#and drops a complete bombshell in the asks

[catofoldstones]

One of the greatest crimes of Rhaegar that rarely anyone talks about is the reproductive abuse he did to Elia and Lyanna. He endangered both their lives just so he could have his prophecy children (Elia was bedridden after Rhaenys's birth and he impregnated her again too soon, and Lyanna was fifteen aka not physically mature enough). And how he abandoned them both without providing them what they actually needed, Elia needed good protection and Lyanna needed good healthcare. He was failure as a son, as a husband and as a prince. A complete loser.

He was a failure as a son, as a husband and as a prince. A COMPLETE LOSER!!

[dearlenore]

NASTY DOG • S.REID

SUMMARY: sometimes spencer can’t help the impure thoughts he has about you…

PAIRING: fem!reader x perv!spencer

tags: reader is a bombshell, reader wears heels, reader canonly has big breasts, Spencer cannot stop fiending over reader, he needs a face full of boobs

a/n: perv Spencer solves all my problems 😵‍💫 not proof read and I’m currently high as a kite

w/c: 3.0K

DR SPENCER REID had a problem. A big one. And it wasn’t his IQ, eidetic memory, or statistical knowledge of serial killers.

It was you.

You, with your radiant smile, your effortless charm, and a body that could make grown men weak in the knees. The worst part? You had no idea.

And that drove him absolutely insane.

You were oblivious to the effect you had on people, strutting into the BAU in heels that made your legs look just a little bit longer, wearing dresses that clung in all the right places. It wasn’t intentional—you just liked to feel cute—but Spencer? Spencer suffered.

He tried to be a gentleman. He really did. But then you’d absentmindedly play with the chain around your neck, biting your lip in concentration as you studied a file, and suddenly, his mind wasn’t on the case anymore.

It was on you. Your lips. Your fingers. Your throat.

The way your perfume lingered whenever you passed him, floral and sweet, was enough to short-circuit his brain. You’d lean over his desk, oblivious to how your cleavage was right there, and ask something completely innocent.

“Hey, Spence, can you help me explain this profile again? The LAPD is a little confused.”

His throat would go dry. His hands clenched under the desk, willing himself not to let his gaze drop. Not to let his mind wander to things it definitely shouldn’t.

But his thoughts always betrayed him.

And God help him when you stretched, arms above your head, making your shirt ride up just a little, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. Or when you bent over to pick up a fallen pen, giving him an unholy view of your curves.

Spencer wasn’t proud of it. The way his thoughts turned filthy in a matter of seconds. The way he sometimes found himself staying late in the office just so he could sit in the chair you had occupied, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume like a desperate man.

The way he memorized the little noises you made when you were frustrated, so he could imagine how they’d sound in… other contexts.

He was down bad.

And the worst part? You had no clue.

You giggled at his jokes, touched his arm casually, leaned close when he talked—probably thinking he was too sweet, too innocent to ever have impure thoughts.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

One day, you caught him staring—really staring—as you licked a bit of icing off your thumb after a slice of cake Garcia brought in. Your brows furrowed.

“You okay, Spence?”

His jaw clenched. He tore his gaze away and nodded stiffly. “Mhm.”

Spencer was unraveling.

The moment you caught him staring, really staring, at you licking icing off your thumb, he knew he was doomed.

He’d been careful before. Kept his thoughts contained, maintained the illusion of control. But that moment? That single, fleeting second when your brows furrowed in concern, your lips still slightly parted, your thumb glistening? It had cracked something inside him.

And now, everything was worse.

Everything about you was a test, and Spencer was failing.

Like now.

You were sitting on the edge of his desk, swinging your legs slightly, the soft click of your heels against the wood filling the space between you. The team had just wrapped up a case, and everyone was unwinding in their own way—Morgan and Garcia were engaged in some playful banter, JJ and Emily were chatting quietly, and you?

You had made yourself comfortable next to him.

“So,” you mused, tapping a manicured nail against the case file in front of him. “Explain this whole… psychics magic thing to me again? I swear, sometimes I think your brain runs on another frequency.”

Spencer swallowed, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. He could explain it. It was an easy enough request.

But you were so close.

Close enough that if he turned his head just a little, his lips would nearly brush against your shoulder. Close enough that your perfume was clouding his thoughts, floral and sweet, a scent he’d come to associate only with you.

And then you did it again.

You bit your lip in thought, eyes scanning the file, completely oblivious to the way Spencer’s gaze dropped like a magnet, drawn to the soft, plump curve of your mouth.

He had to force himself to look away, focusing on a spot anywhere that wasn’t you.

“Right,” he started, voice tight. “Well first of all the reaction—”

But then your fingers brushed against his.

It was nothing. A fleeting touch. You were just shifting, adjusting, existing in your usual, unconscious way.

But to Spencer? It was an electric shock straight to his spine.

He inhaled sharply, shifting in his chair, pretending to be deeply invested in the case file when, in reality, he hadn’t registered a single word on the page.

“Spence?” Your voice was soft, teasing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

No.

Not even remotely.

Because now, your fingers were still touching his.

His pulse was a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. He needed to move. Needed to put distance between you before he did something stupid.

But then you tilted your head, your hair cascading over your shoulder, and that was when he noticed it.

Your necklace.

That damn, delicate chain you always fidgeted with. The one that had driven him insane more times than he could count.

And now? Now it had slipped down slightly, the pendant resting against the hollow of your throat, drawing his attention there.

Spencer clenched his jaw.

He could not be thinking about your throat. He could not be wondering how it would feel if he pressed his lips there, how your pulse would flutter beneath his mouth—

“Spence?”

His head snapped up.

You were staring at him, brows raised, a small, knowing smile on your lips.

Oh, no.

You knew.

Or at least, you suspected something.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, yanking his hand away as if your touch burned. “I should—uh—get some tea.”

Lame. So unbelievably lame.

But you just giggled. “You don’t even drink green tea .”

Spencer muttered something unintelligible and practically fled to the break room, gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white.

This was getting out of hand.

He had always been good at controlling his impulses. He had trained himself to push past distractions, to focus, to keep his thoughts in check.

But you were proving to be an impossible equation.

It only got worse when the storm hit.

The team had been planning to leave early that evening, but the universe had other plans. A sudden downpour, heavy and relentless, had trapped everyone in the office. Morgan had grumbled about the drive home, Emily had sighed dramatically about her soaked shoes, and you?

You had sighed, looking out the window with a soft pout, clearly disappointed.

Spencer had to look away before he did something stupid, like stare at your lips again.

Eventually, the team had scattered, each person waiting out the rain in their own way. Garcia had dragged JJ off to help her with something, Morgan had disappeared down the hall, and somehow—somehow—Spencer had ended up alone in the bullpen.

With you.

You were perched on his desk again, scrolling through your phone, completely at ease.

Spencer, on the other hand, was about to lose his mind.

You stretched your arms above your head, letting out a small hum, and his gaze betrayed him again, dropping to where your shirt rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of soft skin.

He needed help.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you mused, looking up from your phone.

Spencer blinked. “Uh. Just thinking.”

You smiled. “About what?”

You.

He coughed. “Uh. The, um. Rain. It’s—uh—very hard- I mean uhm heavy..?”

A beat of silence.

Then you laughed.

A real, soft, sweet laugh that made his stomach flip in the most inconvenient way.

“Wow, Spence. You’re really on a roll with the small talk tonight.”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t—I’m just—”

And then you did it. The final straw.

You scooted closer, your knees brushing against his, tilting your head ever so slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

And that was it.

Something snapped.

He didn’t think. He didn’t analyze. He just acted.

One second, he was struggling for words, drowning in the scent of your perfume. The next?

His lips were on yours.

Soft. Hesitant. Like he was waiting for you to pull away, to laugh, to tell him he’d completely misread the situation.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you melted into him.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, and suddenly, hesitation was gone. His hands found your waist, gripping tight like he was terrified you’d disappear.

And when you let out the softest little noise against his lips?

Spencer was done for.

By the time you pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes wide, lips slightly swollen.

“Wow,” you whispered.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Wow.”

A slow, teasing smile spread across your lips. “So that’s what’s been distracting you.”

He groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder, and you laughed, wrapping your arms around him like you’d been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

Even now that you were dating, Spencer Reid still had a problem.

It was worse, really. Because now that he was allowed to touch you, kiss you, and hold you close, the temptation had only become harder to resist.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. He did, more than he could put into words. But Spencer, being Spencer, was always just a little too shy, a little too embarrassed to fully admit how much you affected him.

Like right now, for example.

You were sitting on the couch in his apartment, your legs draped over his lap as you typed on your phone. Spencer sat beside you, trying desperately to act normal, though his mind was anything but.

He was so close to you. Too close, really. The scent of your perfume lingered around him, sweet and intoxicating, and every time you shifted, the soft curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers itched to touch you, to run his hands over the smooth fabric of your clothes, but his brain screamed at him to keep his distance.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, attempting to focus on something other than the way your skin seemed to glow under the soft light of his apartment. “Just thinking.”

You paused and glanced at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “About what?”

Spencer’s heart raced as his mind blanked. Don’t look at her, he begged himself. He could feel his gaze drifting toward you, the curve of your body so impossibly close. “The case from yesterday,” he managed to croak out.

You seemed to sense the tension, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Sure, Spence,” you teased, “the case. But you seem… distracted.” You leaned forward slightly, your legs shifting in his lap as you adjusted yourself. Spencer’s throat went dry. His heart pounded.

He wanted to touch you so badly. He wanted to let himself just be with you—really be with you. But the thoughts swirling in his mind were overwhelming. He didn’t know if he could handle it. You were so beautiful, so confident, and here he was, the shy, awkward genius, struggling just to sit beside you.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, unable to help himself. “I’m just… not good at this.”

You tilted your head in that familiar, concerned way, and Spencer knew it was now or never. He couldn’t keep bottling everything up. “At what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Being close,” he admitted softly, “being… with you.”

You blinked, a soft understanding crossing your features. “Spence, you don’t need to be embarrassed. We’re together. You can let go.”

Letting out a breath, Spencer closed his eyes, feeling the overwhelming warmth of your words. He shifted slightly, too aware of the heat between you, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you shifted again, this time with a casualness that took him by surprise. You leaned back slightly, looking at him with those soft eyes of yours that made him feel like the world had faded away.

“Come here,” you said gently, pulling him closer. Spencer’s stomach twisted with nerves as you guided him down to your chest. The way your body moved against his made it almost impossible to concentrate. He was on the edge of losing control, but you were just so warm.

And before he could stop himself, he lowered his head to rest against your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat calming him, making him feel more relaxed than he had in weeks. He let out a shaky sigh, feeling a mix of relief and discomfort flood his senses.

Your fingers gently combed through his hair, and Spencer couldn’t stop the tiny hum of pleasure that escaped his throat. He was so close to you now, so deeply buried in the softness of your chest, and all he could think about was how he was finally allowed to feel you like this.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. The tension that had held him rigid before melted away under the comfort of your embrace.

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair again. “I’m glad you’re relaxing, Spence. You deserve it.”

He wanted to stay like this forever. In this moment, there was no case to worry about, no evil lurking in the world. Just the two of you, together, as you held him close. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing into yours.

The temptation to touch you, to feel every inch of your body under his fingertips, was nearly unbearable. He kept his hands at his sides, gripping the fabric of his pants, trying not to act on the thoughts swirling in his head. But the sensation of your soft chest beneath his cheek, the faint scent of your perfume filling his lungs—everything about this was too much.

As if sensing his internal struggle, you shifted slightly, and your hand slid gently over his back, drawing lazy circles against his skin. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a jolt of heat through Spencer’s body.

“Spence,” you murmured, your voice tender. “You can touch me. It’s okay.”

He immediately froze, unsure whether he should listen to you or not. He felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over him. What if I touch her wrong? What if he crossed a line he wasn’t ready to cross?

But then, your hands found his, guiding them to your waist as you softly cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours. The softness of your touch, the way your hands moved over his body so effortlessly, made him feel like he was losing control in the best way possible.

Spencer swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. “I don’t know if I can… I don’t want to make it weird,” he admitted, his voice cracking as he spoke.

You smiled at him, your lips curving up in a gentle, loving way. “Spence, it’s already a little weird,” you teased, “but that’s what makes it fun. We’re figuring this out together.”

He gave you a nervous laugh, a small chuckle that held all his uncertainty. And then, before he could stop himself, he pressed his lips gently to your chest, right where your heart beat beneath your shirt. He felt the warmth of your body against his lips, and the contact made him dizzy with sensation.

When he pulled back, he saw the softness in your eyes, the affection. You didn’t push him away. You didn’t judge him. You just… let him be.

“Spence,” you whispered again, a hint of amusement in your voice. “You’re so cute

[pomefioredove]

need overblot boys with epel, and floyd with a reader that randomly lore drops as if they're an old dad like "yeah lol my old school had a shooting once....anyways *SNOREE*" and when asked they just agree and walk away and never elaborate whatsoever💀 if you feel uncomfortable feel free to delete or ignore‼️love ya pookie💥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a reader with a backstory

I got u 🫡🫡

summary: wacky reader lore type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, vil, epel, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

you find new ways to raise Riddle's blood pressure every day

little guy is worried enough as it is

you've already got your school work, taking care of Ramshackle, taking care of Grim, taking care of all the other freshmen, taking care of-

well... you get it

the last thing he needs is to hear another one of your stories

"oh, yeah, that's like the time I got stabbed"

"????? WHAT??"

what's entertaining to you and ADeuce is mortifying to Riddle

if you're not careful you'll end up sleeping on the floor in his room

where he can keep a close eye on you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're like Leona's little court jester

and he takes you with him everywhere

it's not easy to get a genuine laugh out of him, after all

besides, what's so bad about a little dark humor? it's not like you died or anything

he knows you're a resilient little thing

and you seem to love telling him about "that time you crawled into a drainage pipe", anyway

you make him laugh; he likes you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul indulges you

his white noise machine stopped working last month and you make for excellent background ambience

so, he lets you talk yourself in circles about your school work, your friends, Grim, Grim again

and then you drop the most HEINOUS bombshells in the middle

"blah blah blah Grim, blah blah Crowley, blah blah, that one time I got lost in the woods for a day, blah blah-"

he loses his train of thought every time

now, Floyd is the complete opposite

he will hyperfocus on the most mundane details

and ignore the bombshells

will give you an, "oh, that's cool" to your ghost story but will find you the pair of socks you mentioned liking three months ago

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil is just fascinated by you

you as a person, of course

but also the fact that you're still alive

one night, he's explaining the reason he makes all of Kalim's food and you're like

"oh, yeah, I get it. I got mold poisoning once and hallucinated for a week"

?????

then you go right back to asking him about the recipe

sitting on the counter, as happy as could be

"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!!!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is used to this

he knows that look on your face

he will shush you with a finger to your lips before you even start

"don't tell me, I'm stressed enough as it is"

he's going to break out if you keep at it

he finds you quite... macabre

which is entertaining until he sees you going down a flight of stairs without holding onto the railing and remembers all those stories you'd told him

he's just... concerned for you, that's all

and he does NOT appreciate Epel for encouraging it

"tell us more about the time you fell down that hill into that pile of rocks, Prefect!"

:D

like a kid in a candy store

learning new Lore is like the highlight of his week

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"talk about having a high luck stat..."

Idia is more entertained than anything

he thought these kinds of things only happened in anime, but...

...there you are

it sounds like you experience more in a single month than he has in his whole life

and you know what?

GOOD

you can keep your freaky real-world experiences!

he'll just live vicariously through you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's been putting so much effort into learning and blending with human culture, and now here you are with your terrifying stories

you tell him in such earnest, too

you seem so... unbothered by it

perhaps humans are less fragile than he thought?

of course, he shouldn't have underestimated you in the first place :)!

then you come over for dinner one night

"hahah, yeah, last time I was at someone's house their grandma threw a lamp at my head and I got a concussion"

Silver and Sebek both go >_>

Lilia goes <_<

and then Malleus is there like, "ah, another fascinating tale :)"

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: ish-bullying, loser reader, popular gojo and geto, player gojo, mean-ish gojo

fem reader

Satoru didn’t get it at first.

You weren’t the typical bombshell he’d usually go for. To the naked eye, you were just any other girl he’d pass on the street, with neither a face nor a body worth doing a double take. You were average, perhaps a little above at best, but nothing sensational. Your wardrobe was drab, and so was your makeup—if you wore any—he couldn’t really tell—maybe chapstick with a dull tint and some mascara, but nothing flashy. No one would envy him if he had you on his arm—or in his bed. In fact, you were so invisible that looking at you for too long became an eyesore.

He truly didn’t understand it. Why Suguru’s dour gaze always settled on you. What could it possibly be that he saw in you that his six eyes couldn’t? 

He was desperate to figure it out. When he’d asked his raven-haired friend, he’d only spoken a bunch of nonsense that went straight over his head. And so he’d taken matters into his own hands and gone and gotten himself a good look at you up close. And by look, he means bumping straight into you and making you drop all your books onto the floor—scattered papers and everything. 

You’d landed on your butt with a wince—he’d even snuck a peak at your panties in the fall, and still, he didn’t really get what the hype was about. You were just another run-of-the-mill girl—an utter nobody.

He looks down at you with a disappointed grimace, almost frustrated with how utterly mediocre you are. Fully bored with his findings, he’s about ready to give up, ignore you, and walk away without a word, leaving you there in the puddle of your own dismal banality—almost afraid it would rub off on him like a disease.

He’s very nearly convinced he finds your presence utterly disgusting until your voice slips out and stops him dead in his tracks.

“I’m so sorry—are you okay?”

Sweetly nervous and earnestly apologetic, you call out as if he’d not been the one at fault, as if he hadn’t just committed a plain hit-and-run, as if you weren’t the one on the floor and he wasn’t standing there fully unscathed with his hands down his pockets, staring down at you like you were a filthy thing at a zoo.

You look up at him while singing your sorries—big round eyes full of something he wished he could drink—that’s how suddenly parched he felt—breathless. No, hungry. Starving, actually—as if his inner animal had just found the perfect prey.

This is it, he thinks—that thing Suguru has been admiring all this time, that something that makes the otherwise grim line of his lips softly quirk upward. And oh, it’s such a simple thing, but truly priceless all at the same time—makes him want to eat you up and lick the plate.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” His grimace smoothens into a smile as he crouches down and reaches his hand out to you like a gentleman. He’s never done so before, but it comes naturally now.

His chest swarms with warmth and noise at the pretty blush of your face as you gingerly accept his gesture—bowing your head shyly once he’s helped you back on your feet, nodding so prettily with an ever-sweet and soft-spoken “Thank you—”

He can’t believe he didn’t see it before—you’re absolutely adorable.

You even try insisting he needn’t help you gather your wayward books and belongings, but he just tuts at you—determined to observe you a little while longer as he tells you it’s no big deal, it's the least he could do after being reckless and walking right into you. 

He carries it all for you to your classroom, where you once again bow your head and sing his praises. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were trying to get rid of him with the way you apologize for taking up his time. How cute—he’s making you really nervous, isn’t he? Of course, he is—you’re a complete mess, unable to look at him for any longer than a second before looking away.

It’s funny. To think he’d been dining with his own kind for so long—all sharp-tongued vixen with claws curling themselves into him, each sinking their teeth in for a piece—when he could have instead been feasting on you.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[seongwars]

not me spreading more dad!caleb propaganda because of my major daddy issues

“Daddy, I have to tell you something.”

Caleb glanced over from where he was stirring a pot on the stove, arching a brow at the serious tone in his four-year-old son’s voice.

He was no stranger to his kids’ antics, especially when it came to his wild, rambunctious four-year-old, who usually threw himself into things headfirst with zero hesitation. But right now? Archer looked almost…shy. And that was enough to put Caleb on high alert. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and crouched down to meet his son's gaze.

“W-What is it, buddy?”

Archer took a deep breath like he was about to drop the biggest bombshell of his premature life. 

“I'm married."

Caleb froze. Alright. Play it cool. He was a cool dad, he’s not like the other dads.... But his baby! His four-year-old was married?! This was too soon. He wasn’t ready for this. He thought he had at least two decades before dealing with future partners. 

"Y-You're married?"

Archer nodded, completely serious as he crossed his arms cooly. “Mhm. I married Elsa, she's in my class."

“So…how did you decide to get married?” 

“We had to hold hands on our nature walk and Ariel said that means we’re married now.”

Caleb blinked. Well…that was actually kind of adorable. But! nonetheless, he had to force himself to remain calm. This was fine. This was just kids being kids, right? Surely this was all pretend. A tiny, harmless ceremony with absolutely no long-term consequences.

Except for the fact that his son was taking relationship advice from a four-year-old named Ariel, which felt vaguely alarming for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate.

And! The small but critical detail that Archer was apparently “married” to Zayne’s daughter.

“OK well, I need to ask Mommy to help me wear something nice tomorrow because if I don't, Orion might marry Elsa instead. Bye daddy.”

for some reason I envision caleb and zayne having a rivalry like timmy's dad and dinkleberg

ariel - raf's daughter elsa - zayne's daughter orion - xavier's son

[reveriebae]

You Wrote That For Me, Didn't You?

pairing(s) : Idol!Yunho x Atiny!reader

word count : 1931

summary : After casually revealing your face on Tumblr, a well-known smut writer attend an ATEEZ fan meet, unaware of the consequences. When you sit in front of Yunho, something feels off—the way he looks at you, the way he lingers. Then, just before your time is up, he drops a bombshell. He follows your account. He’s read everything. And he’s not letting you go that easily.

genre : suggestive

warning(s) : Slight dub-con vibes (power imbalance), heavy tension, teasing, suggestive language, explicit themes, idol-reader dynamics, Yunho being way too confident and knowing, mild obsession undertones, reader’s worst (or best?) nightmare coming true. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : this one got my toes curling SKSKKSKSKSK. Here's the part 2!

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐fic under the cut🪐

You never thought twice before posting your fics. Why would you? It was just writing—just words strung together for thirsty Atinys who craved something a little more. Some of your works had gone viral, and you had a loyal following of readers who loved every filthy thing you put out.

So when you finally did a face reveal on your Tumblr, you didn’t think much of it. A casual selfie, captioned with something dumb like “Since y’all keep asking… here, take it”. A few hundred likes, some teasing comments, and that was that.

No big deal.

At least, that’s what you thought.

The excitement of the fan meet buzzed in your veins as you finally sat down in front of Yunho. Seeing him this close was unreal—the warmth of his presence, the way his smile reached his eyes, the deep, smooth hum of his voice as he greeted you.

But something felt off.

You couldn’t quite place it at first. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered, a little longer than it should. The way he studied your face like he was placing you, as if you weren’t just another fan in his long line of meet-and-greet interactions.

Then came the compliment.

“You’re really pretty in person,” he murmured, and his voice had a weight to it, like there was something more behind the words.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Ah—thank you!”

The response felt automatic, but your brain was still trying to process the way he was looking at you. Not just with the usual idol-to-fan warmth, but with something… different. Like he knew you.

His fingers tapped lightly against the table, rhythmic and patient, as if he was waiting for something. Then, just as the staff was about to signal your turn was up, Yunho leaned in ever so slightly.

And then he said it.

“You should be more careful about what you post, Jagiya.”

Your body stiffened.

Your mind blanked.

Did he just—

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, eyes widening in pure, unfiltered panic. But Yunho? Yunho just smiled. A slow, knowing curve of his lips, dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

“I follow you on Tumblr,” he continued, voice dropping just enough that only you could hear. His tone was smooth, casual, like he was discussing the weather. Like he wasn’t completely wrecking your reality in real time.

Your stomach twisted. No, this had to be a joke. A coincidence. There was no way—

“Mm.” His fingers brushed against the table, casual and lazy. “I recognized you the moment I saw your selfie.”

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You had so much smut on that account. And not just any smut—detailed, filthy scenarios that had Yunho doing things that could get you banned just for thinking about them too hard.

“I—” Your voice came out weak, shaky, and you were suddenly painfully aware of how warm your face was.

Yunho chuckled, the sound low and pleased. “You look flustered,” he mused. “Why? You weren’t shy when you wrote all those things about me.”

He was teasing you.

No—he was toying with you.

Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table as you swallowed hard, trying to force your brain to work. But you could barely breathe under his gaze, let alone form a response.

He leaned in just a little more, close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it when he said—

“You wrote that for me, didn’t you?”

Your time was up.

The staff was gently urging you to move along, but you couldn’t move—wouldn’t—until Yunho tilted his head, gaze flickering to the line behind you.

Then, just before you stood up, he murmured one last thing—low, quiet, for your ears only.

“See you later, baby.”

You walked away from the table in a daze.

The voices of other fans, the bright lights, the excited chatter—everything blurred into a distant hum, like white noise. Your body moved on instinct, following the line toward the exit, but your mind was stuck. Frozen.

Yunho knew.

Yunho read your fics.

Yunho—Jeong Yunho—had been watching your blog, scrolling through your late-night thirst posts, reading every filthy thought you had ever put into words.

Your breath shuddered as you stepped outside the venue, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat burning under your skin. Your heart was pounding—too fast, too hard—like you had just run miles instead of sitting for a harmless fan meet.

Except it wasn’t harmless.

Because Yunho’s voice was still ringing in your ears.

"You wrote that for me, didn't you?"

A shiver ran down your spine, and you had to physically shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. No. No, there was no way this was real. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he was just teasing.

Maybe—

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You nearly dropped it when you pulled it out, fingers trembling as you glanced at the screen. A notification from Tumblr. Someone had just liked one of your posts.

A post from two years ago.

Your stomach dropped.

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the app. The notification led you straight to the post—a particularly filthy piece about Yunho, one that had gone semi-viral when you first wrote it. And sitting right there, at the top of the notes—

A new like.

From a user you didn’t recognize.

Your pulse hammered as you clicked on the profile. It was nearly empty—just a default avatar, no posts, no bio. But there was one thing.

The blog name.

"ateezyunho1999."

Your mouth went dry.

No. No, no, no, this had to be a joke.

Then another notification popped up.

A message.

Your vision blurred for a second as you forced yourself to tap on it, breath shallow as you read the words.

"Come outside."

A pause.

Then—

"I'll be waiting."

Your hands shook as you stared at the message.

You could feel your own pulse in your throat, hammering like a warning. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Yunho was an idol. A celebrity. There was no way he would actually—

Your phone buzzed again.

The third message.

"Don't make me wait, baby."

The air in your lungs turned heavy. Your brain screamed at you to walk away, to ignore it, to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

But your body?

Your body was already moving.

Like you had no control over yourself, your feet carried you toward the back of the venue, slipping past groups of lingering fans, past the staff still bustling around. You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this.

And yet—

As soon as you turned the corner, stepping into the dimly lit alley behind the building, you felt him before you even saw him.

Yunho.

He was leaning against the side of a sleek black car, one hand tucked into the pocket of his coat, the other holding his phone. The glow of the screen lit up his face, casting soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jawline. But it wasn’t the way he looked that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the way he smirked when he saw you.

Slowly, he slipped his phone into his pocket, pushing off the car as he took a step toward you.

“You listen well,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That’s good.”

You should have said something. Anything. But your tongue felt heavy, thoughts tangled into knots as you stood frozen in place.

Yunho tilted his head, eyes flickering over you in a slow, deliberate sweep. His gaze was too knowing, too intimate—like he had already stripped you down in his mind.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come,” he continued, his tone almost teasing. “But then again…”

A pause.

Then—

“I know what you want.”

Your breath caught.

Yunho chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you inch by inch. He was so tall, so effortlessly imposing, and when he finally stopped in front of you, the heat of his body was enough to make your skin prickle.

“You didn’t think I’d notice you, did you?” His voice dipped lower, smooth like honey but edged with something darker. “You wrote all those filthy little things about me, and yet, when I look at you now…”

He reached out, fingers brushing along the side of your jaw, so lightly it almost wasn’t a touch at all.

“You look so shy.”

A slow smirk curled at his lips as he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was a whisper now, barely audible, but it wrapped around you like a vice.

“Do I match your imagination?”

Your breath came shallow, uneven.

The question sent a violent shiver through you.

You wanted to deny it. To shake your head, pretend you weren’t completely unraveling under his gaze. But the moment you tried to step back, his hand moved.

A firm grip on your chin.

Not rough, not forceful—just enough to keep you still. Enough to make your knees weaken.

He hummed, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, and his gaze darkened.

“You’re not answering,” he murmured. “That’s cute.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

This was dangerous. This was a situation you had only ever fantasized about—except now, reality was so much worse. Because in your fics, Yunho was just a character, a version of him built from your own desires.

But this Yunho?

This Yunho was real. And he had read everything.

His thumb pressed against your lip, just enough to make you part them. The smirk that followed was pure sin.

“Mm,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

He let the word hang in the air as his fingers trailed down, a featherlight touch along the column of your throat. A tease. A warning.

“Does the way I touch you match your imagination, too?”

Heat pooled deep in your stomach, a slow, unbearable ache curling at your core. Your body betrayed you before you could even think—back arching just slightly, like you were reaching for more.

Yunho saw it.

And he liked it.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and pleased. “Ah,” he sighed, thumb tapping against your chin. “So responsive.”

Then, just when you thought he might close the distance completely, he pulled back just enough. Enough to leave you breathless, desperate.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was deceptively gentle, like he wasn’t the same man who had just whispered filth into your ear moments ago.

Then, his lips curled again. That smirk.

“I should get going,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just ruined you with a few words and touches.

Your body screamed in protest, but before you could even think of stopping him, he was already turning toward the sleek black car parked nearby.

The door opened. He paused. Then—

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes locking onto yours one last time.

“Don’t stop writing,” he murmured. “I like seeing what you come up with.”

A slow, teasing wink.

And then—

He was gone.

[styxhuntress]

The way Buck is treated is absolutely heartbreaking.

On the surface yes, maybe the 118 does look like a found family unit. And most of them have a good family bond with one another. But not with Buck. (Long rant below the cut)

Buck has the biggest heart out of anyone on the show. He is constantly going out of his way to help people. This is particularly prominent with Eddie, but he does this for so many characters.

He lets Hen, Eddie and Chim stay with him during the lockdown, never asks them to help pay rent, and then later lets Albert stay with him with no complaint.

He is constantly babysitting Chris and later Jee while their respective parents go do other things, and while he clearly loves spending time with them this is definitely a massive favor on his part because babysitting kids is hard work.

He is always there to support them when they need it.

He’s the one that prompts them to check on Bobby in season 1.

He is there for Chim as best he can when Maddie leaves.

When Maddie shows up at his apartment in Season 2 he doesn’t get angry with her for essentially breaking into his home and helping herself to a bottle of wine. And instead helps her settle down with a safe new job and becomes her shoulder to cry on during this period.

He drops everything when Eddie asks for his help, when Eddie mentions issues with childcare and paperwork for Chris Buck introduces him to Carla.

When Eddie has to bring Chris to the station Buck calls ahead so Bobby can get permission.

When Eddie gets shot Buck takes over Chris’s care without prompting.

When Eddie has issues with parenting Chris he calls Buck for help and Buck helps.

When Eddie has a meltdown and takes a bat to the wall, not only does Buck drop everything and run to help him, he also goes further by taking eddie to see the kid they saved the day he was shot.

Whenever Eddie needed anything Buck was there.

When Eddie desperately needed a sub letter so that he could move Buck went and took over the lease.

When he found out Eddie was moving he went and did what he could to help him despite being devastated.

Whenever anyone needed anything, Buck was there. And Buck was always happy to do it.

But when Buck was feeling abandoned after the embolism no one reached out, instead Eddie dumped Chris on him under the pretense of getting him out and about and stop moping for the day.

When Maddie left, no one thought to ask Buck how he was doing. Instead they focused entirely on Chim. And when Chim punched Buck no one at any point stood up for Buck, instead going on about how Chim is under a lot of distress right now as though Buck isn’t also feeling the loss and worry of his Sister up and leaving.

When Buck filed the lawsuit they almost all immediately went and put all the blame on Buck. Hen was the only one to point out that they were all Buck had, that he had no other family outside the 118. Despite that they still punished him, Eddie taking his anger out on Buck because the lawsuit meant Buck couldn’t bail him out and he couldn’t spend time with Chris and never once saying he missed Buck too. He was pissed because Buck couldn’t drop everything and help him. He was accused of being reckless and impulsive and using their own issues for his own gain and for being selfish and stupid and exhausting despite the fact that he was being treated unfairly. He was hurt, and alone and just needed a hug.

When Buck found out about Daniel and distanced himself from Maddie, Chimney started borderline harassing Buck trying to get him to talk to her, despite a) Buck having had a major bombshell dropped on him, getting his entire life put into a new perspective based on this information, and finding out why his parents treated him the way they did and so needing to process, and B) Buck repeatedly setting boundaries and saying he needed space to process and he’d talk to Maddie when he was ready. Chimney completely ignores Buck’s boundaries as though what Buck needs or wants doesn’t matter because Maddie is upset and wants to talk to him, and only her desires and emotional well being have any level of importance and despite asking for space she literally ambushes him at work to force a conversation he is not ready for. And no one else tries telling Chim to leave Buck alone, and then Eddie only has a half assed conversation with Buck despite being his so called best friend, where he basically dismisses Buck’s feelings and tells him he’s over reacting.

When Eddie was leaving and Buck was upset he was repeatedly accused of making it about himself, being selfish, unreasonable, unsupportive and a jerk when he literally just found out from nowhere that Eddie made a down payment just overheard his best friend basically dismiss their friendship (“I have no ties here, everything that matters is in Texas”) he gets judged and berated for being upset, as though he’s not allowed to have feelings, and when he tries to apologize for his snarkiness gets once again berated and when he finally tells Eddie that he took over the lease and thus he can move, aka the ultimate supportive action, not once does Eddie apologize.

When Buck breaks up with Tommy no one bothers to really check in with him on a deeper level, instead they dismiss his wants by stealing his phone so that he can’t call him and then no one brings it up again despite him clearly still being devastated for every following episode.

When Buck gets SA’d by the therapist he is immediately getting made fun of, and accused of being a manwhore and essentially blamed for being assaulted. No one ever, not once, bothers to wonder if he’s doing alright.

And when Buck is still waiting for Abby to come back rather than being supportive or anything like that he gets laughed at for living in his girlfriend’s apartment and being dumb enough to think she’ll come back.

When Eddie gets a new friend he immediately starts spending all his free time with that friend and never inviting Buck, even if they were planning something Buck would enjoy, instead asking if Buck can babysit (his kid is 14/15 at this point and just because he has CP I still think he can spend a couple of hours home alone. He’s not bedridden or anything.) and basically ignoring his supposed best friend in favor of his shiny new friend.

Whenever Buck needed anything he was laughed at, belittled and dismissed. They constantly take advantage of his kindness. Buck gives and gives and gives to them and gets nothing back. He is only wanted when he can be useful and when they need him. They take and take and take and the second Buck needs even a small amount of empathy or help he gets accused of being selfish, needy, exhausting, of making everything about him, of overreacting. He is essentially told, over and over that he is not allowed to have feelings or boundaries. He is not allowed to need help he can only give help. He is only valued when he can do something for someone else and godforbid he ever ask for the same consideration because otherwise he’s being needy. He makes everyone else his priority and never is he anyone’s priority in return.

Until Tommy anyway, he finally had someone who would take care of him, who acknowledged his feelings and showed him they were valid, who clearly adored all of Buck and never asked him for anything and indulged in his quirks and who was happy to be there for him, who complimented him and who overall clearly adored Buck. Even before they were dating when Tommy saw that Buck clearly was feeling left out he went over to his place to apologize, despite not actually doing anything wrong himself.

I seriously think that if Tommy saw how they all treated Buck he’d lose the delusion that they are basically a family really fast and promptly get pissed on Buck’s behalf. He’d also do everything in his power to help Buck realize that he matters as a person.

[demonic0angel]

Hi. Uhhh I thought this ask was funny so…

At some sort of event where both the bat fam and the phantom siblings are there. (How they’d know each other is up to you) one of the phantom siblings drops a bombshell about their lore and they continue on like it didn’t happen. But the one to do it isn’t one of the Dannys or Dan it’s Jazz. Cause Jazz is just as feral as the other three and I need to see it. Cause she is Danny “I like to drop lore bombs on people over dinner.” Feton’s sister.

I thought this was funny so uh here. *Shoves ask on a silver platter at you and runs away.*

(*eats the ask so fast that I choke on the platter like a seagull that doesn't know its limits*)

They all congregated around the food table, chatting and gossiping.

"Did you see that fucking haircut?" Jason said with a snicker. "His parents don't give a fuck about him."

"Not a single goddamn bit," Steph said.

Bruce hummed. "That's not very nice," he said, though he looked like he agreed wholeheartedly.

Dani leaned in and asked, "Which one is the one who tried starting a gang in Crime Alley but couldn't because she was a nepo baby and everyone was too embarrassed to join her even though she had a lot of money?"

Tim chuckled and pointed. "That one."

Danny laughed. "Hah! I can't even imagine that! No one joined, even though she had money?"

Jason joined him, almost cackling. "Right?! She has a reputation of being bad luck in business too, it's literally a thing. She sank three different companies before no one bothered hiring her, so when she made a gang, no one joined."

"And in Crime Alley? It's literally a meme now," Stephanie said with a grin.

"Can't imagine starting something and failing because no one wanted to follow me," Jazz said then, an amused smile on her face.

"Yeah," Dani snorted. "Because you successfully created a cult in Danny's name."

It was like a record scratch as everyone paused, but none of the Nightingales noticed, continuing on.

Danny groaned. "Don't remind me! I can't believe it became so popular that it's the most practiced religion amongst the dead! Do you know how embarrassed I feel when one of my worshippers come up to me and start kissing my hands?!"

Jazz beamed. "I'm a very good cult leader."

"Until I had to overthrow you for it," Danny snarked back.

Jazz continued, "Still, I had a good run being Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms until that happened, right?"

"The second only human in a seat of power within the Ghost Zone and also the only human to have completely changed the laws of the Infinite Realms? I'd say it's pretty good," Dani mused.

The rest of the Waynes & Co. stared at them in shock and confusion. None of the Nightingales seemed to think it was strange that Jazz Fenton, one of the Arkham psychiatrist and sister of Phantom, was a cult leader. And a successful one too.

Stephanie looked around and then asked, "So I'm not hallucinating this conversation, right?"

[chanelrolls]

Love and Deepspace Men pretending to be gay to get closer to you.

pairings. sylus x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, xavier x reader, caleb x reader

notes. this is a headcanon of how the LIs would pretend to be gay so that you would feel safe and comfortable around their presence. requests are open. i'll welcome them wholeheartedly.

SYLUS

Sylus doesn’t just pretend to be gay—he turns it into a performance. He commits so flawlessly that no one even questions him. He doesn’t stutter, hesitate, or act out of character. If anything, his arrogance makes people believe him even more.

He carefully crafts his lies to be believable. He drops subtle hints in conversation, never making it obvious, just enough that people draw their own conclusions.

If you ever ask why he never seems interested in women, he just smirks, “Sweetheart, I like my partners just as ruthless as I am. Do you think you could handle that?”

He treats it like a game. He enjoys seeing how long he can keep the charade up before you're able to catch on. He especially loves watching your reactions when you start to get too comfortable with the idea.

He starts making offhanded comments about men, but he never actually compliments them. “At least he knows how to wear a suit properly. I respect that.” It’s just vague enough to keep the illusion.

Despite his act, he still flirts with you constantly—just in ways that sound platonically playful. “If only I was into women, hmm? What a tragedy.”

If you ever try to set him up with another guy, he dodges it smoothly. “Ah, but I have high standards, darling. He wouldn’t last five minutes with me.”

The second another man actually starts showing interest in you, his entire demeanor shifts. He gets subtly possessive, but masks it with amusement. “Him? Really? You could do better."

He lets you get too comfortable before dropping the act. Maybe one day, when you casually lean against him, laughing about how he’s the “perfect gay best friend.” He hums in amusement before leaning in close, voice dropping to a murmur. “Best friend? Hilarious.”

SCENARIO

You and Sylus are sitting at a high-end café, sipping on overpriced espresso. You suddenly begin teasing him about his supposed preferences, and he plays along effortlessly. You ask, “So, if you had to choose a man to date, who would it be?”

Sylus swirls his drink, amused. “Ah, a difficult question. I do appreciate a man with taste. A well-fitted suit. Confidence. Maybe someone who plays chess.”

You grin, “So, a rich, cunning type? That explains a lot.”

He smirks. “If I weren’t already spoken for, perhaps I’d entertain the thought.”

You shoot out a chortle, mirroring his action of twirling his drink. “See? Really, we always have the same likes and tastes, you're the perfect gay best friend."

He imperceptibly huffs, setting his cup down. Then, leaning closer, his voice drops to something softer, almost dangerous. “Who said I was your friend?”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Sylus only smirks, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just drop a bombshell.

ZAYNE

Zayne’s approach is subtle but convincing. He never outright says he’s gay—he just lets people assume.

If someone asks him about his ideal type, he responds in the most vague, deadpan way possible. "Men."

He doesn’t act any differently than usual. That’s what makes it believable. His usual professionalism, reserved nature, and lack of visible romantic interest in others make it easy for rumors to spread.

When you jokingly asked him about it one day, he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he just tilts his head slightly and says, “Does it matter?”

He finds mild amusement in you being too comfortable around him, thinking he’s completely safe. (he's not.)

He doesn’t really do the whole “pretend to check out men” thing—he thinks it’s unnecessary. Instead, he subtly steers conversations in ways that reinforce the misunderstanding.

If you ever try to ask him about what he seeks in a man, he dodges the question with vague, clinical responses. “Compatibility is determined by more than just surface-level attraction.”

Eventually, you get too comfortable that you starts using him as a fake boyfriend to ward off creeps. He plays along, but secretly enjoys claiming you as his even if it was meant to be a ploy.

When you finally gets suspicious, he doesn’t admit it immediately. Instead, he just looks at you, waiting for you to piece it together.

Once you do realize the truth, he simply nods and says, “So you’ve figured it out.” No apology, no embarrassment—just quiet amusement at how long it took you.

SCENARIO

You're casually sitting with Zayne at a park bench, scrolling through dating profiles. You then sigh dramatically. “You’re so lucky, you know? No dating stress. No dealing with annoying guys. Just living your best life.”

Zayne glances at you. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to deal with this whole ‘finding the perfect guy’ nonsense. You already know what you want, right?”

Zayne hums in thought before responding simply, “I do.”

You let out a groan. “Ugh, I wish I had it that easy.”

A pause. Zayne looks at you with something unreadable in his expression. Then, after a beat, he says, “Perhaps you do.”

You frown. “…What does that mean?”

He doesn’t answer. Just smirks ever so slightly before returning to his book.

RAFAYEL

Rafayel fully leans into the performance with zero shame. He has fun with it, exaggerating everything for his own entertainment.

The moment he realizes that acting gay makes you way more comfortable around him, he makes it his new favorite game.

He starts fake-fawning over men, but in a way that’s so extra it almost sounds satirical. “MC, tell me, have you ever seen a man with cheekbones that sharp?! What a gift from the heavens. I may cry.”

He deliberately gets touchy with you, knowing you won’t suspect anything. Resting his chin on your shoulder, hugging you from behind, playing with your hands—it’s all fair game now.

If anyone asks about his type, he sighs dramatically and says something ridiculous like, “My heart belongs to the sea and to men with tragic backstories.”

The second another guy flirts with you, his energy shifts. He crosses his arms, watching with dead eyes. Then, suddenly, he’s clinging onto you like a lifeline. “Oh, darling, rescue me! This is so overwhelming.” (Really, he just wants the guy to leave.)

Whenever you ask him about his “exes,” he completely makes things up. “Ah, yes. Leonardo. He was a poet, you know. Tragic love. Very dramatic.” (He does this purely to mess with you)

He treats it all like a joke until one day, you offhandedly say something like, “You’re my safest friend.” And suddenly, it isn’t as funny anymore.

But he’s awful at keeping up the act. One slip-up and he’s doomed. When you casually rest your hand on his chest one day, his entire body tenses. Or maybe when you flirt back and then he suddenly forgets how to breathe.

Eventually, he just stops pretending. But by the time you realize it, he’s already pinning you against the couch, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oops. Looks like I got a little too close, huh?”

SCENARIO

You and Rafayel are sitting on a pier, legs dangling over the edge. The sun is setting, and the waves crash gently below. You initiate the comversation, “I wish I had a romance as dramatic as yours.”

Rafayel sighs, placing a hand over his heart. “Ah, love. So fleeting. So cruel.”

“You sound like you belong in a soap opera.”

He just smirks, bumping his shoulder against yours. “And yet, you adore me anyway.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I do. You’re the best fake boyfriend I could ask for.”

Rafayel’s smirk falters for just a second. Then, slowly, he leans in. His voice drops to a murmur.

“Fake?”

XAVIER

Xavier’s attempt at pretending to be gay is an absolute trainwreck. He isn’t a liar by nature, so when he does try, it’s painfully obvious. If asked about his type, he panics and blurts out, “Men. I love men.” Dead silence follows.

His reason for pretending to be gay is simple: you said you felt the safest around him, so in a moment of impulse, he blurts out, “That’s because I’m gay.”

Instant regret. His face stays neutral, but internally? Panic. He realizes too late this means he can be close to you without you suspecting a thing.

The problem? He’s naturally affectionate. Xavier isn’t touchy, but he doesn’t move away when you lean on him, holds his hand absentmindedly, or play with his fingers.

You treat him like a safe space, and it drives him insane, telling him, “I love how comfortable I feel around you.” Xavier, staring at your intertwined hands, says: “…Me too.”

His ‘gay act’ is ridiculously bad, but you bought it at first. Until the way he looks at you starts feeling off.

He gets a little too soft around you. You often catch him staring at your lips too long. His voice is too gentle when he says your name, and he remembers everything about your preferences.

The real problem starts when you experimented with his boundaries one day. “Xavier, can I cuddle with you? You’re like my emotional support pillow.”

He freezes. He should say no. He really should. Instead, he clears his throat and mutters, “…If you want.”

SCENARIO

It’s late at night, and both of you are lying on the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket. Your head rests on Xavier’s shoulder, breathing softlt against his skin. He smells too good. You utter, “I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

Xavier stares at the ceiling. He can feel the weight of you against him, the warmth of your body. It’s unbearable.

You add, “I feel the safest around you.”

His throat tightens. He shouldn’t be hearing this. Not when you think he’s—

You shift, pressing closer. “…I wish you weren’t gay.”

His heart stops. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Xavier swallows hard, forcing himself to stay still. He lifts a hand, hesitating, before gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is barely above a whisper, “…Me too.”

CALEB

Caleb doesn’t just pretend—he weaponizes the misunderstanding. He’s been in your life since forever, so if people assume you're just besties and he happens to be gay, he doesn’t correct them. In fact, he leans into it.

He’ll act as the perfect wingman, making sure every guy you dated somehow ends up hating their time with you. He sabotages without looking like he’s doing it. “Oh, you like him? Huh. I heard he cheated on his last girlfriend. But if you’re sure…” (He made that up.)

Though Caleb absolutely hates doing this, but if it’s the only way to get you close to him, he’ll do it.

He’s good at it. Too good. Because he’s always been selective about women, no one questions it when he claims to have no interest.

It’s a slow burn. He makes himself your most reliable friend, your protector, the one person you never had to worry about.

Whenever you vent about guys, he’s always there to listen, nodding with quiet understanding. But internally, he wants to put the heads of the guys you dated on a stick.

He treats you so gently, and it frustrates him that you don't even see through it.

One day, a guy gets too close to you, and Caleb steps in, voice cold. “I’d back off if I were you.”

You finally realized the truth when he stops playing along and just stares at you with an expectant gaze.

When you finally confront him, he only gives you a knowing look. “You really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

SCENARIO

You're venting to Caleb about another failed date. “Why can’t guys be like you?”

Caleb tenses. But he forces a smile. “Yeah. Why can’t they?”

Absentmindedly, your mouth somewhat continued to run faster than your brain. “I wish I could just date you. If only you weren’t—”

A pause.

Caleb tilts his head. “…If I weren’t what?”

You realize the weight of what you said, laughing awkwardly. “You know. If you weren’t—”

His eyes darken. “Say it.”

And that’s when you knew.

[wendichester]

helloooo! :D I wanted to ask if you’d ever write for cas? It’s completely okay if not, only do what YOU want <33

BUT I also had a thought so hear me out:

Dean calling the reader a pet name for the first time, and not really realizing what he said but the reader is just like 😵‍💫 all blushy caught off guard because THE Dean Winchester just called her honey as if they didn’t confess like a week ago 🧍🏻‍♀️

remember to eat and hydrate, I hope you sleep well too💙

-💫

⋆˚���𝜚˚⋆🔧 honey,

summary. you're dean's honey .ᐟ

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 469

notes. this is just wholesome and... relatable. and i'd definitely be down to write for our sweet sassy angel cas! do you have a specific scenario in mind? 👀

The clang of tools against the Impala’s hood fills the garage, a melody as familiar as breathing. You’re perched on a stool nearby, half-focused on the book in your lap, but mostly on Dean. His hands move deftly as he tinkers under the hood, a smear of grease streaked across his jaw.

“Pass me the wrench, would ya?” he says, glancing at you with those green eyes that always manage to make your stomach flutter.

You nod, leaning over the workbench to grab it. When you hand it to him, his fingers brush yours—just a brief, fleeting touch, but enough to send a spark racing through you.

“Thanks, honey,” he mutters absently, turning back to the car.

Your brain short-circuits.

Honey?

Did Dean Winchester just call you honey?

You blink, replaying the moment in your head to make sure you didn’t imagine it. No, you’re sure of it. He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The book in your lap is forgotten as you try to process the anomaly. A week ago, you and Dean finally confessed your feelings for each other, and while things have been a bit more... touchy-feely, this? This is new.

“Uh… you good over there?” Dean’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts. He glances at you again, brows furrowed slightly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, totally fine,” you blurt, your face heating up.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “You sure? You’re lookin’ a little pink.”

“I’m not pink,” you mumble, pulling the book back into your lap and staring at it like it holds the secrets to the universe.

Dean shrugs, clearly oblivious to the bombshell he’s just dropped on you, and goes back to work. But the damage is done. The word honey keeps bouncing around in your head, making your heart race and your palms sweaty.

Minutes pass, and you try desperately to regain your composure. But then Dean turns to you again, wiping his hands on a rag. “You wanna grab lunch? Burgers sound good?”

“Sure,” you manage, your voice a little too high.

Dean tilts his head, his smirk widening. “Seriously, what’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” you protest, even though you’re about two seconds away from combusting.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “C’mon, let’s go, honey.”

There it is again.

You let out a small squeak, your cheeks flaming as you follow him out of the garage. Dean doesn’t even notice, but you’re left reeling, wondering how someone can casually call you honey and not realize they’re turning you into a puddle.

And as you climb into the passenger seat of the Impala, you can’t help but smile, even through your embarrassment. You're Dean Winchester’s honey.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles

[samgirl98]

A Dip and A Slip 5/6

Prev | Next

Danny was about to punch the crazy lady who claimed to be his mother and make a run for it. He had texted his parents an SOS and was sure that, given their reckless driving and complete disregard for human life, including their own, they would arrive soon with the Fenton Speeder.

It wasn’t soon enough.

“Talia, you have to think about this,” Bruce Wayne whispered to the crazy woman. Danny would be in the dark if it weren’t for his superhuman hearing. “He doesn’t live in our world and has a normal life. He won’t understand why you’re doing this or how we know about him so quickly.”

“I don’t care! He’s my son—mine. Now that he’s back to me, I won’t let him go.”

“Ok, do we make a run for it and hope your parents find us?” Mr. Manson asked. They may not like Danny much, but they wouldn’t let some random stranger take him. Besides, the Fentons would kill them for letting anything happen to their son.

“Wait, I know this is hard to believe, and she went about it the wrong way, but mother isn’t lying. You’re my brother, my twin!”

“Okay, say you’re telling the truth. Why should it matter? Danny already has parents,” Sam said with a scowl on her face, “You drop this bombshell on him without going through the legal process, and that lady is talking about kidnapping Danny.”

The police were interviewing everyone who hadn’t run. Red Robin and Nightwing watched the spectacle as if it were a good sports match, keeping a watchful eye on the tied-up agents waiting to be arrested.

“Listen, if what you’re saying is true, how would you know I’m your missing twin brother?”

“I took a DNA test,” Damian said, crossing his arms.

“You stole my DNA and had it tested without my permission?” Danny asked angrily.

Damian had the decency to look remorseful.

“I had to make sure,” he tried to defend himself.

“How did you even get the results so quickly?” Sam asked.

“Family secret,” Damian said through gritted teeth.

“Ancients, all billionaires are the same. You guys have a secret lab in your basement, don’t you?” Danny asked.

Danny noticed how Red Robin, Nightwing, and Damian all tensed subtly. Danny probably wouldn't have noticed if it weren’t for his super senses. Danny threw his arms up in defeat.

“Of course, of course, I have another billionaire Fruit Loop now looking into me. You’re all insane, and I want to have no part of this ‘family’ reunion.”

Danny didn’t think but reacted when a hand touched his shoulder. He grabbed the wrist and flipped the person over him, sending them flying.

It was the crazy lady.

“Mother!”

Damian ran up to his mom and helped her to her feet. Bruce Wayne looked at Danny with a calculating expression.

“Beloved, I don’t think our son is a regular civilian,” Crazy Lady said calmly while getting up.

“We can talk about this later, Talia.”

“Well, Mr. Wayne, as fun as this has been, it’s best we leave,” Mrs. Manson said while Mr. Manson herded the two teenagers toward the exit.

Crazy Lady flipped over Mrs. Manson and stopped Mr. Manson from advancing further. All for Amityville natives tensed. Crazy Lady was blocking the exit.

“Talia,” Bruce barked out, “Stop this.”

Police officers and the remaining guests watched the drama unfold. The two vigilantes tried to redirect their attention by getting the agents up and marching them toward the police vehicles outside.

Damian was between his twin and his mother, for once, not knowing what to do.

Somehow, Nightwing and Red Robin managed to clear the room, leaving only Danny, the Mansons, Crazy Lady, and Damian behind. Danny tensed when Crazy Lady moved, her arms wide open.

Mr. and Mrs. Manson got in front of Danny and Sam, shielding them from Crazy Lady’s eyes.

“Please, Habibi, please. I’m your mother. The pit took you away from me before I was even able to name you. I want my son back.”

Danny felt a little for the woman as tears started trailing down her cheeks. Damn it. He hated seeing people cry.

“Listen, I feel for you, I do, but I have parents, a sister, a family, already. I can’t just take your word for it that I’m your son, and you miraculously found me after years of searching. I need proof. I need to talk to my parents. I can’t give up my life and follow you.”

“He’s right, Talia,” Bruce whispered in a soft tone. “He has a life. We can do this differently. We need to take DNA tests and talk with his parents. We can’t kidnap him.”

Crazy Lady—no, Talia shook her head and looked straight at Danny.

“You’re my son, my little prince taken away from me.”

Danny sighed inwardly. He wanted to go home and forget the day had ever happened.

A crash sounded outside, and Danny heard the GIW yelling out his parents’ names in fear.

 Danny sighed, resigned to the chaos that was bound to happen.

“Who dares think they can take my baby boy from me?” His mom yelled out with a high-pitched whine following her question.

“Yeah, nobody messes with the Fentons.”

Talia got on the defensive and ran toward his mom, ready to attack.

Fuck.

[luveline]

pleaseee anything angsty with bombshell!reader and spencer!! love you

love you!

When Jason Gideon dies, it’s alone with his murderer. Isolated from friends and family, years after you last heard from him. Spencer hasn’t spoken to him since he left, and yet the ruin on his face when it’s confirmed to be Gideon churns your stomach. 

He rushes out of the room. 

You look at Gideon, dead, and regret that you never got along. You barely knew him. So when Derek leaves to follow Spencer out, you don’t go with them, thinking Derek has better common ground. 

“You okay?” you ask Hotch quietly. 

He nods, solemn. “Do you want to go check on Reid?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“I think Morgan has it for now.” You turn away from Gideon. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s too scary when it’s someone you know. It reminds you that it could’ve been you, or Spencer. 

You don’t find time to speak to your poor bookworm until later that night when you’ve been forced to retire in dinky motel rooms. You and Spencer used to share because you were the only person normal enough not to complain when he infodumps, and because you were fond of him. Then because you were best friends, and now because you’re in love. How lucky you’ve been. 

He’s always had it rough, though. 

You’d asked him multiple times throughout the day if he was okay, and every now and then he’d nodded or sniffled, but now he’s alone with you his facade fades completely, and you want to have a real talk. 

His shoulders rock. You reach out for him. He breaks for the bathroom. 

“Spencer?” you ask, startled. 

The door shuts hard between you, frame shaking.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

You cross the brown carpeting to grab the handle. You pause there, heart dropping as the weak sound of muffled sobbing reaches your ears. “Spencer,” you say, soft, and without any teasing. You’re capable of seriousness sometimes. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“Can I be alone?” he asks.

He sounds strained. 

“I’d rather you weren’t. I don’t know what you’ll do.” 

“What?” he asks. 

“People do strange things when they’re upset. I just want to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” he says shortly. 

You’d be offended, but like you said. People do strange things when they’re upset, and this is worse than just being upset. This is grief. Intangible, cruel. Spencer has a history of doing things that aren’t good for him when he’s hurting. You’ve no interest in leaving him alone. 

“Spencer… I love you. I want to be near you.”

Your straight-forwardness pays off. 

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not locked.” 

That’s reassuring. You open the door, find him standing at the sink with his cheeks wet with thick tears. He crumples when he sees you, hiding his face in his hands. 

You’re not sure what to do. Loving someone, you tend to love all of them, and you’ve yet to find parts of Spencer you couldn’t adore, but he just lost somebody important to him and you have no idea how to handle it. You decide to try, whether jumping into it will do any good or not. You walk right into his chest and hug him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He takes a shaky, odd breath, like he might laugh. He tries to as he holds your shoulders. “God, it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” 

“I am. It’s not fair. I never want you to lose anyone.” 

He presses his lips into a hard line and nods, prompting tears down his cheeks one after the other. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. Spencer cries and you watch him, his hands weak on your shoulders. His hair is greasy at the roots from all the heat of being upset, his face pink, his eyes swollen and sore. His lashes are sticking together in dark triangles, while his sclera turns bloodshot. It’s clear that today has been extremely hard on him, and you should’ve done more. “I should’ve come after you, I’m sorry. I thought Morgan would have a better chance at making you feel better.” You wipe his cheeks, and tuck lank hair behind his ears. “I need you to know I’m here for you.” 

He’s putting on a brave face, slowly but surely. “I know that.” 

“Listen, do you want to shower?” you ask. 

“I want to sit down forever.” 

“We’ll shower first. I’ll come in with you, alright? We can wash your hair, the warm water will be good for your eyes.” You frown sympathetically. “You’ve cried all day.” 

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I wish I’d tried harder to see him. To talk to him again.” 

“You can… I know it’s not the same, but you can tell me. Anything you wanted to say to him, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything.” 

He nods again. More brave face, more unnerving, fake smile. 

You run your hands down his hair, and use your hands to tilt his head forward gently. “You can be alone if you really want to, but I just can’t have that closed door. You understand?” 

“No, I want to shower with you.” He sniffs. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s not scary.” You curl your arm behind his neck to pull him in for a careful hug. You hold him without moving, relieved when he holds you back, though his hands are limp where they’d usually be rubbing at your shoulders. “It wasn’t scary, I mean. I didn’t mean to suggest you’d do something, but I think the last thing you should be right now is alone. Thanks for letting me stay.” 

He breathes in your neck. “This is nice.” 

You bend back to encourage him further into your arms. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, rubbing his back in a slow stroke, “you can get through this. We’ll do right by him, I promise. You’re not alone.” 

“I used to feel it. He was the first person who… really looked out for me, before he left.” Spencer sniffles, glassy eyes softening where he looks down at you. “Nobody’s ever stayed with me. No one.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He sniffles again. “I know… Will you still shower with me?” 

“Mm-hm. Wash your hair for you, if you want me to.” 

“Please.” 

“Costs a kiss,” you say softly. 

“You want one from me right now?” he asks. He’s joking, because he knows you always want one. 

Your spirits finally begin to recuperate. “Plant one on me, handsome… only if you want to.” 

He turns away from you to wipe his face, both of you laughing, him wetly, you in relief. Both with a little bit of guilt. Maybe because life goes on without the people who pass, and that will always feel wrong. 

He turns back to you. Sadness darkens his eyes, but he closes them and leans down tentatively to kiss you. 

You take his soft one, borrow a firmer one, and wrap him up in another hug. Love you, love you, love you, you think. You’re going to make sure that he’s okay. 

[mythicalmaven]

omg i saw your prompt list and I'm a sucker for oscar lately, so i thought 45 (God, I am so in love with you) with him? fluff please :)

i love your writing btw!

First Kiss - Oscar Piastri (requested)

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader ↳word count: 0.8K ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & finally kisses you for the first time ↳prompts used: 45 - "God, I am so in love with you"

Oscar had been in love with you for years, a secret he’d kept tucked away in the corners of his heart, afraid of what would happen if he ever let it out. He’d watch you laugh, your eyes sparkling with a light that made everything else fade away, and he’d feel his chest tighten with the words he could never quite say.

You’d been his best friend since forever, the person who knew him better than anyone else. Every victory, every defeat—you were there, cheering him on or comforting him in the quiet moments when the world seemed too much. But as much as he cherished your friendship, he was terrified to risk it by confessing his feelings, convinced that you saw him as nothing more than a friend.

It was a thought that haunted him every time he caught you looking at him with that warm smile, every time your hand brushed against his, sending electric shocks through his body. He couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, so he swallowed down his love, settling for being your best friend even if it meant his heart ached every time you were near.

But everything changed the morning of the Baku race. He was in the paddock, nerves buzzing under his skin as he tried to focus on the upcoming race, terribly failing as he catched himself staring at you once again. But then Lando came up to him with a knowing smile.

“You know she’s in love with you too, right?” Lando said casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on him.

Oscar blinked, his brain struggling to process the words. “What?”

“Yeah,” he continued, oblivious to the way his heart was suddenly racing. “She’s been head over heels for you for ages. Honestly, it’s kind of obvious. I thought you knew.”

He stood there, stunned, his mind spinning as everything he thought he knew shifted. You were in love with him? All those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, the lingering touches, the way you looked at him—had he been blind to it all?

"Are you sure?" Oscar asked, completely dumbfounded. Afraid that Lando might got the wrong signals, that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Couldn't be more sure" Lando smiled at him, patting his shoulder "Mate, she legit told me, 'I wonder if Oscar has any idea how crazy I am about him.' That clear enough for you?" he chuckled, mocking your love sick tone "Didn't wan't to be the one to spill the beans, but I'm pretty sure the both of you otherwise would have been too shy too ever confess to each other"

His heart soared, hope blossoming in his chest, but there was no time to process it. The call for the race was going out, and he had to get to the grid. He barely remembered the moments that followed, his body moving on autopilot as he climbed into the car, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

And when he crossed the finish line, his first instinct wasn’t to celebrate the victory—it was to find you, to tell you everything he’d been holding back for so long. Because now he knew. And he wasn’t going to let another moment slip by without you knowing, too.

He glanced around, searching the crowd with an urgency you’d never seen before. When his eyes locked onto yours, a grin split his face. Without a second thought, he handed his helmet to a nearby mechanic and practically sprinted toward you. Your heart leaped into your throat as he reached the barrier, reaching out to lift you over it with ease. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intense look in his eyes.

“Oscar—” you began, but your words were cut off as he crashed his lips onto yours, his kiss filled with a raw, unspoken longing. You gasped against his mouth, stunned, but the surprise quickly melted into warmth as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their shouts echoing around you, but it all faded into a blur. It was just the two of you, standing there in the middle of the chaos, wrapped up in each other. The kiss was everything you’d ever dreamed of—soft yet demanding, sweet but full of a simmering passion that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the joy and relief radiating from him, his lips moving against yours with a mix of exhilaration and tenderness that made your legs weak.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, Oscar rested his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with unspoken words. His thumb brushed over your cheek as he searched your gaze, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered, his voice slightly breathless but steady.

A giggle bubbled up from your chest, pure happiness spilling over as you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. The cameras were still flashing, the crowd still cheering, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his hands and the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Oscar’s gaze never left you, his grin widening with each passing moment. Finally, he could hold you the way he’d always longed to. He’d admired you for so long, captivated by your beauty. But now, seeing you up close, you looked even more stunning. He was completely smitten. “God, I am so in love with you.”

Masterlist

[soneblomsblog]

i love your kang hyuk fic!!

can i please request for a kang hyuk fic where reader and kang hyuk are already married and it’s like private and the reader visits him then everyone is like shock, thank you!! ( sorry for my english 🥲 )

Unexpected Visit

Pairing: Kang Hyuk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, drama, secret marriage reveal

The ER was chaotic, as always. Kang Hyuk moved with practiced efficiency, barely acknowledging the chatter around him. He had learned to tune out the hospital gossip a long time ago—patients came first, and everything else was just background noise.

Until today.

Today, the background noise became impossible to ignore.

It started with a murmur near the nurse's station, then quickly escalated into hushed whispers and wide-eyed stares. At first, he didn’t pay attention, assuming it was about some VIP patient or an administrative shake-up. But when even the usually composed Dr Yang (Anus) stopped mid-sentence to gawk at something—someone—walking into the ER, he finally looked up.

And his heart stopped.

You.

Walking into his ER, looking completely out of place yet effortlessly composed.

He hadn’t expected you to come. Not here. Not like this.

The secret was out.

You were his wife.

You approached him with a small smile, clearly aware of the attention you were drawing but unbothered by it. He, on the other hand, could already feel the weight of a dozen stares drilling into his back.

“Hey,” you greeted casually, as if you weren’t single-handedly derailing everyone’s perception of him.

“…Hey,” he replied, still processing. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my husband,” you said, loud enough for those eavesdropping to hear. And oh, did they hear.

The collective gasps were almost comical. Someone dropped a clipboard. Nurse Jang mi who had just finished suturing a patient, actually turned her head so fast it looked painful. A nurse mouthed, Did she just say husband?!

Kang Hyuk resisted the urge to sigh. He knew exactly how this looked. No one at the hospital knew he was married. He had kept his personal life private, avoiding the inevitable scrutiny that came with being a doctor. Now, his carefully maintained boundary had just been shattered.

You tilted your head, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Did I come at a bad time?”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the nurses who were very obviously not pretending to work anymore. “No. It’s just… unexpected.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

You laughed softly before holding out a neatly packed lunchbox. “I also brought you food. Figured you wouldn’t eat unless someone forced you to.”

His ears turned slightly red. He could hear whispers of She brings him food? and He’s been married this whole time?! in the background. Ignoring them, he exhaled and took the lunchbox from your hands.

“…Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Kang.” You winked before stepping back. “I’ll see you at home.”

And just like that, you left, walking out as if you hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on the entire department.

Kang Hyuk sighed, turning back to his stunned colleagues.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Dr. Yang blinked. “You’re married?!”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“...A while.”

“A while?! And you never told anyone?!”

He shrugged, tucking the lunchbox under his arm. “You never asked.”

Chaos erupted.

[saphronethaleph]

“...because the council did not trust you, my young apprentice, I believe you are the only Jedi with no knowledge of this plot,” Sidious said, pulling on his cloak.

He frowned. “What are you doing, Vader?”

“I’m going to get proof,” Anakin replied, pressing some buttons on his comlink. “I don’t know if Obi-Wan was involved with the plot, and – I have to know.”

“Don’t-” Sidious began.

The comlink beeped, interrupting him, and Anakin lifted the device to his mouth.

“Obi-Wan!” he said.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan replied. “Good news – General Grievous is dead. I’ve lost my lightsaber, though.”

Anakin hid a snort. “Right – that’s, uh, really funny. Listen, I’ve got some good news too.”

“You have?” Obi-Wan replied. “Let’s hear it – down, Boga, down! Sorry, Anakin, she’s a bit excited… you were saying?”

“The Chancellor’s dead,” Anakin said, winking at Sidious.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked. “How is that good news – how did he die? I swear, I leave Coruscant for two days-”

“The Jedi killed him,” Anakin explained.

“Why?” Obi-Wan said, sounding completely and honestly baffled. “Which Jedi? I don’t think they could all do it, after the first couple of dozen there simply wouldn’t be any politician left if nothing else – but why would they do that?”

“Because he’s a Sith, I think,” Anakin said, then corrected himself. “Was a Sith, I mean. Because he’s definitely dead now.”

There was silence from the comlink for a couple of seconds, interrupted by a sort of rippling hwaa hwaa sound from some kind of animal, and some blasterfire.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said.

“I’m sorry, Anakin, you did just drop an extremely large bombshell on me,” Obi-Wan said, sounding quite distracted now. “I’m rethinking the last several years. That means he was behind – he was behind the war, behind the invasion of Naboo, behind the assassination attempts on Padme, behind everything.”

Anakin blinked down at his comlink.

“...that’s… a good point,” he said, slowly, then glanced over at Sidious.

Who wasn’t where he’d been before.

Anakin kept turning, and saw that Sidious had pulled a bookshelf off the wall of his office and was halfway through getting into a concealed escape pod.

The Dark Lord of the Sith froze, staring back at Anakin.

“...there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this,” he said, waving his hand.

In hindsight, this would be the last error he would ever make.

Anakin was never one for perfectly reasonable explanations.

“...Anakin? Anakin?” Obi-Wan said, frowning at his comlink. “Anakin, you can’t just tell me something like that and then disappear… or, well, apparently you can but it’s very inconvenient.”

There seemed to be an awful lot of noise coming down the comlink, but none of it made much sense. In fact, it sounded like someone was testing a lightsaber in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Obi-Wan frowned at the little device before nearly losing his grip on it as Boga skidded to a halt next to Commander Cody.

“Sir,” Cody said, with a nod.

“Commander!” Obi-Wan replied. “Contact your troops – tell them to move to the higher levels. We’ll want to clear out this force and then move on Mustafar, though since the Sith Lord is dead that might actually mean this war is over soon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” Cody replied, then tossed Obi-Wan his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan caught it. “Thank you, Commander! I do apologize-”

The comlink crackled again, and Obi-Wan dropped Boga’s reins so he could hold both devices at once without potentially cutting his head off. “Anakin!”

“Sorry about that, Master,” Anakin replied. “Bit of a workplace disagreement. Anyway, uh… Masters Windu, Fisto, Tiin and Kolar are all dead in the fight with the Chancellor. Please send help, there’s not many Councillors left and I don’t want to have to ask Master Nu what a quorum is…”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, fondly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to rescue you from the deadly perils of procedure. Until then, ask Padme if you need advice.”

He paused.

“Do you have any names picked out yet, by the way? I’m quite partial to the name Ben. It has a nice sound to it, even as a middle name.”

He clicked the comlink off and set it to silent, smiling slightly.

“Getting the last word, General?” Cody asked.

“It’s about the only way I can, with Anakin, I find,” Obi-Wan agreed, pocketing the comlink. “Now, let’s see about clearing those upper levels. Come on, Boga!”

[tgcg]

bad mouther, hole master

TG: kissing with tongue is gross as hell

CG: COME THE FUCK OFF IT.

TG: what

CG: I'M SAYING SHUT UP.

TG: oh

CG: IT'S NOT THAT WEIRD. IT'S LIKE THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF REGULAR KISSING TO EVENTUALLY INCLUDE THAT. IF YOU HAD ANY SEMBLANCE OF ROMANCE GHOSTING THROUGH THE DEVOLVING REMNANTS OF YOUR THINKPAN YOU'D APPRECIATE WHAT IT BRINGS TO THE NUTRITION PLATFORM OF ANY CONSENTING CONCUPISCENT RELATIONSHIP!

TG: youre talking about it like its a goddamn military weapon or some shit

TG: some kinda scientific fuckin method to fondle a dudes mouth with your own mouth thats

TG: thats gross

TG: this isnt supposed to be a debate before fuckin congress on the pros and cons of getting your mack on

TG: its i would say a reasonably personal thing to react about and thats just my reaction man you dont gotta arbitrate it

TG: and like why the hell do they have to linger on it so long in these movies do they really want me to immerse myself in people necking each other that much

TG: roll the sounds around in my earholes like im swilling a fine fuckin wine

TG: well my professional opinion is that shit tastes and sounds mad gross and tbh i havent seen a single movie where it was close to being any kind of necessary

TG: its just a cringy waste of everyones time

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, AND I DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE GASH, YOU LUMP OF TIGHT-LIPPED CLUELESSNESS.

TG: did you just homestar me

CG: FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, SINCE YOU'RE APPARENTLY DESPERATE TO START SHIT WITH ME RIGHT NOW: HAVE YOU EVER EVEN DONE IT?

TG: hell no

CG: THANK YOU FOR PROVING MY POINT.

TG: proving your point--

TG: bro have uh

TG: have YOU???

CG: EXCUSE ME? HAVE I WHAT?

TG: come on

TG: i walked into this stupid conversation with a fucking shovel and by god am i digging myself a damn hole big and wide enough for every dave across time to squeeze in so i might as well get cosy in this shit before we all start collectively shoving dirt in our mouths

TG: bet your ass im taking you down with me though

TG: grab your spade and get digging man

CG: GRAB MY WHAT????????

TG: just tell me

CG: ???????!!!!!!!!

TG: karkat

CG: NO!

TG: f-

CG: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!! WHAT PART OF "SHUT UP" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????

TG: wait no

TG: oh my god dude

TG: you can spin that shit all you want but you can do it the hell away from me

TG: i do not need to be hip to your weirdo foursquare fantasies

TG: patently not my business

CG: STOP RIGHT THERE. JUST SHUT IT. I AM PUTTING US OUT OF OUR MISERY RIGHT NOW. I AM CONDUCTING AN ACT OF MERCY ON THIS INSANE FUCKING CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE GOING TO ZIP YOUR LIPS AND TAKE IT.

CG: HERE IT IS: YOUR SINGLE OPPORTUNITY TO PRETEND YOU NEVER SAID THAT TO ME. I AM GOING TO FORGET YOU MADE A COMPLETE MOCKERY OF ME AND MY CULTURE THIS ONE TIME. AND LET YOU CONTINUE TO DIG YOUR STUPID, SHITTY HOLE.

CG: AND DAVE, I AM BEGGING YOU NOT TO WASTE IT.

CG: TO ANSWER YOUR SHOCKINGLY INAPPROPRIATE QUESTION, NO I HAVE NOT DONE IT.

CG: WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK.

CG: HAPPY?

TG: ……..

TG: way to defuse the situation solid work

TG: real gold star effort grabbin that lit wick and blowing on it

TG: ok first of all you asked me first so dont act like im the one being a weirdo about this

TG: second of all i didnt mean it like that and you know it

TG: THIRD of all what the hell was the point of engaging the knightly theatrics then if you cant even verify that shit

CG: WELL FUCK, SORRY DAVE! I GUESS I'M JUST A FUCKING ROMANCE ENTHUSIAST! I GUESS I GIVE A MAJOR SHIT ABOUT THE THING YOU'RE OPENLY MOCKING TO MY FACE! IS THAT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO WRAP YOUR THOUGHT SPONGE AROUND?

CG: AND IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE FOR ME TO ASK YOU THAT, YOU CONGEALED FETID NOOKSTAIN! MY STATUS ON THE MATTER HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT EITHER OF US IS TRYING TO MAKE.

CG: TRY TO KEEP YOUR NUGBONE FROM CAVING IN ON ITSELF WHEN I DROP THIS BOMBSHELL: I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE OPINIONS ON THINGS I ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T DONE THEM! I DON'T JUST GO TROUNCING THE FUCK ABOUT LOBBING MY UNFOUNDED OPINIONS AT PEOPLE LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. UNLIKE SOMEONE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INVOLVED IN THIS CONVERSATION WE'RE HAVING RIGHT NOW!

TG: youre

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU BY THE WAY. THE SOMEONE IS YOU.

TG: oh gimme a break

TG: bro youre going apeshit over something you havent even done

TG: you know what that sounds like to me it sounds like an overcompensating fake fan who doesnt get any

TG: you heard of troll napoleon complex

CG: AT LEAST I ACTUALLY FORMED MY OPINION BASED ON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION --

TG: -- oh yeah i bet huh

CG: -- INSTEAD OF JUST BANKING ON NUBJERK --

TG: -- not a real thing you just said

CG: -- REACTIONS AND WRINKLING MY SNIFF NUB AT ANY SIGNS OF GENUINE PHYSICAL INTIMACY!

TG: stop saying nub

CG: YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BULGEWAD

TG: not too much worse than being a perpetual fountain of emotional diarrhea

CG: DON'T YOU DARE.

CG: DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO USE THAT AS A "GOTCHA", YOU--… YOU! FUCK!

TG: dude did you actually run out of insults

TG: okay this is getting concerning

TG: youre the international dude of verbal dunks

TG: that can not be happening

CG: AAGHRJRGHJRGRHJAGHRJGRHJAGRHJRGRHJRGRHRJR

TG: you cant run out of em youre like the ultimate peddler of hate

CG: YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRITICALLY AWARE OF THE HOOFBEASTSHIT I'M SPEWING NIGH FUCKING CONSTANTLY?! I AM PAINFULLY COGNIZANT OF HOW MORONIC EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS!!!!

TG: feel like ive done some damage here

CG: ESPECIALLY MYSELF!

TG: alright bud time to calm down

CG: YOU CALM DOWN!!!!

TG: okay whatever!

CG: WHATEVER!!!!!!!!

TG: jeez

…

TG: here

…

CG: UGH.

TG: yeah

TG: really glad stuff like this happens in private

CG: YEAH. SAME HERE.

CG: JEGUS, CAN WE GO BACK TO BEFORE WE HAD THIS CONVERSATION? I DON'T ASK YOU MANY FAVORS, SO SURELY YOUR SLURRY OF ILL-DEFINED TIME POWERS CAN ALLOW YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

CG: JUST LIKE, WIPE THAT WHOLE THING OFF THE SLATE.

CG: LET'S START OVER. SAY, FIVE MINUTES AGO. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?

TG: what conversation?

CG: OKAY, GOTCHA.