#dig n hunt good luck

[vhvrs]

trying to second hand pill more ppl by posting my hobby collections that are 90% hauls from collectors selling their pieces, flea markets, n auctions. keep shit circulating. buy more used dvds. etc.

[angelsrcute]

Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[eveenstar]

╯‧⁚⁛⁙ ┉ self-aware!ghostface and the player headcanons | part 1/?

-> first things first, once danny breaks the fourth wall, good luck because bby that man will never leave you alone. he wants your attention on him and him alone. you either main him or risk getting your game glitched out til you do.

-> gets frustrated when you purposely let survivors go. this is not a charity party, this is a hunting trial. thinks you're going too soft and might honestly assume control of himself and take matters into his own hands if you keep it up.

-> depending on his mood, he might or might not care if you accidentally let some slip. it's okay hun everyone makes mistakes (but not 3 in a row). you're not like danny, a ruthless and cold-blooded murderer, so he understands. though if he keeps getting flashbanged he will take matters into his own hands again because he's trying not to go blind before his forties.

-> loves watching you scroll on your phone or eating when you're taking a break from matches. if you don't pay attention to him for long he'll start repeating his basic animations (stab stabby stab stab) until you look up and he can see those pretty eyes of yours again. ♡

-> absolutely despises when you switch to survivor. he doesn't get it. what do they have that he doesn't? what's the fun in being chased and hunted? he's so much more fun and entertaining- you can't just replace him like that.

->danny doesn't care about fashion or his appearance overall. his hair is often messy and with hits of dried blood here and there, and sometimes he forgets to wash himself after a kill but he loves when you buy him cosmetics. maybe it's the way your eyes lit up, or the small comments you make about how 'handsomely gorgeous he looks in red', and he craves that attention.

->believes you two are the match. no other killer or survivor could ever have what you and the ghostface have. his skills and your brains are the ultimate pair, any other could only dream of having a 'relationship' like the two of you have.

->snickers to himself as you make background commentary of how the trial is going, 'wow nea what was that?' 'damn are you just gonna leave your teammate die on first hook?' or his personal favourite... 'ace get your fucking ass off of the balcony right now'

->his dark, cold heart flutters in excitement as he hears you cheer after a 4k or after you get vengeance on some particular sassy survivors who think they can outsmart you. oh, how danny would love to see your hands covered in blood as you digged his blade into the corpses of-

->for now, danny will keep watching and testing his boundaries. his limits. watching you from behind a screen can only satisfy him for so long. he wants the real deal, he craves to feel you, your touch, the softness or roughness of your skin. he wants to show you that he's the only one good enough for you.

A/N: trying a new format of headcanons/stories hehehe

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 28 - "I may not get another chance to say this."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Plays into the Forgotten Twin AU setting. Basically for this: Danny was sent to the Fentons as a mission when he was seven and Damian forgot about it until someone found an old mission report from Danny. Their first meeting didn't go well… But Damian has his reasons wanting Danny to come to Gotham with him that are not all completely selfish. I tried to make this little scene sort of funny with a bit of angst in it.

"So…" Danny floated next to a giant Cujo while 'sitting' cross legged in the air doing his best to suppress the growing grin on his face. "Are you convinced yet?"

He heard an inaudible grumble and laughed doing a little air flip before 'laying' in the air and resting his head in his hands. "I didn't catch that Dami, can you repeat that?"

"Get him off me!"

"Who? Cujo?" The dog licked Danny across his entire head before laying down on and making himself comfortable on his twin brother who grunted and Danny chuckled. "Didn't you say handling a ghost animal won't be any different than handling an actual animals?"

His twin grunted once more but did not say anything else. Danny grinned as he looked away from Damian and Cujo towards the rest his twin hand brought with him to Amity, he hadn't bothered learning their names when Damian had introduced them the first, second, third and fourth time. All in an attempt to convince him, he was surprised that his biological father didn't appear before him as often as Damian did after he told them no.

Red helmet guy, Danny believed his civilian name was something with J, was currently getting chased around the Main Street by Johnny on his motorcycle and Shadow trying to trip the poor guy up. He had heard the guy curse and complain very loudly that he was not happy about his bullets not working.

Another guy in blue who's hero name was something with Wing but his nickname was Dick, a fun fact that funnily enough made his name the easiest to remember, was currently doing a bunch of flips dodging Skulker. He wasn't entirely sure but with the way Skulker was glaring he was pretty sure that the other ghost was now hunting the guy out of annoyance for real instead of just as a favor to Danny.

The third guy Damian had brought with him to Amity, who's hero name was also that of a dinner, was locked in a weird tech battle with Technus. Danny was pretty sure he had heard that guy yell something about upgrading Wayne Tech to the point that Technus would never be able to take control of it. Good luck with that, Danny thought, so far his parents' and with his own ectoplasm infused tech were the only ones that could resist that ghost's control.

"Danyal, this is ridiculous!" Looking toward Cujo again, Danny found that Damian had managed to dig his way out from under him.

"Well you're the one that bet that you could handle some 'silly' ghosts, to convince me to go to Gotham with you. That there wouldn't be a problem if I left Amity Park behind." Danny moved to float before his brother spread his arms out. "Do you see now that I can't just leave? That I have a responsibility here? That I have a perfectly good life here? You didn't care for years that I lived here and now suddenly out of the blue you keep pestering me to come with you to Gotham."

Danny heard something muffled but he hadn't been able to make out what exactly his twin had said. Instead of asking he slowly floated down until his feet touched the ground and then proceeded to sit with his knees drawn in so that his head could rest on them on the ground. His head was slightly tilted as he watched his twin blankly, the same way grandfather had him do when he had been way younger.

Danny knew this was a habit left over from the League, something Jazz wouldn't have been able to help him get rid off without Damian around.

Damian was obviously struggling, trying to push that giant ghost dog off him so he could have a proper talk with his twin, muttering how a 'ghost' dog could be this heavy or solid. Yet even if Damian was late, there were things he needed to explain. Things he needed Danny to know, things he had only learned after he had started living with father, after he had left the League for good. Even if he didn't deserve his twin's forgiveness, he finally could be the brother his twin deserved. Besides he had made a promise to his twin's sister on his second visit, when Jasmine had been the one to sit him down and talk when Danyal refused. She tried to figure out why Damian had appeared so obsessed about taking Danny with him to Gotham and in the end she had made him promise something for Danyals health.

"I may not get another chance to say this. With you pinned under Cujo and your siblings distracted by my rogues this might be my only chance for now. I was convinced I hated you yet was loyal to a default until Jazz thought me I actually didn't hate you but cared in a messed up way." Danny started watching how his twin stilled. "It took Jazz exactly one year to mostly undo the mindset the league trained into me, she shouldn't have to but she wanted to for her new little brother and took all the steps needed to ensure my mental well being when she was nine and I seven. After that year I was sorta lost. A limbo between wanting a normal life and the duty that had been trained into me towards you. I didn't know what to do and then Tucker picked up the slack, showing me what 'normal' was. Well after I sort of went feral on Dash during my first day in grade school."

Damian looked up at his twin who wasn't even looking at him but sported a far away look. Seeing but unseeing at the same time as he remembered a childhood he knew nothing about. "I kept sending reports, not out of duty but hoping to protect the live Jazz had offered me. When they stopped responding, I also stopped reporting and grew wary."

Laughing humorlessly Danny returned his gaze back on Damian. "At first I believed grandfather gave up on me. That he would send you to kill me. After all, I was just a disposable spare. But no one ever came."

"Me appearing after years must have been shocking." Damian admitted, by now he had given up trying to get that giant dog to move off him, less he embarrassed himself like his elder brothers were currently doing. "That was why you attacked without waiting to hear me out once we were in a secluded area during our first meeting."

"Can't blame me. I thought you were still with the League and brainwashed into the perfect hire grandfather wanted." Damian huffed at that causing Danny to chuckle lightheartedly.

"Valid reasoning." His twin agreed. The half ghost signaled to Cujo, the dog only tilting his head before licking his tongue over the entirety of Danny's head once more, not moving an inch off of Damian. "I would most likely have done the same if the roles had been reversed."

"I got a family here now, Damian and you got yours with our bio-Dad and all the siblings you have been trying to introduce to me." Danny voiced after a moment of silence between them. In that moment Cujo finally changed size and moved to cuddle up to his twin, giving Damian a chance to sit up on his own.

"Danyal."

"No Damian. I will not go with you to Gotham. You tried to show me that others could take care of Amity. But look at those you took with you? They don't even have the equipment needed to handle ghosts." Danny was looking over his shoulder watching Damian's brothers. "Amity Park is my responsibility, the same way Gotham is Batmans."

"It is a responsibility you shouldn't shoulder alone. Father has us in Gotham but who do you have?" Damian watched his twin from the corner of his eyes. "It would be better and safer for you to come with us."

"Damian, I can't just-"

"Jasmine has made me aware of the danger to your physical as well as mental health here the longer you stay. She has inquired with us to see if we could help you to start thinking more about your safety than the safety of everyone around you but yourself."

"Of course Jazz would. Look I can handle my parents and the GIW, it's not like-"

"She has stressed the fact that you have been returning injured more often. Injuries not caused by your ghost rogues." Damian cut him off. "You are a lot more like father than I am but there is one fact we both clearly have inherited from him in the same way?"

"Oh, really now?"

"We are both quite stubborn and won't give up easily." Damian smirked as he stood up and dusted off his pants. He took a couple steps forward towards his elder siblings before turning to look back at his twin. "I believe the bet was that if we could prove to you that other hero's could also handle these ghosts that you would reconsider your stance on coming to Gotham with us?"

"Wha-?"

"IT WORKED! He's in my mini computer! I trapped him in my mini computer!"

"HA! Not so fun getting chased by your own bike, is it?"

"Oh come on dude, this isn't that much of a tied situation. I just roped your own weapon around you. No need to be so headless."

Danny blinked slightly unbelieving, Johnny and Shadow where now the once getting chased around, Technus was apparently stuck in one single little computer and Skulker was tied up with one of his own weapons, aktual Skulker not the hulk of his mech suit.

"Danyal. I… We want to make it up to you. For all the years of mistreatment during our childhood as well as forgetting about your existence for nearly half a decade. All I am asking is to give father and me a chance. According to your sister, your foster parents as well as this GIW organization are posing a threat to you. My siblings are just as capable as father and I, so allow us to help your situation… please."

Once again Danny was blinking in disbelief, this time though he was blinking at his twin he hadn't seen in years, he had sort of resented at first but came to sort of love and miss him through Jazz's constant help and deprogrammed in his childhood.

"Wow… you must have swallowed a lot of your pride to say that." Danny couldn't help but mutter. None of his twin's behavior matched what he remembers from his childhood with the League but maybe it was better this way. What did Jazz tell him a couple days ago? To give it a fresh and new start? To at least listen to them?

"Danyal, if you speak one word of what I told you to any of them, I will kill you."

"And there is the Dami, I remember."

Damian clicked his tongue and Danny laughed as he finally stood up with Cujo in his arms to stand next to his twin.

[the-kr8tor]

sea clay with hobie?❣️ shy gn mer!reader who's just captivated by him and his guitar and they try work up the courage to sing along with his music

Mermaid! R yay!! Thank you for the adorable potion request! 🩷

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, merperson! Reader, Fluff!

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The rock underneath your palms scratch and itch at your skin, the waves push you around, making your body hit the boulder you're currently hiding behind. Your skin might be irritated by the rough surface but the pain is all worth it. The sound of the string instrument is better than anything you've heard under the tides, even more so when it's accompanied by the stranger's sweet singing voice. It's soft and solemn, lyrics as salty as the sea you live in, you wonder why he sings it with such anger and loneliness when the music he's strumming is upbeat and as thunderous as the storm looming above the clouds.

You're tethering close to oblivion whenever you watch the handsome stranger sing his songs and play his lullabies. You've been taught that he's a danger to your kind, that he'd hunt you down the moment you reveal yourself. But how could his hands that play with such gentleness cause harm to you? You whose only desire is to listen to his otherworldly songs.

The waves lap at your back harshly, pushing and pushing you until the rock could barely shield you from his view. The sky has turned grey and dark, wind blowing loudly in every direction— You hate it for it prevents you from hearing the full tune. Nails digging into the jagged boulder, you don't anticipate the large wave heading your way. In a second, you're pulled under the tides, tossing and tumbling you like you're stuck in a whirlpool of salt. In a single breath, your palms hit rough sand. In a beat, you look up to see his handsome face staring down at you with a shocked face. You worry. And you frantically try to get back to land but your tail dragging behind you prevents you from doing it hastily.

In a twist of fate, the musician helps you, hands reaching down, asking for permission to hold you.

“Hello,” he says, “Do you need help?” His speaking voice is as deep as his singing, and yet sweeter than anything you've ever encountered.

“You're not going to k-kill me?” You utter, hand reaching up shakily, trepidation molds around your fins.

He smiles, brightening up the stormy beach. “No, when a beautiful mythical being washes up next to you on the beach you'd think it's a blessin’. Why would I kill a blessin'?”

You find no lie or nefarious intentions in his words. “You think I'm a blessing?”

“A gift more like,” he sits down next to you, a considerable act to prevent your neck from aching. You thank him silently. “A gift from the sea. A fleeting gift, but a gift nonetheless. Who am I to deny good luck?” His grey eyes shine amidst the growing darkness, lips curled into a soft smile. “My name's Hobie, what's yours?”

“Hobie,” you say it again, tasting the name in your tongue.

“Aye, that's my name,” he nods, chuckling, “do you have one? I don't know anythin' about your kind except that you lot have gorgeous tails.” He doesn't roam his eyes over your body in respect for you who probably doesn't want to be ogled. “And that you bring storms.” As he says it, thunder rolls above the beach.

You sit up, an act harder than swimming against the waves. “We have names, it's—”

Someone yells for him, Hobie looks back towards the road, and you immediately escape before other people can see you. A splash can be heard and you're gone. Hobie watches your shiny tail peek from atop the water before you disappear under the depths.

He laughs in bewilderment, hands on his head, chuckling to himself. After the fateful encounter Hobie keeps on coming back to the beach on the same spot he met you. He brings his guitar everyday, and everyday he sings different songs in an attempt to summon you again. By some miracle, you come back. Still hidden by the rocks but you're there, he can tell by how the sky darkens, and how lightning strikes across the clouds. So he puts on a show for you, only for your eyes and ears.

Day by day, you get closer to him. Before you hid behind rocks but now you're close to the beach, sand in-between your fingers, eyes wide and curious at the new instrument he has brought with him together with his own.

You tilt your head at the string instrument, the strings are longer and the frame is coated in deep silver. Hobie stays seated in the same spot, watching you eye your gift.

“It's called a harp,” he sees you silently mouth the word. “And it's for you.”

You turn your head towards him lightning quick, just from your movement a lightning hits the water. “Mine?”

“Yes, yours. A gift deserves a gift, yeah?” Hobie sees a smile slowly spread across your face, and almost immediately, the sun appears behind the dark clouds. “Come try it out?”

“Are you sure?” You slowly crawl over to him. Iridescent scales revealed from under the waves, sunlight reflecting off the colourful tail.

His breath gets stuck in his throat. “Yes.”

You stare at your reflection from the shiny metal of the harp, wide eyes staring back at you as you pluck a string, the sound making you giggle. Your laughter is better than any music Hobie has ever heard.

“Will you teach me?” You ask bashfully, voice small, yet your smile stays.

“Of course,” Hobie nods, leaning down, chin laying on his arm. “Anythin' for my blessin’”

You watch yourself in his grey eyes, a colour you once hated but now loved more than ever. “My name is Y/N.” You say, awestruck by the man before you who looks at you with fondness.

“Y/N,” he tests your name on his tongue to remember it until the end of his days. “Can you sing, Y/N?”

You could only nod, sitting up, hands grasping your new instrument close to your hearts.

He's besotted, “I'll teach you anythin’ you want.” There's hope in his heart that you'll stay long enough for a duet.

[woundedoves]

No.3 with Mason(from price of flesh)? I ADORE your works, thank you for sharing it with us <3 good luck in writing!!

Mason + Clothed x Stark Naked x Bottom GN!Reader (NSFW)

a/n: i might have gotten lost in the sauce and forgot to mention how his clothes would feel against the readers skin… apologies … also im so hungry omg

CW: rape, stabbing, blood, creampie!!! not proofread.

Word Count: 558

You yell out as Mason slams your head onto the floor of his cabin. You were so fucking close to killing that piece of shit but your body decided that it was prime time to fucking sneeze, thus your situation. Mason pants slightly above you as he holds your arms back, his knee pressing on your ass as his other hand is holding you down by your nape, “lookit you, so close yet so far, hm?”, you groan and try to move your body to no avail. He has you trapped under his body weight.

Your eyes widen as he grinds down on you, feeling his clothed erection pressing on your ass. You open your mouth to say anything and hiss when you taste blood, your nose isn’t broken but it’s bleeding. You lick the blood away from your lips, “get the fuck off of m–”, you cry out in pain as he lets go of your hands and plants your left hand beside your head with his hunting knife. You scream as the second wave of pain courses through you as he rips off your clothes, he’s silent now, that’s even scarier somehow.

You whimper pathetically as he kneads your ass with his rough, calloused hands. Muttering out a ‘fuck’ as he gives it a slap that has you keening, fuck, what the hell, how is this old freak so strong?! You hear the sound of a zipper being undone as he takes his already hard cock out, “w…wait– don’t–! Fuck!” you yell as he chuckles breathlessly, “too late for that sweetheart.” He thrusted his cock with no warning as he snapped his hips onto your ass, making you scream with pain as your left hand jerked involuntarily which doubled the searing pain that shocked your whole body as he started to drill his fat cock into your hole raw with unforgiving, harsh thrusts. Your right hand scraped the wooden floor with your nails to hold onto something while he used you as his fleshlight for the night.

His hands grip your ass as he hisses and thrusts his cock to the base, savoring the tired whimper from you as he fucks into you, your tight hole is so fucking warm for his cock, he’ll pump you full of his load and mark you properly. He groans and bites his lower lip as he feels you tighten around him, takes your nape with his hand and holds you down while your abdomen shakes and shivers with your climax, letting out cute little cries as you cum against your will.

“Not long now” – he grips your hips with his calloused hands as you feel your body jerk, eliciting a weak pained whimper when you feel the knife digging deeper into your hand – “gonna cum inside, make you mine.” Chuckles as he hears you whine in protest, lining his cock to hit that sweet spot of yours as he works his fat cock inside your tight hole, his hips jerking against your ass as he cums inside with a groan that draws a cute mewl of his name as he doesn’t stop thrusting; riding out his climax. You feel his breath on your nape as he plants a kiss and then bites down, properly marking you as you groan in pian.

“Should keep ya as a cute lil’ fucktoy.”

[lost-between-letters]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Requested by: @maddiebwrites

Word Count: 1,668

Warnings: blood and gore, violence, ANGST, death, spoilers for season 11 because mentioned characters

Summary: Hunting ghosts was nothing new for the three of them. Still, Dean had a horrible feeling about this one that he couldn't shake ... he should have listened to his gut

A/N: me delivering a request half a year too late? Sounds about right. This is one of the angstiest pieces I have written so far so be warned

It was supposed to be a harmless little ritual.

Sure, Y/N was the one to start it - a random salt and burn where she had reached for his hand the very second before they entered the kill zone. Her fingers had weaved between Dean's easily and held onto him for the duration of the hunt. He was pretty sure that only her grip on him had ensured that they got out of there alive.

So, since then, it was Dean's lucky charm. Whenever a hunt was made out to be risky (for their standards), he took the time to squeeze Y/N's fingers until she was laughing and demanding him to stop. Made him feel calmer. Grounded. Sam would say he was reassuring himself of her presence by reaching out to touch - and Dean thought it was exactly that. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

But this hunt was easy right from the beginning. They knew what attacked the vics, the M.O. was more than accurately pointing to a bunch of restless spirits that the men of letters had encountered before, and most importantly, Y/N and Sam were right by his side.

Still, Dean couldn't shake the queasy feeling that had settled deep in his stomach the moment they had gotten out of the car. He hated it with a burning passion. His damn gut was always right, and today, it was telling him to pack Y/N and Sam up and get the hell away from this crap house.

Obviously, that wasn't an option - people were in danger, and Dean would sooner make amends with Zachariah than let innocents die because he got a tummy ache. At least he could hack into some spirits. To take the tension out of his brain or whatever.

"Dean?" Y/N glanced back, rifle slung over her shoulder, "you okay?"

He didn't even have to fake the smile that hard. His girl with a gun she could use with her eyes closed. Jesus, that shouldn't be as hot as it was. "Just peachy, Sweetheart."

She chuckled. Then, she took a closer look at his face and paused. Thought for a moment. Reached behind herself without looking. "Just take my hand. You know you want to, I know you want to, and Sam is checking out the building. Your masculinity is safe with me."

"You know how to sweet talk a man, baby." Dean aimed for sarcasm, but her hand was a solid weight in his palm, and she was looking at him with those eyes, and yeah, maybe he should shut up now.

"A kiss for good luck, too?" He asked innocently (as if her presence wasn't the best good luck charm he could ever get).

Surprised laughter spilt through her composure, and Y/N leaned closer.

"That can be arranged."

Unfortunately, it was nothing more but a short peck as Sam rounded the last corner.

"They're in the back," he informed them, breath coming shorter than usual. And then - "One's been following me."

So yeah, it got pretty hectic from there. Dean lost Y/N's hand when she aimed and shot a round of rocksalt into the spirit threatening to take Sam's heart. In the literal sense. Yikes.

With the first one fended off, the rest was quick to follow. They had to burn the bodies asap.

"You got a look on the graves?" Dean shouted in the general vicinity of his brother.

Bitchface nr. 53 hit him. "Behind the building!"

"Y/N!"

"Right here." Her shotgun dissolved the ghost that apparently had been about to jump his back.

Huh, still a turn-on when his girl was being badass. But Dean had more important things to focus on. "You gonna help me dig up some corpses?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she replied with a savage grin and grabbed for his hand again.

With only one arm each to defend themselves, they made their way to the backyard.

Dean could already see the graves when he felt Y/N's hand being torn out of his grip.

He swerved just fast enough to shoot the ghost of an english gentleman in the stomach that had been twisting Y/N's arms to the breaking point.

She fell forward with a gasp and Dean caught her just before the ground received a round of kisses.

"'ve got some bodies to burn," Y/N said through her teeth as she pulled herself back upwards.

"Let's get to digging then."

It was no use distinguishing the graves - there were maybe seven of them and six ghosts swarming them, so Dean went straight for the first one. No matter which bones they burned, it'd be the right ones.

For now, they were alone, so they went to work in grim silence - thankfully, an old shed supplied them with rusty shovels. Soon, they both were drenched in sweat.

They collected the bones in a messy pile. If they wanted to haunt them together, they should burn together.

Dean stood in the last grave as Y/N pulled the lighter fluid out of her jacket.

"Let's burn some ghosts, baby," she said with a wink and flipped the zippo open.

Dean watched the bones turn up in flames from his lower viewpoint - they illuminated a wild grin on Y/N's face while the fire was crackling and distant screeches tore through the night.

Only that one was closer than the rest.

It was all the warning Dean got before Y/N disappeared from his line of vision, a smoldering cloud in her place.

She screamed like he had never heard her scream before.

Dean was out of the grave in seconds, gun in his hand, and aimed at the grey smoke. But he couldn't shoot anything, Y/N was right in the center of whatever this ghost was becoming.

And made noises Dean never wanted to hear again. That was the worst part of it all - he couldn’t see a thing beside the burning remains and the smoking creature that was wrapped around his girl.

With the next scream of pain, he grabbed the nearest iron, and stabbed it into the burning ghost.

It disappeared with a hiss and destruction in its path.

"Y/N?" Dean whispered and fell to his knees next to her crumpled form. Her clothes were burnt, there were ashes all over her skin, and blood ran down her neck. It coated her shirt.

There was so much blood that Dean was afraid to even touch her.

She couldn't -

"Dean?" Her voice was scratchy and nothing more than an exhale, but he heard her.

That was all that it took. She was alive. Breathing and talking to him. He couldn't see where she was hurt, but it couldn't be that bad if she was still talking. Even if her shirt was wet with her blood. They could fix it.

Dean all but crumpled over her, his hands reaching to cup her face. "I got you, sweetheart. We're gonna get you out of here and we're gonna get Cas to heal you up and-"

"Baby." Cold hands wrapped around his heart in time with her hand covering his own. It shook from the exertion of raising it, her facr paling under all the blood.

He refused to listen to his gut once more tonight. "No. You're gonna be fine. We're gonna get you out of this goddamn graveyard and you're gonna get a nice warm blanket-"

"You're the strongest person I ever met, do you know that?" Y/N grimaced but reached up to put her hand on his heart. "And I don't mean the physical part alone. You're kind and caring despite everything that happened to you, you never think of yourself first - you're the best man this world has to offer. And I'm so grateful that I could call you mine."

"Stop." He didn't recognise the voice that came from his lips.

But Y/N did, and she didn't listen. There were tears running down her face, washing off the blood, and she would be looking just fine if it weren't for the pale skin that it revealed.

"I love you so much." Her voice broke, and she hissed in pain. But she kept going. "Nd I'm going to give Chuck hell until you come and join me."

"Please-"

Dean knew that he was begging on a lost cause. Perhaps he had known from the moment that he heard her scream. That didn't mean that he had to take it lying down. He wouldn't lose her, not to a ghost - not to anything.

So he started praying to every angel he knew, commanding them, bargaining with them, flat out begging them to heal her.

No one came.

And Y/N kept talking.

"Don't let this break you. The world needs you, Dean - I need you to stay alive and yourself. Please don't let me break you." The words had dwindled down to nothing more than soft breaths she squeezed out between flashes of pain.

"Sweetheart, I-"

Her grip on his hand relaxed, and the hand on his heart fell down. On her own unmoving chest.

Y/N wasn't breathing anymore.

Dean gripped her hand, pressed it against his chest again. Praying that something else was happening. Anything else than reality. "Please, Y/N, don't do this. We can fix this, sweetheart, c'mon, show me your eyes."

Water dripped down on her unmoving cheeks - Dean was crying.

"Look at me, baby. Please"

It was no use. Y/N didn't start breathing again. Her blood didn't stop seeping into his jeans where he was kneeling, and she didn't open her eyes.

Don't let me break you.

What she hadn't known was, that he had always been broken - way before they met. Dean was nothing but a pile of sharp edges of broken hopes and jagged pieces of lost dreams. And with her last breath, Y/N had ripped the bandages off that held them in place.

The world would pay for what it did to her.

Dean would make sure of it.

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[wyatt-finley]

W H O A M I ?

FULL NAME: Wyatt Kane Finley OCCUPATION: Currently unemployed and half-heartedly job hunting AGE: 31 PRONOUNS: He/him SPECIES: Werewolf PACK: Warwick HOMETOWN: Hammersmith, London — speaks with an rp (received pronunciation) accent and often drops his 'g's because it's comfortable and he's lazy. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single, but he's not really one for labels. SEXUALITY: Frequently internalising romantic fantasies of beautiful men.

(tw: violence, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood)

P E R S O N A L I T Y

AGGRESSIVE. Swing first, ask questions later; Wyatt is the kind to resolve most disagreements through a few bloodied knuckles, bruised cheeks, and broken ribs. CHEEKY. He is always pushing his luck. He has one of those smiles that pulls the sun out of hiding and fills the hole he'd been metaphorically digging himself back up with dirt. You can count on him to turn a sentimental moment into a joke because it'll kill him if he doesn't make light of something serious. FLAKEY. Do not trust him with time-sensitive tasks. Don't even trust him to show up on time. He'll show, because he doesn't make empty promises, but you can bet he'll be late. IMPULSIVE. No, he didn't think through the consequences of that run-and-gun decision. Everything seems like a good idea when you're incapable of thinking more than a few seconds ahead on any given day and are prone to making decisions with your heart, rather than your head. LOYAL. He's not great at expressing meaningful feelings, but he can certainly show you. If you've earned his trust, his loyalty is undying and trumps all of his flakey traits — if you need him, he will drop everything to be there for you. Any time, any place, by any means.  RECKLESS. He's a fire guy. He's a booze guy. He's a five-finger-discount guy. He doesn't have any intention to hurt anyone, or anything, in the process, but damn is he charming when he apologises. WITTY. Loves a punchline, and a little attention as a result. Also loves poking fun at those he loves. Gentle bullying is one of his love languages at this point (as is biting, but that's a conversation for a different trait).

B I O G R A P H Y

Wyatt is the youngest of two Finley boys and grew up in a single-parent household. His father is mystery that he doesn't care to solve beyond knowing that's where his werewolf gene had come from. He's hellishly protective of his biological and chosen families and has a tendency to devote his blind loyalty to those he loves. So maybe he's got a few daddy issues sprinkled in there. Maybe. He is a born-werewolf, much to his dismay, and grew up in London. He found 'home' in a little pack that adopted the Finleys right in after catching word of their dynamic and of boys that would need a safe space to come into who, and what, they were. Raised by his own kind, he learned to play hard, work hard, and fight harder. Something of an athlete and a scrappy wrestler, Wyatt made a living out of it during his adolescent and young-adult life. Mostly because he'd been talked into it by packmates as a means of redirecting restless energy. It kept his knuckles clean and steered the boy away from petty fights. He travelled away from home often — for matches and championships that eventually spurred on an endless cycle of temporary friendships. Ones that blossomed into situationships, and eventually fizzled into early-morning fantasies when he needed to travel again. Learning to deal with the wet cracking of bones and shredding of flesh every time the moon turned full was, in his words, fuckin' grim. It prevented him from joining teams and stoked the isolation that his genetics brought on with a hot poker, which only made his wolf mind froth at the chance to rip and tear, limb from limb. He tried to keep contact with his loved ones as best he could, but Wyatt had always been more of a physical than digital communicator. Sprinkled with a little self-sabotage and self-loathing, he was used to being alone by the time he struck his mid-twenties. Walked through towns with a sour expression, busted knuckles, and his head down. Where no one knew his name, or his werewolf affliction. Life brought him to Port Leiry after a second tear to his MCL in three years and far too many concussions to continue a high-contact sport. He spent most of his recovery befriending a member of the Warwick pack, who quickly introduced him to the rest of the loyalists. God did Wyatt fit right in with most of their core beliefs, and learned new ways to appreciate the brutality the moon granted him. Four years in Port Leiry built him the routines of a new life, and a new outlook. He still travelled for work — commentating sparring and wrestling matches rather than participating in them — but always found his way back to Warwick. Eventually a rift in the pack saw a blowout of snapping jaws and bloodied claws until Wyatt was following his friend away from home blindly. It made perfect sense to him in that moment; Wyatt owed his life in Port Leiry to them. So he left with them. But it became clear it was yet an impulsive decision made with his heart, rather than his head. And one that left him alone when they, too, walked out on him. Returning to Port Leiry, and at odds with the Warwick pack, is probably a mistake. But Wyatt misses home. Misses being part of something bigger than himself. Misses that something, or someone, that could take his mind off the weight of the wolf on his shoulders. The kind hand at the back of his neck and the warm voice that told him everything'd be okay. He misses home.

W A N T E D

Hear the dogs howling out of key - Chosen family, for the most part, rather than just pack mates. Someone(s) that will run with him, fight with him, and stand by him the same way he'd stand by them. In the night we'll wish this never ends - Past loves, FWBs, hookups, crushes; He's got a big heart and a cheeky charm that disguises how he loves wholly, deeply, and fiercely. Whether or not he's told you, or himself, that he loves you is another discussion entirely. Or maybe it's just not that deep. He's not much for labels. Now it seems I'm out there on my own - He's probably met you in passing before. Maybe at a championship, or a bar or pub afterwards. Or maybe you crossed paths with him in the middle of his self-inflicted ostracism. Either way, he could use a few friendly faces that accept a different version of him than they might've known before. Could be any frontier, any hemisphere - Was it you he followed away from Port Leiry?** Or you he promised he'd never leave? I said I was the cops and your husband's in jail - Practical joker extraordinaire. Maybe you thought it was funny. Maybe you wanted to beat the shit out of him for remotely flipping the breaker in your house for a week straight. Might want to check those downlights on the fritz.

** part of a more complex WC.

[choking-on-dandelions]

Good morning, dearest friends! I'm delighted to say we're back from up north and it was a BLAST!!!

So first of all, whoo. what a drive. From the heart of the city to the softspoken winds of the water it was erm, give or take about 5-6 hour car trip. Ya girl got pockets of car sickness but I managed not to throw up so yay!

The four of us traveled through Traverse City and omg THE CROWDS BRO I COULDN'T. We did weave through the people to catch the air show, that was so cool! All you heard was the planes ripping through the sound barrier as you watch them do their tricks and spins and barrel rolls through that bright blue sky. They looked so close that you could reach out and touch them! So many cool tricks! The people were a little less than stellar, only because I get panicky in big gatherings, but the cherry pie was worth it. Soo worth it.

Okay, now, off to the Sleeping Bear Dunes! We arrive in fair time and pull up to the BIGGEST piles of sand I've ever seen with my own two eyes! I get nervous, a little dizzy just looking at this beastly climb, and immediately predict this is going to be the funnest nightmare ever. (I was right btw!) We all take a whiz then start climbing, each of us donning our breeziest most death-proof clothing we packed, and right away I resort to scaling the FIRST dune on my hands and feet, growling and howling like a monster and chasing after my boyfriend while other tourist watched and laughed. It was all fun and games until about the 11th pole marker on our never-ending hike. How long did it take, you may ask, to get through these sand hills? I will tell you, dear friend:

It took us, in grand total, a whopping 6.5 hours to get from the car, down to the beach, back to the car, all without the relief of adequate shade from any trees, and running dangerously low on water after we saw for ourselves that there were no facilities on the shore. No bathroom, no water fountains, just sand and lake and lots of cool rocks. We rationed the water we had for about the last 3 miles of our hike, only sipping enough to wet our mouths. When I tell you we got burned bad. My back is just now starting to peel. Turns out, after all was said and done, we had mistakenly taken the longest and steepest path there was coming and going. But we did it! And we didn't even need to call the rescue team (good thing too, hello $2,000 rescue bill, no thanks)! But watching some of these other people hike our way WITHOUT ANY WATER OR ANYTHING, I was like '???' So we went out of our way coming back to warn others that they might want to turn back and prepare for the worst. They were grateful to say the least lol.

From there we carried on towards Cadillac and meandered around the country roads until we found a cozy little hole-in-the-wall bar and grill and stopped off for dinner. The food there was excellent! My friends Cassie and Annette got a giant ceaser salad and mac n cheese with a side of fried cheese curds, my boyfriend David got a burger with fries and a side of mac n cheese, and I nibbled on a plate of veggies with a few fries on the side. I got something super light because I suspected I'd doze off in the car right after eating; sure enough, I was right lol.

From there we drove about an hour to our hotel room and packed it in for the night. Super nice little place, we lucked out and got one of the best rooms with lakeside view and a backroom door leading straight to the heated pool room. Everyone else stayed up for a bit, I was knocked out lol. We slept a few hours, got up the next morning and showered and whatnot, then took off for the local beaches for some serious rock and shell hunting. We found some neat stuff: David found some cool Petoskey stones and me and Cassie and Annette were chasing shells around the shore. We found a bunch of big snail shells and a few clamshells, I was hoping to dig up some gemstones somewhere like how I did out in North Carolina, but sadly no such luck this time. But that's okay. We beach hopped for a few hours, had a few seltzers in the sun, then began our journey home, saw a haunted-ass barn and belted out some car karaoke for a while.

Y'all, it. Was. The. BEST!!! It was the getaway we all needed and some amazing bonding time, even though we all nearly died out on the dunes lol totally worth it! We're already planning another vacation for next year, we wanna go gem hunting up in the mountains. Gonna be bomb!

I'm so glad to be home though. It's good to be back!

[lonniemachin]

how did you do the research for all of jean-paul’s appearances? i’m trying to make my own list for someone but i’m having trouble finding resources

hey! first of all good luck and happy hunting, making reading lists can be a bit hard but also very fun and rewarding, in my experience :]

that being said, i cross-referenced from a lot of different sources including League of Comic Geeks (a comic logging and review app that lists all of a characters’ appearances), his pages on DCU Guide (Prime & New Earth chronologies are separated), and his pages on the DC Fandom Wiki. some listings on some sites i had to supplement with dates i’d found on others, and so i had to piece a lot together myself but it depends on how in-depth you go with your guide/list. i include things like date, penciler, etc. but quick n’ easy issue-only reading orders take much less digging i think.

hope this helped!

[btnclmrttn]

Hi! Recently came across your blog and I absolutely LOVE your Saitama HC SM

Anyways I can here to request H/C  With Saitama, Genos, Garou, and mumen rider (all my fucking beloved) 

With a Fem!Be it friend or S/o that’s part Phoenix or is a result of a lab experiment, with a shit ton of scars from being hunted or tested on with her healing abilities (Phoenix example being like Marco from one piece, can turn into a giant blue flaming bird, and/or can turn her arms into flaming wings, have talons for feet near shit)

Please and thank you! Your amazin!

Man these animal requests are so cool I'm digging it. Thanks for asking! I'll give it my best! Sorry it took so long I've been working for days n days straight 😭

Asks the weirdest fucking questions. Nothing to do with the experiment, but like if you lay eggs or some shit

He thinks you look fucking sick when you on your flame shit

Hunters? What hunters? They've mysteriously vanished? A weirdly long strain of good luck? Who knows

If you're ever upset in anyway he always has a small fire extinguisher nearby and whips it out. Mostly to make you laugh but just in case he has no idea what phoenix's are capable of

Prick move but he's always buying sunflower seeds or nuts and giving them to you. The fact he's spending money to joke with you though shows he does like you and thinks of you often

If you got bird feets, it doesn't bother him. However, you CAN bother him if you like grab his knee with them or something it gives him the creeps

Also asks weird questions but he has answered most himself thankfully. By hyper analysing everything of you, of course

Trauma bonding! Woo hoo! (Not rly woo hoo y'all just find good connection with that)

Anyone that even stares too long is at risk of being deleted. Watch out for his canons

Can you heal a cyborg? Maybe? Y'all both wondering but by the time you find out he got his ass mowed he's at Kuseno's already.

The people that experimented on you are also now on his revenge list. You're not talking him out of it if you wanted to try.

Lots of drawings of you n your bird anatomy fill his notebook. He just thinks you're hella cool tbh.

He knows exactly how many scars and marks are on your body and WILL detect if there's a new one so to save you trouble just call/text him if something happens. Whether it was a hunter or you hurt yourself on accident

Oh lawd, this boi

He is extremely protective and defensive of you. Absolutely no one will lay a hand on you like that ever again

Straight up will just snap their neck or something unnecessarily overkill he has zero humanity for the hunters after you

Sometimes you'll catch him staring at your scars, but he won't admit it. He isn't trying to be rude. He just can't imagine how you got them specifically and it bothers him

Also trauma bonding but he has the vibe where he jokes about it and continues his day like nothing is wrong

Refuses. REFUSES to let you heal him if he's injured. He doesn't want to use you in any way.

If you wait till he falls asleep and just heal him a tad he won't notice. He'll believe he's just a fast healer, tbh. And he bragging like, "See, I healed just fine by myself!"

Lucky him you're a healer. Ass whooping magnet. Feels hella bad though despite saving multiple hospital trips.

Always complimenting you and your features/abilities you have. Literally your #1 fan

He wanna see if he is as fast as your top flight speed and always wanna race you on his bike. He's rly trying to get you both at your best speeds. Like fun training.

He's always checking up on you and is constantly worried about hunters. Like your mental health and recovery is one thing but the fact you can't catch a break kills him.

Never bothered tho unproblematic boi as usual he wouldn't flinch at the sight of your scars or feets or wings

He do worry about them scars tho but he never gonna ask like he'd feel so rude.

[bi-bard]

Hunting Practice - Jack Kline Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Hunting Practice

Pairing: Jack Kline X Reader

Word Count: 1,450 words

Warning(s): canon-typical violence

Summary: Sam gets a call from a friend asking for some back-up on a case. He decides that it's a good time for Jack to get a shot at the hunting life.

Author's Note: grumpy character x sunshine character is my favorite thing!! Even though I apparently can't write grumpy characters.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

I didn't make a habit out of calling for help.

I never had.

So, the boys took it seriously when I did call.

"Hey, hey," I said, cutting off Sam's rambling. "It's not a hard hunt. Based on the news and stuff that I've seen, there seems to be more than one spirit and I don't wanna try to juggle fighting multiple dickheads while digging up a grave."

"It's an easy hunt," Sam asked.

"Yeah," I replied. I was immediately suspicious. "Why?"

"I... I have a friend that can help," he explained. "They're a bit new, but they're helpful. If this is an easy hunt, it could be good practice."

I rolled my eyes, "Sam, it takes a shit ton for me to call you. I'm not interested in training somebody."

"Please," he begged. "They need to get the chance to use what they're learning. Please give them a shot."

I sighed after a minute, "You are so lucky that I don't mind you and your brother."

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't tempt me, Bigfoot."

"There it is."

"I'll be at the bunker in a few hours."

"See you then."

--time skip--

I walked down the bunker steps a few hours later. Sam was sitting at the table with someone. When he saw me, he stood up.

"Hey," he said. "How've you been?"

"Good," I replied. "I'm much better on the road."

"I only stopped you because you were hurt-"

"It was a flesh wound-"

"You needed stitches," Sam stopped me. "Anyway, this... is Jack."

Sam motioned at the person behind him. Jack picked up their hand as a way to wave at me.

"Hello," they greeted happily.

I could already tell that I was going to hate this.

"Hi," I clenched my jaw a little as I responded. "Ready?"

They nodded and grabbed their bag.

"Good luck," Sam called out as Jack and I left.

--Sam's P.O.V--

"So, why didn't you go with (Y/n)," Dean asked after the pair were gone.

"Jack needs to get out and practice," I shrugged. "We don't have a case. This is the best choice."

"Yeah... you aren't playing matchmaker at all," he continued.

"No," I scoffed. "Pretty sure (Y/n) would rip Jack's head off before anything like that happened."

"So... you're trying to soften (Y/n) up a bit by sending in the most cheerful person we know?"

"No, it's just hunting practice."

"Alright, Sammy," Dean said before going to leave.

--time skip--

--(Y/n)'s P.O.V--

The hunt wasn't super far out from the bunker, but when you're driving everywhere, it always takes longer.

The drive was... a lot.

Jack was talkative. They continued trying to make conversation and tell me stories. I wasn't one for long and detailed conversations. When I was hunting, I focused on the hunt and relevant information. Everything else I just kind of shrugged off and didn't pay any mind to.

Jack seemed committed to talking my damn ear off.

We had about two hours left in the drive when I looked over and saw Jack nodding off.

"Hey," I said, tapping their arm. They jumped a little. "Don't leave one person awake on their own when you're on a long drive."

"Is that... Is that a rule," Jack asked.

"Well... not officially," I replied. "It's just rude."

"I'm sorry," they muttered tiredly, rubbing the sleep out of their eye.

I just nodded and focused back on the road.

When we pulled up to the motel, I told Jack to head inside while I pulled out my phone. I quickly dialed Sam's number when the door to the room closed.

"Sam," I said, leaning on my car.

"Hey, is everything alright," he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded. "Listen, I get the idea. Send Jack hunting with someone around their age, right?"

"I thought it'd be good for them," he explained.

"Yeah, I get that," I replied. "Why didn't you warn me that they were the physical embodiment of the baby-faced sun from the Teletubbies."

Sam chuckled, "Jack is not that bad."

"My migraine begs to differ."

"Listen," he sighed. "Give them a shot. Jack can do good work on hunts. I wouldn't have asked you to work with them if I didn't trust them."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Fine. Fine."

"Thank you," he said. "Good luck."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered.

--Jack's P.O.V--

"I think (Y/n) hates me," I told Dean as I sat on one of the beds.

"No, they don't," he replied. "(Y/n) is just a bit colder than most. A lot of bad crap."

I didn't reply for a moment.

"Listen, it's not my job to share all of (Y/n)'s baggage, but," Dean sighed, "(Y/n) doesn't make connections very often. Probably has more walls than I do. Good heart, though. Good at what they do. They don't hate you. They just don't open up to people."

"Okay," I muttered before the door opened. "Gotta go."

I hung up before Dean could reply.

"Who was that," (Y/n) asked.

"Dean," I replied. "He was checking that we made it to the motel alright."

(Y/n) just nodded and dropped their bag.

"Should we start working on the case?"

(Y/n) nodded again before grabbing a folder out of their bag. They held it out to me. I grabbed it and started looking over it.

"Every record sighting and disappearance in that house," (Y/n) explained. "It's how I figured out there were three spirits."

I nodded and read over the news. Maybe this hunt was going to work out.

--time skip--

--(Y/n)'s P.O.V--

We made it to the house the next night.

We had figured out where the bones had been buried, so we had everything in line for this to be a fast hunt.

And then a spirit snagged me as I got the things together to burn the bones.

I groaned after my back hit the wall. I fell to the ground. I pushed myself up quickly but was thrown against the wall again. I struggled to try and grab a weapon out of my pocket as the two other spirits appeared next to the one that had grabbed me.

I almost had my hand wrapped around my weapon when the spirits suddenly burned in front of me.

I looked up to see a scared Jack standing next to the hole of burning bodies.

I let out a breath and started walking over to them. Once I got close enough, Jack pulled me into a tight hug. I froze up. I awkwardly patted Jack's back, trying to fight the small grin that formed after they hugged me.

I stepped back a moment later.

"Are you okay," Jack asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

--time skip--

The drive home was a little bit different than the drive there.

Jack was just as talkative. I just didn't mind it as much. I talked a little bit more. That was it, really. It was just a little less tense.

It got quiet after a while.

I looked over and saw Jack had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. I was about to wake them up, but I stopped myself. With a small grin, I looked back toward the road, both of my hands settling on the steering wheel.

I didn't wake Jack up until we got back to the bunker.

"Hey," I said, nudging them lightly. "Home sweet home."

"I fell asleep again," Jack muttered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I don't mind."

I walked Jack inside so the brothers could see me and know that I wasn't hurt.

"How'd it go," Sam asked.

"No serious injuries," I reported. "Pretty quick for a new hunter."

I patted Jack on the back as I spoke.

"Thank you for letting me go with you," they smiled.

"Don't mention it," I waved them off.

Just before they left, Jack leaned over and kissed my cheek quickly. They took off before I could say anything. My eyes went wide, and I stammered, not knowing what to say in response to that.

Sam and Dean stared at me. I looked back at them. Dean started laughing as soon as he looked at me. Sam tried to hold back his chuckling.

"That was adorable," Dean teased. "Aww, look at your face!"

"Watch it, Winchester," I snapped, ignoring how warm my face felt. "You too, Sammy."

Sam held his hands up and nodded, looking down at the floor.

"I'll see you guys later-"

"When you come to visit Jack?"

"I will shoot you," I threatened as I walked out.

"Can't wait for the wedding!"

I flipped Dean off as I left.

What the actual fuck just happened?

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

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[bowiebond]

💕byergrove

(it you want to obvi 🥺👉🏼👈🏼)

How did they meet?

My favourite version of them meeting is Jonathan coming home after Will finally becomes un-possessed and finding a drugged, passed out Billy in his living room. He rolls with the punches because honestly, how much weirder could his life get and if he’s honest, he doesn’t really know who this guy is, just that he goes to their school cause he’s in his science class and is kind of popular. That and he has a nice car that Jonathan snapped a photo of once because it really was a beauty and Jonathan would likely never afford something so darling and high maintenance.

Who flirted with who first?

Jonathan’s not good at flirting. He’s a straight forward guy and very subtle in his flirtation, it would easily be swept under the rug by even himself. Billy would be the first to flirt, in an almost mocking way, but Jonathan would get all sheepish and shy when he did and it just drove him to do it more and more until he was getting real blushes and tiny smiles. Then he’d realise ‘oh fuck he’s actually kind of cute um’

Was it love at first sight or a slowburn romance?

Slowburn, but it’s definitely interest at first sight for both of them. Billy because he doesn’t know what to make of Jonathan because he’s a weird loner yet seemingly friends with two very (ex?) popular people, and Jonathan because well, Billy’s nice on the eyes and kind of gruff and - oh yeah, he’s definitely got that anger that Jonathan stuffs down more often than not as not to blow up on every little thing.

Did they start dating right away or were they friends before things became romantic?

Friends for a bit: though they’re not really friends - they rarely go out to hang out or have a lot of common interests. But they’ve struck up this strange little friendship where Billy can come to Jonathan when he’s had a shit day and can appreciate the comfort of the house and good food for dinner when he stays that late. He likes looking through Jonathan’s photo and listening to his music; it’s different from his but not bad. He can dig rock n roll.

What was their first date?

Jonathan made a poor attempt at taking Billy on a proper date; movie, dinner, the works. Except they go to movie, and the person next to them knocks their drink all over Jonathan’s lap. When he gets out, he’s sticky from the soda, so he has to go home to change. When they go to leave, Jonathan’s car gives out and the boy almost has a trantrum at his awful luck, but Billy saves the day by offering to drive (”But I’m supposed to be taking you out” Jonathan grumbled). So then they go to the dinner...Only for Jonathan to order his food mild and get it hot. Which leads to a coughing fit and some reflex tears as Billy tries not to laugh. They end up sharing Billy’s meal which wasn’t hot at all and when they leave, Jonathan is annoyed at how awful the evening has been.

Billy ends up saving the date by taking Jonathan to the quarry and letting them stargaze for a while before they got into the backseat of the Camaro and made out for like an hour. Definitely lifted Jonathan’s mood in the end.

What are their favourite things to do on date nights?

Jonathan loves taking photos of Billy while they’re on dates; he loves capturing the moment because what if they break up and he grows bitter because every memory is tainted? At least this way he can immortalize the good he had with Billy.

Billy loves hunting adrenaline; he a junkie for it. He’ll take Jonathan drifting, convince him to steal road signs even as Jonathan insists that’s a VERY bad idea. He can usually convince Billy away from the really illegal shit but dragging him away somewhere and making out with him. Billy finds the idea of being caught kind of terrifying, but it’s very high stakes and it gets him raring to go on date nights.

Do they still go on dates after being together for a while?

Not a lot. They enjoy each others company, so they don’t really have to go out to do that, but if there’s an event for one of their interests, the other will tag along and make it into a date. Beach dates are a huge thing once they’re both back in Cali. Jonathan doesn’t like surfing, he’s not very good at it, but he’s happy to snap photos and ogle his very attractive boyfriend.

What is their love language?

Jonathan likes quality time, physical touch and words of affirmation.

Billy likes physical touch, quality time, and acts of service.

Jonathan and Billy both love hanging out, just soaking in each others presence. So it’s not doubt that they like quality time together, just listening to each others frustrations and joys. They both like to be heard in conversation but to their upbringing and previous relationships, and they both listen intently more often than not because they’re invested in each others well being.

Physical touch is big for both of them. Jonathan grew up with lots of affection from his mom and often shared that with Will. He loves hugs, holding hands, just being close. He likes being in his lovers orbit, tracing patterns into their skin while they doze off. Billy initiates a lot of sexy time because that’s the only way he’s received physical affection growing up, but Jonathan taught him eventually to slow down, to really feel the moment and the touches. (He once hugged Billy, and stayed there longer than usual. Just holding him. Billy ended up tearing up about thirty seconds into it and they had to move to his bed to just lay together as the blond soaked in the gentle touches to his hair and warm hand rubbing up and down his back.)

Billy likes acts of service because he’s not used to people helping him, making his life easier, being on someones mind enough for someone to do that. Jonathan is naturally very caring and thoughtful, so it balances out and it makes Jonathan feel needed to return. Billy often does acts of service in return, and while it’s appreciated, it’s not high on Jonathan’s list of love languages.

Jonathan prefers words of affirmation to acts of service. He does acts of services because partially, he wants to be affirmed, praised. He likes knowing he’s made people happy, that he’s making good choices, that he’s loved. Billy feels this also, but words are cheap to him. It takes a while for them to step over this hurdle because Billy would do acts or touch Jonathan to show his love for him, but Jonathan wanted to be told he’s loved too. Billy’s not good at saying it though, at first, so he starts with laying on compliments and encouragements until he can work up the confidence to say out loud that he loves him. Jonathan says it back without a fight, and Billy expects at least a comment on how long it took him, but Jonathan is just happy to hear it finally.

Who kissed who first?

Jonathan did. Billy acts big game, but he wouldn’t dare make the first move with a man out of fear - both from the possible rejection and the idea of his safe space being ripped out from under him.

Jonathan though? He takes risks. Especially emotional ones - he was just as game as Nancy was in that scene at Murray’s place, just a tad shyer about it. So yeah, he kissed Billy first, probably with The Clash playing in the background and cassette tapes scattered all over his bed, the blond taking his pick of what was music and what wasn’t. Jonathan’s room is dim because he’s only got one lamp on, and the warm glow catches Billy’s curls and Jonathan only really takes a few moments to hype himself up because he’s pretty sure Billy’s been looking at him too when he’s pretending not to watch Billy in return.

Billy doesn’t take it well at first when Jonathan presses a quick kiss to the corner of his lips. It’s an awkward angle, but it something and Billy can’t ignore that. He looks annoyed, and Jonathan is expecting a possible fist for kissing him, for being a queer, but Billy just takes the back of his neck and pulls him back in.

“If you’re gonna kiss me, make sure you do it right, Byers.” Jonathan is the first one to kiss him, but Billy’s the first one to take charge of it.

Who started the relationship?

It’s a weirdly mutual thing. They made out, they kept doing it and getting even closer. Billy was driving them one day though, and took Jonathan’s hand, linking it over the console and it was like it fizzled into existence, the answer to their silence question. They were dating, because what man held hands with someone in their car if they weren’t dating said person? It’s a weird car etiquette logic but it confirmed it for both of them and it just felt natural to slip the word ‘boyfriend’ into the conversations with Will and Joyce or Max after that.

Monogamy or Polyamory?

They’re a more monogamous couple. I could see them having passing interests in others, and admitting it to each other, but they’re content in their relationship and don’t feel the need to add more people to it. At most, they open the relationship for threesomes, but that’s about it.

Are they/do they plan on getting married?

Jonathan and Billy are both spiteful. Jonathan more so, surprisingly. He wants to marry Billy one day to prove that marriages can be good and healthy to his dick dad, and Billy kind of respects that mindset and takes it on himself. They elope in their late twenties illegally and send Lonnie and Neil a blown up photo of them kissing at the tiny venue in Vegas, both with their middle fingers up. It’s something they often chuckle about to themselves, and they copy the same pose when they get officially married in 2014, twenty years later, at the same venue, just to hang it up besides the other in their house. By then, Lonnie and Neil have both kicked the bucket, just a few years prior, but it felt good regardless.

Who proposed? Was it a yes or no?

Jonathan casually proposed one night early into the relationship, and Billy didn’t take it seriously. It was just a simple ‘I’m gonna marry you one day’, and he had taken it for the ramblings of a man in afterglow, high and stupid off it. But when they finally move to California at 20, getting their first apartment together, Jonathan pops the question properly this time and Billy is shocked but accepts on the condition of a long engagement. Their engagement lasts about eight years, they even buy a house together at that point, before they skip to Vegas to celebrate with Max about her own upcoming wedding to Lucas, and they get drunk as fuck and elope. Yes, Max is the one who took the photo that they hang up in their forever home.

Do they want kids? Who brought it up first?

Jonathan considered kids, and Billy was iffy on them. Neither wanted to be like their fathers, but Jonathan spitefully wanted to be better than Lonnie, yet he proved it with Will, hadn’t he? They end up with a little boy in their late thirties via a surrogate and they treat him with the care they never received.

Do they already have kids, together or from previous relationships?

No.

Do they have any routines/rituals in their relationship?

The long hugs that make Billy cry? They do that about once a week after that, just so Billy can get his fill of affection without sexualizing himself.

They also enjoy at home crafts, baking together. Jonathan often helps with Billy’s hair, and in return Billy helps his fashion sense so he looks less charity shop and more sophisticated for his shoots and his clients. (Jonathan started out a photographer but somehow got into modeling after filling in last minute for a big fashion shoot. Nobody realized he wasn’t the backup model but one of the photographers until after the shoot when he asked if he’d be grabbing photos of another model for his magazine).

How do they take care of each other when they are sick/hurt?

Billy is a big baby when sick; sniffles and complains and says he’s dying. Only because he wants attention and Jonathan provides it, cuddles up with him on the couch and pets his hair while they watch TV. Jonathan on the other hand will keep going until he physically can’t and Billy hates it so fucking much. He has to forcefully put him to bed when sick because Jonathan will run himself thin with ‘but this needs to be done, and that, and what about-’. Billy makes sure he gets rest and lots of fluids and they watch reruns of his favourite shows.

How do they like to spend time together?

Alone, preferably. They don’t have to do much honestly, just being around them is nice.

What are their favourite non-sexual forms of intimacy?

Cuddling and hand holding in the car. Playing with each others hair is a big thing for both of them.

What are some of their favourite things about their partner?

Jonathan loves Billy for his smile, his awful punny humour, the way his hand feels in his, the way he embodies starlight and lightning when in his element; rock shows and fast cars and karaoke bars. Billy was the life, the energy, Jonathan had been missing out on all his life.

Billy loves Jonathan for his kindness, his dry wit, his thoughtful gestures, the way is entire face lights up when he’s truly happy, crinkles around his eyes and teeth on display. Jonathan feels like a home should.

How do they comfort the other when they are upset?

Jonathan holds Billy and listens. Billy doesn’t want solutions most of the time. He wants to figure out his problems on his own and Jonathan is willing to listen even if he can’t help by offer advice sometimes.

Jonathan gets quiet when he’s upset, stewing in his feelings until everything irritates him. It scared Billy at first, nervous he’d say the wrong thing and he’d blow up at him, but Jonathan rarely yelled. He just needed the pressures to be taken off his shoulders sometimes. He wants advice and a hot drink and to curl up on the couch with Billy while they watch TV. He needs a chance to relax and talk about his feelings and feel heard. Billy offers that.

Who buys the other spontaneous gifts?

They both grew up on the poorer side, so even as they start working with good money, they find themselves saving it more often than not. Gifts usually consist of something they created by hand for each other. Whether it’s Jonathan putting Billy in one of the articles at work to boost his surfing and modelling career, or Billy putting blood, sweat and tears into fixing up Jonathan’s car or making them a garden/bird sanctuary.

What position do they sleep in?

Jonathan sleeps in his back or side. Billy sleeps in a fetal position most nights so Jonathan usually slots himself up behind him and cuddles him when he’s feeling lonely or cold.

Do they bathe/shower together?

If they’ve had a bad mental health day or just finished having sex, yes. But outside that, they’re fine to shower alone, even if Billy barges in on Jonathan half the time to ask him where something is.

Do they do anything else in the bath/shower other than wash?

They fuck. And do photo shoots because Jonathan loooooves a soaking wet Billy to bear off too when they’re apart due to work.

In the bedroom - Vanilla, a little spice, or kinky af?

They start off vanilla but in their twenties get super kinky. Eventually they teeter off back to vanilla sex with the occasional spice hehe

For applicable ships - who tops/bottoms?

They switch depending on their moods.

For applicable ships - who is more dominant/submissive?

Billy is more dominant than Jonathan, though he can be pretty submissive. Jonathan is more of a sub, likes drowning in his partner, serving them and making them happy whether he’s on top or bottom.

What is their favourite sex position?

It’s cliche, but Jonathan loves missionary. He likes watching Billy’s face as he fucks him, loves kissing him all over and running his hands over his body. Likes seeing Billy unravel.

Billy likes cowgirl when he fucks Jonathan. Likes watching him shake as he tries to keep pace even as his legs get tired. Billy has enough strength to fuck up into him anyway, but it’s nice to watch Jonathan get all red in the face, gasping and glossy eyed as he begs to kiss him, for Billy to meet him halfway.

Do either of them enjoy bringing sex toys into the bedroom?

Jonathan likes using toys. Mostly because his favourite part of sex is how Billy reacts. He likes getting off, being close to him, but it’s still intimate and fucking sexy to watch Billy sob for release, vibrator stuffed up his ass.

Billy prefers to fuck raw, to be as close to Jonathan as possible, but he loves keeping Jonathan stuffed and open after he’s done with him so he can go ahead later. Jonathan has bambi legs when he gets fucked good and it’s enticing to watch him try to walk away with a plug up his ass, knowing his cum is still in him.

Favourite place to have sex?

Jonathan’s room when they’re teens, but their laundry room once they’re older and living alone together has seen some salacious things. Sometimes they go through all their clothes and have a whole day naked while they wash their clothes. Jonathan likes the vibrations of the washing machine and it makes easy clean up surprisingly when they’re gonna put their clothes in the wash shortly after anyway.

Most adventurous place they’ve had sex?

Dark room at Jonathan’s work. Billy stopped by to give him his lunch after his own shift and…well, Billy’s there and Jonathan’s waiting on the photos to develop, no one’s gonna come in with how much he snaps at them not to, so they end up fucking against the door, Billy covering Jonathan’s mouth because the guys loud, top or bottom.

How often do they fight? What about?

They fight sometimes. Not often, but they both get irrational anger after a stressful week and tend to snap at each other when overwhelmed. Usually it’s resolved pretty quick tho, one of them shuffle to wherever the others hiding away and apologising meekly, embarrassed by their own actions.

Have they ever broken up?

Billy has attempted break ups, just so he could leave instead of being left, but Jonathan quite literally goes “no”. He’ll make Billy think of if he really wants to, tells him to come back in a weeks time if he really wants to break up and do it properly instead of in a fit of anger. Everytime, Billy will come back within the week to apologise and admit he didn’t mean it, that he loves him, and Jonathan says he knows.

One time Jonathan tries to break up with Billy a few years into their marriage over an argument about Lonnie and how Jonathan needed to attend his funeral even if Billy insisted he had no obligation, and Billy turns to the tables on him by using his same rule. Within two days, Jonathan curls up with him in their bed and just cries, asking Billy to come with him to the funeral so he could send the bastard off for good. Billy promises and holds his hand the entire time even if Jonathan’s furious grip is crushing.

Messy breakup, amicable split, remain friends, ride or die or til death do us part?

Despite their attempts at breaking up, they never actually do. Billy is very ride or die, and Jonathan is til death do us part. If Jonathan died, Billy wouldn’t try to move on, and he knows that’s not great but he doesn’t change his mind when people ask. Jonathan would try to, but he admits he doesn’t know if he could love someone nearly as much as he loved Billy.

[nemeseos-noctua]

Here's the other: How'd they react to their S/O who cherishes their gift given by their beloved so much, that one day the gift was destroyed by a hilichurl and they went so livid they practically fought the creatures to death and threw them to a lake somewhere, and sulked the whole how they don't deserve them anymore cuz of how careless they were. For Razor, Albedo and Xiao 👉👈

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: razor, albedo, xiao (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, mc is referenced as an alchemist/adventurer in albedo’s, one swear word in xiao’s

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: im EMBARRASSED at how long this is and how MEANINGLESS THE WRITING IS IM SO SORRY 

he made you a paw-shaped clay sculpture!

it was cute and small, fitting right into the palm of your hands

to others—it may look like some worn-down toy, but to you, it was a good luck charm from the ever-cute razor

but perhaps, it wasn’t quite the clay-shape that you held close to your heart... no, it was the strenuous effort razor put into sculpting the paw

you remember it vividly. how the boy would dig his hands into mud and sit under the burning sun, carving the dirt with his bare fingers as he hid the gift from your sight

so when a good-for-nothing hilichurl decides razor’s paw-shape charm was a nice pebble for hot potato... boy were you livid

Patting the ground beside you, [e/c] eyes widened upon the feeling of nothing but grass.

What...? Peering over, you stared blankly at the empty space, comical arrows pointing at the now-gone charm you had received from Razor. Just where was it? You swore it was right beside you...

And as if Barbatos were laughing at you, the wind blew, burning your eyes as the sight of mitachurls and hilichurls danced around the fire in the distance, tossing what looked like a rock into the air.

Ah. 

You blinked.

That was the charm Razor made.

first of all... how did the hilichurl get it? the charm was literally right beside you!

agh, whatever.

you’ll just retrieve it. easy, right?

no.

first of all, your power would literally turn the lush grass into a desolate canyon (not really). second of all, you’d probably end up destroying the paw in your rampage

hah...

—if the hilichurl didn’t destroy it first

Materializing your weapon, you couldn’t help but hope that the paw had miraculously survived the impact of a hilichurl throwing it against the floor.

Hah, what were you thinking? Of course it didn’t... physics just didn’t allow it.

But you know what physics did allow? Why, beating these enemies to a pulp, of course!

once you floored the hilichurls, you quickly scrambled as to look for signs of the paw anywhere

berating yourself as to how utterly foolish you were for letting it go and leaving it unguarded in the first place, you stared in defeat at the sight of crumbled clay and hardened dirt in the grass of the hilichurl camp

why? why were you so careless? seriously, how did this happen? if you had just kept it in your backpack like a regular person, razor’s hard-earned hours and craft would still be as grand as ever-

“[y/n]?”

Blinking, you hadn’t realized you had been sulking in the midst of this hilichurl camp. [E/C] eyes lifted up, widening once they had landed on none other than Razor, his crimson eyes like the agates that littered Dragonspine, his hair as grey as stormclouds.

“Ah... Razor...” You smiled in exasperation, staring at anywhere but said boy. How could you face him after watching his clay paw get destroyed by some measly hilichurls?

“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing around at the scene before him. The grass wilted, the camp that he remembered being obnoxiously loud and disturbing was silent and empty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Waving off his concern, you began to walk away, your heart sinking with each step.

First, you let his gift get destroyed. Second, you walk away from him.

You were such a terrible partn—

“[Y/N]?” Razor’s voice cut through the air, a tension you had created solely on the thoughts of your own mind. Gripping your wrist with a tender touch, you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes drooped down ever so slightly.

“Did I... make lupical mad?”

Gulping, you quickly waved your hands in front of your face, eyes widened as you tried to carefully explain the series of events that had just led down to this very moment.

“I—well, you see, your uh, paw-clay-thingy... I was careless and I—“

“Break it while hunting?” Razor answered, tilting his head as his hold merely stayed still, not wavering for a second, as if you were a boar in his hands.

“Ah...” 

Razor was much better at observation than you had thought.

“It’s okay. I make more for lupical,” Razor nodded, already beginning to pace over to a pond as he dipped his gloved hands into the water, wafting around for dirt as you rushed up behind him.

“Wait! But I was careless... you don’t need to make ano—“

“It’s for lupical. Lupical close, I give lupical gift that never break.”

Everlasting—that was what he wanted to make.

And a part of you couldn’t help but agree.

albedo, in all of his alchemy prowess, made you an artificial flower

how? don’t ask him. he’ll spew some lengthy thesis and paragraph about the fundamentals, the research, the prototype, the testing, the—

ahem, anyways!

you had never intended to bring it outside. but one day, you had left your camp under the supervision of barbatos (wow go barbatos) and ventured off to fetch some materials

and when you came back? you were met with the sight of hilichurls and slimes raving around your tent

what the—

“I...I’m hallucinating,” You deadpanned, slapping your wrist at the sight of pyro slimes and masked hilichurls dancing around your tent, the inside of your humble abode moving around as if it were possessed.

And the cherry on top? A pyro abyss mage emerged, the flower floating besides it. But oh boy, it was no flower anymore... it was a flaming flower.

At that moment, you were left to ponder. Maybe, just maybe, you kinned a whopperflower at that point. Because oh boy did your temper and sanity explode on those little enemies, the way your blade sunk into their forms—

you were already planning your apology to albedo. he trusted you and loved you enough to make an artificial flower for you... and yet, it so pitifully crumbled at your touch

okay, not quite your touch. but it crumbled at the ugly pyro abyss mage’s touch

so, as any good s/o would do, you sulked while rebuilding your camp. it’s okay. as long as albedo didn’t know his creation was charred, all would be well. besides! he was quite a busy man! chances were low that he’d discover!

busy, he was, observant, he is

perhaps, you should’ve known

“Ah... hi Albedo,” You winced, opening your tent to smile at the alchemist who merely stared at you.

“You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?” He noted, remembering your absence from visiting his own camp at Dragonspine. As an alchemist, he knew what it was like being holed up in a camp. But for two weeks? Even he needed breaks.

“Well, you see... I was out... gathering materials! Yes!” You gave him a weak thumbs-up, wailing internally once his piercing azure eyes trailed around your camp, noting that nothing looked new. 

 “You don’t need to lie to me, [Y/N]. Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” You cut off, clapping your hands together in a prayer-like position, guilt welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“...Why?”

“Your flower—I left it unsupervised and it was set aflame and I’m so so so sor—“

“Don’t be.”

Mouth dropping, you stared up at the male, an amused expression painting his face like the canvases he dedicated to you.

“At least you were not hurt while it was set aflame. Come, I’ll show you how to make some more,” Opening your tent for you all the way, Albedo held a hand out to you, eyes flickering in mirth.

“And next time, don’t try to run away from your problems.”

“You cheeky littl—“ A blush of both embarrassment and fluster formed on your face, shocked at his sudden remark.

he made you an adepti amulet

enhanced with super-cool-adepti-no-mortal-can-have power, xiao had informed you that all you needed to do was hold up the amulet and it’d scare any kind of enemies away!

cool, right? too bad you left it unattended while fighting the irritable anemo cube! now it’s at the bottom of the sea <3

how did this happen, exactly? well... you see... when wind picks up and becomes strong... light-weight objects will fly up into the air!

and sometimes, those light weight objects will fall into the sea, and sometimes, those objects would be gifts from your adeptus boyfriend who was waiting for you back at wangshu inn—

ahem. anyways. you beat the crap out of the anemo cube (aka, beth. aka, tornado cube. aka, cube waifu)

I should just... not go back to Wangshu Inn today. Haha... I’ll go ask Katheryne for a commission... You nodded, stuffing the turquoise shards of wind into your pockets, your bags filled with mora and enhancement ores being thrown off the side of the cliff.

—Along with the adepti amulet Xiao had made for you.

Seriously... you still had to wonder just how that happened! One second, you were avoiding getting sucked up by the vent of the anemo cube... and the next, your bag was traveling the world!

Can’t have shit in Teyva—

Trekking back to Mondstadt in defeat, you were innocently oblivious to the worry of the Yaksha back in Liyue.

are they okay? do they need help? did they go to dragonspine? all these questions spun around xiao’s head as he watched the moon rise, his mask dissipating into the wind

you told him you’d return tonight... yet you hadn’t. and a part of him had wished you hadn’t left liyue, so he had at least some control over whatever dangers dared to attack you

but, he knew you were strong. why else would he love you, anyway? he does not find appeal in being the savior 24/7

so, he waits. atop the balcony of wangshu inn, across the stars and moon, he prays to his archon, wishing—no, hoping you arrive safely

And—you did. You arrived back at Wangshu Inn.

... Three weeks later.

“You’re late. Very late,” Xiao’s voice blared in your ears, a blessing and a curse all at the same time. You didn’t know how to tell him the amulet was thrown off a cliff—but at the same time, you really wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

“Haha... sorry about that,” You laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as Xiao merely grumbled, appearing before you with a piercing stare.

“Where were you? You did not even send me a letter.”

“I’m sorry... it’s just... eh... well...” You looked away, your heart churning against your ribs as Xiao extended his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

“What?” He asked, his tone harsh yet soft, longing yet logical.

“I uh... kind of... lost your adepti amulet... I’m sorry.”

He blinked.

“You waited three weeks to tell me that?” He asked in disbelief, almost in disappointment. Seriously, he was an adeptus! A Yaksha, at that! He could’ve just made another one for you... But nooo... you decided to wait three weeks in the land of the free (America?) and then worry him to death.

“Mortals...” Xiao muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a huff as he turned his head away, the wind picking up.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you going to say anything? Like a disappointed lecture or something?”

“No.”

Disappearing, you facepalmed, already pulling out some sweetflowers and milk to whip up some almond tofu.

Damn that adeptus. Who was he to tug your heartstrings like that?

You sighed, sitting beside a cooking pot as lingering yellow eyes watched your form, their irises softening at the sight.

— constellations! 💫

[plush-rabbit]

Smile For Me

Warnings: Noncon, Somnophila

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I’ve really fallen for Ghostface and that seems unfair (Part 2 to Picture Perfect)

You’re easy prey. Nothing more than a simple deer, a lovely little rabbit that he gets to stalk and hunt. There’s something odd about you, something so sweet and incredibly cute that he wants to corrupt. You change your locks, you add a sensor light that must have made a pretty dent in your wallet. He can see how you move behind the blinds, your silhouette, the way you walk and how you hold something in your hands, and he runs the first few times, but after the third time, he decides to push his luck, linger close, hidden behind a shed in your backyard and minutes pass until he realizes that there are no sirens. You don’t call for help, your alarms are nothing more than for decoration, to ward off a lesser person. You trust that whatever was lurking outside, has fled. And he falls for you naivety more. He falls deeper in love with you, covering his mouth with a gloved hand, the faint bitter taste of copper still lingering as he bites down to avoid his laughter ringing throughout your backyard.

Ghostface stalks you. He watches and learns what security system you have and it’s almost laughable when he finds out that it is nothing. All you have to protect yourself are different locks. The lights were nothing more than that, sensor lights that can do nothing more than to catch a rodent that lurks in your backyard. The locks might be different, but you don’t have an alarm, there are no cameras inside your home to record that he wandered around- drank from the bottle of your cranberry juice, sat on your couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, dried mud that crumbled and he stared at it, wondering if you would even notice, but with a swipe of the side of his palm, it falls and disappears into your carpet. You have no camera to watch as he grabs your underwear and jerks himself off in your bed, his mouth open behind his mask as he creams himself on your belongings, the memory of how you felt already fading in his mind. And once he’s done, he‘s left sticky and wet, creamy slipping down and it’s only a matter of time till you come home. He wonders how often you wash your pillowcases and he dries himself on your pillow, a soft thrusting motion that leaves his already sensitive cock dribbling with more seed, spreading it on your pillow. When he comes back to watch you, he sees through the blinds how you touch the pillow, your lips pouted and your fingers brushing against the hardened cotton. He wonders if you know.

You’ve captured his attention- enough for him to leave his other prey and focus solely on you. You fret around your home, clean and check every crevice, a pair of scissors in hand and he scoffs in amusement. He palms himself through his jeans. He wonders how you would really react if he were hiding inside your house. He can hide himself in your closest, jump out and wrestle you to the ground, watch as your eyes grow fearful and he’s salivating at the thought of entering you already, knowing how well you’d take him. With a soft sigh, he pulls his hand away. All he has to do now is wait for you to fall asleep.

Grateful for the night, he watches in silence. You walk around in your room, towel around your body, letting it fall off of your body and rest against the bed, your naked body alluring, the soft yellow light glistening off of your body, and you walk to your dresser, lotion against your body, spread thin, the creamy white disappearing onto your body. You sleep in a camisole, a lace trim around the straps, stitched onto the soft dip where your naked breasts lie, nipples already pert and peeking through the shirt. Your underwear are a soft blue, raising up your hips with a teasing dip to your sex. He doesn’t have to wait long until you’ve fallen into your slumber, body still and after a few minutes, he’s inside your home. 

It doesn’t take much to break-in. A simple twist and a careful step, and Ghostface is undetected, inside your home. The weeping mask stares down at you, a single twist of his fingers and your lamp is on, the glow of the light doing nothing but make you furrow your brows and with a simple shush, a coo under his breath that makes him feel like a dotting lover, you return to your relaxed state. It’s not much, but seeing you asleep- vulnerable and willing- is enough for him to kick off his boots. Clothes are slowly discarded, the pale, horrific mask still kept on, the soft cloth of the hood tickles at the base of his neck, and he’s above you. 

There isn’t much that makes him actually lust for others. He’s always been more fascinated in other areas of the human body, but there was and still is something about you that makes him yearn, to grab at you and mark your body. And one day, he’ll do it with your consent. He’ll come and greet you as Daniel- have you call him Danny- pull out the smile, pull you close and throw you on his bed, have you want him and there will be the sick pleasure of knowing that you’re fucking a killer and your personal tormentor without you knowing. But for now, he slips off your clothes, raises your thin shirt and he’s slow and methodical, pulling you into a sitting position and having you lean against his body, your gentle, warm breaths against his chest, your shirt is removed. He lays you back on the bed, hair fanning out into a halo, strands falling in front of your face and with a simple brush, the smooth fabric of his gloves cold against your skin. Your underwear is too delightful to tear off, simple and pure against your skin, something so sweet that it’s almost wrong of him to dip his fingers underneath and pull down your bare legs. 

Asleep and undisturbed, his hands are on you. For a brief moment, his mask is off, eyes that hold something fierce in them watch you, the low rise of your chest, goosebumps pricking at your skin and his smile is hungry. His face buried into your sex, tongue at your heat, his spit warming you and moistening past your folds. The tip of his tongue swirls around your entrance, a gentle dip into you, and in your sleep you clench your walls, a soft squish against his muscle and he smiles against you, wide and teeth pressed against your soft flesh. He presses his face forward, nose pressed against your clit, lips puckered and he kisses you, a soft, sensual kiss against your cunt, tongue slipping past his lips, and into yours, flickering inside and on the tip of his tongue, he can taste your sweet nectar, oozing in a thick puddle against him. 

The mask returns, hiding his identity and in it’s in place, the gloves are removed. There’s a sound outside, a racing car that screams through the night and in his chest, his heart races and his body flushes, his face heating up, sweat beading on his forehead and two bare fingers enter you. You’re slick enough to enter but he can feel the tight grasp of your sex, something that he’s sure stings by the way you shift under him. His fingers curl in, a beckoning motion inside of you, fingertips brushing against your walls, slick slowly starting to form until the clicking noises in the room intermix with your breathy, soft moans- a cry that whimpers past your lips. He grows hard above you, watching your breaths deepen, the wet, shucking noises of your cunt grow louder, fingers slipping in and out, your arousal dribbling past his fingers and down to his knuckles. It’s awkward, fingers pushed deep inside of you, his knuckles kissing at your cunt as a strong hand reaches to grab his camera, holding tight onto it, his fingerprints dirtying the screen and it’s shaky, a horrible picture when compared to his previous works. He forces himself to still, fingers half way inside of you, limp and still compared to your throbbing, wet cunt that still leaks and there’s a click. On the screen is a captivating photo of your cunt teased with his fingers. And as always, Ghostface isn’t satisfied. 

Metal clicks against each other, a soft chime in the room that acts as a lullaby, pulling you back into sleep, your body relaxing, breath going back to its own undisturbed tempo and all that remains is a wide-eyed man staring at you through a mask. Dark eyes are unwavering as they stare at your sleeping body- you look so peaceful, so rested and deep in slumber that he’s sure you must have had a heavy day and he feels almost sad at that thought. Bare hands grab at your breasts, thumbs pushing around the pert nipples- he’s almost sad that you had to grow through something so heavy without him- his hands lower to rise against the swell of your belly- he promises to himself that you won’t face it alone next time- one hand holds onto your hip, the other against the base of his cock, pre-ejaculate beading off his slit in opalescent pearls. 

He lowers himself to you, the plastic of his mask brushing against the shell of your ear and he’s hopeful that you’re listening to him. “No one is allowed to touch you, you know? I’ll make sure of that.” His cockhead is pressed flushed against your entrance, arousal mixing and getting lost with each other. Nails dig into your hip, perfectly formed crescents appear on your body, the hint of blood is familiar to him and makes him almost inhumane. His laugh is sharp, unforgiving and cruel, as he presses himself further into you, the welcoming hug of your walls wrapping tight around him and he releases his hands from your hip and himself. “My fucking muse,” he whispers harshly, stilling himself inside of you, your walls pulsing against him, a gentle pull deeper into you. “My naïve-” his hand covers the swell of your belly- “dumb little muse.” He wonders if you’re late. He wonders what you have done to either rid yourself of his kin or to prevent yourself from being bred. “I wonder what it’ll be like-” his thumb arches gracefully over your stomach- “seeing you with a child, tits full of milk, cunt always creamy, ready for a good pounding.” He laughs lowly, hooking an arm underneath you, hand spread against your spine, arching and he’s deep inside of you, feeling you tighten against him. 

The masked killer is grateful that he’s forgotten how you feel. You’re limp, nothing more than a warm sex-toy for him, curved and heavy underneath his hand, neck bent and mouth parted, and he smiles when he sees your eyes begin to flutter. That’s what he wants. He wants to see your fear. Intruding on you in your sleep is wonderful, invading your home and snooping around your things is nothing more than an extra step for him, something for him to relax himself with, but with all your fearful glances, he’s never realized that he could force you to look scared, to see it up close and personal. 

He continues to thrust against you, moving his cock and a hand, large and heavy, fingers that look perfect and immaculate, wrap around your throat, small, pale scars wrap around his fingers like rings of past lovers, memorabilia that is only seen when looked upon closely. He tightens his hand, cutting off air and your body reacts first, going rigid, hands raising and eyes popping open in horror and he truly does ponder what it must be like to see him. Your nails dig into his hands, eyes already wet with tears, and you’re horrified. He can practically smell it off of you, the dripping arousal, the way he can feel your heart speed up through the pulse in your neck, the way you gasp for breath and he can hear you whisper out something, strained and hoarse, only able to be heard when he stills his hips and stops the lewd noises that scream from your cunt. 

“Ghostface,” you mumble, bottom lip trembling and a lovely blue color forming on your face. 

His smile is stretched comically beneath his mask. “That’s right.” He pulls out, the tip still warm inside of you, leaking with arousal and he slams back into you, legs tensing, muscles strained and taut as he fucks you. “The one and only,” he whispers, pressing the mask against your face, the soft mesh of the black mouth kissing against your frightful parted lips.

He keeps a hand around your neck, loosening it enough for you to breathe again, while his other hand slips between your meshed bodies, dipping past your mound and into your slit, circling around your clit, feeling it throb under his touch. He laughs and it’s full of pride. He holds you close, pulling you deep against him, a soft cry when you instinctively clench as he circles around your pearl. Tears slip past your eyes, catching against your eyelashes like pearls, latching onto his hands like dew on the morning, and he’s pressed himself still against you, hand leaving your clit, and reaching blindly for the abandoned camera, taking a picture of you with a hand around your throat and tears a simple, but handsome ornament. On the screen is you, terrified and crying and he tosses the camera to the side, plastic buried into your chest as he fills your hungry cunt with his seed.

“I can’t wait to see you with a round body.” He pushes himself further against you, cock dribbling inside of you, filling you with copious amounts of semen. “Fat fucking tits-” his tongue pushes against the black fabric covering his mouth, licking at your chest that has moistened with his quick breath- “a creamy, little cunt that will beg to be fucked.” His hand returns to your clit, pinching the bud between two fingers and hearing you squeal makes him thrust his hips, shivers running down his spine, the sensitivity making squirts of thick discharge fill your already prepped cervix. “Trust me-” he rises and looks at you and he knows he’s making eye contact- “when I’m back, I’ll make sure to make you feel good.” 

He latches onto you, hand escaping your neck and he hears you gasp for breath. You wheeze and croak, crying and pleading for him to stop and it only pushes for him to go further, to fuck you until your muscles start to tense, twitching and pulsing. You moan and it’s muffled by a bite of your lips. It’s a short sound, cutoff and ruined by you, but it’s alluring, melodic and making him shove two digits into your mouth, pulling your jaw down by your teeth and his fingertips rest flat against your tongue. Your moans are stretched, muffled and broken and it’s still enough for him to want more, to push himself deep inside of you, to have you reach your own high if it meant he could hear more of your perverse sounds.

“Say my name,” he murmurs, naked body sticking to yours by his sweat. “Scream. I want to hear you say the name of the one who’s making you feel this good. Scream and I promise that you’ll survive this night.” He kisses you through the meshed black of the mask, salvia swapped and spreading into a thin puddle of his mask, pushing his tongue through it until he feels as if it’s going to rip. You were always going to survive. He’s had too much fun to ever let you go but you don’t know that and he uses it to his advantage.

It’s a whisper, a soft movement of your lips against his. Your nipples rub against his chest and his name is broken with your voice. “Ah,” you sing, tightening your legs and your high is approaching. “Ghost-” he can hear the disgust and lust mixed with each other- “Ghostface,” you murmur. It’s repeated until your voice is hoarse, lust taking over, eyes heavy and rolling back, arms reaching around him and you’re entangled in a gruesome hug with him, moaning his name as your cunt clenches around him, flooding with your release, his name a mantra under your breath, echoed in the room and he stills, spilling inside of you. Eyes closed and resting his body onto you as you squirm underneath, desperate to continue your high. His name, “Ghostface” slowly murmured, a mess of his name as you release against him.

[boldlyvoid]

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.