#without worrying that the other will get called for work.

[kentopedia]

˚₊‧꒰ა ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY — levi ackerman

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. your car breaks down before you can make it home for christmas. it leaves you with no choice but to call your ex-boyfriend.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, sfw, gn!reader, exes, christmas, light angst, second chance romance, soft!levi, modern au — 3.3k words

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. dropping the annual levi christmas fic. happy birthday to my beloved, he is such a special character to me and has gotten me thru some rough times :( forever grateful u exist levi ackerman. this was going to go in a completely different direction in my head but... alas the words lead me and i must follow. hope you enjoy!

Of all the things to happen on Christmas Eve, car trouble ranked among the worst. Which, naturally, meant that’s exactly what happened to you. 

Something not too far from a blizzard had come in overnight, coating the roads in a thick, hazardous blanket. It looked beautiful, sure, but you were two hours away from where you needed to be on Christmas, and you figured — how bad could it be?

The answer was bad.

You’d skidded, blown out a tire (they were old, due for a change), and found your hood popped open with an odd smoke, stranded only 30 minutes south of where you’d come from. Your family was expecting you home by the evening, there to see everyone for Christmas Eve dinner. 

At this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it for Christmas at all.

After cursing yourself profusely for not just taking an extra day off and leaving yesterday, you started scrolling through your phone, looking for assistance.

The towing company answered the line in a sharp tone, already dismissive of your worries. It was idiots like you that kept them working Christmas Eve, and their annoyance was evident.

“What can I do for you?” a man, testy and older, answered. 

You explained the situation, and received a less than understanding response. 

“Sorry, miss, but we’ll be two hours out. There’s been a few other incidents, and we’re short-staffed. We can give you another call when we free up.”

“But I need to be somewhere tonight. There must be something you can do?”

“Sorry,” he said again, but it was clear he wasn’t very sorry at all. “If I were you, I’d start making calls… See if there’s anyone brave enough to come pick you up in this weather.”

He hung up on you.

You groaned, throwing your hands up in the air. It was unlikely that anyone would want to be your savior tonight. Your family was still 70 miles away, and everyone else you knew had other plans for Christmas Eve. 

But. 

You knew this stretch of road well, were more familiar with it than most streets along here. It was a country highway that wrapped around the smaller town before leading you onto the interstate, one direction to your hometown, the other to the city you lived in. 

Of course, it was here that your car had decided to break down, just ten minutes away from your ex-boyfriend’s house — a man you knew would be home, and certainly wouldn’t be afraid of the weather. 

In fact, he was the only one that wasn’t a tedious drive away, that could save you from the unfortunate situation you’d found yourself in.

You squeezed your eyes tight, trying not to cry. 

Calling Levi seemed your only choice — as pathetic of a choice as that was. You weren’t even sure he’d still have your number, or if he’d answer. But, your hands were becoming numb, the temperatures were dropping with the sun, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay out here without getting frostbite.

Still, on the second ring, you faltered, licking your lips. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. It’d been three years, after all. For all you knew, he could’ve had a new partner, could’ve been engaged. He could’ve moved across the country without any warning — you had no idea. 

Your hand started to fall away from your cheek, phone dropping with it. But the familiar tone stopped you, interrupting the third ring.

“Hello?” 

You exhaled, unprepared for the wave of emotions that washed over you from that simple word. Levi sounded exactly like you’d remembered, his voice even, almost monotone, nothing in it betraying his emotions. 

Still, it made your stomach twist. You couldn’t help but recall a time when that word had held a hint of affection in it.

“Levi,” you said, pushing away that line of thought to keep your voice steady. “You answered.” 

He was, apparently, just as surprised as you were. There was a long pause on the other end, before he resumed talking.

“I almost didn’t,” Levi admitted, releasing a breath of air that had to have come through his nose. “I didn’t want to. But, I couldn’t think of a good reason you’d call me on Christmas Eve unless—”

“I’m so sorry,” you cut him off, apologizing. You pinched the bridge of your nose, shivering in the cold. “I wouldn’t be calling if I weren’t desperate. but my car broke down — I was driving back to my parents’ house, and the tow company can’t come yet…” you rushed through the story, sparing too many details. “But it’s freezing, and you were the closest person I could think to call.”

He went silent once again. 

That was when you started to realize how crazy you’d been to call him. The last conversation you’d had was around this time of year, both of you stiffly walking through all the reasons you were worse for each other than you were better. 

This was a horrible idea. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, shaking your head. Tears of embarrassment flooded your waterline. You weren’t sure they’d ever stopped. “This was stupid. Fuck. Forget it. I’ll—” 

“Where are you?” 

“What?” 

“Where are you?” Levi repeated, insistent. “I only answered because I figured it was an emergency. Looks like I was right. So where are you?” 

Your heart flipped at the notion that, even if it was a small part of him, he still cared. 

After fifteen more minutes of shivering in your freezing car, you ended up back at Levi’s house. The same house he’d lived in for ten years, and probably would live in until he died.

Levi wasn’t a homebody — in fact, he liked to spend more time outside of the house than he probably spent in it. He traveled a lot, sometimes for work, sometimes for fun. But it was a home that had belonged to his mother, until she passed away when he was freshly eighteen. 

Even if he hated living in this suburban town, you didn’t think he could stomach to part with the home he’d been raised in. One of the only things he had left of his mom.

It was almost heartbreaking, that you knew such intimate details about a person that had faded out of your life.

Levi’s house looked about the same, but Levi… Well, he looked incredible. As far as breakups went, he must have gotten the better end of it.  

His black hair was lightly dusted with snow when he helped you out of his car, red cheeks a bright contrast against his pale skin. Time may have dulled your memory of him, but you could have sworn his eyes had gotten even more blue in the time you’d been apart.

God, he was gorgeous. How had you ever been with someone like him?

“Would you like any tea?” Levi asked, taking you to the kitchen. Not like you’d forgotten how to get there. You’d spent enough time in his house to know the layout, right down to the foundation.

“Sure,” you said, still shivering, even with the heat blasting in the house. “Thank you, Levi. Not just for the tea, but for helping me. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

Levi was rummaging through his cabinet, and looked over his shoulder, back at you. Something rest on the edge of his tongue, but he said nothing, busying himself once more. 

The kitchen was the same as you’d remembered. None of the furniture had changed, but he’d added new appliances, changed out some of the cookware. Poinsettias were in the middle of the table, the only festive thing in the room.

You stared at them, and frowned, the tension between the two of you palpable. While you’d met each other once again like you’d never been parted, there still an underlying current of mistrust and uncertainty. A feeling that was expected to linger.

The break-up between you hadn’t been nasty, but you hadn’t parted on the best of terms, either. You and Levi had always argued… a lot. Half the time, it didn’t mean anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself from spitting something mean when you got angry.

It was your similarities that drove you apart, not your differences. You were both so neat, you fought over where things were meant to go. You were both independent, you grew frustrated with sharing space and compromises.

You were both stubborn, and never admitted to being wrong, even when it caused a rift between you and split you apart for good.

Of course, the worst issue was your tendency to bottle up your feelings, rather than talk through them. A problem that Levi shared — meaning that every little thing between you was brushed under the rug, only to trip you up later.

Levi brought the steaming mug over, pushing it to you across the table. You took a small sip of it, blinking at him over the edge of ceramic. 

“My favorite tea?” you asked, recognizing the taste of it immediately. “You remembered.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you still liked it, but I’ve kept it around anyway,” Levi said, and, as if realizing what he’d admitted, continued, “It grew on me. I drink it now.” 

You smiled. It was small and sad, mourning all the things you’d lost, but the sentiment warmed you all the same. You remembered Levi loved earl grey in the mornings, and chamomile before bed. In the fall, he preferred rooibos, the color and flavor reminded him of the autumn leaves. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t like any of those things, anymore. 

“I’m glad you like it now,” you said, humming. “You never did, before.” 

It sounded like a jab, even if you didn’t mean it as one. Levi stiffened, only slightly, before he released the tension and snorted, tightening his grip around the mug. 

You glanced at his hands, slender and pale, veins purple under his skin. Hands that had once roamed all over your body, slipped inside you, pulling you apart from the seams. 

That wasn’t a path you wanted to go down. You blinked, pushing away that line of thought as your stomach flipped, and prayed he hadn’t noticed your staring. 

“Anyway,” Levi coughed, clearing his throat. 

You nearly shrunk from embarrassment, certain that he had discerned your thoughts, but Levi wasn’t looking at you at all. His eyes were fixed on the clock across the room, watching the hand rotate around the frame. 

“You were visiting your family. How have they been?” 

Safe conversation, easy conversation. The kind that you could have had with any stranger, even if Levi knew all your family by name, knew your Christmas traditions. You repeated old history anyway, like you were meeting him for the first time, sharing weekend plans with an acquaintance before going your separate ways. 

The two of you chatted for a while, sipping on your teas, all the while, avoiding the topic of his holiday plans — if only to sidestep the discomfort that came with hearing he had none. Not that that was shameful, of course. Plenty of people did nothing for the holidays, didn’t want to. 

But, Levi had always come home with you for Christmas, for five years. Everyone loved him. Although you’d been nervous, at first, Levi fit right in, made himself comfortable with those that you cherished. He was polite, even though his sarcasm often bled through. But, that only made him funnier, in the eyes of everyone you held dear. They’d always given him two sets of gifts — for Christmas and his birthday — excited to watch him open them. 

Levi had always been so stoic when he responded with a stiff thank you, but you could see how touched he was, how pleased to be integrating himself so easily into your life. 

He’d made your holidays better than they’d ever been.

Now, he spent them alone. 

You couldn’t help but feel like your breakup had taken something special away from him, something he should’ve gotten to keep, even whilst you were separated. Maybe you could invite him home with you, just so your cousins could play one more round of cards with him and lose.

Melancholia flowered in your chest, and you, then, yearned for those moments, the ones you’d kept so dear. 

How had everything gone so wrong?

Your conversation stalled. You looked at each other, unsure what to say next. 

Shifting anxiously in your seat, you stood, as if for the first time realizing that you were in Levi Ackerman’s house, and you shouldn’t have been. That you were having cordial conversation with a man you swore to never speak to again, and it was like falling back into a routine, it was normal. 

And that was the worst thing about it — you knew why’d you’d broken up, but right now, you could hardly recall a good reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said for the millionth time that evening, eyes flashing towards the clock. It had only been thirty minutes, but the snow was getting worse and your tea was cold. “I should call my parents and let them know I won’t be home tonight. Hopefully the roads will be—”

“Wait.” Levi reached out, grabbing your hand before you could stand and make your exit. 

Your eyes flashed down to where you touched, at the same time his did, before you uncomfortably broke away. Levi blinked, then chewed the inside of his cheek, his mouth still drawn into that unexpressive, thin line. 

“What?” you asked, after too many seconds of silence. 

Levi inhaled, then dropped his head, jaw working as he looked away. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, over the past two years.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “About?” 

You already knew the answer.

“When we—” He licked his lips, eyes narrowing at the microwave, before they met your own. “Decided to end it.” 

Decided to end it. What a harsh way of putting it, but you supposed it was true. A final round in the passionate romance you’d had. A break-up seemed too simple for what you’d been, when it had ripped your heart out of your chest. 

“Oh,” you said, swallowing. 

“I know you might not want to have this conversation,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I need to say what I should’ve a long time ago. That I’m sorry.” Levi’s eyes were on you then, a more intense shade than you’d ever seen before. You froze, feeling unable to move, locked in the storminess of his gaze. “So many things were my fault. All the times I was dismissive, the times I was angry. All the times I didn’t communicate when I should’ve.” He released a breath, and despite his bravado, you realized he was just as nervous as you were. “I didn’t know how to love you like you wanted, and I’m sorry that I did such a bad job of it.” 

You blinked, watching him shift in his chair. “Levi…” you said slowly, softly, the word agonizing as it left his lips. 

“I know that doesn’t make it right, but I need you to know. I am sorry. You deserved better.” 

That, alone, brought you close to tears, that he seemed to be taking the blame for all the things that went wrong. Putting it on himself, when it was both of you, incapable of working together. “Levi, I’m sorry too,” you blinked back your tears, setting aside your pride. You’d already lost enough dignity, what was a little more? “You loved me just fine. Maybe I just couldn’t appreciate what I had. I never tried hard enough to make it work.” 

“That isn’t true.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“No,” Levi huffed, “it’s—” But then he stopped, gathering himself, catching the fall, right back into the same old routine. You looked down at your hands, embarrassed. “We weren’t bad for each other. Nothing we ever did was bad for each other.” It sounded like a question, even if it wasn’t.

“It must have been,” you said, in a small voice. “Otherwise…” 

Otherwise, you’d still be together. 

Levi smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched on the table. “I should’ve called you, when you left. I shouldn’t have let you walk away.” 

“But you did.” 

“I did,” he breathed. “And I regret it every day of my life.” 

You looked up at him, eyes shining at the realization. He still wanted you, maybe even still loved you. 

And as much as you cared for him, as much as your heart still bloomed in your chest at the sight of him, you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“Levi—” you began, hoping to dispel the conversation. But he didn’t let it get that far, voice cracking at the start of his sentence.

“I mean it. I think about it all the time. About you. You were my friend as much as you were my partner, and I wanted you forever. I miss you. I—” Levi cut himself off, there, at the growing look of fear on your face, the knowledge that he was going to let something slip he shouldn’t. 

It tugged at your heartstrings all the same, and you looked away, wrapping yourself up in your arms. 

Silence fell across the room, the only sound the howling wind outside, a flurry of snow crashing against the window. Levi waited, patiently, for you to be the one to break the silence — and you summoned up all your courage, all your honesty, for a response.

“I would be lying, if I said I didn’t think about it too… What it would be like to try again.” 

Levi looked up, blue eyes narrow, but sharp with anticipation. “You—”

“I miss you too, Levi.” It felt like carving your heart out of your chest and handing it to him on a platter. “But it couldn’t be like it was before. Where we talked to each other about everything except for what really mattered. We can’t.” you swallowed, shaking your head. “I can’t do that again.” 

“I know.” Levi licked his lips. “Is that something… You would want?” 

Was it? Was Levi truly what you wanted, or were you not thinking clearly, only remembering the good times amongst all the bad. Were you just yearning for an idealization of love, a feeling that you’d been missing since splitting with Levi? Was it him you really wanted, or just someone to call your own?

But you knew the answer. It was obvious.

“Yes,” you answered, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear it. “I would… I do want that. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hesitate to call you tonight.” 

Levi didn’t smile, but his eyes brightened, the storminess fading away so they looked like the sky. The cloud of grey above him melted away, and he seemed even younger than he had before, caught in the promises of adoration, akin to a boy in a schoolyard. 

“You can spend Christmas with me. Your birthday,” you said, hesitantly, not knowing if you’d even make it home, if you’d be stuck here. If that kind of invitation was not yours to give. “If that’s something you’d want.” 

“It is,” Levi answered softly, without questioning it, gripping your hand across the table. “I would’t want to spend it any other way.”

You smiled at each other, then, caught up in the glow of Christmas lights and the snow outside, a shaky vow holding between you. Maybe things wouldn’t change — maybe they would go back to how it’d been before, neither of you ever saying what you really meant. Maybe you’d hurt each other worse than you ever had before. 

But you loved him — you loved each other. And that could be enough.

thank you for reading! ❤︎ reblogs and comments are appreciated!!! i might write a pt 2 if there is enough interest, but i wanted to finish this before christmas ◡̈

[yukioos]

APOCALYPSE

SUMMARY: jayce talis x reader // after dealing with much criticism from heimerdinger and complaints from viktor about hextech, he finally walks home and ends his day peacefully lying on your chest.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys! i’m working on a viktor x vampire reader fic so that’ll probably come out this or next week. happy holidays, have a good day! this is 1.6k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, angst, jayce is going through a lot, depression, stress, anxiety, reader n jayce are married, pet names, reader is referred to as ‘mrs.’ and ‘wife’

jayce had to sit in a room and listen to heimerdinger criticize and critique his work for three hours. three whole hours were spent listening to him complain about hextech, and the professor wouldn’t let the scientist utter a single word. eventually, he just tuned out the sounds and words from the elder, and instead tried to think about you, his wife.

most of his days were spent thinking about you anyway. but sometimes your relationship would go through rough patches because of how little time jayce was at home. you understood he couldn’t be home all the time, he was a scientist, after all. the city of piltover heavily depended on him, and you knew this put major stress on the man.

sometimes he would become distant, and you would become worried for him and his health. days without hearing a word from your husband were common, you became accustomed to it. because of this, you cherished your days with him, and continue to do so whenever you encounter him.

jayce didn’t know how much of an impact he had on you by not being in your life as often as he wanted to. you were everything to him. you were the reason he did everything for piltover, it was all to protect you.

but he didn’t know how unhealthy it was for him to skip meals and hardly get any sleep just to keep the city safe. he knew the city wouldn’t be as developed without him, but he always felt the need to do better. when heimerdinger critiqued his work constantly, he began to feel overwhelmed and anxious with every step he took, in fear of not pleasing someone.

he once snapped at viktor for incorrectly solving a formula used for the hextech. unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed how agitated he had become because he was too focused. he began to hate himself more and more with every mistake he made and overworked himself past his limits.

as the days passed, you hardly heard from jayce. worry clouded your mind, and your heart raced quickly once your phone rang. you picked it up and glanced around your bedroom.

“um, hello?” you stuttered, seeing professor heimerdinger’s contact on the screen. you tilted your head and thought to yourself why the professor would be calling you at this time, at eleven at night.

“ah, mrs. talis! i wish we could speak on better terms, it is nice to speak to you again. however, eh, your husband has… collapsed. i was wondering if you could bring him back to your residence once we wake him up?” his chirpy voice seemed duller than usual, with a hint of dissatisfaction. he glanced at viktor, who gave him a halfhearted smile as he continued pacing around the room.

“wh— huh? i’ll pick him up but why has he passed out? i’m confused, professor, is he—”you began to ramble, overthinking all the scenarios that could have happened to your loved one. he hasn’t come home in days, you should’ve been at the academy with him. you should’ve been by his side, maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you were.

“please, mrs. talis, do not worry. i believe he hasn’t slept for a healthy amount of time, so he just passed out. no biggie, do not feel frightened for him. he is okay, he may just be… taking a power nap.” another voice is heard on the other end of the line, and the professor pauses, “ah, i apologize. i must leave now, as i have more work to do. please head over to the academy and pick him up. thank you, goodbye!” he replies, speeding up his words near the end of the call. he hangs up, leaving you with unanswered questions.

you slowly take the phone away from your ear and stare at the frame on your nightstand. it’s a photo of you and jayce getting married, and he looked as handsome as ever. tears were visible on both of your faces, mascara ran down your cheeks. it was the happiest day of both of your lives.

you really hoped he was okay.

when you arrived at the academy, you walked up to the professor’s lab, as you had studied there years ago. your heels clacked against the tiled floor, having to use a flashlight to see through the dark hallways. you gently knocked on the professor’s door and were met face-to-face with jayce’s lab partner, viktor.

“hello, mrs. talis. it is nice to meet you. as the professor also said, i wish it were under different circumstances.” he smiled and turned his head toward jayce, who ashamedly looked down at the ground. heimerdinger was gently speaking to him, but it seemed as if jayce wasn’t listening, like he was in his own headspace.

he had dark eyebags and had lost weight, his skin became more pale and ghostly. it was clear he wasn’t taking care of himself.

your eyebrows turned upwards, and you slowly approached your husband with worried eyes. heimerdinger cleared the path to him and nodded, permitting you to speak to him.

“jayce, sweetheart,” you mumbled, looking up at his form as he sat on the stool, you bent down so his eyes would look at yours. you brought your manicured hand up to his face and rubbed his cheek.

“we’re gonna go home, okay? you gotta take a break,” you persuaded, continuing to comfortingly rub his pale cheek. it was always one of the things that made him feel warm and cared for.

he nodded and mumbled an, “okay,” before slowly standing up and waiting for you to lead him outside. you gently placed your hand in his, and he weakly curled his larger hand around yours. you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to viktor and heimerdinger, then walked the path toward your shared house.

once the two of you arrived, jayce slipped his shoes off, and you did as well. you lead him up to your bedroom, where you suggested he’d properly sleep for at least eight hours.

the both of you slipped off your clothes and changed into comfortable ones, but what bothered you was that jayce hadn’t said a word since you brought him to the house. so when you dimmed the lights and laid on your side of the bed, you were surprised to see jayce hadn’t curled up into your side yet. he was normally a cuddle bug, but maybe he’s changed.

his eyes looked sullen as he stared at the ceiling. he sighed and turned his head towards you without a smile or word, staring deep into your soul, as if he was trying to tell you something.

you could guess what he was thinking, so you opened your arms up to him. he slowly moved to your side of the bed, and laid his body on yours. he let out a large sigh and perfectly laid his head on your chest. his breathing suddenly became more relaxed once you began to scratch his scalp, a gesture he loved ever since you two settled into a romantic relationship.

you began to feel cold drops of liquid on your chest, ones that you could only guess were tears. when you glanced down, you saw him biting his trembling lip. his body was shaking and holding onto you for dear life, and your heart broke at the sight. you would never want your husband to feel whatever he must’ve been feeling at that moment.

“jayce, baby, what’s wrong? i’m getting worried about you,” you mumbled, tilting his head up with your free hand. he began to let out sobs and whimpers, trying to hold them back but failing miserably. his walls broke down just at the caring words from his wife.

“‘m sorry ‘m not good enough,” he gasped, trying to take in more air. you and his mother always told him he was perfect, that he didn’t need fixing. hell, he even started telling others that, but he never would’ve believed he would’ve stopped thinking he was good enough for himself. his world came crashing down, all the stress plummeted to his heart, and in his lover’s arms.

“jayce, you’re perfect. you’re good enough for me, you’re good enough for the city, you should be good enough for yourself. you’re amazing, do you even know how much you’ve done for this city? you should be proud of yourself, honey!” you praised, causing his whimpers and sobs to become quieter, as he felt loved by your words.

“do you have an idea on how to not… dive into the headspace you’re in again?” you asked, wanting him to have control over the situation. maybe he would feel a bit better that way.

“can you make that decision for me?” he mumbled, not wanting to think too much. he just wanted to rest on your plush chest, with your warm arms trapping him in your hold.

you giggled, “mhm. how does a couple of days or a week off work sound? i’m sure the professor would let you have a break, baby. you need it.” you felt a smile and nod against your chest, and glanced down to see his almost asleep figure. his grip on your body became loose, even as his hand lingered on your thigh.

you were glad he was back home and safe. hopefully he would feel better and take it easy by the time he got back to working on the hextech.

even though he was almost asleep, you murmured soft praises to the man, including quiet ‘i love you’s,’ hoping it eased his mind. he fell asleep happy and peacefully in your arms, knowing he was loved and perfect in your eyes.

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you. You're doing so great

Check out the comments for many ways to help!

[sosa2imagines]

I have an idea for Dad Bucky. How about him and his mini me dressed alike and go visit Sam and Steve and other avengers if you want and Bucky walks in and they are like where’s Jr or whatever his name is and in walks Jr dressed identical to Bucky he can be young what 5 and below and addresses them the same as Bucky and they take a double take like OMG there’s two of them but it’s just jr loves and looks up to his dad so much he mimics him cause he thinks he’s the coolest person ever. Or something similar whatever you like. Just an idea.

Hey @iwudbutnah I had lots of fun writing this, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for this ask!!! ☺️❤️

Warning- Pure fluff.

You watch as Bucky carefully buttons up Samuel’s little shirt, his hands moving with such precision that it almost feels like you’re seeing double.

Samuel, who you both lovingly call ‘Jr’, is dressed just like Bucky, right down to the leather jacket that’s far too big for him. The little guy beams up at his father, clearly thrilled to look exactly like him.

Bucky finally looks up, a small, almost proud, smile gracing his lips as he looks over at you for a second before looking back at Samuel. He finishes buttoning the jacket and gently straightens it, running his fingers across the fabric as he admires his work, “What do you think?” Bucky asks, a small fond smile still on his face.

“You look just like daddy, Sammy.” you say, smiling at the adorable sight.

Jr. stands tall, a proud little soldier in his oversized clothes. “I wanna be just like daddy!” he says with such determination that your heart melts.

Bucky's eyes crinkle at the corners, the proud smile still on his face. Samuel had definitely inherited Bucky's sense of determination, that's for sure. Bucky gently ruffles the boy's hair, a small, quiet chuckle leaving him. “That's my boy.” He says softly, the fatherly pride evident in his voice in those three words.

You hand Bucky the snack bags, the ones you always pack for their weekend trips to the Avengers' compound. “Make sure you both behave,” you warn with a teasing smile.

Bucky, giving you a wink, holds up his own snack bag. “We’ll be good, don’t worry.”

With that, the two of them leave, off to spend their usual weekend at the compound. Every week, without fail, Bucky takes Jr. to the compound, and each time, you feel a strange mix of pride and joy watching them together, enjoying with everyone.

Father and son, so perfectly in sync, sharing moments you know will be special for years to come.

When Bucky and Jr. arrive at the compound, it’s impossible not to do a double take. The little guy is dressed exactly like Bucky, down to the cold, stoic look they both share. Steve, who’s standing nearby, laughs when he sees them.

“So, where’s Jr.?” Steve jokes, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion.

Jr. immediately stands right next to Bucky, mirroring his father’s serious expression, and the resemblance is uncanny.

Sam, who overhears, gasps in mock horror. “Oh no, there’s two of them now! What have we done?” he says, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

Bucky chuckles, pulling Samuel in close. “Guess you’re stuck with us, Wilson.”

Jr. beams, clearly thrilled by all the attention. “I’m just like Daddy!”

The day goes by quickly, filled with laughter and fun as the Avengers welcome Jr. with open arms. First, it’s time for a little sparring session with Uncle Steve. Of course, it’s all in good fun, and Steve, ever the easy going guy, is more than happy to let his godson have a go.

Jr. stands with his fists clenched, trying to imitate Bucky’s moves, and though his punches don’t quite land, there’s a fierce determination in his eyes. “I’m gonna get you, Uncle Steve!” Jr. yells, lunging forward.

Steve dodges effortlessly, laughing. “I don’t know if you’re ready for the big leagues yet, kiddo!” He says, stepping aside as Jr. spins around, pretending to land a blow.

Bucky stands nearby, proud but also amused. “You’re doing great, Jr. Keep it up!”

Later, Jr. moves on to a different kind of training, aim practice with Aunt Natty. She’s always so focused, so methodical, and she’s been teaching Jr. how to properly hold and aim a bow and arrow.

“Remember, kiddo...” Natasha says, “focus on the target and don’t rush it.”

Jr. nods seriously, determined to get it just right. He pulls the bow back with precision and releases. The arrow flies through the air, landing just shy of the bullseye.

“Almost there…” Natasha encourages with a grin. “You’ll get it next time.”

But it’s not all training and sparring. Jr. has a knack for trouble, especially when it comes to teasing Sam.

Jr. hiding behind Bucky as Sam pretends to look for him. Sam dramatically plays the role of the annoyed uncle, though one can see the affection in his eyes.

“You can’t hide forever, Jr.” Sam says, as Jr. peeks out with a mischievous grin, clearly plotting his next move.

“I’m gonna get you, Uncle Sam!!!” Jr. calls, darting away with an infectious laugh.

As the day winds down, Tony was in the corner of the compound, talking with a few others. Jr was playing with Morgan, their laughter filling the air. Bucky smiles, knowing how happy Jr. is to have friends like her. But then Tony stops mid-sentence and looks over at the two of them.

He does a double-take. “Wait a minute,” Tony says, eyes narrowing. “Did Jr, did he just gave Morgan the same look Barnes gives Y/N?”

Bucky glanced over and sure enough, Jr is wearing the exact same grin that Bucky, himself always gives you, one that’s equal parts playful and full of love.

Tony laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think we might have a mini-Bucky on our hands.”

As the day ends, Bucky is sitting on one of the couch, Jr curled up in his father’s arms, already half-asleep. Bucky gently brushes a lock of hair from Jr.’s face, looking down at his son with so much love it nearly takes your breath away.

Steve walks over, a knowing smile on his face. He sits beside Bucky, crossing his arms as he watches the father and son duo. “You know…” Steve says, his voice soft but filled with affection, “fatherhood suits you.”

Bucky looks up at Steve, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think so, Steve. I’ve never felt more at home than I do right now.”

Bucky’s heart swells with happiness, knowing that this is the life he always dreamed of, despite his past. A family, love, and all the little moments in between.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

[vengefultakeover]

Yes, Doctor

I tapped my foot as I waited for the doctor to come in and see me. I had just gone through the normal procedures with the nurse, checking my weight, taking my blood pressure, the works. I was nervous to get the results of my last test after a scare with my platelet count. I had gone down a long spiral of online searches and pushing myself towards an anxiety attack I would probably had not come back from. The phone call to schedule an appointment was normal, unable to detect anything in the voice on the other end.

"You will be just fine." She said before hanging up. Maybe I should have been worried.

"Hello there, how are you doing today?" He was holding the clipboard like a shield. Bad sign. You would think they would try to make me as comfortable as possiblle to break the bad news.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, wincing as he sat down next to me.

"Nothing at all - we just wanted to go over some of the results with you to talk about a healthier future." He said with a smile that melted away my worries. The moment I returned the smiled I saw something clear out of the corner of my eye. I snapped my head towards it and could make out a head poking through the wall.

"What the fuck?" My jaw dropped as I looked at it and when the doctor looked back at the apparition peeking in through the cinderblocks he looked back at me with a confused face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching out.

"You can see me?" The head said. I nodded. What else was I supposed to do.

"I think maybe we should get you psychologically evaluated." The doctor said, writing something down. The specter emerged from the wall with a glowing aura and he quickly rushed the doctor. He dropped his clipboard shield and pen sword and gasped as the ghost slid his fingers between his lips and pulled his mouth open. With a gag, the ghost shoved his head into his mouth while I stared in awe with the sounds of slurping filling the room. My cock twitched as the tight scrub pants tightened and the doctor's bulge appeared. Inch by inch the ghost filled up the doctor's body, his neck bulging and his eyes tearing up until he got knocked back in his chair. The last of the tail disappeared with a wet pop and the doctor looked at me with wide eyes. His left arm flailed away from his body and I could see where the ghost was inserting itself into his limb. The rest followed suit, his legs kicking out from underneath him until he spun around like a cartoon character and was looking down at himself with a shit eating grin.

"What the fuck just happened?" I watched him slide his hands down his body, the musculature of the doctor poking through the fabric. Within seconds he wanted to see more and stripped off the scrubs, tossing them to the side while returning the stethoscope to his neck like an accessory.

"Let's have some fun, fleshie." He pushed off his underwear and was now standing in the room without any clothes on, smirking at me.

"I'm not sure what's going on. What are you?" I asked. He took a step closer to me and I could feel his warmth. His cock was getting harder and so was mine.

"I'm shocked you were able to see me. I've never had a living see my ghost form. You weren't scared of it?" He chuckled.

"I think there are worse things in this world to be afraid of." I shrugged, the list growing longer in my mind.

"I suppose that's a good way to think about it." He inched closer to me, his cock grazing against my bulge.

"I guess so." My breath was starting to pick up.

"What do you say we have some fun while we're here?" He was grinning now, his hands sliding around my waist. A light tug and I was pressed against him, his cock sandwiched between us and pulsing. I pushed my hand up against his chest and squeezed, feeling his fuzzy pec in my hand.

"Will he know?" I wondered.

"They never do. We'll call it ghost-patient confidentiality." He got a kick out of that and his abs tightened as he laughed. I leaned in and kissed him, initiating the aggressive push against the wall and the grinding into my body. He couldn't really control himself, he was like a sexy doctor rabbit in heat. His hands squeezing me as I worshipped his body, suddenly finding myself bent over the examination table while he was beginning to explore my hole with his tongue. The crinkly white paper crunched below me and when I squeezed the sides of the bed my fingers turned red.

"Fuck yes. I want you so bad." I don't know what came over me as the doctor positioned himself behind me, his cock pulsing as he aligned it with my hole, squeezing it in. I bit my lip to prevent the moan from being heard outside of here. With each thrust I noticed I was barely breathing as I got so wrapped up in the pleasure. I could feel his cock starting to release inside of me and suddenly I was full of my doctor's seed while he was moaning, not keeping it from being heard.

"That was amazing. Maybe I'll haunt you outside of this stupid hospital." He slipped out of me and it made me shiver.

"I think I'd like that, Doctor." I said, standing up as we were both returning the crime scene back to its original condition. I pinched his nippled just as he slip the scrubs back on and I sat down where I was when the doctor's body was invaded.

"What are you doing?" He asked at the door.

"Oh, are you going to leave him?" I asked.

"Not today, we're going to go have some fun." He extended his hand and I was whisked away by this possessed hunk. I came in with the fear of a horrible diagnosis and somehow left closer to death than I ever thought I would be.

[papysanzonew]

It can't be Christmas without Merlin content, am I right????

Read it an AO3 My general idea of this story is this:

Gwen and Merlin are together at the beginning of it all, they are a happy, smiling, warm couple and everything Arthur would ever have wanted in life. Arthur knew Gwen by sight and had a crush on her but in the end between his father pestering him and his various work commitments and Morgana teasing him he never did anything to hit on her, then Gwen changed companies and the two never saw each other again, at least until many years later when Morgana invited Gwen to a Christmas party and Gwen showed up with Merlin, her boyfriend.

Arthur was even more defeated.

But at the party, relations were re-established, even though it was not his intention, Arthur got on well with Merlin and his small talk, and the three of them started to see each other from time to time outside work. One thing led to another, and at one point it was Gwen and Merlin who asked Arthur to become an item.

Arthur wouldn't let them say it twice.

It was not easy with Uther spouting venomous comments passing them off as (almost) compliments but everyone knew what Uther was like and, for Arthur's sake, left the subject alone.

In the meantime Morgana got involved with Gwaine and there Uther couldn't shut his mouth and tell her how unsuitable Gwaine is for her, that he's a loser, that he's a scoundrel who doesn't even know what he wants to do with his life, and Morgana, in response, left without ever looking back, leaving the company and the house she was living in to go and stay in Gwaine's mini-apartment and talk about their future.

Uther didn't take it well and started to lash out even more at Arthur.

Until Gwen became pregnant.

All three were at the height of joy at the idea of having a child and Arthur thought that nothing could spoil such a beautiful moment.

Obviously he was wrong.

Uther started railing and telling him that everything was perfect until it became serious, until Arthur still had the chance to leave that depraved couple and finally find himself a decent girl and get married and have a family with this hypothetical girl.

Then the racist and homophobic invectives began and for the first time Uther openly said what he thought of Gwen and Merlin.

As a result, Arthur was at his wits' end and for the first time in his life raised his hands against his father.

Fortunately Gwen and Merlin were there for him when he returned home.

The two did not speak to each other for years.

In the end it was Uther himself who came crawling back to both his children and asked for forgiveness. After spending birthdays and Christmases alone, without receiving a single call and being left in a huge house completely alone, he realised what the really important things in life are.

That wasn't easy either.

It wasn't easy to accept an apology from such a man because there was always this anxiety that Uther had ulterior motives or, God forbid, wanted to put strange ideas into his grandchildren's heads.

Grandchildren he was not allowed to see even when he apologised and Morgana and Arthur made an effort to talk to him again.

However, when he was allowed to see the grandchildren, both Morgana and Arthur were amazed because Uther literally cried tears of joy (even though he tried to hide them), he had no preference for one or the other and showered them with love (Morgana and Arthur still find it hard to accept this because "UGH who is this man who is good with children?") and after many years they are all happy and celebrate all holidays together.

Uther gets along very well with Hunith (and Merlin is very worried about this) and the house is always full of people coming and going.

Uther no longer lives in a house that is too big and too quiet.

Anyway, Merry Xmas/Happy Holiday everyone ❤️❤️❤️

[a1ecmcdowell]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ˗ˏˋ 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟔𝟕.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ───── SEASON ONE, ───── ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ───────── PART ONE ─────────

────────────────────────────────────────────

summary. california is a long drive & different in many ways to how dean's small-town, southern life in kansas was. but if there's one thing that's the same, it's the crackling of the annual start-of-the-year bonfire.

ㅤword count ! ㅤㅤ 2.7k ㅤㅤ content warnings ! ㅤㅤ no warnings! maybe a lil angst if u squint? welcome to stanford! ㅤㅤ track the season !

stanford is a twenty-seven hour drive from lawrence. all twenty-seven hours on the road were spent with the music so loud that dean’s ears still rang. he didn’t want to think about how his dad didn’t even tell him bye, or how sam was at school, and wouldn't get to. 

dean was strong, built to be a soldier from the moment he could hold a gun, constantly rising from the ashes of the destruction that his dad made of him, but he was not strong enough to know his brother would come home to an empty house. there was no doubt that their father would have skipped town already, on an alleged case that was more than likely just drowning himself in a case of booze.

it was whatever. he’d convinced himself of that in the two days that it’d taken to get from the shitty town that was lawrence to campus. his whole senior year was stressful to get to where he was now. minimum wage jobs, killing himself at football practice so the stanford recruiters would be interested in him, so he stood a chance. plus, his academics were stellar. he worked his ass off — just to have to abandon sammy at home, and not even get an ounce of approval from his stubborn father.

in front of him, the main building on stanford university’s campus towers above him like the greatest of monsters. the glass doors are open, held in a way that was meant to be inviting but was actually a little intimidating. the maws of the creature visible through its snarling mouth. 

dean had faced demons that wore his family’s face, who called him every name that they could think of while they rotted in a devil’s trap. he’d felt the fangs of a vampire hovering over his jugular before he’d even hit double digits, after his father did the hunter equivalent of tossing him into the deep end of the pool without any hands to catch him. this, though, felt like the scariest of all of them, just because of how natural it felt to get away.

he had to go get a parking pass. had to get his room assignment. had to talk to the football coaches about his position and his scholarship. had to unpack. all of the shit he had to do was piled atop the shit that he wanted to do, burying it in the rubble.

clusters of students already walk together down the brickstoned paths, their voices echoing off of the arched walls. their versions of home were rooted in civilization and the comfort of others, whereas his was in solitude and being on his lonesome.

dean didn’t get intimidated. he didn’t worry. but his skin was starting to crawl with the realization that he was as much of an outsider as outsiders could get. he did not belong amongst these people, felt like a wolf waltzing in sheep's clothing, but the point was that he was trying to.

he flips his phone open, a habit he’s developed since leaving home, to check for missed calls. there wasn’t a thing he could do if sammy needed help, but he wanted him to call, anyways. wanted to hear his voice. wanted to say sorry for abruptly leaving. 

but there was nothing, still. at least the excuse now could have been that sam was in school, but he was getting anxious. didn’t want to know how the absence of john winchester’s favorite punching bag would translate onto the next in line. 

dean shoves open the residence building’s door, struck dumb for a second by how long the line was. it made sense, but it still caught him offguard him, a little, that he was here. 

he’d made it.

a trio of girls finish up at the front desk and brush past him as they leave, one of them immediately breaking into giggles when they stumble away from him. the other two steal glances backwards at him once they’re nearing the exit. one's eyes lingered, held his stare like even if he clearly was out of place, you were not afraid of what it meant to be in the line of fire.

yeah. he liked it here. he could get used to this. 

next is a guy with shaggy black hair and the broadest shoulders that dean had ever seen. dean was big for his age, yeah, he'd thrown himself into working out when he realized that football was working for him, but this was a guy, clearly, who operated because of his bruteness, not the other way around.

his eyes are downturned toward the stack of papers in his hands, books tucked into the crook of his elbow, a backpack that looked ridiculously small on his shoulder. his eyes lift to squint down the line of people, like he's looking for something, and dean realizes in a wave of surprised horror when they land on him, that it was him he was looking for.

"dude!" the guy shouts — shouts! in the dead silence of the building! — his papers crinkling in his fists. he stomps up to dean and tosses his arms around him in a hug that dean had no choice but to awkwardly return, squashed arms patting at the guy's elbows.

dean didn't mind standing out, but this was another level. every eye in the room was on him when he was already certain that they were staring, and all he wanted to do was disappear. maybe this guy would crush him into pulp and solve those issues for him.

"you're my roommate," he says, scruffing a palm through dean's mop of blonde hair. "my roomie. ah, look, you're blushing."

dean's mortified. he shoves a hand into the guy's arm again, this time with the intent to push him away. "shut up." he nods at the crumpled paper's in his hands. "what the hell is your name, anyways?"

"taylor." taylor's eyes fall to his papers again, eyes narrowed as he scans across whatever he's reading. "dean. helluva name."

dean can't help but snort. "i mean. yeah. it's definitely... a name," he shoves his hands into his jeans' pockets, "football?"

stupid question, but he doesn't know what else to say to him. the guy's about to bust out of a letterman jacket, stretching the leather of the fabric with his broad frame. if he hugged dean one more time, it'd probably split down the back. "hell yeah," taylor says, and maybe the leather is used to this guy's antics, because when he lifts his arms in a flexing sort of pose, all it does is creak, "lineman for the last four years."

dean follows the slowly shrinking line, and to his dwindling horror, his roommate follows. yeah, he's a little much, but he's friendly, and dean really could use a friend in these times. "quarterback," dean answers a few seconds too late, then adds, "we're probably not gonna see the green at all this year, y'think?"

"speak for yourself," taylor snorts, adjusting the bag hanging off of him, "i'm gonna be a starter if it fuckin' kills me."

"yeah, alright," dean laughs, shaking his head. "good luck, man."

underclassmen usually didn't get anything but the bench, unless they were stupid good, and dean was stupid good for kansas standards; he was fully convinced for there to be a spot on the bench indented from his ass by the end of the season.

taylor had shrugged his backpack off in the few seconds that dean had zoned out, rifling through the front pocket for something. he tugs out a black sharpie and plucks the cap off with his teeth. "wisteria, gerhard casper quad, castaño building. room 12." his voice is muffled through the cap in his mouth.

"i don't know what any of that means, dude," dean says, blinking a couple of times in succession. taylor's already got his wrist in a death grip though, tugging it into his space, the cool tip of the permanent marker scribbling on his inner wrist.

"neighborhood, the buildin' complex, n' the buildin'," taylor lisps around the cap, tugging dean forward when the line moves again. "c'mon, keep up. we gotta get the fuck outta here, stake out the frat."

dean physically cringes.

"don't make that face." taylor spits the cap into his open palm, giving dean a bright grin. dean really can't handle this much energy when he's operating on three hours of sleep on a shoddy motel bed, after driving as long as he did. "it's phi kappa psi. they're like, the frat."

"oh."

taylor nods again to make dean move forward. one more person in line. "yeah, oh. gotta get our foot in the door, bud, 'fore some fuckin' losers take our spots."

dean is not interested in a frat whatsoever. if anyone tried to haze him, he's not confident in his ability to keep from snapping their jaw. his fight or flight had gone dormant since he'd pulled back from hunting, but it was still there, something that lingered constantly in the back of his mind.

"'sides, they're havin' a bonfire tonight, y'know?" dean did not know. but taylor likes how his voice sounds, it seems, and dean is very okay with just letting him talk. "for all the freshies. have it every year."

dean nods slowly, setting all of his things on the counter for the attendants. student id, driver's license, all of the works. in the trade, he's given his class schedule, his basics' books, parking pass, and his room assignment. he compares it to the unintelligible words on his wrist in black ink and — yeah, they could be the same.

"well, i'm gonna nap when we get to our room," dean says with a lopsided grin, "so if the bonfire's good, come 'n get me or somethin'."

"you're an idiot."

dean shrugs. "sure."

"free booze, sorority girls fallin' all over us..." taylor whistles under his breath before he promptly smacks dean over the head. "idiot."

his arms are heavy from his books. his eyes are heavy from the drive. he hasn't had real food that wasn't cooked and thrown into a brown paper bag in nearing forty-eight hours. but the thought of being at a bonfire that wasn't made with the intent to burn a body but just to have fun and meet people was nice. mundane. he wanted to be mundane so desperately.

dean shoves taylor back in the chest, a laugh falling from his grinning mouth. "yeah. yeah, alright, i'll go."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ────

the hot smell of burning firewood and spilt beer were the first two things to grace dean's nose upon walking onto the spacious front lawn of phi kappa psi's building.

guys in jerseys and backwards hats manned a white foldout table besides the asphalt porch steps, red cups in their free hands. girls in short skirts and guys in mussed up versions of their sunday best hovered around in clusters.

dean had left taylor at the drinks table, unwilling to listen to him dickride frat guys who were probably too off their asses to know what was being said to them. around the fire were foldout chairs, legs dug into the soft grass, and a huge tray of marshmallows and various other snacks to cook over the flame, parallel to where dean sat.

he was content, he realized. he could have no one in the world at this school, except maybe taylor, who might or might not drop him like a dime if he got accepted into the frat. so long as he could have fires that didn't smell like charred bodies and burning hair, and walk around a campus full of hundreds of people and not have to worry if any of them were something else beneath their skin.

his eyes flick up from watching the flames at the sight of legs approaching the tray. legs in form fitting jeans, legs that plant themselves there like their own piece of furniture. and when he trails up the length of the body a few feet in front of him, he realizes it's you. the girl who held his eyes back in the residency building, with more challenge in your gaze than there was schoolgirl giddiness, like your friends.

you're watching him too. but you don't look away when he meets your eyes, like you didn't then, earlier.

his head jerks to the side, a little quirk of a smile on his lips. a dare. you seemed like the type of girl who liked dares — and again, he was proven right, when you steal two marshmallows from the tray and walk over to him.

"kind of silly to come to a party and sit by yourself," you say, holding out one of the marshmallows to him.

dean takes it, weighing his options for a response in his buzzed mind. "kind of silly to walk up to the weird loner guy sitting by himself at a party."

you grab one of the sticks propped up on various chairs, impaling your marshmallow with it with a hum. "maybe." you lift your shoulders, stick tight in your grip as you hold the marshmallow over the flame. "but i thought the whole point of college was to be silly and exploratory."

dean lifts his chin in a mock thoughtful expression. "really? i thought it was about, i dunno, education, or something like that."

"what's ed-u-ca-tion?" you ask, sounding out each syllable of the word, your face twisting up into a pout that was too pretty for him to think rationally at the sight of. "never heard of it."

he laughs, though, because he just can't seem to help himself. you're cute, and that's dangerous. he was on scholarship, the educational equivalent of big brother over his shoulder, making sure he stayed in line.

“actually,” you continue, fidgeting with the stick in your fingers, “i probably know it a lot better than you do.”

dean’s lip quirk a little more, as he reaches to his left to grab another one of the sticks himself. “fine, i’ll bite. why’s that, sugar?” 

“ugh. sugar. that’s such a douchey nickname.” your pout only deepens, and it’s even more of a sight. puckered frowning lips, pinched eyebrows. he’ll be a goner by the time the night’s over, if you kept it up. “but to answer your question, i’m cheering this year, trying to rush sororities, and here for nursing, so…” 

dean pokes his stick through his own marshmallow, holding it over the fire with one hand. his other reaches into his coat pocket for the pack of cigarettes he kept on him, humming in slight impress. good distraction, he’d once called his cigarette habit. vice of all vices, he said now.

 “alright, well, give me a few minutes to pick a new name for you, yeah?” 

you pluck the marshmallow off of your stick, setting it aside with the hot side up, holding the golden stickiness between your fingertips. “well, so will i, then,” you say defiantly, biting into the charred marshmallow with a crunch. 

dean’s definitely a goner. 

his eyes rake over you, not completely in a flirtatious way, but he had to admit, that you were gorgeous. you’re wearing dark denim jeans, a pair of black boots, and the brightest red cableknit sweater he’d ever seen. 

“cherry,” he says softly, almost wistfully, as his eyes find yours again. 

you seem taken aback for a second, lips parting and closing a couple of times. it might be the golden light crackling from the fire, but your cheeks almost look more pink, too. deep pink, like the inside of a cherry. cherry was a good pick. 

“well, what’s your name?” you shoot back at him, nodding in his direction.

he knows how to cook things over a fire. has burned enough bodies and the evidence of his being there to know. the marshmallow on his stick is charred golden, and he brings it close to light the cigarette in his free hand before he blows the flame on the marshmallow out. 

then, he turns the cooking end of the stick to you in a wordless offering. “dean.” his eyebrows bounce at the same time as his lips tilt in a warm, amused smile. "no frat affiliation, no interest in nursing," he continues with a dramatic sigh, teasing your earlier tirade, "i am on the football team, though. number 67."

"okay," you meet his eyes with that same gleam that was destined to get him into trouble, "i'll call you number 67, then."

special features !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤget to know WINCHESTER ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤget to know READER ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsend in FANMAIL ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwanna know when a new episode drops ? join the WATCHLIST !

────────────────────────────────────────────

watchlist !

@whyyouegg @sthefferrete @cevansbaby-dove @titsout4jackles @cosmicanakin @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @mccartneyqp @poughkeepsie99 @depressionbarbie2023 @im-bili @ariasong11 @chevroletdean @angelblqde @ostaramoon @deansbite @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @reynas13 @momoewn @deanswidow @jasvtsc @figthoughts @beausling @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @samslvrgirl @taeists @globetrotter28 @urfavpisces95

────────────────────────────────────────────

© i do NOT give permission for my work or ideas to be used, rewritten, or reposted!

[the-clumsywitchtarot]

How Can You Improve Your Health in the New Year? Pick-a-Card Reading

(Tarot & Oracle)

Because we're all about self improvement over here.

Cards

The Tower (Reversed)

Temperance (Reversed)

Knight of Wands

Immediately I got that this pile might want to focus on their mental health. I feel like this pile might really struggle with anxiety but with the tower in reverse I feel like you worry needlessly most times. But you're just so afraid that the one time you relax could be the time that things fall apart. With temperance in reverse and the knight of wands I feel like you try to regulate your emotions and calm down but the moment something seems like it might go wrong you go back into freak out mode.

Oracle Cards

Rose Quartz: Love - Heart Chakra

Malachite: Nature - Heart Chakra

Cinnabar: Business - Sacral Chakra

With the rose quartz crystal coming out I feel like you need to show yourself more love when you face these moments of anxiety instead of trying to make yourself snap out of it. The malachite crystal has to do with the heart chakra and nature in this deck, getting out into nature may help to make you feel more emotionally stable. Cinnabar is associated with business and the sacral chakra in this deck, this makes me think some of the anxiety you may be feeling could be about work. Consider working with these crystals to help balance your heart and sacral chakras. The sacral chakra is actually connected to the emotions and I also consider the heart chakra to be closely associated with emotions. If you decide to use cinnabar please use extreme caution, be careful with malachite as well.

Cards

4 of Cups

6 of Swords

5 of Swords

I feel like this pile's main focus needs to be on physical health. Some of the people in this pile might already be into physical fitness and for those people I feel like you do workouts that you don't really like for the sake of weight loss or just because you think it's a workout you should be doing. But with the 4 of Cups I feel like there are other workouts that you could be doing that you would actually enjoy but you aren't looking into any other form of exercise. I also feel like this pile could really struggle with body image, the coming year (2025) is really the time to try and release that and realize that you don't have to be at war with your body. Your job is not to make your body look a particular way (especially not a way that is impossible to achieve without extreme behaviors) your job is to make sure that you keep your body as healthy as you can.

Oracle Cards

Seraphinite: Honesty - Heart & Third Eye Chakras

Obsidian: Obsidian - Root Chakra

Dioptase: Direction - Heart Chakra

I feel like with the honesty card (seraphinite) you are being called to look at yourself, really look at yourself and see yourself for who you are. Beyond your body, beyond other's perceptions of you, beyond what you've been told you are based on other family members. Really look into your heart and soul and begin living your life from your soul and not based on your physical appearance.

Cards

4 of Pentacles

3 of Cups

The Empress (Reversed)

This pile might want to work on their financial health in the New Year. The first thing I'm hearing is you don't have to be at every brunch or outing your friends have because it's really starting to add up. For a very small group of people that chose this pile, I feel like you might enjoy clubbing often and it's becoming quite expensive. And I feel like everyone in this pile really enjoys going out but instead of going somewhere where you have to spend money look for more inexpensive options. Instead of going for a boozy brunch consider meeting up with your friends at a coffee shop, or going for a picnic in the park, or find affordable or free events in your area that you can go to. But whatever you do, you might really want to consider saving more of your money.

Oracle Cards

Peridot: Teach - Heart Chakra

Carnelian: Self-Confidence - Root & Sacral Chakras

Malachite: Nature - Heart Chakra

With this first card (Peridot) I feel like some of you could be teachers but I mostly feel like by you taking on this new attitude of financial responsibility. That you'll teach those around you how to be more financially responsible too. I feel that you feeling like you have control over your finances will give you a boost of confidence. I feel like malachite will help you to manifest more money but also help you during this time of going from someone that used to be somewhat financially irresponsible to someone that knows how to manage their money well.

I hope this reading resonated with you and please feel free to let me know which pile you chose! And please get professional help to improve your health if you think you need it. 🩷

-Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[dark-moonlust]

Deck the Halls Part 1

Pairing: Krampus x fem!human reader

Summary: you secretly start to decorate the house only for your grumpy husband Krampus to find you out.

Warnings: established relationship, grumpy x sunshine trope, decorating, caring and possessive hubby, fluff, cuteness.

I just had to include Krampus in my Christmas stories! This version of him is unbelievably sweet, with only a small bite (for the time being). Happy reading! Find part two on Patreοn. ✨Happy Holidays!

The attic was a maze and a death trap, but you made it through. It was where you kept all your seasonal decorations and other unnecessary items. You moved through the jumbled mess until you dragged down the four large boxes containing Christmas decorations. Sure, it was still early November 28th—a point that Krampus, your husband, would never let you forget—but he wasn't home, and you weren't going to let his grumpy, anti-Christmas attitude deter you.

You only struggled with the last box as it refused to move. "You're just a box," you growled, tugging on it fiercely. "I'm not letting you win.”

The box eventually collapsed with a shriek, and you lurched back, almost landing on your bum. Well… you’d done it at last. With a huge grin, you dragged each box downstairs and got to work. You had all the time in the world because Krampus was currently caught up in the company he worked for. He worked as a specialist for a corporate organization, investigating unethical activities such as embezzlement, fraud, or employees "breaking the rules." He was incredibly good at his job, and his frightening appearance made others think twice before doing anything dirty.

Without realizing it, time passed, and the living room gradually began to transform into a gorgeous, chaotic mass of garlands, lights, and glitter. You'd managed to wrestle a seven-foot pine tree into the corner, which had been funny given that it was higher than you and weighed around a thousand pounds. You were climbing the ladder with a garland of lights in your hands, humming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" at full gusto when a familiar growl caused you to freeze mid-note.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

You froze. Fuck indeed. 

Krampus was back.

You turned slowly, your hand still holding the lights, to see Krampus, your monstrously handsome but now angry husband standing in the doorway. He looked massive in the wide living room, standing nearly seven and a half feet tall, wearing a dark suit that screamed danger and dark beauty.

Twisted horns twisted from his temples, and dark lustrous fur protruded from his wrists and neck. His penetrating red eyes swept across your form. His jawline was sharp enough to cut, framed by a shadow of a beard. Sharp claws tipped his fingers and a long, serpentine tail flowed behind him, which was currently swinging back and forth. He didn’t wear shoes, he had hooved feet and walked to you with a predator's grace.

“Surprise! It’s decorating day,” you said, forcing a small smile.

“Get down.”

Krampus snarled, his gaze fixed on your body perched dangerously on top of a ladder. He hadn’t planned on coming home early, but something in his gut told him you were up to no good. And of course, he had been right. The sight of you balancing on that wobbly-ass ladder, stringing lights made his heart lurch. Only you did that to him. Made him so fucking worried and out of his mind.

Plus, you had no business looking so damn cute, wearing a short-ass red dress, glitter dusting your cheeks and hair.

But cute or not, you were a menace.

You've always acted like this around Christmas, but this year you started decorating so early that he didn't have time to prepare himself.

“Relax, big hubs,” you called out, a little sassy despite his furrowed brows. “I’ve got this.”

Krampus grunted. Nope. Absolutely not.

“Get down. Now.”

“Silly, I can’t do that. I haven’t finished decorating.”

"It's still November," he muttered, creeping closer. His hooves clicked on the ground, his tail swinging behind him like an angry cat. "You couldn't wait another week?"

"You wouldn't let me decorate even if I waited!" you shot back, wagging your lights at him. "So I have to do it when you're out, obviously."

"So you thought this was a good idea? Climbing on that death trap without me?"

You rolled your eyes. He was so overprotective. "I am fine. You're being dramatic."

“Come down or I'll get your sweet ass down and you don't want that."

Releasing a huff of a breath, you carefully stepped down. Krampus waited patiently at the ladder, gripping it for balance. He only let go when your feet were safely on the ground, tossing away the lights and tugging you to him as if you weighed nothing. He pulled you off the ground to make up for your height difference and you smiled, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You’re not climbing that damn thing again unless I’m standing right here,” he growled, his claws gently digging into your hips as he held you close.

“You’re such a worrywart,” you muttered, your fingers trailing the sharp lines of his jaw.

“That’s because you’re careless, wife.”

You pouted and made puppy eyes at him. “Oh, come on, hubby. I want to decorate. It makes me so happy! Help me out? Please? Please?”

Krampus grumbled something about you having him wrapped around your little finger and eventually agreed. He’d rather take you to bed and fuck your brains out but that would have to wait. Sadly. But he had plans to ask for a big reward for helping you, so his dick stayed good in his pants while he helped you out.

In the end, he ended up doing the majority of the decorating. He hung string after string of garlands and lights across the living room. Before he knew it, he had decorated the massive Christmas tree, the steps leading upstairs, and your bedroom. You had joyful music playing continually and were dancing and smiling sweetly at him.

Well, that made all his efforts worthwhile.

Everything sparkled with soft, golden lights, garlands hung neatly from the fireplace, and the aroma of pine and cinnamon filled the air. You stood back, hugged your husband, proud of the seasonal metamorphosis, despite his occasional growls and eye-rolls.

“You’re always so grumpy about the holidays, but here you are, helping me decorate. Thanks to you we’re almost finished! Only the driveway’s left and the garden.”

Krampus narrowed his eyes, his tail flicking. “Don’t push your luck, wife.”

"Everything looks so good," you murmured, secretly planning to decorate the yard tomorrow.

“Just good?" he rumbled, his voice low. "I just spent three hours untangling lights and garlands and all you've got to say is 'good'?“

You smirked. “Fine, it looks amazing. Totally amazing. Thanks for helping out, hubby.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, wife?” His gaze flicked to the room briefly before lingering on you.

“Forgetting what?”

“My reward,” he murmured in your ear.

“Oh, your reward,” you said, playing cool even if your belly clenched with desire. “You mean for today? For being such a good hubby and helping me out?”

“Yes, damn it,” he said, his voice a deep, velvet growl. You were infuriating—deliberately driving him to the brink of madness even if he could smell your arousal in the air. He wanted to pin you down, kiss you and fuck your cunt until you stopped sassing him.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, shivering as his tail curled around your legs, pinning you to him. His hands dragged up your mini red dress, you knew it had driven him mad. Just as you’d planned. Your breath hitched when he let his claws brush against your upper thighs.

“And I think you’re in need of a good fucking, little wife,” he rasped, his lips hovering over yours. “But for starters, I think I’ll have a kiss.”

Head tilting, he claimed your lips, his horns creating shadows on the walls. Your breathing caught, mouth opening and accepting his hungry tongue. Krampus was rough and demanding, thrusting his tongue with yours as if he wanted to devour you, pin you to the wall and make you forget all about the decorations.

And you wanted the same. Were just as needy for him as he was for you.

Part 2 is already up on the app plus much much more to enjoy! Things will get hot. Let me know what you think of my take on Krampus!

[ikeuluvr]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE || Nishimura Riki

synopsis - surviving months on end without you while he’s touring is the equivalent of torture for bf!ni-ki, but thankfully facetime exists…

idol!ni-ki x reader / established relationship - fluff + teeny bit of angst / warnings: none! / word count: ~1k

part of ikeuluvr’s song series ᵔᴗᵔ — works inspired by songs! requests are open for other songs + anything else you would like to see from me <3

Ni-ki loves the rush of performing more than anything in the world. Standing on stage in dozens of different countries—looking out at the faces of his fans while some of them cheer, some laugh, dance, or even cry. The sound of everyone screaming his name makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. He dreads leaving the stage each night; watching the lights of the crowd slowly disappear as the screens close in front of him, giving him one less thing to look forward to. However, the one thing he knows he can always count on is speaking to you at the end of the night.

As much as Ni-ki adores touring, a small glint of guilt always resides in his heart each time he has to leave you for months at a time. Each goodbye is never easier as you go from having him sitting in front of you to propping up your phone screen at the table with him on a call. The time difference was nothing enjoyable either, the both of you waking up at the crack of dawn or going to sleep obnoxiously late depending on where Ni-ki is to make sure you have a chance to speak to each other that day.

As tonight marks week five out of six of being apart, Ni-ki feels especially restless wishing nothing more than for you to be in his arms as he sleeps his exhaustion off tonight. Once he’s driven back to the hotel, he doesn’t waste any time to say good night to his members before trudging to his room and throwing himself onto the bed. He pulls out his phone and speeds to click your contact to start a FaceTime call. Letting out a sigh, he stares at his tired face on his screen until it’s replaced with yours.

“Hi beautiful,” he hums, a smile plastering on his face as all of the energy he lost suddenly rushes back into his body, “I miss you.”

“Hi Riks, I miss you so much too!” you respond excitedly as you get comfortable on your couch, the sunlight peeking through your curtains while the moonlight peeks through Ni-ki’s, “How was the show tonight? I saw clips on social media, you guys were on fire.”

Ni-ki lets out an endeared chuckle at how adorable you are—the way you always keep track of every performance makes his heart flutter, “It was really really good! I love the Chicago crowd, they’re amazing. They were so loud tonight I could barely hear myself sing even with my monitors in.”

You flash a smile, listening intently as he speaks, his eyes sparkling with each word, “Aww I’m glad, it’s what you guys deserve,” you say, “I wish I could’ve been there. It looked so fun.”

“Yeah… me too,” Ni-ki answered, his tone dropping softly as the pain of missing you starts to hit again, “I keep wanting to look for you in the crowd until I remember you’re not here.”

A frown takes over your face as Ni-ki’s voice gets solemn, your heart slowly breaking at the way his face immediately drops, “Honey… only one more week, right? Only one more week and then we can spend every night cuddling in bed again while I kiss you all over your pretty face,” I grin, trying to cheer him up a little bit.

Ni-ki lets out a laugh as a pink blush covers his cheeks, “I’ll be counting down the week by the minute, don’t worry,” he hums before pausing, a smirk drawn on his face, “Do you think you could drop of of university to start touring with me?”

“Well! No…” you laugh, “Probably not the best idea sweetie, but good question.”

“I’m kidding, I wouldn’t let you do that even if you wanted to,” Ni-ki smiles, “But I really do wish you could be here with me every night. I love my job, but I love you so much more and I just-” he lets out a defeated sigh, “I wish I could bring you along and triple the joy I feel on tour by having you in the crowd each night.” His face falls again, a mix of irritation and heartache quickly filling his voice.

You tilt your head with a pout as Ni-ki’s eyes leave the screen to look somewhere else, the pained look on his face killing you inside, “I know Riki… I wish more than anything I could be with you too. In the future when things are a little different, we’ll travel the world together, hm? I’ll make you my cute little tour guide in every country,” you snicker with a smile, trying to bring him out of his melancholic state.

He lets out a snort at your response, playfully rolling his eyes, “Okay babe, I promise to be your cute and very handsome tour guide in the future,” Ni-ki retorts, letting out a long breath, “Hey love, can you give me a kiss?”

You quirk an eyebrow at his request thinking the jet lag may be getting to him at an exponential level and pause for a second to think of how to respond, “Ummm… I would love to baby, but there’s kind of an obstacle in the way if you haven’t noticed.”

“No, no I know, I’m not stupid I promise,” he chuckles, “But I miss you, I miss you, I really wanna kiss you…”

“And how are you expecting me to do this, Riks?”

“Baby, kiss me thru the phone,” Ni-ki says in a shy whisper, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips making you smile and flush a rosy pink, “Come on… I know you want to.”

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” you laugh, absolutely smitten with your boyfriend on the other end of the line, “But fine… I’ll kiss you thru the phone babe.”

Ni-ki lets out a giggle as he cheeses a boxy smile, quickly bringing the phone closer to his face and planting a kiss to his phone camera just as excitedly as if it were your actual lips he was kissing. You do the same with a lovesick grin painted on your face, pulling away a few seconds later to see the same adoring smile on Ni-ki’s lips, “We get to do that but for real in 7 days you know…” you remind him with a playful smile.

“Can’t wait baby… see you then.”

masterlist

[haikyuuharemdreams]

Rich!Sakusa headcanons ✨

- Sakusa Kiyoomi is not good with words.

- He tries!! He really, REALLY does. But he definitely does better at showing love through acts of services and buying you things that reminds you of him.

- You live in his head rent free, so feel free to simply imagine how much that simp man has actually spent on you. He never minds, of course, money’s is of no issue to him.

- When you show up at his penthouse crying over an upsetting incident that occurred at your workplace, he rushes over to you.

- He has 0 idea what to do. He stands there like 🧍🏻‍♂️

- You wipe your tears away, attempting a forced smile that really isn’t convincing anyone. You tell him that it was minor, there is no need for him to worry and that you’ll be fine.

- It doesn’t matter, though, whether it had truly been minor or not. What matters is that you’re crying, that it pains him, and he feels helpless. He doesn’t know how to fix your problem.

- He sits you down and tries to find out what had happened. You tell him, tears pooling in your eyes and making their way down your cheeks as you recounted the events.

- He thinks, like you said, it was minor. He gets why you’re upset, but it really is a small matter that requires a simple solution. He offers some words of advice and pointed out what you could’ve done better. He also offers to support you in any way you need regarding your workplace situation.

- This only makes you more upset.

- You just wanted some reassurance and words of comfort!!! You just wanted him to express that you’re not incapable and incompetent and careless and stupid and useless!!! But no!!!

- You don’t blame him; you know he’s not the best with words. You know he doesn’t do comfort. But, it hurts.

- You simply just apologise, and hurry to take a shower to cool yourself down. You are too overstimulated and emotional to be capable of communicating how you feel to him without possibly starting a fight.

- Man is, however, confused. He genuinely thought he did a great job at being there for you; he even told you that he wants you to be his wife (disclaimer: he never explicitly said that; he mumbled to you that he’ll support you if you decide you don’t want to work ever. Unfortunately, you didn’t even pick that up.)

- He follows you like a puppy, confused. He wants to ask if he did anything wrong, but you aren’t even acknowledging his presence.

- “Y/N, please, darling.” He knows you like it when he calls you by a pet name. “What’s the matter?”

- His cooing softens your frustration. You turn around, and as you begin to tell him how you feel, you start sobbing. Your words are muddled, but he manages to pick up the gist of what you’re conveying.

- He hugs you, and you go limp in his arms, all tension melting away. He ignores your protests of being unclean and caresses your back. He murmurs comforting words in your eyes, telling you that he’s sorry, validating how you’re feeling and rebutting the negative beliefs you had about yourself.

- He draws up a bath for you and helps you to remove your clothes before his.

- It’s an intimate moment between two people who love each other, okay, nothing MORE!

- He gives the best bath 💯

- He dries you off, blow drying your hair as well, and wraps you up snugly in a towel before doing so for himself. He holds your hand when he’s done, leading you out back into his bedroom.

- He big spoons you in bed, and strokes your hair till you fall asleep.

- Sakusa, though, is unable to fall asleep. After all, the ring is ready in the drawer in the nightstand beside you. He was just finding the right time to propose to you, and you’ll in for a very pleasant surprise !! upon rising.

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

prologue | story masterlist | next

I don’t know where I’m going.  

You’ve been walking for a while now, with no real destination in mind. Truthfully, you’re not searching for anyplace in particular. You just figure that anywhere will be better than being stuck with that crazy old man.  

So, you walk. The building you’ve just come out of is rather secluded, tucked away behind a canopy of trees. There’s no one else as far as the eye can see, so you make the journey in total silence, instead focusing on the sweet-tasting air, and the little birds that flit from branch to branch.  

The minutes trickle on, turning to hours, and you find yourself weighed down by a heavy feeling that must be fatigue.  

But it’s okay. Because it seems like you’ve just reached the city.  

Here, you are no longer alone. It’s crowded and busy, and there are tons of people roaming about. You can’t help but blink in awe. Up until now, the only person you’ve met was Dr. Garaki. You never imagined that there would be so many others besides him.  

Curious, you take a step forward. 

Only to be immediately pulled back.  

“Be careful!” a woman cries out, and something speeds past you at that very moment, just narrowly missing your body. You frown and look back at the woman in confusion. For some reason, she’s gasping for breath and her shoulders are trembling. “You almost walked right in front of that car,” she says shakily. “Seriously, you need to look both ways before crossing. The pedestrian light wasn’t even on.”  

You’re not really sure what she’s talking about, but you nod nonetheless. 

“Okay,” you reply. “Thank you.”  

She lets go of your arm, then looks you over for quite a long time. Something about your appearance must not sit right with her, because her brow is now furrowed.  

“Is everything okay—”  

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” someone else interjects. It’s a man, and he loops his arm around the woman’s. “Come on, I’m in a hurry here. I need to get back to work soon.”  

“Oh. This girl was about to wander out into the street, so I got worried about her,” she explains.  

“Yeah? Well, she’s fine now, so let’s go. Like I said, I don’t have time for this.”  

The woman is jerked along without another word, but you can see her glancing back over her shoulder every few moments, a look of concern plastered across her face.  

Eventually, she disappears through the crowd, so you shrug and carry on walking.  

A lot of people seem to be giving you funny looks. You don’t notice them at first, but eventually, you realize that you’re drawing a lot of attention to yourself. You’re not really sure why, though.  

More importantly, so much of this is new to you. Not only are there tons of people, but there are countless buildings, in all colors and sizes, as well as other strange things you’ve never seen before. The world outside appears to be vibrant and bright, already a massive improvement to the dingy lab you awoke in.  

You keep walking. Some people look like they want to call out to you, or at the very least, they’re thinking about it, but ultimately, they reconsider and let you carry on your way.  

Everyone disregards the fact that you’re a child all on your own and assumes that someone else will come to your rescue eventually. That’s the reasoning they use to spare themselves the hassle and wipe their hands of any responsibility.  

And then, someone does come to your rescue.  

“Hello there, little girl. Are you by yourself?”  

It’s a tall man with a warm, inviting smile. He fixes you in a tender gaze, and unlike everyone else, he takes the time to find out how you’re doing.  

You nod in agreement. “Yes. I’m alone.”  

For some reason, the man’s smile grows even wider. Unfortunately, you’re too naïve to realize why.  

“Well, that just won’t do,” he hums. “It’s not safe for a kid like you to be all alone on the streets. How about I help you out? I can get you something to eat too. You sound like you’re hungry.”  

Hungry? You’re not too familiar with the term, but perhaps he’s referring to how your stomach is grumbling without pause. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, one that you’d been trying to disregard up until now. But if this man says he can help with that, you’ll gladly take him up on his offer.  

“I think I am hungry,” you concede. “I want to try eating something.”  

“Of course,” he grins. “Just follow me.”  

So, you do. It doesn’t occur to you that perhaps you shouldn’t trust people so blindly, especially given the experience you’ve already had with Dr. Garaki. But as you will soon discover, the outside world is plenty dangerous too, and your total ignorance makes you all the more vulnerable to it.  

The man reaches over to grab your hand in his, and he seems tickled pink by the fact that you don’t try to refuse.  

For a while, the two of you walk like that, hand-in-hand. You keep looking around the whole time, trying to make sense of your surroundings, and eventually, you see something that makes your eyes widen.  

“There,” you say, pointing towards a building. You can see through its glass windows, and the people inside are all sitting at tables and shoveling various things into their mouth. They’re... eating, right? They must be. Your brain instinctively makes the connection, and right on cue, your stomach starts grumbling even more.  

“What is it?” the man frowns.  

“They’re eating food,” you say. “In there. Can we go in to eat too? I’m hungry.”  

“Ah. I actually don’t have a lot of money on hand,” he sighs. “But I’ve got a nice meal waiting for us back home. I can get you more comfortable clothes to change into as well. Don’t worry. It’ll be way better than sitting in a cramped diner.”  

You tilt your head to the side, confused. “But they’re all eating, and I want to eat too. I don’t feel like waiting any longer. I want to go there.”  

“Like I said, I don’t have money,” he explains.  

“Money?”  

Yet another term you’ve never heard before. There’s a lot that you don’t understand, that you still need to learn. Of course, the man can’t possibly know that, so he must assume you’re just playing dumb. 

“Everyone else is eating, so why can’t we do it too?” you ask.  

He clicks his tongue, and his smile drops for the very first time. “Don’t be difficult,” he grimaces. You notice that his grip on your hand has become tighter. “I promise I’ll give you some food at home, so please just listen to me, okay?”  

Despite his insistence, you stubbornly root your feet into the ground. There’s food right on the other side of that window, and you’re not going anywhere until you’ve tried some for yourself.  

“I want to go in there,” you say again. “I’m not leaving.”  

It seems like that’s really not what the man wanted to hear, because all of a sudden, anger flashes through his eyes, and he pulls you forcefully, making you stumble forward in bewilderment.  

Then, he throws you over his shoulder.  

“I played nice and gave you a chance,” he glares. “All you had to do was not act out like a little brat.”  

He’s running now, still gripping you tight and refusing to let go. All you can do is gape, watching as the diner fades further and further into the distance. You lament the loss of your food, which now appears to be hopelessly out of reach. The hunger is getting worse by the second, too. It feels like your stomach is about to implode.  

You know what you have to do. You need to fight this guy off and break free of him. But much to your dismay, you can’t muster up the strength, no matter how hard you try. That feeling from before, when you channeled all that energy... it’s gone. And you’re not quite sure how to bring it back.  

“I want food,” you groan, feeling weaker by the second. The man pays you no mind, of course. He keeps running as fast as his feet will carry him. You wonder where he’s taking you. Wherever it is, you doubt it’s anywhere good. It seems like Dr. Garaki isn’t the only crazy bastard in this world.  

So, you escaped. Only to be captured by yet another maniac. 

And to think that this is only your first day of living.  

“It’s going to be okay,” the man reassures, laughing in a shaky, deranged manner. “You’ll see. The two of us... we’ll be happy together. I’ll take care of you and give you everything you want.”  

“...is that so? And here I was, thinking that you’d kidnapped the poor girl.”  

Another man’s voice. It’s deep, but soft, and it catches you completely by surprise, since you were convinced that no one else was anywhere near you.  

The man who kidnapped you cries out, but it’s too late. Something tough and sturdy wraps around his body and immobilizes him, and in the next moment, your feet are resting comfortably on the ground, right where they ought to be.  

You look up at your savior, who has pale skin, long disheveled black hair, and a lethargic yet stern expression.  

His name is Aizawa Shouta, and he will change the course of your life forever.  

“I’ll never understand what goes through the minds of sickos like you,” Aizawa mutters. 

“I-I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” the other man frantically protests. He’s bound by some weird kind of cloth, and it’s safe to say that he isn’t going anywhere. “We were just enjoying a nice day out, and she was getting a bit rowdy, that’s all. I was bringing her home so that she could calm down! Isn’t that right?” 

He looks over at you expectantly, perhaps hoping that you’ll help him get out of this sticky situation. 

But just because you’re more ignorant than the average person doesn’t mean you’re stupid.  

It's obvious that he’s a bad guy, just like Dr. Garaki.  

“I only met you a few minutes ago,” you say. “And you promised me food but got angry when I wanted to go inside one of the buildings. You grabbed me and forced me to go with you, even though I didn’t want to.”  

Aizawa narrows his eyes, and the man chuckles nervously in response. “Sh-She’s always such a joker. Come on, don’t be that way. You’re going to get your old man in trouble.”  

“Nice try,” Aizawa comments insincerely. “But I’m afraid there’s only one place for creeps like you.”  

The man wails out in protest yet again, but all his pleas fall on deaf ears. It looks like he’s in a lot of trouble. You’re not sure where he’s being sent to, but it probably isn’t someplace nice.  

Aizawa grips onto the cloths tightly, but finally spares you a proper glance. “More importantly, are you okay, kid? That must’ve given you a fright. Everything’s fine now. You’re safe.”  

You frown. Can you really trust him? It’s only been a few hours since you’ve awoken, but so far, your experience with people has been disappointing to say the least. You’re starting to realize that you have to be more on guard. There’s no telling what someone will do next.  

“Who are you?” you ask. “What if you try to hurt me, too?”  

Aizawa smiles sympathetically. “Yes, I understand why you might feel that way. But I promise I’m different from this dirtbag. I’m a hero. Protecting people is what I do. That much, I can promise you.”  

A hero. For some reason, the word evokes a strong feeling.  

Kill heroes. Kill heroes. Kill heroes.  

You wince. That voice in the back of your head is acting up again, making you feel all jumbled up and icky inside. It’s the same voice that was commanding you to obey Dr. Garaki. The voice that you instinctively know you can’t trust.  

But much like before, you manage to fight against it. You shove it to the back of your mind and disregard what it has to say.  

The man in front of you says he’s a hero, and apparently, heroes are supposed to help people. It’s possible that he’s lying. It’s possible that you’re being set up for disappointment again.  

But you decide to give him a chance. 

“I’m Aizawa,” he introduces.  

“I’m [Name],” you say. Even if Dr. Garaki was the one to give you this name, it’s yours now, and you are determined to cherish it. 

Aizawa nods, offers you a small smile, then reaches out to you.  

You take his hand. 

prologue | story masterlist | next

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💎 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 42

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,760ish

Summary: A surprise guest affects everything.

Warning(s): canon violence, injuries

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You and Logan fell asleep with your arms around him. He was the first to wake. He slipped from your arms and kissed your head before getting changed and heading out to work. Logan knew that you hated it when he left without a proper goodbye, but you deserved rest after worrying over him all day.

After driving a bachelorette party to a club, Logan got a notification to head to a motel to pick up a ride. There, he ran into the same woman who found him at the funeral.  She had a little girl with her, and the woman, Gabriela, was begging for Logan to take them to Canada. She even offered thousands of dollars in order to protect the girl. He told them he needed to talk to someone before he made a decision and headed back to you. 

Logan found you in the living area, ironing his shirts. 

“Hey,” you greeted as he came up and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey,” he kissed your neck.

“You didn’t wake me up for a goodbye.”

“You needed your sleep.”

“So did you.”

Logan held you as you worked for a few quiet moments. “I gotta go away for a few days.”

You stopped ironing. “What?”

“I got a long ride for some good money. But when I get back, we’re getting outta here. All of us. We’re gonna drive down to Yelapa. We’re gonna get ourselves a boat. And we’re gonna go live on the ocean.”

“Who are you taking?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Is this ride safe?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” You pulled out of his arms, took the ironed shirts, and walked upstairs.

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Logan sighed as he followed you up the stairs.

“It’s fine, Logan. Leave. Take the ride.”

“It’s safer here for you… Someone… Someone admitted to looking for you.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m handling it.”

“Handling it? And if you die handling it, where would that leave me?”

“I’m fine, baby. If I do this ride, it will be safer for all of us.”

You scoffed. “Sure… Maybe I should come with you.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“I can handle myself, Logan.”

“That’s not the problem.” His phone buzzed. He pulled it out to see a message from Gabriela to hurry. “I’ve got to go.” He limped over to you and tried to kiss you, only for you to turn away. “Please, honey, don’t let me leave like this.”

“Go, Logan. Come back safe.”

Logan’s sad eyes watched as you shut yourself into the bathroom. He went to leave but decided he couldn’t leave like this. He marched over to the bathroom and whipped the door open, causing you to jump. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him before smashing his lips against yours. You melted into the fierce kiss, arms going to his neck. When the two of you finally broke the kiss, Logan rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed out.

“I love you, too,” you responded. “Come home to me.”

“Always.” He gave you one last kiss before heading off.

~~~

When Logan arrived back at the motel, he found Gabriela’s room door ajar with her body sitting up in a chair. Blood was everywhere, and it was clear that she had been tortured. The little girl that had been with her was nowhere in sight. Logan searched where Gabriela had pulled out the money from, only to find her phone. He took it with him to prevent others from getting his number.

Logan was furious as he drove back to the smelting plant. It had been a waste of time and too dangerous for him to even think about accepting this ride. Now, the money was lost, and you all were still in danger. Caliban was outside as Logan pulled up and limped for the door to inside the plant.

“Logan,” Caliban called.

“Yeah?” Logan coughed.

“What happened? Did something go wrong?”

“This job was wrong to begin with.”

Logan stormed inside, searching the makeshift kitchen for alcohol. You heard him and came rushing down the stairs.

“Logan?” You questioned. “What’s wrong?”

“Logan!” Caliban shouted from outside. “Logan!”

“Oh my—Fuck,” Logan muttered, going back to the door with you following. “What?”

Caliban was standing at the open trunk of the limo, holding a green backpack and a kid’s toy ball. “Who does this belong to?”

Logan and you went over. Logan grabbed the backpack and the ball before looking around the area.

“Logan,” the fear in your voice caught Logan’s attention immediately. You were looking at the open gate, staring at a truck driving in. “Who’s that?”

“Y/N, get inside,” Logan’s voice tried to remain calm and demanding.

“Logan—“

“Get the fuck inside!”

You rushed back inside, on high alert. Caliban followed not too long later. 

“We need to get to Charles,” Caliban said. “Keep him quiet.”

You nodded, and the two of you headed out to the tank. When you unlocked the door, Charles was already right there, pushing you aside with his wheelchair.

“Charles? What are you doing?” You questioned, grabbing the handles of the chair to stop him.

“The young mutant,” he answered. “The one that I’ve been talking to. She’s here.”

“What?” You looked at Caliban for an explanation.

Caliban sighed. “Charles has told me he’s been communicating with someone. Logan told me not to tell you.”

“I’ve got to get to her before Logan does something,” Charles continued.

You let go of his wheelchair but followed after him. He went through your makeshift house and out the door that Logan was near. You were right behind him, allowing you to see Logan still standing by the limo with a man unconscious on the ground and a little girl not too far from the scene. 

“Logan. Logan!” Charles called, stopping the old man from throwing a piece of pipe. “This is Laura. Caliban, come!” Caliban joined the rest of you. “This is who I’ve been telling you about. This is Laura. We’ve been waiting for you. Come.” 

Laura slowly headed towards Charles before turning back to Logan. She marched over and ripped the backpack from Logan’s grasp before walking towards you, Charles, and Caliban.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charles said. “Come. Come.”

Charles guided Laura inside while you looked at Logan, confused. Logan moved his head, urging you to go inside. With a huff, you turned and headed inside. Charles was pulling out cereal and milk for Laura.

“She’s hungry,” he told you.

“I can handle this,” you said, shooting him a smile. “Just… talk to our guest.”

Charles sat by Laura, who was now at the table, and the two had mental conversations. You grabbed a bowl and spoon before putting together the cereal and setting it in front of Laura.

“Here you go,” you said softly.

Laura nodded before lifting up the spoon and digging in. Logan came in alone, leaving you to assume that he sent Caliban to take care of the man. Logan reached out for the girl’s backpack, only for Laura to quickly grab it.

“Logan,” Charles scolded. 

“Hey!” Logan exclaimed as he and Laura tugged the bag back and forth.

“Logan!”

“Hey! You’ll get it back after I figure out what you and your mother have got us into.”

“No, Logan.”

“What?”

“I think the—” Logan dropped the bag and Laura placed it in her lap before going back to eating. “Logan, the woman that you met, that’s not her mother.”

“So she talks?”

“We’re communicating.”

“Communicating,” Logan scoffed. He went over and grabbed Charles’ meds. “Take these now.”

“Logan,” you tried, “maybe Charles needs to—“

“He’s taking the damn pills!”

Charles shot you a thankful look before swallowing the pills. 

“We have to get out of here,” Logan continued. “It’s not safe here anymore. And we can’t afford to have an attack out there.”

“Yes, but this is the mutant that I told you about,” Charles said. “She needs our help.”

“She’s not a mutant.”

“Yes, she is!”

“What’s her gift, Charles? Eating? Pipe throwing? We need to pack up.”

Logan stormed off upstairs. You quietly followed after him, finding him in your room, stuffing your clothes into a bag.

“Logan,” you whispered.

“I need to get you out of here,” he murmured, focused on his task. “That man—His company… They’re after Charles. They’re after that… girl… They… They’re after you.”

“I can fight, Logan.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

You sighed, coming into the room more. “Why didn’t you tell me that Charles was speaking to someone? Why didn’t you let Caliban tell me?”

“Didn’t want to get your hopes up…”

“And why would it have done that?”

“I didn’t know who he was talking to. Didn’t know if it was a new mutant or…”

“Or one of our friends.”

“I thought he’d lost his mind.”

“In a way, he has… Logan, are we taking Laura with us?” Logan looked away; you could tell he was torn. “We can’t just leave her here.”

“She makes it more dangerous.”

“So does Charles, and, apparently, so do I.” You walked over to Logan and gently held his face between your hands. “We can’t leave her.” Logan’s hands snaked around your waist and pulled you closer. “We can get her to where she needs to go. She was part of the job you were going to take, right?” Logan nodded. “Then we complete the job and find a new home.”

Logan sighed, leaning so his forehead met yours. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

~~~

While you finished packing a few items, Logan went outside and began filling the trunk. Dust moving in the distance caught his eye. Rows of cars were speeding towards the smelting plant. He ran back inside.

“We gotta go,” Logan said, taking Charles’ wheelchair by the handles.

“What?” Charles questioned as Logan pushed him away. “What’s going on? Where?”

“Laura,” you crouched down in front of the girl, “we’re going to go. Grab your things and come with me.”

You held out your hand and were grateful when she took it. She grabbed her backpack with her free hand, and you led her out to the car. Logan already had Charles in the car, and the wheelchair stuffed away. But it was basically too late. The trucks slammed into the gate, breaking it open, and quickly surrounded the limo. With a flick of your wrist, you had a circle of fire surrounding the limo.

“Woah,” you heard Laura gasp as her hand tightened its grip on yours.

You couldn’t help but smirk at Laura’s reaction. The trucks stopped outside the circle of fire, and men filtered out, guns raised. 

“Logan,” the same man as before greeted. The one Caliban had left to take care of. Your stomach felt like it was tied up in knots. “Huh.” The man’s gaze went from Logan to you to Laura to Charles, whose window was rolled down. “Charles Xavier.”

“Where’s Caliban?” Logan growled.

“American’s most wanted octogenarian,” the man ignored Logan.

“I’m a nonagenarian, actually,” Charles retorted.

“Where’s Caliban?” Logan repeated.

“Why don’t you hand over the girl first?” The man offered. “Both of them.” 

Logan placed himself between you, Laura, and the man, though the fire was still a barrier. “Where’s Caliban?”

“Well, I left him in the same ditch he was gonna leave me in.”

Logan growled, clenching his fists as the claws threatened to release. “Y/N, get in the car.”

“Get ‘em, boys!”

The men began firing through the ring of flames. You let go of Laura’s hand and threw your arms out, using your abilities to strengthen the flames. Logan released his claws and used them to block the bullets heading for you and Charles. You failed to realize men going around to the back and getting on the smelting plant. You gasped as the bullet cut through your abdomen and had you falling forward, and the flames protecting you all disappeared. 

Laura screamed out in anger as Logan turned around to see you bleeding on the ground.

“Y/N!” He roared as men began swarming.

Laura let out a yell as two claws appeared in each of her fists. You gasped at the sight.

“Holy shit,” Logan muttered.

Laura began defending you as your body tried to heal itself. Logan fought to get to the two of you. You rolled onto your back. You could feel that the bullet was inside of you, meaning that you couldn’t heal properly until it was out. Laura ran back inside the smelting plant, causing all the men to rush after her. Logan limped over, collapsing at your side.

“Honey, sweetheart,” his hands trembled as he looked over you.

“Logan,” you rasped. “Get Laura… we can’t leave her.”

“Not until you're safe. Come on.” He groaned as he lifted you up. He carried you to the limo and slipped you into the back with Charles. “Stay put.”

Logan shut the door and rushed off. You were panting as the pain continued. Your hand was pressed against your wound, trying to slow the bleeding. 

“We need to get that bullet out,” Charles stated. 

“I know,” you grumbled. “I need Logan… or, I guess, Laura. Someone who can get it.”

The door beside Charles whipped open, revealing one of the men with a gun. You threw your arm out and blasted him back with a large ball of fire. Logan ran past, slamming the door before getting into the driver’s seat.

“As I told you, Logan, she’s a mutant like you,” Charles said with a small smirk.

“Hold on!” Logan shouted. 

Logan started the limo and sped off towards the back of the smelting plant. Laura was there, finishing off some of the men. You and Charles flew around the back as Logan slammed on the brakes, allowing Laura to jump onto the hood of the car. Logan drove away while Laura got onto the roof and slipped inside through the sunroof. The men continued after the limo, shooting at it. Laura got on top of Charles, protecting him from the oncoming fire, only to get shot herself.

“Laura!” You exclaimed.

Laura rolled back over to you. She lifted her arm, where the bullet sat, and bit the bullet out. She spit it away as you watched how she healed. Logan kept driving, aiming right for the fence.

“Hold on!” He shouted.

Charles held onto the door while Laura grabbed you. The limo hit the fence but got stuck before the fence could completely break. 

“Come on!” He grunted.

You opened up the closest window and pushed out your hand. 

“No!” Laura exclaimed, trying to pull your arm back in.

“It’s okay,” you told her. “Watch.”

You shot fire from your palm, aiming at the fence. The metal quickly melted where you were aiming, allowing Logan to drive through the fence as trucks headed for the limo. As soon as your arm was back in the limo, Laura was rolling the window up. 

Logan sped the limo up as a train headed down the tracks he was heading toward. Two motorcycles came up, one on each of the sides of the limo. Laura took care of one with her claws while you took care of the other with a ball of fire. Logan cut in front of the long train before the trucks could catch up, barely not losing the back of the limo. Logan stopped the limo for a brief moment, staring down the man on the other side with the trucks. Laura moved up to peer over Logan’s shoulder. Logan pushed her back.

“Sit back,” he told her before driving away. Logan glanced back in the mirror. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Logan,” you panted. “Just need to get this bullet out sooner than later.”

Logan gave a nod, clutching the steering wheel harder. He looked at Laura in the rearview mirror. “You.” She glanced at him. “Who the hell are you?” Laura silently moved to sit beside you. “Hey! I asked you a question. Who are you?”

“You know who she is, Logan,” Charles replied.

“No, I don’t.”

“Does she remind you of anybody?”

You wished you had the strength to go up there and comfort Logan. You could tell that he was panicking on multiple levels, especially about Laura. Before you could summon any strength, Laura had forced you to lie down and placed your head on her lap. You were asleep before you knew what happened.

next chapter >

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Envy (Mayhem) Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader Word Count: 4k Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries, and weapons. References to bombs. Mention of death and the description of one of the unsubs k!lling himself at the end. The Purest Things Masterlist

au! may 2008

Bookend: "We win together as a team, and we lose together as a team." - Kenny Smith

“Penelope, what do you see? Are they hurt?” you plead, the panic rising in your chest.

“Hotch seems to be okay, but Kate hasn’t moved. He’s not moving her either,” Penelope responds, her voice shaky. “Okay,” you answer, trying to steady your own breath. “Check on the others. I’m going to Hotch and Kate.”

“Please be careful,” she begs, the worry clear in her voice.

As you pull up to the bomb site, the scene is chaotic. The road is blocked off with first responders, their presence thick and tense. You slam the car into park and rush out, already knowing what’s coming. An officer steps in front of you, prepared to stop anyone trying to get through.

“You can’t come through, ma’am. None of us can. Orders,” he says sternly.

You shake your head, irritation boiling over. “I’m with the FBI. We created those orders. Let me through.”

He doesn’t budge. Instead, he holds you back, unyielding.

“My boss is in there!” you snap, voice rising in urgency.

He pushes you back, and then you hear it—the sound you were dreading. Hotch’s strained voice, distorted like it’s coming through a haze, “Officer down! Please! We need help down here!”

Your heart sinks, and everything inside you screams to break past the barricade, but you’re still stuck.

“Let me through, damn it!” you yell, hands shaking with frustration.

“We’re here! Please!” Aaron cries out again.

Your heart feels like it’s tearing in two at the sound of his pain. You fight to keep your tears at bay.

Just then, Morgan pulls up. He’s already furious, storming toward the barricade. The officers try to stop him, but Morgan’s presence is far more intimidating than yours, and they turn their focus to holding him back.

You lock eyes with him, giving a subtle signal. It’s risky, but you need to take the chance. Morgan ramps up the theatrics, getting louder, and playing his part perfectly.

You don’t hesitate. The moment they look away, you slip through the gap, moving fast, heading straight for Hotch. You can hear the commotion behind you, but all that matters is getting to him.

“Aaron!” you scream, your voice breaking through the chaos.

His eyes find you, and a wave of relief washes over him.

You rush to his side, immediately checking him over. He seems okay, just some cuts and bruises, but you can tell he’s shaken. You glance at Kate, who’s bleeding heavily, and then at the man standing next to Hotch. Something about him feels off, but your focus stays on Hotch and Kate for now.

“I’ve got it pinched off, but I can’t move her without losing my grip,” he says, his voice trembling.

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to help her, just hold on.” Turning toward the barricade, you call, “Derek! We need you!”

It takes a moment, but Derek eventually breaks through the crowd of officers and runs to your side. Together, you all work to stabilize Kate. But you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong with the man standing off to the side, looking too calm, too collected.

“You need to leave,” you say to him, your voice firm. “We can’t help her until you’re out of the way.”

Derek’s phone rings, and you signal for him to answer it. His face immediately falls, and you follow his gaze, your heart sinking as you look at the man again.

“Hotch,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s him.”

Hotch, still trying to keep his composure, turns to the man. “Go, Morgan. Y/N, stay with me.”

Finally, you think to yourself. You’re not going anywhere.

A paramedic comes running through the chaos, rushing to Kate’s side. He immediately begins assessing her injuries, his face grim as he kneels beside her, gently pulling her into a more stable position.

“She’s losing a lot of blood,” the paramedic mutters, working quickly to apply pressure to the wound. “We need to get her out of here now.”

You step forward, keeping your eyes on Hotch. “I’ll take my car and clear a path for you to the hospital,” you offer, your voice unwavering despite the alarm building in your chest.

The paramedic looks up, nodding sharply. “Good idea. We need to move fast. Go ahead.”

You nod in return, already moving toward your car. “I’ll be right ahead of you,” you call out, glancing back at Hotch one more time.

With determination setting in, you climb into your car and start the engine. You weave your way through the barricades, ready to clear the road and get Kate the help she desperately needs.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The hospital doors burst open as you and Hotch rush into the ER, trailing closely behind the gurney carrying Kate. The medics shout vitals and updates to the doctors, their words blending into a blur. You follow closely, your eyes locked on Kate’s pale, bloodied face.

“She’s stabilizing,” one of the doctors says as they wheel her through the double doors toward the OR. You exhale deeply, relief washing over you, though your body still hums with tension.

Turning to Hotch, you expect to find him focused and composed, but instead, his face is ashen, his steps unsteady. His hand suddenly grips your arm.

“Aaron?” you say, alarmed, as he sways.

Before he can answer, his knees buckle, and he collapses to the ground. 

“Hotch! Someone help!” you shout, panic threading your voice.

A nurse rushes over, quickly assessing the situation. “We need a gurney here!” she calls to a nearby orderly. Within moments, they ease him out of your arms and onto the gurney.

“I’m fine,” Hotch mutters weakly, though his pallor and shallow breathing suggest otherwise.

“You’re not fine,” you counter, your heart pounding as they wheel him toward an ER room. “Aaron, just let them help you.”

He doesn’t argue, his head lolling back slightly as his eyelids flutter. The sight unnerves you, but you force yourself to stay calm, following closely as they take him into the room.

The nurses hook him up to monitors, checking his vitals and administering fluids. “Looks like exhaustion and stress-induced shock,” one nurse says, glancing at you. “He needs to rest.”

You nod, your worry settling into a sharp ache in your chest. “He doesn’t stop, not even for a second,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Hotch’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, his voice faint. “Kate… the team…”

“Shh,” you interrupt gently, stepping closer to him. “Kate’s in surgery. The team’s fine. Right now, you need to focus on you.”

He gives a slight nod, his hand brushing against yours on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?” you ask softly, leaning in so he doesn’t have to strain his voice.

“For scaring you,” he replies, his gaze flickering with guilt.

You squeeze his hand lightly. "I'll get you back one of these days.”

The tension in his features eases slightly, his breathing slowing as the monitors show his vitals stabilizing. You stay by his side, unwilling to leave, your own relief tempered by the knowledge that the night is far from over.

You sit in the waiting area, your eyes darting toward the entrance every few minutes, hoping Derek will arrive soon. The hum of the hospital feels louder than usual, amplifying your nerves. You’ve just managed to settle into a moment of calm when raised voices echo down the hallway.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t need to be here,” you hear Hotch’s unmistakable tone, clipped and insistent. Your stomach drops.

You jump to your feet and hurry toward the noise. As you approach his room, the nurse’s frustrated voice cuts through.

“Sir, you need to stay in bed! You’re still being monitored—”

“I don’t need monitoring,” Hotch snaps. “Where are my clothes?”

Rushing in, you find Hotch halfway off the bed, his hospital gown untied and his hands fumbling with the IV line attached to his arm. His face is pale but determined, his jaw clenched as he tries to pull the monitors off his chest.

“Hotch, what are you doing?” you exclaim, moving quickly to his side.

“I’m fine,” he says without looking at you, his voice low and stubborn. “The team needs—”

“No, they don’t need you like this,” you interrupt, your tone firm but calm. “Aaron, you’re going to make this worse.”

The nurse stands frozen, clearly exasperated. “He’s refusing to cooperate,” she says, looking between you and Hotch.

Before you can respond, Derek strides into the room. “Hotch, man, you need to chill,” he says, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hotch bites back, still tugging at the IV line. “I’m fine, Morgan. I’m fine.”

Derek steps closer, but Hotch’s eyes flash with irritation, his composure fraying. “Don’t,” he warns, his tone sharp.

You take a step forward, gently placing your hand on Hotch’s arm. “Aaron,” you say softly but with authority, “look at me.”

His movements still for a moment, and his eyes reluctantly meet yours. There’s a storm of frustration and exhaustion behind them, but you don’t waver.

“I know you feel like you have to keep going,” you say, your voice steady. “I know you think you’re fine, but you’re not. Your body is telling you to stop, and you need to listen. For Kate, for the team, for me.”

His gaze softens slightly at your last words, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough for you to continue.

“Please,” you add, your tone almost a whisper now. “Sit down. Let them do their job. You’re no good to anyone if you collapse again.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to argue, but then he lets out a long breath and sits back on the bed, his hands falling to his sides. His eyes close briefly, the fight draining from him.

You glance at Derek, who gives you a small nod of approval, before turning to the nurse. “Can you give us a minute?”

She hesitates, then nods and steps out of the room.

Hotch looks up at you, his voice quieter now. “I just… I can’t stand waiting. I need to be doing something.”

“I know,” you say, sitting beside him on the bed. “But right now, waiting is the best thing you can do. Trust me, okay?”

He exhales again, his hand brushing against yours briefly. “Okay,” he finally agrees, his tone resigned.

Derek leans against the doorframe, smirking slightly. “Guess I’ll leave this to you next time, huh?”

You shake your head, your focus still on Hotch. “There won’t be a next time.”

Hotch gives you a faint smile, and you know he’s far from fully convinced, but at least for now, he’s staying put.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

A short while later, the doctor gives the all-clear for Hotch to be released. You wait outside his room with a fresh set of clothes, ones you managed to grab from a nearby bag the team had on hand. When he steps out, he looks exhausted but determined, his expression already refocused on the case.

“Here,” you say, handing him the clothes. “Let me help.”

He hesitates for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the assistance, but he nods and lets you adjust the FBI vest over his shirt once he’s dressed. You tighten the straps securely, your hands brushing against his shoulders before stepping back.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, glancing down at you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it all night.

You meet his gaze, knowing now is the moment to say what’s been weighing on you. “Hotch,” you start, “the profile. Something about it isn’t right. It’s been bothering me ever since we presented it earlier.”

He frowns, his attention sharpening. “What do you mean?”

“When I first laid it out,” you explain, “I said it was a test, but also a diversion—something meant to distract us while the unsubs worked toward their ultimate goal. We got too focused on the idea of it being a test run for something bigger. I think we’re missing the real target.”

Hotch exhales, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. Then, unexpectedly, he looks back at you with something resembling regret. “I should have listened to you sooner,” he says, his voice low but sincere. “You were right from the beginning, and I dismissed it.”

His apology catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show. “It’s not too late to make it right,” you reply. “But we need to shift our focus before it’s too late.”

He nods, already slipping back into his leadership role. “Let’s regroup with the team. We’ll start from scratch if we have to.”

“Are you okay?” Emily asks as you both enter the room.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I’m still alive,” Aaron responds, his voice low.

“I was asking her,” Emily corrects, motioning toward you. “She’s the one who had to deal with you.”

Aaron looks at you, his expression flickering with insecurity—or maybe regret. He glances down, avoiding your eyes.

You offer him a soft smile, brushing your hand lightly against his arm. “He was a good patient,” you reply with a touch of humor.

Aaron inclines his head slightly. “Y/N has a lead. Her original profile suggested the unsubs might be using these attacks as a diversion or working toward a larger goal,” he says, stepping aside to give you the floor.

Taking a breath, you step forward, the weight of everyone’s attention on you. “We know terror cells evolve and adapt, learning from one campaign to the next. What if this isn’t about the individual attacks? What if it’s about what comes next? They’ve been deliberately targeting isolated locations, ensuring minimal civilian casualties. It’s not random—it’s calculated. Each move is designed to refine their process. They’re testing, learning, and perfecting their methods. This isn’t just a series of practice runs; it’s a setup for something much bigger.”

You catch Hotch flinching slightly, his hand rising to rub at his ear. He meets your gaze and gives a subtle shake of his head, silently asking you not to mention it.

“Hotch,” Spencer calls out, pointing to the computer screen. It’s playing security footage of the car bomb explosion, showing Hotch and Kate being thrown through the air. Hotch freezes, watching it play out, his jaw tightening. You glance away, unable to watch the moment replayed, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter.

Hotch finally speaks, “Same, the kid who stayed by Kate and me, did anyone locate his phone? Did he call 911?”

“It was a disposable phone,” Spencer answers. “He never called 911, only the same number six times every few minutes. Garcia tracked the number, but it went dead right after Sam died. Whoever had it destroyed it.”

Hotch’s brows knit together in thought. “If he didn’t have a secondary device to detonate, there’s only one reason he stayed with us.” He turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “What was it?”

“To make sure the ambulance got to you,” you say, the pieces clicking into place. “And in a city on lockdown, an ambulance with its siren blaring and lights flashing can get through every roadblock virtually uncontested.”

Hotch steps closer to you, his voice dropping slightly. “And straight into a hospital with a bypass order on it.”

“What does that mean?” Morgan asks, trying to piece it together.

“Secret Service has a bypass order for this hospital,” you explain, your tone grim. “It’s closed.”

“Secret Service?” Morgan echoes, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Who are they protecting?”

“We need to find out,” you answer, frustration mounting. “So Sam was calling the man in the ambulance the whole time.”

Hotch’s expression hardens as realization dawns. “The ambulance I was brought in. This hospital is their target.”

He pauses for a beat, then looks directly at you. “Y/L/N, I need you with me.”

The words settle over you, and despite the pressure of the moment, a spark of relief and pride ignites in your chest. Finally, he’s not shutting you out. You nod, ready to follow him. “I’m with you.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The hospital halls are a frenzy of activity, but you and Hotch cut through it with singular focus, questions sharp and urgent as you flash your badges at every nurse, doctor, and hospital staff you come across. The paramedic in the ambulance—it all comes back to him. No one can recall his name, and the details are too vague to pull from memory, but you piece together his last known location: the parking garage downstairs.

“He never left the hospital,” you say, adrenaline spiking.

Hotch nods, already moving toward the elevator with you right behind him. “If he has the detonator, he won’t leave willingly.”

The two of you reach the garage, your breaths echoing in the eerie quiet. The space is dimly lit, with shadowy corners creating a sense of unease. Then you spot him—sitting on the edge of a low concrete wall, the dim glow of the garage lights catching the blade of the knife in his hand.

The man looks up, his face pale but eerily calm. He isn’t scared; he’s resolved.

“FBI,” Hotch announces, stepping forward with his hands raised in a show of nonaggression. You follow his lead, your eyes locked on the man’s every movement. “Put the knife down. We just want to talk.”

The paramedic shakes his head, his other hand clutching a small device—the detonator. “It’s too late for that. You don’t understand what we’re doing here.”

You take a step forward, voice steady but firm. “Then help us understand. Tell us what you’re trying to prove. Killing yourself won’t make your message clearer.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You think I’m afraid to die? You think I’m afraid of you?” His grip tightens on the detonator. “That ambulance—your agent is driving it right now. One press, and—”

“Stop!” you cut in, heart pounding. “You don’t have to do this. It’s over. You’ve already made your point.”

Hotch inches closer, his tone commanding but calm. “Look at me. You don’t need to die here. Tell me why. Tell me who sent you.”

The man glances between you and Hotch, his resolve flickering. For a moment, it seems like he might relent, but then he shakes his head again, muttering something under his breath.

“I can’t,” he whispers, more to himself than to either of you. He raises the knife, his hand trembling but resolute, as though preparing to strike himself. For a fleeting second, you think— surely he wouldn't.

"Look away!" Aaron shouts, his voice sharp and commanding. Instinctively, you obey, turning your head.

A metallic clatter rings out, followed by a sickening thud. When you look back, the knife lies on the ground, blood pooling around the man's lifeless body. His eyes are vacant, his chest still.

You freeze for a moment, your mind racing to catch up with what just happened. Hotch moves swiftly, stepping over the body to grab the phone clenched in the man's hand.

His fingers close around it, but before either of you can react further-

A sudden, deafening explosion erupts in the distance. The blast reverberates through the parking garage, shaking the veryground beneath your feet.

"Derek," you whisper, fear clawing at your chest.

Hotch doesn't let go of the phone, his expression hard as he pulls his comms to his mouth. 

"Morgan, report! Do you copy?"

The static seems endless, each second stretching unbearably as you and Hotch remain frozen in the garage. The weight of the explosion lingers in the air, the silence amplifying every doubt in your mind. Then, finally—

“Hotch? Y/N?” Derek’s voice crackles through the comms.

You exhale sharply, a rush of relief making your knees weak. “Morgan!”

“I’m good. Ambulance is toast, but I got it clear of the city just in time. Shook me up a bit, but I’m in one piece.”

Hotch presses his comms button. “You’re sure? No injuries?”

“No injuries, man. I’m solid. What’s the status on your end?”

Hotch glances at you briefly, then replies, “Situation contained. I’ll fill you in later. Good work, Morgan.”

As Derek’s voice fades from the comms, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your eyes shift back to the paramedic slumped on the ground, the crimson stain spreading beneath him. The stark finality of it hits you, and your stomach churns.

Hotch steps closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. His presence is grounding, his warmth pulling you out of the chaotic swirl of emotions.

“It’s over now,” his voice is steady.

You shake your head, your gaze locked on the lifeless figure. “He stayed behind to make sure the bomb went off. He really believed in what he was doing.”

Hotch’s hand moves to your back, his voice low and steady. “We stopped it. That’s what matters.”

You nod, swallowing hard before pulling yourself together. Your hand brushes against his arm as you steady yourself. “Kate,” you say suddenly, looking up at him. “You need to check on Kate.”

He hesitates, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. “And you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, the determination in your voice not quite masking the lingering tremor. “She’s been through enough already. Go.”

Hotch gives a short nod, squeezing your shoulder one last time before stepping away. As he moves toward the stairs, you turn back to the paramedic one last time, the reality of the night settling over you like a heavy fog.

The team gathers in the hospital lobby, their exhaustion etched into their faces. Derek slings his go-bag over his shoulder and glances at you. “You coming?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll stay. Hotch shouldn’t be driving himself. He’s been through too much tonight.”

Rossi gives you a knowing look, nodding slightly. “Take care of him.”

Emily squeezes your arm briefly, offering a small smile, and Spencer gives a quiet, “Call if you need us.” They head out together, leaving you alone with the low hum of the hospital and the weight of waiting.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours until the elevator doors finally slide open. Hotch steps out, and your stomach tightens. He looks pale, his face drained of color, his eyes dull and distant.

You approach him, searching his face for something to hold on to. “Hotch… how’s Kate?”

He stops in front of you, his posture stiff, his jaw tight. His eyes flick to yours, then away, as if looking at you directly is too much. “You didn’t have to wait,” he says, his voice low and almost resigned.

Your throat tightens, but you steady yourself. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t.”

He finally meets your gaze, and for a moment, you think you see something break behind his guarded expression. “She didn’t make it,” he says softly. The words seem to drain the last bit of energy from him.

Your heart sinks, the air catching in your lungs. You reach out instinctively, your hand hovering near his arm, but you hesitate. The uncertainty between you lingers, a barrier you’re not sure how to cross.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods slightly, but it’s a hollow gesture. His eyes seem focused on some distant point, lost in the enormity of the night.

“Hotch,” you say hesitantly, trying to find the right words. “Let me drive you back to the hotel. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

For a moment, he seems ready to argue, his jaw tightening, but then he exhales, the fight leaving him. “Okay,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You guide him toward the parking lot, keeping close but not too close. The silence between you is heavy, but for now, you stay by his side, knowing that even if words fail, your presence might be enough.

[passionwillow]

Deacon comforting reader after a car accident.

Mixing this with another request I have!

Warnings: car accident, fluff and angst? I think

- Deacon is first on the scene. Before any other officers because, hello, you’re his baby. He took off without a word to anyone and broke every speed law on the way.

- He helped you out of the car as his eyes roamed over you, brows furrowed and eyes worried. “Baby, you alright? What happened?”

- It wasn’t a terrible accident, enough to shake you up and give you some nice bruises and cuts. You’d be sore as hell the next few days. But the blood in your face and clothes scared him.

- Deacon knew better than to insert himself once officers responded, so he just stayed with you while you were looked over and statements were taken.

- He called Hicks and was given the day off, so he took you home after, refusing to leave your side.

- He helped you get upstairs and strip down, the usual hungry gaze he had at your bare skin replaced with concern as he looked you over, checking for anymore injuries.

- He took you to the bathroom and started a hot shower, stripping down as well before helping you into the shower, hands feather light and soft.

- Deacon in a shower with you normally ended one way, but tonight he was so worried he just wanted to hold you.

- His hands never left you as he helped clean the cuts on your face, thumb running over each one as his brown eyes darkened, muttering about stupid people and dumb drivers.

- He grabbed your favorite loofa and body wash and worked on gently cleaning you, trying to be gentle over the sore spots and apologizing when you flinch.

- He knows your hair washing routine and knows it isn’t supposed to be done today, but he washes it anyway to try and help you relax. Fingers kneading and nails scratching at your scalp, smiling when he sees your shoulders slump.

- You try to return the favor and wash him, but he gently refuses and draws you closer, lips finding yours in the sweetest kiss.

- He helps you get out and dry off, towel around his waist as you brush your teeth with him and go through your night routine.

- He isn’t leaving the bed for anything tonight. He stays right up beside you, arms holding you close and lips in your hair as he lets you sleep.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 37

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

Boogeyman calls you, well he calls Mother Spore, using Grumbot. How exciting, last time he was the one to call you it ended up being so much fun... you haven't done anything as Mother Spore in soooo long.

So you make your way to the lab, do the classic dramatic entrance by appearing behind him... this time around he doesn't look nearly as scared as when you appeared in his lab that first time, just a bit surprised and not even that much.

Oh no, you can't believe this is actually happening...it's too soon! Is he perhaps...getting used to Mother Sore dropping in unannounced? That just won't do, you'll have to change it up a bit- Oh right, he asked for you to come here for some reason so he was probably expecting you to appear like this. . . You are still going to mix things up just to be sure, you are going to be extra unpredictable.

... You should probably ask why he wanted you here.

"You asked for me?"

"Spore. I have need for you."

Ohhh just Spore? Not even the full title? That's new too!

"I see, and what is that you need me for?"

"I have another important meeting I would like you to chaperone."

Oh last time was fun, you could work with that again.

"Where?"

"Out of town. It's in a place called Las Nevadas, have you heard of it?"

...

You haven't actually, is that a new thing? Well, you can't exactly tell him that without losing the whole cool and threatening factor you have as Mother Spore... You'll have to figure it out.

"And when will this ...meeting take place?"

"...Do you have anything else to do in the near future?"

Oh he's paranoid huh? Is he worried you are working with other villains on the side? ... Well, technically you are but that's not the point.

"Depends."

He narrows his eyes, he stops it immediately but you notice, you definitely notice. Aha! Take that Pearl, you aren't blind!

"It's on the evening of the 26th"

"I see"

The 26th? Again? There is a difference between chance and this, some of the other gods are getting involved! That's exciting! ...but also very rude of them, not even saying hi... Well then, if the want to do it like this then you are going to give them quite the show. After all you are here to have fun and everyone loves free entertainment.

"Well?"

Right, Boogeyman, need to answer.

"I'll be there"

"As I thought... yes"

"Now I'll take my leave unless ...you have anything else to ask of me Boogeyman."

"There is something actually"

Wait, really? Why did he wait so long?

"Oh?"

"Why did you send those crooks to Cuteguy's inauguration?"

Ah, so Grumbot must have told him. You guess you should have predicted that since you didn't exactly tell the machine not to. Damn, you were almost getting excited too.

"That my dear Boogeyman is something that does not involve you."

"You used my artificial inteligence, the one I created to plan it, I should at least know the reason"

"Oh you don't understand, that isn't for you to know quite yet"

You caress his cheek, he freezes under your stare.

"If the time comes that it may involve you then I will reveal everything."

". . ."

He doesn't respond, you turn and just like that you are gone... You have a situation to deal with.

*End of Chapter 8*