#yeah i prefer calling you forest

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[secretlysimpash]

Pt. 2 of this

Alpha Simon has been known to share with the sergeants, and his omega is no different. How can he deny the two rutting alphas in their time of need :(

!!!! MDNI !!!

warning(s): reader is female, typical A/B/O shit (knots, heats, ruts, mates, marks, slick, ect), oral (fem receiving), poly relationship, nipple play

So for four days, you stayed with Ghost in his room. Half of the time was spent with the two of you being bound together by his knot, and the other half was spent with him pampering you and showing you what a good alpha he can be for you. He made a nest for you, provided any and all food and drinks that you requested, ran your baths so he could bathe you, and gave you clothes to wear since yours were torn to ribbons that first day together. The clothes might be about four sizes too big for you, but that’s fine…At least they smell like him. Also during your time together, you learned some things about your impromptu mate.

One, his name is Ghost. Or more accurately, Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. Though you’ve really taken to calling him “alpha”, which he has no problem with.  Two, everyone on 141 is an alpha. Most of the other groups they deal with are too, with some betas here and there. An omega in these parts is rare…An unmated omega who goes without blockers, suppressants, or the patches like you did before that fateful day is even more rare.  And three…Two of his teammates are going into a rut soon. It’ll be just as bad as his rut, he assumes.

“Poor bastards. No omegas to help ‘em out.” He muses as he strokes your head soothingly, letting you nurse a cup of chamomile he fixed for you. You’re surrounded by blankets and pillows, all that smell perfectly like him. Leather and the woods, the scent that you’ve grown accustomed to over such a short period of time, just barely a week of being his mate.

“Can’t they just…Take suppressants?” You ask, gazing up at Ghost. “That’s what most alphas I know do, anyway.”

“Mh, yeah, well…” Ghost just grunts for the rest of his response instead of using words, smoothing your hair down a bit as best as he can before kissing the crown of your head. He stands slowly, and when your eyes follow him curiously, his eyes crinkle in a smile.

“Just grabbing somethin’ for the nest, bird. I’ll be quick.” He reassures before slipping out of his quarters, leaving you there on the bed. 

For the next five minutes or so, you finish off the rest of the chamomile and adjust your position on the bed. The big, bad alpha has been knot-deep inside of you more times than you can count already, and your body is a bit sore from it. When the door opens again, you lift your head and smile as you see Ghost reenter. He’s carrying a thick, blue throw blanket that looks softer than any of the other blankets on the bed…And a big pillow covered in an army green pillowcase. 

You shift a bit on the bed as he gets closer, his scent encircling you along with two other distinct scents.

The source of those scents is made clear once he makes his way over. The blanket, which he drapes around you, smells strongly of a pine forest. Similar to Ghost’s woody scent, but no trace of leather like your mate. And the pillow that he hands you smells strongly of burning wood…It’s a rich scent that awakens something inside of you as you nuzzle your nose into it. 

“These…Don’t smell like you.” You point out, muffled by the pillow that you bury your face into. Ghost can’t help but laugh gruffly at the sight.

“Good observation, bird…” He muses, placing a hand on your back as he watches you closely. Lips curled up slightly into a half smile, he decides to ask, “Remember how I mentioned the sergeants earlier? My best mates?” 

. . .

It turns out that the piney scent belongs to an excitable alpha who prefers to be called Soap, and the warm, smokey scent belongs to a quieter alpha that goes by Gaz. You’re in the process of becoming acquainted with them since Ghost called the two rutting sergeants to his room. He asked if you’d be okay with giving his best mates a hand with their ruts. The answer came quick as slick formed between your legs, nose buried into Gaz’s pillow, and gripped the blanket perfumed in Soap’s scent tightly in your hands. 

Getting acquainted with the sergeants currently consists of Soap, the bulky Scot, settled right between your thighs. He was granted easy access to your drenched cunt, since the only thing you were wearing prior to them entering Ghost’s room was a jacket with “RILEY” in big letters across the back, which only reaches just above your knees. Soap’s tongue glides between your folds, swirling it around the bundle of nerves at the top as he very easily slipped two fingers into you.

“Fuckin’ hell, tastes like heaven…” He slurred against your clit before sucking harshly, eliciting a mewl of pleasure from you. There’s a rumble in his chest, half purr and half growl as he continues.

Meanwhile, Gaz is behind you, hands cupping your breasts. The jacket of your alpha was zipped all the way down, giving him access to your body. One hand pinches and tugs at one of your nipples, while the other just squeezes at your other breast. He’s inhaling your scent, the same way you were huffing his from his pillow not too long ago. 

“How’d you manage to bag us an omega…A bloody perfect omega at that, Ghost…?” He asked before shifting a bit behind you. Once the alpha moved out from behind you, he positioned himself so he could take one of your breasts into his mouth. Your poor, pre-heat brain can’t even register the fact that he said Ghost “bagged us an omega”.

You gasp out and squirm as he sucks on one soft mound, and squeezes the other. When he alternates, you feel Soap add a third finger. The sounds of sucking and the lewd squelch of your slick fill the room, punctuated by your moans and satisfied growls from the two alphas who are practically attached to your body.

The whole time, your mate is watching through lidded eyes. He’s not far, supervising the whole thing to make sure they don’t rough his mate up. He pipes up with the occasional “Not so rough, Garrick” or “Be gentle, Johnny. Gentler, she’s sensitive”. And whenever your eyes meet his, he gives you a reassuring look. You discussed right before they came in that he’d drag the both of them off of you at a moment’s notice. The binding mark on your scent gland feels as if it pulses, knowing that your alpha will look after you. 

The two alpha sergeants continue their ministrations, with Soap eating you like you’re his last meal and Gaz sucking, kissing, and nipping at your breasts. When you tumble over the edge of your climax, they switch positions…With the blue-eyed Scot turning for a moment as Gaz gets into position. The sight of your mate and the mohawked alpha making out and sharing the taste of your slick…It certainly does something to you. Something that Gaz takes notice of. 

“Clenching around nothing, love…” He coos, half to you and half to your soaked center, causing you to fluster and whine softly with need. “So pretty, can’t wait to get you on my knot…”So now you have a mate, two extra maybe-mates who are both in the beginnings of their ruts, and your own heat is right around the corner. You should really thank Laswell for this…Opportunity. An opportunity she tried to avoid from happening, but…Happy accidents, right?

[lovebugism]

saw you were looking for shy!reader requests and now I'm having visions of nighttime colorful twinkly lights, snow swirling in the frigid air, frost-bitten noses and tentative glances...

what about reader getting roped into holiday caroling with the gang, including her crush, Eddie? Or some other festive outdoor activity, preferably one which allows them to subtly get closer to each other without giving away their feelings 🤭 I'm feeling those 'will we won't we' vibes tonight hehe

wow. here's me casually writing a wee drabble for someone who's written some of my favorite works on this app lol. hope you like it angel :D !! — eddie keeps shy!you company during a holiday party at the wheeler house (friends to lovers, fluff | 0.9k)

The weirdo has a soft spot for the princess.

The Princess, he calls you, ‘cause Mike once convinced you to sub in on a D&D campaign some months ago now. You were a rebellious fairy from a clan of royal fae sent to guide the rag-tag troop through an enchanted, labyrinthine forest. 

You had dressed the part, too, despite having zero knowledge of the game itself. You waltzed into the Hellfire room in a flouncy pink dress, iridescent fairy wings from last halloween, and a crown of artificial flowers.

Eddie remembers you that way, still. A sweet and timid thing, with a big heart and a pretty laugh. Even now, as you sit all alone in the Wheeler’s backyard, away from all the chaos and the twinkling lights, bathed beneath a glowing pink sky and sparkling snow — you’re still such an ethereal thing. A heavenly being, flung from space.

He weaves through the quaint party and over to you, carrying a steaming cup of cocoa in one hand and his bleeding heart in the other. 

“How’s it going over here?” Eddie asks over the soft holiday music playing closer to the crowd.

You blink up at him with wide, glassy eyes, as though he’s just jolted you out of some sort of daze. “Oh. Yeah. Fine,” you stammer finally, smile wavering when Eddie’s lopsided grin makes you forget how to breathe. 

You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders with cold and clammy hands. Hiding feels instinctual to you now.

“Freezing to death?” the boy quips and fights to keep his own teeth from chattering.

The sight of him before you, with snowflakes clinging to his curls and his pale skin softly flushed with wintertime, makes you smile more sincerely than you mean to.

“Something like that,” you nod.

Eddie extends a ringed hand towards you then, offering the paper cup of hot chocolate keeping his aching fingers warm. “Want some?”

“Oh, no— It’s okay,” you decline with a polite shake of your head while your chest blazes with misplaced embarrassment. “I— I can get my own.”

“Well, between us, I didn’t really want it in the first place,” Eddie confesses lowly, taking another step closer until you can smell the deep musk of his cologne. You tilt your chin to follow his gaze. “Little Holly offered me a cup, and I didn’t know how to say no.”

The thought of Eddie Munson, in all his daunting black and silver, having a sweet spot for the youngest Wheeler (whom he exclusively refers to as Little Holly) makes your chest go all warm. 

Holly has her own innocent affections for him, too — you know for a fact she’s got an obsession with his bat tattoo that’s driving Ted insane.

You duck your head in a feeble attempt to hide your smile. Eddie sees it anyway, though, and smiles at your smiling, perhaps wider than he realizes. 

You take the cocoa from him with gentle, trembling hands. His heart skips a beat when your fingers brush over the back of his own. Yours stops entirely when he sits down on the bench beside you — not unwelcome, of course, but more wanted next to you than you’d ever be willing to admit out loud.

Eddie hisses through his teeth and tenses beside you through a shiver. You watch him stick his pale hands in the pocket of his thin leather jacket, which he wears in spite of the inclement weather.

“Are you sure you don’t want another jacket?” you wonder sheepishly, peering at the boy through the corner of your eye.

“I’m good, princess,” he insists with a shake of his head, just before his glowing nose sniffles. “I’m a rockstar, remember? Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“Really?” you hum, quiet and sarcastic.

“Yeah. Freezing to death is, like, the least metal thing ever. It’s like, you know, using an umbrella when it’s raining— It just makes you ten times less cool.”

You shift on the creaking bench and smile at your cup of cocoa. “Well, me and the ladybug umbrella I’ve had since I was nine respectfully disagree,” you joke in shy murmurs, still so meek in humor.

Eddie laughs. You feel him trembling with it beside you from where his shoulder’s pressed against yours. You see his teeth chattering just before he lifts his hands over his mouth, breathing hard into his palms in a desperate attempt to warm them.

Your hands ache with the sudden urge to cover him up. They tremble with uncertainty when you drag the borrowed blanket from your left shoulder to drape the excess along his back. Eddie peers at you with a chocolate button-eyed look as you shift closer into him, made warm and alive by your proximity alone. He’s grateful for the act of kindness, still.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, gaze averted and cheeks pink. You’d almost think he was shy.

“Don’t mention it,” you murmur back and mean it.

“You know…” the boy lilts, nicotine-spearmint breath fanning warm across your cheek. You can hear the smile in his voice without ever even looking at him. “If you just wanted to be close to me, you coulda just said.”

You flash him a stern look from beneath your lashes, which still manages to look just as soft as the rest of you. You try not to think about how close he is to you now — close enough to make out every distinct shape of the snowflakes sticking to his wild hair.

“Don’t make it weird,” you plea through a deadpan.

“That’s a lot to ask of the local weirdo,” Eddie scoffs. “I mean, it’s kinda in the name, princess.”

“Sorry for not wanting you to freeze to death.”

Eddie meets your narrowed eyes with a crooked, pink grin dripping with mischief. 

“I like you, too, princess,” he croons quietly.

Your chest pinches. You have to remind yourself to breathe. “I didn’t say that,” you shake your head and turn away, looking back to the crowd mingling beneath falling snow and fairy lights. You don’t know why Eddie would want to be here with you, instead of over there with them. 

Eddie doesn’t know how he could want a single other thing than to be here with you.

“Didn’t have to,” you hear him say as he pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulder and shuffles closer into you. For warmth, you tell yourself. For warmth and not a damn thing else.

[folkwhoreberry]

Danny Ric x Oscars sister who’s like a violinist or soemthing creative in the FIA, so she’s at the races. Maybe she’s like super super weird and pessimistic like Tori Spring and likes to do soemthing silly like building dioramas LOLLL

Yeah, So What? Everybody’s Weird

daniel ricciardo x reader

or... the one where daniel gets abducted by aliens

word count : 937

warning : unrealistic (or not?) imaginations, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : freeze your brain by from heathers

🍯🦡

you never quite understood why you were in the fia. after all, your job was “creative event logistics,” which was just a fancy way of saying you had to find clever solutions for logistical nightmares. but mostly, you spent your free time in the paddock building dioramas. not just any dioramas, though - yours were masterpieces of chaos. monaco? there was always a tidal wave. spa? suddenly in the middle of a dense, monster-filled forest. silverstone? consumed by an inexplicable sinkhole. no one asked why you did it, and you liked it that way.

you weren’t exactly an optimist. okay, let’s be real - you were a walking cloud of pessimism. you had this deep, unwavering belief that something would always go wrong, whether it was a pit stop catastrophe, a sudden storm, or, your personal favorite, a freak crash that would involve a rogue cow from the countryside. oscar, your brother, called you “grim” and laughed it off. the rest of the grid just found you a little unsettling, especially when you casually brought up how a massive engine failure could cause a car to explode. just casual race things.

but not daniel. no, daniel ricciardo found your weirdness… charming? confusing, yes, but somehow, he liked it.

you first met him when you were setting up a particularly complex diorama for the hungarian grand prix. it involved an alien invasion, complete with miniature ufos and tiny f1 cars being lifted off the track. you were deeply engrossed in sticking a model of max verstappen into a green plastic claw when you heard that unmistakable australian accent.

“that’s… terrifying,” daniel said, crouching beside you to get a closer look. “is that me about to be abducted by an alien?”

you glanced at the tiny replica of his helmet sticking out of a ufo’s tractor beam and shrugged. “yeah, but don’t worry, you’ll probably survive. or not. I haven’t decided yet.”

daniel grinned. “I love it. you know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to race in space. reckon I’d still beat max.”

you blinked at him. usually, people just backed away slowly when you went on about hypothetical disasters. but here he was, smiling like you’d just paid him a compliment.

“maybe,” you said. “or maybe you’ll get brainwashed by aliens and lose all your steering ability.”

he laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed around the paddock and drew curious glances. “you’ve got a dark mind, y/n.”

“I prefer ‘realistic’,” you muttered, going back to your work.

from that day on, daniel kept showing up. he’d pop by whenever you were working on a new disaster, always offering weird suggestions like, “what if it rained donuts during the singapore gp?” or “have you ever considered adding a giant squid to the monaco harbor?” you started keeping a notebook just for his absurd ideas, most of which you’d never use, but it amused you.

the thing about daniel was that he was endlessly positive, a ball of chaotic sunshine who seemed immune to the gloom that hung around your brain like a permanent fog. at first, you thought it was annoying. how could anyone be so… chipper? but then it became kind of nice, like you were a bitter coffee and he was the sugar. maybe you needed that sometimes.

the grid noticed, of course. oscar definitely noticed. he cornered you one evening in the paddock, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“are you and daniel… a thing?” he asked, like the thought was more horrifying than any of your diorama disasters.

you snorted. “me? and daniel? no. I’m pretty sure he’s just fascinated by how weird I am.”

oscar raised an eyebrow. “he’s fascinated by something, all right. just don’t get too distracted. I don’t need daniel ricciardo messing with my head before a race.”

“you’re being paranoid,” you told him, though you couldn’t help but wonder if oscar had a point. not that you’d ever admit it.

things took a turn one night after the canadian grand prix. you were sitting in your tiny hotel room, working on yet another apocalyptic diorama (this one involved an earthquake hitting the montreal circuit), when there was a knock on your door.

you opened it to find daniel standing there, holding what appeared to be a box of miniature race car parts.

“what’s this?” you asked, already suspicious.

“for your next masterpiece,” he said, stepping into the room and dumping the box on your bed. “I figured if you’re gonna keep making these, you could use some real f1 car pieces. authenticity, you know?”

you stared at him, bewildered. “you brought me spare parts… for dioramas?”

daniel nodded, his grin widening. “yep! thought you’d like ‘em. you’re always talking about how the cars would crumble during a meteor shower, so now you can show me exactly how.”

it was then, staring at this man who had just gifted you a box of tiny car pieces, that you realized something horrifying. you liked him. like, actually liked him.

you groaned inwardly. this was the worst. liking daniel ricciardo? the human equivalent of a golden retriever? you could already feel the impending disaster. maybe he’d get bored of your dark humor. maybe he’d try to “fix” you with positive affirmations. or worse, maybe he’d start doing the thing people always did - expecting you to be someone you weren’t.

but then daniel plopped himself down on the floor, crossing his legs, and started rummaging through the box, excitedly babbling about how cool your earthquake diorama would look with actual f1 car debris.

maybe… maybe this wasn’t a disaster after all.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : I let my weird girl out with this one guyssss take me back to my diy days 💔💔

[oh-miniso]

THE CARDIGAN THIEF || BLUE LOCK

PAIRING: ITOSHI SAE X READER

⚠ do not copy, edit or repost in any other platform

hearts & reblogs are appreciated <;3

divider by @ohmarigold

headcanon:

roommate!sae is a certified cardigan thief

roommate!sae who loves paring your cardigans with his turtlenecks during the Spanish winters

"Sae-chan, Sae-chan, have you seen my burgundy cardigan?" you call out to your roommate Sae while searching your wardrobe for said cardigan.

...

"Sae-chan?" you call out again.

...

After a minute of frustrating silence (and your failed treasure hunt), you decide to see what oh-so-important task the dumb genius midfielder was up to that he couldn't grace you with a reply.

Walking to his room, the first thing you see is the normally tidy room untidy - the wardrobe was open with most of his clothes strewn about on the floor and the bed, and his jewellery box looked as if a child had gone through it. Fuck, his shoe collection was all over the place too. Seeing the bathroom door open you called out again.

"Ah, Y/N stop calling me Sae-chan it's a feminine term. Anyways, come in and help me out, I can't decide which pair goes best with this."

As soon as you step into the bathroom, the first thing you notice is Sae styling his adorable bangs in his usual way. The second thing you notice is a burgundy cardigan that looks suspiciously similar to your own. Upon closer inspection, you realize it is your cardigan, with the left sleeve bearing the hand-embroidered cranes you made in your art class. The hem is slightly stained from the time you accidentally spilt ink on yourself. There's no mistaking it - this is definitely your cardigan.

"Sae-chan, that's my cardigan."

"Yeah and?"

"Well, it's MY cardigan."

"And your point is?" replies Sae in an offended voice as if you were questioning his talent as a midfielder. Ignoring your dumbstruck look, he grabs your hand and drags you back into the room.

From the bed, Sae holds up four turtlenecks. "Light grey or charcoal grey? Brown maybe? Or do you prefer forest green?"

"It's. MY. Cardigan!"

"There's no 'my' between roommates. I let you borrow my jersey for my matches all the time."

"That's because I'm there cheering for YOU."

"Semantics. Now help me choose. I personally would prefer the forest green one."

With a huff, you choose the forest green turtleneck. No matter how badly he stretches the sleeves of your cardigans, you gotta admit Sae has a knack for fashion and you may definately like watching him put on a fashion show for you.

(It's definitely NOT because it makes you fuzzy in the head watching him wear your clothes. Like a silent possession of sorts. Like your dating dreams that feel a little bit real.)

Bonus:

A frantic fan ends up spilling coffee all over Sae on your not-a-date outing.

Under your angry gaze, Sae buys a couple's cardigan with a promise to not steal yours again.

Sae is absolutely going to steal borrow again. No compromises.

[serene-sky-kid]

today with the drawing of the heights of the characters, I felt like talking a little bit about Reah, so it's time, I'll talk a little bit about her under the cut for those who want to read

Reah, hearth and icarus were affected by something in the past, the reason why reah has her wings fused with her arms and also why she is so tall and has sharp teeth. Her wings/arms do not function properly as either wings or arms, Her wings are too heavy and short to compensate for her height and the shape makes all her movements awkward. Reah moves mainly by walking or gliding and rarely flies. She usually walks bent over which makes her look a bit shorter, feathers are oddly heavy so at this point in her life that she has two children, she leaves the hard work to “the younger ones” and she just spends time at home or taking care of her large number of pets as she calls them (she has a sort of light creature sanctuary in a cave under her house xd).

I think all the time she lived alone before meeting Orion and Berk took its toll on her and her mental sanity is a bit questionable, I'd say she's a bit morally gray. Her previous loneliness was self-induced, she has no interest in other skykids, but she has a soft spot for moths in the sense that she wouldn't be able to harm them and has no pity for those who intentionally harm moths. A veteran skykid? be on your own, moth? come with me baby, I'll take care of you. Anyway, most of the moths run away from her and most of the grown skykids prefer to avoid her (too tall, feral, looks like she is going to eat you, I don't know, I would avoid her too).

Berk stayed with her because reah saved Taro and he said “she is my fren now”. Orion, orion was kidnapped, there is no other way to describe it, Reah found a dirty fox in the middle of the forest and tamed it, end of story.

... Yeah the lil insecure moth was orion

[anto-pops]

Would you consider making a headcanon post about Sebastian? It could be random, or it could be smutty as hell. But just... what goes on in Anto's brilliant mind when she's writing thid version of Sebastian in her stories? I'm very, very intrigued with how exactly you see him. I know we already have a general picture of who he is through your stories. But are there any more headcanons you have that might not be that obvious? I just love your version of him in your mind. ❤️‍🔥

YEEESSS I WOULD LOVE TO !! I have some written down in my notes app already that I reference from time to time but I'll add more here LMAO

↓↓ SEBASTIAN SALLOW HEADCANONS ↓↓

SFW

Sebastian's main love languages are quality time and physical touch. He loves any excuse to be around you, offering to study with you or to accompany you to Hogsmeade for whatever the occasion calls for.

As for physical touch, this man would make you wear him as a backpack if it wouldn't crush you. Any means of touching you has his name written all over it. Hand holding ? Check. Playing with your hair ? Check. Steering you places by putting his hand on your lower back and gently urging you along ? Hell yeah (he might even cop a feel while he's that low)

He loves seeing you in his clothes. Like, an unhealthy amount. You're cold ? Suddenly you're being smothered by his coat. You're studying together in his dorm and you start to doze off ? Smack– his Quidditch jersey or some other large shirt hits you in the face.

If you tell him to turn around while you're changing, he'll do it, but he may or may not sneak a peak 👀

This one is obvious if you've read my fics, but Sebastian is possessive. BIG TIME user of the "dibs" system, and he's calling dibs on you.

He glares down any other men that think to talk to you (though always from over your shoulder so you don't catch him), but if he's not close enough to do that, he'll manipulate the situation to better suit his preferences.

E.g.: using magic to tip something over so it spills on the offensive male's lap, or jinxing their textbook so it jumps off their desk and smacks them in the face.

In rarer instances where he has the ability to exercise patience, Sebastian will wait for the chatty admirer to stand up and leave, then use his magic to yank their pants down. Embarrassment is a good teacher, right ?

If the two of you aren't already dating, Sebastian goes out of his way to secretly memorize your schedule so he can 'coincidentally' run into you more often. He thinks it increases his chances of wooing you, but Ominis just thinks he's acting like a buffoon.

He always buys an extra treat to offer to you later on. He'll claim that he's so full that he doesn't have room for it, but it's all calculated so he can watch your expression light up when you take the morsel from him (Pavloving your crush... smooth, Sebastian)

This man falls asleep reading like he's an 80 year old man. Upright in bed, light still on, book halfway covering his face or open in his lap. He also 100% isn't above writing in the margins or dog-earing the corners of pages.

If the two of you ever get into an argument that isn't immediately resolved, he BROODS. He'll haunt the Undercroft like a ghost, stare unblinkingly at the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, and glare at anyone that tries to check on him.

Eventually you'll have no choice but to go seek him out because A) you're convinced he might be dead and B) everyone is begging you to. They can't take it anymore– he's terrifying when he's upset.

Sebastian is stubborn as hell but will almost always defer to your judgement. It's 1am and he's still up reading ? "Come to bed," you order. He listens. He gets injured after a particularly difficult fight in the Forbidden Forest ? "It's just a scratch," he waves you off. "Sit down," you demand, pointing at the ground in front of you. He scrambles over like an obedient puppy, though not without pouting.

He might argue against the claim, but he's sentimental. He always saves letters from you, Ominis, and his sister. He has a box of trinkets full of items that belonged to his parents hidden away in his trunk.

He also becomes extremely quiet and reserved when the anniversary of his parents' deaths comes along and will shamelessly melt into you for comfort as though you're the only thing that can keep him from crumbling.

The man can eat. Like Ron throughout the entire movie series, Sebastian's love for food knows no bounds. Maybe it has to do with playing Quidditch or just being gifted with a fast metabolism, but he gorges himself on sausages, pastries, candies, roasts, and whatever else he can get his hands on with reckless abandon.

He also never seems to gain weight from it (which irritates you to no end).

He was never big into romantic literature until he met you. Then all of a sudden, his excursions into the Restricted Section were focused wholly on locating more and more books centered around female anatomy and love stories.

Even if he vowed to never dabble in the Dark Arts again, there's still a tiny part of him that yearns to try his hand at it again. The allure of power like that is too tempting for him to completely ignore.

His eye sight isn't exactly perfect, but he refuses to wear his reading glasses because he doesn't want to tarnish his public image. He'll wear them around you, though (especially once you tell him that they make him look charming and dashing).

NSFW

Relating to his love of physical touch, Sebastian HAS to have his hands on you the entire time you're fucking

E.g.: running them up your legs, tracing the grooves of your abdomen, squeezing your breasts, or (his favorite) intertwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hands beside your head.

It depends on his mood, but Sebastian's kisses alternate between slow and soft to desperate and needy.

He often buries his hands in your hair to pull you in and hold you where he wants you, secretly obsessed with how malleable you are with him.

Sebastian is messy, passionate, emotional, and almost impulsive with how he loves. It can be overwhelming at times, but you grow to accept it fairly quickly.

He loves dominating you in bed, but he's remarkably quick to hand the reins over to you in the event you're feeling bold. He loves that just as much– watching you ride him like your life depends on it, shamelessly turning into the neediest, whiniest bloke in existence.

He's a LOUD masturbator. Sebastian totally lacks the ability to keep his voice down when he's jerking off– brazenly moaning and panting while his fist pumps wetly up and down his cock. For those reasons, he tries to hold off on pleasuring himself until he's alone in his dorm or in the showers, because it only took Ominis commenting on it once for him to learn his lesson.

Sebastian isn't an exhibitionist by any means, but in the event he's worked up enough that he can't stop himself, well... he'll fuck you anywhere. In the Quidditch locker rooms, in an empty classroom, in the bathroom. You usually try to lead him someplace more private in those instances, but you don't always succeed.

He's so willing to try new things with you that one might think he doesn't have a favorite position, but 9 times out of 10, he's finishing with his eyes glued to yours. Sebastian loves watching you crumble beneath him, adores watching your lips part around stammered moans of his name, so missionary tends to be his go to position towards the end.

The guy is grossly obsessed with watching you stretch around his cock. I'm talking stars in his eyes, a big stupid grin on his face, and airy groans of your name pouring from his throat. He was addicted from day one and will never stop studying the way you swallow him up.

Sex with Sebastian is as versatile as his kisses; sometimes it's tender and languid, not at all rushed as the two of you take your time touching and grinding and sighing into one another's mouths.

Other times, it's rushed and desperate. He'll dig his nails into your skin and bully your legs apart so he can get to his target quicker, then tease you and edge you so aggressively that the overstimulation bring you to tears.

Always whispers praises directly into your ear while he thrusts into you, relishing in the way you tighten around his cock and flush with embarrassment when he compliments how good you feel, or how perfectly you take him.

Sebastian is so, so shamelessly flirty when he drinks. It's a rarity when the two of you are still students, but getting your hands on Firewhiskey or other alcohol is far from difficult. After his third drink, he's ridiculously clingy and even more touchy than usual, unapologetically murmuring sweet nothings in your ear regardless of whether or not there's an audience to bear witness to the scene.

Loves loves loves burying his face between your breasts. Either to suck on your nipples or to press his ear against your chest to hear your heartbeat, it doesn't matter. Just trust that his head will eventually end up against your sternum.

Sebastian 100% has a breeding kink. He might not reveal it in its entirety in the beginning, but once you're both free from the confines of Hogwarts and living with one another, it shows itself dramatically.

(See this post for more clarity on why that is)

He can never decide what he likes more: watching his cum drip out of you, or seeing you covered in it. Usually he just opts to go another round so he can see both and sate his curiosity.

Will absolutely do everything in his power to leave lasting marks on your body. Be it on your neck, your thighs, or your waist– he loves seeing evidence of himself all over you. It makes him bloom with male pride knowing that anyone that sees them will know they were left there by him.

Not-so-secretly loves when his banter with you segues into a steamy, passionate make-out session. It could be over something completely irrelevant, but he'll keep pushing your buttons just to get you riled up enough that you decide to shut him up with your lips.

[deadhands69]

Something More [than a storm]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: this series contains smut, angst, light violence/injuries, drinking/intoxication, swearing.

part 1  -  part 2  -  part 3  -  this is part 4  -  part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Overnight, the snow accumulated four feet against the doors. With the few heat related quirks around the building, you aren't really trapped but no one has bothered to clear the way, enjoying the snow day instead. Even with everyone milling about the common space, a hush surrounds everything. It's pretty calming. 

“You think Professor Aizawa still walks his cats in this,“ Mina muses, sipping her second hot chocolate of the day.

“Probably just the really fluffy ones,” Jiro answers, “did you see Shinso’s arms that time he tried to take them in the rain?” 

The three of you laugh, posted up in your usual corner of the common room near an almost completely whited-out window. Happily, you savor the first good cup of coffee you've had in days.

A gust of wind takes the top layer of snow away and your mind drifts to the forest with it.

Everything seemed to happen so naturally last night but in the clear light of day, you aren't sure how you feel anymore. He’s beautiful and hot, sure, but being around him means having to deal with him. You know how sharp his words can get. But kissing Bakugo, if that’s what you’d call it, was nice. Maybe that’s all it has to be.

Your friends are staring at you.

“Uhm [y/n], you okay?” Jiro asks.

Shit.

“Can I tell you guys a secret?” you whisper, immediately regretting it. 

“You can,” Mina teases, lightly elbowing your side, “but I think we already know who your secret is.”

“You didn't...” Jiro’s wide eyes are locked on you. 

Silently, you wish the blizzard would swallow you whole. 

“It's not like that,” you mumble, “not quite at least.”

The pink face to your left closes in on you, “Go on.”

“Last night, I kissed him. Or he kissed me. Well, more bit me...” you trail off, knowing your words won’t do any justice to the story.

“He…bit you?” Mina asks as Jiro cringes next to her. “That’s interesting.”

“No, it was cute. I think?” they have you second guessing yourself, maybe it is a bit weird. You tell them what happened. How he fell and landed on you (they both agree that had to be on purpose, having never seen him trip over anything before.) When you get to the kiss part, you’re still not sure how to explain it.

“I’m not sure what else you would expect from Bakugo, he’s kind of a weird guy,” says Jiro.

“Yeah, and I mean that’s why I told him to hang out with you. I thought you’d hit it off as friends but I guess I’m not surprised. That story kind of fits you both,” Mina adds.

“Fits us both?” you ask.

“Let’s be honest [y/n], if anyone got all cutesy and romantic with you, you would run,” Jiro laughs. 

Across the room, Bakugo eyes your group giggling as you bury your face in your hands. Suddenly your phone vibrates. 

Bakugo [Don't make a big deal out of it.] Bakugo [I know what you’re talking about.] You [don’t make a big deal of Aizawa walking his cats in the snow?] Bakugo [Oh.] Bakugo [That tracks.] You [🙄] Bakugo [If you wanna impress him, let’s get a good grade. We still have to do the written part of the project.] Bakugo [Preferably sooner rather than later. You free tonight?] You [nope, verrrryyy busy] Bakugo [wtf do you have going on?] You [sunbathing] You [rooftop bars] You [yeah, tonight works] Bakugo [🙄] Bakugo [my room?] You [yeah, 7pm?] Bakugo [That works.] Bakugo [Oh, and don’t drink too much.] You [?] Bakugo [Soy Sauce and Dunce Face just walked in with a case of liquor.]

As you could have predicted, the vibe shifted quickly. Kaminari approached your table with a bottle of Rumplemintz, topping off everyone’s drinks but yours (he offered but you kept your hand firmly planted over your coffee.) Not drinking would be easy with your recent hangover still fresh in your mind.

Within the hour the volume had doubled. The boisterousness spread both in and outside, a snowball fight breaking out in the afternoon.  

After you are all sufficiently soaked through your winter clothes, you head inside to shower, change, and eat something warm. 

Both of your friends are a bit tipsy and opt to head back to their rooms after dinner rather than drinking more. Jiro warning you to not do anything stupid while Mina agrees with her before winking over her shoulder as they leave. The common room has calmed down quite a bit when you go back to your dorm to get ready. 

Get ready for what? You wonder how awkward the situation you're walking into will be. Will he just ignore what happened? Part of you hopes so, another part of you - no, let's not think about that. You’re still coming around to the idea of tolerating him, best not to let your mind wander too far. It was a one time thing specific to the situation and that’s enough.

Walking the fine line between overdressed and what Bakugo would consider too frumpy, you opt to wear skinny jeans, boots, and an oversized sweater. Touching your makeup up slightly, grabbing your backpack, then you're out the door. 

You vaguely know which room he is in but were glad when he texted you the number just in case. Arriving at his door three minutes early, you knock hesitantly. He opens quickly, ushering you in.

Dark.

Blackout curtains block the light from outside with a few lamps here and there to illuminate his room. This can only do so much when nearly all of his furniture and bedding are stark black. His decor is minimalist. Everything is perfectly in order, even the notes on his desk are organized. You weren’t sure what to expect but somehow it fits him. 

He pulls up an extra chair by his desk, gesturing for you to sit then the two of you get to work.

Much to your delight (or dismay?), he never mentions the kiss. Carrying on relatively professionally outside of a few jokes here and there. 

You’re still nervous.

Once more, his proximity makes your heart rate skyrocket. Sitting this close to him, the two of you bumping into each other every time you need to grab notes from across the desk. It’s not lost on you - the way his bare wrists feel brushing over your knuckles. His warm skin leaves tingles on yours. This is also the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him in a tank top, having to stop yourself from staring at the dragon tattoo covering his scarred right arm. In spite of the distractions, the work is easy - it’s just a matter of putting it on paper. You get through it.

“Done,” you sigh in relief after typing out the final paragraph. 

In one quick hour, you finished the project you’d been dragging out for weeks.

“Looks good to me,” he confirms, standing to stretch. “I kinda thought we’d be working on this for longer, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” 

Admittedly, you have no plans. It’s a little after eight and you were more than caught up on sleep. Normally, you’d text your friends but everyone is passed out by now. Almost everyone. 

Packing your backpack, you mention a scary movie you’d been meaning to watch.

“No shit?” he laughs, “I rented that one last night and fell asleep right after I started it. There’s still a few more hours on the rental if you wanna watch it?”

Watch a movie alone in his dark room…with him? Seems like a normal friend thing to do, you reassure yourself before answering, “yeah.”

About 45 minutes in, you both realize your mistake. The movie you thought was a thriller turned out to be a romance drama. You’d both misinterpreted the title and quick preview then spent the first half waiting for the killer to show up. After a while, you finally said something and he looked up a synopsis. Neither of you moved to turn it off, opting to talk instead, and tuning back in every once in a while to make fun of the overdramatic plot. 

“How’d everything heal?” he eventually asks after catching a glimpse of your wrist as you adjust your sleeve. 

“Healed fine,” you pull your sweater off to show him before remembering how revealing the tank top you threw on underneath is. Momentarily, you pause then decide it doesn’t really matter. It’s a snow day movie night, there’s not exactly a dress code. And it’s not a big deal, you’re just showing a friend a scar. People do that.

If he does notice, he does a great job hiding it. 

“Did heal well,“ he mumbles, running his fingers along your back, “it doesn’t hurt, right?”

“Nope.” You’re both silent for a while, trying hard to look engrossed in the movie as one of the characters drops to their knees crying in the rain. All you can think about is the thrilling feeling of his hand still lingering on your back.  The credits roll but neither of you could recount what happened if asked.

“Well, that was stupid,” he says, slamming his laptop shut. 

“And really misleading, they should give us two hours of our lives back for that,” you laugh.

“Nah, just the first. The rest is kinda on us. We could’ve found something better to do,” his hand slides to the small of your back.

“Oh yeah?” you ask leaning towards him, unsure again why you’re flirting with Katsuki Bakugo.

“Yeah,” he smiles widely before leaning in to kiss you. Pressing you back onto his bed, this time with less (but still some) teeth. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling as your mouth opens wide for him. Your tongues meet. He tastes like a snow day: vanilla, mint, and bad decisions. 

His other hand grips your hip, pulling you closer as he grinds you against his leg. You gasp out a moan before realizing what happened.

Are you about to become one of the girls you make fun of who ends up in his bed only to be forgotten in the morning?

Fuck.

No, you’re not.

Pushing away, you jump up and run out the door.

part 5 - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki

[rafeandonlyrafe]

arsonist's lullaby

words: 3.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, female receiving oral pregnancy, proposal <3, established relationship, arson, lots of talk about fire lol, camping, mentions of rafes bad childhood

you watch as rafe strikes the match. he prefers it over a lighter, holding it between his finger as the flame inches lower, lower, until it gets too hot and he's tossing it into the fire pit, right on the bushel of kindling that instantly takes light.

rafe looks up at you, the fire sparking in the reflection of his eyes as you make your way towards him. he doesn't have to say a word, the way he sits back in the camping chair, silently telling you to take a seat.

you slide onto his lap, placing yourself sideways with your bum on his thigh. you look at rafe for a minute, just admiring his illuminated features as the orange flame flares up and down with the wind. you listen to the sound of rustling leaves, the distant lapping of waves on the nearby lake.

“are you having fun?” you ask rafe. he may be your boyfriend of two years, but it can still sometimes be hard to tell.

rafe nods, before grinning and leaning forward to press a kiss towards your lips. “i always have fun with you.”

you weren't sure that he would enjoy camping, especially tent camping it, but you always used to go every summer with your parents, and when you asked if he would be down to go, he didn't think twice before saying yes.

“you're sweet.” you giggle, leaning in to press the side of your head against his shoulder, tucking your nose into his neck, inhaling his scent after a long day of relaxing on the beach and taking strolls through the well trodden paths through the woods.

“you're probably the only person alive who would call me sweet.” rafe places his hand on your hip, squeezing it gently. 

it's not that rafe puts on a scary demeanor with everyone else, it's more like that's his natural state and you bring out a side meant just for you.

you kiss his neck, it's not enough, but it's a thank you for his vulnerability, his willingness to please you.

you both sit in comfortable silence, your eyes closed as you recover from the day while rafe stares at the fire, the flames calling to him. he holds you tight to his side as he reaches and tosses another log into the fire, a spit of sparks shooting up.

“who taught you how to build fires?” you ask rafe, looking at the now smashed teepee of sticks he had built up.

“i guess i taught myself.” rafe shrugs. “i always used to build them in the fire pit in the backyard whenever my dad would take sarah to softball practice.

“mmm.” you hum, pressing another kiss to his neck, before moving to his jaw. “we should go into the tent.”

“yeah.” rafe nods, picking you up effortlessly, his pants already beginning to swell just from having your lips on him. he walks quickly to the tent, having to duck down to fit inside, placing you on the inflatable mattress.

you let out a giggle as rafe zips the tent closed before tugging his shirt off, opening your arms up as he sets himself over your body, one hand sneaking beneath your shirt to your waist while his other hand cups your jaw, holding you in place as he kisses you.

“i love you.” you whisper to rafe before picking your shoulders up off the bed, letting him pull your shirt off.

the windows of the tent are zipped mostly shut to protect your privacy from those camping nearby, but you left the top open to just a screen after double checking there was no rain forecasted.

you look up at the stars, your soft moans and rafes low grunts lost to the music of the forest as the wind moves through the trees.

--

“here, baby.” you hand a crumpled up newspaper to rafe. “we need it hot to roast our marshmallows.”

“mhm.” rafe finished building the fire, the embers still slightly warm from your fire last night before he places the newspaper at the center to get the fire going quicker.

“gosh, i can't wait.” you pat your stomach. “it's been so long since ive made s'mores.”

“i don't think ive had them in… ten years.” it may even be more than that. rafe hates the way it makes you pout. his lonely childhood hurts you as much as it hurts him. he fears sometimes even more from your reactions.

“come on.” rafe taps his knee. you really should have just packed one camping chair, it's not like you're sitting on your own as he pulls you into his lap, pressing kisses to your cheeks and jaw as you wait for the fire to grow.

“mmm, the s'mores…” you blink your eyes open, not even realizimg that you've relaxed so completely against rafe that you were almost asleep.

“ill make one for you.” rafe grabs the stick from the nearby table. “how burnt do you like your marshmallow?”

“just a bit.” you smile as rafe rolls his eyes. 

“i like mine burnt.” 

“oh im sooo surprised.” you joke as rafe sticks the marshmallow into the flames, just until it gets gooey before making your smore for you, adding extra chocolate for your sweet tooth.

“so good.” you moan when you take a bite, making rafe shift you slightly on his lap.

you eat s'mores as the moon rises, minutes ticking by until all of your graham crackers are used up.

you let out a yawn, eyes blinking the smoke out of your eyes as the wind momentarily shifts before blowing back in the same direction.

“gonna go put pajamas on.” you press a kiss to rafes forehead before moving to the tent, glad you went for a bigger size with enough room for you to get dressed and undressed. you sigh as you sit down to change your socks before laying back on the bed, not even realizing how exhausted you truly were as sleep takes you.

rafe checks on you after a few minutes, smiling when he realizes you're absolutely fine, just already in a deep sleep. he zips the tent back shut, keeping one eye on it as he goes back to the fire, building it up bigger and bigger as the flames grow, watching with excitement until he runs out of logs to add.

--

rafes fingers twitch. you've been home for two weeks from the camping trip. he wonders when is it an appropriate time to suggest going again. he longs to feel the heat of a blaze against his skin, to feel the ultimate power of building a fire to his will.

“hey.” your soft voice interrupts his thoughts, his face easily shifting from one of intensity to soft love.

“hi baby.” rafe presses his lips against yours in a greeting.

“missed you today.” you hum. you work two days a week at a local animal shelter, mainly just to keep busy and do something to feel accomplished, and they almost always coincide with rafes work, but today was a rare occasion where he was off and you were busy, leaving rafe to roam the house in boredom until you get home.

“missed you more.” he says, placing a hand on your waist to pull you into a more intense kiss, his lips smashing against yours. “how's casper?”

you blink, it takes you a second for your mind to start working after the passionate kiss before the corners of your lips turn down. “still no one wants to adopt him.”

you couldn't believe it at first when the adorable little white puppy came into the shelter, you thought for sure someone would snatch him up instantly, until you saw that he's missing his two hind legs. clearly people in the area don't want to take the initiative to have a dog with only two front legs.

“im sorry.” rafe sighs. he kisses you again, this time soft and comforting. “it's best he waits for the right family though, yeah?”

rafe echos the words you always say when a dog takes a little longer to get adopted. better to wait for a forever family than to wind up back in the shelter after a few weeks.

“yeah.” you nod. “so, what'd you get up to today?”

“nothing.” rafe says honestly. 

“nothing?” you raise your eyebrow. “what are you gonna do when im gone next weekend?”

rafe let's out a curse. he forgot you were going on a girls trip. out of town to some spa that he has the address and phone number, along with any other information he might need to know, typed out in his notes when you first told him about it. just in case.

“shit, i was trying so hard not to think about it that i pushed it out of my mind completely.” he says with a light chuckle, but his face isn't one of happiness. 

you swipe your hand through his hair, combing back the dark blond strands. “maybe we need to get you a hobby. you can build a lego set or do a paint by numbers.”

it's mostly a joke, but you do want rafe to enjoy himself while you're away. you make a mental note to yourself as you go into the kitchen to make dinner to find something to keep his mind occupied while you're separated for the first time for longer than a day since you began dating.

--

rafe looks at your contact on his phone. his finger twitches over the call button, despite you just getting off the phone after talking for an hour, skipping out on drinks with the girls to chat, but you didn't tell rafe that, telling him everyone was in their rooms and that you had plenty of free time to keep him occupied.

he sighs, clicking on your contact picture. you set it at the beginning of your relationship, a kissy face selfie and rafe hasn't changed it since.

“fuck.” he groans, heartbeat starting to rise as a bead of sweat forms on his forehead, anxiety building.

he walks out of the house, no set route in mind. rafe tells himself the walk will clear his head, but what he put in his pocket before leaving says different. he needs to get the feeling out somehow.

he walks and walks until it's dark outside, moving towards the run down side of town until he comes to a small shack, purposely taking mostly abandoned roads. rafe scopes out the area quickly, looking around to see if theres anyone nearby, close enough to see him.

when the coast is clear, rafe lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls the matchbox out of his pocket, a fresh one, having to repurchase after using an entire box camping. 

rafe isn’t sure how easily the place will light up. the shed looks dry and old, and when he looks inside, its empty other than some old long forgotten gardening equipment. rafe strikes a match and sets it on the wooden window sill, watching as it burns out. rafe continues striking the matches and tossing them at the shack as sparks ignite the scraps of wood. 

rafe steps back when he throws the last one, tossing the empty cardboard box into the flames as they slowly take over the structure. rafe smiles, the anxiety that was building up inside him blowing away with the smoke.

the flames eagerly ate up the wood, spreading quickly and before rafe knew it, the already unsturdy roof was collapsing in on itself, sparks adding to the stars in the sky.

he stands for a moment longer, the warm orange glow causing an odd comfort. rafe knows its wrong, but he can’t help that he feels better after setting the fire, walking away as the wood turns to ash, the shack long forgotten and reduced to nothing.

--

rafe paces, strikes a match and lets it burn to his fingertips before blowing it out, paces some more, then pulls out another match. he’s not anxious this time, doesn’t feel the itch to set a place ablaze as he did two nights ago, having to shower three times before he finally got the smell of smoke out of his hair.

now, he’s just impatient. the front door is open, letting in a cool breeze and giving him a view of the driveway as he walks around the foyer, waiting for your car to pull in, for you to finally return home.

rafe blows out a match right when he sees your car turn down the street, his eyes widening as he tosses the matchbox onto the hallway table, stepping out onto the porch, unable to keep himself farther away, moving down the steps as you pull into the driveway.

you barely put the car in park before you’re flying out the door, jumping into rafes arms as he spins you around.

“oh my god, ive missed you so fucking much.” rafes arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, not letting your feet touch the ground as he walks towards the door.

“wait, rafe-” you giggle.

“we can bring your bags in later.” rafe says. he has other priorities.

“no, the car is still on!” rafe sighs and sets you down. you quickly run to pull the keys out of the car and lock it, rushing inside with rafe quick behind you. you toss the keys on the table, noting the matchbox but you're too busy being swept off your feet and carried up the stairs by rafe.

he lays you on the bed, only now pausing to take a minute. you may have only been gone for three nights in total, but it felt like a lifetime to rafe. he leans forward, pressing your lips together before continuing to just stare at you.

“stop looking.” you tug at rafes collar. “do something.”

rafe listens to your command, moving quickly to sink down the bed, tossing the hem of your dress up, not even bothering to take your underwear all the way off, simply sliding them to the side and burying his tongue in your cunt.

 --

“did you see a second shack burned down?” you look up from where you were mindlessly scrolling on social media. 

of course rafe knows. but he certainly isn’t going to just admit that to you. he can’t have you leaving him, he’d probably burn the whole town down if that happened.

“oh really?” rafe says, keeping his voice level, disinterested.

“yeah.” you zoom in closer on the picture, nothing more than a pile of ashes and dust. “damn, i wish i could have seen it on fire.”

the fire department didn’t even get to it until it was completely burned to the ground with how isolated it was. just as rafe planned it.

“really?” his eyebrows raise.

“yeah.” you nod. “i love fire.” you give him a mischievous smile. you surely don’t mean it in the same way as rafe does, but he feels a little more at peace. if you somehow found out, maybe you wouldn’t leave him because of it, or at least hear him out.

“hmm.” rafe just hums.

“we should build a firepit in the backyard.” you mumble the suggestion, but rafe quickly nods. “yes.”

you giggle, setting your phone down to move off the armchair and onto the couch next to rafe. “you wanna keep practicing your fire setup for the next time we go camping?”

rafe smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “maybe.”

--

rafe tosses another log onto the flame, smiling at you as you rock gently in the hammock, set up precariously close to the fire so you can feel its warmth as you relax, the summer coming to an end.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says. the orange light illuminates your features, along with the twinkling fairy lights strung up along the back porch.

you just smile at him. you don’t need words, not anymore.

rafe pokes at the fire with a stick, opening up the center to allow more airflow into the bottom as the flame grows larger, but not too large, never when you’re around. 

“come lay with me.” you open your arms to rafe, who moves with ease onto the hammock next to you, the fabric pushing you both close to each other, glad you opted for the larger size so you could sit together. “i love you, baby.” rafe kisses your head, looking around the yard, at the fire, then up at the stars. “i love this life.”

“i love this life too.” you press your hand to your stomach. there’s a surprise you’ve yet to tell rafe. its only a suspicion, partially confirmed by a stick test, but you want the doctors confirmation to be sure before you tell rafe. you look up at him, tilting your head to the side so you can see his face. “you’re happy?” “yes.” he says honestly. “when im with you, i am.” 

“ill always be with you.” you grip rafes hand. you turned down opportunities for trips with your girlfriends. if they didn’t want rafe to come along, it was a no. you can’t blame them, but you refuse to leave him alone after putting the pieces together.

the first arson could have been a coincidence. but the second, on a night you were also away from rafe? you know its him. it’s why you suggested the fire pit in the backyard. why you won’t force him to spend another night without you, alone and anxious, having to face the demons of his past, his childhood. you know he’s not a bad man, not at heart, not deep inside. 

you turn to rafe, tears brimming in your eyes, overwhelmed with your feelings for him. “i love you so much.”

“baby.” rafe coos, bringing a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. your hands run all over each others bodies, the moon and fire illuminating you as you work bits of clothes off, just enough for you to sink down onto rafes cock, more grinding together than thrusting at risk of spilling out of the hammock.

“god, you feel so good.” rafe groans, hands gripping your waist as he pushes in before making a miniscule movement back.

“filling me up perfectly.” you undulate your hips. sex with rafe is often wild and intense, but moments like this, where you’re just indulging in each others bodies, relaxing and slow, just like the swinging of the hammock.

“yeah, gonna fill you up real good.” rafe smirks, the corner of his lip twerking up.

the words spill out of you. “i think im pregnant.” you immediately want to take them back when rafes eyes widen.

“rafe-” you lean back, a look of regret on your face, but rafe just pulls you back in, slamming his lips against yours, hips moving faster, hand gripping your ass, pulling you against him as he cums, cock swelling inside of you before releasing.

“if you're not pregnant, im gonna make sure you are.” he gasps out, chest rising and falling, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“you’re not worried?” you ask. clearly the couple glasses of wine you had at dinner are giving you a loose tongue. 

“no.” rafe says honestly, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i would be if this was anyone else. you know…” he swallows thickly. “you know how messed up my childhood was. how hard my dad was on me… i feel like this is a chance to heal that, to treat my kid better than i was ever treated. and i want this with you.”

“i want it too.” you coo, kissing him softly.

“oh, and i guess there’s no better time for this.” rafe chuckles, his softening cock still inside of you, fire dying to just embers as he reaches to his shorts, halfway down his thighs and pulled a small black velvet box out of his pocket, flipping it open with one skilled hand, turning the ring to glint in the orange light.

“will you marry me?”

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[steddielations]

Steve walks into utter chaos.

He was stopping by just to see Max, but all the increasingly concerning noise coming from the Munson’s trailer drew him over there instead. Worried that all the cursing and clattering would drown out any chance of a knock being heard, Steve lets himself in. 

Eddie doesn’t even notice him come inside, too busy scrambling around the complete wreck of a kitchen.

“Dude, are you cooking or just banging pots and pans together? I thought you were dying in here.”

Eddie squawks and jumps about a foot in the air. His hair is even more disheveled than usual, barely tied down with a bandana. He’s got flour splotches on his face and all over the frilly grandma apron he’s wearing (which Steve is definitely getting a photo of and showing Dustin later) along with a suspiciously sticky goo on his fingers.

“Stop laughing at me,” Eddie groans. 

“I’m not laughing,” Steve laughs, going to join him in the kitchen, “What are you doing, man?” 

“Well, I’m trying to bake Wayne a cake, but at this point, I might as well give him a frosting covered rock for his birthday,” Eddie sighs, frustrated hands scrubbing the flour off his apron, “I don’t know, man, usually I just get him another mug and a pack of smokes, and he’s never asked me for anything, but I’ve put him through hell this year I just wanted— I don’t know like, to do something special but I can’t even—”

“Alright, take it off.”

Steve folds his arms and waits while Eddie just gawks at him for a moment, cheeks reddening under the patches of flour.

“What?”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Eddie scoffs, starts muttering like he does when he’s nervous and Steve cracks a smile when he realizes why.

“The apron, Eddie,” he gestures, “Hand it over.” 

Another moment of confused staring and Eddie slowly gives it to him.

Steve wastes no time shaking out the flour and tying it around himself. He moves past Eddie, gets right to work clearing the mess and salvaging what ingredients he can.

“You…” Eddie peeks over Steve’s shoulder, “You know how to bake?”

“I can make a cake,” Steve shrugs, “Robin obsesses over shit sometimes, calls them her “little brain worms” or whatever. She couldn’t stop thinking about this cake she swore she had for her 5th birthday but couldn’t remember the flavor. So we made every cake recipe in her mom’s cookbook until we found the right one.”

“So Harrington’s got a secret Betty Crocker power-up, impressive.”

“Nah, just small stuff. I help Claudia with Dustin’s birthday cakes. Little shit is very particular about his red velvet.” 

Eddie snorts and Steve waves him over to start washing the dishes. He does so with a small salute that smears more flour on his forehead. The word cute comes to Steve’s mind but he just rolls his eyes. 

“So you dusted off your oven mitts for little old me, hm? I’m flattered.”

“Only because I like Wayne and I’d prefer if you didn’t give him food poisoning,” Steve teases, dumping out Eddie’s abomination of batter into the trash. Though he softens when he sees the way Eddie winces at it. “And I think it’s nice, you know, you doing this for him. I wanna help.”

Eddie clearly holds back a smile, looking down at the bubbles in the sink, and the cute word comes back to Steve’s mind.

“Okay well, take it easy on me. Not everyone has a bunch of mom friends teaching them to bake.” 

“Oh yeah, then where’d you get this grandma apron? You just had this little number in the closet with your leather and chains?”

“No, it’s Mrs. Bennet’s and she’s not my friend,” Eddie bristles and Steve senses a hell of a backstory there, “I stole it off her clothesline.” 

Steve laughs and makes Eddie tell him the whole story, all the inner workings of Forest Hills feuds. It’s nice, Steve’s been spending more time here since everything, listening to Eddie’s stories and sharing his own. It’s easy to be around Eddie, even though that pesky word won’t get out of Steve’s head.

Once the batter is finished, Steve dips a finger in to test.

“How does it taste?” Eddie asks, “Better than mine I hope.”

Steve hums around his finger, “So good, here taste,” he meant to slide Eddie the bowl, but the wires must’ve gotten crossed somewhere, because now he’s holding out a dollop of cake batter on the tip of his finger to Eddie’s mouth. 

They both look down at it, then at each other again. Steve knows he should apologize, drop his hand and say it was a mistake but there’s something about the way Eddie’s looking at him, the way he subtly licks his lips is almost like— He wants this. 

So Steve lets him have it.

Eddie leans in, keeps his hands at his sides and slowly guides himself down on Steve’s finger. His eyes fall shut as his mouth closes around it, like it’s too much, watching Steve watching him. It’s a lot for Steve too, the wet warmth of Eddie’s mouth, one swirl of his tongue almost makes Steve’s knees buckle. 

Something comes over him, he presses his finger down just slightly, feeling Eddie’s tongue curl around the tip. It elicits a soft noise from Eddie that sends heat thrumming all through Steve. Eddie’s eyes flutter open, brows turned upwards and mouth in a plush little O around Steve’s finger, looking up at him through dark lashes, a dot of flour on his nose. The sight makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat. It’s fucking cute and hot.

Steve has to swallow his own noise when Eddie pulls off. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, a slight grin on his lips, “Really good.” 

Steve’s about to do something crazy, put his finger back in Eddie’s mouth, maybe more than one this time, or just his lips on Eddie's, maybe even slip his tongue inside instead of his fingers, lick all that sweetness away until he just tastes Eddie, something— but a sudden loud knock on the door has him dropping his hand like it’s made of cement.

It’s Max, wanting to know why Steve ditched her for Eddie. She comes inside to ‘help’ which means she leans against the counter, talks about her day, complains, teases Steve and makes fun of Eddie for being demoted to dish duty. 

Steve puts the cake in the oven and focuses on cleaning and composing himself. He can feel Eddie trying to meet his gaze, trying to see if Steve's going to freak out on him after that. Once Steve can look at him without feeling like he’s going to burst into flames, he gives Eddie a small reassuring smile, even throws him a wink when Max isn’t looking. Eddie gives him a smile back.

And later, after Wayne comes home and they sing happy birthday and eat the cake that Steve insists Eddie helped him with— Just the tasting part, Steve says and revels in how Eddie covers a blush with his hair— and after they walk Max home, Steve pulls Eddie behind the trailer and kisses him until he doesn’t taste like cake anymore.

for the prompts "You heard me. Take. It. Off." and "Stop laughing at me" for @highkingpenny and anon, thank you and I hope you enjoy this!!

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello, I am the person from a few days ago that mentioned House MD. .y idea for it is very simple and very funny. Tim ends up in House's hospital with House as his doctor. He was found unconscious on the side of the road with 3 stab wounds, two broken ribs, and a broken leg.

Tim is Knocked Out and in Civilian Clothes with No Wallet. Which means No ID. They call him John Doe for now and move on to stitching him up and doing an xray of his chest so they can fix up his ribs and check for internal bleeding from the stabs. They are having some kind of debate about how the kid has clearly had his ribs shattered many, many times and how they healed when House suddenly stands up and says, "all of you are missing the forest for the tree. Ignore the ribs for a second before the kid dies." He then leaves the room to the confusion of all the assistants. It takes almost ten seconds for one of them to yell, "WHERES HIS SPLEEN"

Within an hour Tim has been put in one if their Anti Germ Bubbles for the Immuno Compromised. Oh the bright side he 100% has a room all to himself! Tim wakes up in the bubble, very confused with House looming over him. Tim is Baffled and says, "who send you? What info are you after?" And House just says, "im your doctor. What's your name so we can stop calling you John Doe The Spleenless Wonder."

Tim and House verbally joust almost constantly for Tim's entire stay and honestly? Most relaxed he's been in *years*. However it takes *days* for them to pry him name out of him and it's not even *from* him. Someone saw his face on a magazine in the grocery store check out and went "that's out John Doe!!" And when Tim tells them that he is Tim Drake he simply says, "I didn't tell you for a very simple reason. If word got out it was The Tim Drake in your hospital, which is outside Gothem, could you imagine the Paparazzi? And what would happen? I can garentee you at least one person would show up trying to kill me. Why do you think I was outside gothem beat up? Assassins, obviously." House's boss is terrified this guy is gunna sue them into the ground for how House has been jabbing at him constantly.

House simply asks why his bones look like Swiss Cheese and Tim simply raises an eyebrow at him and says, "I live in Gothem."

Later on after Tim gets released, he buys the entire hospital, becomes its new boss, goes to House's boss who actually runs the hospital and says, "I do not care about running this hospital. It's all up to you, I want No Power here. I am simply here to triple your budget, no quadruple it. And you remain completely in power on one condition. I want House to be my Primary Doctor. He's fun."

Oh and if you want some Angst, House asking if Tim wants to call someone to pick him up and Tim says, "oh, I have a tracker on me. Someone will show up to check me out once they notice I'm missing." House squinting at him and says, "you've been here two weeks. So I don't believe you." But Tim is telling the truth. His tracker has said he's been at an out of city hospital for weeks and no one really noticed he was even gone.

Fuck yeah. I've seen some clips of House and, despite the large amounts of medical malpractice they should be sued for, Tim would absolutely enjoy House's banter.

Also, I'd so live for House and Tim trying to trick each other. Tim realizes quickly that House doesn't believe a word about what Tim says about how he got his injuries. House keeps trying to pull one over on Tim so that Tim actually receives medical treatment (especially because Tim keeps going back out on field with injuries). It becomes a somewhat friendly game

Fair warning, I'm probably about to butcher House's character. Idk enough about him, but here's what I think. Tim would prefer House as his main doctor for two reasons:

How House cares

House isn't Batman/Bat affiliated

For the first point, House does care but not in the way most others do. I think Tim will eventually start telling House the truth about how he gets his injuries because of how House reacts. House isn't going to be overly sympathetic, pity Tim, or try to mother hen him. Tim will stroll up, say he's been held without food for a week and has 3 broken bones, and House will just banter with Tim.

If Tim's being an idiot (like not resting), House won't try to tell him off. He won't yell or undermine Tim. He'll just point blank tell Tim he deserves whatever injury he got for being an idiot while helping the vigilante treat it.

Tim will never admit to being a cape, but he eventually trusts House enough not to hide it.

Then there's House not being a Bat doctor. Leslie may or may not inform Bruce of any injuries Tim gets that Leslie deems is important for Bruce to know about. Alfred for sure won't hide that shit. Either way, whether founded or not, Tim can't trust those doctors to give away his information "for his own good."

House probably wouldn't go out of his way to inform Bruce (especially if we add on your angst angle).

Probably fucked up House's characterization, but let me know what ya think! Feel free to send another ask or reblog or whatever with changes ya think I need to add

[tamashithe2nd]

TO DREAM MY DEAREST BELOVED

Pre-corruption Burning Spice Cookie x Fem! Reader

WARNING!!!: spoilers for Beast Yeast chapter 5-6, Burning Spice, Forced(?) Marriage, Narrator's POV or THIRD PERSON, Reader is called ; (Name) Cookie so get creative!!, proofread, BS might be OOC, Name is lowk a masochist, fake death!, Lack of dialogue/monologue, timeline is before and after the release of the beasts.

It all started when a Hero Shaped the History and his civilization. Though all his credit is finally shown and worshipped for, he can't help but feel the slow and aching feel of boredom. He's done his duties, so what now? continue this for the rest of his life? That's totally not his thing.

Up until one silly SILLY servant suggested him to settle down, as many cookies have thrown themselves onto him for quite some time. But, that's just not it for the Herald of Change.

That is, until one adorable cookie in his Kingdom, radiant as the burning sky above and as chaotic as any cookie. That's when the Herald's eyes shifted with curiosity. The moment his servants saw him lock eyes with the Cookie, they knew that she might spare more years of entertainment in his life before his boredom rises once more.

So they took it upon themselves to make her his bride.

It wasn't too difficult, She was actually looking for a husband! and for a Herald to be hers? quite honorable. Wonderful! even. But she did not prepare for the storm brought to her.

He was very loud and gets bored easily. But she knew her ways around pleasing her new husband. Which made him feel.. Happy? not entertained but an actual emotion rather than trying to put a smile on his face when someone tried to amuse him or get him out of his boredom.

“Dear! Let’s go hunt!”

“No! You’re to frail for that..”

“Please! I hunted multiple animals already!!” She said confidently,

“Yeah, like fishes?” He was soon met with a soft slap and pouts as he chuckled

“Okay I’m sorry,” he said as she smiled again, “so, hunting?” He chuckled as he nodded, preparing his gear.

EVERYTHING about her was unexpected. The first being that she genuinely knew how to love and care for him, making every mission a pain to go to when all he can think about is her. The fact that she saw through his accomplishments and tended his every need

It got to a point where he almost considered in baking a little cookie with her. Making little warriors so that way, he won't be so bored anymore! but he'd also be caught dead using children as a form of entertainment

Everything he did, was all for her now. Not until.

Not until someone killed her, The stupid cookie didn't even leave her body so he could bury and preserve her peacefully- NO. That DUMB COOKIE stole his heart. Hell he would've preferred his soul jam to be stolen than HER. The entire Kingdom saw Destruction, The Agony, The PAIN.

That day, Birthed the Destructive Cookie He Became to be.

That is, until those damned WITCHES. and gave their soul jam to the ANCIENTS! for one of his 'comrades' Shadow Milk Cookie, promised them the taste of Freedom.. Soon.

MEANWHILE.

"huh?.. where am I?" the cookie spoke to herself. In the wilderness of an unknown forest..

soon, she heard the rustle of leaves as she fliched

"who's there! come out! or else!" she yelled in fear, an emotion she hasn't felt in a long time. But soon, the little cookie showed itself, white and silver accents in his body and seemingly young.

"a cookie?.. outside of the faerie kingdom?.. no one has entered since.." the armed cookie said.

"what's your name? and state your purpose!.." he said preparing his arrow as she panicked "I don't need to have an arrow on my head to answer your question! I'm just as weak as you!.." she said as he lowered his guard, seeing that she isn't armed and seems to have no chance against him.

"I'm (NAME) cookie. And, I’m definitely not from here..” she said as she told him where she once from which etched confusion in the boy’s face. Soon he took her to the Faerie kingdom and reported her to Their King. As he could only freeze and silenced as he warned the cookie, name Silverbell cookie, to watch out from her. As she might be here to Destroy the tree. Now Aware of who she was to One of the Beasts. The cookie smelled the scent of deep tension.

But little did they know, That The GingerBrave and his comrades have come for White Lily Cookie, alongside an Ancient warrior, Pure Vanilla cookie.

That is until, Pure Vanilla spoke to the ‘Virtue of Truth.’ That is.. Not the actual. But the Beast of Deceit.. Shadow Milk cookie who freed himself. The faerie cookies and Gingerbrave Took it upon themselves to try to fight the Beast. But they were too late, as his comrades are about to be freed from the force they’re locked in.

(Name) Cookie saw all this play out. Unfamiliar of the Beast, she tries to help GingerBrave and everyone.

The Beast of Deceit couldn’t help but notice the markings on her body. Surely this isn’t her right? The woman who that Destructive Bastard kept Mumbling when they were in that tree.. those Marks are uncanny to Burning Spice’s..

“Oh?.. is one of Spicey’s little pesks here? Or are you.. that Cookie?” He giggled as she Expressed confusion

“How?.. how do you..-“ she was soon paused

“Don’t pause me! … well, of course I know your husband! We’re comrades you know? And WHY ARE YOU HELPING THE ENEMY?! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON YOUR HUSBAND’S SIDE, ARE YOU NOT?!” He yelled dramatically.

“Although I’m not that shocked that he pushed you away. He’s sooo out of Script 24/7.” He said in an uncaring tone.

“Anddd! He’s in that stupid tree right now! Probably begging to be with you, why not be on my side and-“

“And How am I supposed to believe a deceitful cookie like you?” she talked back

“NO TALK BACKS TO THE MAIN CHARACTER HERE!” He yelled at her face in anger of being disrupted AGAIN.

“Ehem. You can believe me since right now, as you can see. My SOUL JAM Is in the hands of an ancient. So as that one over there! The one with White hair and ugly green accents. Don’t get me started on the Blonde one.” He mocked the Ancients as she looked at them with shock

“What about my husband’s soul jam..?” She asked as the cookie’s Face brimmed with frustration

“OBVIOUSLY TAKEN! THESE PEOPLE ARE THE BAD GUYS! so why not help me.. Free your husband?” He smirked as she hesitated.

“Will.. will it still be him? The husband I had.. back then?..” she asked in hesitation and fear in her eyes as he smirked, ready to deceive her, Until he was interrupted by elder faerie cookie

“No, (Name) Cookie. He now has the pursuit of destruction! I won’t be so surprised If he’d destroy you too.” He said as she felt More hesitation in her heart.

The beast groaned “MUST YOU DISRUPT OUR TALK?! old hags like you think you’re so cool by disrupting us from a conversation!” He yelled angrily as he fixed himself and looked back at (Name) with a smile

“So, what will it be?” He smirked

She looks into his eyes

“free him.”

His eyes shined as he laughed. With everyone panicking as she held her weapon looking back at them.

“I’m sorry.” She frowned to the people who she once looked with joy

“But as his wife.. I.. I can’t let him go.” She said as the fight continued.

From them, the other beasts looked out. As Eternal Sugar Cheer for the new Member of this little fight as she lazily lay in her cloud. While Burning Spice looks at his beloved. With pride and joy, the only cookie he can never destroy.

And once he’s free, he’ll get everything he lost and build it all back again. With her.

Soon they were free from their grasp of the silver tree, as the female cookie immediately followed where He went, leading her to the woods of the faerie kingdom as she smiled

“My love..” she smiled as he looked back at her with a destructive smile

“You’re alive.. my dearest. I knew better than to doubt you but..” he frowned

“I never came back,” she responded.

“But I’m here now..”

“Yes.”

“You’re here.” He said as he embraced her once more. “You help free us.”

“And I shall repay you with my affection forever in this world. And destroy everything that tries to go against us.” He caressed her cheek as she smiled

“Right?” She said as she held him tight.

He sighed as he watched through the stars. As his mouth opens to say

“Sometimes, I wish I don’t dream.”

“Why?” She asked

“Because I can’t let you go.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed as he opened his eyes. Waking up from his slumber. He wished it happened that way. That she woke up and Freed him from the silver tree. But that never happened.

“I wish I could destroy dreaming too. Because all of it is all about you.”

THE END.

(Might consider a happy ending, pls request so!)

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Chapter 14 + Premium Attire Story

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

The premium story is slightly NSFW (I'd say an M on AO3 as opposed to E, or lime instead of lemon for those that prefer that description)

As I ran without looking where I was going, I tripped over a tree root and fell.

Kate: Ow!

I ended up sliding face first into the mud, and ended up completely covered in dirt. I winced in pain as I pushed myself up, turning my head up to look at the moon. Its faint white glow amplified the chill of night. Drops of rain limited to just my face mixed with the streaks of dirt. It didn’t take me long to realize they were tears.

(I hurt Victor.)

I took out my sadness at being avoided on him. I couldn’t stand how he didn’t want anything in return for everything he had done, and I went a step too far.

(Because of my muddled up feelings, I ended up saying that I wish we had never met.)

I could do nothing except berate my foolishness for saying something so awful.

(I didn’t finish my sentence, but Victor knew what I meant.)

He must have known what I left unsaid. I wanted to know more about him because I liked him. And because I loved him, I wanted him to tell me everything himself. If I had never fallen in love, I wouldn’t have hurt him.

(What am I even doing anymore?)

Ever since I realized my feelings, I’ve done nothing but chase my thoughts around in circles. I wanted Victor to be happy. That’s the only thing that’s been clear since day one. Shaking, I stood up. My skirt was completely ruined, and my knees were skinned.

Kate: …And I call myself an adult.

I snorted as I saw blood run down my knee. Wiping away my tears, I slowly shuffled my way home. But my tears just wouldn’t stop falling until I reached the castle.

-----

Roger: Why didn’t you come to me as soon as you got hurt?

Kate: …Sorry.

The next morning, I was sat in the basement while Roger scolded me.

Roger: Even if you washed it, if bacteria entered through your wound, it could cause infection and irreversible damage.

Kate: You’re right. I’m really sorry.

(The disinfectant really stings, but I’m not in any position to complain right now.)

I sat still as Roger carried out his treatment, my shoulders hunched. After he applied medicine, he wrapped my knees in bandages. And then he crossed his arms and looked down at me.

Roger: Apply this medicine and change the bandages every day. You hear me?

Kate: I understand, I will.

Roger finally seemed satisfied when I nodded in compliance, and he put away the first aid kit.

Roger: So? How’d you get banged up like this in the first place?

Kate: Um, I tripped in the forest…

Roger: You told me that part. I’m asking what caused you to take a fall this big.

He was asking about the root cause of my injuries, but…

Roger: I know you didn’t have any missions yesterday, so why were you out walking in the woods alone at night?

I stayed silent.

(I don’t want to look suspicious, so I know I should answer him… but I don’t want to.)

As I continued to keep my mouth shut, I felt him aggressively ruffle my hair.

Roger: I’m not suspecting you of anything. I’m just asking because there must be a reason. Roger: I’m not gonna force you to answer. But if talking about it will help, I’ll listen. Roger: If anything happened to you, we’re not going to sit back, alright?

Kate: …Yeah. Thanks.

Before I knew it, it was now three weeks since I became Fairytale Keeper. In that time, I felt that the distance between me and Crown had grown smaller.

(My past self would’ve never thought we’d be this close.)

I knew Roger had been genuinely worried about me. All of this only happened because Victor chose to make me Crown’s Fairytale Keeper. As I thought of him, I couldn’t help but recall how pained he looked last night. My heart throbbed.

(...I can’t leave things like this.)

I didn’t even thank him for saving me and just hurt him. If he started avoiding me again, My time at Crown could possibly come to an end without me ever seeing him.

(And if that happens, I’ll never see Victor again for the rest of my life.)

I couldn’t tell him how much I regretted what I said. I wouldn’t be able to tell him my true feelings. I didn’t even want to imagine what it would be like to live the rest of my life like that. Hiding my bandaged knees, I pulled my skirt back into place. And as I was standing up–

Liam: Oh, here you are, Kate!

Kate: Liam, Harrison! What’s the matter?

Roger: Don’t tell me you two are injured too.

Liam: Not today. Hey, Harry–

Harrison: I’m just along for the ride.

Liam used one hand on the railings to vault over the stairs, landing in the basement as Harrison just stared.

Liam: There’s a visiting circus coming to the market today, it looks like there’s going to be a parade too. Liam: This kind of event doesn’t happen everyday, you know! I’m looking for people to go watch it with.

Harrison: He caught me first.

He raised his hand with an annoyed look on his face.  However, Liam seemed to be able to tell that he didn’t really mind, and threw his arm around Harrison’s shoulder.

Liam: What about you two?

Roger: Pass. I’ve got things to do.

Roger refused point-blank as he picked up a test tube and began shaking it.

Roger: You guys should drag that depressed lump over there with you.

Kate: Are you talking about me?

Roger: You see any other depressed lumps here?

He gestured with his chin, wordlessly telling Liam and Harrison to hurry up.

Liam: Do you want to come, Kate?

Like Liam could tell that something was up, his tone of voice softened as he invited me along. I couldn’t refuse.

-----

Kate: Wow!

A performer danced down the street, leading a man riding atop a giant ball. Then there was a juggler, and a man performing magic tricks while walking. The crowd was captivated by the circus troupe’s various acts as they paraded down the street.

Harrison: It’s packed today. Liam, Kate, make sure you don’t get lost.

Liam: Okay~ How are you holding up, Kate?

Kate: I’m fine, still here.

Liam: Let’s go look for a better spot to watch from. Hold onto me to make sure we don’t lose each other.

I grabbed onto Liam’s sleeve and we followed behind Harrison as he snaked through the crowd. Upbeat music filled the air as the circus troupe scattered flower petals into the air. The cheers of the crowd was deafening. As I watched the petals drift in the air, it put my heart at ease. We found a slightly less crowded spot and stopped.

Liam: What a show.

Harrison: If this was the theater it’d be a full house, huh.

One of the petals drifted near my hand, and I reflexively caught it.

Liam: Nice catch! I want to try too.

Harrison merely sighed as Liam leaped into the air while reaching for a petal. However–

Harrison: Your face.

Kate: Huh?

Harrison: It’s looking better than before.

I subconsciously reached for my face. Liam looked back worriedly at me.

Kate: I feel better thanks to you two. Thank you both.

At my words, Liam beamed.

Harrison: It was that geezer’s fault, wasn’t it?

Who knows, it could have been your fault, Harrison.

How did you know? (+4/+4)

…I thought I was hiding that…

Kate: How did you know?

Harrison: Whenever you have a lot on your mind or something’s bothering you, it’s almost always related to Victor.

Liam: You never noticed? Liam: We don’t know exactly what happened, but if there’s anything bothering you, you can always talk to us. Liam: You can rely on us when you’re feeling down.

Liam’s words reminded me of Roger’s earlier.

Roger: I’m not gonna force you to answer. But if talking about it will help, I’ll listen. Roger: If anything happened to you, we’re not going to sit back, alright?

Kate: Roger said something like that just now.

The two of them exchanged a look.

Liam: A lot of things have happened ever since you joined, but you’re one of us, Kate. Liam: So whenever you’re in trouble, we want to help you. And if there’s something bothering you, you can talk to us anytime. Liam: Isn’t that right, Harry?

Harrison: Well, I guess we are getting used to having you around. Harrison: Like Liam said, even though they might not say it to your face, everyone’s been worried about you. Harrison: I believe it’s because you take your job as Fairytale Keeper seriously. Harrison: Everyone recognizes the hard work you’ve been doing.

Even amidst the music and cheers of the crowd, their words rang loud and clear. I was deeply touched.

(I didn’t even realize when they started acknowledging me.)

William: I extend to you an invitation to tonight’s banquet. Your name, dear guest? That night, I stumbled onto a secret I shouldn’t have known. Victor: From now on, you will be Crown’s “Fairytale Keeper”.

Because of the invitation that William extended on a whim, and because of Victor’s declaration, I couldn’t even sleep that first night out of fear and anxiety, and I worried constantly about whether I’d be killed or not. If I told the Kate from that night how much things would change in just three weeks, and how close I am with Crown now, she’d never believe me. This time it was tears of happiness that filled my vision, and I looked down.

(I’m actually kind of sad that my time with Crown is almost up.)

I was so happy to be acknowledged by Crown that I was now feeling sad that the time I had so dearly wished for at first was approaching.

Harrison: You know, if you wanted to give the old man a slap or two, I’m pretty sure everyone would help.

Kate: No! I don’t want that!

I snapped my head back up at Harrison’s words, only to see their grinning faces.

Harrison: Finally looked up.

Kate: Ah…

Liam: Cute girls shouldn’t keep their faces hidden!

Just like sunlight, their kindness warmed my heart.

Kate: Thank you, both of you.

As I expressed my gratitude, their smiles grew satisfied.

(I should tell Victor how grateful I am to him too. Properly, this time.)

I could picture Victor in his office, smiling warmly as always. He’d smile when thanked, and offer comforting words when I was feeling sad. I’d heard him thank me and apologize to me so many times.

(I absolutely cannot let things stay as they are.)

I put my fist to my chest and resolved to do something about it.

(I’ll find him, and I’ll tell him.)

For some reason, Liam and Harrison seemed surprised when they looked at me.

Kate: ? What’s wrong?

Harrison: Nothing…

They exchanged another glance, this one seemed relieved.

Liam: Nothing at all!

Liam sounded pleased as he shook his head and turned his attention back to the parade. It appeared as though the circus troupe was gathering in the main road, striking one final pose as a group. And then–

In broad daylight, the sound of an explosion ripped through London, loud enough to burst my eardrums.

Kate: What-

The explosion sent the crowd into a panic as everyone scrambled to flee.

Man’s voice: Run!

Woman’s voice: Out of the way, get out of the way!

Lost child’s voice: Papa! Mama! Where are you!

The crowd turned into a stampede of desperate fleeing people, turning the streets into an utter mess.

Caught in the middle of the chaos, I couldn’t move.

Kate: Ah… hah…

My breaths grew shallower and shallower. The panicking crowd seemed to move in slow motion.

Pastor’s Voice: Hurry, run! Crying child’s voice: Mama! Mama!

Kate: …No…

I was frozen in place. The sound of the explosion echoed over and over again in my head.

Kate: Agh!

Panicking Man: Out of the way, don’t just stand there!

I lost my balance as I was shoved aside by the man, and was swallowed by the swarm of people.

Liam: Kate!

I lost sight of Liam’s outstretched hand in the blink of an eye. Tossed around and shoved every which way, I was eventually thrown against a wall. As another explosion rang out, smoke began to rise in the distance. My body slumped against the wall.

Kate: Ah…

(I’m scared.)

The sound of the explosion stirred up the scars left in my memory and I found that I couldn’t breathe.

(Someone…) (Someone, please, anyone…!)

There was only one name that I managed to force out of my lips.

Kate: …Victor…

I squeezed my eyes shut out of fear. And then–

Victor: Kate!

Looking up, I saw Victor, frantically pushing through the crowd and sweat dripping down his forehead as he ran towards me. 

Kate: !

He pulled me close to him and covered my ears. With my cheek pressed to his shirt, I could smell his night-like scent, and feel his warmth. My shivering subsided, just a little.

Victor: You’ll be okay. I’m here.

He moved his fingers just enough to let me hear what he said, and then he covered my ears again.

Kate: I- I’m… okay…

I was okay. I repeated it over and over again as I clung to him. When he noticed, he hugged me even tighter. I don’t know how much time passed like that. Gradually, I stopped hearing voices or other noises, and Victor pulled away just a little.

Victor: Deep breaths now. Slowly, take it slow.

Following Victor’s guidance, I sucked in a shaky breath. After several deep breaths, my breathing began to even out, and Victor put one arm under my knees.

Victor: Keep your eyes closed until I tell you it’s safe to open them, okay?

I nodded weakly, and closed my eyes. I felt myself being lifted into the air. Realizing that I was being carried by his strong arms, I looped my arms around his neck. I could no longer hear any explosions.

Premium Story: The “I Love You” Sealed Away With a Single Kiss

I was gently set down. When I slowly opened my eyes, I could see Victor kneeling in front of me.

Victor: You’re fine now. It’s okay.

He had propped me up against the back wall of the building, which faced out into an alley. I let go of his neck and wrapped my arms around myself.

Kate: …Thank you for saving me.

My fingers were still trembling as I held onto myself and thanked Victor. He let out a small breath. And gently, he covered my hands with his own. His hands were so warm. I could feel myself calming down as he held them.

Kate: Why were you here?

Victor: I was actually doing some reconnaissance with William.

Kate: Reconnaissance?

Victor: We were looking for the source of the explosions.

“Explosions.” A jolt ran through my body at that simple word.  As I took deep breaths, I realized that Victor was rubbing gentle circles into the back of my hands as he continued.

Victor: It’s all speculation at the moment, but we suspect that this was premeditated by an organization.

(That’s…)

The sound of the explosions, the stampede of desperate people, all of it was like a scene out of hell itself.

Victor: I’ve asked the Yard to provide security while we investigated in the background. Victor: However, we weren’t able to obtain much information. Nothing more than rumors, anyway. Victor: To think that this would happen now…

He bit his lip, grief and helplessness evident in his expression, powerful enough to make me feel the same.

Victor: The perpetrators waited until the end of the parade where everyone would be gathered in one location before carrying out their crime. Victor: I will not let this pass.

(Was there anyone caught in the explosions…?)

I realized that the best thing to do right now would be to meet up with William and continue to investigate, However I couldn’t make my legs move.

Victor: It’s alright. William is on his way, so don’t worry.

After a while, I felt calm enough to speak.

Kate: …A few years ago, I was caught in similar explosions when I was at a church.

Victor shifted ever so slightly.

Kate: At that time I was so desperate to escape that I didn’t realize… Kate: Whenever I hear similar sounds, it reminds me of that day.

My laugh must have sounded pitiful.

Kate: But I’m okay now, thanks to you.

The expression on his face as he watched me was achingly sad.

Kate: I’m sorry for the awful things I said to you. I wanted to say thank you for rescuing me from that conversation with Darius.

I finally managed to tell him what I really wanted to say, but he remained silent.

Kate: I didn’t mean that I wish we had never met. Kate: I was just frustrated that I didn’t know so much, and when I finally found out, I didn’t know what to think or what to do. Kate: I was upset that you wouldn’t tell me, and I crossed a line. I’m sorry I hurt you. Kate: I’m really, really sorry.

(But…)

Kate: Meeting you has brought me more happiness than sorrow.

I overstep and hurt him, and get hurt in turn. But I truly didn’t believe that I’d be happier if we had never met in the first place.

Kate: Because I lo–

I was about to confess. And then– I felt something soft press against my lips, and my world was filled with him. He was kissing me.

Kate: Wha-

I didn’t expect his tongue to slip into my mouth. I tried to back away, but his hand against the back of my head prevented me from moving away.

Kate: Nnn…

His tongue slid against my teeth and then tangled with mine. He was kissing me so deeply that I thought I might pass out from lack of air. Everything felt so good that my mind was going blank. Just as I was on the brink of passing out, I felt his hand slip under the hem of my skirt, inching up my thigh.

Kate: Ah-

His finger rubbed against the crotch of my underwear. I was struck by a bolt of pleasure and could feel myself growing wet. My eyes flew open, and his jewel-like eyes were staring right at me. Desire flickered in his gaze as our kiss deepened. My heart squeezed when he narrowed his eyes.

(Does he also…?)

All my pain, all my anguish, I wanted to forget everything as I surrendered myself to this pleasure. I wished that time would stop, so this moment of mutual desire would last forever. Unable to form a coherent thought because of the kiss, I tried to press closer towards him. But his expression grew pained.

Kate: …ah…

And he broke away. I stared at his parted lips, but then his cold gaze pierced straight through me.

Victor: Is that enough?

Kate: What…

His voice was emotionless, sapping me of any lingering warmth.

Victor: There’s one more week until your promise is fulfilled. Victor: Forget everything, and return to your old life.

Kate: But I–

Victor: Kate.

This was a rejection. He was drawing another invisible line between us. “Not another step further.” I couldn’t look into his eyes any more, and bit my lip as I dropped my gazel.

Kate: …You don’t have to accept my feelings.

I’d thought the same ever since I learned of his past.

Kate: I just don’t want you to give up on your life as ‘Victor’. Kate: I know this is an unreasonable request. Kate: But I wish that you can live freely.

Even if we were to be parted, even if I were to be forgotten, Even if we were never to meet again.

Kate: I want you to be happy.

Because I love you. Because I had fallen hopelessly in love. He had so much to bear that adding this wish was an unreasonable burden. I knew that. But I just wanted him to be happy as a person, instead of as a symbol. I will always continue to wish for a future where he can smile with joy. …Even if that future didn’t include me.

Victor: I have already discarded that life. Victor: It has been gone for a long, long time.

Wordlessly, he stood and extended a hand to me. And just as silently, I took it and pulled myself to my feet. As he turned and started walking, I held back my tears and followed him. And although I knew the sensation of his hand in mine was familiar, I felt as though I had also felt something like this, a long, long time ago.

[sharksfrommars]

asylum Ford Drabble, for your pleasure.

Dipper and Mabel’s first night in Gravity Falls.

What is up with Grunkle Ford?

Grandpa Shermie had told Dipper and Mabel that Grunkle Ford sometimes had delusions. They knew Ford had a sickness in his brain, one that made his sense of reality shaky. That’s why he lived with Grandpa Shermie, why he had to take special pills every day. It explained why grunkle Ford was a little… odd.

Ford always told the kids stories, about all sorts of strange and wonderful things. Monsters lurking in the deep forests of Oregon, beasts that live in the sea and sky. fairies, gnomes, demons and ghosts, Ford had stories about them all. Most of all, he told them the story of the town he lived in, back in the 70s. Gravity falls was a town built at the heart of all things bizarre. It attracted the freaks and the weirdos like a magnet. It was choc full of cryptids and beasts and alien life forms, if you believed Grunkle Ford.

Dipper wasn’t sure. On one hand, every one knew that Grunkle Ford wasn’t in the best mental state. They all remembered the incident at thanksgiving 2009. Or that time in the restaurant last year. Actually, there was a long list of incidents that proved Ford wasn’t of sound mind.

But some part of Dipper believed it anyway, because it seemed to make the feelings of magic and mystery he so often felt just a little less crazy. He wanted to find proof, one day. Undeniable proof of something Strange and Abnormal. He wanted that magic to be real, wanted his Grunkle to not be thatinsane.

When the twins found out that they would be going to gravity falls that summer, they were excited. They were finally going the town that Grunkle Ford always talked about! Dipper was convinced he’d find something that would prove the existence of the paranormal to his sceptical grandfather. Mabel was just excited to meet new people, and spend time with her brother. It was going to be the summer of a lifetime.

The shack they were staying in was run down, and barely standing. There were 3 people to welcome them when they entered. At the front, a man in his 20s, with a cap and a tool belt. He introduced himself as Soos Ramirez. Shermie had spoken to him on the phone, and hired him over the summer to fix up the shack. 

“I’ll be honest, son. This is a lot worse than I was expecting.” Said Shermie. Soos grinned

“Oh yeah dude. Local teens are always breaking into this place, tryna find the flayed ghost. Don’t worry though dudes. We, like, totally got it to living standards dudes. My Abuelita even cleaned the place!”

The old woman next to Soos nodded. She looked exactly like him, except an old woman. She seemed to be vacuuming the grass.

“House is very dirty.” she said, “I clean.”

Soos turned around and pointed the last person. A gangly teenage girl, with long red hair. She happened to be the prettiest girl Dipper had ever seen. She was on her phone, not paying attention.

“That dude over there is Wendy! She’s my assistant, so you’ll probably see her around.”

“Sup” said Wendy, not even looking up from her phone. 

Soos took the pines on a tour through the house. It was clean, and seemed stable enough. Really it was much better than it looked from the outside. There was still work to be done, but mostly cosmetic stuff. The kids called shotgun on the attic room, even though the roof wasn’t yet tiled, still bare insulation foam and support beams. Shermie sighed and agreed, so long as they wait for the roof to be finished. Soos put it on the top of his list.

Ford had disappeared at some point during the grand tour. Shermie went to look for him, letting the kids get settled in one of the lower rooms. 

“Do you think this place is really haunted?!” Dipper whispered to Mabel. It was an exciting prospect, that he might get to see a real life ghost. Just like in Ghost Harrassers.

“I mean this place sure is spooky enough!” Said Mabel, “I just hope it’s a hot ghost. Preferably a tweenage heartthrob, who can’t pass on until he finds the girl of his dreams.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “A ghost isn’t going to want to date you, Mabel. It’s probably going to suck out your soul of something. They do that.”

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for a hot vampire then.” 

“Oh this place is definitely haunted.” Said a voice from the shadows. It was Wendy, leaning casually against the wall. Dipper jumped up, excited.

“You’ve seen a ghost!? What was it like!?!”

Wendy smiled.

“You know an old cultist scientist used to live here, a long time ago. He did all sorts of cruel experiments on people, turned them into monsters. People say he even went as far as to eat them. They say the souls of those he killed still walk these halls. 

“There are all sorts of Ghosts, but none stronger than the Flayed Man. He was skinned alive. The scientist kept him alive as long as possible, just so he could tear the flesh from each limb. When the flayed ghost finally died, he came back as a wraith, bringing vengeance to everyone who has ever stayed here…”

Dipper and Mabel were enraptured with Wendy’s story. Dipper started blabbering excitedly to Wendy about his you can track ghosts. Suddenly, it was like they had known each other forever, as they talked and laughed.

Dipper made it his mission to capture the Flayed Man, and to talk to him. He enlisted Mabel to help. Together, the mystery twins could crack the mysteries gravity falls. 

That first night in gravity falls was quiet. Except for the low hum of machinery from far below the ground.

[sometimeslwish]

Something Just Like This (With Sylus)

Figuring out how Sylus started into the whole thing was a bit hard until I thought about the twins and went: "yeah, this is perfect." So, here's his.

Word count: 1,388

Tags: voice acting, just general +18 content, Sylus being his usual daddy self, nothing too explicit, just mentions of fluff, smut and angst, Sylus becomes a scrip twriter and streamer (could you imagine that?)

Social media handles

Youtube

Doubletroublechronicles later rebranded into thechaoschronicles.

hedonisticwriter – streaming account for both twitch and youtube.

Twitter

hedonisticwriter – at the behest of the twins. They kept sending him screenshots of what the fans said until he relented and downloaded the app himself.

How it started

The twins roped him into it. They were doing an assassin series and they pretty much just shoved him into the booth and got him to do the lines for the boss. He was a natural. The twins loved it, he had fun even if he wasn't pleased with being shoved into the booth. They weren't planning on making the crime lord a part of the series, but the fans enjoyed his voice acting so much that they just asked him if he could continue playing the character and he said yes without much thought. Now it's their shared channel.

— The twins take care of the editing for him and he slowly learns to navigate the world of voice acting. Luke teaches him how the tagging system works while Kieran teaches him how to edit.

— They also teach him how to write scripts and once they do, it's like they hit a fucking mine with how he keeps churning them out. Him and Luke kind of drive each other crazy with ideas because they just keep bouncing from each other.

— Two years into the mess, he sets up a streaming channel. It's mostly him hanging out with fans, cooking, reading and listening to music, or playing video games. It's usually two to three hours of bonding time. There are times when he writes or edits audios while on stream and sometimes has them accompany him for some impromptu voice acting.

— At some point, he commissions a 2d avatar for his streams. It's a dragon with red eyes and white hair, the fans think it's an oc and that he looks nothing like it, little do they know that the appearance is completely based on him (minus the dragonic parts) and he subtly made a face reveal.

Channel

— The twins did a slight rebrand when Sylus officially joined them. They already had the darker color palette, they just changed everything a little bit to make more space for him.

— There's a playlist for each one of their solo videos along with the ones for series and specific tags.

— The editing style is quite simple, thanks to Luke's template. The thumbnails consist of a blurred background– sometimes the background has color, sometimes it's black and white– at the top left you see the name for who is voice acting, underneath that you'll see the picture of the male character and on the center, to the right, will be one of the lines from the script with the tags underneath.

— Sylus' videos come out on sundays, the twins take Tuesday and Thursday respectively.

— All of them do M4A, Luke has a clear preference for M4F while Kieran has one for M4M. Sylus doesn't really care, he just does the script and calls it a day. The pet names he uses are: beloved, darling, sweetie/sweetheart, baby, kitten and some others from different languages.

— He plays forest creatures and night time creatures like vampires and demons, mostly beasts that are kinder than they look. He got dared into doing a cat hybrid, and he did a caracal, so he's taken a habit of doing predator hybrids every once in a while.

— He gets mostly recognized by three of his series: Abyssm Sovereign (A dragon falling for the soul he was supposed to consume) Relentless Conqueror (a prison escapee who boards a space pirate ship and becomes the second hand to the captain) and the Onychinus series (The crime lord and his assassin's series the twins strung him into).

His sfw content

— Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, lovers to enemies to lovers. He does breaking up with your ex and going back quite well.

— He'll play a lot of leadership roles, mafia bosses, crime lords, villain characters and just powerful and wealthy people in general. Assassin, bodyguard and boxing trainer have also been characters that he's played. There's a lot of killing and morally grey-ship to his writing.

— There's been times where he's taken more of a follower approach. Scripts where the reader picks him up from the streets instead and helps him (some of his hybrid audios are like that) and others where he fights and earns his spot as your second hand and only shows loyalty to you.

— His softer content is very “sugar daddy” in a way, very spoiling-the-listener content, which is lover boy at its finest. There's lots of humming and bantering, him being a bit (read: a lot) of a caretaker. It's very rare that the roles are reversed and the listener takes care of him instead, but the fans always cheer when he does them.

— He's very freedom coded, based on the tags he consistently writes about and plays. Comfort, reassurance, encouragement, quiet moments where you're free to simply exist without having to do things or be something you're not, quietly supportive and just comfy and cozy in general.

— Very rarely does he do any angst and when he does, it's the most heart wrenching thing. It takes him a lot of time and takes to be able to get it right. It's usually soulmate related, doomed soulmates or people who go against the rules of having soulmates (or just the world in general).

— He's kidnapped the listener a couple of times in different settings, but he's been decent and harmless while doing so, so it kind of doesn't count as a “dark” thing. There's also mentions of the listener being bought/freed by him but beside that, he doesn't really like doing yanderes or toxic characters.

His nsfw content

Whoever does the spicy audio is the one to edit said spicy audio. It's a rule Kieran established since the beginning and one they wholeheartedly agreed to enforce, no questions or protests. He didn't start making them until he joined an event related to spicy audios, which happened after he had been voice acting for 9 months.

— After that, he occasionally indulges and makes an audio, it's not rare but it's not frequent either. He does them when he's in the mood to.

— When that happens, it's the most toe curling shit cause the fucker pulls all the stops; praise, constant reassurance, body worship, he talks you through it, asks for your feedback. He's an absolute tease with the way he phrases things and the most passionate lover.

— He feeds the daddy kink, goes on full on service dom, brat tames. On the moments he's not in control, he even acts as a brat himself, begs to be used, maybe even punished, it's crazy.

— And the aftercare? Beautiful, it makes it even more heartbreaking that he voice acts.

— Sometimes does ramblefaps, if he's feeling it enough to improvise his way through an audio, but that's even more rare for him to do.

Extra things

— Every single time someone asks for a face reveal, he makes a tweet with a picture of the closest thing to him, tags the person who asked for it and captions it "here, face reveal" like the fucking little shit he is. Cork screw, knife, a shoe, once he took a picture of his dresser, anything close to him could be used. He does it at least once a week.

— They are all silly silly boys. The twins once filmed Sylus while he hummed (blurred his face of course) and posted it on twitter for the fans to see and from then on it was war. Any time one of them goofed around, they would find video evidence of their crimes on twitter.

— There's compilations of all the times he's said an innuendo or said something that could be taken as a sex joke, both intentionally and unintentionally. Streams, voice acting moments, every single instance taken out of context.

— The fans tease him for his bad singing and encourage him as he gets better.

— The twins pop up from time to time and talk during his streams, but not always. Whenever they do, two chibi avatars with masks pop up on either side of him and it's the cutest fucking thing. Yes, he commissioned those too.

Series masterlist.

[rylem33]

Future Trophy Wife

Charlie laughed as she pulled the shirt over her head, the soft fabric clinging to her slender frame. “Future Trophy Wife,” it read in bold red letters. She shook her head, amused by her best friend Megan’s sense of humor.

“Really, Meg? This was the best thing you could find at the gift shop?” Charlie asked, playfully rolling her eyes.

Megan grinned, adjusting the straps of her backpack as they made their way back to their cabin. “I just couldn’t resist! Besides, it’s not every day my best friend gets engaged. Consider it a preview of your future, Mrs. Trophy Wife!”

Charlie glanced down at the shirt again, chuckling softly. She was far from the trophy wife type. With her tousled brown hair, minimal makeup, and a preference for hiking boots over heels, Charlie was as grounded as they came. She loved her fiancé, Daniel, not for his money—of which there wasn’t much—but for his kind heart and the way he made her feel like the most important person in the world.

“Well, joke’s on you, Meg. This future trophy wife is going to spend the rest of the retreat in this shirt!” Charlie declared, her smile wide and genuine.

The retreat was their annual tradition, a time to escape the chaos of their lives and reconnect with nature. This year felt particularly special with Charlie’s recent engagement. The two friends set out for their hike, following the winding trails through the dense forest that surrounded the retreat. Normally, Charlie would be in her element, soaking up the tranquility and enjoying the fresh air. But today, something felt off.

After about an hour of walking, Charlie started to lag behind, a frown creasing her usually cheerful face. “Ugh, do we really have to go this far?” she complained, adjusting the shirt that now felt oddly tight across her chest.

Megan looked back, surprised. “Come on, Charlie! This is your favorite part of the retreat. You always love hiking.”

Charlie shrugged, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I don’t know, Meg. I’m just not feeling it today. My feet hurt, and honestly, what’s the point of wandering around in the woods? We’ve seen it all before.”

Megan was taken aback. This wasn’t like Charlie at all. She was the one who usually dragged Megan out for hikes, excited to explore every nook and cranny of the forest.

When they finally returned to their cabin, Charlie was exhausted, but not in the usual, satisfied way. Instead, she seemed restless, almost irritable. She felt an odd tingle run down her spine as she slipped the “Future Trophy Wife” shirt back on after her shower.  

“I’m going to bed early,” she announced, exiting the bathroom.

“Everything okay?” Megan called from the other room.

“Yeah, just… feeling a little weird,” Charlie replied.

The next morning, Megan was the first to wake up. She stretched and yawned, then glanced over at Charlie’s bed. What she saw made her gasp.

Charlie was still asleep, but she looked… different. Her once brown, tousled hair was now a silky, platinum blonde, cascading over her shoulders. Her skin was perfectly bronzed, as if she had spent weeks under the sun. And her body—Charlie had always been in good shape, but now her figure was nothing short of extraordinary, with curves that strained against the tight white crop top that now read “TROPHY WIFE TRAINING CAMP.”

“Charlie!” Megan shook her friend awake, her voice edged with panic.

Charlie groggily opened her eyes, blinking in confusion. “What’s going on?” she mumbled, her voice still soft and familiar.

Megan stepped back, her heart pounding. “Charlie, look at yourself!”

Charlie sat up, her movements slow and deliberate. She glanced down at her body, her eyes widening as she took in the drastic changes. “What the hell…?” she whispered, running her hands over her now toned abdomen and perfectly smooth skin.

Megan was at a loss for words. “How… how did this happen? You look completely different!”

Charlie looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes flickering with a mix of shock and curiosity. “I don’t know, Meg. I went to bed last night feeling weird, and now… this.”

She was less shocked than Megan expected, almost as if a part of her wasn’t entirely unhappy with the change. “Maybe it’s just some weird reaction to the environment or something. I mean, it’s still me, right?” she said, trying to reassure both herself and Megan.

Megan wasn’t convinced, but there was nothing they could do except try to go about their day. “Let’s just take it easy today,” Megan suggested. “Maybe things will go back to normal.”

But as the day wore on, it became clear that things weren’t going back to normal. Charlie’s behavior grew increasingly different. She spent more time in front of the mirror, touching up her makeup, adjusting her clothes, and fussing over her hair. She started complaining more—about the food, the rustic accommodations, and even the weather.

By midday, it was as if a switch had flipped. Charlie’s easygoing nature was all but gone, replaced by a sharper, more demanding persona. “Honestly, Megan, why did we come to this dump? We could have gone somewhere nicer—like a resort, with real amenities,” she snapped as they walked to lunch.

Megan tried to stay calm, but her worry was growing. “Charlie, don’t you think this is all a bit… strange? You’ve changed so much, and not just physically.”

Charlie—or Charlize, as she now insisted on being called—rolled her eyes, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Maybe it’s time I did change. I’ve spent my whole life settling, but now I see that I deserve better. And Daniel? Please, he’s sweet, but he’s not exactly going to give me the life I want.”

Megan was horrified. “The life you want? Charlize, you were happy with Daniel! You loved him for who he was, not for what he could give you.”

But Charlize just shrugged, her expression cold. “That was the old me. I’m not Charlie anymore, Megan. I’ve moved on, and it’s about time you did too.”

By the end of the day, it was clear that the transformation was complete. Charlize packed her bags with precision, her movements fluid and confident. “I’m leaving,” she declared, tossing her designer bag over her shoulder. “This place, and everything in it, is beneath me now. Including you, if you can’t keep up.”

Megan watched, helpless, as her best friend walked out of the cabin, her heels clicking on the wooden floor as she left behind the person she used to be.

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

Months passed, and Megan hadn’t heard a word from Charlize. She tried reaching out, but every call, every message went unanswered. It wasn’t until she found a thick envelope in her mailbox that she got any news at all.

Inside was an invitation, embossed in gold, for the wedding of Charlize Montgomery to Charles Denning, a wealthy oil baron with deep pockets and a notorious love for beautiful, young wives.

As Megan unfolded the invitation, a glossy photo slipped out and fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the image. “Oh my God” Megan whispered, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The Charlie she once knew was gone, replaced by someone who valued wealth and status over everything else.  Megan just shook her head, remembering the friend she once had.