiots will complain about men wearing anything labelled as "feminine" about how "men don't dress like real men anymore", totally ignorant of how what is "masculine" or "feminine" depends on the time period and culture, and heels were created to make men look powerful and ride horses to war.) However, I'm uncomfortable with skirts in design for flying superheroes, if there's nothing under, so he gets leggings, bringing back some of the original suit. The cape is also asymmetrical.

While researching information about Captain Marvel for this redesign, I learned that DC is evil:

Fawcett Comics created Captain Marvel in the 40s, by taking some inspiration from Superman from Detective Comics, but with a lot of differences still. It was a success, and Captain Marvel became more popular than Superman, selling more than the adventures of Clark Kent. DC didn't like that, and they sued FC for plagiarism, saying Captain Marvel was a copy of Superman. And, for some reason, they won. So, FC had to stop selling Captain Marvel and the Marvel family's comics, and the readers went back to Superman, giving money to DC. Decades goes back, Marvel is born and they create Captain Marvel, the name being free to use. FC, they are not having a good time. There's no money, and so, they are selling. AND WHO BOUGHT THEM? THAT'S RIGHT: DC! And once they own FC, what do DC do? Bring back the cash cow, Captain Marvel! So, it was plagiarism, but only when they couldn't make money from it. They cannot use Captain Marvel anymore because of Marvel, so it's Shazam, but they successfully "stole" the success of a smaller company than them. DC was doing evil capitalism before it was a thing, in the 40s!

Therefore, I can do whatever I want and DC cannot stop me, they don't deserve those characters. And this redesign has now become me rewriting Shazam. So, when Billy transforms into Captain Marvel, he is not another personality (like the current DC's canon), it's still him, but in a young adult body, a body at his peak athletic performance.

Now, Black Adam, which is where I start doing my own story. I will not lie, I knew nothing about Black Adam, apart from the fact that he is a bad guy and he really loves his wife. Well, if he loves his wife, he must be attractive, because that's hot. And Black Adam, born Teth-Adam in Ancient Egypt, is chosen by the sorcerer known as Shazam as his successor. This means two things: 1, Black Adam is an Egyptian, and 2, he is young. In DC's canon, he is Ramesses II' son, but I will just make him from the Ancient Egyptian nobility, but this explains the short/shaved hair, as rich Egyptians would wear wigs and have their hair shaved for hygiene.

Let's talk about the elephant in the room: the absence of a thunderbolt, or more so, it's replacement by an angular sun. Black Adam's power doesn't come for Zeus, a god of thunder, but Aten, a sun god, like Ra. So, Black Adam shouldn't have the abilities to manipulate thunder, but the sun. And not the sun as a ball of burning gaz, the sun as a source of rays of light and heat, like the Egyptians saw it. His power is connected to light, arrows of heat as Egyptians saw it, and the sun is angular to share similarities with the thunderbolt. Like Captain Marvel, he needs to dress like the champion of the gods, Egyptian this time. I took inspiration from Ancient Egypt's armors and fashion: the top being this scaly leather they wore, sandals being back again but Egyptian's style... There are more artistic details in Black Adam's suit to highlight is social class, and there are two kinds of details. The first ones are associated to his power, like his collar, which is a frequent accessory in Ancient Egypt, which has rays to symbolize the rays of the sun, coming from his head, from himself, or his greaves, which also have sunbeams. The second ones are more associated to his culture as an Egyptian and the sun. His forearm armors are imitating the wings added to scarab amulet, which were put over mommies, and these scarabs fly to the sun, aka Ra, with the dead. His cape is also taking the shape of these wings. And his belt displays the eye of Ra, a sun disk with cobras coiled around it, an extension of the god's power, a symbol of his destructive and protective capacities.

To end, this is my rewrite of Shazam's story:

During Ancient Egypt, under Akhenaten so ca 1350 to 1330 before Christ, a sorcerer decided to summon the god Aten with a magic ritual, asking for a champion, a hero to protect humankind. All powerful Aten, impressed to have been summoned by a mere mortal, accepted to fulfill his demand. He called five gods to join him, and each gave a gift, added to his own power of the sun. Aten finally gifted the result to the man, and explained how to summon it: by yelling the gods' names, SHAZAM! Before leaving, the god, moved by the mortal's humility and his care for humankind, gifted him immortality. The sorcerer refused, it's too much. Aten pushed, because a man like this is rare, but he will lower the gift. He will age until a certain age, and then stop, never dying from old age or getting sick. However, he can still get killed. The sorcerer went on to do his mission, why he had called the god, and more as the years went on. Anytime he transformed, he would become the young athletic champion of the Egyptian gods. When he got around 60 years old, he decided to find an heir. He chose Teth-Adam, a young man and member of the Egyptian nobility, who had demonstrated his qualities all around the kingdom. But he, sadly, soon was corrupted by his new power and abused it, trying to take over the throne. The sorcerer had to intervene, but his heir was too strong to kill or to let go of his powers. So, the sorcerer took his soul with the power, and enclosed it in a scarab amulet he buried with the pharaohs. A millennium went by, and the old sorcerer now answered to the name Shazam. With the arrival of Alexander the Great, he went on to travel through the Greek land. But, a new catastrophe was coming, and so, having lost his power, he summoned Zeus like he summoned Aten. Zeus, impressed by the mortal, accepted to redo the gift of the gods. He called five gods and added their gifts to his own power of the thunder. Shazam could save humankind again. Zeus, to applaud his heart, asked him to choose a gift, not for the champion but for himself. Shazam asked to know when he will die, so he could find the perfect heir. The Fates gave him the answer. Shazam, afraid of his last mistake, refused to find an heir for centuries, millennia, and traveled through the world, saving humankind. He had a magic secret temple, on another plane, he could go to. But the date of his death was approaching, and Shazam had yet to find a champion. Everyone he met wasn't good enough for him. His last pick? Billy Batson. And Billy was far from the perfect champion he needed, but not the worst. With no time to waste, Shazam gave his power to Billy, before dying, crushed by a rock. When Billy Batson yells "SHAZAM!", he transforms into an adult version of himself, at his peak athletic performance, and becomes the champion of the Greek gods. The ghost of the sorcerer guides him through his adventures, during which he encounters Teth-Adam, now Black Adam. Teth-Adam's amulet was found by archeologists in the 19th century, and it had strange effects on everyone who landed their eyes on it, people fighting for the small treasure. Finally, one (shitty) archeologist stole the scarab and flew back to the USA with it. As time went on, the amulet's control over him became stronger, and he finally caved into opening it to see what was inside. But, sadly for him, it only contained the powerful soul of once the champion of the Egyptian gods, who took possession of his body and transformed it, killing him in the process. Now, Teth-Adam lives forever as Black Adam.

[cultofdixon]

Keeping an eye on what you love

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • A peaceful moment in the prison led to feelings for a certain archer to resurface without fear of the next day. Oh how you didn’t realize until now, how observant one can be • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Canon Violence / Minor Injuries

Requested by: @matilda4eve

You have to stop staring Y/N. It’s getting weird Y/N continued to do so as she sat at the tables in the quad watching some of the group reinforce the front fence of the prison. She had just finished her tasks for the day and took a load off, it just so happened to be at the right moment Daryl Dixon would be working outside in the remaining light hours of the day.

This has been going on for a while. Not saying many words to each other and Y/N simply watching Daryl exist doing whatsoever. It started at the quarry and now it’s happening at the prison, after all the chaos of course.

“Hey Y/N can I borrow you a sec?” Beth smiles asking for her help as Y/N nods returning the smile before getting up and following the young Greene.

Little did she know that the archer was watching the two’s interaction from where he stood with Rick and Glenn. He was lost in his own mindset and it took Glenn elbowing him to get him back.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothin’. We’re losing light”

“You’re the one that zoned out” Rick chuckles picking up the wooden plank and holding it in place for Glenn to secure.

The night crawls in and their group hung out in their cellblock talking amongst themselves like it was old times of enjoying the others company. But also talking about the future of the prison. Y/N was part of the conversation regarding the farm with Hershel and Rick while Daryl being beside them was talking to Glenn and Sasha about setting up a run. Even if both were in different conversations, Y/N still managed to listen in while focusing on what’s being told to her.

“We should get more people to come on the run with us if we are gonna tackle something like that” said thing was the abandoned camp that the military has set up in a shopping center. Daryl brought himself to lean against the wall when he accidentally bumped shoulders with Y/N.

For some reason, he felt a spark when such happened. He gave an apoplectic look to her as she shrugged it off with a smile before turning back to Hershel to talk about the pig pen he was talking about.

“Daryl?” Sasha snaps him out of his thoughts as he turned back to those he was talking to while his mind was still elsewhere.

“Sorry”

“No worries. But I agree. We should get at least three more people to come with us? Just for now let’s stick with smaller runs that won’t take much time” Glenn states before continuing to talk about such but the words started to sound like white noise, to both of them.

Neither of them really pulled away from the smallest form of human contact. All Y/N did was readjust but kept her shoulder against Daryl’s as he sat still for a moment thinking he was making her uncomfortable, until he adjusted and kept close.

This…is new

Y/N found herself on watch in the late morning which was new given she’s usually on nights. But as she stood leaning against the railing, she saw everything happening including the archer get a team ready to go for a run. She heard times before that he never saw himself as a leader, but he’s a natural one if he ever needs to step up.

“Yo!”

The young Grimes caught Y/N off guard as she looked a bit ridiculous when turning her attention away. Like she was trying to hide something but Carl knew he was a bit unexpected.

“Sorry, Y/N. Someone just wanted me to give you this”

“Someone? Carl you know almost everybody. Who made you their messenger?” Y/N laughs a bit taking the book from him as he shrugged her off to avoid answering her question. She examined the cover reading ‘DUNE’ on it and remembering a conversation she had with Michonne about how it was one of her favorites. So maybe it was Michonne that had Carl give it to her? Who knows…

“You think…uh”

“Uh?” Y/N smiles feeling the pages and enjoying the comfort she received from just holding the book in her hands.

“Can read it to Jude. Yknow like. When I’m around” the kid can read. He just didn’t want to admit that he wants that old comfort that he got from his mom.

“I’m watching Judith tonight while your dad is on watch duty. Maybe a few chapters tonight? Not like she’d understand”

“It’s cool I can hold her and dumb it down for her” Carl smiles getting another laugh out of his family.

As the two were watched for a moment from Daryl on the ground as he sat on his bike waiting for the others to get ready in their car. The second he heard a honk that snapped him out of his thoughts he whistled for the two’s attention catching them both feeling some unexpected anxiety.

“Open the gates!” He yells for their attentions as they quickly got out of the watchtower and did what was asked.

Before Daryl got far he stopped abruptly when he heard Y/N yelling at him.

“Be safe!” Y/N yells with a smile followed as Daryl froze in his place looking back at her with a nod before returning forward and fighting back a smile following the car.

It was the little things

Either watched the other work, try to include themselves (respectfully) in conversations that held the other, exchanged passing looks, and the more Y/N’s collection of books grew she found who they were coming from as part of her wished she didn’t catch Daryl in the act because he stopped leaving books for a few days.

Then on a cold rainy night in the prison, Y/N currently had Beloved in her grasp reading with the help of the weak solar powered lantern. She looked up when the light grew bigger to see Daryl with a flashlight and entering her cell without saying a word but laying a copy of Little Women on the edge of her bed. He didn’t wait for a ‘thank you’ or anything of the sort as he left after gifting her the book. She carefully set her book open facing down onto the floor before picking up the new one to feel something loose within the pages. She pulled out a note and it wasn’t a love note or anything, just asking her to join them on the run when it’s done raining. She smiled warmly anyway…it came from him.

It didn’t stop raining until three days later and Y/N found herself waiting by the cars with her gear expecting a few others to join but when Daryl came over ready to go looking to be the only one. Which is what he wanted.

“Got everything?”

“Yeah, uh” Y/N felt a bit skittish suddenly when given a moment entirely alone with Daryl. “Is it just us?”

Little did she know she’s spending most of the day with just him. Daryl gripped the strap to his crossbow nodding, a bit nervous himself. “Is that Uhm. Alright? Cuz I can—“

“Of course!” Bit too eager Y/N. Y/N smiles feeling a bit of a blush reach her ears as she carefully brushes her hair to cover them to avoid the obvious. “S-Sorry. It’s cool…just being us”

Now Daryl was the one trying to hide his blush by fully turning around heading toward his bike.

“Oh are we uh. Am I taking a car?”

The blush faded enough for him to look at her with a bit of an annoyed look. He didn’t mean it but it was a stupid question.

“Nah we’re takin’ my bike” He states approaching his bike as Y/N quickly got up from the bench she was waiting on to join him.

It was a little awkward at first when Y/N got on the back of his bike, after putting his crossbow on her back. She was hesitant to bring her arms around him not wanting to make him uncomfortable but Daryl was gentle when he grabbed her arms wrapping them around his torso. He felt her scoot into him being pressed up against him once her arms were secured.

“Ready?”

“Yeah! Uh who’s opening—-“

“We’ve gotcha!” Glenn smiles approaching the gates after making his and Maggie’s presence known to the two. His timing was always perfect.

Then they were off…and it was stunning.

Y/N at first kept a tight grasp when he first started to drive out of the prison. Then as the scenery passed, she loosen her grasp to lean back a little to watch the trees pass by one moment then an open field with few walkers and back to trees. It repeated as such until they were soon passing the big shopping district they were planning a huge run for and then the next being a few smaller ones which where they’ll be going through. Daryl felt her tighten around him when he hit a few bumps as he gently pats her hand to reassure her that he’ll go a bit slower and will always be safe.

An hour has passed and Daryl found himself watching Y/N more than their exit as he couldn’t help but notice the smallest things she’d do.

Being extra gentle when lifting items off the floor

Carrying a smile as she looks at the few pictures from the past

The excitement that shines bright in her eyes when she’d find books or anything that brought her joy

Daryl only snapped out of it when he heard wood give way. He quickly approached the hole finding Y/N had fallen through the second floor to the first.

Shit shit shit shit Daryl quickly ran away from the opening and down to her level pushing away an aisle’s shelving to get to her faster. “You okay?! It looks safe from when we cleared down here”

As the archer knelt to her as she sat up, she gave him a reassuring smile while rubbing her arm. Y/N instantly started to frown which worried Daryl even more.

“Y/N?”

“You’re bleeding” She frowns taking his arm to show him the cut on his person. He was in a hurry to get to her that he didn’t feel it happen. “We should get back…it needs stitches”

“Oh. Nah I don’t need Hershel to—“

“I can take care of it. We just need to go back. You and I can always come back another day” Y/N reassures him that today wasn’t ruined and Daryl couldn’t help but still be focused on what happened to her that she let him check her person after she put a temporary pressure dressing with the bandana he has and once she got up.

The two were quiet for the rest of the ride, given they were both hurt and Daryl felt awful even if it was an unpredictable thing most the time. Then as they sat in her cell later that night, the awkwardness seemed to have dissipated and it was just the silence and a bit of worry…while also taking notice of the small details.

The anxious archer watched how careful she was when stitching up his arm lac. She made sure not to pull too hard and would always double check her already done stitches. Y/N noticed while she was doing the stitches that he started to bite at his thumb. She’s noticed it before during stressful situations and he was doing it now and even when she finished putting the new bandage on.

“Am I good doc?” Daryl laughs nervously as he was about to start back up the habit when Y/N took both of his hands squeezing them. “I’m still sorry about…the floor breaking” he almost whispers as he brought his hand to gently graze the instant bruise she got from the fall.

“You didn’t break it, D”

“I know, sunshine. I’m just…still sorry”

There was that spark again. Bringing back the silence and the two getting a bit more confident with the other. But before either could make a move, Sasha interrupted the two to get Y/N’s assistance with something. Daryl had pulled away from her when she had came into the entry way of her cell.

Y/N gave him a short lived apologetic look before pulling her entire self away and leaving with Sasha. Daryl frowns wishing she didn’t interrupt. When will he get a chance like that again?

Well…

Another storm came through the prison as this one was the worse so far. Heavy rains and lightening. Rick had informed everyone outside when the storm was coming based on the changes in the weather through the day to go inside and chores will be taken care of once it passes.

Daryl had done a sweep inside their cellblock making sure his family was indoors but when he came to Y/N’s cell. He didn’t find her. He quickly ran down the steps about to ask Rick if he has seen her since he was coming back in but instead…

“We don’t have people on watch for the night cuz of the storm but I don’t think Y/N heard me when she’s the last on watch”

“I’ll go get’er” Daryl states not wasting another second but he was grabbed by Rick for another minute. “Yeah?”

“Bring a jacket, man.”

The archer soon found himself running through the rain while protectively holding his poncho. He entered the watchtower back expecting to meet Y/N coming down but when she didn’t, he thought something was up.

But she was simply outside leaning against the railing and watching the rain fall.

“Hey”

Y/N’s smile instantly came out when hearing his voice as she noticed his worried expression while offering his poncho.

“Hey yourself”

“Are you doing okay?” He frowns, feeling only a tad better when she put on his poncho. “You didn’t hear Rick callin’ for those outside to come in before the storm got worse”

“I Uhm. Kinda had a lot on my mind…and didn’t wanna be suffocated” Her smile faltered and it stung in his chest watching such.

“Oh…I can leave if yea need space…just—“

“I want you here” Y/N cuts him off, not wasting another moment like before as she looked away afraid the more she said that she would choke and he’d leave.

But he gently held her chin making her look him in the eye as he brought his hand to her cheek looking her in the eye. Wanting to hear every single word that came from her.

“You want me here?” Daryl felt that spark and it turned into loving warmth when she continued to look up at him trying to find the words but keeping that beautiful smile of hers. “I ain’t good with my words either, sunshine…I…”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Dixon”

“Good…” He exhales bringing his other hand to cup her other cheek before bringing his lips onto hers. The sudden kiss confirmed his feelings to her but she was still shocked he reciprocated said feelings.

Though when the archer parted, he gave her that loving look in his eyes that she’s been giving him since their moment started. “I’m in love with you, sunshine” and as he was about to go in for another kiss that she already started to lean in for…the flash of lightening and loud thunder that rang with it startled the two. Daryl didn’t hesitate to bring Y/N into his arms as she had already latched onto him the second she heard it.

“Maybe we should’ve confessed inside” Y/N laughs bringing her head to his chest feeling him tighten around her gently.

“Nah. This was perfect”

[lynnerdo]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Resurrection Current Chapter - Never lose me

***

It had been a few days after Feyd left to go back to Giedi Prime, wedding preparations he said. He didn’t leave you much time to bond after the kiss, nor did he have need for a conversation about feelings. You attribute it to his upbringing, assuming Harkonnen don’t talk about their feelings at all. So, you stow away yours for now.

*

Feyd wanted to make haste, he wanted nothing more than to stay on Caladan and ravish you before the wedding, but he also respected his duty and the rules involved with an arranged marriage. Should he break those rules, he wouldn’t be able to marry you. Intercourse before marriage wasn’t frowned upon, it was downright illegal. He had to put a distance between the both of you before his feelings could settle in the pit of his stomach and he lost all control.

*

A few weeks pass while Feyd is busy sorting out all the legal business, talking to servants to import certain items from Caladan, and even requesting an answer from you concerning your wedding dress and the sort. You receive the message during a sparring match with Duncan, who has been training you extra hard upon hearing the news that you were going through with the marriage.

He sees your face contort after a member of the staff gives you the message and asks what you want to respond with. It felt so, indifferent and impersonal, a message as black and white coming from Feyd, no love to be found, no greetings, just a demand. You frown as you respond to the messenger and turn back to Duncan, sighing.

He stays silent for a few moments, until the messenger leaves.

“I know it is not my place Lady, but do you mind if I give you any advice?” he sounded sincere and worried.

You nod at him, curious.

“Please don’t marry Feyd. I know it might seem like a good idea, if we’re speaking about bloodlines and dukes and barons, but… you should be with someone who loves and respects you.”

He got closer to you as he spoke those last words, his hair partially stuck to his face because of the sweat of battle. He extended his hand for you to take, and you did. Feeling anything at all was better than the dryness that got stuck in your throat when you received Feyd’s ‘demand’.

“Duncan, I-…” you trailed off.

You didn’t want to admit that you liked Feyd, it wasn’t love yet, but there was a certain attraction between the both of you. You wanted to explore this, even if it meant being married for a different cause. You just felt insecure after he left so fast, seemingly taking all the sweetness away from the moment you shared before.

Duncan pulled you into a hug, somehow knowing exactly what would help at this point. You felt his heart beat fast, faster than usual. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and continued to talk.

“Feyd has no idea how lucky he is. Should he ever try to hurt you again, I will intervene.”

He lets you out of the hug and takes your hands in his and goes onto one knee.

“If you ever feel doubt know that I’ll be here for you. I love you, Lady Atreides.”

He says as he kisses your hand. The confession feels heavy but sincere. You had no idea Duncan felt like this, you had always just assumed he was a man with his heart on his sleeve, loving all the Atreides family, because he had just always been there for you all. But a proposal?

“Oh, Duncan, I-“ you say as you feel a tear starting to roll over your cheek.

He comes back up and cups your face in his hands, wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead, and returns to hugging you. You softly sob as the heat of the older man gives you the comfort that you needed.

“I know.”

*

Feyd is struggling to get everything sorted, there’s a lot more shouting and killing of servants going on right now. He wants the wedding to be utter perfection, no place for errors, this includes everything you should bring or prepare. He shouts at a servant to ask about your wedding dress, and to make it quick. This explains why the message sounded so cold and demanding when you received it. The Harkonnen were anything but subtle with words.

He had been in and out of meetings concerning the festivities and he was about one more question away of killing another servant. He hated this, hated that he had to do everything, make all the choices, he should’ve just asked you to come along, but rules forbid. Curse the rules, he thought.

For an arranged marriage the people involved wouldn’t be allowed to see each other for a month before the marriage, this is to allow both families to prepare everything and make sure that the couple still wanted to get married. Also to get all the political things in order, most of all.

Feyd had 5 minutes of peace before he had a meeting with yet another person involved with the wedding. He was staring out at the arena and somehow missed simpler times like that. His momentarily peace got disrupted, however. A servant asked for his attention, it was Tula. Feyd knew how fond you were of her, so he promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt her. She was however, testing his patience at the moment.

“My Lord Na-Baron, I have a message for you, from Lady Atreides,” she spoke quietly.

Feyd shot up and took the message out of her hands, read it and a frown came over his face. Your reply was very formal, much the same as his question, or demand, felt to you. Yet he didn’t expect it to be so… dry. He looked up at Tula for a second, almost questioning her why your message didn’t sound nicer. He thought he knew you a bit more than that at least.

“My lord? Are you ok?” Tula questioned, seeing his face contort in several ways. “Fine,” his voice all gravely, he even sounded tired.

Tula started to walk away but then suddenly came to a stop. She considered the sentence she had on the tip of her tongue before finally saying it. As she turned back, Feyd looked up at her.

“My lord, … I have also received more information about Lady Atreides.” Her eyes trailed off, suddenly aware of the stare Feyd was giving her. “Speak.” He spit out. “… it appears that Lady Atreides has received a counteroffer for marriage, from Duncan Idaho.”

Feyd’s eyes narrowed into slits. Unaware of his next action, Tula wanted to make sure she would live after giving him the bad news, so she continued.

“Lady Atreides has declined his offer however,” she had no proof, but she also felt like you wouldn’t just bail on everything that had happened between you and Feyd.

She assumed you would say no to Duncan, considering the position you were in. A wild bet, to save her own life.

“Is that so…” he trailed off, started to stalk around Tula.

He took out his dagger and started to play with it, she feared for her life.

“It seems like I will have to teach Duncan some manners in the future.” He looked at Tula and then his dagger.

He reminded himself that the time would come where he got his revenge on Duncan and sheathed his dagger again. Tula almost sighed in relief.

“Send a message to Lady Atreides, tell her I look forward to making her mine soon.”

The implications where there, both innuendo and not, and Tula made sure she left as soon as she could.

*

When you receive the message, you’ve just finished bathing and are in a comfortable robe, hanging out on your bed. The staff member leaves the message in your hands and lets you be for the night. As you start to read the message you realise it’s from Tula. She tells you Feyd found out about the proposal from Duncan and wasn’t happy about it. She also conveys his own personal message to you.

“Make me his? Who does he think he is!”, you talk to yourself.

The way he talks to you ever since he left was very different from how he was on Caladan. No softness anymore, the Harkonnen in him had returned. You were sure that planet had something to do with it, Caladan was far more relaxed than Giedi Prime was. You decide not to answer him, it was only a few more days before you travelled to the planet yourself, so a response could wait.

You wonder if Duncan’s proposal had something to do with how cold he sounded in the message. You assumed it did, you didn’t see Feyd as an insecure person, but knowing how close you and Duncan were, anything could happen. You just hope Feyd doesn’t go ham on him and kill him. You fear that will be the only outcome, however.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you missed Feyd. It made you insecure to not have him around you. What was he doing right now? Did he also miss you? All these questions came floating to the surface as you kept thinking about him, and his hands, and his lips. And how strong he felt when he was holding you close, how his hands moved to your lower back and your legs, how his hot breath felt on you in the damp wet grass.

You instinctively open your robe thinking about him and start to touch yourself. You wanted nothing more but to feel him all over you, feel his hot mouth on your entrance. You imagine that your hands, are his, as you circle your clit. You insert two fingers and start to pump, cupping your breast in the other hand. You felt his erection as you sat on top of him, panting, and you think about how big he was, how he would stretch you, how he would make you his.

His cold words from the message now circle in your head, as you imagine him saying them out loud, whispering them in your ear from behind you, as he’s taking you. You come hard, thinking about him enveloping you, not stopping until you’re completely ripped at the seams. You imagine him holding you after, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, as you drift to sleep.

*

Feyd is having another night, however. His insecurity takes hold of him the night before your arrival. You hadn’t replied to his last message from a few days ago and he imagines you might just give up on the entire wedding, and so, give up on him. He keeps thinking about how he can convince you to marry him, what he would do to Duncan should he ever see the man again, and his anger boils inside of him.

He has thrashed his room already, broke a few chairs and killed a few servants, but nothing seems to help. A servant reminds him of the box they took with them from Caladan and he remembers the rose oil he took from his chambers. The servants draw a bath for him, with water, and put the rose oil in it. As soon as he enters the bathing area he relaxes. It feels like you are in there with him, soothing his fears and feelings, and calming him down.

He's not one to let his guard fall, but he drifts off into a soft sleep while he lay there. He dreams of you, in the damp grass, on top of him, under him, in any way he wants because it’s his imagination. He reassures himself that all will be fine once you’re here. He wakes and gets himself cleaned off. Before he goes to bed, he sprinkles some oil on his bed sheets, so that he would at least feel as if you were with him that night.

*

You travel to Giedi Prime on the day before your wedding. The rest of house Atreides would arrive later today. As you arrive you are greeted by a few servants, and you react with glee once you see Tula. You hug her and forget the differences in culture for a while before letting her go and straightening yourself. She has a soft smile on her face, however.

“Let me show you to your chambers, Lady Atreides.”

She walks in front of you as the other servants with your bags follow suit. As she ushers you into the room and your bags are in it, she closes the door and turns herself to you.

“My Lady Atreides, I fear I have a confession to make.” She looks strained.

You take her hands in yours, and you ushed her to sit down on the bed. “What is it, Tula?”

She shifts her eyes up at you, guilty for some reason.

“I was the one who told Feyd about the proposal from Duncan. I wanted him to hear from me, because I was afraid he might hurt you, should you have told him. I’d rather he hurt me, than you.”

You’re somewhat shocked but not for the reason Tula might think. She risked her life for you, knowing Feyd, he probably did end up hurting her.

“Did he hurt you?” you look at her, worried. “N-No, he did not actually. He only mentioned that he would have to punish Duncan, that’s it.”

You sigh, happy. But you’re also surprised he didn’t lash out at her. A mere servant in his eyes, what would be one more or less. Maybe Feyd was more perceptive than you thought.

“Tula, you did nothing wrong. You were loyal to your Na-Baron. I understand. I think Feyd will notice that I declined the offer if he sees me in a wedding dress tomorrow, we’ll be fine.”

You notice she had some tears forming in her eyes, so you decide to hug her, and she lets it all out.

“I hope he deserves you, Lady Atreides.” She tells you in between sobs.

It was the sweetest thing any servant had ever told you. You hope he still wants you as something more than a political pawn. Insecurity creeps back in as you prepare to go to bed before the big day. You wonder if he has any interest in you anymore as you drift off to sleep, worried and anxious.

[silentwonderlocks]

Ambrosia's Kiss Pt. 2 - S.R x F!Reader.

A/n: I'm so happy to finally be updating this! it's been sitting in my drafts for waaay too long. The title card is made by me! Hopefully, everyone who comes across this story likes it! Feedback is always appreciated!

Summary: Spencer and the reader talk about the past while the case unfolds new information.

Warnings: mentions of violence, talks of deadly chemicals, typical criminal minds, use of Y/n, slow burn, use of nicknames, Spencer and Y/n denying feelings.

Words: 4.k+

Read part one here!

________________________________

Once the plane was up and gliding smoothly in the air, the team huddled, continuing their talk about the profile. What they could come up with now was that the unsub was the submissive type of killer. He used less aggressive ways to kill, and he went after low-risk victims as well, so he had a type. Where the bodies were placed, his comfort zone was huge. Both parks are at equal distances, about 20 minutes by car. But it wasn’t enough to go off of, so Hotch split up the team for when they landed. Spencer and Morgan would head to the most recent crime scene while Y/n and Emily would go to the morgue. Rossi and Hotch would talk to the grieving families for helpful information. For now, everyone was just reading over the file and enjoying the peace before the chaos.

Y/n sat in her window seat, the little table in front of her pulled down so she could rest her tablet. Next to the tablet was a notebook, filled with scribbled-down notes about previous cases and this one included. Some of the writing was theories of what kind of unsub they were dealing with and others were trying to figure out the meaning behind certain details. At the moment, she had daffodils, a black dress, poison, and red hair written down; those seemed to be the most essential details that caught her eye. Y/n was staring at the photo of Vanessa Garrett before she succumbed to her fate. A happy woman living life in her 20s, a bright young college student. On her way to becoming a full-time EMT, such a sad ending for a young woman. The agent sighs softly, shutting off her tablet, and rubs her eyes feeling the strain of the screen affect her. Y/n did this too often, getting caught up in past events. She needed to focus on the present so they could all catch this monster of a human. Swimming in her thoughts, she finally returns to reality when a hand grips her shoulder in a soft squeeze.

Y/n pulls her hands away from her face to turn towards the person touching her shoulder, she smiles when it’s Spencer. He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed together like he’s analyzing her, a look of concern present.

“Is your head hurting, Dragonfly?” Spencer’s nickname for Y/n since he first saw the little pin in her hair. Only he didn’t start calling her that until after she wore it almost daily. There were only 20 days that he could remember her not wearing it, and it was usually because she forgot. The pin was a gift from her nephew and she considered it her good luck charm and believed it would keep her safe. Something Spencer didn’t understand entirely but he adored how she loved her family.

Y/n smiled at his question and slowly shook her head, then removed her bag from the seat next to her. Then pats it with her hand, and Spencer needs no other hints to take a seat by her.

“Not yet, Lucky.” is Her nickname for Spencer since he was always wearing mismatched socks and when she questioned him on why. When he told her that his grandma considered it good luck to wear different socks, well it stuck like glue. The only memory he had left of her before she passed away when he was younger.

Spencer’s face twists quickly into a bright smile then proceeds to rummage through his messenger bag like an excited child making Y/n snort fondly.

“What are you-” Her voice is cut off when suddenly, a big book of flowers is handed to her. The title is in medium-sized cursive letters saying: ‘Flowerpedia: The unofficial guide to a flower expert.’ There was watercolor art of petals floating on the cover, it was still in a near mint condition. This book was bought recently, there were still remnants of the price sticker on the bottom corner of the cover. She blinks a bit slightly confused, and the bright smile on Spencer’s face isn’t helping so she opens up the book skimming along the words.

Inside the book were all kinds of different facts and stories about flowers. There were four sections of the book, one of all the flowers in the world, their symbolism them, myths and figures associated with flowers, and lastly was the uses in full detail of each flower.

“You seemed to enjoy the little flower fact from earlier, so I thought you might enjoy this book! I already read through it and the section about the symbolism is fascinating. I had no idea that roses with different colors had significant meanings. Like red is for romance, yellow is companionship, and orange is for friendship” Spencer rambled on, his brown eyes sparkling as he spoke.

He was so proud of his gift, though part of it was out of spite. The thought of that bouquet on Y/n’s desk seemed to keep taunting him. If someone tried to date her, Spencer was sure Y/n would have told him about it. They almost told each other everything, and he knew Y/n was an avid book reader. Indeed that was better than a flower bouquet, right? Spencer had to pause in his thoughts, why was he trying to compete with a man he didn’t know existed? He never even asked her about it, so why should he care?

‘Besides that fact, Y/n is my friend and coworker nothing more..’ If that was true then why did his thoughts make his heart hurt?

“Wow Spencer, this is amazing. I love it~ So..is that lavender fact in here? Or was that Spencer-only knowledge?” Y/n’s sweet voice made Spencer regain focus, he chuckled softly at her comment.

“Oh! There are so many lavender facts in there, like here. It should be on page 256” Spencer doesn’t wait to grab the book from Y/n’s hand making her snort fondly once more. He begins to flip through pages until he reaches the designated number. Using his skinny finger, Spencer begins to underline the words speaking along.

“Lavandula angustifolia, most commonly known as Lavender is..” He pauses when he looks at Y/n. She wasn’t looking at him, she was just staring back at the tablet. Since the team huddle, Y/n seemed to be on edge slightly by the newest case. Spencer frowned and closed the book, placing it next to her tablet. Then he grabbed the tablet, slipping it into his messenger back, and that’s when he got a reaction.

“Hey! Spencer, I need that!”

“Not right now...what’s wrong?”

Y/n paused, her mouth was slightly open then she closed it. She took a moment before letting out a sigh and a frown. Her eyes were filled with caution but there was also the need for comfort that radiated from her.

“Do you ever have a bad feeling about a case?? Like you want it to go well, you want to believe that we’ll save the day right? I know, we don’t always but I hate having this feeling of…” Y/n trailed off having trouble finding the right words to say.

“False hope?” He answers and asks for her.

“Yes..not only that but this feeling that... Something will happen and we can’t stop it..”

Spencer stayed silent, he was never good at being the comforter. He needed it from others, although he had been through more than the other group members. Spencer still didn’t properly know how to act sometimes. He had been in her spot so many times, Spencer remembered he started thinking like that after Tobias Hankel, George Foyett, hell any case that threatened him or his team. He understood her concerns, yet he could never comfort himself like he wanted to do with her.

“I try not to think about the possibilities..” Spencer started before Y/n cut him off.

“Bullshit, you are always thinking, Lucky,” She says, not as an insult but more of a plea. Y/n wanted honest thoughts from him.

“Heh. I used to get those feelings and I still do from time to time. The idea of if we were doing more harm than good? If we were helping people even when we had to let the unsub go or they got away. If constantly being around suffering was worth it to see a happy ending…” Spencer’s voice lowered into a soft tone. One that was conflicted with himself.

“And…was it?”

“Sometimes...Sometimes I just wanted to go home and forget what I had seen” Y/n frowned at his words, knowing how ironic it was, Spencer wanted to forget but with that memory of his. He would always be haunted by something in his past.

She offers her hand to Spencer, palm up. A friendly gesture that Spencer accepted remarkably. He may have hated germs and touches but always enjoyed Y/n’s interactions. In comfortable silence, they held each other’s hand until Spencer broke it.

“What brought this up, Dragonfly? You were fine this morning.”

“This case bothers me, rubs me in the wrong way. He’s killing these women but treating them like they are…”

“Trophies?”

“Yes..or like a collection. He takes these women and doesn’t degrade them but makes them into..enchantresses? Just sickens me.”

“He’s clearly showing signs of some delusion; we had a similar case way back. A brother and little sister, the mother was hospitalized for chopping off her daughter’s limb. About how it would make her less appealing to the devil. The mother eventually died in a fire at the hospital. The son had delusions that he saw certain women as wives of the devil just like his mother” Spencer begins an intense look at his features as if the memory just happened yesterday.

“He was poisoning these women with pure nicotine, soaking it in these dresses from a play. Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor. Then, they would suffocate to death from the toxin. His mind became so broken that he believed his sister was chosen as a wife. Luckily, we caught him in time before his sister could suffer.”

“Oh my god..that’s..awful.”

Spencer nods then sighs running a hand through his hair.

“There have been worse ones..but anyway, do you like the book?” He asks, deciding to change the subject.

“Oh yeah! I love it. I can’t wait to learn about some of my favorite flowers. Who knows, this might help in this case.” Y/n grins at Spencer, who shrugs with an equally stupid grin.

“Maybe it will.” Their hands still intertwined perfectly comfortably.

‐---------------------------------------------------

The weather in Warren Valley was bright and warm, but the rain seemed to drizzle over the town despite the sunshine. Due to the rain and sun, a light mist also covered the roads making Emily grumble, who was driving herself and Y/n to Warren Valley’s morgue. They needed to see the victim's body for any more evidence they could use for the profile. Y/n smiled at Emily’s scoff, looking up from her map in the passenger seat.

“What? You don’t like rain?” Y/n asked, looking back and forth between the misty road and Emily’s focused face. Emily cracked a smile back, keeping her eyes in front of her. She always enjoyed Y/n’s company, seeing her as a good friend. Many girls' nights out and hangovers that came with them proved enough.

“Not when it’s covering up the road, I like the ability to see. Makes living a lot easier, don’t you think?” She joked, her eyes breaking away for a moment to look at Y/n. In her lap was the big book of flowers that Spencer had given earlier, a bookmark already in it. Emily couldn’t help but smirk to herself.

“Heh, compared to some of the things I’ve seen in the last few years. Yeaahh, I’ll take the mist. More appealing to look at.” A soft laugh escaped the two women then soon, a comfortable silence washed over them for a few moments.

“So.. I saw the flowers on your desk. Seeing someone finally?” Emily asked, a teasing smile creeping its way to her face.

Y/n scoffed, then laughed and shook her head at Emily’s comment. A light smile on her face as she answered back.

“No, the flowers are for my sister. It was her birthday, and I wanted to ensure she knew I didn’t forget.”

Emily hummed in response with a slow nod, apparently unhappy with the answer. Y/n raised an eyebrow at Emily and nudged her with her elbow.

“What?”

“Well, Spencer gave you a book about flowers.” Emily gestures to the book on Y/n’s lap. “ You both were holding hands earlier on the jet and according to Rossi, he saw you two talking about flowers earlier. We all saw the flowers on the desk..” She trails off slowly, waiting for Y/n to pick up the pieces.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed at Emily’s words, and she sat back in the seat, letting herself sink into the cushion. This wasn’t the first time that the team had asked or assumed that Spencer or her had made a move on one other. The time Spencer asked Y/n after a long case week if she wanted to come along with him to see his mom only because he needed the mental support, and didn’t feel comfortable asking the others.

“Spencer and I are not dating, every time you guys assume you’re always wrong, Spencer is just an excellent friend.” Y/n responds finally with a smile, but there’s a pain in her eyes. Luckily Emily is focused on driving that she doesn’t see, it doesn’t stop her from hearing the sorrow in Y/n’s tone.

“Every time you tell me that, your voice gets sad.” Emily points with concern laced in her voice.

“....” Y/n didn’t know when it first happened. It started with the little butterflies in her stomach when he would smile. Some days, she would be looking at him and admiring his beauty, he was always handsome to her, but now her looks were endearing at most. It was normal one day the next like she woke up and saw the bigger picture.

Y/n had boundaries, though; she knew of Maeve, his old girlfriend, and how her fate happened. Spencer had told her a few stories, but the subject always became hard for him to open up about. Whatever else she knew was because the team was helping to fill in the blanks. Maybe it had to do with it being almost a year and a half since her death. Y/n concluded that Maeve had to be the love of his life, so if Spencer was ever to love again, she doubted it would be her. He found love outside of work once before and would do it again.

“You need to talk to him about it, let him know before you regret it” Emily spoke again trying to give advice.

Y/n shook her head again, then waved her hand, trying to dismiss Emily. Her focus was now looking out the window.

“Spencer doesn’t need to know about this. I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable or awkward.”

“I know it’s hard to talk to him about this bu-”

“Emily, I appreciate it but, I want to focus on this case. We can talk about this later.” Y/n cuts her off, just wanting to end the conversation for now. It was making her head hurt, Great now she would have a migraine later.

No answer from Emily except a soft sigh. She decided to drop the subject for now, but she wouldn’t forget about it. The rest of the ride was in silence until the car stopped at the parking lot of the morgue. Slipping the book into her bag, Y/n and Emil exited the car. Once inside the building, Y/n and Emily were greeted by an older man in his late 50s with sandy blonde hair, clearly with years of experience sunken in his face. He wore glasses along with a friendly smile to the two agents.

“SSA Prentiss and SSA L/n?” He asked, then proceeded to give a nod and offer his hand out for a handshake.

Emily is the first to engage with the shake, and Y/n is next. “My name is Dr. Franklin. Your superior SSA Hotch told me you would be coming. Please follow me, ladies.” The silence lasted for a few seconds as the trio walked down the hallway and into a set of double doors.

“What can you tell us about the victim?” Emily asks first as they approach the medical table.

A look of grimace and sorrow washes over Dr. Franklin’s face, he turns to his right to pick up a clipboard. His eyes scan over the paper as he proceeds to speak.

“ Well, the tox screen returned, and I’ll let you see it yourself.” Dr. Franklin says handing the clipboard to Y/n. She looks over her eyebrows furrowing together while Emily looks over at Caylee

“Lycorine and Coniine? Not the usual chemicals we find, any idea how she could have gotten these into her system?”

“Well, based on the chemical compound we found. It looks like your suspect is taking the coniine and mixing it with the lycorine. Your victim was severely dehydrated more than likely due to the poison. ” Dr. Franklin responds as he waits for the two agents.

“And what exactly are those chemicals?” Emily asks, raising an eyebrow.

Before Dr. Franklin could say another word, Y/n was already flipping through the Flowerpedia. She frowns, finding two different sections. The older man watched with curiosity as Y/n frowns looking over at Emily.

“It’s Daffodils and Wolfsbane. The Lycorine is the pure chemical from the flower itself, same with the coniine. It’s not hard for someone to find out the chemical makeup and then alter it..”

“Daffodils??” Emily asked with a confused tone and look, clearly trying to wrap her head around how an unsub was using flowers.

“Daffodils are essentially harmless, ingesting one doesn't harm you. The more you get dehydrated and stomach sickness. Most children who are treated for it are usually fine within 24hrs with proper hydration.” Dr. Franklin comments, placing his two cents into the conversation.

“True but you know as a doctor that too much of anything can be harmful..” Y/n says closing the book and sighs. The weight as she puts it away in her bag grows heavier with each lingering thought. She or Emily didn't dare comment on how ironic the book helping was. It had to be a coincidence.

Dr. Franklin moves over to show Caylee’s wrists, his finger pointing to the purple bruising around them. “The bound marks on her wrists suggest rope or leather for an extended amount of time.” Dr. Franklin shook his head, placing down Caylee’s wrist with care.

“Wait, he’s mixing wolfsbane with daffodils? Did you find any puncture holes on her?” Y/n asks looking back at Emily.

Dr. Franklins responds as he removes his glasses, a cleaning cloth in hand.

“By the tissue damage we found in the throat and stomach, I would say it was ingested.”

“But why use the daffodil chemical if you already have an excellent poison right there?”

“Get me a pair of scissors please,” Emily interrupted a white medical glove on her hand as she was inspecting Caylee’s hair, a pair of tweezers in her hand. Confused, Y/n walks over to Emily’s side to look at what she’s discovered handing her the pair of silver scissors.

At the top of the hairline, all around her scalp, there were small lines crisscrossing from the hair to the skin. Speckles of dried blood painted at the border of the two. The skin was tightly taunted, with bruising around each stitch. It had to have been done while she was still alive; there were signs of healing. A sickening sight to see, it makes the pit deepen in Y/n’s stomach once Emily begins to cut the stitches. Upon the final cut, the red auburn hair falls off Caylee’s head revealing a messily cut brunette hair instead.

“Oh god, I didn’t even notice that. My eyesight must be going..” Dr. Franklin frowns his eyes in disbelief and slight horror.

“It’s alright, all that matters is that we caught it now,” Y/n responds to the older gentleman who goes to inspect the other corpse as well.

Emily pauses processing the information before she looks up at Y/n. Her expression was one of empathy yet she felt sick just alone on this discovery.

“He’s sewing wigs into his victims' hair.”

“We need to report to the team,” Y/n says with a sickened look on her face and Emily is already calling her phone to contact Hotch.

-----------------------------------------

Rainy weather was a delight to most or a nuisance to others. In Spencer’s opinion, he was mostly indifferent. He would rather be in the office or at home curled up with a book while the rain went on. Instead, here he was in a park staring at the dumping site of the victims, surrounded by yellow caution tape. Spencer’s eyes looked around at the park, it was the typical one. A small area for a playground, wide-open field for all kinds of sports, and a dining area filled with four weathered wooden tables, and benches. A twisted, and disgruntled expression rested on Spencer’s face. He stood by Morgan holding a red umbrella shielding them both from the weather’s light rain and mist.

“Well if there was any evidence, the rain washed it away” Morgan said as he stepped underneath the caution tape with Spencer following close behind.

“Why do you think the unsub chose this spot specifically?” Spencer asked as he looked around at the site.

There was indent in the grass from where the body had been laid out. Along with a border of wilting daffodils, the discoloration was already forming in the flower itself.

“Well its out in public so clearly, it wasn't hidden. He must have a message, something he wants to tell the world.”

“It could be a folklore message, the flowers and positioning of the bodies indicates a whimsical and almost artistic expression.” Spencer states as he crouches down to pick one of the wilted flowers with a gloved hand.

Morgan scoffs softly as he watches Spencer, a look of disgust.

“he's got sick taste then”

Spencer doesn't say anything as he tries to understand the meaning of the daffodils. He knew they were considered as a spring flower, they were native to grow in this state but were they important or just a throw away detail?

“So..” Morgan starts with a little smile on his face. The tone in his voice was light and fun, almost teasing. Spencer already didn't like where this was headed.

“You and Y/n earlier were getting all comfy with one another huh?”

Spencer felt a lump in his throat, his heart beat fasten at the thought of what Morgan was implying. Turning his head to look over at Morgan, his voice was a bit higher than he wanted to.

“What do you mean? She's my friend, of course I feel comfortable with her.”

Morgan scoffs softly with a smile. “Comfortable enough to hold her hand on the jet?”

A rush of heat smacked Spencer in the face as he gulped slightly. He frowned standing back up and sighed. Truthfully he was comfortable with Y/n because she made him feel safe. She was his friend and he cherished their friendship, but these newer feelings were confusing him.

“It's not like that..honest.”

Morgan looks at Spencer noticing how the comment seemed to hit him.

“well talk to me kid, I can handle it”

Spencer's lips form into thin lip unsure of how to continue. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tries to form the right words to say.

“It's been almost a year since Maeve passed..”

“Reid.”

Spencer shoots his head raising a hand up to stop Morgan from continuing. Then he crossed his arms.

“ Don't. I know I should be moved on by now but I can't help but feel guilty.. what if I'm just using Y/n as a replacement?”

Morgan's face formed into a scowl. “Do you really believe that? Do you even hear yourself?”

“No! At least I don't think so..I would never want to hurt her like that but” Spencer trails off rubbing his own cheek.

“But what?” Morgan says not fully convinced of his friend's words.

“ There was a bouquet of flowers on her desk this morning..and now I'm getting all of these confusing feelings and..I don't know what to think Morgan.”

Morgan stared at Spencer for a moment then chuckled softly with a sad tone.

“Pretty boy, what are you going through? You have nothing to feel guilty about. While you shouldn't let Maeve's death hold you back, you deserve all the time to grieve. But you need to do what feels good for Reid to do.”

Spencer frowns, then speaks in a soft tone.

“I don't know what that is..”

Morgan places a hand on Spencer's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. “don't worry, you'll figure it out. But I know you Spencer and I know that if you're feeling something for Y/n. It's not a second hand feeling.”

Spencer let out a noise that sounded like a mix of a scoff with a laugh. He smiled abit though, he always appreciated Morgan's support. Even if some teasing came along with it.

“Thanks Morgan..”

Before Morgan could say another word, he felt his phone vibrate with a new incoming text. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, his eyebrows furrowed intensely as he read. Spencer stares at Morgan with slight confusion, a pit in his stomach starting to form.

“What? What is it?”

“Prentiss and L/N found something”

[hysteriaww]

would kai have saved bonnie if damon left her ?

The simple answer imo is yes - the complicated answer would be his *reasons* for saving her.

I feel like if Kai saved Bonnie in 6x22, it would be VERY different from when he saved her in 6x13 on her bday. In 6x13, saving Bonnie was a huge sacrifice Kai made bc of his newfound guilt and other growing feelings about her. But if Kai saved her in 6x22, that man would do it out of SPITE lmfao. Like sure, maybe a *tiny* fragment of leftover post-merge Kai would save her bc he believed she deserved better, but at the mental state that he was in by 6x22, i think a larger part of him would actually be looking to save her out of this petty urge to make bonnie suffer, bc dying would be too easy for her according to his thought process 💀

In canon, remember how Kai got annoyed by damon seemingly deciding to let bonnie die and choosing elena over her super quickly? He complains, saying smthg like "This decision was supposed to torture him," bc he wanted damon to agonize over the bonnie vs elena choice for a long time. Similarly, i think bonnie dying just like that would eliminate a lot of the angst, pain and tension of the situation, so Kai would save her life *just* so bonnie and damon would be forced to live with the uncomfortable reality of damon choosing elena over her and deal with the emotional fallout of that instead of pretending they have the world's best friendship, as they'd been doing for all of S6 (bc Kai would enjoy watching that mess).

Ofc, that would probably result in Bonnie aiming a lot of her resentment towards Kai for forcing her to face those hard truths, but maybe, after an initial explosion (and a lil nudging from Kai), she might realize that targeting kai is just shooting the messenger rather than addressing the root problem (her toxic friends). If it hadn't been kai, then somebody else would've made bonnie see the truth but either way, that's something she needed to see.

Realistically, even after this realization, i don't think bonnie would've suddenly warmed up to kai, but i think it might've pushed her to ditch damon instead of sticking around Mystic Falls to help him all the time (which would've consequently made Kai suddenly lose interest in Mystic Falls too xD). If Damon then chose to seek her out to beg her (read: force her) to defeat the town's new villains-of-the-week, or if he found her w his humanity off and tried to kill her to get elena back, i think kai might've surprised them all by appearing out of nowhere to get damon off bonnie's case (bc kai being kai was prob keeping tabs on bonnie's whereabouts as soon as she skipped town).

And maybe Kai's sudden appearance would've led to a bonkai confrontation with Kai realizing he may have saved her out of spite in 6x22, but there is no explanation for why he saved her from damon this time besides.. *wanting* bonnie to get her life away from her friends. And maybe that would've also led him to unsubtly point out that an elena-free existence had actually made bonnie's life better, thanks to kai.

Bon would probably kick his ass halfway across the world after a comment like that but i think it would stick with her, making its way under her skin as it sinks in that the horrific thing Kai did really did end up working out for her in the long run. Bc as we know, even at his lowest, there was always some part of Kai that begrudgingly wanted bonnie's attention and validation and rly resented her friends getting that from her while walking all over her. It would take a long time, but slowly and surely, i think Bonnie's intuition would eventually pick up on that tiny part of Kai that saved her life to show her that she deserved better. It would be very uncomfortable for her to realize that Big Bad Kai could no longer be an easy scapegoat for all her problems, but that might be just what she needs to finally see Kai as a person, rather than a monster. And from there? Well, looots of opportunities and potential would open up from there 😏

[ahllohehn]

Bats eyeslahes

Grumbo?

Actually don't know if I've already requested them but oh well I'll do it again

Remember to feed your Zora her weekly Grumbo /j (forgot to answer for the drabble spam week)

------------

"Tell your dad he's dumb."

"Send a reply forward telling your papa that he's being unreasonable."

Grumbot's system sent a little beep of confusion, its little wheels caked with dirt and whatnot from going back and forth from Grian to Mumbo then back to Grian, then to Mumbo...

Basically, the little robot was being used as a messenger. All because both of his creators were non-confrontational and, additionally, extremely petty when it came to small banters turned to big arguements.

Grumbot, for the first unusual time in his life, learned to be 'annoyed'.

He wheeled himself up the ramp Impulse made for him as he entered the Hermes cabin for the nth time, faintly registering Scar's giggling at the side from seeing him once again. The robot fails to understand how the demigod could still find this so funny when it's been going on for almost an entire hour.

Grumbot approaches the familiar strawberry blonde at the corner of the cabin, throwing a tanrum facedown on his bed, "I have come with a message."

Grian raised himself up on his elbows, glaring down at Grumbot like he was doing something wrong from doing what he was being instructed to do, "He still hasn't given up?!"

The robot ignored him and was about ready to go through the process of going through with this shenanigan once again before his program stopped him with a new calculation that could possibly achieve better results on the situation. It went quiet briefly as he took the time to reprogram himself.

"Mumbo says that he understands your point of view and he's willing to hear you out."

That was Grumbot's first time lying. It felt... 'fun'.

It watched as Grian's frustrated expression turned into a much more surprised one, "H-he is?"

Something in Grumbot's coding was preventing him from lying any further, only sitting there silently. Apparently, that was enough. Grian's concerning delusions over Mumbo was enough to placate him.

"W-Well, I expected him to come to his senses soon enough!"

"Would you like to forward another message?"

Grian hesitated for a while then shook his head, "I'll go to him directly."

And so Grumbot found himself in the forge, for the nth time. Grumbot was comfortable enough in Grian's arms to be able to see that Mumbo was confused as to why he had Grian in tow now.

"Oh, Mumbo Jumbo Bumbo Dumbo, I knew you did love me enough to actually come to your senses."

Mumbo raised an eyebrow, "I did?"

"After all, a trillion lions is fully capable of beating the sun."

Mumbo then turned to stare at Grumbot unamusingly, obviously aware of where it all started to go wrong. The robot didn't react back.

"That is not what I said--"

"That's what Grumbot said you said,"

"It's the literal sun, Grian!"

"Yeah, but it's a trillion amount of lions!"

"THEY'RE LIONS! HOW ARE THEY EVEN GONNA REACH THE SUN?!"

"THEY COULD MAKE A LADDER OUT OF EACH OTHER!"

"THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!"

"IT DOES! IT'S A TRILLION LIONS!"

"Oh my gods, Grian, THEY'RE LIVING ANIMALS! THE SUN IS A SPHERE OF HOT PLASMA IN SPACE!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M DIVORCING YOU! I'M TAKING CUSTODY!"

"OF WHAT?!"

"OF GRUMBOT AND THE TRILLION LIONS!"

"EXCUSE ME?! THEN I'M TAKING OWNERSHIP OF THEIR DAD--"

"wait, HUH?!"

Grumbot then decided to shut himself down right then and there.

[echoe-back-from-the-void]

Spencer Reid Likes Your Music

:Some mentions to songs I like or have listened to in the last month since writing this.

Hotchner said there would be a new team member for the BAU, he didn't say much more after that but to expect them today. Spencer carried his still-hot coffee in his hand and his other hand rested on the straps of his ever-present messenger bag. He didn't like change much and he felt curious about who would join, an ex-military, maybe a student in training, or another genius like himself. The possibilities flooded his brain with theories and percentages. It could be another guy, he thought worriedly. Spencer gets enough teasing as it is, he just hopes whoever joins won't be a bully.

Spencer opens the doors to Quantico, making small greetings as he goes to the elevator. he presses the button and waits, already knowing how long it will take to reach him, 14 seconds on the mark. When the elevator opens he enters it swiftly and someone else enters behind him.

A woman only a little shorter than him by maybe an inch, with long bangs that hide half her eyes. She is wearing an old, well-loved, Dale Earnheart t-shirt with flared blue jeans. The entire outfit seems too dressed down to belong in a government building while still suiting her so well.  But what is the most surprising is the loud, blaring, music from her earbuds.

"Too tired to sleep, good morning

And I'm too wired to heed the warning

That there's danger in the summer

The calm before the thunder

I'm an American cliché

Missing a girl in a French café

I say, "Goddamn, you're beautiful"

You blush and duck out of frame"     ~American Cliche by FINNEAS

The music is upbeat but the voice is monotonous and deep. It's not really Spencer's style but the tune is catchy and the way the woman taps her thigh tells him that it is something she enjoys. She notices his staring and raises her eyebrow making her bangs shift to reveal more of her eye. No gaudy fake lashes or swirling eyeliner, just plain hazel eyes that catch his breath.

They turn away from each other when the doors open to the floor Spencer gets off on. He's again surprised when she gets off behind him, Spencer expected the woman to get off on the floor above. She follows feet behind him, her music still clouding his ears, he glances back as he turns the corner into the bullpen and notices her steps are in time with the beat.

Again, Spencer doesn't expect much until she walks up to Hotchner's office and knocks three times on the door. The woman hurriedly pulls the earbuds out and stuffs them in her pockets before putting her arms behind her back and waiting.

Hotchner opens the door in surprise before greeting the woman and leading her into his office.

"That our new member?" JJ asks as she turns her head to Hotch's office.

"Guess so." Prentiss parrots.

Everyone waits for Hotch to come out with their suspected new member. "Team, meet your new member, Cosette, Nadine. She will be joining us on our case." Everyone moved to the conference room for debriefing and Spencer noticed she slipped an earbud back into her ear, although the music was turned down marginally to not be blasting. Despite Hotch and the new member being closest to the conference room, She did not enter the room until everyone was seated. She paused before deciding against sitting entirely and leaning against the back wall where she watched her new teammates through her bangs. Spencer being close enough to the back, could only faintly hear her music.

"Okay .... Blah - blah - blah. Case explanation or something." Hotch began with some help from Garcia. Emily Prentiss who was sitting near the middle of the table turned toward the new member during the case explanation. "Can you please take out your earbud and focus on the case."

Everyone turned toward the new member some with surprise and others with disappointment. She ducked her head sheepishly. "Sorry, Ma'am. Swear I was listenin'." She pulled her earbud out and stowed it in her pocket. "Was reading their lips," she mumbled while tucking her hair behind her ear.

Spencer picked up that she was nervous by the way she pulled at her ear after saying the last part. Everyone else noticed too and turned back around to continue the debriefing of the case.

"Wheels up in ten, Cosette, you can put it back in now," Hotch said turning to leave the conference room. The way Hotch said the last part was soft and with understanding.

"Got it, Boss!" Cosette chirped: It was the first glimpse into her personality, the team noted. The team noticed that while she did reach into her pocket, she did not pull out her earbud again. She frowned as if scolding herself.

JJ was the first to approach Cosette, "Got a to-go bag?" She asked.

"Yea- I mean Yes Ma'am!" Cosette quickly corrected. "Left it in the car, may I go get it?" She asked back sheepishly. JJ agreed and the newest member of the Bau quickly went to get her bag.

"She's looked really nervous, guys," Garcia said to the team.

"When she settles, she might have a very energetic personality." David Rossi added.

"I feel a little bad for calling her out. But she should know better than to listen to music during a debriefing." Prentiss commented.

"Maybe she had a reason. She took them out before going into Hotch's office."

The team gathers at the jet and all of them notice the newest members' apprehension. "You need to sit down for the plane to take off," JJ says soothingly to Cosette. JJ became the designated person to ask or tell the new member to do anything because of her background as a liaison. "Okie Dokie," Cosette responds back before scurrying to sit next to Spencer, again surprising the others.  She sits and quickly buckles herself while clenching the straps tightly.

"First time?" Derek Morgan jokes and Cosette's eyes widen comically when the plane begins shaking and lifting off. She doesn't respond immediately until the jet levels out more. "Not fond of planes or flying in general." She mutters.

Cosette then turns to Spencer, "Sorry for not asking first before sitting." She shivers, not from cold but from holding her muscles too tightly. "I'll move as soon as I can." She breathes deeply and seemingly calms. She moves again to take out her earbuds but doesn't. Instead, she begins tapping some unknown beat with her finger on her knee.

"What song is that?" Spencer asks.

"Frank Sinatra, Fly with me." She responds immediately.

"That's an oldie," Rossi says appreciatively. "What is your favorite song by him?"

"Girl from Ipanema or Blue Moon."

"A blue moon is not actually blue, the term actually refers to the rarity of the occurrence. A blue moon is when there are two full moons within a month. This falls some way short of the 365/366 days in a calendar year: therefore, roughly every two and a half years a 13th full moon is seen. The term was-" Spencer says smartly.

"Spencer." Morgan interjected before the doctor could say more.

Cosette turned left and right in confusion. "But it was interesting," she whined. "The term comes from the saying, The moon is blue, right? Because it means something is impossible?"

Spencer felt strangely warm in his face from the way she finished his thought, and the way she asked if she was right was like she was asking for more facts. He realized he may have stared too long and adjusted his tie, "Yeah, from the 16th century."

"Don't goad him on much or pretty boy will talk your ears off with facts," Morgan warns.

"So," Cosette responds bluntly. The others shake their heads while coming up with their own guesses as to when she would tell him to shut up. But that didn't happen, no matter how long-winded or obscure the fact was. When passengers were allowed to move about the cabin, most had expected her to get up and run but instead, she unbuckled and sat sideways to pay closer attention to him.

"Didn't you want to move?" Spencer asked between facts.

"Do ya want me to? I mean I can! I know you have a book and you may prefer it to talking." Cosette asked pulling on her ear. Now that he was paying more attention he noticed she had a small metal hoop in the upper half of her ear. It was actually the only piece of jewelry she was wearing. No ring, bracelet, or necklace. She ducked her head at his stare and her ears began to twitch. "I swear to Veritas that I'm listening, but I can't tell you what the last three facts were even if you held me at gunpoint." Seeing Dr. Reids' face shift, she quickly tried to say more to stop his disappointment. "It's not that I'm not listening! I really am!" She clenched her hand and began to scratch her palm. "Sometimes I can be staring right at someone but the words don't register. It's a disconnection between the sounds and words, Auditory Processing Disorder. I didn't wanna stop you because even if I wasn't really hearing words, your voice was really nice and kinda excited."

Rossi again speaks up from across the plane aisle. "If I may ask what caused the disorder?" He looks worried when she can't answer immediately.

"It was a head injury. The full story was that I was a kid and the plane I was on crashed. At the time I was listening to Come Fly With Me by Frank Sinatra. It's why I was tapping it earlier. Not to like crash the plane or anything but like how killers develop rituals. I play or tap the song when I'm nervous on a plane and it tells me that no matter what happens I'd be fine because I was back then." She scratches the back of her neck. "I've been told it doesn't make much sense."

"Actually that does make sense. You're associating the song with the crash and surviving it so you subconsciously tap the song. Most likely a coping mechanism to help you not panic in the event of another crash." Spencer said.

"In not as many words, yes." Cosette said before yawning. Spencer wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself but she reminded him of a cute gerbil when she yawned. "Maybe I should take a nap?" She asked herself quietly.

"We'll be in the air for another hour or two. A small nap wouldn't hurt. Actually napping for half an hour can improve productivity leaving you feeling rested but not drowsy." Spencer added. "This is due to your brain never entering REM sleep."

"We get it pretty boy." Morgan added and when Cosette turned around she saw that Derek Morgan was in fact trying to sleep. She nodded toward Spencer before leaning back in her seat and quickly falling asleep.

~

Weeks later at another case. The team get to the police station, Cosette has her earbuds in again, this time, no one on the team blinks at the faint music. Even Spencer moves closer to hear it as he wonders what it is.

Spencer notice's when they arrive to the police station and begin giving a profile like they always do. Cosette doesn't stand with them. As Gideon and Derek and Hotch all give words on the profile; Spencer watched her eyes bounce from one face to another as she reads lips. Even when a cop speaks up she sees it out the corner of her eye and turns her head toward them. She picked a place to stand that let her both see her teammates and the cops when they talk.

He's again surprised by her intellect when even she comes up with the killer before him. A strange feeling erupts in his chest when she brushes against him to get the papers to Hotchner. It's like his heart beat harder but it was pleasant. Something warm tingles in his chest as she fist bumps the air after they've caught the suspect.

The team had to get conjoined rooms for another case and while most of the team went out for dinner you decided to stay in the room and take advantage of the hot water. 

Spencer had also elected to stay with you not of your knowledge as he hears you begin to sing. And while he did enjoy hearing your music from time to time as it blasted through your earbuds, Spencer Reid found he liked hearing you sing even more as you belted the lyrics to another song he didn't know.

"I'm no James Dean

Heartthrob daydream

Bad hair, black jeans

Not cool suits me

Girls won't date me

Guys all hate me

Guess that must mean

I'm no James Dean

James Dean~

I'd got into Nirvana

And smoking marijuana

My first year in school

But you don't really wanna

Get busted by your momma

If you want to stay cool" ~ James Dean by the Wrecks.

Spencer hears through the open conjoining door as you get out of the shower. The song ends and you begin another while your shadow dances under the door with the steam.

"Please forgive my ugly I

Should've picked to be born more lovely I

Should've picked a face

That would've more easily won a place

For me in your heart rent-free

Please forgive my dimensions

I just should've designed myself for your bad intentions

I just should've picked a form

That would've made good mental porn

For all of your odd fantasies"

~ Ugly by Cloudfooter

While the lyrics were sad, you said them with a chirp. But Spencer finds himself not appreciating the song for how it made him feel. Even if he isn't the prettiest as he's been told by women and men alike. In a way he calls into question that maybe why he's viewed as ugly could be his need to give facts and explain things. Sometimes he can't help it really as it is just the way he thinks and sees the world. And while he does have some problems being complimented because he feels he doesn't deserve them he still wants to deserve them. In a way wanting to be praised.

"What're you thinking about so hard? I'd have thought ya went with the group for chow?" Cossette says from the foot of the bed startling him.

"Nothing." Spencer answers too fast.

"Uh huh. And I'm the queen." She says sarcastically. Spencer felt surprised to note that he liked her sarcastic comments. Few they were but still made him smile.

Cossette turns her back to the bed and falls back on it with a jump. She closes her eyes and curls up with a pillow. "Don't think too hard so late. Save the stressful thoughts for later."

"Do—do you think I'm pretty." Spencer asks.

Cossette opens one eye to examine him and Spencer thought he imagined it but her face does take on a redder hue but he simply explains it away with her having taken a hot shower.

"Honest truth? I think you're beyond pretty. I mean Derek is all macho and Hotchner has that stern vibe but you." Cossette pauses and closes her eyes again with a yawn. "Ya know, you're cute when you ramble those facts and you're damn near gorgeous when you wear those blazers. So yeah I think you're pretty. Where's this coming from? Did one of this cops say somethin'?"

"No I just."

"Do you doubt what I said was true?"

"No, but.."

"No butts. You're hot, pretty and gorgeous. Any bastard who tells you different is just jealous of you. For one you're kind and sweet. Super polite and well educated. You're easy to talk to and have a wonderful voice." The more she talked the quieter her voice got until Spencer looked over to see her sleeping.

"Spence! S-pence! Spencer!" Emily calls him a third time as he had been staring at Cossette'a empty desk after she left. And with her departure the buzzing of her music through her earbuds has also left him. It had only been a week since the last case and when Cossette had complimented him while also pushing away his fears. But in the process she also made him feel something strange. Unlike before the interaction, now whenever he had long conversations with her his eyes would unintentionally drift to her lips as she talked. And when she hummed or mumbled any song under her breath then he moved a little closer to hear. It was bad enough that he had even gotten a sharp grin from Morgan afterward.

During another case that was solved moderately swiftly the team still needed to stay in their hotel for the night (for sake of plot.) Spencer, who was awake as usual when all the other guys had already gone to sleep, heard as somewhere around four, one of the females left their room. Quietly he pokes his head to the conjoined door and notices Cossette isn't there in the bed with JJ. Standing, he slowly sneaks to the door. Not that he knows, his movement awakes Derek. He has to contain himself from telling the doctor to go get his girlfriend.

When Spencer finds her it's with her feet hanging over the edge of the pool. He hears her ragged breaths as she sings and mumbles through tears.

"Who gives a fuck about my nightmares?

'Cause I can barely focus when I'm like this

And lately, forty wings would be just priceless

I wrestle with myself and with my vices

But no one gives a fuck about my nightmares

But it's nothing you should worry yourself about (oh oh, oh oh)

It's nothing you should worry yourself about (oh oh, oh ohhh)

It's all a bit of fun until somebody gets hurt

I'll take it with a pinch of salt, another lesson learned"

~ nightmares by little life

"Is that how you really feel?" Spencer can't help himself from asking. He moves closer to her now still form as she tensed with his presence. Sitting beside her he lets one hand dip in the water. "I really hate cold water because on one of our cases a man kidnapped a boy and was going to drown him in a lake. I was the first one there so I had to swim out to save the boy while Derek and Hotch took care of the unsub. The water was cold like this." He says the last words with remorse. Could he not save the child?

"I just had a really bad nightmare," she shrugs her shoulders and wipes her eyes. "Wasn't about any case we had but, it was an unsub and he had this girl and I don't even know the girl but I swear to you it was happening on the front porch of my childhood home. He asks her if she wears hearing aids, maybe she's deaf or close to it. She says no and he said good, you won't be needing them. And then he screwed a bolt into the side of her head through her ear canal. I could hear her screaming, and then it changes and I'm the one being drilled into. I can't open my jaw or move my mouth because it it all hurts. My ear feels so hot like it's burning and there's something wet going down my neck. I can't breathe and then I wake up." She gives him a dry grin. "It's made no sense but it still freaked me out." She shakes her head again and her hair moves around her catching his eyes. She places her hands down against the edge of the pool and leans her head back to the stars. There weren't many due to how close they were to the city.

Spencer feels something bubble in his chest, like the feeling of drinking too much fizzy pop. Tentatively, scared, he gently places his hand over hers making her snap her head to him.

"What are you—?"

"Is it helping? 85% of adults have at minimum one nightmare a year. I'd...I'll be here if you have more." Spencer quirks a shy grin. Cossette smiles back and holds his hand before leaning against his shoulder.

The relationship between them became closer after that night.

Cossette walked out of the elevator into the bull pen with two coffees in hand while nodding her head to her music. She twirled around Spencer's desk before leaning against the corner with a bright smile. Spencer ducks his head with a smile as she sets the coffee down. "Crap ton of sugar, doll face." She says under her breath before turning and leaving with a skip away to see Penelope.

"What was that!" Derek asks with a laugh. "Ohhhh," Derek begins to raise his eyebrows up and down making Spencer fluster again.

"It's nothing."

"That didn't look like nothing," Rossi adds in passing while setting his things at his desk for the day. A soft smile melts the Italian man's face.

"Guys what's got everyone so smiley?" JJ asks as she too walks into the bull pen with folders in her hand.

"Pretty boy got coffee from his girlfriend. She made it just the way he likes it." Derek says the last part with more tease.

"She's not my girlfriend," Spencer reaches for the coffee and takes a sip with a soft smile.

"Not yet," Derek badgers.

It was only after a few more mornings like this that they began to go out on occasion. Spencer taking her to the book store when he found a book he thought she'd like.

"Don't expect me to read as fast as your Spence. This is— 300 pages in the least." Cossette smiled up at him.

"I don't expect you too but..." Spencer said sheepishly but she didn't let him finish.

"I'm just teasing, doc. At the very least I need an afternoon, hopefully we aren't called in when I get to the best part." She jests while gently holding the side of his vest. They hadn't progressed to holding hands yet. There was one time where she hooked her pinky around his. The innocent action made the boy genius flush and hide his face from her eyes.

"Hey Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"You should know something." She turned to stand in front of him. "You're pretty swell." She said in a mock English accent making Spencer crack a smile.

(Songs that will be included when this is finished. (This is reference for me but they’re good songs)

I’m beginning to see the light by ink spots.

Out of style by the Wrecks

Pumpkin the Regrettes

Old soul Saint motel

[ihuntvisualmentoo]

World of Magic✨✨

Shaun’s Route

(You’ve chosen his route)

Just like a would in an actual visual novel, you’ll be going through this but you will have a storyline with each character. The route will be separate from the other routes. So each of them won’t be connected at all.

Enjoy the piece of trash I’ve written, cause this gon’ be one long ass post.

\Again

He did it a-fucking -gain

Half naked on top of another random woman, and here you are standing at the front of his bedroom door with a bag of cookies made just for him. It's nothing new honestly. Just a repetitive loop that happens over and over again. The shock isn't even there to show on your face, instead a conniving smile stretches across your face, “Ah, it seems as though I'm interrupting a friendly moment here."

The red head snaps his attention to you, with the most 'worried' expression, “Y-y/n! It's not what it looks like! Honest!”

You give him a blank through your jeweled veil as he tries to take out another sad excuse in his book.

Oh this poor bumbling idiot, he hasn't realized that you're already sick of his shit. You raised a gloved hand at him as a sign to stop talking, at the same time the woman on his bed wraps her arms around his neck from behind pressing his breasts against his back

"Ian, what's wrong? Is she bothering you?" she said in a seductive voice. Red flushes across lan's cheeks, a reaction that used to be for you. The woman glances at you with a smirk. However you couldn't care less.

*You can have him, you thought, less work for me'

You set the cookies on a nearby small table, "I’Il just leave these here then." exiting the room.

"W-wait!" Ian pleaded wanting you to stay and listen, but you didn't live your whole life to put up with this. With a turn on your heel, you walk down the adorned hallways as the palace's maids and butlers slightly bow, not looking back.

Ian Duff, the crown prince bound to be next in line for the throne. And as his fiance you are the soon-to-be queen.

At first, you felt happy.

Happy because you would be with your 'lover' since childhood, and throughout the years were also the times that drifted you from each other. The times when he would shower me with affection, only for it to be for other women that jump into his sheets. While you just sit pretty as a doll that can't say anything about it. It just pisses you off!

You stop at an open window, admiring the royal garden, if you could, you would take off the jewels that covered your eyes but the nagging feeling of attendants nearby would gawk at the sudden sight.

You really needed air, and you're just taking the chance to clear your head. It's just... hard to always handle this problem Leaning at the edge of the window, eyes closed and rubbing your temples, the veil shifting slightly.

"Mew!"

A squeaky little meow makes you jolt. Opening your eyes, you see a gray tiny kitten peeking underneath the veil. She has a small purple envelope tied to her back. Readjusting yourself to look at her properly. You smiled as you curled a finger to scratch her chin. "Hey little Moonpie, got something for your aunty?"Moonpie purrs in response. Distracting the little messenger you take the note and read it.

"Heya kitty!

I got something cool I want you to see. Meet me in the woods tonight?”

You softly chuckle to yourself, “what a dork.”

At least he’s the only guy in your life

At the same time, Moonpie jumps off the window ledge and trots her way into the forest.

Well, looks like you gotta get ready.

_________________

The sound of leaves crunch underneath your boots. The change of attire suitable for exploring out in the woods, knee high boots, white shirt with a vest, a long cloak, and a bag filled with needed supplies. It's also perfect for when you need to blend into a crowd of commoners while out and about.

You scan the area of the meeting spot, you don't see him around. Maybe he's just late?

"Shaun?"

No response

"Shaun wher-"

A pair of large hands weigh on your shoulders, feeling your whole body go stiff.

"Guess who-"

A voice all too familiar to you. You look up to see a dark-skinned man's face looming over you with dreads dipped in blue dye wearing a beast skull on his head with black-purplish fur reaching his back to top it off. "C'mon, I told you to stop that!" you said swatting at him, Shaun avoids your mini assault stepping away from you.

"Hah! What makes you think I'll promise such a thing?" he puts a dramatic hand on his chest. "You're just breaking my heart. How else can I have your undying attention?"

You couldn't but roll your eyes at his little performance. "Ya know, if it wasn't for my little niece i wouldn't even be here." Shaun gives you a raised brow and a shit eating grin. "And you would've still seen me."

He ruffles your hair, "C'mon, we don't wanna be out for too long." suggesting while grabbing a hold of your wrist to guide you to a safe point.

_______________

We stop in front of a small cabin, a very charming in fact one belonging to no other person but Shaun's. The inside of the cabin has already been decorated to his taste. I set my bag at the table full of little projects he's made before as he also takes off the beat skull on his head, tattoos of deciphers on his back. "So what's it you have to show this time?" I asked

Shaun gives a wide grin all that you recognize. “My god, Shaun, I swear if it’s another-” however your words are interrupted. “Okay before you, finish. Lemme just show you.”

he pulls out of glass box in his hands revealing to what looks to be-

“… a… slime?” You tilt your head to the side. Sensing the confusion, Shaun explains.

“It’s an acidic slime! Perfect for this one practice I’m doing.”

“And is it safe?”

….

“….Shaun? It’s safe, right??”

……..

Beads of sweats from on his forehead, nervously shifting his eyes to a very nice wall.

“Shaun are you kidding me right now?!”

“Cmon, it’s not that bad! I made sure myself.” Narrowing his eyes, you move your attention to the slime. Its green color shines in the candle lights, and it’s …rather cute too. “Well if you say so, I trust your judgment.”

Shaun gives a shit eating grin in victory, “See? A professional you can rely on.”

Hmm, to think you became friends with a guy like him.

Thunk!

The sudden sound alerts the duo, and look in the glass box.

“Ahh, shit!!”

The slime melted through the glass and landed on the wooden floor sinking into it in the process. However, it stopped and looked at Shaun. “Uhh, it looks… angry?”

“Y/n, don’t. Move.” ….

The creature stretches into a lengthy height, over towering the idiot.

“Or start running!”

Shaun dodges the slime as it lunges at him. One attack after another items are getting destroyed and small animals running away from the little boxes they were being held in. “Professional my ass! You didn’t make sure it was in the right box!”

“I thought it was slime proof!”

You tried to dodge the next attack, but it grazed you left thigh. On the floor, you yelped in pain, it’s burned through your boot. You take it off as fast as you can before the acid could spread anymore.

Distracted, the slime rushes to the small woman to give one clean hit. Seeing the raised tentacles, you closed your eyes prepared.

….

The sound of a vortex is heard, lid slamming after. The sound of heavy breathing, the sound of heavy footsteps, to a pair of large hands cupping your face. “…You can open them now.”

With your vision returned, the feeling of your chest tightens.

Shaun is inches away from you, looking concerned. His eyes scan you until he spots the few on your leg. “Damn… it really got you bad.”

“What, happened?”

He says that he found another jar for emergencies in his projects. And this time, he made sure it was a very secure one. You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know… although”

You sock him in the ribs

The impact made him cough, “Ack! Ow, okay, yeah I deserve that.”

Even though your lives were in danger, it stop you laughing in the aftermath. It was a hellish experience but it’ll be worth the tale later on in the future. “This is nice and all, but I really need some patching up here.”

Shaun nods and lifts you to your feet, he plops you on an untouched table.

The sight of the scar makes him wince. Med kit already in hand, he skillfully fixes the wound. “It’ll need to heal for a couple days,” he implied. “Right now, the slime only paralyzed your leg, it should be fine for you to walk around tomorrow.”

Oh

…

Oh!

That means you won’t be able to return to the palace tonight! If the servants notice you were absent, it’ll trigger a search.

….

At the same time though, you’re not really paid much attention to, the servants would probably not be bothered to report it. Huh? At least your reputation benefits you.

“Guess i’m sleeping over” you stretch out your arms to Shaun, with a tinge of red on his face, he lifts you and takes you around the house to assist with your night.

“…One bed?”

You turn to Shaun, already in sleepwear, he rubs the nape of his neck, trying to cool the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah uh, if it makes you comfortable, I can just sleep on the floor”

You shake your head and disagreement, “No, no. It’s okay. I… honestly prefer that we share.”

A shy smile changes your lips. Repeating to yourself over and over that he’s just a friend.

…right?

*Holds out bowl* Tips and advice, please?

(Oh! Part 2??)