#but not as many as i feared it was going to be when i looked back at my notes to put them into my diary more succinctly

[noodles-and-tea]

Continuation of this

[davinawritings]

Could u do a bunny girl or nb with a bear guy ? <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy 💕

Pairing: Male Hybrid Bear x Fem Bunny Hybrid

Warnings: Sex, Creampie, predator/prey, oral (fem receiving)

💕💕💕💕

Foraging in the forest was an almost daily occurrence for you. You enjoyed walking through the trees and usually found it very peaceful. You are especially grateful for the beautiful weather right now. The temperature has finally warmed after a long and harsh winter.

You probably should have been more cautious as bunny hybrids have many natural predators, but you have never had any problems in the past. The woods near your small burrow are pretty isolated, not many creatures come to this area. Not paying attention to your surroundings was your first mistake.

You are already far from your home when you register the feeling of being followed. You get ready to make a quick escape, a bunnies speed being its greatest asset when it comes to predators. Unfortunately before you can take a single step, a large claw wraps around your stomach and pulls you harshly against a large hairy chest.

You freeze in fear and the chest behind you rumbles in quiet laughter. “Don’t worry little bunny. I am not going to eat you. Although that was my original intention I have other needs I think you are more suited for. I’ve had a long sleep for winter and a perfect little bunny like you is just what my cock needs right now”.

Struggling proves to be futile when the bear hybrid lifts you easily with one arm, tearing your dress from your body with the other. He turns you to face him and your eyes look up and up and up. Everything about him seems massive. His height, his muscles, his large hands and claws, his cock that hangs heavy between his thick thighs.

He walks you over to a tree and lifts you so your thighs rest on his shoulders. He pushes you against the tree and the bark scratches at your back. His snout pushes against your clit as he buries his large tongue in your cunt. He eats you like a starved animal and in a way he is.

He moans almost as much as you do as he continues to devour you. Your hips move as you try and press harder against his face. His snout is teasing your clit relentlessly and you dig your hands into his fur at the slurping noises coming from him.

Just as you feel yourself about to explode on his tongue, he pulls his tongue from your pussy. You let out a frustrated huff and try to thrust your hips upon his snout harder, needing the orgasm he so rudely took away.

He laughs and gives your slit a long lick before bringing your legs off his shoulders. He slides your body down his own until your opening is sitting above his large cock. Your legs wrap around his thick waist and his cock slowly sinks inside you.

You both let out a groan of relief and you immediately use your hold on him to begin bouncing up and down on his cock. You speed up quickly, chasing the release he tore away from you.

He grips your hips and his claws dig into your love handles but you don't care. One of his hands moves to the tree, his claws cut through the bark as he says, “Fuck bunny. I need you to slow down. I ca-can’t… fuck… I haven't had pussy for months and I’ve never had a tight bunny pussy before. I nee-need a minute”.

You smirk at him but don’t slow the drop of your hips, the feeling of his cock slamming into your special spot too good to stop. He growls and shoves your back into the tree once more snapping his hips into yours without restraint, his only focus is his own pleasure.

The feeling of his large chest closing you in on the tree should be frightening but you only find it hot and comforting. His cock slams into you hard and you cry out in relief at your orgasm crashing over you. He only lasts one more thrust before he cums with a loud growl, pumping you full of his seed.

He moves you in his arms so he holds you bridal style and begins to walk back through the forest. At your questioning gaze he says. “I have no intentions of letting you go bunny. That's the best pussy I’ve ever had and for all we know you could be carrying my cubs. I’m bringing you home and fucking you all over again. Well first I'm going to go out and hunt. Wouldn’t want to accidentally eat my bunny”. He gives you a smirk and you can't tell if he’s joking or not.

Honestly as long as you get to ride him again, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

❤️🖤💕💕🖤❤️ Let me know what you think! ❤️🖤💕💕🖤❤️

[tsuutarr]

Could you make a yandere farmer?

(THIS CONCEPT...... YES!!! I immediately thought of a yandere!farmer that also so happens to be a cow/bull hybrid hehe there's just something about someone who seems so bright and cheerful and helpful but is actually yandere)

“Hey there, neighbor!”

The last thing you expected when you began moving into your new house in the countryside iss the bright greeting of your friendly bullboy neighbor, but you can’t say you’re displeased. You give him a response that makes his mouth stretch into a pretty smile.

“It’s great to meet ya! We don’t get many new folks ‘round here.” He looks at the boxes by your feet curiously. “Can I help ya?”

You try to reject his offer, but his movements are quick and powerful. Before you know it, he’s helping you haul your heavy boxes into your home with ease. His help makes the move go by so much faster that it really, really makes you grateful.

When you try to offer him something to drink as thanks, he waves it off with a warm laugh. “Don’t mention it, cutie,” he says, “I’m always happy to help a neighbor in need.” For a brief moment, he looks contemplative, before he shakes his head. “Yer welcome to reach out whenever ya need me.”

With that, he waves goodbye to you, leaving you with happy feelings and unaware of the small cameras and mics he’s hidden in your home.

Since then, he keeps helping you, giving you eggs and produce from his farm. Whenever you’re in trouble, he’s there immediately, too. When your tires got punctured, when your lights went out, when your pipes clogged – he was there. You’re filled with so much gratitude that you don’t notice that none of your troubles are naturally occurring.

One day, while he’s helping you fix your stove, he says, “By the way, there’ve been reports of some wild animals running amok ‘round here.”

You gulp. Wild animals? What kind? Rabbit? Deer? Or… bears? Something worse?

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout a thing,” he continues, gently patting the stovetop once he’s done fixing it. “You’ve got my number and I’ve got a mean aim.” With a small smile, he makes a gun motion with his hand. “So don’t be scared to call me, okay?”

You nod, though you still feel a little terrified.

That very night, you’re awakened by loud noises outside of your house. Fear clutches your heart and you wonder if you locked your doors and windows, but are too scared to check. With trembling lips, you pull your blanket tighter over yourself, pressing yourself into your bed as you take a quick glance outside your bedside window. A black figure with glowing eyes and horns looks back at you, making you scream.

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in strong, warm arms as a kind voice rumbles in your ear. “It’ll be okay, sugar,” your kind farmer neighbor coos. “I’ve got ya.” 

Too caught up in the moment, you snuggle into him without questioning how he got into your house or how he was by your side so quickly. Nor do you recognize how eerily similar his horns look to the ones you saw on that black figure outside.

[shadykazama]

Hello! Your headcanons on Wukong/Destined One had me giggling so much 😊 they're so great, couldn't stop rereading.

Um, if it's alright, can I ask for some Wukong/Destined One x Reader with their baby? Feral daddy monkey in his nesting phase with his mate and baby is so— 🤭

Absolutely! I have a lot of thoughts and the people demand more monkey business- so let's get down to it.

❤ Wukong

Starting with the pregnancy~

He is ELATED.

The idea of a proper heir had never crossed his mind because well- he's immortal. He doesn't need one. But that doesn't mean the idea of his own flesh and blood isn't positively exciting.

There's a chance he knows you're pregnant before you do. What with all of his special powers and heightened senses.

Celebrates privately with you of course but it becomes a mountain-wide event very quickly.

You are showered with praise and blessings by all the monkeys.

He will never miss a chance to brag that he's going to have a baby. And he's definitely smug about it too, thinks your child is going to surpass even his power.

When you start showing he gets more smothering.

Don't forget our king's fatal flaw! He thinks he knows what's best.

Will limit how much you travel and makes sure you always have at least two attendants by your side while he's gone.

Which, once you get further along, isn't often. There were plenty of superstitions about pregnancy in ancient China, as well as a high infant mortality rate- and that's not even counting what complications could happen due to the magical nature of your child. So he'd be stressed.

He expresses stress through aggression (canon), though it's never pointed at you. He'd be fiercely protective over the mountain, but especially any of the areas you regularly stay in. He'd be very snappy at everyone for the entire second half of the pregnancy, except you of course, who he'd be showering with praise and reverence.

Likes holding your stomach while you rest and tells your baby about the great lineage they're being born into, recounting his titles and strength and promising them they'd be greater.

He's hoping for a boy, but he's assured his child will be spectacular regardless of the gender.

When you give birth he will be extremely focused. He can't afford to be weak in a moment when you need him most. (Though your cries of pain and effort will certainly make his heart ache.)

As you're holding your baby for the first time, his teasing, smug attitude is nowhere to be seen. He just looks at you as if you'd given him the universe itself.

Cutest baby ever might I add 👆.

It's a Chinese tradition that only immediate family is allowed to meet the baby for the first 100 days after it's born, so it'd just be you and him for a majority of three months unless you invite your family to meet them.

In traditional fashion, on the 100th day a banquet is held to officially introduce the baby to everyone. And MY GOD would it be an event...

Besides all of the monkeys on the mountain who want to celebrate their new prince/princess, I can't even imagine how many celestials and demons would come to pay their respects and blessings- be it out of fear or respect.

Either way, expect a very long day and a LOT of gifts.

^ Wukong doesn't leave your side for the entire day. I dare someone to try and pull something.

You'd expect with his trickster personality that he'd be a very lenient dad, but Wukong is surprisingly dutiful in making sure your child doesn't turn out lazy or ignorant.

That by no means is to say he wouldn't be a wonderfully playful father. He'd have a wonderful connection with his child, and his most important lesson to them would be to respect their mother ;)

More of a one kid kind of guy, so he'd probably stop after the first, unless you had twins or triplets.

As protective as he was with you when you were pregnant, he's pretty chill with the actual kid. He knows they're durable and will let them get roughed up doing dumb stuff.

Carries them around hanging off his tail and will pretend like he doesn't know where they went.

It's like how cats will let their babies 'sneak up on them' to encourage them to keep trying. He does the same thing with your kid when they try to trick him.

Your baby would be the most respectful little shit ever. A little shit nonetheless, but would do anything for you or their father.

All the monkeys on the mountain help keep an eye on the little sage so you'll never feel lost or alone in parenting. It's very much a joined effort and your baby will see the other monkeys as their family as well!

This wonderful piece of Sun Wukong was done by @kanade-howl here on tumblr! They post their work on Twitter as well at @kanaade_ and @_liehuzuo please support them!

💙 The Destined One

Give him a bunch of babies I beg you.

He'd get addicted, he wants a big family for SURE.

When you first tell him you're pregnant he'll probably take some time to fully soak it in.

You'll be used to being patient with him at this point, but I imagine something like this is really nerve wracking so don't feel bad if you rush him for a response.

He'll put a hand on your stomach as if he's checking for himself before picking you up and smothering you with love.

He's not a chatty guy but he'll let you know how happy he is!

^ That being said, during your pregnancies is the most talkative he'll ever be.

He doesn't want you to stress about communicating and knows your body is going through a lot so he pushes himself to talk more to make sure you get everything you need.

That doesn't mean he'll be a chatterbox by any means. More than nothing is still very slim :')

Expect a lot of one word questions.

Trusts you more than he trusts his own instincts. His instincts tell him you shouldn't be climbing or moving around much- but if you want to, who's he to tell you what to do? He's not the one pregnant 🤷‍♀️

Follows you around like a guard dog when you do though, doesn't matter what you're doing.

Somehow even more physically affectionate than normal. Will insist on holding your hand when you walk so you can lean your weight on him.

When you start showing he'll be amazed. It's not that he's never seen a pregnant person before but like... That's his baby in there and he can't believe it.

His favorite thing to do is lay his head against your stomach while you're resting. Will kiss your skin and adore the life you're making.

You can catch him whispering things to your baby while he's resting his head on your stomach.

Your body is going to ache and he is more than happy to massage it for you. He doesn't even need an excuse to touch you, but he'll find them anyway.

Once you get further along and it gets harder for you to get around, he'll pick you up and take your wherever you want to go- within reasonable distance from your home of course. Not because he can't take you further, he just doesn't want to in case something happens.

But he wants to make sure you get fresh air and still see the beauty outside of your bed.

Doesn't trust anyone to watch you. It's him or nothing.

Makes offerings and prays to the goddess of childbirth. He does this a few times before you catch him and start helping.

He's a bundle of nerves when you're giving birth. If you weren't preoccupied, it'd probably be painfully obvious how nervous he was.

Holds you while you hold your baby and will not stop telling you how much he loves you and how perfect the baby is.

Gets baby fever bad.

Baby will be spoiled, and so will any other baby after that.

Huge advocate for carrying the baby. If you're not opposed to it, he probably carries them more than you.

Has the most deadpan look on his face as he looks at this baby but he has so much adoration for his little miracle.

Stressing over your baby crying in the middle of the night? Not with him! He's at that babies beck and call.

Watching a nearly mute man deal with a curious child is definitely amusing and you get a front row seat.

Your children kind of just accept that their dad doesn't talk much, but he'll always tell them he loves them if they say it to him.

Takes them everywhere with him so he can teach them. Is SO proud when the oldest starts helping teach the younger ones.

He's proud of them in general honestly.

Your kids are going to be super loving and curious. I think he'd foster really healthy relationships between all of them.

You'd have a whole team taking care of you if you ever got sick.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Maknaeline x Reader. Angst.

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ᒍIᔕᑌᑎG

Jisung was always the one to make people laugh, to brighten the room with his energy and humor. His smile was contagious, his jokes quick, and his laughter a sound you cherished immensely. But what people didn’t see, what Jisung hid behind his laughter, was his fear - the constant nagging doubt that told him he wasn’t good enough. Sure people could tell he was an anxious mess. He talked about with Stays, opened up to many people about his anxiety. But few people truly understood what exactly was harbored within that.

You knew that information, of course. You’d been by his side long enough to see the cracks in his playful exterior; and even his anxious exterior. But even you hadn’t realized how deep those insecurities ran - you thought you did. But it wasn't until you accidentally hit a nerve you didn’t know was there that you understood the depth of it; maybe even deeper than anyone else did.

It was late at night, and you and Jisung were lying on the floor of his living room, watching music videos. It was something you often did when he needed to unwind after long studio sessions. He was particularly quiet tonight, though, his usual playfulness replaced by something more subdued.

“Are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently with your foot.

Jisung shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just tired.”

You weren’t convinced. “You sure? You’ve been kind of quiet all night. I miss hearing your voice, yeobo.”

He hesitated before finally sighing. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just feeling...off.”

You sat up, concerned. “Off how?” You paused the video you were watching and turned all of your attention to him.

He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up too, and running a hand through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” you said softly, encouraging him to open up.

Jisung gave you a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve just been feeling like...maybe I’m not doing enough? Like, no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough to be at the level I should be. I see the other guys, and sometimes it feels like they’re ahead of me in everything. Better rappers, better singers...even better at being funny.”

You frowned, surprised at the confession. “Jisung, that’s not true. You’re amazing at all those things.” You knew first hand. You got to see all of that up close while being held in his arms, while kissing him goodbye, or cuddling. You got to see him for him...yet he couldn't even see himself?

He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You hated seeing him like this, so wrapped up in his doubts that he couldn’t see how talented he truly was. But you didn't know if anything you would say would make it better. So, in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood, you joked, “Well, at least you’ve got that cute quokka thing going for you, right? No one can beat you at that.”

It was meant to make him laugh, to break the tension. But instead, Jisung’s face fell, his expression crumbling in a way that made your heart stop.

"Bab-"

He stood up abruptly, the sudden movement startling you. “So, that’s it? I’m just the cute, funny guy? That’s all people see?” His boba eyes met yours in a frantic worry.

Your eyes widened in shock. “Jisung, no, that’s not what I meant-”

“But that’s what you said!” he snapped, his voice rising, something sharp and hurt laced in every word. “I’m just the guy people laugh at. The one who makes everyone else look better because I’m the ‘funny one.’ The one who is always anxious and pitied! I’m not taken seriously. Not by you, not by anyone.” He cried.

“That’s not true!” you protested, standing up and reaching out for him, but he pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracked, and you could see the vulnerability behind the anger. “You’re just like everyone else. You think I’m a joke?Something to pity?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jisung, that’s not it at all. I didn’t mean-”

“I can’t do this right now,” he interrupted, his tone flat, as if he was trying to push down the emotions threatening to spill over. “I need to be alone.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, speechless and devastated. The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and you were left with the echo of your words - the ones you hadn’t meant to say, the ones that had hurt him so deeply.

You sank down in front his door, wanting to be near him even in the slightest sense. The tears you held finally slipping down your cheeks. You had only wanted to make him smile, but instead, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurities. And now, you weren’t sure how to fix it.

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ᖴEᒪI᙭

Felix was like the sun. His warmth radiated from every word, every smile, every laugh. Being around him was like basking in the glow of a never-ending summer day. But what people didn’t realize, what Felix kept hidden so well, was the fear that lingered just beneath the surface - the fear that, no matter how bright he tried to shine, the shadows would always be there.

You and Felix had been inseparable for months. It wasn’t just his warmth that drew you to him; it was the way he made everything feel lighter, easier. He was the light in your life, and you were sure you were the same for him. You needed him like you needed oxygen.

But that night, something shifted.

It had been a long day for both of you, and Felix had been uncharacteristically solemn. He’d barely said anything since you arrived at his apartment, his usual playfulness replaced with a strange tension that had settled in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, huddled up in a blanket due to the freezing living room; product of your broken heater, but his focus was elsewhere. He kept fidgeting, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Lix, are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched slightly at your touch, pulling his arm away before giving you a tight smile, and then in regret letting his arm rest into yours slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the Felix you knew. He'd never flinch at your touch or pull away; rather the opposite. Normally, he’d be snuggling up against you, cracking jokes, or commenting on the movie, but tonight he was distant, like he was somewhere far away.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, concern lacing your voice. “You’ve seemed off all day, love.”

Felix shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “I’m fine, really.” His lips were turned downwards, his eyes not looking as bright as they usually did.

You weren’t convinced, but you didn’t want to push too hard. So, you tried to lighten the mood instead, hoping to bring back the Felix you knew. “Maybe you’re just tired of hearing me talk. I mean, you’ve been so quiet tonight, maybe I’ve been boring you to death.” You took a breath and straightened your posture. "I'll stop yapping if you want some quiet. I wouldn't want to rain on the sunshine boy's day." You said patting his head, but he pulled away harshly this time.

It was meant as a joke, something playful to ease the tension. But the second the words left your mouth, Felix’s face changed. His expression hardened, and he stood up abruptly, startling you.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “What? No, I was just joking, Lix-”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not funny,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “Maybe I’m not in the mood to laugh right now.”

Your heart sank at the sight of him standing there, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. You hadn’t meant to upset him - you had just been trying to make things better, but it was clear now that you’d only made them worse.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, standing up and reaching for him, but Felix stepped back, shaking his head.

“It’s not about that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s about everything.”

“Everything?” you repeated, your voice small. “Felix, what are you talking about? Did I do something wrong? Are we breaking up?”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded so wrong coming from him. “It’s about how no matter what I do, I’m always the one who’s ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ or ‘sunshine,’ never anything else. Just that. Never enough.”

“Felix, you’re more than enough,” you said, your voice shaking as you stepped closer to him. “You’re amazing in every way-” You didn't know what he was talking about. What did he mean by "never enough"? What did he mean by "just that"?

“Am I?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m just here to make everyone else feel better. Like I’m only worth something because I’m the one always smiling, always making everyone laugh. But what happens when I’m not? What happens when I can’t be that ‘sunshine’ everyone expects me to be? Then what?”

His words hit you hard, and for the first time, you could see how much weight Felix had been carrying. He had always been the bright one, the happy one, the one who brought light into any room. But beneath that light was a darkness he’d kept hidden, a fear of never being seen for who he truly was.

“Felix, that’s not true,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took another step toward him. “You’re not just some...some image of sunshine to me. You’re so much more than that.” Your eyes were watery and you tried to stay strong and blink the tears away. You rubbed your face and sniffed, trying to wipe the beginning flow of a stream of snot. "I...love you for much more than that..."

But Felix didn’t seem to hear you. He was lost in his own thoughts, spiraling further into his insecurities, and you could see the hurt etched on his face.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his eyes dark with frustration. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you could become useless any second; to go from enough to not enough in an instant - to feel like the only thing you’re good at is pretending everything’s fine. And that that is the only reason people like you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you say to make him believe you? To make him see that he was more than enough, that his value didn’t depend on always being the happy one?

“I’m tired,” Felix finally whispered, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m tired of pretending. I'm tired of everything, to be honest.”

The vulnerability in his words broke your heart, and you reached out for him again, this time gently taking his hand in yours. But Felix didn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to face you.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. You didn't want to break up. Ever. “Please, Lixxie talk to me?" Your voice was hanging by a thread.

One that was instantly snapped as Felix didn’t respond, just pulling his hand away from yours, his body tense with a pain you couldn’t reach. And without even a final glance, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the cold room and a silence that rivaled it.

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ᔕEᑌᑎGᗰIᑎ

Seungmin had always been known for his calm demeanor and quiet strength. He didn’t outwardly seek attention like others, but his presence was undeniable - a steadying force in any storm. He someone people could rely on, the one who would always be there, quietly doing his best.

But there were things Seungmin never said out loud, things he buried beneath his composed exterior.

Lately, you had noticed a shift in him. The small, easy moments you used to share had been replaced by a distance you couldn’t quite explain. His responses were shorter, his smiles less frequent, and though he never said it, something was clearly weighing on him.

You were worried about it. Your two-year anniversary around the corner, and it made you wonder if he was considering ending things. Maybe he was tired of you?

It had been another long day at the dorm, and you were hanging out with Seungmin in the living room, just trying to enjoy some downtime. But there was an unspoken tension between you, and every attempt at conversation seemed to hit a wall.

“Seungmin, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. He had been so quiet lately, and you were worried that something was wrong. "Did I do something to upset you?"

Seungmin looked up from his phone, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but there was a slight edge to his voice, one you hadn’t heard from him before. "And no, you didn't."

You frowned, not convinced. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed really distant lately...like something’s bothering you. And- And I just wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally hurt your feelings or something...”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m just tired. It’s nothing.”

But you knew it wasn’t nothing. There was something beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you hated feeling like you were being shut out. Seungmin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he had never been this distant before.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” you said gently, trying to reach him. “But I’m here if you need to talk. You don’t have to handle everything on your own, you know?”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then his walls came back up. He shrugged, giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m handling it.”

That was when the frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t angry at him, but the distance he was creating hurt, and you didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

In simplest terms: he was scaring you.

“Seungmin, you can’t keep everything bottled up forever,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine all the time.”

Seungmin’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes - something like hurt, or maybe frustration. But it disappeared just as quickly.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, but there was a coldness in his voice now.

You didn’t want to push him, but you couldn’t just sit there and pretend like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You couldn't let whatever was bothering him fester even more; because if that would result in the end of your relationship than you wouldn't be able to live with yourself for not trying to save it. “It feels like you’re shutting me out, Seungmin. And I don’t know why.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to respond, he stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I am shutting you out.”

The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them, but when they finally sank in, your heart dropped.

“What?” you whispered, standing up to face him. “Seungmin, why...why won't you just explain to me what I did?”

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not who everyone thinks I am."

"Min what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing-"

"Why won't you tell me?"

Seungmin’s eyes were dark with frustration now, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually calm demeanor. “Because maybe I don't want to tell you!" He shouts.

The weight of his words hit you like a semi.

“Seungmin, whatever is wrong please- tell me,” you said quickly, taking a step closer to him. "We're supposed to rely on each other in times like these. You can rely on me just like I can rely on you-"

But before you could finish, Seungmin cut you off, his voice laced with bitterness. “Isn't that the problem?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. "I'm the reliable one? So much so that I'm known as the quiet one who is always there when people need him? Like need him need him?"

Your throat tightened, and you felt a lump forming in your chest. You had no idea he felt this way, no idea he had been struggling with this sense of invisibility.

Was that what he was struggling with?

Because for some reason you felt as if it was much more than what you were assuming. But maybe your assumption was correct?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching for him, but Seungmin took a step back, shaking his head. "If you feel invisible-"

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I need...I just need some space right now. I don't think you could even understand if I tried to explain.”

And before you could say anything else, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the suffocating silence, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

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ᒍEOᑎGIᑎ

You’d always admired Jeongin for his youthful spirit and the way he managed to balance the pressures of his career with a bright, playful attitude. But beneath that light-hearted exterior, you knew there were layers to him - things he didn’t always reveal. His role as the youngest in Stray Kids often came with expectations that weighed heavily on him, but Jeongin rarely spoke about it unless he was feeling vulnerable.

Today had been one of those days where he seemed a bit quieter than usual. You had both decided to hang out at the dorm, hoping to unwind after his busy schedule. Everything was normal, at first. You were teasing him about his latest performance, laughing about something silly he did on stage. He had been smiling, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that made you pause.

"You're so lucky, Innie," you said without thinking, the words slipping out as you laughed. "Everyone always loves the maknae. You get all the attention without even trying." It was true.

He didn't even try catching your attention, but the minute you saw him you had an unmistakable attraction; an irrepressible pull to him.

Jeongin's smile faltered, his dimple disappearing, and his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t respond right away, which was unusual for him. You realized too late that what you’d said had hit a nerve. You had only meant it as a lighthearted comment, but there was an underlying truth to it that stung.

"Innie?" you asked cautiously, your laughter fading as you noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Jeongin stood up slowly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair. His movements were tense, his back rigid as he faced the wall.

"Jeongin...what's wrong?" you asked softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think it’s lucky? Being the youngest, being the one everyone looks at like I’m some kind of...kid."

Your heart dropped. "No, I didn’t mean it like that baby I mean-"

"But that’s what you think, right?" Jeongin interrupted, his voice quiet, but hardening. He turned to face you, and you were taken aback by the hurt in his eyes. "You think because I’m the maknae, I don’t have to try? That everything’s just handed to me? Because thats what you make it seem like..."

The guilt washed over you in waves. You had never imagined that your words would trigger something so deep, but now you could see just how much he had been holding in. Jeongin had always laughed off his role as the youngest, but now you realized it had weighed on him far more than you knew.

"Jeongin, that’s not what I think at all," you said, your voice trembling with regret, and your bottom lip turning downwards. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like that."

He clenched his fists, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "Do you know how hard it is to be seen as a kid all the time? No matter what I do, people look at me like I’m just the cute, young one. Like I can’t be serious, like I don’t work as hard as everyone else."

You could feel the pain behind his words, and it broke your heart. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I didn’t know you felt this way."

Jeongin shook his head, stepping back as if he didn’t want you to get too close. "Of course you didn’t," he muttered bitterly. "Because I don’t talk about it. I don’t complain. I just...deal with it. And if it comes up I just laugh it off because I'm a kid. That's all my hyungs see and all the fans see and all you see."

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The silence between you felt heavy, and you didn’t know how to fix what you had unintentionally broken. You had hurt him, and you weren’t sure if he would let you in to make it right.

"Maybe I should go," Jeongin said suddenly, his voice cold and distant.

Panic rose in your chest- did you mess everything up? Did something you see as a small issue snowball into a major catalyst of your happiness? "No, wait-"

But before you could stop him, Jeongin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His retreating figure left you standing there, feeling helpless, your heart aching with guilt. You had never seen him like this - so vulnerable, so fragile. And it was your words that had caused those cracks to appear.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

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[morphodae]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ღ HSR Men Becoming Parents (part I) ღ · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ✦ I used a randomized wheel to select some characters on parent/baby head-canons. I will do the rest in other parts, and I also plan on including the HSR women as parents too! ≫ Note: some children of these characters are biological and some are adopted! :) ✦ CW: some related story spoilers for characters, non-graphic mentions of labor and delivery, pregnancy, fluff, mentions of angst but not much

✦ Characters: Aventurine, Boothill, Gallagher, Jiaoqiu x Reader (separate)

≫"Aventurine" - Kakavasha • ♧ • ☆———☆ • ♧ •  You aren't sure why you were nervous to tell him in the first place. He takes the news shockingly well; with a bright, wide smile and a tight hug. But there's no mistaking the tremble in his hands as he envelops you, the worry that furrows between his brows at night when he thinks to his own family, his clan, and their fate. So when that fateful day arrives and you go into labor, it nearly kills him to be kept out of the room with you. "There's issues happening, sir. She's lost a lot of blood and still is, but we are doing everything we can to ensure baby and mother survive this."

Hours pass, minutes, eternity. The mocking ticking of the clock does little to lessen the incessant pacing Aventurine does with his leg as he sits, gets up to pace, then sits some more. Every possible scenario runs through his mind; none of them are positive. He can't help but think back to his cursed luck, to the fate that befell his family and now - you. His child. His flesh and blood and his hope for the future... would he even be awarded that chance? Or would "luck" take you away from him, too? Nearly stumbling over himself, a nurse comes to get him; her eyes dark, exhausted, and her face forlorn as a tired smile stretches gently across her face. "They are both stable now. Would you like to see your little boy, Mr. Aventurine?" ≫ Boothill ━━✥◈✥━━ "Well fudge me! Ain't no way it actually worked!" He spins you around in his strong cybernetic arms; ecstasy doesn't even do his own emotions justice in this very moment. The two of you looked at galactic doctors in passing, some promising the idea of conception as long as Boothill had some genetic makeup left on his person. Which he did: his head and his hair. Still, the two of you didn't put much stock into it but figured you might as well both try. If not, neither of you had any issue being childless or even adopting an orphan from one of the many war planets. Boothill, for as curt and reckless as he could be, always admired your enormous heart for children and animals who had no home, and no one to take care of them. So, when the news of that so-called galactic genius of a doctor managed to successfully combine both your and Boothill's genes to create a baby, it isn't several minutes before Boothill lets your feet touch the ground. Even so, throughout your pregnancy, he still doesn't let your feet touch the ground. Call it dedication to you, his spouse, but also call it a fear of losing his family again. Months pass by quicker than expected and Boothill always managed to talk with the growing life inside you every night, telling stories of the sister they could've had, how proud he was of them already, how much of a fighter they were gonna be when they managed to kick you a little too hard.

And so, when time passes by in another blur, Boothill's eyes are glazed over as he stares down at the tiniest little bundle swaddled in his arms. Tiny tufts of hair that resemble his fill her small head, eyes thar resembles yours. She looks up at him, at her daddy, and one stray arm lands square on his face until her hand squeezes at his nose. Boothill is speechless for once; glad his little girl is strong and healthy and reaching out for his face - the one part of his body he can still feel touch. He swears on every part of his being: it's not just you he has to keep safe anymore, but his new chance at being a father.

≫ Gallagher ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The enigma known as "Gallagher" has always perplexed you. Even when the two of you met; just who or what was he? A person? A former person? Or an amalgamation of dreams? He proves you wrong one day when he decides to travel with you to a worn-torn world for your work. As a nurse, you usually went by yourself, but for whatever reason, Gallagher decided to tag along. "It'll be nice to stretch these old legs and get out to new sights," he said. That was before the two of you were stumped: staring slack-jawed at the little boy who had smuggled himself onto your ship. He is a Halovian child; small wings flapping nervously out of shame as he peers at the two of you behind some shipping crates. Sighing, you reach down to his level, outstretching your hand and hoping that your demeanor will allow the child to feel safe with you. To your and Gallagher's surprise, the little Halovian rushes to you in a desperate hug, a familiar sound of sniffles and a dampness near the collar of your shirt. "Please! I have nowhere to go! I'm so, so, so sorry to have snuck on to your ship!" the boy sniffles, voice muffled by the fabric he buried his face into by your neck, "please don't leave me! I p-promise I'll be useful!"

'Useful'... a word Gallagher could resonate with, one that hit a little harder than most when he slowly began approaching the boy in your arms. Something changed in his demeanor then, large, scarred hand deciding to ruffle the boy's hair until the Halovian sniffled and peered up at him. "No need to cry, kid. We'll take you with us, alright?" Gallagher glances to you for approval and you send him a kind smile and nod. The young boy grips on harder to your shirt, thanking you profusely as you carry him off somewhere safe until you can go through the proper channels to adopt him.

≫ Jiaoqiu —————❖————— "Why?"

"Why?" "How could I ever be upset with you...? The only part of me that's upset is you thinking I wouldn't want you after this news." He wraps his arms around you, contented smile on his face. "If this is what you want then, yes, of course it'll be hard, but I'm willing to experience this with you." Your hormones are raging as you hug him back, fear slowly dissipating as the guilt for letting yourself fall pregnant when Jiaoqiu's eyesight and wounds were still healing. "I never thought an old fox like me could be a dad, heh," he mumbles, holding you just a little closer, "but I think I could get used to it... the word: 'Papa'."

Despite one of senses severely impaired, Jiaoqiu is still just as much of a mother-hen as always; ensuring you are taken care of, properly nourished, and resting when you need to. He uses the excuse each day that he "needs to check your progress" on the growth of your belly, but knowing he has little to no experience with pregnancy as a healer, it's quite obvious he's lying just to feel your tummy and bond with his little kit. Jiaoqiu will use text-to-speech books on pregnancy and parenting frequently, telling you all about the progress and changes your body is going through. And, for the record, he takes any mood swings and changes quite well; the reason is quite simple, too. He never thought he'd ever have the luxury of settling down with a family of his own and so, he cherishes every single moment of the process: good and bad. When you go into labor, he's immediately at your side. His Foxian blood can practically sense it. His instincts take the better of him and he refuses to leave your side for even a single moment; wrapping his tail protectively around you and nuzzling his face close to yours with a flurry of kisses and encouraging words. His hand certainly hurts when you squeeze it, but he doesn't mind. He also doesn't mind if you feel the need to scream; in fact, he encourages you to let it out if it hurts. Feeling the tears on your face and hearing the agony in your voice as you try to stifle your cries hurts him more than you know. But, oh... when the first cries of his beautiful child is brought into the world, he feels that familiar lump of emotion forming in his throat, his chest constricting. When you describe what she looks like, describes just how much she resembles him, Jiaoqiu breaks down. He apologizes quickly and tries to compose himself. But it doesn't last long when he's allowed to hold his daughter with your guidance.

When her tiny hands wrap around his finger, he knows... he knows that he's finally reached a point where his centuries of healing others has finally begun to mend his broken heart back together.

© morphodae (please do not insert any of my works into artificial intelligence programs or repost my works on any site)

[innerfare]

Shanks Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A random collection of Shanks relationship headcanons

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks can’t stand you at first. You get under his skin without even trying. Worse still, you don’t take his bait- you don’t bicker with him, you don’t argue, but you also don’t laugh at his jokes, and it drives him absolutely insane. He’s never met anyone he couldn’t drag down to his level and he doesn’t know what to do about that. 

You also rebuff his advances initially, and he panics because nobody rebuffs his advances. He could bed Akainu if he wanted to, he’s certain of it, so why can’t he bed you? He becomes consumed by his desire to have you, not just in his bed but in his company more generally, eating at his table and sharing a drink and some gossip with him. 

He never shuts up about you, constantly complaining to Beckman, who realizes what is going on almost immediately. Beckman doesn’t bother trying to illuminate Shanks as to the annoying predicament that is love, just laughs to himself.  

Starts writing down and rehearsing his absolute best material before he sees you. When you don’t laugh, he becomes convinced you’re withholding your laughter just to be mean to him. He almost blows a gasket when Lucky Roux tells him, “you know, Captain, maybe your sense of humor just isn’t for everyone.” 

This eventually culminates in him blowing up and kissing you one night. To his utter surprise, you kiss him back. From that point forward, the two of you are going steady, which is uncharted territory for Shanks. 

When he does finally identify your sense of humor, it’s one of his proudest moments. He’s merciless from that point forward, drawing as many laughs from your lips as possible. He'll even resort to tickling you just to hear that musical sound.

To his surprise, you relationship quickly becomes his temple. You’re the person he’s actually serious with, the person with whom he shares his fears and ambitions, with whom he is raw and vulnerable. When he has nightmares, you’ll be the one to comfort him, and when he has doubts, you’ll be the one to reassure him. 

There’s much more to him than meets the eye. He isn’t just a drunken layabout or a prankster, but a complex man with great ambition, and the foundation of your relationship is your ability to unravel these complexities. 

That being said, if he does eventually make you a little less mature, a little more petty, a little more childish, he’ll view it as one of his greatest victories. 

So dramatic. Tells you things like, “I would cease to exist if we were parted,” and, “you fill in the cracks in my soul,” and he means them 100%. Naturally you don’t realize he means them 100% until you find yourself in a life-threatening situation and he drops literally everything to rescue you, apologizing profusely for allowing a hair on your head to be harmed. It’s in that moment you realize the gravity of receiving the affection of an Emperor. 

Brings you flowers, usually a bundle of cheap supermarket flowers with a lot of different colors (he can't actually identify any of the flowers but thought they were pretty). He’s the sort to throw rocks at your window and serenade you with a guitar (he’ll sing but he’s bad at it), but only after you’re in a relationship so it makes you laugh more than it makes you swoon. 

Will order Beckman to reroute the crew’s course so far out of their way it’s comical because he wants you to try a restaurant on an island he visited a decade ago because they served your favorite food in a unique and delicious way; naturally when you get there the restaurant has closed. Shanks makes it up to you with a bowl of ramen, though. 

Got you a massive stuffed strawberry from a carnival (he lost the game but stole the prize anyway when the carnie wasn’t looking, delinquent ass boyfriend), gets very upset if he walks into your room and it’s not on your bed. Now likes to call you strawberry. Other nicknames include red panda or just panda and even my sake cup. Also refers to you in conversation as the crown jewels. 

Tipsy walks down the beach at night, your fingers intertwined, that end with him chasing you through the shallows, catching you in his arms, and spinning you around. He loves a good came of chase, or even hide and seek. Also, strip poker. 

Would never admit it, but he’s often the little spoon. He’ll collapse on top of you after a night of drinking with the boys. Also, he can’t fall asleep without a fistful of something, and since the two of you became an item, that something is usually your hair or shirt (at least to keep it SFW 😉). 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[thefrogman]

Back in the olden days, if you used the "keep reading" function on a Tumblr-dot-com post, it would

not get very many notes.

At all.

I am not sure exactly why.

I think people hated pressing an extra thing.

But maybe it was also a psychological phenomenon where, given the choice, they were unwilling to trust me with their time.

But if I sucked them in with a good story or a compelling image, they would get serious FOMO.

When I created a super high effort post-of-length I would get comments like, "This was way too long but before I realized it I was reading the last sentence."

That was a really good feeling.

I used to do tests to figure out the best posting strategies and I think I figured out you'd lose about 90% of your notes if you did a "keep reading" post.

So that notion was ingrained in my brain again and again from when I was very note-obsessed and I have since avoided the "keep reading" option almost like a conditioned response.

Just seeing that squiggly line appear still induces a Pavlovian fear.

But that was probably a decade ago and I did a new experiment. My story about replacing my mailbox did reasonably well with a strategically clickbaity "keep reading."

This was a promising result due to the fact that some people like to send me hate for writing a lengthy post.

I recently got a death threat for writing too much, which was a fun reminder of my M&M days (I melted men's rights activists' brains with a poorly worded analogy and they launched a years long harassment campaign).

It seems in present-era-Tumblr-dot-com many more people prefer pressing an extra thing rather than scrolling a bunch on their smartphone. The collective behavior has changed. And maybe I don't need to use tricks and running gags in order to get folks to "keep reading".

Unfortunately I started writing that ring light post a few months ago so I wasn't able to include that in the experiment. But I am going to try using the keep reading function in the future and as long as the average number of folks that usually read my longer posts continue to read my posts, that will be the standard approach.

I also tag these posts with "long post" so you can flag that if you wish.

While I am no longer in the audience-building phase of my Tumblr career, these essays and stories and educational posts take a considerable amount of time and effort to create, so I do want to make sure everyone who wants to read them is able to. But posts without hearts and reblogs can quickly die a gruesome algorithmic death. Even my most ardent followers would tell me things were not showing up on their dash. (I think replies help mitigate that, so if you like a long post, you can help with engagement.)

The collective noun is a "business" of ferrets.

Do you want to see a business of ferrets ready to do some business?

KEEP READING

I love writing and it is a huge catharsis for me. And I love sharing any knowledge I feel like I have the earned expertise to speak on with authority (technology, photography, light, fun ferret facts, etc). I wish I had the energy to be a photography teacher, but long posts on Tumblr are probably the best I can do for now.

I know my posts are super long, but I try to make them as fun and informationally dense as I possibly can. I don't like wasting people's time if I can avoid it. Though maybe I should trust my follower's attention span a bit more. I have this fear that if I am not constantly entertaining, people will click away or unfollow.

I think a good business for a business of ferrets would be selling pool noodles that look like ferrets.

So as long as I get roughly the same amount of notes I will do the keep reading. And then maybe people can lay off on the mean comments and occasional requests to end my own life because I bloviated about soft light.

100% true ferret fact..

If you ask a ferret what their business is, they will crawl on your shoulder and whisper in your ear...

[daryltwdixon]

Double Lines

a requested one shot

"Hi it's me lol my request is Daryl and fem reader are a couple and they finally decided to try for a baby. When Rick returns he is proud of Daryl for everything he's done with the group as well as being a father figure to Judith and can't believe he's finally a father to his own kid. Just fluff lol up to you if there's a pregnancy loss or not in their journey to try to conceive, baby gender is up to you. Names for baby are DJ (Daryl Jr) or Elizabeth after Beth since she was your close friend as well as Daryl's 🖤🖤" @twistedprincess-92

fluffy, pregnancy, gentle Daryl, fem reader.

Daryl has his arms wrapped around you as you stand in the bathroom together. The tile flooring is cold under your bare feet, but that’s not the only thing bringing goosebumps to your skin. He’s kissing your cheeks and lips, then to your nose and temple.

“Whatever it is, I love you,” he whispers against your ear. 

You smile and tuck your face into his neck. Praying, pleading, for once to see that double line. Before you made it to Alexandria, you were terrified of an accidental pregnancy. The thought of bringing a baby into this world terrified you, even though Judith had done so well. But her early years were hard. For her and the group. Daryl was just as scared as you were about pregnancy–maybe more from the fear of losing you. So when you both settled into Alexandria, the idea of a life outside of the apocalypse crept in more and more each day. You kept picturing a stumbling toddler running out to greet Daryl when he came home, what songs you would sing them to bed with, or how soft their cheeks might be. What a mini Daryl might look like, or a little girl who looked just like you might be like. Every day when you sat on your front porch, having coffee and quality time when Daryl was around, you’d picture him or her in his lap. Their eyes would be just like his, so icy blue like the first frost of winter. Their smile would be a mirror of yours, maybe with dimples or none. When you brought the idea to Daryl he was nervous at first, but he knew how much safer you both felt here. There was medicine, doctors, support to help during birth. One night, after a particularly long love making, you confessed to Daryl your thoughts. He had been worried at first, the natural panic of the past few years coming to him. But after assuring him of everything around you, how good Alexandria was for both of you, he finally agreed. That night, you spent many hours interlocked with him. It was one of the most beautiful nights with him, where you finally felt like something was happening for the better. Since then, he’s held you closer and closer when he hugs you. He pulls you into more kisses, his arms always finding your waist. He brings you flowers almost every day, never leaving the vase on your dining table empty.

Today you had told him, in a shaky voice, that your period was two weeks late. Every day since your period was supposed to be here, you just kept telling yourself it’s the stress–something hormonal. You knew there were reasons a period wouldn’t come. You’d had so many scares with Daryl because you were both starving and it was natural for a period to be missed due to the lack of nutrition. So you got used to making excuses for it. But Alexandria was…safe. It was home. So you finally decided to just tell Daryl, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. His eyes were like saucers when you came to him. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like that before. He immediately ran from you, and at first you were nervous you scared him away, that he needed to go out for a hunt to clear his mind. But instead, he came back quickly with a small, rectangular box. He pulled the pregnancy test from it, holding it out to you.

“Together,” he said. All you could do was fall into him for a sweet embrace. 

So you find yourselves together here in the bathroom now. Waiting for those double lines. 

“I love you,” you whisper into his neck.

He pulls you back, bringing your face up to his, kissing you deeply. He didn’t need words to tell you how much he loved you. His actions always spoke so much louder. When you come out of your kiss, your eyes naturally peek over to the test on the counter, and a gasp escapes from you.

There’s two bright pink lines across the tester.

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

It’s so funny, almost like deja-vu. You remember picturing this exactly nine months ago. Sitting on your porch, sipping coffee, watching Daryl with your child. Except instead of one, there were two. Yes, twins. When you found out both of you nearly fainted, the news was almost too much for your frayed pregnancy nerves. But now, seeing Daryl with his closed eyes on the porch swing, two babies laying sound asleep on him during a contact nap was the most magical thing you could ever want or need. You look over to the street from a bit of motion in the corner of your eye, and you see Rick walking over, Judith in hand. She’s walking over, blabbing about something in her toddler talk. He is smiling down at her, nodding and answering back. When he looks up and catches you watching, he lifts his free hand into a wave. You smile and wave him to come up to the porch steps. As he and Judith approach, you begin to stand. 

“Stay, stay,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “you must be tired,” 

“How are you doing? Hi Judith,” you say softly, your eyes twinkling at the little one.

“We’re doin’ real good,” he says, “right Judy?”

“HI!” she says loudly, still not exactly used to using her ‘inside voice’, stirring Daryl out of his nap. The babies squirm on him, but he lays still, bringing his arms up around them tighter. 

“Wow,” Rick says, watching Daryl. He’s shaking his head lightly, his eyes full of love.

“Thought I couldn’t do it?” Daryl says hoarsely with a smirk. Judith comes over to him to stare at one of the babies laying closest to her. 

“No,” Rick says softly, shaking his head, “I knew you’d be amazing. You’ve always been good with the kids, Dare. I’m just…” he trails off, his throat bobbing, “I’m just real’ proud of you. How far we’ve all come,” he looks over to you now, his eyes misty. You give him a sad smile, reaching your hand out to hold his, squeezing tightly for a moment before dropping it again.

“You’ve done so much for us–for everyone. I’m real’ happy that you finally get to have this.” he finishes, leaning over, putting his hand on his chosen brother’s shoulder. Daryl stares at him intently, and nods genuinely. 

“What’re their names?” Judith asks loudly. The baby closest to her opens his eyes, “Uncle Daryl? What are the babies’ names?” she asks again, impatient. 

“This one here, J, is DJ. For Daryl Junior,” he smiles softly, touching DJ’s soft cheeks with the pads of his fingers.

“Wow, so he’s Daryl and you’re Daryl?” she says quizzically. Her face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Tha’s right,” he says, meeting your eyes with a twinkle in his, he looks down at the other baby, still snoozing softly on him, “and this here is Elizabeth,” he says quieter now. He looks back up at Rick, a sad smile on his face. Rick returns it, and crouches down next to Judith, “that’s a beautiful name, huh, J? Tell Uncle Daryl what a nice name that is,” 

She giggles, putting her fingers in her mouth and smiling, “I like it,”

“Surprised you didn’t say one of their names was Ass Kicker,” Rick smiles widely and you all laugh at the memory.

You and Daryl had decided the names early on, knowing you wanted to honor his lost friend Beth Greene. She was so gentle and good hearted. He missed her, and you knew it would mean the world to him to name his child after her. DJ was the harder one to get Daryl to sign off on–he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of his own name. He thought it was silly to name his son after himself. 

“We’ll call him DJ for short–that way you won’t think about it,” you joked one afternoon. 

He had taken a long pause, working on his motorcycle in the garage, tinkering with something in the engine. You had come by, hobbling over with your large belly to bring him lunch. He tended to forget to eat during the long hours he spent in the garage with his bike, and you liked visiting him during the day. When he saw you, he ran up to you to pull the stool he had in the shop under you. You sighed as you sat, and he kissed your temple as you took the weight off your swollen feet. He took the lunch from you with a small ‘thanks, baby’.

“So…?” you say breathlessly. You were getting so tired of being winded by walking 20 feet these days.

“DJ, huh?,” he finally said, “alright,” and that was that. Life had finally slowed down. You felt like everything that had happened between the two of you, the sacrifices that had to be made, the things that kept you up at night–had finally been worth it. You were safe, Daryl was safe. And now you had a beautiful family that was safe. It was all you could ever want and need.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: yes I'm being irresponsible.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

‘So sorry I’m running behind. May forgot her wallet’. You reread Peter’s message for the fifth time and check the time under the bubble. More than forty minutes ago. He has to be close. 

You thought of checking but you don’t want to pressure him. Besides, he is doing a favour by bringing you to Stark Tower to let you use the space with him. You turn and pace along the wall, out of the way of the New York pedestrians who wouldn’t even notice if you got underfoot. 

You thought of waiting in the lobby but that’s too much. You focus on breathing. You feel alright for the moment, but a few times, you’ve reached for your inhaler just out of habit.  

“Hey,” a voice draws you out of your mounting anxiety, bringing you back down to just above neutral. “Door’s open, you know?” 

You face Bucky as he holds open of the many glass doors. 

You nod and teeter on your heels. “I know, sir. Just waiting.” 

“Bucky,” he corrects you. Like last time. Oops. “Waiting on the kid?” You gesture affirmatively again. He waves you over casually with a gloved hand, “come on. I can get ya into the lab.” 

“Mm, ahem,” you clear your throat, it’s getting tight. You get closer as the noise of the street makes it hard to hear your own thoughts. “That’s nice but I said I’d wait here.” 

“Busy,” he comments and his eyes roll around derisively. “Should be out here on the street. Let the kid know you’ll be upstairs.” 

There’s no arguing with him, not that you would ever dare. You’re not afraid of him. Maybe intimidated but who doesn’t make you feel small. No, he’s Bucky Barnes, an Avenger. You have no ground to tell him no. Besides, he’s being nice even if his tone remains mostly indifferent. 

“Thanks, s—Bucky,” you muster a tight-lipped smile. 

He holds the door and you flit in ahead of him, your wool jacket flapping and brushing against him. He follows. You hurry ahead then stop short as you realise you don’t know where you going. As you do, a man in a suit huffs and nearly knocks you over with his arm. 

“Watch it, little girl.” He sneers. 

“Hey,” Bucky catches him by his tie, “what’d you say to the lady?” 

You spin around in shock, rubbing your arm at the suddenness of it all. 

“N-nothing, I--” the man blinks in fear. “Nothing, she just got in my way.” 

“You knocked into her and you can’t say sorry?” Bucky pulls him closer, glaring at him with a furrow of his nose. 

“N-no,” the man shows his palms, “no.” 

“Look at her. She’s half your size, pal. You think she could hurt you?” 

“No, no, look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” The man sputters. 

“Not to me,” Bucky slides his hand down the man’s tie and pulls him like a dog on a leash toward you, “her.” 

The man blanches and gulp, “look, miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I shouldn’t have... I should look where I’m going.” 

“Good boy,” Bucky’s snarl comes close to a smirk as he lets the man go and taps his cheek lightly. “Go.” 

He shoves the man by the shoulder and you bat your eyes dumbly. You watch him go as Bucky looms close. You look at him and reach for your bag. You unzip the pouch at the end of the thin strap and pull out your inhaler. You take a puff. 

His expression softens, “oh, is that me?” 

You shake your head, “too many people.” 

“Ah, right,” he points toward the elevators. 

You follow him as he bulldozes through the bodies and pushes the button. You stop beside him and fidget with your inhaler. You peek over at him again. He looks down at you and you wince. 

“Sorry... I...” 

“People usually only stare when I got the arm out,” he shrugs. “I got something on my face? Damn beard catches.”  

Brushes his fingers over the thicket of hair across his jaw. You shake your head again. 

“S-sorry. I... I...” you sniff as the doors open and he beckons you ahead of him. You scurry on and he follows as a slow pace. He spins and jabs the buttons.  

“Thanks for... for helping.” 

“Not at all,” he says. Silence rises with the elevator. He coughs. “You know, I had a buddy with ashthma. Still my buddy but he don’t got the asthma no more.”  

He snorts. You mull his words. You think know who he means.  

“The stuff or whatever... got rid of it?” You ask meekly. 

“Yeah, the stuff. Serum. Poison,” he scoffs. 

“Oh,” you hum. 

“Guess I take it for granted. Never had to worry about much of the being sick part. Sister did. Yeah, she used to always have something,” he clicks his tongue. “Tell me when to shut up.” 

“No, no, I wouldn’t... wouldn’t ever,” you stutter. 

Another lulls fills the elevator as it opens, but the tension remains trapped inside. He points you out first and waits to trail after you. You come out onto the floor. You vaguely recognise some of the acrylic decor and the stiff looking chairs but you don’t know where to go. 

“Left,” he directs you with a gentle caress down your sleeve. “Easy to get lost when you don’t waste your life here." 

You let him guide you. You’d lose yourself without him. It’s exactly why you’d been out on the street.  

That reminds you of Peter. You reach for your bag again and pull out your phone. You check for a message. 

“Kid standing a nice gal like you up?” He asks. 

You flinch, “uh, no, his aunt... there was an emergency.” 

“More important than you, huh?” He pivots and presses his finger to the keypad. The door opens. 

“I don’t... I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.” 

He looks at you, his eyes narrowing, “you’re not a big deal?” 

“No, waiting isn’t... isn’t that bad,” you stammer. “Uh, thanks, again.” 

“Well, you know, in my day, we treated ladies with respect. Let me know if the kid needs a lesson or two,” he taps the doorframe. “I’ll check in, just in case.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know I don’t,” he says. “Go on,” he nods through the door. 

You don’t hesitate. You enter the lab with another thanks, eager to have some time to yourself. You go to the table and untangle your knapsack. You look back just as the door starts to slide shut. You only get a glimpse of his eyes before he’s blocked out by the metal barrier. You can feel his gaze staining you. 

You know it must be all in your head but he is so intense. Not as angry as last time but still... a lot. 

[dalessandra01]

I will throw rocks at your window

By @dalessandra01

Summary:

“Kate goes to visit Sophie’s room the night before her wedding, officially welcoming her as a sister. The two share an heartfelt conversation before they hear someone throwing rocks at Sophie’s window.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

She hadn't slept in such a comfortable bed for years. Or simply retired for the night without feeling pain from head to toe.

Sophie let herself fall onto the mattress with the same excitement as a small child, giggling for no reason other than just being happy.

She still couldn’t believe that by this time tomorrow, she would be married.

To Benedict Bridgerton, no less.

The man she had dreamed of every night since that unforgettable evening.

Was she really this lucky?

It felt like living in a fairytale.

Or perhaps a dream.

Would she now wake up and discover it had all been a figment of her imagination?

She turned over on the mattress, resting her head on the pillow.

It felt natural to touch her cheeks, and she realised how warm they were.

She felt a little shameless thinking about what would happen the next day when the celebrations would be over, and she and Benedict would leave for their honeymoon. Alone.

And this time, without worrying about anything.

She was free to be with him and no longer fear the arrival of children—in fact, at that moment, it was all she desired most.

She bit her lower lip at that thought.

She had agonised over the idea of a child so many times, even more so when she and Benedict had given in to passion, but now she could think calmly about their arrival. Was she perhaps rushing things?

She wasn’t even married yet, and she was already imagining what their children would look like.

And above all, how much she would love them.

This made her remember how much she longed to see her fiancé at that moment.

When they had returned from his apartment, Lady Bridgerton had not been particularly pleased that her request to be home by seven had been ignored.

But judging by her expression, she must have expected it.

Especially since Sophie hadn’t been scolded at all—Benedict had taken all the blame.

It had made her smile, even though she knew she had wanted it as much as he did.

But she certainly hadn’t expected Violet to be a vengeful person.

Not in a truly malicious way, but it was clear that she had done everything she could to ensure that the two of them were never alone in the same room.

And apparently, she had also involved the young Viscountess in the process.

It was actually a very sensible decision; Benedict might have been able to get around his mother, but never his sister-in-law.

Sophie had noticed from the start how tenacious the young Lady Bridgerton could be, but she hadn’t thought it would go this far.

She would almost swear that she found it amusing.

She lifted her head when she heard a knock on her door. For a moment, she almost fooled herself into thinking that Benedict had managed to sneak into Bridgerton House to visit her.

She held her breath, waiting for her visitor to reveal their identity:

“Sophie? May I come in?” Her smile faltered when she heard Kate’s voice from the other side of the door.

She took just a moment to recover from her disappointment and sat properly on the bed.

“Of course, come in,” she replied, not wanting to appear ungrateful for her visit.

Even when she was only a maid, Kate had always been extremely kind to her. If Sophie refused one of Violet’s invitations to join her and her daughters for tea, especially when she had visitors herself, Kate would insist she come.

Sometimes she even offered to make her chai, in case she didn’t feel like having English tea.

Besides, seeing how quickly little Edmund had become attached to Sophie must have made the Viscountess even more protective towards her.

And, very likely, Kate had been one of the first to notice Benedict’s feelings for her.

It was a universal rule—after the servants, the high-society ladies always knew everything, and Sophie considered Kate one of them.

The title suited her as if it were a custom-made dress; she moved and acted with such elegance that even if she had married a simple wealthy gentleman, it would have been a shame not to grant her husband a title so that Kate could continue being the noblewoman she was meant to be.

A role Sophie never saw herself in, to be honest.

Even if her father had recognised her as his daughter, giving her noble status, she could never have endured the pressure that came with it.

Of course, her life would have been easier, and perhaps she and Benedict could have courted properly, but… would he have courted her if she had been the daughter of an earl?

She and Benedict would never have faced financial problems, that was certain, but it was also true, at least from what she had gathered from reading Whistledown, that firstborn sons were always the most sought after on the marriage market.

And only once they were married did attention shift to the second sons.

Belonging to a family like the Bridgertons had certainly made Benedict a desirable match, but if Anthony had still been single, he would have taken second place.

And in this fantasy world where Sophie was a legitimate daughter, would he still have tried to approach her? Or would he have felt unworthy?

Her life had been horrible, yes.

But at least… it had brought her to this point: to that night, just a step away from saying the big “yes” and marrying the love of her life.

At that point, titles and social conventions no longer mattered.

From tomorrow on… it would be just her and Benedict.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Kate asked her with a teasing smile. Sophie raised a hand to her face, feeling it flush again.

“Is it that obvious?” she squeaked, unable to meet the other woman’s eyes.

“A little,” Kate laughed. “I’m sorry for keeping you two apart these days, but I won’t deny that I’ve enjoyed teasing my brother-in-law.”

“I imagine… I admit it’s satisfying to see him suffer a bit,” Sophie joked in return. After all, Benedict had spent much of the time she had worked for his mother tormenting her, trying to convince her to become his mistress.

He had apologised, true. But it was only fair he suffered a little for what he had put her through.

The only downside was that now, having him completely, being apart from him was torture for her as well.

“But I miss him terribly…” she ended up admitting.

“It’s only a few more hours,” Kate reassured her, gently stroking her arm. “And, in the meantime, I’ll take this moment to officially welcome you.”

Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise at those words.

“Welcome?” she asked.

“Yes, from tomorrow, you and I will be sisters,” Kate said, taking her hands. “You know… Anthony and Benedict are very close, being the eldest, and I’m glad he’s found a good match in you, Sophie. I’m sure we’ll spend a lot of time together.”

Sophie gave her a wide smile. All the Bridgertons had been incredibly warm once Benedict had announced their engagement.

In truth, she had felt like part of the family even before that.

But being welcomed by someone other than Violet warmed her heart, especially because Kate, more than anyone, knew what it was like to marry a Bridgerton.

“Thank you, Kate, really. That means a lot to me,” she said, smiling at her the whole time.

The Viscountess looked at her with an almost motherly expression before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” she asked gently. It was obvious that, for all the family might have discussed it, only Benedict knew her full past. What Kate could know was limited.

“You have no idea,” Sophie replied.

“If you ever feel like talking to someone, I’m here.” And it took all her willpower not to break down in tears.

Yes, Posy was her sister.

Now that she was away from Araminta, she was free to call her that, but Posy would always remain more of a little sister to Sophie, being the youngest.

What Kate was offering her, though, was what Rosamund should have been, but her vanity had always prevented her from being anything else: an older sister.

Without realising it, a tear had slipped down Sophie’s face, and her new sister promptly wiped it away, reassuring her.

“You’ll be a magnificent bride,” she said, and Sophie didn’t know whether to cry or not.

She wasn’t used to having such a figure in her life. For the first time, she felt truly loved and appreciated.

But the thought of where Benedict was kept tormenting her. She so longed to see him, even if just for a minute.

From what she understood, gentlemen prepared for their wedding day differently than brides did.

This was also because not all unions were as wanted as hers.

But from what she had gathered, while she had been pampered with beauty treatments, Benedict had gone somewhere with his two brothers. When it had been Anthony’s turn, they had simply stayed in his study, but since they were just a few doors away, the chance that Benedict would find a way to escape Anthony and Colin’s clutches was too plausible for them to remain at home.

Although Sophie had to admit that she would have liked that.

“Do you know where they are?” she ventured, lowering her gaze, wondering if she sounded too forward.

“At Mondrich’s. Anthony told me they were going to spend some time there and then bring him back home.”

The idea that his brothers trusted Benedict so little that they even volunteered to escort him back to his own house just to make sure he didn’t try to see Sophie the night before the wedding was almost laughable.

By now, it must have amused everyone, seeing how determined they were to ensure the two didn’t come together before tomorrow.

Suddenly, she blushed.

The thought crossed her mind that perhaps all that frustration could have some specific effects once the ceremony was over. Certainly, it would be enjoyable, and perhaps she should thank her new family for—no.

That was too much.

“Is everything alright?” Kate asked, with a knowing look.

“I think I’m just a bit warm,” she replied—strange to say, since it was autumn.

And indeed, it was clear that the Viscountess didn’t believe her one bit. Without saying another word, she got up and left.

For a moment, Sophie thought she was retiring for the night, but a few seconds later, she was back by her side, with the same composure that characterised her.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asked, confused.

“I’ve sent for a bottle of whisky from Anthony’s study,” Kate replied matter-of-factly.

Sophie’s eyes widened.

“But I’ve never had whisky.”

“Neither have I,” Kate replied. “But I have a feeling it’ll be one of the first experiences we share together.”

Meanwhile, the bottle had been brought on a tray with two glasses. The butler offered them his respects with a bow and then disappeared.

“Won’t Anthony mind that we’re drinking his whisky?” Sophie asked as Kate poured the liquor into her glass.

“Perhaps, but it’s a problem I’ll deal with when he finds out,” she replied.

“Welcome to the world of married women, Sophie Baek.” She couldn’t help but laugh at Kate’s satisfied expression.

After all, it was highly likely that Benedict was in a similar situation right now, so what was wrong with indulging in a bit of alcohol?

“I’m not sure if Benedict and Anthony will be happy to know we’re getting along or…”

“Afraid that we might team up against them?”

At that point, Sophie burst out laughing.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"I must do it."

Benedict declared, stepping forward with determination. Anthony quickly grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Hold on," he reprimanded, "You've waited this long; you can wait until tomorrow to see her."

Benedict looked at his brother in frustration.

They had just come from Mondrich’s, and perhaps it was the whiskey clouding his judgment, but he felt an overwhelming need to see his bride-to-be. Just for a minute. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless she gave him one of her radiant smiles. One of those smiles that could rival the brilliance of the stars.

"Please, brother, just for a minute," he pleaded, realizing how desperate he sounded for begging Anthony of all people. "I swear, I have no ill intentions."

"I highly doubt that," his older brother replied, rolling his eyes.

"Please, I just want to do something foolish," cursed whiskey, making him talk like an idiot, but if it meant seeing Sophie, he didn’t care.

"I never got to court Sophie properly, and to make up for it, I want to go stand under her window."

At that moment, Colin had joined them, clearly holding back laughter.

"Are you planning to recite her a sonnet, brother?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I might," Benedict was seriously considering it for a moment. He wasn’t sure what exactly he would do once he got under her balcony,

"Something—anything, I don’t know, but I just want to see her."

Anthony sighed,

"Alright, but don’t make too much noise."

Before he could continue, Benedict had already thrown his arms around his neck.

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Dear God, I swear this is the last time I drink with you."

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Maybe Sophie should have realized that since it was her first time tasting alcohol, she would start feeling strange after just the second glass. Even Kate seemed to have let loose a bit, and they ended up talking about everything, the inhibition from the liquor making them laugh at every silly thing they said.

"Wait, wait—! What do you mean he bought her a horse?"

"I swear, he showed up outside our house with a horse."

"And this was just to convince your sister to marry him?"

"He's very competitive."

"I can see that."

They both burst into laughter like two little girls, and when Sophie finally caught her breath, she naturally blurted out:

"And did he ever buy you a horse?"

"No, and I keep holding it against him," Kate replied with a smirk.

"Then I need to find something to hold against Benedict," Sophie joked.

"Great idea," Kate replied. "Maybe the fact that he didn’t recognize you?"

"Isn’t that a bit too cruel?"

"It’s useful when you need to negotiate," Kate shrugged. "You’ll need it when you have children."

Sophie felt her face flush again, but before she could respond, a tapping sound on the window made her turn.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, hoping the alcohol hadn’t made her imagine things.

Kate nodded, and Sophie moved to check.

When she pulled back the curtain, a small stone hit the window, making her jump.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"Have you gone mad?!"

Anthony half-yelled at Benedict.

"How else am I supposed to get her to look out without shouting?" he retorted.

"Stop that, you’ll break the glass," his brother ordered, trying to stop him, probably cursing the fact that Colin had decided to head home, leaving them alone. You had to wonder if he did it on purpose.

"They're pebbles, not rocks," Benedict protested.

"It’s still my house!" But before Anthony could argue further, Sophie peeked out from the window.

Benedict grinned like a fool, forgetting whatever quarrel he had with his brother. She was stunning, and how he wished he could climb that damn wall just to steal a little kiss from her.

"Sophie!" he exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her expression happy, though he noticed a slight flush on her cheeks, but paid it no mind.

"I wanted to see you."

She let out a small laugh. What a melodious sound.

"You would have seen me tomorrow."

"I couldn’t wait any longer," he said brightly, "I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without seeing you, even for just a second."

He saw her place a hand on her chest, her smile growing wider. It made him proud that his words touched her, but he knew he could do better.

"You are more beautiful than the moon and stars, Sophie. I can’t wait to be your husband."

"Oh, Benedict," she murmured.

"I want a kiss from you. Please, just one," he begged, completely forgetting Anthony was right there.

And, unbeknownst to him, not alone.

"Benedict! Don’t you dare!" Anthony shouted.

But before Benedict could take even one step toward the wall, they both found themselves soaked.

Kate had appeared next to Sophie, holding an empty pitcher—the one usually kept on the nightstand for water—in her hands.

"Go to bed, Benedict. You’re getting married tomorrow!" his sister-in-law said in an authoritative tone before shutting the window.

Benedict looked at Anthony, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead by now.

"Remind me never to cross your wife."

"And you remind me never to drink with you again."

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖️ as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Seasonal Delights Bingo: fall vibes | Row One-One | soft kisses | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Fairytale Bingo | Row One-Three | Goddess of marriage | @fairytalebingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter — you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

Taglist -> @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @im-alestan @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu @holylulusworld @bucks-babe @whatever-lmaoo @thevillainswhore

[ihni]

In a world where Neil Hargrove does not exist or is out of their lives or is a better man, Billy and Max has a better relationship, like real siblings.

Which means that the first time she has her new friends over at her house, Billy crashes their little party in the most obnoxious way. Maybe they're hanging out in the living room and playing a game or something, and Billy (dressed in workout shorts and socks only, no shirt, and sweaty and gross from yardwork or basketball or lifting weights) barges in like they're not even there, spreading out on the couch and turning the TV on, volume loud.

"What the fuck Billy?!" Max says, angrily, and tries to pull him up.

But of course he won't budge. "What?"

"Get out!"

"Nah. My show's on."

"I have FRIENDS over!"

He watches them with an unimpressed look. "And I see you've somehow managed to find people even more nerdy than you, Maxi-pad. Well done."

She yells in frustration, trying again to pull him off the couch, but she can barely move him. He sticks his socked foot in her face and laughs when she screams in disgust.

"Billy!! You're such an asshole!"

"And you're a shitbird. Ow!" She claws at him but he just laughs even as he tries to swat her away. "Oooh, is little Maxine trying to show off in front of her new friends?"

Snarling, Max grabs a pillow and tries to choke him with it, but he easily pushes her off so she ends up on the floor, red-faced with anger and glaring daggers. Billy grins at her all teeth, and makes a show out of stretching out in the couch in all his barely-clothed glory.

Max turns to the Party, who has been watching with wide eyes, and huffs "Let's go to my room" before stomping off.

Billy smirks at them as the boys give him a wide berth on their way out, and when the door to Max's room slams shut he yells "Keep the door open, Maxine."

"FUCK YOU BILLY!" is the answer.

"Think of JESUS!"

"GO TO HELL!"

He sinks back into the couch and turns his attention to the TV, but only for a minute or so. Then he gets up and goes to take a shower. He only went in there to mess with her, anyway.

(She gets her revenge when he has a boy over, later. And whenever Billy has his boyfriend in the car when she's there. And whenever she runs into any of Billy's friends. She has many embarrassing stories about Billy, after all. No one knows better than her how lame he can be.)

(Or, just, Billy and Max being annoying siblings, without the hate and fear and resentment. I want that for them. Annoying obnoxious needling gross older brother Billy and seething frustrated loud conniving little sister Max)

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Alina Starkov - the most inconsistent main character. A tragedy of not wanting to have an identity.

The main character in Shadow and Bone trilogy, a prime example of "she deserved better". A.k.a. soldier, Sun Summoner, Sun Saint. In reality, a false saint and a false hero, who has less personality, goals, spine and consistency than her three love interests. How did this happen? Short answer - bad writing. Long answer? Here we go.

Her character at the beginning - a blank slate.

Physically small and weak, sickly, fragile, with a sour face and sourer attitude. Grew up in an orphanage funded by a Duke, who they were taught to basically worship while looking down on religion and beliefs in saints. Children in the orphanage were beaten if they misbehaved or didn't do chores, but were given education and fine food, which means they were faring better than peasants and farmers. Alina had not many, but several options in her life. She could learn a trade that would not require physical labour, like sewing. Or, she could marry and hope her husband was gracious enough to buy a donkey instead of making her carry heavy sacks of salt on her back, as we see a random man do to his wife. But Alina had no hobbies, interests, aspirations or ambitions in her life. Except her childhood friend Mal. Mal gets a mandatory draft in the First Army, and of course Alina follows, and settles for being a mediocre cartographer. Mal thrives in the army, showing off muscles and hooking up with women, while Alina dutifully waits for him saints know why. She doesn't have other genuine friends, she doesn't like people, she doesn't like anything. This is not a bad start in a sense that there is much room for growth and improvement.

Refusing to belong

Alina discovers she's a long awaited sun summoner, who can vanquish the Fold and unite Ravka. She doesn't want to be special, but not for the reasons you might think. Instead of fearing the burden of such an important task or genuinely becoming paranoid of being assassinated (she gets over those in five minutes), she just...doesn't want the responsibility of actually being useful for something. She'd rather not have powers at all, and go back to being in a constantly sickly state. She'd rather be tailing Mal like a mouse. Which doesn't make any sense for following reasons:

Alina's insecurities in SaB:

Not being pretty and talented

2. Not being as pretty and talented as Grisha

3. Being an orphan, being unwanted.

Being a Grisha actually solves all those problems for her. She gets prettier and healthier once she stops repressing her powers, has a unique cool power, and a community that cares for her. Plus, the support from important figures in Ravka. In time, she could have a family.

Instead, she refuses to acknowledge she's one of them, doesn't train properly, preferring to cling to her prejudices and make digs at Grisha. She'd rather complain that they're prettier, confident and pampered than acknowledge they are serfs, nothing but glorified servants with no basic human rights. Instead of her superstitions and prejudices being shattered when she starts living with them and realizing what Grisha have to go through, becoming rightfully enraged that her people are being treated this way, she still doesn't feel any empathy. In fact, she still doesn't see the General as a HUMAN BEING WHO MIGHT HAVE FEELINGS, even though he makes time in his busy schedule of running an army to make sure she's comfortable, jokes along with her, listens to her fears and reassures her, etc. Why would he go through the trouble if he was heartless? He's the General of the Second Army, by the King's law, she's his soldier. She is obligated to obey him regardless.

The narrative supports her delusions.

I get missing her friend, I get struggling to adjust, but it's more than that. Alina is getting dragged along from a plot point to a plot point kicking and screaming, as if she has anything better to do. She doesn't have a life, why is she so against of getting one? Once she finally somewhat adjusts to her life in the Little Palace, it turns out Darkling has had malicious intents towards her powers all along! Aha, you were right to be prejudiced, Alina! Now abandon your people, your country, and run!

“He … he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created the Shadow Fold.”

Imagine telling a person who saved your life that he was a soulless abomination, even though you do not know him, and he is still kind to you and reveals as much about him as he can. There is no grooming and manipulation here, it's just called not being a bitch. Darkling tells Alina he's over 120 years old, Alina is an adult, and the damned kiss was consensual. Of course he didn't tell her everything. Even regular people don't reveal their life-long ambitions and deepest childhood trauma to their crush after several conversations. It took Alina months to stop being in denial about being a Grisha, still didn't like being one, you're telling me if Darkling set her down and explained the complex political situation and his plan to overthrow the corrupt monarchy and bring an end to the war, Alina wouldn't jump out of the window?

Alina running away, not confronting the problem, and straight up deciding Darkling was evil incarnate with no evidence snowballed into Darkling deciding she couldn't be trusted and taking more drastic measures. Liberation of his people was on the line and one pesky girl screwed up a carefully planned coup because she couldn't handle her feelings.

False badassery

Throughout the whole three books, every time Alina makes a decision, it's immediately followed by self-doubt, shame and scorn. But no actual objective criticism. We often see variations of "It was foolish, but I didn't care", "I knew it was reckless but I couldn't bring myself to care", but never her actually analyzing why, or deciding not to do something like that again. Her small victories are immediately followed by thoughts on how would others feel about it, even though the person in question isn't even there and couldn't give less of a shit: "Never is it to be said that Ana Kuya didn't teach us manners", "A cheap trick, but a good one. Nikolai would be proud". Ana Kuya was an abusive mother figure, Nikolai was using Alina's status to get the throne. Sure, it's good that Alina is capable of learning useful things from every kinds of people, but she doesn't think "That was smart of me. I learnt that. I'm proud of myself for an accomplishment". She thinks "Is it good? Would they like it? They like things like that, right?". She attaches herself to people that fit her view of "deserving" and helps them, even though it might not be for the best. Extreme lack of self-worth, combined with entitlement.

When Alina hears a rumour Darkling ordered his heartrenders to sew a traitor's mouth shut, she's horrified. Even though that's hardly the worst punishment for a traitor in an army. But when some pilgrims insult Genya, she orders to have their tongues cut out after they're given only one warning. When Alina commits violence at slightest provocation, it's baddass. But when Darkling commits a controlled necessary military act to stop enemies from overrunning the country, it's madness and is falsely labeled genocide. Look up the definition, genocide is what was happening to Grisha.

The Darkling never kidnapped children and put them in the war zone. He only lied to Alina that he did, a clever strategy with no bloodshed. Meanwhile, Alina let her cult fight for her, whose members were brainwashed children, some only twelve years old.

When Alina faces a dilemma or a tense military situation, her go-to strategy is suicide. That is not martyrdom, nor it is badass.

Darkling became a bad person out of good intentions and desperation, Alina is just a bad selfish person.

Desperate people are the ones capable of the worst acts. Darkling didn't go nearly as crazy as he could, and frankly had a right to on behalf of his people.

"Aleksander had marched south with the king’s soldiers, and when they’d faced the Shu in the field, he’d unleashed darkness upon their opponents, blinding them where they stood. Ravka’s forces had won the day. But when Yevgeni had offered Aleksander his reward, he had refused the king’s gold. “There are others like me, Grisha, living in hiding. Give me leave to offer them sanctuary here and I will build you an army the likes of which the world has never seen.”

It doesn't matter how much genocide, prejudice, abuse and dehumanization the Grisha suffered through for centuries all around the world, Alina never bothers to look at the big picture. Her help is only for those who she deems worthy of it.

She attaches herself to people who fit her narrow-minded view of "worthy". She immediately believes Baghra's rather flimsy expose of Darkling, even though the old woman has been nothing but unhelpful to her, only insulting her and beating her. But Alina associates her with her only mother figure, Ana Kuya, another old hag she had a toxic relationship with. And even though Baghra is an immensely powerful Grisha who refuses to help or even lift a finger, or just spit out vital information, Alina coddles her and provides protection. Instead of telling her to fess up the useful information and save her unhelpful comments, Alina looks up to her as a mentor.

When Genya tells her story, Alina feels bad for her, but not bad enough to see things her perspective. She only becomes protective of Genya once she gets mutilated, out of pity. If it was genuine compassion, she would've forgiven and understood her from the start.

Every Grisha has been hunted and shamed for merely existing, almost every Grisha has lost a loved one to war. But Alina pointedly ignores it, because she doesn't personally know and care for those people. Therefore, she doesn't feel empathetic. Because if she feels empathetic, she might start feeling guilty about how she runs away from her responsibilities at every given opportunity. Just look at this passage:

“You know what he plans to do, Ivan.” “He plans to bring us peace.” “At what price?” I asked desperately. “You know this is madness.” “Did you know I had two brothers?” Ivan asked abruptly. The familiar smirk was gone from his handsome face. “Of course not. They weren’t born Grisha. They were soldiers, and they both died fighting the King’s wars. So did my father. So did my uncle.” “I’m sorry.” “Yes, everyone is sorry. The King is sorry. The Queen is sorry. I’m sorry. But only the Darkling will do something about it.”

The Darkling never wanted power for selfish reasons. He didn't want to take over other countries or lift Grisha above regular people. He wanted his kind to have basic human rights. Centuries of diplomacy and servitude only gave him enough power to make a school for Grisha children and save adults from slavery and getting slaughtered by serving nobles. He wanted to use the Fold as a border, to stop enemies from invading whenever they pleased, so he would have the time to save Ravka from collapsing. What has Alina done? Started a civil war, destroyed the Second army and helped put a morally dubious man with no claim on the throne to continue an outdated absolute monarchy tradition.

Alina Starkov was meant to be the sun, but turned out to be a trick of the light.

Every time it felt like Alina was emerging from her cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, embracing her true self, she went back to the toxic situationship and the toxic mindset. The narrative also always struck her down. Every book begins and ends with her being sickly, fragile, missing an essential part of herself. It would be good if it was written differently and showed themes of being disabled or having a chronic illness accurately, but it's not. It started out well. Alina was removed from an abusive environment, found a purpose in life, started loving her newfound powers, outgrew the stupid crush who she was way too dependent on, but it all went downhill from there. And then some. This constant vicious cycle does not fit the theme of growth and improvement, and neither does the ending, where Alina loses her powers and goes back to the orphanage. Once again, she's frail and strange, servants (who she now employs) don't respect her, sneer and make fun of her, while her now husband Mal turns a blind eye. Everything is back to the way it was: Mal thrives, Alina is...there. The ending is supposed to be bittersweet, a couple who survived a war building a new life together, but I don't see the sweet part.

Trick of the light - definition: something appearing different from what actually is as a result of the quality of light.

Darkling wanted her to be a strong Grisha, his equal and balance. Grisha wanted her to be a capable leader, Bataar twins wanted a living saint they could worship, Nikolai wanted a wife interested in Ravka and politics. Alina tried to be all of that, but never really wanted to be any of those, so she half-assed it. Mal wanted the version of Alina who was small and insignificant, because anything more made him insecure, and he got his wish.

Illusion, mirage, spectre.

No matter how much the author tries to tell us that Alina's every problem is Darkling's fault, her thought process and actions paint a different picture. Alina was never mentally healthy and she never addressed or resolved her problems. Growing up in a controlled and abusive environment affected her more than anyone, including herself, wants to admit. I am not a licensed psychiatrist, so I will refrain from officially diagnosing Alina, even though she's a fictional character. I am NOT saying I know for certain that Alina has these, if any, mental problems, but she does have some alarming symptoms. It seems like depersonalization. While her symptoms don't fit into one particular mental disorder, I am reminded of psychiatric infantilism, but it is not a mental illness with symptoms. Psychiatric infantilism doesn't necessarily mean the person acts outwardly childishly. To explain very roughly and simply, it means the psych is not as developed as it should be (even if the person is very smart and clever). It shows in avoiding responsibility or not feeling it at all, problems with social connections, not seeing the big picture and taking it seriously, etc. When Harshaw tells the story of his brother getting brutally murdered by people who hate Grisha, even brash Zoya is appalled and expresses her condolences. While all Alina thinks about is that Harshaw might base his hope of having a better life on her now.

Alina also might have Dependent Personality Disorder, but it's hard to say, since we are never shown her being on her own long enough to see whether or not she can take actually care of herself. But her relationship with Mal, Darkling and Baghra (after she no longer objectively needs them) is weird, to say the least.

She never gains the sense of self or an identity, she refuses to become something, then delivers an inner monologue of accepting her fate and five minutes later goes back on her words. Her willingness to sacrifice her life is never out of thinking of the greater good and future, justice, or patriotism. She just doesn't want to live, especially without Mal, who has been doing nothing but shitting on her. Her titles are slapped on her, and she peels them off. Her personality never really changes. Everything she went through feels like a really bad exchange program she was in for a year, and from which she has learnt nothing.

P.S. I don't hate Alina's character, I just mourn her lost potential.

If you have made it to the end, I salute you, congratulations and thank you. 😊 🙏 ❤️

[trivia-yandere]

fuck it, a look into part 2 to jin's "payment plan"

coming oct. 12

“You look beautiful.”

Your eyes flicker up from your drink to Kim Seokjin. Your lips turn to a low smile at his compliment.

“You look sad.” Jin takes a sip of his wine and raises his brow. “Why is that? Is my restaurant not enough?”

You roll your eyes. 

You were disappointed - but never surprised - when you realized your husband would be missing your birthday this year. You’ve come to celebrate most things without him, but you were never truly alone.

Seokjin always made sure to accompany you and after a while, your fear for him slowly lessened. You would joke around with him just as much as he would you. You enjoyed his company even if it was outside of sex. 

Sure, you still felt terrible after it all. You were cheating on your husband, but he didn’t make it any better. Him never being around was what made it easier - but you could blame Jin for that as your husband wasn’t the one who set his own hours. 

“Of course it’s enough.” you respond. “It’s a five star restaurant that you closed tonight just for my birthday.”

This is a restaurant you could never afford to go to alone as of late. One of the many businesses Jin owned, this restaurant was a spot that was always littered with wealthy individuals and it was difficult to find a table without a reservation. You could only imagine the money lost by being closed earlier than usual.

“Your birthday is a special day that deserves to be celebrated.”

“At least one of the Kim brothers agrees.”

You take a deep breath. You shouldn’t be angered with your husband - not now. Remember that it isn’t his fault; not completely. At the end of the day, you were just as bad as him. You know what Jin wants from you - the same thing that you were giving to him willingly.

“Thank you, Jin.”

Your eyes connect with Jin’s as you take a sip of your wine. You and he were alone in the restaurant, him having sent everyone home. The meal was cooked by him entirely, an act you had laughed at when he told you. “We could’ve stayed home if that was the case” was your response to him. However, the act warmed your heart.

“Thank you for joining me.” Jin sets his wine glass down and picks up his chopsticks to eat. “It doesn’t look like I dragged you here tonight.”

You snicker. “You’re funny.” you murmur. It’s true, however, that you don’t appear to be as frightened as before. You were walking on eggshells and allowing Seokjin to do whatever he desired because of how frightened you were of being kicked out. 

Now, however, it’s evident that Seokjin had no true intentions of letting you go. It’s an adrenaline rush for him to do what he does with you behind closed doors; an ego boost, as well.

You continue to drink the expensive wine, enjoying the moment of serenity. The music is low, but it’s nice. You hum along to it, nodding your head a bit as you continue to revel in the experience.

 “Do you….do you want to dance?”

Your eyes flutter open at Jin’s question, realizing that your food and his is already eaten and you’re slightly buzzed due to all the wine. He has an amused look on his face as he watches you. 

[ameliemaaaee]

The Silent Witness - Oneshot Series

(1) How you Meet the BAU Team.

Chapter Information Summary: Y/N finds herself enravelled in the depths of a puzzling case which can only be solved in conjunction with one infamous FBI unit. Pairing: S.R x F!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warnings: Criminal minds canon gore, Alcohol consumption, Reader shares a bed with Spencer, that's it i think?!? Word Count: 7,986. Read on AO3

Story Masterlist - (1) -

The London Underground was not your favourite place. Yes, you were grateful for London’s fabulous public transport system, especially on the mornings where bumper-to-bumper traffic would only frustrate you more. However, the constant work-day rush of people in business attire, provided a stark contrast to all the tourists in their flamboyant outfits, both equally surmounting your dissociative annoyance.

Not to mention the germs. There was a study done on that. It proved that, when swabbed, The London Underground was the dirtiest place in the city, with ninety-five different strains of bacteria found. In fact, you happened to be friends with this researcher, who in confidence told you that even a one-hour trip on the Tube is enough to raise the long-term risk of heart attacks. And this was simply due to the air pollution. It made you shiver just thinking about it. It was a shame driving in the city was slower.

You were rushed to say the least, evading the rush hour was top priority when you weren’t on call, however an interesting case had come in and your expertise was required. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be in high demand, despite your age you were renowned in London for your competency as a forensic pathologist.

Your life for so many years had resolved around the dead, those whom you had to pry the clues out of. Work remained your whole life, the ability to gather evidence from the silent witness, and bring justice to many was beyond comforting to you. The feeling of winning a case against someone you had scientifically proven guilty, defeated the solemn, and gruesome nature of your job by ten-fold.

Now, you focused on the rattling train below your feet as you timidly clutched the railing above your head. The shuddering sound of the train drawing to a halt beneath your feet, rocking you back and forth. This was it.

The platform was abnormally busy as you made a beeline for the exit, barely noticing the busker who provided the soundtrack to the mornings of so many, for so cheap. Bounding up the steps you surfaced alongside block-red lettering screaming ‘Charing Cross’, The Embankment was just a short walk from here.

You weren’t too sure of the details of your newest case, quite simply that it was ‘a big one’ and that it was a rather public disposal. Public disposals were common in London, however public disposals in busy Underground stations weren’t. Especially with the Night Tube services. A public disposal site told you that this kill was a threat. Whoever it was wanted their attention, they wanted their case to be public, the wanted London to shudder with fear. But alas, the closed station required more walking.

Brushing shoulders with strangers, much like the rest, your gaze was dead set on where you were going. And as The Embankment station neared you sighed. This was tourist London, The Embankment opened out onto the Thames, and once you reached the Thames, Westminster, and Big Ben was in View, and the famed London Eye. But you didn’t have time to take in the part of the city you never dared to enter, you had work.

As you reached the station the Mounted Police immediately caught your eye. Sat astride their horses were people attempting to control and direct the crowds back to Charing Cross; no wonder it had been so abhorrently busy. Ducking under the police tape you were greeted by an uninterested officer who guiltlessly looked you up-and-down. Plastering a smile on face you removed your identification and shoved it politely into his face.

“Dr. Y/N L/N. Home-Office Pathologist.” The officer remains stoic, thumbing you towards a set of stairs where a familiar face stood, ever-stoic, patiently waiting.

“Where’s the body?” You omit the greeting. Angela knew you too well, and you both were past the ‘good morning’s’ and ‘hello’s’ that seemed the ever-so-polite thing to do.

You were a tight-knit pair, ever since school, and bonding over your preferred use of the Oxford comma, you had both shared a solid friendship. It wasn’t based off greetings or words, nor a physical display of affection. It was based off the reliability and trust you felt for each other. It was a simple, and honest friendship. That allowed you to occasionally let-loose on your days off. But today would not be one of those days, in fact you wouldn’t see one ever again.

“The top of the stairs, it’s a male. He’s probably in his 30’s. He has a series of interesting tattoos.” Angela’s candour filled your ears, her level tone forever reassuring you of the collective, daily, London anxiety, which seemed to radiate throughout the city.

“Interesting how?” You raised a brow in curiosity, a small chuckle escaping your lips as Angela rolled her eyes, pushing her teal-ish hair behind her ears, mixing it with her original black-ish strands.

“Interesting as in, you-need-to-see-this-and-contact-the-appropriate-people. That kind of interesting.” She said it so nonchalantly, ‘call the appropriate people.’ That didn’t sound interesting, that sounded like ‘this-guy-has-tattoos-relating-to-some-form-of-terrorism-plans-and-you-should-bring-in-counterterrorism’. And boy, were you right.

“This is bad.” You deadpanned, you had no adjectives for how bad it was, other than it was very, very bad. The police officer a great distance behind you bit his thumb anxiously as you stood buried in a white HazMat-style SOCO suit, Angela kneeling beside you, silently shaking her head.

“Angela, I don’t even know who to call about this.” You gestured to the male lay ahead of you, his body scrawled with descriptive instructions on ‘blowing up the D.C Capitol Building.’

And that’s how you ended up at a bar, drinking with the FBI’s distinguished Behavioural Analysis Unit.

-

The thrashing of bass pounded against your chest as you sauntered through the doorway, away from the cool night air and into the warmth of the bar. You weren’t expecting there to be any live music, but you were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the music, that soon would be drowned out by cheap liquor.

The rest of the BAU trailed into the establishment behind you, slight grins on their faces. All of you had changed, ditching the work clothes. The FBI’s plane would be grounded until tomorrow evening, so they were officially off-duty, and allowed to have fun.

And by the looks on the group’s faces you all needed this, the tensions had run high during your latest case and there had been weeks’ worth of sleepless nights, that the medical doctor deep down inside you didn’t approve of.

“Let’s find a booth!” Garcia practically yelled down your ear over the music. You nodded pointing to a room that sat off the main stage area, where it would undoubtedly be quieter.

Heaving a sigh of relief you slid into a booth, in between the males you had come to know as Dr. Spencer Reid, and Derek Morgan. The men all chuckled lightly as Agent Hotchner stands.

“First round is on me!” You laugh quietly, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face before giving Hotch your order, double vodka and Diet Coke, your drink of choice.

“You know, I’d never been to London until now.” Derek chuckles, as he leans forward, his elbow resting on the table. His gaze connected with yours.

“It’s a nice city.” Spencer chimes as you shake your head laughing.

“You haven’t even seen it.” You smile, leaning back against the plush backing of the circular booth, your gaze finding Hotch who was carrying a tray of drinks, making a beeline for the table. You hadn’t had a night out in so long, you were practically buzzing at the concept of alcohol.

The band’s melody had faded to a distant hum, your heart synching with the echoing bass that still rumbled the ground beneath your feet.

“I must say, you scrub up nicely Dr. L/N.” You turn your head to Derek who takes in your frame. Derek was an attractive man, you couldn’t lie, and you knew he meant no harm by his comment, but you couldn’t help but feel scrutinised.

You offer him a polite laugh, before turning to Hotch who was dishing out the alcohol. Gratefully you took your drink from his hand, taking a long sip. If you wanted to be able to actually hold a conversation without being too uptight, you would need to be at least tipsy. Plus, the alcohol made you forget about… well, the alcohol that was terrible for your health.

“So, Y/N, I assume this has been an interesting week for you?” You chuckle at Rossi, who raises his glass, before sipping on what appeared to be whiskey.

-

Due to the commotion at the Police stations, and the high-risk of having FBI agents in London they had been assigned to a more discrete location; and lucky for you, that was your lab.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to having FBI agents in your jurisdiction, in fact it was the opposite. You were fascinated by their work, in law-enforcement they were truly celebrated for their research, and work. You just weren’t too chuffed by the idea of new people, of which there were now seven.

They all looked, strangely, just how you would imagine a team of FBI agents looking, all but one. The flamboyant one. She was dressed in a way you could only describe as eccentric, her blonde hair curled at the ends, sections held in place by red-rose clips to match her dress. She seemed friendly, despite the sombre circumstances, a half-smile chopping her features.

The rest seemed to blend in. There was another woman, her slender frame, and long blonde hair somewhat reminiscent of the mean girls at school. The rest were all male. We had, the obvious team leader, he stood tall, clad in a black suit. How would you chase bad guys in that? Next, was the cliché buff guy, who spent too much time at the gym. Finally, the skinny, sweater vest guy, and an Italian?

“You must be Dr. L/N.” The team leader spoke up, making his way towards you, his hand outstretched. You found yourself staring at it for a brief moment, as if the action were strange to you, before you realised, he wanted a handshake. You offered a slight smile as you reluctantly gripped his hand, shaking it.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Aaron Hotchner, but you may call me Hotch.” You nod, keeping your gaze on the floor. You were in a room with a bunch of criminal profilers. That was scary. Could they profile you? Would they? Were they profiling you right now? You weren’t exactly keen on the gazes boring into you.

“This is my team, we have Supervisory Special Agent, David Rossi.” You wave awkwardly as he gestures to the Italian guy, unsure of what social conduct was required to meet criminal profilers. David Rossi smiles at you, offering a brief salute that would have made you chuckle in better circumstances. Perhaps you would be better, in better circumstances.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Jennifer Jareau.” The pretty blonde leans forward hand outstretched, as you smile awkwardly. Her grip was firm, irking you less that Hotchner’s handshake. However, you already felt inferior to these individuals, no number of correct-introductions or doctorates could save you. They hunt criminals for a living. Yes, it may not need a doctorate, in fact, you weren’t sure any of them were doctors. But they certainly weren’t cowardly in a mere social situation, like you.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Derek Morgan.” You react quickly this time, lifting your hand in a quick, but still awkward wave to the incredibly muscular guy in front of you. Derek Morgan seemed like such a fitting name for him, in fact, you weren’t sure there was a name more suited for him in all the 5,163 first names, and 151,671 last names commonly used in the United States of America.

“We also have our Technical Analyst, Special Agent, Penelope Garcia.” The eccentric techie waves her hand cheerily, a wide smile breaking out on her face. She seemed sweet, and you were glad to see a female computer nerd. There certainly wasn’t enough of them in this universe. Her grin was infectious as you attempted to hide yours with the floor.

“Last but not least, we have our resident genius.” Your head snapped up at that. ‘Resident genius’? What rendered this guy a genius? You supposed, he looked smart. But you couldn’t quite decipher if it was just the sweater vest. In fact, he looked more jet-lagged that smart.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Doctor Spencer Reid.” Ah, a doctor.

You smile slightly, glad the introductions were over.

-

“Yeah, I have worked a fair few high-profile cases in my time, but this probably tops them.” You smile at the group, your gaze connecting with JJ and Garcia who both offer you sweet smiles. You can feel Spencer’s gaze on you as he clutches a glass of water in his right hand.

“It certainly tops ours.” JJ smiles, leaning towards you, a chuckle escaping her lips. “I never thought we would see an international case, never mind this.” You smile, bringing your drink to your lips, taking a refreshing sip.

“I- How do you do what you do? I mean- the chopping and the blood and guts and-“ Garcia frantically waves her hands in front of her, very nearly knocking over her martini as she rants.

“Garcia- she’s used to it, just like we are.” You nod in agreement with Hotch, your ears tuning in the set change happening with the band next door.

You scan the remainder of the room you were in, the bar was fairly quiet, most of the younger crows would have moved onto nightclubs by now. You could see various groups of people seated in their booths, most of them appearing as if they were celebrating, which felt fitting for your occasion.

“You know-“ You turn back to Rossi who was pointing a finger at you, a sly smile on his face.

“-I thought this week was going to be a drag when you asked us to surrender out firearms.” You watch as small chuckles erupt from the rest of the team, allowing yourself to join in with them.

-

You watch the team, stare at you expectantly, kicking yourself into gear.

“I have a room for you, a conference room.” You direct your statement towards Hotch who nods his head sharply, gesturing for you to lead the way. And you did. You guided them towards your conference room.

It was a large room with glass windows. On the back wall was a large TV screen designed for presenting, in the corner a safe. It was quite simple by design; a room, a TV, a table, and chairs that surrounded it. You weren’t sure it was FBI approved with its scratchy carpet and simplicity, but it would have to do.

“I hope it’s okay.” You try to say it with confidence, as you stand by the door the agents filing into the room, but your voice comes out as more of a squeak. Typically, this causes you to make unnecessary eye-contact with the Doctor.

“Uhm- You are going to have to surrender your firearms.” This certainly got a reaction from all but Aaron Hotchner, who likely, was aware of this.

“Why?” The doctor spoke up, as the rest of the team curiously gazed at me.

“Fire-arm residue. You are gonna be around bodies that haven’t had post-mortems, and you could contaminate them. So, I take the arms.” You watched as half of the team swallowed harshly, obviously not-to-sure about not having a weapon, which was such an odd reality of Americans.

“You’ll get them back, don’t worry. It’s just anywhere beyond this room would count as an unnecessary contamination. I think your Unit Chief was informed?” Your gaze turned to Hotchner who nodded.

“Guys, the weapons will be retrieved if we are leaving the building.” The team nod, clearly becoming more willing to surrender as they remove their holsters. You reach for a plastic box, holding it out as you walk around the group, being handed the various heavy weapons.

“I don’t carry.” You nod politely at the technical analyst, moving finally towards the male you now knew as Spencer Reid. He placed a revolver into the box, odd choice.

“Okay this is your safe, the code is 62282. Please remember it.” You quickly place the weapons, and the plastic box into the safe, locking the door with a loud beep. Before you walk to the door, watching everyone settle in.

You stand uncomfortably at the door as you watch them lay their belongings down on the table awaiting some sort of response, or a cue to leave.

-

“Yeah, I don’t have a good track record when I’m not carrying a firearm.” Spencer chuckles, pulling his glass back up to his lips.

“Boy wonder here doesn’t do well in close-combat situations.” You watch as Derek reaches over you, ruffling Spencer’s hair, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

“Awh, it’s okay. I don’t think close combat would be much use against someone with a bomb.” You offer Spencer a friendly smile, as his gaze connects with yours. He offers you a shy smile as you nod towards his glass.

“No alcohol? Very responsible.” Spencer shakes his head, still grinning.

“Someone’s got to be sober.” You nod, laughing as JJ and Garcia stand, walking towards you.

The pair grab you by the arms, attempting to pull you over Spencer, you chuckle awkwardly as Spencer stands, allowing them to drag you out of the booth. They wrap their arms under yours as you stumble on your heels, feeling the alcohol hit you.

“We are dancing.” Garcia gently taps your nose with her pointer finger as JJ supports you on your feet. She laughs as you feel your face pale slightly.

“I-I don’t dance. Plus, this is a bar, not a nightclub.” Your gaze falls on the rest of the team who seem extremely amused at the girl who couldn’t stand properly after only one drink. You sigh slightly.

“I’m a doctor, I know how bad alcohol is, so I don’t drink often, okay?” You watch as the remaining men laugh at your dramatic statement as JJ slowly releases you from her grasp, satisfied that you would be able to stand alone.

An idea pops into your head.

“People don’t dance in bars over here, but I do know my way around London.” You raise a brow, watching as the team look at you inquisitively.

“You lot hunt serial killers. How about Jack the Ripper? Spencer you could be the tour guide!” You laugh as their faces morph into one of understanding, a look of excitement settling on Spencer’s face.

-

“Alright, we have work to do. We need to start brainstorming.” Hotch’s voice rang out throughout the room as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the room.

“Okay, so there has been no post-mortem done as of yet, but I can show you pictures from the crime scene yesterday, and the close-ups produced by my lab tech.” You stand in front of the team, all eyes trailed on you. You quickly turned the TV on with the remote, leaning over the table and logging into the laptop.

“So, the unidentified male is assumed to be around 27 years old, he was found in a very public London Underground station, lay on his back. As you can see, he was shirtless with an intricate tattoo scrawled over his body.”

The team nods, as you pull up the picture. The screen filing with the photos of a dead man shot point-blank in the head. You notice the team’s tech analyst wriggle uncomfortably in her seat and you chuckle.

“I’m so sorry, feel free to look away if you need.” You smile at the woman as she gives you a small grin, opening her laptop and beginning what you assumed was some sort of research.

“What Underground station was he found in?” You smile as Rossi speaks up, leaning forward to your laptop, laughing.

“I have a map for you, I figured it would be more use than just giving you a name.” You pull up a map of the London underground system against the landscape, turning to see it on the television screen.

“Okay so, the male was found at The Embankment station which-“

“-The Embankment has a huge, empty substation attached to it, that has actually been abandoned since 1957. It’s called ‘Pages Walk’ and is located behind a blast door in the station.” Dr. Reid cuts you off, as you chuckle. You smile politely at the rest of the team, the male introduced to you as SSA. Morgan held his head in his hands, shaking it slightly.

“Right, you are doctor. I was going to say that it was notoriously ‘Tourist London’, and opens out onto the Thames, with all the tourist attractions, but that works too.” You shrug, offering Spencer a slightly awkward thumb up.

-

You widen your eyes at the sound of your name, making eye contact with the lanky Dr. Reid who was now making his way over to you. Work talk, you could do that. Spencer stood beside you as you watched the team settle for a moment more, before following you out of the door.

“How many times do you reckon I will have to remind you lot of the safe code?” You chuckle to yourself, trying to make simple, light-hearted conversation. He was a doctor, maybe you could level with him?

“I have an eidetic memory.” His reply was so simple, so nonchalant. But it caused you to furrow your brow. He was a resident genius, and you were not going to be capable enough to level with him. You open your mouth as if to speak but decide against it. No need to incite more awkward interactions.

Instead, he decided to incite it.

“How long have you been a pathologist for?” His question was simple, the answer was simple. So why were you panicking? You knew that you felt inferior, but that wasn’t something that bothered you often. Spit. It. Out.

“Uhm, around four years.” You reply, trying to keep your voice level, and even. Anything to illude to your oh-so-confident demeanour.

“You seem young.” It was a statement, phrased like a question, one that needed answering. You weren’t young, you were 29. But by normal standards, you were too young to be a pathologist of five years.

“Yeah, I guess? What are you a doctor of?” You quickly deflect the question, but almost immediately regret it.

“I have, uhm, three PHDs.” You try not to hold your mouth agape, resident genius ringing in your ears. You were only slightly glad of his hesitation. Surely announcing you had three PHDs wasn’t easy. That required admitting that you were a superior being. But then again, with an eidetic memory it was no surprise he had 3 PHDs.

“They are in, uhm, chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” You nod, humming along in affirmation as if this were a normal thing, and frankly you surprise yourself. Once you got over the initial shock it wasn’t so hard to act like you were in the presence of a regular person.

-

The team stand from their seats fairly quickly, accepting the concept of a drunken Jack the Ripper tour. Despite the lack of alcohol in his system Spencer’s got a massive grin on his face, and practically shaking with excitement.

Dragging them out into the chilly London air you stop suddenly, gasping.

“We should get alcohol, to-go!” You turn to face the team, your eyes wide with a sense of wonder at your marvellous idea. Only being egged on by Garcia, Morgan, and JJ who cheer loudly at your proposition.

“Isn’t that just a liquor store?” Spencer’s brow is furrowed in confusion, trying to work out what alcohol to-go was, and he wasn’t too far off.

“…and a bad idea?” Rossi follows, pointing an accusing finger towards you.

“…and illegal?” Hotch follows Rossi with a chuckle.

“No, it’s actually perfectly legal here, and liquor stores are expensive, we’re going to Tesco.” You clap your hands jumping on the spot excitedly, before making a beeline for the Tube station.

-

Whitechapel was shockingly quiet, for this time of night with only the distant humming of the main roads to remind you that you were in fact in one of Europe’s busiest cities.

You and the rest of the BAU team ambled through the narrow alleyways that once housed one of the world’s most prolific serial killers, Spencer occasionally pointing to various street-corners and naming one of his five canonical victims.

“You know, In the Victorian era the basal population of Whitechapel was swelled by immigrants from all over, particularly Irish and Jewish. This poverty drove many women to prostitution; The victim-pool of Jack the Ripper.” You turn to Spencer who’s walking closely by your side, something he had obscurely insisted on.

“Yeah, In October of 1888 the Metropolitan Police estimated that there were 1,200 prostitutes ‘of very low class living in Whitechapel and about 62 brothels.” You pipe up, a smug grin settling on your face as you gaze at Spencer, eyes narrowed.

“I know my facts doctor.” You slur. Spencer laughs, reaching out for the bottle of sweet beer in your hand, removing it from your grasp, as you gasp, attempting to grab back the bottle that he holds high over his head.

“Hey!” You pout as Spencer tosses the bottle into a nearby bin. You are quickly distracted by the way your trip over your own feet.

“Woah, woah! Confiscating the alcohol was a good move on my part.” Spencer mumbles as he grasps your shoulders, steadying you on the pavement. You both stop, turning to see Derek stood with Garcia, staring right at you and Spencer, a glimmer in his eye.

You look past him to see Hotch, Rossi, and JJ slowly walking towards you both. Hotch and Rossi had drunk nothing since the bar and were both practically sober. They had allowed you, JJ, and Garcia to drink despite their apprehensions, and likely remained sober to ensure you were safe. Derek had managed to leave the bar with his pint of beer, still clutching the empty glass.

You yawn slightly, swaying on your heels as you turn to the team. Furrowing your brows as you lean back against Spencer who stumbles slightly in surprise.

Your mind is foggy, but not foggy enough to ignore the impending hangover that would undoubtedly kick your ass the next morning.

“I should go home now.” You finally feel the fogginess settling in your brain, like a sickly-sweet haze. But alas, you were running out of energy. You missed Hotch’s stern look.

“You’re staying at the hotel with one of us, we can’t let you go home alone.” You roll your eyes slightly at the solemn male.

“No thanks dad! I’m excellent at navigating my way home.” You chuckle, at your own joke, JJ and Garcia joining in a drunken chorus.

“Y/N, you’re drunk, and it’s dangerous out here.” Spencer chimes, in. His arms are still holding tightly on your shoulders as you drunkenly giggle. Your forehead rests on his shoulder as you teeter on your heels.

“Fine.” You take the arm that Spencer offers you, watching as Hotch and Morgan do the same for JJ and Garcia, Rossi walking closely behind you. You were by far the most drunk, and the most likely to faceplant against concrete.

-

“Who wants her? Because I really don’t mind.” Derek points his finger, raising his eyebrows at Y/N as she sits on the floor of the hotel corridor. Her fingers trace the patterns on the carpet, as she hums along to a non-existent song.

The team let out a collective sigh at Derek’s implication.

The world is fairly fuzzy to Y/N, and she has resorted to paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around her, hyper-focusing on anything that would appeal to her senses. She knew that she would regret drinking in the morning.

“Fine! Personally, I feel as if Spencer should do it.” Derek nudges the lanky genius, who simply rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusting a light shade of pink.

“That’s a point, two of us have two beds in our rooms. That’s Spencer and Derek.” Rossi quips, turning to face the two men who now stood, eyes widened.

“For Y/N’s sake, I think we veer away from Morgan as a candidate.” Hotch says, a slight smile on his face as JJ and Garcia burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against one another.

“You’re up Spence-“ JJ smiles, as Hotch and Derek reach out for both her and Garcia, ushering then towards their respective rooms. Spencer watches as Rossi, offers him a humorous salute before he turns, walking down the corridor.

“Okay, Y/N.” Spencer tries to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t disturb other patrons of the hotel. He helps Y/N to her feet, cautiously gripping onto her as she sways into his chest.

“How are you so smart?” She practically whispers as Spencer guides her towards his room, scanning the key card.

“I’m not sure, perhaps it was good genetics?” Spencer quips, pushing her through the hotel room door, watching as she gasps, making a beeline for the empty bed. He can’t help but chuckle as she dramatically flops onto the bed, splaying her arms out wide across the plush surface.

“You know, twin studies of adults have found a heritability of IQ between 57% and 73%, with the most recent studies showing heritability for IQ as high as 80%.” Her words are slurred, but her facts are correct which makes Spencer smile.

“Did you have smart parents?” She props her body up on her elbows, connecting her gaze with Spencer who digs through his suitcases, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Spencer’s head snaps up at the question as he offers her a solemn smile.

“I guess you could say that. What about you, were your parents smart?” She giggles slightly resting her back on the bed as Spencer walks towards her, fiddling with the straps of her heels in an attempt to undo them.

“My dad is really intelligent academically, and my mother was amazing at the arts and music. I got a combination of both I guess.” Y/N smiles to herself, allowing Spencer to take her uncomfortable shoes off, her mind distracted by the thoughts of her parents.

“You know, I never really considered myself smart.” She practically whispers, sitting back up as Spencer removes her first shoe, she reaches forwards, helping him remove her second.

“Why not? You’re a doctor.” She shrugs laughing lightly at Spencer’s straightforwardness.

“I never found school academically difficult in hindsight. I struggled to understand that it wasn’t the work that was difficult, it was all the social-emotional stuff. At that point, to me, school was just difficult.” Spencer nods, offering her a reassuring smile as he passes Y/N a pile of clothes.

“You can have these, or if you’d rather sleep in the dress, it’s up to you.” Y/N smiles, grabbing the sweatpants and shuffling them on underneath her dress, Spencer had turned away and was now fiddling with an Ice bucket.

“Y/N, I’m going to go get ice, I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” She nods, watching him walk out the door as Y/N unzips the dress fully, pulling Spencer’s clothes over herself as best she could in her sluggish state.

The sweatshirt was massive on her, the sleeves covered her hands, but the sweatpants were a different story. Spencer was practically a whole foot taller than she was and that left the bottom of the trousers to bunch up around her ankles.

She quickly rolled the cuffs of the sweatpants up to a reasonable length, before collapsing back onto the surface of the bed. Inhaling the scent of his clothes she groaned, the alcohol was surely leaving her system, but left in its wake, a pounding headache.

So much so that she didn’t notice the sound of the door opening.

“Ah yes, is the hangover setting in?” Y/N whimpers slightly at the unnecessary noise, rolling over in the bed, onto her stomach. Smashing her head against the pillow.

She feels a meek tap on her shoulder, and turns to see Spencer kneeling beside the bed, his hand outstretched, two pills in his palm.

“Take these, so you don’t wake up in the middle of the night.” Y/N groans, rolling back over in the bed, sitting upright. Spencer’s hand steadies her shoulder as she gratefully takes the pills with a glass of water she had clearly placed on the bedside table.

“Okay, good. Now, get some rest.” Spencer pulls up the sheets allowing her to climb under them. Y/N’s eyes stay closed as she listens to Spencer shuffling around the room and entering the bathroom before the room goes silent. And with the silence she slips into sleep.

-

You walk the short distance from the hotel foyer to the entrance of the Underground station. JJ and Garcia trail behind you whist Spencer, ever eager, walks by your side. Spencer is bright and awake, as his gaze takes in what seems to be every little detail of the street, meanwhile you are simply glad you took painkillers.

You were also down a few team members. Turns out that Derek had managed to get a girl’s number from the bar, leaving him unavailable. Meanwhile, Hotch and Rossi preferred a ‘quiet morning.’ You would meet up with them later.

“Wait, this is Aldgate Station?!” Your gaze trails along the bright red lettering marking the entrance of the station. Spencer, JJ, and Garcia laugh at your dramatic halt. Quickly you do a one-eighty, turning and walking away from the station entrance, realising that you had an interesting place in mind.

“Did you know that over 1,000 bodies lie beneath this station, which is built over a plague pit from 1665.” You can’t help but laugh at Spencer’s fact as you turn to face him, walking backwards and trusting the oncoming pedestrian traffic to dodge you.

“Interesting, but the place I have in mind for you may be the sight of even more horror, beginning with the fact that we are walking.” Your gaze fixates on Jennifer who sighs dramatically, but Garcia simply hums, shrugging her shoulders.

You can tell that JJ is hung over, a pair of dark sunglasses are sat on the bridge of her nose, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She seems content however, the pain likely avoided with a healthy dose of paracetamol.

Garcia, on the other hand is awake and bubbly as ever. She also dons her sunglasses, but you wouldn’t know she was hungover. Her flamboyant outfit radiates a happy energy, that seemingly rubs off on you.

The sound of traffic fills your ears as you bustle past various other pedestrians trying to go about their regular lives. Slowly but surely, you guide the team down streets, alleyways, and pedestrian walkways that you begin to recognise.

“You know, sometimes I shock myself with my ability to navigate this city.” You smile to yourself as you see a familiar structure off in the distance.

“There’s nothing of significance here Y/N.” You can’t help but furrow your brow at Spencer’s quip, he was wrong.

“Spencer, how many times in your life have you been wrong?” You watch as Spencer’s cheeks turn pink, him shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, I suggest you add one more to your tally, because if you are patient, you will see that there is in fact something significant in the distance.” This causes Garcia and JJ to laugh. He follows your instructions, and you watch as his eyes widen, before turning back to you, a grin crossing his previously embarrassed features.

-

“Oh my god! It’s a castle in a city. Is that where the Queen lives?” Garcia’s voice interrupts the comfortable silence. Her voice is high pitched, laced with a sense of extreme excitement.

“Originally, it was built by William the Conqueror to be a residence for the royal family, and a fortress. But they soon discovered that it was as good at keeping people in as it was out.” Spencer’s hands flail about wildly and you can’t help but smile at the excitement plastered across his face, your hangover was long forgotten.

“Officially it’s called Her Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress, The Tower of London.” Spencer finds himself impressed, as you smile brightly, eyes fixated on the tower that was coming closer into view.

You walk along the perimeter of the grounds, towards the visitor centre watching as your three tourists gaze in wonder across the lawn towards the large medieval building.

“Only 22 executions have ever taken place inside the Tower of London. They include the two famed executions of Henry VIII’s wives, Anne Boleyn, and Katherine Howard.” You guide the team towards the visitor centre, watching as all the crowds ahead of you gather.

You walk towards the turnstiles that provide entry to the castle, spotting a beefeater watching over the people entering into the tower grounds.

You slowly walk towards the male, pulling a slip of paper out of your pocket. As you hand him the paper to read, he simply nods, allowing JJ, Spencer, Garcia, and yourself through, politely thanking you all for your service.

“-For our service?” Garcia pipes up as you walk towards the tower gateway, a look of confusion plastered across her joyful features.

“Yeah, uhm, I spoke to a few people.” You state simply, not really wanting to draw out what may create too much of a scene. Garcia certainly struck you as the dramatic type.

“What kind of people?” JJ pulls a strand of hair behind her ear, peering over her sunglasses at you. You can feel Spencer and Garcia’s eyes boring into you with curiosity.

“Well, The Tower of London is owned by Her Majesty the Queen, so-“ Your gaze falls on Spencer who’s face twists into an almost smug look as his brain begins to put the pieces together.

“You asked-“ He begins.

“No, no- well, I mean… She offered?” You chuckle, trying to hide your flustered sate as a look of shock crossed Garcia’s face.

“The-the Queen?!” You can’t help but laugh at her reaction. Both Spencer and JJ join her, eyes widened with shock.

Before you have a moment to think, Garcia walks straight towards you, engulfing you in a surprising hug. You can’t help but tense in surprise.

“The Queen knows we exist?!” She whispers into your ear, allowing Spencer to pry her off you. You simply nod, humming in response.

-

Slowly, you begin to make your way around the walls of the ancient fortress. From the tower above Traitor’s Gate, you had an excellent view across the Thames, of Bloody Tower, and the impressive White Tower behind you, housing the notorious Crown Jewels.

“I always found this part of the castle to be so weird.” You can’t tell if you are talking to yourself or the rest of the team, but Spencer makes his way towards you, his gaze curiously set on you.

You turn towards him, watching as Garcia and JJ excitedly stand on the other side of the wall, inspecting the expansive gardens where twenty-two whole lives had been taken.

“How so?” Spencer says quietly as you fix your gaze back on him.

“So many doomed people made their final journey by boat beneath our feet. They wouldn’t even had known at that point if they were sentenced to death or not.” You sigh, turning your gaze to the ground staring at your feet.

“You know, they had a way of communicating their fate right in front of them without even knowing.” Spencer nods, urging you to continue.

“The jailor would be abord the boat to transport them through the gate and he would carry an axe. If the axe was facing forwards, they were lucky, and if the axe was facing backwards… well-“ You watch Spencer’s brows pinch together as he nods in understanding.

“…People spent the worst days of their lives here.” Spencer murmured as you simply nodded, allowing your gaze to trail onto JJ and Garcia who were taking photos.

“-And the best.” You smile, nodding towards JJ and Garcia as Spencer hums in agreement, a small smile on his face.

“Are those men actually called beefeaters?” You smile at Garcia’s question, turning to Spencer as he interrupts.

“From what I gather, it’s a sort of slang name for what are officially Yeoman Warders of the tower.” Garcia nods as Spencer offers a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, we should do one of their tours!” JJ exclaims, pointing at a group crowding around for a tour due to start in just under 5 minutes.

“If you want- but those guys will slam you if they find out your American.” You smile, dragging the three agents towards the crowd, as confused looks crossed their face.

And boy, were you right.

-

The harsh, night air nipped at your skin, goosebumps crawling across your exposed skin, your dress from the previous night turned out to be a rather weather-inappropriate outfit. After The Tower of London, the heavens opened in a torrential downpour that caused our small group to sprint to a local bookstore café, where the missing team members caught up with you for lunch.

You spent around three hours in the quaint café, both you and Spencer eyeing up the large bookshelves lined with various graphic covers as the rest of the team talked. They truly were a nice group, and you were glad you had the opportunity to work with them. But it hurt to think that you may never see them again.

But alas, they tided you over by regaling tales of sadistic killers, and various – and frankly, hilarious – anecdotes from their time together. You could tell they truly were a family, especially since they didn’t fail to mention the fact their job is so demanding that they practically live in the FBI Academy together.

~

“You know, law enforcement was always a job that interested me. I just wish that I could see a case through, you know; studying the bodies is fairly detached.” You chuckled, placing your glass to your lips, and taking a sip.

“You want to chase Unsubs?” Derek turned to you, a smile on his face.

“I guess so, I always enjoyed travelling for specialty help, I was a bit more involved in solving cases then. I just feel so helpless once all evidence is processed, I must wait and hope that the police can work it out themselves.” You smile, reaching your arm out to fiddle with the napkin in front of you.

~

“Y/N?” The sound of a voice pulls you out of your dissociative reverie, pulling you back into the here and now, where the team all gathered in front of you.

“Thank you for everything Y/N.” You smile at Rossi, gasping as Garcia pulls you into another surprise hug. The end of her blonde hair tickles your nose as you let out a small chuckle.

“I will miss you Garcia- I will miss all of you.” You whisper as Garcia pulls back and you acquaint your gaze with the hardened concrete below your feet. Trying to hide the embarrassment you felt for becoming so attached to the people in front of you in such a short time.

“You don’t fancy a trip to America, do you?” Derek chuckles, nudging your side with his elbow, you lift your hands to cover your mouth as you laugh. Your gaze fixating on Derek as he offers you a wide grin.

“I could do with a holiday-“ You smile shaking your head.

“-but I’m not so sure my boss would like it.” You watch as the team chuckle to themselves, their gazes flicking between each other as they slowly realised, they would be leaving very soon.

-

Hotch stands, deep in thought as the team gather together, Y/N included, on the runway. He couldn’t help but notice how well Y/N functioned with the team, and how quickly they were able to solve an extremely complicated case with her expertise.

A notification snaps him out of his daze, gazing down at his phone he sees a reminder popping up, telling him that the jet leaves in 15 minutes and that they should all be ready to board.

“Guys-“ He breaks the giggles and chatter between his teammates, watching Y/N’s expression falter at the implication of his words. He knew she had bonded well with the team in the short space of time, and he knew that the team would miss her also.

“-you should say your goodbyes, we have to be on the jet in five for take-off in fifteen. I’ll be back in a minute.” Hotch disappears onto the jet as Garcia sucks in a breath, her eyes saddening as they land on Y/N. A soft smile rests on her face.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you all. I had heard so much about you guys-“ Y/N chuckles, her cheeks heating up as she turns her gaze to the ground scuffing her feet on the concrete.

“-you certainly -uhm- lived up to those expectations ten-fold. This wouldn’t have been solved without you guys.” Y/N’s gaze scans over the group, lingering on Spencer, who gives her a soft smile, his cheeks reddening.

Rossi was the first to step forward, offering Y/N a silent pat on her shoulder, before walking towards the jet, and disappearing inside.

JJ and Garcia stood forward together, opening out their arms as they engulfed Y/N in a group hug. The whispers of thanks making the other members of the team smile at the sight. But soon they disappeared into the comfort of the jet.

“Stay safe, okay?” Was the simple sentiment Morgan left Y/N with his gaze switching between her and Spencer suggestively, an expression they both missed.

Finally, Spencer steps forward his eyes stuck on the ground as he fails to meet Y/N’s gaze.

The pair both remain silent, gazes alternating between each other and the ground as they both relish in the awkwardness of not knowing what to say.

“I enjoyed having someone smart to relate to.” He practically whispers as Y/N let’s out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Don’t be mean to your teammates, you’re a bright bunch.” The quip makes Spencer laugh shyly, as he raises his gaze to Y/N who stands in front of him.

“You’re a brilliant mind.” Spencer’s voice is practically a whisper as he takes a small step forward, outstretching his hand to Y/N. She gladly takes it and shakes it with a chuckle.

“Hey Reid, I thought you said it was safer to kiss?!” The pair jump at the sound of a voice coming from the small jet. Turning they see Derek stood at the top of the steps, a smug grin on his face.

Hotch walks past him, making his way towards the now extremely embarrassed, frozen pair of doctors. Spencer quickly offers Y/N a small smile before dropping your hand.

Y/N turns her focus to Hotch. He stops in front of her.

“Dr. L/N, we’re running late, but I just wanted to let you know that I will be in touch over the next couple of weeks, as regards the case.” Y/N nods, immediately going into business mode, she straightens up.

“That’s absolutely no problem, I will forward you any of the paperwork on our end for reference.”

“That would be great. Excellent work doctor. As I said, I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, they were gone.

-

Story Masterlist - (1) -