#she looked cool doing it and i would probably let her step on me or whatever

[home2venus]

SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE

── ˖✮⋆˙꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ jungkook x han so-hee ˒˓ seven music video universe  summary. a missing scene from the seven music video, from the perspective of freshly heartbroken jungkook genre/tags. pining, post-break up, (not so) unrequited love, incredibly whipped jungkook ─ this is jungkook's perspective of my other seven fic! read them here ⋆｡°༄˖°.🪐

Jeon Jungkook may have fucked up.

He’s not afraid to admit that, and neither is anyone else. Latto had cackled when he told her what happened, all broken up about being broken up with. She’s usually pretty cool about things, on his side, but she’s real with him too. The guys were kinder about it, but the general consensus was that Jungkook has maybe, definitely, fucked up.

So, it’s a messy situation, but it’s not impossible to fix. Jungkook’s a crafty guy, and he’s dedicated to everything he puts his mind to, so he’s sure that if he really tries, and really works hard he can fix this. He wants to fix it, desperately, because... well, because of everything. She’s everything.

She was everything. 

He needs to fix it. He needs to fix them. He can fix it, he knows he—

“Should leave her alone, right?”

“What?” Jungkook asks, snapping out of his thoughts. He’s sitting at a barstool, head in his hands with his elbows resting on the counter. He looks over to Latto, supremely unimpressed.

“She doesn’t want you, baby,” Latto shrugs, leaning next to him, eyes scanning the dancefloor absently as though she’s not actively ruining Jungkook’s life, “Give her some space, at least, before you rocket back into shit.”

“I need her to know—”

“You need to not push her into filing a restraining order,” Latto insists, rolling her eyes fondly. Jungkook pouts slightly, and she pats him on the shoulder, already walking away from him. He watches her leave, a little miffed and a little resigned because Latto is probably, definitely right, but he doesn’t want her to be.

“Then what should I do?” He yells at an already halfway gone Latto.

“Go home?” Latto yells back, “Go to therapy?” She disappears into the crowd, but he can hear her laughing to herself. 

So, Jungkook goes home. On the same train that he always does. At the same time as he always does. Jungkook, from the future, would like to claim that these factors make what happened next 100%, completely, absolutely, not his fault.

Jungkook steps on the train, emptier than usual but still bustling with people, and grabs the first empty seat he can find, sighing with relief as he just narrowly avoids standing in the shadow of a fairly gross looking businessman. He readjusts, stretching slightly as the train begins to move, and as he settles in his seat, he looks around the train and—

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Han So-hee is still as beautiful as the day they met, and still as devastating as the day she left.

“Um,” Jungkook says, and she rolls her eyes, beginning to stand.

“Excuse me,” So-hee starts to stand, looking to the people around her, “Do you want my s—”

The train shakes abrubtly, slamming her back into her seat, and she sighs, resigned and exhausted. She settles back into her seat, putting her earbuds back in with a pointed glare at him.

“Don’t say anything,” She bites out the words, like they’re painful, and they are painful, but more for Jungkook than her. Jungkook just nods, quiet and understanding. So-hee blinks, a little taken aback, but then she just rolls her eyes and returns back to her phone. Jungkook returns back to his too, but it’s absent, like he’s not fully there because he isn’t.

A different Jungkook wouldn’t have listened. He would’ve kept talking, pestered her into laughing and letting him back into her home, like he always did after arguments. But, current Jungkook knows he can’t do that anymore, that he did it one too many times, during an argument that was a little too serious, and now he can’t go back to her home, to what he always considered home, because he pushed her too far.

She gets off before him, because she always does. He can see the exact route she’ll take home in his head, memorized from nights where they stumbled back home together, drunk and giggly.

“I love you,” Jungkook says. He’s not sure if she hears him, but it doesn’t matter. He just needs to say it.

Through the departing train’s window, he watches her glance backward at him, before disappearing off the platform as a whole, into the streets of the city where she lives without him. 

Jungkook goes back to his apartment, and he realizes that he can’t live without her. Jungkook also realizes that she can live without him, that she doesn’t need him in the same way, and he wants to let her have that. He wants to try again, but he doesn’t want her to hate him.

So, Jungkook resolves to let her leave. 

Unfortunately, nothing is ever that easy. But, Jungkook would like to say that it’s not his fault.

Jungkook takes the same train he did when he was with her, because that’s the train he’s always taken, so he sees her constantly. Okay, whatever, that’s fine.

But, Jungkook goes to the same restaurants that he used to go to in university, back when him and So-hee would spend weekends and nights finding new, exciting places to eat, because he always goes to the restaurants. So-hee goes to them too, because she found them with him and has all the rights too, so he sees her at the restaurants and it’s hard to explain to every old woman behind the counter that no, they aren’t together anymore and haha, yeah, it’s all good, he just misses her more than he thinks he would miss his own lungs in his chest. So, he just... doesn’t tell them, and neither does she, and everyone still thinks they’re in love, so sometimes they sit across from each other in a restaurant booth to avoid any questions.

For practicality’s sake. 

Um. Anyways.

He sees her at the laundromat, and at this point, he misses her like the Earth would miss the Sun if it imploded in the sky. She’s in an old blue denim jacket from years ago, with her hair loose around her shoulders and messy as she slams around a laundry basket, clearly sick of him. He can’t help himself from looking though, swinging his legs atop his own washing machine, watching her load her clothes into the machine. His eyes catch on a faded sweatshirt he used to have years ago, his university logo faded and worn on the front of it, and he immediately averts his eyes. If she knows that he knows, she’ll give it back, because she’ll be embarrassed. The sweatshirt is proof he’s still something to her, he’s still useful, so if she gives it back, it’s one less sign that she doesn’t actually loathe him. He wants her to keep it, so he doesn’t say anything, not until the room starts to flood and they’re pushing at the ceiling.

I love you, he almost says when they make it out, and she starts on her way home, still soaked and angry. 

I love you, he almost says when he texts her about the police assuming her laundry was his, because his wallet had still been in her laundry basket. 

I love you, he almost says when she opens the door and lets him, and the laundry but mostly him, into her apartment and offers him coffee on instinct. 

Her cats brush at his hands and he coos at them like everything is normal, and she asks him about Jimin and work and if he could talk to the others about bringing her neice into the studio, and when he agrees, she says that she literally loves him, and Jungkook shatters.

“I love you,” Jungkook says, and So-hee doesn’t say it back, but she smiles a little bit, and lets him leave on his own, without slamming the door behind him. 

Things aren’t perfect, she doesn’t run back to him with open arms and beg to be married, but when he enters the place they used to study late into the night, begging the shop owner for just one more ramen bowl and a few more minutes, she takes her bag off the opposite seat, and doesn’t glare at him when he accidentally mumbles to himself too loud while working.

It’s not perfect, but it’s close, and missing her when she’s close is better than missing her when she’s far. At least she’s still in reach, and at least she still lets him look at her.

“I love you,” He says, without even thinking about it, and she doesn’t even look up.

“Yeah, yeah,” She says, the first aknowledgement since she broke up with him months ago, “Have you considered putting that energy into a job?”

“You’re better than a job,” Jungkook says, teasing but light, like she’ll shutter away if it’s not just a graze of a joke. She gives him a look, and he thinks shit, because oh no, oh god, he’s fucked it all up again and he—

“I’m better than everything,” She says back, a small smile playing on her face, a clear indication of her joke, “Get a better excuse.”

Jungkook misses her more than anything. Her eyes, and her hair, and her hands, and her cats, and her food, and her brain, but more than anything, he misses the way she makes him laugh out of nowhere.

He laughs, because of course he does, loud and disruptive, and it turns into choking giggles when the old ladies nearby shush him loudly. His eyes are shut, blinking rapidly to get away his tears, even though it really wasn’t that funny. It’s a mix of shock, and delight, and nostalgia making him inconsolably laugh, but his distraction stops him from noticing the way she grins fondly.It’s not an I love you, but it’s close, and he missed it. He missed everything about her. All he wants to do is get it back, and actually see it, see her, again.

#jungkook #seven jungkook #jeon jungkook #han so hee #jungkook fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #han so-hee #seven #༄˖°🪐 writes

[relaxxattack]

people will really write rose as a badass girlboss as if her main character trait isn’t hubris. as if her main story arc wasn’t her fucking things over for everyone time and time again by assuming she was better and wiser. oh you think rose is a girlboss? rose who intentionally allowed herself to be corrupted by morally ambiguous terrors because she thought it might give her a slight mental advantage on the game? rose who willingly went along with the manipulation of a groomer because she thought his idea of putting a tumor into the universe was smart? THAT rose? that rose??? why don’t you ask her where the green sun is. since she’s such a competent and intelligent boss bitch

#rose lalonde #homestuck #this isn’t to say she’s not a bad bitch because like. she is. she did let herself get corrupted to kill jack and it was sick as fuck #she looked cool doing it and i would probably let her step on me or whatever #that doesn’t mean she’s smart or knows what she’s doing ever though #rose is a petty and emotional mess #and a silly little freak too #i say this because she is literally my favorite character by the way. this is not haterism #im just tired of the Perfect Smart Alt Girl Trope #have any of you seen beetlejuice #hsmeta #my meta #op

[1nephthys]

I don't like coffee

Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: When Lando Norris pulled Lando NoRizz in front of his (and everyone really) biggest celebrity crush

Pairing: Lando Norris x actress!reader

Warning: Carlos, Daniel and Oscar are being amazing wingmen, my bad English and also my first time doing this Instagram thing at the end so idk if I did it correctly

----

The race in Brazil was cool and all that, but there was one specific reason why the fans went crazy for it.

Y/N Y/L/N.

When the first person noticed her around the paddock, the whole internet knew, even though Y/n was there just for fun, just because she was a huge fan of the sport so when she was invited to watch the race from RedBull garage she couldn't say no.

Even the drivers wanted to talk to her during the whole rush of the weekend.

Lando Norris had his chance right after the podium, where he proudly stood on the second step. After the nice conversation he had with the girl, he went straight to his driver's room to call his parents and his best friend.

He was about to press the green button on his phone to make a call when suddenly the doors opened and Oscar was in his room as well. Lando even stood up in surprise.

"Please, tell me you did not turn the y/n y/l/n, the famous actress, the face of the year, probably the most gorgeous girl on this planet down." He said to his teammate.

"What?" Lando asked, even more surprised than when Oscar entered the room. He was the type of guy who knew how to knock and now he was there, accusing him of turning down his celebrity crush? "I didn't, she asked me-"

He didn't have any chance to finish his sentence when Carlos entered the room as well, looking like he was some kind of mad man.

"Lando" He went straight to his friend and with the palm of his hand, hit the forehead of his friend "What have you done?"

"Ouch! What? What have I done? What are you two talking about? And who let you in there?" Lando was surprised, to say the least. And he had no idea what those two were talking about. Also, he thought about how Carlos, the Ferrari driver, got in his driver's room, in McLaren.

"You turned y/n down!" He yelled at him.

"What? No, I didn't! I would never do that" He said. "And how do you know I even talked to her?"

"Fans are everywhere, mate." Oscar explained as he crossed his arms on his chest. Carlos was now walking around the room.

"Oh my god, but I didn't do anything. It was just a nice talk. I doubt she would agree if I asked her out." Lando explained himself. Yes, he had the biggest crush on her but c'mon, she would never have a crush on him.

"We heard something else" Oscar commented, he didn't really know what Carlos heard, but as he looked at him, he assumed that the Spaniard heard the same rumors he did.

"And what exactly was this nice talk about?" Carlos asked, annoyed by his friend having absolutely zero brain cells.

"Well, at first she congratulated me, said I was great there. Then I thanked her and told her I was a huge fan of her newest movie. Then, she asked me if I wanted to grab some coffee so I said I don't like it and then-" Lando stopped and then- "OH MY GOD, IT WASN'T JUST ABOUT COFFEE, WAS IT?" He yelled, now he realized.

"Lando, dios mio. I can't believe you." Carlos said as he held his head.

"God, so you really turned y/n down" Oscar said as he tried to stop this chuckle from escaping (not very successfully).

"Stop making fun of me! What do I do now? Christ! I was nervous and I don't know! Help me, now that you yelling at me!" Lando panicked, did he just lose the chance he waited for half of his life? No, that can't be happening.

"Firstly, calm down. Secondly, go find her and ask her to go out with you!" Carlos said as he looked at his friend.

And if panicking and two yelling guys weren't enough, he heard a voice.

"Well, I wanted to ask if it's true, but from what I'm hearing right now, I assume you really did reject y/n y/l/n?" Daniel asked with his infamous smile, maybe it wasn't the best time to make fun of his friend but he just couldn't stop it.

"Stop! This isn't funny! And who let you all be there? It's McLaren!" He said annoyed, now he had to deal with his own stupidity and three guys there.

"Alright, alright!" Daniel lifted his arms in defence "I just wanted to let you know that you have your chance to fix your mistakes. She's in RedBull, talking to Max. She's waiting for her ride to the hotel."

Daniel said and Lando stood there, frozen, what were the chances he would see her again if he didn't talk to her now?

"What are you waiting for? Go!" Carlos had to push Lando a bit, but he started running as soon as he was out of the room. Three guys left behind, smirking to each other's, and crossing their fingers for their friend.

Lando didn't really have much time to think about what he wanted to say as all the way there he was just thinking about not tipping over and falling on his face.

So, now he was standing in front of really surprised (and a bit embarrassed about being rejected after the first time asking a guy out) y/n and Max.

Of course, Max heard as well so he just said "Oh! the mechanic just called me over there! It was nice meeting you, y/n!" He said as he left and went towards this mechanic who called him over (maybe he was a bit crazy for hearing voices).

Lando was still breathing heavily, but he felt awful about this silence that he caused. They talked really comfortably before he rejected her. "Hi, again. I know what I said about coffee but for my justification, I hate coffee and I really couldn't think straight after the race. So, I wanted to ask if you maybe like... uh... hot chocolate. I know it's a bit childish, but I know a really great place and they actually have nice coffee too so if you like, you can have a coffee and I can have a chocolate and... " He realized he started ranting but he also noticed that little smile forming on her lips.

"Lando, I would love to grab some drinks with you."

"Really?" He face-palmed himself mentally and probably all four men who were watching from around the corner did that as well. "I mean, that's fantastic, we can go tomorrow if you would like that?" He tried to compose himself but then she giggled a bit and he was folded all over again at this angelic sound.

"That suits great with me. Should I leave you my number, so you can call me with more details?" She asked as she noticed on her phone the message that the car was already there to pick her up.

He looked around him, only to realize he was still in his champagne-covered racing suit. And his phone was in his driver's room.

Well, that's what he thought but then Daniel appeared right beside him.

"Hi y/n! It's great having you there! Are you enjoying yourself?" Aussie asked as he pushed Lando's phone into his hands, trying to be smooth about it. As he did it, he didn't even give y/n any chance to answer "Well I gotta go! Nice seeing ya!" He said as he went back behind the corner to three other drivers who tried to help.

"Yeah, that was- sorry" Lando said but hey, at least it was less awkward as they both laughed a little. Lando handed y/n his phone and she put her number there, Leaving Lando to write some good name to it.

"I think I really have to go now. I will see you tomorrow, right?" She asked as she put her own phone into her purse.

"Yeah, I will pick you up in the evening" Lando smiled one last time as he watched her making her wait towards the exit of the paddock after saying quick good bye. To the boys behind corner as well.

----

Landonorris

Liked by F1, Carlossainz55 and 967,301 others

Landonorris the coffee was worth it:)

View all 13,431 comments

Yourusername The greatest coffee I ever had:)

Landonorizz LMAOOOOO so the coffee rumors were true

Londonnorrisfanclub Lando fr never beating those no rizz allegations

Carlossainz55 glad you had fun

Danielricciardo you are very welcome mate

Lando2024worldchamp why do I have a feeling that him, Carlos and Oscar put some sense into him Oscarpiastri that's cause we did Landonorris can you all stop embarrassing me now please Danielricciardo let us have some fun too

Y/nismine nooooooo not the vroom vroom guy who doesn't know whats flirting is stealing my wife

Landoxy/n so he heard that we knew about him rejecting the mother so he decided to show us that at the end of the day he got it?

a/n. I hope you enjoy it! There's no much y/n but at least the boys are funny. Also, my requests are always open so you can send anything! kisses:)

#lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris social media au #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz #max verstappen

[ghosthunterbuck]

beer & apologies

(buddie) (722 words) (7x04 coda)

It’s late, later than any reasonable person would show up on a friend’s doorstep, but Buck’s got this bright, warm feeling in his chest and all he wants to do is apologize so he can share it. For a split second he thinks about knocking, but that feels a little too much like going backwards. Instead, he lets himself in and hangs his key on the hook.

“Eddie,” he calls quietly into the still house.

“Kitchen.” The reply is soft, easy, like Eddie was expecting him.

Buck steps into the room and holds up the beer he brought.

Eddie looks up at him and grins, soft and warm in the glow of the lamplight. “What’s that for?”

“This is ‘sorry for acting like a teenager and spraining your ankle’ beer,” Buck says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”

Eddie sighs and pushes an empty chair back from the table with his foot, gesturing for Buck to sit. “I’m sorry too,” he says.

“No, no, you don’t—" Buck starts.

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie interrupts with a wry grin. “You should definitely be sorry-er, though, so I’ll take the beer.”

Buck snorts and sits, setting the six pack on the table between them.

“We didn’t—well, I didn’t…”

“I know,” Buck says. “I was just—”

“I know,” Eddie says softly.

A few, quiet moments pass, and it’s comfortable, exactly what Buck was missing the last couple of days.

“Hey,” Eddie says suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “at least now I know why you always said no to basketball.” He smiles, loose and just a tiny bit mischievous.

Buck splutters. “What? No! I wasn’t that bad,” he protests.

Eddie lifts his injured ankle and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well maybe, but—”

“Uh-uh,” Eddie says, “no buts. You haven many talents, Buck, but basketball isn’t one of them.”

Buck ducks his head and grins. “Maybe I’ll get Tommy to teach me, then I can beat you without playing dirty.” Saying Tommy’s name out loud gives birth to a few giddy butterflies in his stomach.

“You two make up?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “He uh—texted me.” The butterflies turn to little rocks.

“Good,” Eddie says, “that’s good.” He grabs a beer and twists the top off. “I really think you guys will get along, if you give him a chance.”

“We, um. Yeah. We probably will.” Buck grabs a beer of his own and stares at the label.

He doesn’t—he didn’t mean to lie. It just kind of… came out. Which, it’s Eddie. Buck knows he could tell him exactly what happened, right now, and it’d be fine. It’d be completely fine because it’s Eddie and he knows Eddie would be cool about it, probably even happy for him! But when he goes to open his mouth it just. Doesn’t.

“How’s—uh. How’s Marisol?” he asks instead, tripping over his words.

Eddie shrugs. “She’s fine, same as always. Apparently Christopher got her to play Fortnite, which, according to him, was a disaster.”

Buck laughs, shaking his head. “That kid,” he says softly.

“That kid,” Eddie agrees. He takes another swig of beer and sits back.

“Hey, wait,” Buck says suddenly. He lurches forward and snags the bottle out of Eddie’s hand. “You can’t have this, you’re on pain killers.”

“It’s my apology beer!” Eddie protests.

“Nope, two sips is plenty. I can’t hurt your ankle and your liver on the same day.”

“It’s after midnight, it’s tomorrow,” Eddie pouts. “Give it.” He makes a halfhearted attempt to grab it back, but Buck holds the beer aloft.

“Nuh-uh, absolutely not,” Buck says. “You can drink your apology beer this weekend.”

“My apology beer is going to be flat and stale,” Eddie replies, unimpressed.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new apology beer, alright?”

“Promises, promises.”

“I will!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You better. Want to bring it over on Saturday? We can watch the game.”

Buck’s grin falters a little bit, even as that warm feeling bubbles up in his chest all over again. “I uh- can’t, sorry.”

“What, you got a hot date or something?” Eddie asks with a laugh.

Buck takes a long swallow from the beer he stole from Eddie. “Yeah, something,” he says with a hollow laugh.

He feels like a liar.

#i have returned and i come bearing fic #i straight up don't remember my tagging system so #oh well #911 #911 abc #911fic #buddie #buddiefic #911 spoilers #abbie writes #its a coda friends you know what im about #also i'm gonna revive the tag list tomorrow so sorry in advance to anyone who sees this and then gets a crazy late tag!! #or doesn't want them anymore lol

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.

Part 02

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.

A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.

"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.

But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"

Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."

Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.

Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.

Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.

You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.

As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.

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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.

Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.

As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.

With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.

Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.

Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress."  As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.

"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."

Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.

As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.

Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.

Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.

But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.

With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."

You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.

Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."

The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."

The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."

With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.

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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.

He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.

As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.

"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."

Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."

Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."

Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."

There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week.  Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.

Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.

His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.

He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.

With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.

Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.

His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit.  Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.

As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.

And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.

Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"

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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)

#acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #fem reader #x reader #imagine #bat boys

[shojizbae]

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #the south #mechanical bullride #smut

[thankskenpenders]

Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #enola holmes #if we get a third movie my characterization of john will be wrecked #but know in my heart he is a lovable mad scientist with poor impulse control

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 1

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

A/N: Hi, I am so excited to share this first part with you! I wanted to point out that I am following major plot points in the books, however, this is in the Reader's perspective so some of the interactions may not line up with the text exactly but the major plot points will be there.

Content warnings: Nightmares, Grief, mentions of death, mentions of trauma,

Summary: Y/N accompanies her twin sister to the Nigh Court after Rhysand crashed Feyre's wedding. Where the reader finds herself lost in the memories of under the mountain and finds herself in the company of a Hazel eyed stranger

Word Count: 3.1k

tags: @hellodarling1357

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

“Hello, Feyre, Darling.”

My head whipped toward the end of the aisle; the High Lord of the Night Court was flicking an invisible piece of lint from his dark lined suit. My gaze moved to my sister who before his arrival, had looked like she was ready to bolt from Tamlin. Lucien’s casually stepped closer Feyre as the Violet Eyes meet my own, “Y/N.” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown, “You look healthy.”

I straightened my posture and tried to hold the arrogant air that would make Nesta proud, “Rhysand,” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown I responded, trying to move toward my sister, a firm hand keeps me in place causing me to still completely.

Tamlin’s voice roared in my ear, “What the fuck do you want, Rhysand?” The High Lord of the Spring gripped my arm too tightly and I clenched my jaw to prevent a wince.

Rhysand did not miss the little action and tucks his hand in his pockets, “I am here to collect Feyre and Y/N. Unless Feyre Darling wants to go back on her end on the bargain.

I grimace as the memory of Feyre making that bargain:

I couldn’t keep my body from trembling, I knew I had a fever and Feyre was trying to bring my temperature down by putting a soaked piece of her shirt and pressing it on her forehead. Amarantha had split up the challenges between the two of us.  Taking the first challenge, The Middengard Wyrm was more challenging than I had originally anticipated. When we were living in the human lands, I would occasionally go out hunting with her and she would teach me a few things and those skills came in handy when going up against the Wyrm and was able to slay the beast.

  It wasn’t until we were back in our cell that I was aware that I had the gaping wound. It only took a few days for the infection to seep into the wound and my fever spiking.  “You must hang on just a little bit, Lucien will come and help. You just have to hold it out for a little bit longer.”

Steps could be heard down the hall from our cell and the grating of our cell door creaked open and Rhysand stepped in. Feyre covered me with her small frame, “What do you want?”

The Violet eyed male simply ignored her question and made is way to my side. I was to weak to cower away his presence alone was intimidating. He reached out his hand about to touch my wound when it was whacked away by Feyre, “Do not touch her,” she said through gritted teeth. The High Lord gave my twin a playful smirk in response.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as a violent tremor tore through my body both Rhysand and Feyre gazes meet mine, “I’m only here to help.” Rhysand says.

“We don’t need your help.” Feyre spat, tucking me closer to my chest always the protector.

Rhysand’s face began to blur in and out of focus but in a brief moment of clarity I saw his face hold a cool indifference as he met my stare. “Would your sister agree with you, Feyre?” In a fever haze it sounded as though he said her name like a prayer. “She will die if you don’t act quickly. Make a bargain with me and she will be safe.”

Feyre took her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes met mine, I gave her what I hoped was a smile but was probably more of a grimace as a coughing fit erupted from chest. Feyre’s grip on me tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Rhysand, “We were told not to make bargains with fae.”

I closed my eyes listening to his voice, “And yet you still made one with Amarantha. If it wasn’t clear she’s dying.”

Feyre shook her head, “Lucien will be here, and he can help us, I trust Tamlin.”

Rhysand sighed and I opened my eyes, my lids feeling heavy, and I used most of my energy to keep them on the former High Lord. “Lucien could get here tomorrow, or five days from now,

I gripped my sister’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze, “Feyre,” My voice cracked my throat and my mouth extremely dry from dehydration. “I trust him.” My gaze met Rhysand’s and I could have sworn there was a flicker of stars in his gaze I reached out my hand to him, he quirked his brow, but my hand met with Calloused ones. “I trust you,” A fit of coughing took over and there was a brief squeeze of my hand from his almost comforting.

 “What do you want?” Panic laced Feyre’s voice as my eyes began to flutter shut, loosening my grip on the High Lord’s hand. Rhy’s grips may have tightened but my mind was in a haze.

“I heal her, and you come and spend two weeks in the Night Court with me.”

“No,” Feyre said her voice strained. “I won’t do it.”

My eyes creak open slightly, as the feeling of soothing circles are brushed against my wrist. “Well, that’s a shame,” Rhysand released the grip on my wrist and rose.

Feyre shrieked and amplified my already pulsing headache. “No wait!” Feyre’s eyes meet my gaze tears are brimming, “Five days. I will give you five days, but my sister has to be with me.”

Rhysand scoffs, “Bargaining?” There was a pause, “10 days.”

Feyre countered, “one week.”

Rhysand hummed for a moment, “One week it is. You have a bargain.”

There was a flash and I slipped unconscious.

I met the stare of the High Lord of the Night Court, and he looked as though he was recalling that memory as well. As Tamlin snarled, “You cannot take them,” His grip on me tightening to the point of eliciting a small whimper that caused Lucien’s head whipping over to mine. A scolding look to his friend caused Tamlin to release me as I moved swiftly to my sister as I lace my fingers with hers.

“You want to wage a war on interfering with a bargain that Feyre willingly agreed to than by all means Tamlin be my guest.” He approached my twin and I and held out both of his hands with the palm. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Feyre looked at me, fear extended to her features I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a nod of my head that seemed to put her at ease. She reached out her free hand and I followed suit. Rhysand grips our hands and before Tamlin can make a beeline toward us, we were consumed by darkness and landed on a balcony and Rhysand ushered us inside to a large dining room area with dark red and black décor.

I looked back at the balcony ignoring Feyre’s bantering with the High Lord. Where we were, was on the side of the mountain and the scenery was breathtaking, the sun glinting off the snow on the mountain. The sun is beginning to set in the sky turning to hues of pink and purples painting the sky. I wish Feyre would take in the scene in the hopes that she would find inspiration to paint again.

Rhysand yelp of pain pulled me from the beautiful seen to see that he was rubbing the back of his head. Feyre has her second slipper in her hand, “Don’t you-“Rhysand growled as she threw the second slipper at him and the High Lord catches the slipper and smirks.

Feyre just scoffs, “Just take us to our room.” Tapping her now foot impatiently the way she crossed her arms I could have almost mistaken her for our eldest sister.

Rhysand’s lips formed a tight line. Crossing his arms in answer to hers, and I had to cough to cover up my laugh. The High Lord’s eyes twinkled with amusement and in a blink, it was back to normal, and he was scowling at my sister. “Follow me.”

Rhysand walked away not waiting to see if we were following him, I began to follow him and a small hand gripped mine. I paused and looked at Feyre her eyes were sunken, and her face had thinned since we came out of Under the Mountain, “I don’t like this.” Feyre whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to see if Tamlin can break the bargain.

I gave her a comforting squeeze giving her a warm smile fighting the disgust at her calling the Spring Court home. “Keep an open mind, Fey.” You paused, “He did save my life,” I looped my arm into hers, “Come on.” I dragged my sister into the hall and rushed to catch up to the High Lord who was leaning against a set of double doors.

“I figured the two of you would want to share a room.” Rhysand smiled and pushed off the door, “Does that work for you?”

I was shocked as I thought back to when we were taken to the manor in the spring court.

Feyre and I had our hands intertwined, the only thing preventing them from shaking, as we followed the High Lord of the Spring court through his manor. Tamlin, as we found out his name, was on our journey to the fae lands. The blonde fae male paused at one of the doors and opened them, “This is where room for either of you. Which one is up to you, of course.”

Feyre and I exchanged a look of pure panic, Feyre was the one to speak first, “Can’t we stay in the same room?”

Tamlin bristled, “You have spent the last few years in a room sharing a bed with your two other sisters and you still want to share a room?”

I glowered, “Well maybe, we’re in a strange place, with strangers and strange creatures, and maybe we seek comfort in each other’s company.”

Tamlin returned my glare and through gritted teeth, “You have two separate rooms, use them or don’t, I don’t care.” Tamlin walked past the two of us purposely bumping into my shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Feel free to join.”

“Prick.” You muttered. As you and Feyre walked into one of the bedrooms.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, bringing you back to the hall, Rhysand’s brows furrowed in what looked like concern. “Are you alright?”

I nod and give a smile, “I’m fine, are you okay with us staying together? I know that our ‘arrangement’ is different back in Spring.”

“You can call it home,” Feyre straightened, as if she realized who was standing and listening, “I’m fine with sharing a room.” She once again gripped my hand and dragged me to the room and slammed the door, not even muttering a goodnight to our host.

“My home is the cottage in the human lands, Feyre, considering,” I tuck my hair to reveal my round ear, “By their standards, I shouldn’t be here.  The only reason I’m here and tolerated is because of you.” Feyre flinched at the confession. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You asked me to stay with you and I will, but please let me adjust at my own pace.”

Feyre nodded and, in a flash, she grabbed you and embraced you in a hug, “I love you, Y/N,” you wrap her arms around your sister and squeeze. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course,” you pull away and flick her nose, “Alright let’s get you out of this hideous dress.” She laughed and nodded. As if on que the doors of the wardrobe opened and there were two-night outfits. One was in a beautiful violet that looked too small for me and one in a ruby red.  “Well, that’s convenient.” I mutter as I pull out the red shirt and pants, running the cool silk through my fingers. “I have to say,” Feyre blue eyes, met mine, “The Night Court has style.”

We changed into night outfits, and I grumbled over my exposed mid-drift and how they accentuated my curves but overall, they were comfortable. I took a glance at Feyre and my heart ached. I could see her ribs protruding, I knew she was having a hard time, but every time I would ask her about it, she would brush off my concern, tell me that others had it worse under the mountain. Tamlin could barely look at me most of the time, so I was never able to bring it up to her betrothed.  Lucien made himself scarce ever since Ianthe came to stay on the property, so no one was there to help me help her. Feyre smiled at me, “Shall we get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

I nodded and we crawled into bed and cuddled close together and fell asleep.

Tears were falling down my cheeks as I watched Amarantha raise my sister’s body off the ground and throw her down like a rag doll. I was ready to run up to her, but Lucien pinned me to his chest concealing me from Amarantha’s sight. Feyre’s mouth moved and the rage on the red haired fae’s flared in her eyes. Amarantha smirked, “Well you figured it out, but you failed to be specific of when I free you.” Rhysand lunged at Amarantha and with a flick of a wrist he was flung against the wall.

Crack

The tether to my other half had snapped, and Lucien gripped me tighter as I screamed, my sobs uncontrollable. Lucien was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying, past my screams. I didn’t even notice how he stilled as the power shifted, and Tamlin unleashing his full power on Amarantha. “Feyre,” you whimpered as Lucien returns to consoling you as Amarantha was torn to shreds. Lucien let me go as I crawled to my sister; her limp body unresponsive. “Feyre, wake up, please wake up.” I sobbed leaning over body sobbing into her should, “Come back to me. Please I can’t do this without you.”

I jolted awake from the nightmare of a memory that plagued me every night these past three months. Sweat coated hair clung to my forehead as I turned to find my sister sleeping peacefully beside me her now pointed ears, proof that she was alive. It should have been me. I thought to myself. I shook the thought, knowing I had to be brave for her. Knowing she needed me to be strong enough to help her through this. I silently slid off the bed and snuck out of the room, knowing full well I would not be able to fall back asleep I figured I would explore our home for the next week.

My feet pad across the carpet and wander through the hall, as far as décor goes the halls are bare. Though the walls are dark the fae lights create a comforting ambiance. A door creaks open that catches my gaze, and I press myself against the wall hoping the shadows conceal me though no one ever came out. Deeming it safe to peel myself from the wall I walked toward the open door and my eyes widened. I stepped into the room and was mesmerized by the books lining the walls and the fireplace sending warmth down my spine. A window showcased the night sky, the room was breathtaking, and I began tracing the tomes with my fingers.

Nesta and Elain sometimes would pull me aside and teach me how to read when we had spare time. Though I could never read books at the same rate they do. Some words were still hard, and my understanding of the words sometimes went amiss so by the time we lost our fortune I had given up on it entirely.  Though I always loved the idea of reading to get lost in a story and transported to far off places.

“Someone having a hard time sleeping?” The deep voice that could cause anyone’s toes to curl, caused me to jump and I spun to find the source of that voice. My eyes met Hazel ones and I came face to face with the most beautiful male I had ever encountered.

The male was tall my head barely met his chest, dark raven hair the same as Rhysand’s fell to his shoulders his face was one blessed by ancient gods his chiseled jaw line and sultry lips. He wore red jewels on his chest and atop his hands and I gaped as I noticed his wings were tucked tight to his body as he leaned against the door frame. His face showed concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He spoke again. “Are you Feyre?”

I shook my head words lost on me, I shook my head and continued, “Afraid not, though I am her sister.” I picked up the book that was in my hands and put it back on the shelf, “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t sleep and the door kind of opened on its own I was curious.”

The male raised his hand, “Rhys wants you both to feel comfortable while you’re here. You are more than welcome to be here.” He walks in deeper and faux whispers, “I technically shouldn’t be talking to you right now?”

You take a tentative step closer to him and faux whisper back “How come?”

He gives a wolfish grin, “He doesn’t want us to scare you away.”

I quirk a brow at him, since he made his presence known I’ve only felt this overwhelming comfort. “Are you someone I should be scared of?” I asked.

His hazel eyes glance at my night ware and it’s then that I notice that the color matches his rubies, interesting. His eyes linger on my exposed stomach that I wrap an arm around feigning a chill. His eyes meet mine noticing the shift and gives me a full smile showing his teeth, “Here? No. On the battlefield? Absolutely.”

I laugh, a sound I haven’t heard out of my mouth in a while. “I don’t think I’ll be on the battlefield anytime soon, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” You noticed how eyes are bright, “Well, it’s late and I don’t want to deter you from whatever it was you were doing.” I walk around him as he straightened, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked right as I reached the door. He turned to face me.

I shrug, “What keeps anyone from sleeping? Nightmares.” I give him a small nod, “Goodnight…”

“Cassian, my name is Cassian.”

“I’m Y/N. Sweet Dreams, Cassian.”

I leave and I could have sworn before I did, I heard a soft, “Sweet Dreams, Princess.” Before bolting back to my room to my twin.

Chapter 2

#cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #cassian x fem!reader #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #rhysand acotar

[rogueddie]

Part one

Steve has so many questions, especially once they get in Eddies van. Everything is different- from the shops to the people. Even the trees look different. He wants to know why.

"We already told you," Dustin sighs. "Time has passed, fashion has changed, whatever."

"But why?" He leans forward, jabbing his finger at one of the shops. "Why did they change the colors?"

"I don't know!"

Dustin doesn't yell, not like his father would. He doesn't do anything other than groan too, encouraging Steve to keep asking questions. He even dares to stick his tongue out when he finally starts complaining, asking Steve to shut up.

By the time they pull up outside a small, wooden cabin, Dustin looks ready to strangle him.

It's kind of funny.

"Alright," Eddie finally speaks up. "Let's go."

He quickly jumps out, jogging around to catch Steve as he steps out, throwing him over his shoulder. He laughs when Steve yells, trying to kick him.

"Don't be a brat, Harrington!" He cackles.

"This is why you aren't cool like Robin!" He yells back, twisting around so he can tug at his hair. "You're a meanie."

"Ow, dude, not the hair!"

Someone clears their throat, making Eddie stop walking. Steve tries to wriggle around, trying to see who it is, but Eddies jacket blocks his view no matter what.

Someone snaps their fingers, after a moment, and Eddie gently lowers him back onto his feet.

The man standing in front of the cabin door looks stunned, when Steve turns around. He blinks at the group for a second, before silently pointing to Steve.

"We don't know," Robin answers. "He's been like this for a while."

"Let me guess; parents aren't home. Again."

"They're busy!" Steve defends.

The man snorts, shaking his head. "That's what you always say, kid." He steps aside, nodding towards the cabin. "Come on, she knew you were coming."

Before Steve can step inside, following the group, the man stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Kid," the man clears his throat as he crouches down. His hand is gentle on his shoulder. "You doing ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Steve. This is probably very confusing and scary, I know, but you need to trust us. We want to help you."

Steve scuffs his feet on the floor, grumbling, "yeah, I know."

"So if you're not ok, you can tell us."

"Yeah, I know."

The man stares at him for a moment, before nodding. "If that changes, let us know, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good. Come on."

The inside of the cabin is cozy. Cluttered. Lived in.

"Hello Steve!" A young woman greets. Her hair is shorter than his, Steve notes. And she has a nice smile.

"Hello."

"I am Jane, but you can call me El." She offers her hand.

He shakes it automatically, a little surprised when she doesn't let go. "El?"

"That is what my friends call me." She gestures towards the two pillows set out on the floor, in front of the TV. "I am going to find out what has happened to you. It won't hurt."

"Uh, right. What- uh..." He looks to Robin, who nods encouragingly. "What do I do?"

"Sit with me."

She gently tugs him over, sitting on one of the pillows. She smiles at him when he hesitates, waiting, patient.

He keeps quiet, looking to the others when she pulls out a blindfold.

"It helps her think," the man explains.

Steve nods, even though he doesn't understand what that means.

For a moment, nothing happens. They sit there, almost silent- the static from the TV starts to grate his ears, especially with how close they're sat. But the others look tense, impatient, so Steve tries to stay where he is. He tries to behave.

Until he spots blood.

"She's bleeding!" He points out.

He goes to jump to his feet, but a hand quickly lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

It's Robin.

"It's ok, she's ok, it's just a nosebleed," she says. "It's harmless, really. She knows what she's doing."

Robin stays next to him. She even lets him hold her hand when he reaches out for her.

It's not long, after that, until El lifts the blindfold off. She looks confused.

"Well?" Dustin snaps. "What is it? Is he ok? Did someone do-"

"Hey," Eddie gently interrupts, leaning over to bump their shoulders together.

"He is ok," El says, once Dustin relaxes a little. "But I... don't know how this happened."

"How do we change him back?" Eddie asks.

"I can't, I'm sorry. But it is taking too much power to sustain itself."

"Wait, wait, wait," Robin rubs at her forehead. "So, you can't change him back but, what, eventually he will on his own?"

"Yes."

"How long will that take?" Dustin asks.

"I am not sure. Maybe a week? Two?"

"And until then he's just stuck like this?"

"I am sorry, Steve," El says, turning to him. "When it is weaker, I might be able to help?"

"That's ok," Steve quickly reassures her. "I will be ok. I know how to take care of myself."

"What?" El tilts her head, confused.

"Kid, you're staying here," the man says.

"No, Hopper," Robin cuts in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm gonna take care of him. He's, like, my soulmate! And he likes me!"

"Woah, hold on," Dustin says. "That's not fair! He's my family!"

They continue to argue for an hour. It's mostly playful, but Steve kind of likes it. He's never had anyone fight over him before.

"He is staying here," Eddie finally speaks up, when it looks like the man- Hopper- is about to explode. "Neither of you two have thought of a single excuse for your parents. And you can't leave him in that big house on his own. He's safer here."

"Oh, fuck," Robin suddenly jerks upright. "What the hell do I tell Keith?"

Part Three

tag list for those who asked; @songbird-garden @str4wb3rry-guy @badcaseofcasey @lioniheart @irethsune @starry-eyedlune @newtstabber @messrs-weasley @vesme @penny00dreadful

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #ficlet #interim obligatory explanation part #I only wanted to do one more part but then I thought about different baby steve scenarios so

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Lucifer, Charlie, and alastor with a Kitsune reader ? :0

Hazbin Hotel x Kitsune! Reader

(Lucifer, Charlie, and Alastor)

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Gn! Reader! Reader being a mischievous Little Kitsune, chaos ensues.

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1101

A/n: Hi! thank you for the request! This isn’t terribly long so I hopes that’s ok!

Now, I wasn’t entirely sure if you want this to be Romantic or Platonic so I kept it pretty vague so it could be interpreted as either! I hope that’s ok, if not just send another request and I’ll fix it!!

But either way I hope you enjoy it because i enjoyed writing it!! <3

Proofread once soooo… if there are any errors please ignore them/inform me 😭

Lucifer

When you first arrived in hell, he wasnt the most impressed by you. Not in a mean way or anything, just that he’s lived for a long time and has met a plethora of different types of beings so he’s pretty used to meeting interesting looking people.

But even he has to admit that he was intrigued with you. Your 9 well-groomed and lush tails that quietly followed you with every step and the fur of your fox ears looked soft to the touch. The thing that he seemed to notice most though was the whole eloquent aura you had with every movement you did. Smooth, almost tranquil.

You being a Kitsune did cause you to stir up a bit of… let's say trouble. Your fox nature of course caused you to have a personality that leaned a bit mischievously. You weren’t malicious by any means, you judt had a very… unique taste in humor and how you wish to spend your time. Pranks, stealing random objects that interest you, and going places that you probably should be. This gets you in trouble with many a folk but it’s really not something you can’t handle.

On one of these occasions. you took interest in his custom made duckys. First off, it was something new to you, 2nd, you had never seen someone be this interested in ducks as him, so when you randomly stumbled into the big man of hell’s workspace that’s filled to the brim of them, each with unique features and colorful designs, needless to say you were quite interested.

He was a bit embarrassed at first when you found it but seeing that you genuinely were into them he literally couldnt stop showing them off. Going into almost ecrusiating detail of each one's design choices. (This man is so autistic-coded. I love him so much)

He even made a custom one for you which he gave you when both met again. It was a basic duck design, except it had 9 tail feathers and wore fox ears that clearly mimicked your own, including your fur pattern. He then spent an hour going through each of its features with you. To say you were grateful would be an understatement.

“And if you pull this feather back… Bubbles! Oh-ho, and that's not all! If you take this and-”

Charlie

Definitely more impressed than her father would be. Of course she has been in hell literally all her life and has seen some weird, wacky, hot and cool people but it still doesnt not surprise her when she finds interesting people. When you first met her she was really interested in you, asking a bunch of questions and It was almost scary how enthusuatsic about it she got.

She then started talking about her brand new “Hazbin Hotel.” It was something to reform sinners so that they had a chance at redemption. Charlie seemed so excited to tell you about it that you honestly did have the heart to tell her that you didn’t exactly believe a soul could be redeemed.

Now depending on if you’re hellborn or a sinner, things can go a bit differently. If youre hellborn she’ll offer you a job at the hotel, well to say a job would be a lie, you didn’t really have 1 given task to do, you just helped out when needed. if you’re a sinner, you of course get to stay in a room at the hotel. Whether you actually go along and try to get better is up to you. It was a free place to sleep, so hey? Might as well. Either way though, Charlie always sees the good in people, hellborn or not. So she would obviously want to help you grow as a person even if you are hellborn.

The michevues aspects of your personality tends to cause some problems for the hotel at times. Fights happen, lessons have ended prematurely, and you may have accidentally caused a bar fight between Angel and Sir Pentious. It really was an accident, how was you supposed to know “borrowing” one of Pentious’ shiny tools would cause such a ruckus?

Charlie lectored you about taking others' stuff and made you apologize.

As much as Charlie doesn’t want to admit it (at least before episode 5) she’s a lot like her dad. That also expands to their likeness for your fur. She really can’t take her eyes away from it, it just looks so soft and neat… and soft… eventually you catch her staring at your tails and you just laugh and ask her if she wants to touch them.

“What!? Pfft, noooo, no no no. hehe…he…unless you’re offering…”

Alastor

Considering Alastor died in the 20’s I don’t think he knows what a Kitsune is exactly. Which is probably why he’s the most interesting in you at first glance (you could have also met when he first manifested in hell, which would only further his intrigue)

Either way, your personalities seemed to mesh well for the most part. You both stir up trouble wherever you go (Alastor a bit more… maliciously than you but still)

Whether you’re hellborn or a sinner is irrelevant to how he treats you, though he has tried making a deal with you every once and a while. You always decline but he thinks it’s always worth a shot to ask.

Alastor is aware of your devious behavior and knows the best way to handle it if it ever happens to come his way. He knows that you’re harmless and not a threat which is exactly why he has taken a liking to you. You’re someone who can only really help his cause and nothing bad can really come out of you being around.

Pranks though, are the one thing that Alastor can’t seem to sway you out of doing. He can’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s been at the front end of them. Of course he always sees through them and they’ve never once worked, but boy are you sure determined to one day get him.

This was one such case where you attempted to steal and hide his radio cane while he was asleep, only for him to sneak up shadow form and scare you half to double death

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to pull one past me, my, oh-so dear, exquisitely fluffy friend”

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader #Charlie Morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #x reader #x male reader #character x male reader #fanfic #character x reader #x female reader #fluff #x gn reader #gn reader #hazbin hotel x reader

[grimm-writings]

Hiiii, I would like some Dungeon Meshi headcanons please! Reader is the oldest human in the main group and they're really motherly towards them. Like they're always fretting over their well beings and acting like a doting parent. And if you want, could you also add that Chilchuck's kinda into that so he falls for them?

That's all thank you!

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader, platonic touden party & reader

…tags! fluff, some crack, headcanon format, mild manga spoilers, reader is referred to as ‘mom’ once

…wc! 847

…notes! the way i nearly screeched in delight when i got this ask. chilfuckers i’m one of you let me in. you used they/them for the reader so i’m gonna assume this is a maternal gn reader! i hope it is for your liking ty for being my first request 🥺

Having a more wise, of age individual in the party is always a plus when you need some advice.

And when most people in the party are absolute lunatics.

You have your hands full trying to stop Laios acting recklessly in action, or doting on Marcille when her emotions get the best of her.  Goodness, even Senshi has your hair going grey from how he gets sometimes!

Laios just sort of… lets your doting happen.

He can get slightly grumbly if you get too mad at him.  Still, it’s not the worst thing a parental figure could do.  Go easy on him!

Marcille takes psychic damage upon learning your age.  She’s staring at you, at the age in your face, and taking the years into account.

It’s simply not computing.  You… You should be, like, a pre-teen or something!  Human ageing baffles her once again.

Still… she is incredibly receptive to you doting on her.  She’s more of a carer on instinct but she finds herself falling into you whenever her spoons are low.

Senshi just sort of hits you with the “why tho” when you try fretting.  It’s actually slightly frustrating.  Still, you can recognise his wisdom and take a step back.  He can take care of himself… most of the time.

Izutsumi… oh the dear girl.

You must have recognised the signs immediately.  Her lack of table manners, her reclusive nature… she’s so young.

The girlcat was a bit prickly to any doting at first.  You would probably remind her a bit too much of Maizuru for her liking.

With time, perhaps sometime after he run-in with her succubus, Izutsumi would be a bit more welcoming of how you treat her.  It’s… It makes her feel nice, or whatever.

She accidentally calls you Mom once.  She was mortified as Marcille squeals in delight and Laios laughs to himself.  You couldn’t even ask if she thinks of you as a mother figure before she’s already stomping away to hide in a corner somewhere.

Then there’s Chilchuck.  Oh, what to say about him.

You probably thought he was a young human at first too.  He’s taller than other half-foots after all.  Still, as soon as you even try to act maternal around him, he yells at you and tells you he isn’t a kid.

Keep your distance for a bit, and he’ll warm up to you again.

Watching you do your thing with the other party members will have him commenting that he has no idea how you can just keep up with everyone like this, and he’s the one with three kids here.

You just smile gently and reply that it helps you keep stability knowing everyone in the party is doing alright.  At that, Chilchuck will give you a glance, and internalise your words.

Upon Izutsumi’s arrival into the party, Chilchuck’s perspective on you begins to alter slightly.

Initially, he respected you a fair bit.  You were more like the two older co-workers constantly giving each other looks at the younger ones’ antics.

But he sees you with this child he also has to admit he’s grown attached to.  You really were a natural maternal figure to Izutsumi.  He watches you tend to her sometimes, a smile slowly curling on his lips.

Then he catches himself, and his blood runs cold.

…Ohhh, shit. 

Chilchuck is level headed most of the time, but when he’s panicking he can’t keep his cool to save his life.

Around you, he becomes more… frantic, in a way.  Lecturing others to give you a break, even if he can just have a small talk with you.  If asked what’s up he’d raise his voice defensively and say it doesn’t matter.

One time, Izutsumi decided she can’t choose between her two favourite human heaters, and practically forced you and Chilchuck to sleep on either side of her.  Even with the girl slotted in between you two, Chilchuck was internally losing his mind at the closeness.

He even lets you dote on him a bit more again.  Not too much, though.  He’ll accept the occasional checking in and headpat but that’s it!

You can very easily pick up on his feelings for you.  It’s not hard to notice the shift in his attitude.

Well… It’s not like you can complain.  You may offer to help him out with his future shop once you’re out of here, giving him a slight wink.

Cherish how red his face gets.  He won’t let anyone else embarrass him so easily.  Maybe pinch his cheeks if you’re feeling brave, but he may swat you away depending on his mood.

At the end of the day, he’ll give you a small smile, and wonder aloud where the Hell all the party would be if it weren’t for you.

(Bonus!  I think Falin would also super appreciate your presence.  She’s the kind to simply take her own parents’ treatment of her and shrug it off in a ‘it is what it is’ sort of way.  Your doting attitude would leave her slightly discombobulated, but she’s very welcome to it.)

#✮ grimm's fics! #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck imagines #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #laios touden #marcille donato #senshi of izganda #izutsumi #falin touden

[factual-fantasy]

I have to let you know something very important.

I already said this when reblogging stuff, but I don't care.

I NEED CAPTAIN SEAFOAM AND BLUE BEAUTY TO BE IN COOKIE RUN.

They are so cute, and I love your lovey relationship, it is so friggin cute and precious from what little we've seen, and I love them.

I also love pinwheel sandwich cookie. She'd be best friends and/or dating avocado cookie, and nobody can change my mind.

Coconut cookie deserves all the hugs, she looks so soft and so huggable. That probably doesn't make sense but I have no other words to explain my emotions for her.

Please keep making memes to explain their relationships and personalities, I love em so much.

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! IT MEANS A LOT TO ME THAT YOU LIKE MY LITTLE CRETAURES!!

I'm really glad people seem to like Seafoam and Blue, they're some of my favorites amongst the crew! I'm trying to build a story/relationship for them with what little game lore I have- rn I'm thinking that they're in love but neither one has properly stepped forward and declared it..?? <XDD They'll get there eventually-

And upon doing some digging, Avocado cookie sounds AWESOME! She has a wonderful personality. I don't think Pinwheel would date her- but she'd totally be up for being best friends forever XDD

AND AAAA THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS TO COCONUT!! I'm glad she comes off as somft. She's supposed to be this cool/tough lady pirate when she needs to be, but also is kiiind'a intended to take the role of Red's adoptive mom..?? Kind'a?? She has a real soft spot for Little Red and always accepts hugs from him XD So the fact that she easily reads as huggable is very good to me! XD

Once again thank you for all the compliments to my lil guys! I'll be sure to draw more of them! XDD

#my response #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run ocs #my ocs

[princessmisery666]

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending. 

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester. 

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own. 

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day. 

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again. 

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him. 

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.” 

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours. 

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will. 

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise? 

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later. 

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.  

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.” 

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?” 

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.” 

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension. 

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.” 

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first. 

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both. 

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play. 

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.” 

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests. 

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks. 

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.” 

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.” 

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh. 

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.” 

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.  

“That hurt?” he asks. 

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.” 

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile. 

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial. 

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s. 

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him. 

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Hey, hi,” you answer. 

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?” 

“Yeah, sure, okay.” 

“You okay?” 

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.” 

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine. 

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.” 

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.” 

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.” 

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.” 

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.” 

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?” 

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better. 

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair. 

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.” 

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes. 

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard. 

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.” 

“They seem like a good bunch.” 

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you. 

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them. 

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you. 

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction. 

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls. 

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.” 

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?” 

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.” 

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer. 

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.  

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?” 

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own. 

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you. 

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you. 

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.” 

“Good for them.” 

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards. 

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong. 

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you. 

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…” 

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.” 

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly. 

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away. 

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again. 

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return. 

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop. 

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door. 

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

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[callsign-joyride]

Slice of Your Pie - Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Bob moves into your neighborhood and you bake him a pie as a welcome gift. He comes over to thank you for it, and doesn't end up leaving your house until morning.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader

Content warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), fingering, grinding, unprotected p in v (reader is on birth control), fluff

The nieghborhood that you lived in was small enough that you always knew when someone was moving in. You were enjoying your coffee on your porch when you saw a few trucks pull into the recently sold house right nextdoor. A few people stepped out of the first car, and some good looking guys got out of the moving trucks. You tried to subtly watch as they unloaded things into the house before walking down your driveway to get the mail. As you were checking the stack for anything that might’ve been junk mail, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m Bob. My friends are helping me move in, but I wanted to introduce myself before you went back inside,” he said. You smiled and introduced yourself, tucking the mail under one of your arms to shake his hand. You learned that he was in the Navy, and that he loved Star Wars. That fact made you smile, since your pajamas were currently a Princess Leia shirt and athletic shorts. 

“Hurry up, Bob! This couch isn’t gonna unload itself!” Someone yelled.

“That’s Coyote. I gotta go, but it was nice talking to you.”

“Wait, Bob, do you like pie? I can make you one if you want.”

“Sure! Key lime is my favorite.”

“That’s perfect. I have a lime tree in my backyard. Oh, and my lemon tree occasionally hangs over your property so feel free to pick a few lemons whenever.”

“Thanks! I have a really good lemonade recipe so I might have to take you up on that.”

You went back inside and looked at the recipe in your grandmother’s cookbook and realized that you didn’t have the right limes for the pie. Getting them was easy, though, it just took a trip to the grocery store. The good thing was that it was a Saturday, so you had the day off from running your family’s business. It was a bookstore and cafe, and all of the pastries came from your grandmother’s cookbook. There had been talks of turning it into a bar at night, but that was going to be a long process. 

Making the pie only took about forty minutes, but you had to let it cool in the fridge for at least a few hours. All of the moving trucks were gone, now replaced with a few cars in the driveway. You could hear laughter coming from the backyard, and it made you happy, because the last neighbors were close to the end of their lives and didn’t have guests over very often. 

You were able to drop the pie off at around 6, and Bob had mentioned that everyone was getting ready to eat and that it would be the perfect desert. He even invited you to join the cookout, but you had already ordered a pizza and the delivery driver was on their way. You exchanged numbers before you went back to your house so that you could keep talking. Once you had disappeared from ear shot, Fanboy started talking about how hot he thought you were. 

“Don’t make it weird. She probably has a boyfriend or something,” Bob said.

“I don’t think so. She spent her day making you a pie. A day that she could’ve spent with her boyfriend, might I add,” Phoenix said.

“But that’s the neighborly thing to do. Bring the new neighbor a pie or casserole. My mom always did it for our neighbors.”

“Most people aren’t working on Saturdays. I’m just saying that if I didn’t have to work and I had a boyfriend or girlfriend, I’d be spending my day with them. Anyway, let’s try this pie.”

Everyone had a slice of it after they finished with dinner. Even Hangman, who didn’t really like desert to begin with. Rooster thought it was so good that he kept coming back for seconds and thirds, soon passing out on Bob’s couch from all of the food that he ate. Bob waited for mostly everyone to leave before he texted you to see if you were still awake, since it was almost midnight. To his surprise, you responded that you were still awake, and you got too invested in your book so you lost track of time. He was at your door within five minutes, and you had a different set of pajamas on.

“Hey, I wanted to thank you for the pie that you made. My friends and I thought it was delicious.”

“You’re welcome! Would you like to come in for a drink? I was just about to pour myself another glass of wine.”

“Sure.”

Bob followed you inside and took his shoes off by the door. You poured him a glass of wine before sitting on the couch and using your phone to play soft music. As you got to know each other more, you discovered that you had a lot in common, and you were both single. The dim lighting of the living room, combined with the wine and music, made the sexual tension stronger. He told a bad joke, but you started laughing anyways. He used that as his moment to gently kiss you.

You were into it right away, pulling him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. He groaned into the kiss as he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you started grinding on his hard cock. He broke the kiss for a moment to take his shirt off, and you quickly followed. He put his hands on your tits as you continued to grind on his cock. 

“I’d love to continue this, but can we go to your bed? I’ve never really been a fan of having sex on a couch,” he said. You chuckled and grabbed his hand, leading him upstairs to your bedroom. He laid you on the bed, continuing to kiss you as he took your shorts and underwear off. He rubbed your clit and started to finger you while you were moaning and writhing underneath him.

“God, you’re so wet,” he said. 

“It’s all for you. Holy shit, it feels so good,” you moaned.

Once he figured out that you were ready enough for him, he took his shorts off and threw them by the bed. 

“I don’t have a-,”

“I have an IUD and I’m clean.”

“Okay. You ready?”

You nodded and felt him slowly push himself into you. You moaned in pleasure and pulled him down to kiss you as he started thrusting faster. You could tell that he was close as he started rubbing your clit so that you could both release at around the same time. The fire in your stomach was burning hotter until you finally released, and Bob quickly pulled out before releasing on your stomach. He rolled over and reached for the box of tissues that you kept by your bed before cleaning both of you up.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You asked. He chuckled and nodded his head, cuddling with you until both of you fell asleep. When you woke up the next morning from your alarm going off, Bob was still holding onto you.

“I have to be at work in an hour and a half,” you said.

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to make you something to eat or some coffee?”

“No, I usually have my breakfast at work. Thanks for the offer, though. Do you want to shower together?”

Bob nodded his head and followed you to the bathroom. The shower was intimate, but not sexual, something that you enjoyed.

With your bag over your shoulder, you stepped outside of the house and walked to your car.

“I really enjoyed last night. Maybe we could go out on an actual date next time, though,” you said. Bob started blushing, and he stammered out a “yes” while nodding his head. You chuckled and got into your car to go to work. The day went by quickly as you did multiple things around the little bookstore. Not very many customers came in, but it was a Sunday, so people were usually doing other things. You heard the bell of the door ring as someone walked in, so you finished putting copies of Frankenstein on the shelves before heading to the front of the store.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?” You asked as you walked to the register. Bob was standing there, smiling.

“I didn’t know that you worked here,” he said as he tried not to laugh.

“I own the place, it’s my family’s business.”

“Oh, nice. I guess I’ll have to come by more often, then.”

“Yeah, I guess you will.”

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[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 25

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Poorly written smut; Pregnancy symptoms; Pregnancy exams; Mild angst

A/N: I hope others laugh at this as hard as I did while writing it. Even if you don't, it's okay. I was greatly amused and I'm not ashamed.

Another cold night, but at least the house was on a hill and surrounded by trees on most sides; a large structure with a gated driveway. The fire was roaring and everyone was bedding down for the night in the same room since the last few times of sleeping in different rooms or on different levels had proven problematic when quick escape was needed. Carol chose to lay closer to the fireplace so you and Daryl could have the bedroll to yourselves—when you actually chose to go to bed.

“Has anyone seen Daryl or Y/N?” Lori asked after laying an extra blanket on your bedroll.

“She probably had to pee again.” Carl giggled from his sleeping bag. 

“Do you need something, Lori?” Carol sat up, hugging herself from the cool air when her blanket fell a little. Carol knew exactly where the two of you were and she would make sure you were left alone there.

You had gone from touch me not straight into don’t stop touching me. While Daryl felt pride in the fact that you only had eyes for him, he may or may not have been beginning to wonder if you could possibly break his dick. It had been nearly three straight days of a constant desire for him. That day alone, you had begged him to take you straight into the upstairs bathroom of the huge house and stuff you with three fingers, fucking two orgasms from you within moments. The two of you had filed back in with everyone else before your absence was even noticed. 

Everything had barely been brought from the vehicles before you were saying you needed to pee, tapping one finger against the middle of Daryl’s palm as you took his hand. A clear signal. Five minutes later, you were bouncing on his cock (with a little help) while he was sprawled out by a tree.

And now, Daryl was panting harshly, not even bothering to tuck himself away before or after he slid down the wall and landed on his ass. You were still bent over the sink, thighs a sticky mess, his spend leaking from your deliciously abused cunt. Grabbing your panties, leggings, and sweats to drag them up over your hips was almost impossible. Almost. You dared not ask your poor partner. 

You had been insatiable for him, needing his hands on you constantly. You seemed to be in a perpetual state of arousal, and god did he feel good. He had not complained a single time, even when it was clear he was tired or worried about something else. He took care of you first and foremost. And well, he was getting laid, so it wasn’t like he got nothing out of the deal. But as you turned to face him in that very moment, he just looked wrecked. Like if he tried to satisfy your urges one more time, he might literally die. With a fond smile, you stepped toward his outstretched legs and tapped the sole of his boot with the toe of your own. 

“Get up.” The look he gave you from beneath his lashes wasn’t angry. Far from it. It was reluctant and exhausted but he began to lever himself upright without a word, one corner of his mouth drawing upward for a brief moment when he was standing before you, seemingly awaiting your command. God, you had to admit that it was causing some seriously hard to ignore feelings in an area that had many times already been thoroughly fucked. You kept your eyes on his even as his pretty blues followed your hands toward his cock. He made no move to pull away or complain but you could have sworn you saw his entire body melt when you began to gingerly tuck him away. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. After everything he’d done for and to you that day, it was the gratitude that made him blush. You couldn’t have stopped the giggle if you tried. “Let’s go get some sleep, okay?”

“Ya good, then?” His hand came to rest on your hip, eyes questioning. 

“I’m better than good, Daryl. You,on the other hand, are about to fall asleep standing.” The archer didn’t argue. He must have known he was swaying on his feet. Driving and lugging around supplies and taking care of you, he had to be bone-weary. Regardless of your discomfort, the ache already returning in full force, you wanted him to rest. He was trying so hard to take better care of himself at your request—eating full meals, sleeping a little more, wearing more clothing when hunting so he stayed warm—that you didn’t want to be the cause of fucking up all you had worked so hard to instill in him. “Come on, sleep time for you.”

He simply nodded and let himself be led from the room with quite the yawn. It was all eyes on you the moment the two of you stepped foot inside the large den, the warmth of the fire overwhelming any anxiety the stares could have even remotely caused. Arousal was quickly dampened by the lure of impending sleep and warmth. Dary was not taking watch, set to hunt the next morning, so you’d have him to yourself all night. 

He let you under the blankets first, assisting you down until you were situated on your side. When he climbed in after you, he took his usual position and angled himself so that your belly could rest on his stomach and hip while you could curl right into his chest. As wound up as you had been only moments before, your body was now succumbing to the siren call of sleep. You just needed to take care of one more thing. 

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?” Even that simple acknowledgement was somehow slurred. You had really worn him out. 

“Sleep late and then go hunting, okay?” You wondered how hard you’d need to fight him. He gave in on a great many things as the pregnancy progressed and you became more and more uncomfortable, but hunting was his time to recharge. You didn’t want to take that away from him, but you were also afraid of him spiraling back into bad habits.

“Okay.” He breathed, sounding more than half asleep. You blinked against his chest. So, you just needed to fuck him senseless to get him to agree to important things. Noted. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“I love you.”

He was already softly snoring, his warm breath disturbing your hair.

When you awoke, the sun’s warmth could not compare to the heat of the flames from the night before, but it was still welcome. It meant you had survived into another day. The fact that you were still firmly pressed against Daryl was an absolute bonus. It was well into the morning and he was still absolutely sound asleep. You weren’t worried that he was sick, even if the others most likely had their concerns. They were all accustomed to greeting him when they stepped outside to start the day or finding him completely absent on a hunt. You knew exactly why he slept late.

You felt him inhale deeply and begin to stir, grumbling something you didn’t understand. Pulling away to stretch, you felt a tug on your skin, drawing your attention to your chest, where your shirt had pulled from your flesh but was still stuck to Daryl’s button-up. “What the fuck?” The mortified look on the archer’s face said that he was thinking the same thing you were. You didn’t remember cum getting on your shirt or his, but you weren’t exactly thinking straight either. “Where’s your bag?”

Daryl jerked his chin toward the area just behind you. The man may have opened up around you and Carol but if anyone else saw this, even if they didn’t choose to laugh or tease—which was unlikely—you feared that Daryl would shut down and pull away from you.  

“And mine?” You asked, biting your lip.

He cleared his throat, the sound stuttering. “S’there too.” His back was to everyone but he’d know who was there. He had a way of identifying people through breath and footfall that was truly impressive. You, on the other hand, had to crane your neck to scope out the area. Carol was putting away some leftovers the best way she could. Lori was sitting with Carl, a math book on the kid’s lap. Glenn was laughing with Maggie in the doorway. Too many people. Daryl would likely run away, never to be seen again.

“Okay, first thing’s first.” You pried the articles of clothing apart, wincing at the nearly imperceptible sound that was likely heard by no one but sounded like a chainsaw to your ears. “I’m gonna go under the blankets so you can reach my bag for a different sweater. May as well grab your shirt while you’re there.”

“Gonna think you’re suckin’ my—”

“Well, you have two choices.” You whispered. “We can get up, grab our clothes to go change, and hope for the best. But we will have to walk past Glenn.” You peered around Daryl’s head to find Glenn and Maggie exactly where they had been, only T-Dog had joined them. “Or we can try and change under these blankets. I’ll giggle and mention Thumper, and they won’t think anything of it.”

“Right.” Dary didn’t seem convinced but kept the blankets high over both of you while he reached across your head, snagging both of your bags by the small strap at the top. He dragged them over and riffled through them, swallowing convulsively while pulling out shirts for each of you. “Got ‘em.”

“Okay, this might be a little tricky, but it’s doable.”

It was indeed tricky, but it was also indeed doable. The blankets were over your heads as you changed, with your originally planned giggles easily shifting into real ones. Thumper had joined the party and seemed to be aiming for their dad’s crotch each time your bodies touched. You could have sworn you heard a huff of a laugh from Daryl a couple of times as well. With a chuckle of hold still, you made sure the buttons of your partner’s shirt were even and patted his chest.

“All jizz free.” You whispered with a nod, feeling his fingers brush your skin while he pulled your pale blue, long sleeved t-shirt down to cover your belly.

“Gross.” 

“You say that like it’s been in your mouth before.” The look on his face had you laughing out loud and Daryl throwing back the blankets before the others could assume anything more was happening. The archer clambered off the bedroll and stretched, then held out a hand to you. You swatted it away. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit. My back hurts.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “M’goin’ huntin’. Ya stay close to ev’ryone else, ya hear?”

“I will. I promise.” When you met his eyes, they were full of such softness that you could almost feel it on your skin. He was taking each promise you made to heart and trusting you to keep them. And you would, even if staying inside made your skin crawl sometimes. Hell, being outside made your skin crawl. With the hormones taking over, you were fighting a losing battle, so you might as well choose the side that kept you and Thumper safe.

“Alright then. Be back ‘fore dark.” Daryl grabbed his crossbow from against the nearest wall, brushing a hand over the top of your head before it latched onto the top of his bag to hoist it off the floor, his gaze still meeting yours. “Promise.”

So this was a thing now. Promises between you. It both terrified you and filled your heart to the point of nearly bursting. You gave him a nod whilst fighting back the tears you knew would come the moment he was out of sight. He didn’t need to worry that he’d done something wrong. And he would because Daryl was still learning how to process anything that didn’t hurt. He was definitely still working on his social skills if his bark of what’re ya lookin’ at toward Glenn was anything to go by. Both he and Maggie looked at you with wide eyes but you just waved it off.

“Ignore him. He doesn’t know how to people. You know that.” 

“Well, he sure knows how to Y/N.” Maggie chided, smiling as she sat down next to you. You chuckled nervously, struggling to sit up so you could shove the dirty clothing into your bag.

“Shush. We just get each other and it was a long road to get to this point. Plus, I think he likes Thumper just a little.” The baby was active, already missing Daryl’s presence which would never cease to amaze you. “Who’s doing laundry today? I’d like to help.”

Maggie was already shaking her head before you could finish speaking. “Daddy needs to check you out. You’re almost 36 weeks, Y/N. You could go into labor anytime. Ask him what you can do and what you can’t and then we’ll worry about laundry.” You made a whining noise in the back of your throat and almost plopped back down on the bedroll but thought better of it at the last minute. It took so much effort to sit back up.

“Fine. Can he come now?” You sighed.

Maggie gave you a comforting smile and squeezed your shoulder. “Sure. Let me go get him.”

You nodded with a tight-lipped smile. She was absolutely right. Thumper’s arrival was growing closer and closer by the day; the hour even. And you were scared. What if something went wrong? You’d seen in the movies that the baby could get stuck. The cord could be wrapped around their little neck. Your pelvic structure could prohibit a natural birth and you would need a cesarean section. Were there even supplies for that? What about sedation or local anesthetic? What if Daryl decided then that it was all too much and ran? You couldn’t do any of it without him, you knew that now. 

“Easy, young lady.” Hershel soothed, already having knelt beside you at some point. “You’re white as a sheet and hyperventilating.”

“S–sorry. I’m okay.” You stammered, leaning back on your hands so he would have access to your belly. “Just— I’m scared shitless, Hershel.” As per usual, his steady hands hovered until you nodded your permission for him to roll up your shirt. The moment the cool air hit your skin, there was movement below it, a hand or foot pushing up hard enough that you could actually see it. 

“Well, they’re definitely active.” The old man chuckled. “Let’s see if we can check the heartbeat around all that wiggling.” You laughed but it was real, muffled by the fear welling up in your chest. “Well, the heartbeat is great. I need to do an examination, both external and internal. I will explain everything before proceeding. Would you be alright with that? We can go in the downstairs bedroom with Maggie or Beth if you would be more comfortable.”

Maggie was already leaning in the doorway with Glenn, giving you a nod that she was fine with being present. “Yeah, okay.” You started trying to get up on your own but that proved to be futile. Before you could even ask, Glenn was holding out both hands. “Thank you.” You whispered. This was all so personal and it felt like you shouldn’t be going through any of it alone. “Has—did Daryl leave already?”

“He may still be outside. Rick grabbed him for something. I’ll go check.” The words came out so fast that you barely caught them before Glenn was gone and Maggie was helping you lie down.

“I mean, can this wait if he isn't here? I don’t—” The tears came before you had any means of stopping them. You couldn’t sit back up without assistance so you just pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and sobbed, chest heaving and body trembling. You wanted Daryl, after trying so hard to prove you could handle things without him. You needed him.

“The hell’d ya do to ‘er?!” 

You had never been so relieved to hear that irritated tone. Gasping for air, you reached blindly for him, his hands wrapping around your forearms to pull you up and against his chest. 

“Nothing, son. We were going to do an exam to check the baby.” You opened your eyes to see Hershel standing several feet back with his hands up, palms out. Maggie wasn’t glaring but she looked serious, ready to defend her father. “It would be invasive and she was frightened. We wouldn’t have done anything without her permission.”

“I just—wanted you—I wanted you here.” You hiccupped, gripping his shirt tighter. There was a jerk of his body and then the sound of the door closing. You were alone with him.

“M’here.” He didn’t move other than to pull you in tighter, the hold would have been uncomfortable any other time but it was exactly what you needed at that moment. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“He—he needed to do something inside. It wasn’t that—I didn't think he was gonna hurt me and Maggie was here, but it just felt like something you should be here for too. Like a huge event in all this.” You sniffled, wiggling a hand free after a bit of struggle so that you could wipe your face on your sleeve. “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to hunt.”

“Nuh uh. Wanna be here more. The fuck he need to go inside for?” Now he sounded more than irritated, as if Hershel was trying to take advantage of you in some way. 

“There’s gonna be a lot of that, I think. I mean, if everything goes well, the baby’s coming out of my vagina, so I guess he needs to be all up in there to make sure it’s ready or something? Doesn’t it mention this in one of your books?” You pushed against his chest, but he hesitated in letting go. Finally, he dropped his arms but kept a hand on the top of your stomach. Thumper’s movements slowed to flutters.

“Ain’t had much time for readin’, Sunshine.”

You were in the middle of rubbing your eyes when you slid them to the side, your nose scrunching and mouth tilting into a smile. “Sunshine?”

“S’that or ‘pain in my ass’. I ain’t picky.” He huffed, picking at a thread on his tattered button-up. 

“I’ll take Sunshine, thanks. You’re adorable, Daryl Dixon.”

“Ugh, don’t get sappy.” He curled his lip, pulling away when you reached for his face.

“You already took it way past sappy, sir.” When he kept that small distance, you grabbed his collar and tugged him forward to press a kiss to his mouth. He reciprocated without hesitance, a small reassurance you reveled in when it came to your relationship. “Thank you for not running.”

“Ain’t a pussy. Told ya from the get-go that we’d handle it.” His forehead was against yours, the tip of his nose nuzzling your own. “Called ya Sunshine back then too.”

“That, you did.” You recalled the memory fondly. God, he was such an asshole back then. Still was in some ways but he was yours. You distantly wondered if he always had been. “Just needed a little help bringing out the inner romantic.”

“Don’t push it. Don’t got a romantic bone in my body.” 

You hummed, done with teasing him for the moment. “I guess we should let Hershel do what he needs to and get it over with.” You bit your lip, sliding it back and forth between your teeth. “Will you stay?”

“Course.” His knuckles gently grazed your jaw and then he was up and opening the door, jerking his head toward you to invite them back inside. “Don’t make ‘er cry again.” He warned, taking his spot beside you and helping you lie back.

Hershel only smiled. “I’ll try my best, son.” Maggie wasn’t there but came in, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, before the old man could do anything. “There’s a couple of things I need to examine. First, I’ll do an external examination. I’m going to palpate your abdomen, feel the position of the baby. At this stage in the pregnancy, we want to ensure the baby is turning into a head down position. They should come out head first, not feet. Is it alright for me to continue?”

You nodded quickly. With Daryl there, the anxiety was held at bay. The man formed a physical wall between you and the fear that wanted to suffocate you, whether he knew it or not. He was watching intensely as your shirt was lifted, the veterinarian’s hands moving with a knowledge you were surprised to find he possessed given he had only dealt with animals. He was likely reading just as Daryl had, probably more. 

You winced when it seemed he was squeezing around the baby’s form, though the touch was gentle, feeling Daryl tense beside you. Your hand found his immediately and he settled. 

“Ev’rything good, doc?” The archer’s voice was just shy of a snap. He muttered an apology when you squeezed his fingers.

“It seems the baby has mostly turned to the correct position. Have you felt any increase in pelvic pressure or need to urinate?”

“She’s been pissin’ like a racehorse for weeks.” Daryl huffed, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“No more than usual.” You clarified. Hershel nodded.

“It’s unlikely that the baby has dropped then. I have limited experience with human patients but I have had wives that gave me children. When they dropped, it was described to me as a sudden weight deeper in the pelvis. They could breathe easier and felt hungrier, as there was more room in the upper abdomen. The need to urinate increased even more than it already had throughout the pregnancy.” You were nodding, Daryl was squinting, soaking it all in and filing it away. “Just let me know when you feel those changes, okay?”

“Okay.” You answered quietly, this time feeling Daryl squeezing your fingers.

“This next part will be invasive, and I’m sorry for that. I need to check your cervix, see if it’s softening or dilating.” When Daryl didn’t comment, you were sure those were terms he had read. You vaguely knew what they meant from the movies you had seen. “I can have Maggie remove your—”

“I got it.” Daryl interjected, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles before releasing your hand. You watched him move, biting your lip when he pressed one knee between your feet and reached to grab the waistband of your layers, bringing all three down in motion. You had to think of anything else to keep Hershel from seeing what Daryl had the ability to do to you. Placing your clothes by your feet, the bowman cleared his throat. “Make it quick.”

Hershel smiled and shook his head while washing his hands with the soap and water Maggie had brought but he said nothing about Daryl’s protectiveness. Perhaps he understood how fragile the archer’s ability to handle his emotions truly was, and with that knowledge, he saw no reason to put further strain on the young man.

“I’m going to begin the pelvic exam now. It might be a little uncomfortable.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes with a smile when Daryl’s arm wiggled beneath you to wrap around your shoulders. Hershel was right, it truly was uncomfortable. It wasn’t at all like what you had imagined, which to be quite honest, you thought it would be more like being fingered by Daryl. This was in no way pleasurable. First of all, it was Hershel. Secondly, there was pushing down just below the baby while at the same time, moving two fingers. It wasn't just uncomfortable. It was really uncomfortable. At one point, you whimpered ow and had to grab Daryl’s forearm to keep him from lashing out. 

Finally, it was over. Hershel was washing his hands again. “The cervix is softening, which is exactly what we want at this stage according to my reading. You’re not dilated, which is also what we’d like right now. That could begin to change in a few days, and that would be okay. There’s no way of really knowing exactly how far along you are but based on what I know of you, and keeping up with the calendar the best I could, you are right at 36 weeks.” You nodded, smiling softly as Daryl reached forward to push your knee down, urging you to close your legs even while he never looked away from the old man. 

“That’s good, right?” You asked, struggling to sit up until Daryl looped an arm behind you again and easily got you there.

“That’s wonderful. It’s my opinion, which isn’t the best mind you, that you could safely have this baby anytime now.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, watching all the color drain from Daryl’s face beside you. “Daryl?”

“You alright, son?” Hershel’s expression showed concern but his eyes were laughing. He knew the look on Daryl’s face and he knew it well. “It’s okay to be nervous. You’re a first time father. It will be—”

“G’on, old man. M’fine.” 

You chuckled. “Thank you, Hershel. I feel a lot—” Moving to sit up straighter, you looked down when you felt cold against your skin. Two quarter-sized wet patches were clear on your pale blue shirt, just over your nipples. “What the hell?” Even Maggie’s eyebrows were raised. Daryl just looked as puzzled as you did.

“That’s colostrum.” The old vet answered as if you knew what the fuck that meant. “It’s the first thing your breasts produce to feed the baby when it’s born, before the actual milk comes in. This is a good sign that your body is getting ready.”

“Like—soon?” You gulped.

“It doesn’t have an effect on the timeline, one way or another. It just means your body knows what it’s doing. You may want to ask for some breast pads on the next run or just fold some cloth for your bra.”

“Wait—so that wasn’t cum?” It was out of your mouth before you had processed a single word of it. Hershel’s brow furrowed, Maggie doubled over laughing, and poor Daryl was three seconds from jumping out the window. “I’m just—oh god, just leave us to die in here, thanks.” You could still hear Maggie laughing after the door closed but luckily she had nodded in reaction to your pleading look to keep it to herself. When you looked at him, Daryl's elbows were on his knees and his face was in his hands. You could see the red flush traveling all the way to his ears. “It wasn’t jizz. Yay?”

“Just—stop talkin’.”

“I love you.” 

“So ya keep sayin’.”

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