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zepskies · 2 years ago

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Smoke Eater - Part 5

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, house fire, perilous situations, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 5: “Twitterpated”

“Hey there, beautiful,” Dean said.

His voice alone was enough to cause a shiver tingling down your spine.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he once again drew you into a kiss. He held you close by the waist. Feeling his hands spanning your lower back was doing things to you, but you knew you had to keep a level head here.

“Dean,” you said. Your lips curved against his. “We’ve said hello about three times now.”

“Wanna make it four?” he suggested. His voice was deep as sin.

Damn this man, you thought. He was a professional flirt.

But you laughed, and he smirked at the sound. He resisted letting you go when you playfully tried to pull away. The two of you were standing in the middle of your small office, in front of your desk at work. A large bag of takeout was perched on your desk, but neither of you cared about food just yet.

Dean liked the look of you in your navy blouse, tucked into a trim pair of pants, down to your smart heels.

“Tell me you didn’t go up all 20-something flights of stairs in those daggers you got on,” he remarked.

You followed his gaze down to your heels.

“Oh no,” you said. “I’ve got a backup pair of sneakers that I came to work in. Then I slip these on behind my desk. No one’s the wiser.”

Dean enjoyed that playful little smirk you gave him. He still couldn’t believe you’d walked all those stairs, but he guessed he couldn’t begrudge you for your lingering fear of elevators.

“Yeah? What else do you get up to behind that desk? Besides work, that is,” he teased. You guffawed and playfully hit his arm.

He chuckled and finally released you. You’d already dragged a spare chair next to yours behind your desk, so he began helping you unearth the various containers in the bag he brought. All the while, he surreptitiously took an inventory of your office.

It was all very neat and organized, just like you. You had a large window right behind you, which let in some much-needed natural light. There were tile floors, like the rest of the building, but while your desk was an old wood, clunky thing, you had a double monitor setup with an organized file system on either side.

As you pushed things aside and made room for the food, Dean noted the way stray pieces of hair fell from your clip, framing your face. He itched to take that clip out and make that hair wild, maybe even wrapping it around his hand.

Instead, he reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear. It earned your attention with a soft blush.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’,” he grinned. He was treated to one of your shy smiles as you continued in your task.

Soon you and Dean were once again sharing good food and conversation. You explained what you did for work, being a Senior Sales Representative at Savage & Co. He listened, offering interjections here and there: gems like, Josh sounds like a fucking idiot. And, so does your boss. You couldn’t disagree.

In the back of your mind, it was still a bit strange for Dean to be in your office. It felt rather intimate for a second date, but you supposed coming to your place of work wasn’t so new to him.

“You sure are killing that chicken,” Dean remarked, as he watched you carve into a large drumstick with fork and knife. He shot you a teasing smile. “You know it’s already dead, right?”

You gave him a dry look, despite your amusement. “I’m starving! All I’ve had today is a cup of coffee.”

He frowned at that. “What, you can’t take a break for an egg McMuffin?”

“Ha!” you cracked, and took a sip of lemonade. “There are no breaks around here.”

Dean hummed, though you could see he didn’t like it.

“You sound like Sam,” he said.

“Oh, your brother?”

“Yeah, Mr. District Attorney,” Dean said in a mocking voice. But his smile betrayed his fondness, and his pride for his younger brother’s accomplishments.

You remembered then that Dean’s father was a police officer as well—a real life homicide detective! You ruminated on that when you and Dean moved on to dessert. You had a scoop of frozen yogurt, while he started to dig into a slice of blueberry pie.

“You know, it’s amazing to me that your entire family went into public service, from all angles,” you said. “It’s impressive…and really noble, actually.”

Dean offered you a quirk of a smile. It told you he wasn’t typically one to be comfortable with praise, as he carded a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well. It’s a living,” was all he said.

You shook your head with a smile. His humility seemed genuine, and you found it endearing as hell.

“And you’re the eldest, right?” you asked. Dean nodded around a mouthful of pie. He set down the little tray between you for a moment.

“Yeah, though you wouldn’t know it looking at my brother. Around sixteen, he shot up like a damn weed. Friggin’ gigantor.”

You giggled at the image. Now you were truly intrigued, and hoped to meet both Sam and Dean’s father in the future. Though for right now, you glanced down at the slice of pie resting between you, all glossy blueberry filling and flaky crust.

You raised your cup of frozen yogurt to him. “Wanna try a bit of this, so I can try a bit of that?”

You went for a piece of pie with your fork, but Dean snatched the tray out of reach. He eyed you with a bit of admonishment.

“Hey, now. I got you your fake ice cream or whatever,” he said. You rose brow at him, both incredulous and amused.

“What, you won’t share with me?” you asked.

A smile twitched at his lips, but he stayed firm.

“Sweetheart, I’ll get you whatever you want, but here’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed in disbelief. But then an idea made your smile slide into flirtation. You set your dessert aside and rolled your chair closer to his. Dean watched you as your hand slid up his arm, and your pretty eyes met his.

“Okay, what if I make it worth your while?” you posed.

He tilted his head. His hand found the curve of your waist and slid around, bringing you even closer.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “If you really want my pie, that’s gotta be damn worth it.”

Another giggle bubbled in your throat, but you continued to play your part.

“I have a few ideas,” you said. Your fingers drew a path down his chest, over the soft gray Henley he wore. You could feel the warmth of his skin underneath, and the firmness of his body. His grip on your waist tightened a fraction.

And he smirked. “Tell me…”

Your lips were a whisper from his. He smelled like spicy cologne and blueberries. Two of his fingers came to brush your hair away from your cheek…

But as usual, your boss had the absolute worst timing. The sound of your office door opening was like a gunshot ringing through the room, making you and Dean separate from one another with a jolt.

Nick Savage strode in without knocking, as he was wont to do. (No matter how many times you asked him not to.)

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said. Your hand fell on your companion’s arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. His tone was pleasant enough, but still more reserved.

Nick purposefully shifted his attention back to you.

“Report? Greenway account?” he repeated.

Your lips firmed into a line, though you slipped back into the professional patience you had to maintain at all times with this man.

“I’m still on my break, but I’ll have the report to you by end-of-day,” you said.

Nick tsked at you with a shrug. “How’re you gonna get that account locked down if you’re not trying to conference with Mr. Greenway? He’s headed to China in two hours.”

You had to reign in an annoyed tick in your brow. But you didn’t notice how Dean was watching the exchange between you and your boss with a thinly veiled frown.

“I’ve called three times, Nick. He’ll get back to me.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Josh is taking that same approach,” Nick wondered with mocking sincerity. “I’ll go ask him.”

He finally turned to leave, though he stopped short, giving Dean a lazy salute. “Nice to meet you…”

“Dean,” he reminded.

“Right.” Nick slid a pointed finger your way. “Greenway. 2:00 p.m.”

You were silently simmering by the time your office door closed behind him.

“Well, he’s a delight,” Dean remarked.

“He’s a dick,” you huffed and tossed your napkin down. But you grabbed your desk phone to make a quick call—to Mr. Greenway.

Dean frowned, but he covered it up by wiping his mouth with a napkin, subtly clearing his throat.

“I should head out then, let you get back to work,” he said.

His words made you pause. You had a reply ready on your tongue, that his suggestion was probably for the best.

But then you actually looked into his eyes. Guilt prickled in your chest as you realized what you were doing. Not only were you letting Nick get under your skin again, but here was a man who’d brought you lunch. Who was willing to sit in an uncomfortable chair to spend some time with you, and you were about to brush him off.

You hung up the phone without dialing.

“No. I’m sorry. Stay, please,” you told him, and grabbed his arm to keep him in his seat. You pushed your desk phone away with your spare hand and gave Dean your full attention, along with a smile.

“Where were we?” you asked.

Finally, Dean’s reserved expression eased as he relaxed in his chair, and subtly leaned towards you. He thumbed at your cheek with a smirk.

“I don’t know, something about making it worth my while.”

You bit your lip on a deeper smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You crossed the ever-closing distance to give Dean a proper kiss. Your hand found his cheek, and your thumb brushed back and forth across the stubble there. You tasted sweet, sweet pie on his lips.

Even after you parted softly, Dean went back in for a second taste of you. This time it was deeper, as he angled into the kiss. He once again brought you close, just shy of dragging you into his lap.

His hand reached behind your head and succeeded in taking the clip out of your hair. He tossed it on your desk and sunk his hand into the soft strands while his lips continued to devour yours.

It was a small move, but you found it both soothing and exhilarating. You shuddered when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. It had you contemplating locking the door of your office and forgoing the rest of lunch…but your mind was competing with your heart, warning you to be cautious. To protect yourself.

Really, you’d just met Dean. You had no idea what to expect here, even though your heart was tripping up over his slightest touch.

Still, your face was warm when you eventually parted from him. You chanced meeting his eyes, and you blushed further at what you saw.

The truth was, Dean had been contemplating laying you out flat across your desk. But he tried his best to keep it down to a simmer behind his eyes, a bright and gleaming green.

“Worth it?” you asked. Your voice was a mere whisper, despite your smile.

He returned it, and gave you one last kiss.

“So worth it,” he said.

Dean wasn’t sure he liked this.

The start of his shift was usually the time for him to be relaxed, but focused. He knew who he was and what he needed to do when he entered the firehouse. It was his second home, perhaps even the place where he felt most comfortable.

And yet, he nearly burnt his hand while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Shit,” he muttered. He jolted and hopped back a step as scalding brown liquid splashed between his feet. It had Benny and Meg looking over from the common room, where they sat at the dining table.

Dean looked at the mess he created and tried not to sigh. He wasn’t awake enough for this��or maybe, he didn’t want to admit that he’d been thinking about you.

Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your occasional shyness, versus the way you dealt with your boss like a pro. Your confidence that was damn sexy, and had Dean imagining what you’d be like taking his orders, or giving them right back, shoving him down into a seat, straddling his thighs, his hands hiking up your skirt…

Dean shook his head a bit sharply to try and clear it.

He circled into the kitchen in need of a paper towel. But he bumped right into Jack, who was making breakfast. It sent the salt canister flying out of his hand and dumping into the pan of eggs.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Dean said. He really did sigh this time. Now they’d have to wait even longer for breakfast.

“Uh, it’s okay. I can save it,” Jack said, though his brows were furrowed as he contemplated just how he was going to do that. He took a wooden spoon and tried to scoop out the mound of salt on the still-sizzling eggs.

Meanwhile, Dean’s lips pursed as he went over to grab a few paper towels. Once the mess by the coffeemaker was clean, he poured himself a tall cup and took a seat between his friends. Benny shot him a glance as he sipped at his own mug.

“You all right, brother?” Benny asked.

“Just fine,” Dean replied. He tried to sound breezy, but neither Benny or Meg bought it. She eyed him with a smirk.

“Heard you went on a date the other night,” she said. “A real one, with chocolates and flowers and all that shit.”

Dean shot her a sharper frown. “Who the hell told…oh. Perfect. Goddamn it, Cas.”

He should’ve known that big-mouth bastard couldn’t be trusted.

“Nope,” Meg said. Her eyes were dancing mischievously, and Dean knew he was in for it this morning. “Your little girlfriend is best friends with my cousin.”

She tossed a sly look at Benny. “You remember Andréa. You two were sucking face hardcore the other night. And giving quite a show to the local pedestrians. Have you called her yet, by the way?”

Benny cleared his throat, but he looked both unrepentant and tight-lipped about his business as he stayed sipping his coffee. Dean shot him a smirk. Until Meg directed her cutting gaze back to him.

“And you,” she said, just as slyly. “Dating your own damsel in distress. How fucking predictable.”

Dean’s lips firmed into a line, while Benny’s brows shot up.

“You really went for it with Elevator Girl?” he remarked in surprise. “I saw you two talkin’, but didn’t think you’d pulled the trigger.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, first of all, let’s stop calling her ‘Elevator Girl.’ She’s got a name.”

Once he’d told them your name, however, their smiles deepened. And Dean knew it was about to be a long shift.

“Ooh, he’s got it bad, bad,” Benny shook his head.

Meg made a “cute” face at him and reached out to shake Dean’s chin, smirking when he slapped her hand away.

“Look at him, all twitterpated,” she teased.

“I’m fine,” Dean all but gritted out.

Benny chuckled, but truthfully, he was happy for his friend. It seemed the time had finally come when Dean Winchester was hooked on a nice girl. Hopefully one he intended to keep seeing.

“If it’s that serious, you should bring her by the Roadhouse again,” Benny said.

Dean snorted into his coffee. “Yeah, like I’d want to subject her to you degenerate clowns.”

“Well, if you expect to keep it going with this girl, she’s gotta meet us eventually,” Meg pointed out. Dean shot her a look.

“Oh, she’s definitely not meetin’ you,” he said.

Meg’s brows knit together. “What? I’m perfectly pleasant.”

Before Dean could utter a retort, a familiar alarm bell tolled on the intercom speakers. There was a working house fire over in Bellmont—the wealthier part of town. Truck 79 and Rescue Squad 5 were called, along with Ambulance 7.

All hands on deck.

“Okay, Jack. You’re staying on my ass once we get in there. You got it?” Dean told the Candidate.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Jack agreed. It was only his second real fire since he joined Firehouse 25.

By now the team was in full gear, with jackets and helmets and belts. The Chief, Bobby Singer, was at the helm. He and Dean shared a nod.

“All right, Dean. Head in. Lafitte and Ramirez will vent the roof,” he said.

Dean nodded again. “You got it, Chief.”

While two of his team got the firehose ready, Dean fitted his mask over his face. Already the fire was at a full blaze. They had a limited time before the fire grew too wild to safely maneuver. They’d know when the flames started smoking black. The Chief would let them know on their walkie talkies, and Dean would have to pull his team out.

But first, there was a family of four trapped inside the large two-story house. He fully intended to get every single one of them out.

Thanks to the mask, he could hear his own deep breaths in his ears as he entered the house. A quick look back confirmed that Jack was on his heels, and Gordon was right behind him.

“Okay, clear each room. I’m going right, through the kitchen,” Dean called out the order.

“I’ll take left through the living room,” Gordon replied.

Dean shot a thumbs up. “Copy that.”

Then they got to work.

The flames were high and eating up the walls of what would’ve been a pristine open kitchen. The room was clear, so Jack and Dean kept moving forward until they reached a long hall. They had to hasten single file until Dean opened up the first bedroom with his crowbar.

“Fire Department, call out!” he shouted.

He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean the room was clear. It was a child’s room, a girl if he had to guess. There were stuffed animals strewn across an unmade bed with pink bedsheets. He checked the closet while Jack looked under the bed. Neither man found anything.

“All right, moving on. First bedroom clear,” Dean said into his walkie talkie. “Going upstairs next.”

“Master bedroom clear,” Gordon commed in.

Jack and Dean continued to the second floor, where the flames were thickest. It was getting harder to see, and even harder to breathe, despite the mask.

“We’re almost outta time, fellas,” Bobby radioed.

“Just a couple more rooms, Chief,” Dean responded. The first and second bathroom was clear, as was a linen closet in the hall. He had a feeling about this last room though.

He opened the door and nearly got a flaming piece of wall dropped on his head. He jumped back at the same time Jack helped pull him to safety.

Dean breathed deeply. He didn’t have time for thanks, but he reached back and pat Jack on the arm before he entered the bedroom. It was another child’s room, this time for a boy—with green walls, and a school uniform on the back of a chair.

“Fire Department!” he said, though it nearly died on his tongue at what he saw.

There in the far corner, on the other side of the twin bed, was a man kneeling on the floor. He was doing his best to cover his wife and kids. His back was charred beyond recognition.

Dean snapped to attention when he heard one of the kids whimper.

“Fire Department,” he repeated, as he rushed to them. He and Jack peeled the man off his family as carefully as he could. Dean hauled him onto his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the man’s wife was crying and holding her children as tight as possible: a boy that looked about 10 years old, and a young girl. The mother’s glassy eyes widened with hope when she saw Jack and Dean.

“We’re gonna get you out. Come on,” Dean reassured. His hand on her shoulder was both supportive and urging her up onto her feet. Jack helped get her kids up as well.

Gordon joined them as soon as they were out of the room. He picked up the boy while Jack carried the little girl, and Dean had an arm wrapped around the mother while he still carried the father on his shoulder.

They made it out of the house just before the ceiling started to cave in at the doorway.

Meg and Chuck were waiting for them with a gurney, where Dean carefully laid down the man he carried. His wife hovered close with her kids as Meg began calling out instructions to her partner, trying to take the man’s vitals, all while they wheeled him towards the ambulance.

Just before they would’ve brought him up into the ambo, Meg halted them with a hand. Her other gloved hand was poised at the man’s wrist. She listened closely for a few more seconds in concentration…

And she sighed through her nose. She removed her stethoscope and met the wife’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

Dean’s heart fell into his stomach, but he held the woman as she fell apart. Jack and Gordon did the same for the kids. Behind them, the rest of the team were dousing the flames and black smoke consuming the house with the firehose. Chief Singer let out a heavy breath, but he continued issuing orders as needed.

Dean stared at the pale, soot-stained face of the man he’d failed to save. The woman’s cries rang in his ears, and he continued to support her as she fell to her knees and gathered her children close.

He understood their pain.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his father must’ve felt…the day his mother died.

Dean was a seasoned firefighter. He’d seen enough of the horrors this world could produce, and he had an internal catalogue of shit he’d rather forget. But he knew, as he later got back onto the truck for the long ride back to the firehouse.

He knew this day would be another one to be imprinted on his memory.

“You’re quiet,” Sam noted. He ate dinner in relative silence with his brother, in the apartment they shared. Dean met Sam’s eyes.

“Long day,” Dean eventually said.

Sam didn’t like the sound of that. Before he could probe further, Dean’s phone vibrated on the small dining table.

Dean slowly reached for his phone and saw the new text message, from you.

Hey, thanks again for lunch yesterday. Hope I get to see you again soon. ❤️

It briefly lightened him, almost bringing a smile to his face.

It soon fell, even though his thumb hovered over the keyboard to reply. His mind was blank. Right now, he couldn’t think of a damn thing flirtatious, or charming, or even human enough to say to you.

“Dean,” Sam said, earning his attention. “What’s wrong?”

Again, Dean hesitated. He blew out a slow, heavy breath and sat back in his seat. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he thought and thought.

But if anyone might’ve understood where his head was at, it was his brother.

“What do you think would’ve happened if Mom had made it out of the fire, instead of Dad?” Dean asked.

To say that question shocked Sam would be an understatement. Yet to his credit, Sam internalized most of his reaction. He tilted his head as his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Dean’s question was impossible for his mind to even wrap around; mostly because he never got the chance to meet his mother. The house fire claimed their home when Sam was barely six months old.

All he knew was his father, and Dean.

Dean shook his head and wiped a hand over his mouth, an anxious gesture Sam knew well.

“She would’ve been just as messed up at Dad, but…I don’t know. Ignore me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”

“What made you think about that?” Sam asked.

“Today,” Dean said. Though he paused, he managed to say it. “It was a house fire. A mom and two little kids, boy and girl. Their dad just laid over ‘em, took the brunt of it.”

“Jesus…he didn’t make it, did he?” Sam deduced, from Dean’s eyes and his tone. Dean shook his head slow.

“I’ve seen a lot of shit, Sammy, but…”

This was why Sam worried about his brother. He admired the hell out of him, but he also worried.

Sam had a ring in his nightstand. He’d picked it out last month. Part of him was hesitating to move forward, not because he thought his girlfriend of three years would say no to marrying him, but because he didn’t want his brother to be alone.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m okay,” Dean said, levying him with a knowing look. His lips gave a wry turn. “Nothing a couple shots of Jameson won’t cure.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, that’s what you need.”

“Right. Like I haven’t caught you up late with your mistress, Johnny Walker,” Dean tossed back.

Sam’s lips pursed, but the point was made. He spent his days putting murderers, drug dealers, rapists, and thieves on trial. Some days were darker and more unreal in their realism than others. And he could only burden Eileen so much.

Still, he didn’t like the look of Dean, who got up from the table and took his half-full plate of spaghetti to the sink.

Dean went up to his room and showered. He’d done so at the station, but showering was one of those methodical things he could do to try to ease his mind, besides working on his car. It provided an alternative to drinking.

But it didn’t work this time, as he knew it wouldn’t. He lied in bed after getting dressed, just staring up at the ceiling.

He checked his phone and saw your text, still waiting on an answer. He hesitated…but his thumb hovered over your name. He called you instead.

“Hey,” your soft voice greeted him. You sounded surprised to get his call, but also a little sleepy, like you were on the verge of going down for the night.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean said. “Sorry, were you about to get to sleep?”

“No, I’m awake. What’re you up to?”

“I’m home. Been a long day,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” you asked. “Dean, are you okay?”

He heard the perceptive shift in your tone. Against his best efforts, he should’ve known you would pick up on the threads of his mood. But he smiled at the sincerity in your voice. True concern.

“Yeah. I’m good, sweetheart. How’re you?”

“Uh-uh. Not so fast,” you replied. “…Did something happen at work today?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but uh…we don’t need to get into it. It’s okay.”

“You sure?” you asked. “I’m a good listener.”

“That you are,” he said, with a deeper smile. “You know what’ll help me?”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me, how bad did you wanna knuckle-dunk your boss’s teeth in today?”

“Oh my God. On a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Lay it on me.”

“20,” you replied. “You met him, so now I can tell you without exaggeration. He’s the Chief Asshat among asshats.”

Dean chuckled. It crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“What’d he do this time?”

You explained your latest frustrations. Then you continued to make him laugh with all the creative ways you’d imagined ending your boss for his dickish behavior, demanding reports, pitting you against your coworkers, being a general pain in the ass.

The rusty can opener in the break lounge was Dean’s personal favorite.

Hearing about your day, and the colorful adjectives you used, managed to lighten him. For a little while, it even took his mind off his troubles. And you admitted that venting to him about your violent fantasies was its own form of therapy.

“Damn, do I gotta worry about you?” Dean teased.

“Only if you get on my bad side, Lieutenant,” you said. Your voice was nearly a purr.

It had him smirking, with a tendril of heat lacing down the back of his neck.

“All right, then. I promise I won’t make it a habit,” he said. “Gotta keep you nice and sweet for me.”

You laughed then, in a way that had him imagining your pretty smile.

He ended up talking with you about everything and nothing, well into the night.

AN: 🥹 *sighs* Anywho, I know this chapter was a little shorter than usual, but I hope you got a kick out of Dean's first meeting with Nick. And we got a snapshot of an unfortunate "bad day" at the firehouse.

In Part 6, we'll get deeper into the murder mystery, along with a taste of jealousy...

Next Time:

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant. It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush.

You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh.

Keep Reading: PART 6

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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dearlymrme · 1 month ago

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Twitterpated (Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Reader)

Part of Schrodinger's Shooting Star series.

Summary: Marco knows you don’t belong here—...yet the evidence lingers in whispers, in instinct, in a song etched too deeply to ignore.

Everything about you sings of irrational decisions, and Marco the Phoenix prides himself on being rational. Yet, frustratingly, your mere proximity unravels his calculated thoughts, reducing them to the chaotic emotional awareness of a five-year-old.

You fell from the sky as a shooting star, and they fished you out of the depths as if dredging for gold, expecting treasures worthy of legends. Diamonds bright enough to rival the stars or pearls strung like constellations? But what they pulled from the deep defied all imagination.

You looked so ordinarily human.

Despite the fact that Marco had never heard of any falling star being tangible enough to hold, there is something about you that just feels right. An unfamiliar kind of familiar, tugging at his instincts. Despite the ever-present dangers, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind insisted that everything was going to be okay.

It’s an attraction hard to place, as if crafted from fragments of dreams and nostalgia, he shouldn’t possess. A strange scent that is unfamiliar yet comforting, wrapping him like a blanket of nostalgia when the breeze catches his nose. The way he inexplicably knows where to touch to make you laugh, what to say to make you smile. It unsettles him. Marco doesn’t believe in fate, but this feels dangerously close.

Pops, who had also seen so much in this life, claimed that while he had never encountered anything like you before and he was quick to command Marco to aid you. Worry in his voice like the father figure, they all know him to be fretting over one of his children.

Yet, the rational part of Marco’s mind marked you in red ink: a clear warning, a calculated assessment. Dangerous. Your ordinary appearance did nothing to quiet the alarms in his head.

You were unresponsive for a long amount of time. When they dragged you out of the water, you were unconscious but breathing. Carrying you from the deck to his med bay had already exposed him to elements he couldn’t begin to understand. His suspicions were confirmed within minutes simply by being in the same room as you. Light shifted around you whenever he glanced away, only fully visible in his peripheral vision.

The shimmering light clung to him like glitter—fleeting but undeniable. His mind scrambled for an explanation. Bioluminescence? A heat mirage? No natural phenomenon could explain the way it rippled around you like a living wave, flickering just beyond his comprehension.

Though its lingering effect faded within seconds, the lack of pain or lasting presence wasn’t enough to stop him from isolating you out of sheer caution. Quarantining you wasn’t just protocol. It was the only way he could keep control of a situation that already felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

But the damage was already done.

Even as quickly as he’d called code ‘get the fuck away until more was learned’ you’d already infected the crew with an insatiable curiosity: whispers in the halls, stolen glances, and outright defiance of his orders. More than once he’s had to rush them away from your door, nearly having to sweep them back with a broom.

But since when did pirates ever respect a sign saying ‘stay away’? Rules weren’t their strong suit. Boundaries, borders, and caution signs? It was all pointless when danger was involved. There was a reason deadbolts had mysteriously appeared on all the bathroom doors lately. Marco could already feel his patience wearing thin.

The day you finally woke up had him coiling his muscles. He watched your feverish awakening with equal parts clinical precision and irrational unease. Dazed and feverish, the intensity in your fearful eyes darting erratically around the room reminded him of a trapped animal. Desperate, terrified, and unpredictable.

That’s when you locked gaze with him and let out a stressed giggle that bordered hysterical. Your complexion goes clammy, and you begin to tremble. He made the assumption that your panic and recognition of him had made you realize just how much hot water you were in.

Clearly, you came from a life where keeping up to date of new world pirates was either essential to survival or a hobby that would drive one to making foolish decisions. Like, say, attempting to commandeer the Moby Dick.

But then your reaction turns to further bash his logic and expectations with a brick of misunderstanding.

“I shouldn't be here.” You muttered, bowing your head in your quaking hands. “This is all wrong.” A miscalculation, perhaps? But then your next statement flows out of your mouth with visceral anxiety.

“Oh god, I'm going to die.” Your words carried the same weight of a harrowing admission of war on the horizon, a storm brewing in the distance, a call to seek higher ground. Your dropped shoulders and submissive posture, the tears creeping down your chin signaled your acceptance of fate.

It wasn't the realization of being surrounded by the Whitebeard Pirates that weighed on you. Something heavier pressed down. A sense of circumstance conspiring against you. You looked at him less as an enemy and more as a symbol of your misfortune. That only serves to cast more fuel to his fire of curiosity. Giving him all the more reason to drill you for answers. As far as hostages or captives went, you were more than cooperative. Upon your first response, however, he was using Observation to pick for any lie justifying your ridiculous answers. Marco had expected falsehoods, but…

His heart leaped in his throat when you betrayed no dishonesty. Genuine and true to your alibi, you either were a master liar or genuinely believed your own situation to be true.

He refused to accept it even though a part of him rattled the cages of his brain and convinced him to give you at least a beneficial shred of doubt.

“You mean to tell me you just tripped over your own ass into another world?” Summarize your unbelievable narration.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You had huffed, crossing your arms as he carefully pokes and prods with a pen. “I was just on my way home, and the next thing I know, I was falling forward when I tried to catch my fall I’m suddenly underwater. Like I fell through the ground.”

Your fingers twitch for something more distracting to play with than fiddling with the sheets of the bed. Your shoulders were bunched up at your ears, your head bowed so sharply it made his own neck ache in sympathy.

You appeared to make yourself smaller than you already were at the moment. A kid curling in the corner trying to avoid punishment for nothing they even did wrong. Your whole being cried for help, and although you managed to tame your tears, there was still the shine of desperation in your eyes.

The Zoan instinct flared, a primal force Marco hadn’t felt in years. It clashed with his rational mind, clawing at his thoughts, urging him to act before he could question the impossibility of it all. That same little instinct told him to doubt himself, to hear you out.

The phoenix within him recognized something in you. A shooting star, defying the laws of nature with a grand bird of blue fire chasing the dust of your tail. Those were two forces already defying reason. Two impossibilities drawn together by powers neither of them could comprehend.

As much as he tries to argue it, It seems he’s unconsciously claimed you before logic could intervene.

He immediately called for Pop’s when he realized just how far out to ocean you were without a paddle. Presenting you and allowing you, in your own words, to explain just what you had told him.

His captain tested you, grilling you for honesty beneath the weight of Conqueror’s Haki, and yet...

A few of the newer brothers, unaccustomed to the stress, collapsed within seconds as their captain overshadowed you with his will.

It made many raise a brow of sheer surprise as you remained standing. You had even looked at them in confusion when bodies dropped in shock and concern. A flash of realization, you knew what this was. You look back at their captain in shock as the tension mounted higher.

And you cut through it as easily as the greatest swordsman of the sea.

You took a knee.

Uncompelled as you went down too carefully and smoothly.

And Marco’s sense of awe lingered, clawing at his logic like an itch he couldn’t scratch as you tip your head down in a respectful display of trust and compliance. No force demanding respect but your own.

Pops’ Conqueror’s Haki flitted away like a startled bird, and he tipped his head back, laughing harder than the crew had heard in a while.

”I swear, I’m telling the truth. I mean you and your crew no harm. If you’ll have me…I’d like to join. I’ll earn my keep. Anything I don’t know I’ll learn if you’re willing to teach me. Anything you want to know about my world, I’ll be happy to tell you.”

“Quite the otherworldly treasure you are then. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the family.” And he tipped his cup towards the crew. “We’ll be sure to take good care of ya, won’t we lads?”

The following cheer was like permission to give into his instincts. No longer with the hesitation of expecting a split second attack.

Marco had always been told to look for flaws; they were there if you dug deep enough. But now Pops was urging him to look for the good instead.

So Marco gives into that undeniable urge to tuck you under his wing. The words slip through his teeth before he can stop them rattling off anything, any excuse, just to keep you near. Exposure to foreign elements. Weakness to new diseases. Lack of immunity.

There is so much to learn and so little to go off of. He says it for your best interest, which, given your differences, is the truth. They learned your bone density, lack of healing factor, and needing to keep a critical eye on everything you eat.

When that excuse was becoming outplayed with time, he quickly offered to step in as your teacher instead. Which, if he's being honest, he needs to keep a pleased trill from traitorously escaping his throat when he agrees.

Ace introduces you to fighting, and although your hands shake, you grip the metal bat they had procured for you with the familiarity of an old friend.

Thatch keeps telling him to quit hogging the new kid as he’s still on the mission to cross out every dish in his cookbook that lists foreign ingredients. Still trying to find your favorite while trying to supplement what you’re missing.

Izou helps introduce you to Haki, and you eat his lessons like a five-star buffet. You take off at a speed that will have them betting you’d master at least one and be coherent in the others by the end of the year.

And Marco panics because logically, this makes no sense. He wasn’t one for paranoia, but the crew’s behavior was starting to feel… off. Each gesture, too precise. Each interaction, too familiar. It was as if they were in on a secret he hadn’t been told. But the inconsistencies were a siren's call of their own, demanding he stay close. Not out of trust, but necessity.

Haruta somehow knows your favorite color without ever being told.

Vista is the one who gave you your bat in the first place, claiming it felt right.

Jozu knows what you like, bringing you little inexpensive trinkets any time they make land.

Ace stargazes with you despite not being prompted.

And Marco knows your songs.

This pull wasn’t rational. It wasn’t practical. And yet, it clawed at him with an intensity he couldn’t name, a gravity he couldn’t deny. Logic told him to step back, to let go. But something deeper, more primal, urged him forward.

It was as though you had some memory warping ability, and until he has further proof, he needs to stay close. Is what he’s telling himself anyway, yet the crew gives him sly looks like knowing something he doesn’t.

That’s when you start singing. The sound curled through the air, unassuming yet insidious. It settled in his chest, knocking something loose. It wasn’t like the sirens or lorelei he’d known. It was worse. It felt… personal.

He knows better. He’s met such creatures, heard the haunting calls, and seen men lost to the pull of the sea. Your soft whistle hooks his ears, drawing his steps forward before he even realizes he’s moved. Damn it.

Today, you show your bravery by doing their laundry. You commit to your promise of being useful and volunteering for anything and everything. You try to take care of them as well, and while heartwarming, it often comes at the cost of you neglecting to take care of yourself.

As most of the crew were exchanging shifts or down in the mess for lunch, where you should be, you were singing under your breath in a voluntarily quiet tone of voice. Someone who didn’t necessarily want to be heard but couldn’t stand to be silent.

He stands there, a tray of food in hands courtesy of Thatch, who shoved it at him with a knowing grin. The pompadour-sporting chef gave him a thumbs up, a wink, and a cheeky, 'Go get 'em, birdy!'

A comment that would’ve earned him a smack if it weren’t for the tray holding your newly(?) discovered favorites.

The chef knew exactly what he was doing.

When the tune hits his ears, it freezes him in place with its unexpected power. He tries to say something, but he can't. His tongue goes thick in his mouth, stumbling over words that sound familiar. Before he could join in the chorus, a hum caught in his throat, you turned to place something in the basket. Your eyes met his.

You had the audacity to squeak at him.

You ducked behind the sheet you had so carefully folded. Letting the cotton loose and fly in the breeze. The heat from your face was hot enough to match any flame, and your lip pinched between your teeth as you looked everywhere but at him.

And he found it…so…Cute.

And it's so...

He cleared his throat and held out the tray of food for you because while he knew you said you’d get a plate after finishing laundry he didn't think you still really understood that it'd be gone by then. It was nearly by Thatch’s powers alone that you even had a portion left after the bottomless pit of crew Ace ate it all.

And he's glad because as you reached for the tray, heat was still wafting from your face. He couldn't help but smile for the opportunity you had given him. He licks his lips and tries to find the words, but his words could spell heartache later.

You're not even from the same world as them. You’re not even from the same sky or the same sea. There is so much of a difference, and the work it would take to build those bridges would be hard and exhausting.

Stars weren’t meant to linger, he reminded himself. They burned bright, fell fast, and disappeared into nothing. But this time, he couldn’t help but want to catch one before it was gone.

Maybe that’s why he’s so attracted. Like truly recognizing the pull of potential charge. Maybe he knew some version of you in a past life. Half-seen memories rippling across the fire, fading into ash before the snuff.

It clicks. That may very well be the case. Memories just at the corner he can’t bring to his eyes but now he has the power to acknowledge them.

Some part of him shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t even think about wanting this. Too much history repeating itself, be it good or bad in a way, he doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice but doesn't hate it either. Now self-aware it’s too late to take it back.

Despite growing past childhood fantasies, he chooses to wish on a shooting star.

“You should sing more often,” he said, quieter than intended. So quiet, he almost wished you hadn’t heard. But the truth slipped out, raw and unguarded.

“I’d like to hear you sing again.”

#marco fushicho #fushichou marco #phoenix marco #marco the phoenix #marco the phoenix x reader #phoenix marco x reader #fushichou marco x reader #x reader #one piece #marco one piece #marco the pheonix/reader #phoenix marco/reader #fushichou marco/reader #ambiguous reader

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soullesscinders · 4 months ago

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Keegan Russ x Reader Songfic - Eastside by Benny Blanco, Halsey, & Khalid || Puppy love grown up trope.

His.

Keegan Russ' whole adult life has been spent in the military. First, the Marines, then the Ghosts. He doesn't do love, or relationships. At least... Not anymore.

She used to meet me on the Eastside

In the city where the sun don't set

Long ago, before it all, Keegan was twitterpated. Absolutely enamored with a girl he dated in high school. His love. Always together, laughing, finding nothing but joy, pure, unadulterated affection and adoration in her. The way the sun reflected in her eyes, on her hair. How soft her skin was, the way she looked at him like he was the only boy she'd ever look at...

And every day, you know that we'd ride

Through the backstreets in my blue Corvette

And he bolted. Watched his parent's marriage fall apart, didn't want to make the same mistake they had in getting married too young and having a family. The pressure from his dad to join the Marines took hold and well, the rest is history.

The day he left put a scar on his very soul that no amount of one night stands could heal. The way she broke, sobbing and trying to get him to stay, to run away with her, anything to keep him... It broke a part of him that he didn't know could ever heal.

So come away, starting today

Start a new life together in a different place

So baby, run away with me

But that didn't stop him wondering. For years, he thought about her. If she'd moved on, if that broken look on her face when he told her he was leaving town and not coming back was ever replaced with a smile, and a ring. If she'd ever moved on from him. He thought about the life they might've had, if he'd just been a bit braver. If familial pressures hadn't gotten to him, hadn't... ruined his love.

Baby, you know just wanna leave tonight

We can go anywhere we want

Drive down to the coast, jump in the sea

Just take my hand, and come with me

Until the Ghosts were dissolved, and he found his way back to the city where the sun didn't set. Until the very moment he'd made eye contact with her again after 15 years, working at a cash register. Suddenly, he's 16 again, shaking her father's hand and being terrified that the older mechanic would dislike him enough to make her stay away from him.

I know your daddy didn't like me much,

and he didn't believe me when I said you were the one

Before he knows it, he's walking toward her.

Hers.

She hadn't seen Keegan Russ in years, but he never left her head. She'd wanted nothing but him, all these years. Pining after a ghost that'd left her behind years ago to pursue a dream driven by his father.

Seventeen, and we got a dream to have a family

A house and everything in between

And then, oh, suddenly, we turned twenty-three

Now we got pressure for takin' life more seriously

Nowadays, a cashier in a grocery store. Never moved on from Keegan, and how could she? His eyes are home, even in her dreams. Icy blue, dark eyelashes. Dark hair. Stunning in the way a statue is.

Her mom held her for days after he left, and the crying continued for weeks after that. His hoodies he'd left behind held their scent of him for almost a year, the inner collars stained with cheap mascara and tears.

It took two years more for her to hide them. She still can't bring herself to throw them away. Her job is shit, barely pays enough to live but she manages. Day by day, night by night, she manages.

Her cat helps, in the endless monotony that her life is. Wake up, brush teeth, eat something, go to work, get home, eat, read, brush teeth, go to bed. The city where the sun never set stayed exactly the same.

Her friends left her alone. They didn't know what to do, what to say... So, she worked. And hoped against hope that she'd see him again.

We got our dead end jobs, and got bills to pay

Our old friends are now our enemies

And now, I, I'm thinkin' back to when I was young

Back to the day when I was fallin' in love

The thoughts of Keegan got her through most days. The way he looked at her like she'd be the only girl he ever looked at, the way he held her, kissed her, touched her like she was something precious.

The way falling for him was so easy, as natural as breathing, and how lucky she felt every time she saw him, waiting for her by the train tracks in the abandoned mill district.

He used to meet me on the Eastside

In the city where the sun don't set

But, all of that now meant nothing, or almost nothing. Just puppy love. Until she looked up, and saw those wintry eyes again. A set of eyes, so unexpected in her place of work, that made her heart jump and simultaneously relaxed her entire body.

Theirs.

Across a busy storefront, their eyes meet for the first time in 15 years. Hers and his, finding an unforgettable lifelong familiarity. She never breaks eye contact, holding it as she asks her boss to take her break, and walks off the register without looking back, making a beeline for the 6'1" former Sergeant.

He's half expecting to get slapped, told to pound sand, told to fuck off. He braces for the impact that comes in the form of two arms around him, a face buried in his neck. Keegan's arms wrap tightly around her, breathing her scent in, noting that she feels smaller- or he got bigger in his time away.

"Sweet girl-" He starts, but she cuts him off with a pinch to his bicep he winces at.

"That," She states firmly. "Is for leaving me." She pinches his forearm harder. "That is for letting me think you died."

She softens. The anger leaves her, eyes softening and misting with tears. "This is for coming home." She whispers, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And this," she whispers again, leaning closer in. "Is for coming to get me."

So, baby, run away with me.

#keegan russ #keegan russ x fem!reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ #cod ghosts #cod x reader #keegan russ fluff

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crescentofthegods · 2 years ago

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twitterpated

pairing: james potter x muggleborn!animagus!fem!reader

request: Hi! How are you doing? If it’s alright, can I please request a female muggleborn Gryffindor reader watching Bambi with James Potter? ~ anon

word count: 1,686 words

warnings: FLUFF, set during the christmas holidays of sixth year, mentions of bambi's mother's death (honestly so heartbreaking even if we didn't see it)...

author's note: before reading this request, i hadn't watched bambi EVER (i know, it's a literal crime), so i watched it because i didn't want to get anything wrong with this request and i imagined james being completely distraught after the death of bambi's mother because he imagined the reader as her whilst watching so YEAH. also, i'm not fully in the marauders fandom (i've read atyd and art heist baby - both fics are utterly heart wrenching but so good), so i don't know if james knows what a tv is, but pretend he doesn't! btw, i'm literally so happy someone requested for a marauder, i hope you like it, anon! 💘

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JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER was twitterpated, but he didn't know that yet. He had plucked up the courage to meet your parents during Christmas break. Your parents were Muggles, meaning he would have to do more than be his charming self. You loved your parents dearly, and you’d do anything for them. So when they asked to meet your Quidditch-obsessed Wizard boyfriend, you just couldn’t say no.

And, for once in his life, James Potter was nervous. He stood outside your door for at least twenty minutes, wondering how he would greet your parents. He spoke with his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, before he Disapparated to Bristol, where you resided. However, James ignored Sirius’s protests, knowing that his idea would be too much of an exaggeration.

So, he took Peter’s advice, which was simple, but it made the most sense.

“Just be yourself!” Peter sighed, shrugging. “You’ve charmed everyone you’ve ever met. It won’t be different with [Y/N]’s parents.”

James sucked it up, knocked on the door, and was welcomed into your humble abode by your father (unfortunately, your father didn’t let James in properly until he ensured your boyfriend had the right intentions).

James also had to compose himself after seeing you in a ruby red dress, which flowed above your knees. He didn’t know how he did it, but he achieved it.

An hour later, he had won the hearts of your parents gallantly. James had enjoyed your mother’s pot roast and vowed he’d come over often (if your father allowed him).

Currently, James sat on your comfy bed, tilting his head at the massive cube you were meddling with. He crossed his arms, pushing his glasses up as he gave up, muttering under his breath.

“Did you say something, my love?” you asked, glancing at him as you pressed several buttons on what James perceived as an even longer cube.

“I was just wondering what in Merlin’s name is that?” he replied, his tone exasperated as he stood beside you with crumpled eyebrows. “Why is it glowing?” Your lips curled at his confusion, refraining from the urge to giggle as you cleared your throat, putting the remote down once you found the right channel.

“It’s called a television, darling,” you smiled, taking his hand and sitting him against the headboard. You made yourself comfortable, your eyes lighting up once you saw that the movie was beginning. As you laid your head on James’s chest, he remained adorably confused.

“[Y/N/N], love, I still don’t understand what you’re on about,” he sighed, looking down at you as you laughed, taking his hand.

“A television is an incredible invention where you can watch movies,” you answered, your eyes lighting up once you saw the movie title arrive on the screen, “And, right now, we’re watching Bambi!”

“What’s a Bambi?” James replied, his tone innocent as you shook your head. The opening theme began playing as your smile grew.

“It’s a name for a fawn. Trust me, you’ll like it!”

“Fawn?” he muttered, “Like a younger version of a stag?” You nodded, seeing a grin form across his lips as he turned his head towards the television. You looked at James, smiling to yourself before beginning to pay attention to the movie, relaxing in his warmth.

Forty minutes into the film, you and James approached the scene where Man shot Bambi’s mother after being caught eating a bit of grass in the snowy meadow. So far, he enjoyed the film thoroughly, making jokes about your Animagi (his Animagus was a stag, while yours was a doe), which were incredibly awful, but you laughed nonetheless.

Unbeknownst to you, James had imagined you as Bambi’s mother and him as Bambi’s father (he gathered that the Great Prince was Bambi’s dad since the fawn was named ‘The Young Prince’), which, for some reason, made the film more entertaining. The thought of beginning a family with you was always music to James’s ears.

As the monstrous scene unravelled before you, you scratched your neck, noticing a crease in James’s forehead as the fawn and the doe sprinted towards the woods after the first gunshot.

James was a courageous person who wasn’t afraid of anything, yet you were slightly cautious of him breaking down after seeing this scene.

“[Y/N]…” James began, uncertainty lacing his tone as he leaned forward. “Do not tell me that Man is going to—”

Gunshot.

As Bambi continued running for his life, his mother didn’t follow. Slowly, your eyes met James’s expression, deflating when you saw his distraught countenance.

“James…?”

“This is just absurd—”

“I know—”

“Man could’ve shot any other doe in the forest, and he chose Bambi’s mother?”

“Let’s not say things like that, shall we—?”

“This makes no bloody sense. Why is Man so cruel—?”

“Well, that’s just what poachers do—”

“Shouldn’t he be sent to Azkaban for this—?”

“JAMES!” You exclaimed, James’s eyes snapping towards you with raised eyebrows as he looked back at the television, frowning slightly before turning to you.

“Promise me you won’t get shot by whatever poachers are,” he muttered, his hands on your shoulders as you furrowed your eyebrows, beginning to laugh.

“What—?”

“Promise me—”

“Why would bloody poachers shoot me?” You guffawed, confusion etching your face as he tutted loudly, shaking your shoulders.

“As an Animagus! You are a fricking doe—”

“James, that will never happen. Never in a million years—”

“PROMISE ME—”

“OH MY GOD, FINE!” you yelled, leaning against the headboard as you sighed frustratingly at your boyfriend’s dramatic antics. “I promise I won’t get shot by poachers as an Animagus…” Your voice trailed off as you saw James’s expression. “And as a human.” You watched James ponder for a moment as you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at his thoughtful expression.

“I’m not satisfied.”

“Why did I decide to go out with you—?”

“Swear in Amora’s name.” Your jaw dropped at his sudden statement, your hand aching to grab the pillow behind James so you could suffocate him.

“You want me to swear on my dead cat’s life?” You gasped, starstruck, as he shrugged hesitatingly, leaning away from you. “What’s next, an Unbreakable Vow?”

“It couldn’t hurt—”

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER—”

“OKAY!” He pressed his back against the headboard as you held the pillow above him, slowly lowering it when he put his hands up in mock surrender. You pressed your lips together, putting the cushion down, satisfied with James’s relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he frowned at your offended expression as he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to sigh. “I’m just very protective of you.”

“Hm, I’ve noticed,” you hummed, remembering when James and the other Marauders hexed a group of Slytherins after they called you various vile names (you can guess what the most evident insult was). “But I will not get shot up by a group of poachers. And how do I know you aren’t going to get hunted by them in your Animagus form as a stag?” You countered, your lips curling as you awaited his response.

“Because I’m profoundly intelligent—” You dramatically gasped at his statement, your mouth falling open.

“Did you just call me dumb—?”

“I would never do that, darling—”

“You just did—”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I will kick you out of this house right now,” you threatened, pointing an accusing finger at him as he grinned lazily, glancing at your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Your mother wouldn’t allow that,” James winked as you gasped again. You grabbed the pillow, climbing off of him before bashing his torso, causing the brunette boy to laugh as he lay on the bed, shoving him repeatedly.

“Wait until I tell my dad you’re flirting with my mum,” you teased, causing James to immediately sit up, widening his eyes as he smiled nervously.

“You wouldn’t—” You gave him a pointed look as he nodded, looking down before peppering your face with kisses, making you squeal as you giggled, attempting to push him off you.

“You slick bastard,” you guffawed, sitting up again, “We’ve missed most of the movie now,” you joked, not noticing his shocked expression.

“Go back, please,” he pleaded, grabbing your hands while kissing your knuckles. You smiled at his behaviour, taking the remote as you rewind to the scene you were on, allowing James to lay his head in your lap. His eyes were glued to the television as you bit your bottom lip, running your hands through his curls as he sighed contently, peeking at you through his glasses.

“We’ll have our own Bambi one day,” James grinned cheesily as a faint blush appeared on your cheeks, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“We could try right now,” you whispered teasingly, snickering as his cheeks flushed, his eyes flitting to your bedroom door.

“Your parents are downstairs,” he replied in a hushed voice as you covered your mouth, practically dying with laughter.

However, as you laughed away with the subtle tunes of Bambi playing in the background, James couldn’t help but admire the wide smile written on your face, smiling with you, regardless of your mocking.

James was, as Friend Owl just stated, twitterpated. The term was practically the definition of your and James’s relationship. During fifth year, in the middle of spring, he was minding his own business, walking under the cherry blossom trees on the Hogwarts grounds, when he saw you sat against one, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. You suddenly looked up, noticing he was staring at you and only you, so you smiled, blushing before you waved him over to the spot next to you.

The rest was history. Day after day, he became weak in the knees after catching a brief glimpse of you. Day after day, his head was constantly whirling just by hearing your voice. Day after day, he felt light as a feather as he trailed after you, walking on literal air as you did your own thing.

You had knocked James for a loop.

He’d completely lost his head.

And he was not ashamed.

James Fleamont Potter was proud of himself. After all, who wouldn’t want to be twitterpated?

fun fact! amora (the reader's dead cat 😔) is the name of my oc for the hp book i'm writing :)

#𓂃crescent.✩‧₊˚#𓂃luna’s requests.✩‧₊˚#hp fandom #marauders #the marauders #james fleamont potter #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #muggleborn #gryffindor #animagus #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marauders era

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reijisteacup · 5 months ago

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Cold hands

Ayato Sakamaki x reader

(fluffy with a little spice)

Synopsis: Being number one always comes with a price..

Like clockwork, you hear the door slightly creak open and quietly hear footsteps make their way to your bed. You feel the dip in your bed and cold hands making their way across your abdomen. It's happening again. Ayato has been sleeping in your bed almost every night without explaining why. He just comes in during the night and sleeps next to you. "Don't look at me. I know you're awake. I can feel you shifting." He gruffly says. As if he is annoyed by the situation. "Why do you do this every night? " you try asking again, and just like the previous time, you receive no answer.

================================================

Once again, you hear heavy footsteps coming towards your bed. Cold hands hold you close and cuddle you as if he doesn't want you to disappear in the bed. "Go to sleep titless." He says rudely. You can feel his face in the dip of your neck, feeling something wet drop on you. You shiver at the contact and try to focus on getting some sleep. The past few days have been hard with Ayato coming in and being so close to you at night. Is he having nightmares? Maybe even just wanting to be next to me? Why me? The situation is confusing but kind of...nice. You lean into his touch, and slowly your eyes close, yearning for the next time you can feel cold hands on your skin.

================================================

He doesn't come. He doesn't come into your room to ambush you this time. You sit up in your bed, wondering why Ayato didn't come into your bed. You missed the feeling of being cuddled at night. Having his body close to you gave you a sense of security. Like nothing can hurt you while you slept in the eerie mansion. You stalk towards your door and grab the handle, wanting to feel Ayato's presence near you. You open the door to see Ayato standing in front of your door. Impeccable timing. He looked at you, shocked, and looked down to hide the tears dripping from his face. You both stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

===============================================

You hesitantly take your hand off the door handle and shakingly touch his cheek. Your hand is wet from the tears, and you slowly bring him into your room. Safe. You guide him towards your bed and hug him not exactly knowing what's going on or where his head is at however, you want to be there for him. He hesitantly embraces the hug, and the tears just flow. You look at him as he turns your face away from him, " Stop looking at me, Pancake. The great Ore-sama doesn't cry." You smile at him trying to hide his tears, but you look at him anyway. How can he still be so worried about being great while in this state? Being number one? Or at the top? You look at him and say, "Ayato, it's okay to cry; even the best can shed tears." His smile falters, and his lip quivers as he looks at you with admiration. "What's wrong, Aya-?" Before you can ask, he leans in and kisses you sweetly. His cold hands hold your cheeks; you can feel the tears hit your cheeks as he slowly kisses you. The kiss is so soft and gentle as he basically hugs you close to him. You both pull away from the kiss, and faint blushes appear on your faces as you look at each other with this new-found indescribable sensation. It's as if you both were in the clouds and it is only you two there. Twitterpated in each other's arms.

================================================

You sleep facing towards him, hugging his chest, legs tangled with his. He looks down at your sleeping form and kisses your forehead. Your warm and nurturing heart gave him ease. He would never think of letting you go ever; he would do anything for you. As he slowly feels himself drift off into slumber, he quietly says, " I love you, Y/n."

#ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers #x reader #ayato x reader #diabolik lovers ayato #fluff #diabolik lovers fanfiction

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cobra-creampuff · 1 year ago

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i also think it's kinda neat that (imo) ian and mickey's starting points, development, and character trajectories are pretty well fitted or idk yeah-seems-about-right-ish to their ordinal positions and relative ages.

in the beginning and through most of their development until their mutual Turning Point, ian is generally more quote unquote "grown up" than mickey even though he's younger (not significantly younger, but still). it makes sense not just because ian has a more supportive and provided for environment where he's had the room and relative comfort to grow as much as he has, but also because he's the third oldest sibling of *counting on my fingers* six with functionally no parents (with frank as a periodic liability). he hasn't had to take on as much responsibility as fiona or lip, but he has had noteworthy experience in maturity.

as opposed to mickey who not only does not have a supportive environment or consistently met basic needs and has additional stressors other than neglect/poverty to deal with, but is also the second youngest of *counting on my fingers much slower this time* also six(?) with functionally no parents (with terry as a periodic threat). he has unreasonably high expectations on him, but without any of the reliance and deferment ian gets from his younger siblings or the approval and gratitude he gets from his older siblings. and mickey's in the (pretty typical abused kid) paradox of being forced to handle adult levels of danger via the family business(es) but being so stripped of autonomy that he can't develop any corresponding maturity.

for a while ian continues to mature at a relatively steady pace while mickey lags well behind. he starts implementing plans to achieve his dreams of his own accord, putting in work and making sacrifices to follow through on them, starts wanting more adult relationships (compare his rejection of intimacy as opposed to convenient, meaningless sex from kash and his initial boyish twitterpation with mickey in season one to wanting more and more intimacy and commitment from mickey in two and three).

then, finally, mickey starts to catch up. he gets and keeps a job and follows the other terms of his parole (until he has a crisis), he accepts more intimacy from ian little by little, begins initiating communication (albeit not very good or clear communication), also starts making active decisions about how he wants his life to be (even if his goals are much shorter term than ian's at that point) and earnest attempts to see them through, takes more of a leadership role with his brothers and offers mandy non-violent support, and at long last is the one to take his relationship with ian to their current next level.

then of course they get all fucked up and derailed by a hugely traumatic event and ian undergoing his own additional crisis in the aftermath (the - slightly early, likely triggered - onset of his bipolar disorder + first experience of acute mania). a lot gets undone by this for both of them.

ian is either still manic or manic again when he gets back in season four, and obviously also still traumatized that doesn't just go away, so there's a lot about his thought process, behavior, and priorities that are simplistic or unrealistic in ways that can look a lot like childish self-centeredness or naivety, but still reflect the desire for adult relationships and independence that he showed in season three if you pick at his brain a bit and pay attention to the quieter moments.

meanwhile, mickey has continued to grow in ian's absence. he's a husband and a father now (if not particularly active in these roles yet), he's managing the household finances, he at least attempts to form and stand on his own concept of right and wrong, he has people relying on him, he starts and maintains a professional partnership and potential friendship, and just generally starts accepting responsibility and making long-term choices.

and then toward the end of season four, mickey's maturity starts to overtake ian's.

probably in part as a symptom of mania, but just as or possibly even more due to his age, ian continues to only partially conceive of future consequences and/or to not fully take seriously consequences that could never happen to him directly. he's selfish and hypocritical in his relationships and thinks of his own perspective as the only valid and/or the most important one, eventually pressuring mickey into doing something very dangerous to retain their relationship and then seeming to only realize the gravity of the situation when mickey unexpectedly actually does it.

versus mickey still having "dumb" teenagery behaviors like skipping out on his homelife to spend time with his boyfriend and prioritizing that relationship enough to comply with vindictively unfair ultimatums, but overall trying his best to build real intimacy between them, giving (relatively) clear explanations of what he's thinking/why he's doing things/what he wants/how he feels, offering to take on responsibilities in the effort of integrating himself into the household as more than a guest, making conscious and strategic choices to balance having a relationship with ian and remaining closeted enough to be safe (as opposed to being in denial or trying to avoid commitment to ian altogether), etc.

then Guess What We've Been Doing Daddy happens, and the last thing other than his actual age that is holding mickey back from growing up is cleared (disclaimer: this is specific to mickey, not meant to be representative of or applicable to other people who are closeted). he's secure in himself, secure in his relationship, has no (non-systemic) constraints on his autonomy, is making his own money (for a relative value of "making" and "own" lmfao), has an earned leadership role, not only is accepting responsibility but gives every indication of wanting more responsibility, and is thinking not only about the future but the far future. the rest-of-his-life type of future.

i honestly discount most of season five and i didn't even bother with anything after, but what i saw of that has ian in the same kind of going forward just enough to not be standing still type of growth that mickey had at first (at a much further along "starting" point) and mickey in the same consistent, notable progress that ian had.

i just think it's neat and i think it's really typical of people with similar order/age arrangement. a younger senior sibling is more mature earlier than an older junior sibling, but eventually the older junior will catch up and overtake the younger senior. i realize this "meta" is mostly just restating the text. we don't need to talk about that part.

#jack facts #why on EARTH am i thinking this hard about shameless in the year of our FUCKING LORD twenty twenty four #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #hc

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kwillow · 2 years ago

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how would a blushing and severely flustered Theo would look like? Like let's say he's having a conversation with someone and they threw some well formed saucy flirts at him, or the person he's "tending to" gave him a deep cheek kiss before walking off calling him a cutie.

Well, as you can see, I thought too hard about this. Theo is such a dysfunctional bastard, he really goes from 1 to 100 depending on how badly his thorny boundaries at crossed and I just wanted to explore a bunch of potential reactions here. None of them are probably what you had in mind, though... sorry. I guess he is still "severely flustered" even if he's threatening to rip your tongue out?

Theo's response to basically any social interaction depend on how much he trusts the other party. He's incredibly hostile and defensive towards most, and quick to read even the most innocuous behavior as a subtle threat or insult. When he does have more of a relationship with someone, he's a bit less likely to jump to trying to bite them if they look at him funny, but that doesn't stop him from ruminating and brooding about what that funny look could mean (inevitably concluding it could only mean ruin for them both and he has to intervene in the weirdest way possible to prevent this catastrophe).

The mention of “saucy” flirtations and kissing would really get him tilted no matter what, though - he’s not exactly at ease with that kind of “salacious depravity,” as he would say. Being come on to in such a forward way is less likely to make him all twitterpated as much as it makes him feel humiliated, debased, manipulated or even attacked. Additionally, he is extremely touch-averse, especially on his bare skin (or, I guess, bare pelt), to the point that some touch feels physically painful to him, like a burn or sting. So no kisses, please.

He might not react so negatively to flirting that is more delicate and subtle - though it’d have to be so damn subtle that he doesn’t even register any intimate intent.

#theo #my draws #asks #amaranthine #rat #haha sorry i get a prompt for just 'draw your character being cute and blushy'#and instead i pull out an illustrated essay on how he's hopelessly dysfunctional and will try to attack you if you say he's cute

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 1 year ago

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Twitterpated (Vil x Rook)

Note: This piece takes place during Vil and Rook's first year at NRC

Silken skin; sun-kissed hair,

Cascading into a lavender wave;

Beautiful eyes, with an enrapturing stare;

All of him, I achingly crave.

I come on bended knee,

And ask, plead to the beauty,

“My all, I beseech thee:

Bid me to do your every duty.

Use me as you see fit;

My life and soul,

Every single bit,

I give myself whole.

I will follow you,

To any inch of earth;

Anything, I will do,

To prove to you my worth.

Beauty, it is you I love;

My king, the truth lays bare,

From hells below to heavens above,

I am forever yours, mon cher.

Birds chirped high in the trees and atop sprawling buildings, accompanied by the rustle of leaves and distant chatter. The man knelt before the bench breathed not a word as he awaited the beauty’s response. It was a sweet kind of torture, not knowing what he would say. Though a rejection, perhaps a swift kick of a heeled shoe, would wound him so, with it would bring its own form of beauty. No matter the outcome of this bold proclamation, Rook would take it gracefully as any man could. He kept his smile and gaze aimed at the man before him, waiting patiently, with bated breath.

The response he received was not what he expected at all. “It needs work,” commented the vision sitting elegantly upon the bench seat. “The pacing was a tad off, as well as some of the verb tenses. If you would write the poem down, we can go over it to see where you can improve.”

Ah, so he thought Rook was presenting him with a simple poem. Vil Schoenheit, the man who the Savanaclaw first year had been smitten with the moment he laid eyes on him, believed Rook was silently asking for feedback and advice. This was not the first advance the beautiful young man unknowingly rejected; Rook surmised a guess that it was far from the last. A feeling of disappointment took hold around Rook’s heart, yet it was combined with a sense of admiration. To think this prodigy of the stage would so willingly offer him aid - ah! Magnifique! He oh-so loved him.

Despite the dismay burrowing in his gut, Rook’s smile morphed into a grin. He rose from his place on the paved path and put his hat, which remained over his heart for the duration of his confession, atop his head. The first year did it in such a manner that it would not obscure his sight. Rook didn’t want to tear his gaze from the beauty. “Merci, Roi du Poison! Rest assured I will hang onto every word.”

Vil’s smirk took the hunter’s breath away. “Are you certain you won’t be distracted? Your eye does tend to wonder when something interests you.”

Nothing could interest me more than you, ma beaute - is what Rook yearned to say. However, as the actor still appeared unaware of his true affections, he didn’t dare utter the words aloud. “I swear on my life that I will not stray from your teachings.”

Vil let forth a small giggle, accentuated by his hand coming up to lightly cover his mouth. And he did it so gracefully, too. Ah! Rook could feel himself grow faint. No, he must resist! Not only to keep his word, but also to not scare the pretty boy.

The last time Rook passed out due to an overwhelming show of Vil’s own beauty, Vil had been beside himself with worry. Rook remembered the scolding he received upon his waking fondly. Great Seven, Rook thought he’d died and awakened in the afterlife, being greeted by an angel the moment his eyelids fluttered open. Apparently his grin was so drunken, so lopsided, that the nurse thought him intoxicated. Yes, they were right, in a way. To be enraptured by such an ethereal sight often had that effect on a person.

Rook watched Vil rise from his seat. He now had to tilt up his head to face Vil, the heels of the beauty’s shoes making him even more taller than he already was. It felt nice to be looked down upon by him. Whether you take that as degrading or not is up to you. Either answer is most likely correct. Vil could spit in Rook’s face and the freckled man would thank him - perhaps, if he were feeling bold, he’d ask for another. Surely you understand?

“Meet me at the library tomorrow, four p.m. sharp.” Vil slightly tilted his head to the left. “When I’m done with you, you’ll put the common poet to shame.”

Use me as you see fit - so said Rook when he recited his love poem. He meant that with his whole heart. He nodded eagerly, practically beaming as he said, “Tres bien! Besides my poem, should I bring you anything else? I could bring some of my others.”

For Vil, Rook would do anything. His Roi du Poison need only ask, command, demand - however he might utter the task. Rook Hunt would see it through to the end. He would go so far as to abandon his dorm and become the beauty’s lap dog, should he request it.

…No, actually. He didn’t have to. Why hadn’t Rook thought of that before? He would start the process that very evening!

#my work #twisted wonderland #twst #twst rook #rook hunt #savanaclaw rook #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vilrook #rookvil #gay #pride month #poetry #crush #pining

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rubykgrant · 9 months ago

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Everybody knows I am a Grimmons Person... but for the fun of rare-pairs, here are some thoughts I have for other characters being in this Orange/Maroon Peanutbutter/Jelly sandwich~ (a silly way of saying, hey- here are some relationships that are Grif/Simmons/other characters)

(I have thoughts for several, but right here are Locus, Wash, and Donut, I'll add more later~)

Locus; Grif is just super chill hanging out with him, doesn't take NO for an answer when Locus tries to disappear into the shadows, but also? Locus actually LIKES Grif's company, which is very rare, so he doesn't have it in him to actually avoid Grif/reject him. HOWEVER... Simmons is very jealous and petty. He's also very intimidated by the big scary former mercenary... sometimes the jealousy overrides the intimidation, and Simmons will get IN BETWEEN THEM, saying some passive-aggressive nonsense about how Locus will NEVER understand all their inside jokes, etc. Then Simmons notices... Locus is so very AWKWARD. He like- doesn't try to bully Simmons back? What??? OK, now Simmons feels bad. He resents Locus for making him feel bad, so he tries extra hard to include Locus in things they've both done before (because that'll teach him a lesson?). Locus just accepts all the attention as he does with Grif. They tell him one day that he's been looking better lately, gained some weight back, and can finally relax, and Locus casually gives them honest compliments back, and it is like they JUST realized he's handsome (they get all twitterpated for a minute). Neither Grif nor Simmons is sure how to like... discuss the idea of three-way-dating? Not exactly something they planned on. They eventually bring it up to Locus, and HE gets all flustered, and accepts. It's hard to figure out which one is more surprised by the results (Grif, who has his adorably weird nerd AND somebody who defines the strong silent type? Simmons, who has TWO big beautiful men? Locus, who has genuine affection and intimacy that DOESN'T have life-threatening undertones? yeah, the bar is kinda low for Locus in terms of relationships, but Grif and Simmons are a VAST improvement)

Wash; He has to be the one that initiates. Not because they wouldn't be interested, they just don't expect HIM to be interested. Wash is also not super great at this. He tries to kinda introduce the idea of being kinda "flirty" with each of them solo. In his head, this is supposed to be "sweet", like- I care about you both as individuals, but I'd love us all to be TOGETHER. For Grif and Simmons, they now think Wash is? A HOME-WRECKER??? Which sounds stupid and weird, maybe Wash is just trying to joke around in a weirdly intimate way. So they kinda play along, and he thinks it is working, but then they finally ask if this is a prank or whatever, and now he's MORTIFIED. Wash avoids them for a week, and when they talk to him again, he explains, and they assure him this is FINE, in retrospect it was just funny haha, then invite him out for a movie to show everything is cool. Grif and Simmons come to an agreement after the movie... and start individually flirting with Wash. He thinks they're just teasing him for being a dork. They have to actually call another trip to the movies their "second date" before he GETS IT. Everybody else just sees them teasing each other a LOT more often, but laughing about it, being all cute. Wash even starts picking up some of their habits (naps with Grif, watching deep-dive/documentaries with Simmons). Wash asks all politely if it will alright to kiss them, and it isn't FAIR for Wash to be cute like that and also be such a nag (Grif now has 2 people ganging up on him to do laundry/the dishes, Simmons has 2 people reminding him to sleep, and Wash has 2 people who make sure he actually eats properly)

Donut; He always wiggle-worms his way into their space. He acts like he didn't realize they were trying to be all lovey-dovey, but they know he knows. He must be lonely for their company, maybe he feels extra left-out with them being a couple. He manages to NOT be totally annoying when they're doing whatever, so they decide let him spend more time with them. This just encourages Donut to hang out with them MORE, and he always seems to be bribing them for more attention, making Grif treats or telling Simmons about a new bookstore with something he's interested in... the only they do alone, is when they go to bed. One night, Grif and Simmons talk about how clingy Donut has been, they way he's acting around them, and even when they aren't with him, he looks at them all wistfully. Grif jokes Donut is acting like he's got a CRUSH or something, and they have to go OHHHHHH. Which one of them? BOTH of them??? What are their options here? Let Donut down, try to be nice about it, still hang out but as friends, or... there is an OR? Really? Really. Donut isn't really so obnoxious. Even when he is, they can tell he's doing it on purpose, and these two LOVE bothering each other, that is their whole thing. They can appreciate that he knows them both very well, and yeah- they know him, he's been part of their lives for a long time, and they both know how it feels to pine after somebody when it seems like a lost cause... so, they keep letting Donut hang out with them. He doesn't know they know. Until, one night, after staying up to watch a horror marathon, Donut sighs as he gets ready to leave the room, but Grif and Simmons scoot over on their bed and hold the covers open for him. He joins them, literally just for sleeping, but then Donut starts actually CRYING, he feels like they're just being nice and he's being disingenuous (oh, the pain of unrequited love), and they have to tell him to KNOCK OFF THE DRAMA, he likes them, they like him, they GET IT, Simmons has to hug Donut and roll over while holding so he's in the middle, where he actually gets double-cheek-kisses in the dark. Now he wants to giggle about it, and they tell him to SHUT UP. He tells them they're a-holes. All three happily argue for an hour before settling down enough to sleep

#red vs blue #relationships #rvb #rvb rarepair week 2024

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pixiedustjellicle · 1 year ago

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Platoria one shot please

I don't like many ships, but they are soft and do give me feels.

A soft thump thump of paws hit the ground, but the white queen had picked up his scent before the vibration of his landing. Her nose scrunched up in a smile and she covered her face with one paw as she stretched out, pretending the patch of sunlight was suddenly far too bright. Really, she just wanted to hide the blush that certainly showed on her pale pink nose.

Two weeks since the Ball, and every day without fail, when her people left the house, Plato came to visit. Jellylorum called them twitterpated, whatever that meant. And Skimbleshanks had tried to sit them down to have some sort of chat about how when cats grew up, they started getting new feelings… but the two had managed to change the subject by asking him about his weekend on the Midnight Mail.

Plato laid next to her, reaching out to nudge her with a paw. When her blue eyes finally met his, the young tomcat just melted, a purr rising in his chest. He was growing less shy with every meeting, and for good reason. Victoria didn't judge him for his father, she didn't make fun of him for being more introverted.

<Do you have it?> He signed with his paws, green eyes wide with hopeful excitement. After only a moment she nodded, standing up and motioning him with her tail to follow her in through the open window.

That was new. Every cat's territory was sacred, and so far, he'd only been allowed in the garden. He didn't expect she'd let him inside, and his heart pounded at the consideration that she really trusted him so much. After only a moment, he followed her in, carefully stepping as he looked around at the fancy things she had. She'd told him about her people, how they brushed her and gave her toys and a treat every night.

He was jealous. Jealousy wasn't healthy, he knew. But to have a family that wanted you, feline or human… it sure sounded nice to the young tom, who'd never had either.

He paused to look at the softest bed, wondering if they both could fit, curled into each other, then remembered that she was a pedigreed cat. Her people had picked her specifically. They wouldn't want him when they could have her. Not that he blamed them.

Victoria jumped up to a human bed, a smaller one, and motioned to the book on it. Some cats could read- and Jennyanydots promised to teach him- but he couldn't yet. But Victoria had promised him a special book that anyone could read, because even her people's kitten could read it. In fact, she read it to Victoria so often, that even without hearing it, she'd learned it by heart. And she really thought Plato would enjoy it.

He looked at the picture on the cover and gave a goofy smile. There was a pure white cat, a ginger one, and three little kittens. When Victoria opened it, his eyes lit up. It was filled with pictures! Every page was full of pretty drawings, and they told the story… a sweet mother cat, ever beloved by her person, lost outside with her kittens. A- very handsome, of course- ginger tom to help guide them home. And when the tom was staring at the white queen’s eyes… Plato found he was no longer looking at the pictures.

Victoria looked up at him as she turned through the pages, to see if he was ready for her to move on, only to see him looking at her like the tribe looked at the Moon. Her heart fluttered like butterfly wings.

<What do you see?> she asked, tilting her head slightly.

<Bastet herself.> he replied, resting his head over hers. And this time, Victoria purred as well.

#cats the musical #victoria cats #plato cats #admetus cats #platoria #cats the musical fanfiction #theyre so soft #victoria is deaf #you can not change my mind

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dracobrooklyn · 2 years ago

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Durge Headcannon #2

|| MDNI || 18+

Durge's relationship towards the other Party Members If you don't know, this is about if Cannon Durge was a Companion instead of a playable character. These are my headcannons so not everything is cannon. If you want more Durge check this Masterlist here

also the Tav!Reader is in a Fem!POV

CW: threesome, murder, and killing.

Durge very much is in love with Tav!Reader, after connecting with you, how kind and patient you are with the White Dragonborn. He very much loves the way you comfort him, how you talk to him almost anything that comes to your mind, he loves listening to your voice. So How does he feel about the other Members of your party around you? And around him?

Astarion

Safe to Say Durge isn't a huge fan of Astarion. The pale elf being very much cocky, arrogant, and never gives you any respect. Durge glares maybe even curls a lip growling softly. He could care less about what happens to the elf. Even when he found out he is a vampire! He quickly get's over protective over you, a slave to Sanguine. He wasn't gonna let you get bitten by this coward. If Astarion tries to flirt with you, Durge comes up from behind you protective. Besides Durge want's you, he be a better match than Astarion. He actually cares about you, this vampire just wants you as a blood bag that's all. Even when you and Durge become a couple, and Astarion offers to join you both in a threesome, Durge would flat out say no, end of story, he rather smear Knoll shit onto his face than let Astarion share the same bed roll with you. He's fine with you and Astarion being friends but... if Astarion tries to pull something on you, Durge won't hesitate to beat the shit out of him... maybe kill him if he get's away with it.

Shadowheart

He does not mind the half elf girl, the cleric that isn't too bad around you. She does at least give you some sort of respect as an ally and maybe even a friend. Shadowheart might be one of the few people that maybe notices Durges feelings towards you. She even was amused with the idea but even questioned, how would a DragonBorn be like in a relationship. Though Durge is a strange one, especially when he has no memories of his past. She might even be protective of you the reader if she finds out what Durge has done hurting and killing their enemies. The way he does it, if it's over the top. Shadowheart will confront Durge about it. She be weary of him and tell you if she is not sure if Durge can be trusted.

Karlach

Durge actually likes Karlach. Despite her very positive upbeat attitude. He does like her, she treats with you respect, is kind to you, and does not talk down to you. I like to think Karlach kinda finds Durge attractive. Being a DragonBorn and all, she may even might notice Durges smitten face when he looks at you in love. Like a love sick puppy. She smile and comes up from behind him giving him a good slap on the back and say "twitterpated aren't we solider?" causing Durge to trip on his words blushing trying to change the subject while she has a shit eating grin showing her sharp teeth. She might even try to hook you two up. Maybe... maybe even join in the sex action. Durge might actually consider it... if she didn't burn you both. He would say yes as long you were okay with it of course if you were interested. But if Karlach (like Shadowheart) finds out what kind of things Durge did. Oh boy oh boy, consider the friendship bracelet gone. She would get in between you and Durge glaring at him burning with anger. (no pun intended)

Lae'Zel

Heh uh... she may like Durge because of his blood thirsty fight in battle. And he may appercaite that... but if she calls you weak and useless because you are not as battle hungry as she is. Durge will snarl. Step right up to her and speak up. "I will you not have you speak so lowly of her, she's the one that got you out of that trap, she's the one that saved the druids grove with our help, she is the one keeping the peace between all of us, you should thank her, because I would have ripped your arm off." causing the Githyanki woman to narrow her eyes at him. She might tsk at him or making the last retort walking away from him. Durge won't interact with Lae'zel unless he really has to. But if she threatens to hurt you, he will not hesitate to rip her apart. Oh if she even tries to seduce Durge, he will lean so close to her face in a low whisper "Even if you and were the only ones in this plain of existence, I would rather be a mindflayer than share a bedroll with you." And honestly that might hurt her a little but she won't show it of course. Durge heart is only to you, and only you.

Wyll

Would they be dude bros? Maybe? Durge does not mind Wyll at all. The man has honor, he's protective, he treat you with respect and that's what Matters to Durge. Though if he does come a little close towards you, Durge makes a look at him as if "nu uh, mine." Wyll would get the message though. Like Karlach he might even help Durge hook up with you. Give Durge advice what to say but most importantly Wyll will just tell Durge to be himself. Yeah which one? Durge also would also feel bad for Wyll with his mishap being a warlock and all. Durge would definitely spit down at Mizora feet just to stand up for Wyll. Fuck that bitch honestly.

Gale

Funny guy... stop flirting with my girlfriend don't you already have a lover? Durge very much has mixed feelings with this guy. He can be useful but when he learns that he needs to eat magic items to live or else he will explode and die? WHAT? Why the hell is he with party again? Oh cause he's infected too. When he learns about how his lover is goddess, I mean yeah he must think she is pretty-- oh she's actually a goddess. Oh... poor chap. He definitely would be a little jealous that Durge has you instead of him, but he would give Durge advice to "Seduce" a woman. Durge not sure if they would work... maybe one night he will use that advice. Maybe... eh. But Durge wouldn't pity Gale for doing that to himself where he explode not given enough magic items to eat. Also ticks Durge off cause he finds an item he can use to kill enemies and then Gale looks at him as if saying "for me?" while Durge growls wanting to roll his eyes in the back of his head pissed and just hands it to him. Also Wizards vs Sorcerer. Mortals enemies for life (no just kidding). But Gale will boast about being better than Durge when it comes to magic causing the DragonBorn to give Gale a side glance glare. "At least I was born with magic and don't have to kill myself for it." Durge would say causing Gale to frown.

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shirohige-pirates · 8 months ago

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A Truly Mythological Christmas

Cisfem!Reader x Marco the Phoenix

Also on Wattpad // Ao3

18+ - this story is going to get steamy in ways not allowed for your holiday Lifetime specials. Swearing, cheating, assassins, intrigue - you know, all that simple small town stuff.

Chapter 12: Twitterpated

“Are you okay?” Sabo questions, tapping your arm lightly while you all ate breakfast.

“Yeah, I’m good, why?” You hum.

“You put jam on your eggs and pepper sauce on your toast.” He says.

“You’re dipping your bacon in your coffee, too.” Ace grumbles as you come out of your drifting thoughts and return to the world of the living.

“What? I’m—ack!” You pull the bacon out of your coffee and survey the damages of your wandering mind. Putting the jam covered egg on the sauced toast you grin and bear it, eating it like an open face sandwich.

“Is that good?” Luffy questions and you shake your head.

“It’s marginally edible, but good,” you admit, taking a heavy gulp of bacon-flavored coffee, grimacing down to your toes. “Good is not the word I’d use.”

“You don’t have to eat it.” Dadan snorts, but you wave it off.

“If it was unbearable I’d cave, promise.” You assure her. “It’s certainly bracing enough to bring me back to reality.”

“Did Marco drug you?” Ace questions and you choke on your jam-egg-sauce-toast. Dadan cackles, pouring you a glass of water so you’re not trying to clear your throat with bacon coffee.

“No!” You wheeze before taking a big drink. “No, he didn’t.”

“Ah, she’s just twitterpated.” Dadan says. “Pay it no mind lad.”

“Twitterpated?” Ace crinkles his nose. “Like that bunny in that old movie you let us watch?”

“Old movie?” You start to say something and then realize it was probably twenty years old when you watched it as a kid.

“Yeah, kid, like that.”

“If I itch your chin will your foot thump?” Luffy questions and you lean your chin toward him. The crummy and greasy mess that constituted his little five-year-old hands was more of a lesson than the eggs, but you wiggle your foot in response to the fingers under your chin. Luffy giggles and it’s worth the whole affair, as far as you’re concerned.

“Any plans today?” Dadan prompts and you shake your head.

“I was thinking about heading out into the backwoods with the boys this morning, unless you had something else in mind?”

“With us?” Ace tilts his head.

“If you didn’t mind, I thought I’d go play in the woods.” You answer evenly. “See if you lot can keep up.”

“Uh oh.” You hear Dadan mutter and the boys all respond differently.

“Keep up?!” Ace huffs, cheeks puffed.

“Aren’t you too old to play?” Sabo questions earnestly.

“Are you faster than Ace and Sabo?” Luffy beams.

“She’s not!” Sabo and Ace answer at the same time.

“Sure am.” You say smugly. You’re going to regret it later, you know you are, but it’ll be nice to run wild in the backwoods for a couple hours.

The mud should be frozen enough now not to cling so bad to your boots, the air would still be cool and crisp, but not so cold that it would hurt your nose and ears. It was the perfect time of year to do something as reckless as playing in the woods after ten years of being in the city.

“I brought my boots.” You say to Dadan. “I’ll take a snail too.”

“Yah-huh.” She murmurs vaguely.

Rolling your eyes you dismiss her concerns. You’re not yet thirty, you can do this.

Three hours later you’re laying in the mud room with the boys on top of you. All three of you are covered in mud, you’re pretty sure you accidentally ate some at one point. Luffy’s still holding the hercules beetle he found, the sleeve of his coat missing, and three of you are breathing hard.

Dadan looks down at you. “Anything broken?” She asks and you shake your head. “What the blazes happened? I heard you caterwaulin’ from before you broke the tree-line.”

“Bear,” you huff, still catching your breath.

“Bird.” Ace adds, a harrowing tone in his voice.

“Beavers.” Sabo nearly cries, a gnawed off stick in his hand.

“Mama Dadan I found a beetle!” Luffy declares, holding up his prize.

“Well I’ll be.” Dadan says and you groan at the pun.

“Bite me.” You growl, laying flat on the floor for another minute while the boys finally manage to pull themselves together and off of you. “That crotchety old bear was, uh, bigger’n I remember.” You admit.

“The bird almost flew off with Luffy.” Ace says, hand still gripping the back of Luffy’s coat.

“I didn’t even know beavers could be mean.” Sabo sighs, finally letting go of his mostly eaten stick.

“What did we learn?” Dadan prompts, starting to help you and the boys clean up enough you can get proper baths before lunch.

“I’m taking the thunder stick next time.” You admit, pulling a clod of mud from inside your coat sleeve, and opening the back door enough to chuck it outside before taking your coat off.

“Luffy is food-shaped.” Ace says.

“Dadan, can we have steel pipes?” Sabo prompts.

“Feyth finds the coolest things!” Luffy declares, carefully setting his beetle in a small box before letting Ace help him out of his coat.

“It started out perfectly fine,” you assert, pulling off a boot and shaking rocks out. “We were racing for the lightning tree, y’know, the big oak that got hit all those years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“And we made it, but the old bear was there. With his - sorry - her babies.” You explain giving Dadan a look. “Which was to say she had both the right of way, and the ire to back it up.

“Yearlings?”

You nod. “They were thick and fat and dumpy, but a little small, I bet she ended up off-season cause of her age. Probably gave birth early spring instead of mid-winter. Gonna be rough this winter, but she’s fattened the whole lot up. Successful old bat.” Having pulled all your outside gear off you sit on the wood bench near the mudroom.

“Don’t you dare say it.” Dadan growls and you laugh.

“Never crossed my mind, ma’am.” You assure her with a shit-eating grin. “Anyway, we got into the trees and started working our way away from ‘em.”

“We ran out of trees.” Ace interjects, and you nod.

“Hit the clearing, but we’d lost the mom and her kids. Figured we’d relax a bit, and sat down, but that was another not-so-good idea, because there was a pinky.”

“Went for Luffy, huh?” Dadan says and you three nod.

“Almost took Ace with him, but fortunately Sabo and I were enough extra weight to rip Luffy’s sleeve free.”

“You were off the ground?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sigh, waving a hand. “We found the beavers on the way back.”

“They surrounded us!” Sabo cries.

“Steel pipes wouldn’t be a bad idea. These two are already really good at using branches as staves.” You explain to Dadan. “I bet they could tame those woods with a couple metal pipes.”

“Humph.” She nods toward the dining room. “Marco called earlier. If you want to call him back I’ll get the boys started on their bath.”

Nodding, you grab a slop towel and clean up as best you can before you have a seat at the table while Dadan herds the boys upstairs.

You: I’m back, I have a few minutes if you can call.

There’s silence for a moment, and then your phone rings. Marco’s name and number pop up and you answer it.

“Hey.” You greet him, voice maybe a little breathier than you meant, the tone a little higher pitch.

“You have fun, yoi?” He questions, a smile in his tone.

“Uh… yeah, I think so.” Laughing a little nervously you give Marco a shorter version of the summary you gave Dadan.

“Not the luckiest day for the backwoods,” he admits and you can hear the nervousness in his voice.

“No, no, not even a little.” You admit. “But we’re okay, and I mean, it wasn’t any worse’n what we went through back as kids, so, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s… ah… hells, there is something I meant to ask Dadan but maybe you know.”

“Hm?”

“Who hunts in the backwoods?”

“Huh?”

“I know there’s game trails behind the manor, and south of town is where most of the deer and boar are, that hasn’t changed, right?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Fuckin’ tourists then, maybe.” You bite the words.

“Did someone shoot at you?”

“I think they were going for the pinky.” You admit. “It was one shot, too low, but then we got mixed up with the beavers and I didn’t have a chance to try and sort out what kind of dumbass was trying to bag a pinky.”

“I can check in with my brothers, but I know none of the locals would hunt in the backwoods, and I can’t imagine a tourist heading out without checking in with the local branch, yoi.”

“I’ve met plenty of near useless cosplay hunters, who wouldn’t think to check with local game warden before wandering off into the woods.” You sigh. “Especially in a small town like this.”

“Eh, yeah.” Marco sighs. “I’ll see if one of the boys can hit up the hotels and make sure the front desk sends out some refresher notices.”

“Sorry,” you hum. “I wasn’t trying to make you go grey, fineapple.”

He chuckles. “You’re not the one hunting pinkys, yoi.” He assures you. “How do you feel?”

“Oh gods, like I’m sixty.” You whine even as you laugh and Marco chuckles along with you. “Once the boys are done getting cleaned up I might just move into that tub until dinner.”

“Well, then not today, but maybe starting tomorrow, I was hoping I could convince you to give me a hand at the store.”

“I doubt you actually need the help.” You tease. “But, yes, I wouldn’t mind having an excuse to spend time together. We have plenty of catching up to do.”

“We do.”

“No funny business during business hours, though, Mister store owner.”

“I make minimal promises.” He says honestly, and you can imagine the look on his face.

“Humph. What time do you want me there?”

“Sunrise to sunset if I could only be so greedy, yoi.” He answers immediately. “But if you come down after lunch, it’ll help. Resetting the shelves after the morning crowd can get tedious, and the afternoon slows down until everyone gets off work. The perfect lull to chat while we work.”

“As long as you actually put me to work, sure.” You grin.

“Wouldn’t dare insult a sincere offer to help,” he assures you. “Official uniform’s just a business casual shirt and slacks, but whatever you have will work, yoi. It’s not like you packed with this in mind.”

Laughing, you nod. “That’s fair. I’m sure I have something passable. You, uh…” You can feel your face flush despite everything. “Working late tonight?”

“More like than not, sadly.” He answers. “Busiest season is the next three weeks. It’s one of the reasons I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming in to help out.”

“Alright.” You agree cheerfully. “I certainly can’t give you grief for working hard.”

Marco laughs. “No, I suppose not. I would like to go on at least one more date while you’re here, yoi.” He admits. “Christmas Eve, if you think you can keep your dance card empty?”

“Even if it were full, I’d have room for you.” You say as evenly as you can. There’s a moment’s silence that’s a bit longer than you expected before Marco replies.

The soft slip of air that’s half sigh half nervous laugh makes you a little sad you can’t see his face right now. “That’s… good.” Marco clears his throat. “I look forward to it, pretty bird.”

“Yeah, me too.” You can feel yourself starting to talk in circles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good day.”

“Not as good as tomorrow will be, but I’ll try.”

Hanging up the phone you hide your face in your arms. There’s no one around to see how bad you’re blushing, but you can’t help it. Getting flustered like some teenager at this age wasn’t something you expected.

Getting flustered wasn’t something you thought you did in the first place.

Maybe it was just because of the events earlier. With the boys and the bears and the bird and the beavers. Everything had gotten your heart rate up and that’s all it really was, but you didn’t even believe that for the moment it took you to think it, so there was no use trying to lie to yourself like that.

Dadan wouldn’t have pushed you into anyone while you were here, but you know she was tickled pink to see you and Marco trying. No matter what did or didn’t happen.

The fluster of the phone conversation ebbed away slowly and you sat at the table, tapping your finger against the wood in thought. The only thing that really bothered you from this morning was that shot. Maybe it was just the timing or the adrenaline, and maybe it was just your imagination, but if Luffy’s coat hadn’t ripped…

You shake your head. There was no use dwelling on it. If something as fantastical as a hit man was in Sphinx they would’ve fired more than once. The clearing where you landed was no more protected than you had been up in the air. They would’ve had to been another full hill over if anything else was giving you cover.

And marksmanship to that degree was impossible. If the shot had come from that far away it was probably someone who missed what they were aiming for, and accidentally threaded the shot over to where you were. In all your years in this town it would not be the strangest thing to ever happen.

#a truly mythological christmas #marco the phoenix #x reader #reader insert #mdni #hallmark au

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storiesofsvu · 1 year ago

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CM 17.3

Alright!! 17e3 here we go!!

(I meant to rewatch the first 2 eps before this but didn’t get around to it, so a more in-depth review/more film student analysis is still to come.)

Enjoy this chaos with no context for now! (a lot of it likely isn’t gonna be fully fleshed out cause I have a full thought/reply and try my hardest to type it all out super fast before the show moves on but I have to stop to pay attention OR something else comes up and im just SCRAMBLING)

Absolutely hate there’s no subtitles right away for this but I mean.. I could wait a couple of days til its on Disney I just have no patience.

GOD why is it so fucking dark.

Thank you Emily for not letting luke spill the beans, like, kinda like Rebecca as a person, but can’t trust her as long as her job goes

Okay, em is in the right here, both in the sense of keeping it quiet originally but also making luke keep hush. Cause im sorry but she’s right. It would’ve 1000% drove the team to the brink and split them apart AND made them spiral so deep about what was on the site/other people seeing them/trying to cleanse the web of them (which obvi is impossible). Esp jj of all people? Like I’m not really sure *what* is on there, but jj is the one with KIDS, a full family, she’s still in contact with her parents (at least the mom?) she’s probably likely known in the circle of the boys friends parents? Like that’s SO much damage control to stress over??

Im so fucking excited for prentiss’ wacko neighbour to come back loool

LOOOOLL em’s “oh.. oh no…” reaction. I love this.

Did pen just say “tik tack” instead of tik tok? or was I not listening properly lol

“what are you gonna do?” “put out fires” that is LITERALLY a boss’ job. This being said as a boss.

“I don’t want to say no to your face…” SAME girl… same

GOD Emily is so fucking beautiful

This back and fourth with Garcia and her opinions on tyler is SO annoying. At first she hates him and doesn’t want to even look at him, then they’re flirting, then they’re fucking. Then she’s all twitterpated and wrapped around his finger. Then she AGAIN wants nothing to do with him?? Even though in the last ep she was all high school girlie about working with an “ex”?? I GET that the writers/showrunners are piling the comic relief onto her/the situation but come ON.

“I didn’t call you” “your landlord did” BRUH. COME ON. I don’t care how crazy things are, you ALWAYS double check that! I once saw a dude backing into my driveway with a ladder and immediately went outside to be all “uh..hello?” he immediately pulled out his phone, named my landlord, pointed out what he was there for (damage to the siding of the house, I hadn’t noticed cause I hadn’t left the house and live in the basement) AND offered to call my landlord. ALWAYS BE SUSPICIOUS.

WHY THE FUCK ARE JJ AND LUKE PAIRED UP!!!!????? Jj’s a profiler, she’s obvi gonna be able to get it outta luke, or press him for details, or whatever. If he’s supposed to keep shit quiet why tf are they off together. (or were they specifically asked to be together by voit? Cause that’s just him playing into his bullshit again)

“Emily practising deception isn’t a lie. It’s good leadership” THANK YOU.

Also...to feed all the jemily shippers out there… if this was a fic written by me.. it would be bundled into the AI shit, but there would be pics of Emily and jj hooking up that were very easily proven to be legit and the entire situation would out them and that’s what the actual issue was/is with the site…

I understand jj is outside with Sydney and luke’s job is to keep the girls distracted inside but of COURSE its himbo’s first reaction to pull out the soccer ball INSIDE.

Okay is that just some weird direction/camera angles or are we eluding to the older sister being a cutter?

Emily’s reactions to brian were perfection.

JFC NO! who’s out there stalking them? Uggghh (though I will say that the moment something clinked in the parking garage I said to myself “pls don’t let her get kidnapped in ep 3…”

I KNEW IT WAS CARBON MONOXIDE!! So smrt

Why does it feel like tyler knows more about gold star than the bau does?

Oooo but he cloned the phone! Good boy!!

Penelope: in charge of tracking down tyler

Tyler: texts Penelope “I need to see you”

Penelope: “NO!” doesn’t reply….

Ah yes.. I was right about the cutting… oof. Uugggh talk about heartbreaking..

LOOOOL tara teasing rossi! “I think I pulled… everything…” HHAH

Im not gonna lie, I absolutely HATE that they went down this AI *porn* route, as if these fucking poor characters haven’t been through enough, and like, again as I said, JJ… she’s got the most damage control to do no matter what, and poor girl hasn’t dealt with more than half her trauma so far…

“but I didn’t exactly get it legally, so you know what rebecca’s gonna say” THANK YOU. But also, like fuck that. cause this show has ALWAYS been above the law in that sense. I can’t remember if I said it in last week’s summary or if it was another random post, but CM vs like, SVU is WILD because we NEVER see things past the cuffs being put on/the unsub getting killed/killing themselves. We never go to court, we never see the legal side of it BECAUSE 99% of them would be not guilty due to mental…defect? LOL I know that’s not the right word/phrase but you know what I mean. CM is about the mind of the criminal and chasing them down and finding out the trigger and stressor and figuring out the pattern, not seeing things through to court and prison.

and while I love the addition of her character (Rebecca), it’s making other characters act in ways they never have before/never would simply because now the show is implicating the legal side of things. again, love having Rebecca and that boundary in line for the team but it is messing with the normal dynamics we are used to. Like..as IF Penelope would have any issue using an illegally cloned phone in the past. She was all “don’t ask questions” “well yes I *could* get access to that record, but it is technically sealed” and hotch would be all “I didn’t hear anything…”

LOL Emily with a full bottle of wine at her desk. Love her. god she’s SO annoyed with brian and I love it.

SEE this is why luke never should have said anything. Cause it doesn’t matter how hard you try not to look, you’re never going to be able to resist being able to look it up, no matter how bad it is, how fake and evil and ugly it is, you’re still gonna want to know and jj didn’t need to see that/know about it. How is she supposed to go home and act ok now??

“okay they’re here… somehow” DUDE YOU KNOW BETTER EM! Doesn’t matter that youre in an fbi parking garage, no cop gets there that fast!!

Also..that red coat is TRENCH COAT. YEESSS

Oh FUCK YOU BRIAN

“FUCKING BRIAN!” thankkkkk you em

THAT’S HOW IT ENDS SEERIOUSLY? Ffs.

Also…in all seriousness. Em was in HER office at the BAU, somewhere you (I assume) need clearance to get on property, much less in the building or into the parking, so WHY/HOW the FUCK were both brian, the guys who beat him up and whoever took the pictures get clearance?? SHOULDN’T QUANTICO HAVE SOME PRETTY FUCKING HIGH SECURITY LEVELS???

#criminal minds #spoilers #criminal minds spoilers #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds evolution spoilers #evolution spoilers #criminal minds season 17

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