#fun fact! i actually looked at the first book for this and got hit with a wave of deja vu

[re-alku]

You know if youre looking for more gays with long hair to draw I have just the book series for you

wow i sure wonder what that series could b SDFGDSFHG HDSFGB HDSFGB HDSF

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[justwinginglife]

Gimme a oneshot of Reader who doesn't have any experience in love so she panics when she gets feelings for Hoshina, giving him random things (a nice rock, random vegetables, ect.) And randomly blurts out embarrassing compliments "YOUR MUSCLES LOOK VERY NICE TODAY VICE CAPTAIN SIR" before she just fucking books it out of there.

I love you so much bestie. I will do this for you 100%, thanks for always matching my freak.

The Thing About Being In Love

You always thought you wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face. But then you fell in love and felt like you just couldn't stop taking hits. You had no idea how to process your feelings, no idea how to convey those feelings in a way that made sense, and no idea how to stop those feelings from overflowing.

The thing about being in love with Soshiro Hoshina was that your feelings always made themselves known to him before you wanted them to. Before you could even think about what you needed to say and how you needed to say it, you words were already tumbling out in a chaotic jumble. They always did. And it made you love him even more that he never judged you for it. He'd just smile the same sweet smile again and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper.

When you first met him, you made quite the first impression- after reflexively reaching out to ruffle his hair because you just needed to know if it was as soft as it looked, you earned yourself 50 push-up's and his undying attention going forward. He wanted to know more about the girl who'd said fuck it to all manner of decorum and propriety, ignoring the chain of command to satisfy her desires. It wasn't until he got to know you better that he realized that you just couldn't control yourself.

He'd been particularly amused when you'd complimented the way his muscles looked in his favorite compression shirt (it was his favorite only because you'd complimented him in it). In fact, you'd noticed that he'd started wearing it more frequently around you after you made comments on it the first time around. And you just couldn't stop making comments on it every time after that.

"Oh, wow... your back muscles are gorgeous, can I touch them?" You yanked your hand back before you actually did touch him and scurried off, red in the face.

"Your abs look so solid... shit, I'm drooling." You shook your head aggressively, wiped your mouth, and ran off again.

One time you'd even had the nerve to say "Do you think you could wear me like that shirt?" Immediately after, you slapped a hand over your mouth and bolted like you were on fire.

And when you'd taken up gardening for fun, after harvesting a bunch of potatoes, you wondered if Hoshina liked potatoes which led you spiraling down the rabbit hole, wondering if he was eating enough. So, of course, you made the walk to his apartment in your gardening overalls and offered him the potato, still covered in dirt. He took it, stunned, and watched as you proceeded to walk away as if you'd never been there in the first place. Little did he know, you were embarrassed that you'd trudged over to him, still caked in mud, just to present him with the most underwhelming of gifts. You still didn't know how you got these ideas in your head and why your body executed them before your mind could properly protest.

Then there was the time that someone had painted a smiley face on a rock and placed it near the sidewalk by your house- it had reminded you of his warm smile and you'd given it to him in the middle of a training session. Despite your malfunctioning brain, your strength and your skill were actually quite impressive, and he always enjoyed a good spar with you. It wasn't until he had you pinned to the ground that you felt the rock digging into your leg and you'd pulled it out of your pocket and gifted it to him right then and there. He did more than smile that time, he actually laughed. You flushed, wondering if he was going to make fun of you for once, but he didn't. He took the rock gleefully and even named it after you. You started giggling and soon, the two of you were just collapsed on the floor, filled with laughter.

At least some good could come out of these random bursts of affection and you wouldn't trade these precious little moments with him for the world. The thought that you were the one that made him smile and laugh like this, it filled you with the most genuine sense of happiness even if you were embarrassed at how you'd done it.

At some point, Hoshina thought he'd have some fun with the situation- he didn't want you to feel left out after all, and he wanted to compliment you too.

So he started running up to you, yelling something like "Your hair looks very pretty today!" or "Those curves of yours are looking mighty fine!" and then dart off; even though he wasn't embarrassed, he wanted to keep the same energy as you. It made you laugh. And he loved when you laughed.

And then it got easier and easier to be around him. You weren't stumbling over your words anymore, you were proclaiming them with pride.

"Thought you could hide those biceps from me forever, huh, Hoshina? Let me get a good look." You even had the nerve to fucking wink at him.

He'd smirk and flex them at you, then blow you a kiss.

And you went on and on like this, flirting with him, laughing with him, stealing little moments with him anywhere you could. The thing about being in love with Soshiro Hoshina was that your feelings always made themselves known to him. But somehow, someway, through all the awkward encounters, all the stammered words, all the heavy breaths threatening to collapse your trembling lungs, your feelings found their way into his heart. And he guarded them like they were his treasure. And he reciprocated them tenfold.

One day, he said the cheesiest thing about how when you had kids he'd have the best story to tell them about how you met and how you started falling for each other and you teased him for being so corny, but that was the day you knew you'd marry him.

Because the thing about being in love with Soshiro Hoshina is that it's the best feeling in the world, but being loved by Soshiro Hoshina is even better.

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family Steddie AU Part 3

Part One | Part Two

To preface, a bitch is sick rn so if you see any typos, no you didn't lol

"Robin, this is serious."

Steve can perfectly see Robin rolling her eyes through the phone as she says, "Oh, right, I'm so sorry your fiance-to-be is the perfect boyfriend who takes you on wonderful dates and romances you every single second you're together."

"I'm starting to think you're jealous."

"I'd only be jealous if Eddie had tits."

"He'd probably get some if I asked."

In the silence that follows, Steve can imagine Robin's scrunched face: her crinkled nose and curled lips and generally disgusted eyebrow furrow. He counts down from six in his head and then mouths along as Robin says, "I'd hang up if I weren't so invested in your love life."

"For someone so invested, you're not helping."

He hears a put-upon sigh through the speaker and returns it with a sigh of his own. Steve gives up on sitting properly and collapses back onto his bed, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan Hulyet is currently hanging from to nap.

"Fine, fine, what's the actual problem again?" Robin asks, her question followed by the sound of her shutting a book (one of her science textbooks based on the sound it makes when closing) so she can give Steve her full attention.

"Eddie is always planning our dates, and they're always really good, right? So I want to plan a date in return, but I have no clue how to plan something we'll both equally enjoy. In fact, I have no clue how Eddie plans our dates in the first place."

"Just start with something he likes and try to find something you'll like in it."

"Okay, say it again, but pretend I'm five."

Robin sighs again, and Steve hears the creaking of her bed as she collapses onto it. "Okay, the last date he planned, it was a hockey game, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, you like sports. Hockey is an obvious jump from there, but was Eddie also having fun at the game?"

Steve hums, reviewing their date from the week before. He hadn't expected Eddie to pull out hockey tickets, but he'd looked forward to it nonetheless. The game itself was fun, and the rink was cold enough that Steve had been able to scoot closer to Eddie and complain about being chilly.

Of course, Eddie's immediate response was to pull out a lighter, open it, and flick a flame to life while asking, "How big of a fire do you want, Stevie?"

For a brief moment, Steve had considered the question. But then he'd realized a fire would disrupt the hockey game, so they probably shouldn't start one.

After grabbing the lighter and stuffing it into his own pocket, Steve leaned closer and whispered, "Wouldn't you rather put your arm around me?" Eddie had lit up, and his smile was wide enough to make Steve feel blinded as he wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and pulled him closer.

It had been wonderful and romantic, right up until both of them got way too into the game and completely forgot about cuddling in favor of shouting at the players to hit harder and actually draw some blood to get the puck.

Steve smiles a little at the memory. "Yeah, he enjoyed the violence."

"Well, we all enjoy seeing buff people get a little bloody," Robin says, and Steve can see the way she's nodding like a wise man. "Anyway, he probably knew he'd enjoy the whole violence part of the sport. So, follow that formula."

"What formula are you seeing here?"

"Thing fiance-to-be likes plus a small part of it you could probably enjoy equals romance. If that's too hard, just get him a gift and plan the date around that."

Well, it sounds easy when she says it like that. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I'm the genius here, obviously. Now go plan a date so you can tell me all about it later. And I expect details, Steven. Sordid details. If I'm not quivering in my bodice, what's the fucking point."

"You don't even have a bodice. And my name isn't Steven."

"I'll get one, and your name is whatever's comedically appropriate."

"I found a good website for bodices and corsets, actually. I can send it to you."

"What are you doing on that website, Steve?" Robin asks, her voice light and eager.

Steve smirks, pulling the phone away from his ear and saying, "Wouldn't you like to know," before quickly hanging up. The phone stays silent for three whole seconds before Robin immediately calls back, but Steve is too busy laughing to actually pick up.

Part of why the Munsons moved to Steve's neighborhood is the cemetery within walking distance. The cemetery is at the very back of the neighborhood, hidden from people who don't actually live there. The front of the cemetery is perfectly presentable. The gravestones are clean and new, and flowers decorate most graves while others hold pebbles and stones of various sizes and colors.

The back of the cemetery, however, is a Munson paradise. The grass gives way to brown, under-watered weeds and dirt, the faded gravestones are covered in moss and plants climbing them, and the trees are perpetually leafless and spindly to create the perfect horror movie atmosphere. It was like that even before the Munsons moved to the neighborhood, but Steve doesn't actually know why.

The back of the cemetery is where Steve leads Eddie, occasionally looking back to make sure the blindfold covering Eddie's eyes is still in place. "You know, I was expecting more than walking when you pulled out the blindfold," Eddie says, squeezing Steve's hand.

"We're almost there," Steve promises, looking around them until he spots the picnic blanket and pillows he'd laid down earlier in front of a blank gravestone. There's a small projector on the edge of the blanket, facing the wall of a mausoleum, with a DVD player connected to it.

Steve stops at the edge of the blanket, takes a deep breath, and moves to stand in front of Eddie. "Okay," he says, reaching up and carefully pulling off the blindfold.

When it comes off, Eddie looks straight at Steve, not sparing a glance at the set-up behind him. "Are you the surprise?" he asks, sliding his hands around Steve's hips and pulling him closer.

"I'm not much of a surprise," Steve points out.

"You're the best gift I could ask for," Eddie says, sealing the words with a kiss that would be too easy for Steve to get lost in.

And he almost does, but he pulls away before Eddie's tongue can get too far into his mouth. "No, wait, you haven't seen the actual surprise," he mumbles, putting a few inches between them and gesturing to the picnic blanket.

Eddie's eyes light up, and he pulls Steve to the blanket. He sits against the headstone and tugs Steve down next to him. "Movie date in a graveyard? Very romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning close and kissing Steve's jaw.

"Well, that's not the whole surprise," Steve replies, leaning his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hears a quiet hum from above him and adds, "This is our spot."

"What? Like a make-out spot? We gonna sneak out in the middle of the night to make out right here twice a week?"

"Only twice?" Steve asks, his voice teasing as he tilts his head back to see Eddie smile. He doesn't give Eddie the chance to answer, though. Instead, he takes Eddie's hand and plays with his engaged-to-be-engaged ring. "I mean, this is our spot. We're leaning on our gravestone."

A few seconds pass before Eddie seems to actually process the words. When he does, he straightens up, tugging Steve away from the gravestone with him so he can see it. "Is this...a couple's plot?" he asks, his eyes wide as he looks from the stone to Steve.

Steve flushes, heat rising in his cheeks as he looks away. He takes a deep breath, deciding to just verbalize his thought process when he'd bought the plot. "I figured, well, we wouldn't want to be apart even in death. So we'll be buried together, you know? Our corpses will be embracing as we rot for eternity, becoming skeletons and dust that will only know each other."

The words are followed by silence, making Steve wonder if he somehow fucked up with his gift. He braces himself and glances up at Eddie to ask if he doesn't like it only to be pushed back on the blanket. Steve blinks, his brain barely catching up as Eddie kisses him. This is, by far, the most desperate kiss Steve has ever received from Eddie. It's a kiss that's practically begging Steve to give Eddie permission to swallow him whole, tuck him securely into the marrow of his bones, and hold him there so they'll never be apart.

Steve is a little confused, but he's far more interested in kissing back, sliding his fingers into Eddie's hair and tugging playfully as he bites Eddie's tongue. A rough growl in response sends shivers down Steve's spine, goosebumps spreading across his arms as Eddie pushes his hands under Steve's shirt.

Surprisingly warm fingers trail across Steve's abdomen before Eddie's hands settle on his hips, his pinkies teasingly pushing past the waistband of his jeans. Steve sighs softly, relaxing at the familiar sensation as he hooks one of his legs over Eddie's waist, pulling him close until their hips and chests are flush against each other.

Eddie grins against Steve's lips, his left hand trailing down Steve's waist to rest on his thigh, holding it in place as he teasingly grinds their hips together. Steve jolts, a surprised, quiet moan escaping him as his hands start to tremble with adrenaline and...well, sheer horniness if he's being honest.

"Please tell me we can fuck on our future grave," Eddie says, his voice low and husky as he speaks against Steve's lips.

Steve groans, fully agreeable to the idea only to realize two very important things. One, he doesn't have any lube, and two, he was actually looking forward to watching movies with Eddie, which wouldn't really happen if they got too distracted. Plus, you know, the whole sex in public thing, but that's not as big of a deal. Who's going to be visiting the cemetery on a Wednesday?

But Steve doesn't want to completely dash Eddie's hopes and the sheer joy in his eyes at the idea, so he presses another kiss to his lips and promises, "Later, Eddie."

Despite his disappointed expression, Eddie doesn't argue. He just sits up, pulling Steve with him so he stays in his lap. "I'll hold you to that, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing down Steve's neck until he reaches the point where it meets his shoulder. He bites down there, causing Steve to inhale sharply as he licks and sucks a hickey onto his skin.

Steve shakily exhales, biting his bottom lip to keep himself grounded. When it feels like Eddie is about to start on another hickey, Steve uses his grip on his hair to pull him back. "Stevie," Eddie breathes, his eyes dark as he looks up at him, "you know what pulling does to me."

Steve snorts, kisses his cheek, and climbs off his lap. "Keep it in your pants for now, babe. I actually want to get to the other part of this date," he says, moving over to the projector.

"And what's that?" Eddie asks.

"Classic monster movies," Steve says, grinning at the excited gasp that comes from Eddie as he turns on the projector. Once it boots up, the mausoleum wall shows the opening menu for a Monster Movie Collection DVD. Steve puts on Frankenstein, making sure the movie actually starts and the opening credits begin rolling before climbing back into Eddie's lap.

"I love you so fucking much," Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and hugging him close as he rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

Steve grins, leaning back against him and idly playing with one of the rings on Eddie's fingers. "I love you, too. Now shut up and watch the movie. No more making out until at least this one is over."

"Yes, sir."

Steve can't help a soft laugh. He takes Eddie's hand, raises it to his lips, and playfully bites his palm before lacing their fingers together and focusing on the movie.

Tag List: @estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, If anyone else wants to be tagged in potential future parts, just let me know!

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt8

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

A/N: First I wanted to say thank you to everyone for all the kind messages I've been receiving, I keep rereading them and tearing up. It lets me know that there are genuine people in the world and that I can take a few days or a week to finish a request. Sorry this part took a bit longer due to the short break I took, I'll try my best to get the request I have out in a timely manner!

warnings: cursing

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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A drive to Lily's that normally would've taken 25 minutes depending on traffic only took Lando 10 and I think the way he is flooring it right now has been the fastest he's ever driven in his life. I mean anyone could've easily mistaken him for Max Verstappen in this moment and rightfully so, my bastard of an ex-boyfriend and baby dad is an absolute dick for what he just did.

I get being upset that I'm pregnant and that my boyfriend right now is treating me 10x better than you ever will but actually spoiling the gender for us AND spoiling the fact that I'm carrying twins is on another level of insanity.

When we dropped Yelena off, Lily had told us she wasn't going to be expecting a baby pick up anytime soon. Which by the way, God bless Lily for just being able to drop whatever she had planned for today to be able to watch my kid while Lando and I dealt with baby daddy drama.

The blaring sound of a ringtone is what yanked me from deep in my thoughts. I picked up the phone to look at the caller ID before answering and placing it on speaker "Carlos, now is really not a good time". I said while running a hand over my face to try and ease some tension building up.

"Logan's at my place." Lando's knuckled gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of his name.

"Why is he there and why does he need to have a conversation with you present?" I questioned

"He told me to tell you and Lando to meet him here to talk to you but wants me present and he thinks Lando is going to kill him." Carlos started, doubt coating his voice as he talked.

"I FUCKING AM" Lando screamed as he pressed down on the gas pedal harder.

I’ve seen Lando upset and even angry before but what I was seeing from him right now wasn’t either of those, this was pure hatred. Lando was seeing pure red in his vision as he was driving, almost hit a pedestrian (who shouldn’t have crossed but people don’t pay attention to signs).

Now that Lando knows he has to book it to Carlos’ place instead of Logan’s he makes a sharp turn, which could’ve easily flipped the car if you weren’t as much of a skilled driver as Lando is.

"BABE! I KNOW YOU'RE MAD AND ALL BUT DON'T CRASH THIS CAR AND KILL ALL 4 OF US!" I screamed as I grabbed ahold of the center console

Something about the fear in my voice as I screamed at Lando seemed to get through this barrier of red he had coating him and he seemed to ease up on the steering wheel and drove a bit more safer.

-

Arriving at Carlos house, we were greeted with Carlos standing out front. Lando and I got out of the car and started making our way to the front door of Carlos' luxurious house while Carlos started walking towards us, meeting us halfway.

"Ay, I talk to Logan. He meant no harm pero I think he did. He is in the living room." Carlos said as he patted Lando's tense shoulder before turning his attention to me. "I'm so sorry Logan did what he did. I feel so bad but just know that I'm here for you with whatever you need." Carlos added while he pulled me into a hug.

I've always loved Carlos' hugs because of the level of comfort they always brought was just unmatched. If you're sad, have a Carlos hug, if you're happy, have a Carlos hug, if you don't want a hug, have a Carlos hug. Moral of the story: a Carlos hug can fix everything. Well, almost everything.

"Thank you Carlos, I really needed that hug. I just-" The sound of glass breaking is what caused me to stop mid-sentence and I turned to look over at my boyfriend, only to find him no where in sight.

My heart dropped to my feet when I was met with no sign of my boyfriend and all I could hear from a distance was arguing. Carlos wasted no time in spinning on his heels and running into his house and into the living room where all the arguing was taking place.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IN YOUR MIND, YOU THOUGHT IT WAS OKAY TO SPOIL A FUCKING GENDER REVEAL BY POSTING IT ON INSTAGRAM AND ON TOP OF THAT SPOILING THE FACT THAT WE'RE HAVING FUCKING TWINS!!!" the voice of Lando booming louder as I inched closer to Carlos' living room.

"I DID IT BECAUSE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! YOU TOOK MY BABY, MY LIFE, MY GIRL, YOU TOOK IT ALL! I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR!" Logan shouted in rebuttal, his face contorted in a way I've never seen before and his skin as red as a tomato.

When our eyes locked, I could see Logan's eyes soften but when he opened his mouth to say something, Lando cut him off.

"I DIDN'T 'TAKE' YOUR GIRL, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE IN A HOUSE WHERE SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DOING SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER EVERY MOVE. I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE IN A HAPPY AND HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE LOVED BY A REAL MAN! I SHOWED HER EVERYTHING YOU COULDN'T AND YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOU'RE A COWARD!" that seemed to set Logan off because the second the word "coward" came spilling out of Lando's mouth, Logan lunged towards him in an angry manner.

Before they could make any type of contact, Carlos was in the middle trying to set some type of boundaries between them.

"YOU GUYS ARE NOT FIGHTING IN MY HOUSE! LOGAN, OUT NOW! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!" That seemed to be enough for Logan to walk away but not before stopping in front of me, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath against my skin.

"I hope I never see you again until your fucking funeral, slut." Logan walked away brushing his shoulder past mine as he did.

I knew Logan felt some type of way towards me since I left him while I was pregnant and refused to give in to all his promises of being a better man for me but hearing those words coming out of his mouth hurt. I always hoped we would be able to work it out for the sake of Yelena but after what he said, I don't know if we can, even if I wanted to.

Everything after what Logan said was blur, I don't remember him leaving, I don't remember Lando running after him and Carlos after Lando, but more importantly, I don't remember my legs giving out under my weight and me collapsing to the ground.

All at once everything started to hit me like a semi-truck. The pain in my knees after the fall, the ache in my heart but also the excruciating pain in my abdomen.

"BABE?! BABY ARE YOU OKAY? CARLOS GET THE CAR STARTED! WE HAVE TO TAKE Y/N TO THE HOSPITAL!"

-

The whole car ride to the hospital had to be the worst 15 minutes of my life. Every bump or sudden brake of the car increased the pain in my abdomen by 10. At one point it literally felt like there was an elephant sitting on me, restricting my oxygen intake.

When we finally arrived, Carlos quickly parked in front of the ER doors before rushing inside. Less than 30 seconds after running into the hospital, a group of doctors and nurses came running outside with a gurney.

Seeing them, Lando swung the car door open and quickly got out, allowing them better access to get to me.

Getting transferred from the back seat of the car to the gurney hurt just as suspected but they quickly rushed me in so they could evaluate my symptoms to tell me what's wrong.

No matter how much pain medication they gave me, the pain was still too much to bear.

"Do you want us to give you something to sedate you?" The student doctor said. She sounded genuinely hurt at hearing how much pain I was in.

"YES! PLEASE, I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" I screamed and I watched as she grabbed the vile of liquid.

Just as the student doctor was done giving me the sedative, I heard the doctor come in.

"So, unfortunately I've got some ba-AH NO! WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?"

"I- Uh, Gave her a sedative?"

"YOU'RE NEVER SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WITHOUT CONSULTING ME! THE SEDATIVE IS GOING TO DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD!" that was all I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

-

After I fell unconscious and was of no use, my doctor made his way to the waiting room to have a talk with Lando in order to figure out the steps going forward.

Once Lando locked eyes with the doctor, he shot up from his seat "Doc, how is she??" Lando asked as he searched the doctors face for answers.

"Unfortunately your girlfriend has a rare condition that affects the babies called Monochorionic Twins, which is where the babies share the same placenta and amniotic sac which can cause tangling of umbilical cords, imbalance of nutrients, blood and problems to other vital organs. Your girlfriend also has a history of major bleeding, vomiting and dehydration during pregnancy which also puts her at risk. We have to operate to save them, the babies have a 25% chance of survival and would have to be in the NICU for many months whereas your girlfriend has a 75% of surviving with minimal damage to any part of her reproductive system. " the doctor started, he tried to look and sound as sympathetic as possible.

"What are you saying Doc?" Lando asked, his breath and hands shaky and his knees trembled beneath him.

"You have to choose who we save, your babies or your girlfriend."

-

Again, thank you guys so much for the overwhelming amount of support I've received in the past few days. I appreciate and love each and every single one of you guys and I hope you enjoy this part.

Unfortunately this series is coming to an end soon but I really don't want to say goodbye to it yet.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v

[icarusredwings]

I rewatched Deadpool 2 and took notes.

Disclaimer: He's mentally ill and does mentally ill things (GASP, who would have thought?). Also, violence. A lot of violence. It's really long. Like.. really really long.

The very first words he says is "fuck wolverine"

Then blows his own head off with a shit ton of gasoline. Wonder if he had insurance on that appartment.

He started taking worldwide cases

He also admits to knowing "8th grade spanish"

"Passion of the christ. Then me." Says the man whos marvel jesus now.

I wonder how much wade owes cab guy.

Cab guy killed bandu Lmao

"What is it?"

"My IUD"

"A bomb??" Tell me why he was lowkey excited for it to be a bomb?

I love how serious he gets talking about how scared he is to be a dad.

This empire joke traveled from the first movie too.

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way but we can try" yes.

When making toaster strudles its almost as if he could sense them coming despite it being so silent. This kind of makes me think that Logans not the only one who just jumps up sometimes.

This man really just said "Fuck it" jumped out of a 2 story window, BOLTED after this guy as fast as he could, got hit by a car, rammed another car, and whole ass hugged this guy before jumping in front of a truck with him. I don't want to see anyone try to tell me he's one sandwitch drop away from jumping off a cliff.

Cinatography by Blind Al.

Directed by one of those guys that killed john wicks dog.

God I love Ryan Reynolds because you know it was him.

Wade stop peeing your pants in public.

Weasel "We still have bowie..." Yeah id lie to him too at this point.

"Yeah im fine"

Fucked up

Insecure

Needy and

Emotional. Kübler ross apprently.

"Buck no more speaking lines for you" and he meant that shit.

Al is so humble and sweet. Making tea and giggling. Tries to shoot him and then just hears him collapse on the floor. How many times do you think he collapses on the floor a week? Just to be drimatic?

"Sweetheart can you speak up? Its a little hard to hear you with yhat pity dick in your mouth" Oh so shes his mom. Al is his fucking mom. Hands down. And the best one.

I love how he decided to do an entire bag of cocaine before dying. There was no reason for it and honestly was a waste of cocaine until you realize that these cocaine is wades whiskey. Shots dont work for him really, probably because hes already done it so much, but its the same way how Logan chugs that bottle before wade kidnaps him. Its easier to blame it on a substance then accept those were your actions.

Ness is so cute. The poster behind her has "I love you wade wilson" scratched into it. Its nice to know that his version of heaven is literally just a cozy Saturday morning with his wife.

Colossus just walking in to find wades body parts everywhere and put him in a bag like old dirty clothes lol

"Why cant I fucking die" tone was SO serious.

The fact that theres an x men rule book and its lowkey thicker then a bible. I bet you scott and Logan made 80% of those.

"That asshole was me" oh the tears. Baby boyy.

Wait isnt cable literally scotts son.

Im never going to understand this fucking time line jesus christ

Mutant rehabilitation?? What is he a drug addict? That kid is clearly in pain dipshits.

"X men trainee" is so funny

"Please stop cheating on me"

Daniel the pedophile looking ass

Bro casually signs ryan reynolds on the wolverine cereal box and then destroys his knee caps.

"Those guys hurt you??" It was at that moment, wade went ape shit.

Wade having fun in prison is so him. But come on imagine going to prison just for standing up to an abused child. Not to mention, His face when he immediately realizes how fucked he is and that "oh shit I actually DO have cancer now and it SUCKS"

Is it just me or does Cable reminds you of forge with all his cool fix it abilities. Or is he just futurey.

He didn't say were not friends to make him upset but to draw attention to himself. Him just eye rolling when stabbed in the hand was so funny too because he was like "Ouch. God damn it. Ducking OUCH."

Hes literally pleading with russel to find someone else to peotect him or hes gonna get molested because he cant do anything. His entire power is replacing dead cells WITH new cancer cells. His entire body is dying 24/7 but never fast enough to actually kill him, always regrowing way too quickly. Cancerous is better then dead.

"Get away from me kid" yeah cause he knows hes trouble and he REALLY doesn't wanna watch this kid die.

"Who the hell tries to kill a 14 year old boy"

"Kids give us a chance to be better then we used to be"

Dopinder is so wholesome. I love him so much. No i dont care that he killed a guy. Hes the type of friend you call to take to the movies or the zoo once every year and hes stoked just to be invited.

Peter: I just thought it looked fun :D

Dopinder: FUCK

Peter is that one dad whos kids left the nest and now he needs friends and a hobby so searches for the biggest weirdos he can find.

"Grab the boy- NOT INAPPROPRIATELY >:("

i love his crayon maps/plans

Oh my god weasel im not telling you anything ever again you snitch (same dude, cable is terrifying)

After crying over the love he has for his new team (x force) Wade confirms that he spent 10 years in special forces.

I love how supportive wade is with Peter despite him just being a normal dude only for him to immediately die LMAO

He just cassually lets his impulse win in which he steals a moped.

Oh i just noticed Dominos vitiligo. I always loved vitiligo charaters. Theyre so unique and barley ever given movie roles. Like why not?? Why wouldnt you want someone so beautiful? Im pretty sure she just has make up but it would be cool if not.

Something else is that cable just starts yeeting criminals out onto the street lol

"Theres nothing I cant kill" Let me intorduce you to the man whos on a constant road to dying but can never actually get there.

Im assuming cable wants to kill russel because he unleashes a big bad guy or something.

*cassually snaps neck back into place* Oh god that hurt!

Oh I was right! It was Juggernaut :)

Wade: *gets excited about being PHYSICALLY ripped in half*

"Rub my legs mama 🥺 I got growing pains"

"Oh noo! No no no Dp not again!" We love you Dopinder. Do not ever stop caring. "This shits happened before!?" Yes weasel. Sometimes your friends get ripped in half. Get used to it.

Wade just moves her gun to the right position.

Wade talking about saving russel is so serious that it makes you forget that he has a tiny baby ass rn. I couldn't make a deal with someone woth tiny baby legs... just... no. Not to mention that those baby legs are made of cancer.

"50 years from now you're super fucking dead"

Wade standing outside of the xmen mansion with his phone and a picture of a boom box playing music for Colossus to come outside and help him save russel is something i can see happening to Logan. They have a fight and he storms off to the mansion only for wade to stand outside like that.

"Hi Wade🎀✨️" "Hi Yukio!🥹 you guys make a super cute couple 😊 where was I? 🤨"

"So you wear a helmet so your brother cant read your mind?" "Yeaaahh" average kid conversations.

"Lets fuck some shit up is my legal middle name"

Okay sir edgelord.

Apprently wade has a gluten sensitivity

What is it with wade and metal men??? My man has a type.

"Im just gonna use this brick and maximum effort" Same wade. Same.

Yaayy!! Go yukio! Eveyone loves yukio.

"Thats how we do it in mother russia" What? Shoving an electrical cable up their ass and then put them in a pool? Damn. Ok.

That "I never should have never left you in that prison" with the hug? Man hed be a decent dad I think.

"Dont be ive been trying to make this happen for awhile" okay someone supervise him 24/7. Hes on the active watch list.

Wade: *is dying* Hi Yukio :D

Yukio: Hi wade :)

"R-dog" Oh my god hes too cute.

Them carrying the racist joke all the way til the end made me cringe but that was the point.

His last words being "do you wanna build a snow man?" Is such a deadpool thing.

I was NOT expecting to cry at the end of this stupid ass movie, AGAIN

"Dont fuck colossus" VANESSA KNEW

THE FUCKING COIN

"Is there a knife in my dick?" "There's a knife in your dick."

Oh I just didn't even notice she has heterochromancia! <3 Aahh!!

PFFT DOPINDERS SECOND CONFIRMED KILL

"WERE DEFINITELY NAMINF OUR KID CHER"

"Dont scratch!" *shoots himself 8 times* "Love you! Bye."

Wolverine: ???

[ufcconor]

Come on, baby

Knox x F!Reader

(Y/n) Brandt has a history with her fathers most trustworthy hit man

SMUT SMUT SMUT

Getting the call from Gerald Brandt was a surprise to say the least. “Knox, I need you!” “What do you need?” Gerald screams into the phone, “Knox, my Idiot son is fucking things up!” “I’ll leave right away.” “And Knox, look after (y/n).” Knox pauses, excitement brewing in him. “You know I will.”

~

I see a man walking down the dock to the shitty houseboat named so cleverly “The Boat”. I sit up from my chair, holding onto my hat in the low wind as the boat rocks in the water. “That’s the new bouncer at the roadhouse Ben keeps going on about?” The smirk grows on my lips. My friend meets my gaze, staring at the man as he steps onto the boat and shamelessly begins to work out in the sun. “He’s hot.” I lean on the railing.

I wave my hand towards him as my boat sails by. “Looking good over there!” He stops mid-sit up and waves with a small smile before continuing his set. My friend scoffed with a smile. “I'm assuming you’re taking a trip down to the bar tonight.” I shrug sitting back in my hair and sipping my margarita. “Might be.”

I walk into the bar and scan the scene. The music is upbeat, and the people seem to be calm… for now at least. I allow my eyes to scan the entire place until I see him. Sitting at the bar, and quietly observing. I walk to him and take the seat directly beside him. I smile at the bartender, “Rum and coke please.”

The man beside me smirks as I mindlessly pat my fingers on the bar looking around. I meet his eyes and drop my jaw dramatically. “Well, what are the chances? Hey there handsome.” “My name’s Dalton.” I shake his hand, “(y/n). Nice to see you again. Shirt on this time, but we can work on that.”

Night after night I’d go to the roadhouse and sit with Dalton. Flirting and talking, were all fun. When there was an issue he’d get up, handle it with some sarcastic banter and strong punches, and then he’d be back beside me with a cheeky smile as if nothing happened. I like a man who can handle himself. He was a sweet guy to top it off. He definitely shouldn’t be the one to be here taking care of this matter. He shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with my idiot brother and his schemes.

~

I put six sandwiches on a plate and exit the home to the back patio. “Sandwiches are on the bar!” I yell to the boys as I sit down in a chair, opening my book. Not long after I gained inner peace, a loud collision struck right in front of the house. I tear my shades off as a figure enters. “Who the fuck put those bikes in my way?” I watch as Knox strolls in. “Who the fuck are you?” Clyde asks. Knox raises his hand to his face, “Shh.”

He walks to the bar and praises the leftover sandwiches. “Thank you, God. Sandwiches. I’m fucking famished.” He bites into the bread with a growl.

This can not be happening. I was set on the fact that I would not have to see this asshole ever again. The memories flash so quickly. A day full of shopping. The 4 bottles of wine at the most expensive restaurant in Rome. Romantic walks down the streets. Long nights full of him showering me with endless pleasure.

Moe bursts in quickly, “He knocked all the fucking bikes over!” I roll my eyes going back to my book. I’d rather not be involved in whatever the hell he’s doing. I turn the page in my book trying to focus on the words cascading down the page but I can feel his eyes burning onto my frame. Clyde towers over him. “Now you got a big ass problem, bucko.”

Knox nods, mouth full, “No shit! First off, I’m going to need more than 3 sandwiches.”

“I wasn’t done talking.” Clyde cuts Knox off.

Knox glares at Clyde, meeting his gaze with power. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, lad.” He pushes past Clyde and nears my chair. He stands next to me, looking down at me. I put my book down with a huff. Knox smiles, “What darlin’? Not a word for me? Thought you’d be happy to see me.” I stand up, bumping his arm as I walk past him.

Knox plops down in my seat, lounging back. “Aye, baby. Are you going to make me some more sandwiches or what?” I flip him off as I slam the door shut. “Stupid mother fucking Irish asshole.”

I tear my bathing suit off in a rush. Why the fuck has he come here? Something to do with my father no doubt. I step into the shower trying to calm my nerves, trying to burn out the heat that ignites in my core. He always had this effect on me. I can't help but remember the night.

I lay back on the couch, my dress hugged my body tightly. Knox saunters over with another glass of wine for me. “Mhh thank you,” I mumble out. He takes a seat next to me. I lay my legs over his thighs, beginning to look over his entire frame. He was big (no doubt everywhere). I run my foot over his crotch. He narrows his gaze at me. “Nah, lassie. That’s not in the cards for you.” He grabs my ankles putting my motions to a stop. I sigh before standing, rolling the wine into my glass. “I thought you were fun.” I lean down to my phone, putting some music on. I sway my hips, my back facing Knox. I down my glass of wine, turning around and arching my back on the wall. His eyes glued to my frame, his orbs burning into mine. I take a step forward, lowering the zipper of my dress with each step. I stand in front of him, zipper completely down, the dress hanging loosely. I lean down, my hands on his shoulders. “Still not in the cards? Even for me?” Knox chuckles, forcing his eye contact to the wall. “You father would have my ass, baby.”

I stand straight again. “Hm, that’s a shame.” I let the straps of the dress off my shoulders, it cascades down to the marble floor delicately. Only clad in my panties and expensive heels I turn away from him, leaving the dress at his feet.

“Fuckin hell.” He mumbles.

Before I know it I’m tossed onto the bed and Knox is kissing up my body and pampering my exposed breast with kisses and bites.

Soon his fingers pumping deliciously in and out of my heat. I arch up with a loud cry as an orgasm races through me. “There's a good girl."

I splash water onto my face. I can’t allow myself to get tangled in with him again. There’s nothing there but an empty promise. I know the bed will be cold by morning.

I step out of the shower and dry my body with the towel before hanging said towel up on the door. I bent over, flipping my head over to start drying my wet hair.

“I always did adore this side of you, love.”

I shoot up and turn around. “What the fuck!” I snatch my towel off the door and hold it up in front of me. “Get out!” He doesn’t. Instead, he walks closer causing me to back up until I hit the countertop. He places his arms on either side of me, making a chance for an easy escape difficult.

He bites his lip looking at my poorly hidden body. He catches the hem of the towel in his fingers. “Why don’t we catch up?” I look at him with wide eyes and anger boiling in my chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Knox sucks in a breath. “Now listen, I know how it looked back then.” I scoff and push him away. He doesn’t fight me and allows me to pass. “Hate to see you go, but I love seeing you walk away, baby.” I enter my bedroom and with one last glance at Knox, I slam the door shut.

~

Ben walks into the back patio and sees Knox sitting in a tanning chair, eating a plate of sandwiches. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” Knox nods, “Hey. I got a message for you. From your father.” He stands facing Ben.

Bem furrows his brow, “A message? My father? And what… What is this “message”?” Knox pops Ben in the nose quickly before tossing his arm over his shoulders. “You’re Ben, right? Jerry’s son?” He chuckles removing himself. Knox admires the house. He points to the pool shed. “This is where I’ll store my stuff. And that master bedroom up there is mine. Move your sister's shit in with mine. You can take her room.” Ben shakes his head, confusion clouds his mind. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

Knox grabs a golf club. “Your dad says you’ve been fucking things up.” He turns to Ben, who backs away. “He asked me to lend a hand.”

Ben scoffs, “How would my father know? He’s in a prison, rotting in a cell.�� “Don’t be silly. Your father has spies everywhere.”

“Well, you can tell my father…” Ben starts but gets cut off by his sister (y/n) coming out. “Where are you going?” She rolls her eyes. “Why do you care?” She takes a step and Ben grabs her arm. Knox straightens up, anger brewing within him. No one gets to touch her.

“Is it the road house? To see your little boyfriend?” (Y/n) rips his arm off, “Believe it or not but I’m actually likable unlike you.” She walks off. “Don’t go to that fucking bar, (y/n)!” She turns around with a smirk. “Or what?” Knox watches her such as predator watches their prey. Fire brewed within his chest at the thought of some other man touching her, touching what he had claimed.

Ben runs his fingers through his hair, frustration existing on his face. “She’s such a pain in my ass.” He turns back to Knox. “I don’t need your fuckin’ help. I have it all under control.”

“No, you don’t.” Knox swings the club, making Ben back away again. “Yes, I have people out there right now… cleaning up this final issue, and that’s all…” Knox ignored Ben’s confident plan. “So, where’s this bouncer asshole?”

~

I enter the road house and move to the corner expecting to see Dalton but to my surprise, he’s nowhere in sight. Laura slides my drink over. “He’s late.” I furrow my brow. “That’s a first.”

An hour later Dalton comes in looking a little disheveled. He sits beside me taking a breath. “Hey.” “Hey, what’s going on?” He shakes his head. “Had a little mix-up with the sheriff.” I cringe internally, “A mix-up?” My brothers doing. Laura leans over conserved. “What are we talkin’ about?”

A surprising guest speaks a few seats away. “Yeah, what are we talking about?” Ben walks over, taking the seat next to me. “Hey, sis. Thought I told you to stay home.” Ben averts his attention from me. “I’m curious to hear what you were gonna tell her, Dalton. I’m Ben Brandt. (Y/n)‘s brother.”

Dalton smirks, “Let me guess. It’s your turn now.” “My turn?” “You know, to threaten me. Tell me to get out of town. Like your buddy, Big Dick.” Ben chuckled. “No. No, I get the impression that you can’t be threatened.

I wish you could be, but… I’d even bribe you if I thought money would work.” Dalton nods, “Really? How much we talking?”

“Ben, can you just fuck off?” He turns to me, anger in his eyes. “(Y/n) doesn’t it make you curious what an outsider like him… thinks he’s doing here.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, Ben. Nor do I care. Just get the fuck out of here.”

Ben ignores me again. “So, I guess my question is… Why? Right? It can’t be just some competitive thing, you…you’ve won the fight. You can back off now. But you… you don’t. You just keep… punching and punching and punching. So, why? Why don’t you just stop?” Dalton stays silent causing Ben to exit like a toddler, anger blowing from his ears.

Dalton raises a brow. “Your brother, huh?” “I like to think I’m adopted.” The door opens and Knox strolls in with the bikers behind him. I watch as Knox scans the room making eye contact with me.

Knox strolls around, picking at two separate tables. “Hey, fellas. Looks like you’re havin’ a smashing night!” He swings the golf club smashing every bottle and glass off their table. Knox successfully starts the bar fight and chaos consumes the entire building.

“Dalton! Dalton! Dalton!” Knox screams as he scans the room. I stand up and walk towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Knox chuckled, lowering his head, our noses brushing. “A lot of shit. You wanna try to fix me?” His smirk grows.

“Dalton! Dalton!” On-demand, Dalton yells from the top of the steps. “What?” Knox looks over him as if inspecting. He tosses his head back. “This is the guy?” He asks me, I can see jealousy glowing in his eyes. “Leave him alone, Knox.”

He points to Dalton. “You know, I got sent here special. Just for you.” Dalton stays calm, taking a glance around the chaotic scene. “And you brought all your friends with you?” “I thought you might miss havin’ an audience. I was trying to be thoughtful. Like on pay-per-view. 25 quid. Watch me pulp your face!” Panic pumps through my veins. “You can’t fucking do this, Knox.”

Dalton stands a few feet away now. “You know this guy too?” Knox smirks and looks at me, waiting for my answer. “He’s my father’s employee.” Knox places his hand on his chest, acting like his feelings are damaged. “Aww come on, baby. Don’t be like that.“ He takes my chin between his fingers, his face inches from mine. “How do I know that you squeal when having your pussy eaten just, hm? Right here.” Knox sticks his hand down to my clothed crotch and pats my pelvic bone lightly. I gasp and move away from him. The act so bold in a public setting had my cheeks glowing red and a pool between my legs.

Dalton grabs Knox and shoves it away. “Don’t touch her, man.” Knox smiles at Dalton. “Nah, mate. You don’t get to touch her! SHE’S MINE!” Knox swings his club at Dalton hitting him in the stomach, before punching him and starting a brawl between the two.

I follow some of the bikers outside as they file out. “What the fuck was that?” I scream at Dell. “Stop it, (y/n). You know Brandt wants the road house.” I roll my eyes, “a shitty bar? For real?” I turn on my heel to walk back into the bar, but Knox catches my upper arm and pulls me to his car. “Let go of me, Knox.” He opened the passenger door and oh so helpfully assisted me in. “You and me. We’re going to have a little chit-chat.” He fumes. He’s angry. He flies off, tearing up gravel as he speeds out of the lot. He maneuvers through traffic, passing cars at high speed. “If you slow down we won’t live long enough to talk,” Knox smirks at me. “Ah baby, I’ve missed that smart mouth of yours, truly.”

Knox drifts into a lonely dock and slams the door as he gets out. “Let’s go.” Knox strips his shirt and shoes. I step out and lean against the front of the car, the sand damp on my feet.

Knox shakes his finger at me. “This ain’t you. Where’d my girl go?” I glare at him, “Maybe she’s back in Rome where you ditched her two years ago.” Knox, only a couple feet away smiles again. “All that? Baby you know your father had me running around for him.” “You left me alone with no explanation. You dipped that morning and never spoke to me again.” Knox nods, “Yeah, I did. That’s what your father told me to do.” “Yeah, and you always do what he says huh? Like a dog.”

Knox drops his smile. “And what have you been doing? You used to listen like a good girl. Now look at ya. Fucking around with these assholes.”

“Better than you.”

Knox grabs my arm pulling me to him. “Aww, now I see it. You’ve not been fucked real good in a long time. That it?” I raise my hand and slap him across the face. He pauses for a moment before a dark smirk grows across his lips. “There’s my tiger.”

Fuck it. This is toxic as hell.

I wrap my arms around his broad body, attacking his mouth. He holds me up, holding our bodies as close as possible. Our tongues battling, the passion seeping from each other's mouths. The clawing and scratching of our hands. He kisses down my neck, running his tongue over my collarbones. The hot breeze sticks to the moist surface. He pushes me back onto the hood of the car. “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, but first…” he flips the hem of my dress over my thighs, and separates them. “I need to taste ya.”

He kisses the soft skin of my inner thighs. A drunken state unraveled within me. Knox pulls my panties down, taking a look at my private. He nestled between my thighs, "Such a pretty cunt. How did I ever let you out of my sight?" The praises leaving his mouth caused me to gasp. I am unable to speak, unable to ask if he wanted to do this out here, on the beach, given any surprise visitor. All I could do was moan and arch my back onto the cold surface of the car. My heart was racing, blood rushing, toes being forced to curl.

His tongue brushed through my folds, collecting drops of the hot arousal. He moaned against my cunt, sucked on the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Knox," the call of his name made him chuckle against my skin. I had never known such pleasures besides him. I was already close to letting go, his mouth latching onto my clit, once again leaving me to arch her back off the hood. "Let go for me, darling."

With another breathy moan, I release, eyes rolling back into my head, fingernails about to claw stripes into the pain of the car. He lazily licked my slit for a few more seconds before he pulled away, moving up her body to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Knox, fuck me please," I whined, looking into his eyes, pleading. He smiled and followed my order within seconds.

My legs lay wide open for him to enter and while his hands hold my waist tightly. He shoved himself up my pussy with such an ease.

"You feel perfect, angel. Nothing changed." he moaned, his moves quickened fast. Noises of skin slapping against skin filled the area. "So fucking good" Knox panted in between harsh thrusts. My lower body just perfectly crashed together with his. I was in heaven as I felt myself coming closer and closer to my end. "I'm gonna cum." | whimpered so quietly that he could barely hear it. “You're the only man who can make me feel this good,” I whined, I was all his.

His movements grew slower, and he heavily breathed into my face. “You’re mine, (y/n).” I was so close, my body was burning. I nod breathlessly, “I’m all yours.” Waves of an orgasm beautifully crashed in, and it was only a matter of seconds before I would cum.

"Good girl." Knox panted and I knew he was about to cum. His hand wandered to my clit and circled it at a fast, pleasuring pace. That was it. I felt my orgasm finally coming in and I let out a loud moan. Knox growled into my neck and bit into my shoulder as he came right after me, releasing all of his warm cum inside me. He kept moaning and growling into my skin, both of us exhausted and in a blissful state. His body was limp on mine.

We laughed into each other's faces and after a moment of silence and just looked at each other. He moved over to his car, retrieving a blanket. “What are you doing?” I ask still lying in bliss. He spread the blanket on the sand. “A night under the stars. What do ya say, lass?” He picks me up and lays us down on the soft blanket. His hands went over my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. In this moment the world was perfect.

[navajja]

Personally I have a lot of options about Stoliz relationships, and I don't enjoy how they treat eachother, so here are some Stolas and Stoliz redesign and facts just to make myself happy, completely self indulgent.

Cracgking fingers* WElLL

In this idea Stolas is slightly older than Blitzø because of some magic thing he did to learn ages worth of information, they meet at the same age but when they see eachothers again Stolas is slightly older, maybe around ten years.

Stolas marriage with Stela is very complicated (i blame my friend for this idea) it is common behavior in the Goetia family to marry for convenience and HATE their spouses, they all talk shit about each other and laugh at their spouses expenses, it is what is normal for them and it is the way they have fun, everyone is used to this marriage social construct, but Stolas is the weird one of the bunch.

He tried really hard to have a happy marriage and he never truly understood why Stela humiliated him in family gatherings, and it only made it worse when he felt genuinely offended by his words because he was taking the fun out of their marriage. Stolas has a hard time understanding this. Goetia family DOES NOT GET DIVORCES that are considered a failure, u can hate ur spouse all u want but Divorce is a big NO.

Octavia, is actually 20 years old and she wants to be independent, but Stolas is an overprotective parent, he thinks he is staying married for her sake, but it is actually because he is afraid of what people would say. Octavia moved out of the palace but she is actually living in the garden in a smaller part of the castle (just a nepo baby thinking she is independent) Stolas actually cried for that. He is an overprotective parent, but his kid is not a kid anymore and she doesn't need them, he should be looking for his own happiness and all of this is driving him to a mid life crisis (he is 40 and Goetia lives to +250 years, but he feels old)

One night Blitzo shows up with the intention of stealing Stolas book. They end up getting drunk in stolas room talking about everything, it is the first night they enjoy in a long time. All of the alcohol and happiness ends up in the having great sex, and it is not part of the deal they made for the book, the deal is about Blitzo visiting Stolas when he needs his book, he is free to leave right away if he wants but hey genuinely enjoy eachothers company and the fuckin is just a fun little extra. They don't label their relationship, they got issues.

Stella never finds out about Stolas actively cheating on her, she knows something is wrong but can't figure out what, especially because she doesn't believe Stolas is capable of cheating on her with the lower class.

Blitzo is the same idiot we know, but he doesn't act like he hates stolas, but words are hard for him so they never truly talk or say that there feelings are very real. He has low self-esteem, he believes strongly that he doesn't deserve been liked by Stolas and he feels like he is taking advantage every time they are together, he keeps himself for saying those things because he is in love and he takes what he can until Stolas gets tired of him

Blitzo's business idea came up because he needed something substantial he could leave for Loona. If someone ever happens to him he knows Mox and Millie would keep her company but he needs to be sure she will have a future of he is not around.

He adopted her at age 13, she was on high alert all the time but soon enough she was Blitzo precious little girl, but she is 15 now and she is a menace to the world, the teenager rebellion hit her hard, and Blitzo doesn't have anyone to ask for parenting advices, his only ideas are for trying to do the contrary his father did to him, so Loona is spoiled considering Blitzø financial reality.

All i have so far, sorry about it, muak.

[lanalace]

Encompassed [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Fem Reader]

Word count: 5k

Summary: You were never supposed to be an omega and so you decided not to be. As a result, you gained friend, freedom and a life of your own. Everything was going your way until you came face to face with the world's strongest sorcerer.

Chapter 1 - Encounter

“Oi! Y/n-chan!” Itadori yelled, waving to you from across the training grounds.

Y/n sat at the top of the cold stone staircase overlooking the field, looking up from the book in her hands, she spotted Yuji at the opposite end of the field with Nobara and Megumi. Grinning widely, you closed the book and stood up, raised an arm and waved back with the same amount of energy as Yuji.

“Itadori! Kugisaki! Fushiguro!” Y/n yelled.

You could see them smiling at you as they drew nearer. These were your new teammates. You have been working with them for about one month now and you all have gotten pretty close. ‘Well, Fushiguro was definitely a work in progress. Though, to be fair, I don’t think that anyone is actually close to him.’ You thought grimly to yourself as you walked down to greet them. Yuji was the first to greet you with both hands up. You smiled and jumped up to smack both of his hands with your own. It was the way you guys always greeted each other, always with a double hi-five. 

It was really funny how you guys started this routine, actually. It actually started because of a comment he made about how short you were in comparison to the other members of your team. You bristled at that claim and rebuttal that you were in fact plenty tall for your age.  You are 17 years old and still have a bit more time to grow. Itadori being Itadori raised his hand all the way up high as proof of your shortness, daring you to touch it if you were really as tall as you calmed. Of course you couldn’t reach so he decided to make it easier for you, first bringing his hand down to half of its original height next to his head as he goaded you to try hitting him again. But you were pouting at the failed first attempt so he brought another hand up to mirror his other and teased you more, telling you that it would be easier since you had two targets. Still pouting, you couldn’t resist and jump a bit to smack both of them. It made Itadori grin and he earnestly complemented you, lightening your sour mood at the time and you smiled at him.   

“Y/n-chan! Spar with me this time.” He begged with starry eyes.

“Sure.” You smiled at him gently, nodding in confirmation. You could hear Nobara in the background yelling at Itadori because she wanted to be your training partner for the day.

“Woo! Better luck next time, Kugisaki!” Itadori turned and snickered at her before facing you and getting into a fighting stance.

You giggled and shook your head at the pair. They were so silly and always behaved just like siblings. Focusing on the boy in front of you, you tossed your book aside and got into an offensive position.Without hesitation you struck your teammate first. He was caught off guard but managed to just barely block your right hook.

“Don’t look so shocked! You’re the one who wanted to spar but you’re not even paying attention.”  You followed up with a combo move that he easily blocked as well.

Yuji looked like he was serious now, determination shown on his face when he moved to strike back. You both traded blows with him at an impressive speed that your teammates could not match so they sat back and watched you both go at it. Neither one of you were getting the upper hand for very long in the battle but gosh, you were having so much fun! Yuji always gave you a good workout and it was always so exciting. 

You genuinely enjoyed a good fight even before presenting last year. As young as 5, your powers manifested and you were strong. Your parents had been beyond overjoyed when that happened. At such a young and with such raw power, you had such a bright future and you would elevate their social status in the Jujutsu world. So they trained you hard and when they had nothing left to teach you, they sent you here, to school with all of the other sorcerers. They just knew you would be an Alpha. Your overly confident and cocky personality was proof enough but coupled with the immense amount of curse energy you had, there’s no way you could be anything less than that and they treated you with the respect and hardness of one. You easily fell into your roll over the years and believe that you would be an alpha as well.

Your upbringing may have been a bit rougher than you cared to admit, you can’t say you hated all of it. After all, alpha’s didn’t complain so you wouldn’t. Besides, every moment was useful and prepared you for real field work. It gave you the awesome personality trait of being a shit talker. A privilege only allowed to the strong. You adored your parents and thrived under all of their attention so imagine your shock when your attentive parents showed nothing but disdain for your very existence when you finally presented. You were an omega and so they cut ties with you. Abandoning you to the Jujutsu school with nothing but your name and the things you came with. At the very least, you took solace in the fact that your parents never reported you. This small saving grace gave you time and you were grateful for that. You would never scorn your parents because you understood their position.

You were worthless to them now, something they’d have to give up one way or another because according to the law, your kind were to be taken to a secured Omega Center facility immediately after presenting. Whisked away from the outside world and its influences, where they could become easily indoctrinated into proper omega roles. Omega’s were nothing but property to in society.

’Disgusting.’

As an omega, you weren’t meant to fight. In fact, it was illegal for you to even attend this school. ‘But I love to fight and protect the innocent people who cannot fight for themselves.’ You weren’t meant to take risks. ‘But that is my job.’ You weren’t meant to have freedom and make friends with the opposite sex unless they were other omega’s. ‘I really like friends and my sensei. They treat me as an equal, as an individual. They never look down on me.’ You’d be locked away, stripped of everything that was ‘You’ and made to take a mate that would control your every step and force you to have a litter of kids. All that you could do- all you could ever measure up to be was a glorified breeding mare. You would have been a prize to be tamed and pumped full of babies. Nothing more, nothing less. 

‘That’s not the life that I want.’

Discarded and own your own, you unapologetically turned to drugs. Not some low quality trash that would harm you, but something more pure and refined to suit you specifically. Omega Pheromones Blockers or better known as OPB’s. But these were directly from a scientist you stumbled upon. You gave him a blood sample and he tailor made this for you. You thanked the heavens that you were trained to think quickly because the moment you were casted out, it took all but 10 minutes to devise a plan to stay under the radar. Lucky for you that your account was still accessible. You haven been on OPB’s for the last year and to the world, you were just a normal Beta female. Luckily for you, beta's scents were so subtle that it was just barely noticeable. Which is why it is rare for them to attract an Alpha or omega so your almost nonexistent scent went overlooked by everyone. Even if someone did have suspicions, it would become a mere afterthought once they detected your vast amount of curse energy you possessed and that cocky personality of yours. Besides, no omega would be allowed to roam the streets freely without a pack member as protection. 

‘Not like I need a babysitter. I can protect myself.’

But here, fighting the young beta in front of you, was the best! It was fun and he’d never won a single sparring match against you. It fed your ego to know that even as an omega, you were faster and stronger than a beta. Society called you inferior because of your biology but you were so strong. You could handle yourself and even go toe to toe with quite a few alpha’s! Your opponents took you seriously because they thought you were a Beta. Only at the tender age of 17, you were a grade 1 sorcerer and you were a force to be reckoned with. 

However, all of that changed today. You were going to be meeting the trio’s sensei. A powerful, unserious, weirdo, according to Fushiguro. That was extremely confusing to you but Itadori would not shut up about him and with much guilting and convincing, you agreed to meet him. Of course, you have heard about the infamous Gojo clan. Even small families like yours knew to stay clear of them, they were bloodthirsty, ruthless, and carried a deadly aura. Gojo Satoru, was hailed to be the strongest sorcerer of this generation which meant that he was even stronger than anyone in his psychotic clan. So the fact that he existed, a man born with both the Limitless and his Six Eyes, you were not exactly thrilled to be anywhere near that kind of danger. Just the thought of that made your wolf tremble. This was 100% going against your better judgment but it was impossible to deny Itadori. He was such a persistent little golden retriever in your eyes. 

Unexpectedly, the beta in front of you landed a nasty kick to your rib and you doubled over in pain. You swore you heard a faint cracking sound. Yuji's eyes widened as he ran over to you in a panic, the others not so far behind him. 

“Y/N are you ok? I’m so sorry!! I thought you would have dodge.” He crouched next to you in an attempt to assess the damage. You can hear the panic in his voice.

”Y/N! Can you stand? Itadori, you damn idiot! Who kicks a girl with that much force?” Nobara scolded him loudly before punching the top of his head. The Beta winced and Megumi approached y/n.

”I think my rib might be broken…” You chuckle before trying to straighten with some difficulty. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the paper covered bed with a pout as you listened to Shoko explain your diagnosis to you. You hang your head with annoyance, kicking your dangling feet back and forth like an idle child. Shoko sighed, assuming you weren’t paying attention so she grabbed your chin with her delicate fingers and tilted your head to focus on her.

“Y/n-chan, you have 3 hairline fractures. 3-” She held up 3 fingers with her opposite hand.

“On 2 different ribs. Which is a miracle. You are lucky you didn’t end up with a full on break. A direct hit from Itadori-kun is more than capable of doing it.”  She lets go of you and heads to a medicine cabinet.

“…” You deflated even more but winced in pain.

“2 weeks of bed rest. No missions, no training. And no complaining.” She tossed you a bottle of painkillers, which you caught and she fixed you with a look at the last order. She knew you well enough to know you would pout and try to negotiate the terms of your discharge and pretend like you weren’t in pain.  

“Hai. Hai. Shoko-San.” You pouted before sucking in a deep breath to prepare for the pain when you got off the bed. It hurt like a bitch but you didn’t show any signs of pain as you thanked Shoko and exited the room.

The moment you closed the door, you were frozen in place. Hand still clutching the doorknob as a shock ran through your body and your hackles raised. You were internally panicking and you didn’t realize why until you turned your head and saw the last person you wanted to run into. Gojo Satoru. You may never have met him but everyone knew the description of that man. He was the only young sorcerer in Japan with snow white and brilliant blue eyes that you can peeking out from the tinted glasses on his face.

Your instincts recognized the overwhelming power radiating from that unknown alpha before your nose could even pick up the unfamiliar scent. It frightened you, he frightened you. You were sure your scent relayed that much. His scent alone was so overpowering that it engulfed the hallway like a flood. He smelled of the forest. Clean and crisp after a heavy rain and the slight node natural musk. But it was also sweet, like something you know you’ve come across before. You lifted your head a bit and scented the air. ‘Ah, it’s sugared birch.’ It was one of your favorite candle scents and it helped to calm you most after being abandoned here by your parents. You felt dizzy from his scent, like your consciousness left your body and was hovering around you. You felt your wolf whine at that moment, it was muffled but definitely clear enough to snap you out of that haze. She intended to keep you alert in the face of this threat. Right now, he was slowly closing in on you and you were staring in obvious panic. Everything was screaming at you to bare your neck or prostrate yourself as a sign of submission. It was your wolf. She was gnawing at the edges of your psyche and she seemed just as panicked too.

You had to fight tooth and nail with your inner wolf to move. You wanted to run away. Your mind wanted you to run away but your instincts, though weak, told you that it would be incredibly stupid to do so. A slight upwards tilt of the head came from the alpha as he acknowledges your presence, still slowly making his way towards you just gives confirmation that it would be. He looked predatory. Something in that gesture told you that he was daring you to try. He was daring you to run and it would have been a huge mistake because you could tell that he would catch you and you wouldn’t even get far. 

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears by the time the white haired sorcerer finally stopped about an arms length in front of you. ‘This is insane. He had to be at least 6’2. No, maybe 6’3? Jesus, he is massive.’ You thought to yourself as your head traveled up to look at his face. The height difference only made you feel more intimidated by him.

Bending over slightly to look down on your smaller frame, he gave you a beautifully, disarming smile.

 “Yo.”

You tilted your head to the side and blinked at him twice. You stared at that man in complete confusion as you felt the tension in your body easing away immediately. A wave of calm washed over your body, giving you a warm feeling and dulling your senses. ‘What the hell…?’ Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. One moment you were about ready to claw yourself out of your skin to escape if needed, the next, you felt eerily calm and relaxed. Gojo gave you a knowing smirk before straightening to his full height. 

“You must be Nanami’s student. Itadori-kun speaks of you often. I am his sensei, Gojo Satoru.” He held his hand out for you to shake.You looked down at his hand and bit your lip in contemplation. You didn’t want to touch him so instead you quickly bowed instead, a perfect 90 degree angle. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Gojo-San. You are correct, Nanami-san is my sensei. My name is L/n Y/n, I am a Grade 1 sorcerer.” He used the same outstretched hand to gently grip your chin and raised your face to look at him. His fingers were so hot against your skin, uncomfortably so but you just clench your teeth and bared with it. 

“Y/n-chan. It’s a pleasure to meet another promising young sorcerer.” 

“T-thank you…” Internally smacking yourself for stuttering. ‘Ugh. Since when do I even stutter?! Jeez!’  

You waited for him to remove his hand but he never did. Instead, he directed your head to either side slightly. He paused for a moment, seemingly in deep thought then smirked. In response to this, you raised a brow at him in question but he released your chin before you could verbally inquire as to what he was looking at. 

“L/n-chan, I almost forgot-” The door to your right opened and Shoko appeared, interrupting whatever was going on.

“Ah. Gojo. It’s been a while.” The doctor turned and greeted her friend.

“It has been.” He responded in acknowledgment but seems to have kept his eyes on you. 

“Uh, excuse me but I’m going to go now.” You said to the pair.

“Oh, hold on sec. Here.” The doctor turned to you and handed you a bottle of pills.

“Take these with food before bed. It's an antibiotic.”

You looked down at the bottle in your hands and nodded numbly before scurrying off, avoiding the man that you knew was staring at you. You could feel his gaze burning into you back until you turned the corner.  

__________________________________

“Working hard these days, Ieiri?”

”The young ones keep me busy. That one especially.” Shoko said to her friend as she shook her head. 

“Oh?” He inquired curiously. He was very interested in the cute little omega.

”That little beta is quite reckless. This time it's fractured ribs, last month I could barely recognize her, she was beaten so badly that she looked half dead. I’m surprised she made a full recovery, honestly. But.. that girl was the sole reason her team came back without any casualties from a special grade curse mission that they had no business fighting to begin with.” Shoko paused and smiled softly to herself.

‘Beta? Her scent was quite subtle, even for a beta but full of the sweetness only an omega can carry. Besides, she responded well when I used my scent to calm her earlier. There’s no way she is a beta. But if she can fool Nanami and Ieiri, she’s no doubt has fooled the other members of the school. Heh. What a clever little omega.’ He smirked proudly to himself. He was proud to know that the little, barely trained wolf was fiercely protective to the point of sacrificing her own precious life for others. ‘Reckless, indeed though. That little one must have a stubborn streak like no other to persevere in such a battle when all her comrades could no longer fight. Hmm. Brave, talented, and brilliant enough to figure out how to conceal her secondary gender. I’m liking you more and more Y/n L/n.’ He really was very curious about this girl. Gojo rarely got curious about anything but something about this omega really caught his attention.

“Heh, you’ll end up working yourself into an early retirement with that one.” He joked.

“Hopefully not too early. I gave that beta enough tranquilizers to last her 2 whole weeks.” 

“So those antibiotics?”

“Yup, that’s right. They were sedatives.” She beamed at her friend.

“How naughty, Ieiri.” He was chuckled, though he was actually pretty shocked with his former teammate. 

“Don’t give me that. If I hadn’t, surely that child would be back here within the week. I have a lot of work to do and if I can make a preemptive strike to stop her from ending up back in here with even worse damage, then I will.” She ranted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made it to your room with much effort, collapsing on your bed as gently as you could while hissing in pain. Thankfully you had been able to avoid meeting any of your friends on your way here. 

“Fuck… even breathing hurts.” You truly were in too much pain and shock to actually deal with people at the moment. Pain for obvious reasons but shock due to the way your body reacted to your best friend's sensei.

`What the fuck even happened? I’ve never met such an intimidating alpha before. He made my body just go haywired. I went from scared to panicked to dizzy to calm and then docile. What the actual fuck… is that how most omega’s act around True Alpha?’ There were no other True Alpha at this school. True alpha’s were extremely rare. They were born as Alpha’s and so they are one and the same with their wolf. They were usually considered to be a bit on the unhinged side due that since a wolf is the rawest, primal part of an individual. Of course, they didn’t go through ruts until they were physically mature but when they did, it was said to be more intense than that of a regular alpha. They were naturally stronger and more advanced than any other Alpha as well as mask their scents at will. ‘And Gojo sits on the very top of them all. Well at least, that’s what everyone was told.’

You decided to put those thoughts away for the moment and decided you needed a shower. You were dreading it, it’ll definitely take a lot of effort. Sighing, you dragged yourself off the bed with a whimper then headed to the bathroom.

Your shower took a bit longer than expected but it was successful. You were super tired but even more so, you were hungry. Grabbing your phone, you send a quick text to Yuji. 

You: Itadori! I have been released! I just barely escaped clutches of death! :D

Yuji: Y/n-chan! What was the verdict? Will you survive the night? :O

You: Unlikely… But if a brave knight brings me sustenance, there is hope! 

Yuji: Roger! 

You chuckled at that. You knew he would happily get you something to eat since he was your best friend. While you waited, you dressed yourself in a plain satin nightgown that buttoned up. There was no way you would be lifting your arms above your head for a while to put on any other type of clothing. You arrange a few pillows on your bed to prop yourself upright then you sit down and grab your laptop, browsing for a movie. There was a knock at your door about 30 minutes later.

“It’s open!” You shouted and the door opened to reveal two men.

“We come bearing nourishments, my lady.”  Itadori stated with a bad old English accent and it made you giggle. 

“Why thank you, good sir.” You smile and place your palm over your heart, careful not to actually touch your chest and bow your head to him.

Both boys entered the room and closed the door behind them. They took a spot on either side of you then opened the bag of food, pulling out a few different trays from your favorite restaurant and placing them in front of the laptop. 

“How are you feeling Y/n-chan?” Megumi asked you while you guys began to eat. 

“Not terrible, but breathing does hurt a tad bit.” You chuckled to yourself. Itadori turned to you with watery eyes apologized again for hurting you. You poked his cheek with your finger and gave a fake angry look.

”Oh cut it out, it was my fault that I got hurt and you know it. I’m the one who’s sorry for cutting our training time short but guess you finally beat me. It sucks though,  Shoko-san has effectively grounded me for the next 2 weeks.” You huff before pouting.

”It’s a good thing. No one is more danger prone than you, Y/n-chan.” The dark haired one chimed in.

”Hey! Rude! I am not danger prone! Tell him, Itadori-kun!” You turned your head to your best friend for backup. He avoided your gaze and started whistling nervously.

Your mouth dropped open and you smacked his hand.

“Traitor!” You yelled and the both of you laughed while the alpha rolled his eyes at your antics. 

The rest of the night finished with the boys cleaning up and leaving after helping you adjust yourself into a laying down position and you taking your medicine. You have to admit,  the painkiller really helped. In less than 20 minutes you could feel the pain subsiding into a dull throb. Maybe the antibiotics will help too. You sighed in relief and relaxed into the bed just before sleep overtook you.

__________________________________

It was just after midnight when Gojo Satoru appeared outside the window of your dorm. He slid the glass to the side and jumped onto the windowsill, looking down at your sleeping form. He took a whiff of the room, expecting to be engulfed in her scent but he immediately frowned. It smelled disgustingly of his young alpha pseudo son and his newer beta student. Both male scents were stale but having it around the one he was interested in, in her space and over powering your scent did irritate him.

A low grumble emitted from his throat. He was not pleased in the slightest. Though none of those children posed a real threat, he couldn’t hide the displeasure on his face. ‘I came here to explore her scent more. Not to be bombarded by the scents of inferior males.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He could still smell the little one on the bed but it was still quite weak. Especially given the fact that this is your bedroom, your scent should be strongest in here but it was not. He glanced around the room and noticed how bare it was, but he was taken aback to see the lack of a nest. 

‘How strange. Even if she was pretending to be a beta, an omega without a nest is an unstable thing.’

Shaking his head, he crept down onto the bed and sat down with his legs folded at the end of the bed. He slid off his glasses and peered at the sleeping silhouette before him. He could smell better now that he was this close to you.

“Hmm…” Still he was displeased. He wanted to see your face right now and from his position, he could not.Satoru moved to lay beside you, resting his head on his fist to prop him up. He stared at the unconscious little omega. 

“You are pretty enough. A solid 8.5.” He said to no one as he took in your facial features. Your eyelashes were exceptionally long, kissing your cheeks, your lips were a pretty rosy color and your h/c hair cascaded around you in waves, giving you an angelic image. 

“Yes, definitely pretty enough.” He nodded to himself. Focusing on the reason for his visit, the alpha reached out and grabbed the blanket that covered your body, pulling it down to your waist. He was distracted momentarily by how big your breasts were. Your sleep shirt had the first 3 buttons undone, revealing your impressive cleavage. It was hypnotizing to watch your chest rise and fall with each breath and it was almost  tempting to touch her. But Gojo was better than some low level scum. He had way more control than that. He wouldn’t take advantage of an injured omega. 

Ignoring her body, he sat up fully near her face then reached down to tilt your head in his direction and pulled the collar of her dress aside. Without another thought, he brought his head down to her delicate neck and took a deep inhale of you scent, straight from the source. Your scent gland.

The white hair man’s eyes flew open in utter shock. She was sweet, no doubt there, even more so than he originally could pick up earlier. She smelled like a honey crisp apple. He licked his lips, Y/n smelled delicious to him. Sweet and with a slight tartness to it but that was all which was odd. Usually there was a mixture of things that made up a person’s unique scent.

“Wait-”

There was something else, something wrong. Something chemical. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and buried his nose further into your neck. Careful not to touch you beyond that in fear of hurting you, he gripped the bed sheets around you and inhaled again deeply. ‘Hmm. Actually, there are quite a few chemicals.’ It took all of 30 seconds for his brain to pinpoint exactly what was polluting this little omega’s scent. The sorcerer sighed and leaned away from you in realization.

“Suppressants. And damn good ones at that.” 

‘Little girl, how naughty you’ve been. Taking suppressants is very illegal. Though, you must have good connections to get such a high quality drug. Not only are they suppressing your second gender, but it also seems like something this refined is also giving you a false scent of a beta as a cover.’ He thought to himself after sitting up. Regular suppressants were nowhere near this well crafted and would have been easily detected by a jujutsu sorcerer. Essentially, it would never have gotten past Nanam, let alone Ieiri.

‘Heh. I would have never guessed that a student could get her hands on black market drugs. How intriguing you are, little wolf. Much more intriguing than I originally thought.’ He thought to himself as he admired your beauty.

“You seem to be really enjoying the life you have now. It's a shame that I’m going to end up destroying it.” He grinned wickedly, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

“I just don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.” He stroked her cheek lovingly before. His eyes glinted with a new formed obsession.

A/N: Chapter 2 has been posted.

[spdrvyn]

better than snow: MIGUEL O’HARA

summary: have a merry christmas morning! you're groggy and experiencing a mild headache, but it's all worth it especially when you walk into the living room only to see your munch of a boyfriend.

fluff. suggestive. in typical vyn fashion, this is late YAHOO but merry christmas to everyone! i hope you all enjoyed your holidays because i very much did hehe, this fic is inspired by this fanart so go check it out! merrily we fall out of line out of line

You were a merry mess.

There was no such thing as partying too hard, but you thought that you'd never actually reach such a feat until last night. Hell, you didn't even remember falling asleep on the bed.

Don't get anything twisted, you had a lot of fun with Miguel and "coworkers" last night. That's what he liked to call them anyway, you know for sure he wouldn't invite regular subordinates to his home with you to have the craziest Christmas party known to man.

The tanginess of the copious amounts of whiskey you had was still on your tongue, your eyelids still weighed down by the very little sleep that you got. The sun wasn't entirely up yet, orangey hues barely visible through the blinds of the room.

You shivered as the cold hit your bare legs, these were definitely not the clothes you fell asleep in either. You looked down to see a t-shirt that very well reached up to just above your thigh, it was only safe to assume that you made a huge mess of yourself previously and even safer to assume that Miguel would save you by changing you into one of his shirts.

The choice of clothing isn't even necessary, you have clean shirts, but Miguel likes seeing you in his clothes so you weren't going to complain. Besides, it smells and somehow feels like him.

That didn't really help the fact that you were freezing, Nueva York and its deadly temperatures during winter season. You dug through the closet to find big enough blanket to carry, you weren't insane enough to drag the whole comforter of your bed around the flat.

When you entered the living room, the soft crackling noises of a fire the first thing you heard. Each piece of confetti, liquid, and dirty surface had then been wiped clean.

Though, that wasn't the only detail that had you baffled.

The moment your head turned, you could feel your heart stop beating in your chest, your breath slowing down, your blood run cold. Miguel was right there and he wasn't wearing anything else except for his briefs, you could see everything.

Smooth skin, a toned stomach, massive arms shielded by nothing, and the trail of hair that goes down to his even bigger—

"Merry Christmas," he uttered, you nearly choked. Right, right. He's in front of you. Shirtless. No! Act normal, act natural.

"Uh, Merry Christmas." the need for your little blanket lessened even more, this sight was enough to warm you up for the rest of the morning nay rest of the day. Your eyes moved to the mug in his hands that was still steaming hot, he reached it out to you in a silent question if you wanted any but you declined with a shake of your head.

With that, he gulped down the rest of his drink. As he set the mug down on the table, he gestured for you to follow him to which you immediately followed. He sat you down on one of the armchairs, his eyes raked over how you looked now. Bed hair, fingers clutched onto the blanket for dear life, flushed cheeks that you probably didn't know you had. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

He grabbed a present from the Christmas tree before it's presented to you, you tried to study the stern look on his face but if there's one thing you knew about Miguel, it would he how good he was at hiding how excited he was.

You unraveled the present to be met with a language book on how to speak Japanese, you noted the way two slips of paper bookmarked a specific page and when you opened it, you were delighted.

Two plane tickets to Tokyo, Japan and when you read the page that they were slotted into, it's how to say "I love you" in Japanese.

愛してます. Aishitemasu.

Your heart swelled, when you looked back to Miguel, he had the softest smile on his face.

"I'm going on leave for at least a week, we leave in two days."

"Oh, Miguel— this is—"

Unable to find the words for exactly how happy you were, you couldn't do anything more except grab him by his shoulders and kiss him breathless. Passionate was an understatement, you acted as if you were going to steal each breath from his lungs to which he'd let you if you truly desired it.

You've never received a gift this big before, never gone a trip with just you and another person. This is a first time experience for you and you're more than happy about the fact that you're going to be sharing those future memories with Miguel, you wouldn't choose anyone else over him.

When you separated, you both panted into each other's mouths. Miguel had you pushed you back into the armrest, the blanket too close to slipping off your ahoulders.

"I don't want to spend a moment away from you," he took one of your hands and pressed a chaste kiss to your wrist. His other hand slithered down to your lower back now to your bottom before giving it a firm squeeze. "What I want is to love, kiss, and cherish you in every possible. Will you let me? Corazón?"

There was only one answer.

There would only ever be one answer.

"Yes."

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You leave Como, your arrival in Verona is going to make the rest of the trip much more complicated.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance, professor / student relationship, age gap ( 22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing, extremely suggestive, somewhat graphic towards end, minors dni. WC: 5.8k

…

You’re driving him fucking crazy. You’re spending far too much time together. The worst part? — You’re actually listening to him now. No, the worst part about that is that you’ll listen to what he tells you, but you’re still giving him all of that fucking attitude about it.

The two of you have spent so much time together, in fact, that Bradley didn’t get another chance to get Natasha alone. It’s for the best, because she actually smiles and waves him off when he leaves this time. Normally, they’ve argued by now. He never moved on and she’s not coming back — the usual kind of stuff.

Today, she had stretched up onto her tiptoes and draped her arms around his thick shoulders, exhaling calmly against the warm skin of his neck. “We’re looking forward to seeing you again next year, Bradley.”

And then, she had taken a step back and entwined her fingers with her husbands. And Bradley hadn’t said anything. He’d looked the woman that he spent so long loving in the eye, and said absolutely nothing. And now, he’s sitting on a packed minibus to a different location, with nothing but you on his mind.

In a professional sense of course.

It’s professional, because he’s sitting here and watching you read the play that he gave you. It’s from the Gracchan period, a time where social mobility was a big focus, but the play itself is by a very wealthy man — making fun of that. It’s about a girl from a poor family of farmers who falls in love with a very powerful man in their town.

Bradley’s eyes scan the page, then flicker up to your face. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, the small playbook open against one thigh and your dictionary wedged open between yours and Bradley’s. You’re just past the first act.

“I don’t… she…?” You shake your head in confusion, lifting it to look at Bradley. “She wants to belong to him? — Like work for him?”

Bradley’s lips twitch. He gives a small shake of his head, leaning closer and taking the dictionary. He flips around a little, his shoulder pressing into yours. Warm skin, the smell of his cologne, the rumble of the wheels against the uneven road.

Pasquale’s love for the 1970s American rock pours through the car in the form of an Eagles album. Bradley knows which one. You couldn’t have less of a clue.

“She’s saying she wants to give herself to him. Not belong to him.” Bradley explains patiently, turning the book towards you so that you can see the rough translation. It’s an easy mistake to make. That’s why he has you reading the play, so you’ll be able to use the context of the scene to eliminate the mistakes you’re making.

You look up at Bradley briefly. Belong to, give herself to — you’re stuck on how that could possibly not mean the same thing, until it hits you. Give herself to. Her body, she means.

“Oh. Thanks.” You set your headphones back on your ears and turn your attention back to the play. Bradley gives you a curt nod and adjusts his sunglasses. He spreads his thighs just a little. His knee presses gently against yours, not pushing, just sitting there.

You don’t mind it much. But, you’re beginning to notice a pattern. He touches you too much. When you’re studying together, his feet rest on your side of the table, constantly nudging your ankles. He’ll get too close when you’re walking by each other. He’ll sit with his legs spread so far that you’ve got no choice but to let his thigh smush into yours. But, you don’t mind that too much.

What you do mind, is that the man in this book was described briefly in the beginning as having brown curls. And now, now that the protagonist is throwing herself at him, there’s only one person that you’re picturing playing him.

It’s not your fault. He’s arrogant, he mocks her constantly and he’s got brown curls. Sounds like Bradley. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, Bradley’s character is all too willing to make the wrong choice. You swallow softly, brows knitted together as you try to convince yourself that you’ve got the translation wrong.

That his hands aren’t trailing up, under the fabric of his skirt. Your eyes dart from the page to Bradley’s hands resting against his thighs. You study the tanned flesh, the sun-bleached, blonde hair at his wrist. The protruding veins on the back of his hands. The gold class ring on his finger.

Bradley feels you shift in your seat, your thigh knocking into his. He glances down again and quickly back to the road. Those denim cutoffs fit your thighs perfectly. But, he can’t stop himself from taking a peek at your face. Plastered in discomfort.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a book with a sex scene in it, but this is mild compared to some of the content in his class. This book is the introduction to virtus versus pudictia. He figures the concept will be something you get your head around pretty quickly. Men doing whatever the fuck they want and women waiting patiently for a husband. Sounds exactly like what you’ve got going on already.

It’s only a three hour drive from Como to Verona, and Bradley’s got prep work for his research here to get done. He sits there and cards through the papers like he’s working, but really he spends most of the journey just observing.

Your reaction to his syllabus irritates him, but intrigues him in a way that he just can’t explain. He wants you to stop being so old-fashioned and wake up to the concept that sex is just a natural part of life — but also, he isn’t used to being around girls like you. He has made a point of surrounding himself with people who are nothing like you.

“Hey, Bradley,” You broach the topic tentatively, and he feels you shift slightly closer to Pasquale. He sighs. You dog-ear the page and close the book of the play. His eyes linger on that, before he finally looks up at you. You shift once more, taking a deep breath before speaking. “So, I spoke to my parents…”

You’re not going home. That wouldn’t make sense. You wouldn’t have just spent three hours giving yourself a headache by trying to read a raunchy Roman play if you were going home. Bradley’s brows draw together. He sets his papers down on his legs.

Pasquale winces as he looks between the two of you — it has been such a smooth drive so far.

“My dad has spoken to the Dean, he wants me to have my own room for the rest of the trip. He’s paying.” You explain calmly, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your feet against the bench. Dog-earing pages and sitting like a kid, it just doesn’t fit into this image that Bradley has of you in his head.

He scoffs, lips twitching under that stupid moustache. “Of course he is.”

Between the two of you, neither one is really sure what his problem is. Maybe he wants you to be more independent, maybe he just likes the way your face looks when you scowl at him. Either way, he’s an expert at getting under your skin.

“Would you rather pay?” You bite back. Pasquale cringes, leaning away from the two of you. Bradley’s stare is something to behold. He really has perfected it. It’s mean, hardened and it’s superior all at once. And yet, it still doesn’t make him look any less handsome.

“I’d rather that you at least try to get along with the other kids. It would make your life easier.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You know what I meant.” He knows that. It doesn’t make him feel any better about the way he feels about you. But, he knows that you’re more mature than he gives you credit for. Even if you punched him in the nuts last week.

“It’s really none of your business either way, I was just letting you know.”

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while. Almost long enough for the entirety of Hotel California to play through those dusty speakers.

“Does your dad know that you’re the one who started that fight?” Bradley really can’t help it. He’s a decade your senior, he should really be more mature about things. But, there’s just something about you that makes him want to put an end to your know-it-all attitude.

“I didn’t.” You cross one knee over the other, lifting your chin and straightening your spine.

“Pulled a good handful of her hair out, kid.” He scoffs, turning his attention back to his paperwork. His tone is so dismissive that even Pasquale wouldn’t judge you for hitting him in the balls again.

“I’m not a kid!” You turn sharply towards him, scowling furiously.

“Right. That’s why you’re here, huh? — Because you’re grown up enough to stand up to your dad?” He doesn’t even look up at you. That’s the worst part. Pasquale winces so hard that he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes open and on the road. He waits for the sound of an impact, a hit, a scream — anything.

Instead, you lean in so close that the soft curve of your breast nudges Bradley’s arm. “I’m grown up enough to know that pining over a married woman is pathetic.”

“Pining? — Kid, your own fucking fiancé couldn’t care if you lived or died. Don’t fucking lecture me about love.”

It falls quiet quickly. The voices in the back of the bus fade out, everyone turns their attention towards the two of you, arguing again. You look down slowly. Bradley follows your gaze to his fingers curled around your forearm, tight. He looks back up and this is all to familiar. Sitting with you facing him, blinking at him like you’re about to cry.

“Get out.” He breathes finally, releasing your arm and sitting back against the door. Your face twists, confused. Pasquale shoots a look at Bradley — they can’t just leave a kid on the side of the road, surely. “Sit in the back. Finish that fucking play, we’ve got more to cover.”

Pasquale pulls over to the side of the winding, countryside road and steps out of the van, pulling his door open. You’re silent as you get out and step into the back, finding all of the seats taken. Abigail pushes Luke’s backpack off of a seat and gestures for you to sit with a pitiful smile. You take the spot and secure your headphones over your ears again, reaching to the Walkman at your side and skipping the song.

You don’t say another word for the rest of the drive. Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He gives you your key first just so you’ll go. This place does have an elevator, it’s just dusty and creaky and awful. You’re on a different floor to everyone else too. That doesn’t help.

You sit down, settling against the foot of the bed with your suitcase abandoned in the corner. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship. He just has so many cruel things that he could say to you — she’s all that you’ve got on him, and clearly she is a sore subject. The thought bubbles in your chest to the point that it makes your face warm. It makes you entire body hot.

That stupid look on his face. Like he knows anything about you, or Malcolm, or the way that you love each other.

You wish you had longer to sit and stew. Instead, you’re interrupted by his stupid, big fist slamming against the other side of the door to your hotel room. You know it’s him because he’s the only one rude enough to do it. Unsurprisingly, when you tear the door open, he’s the one in the hall. Without saying anything, he brushes past you and walks inside, then lifts up the textbook in his hand.

“Let’s get this shit over with so that we don’t have to see each other later.”

You wouldn’t be foolish enough to think he was here to apologise, but still, his attitude makes you want to hit him with that textbook. But, he’s got a point, and you would rather not see him this evening either. So, you sit down on the bed and fold your arms over your chest.

He takes a look at you and frowns, then does a survey of the room. Wardrobe, your own bathroom, two nightstands, suitcase rack, floor lamp. No desk. Begrudgingly, he takes a seat beside you on the bed.

“Alright, the play that I gave you,” He exhales like that will make him let go of all of the anger he’s holding on to. It doesn’t. “It focuses heavily on the sexual roles of men and women in developing Rome. Did you pick up on that?”

You watch him open the textbook and flip through, searching for something in particular. It really would be quite easy to tear the book from his hands and get him with it. It’s a hefty book. Instead, you shrug your shoulders and leave him with a simple, “I guess.”

He looks up at you, bored. “You guess? — The male main character had a wife, a girlfriend and a mistress. The female main character devoted herself solely to this one man, that she knew was never going to be hers. What do you think that suggests about gender roles back then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, stop acting like you’re stupid.” He bites back. There’s a second where you stare at him and both of you take a moment to decide whether this is going to become another argument. You sigh softly.

“It’s patriarchal.”

“Right,” Bradley nods, “So there were these concepts back then called—“

The lesson goes on, and the more you engage, the less hostile he becomes. As much as you struggle when it comes to reading text excerpts and answering the questions he gives you on those, it gets to the point where you’ll crack a joke and he’ll laugh. That’s got to be diplomacy of some kind.

Both of you grow unintentionally closer, shifting periodically, leaning closer to see the text, or look at a picture. So, when you’re stumped by a question and you turn sharply away from him and throw yourself down, smushing your face into the pillow and growling in frustration, he finally realizes just how close the two of you have gotten.

You, laying on your front on this double bed, groaning into the pillow. Him, close enough that if he moved his leg, it would graze your hip. Bradley stares at you for a moment, then — while you’re not looking — lets his eyes trail. Along the feminine length of your legs, up over the curve of your waist in those cut-offs.

He lifts a hand and strokes it tenderly over the top of your hair, careful not to catch of tug at your lengths. He repeats the motion a few times. You feel him shift closer.

“It’s alright,” Bradley says quietly, stroking your hair back with a surprisingly gentle hand. “It’s a hard class. That was good. You’re doing well, I’m impressed.”

“Please,” You scoff without lifting your face from the pillow. You shift just a little and hook your arms under it, hugging it closer to your body. His eyes dart down to the way your back curves into your eyes, then slam shut. He should make an excuse to leave. “The only thing that could impress you would have happened a hundred years ago.”

“You know that this course focuses mainly on things that happened from —“ Bradley stops correcting you as you turn your head and glare at him. His eyes are trained on your face. He’s not looking at the way those denim cut-offs hug your figure, but fuck, he’s thinking about it. “Nevermind.”

He stares forwards. His hand is still resting in your hair. He should move it. He should leave. He hasn’t ever felt like this — countless students throwing themselves at him and he’s ignored every single one. He’s being ridiculous. It’s just the forbidden fruit effect. The proximity.

He should move his hand. He just can’t take his eyes off of your face. The swell of your lips. The slight scrunch of your nose. The narrowed look in your eyes. Bradley lifts his hand.

Then, he takes the length of your hair resting against your cheek and brushes it softly back, revealing the rest of your face to him. He shifts his hips, sitting just a fraction closer, making you easier to reach as you lay at his side.

“I mean it,” He says quietly. Your lips quirk softly, almost a smile. You’re about to tell him that he’s probably never spoken to you so kindly ever. Then, he speaks again. “You’re trying. I see that you’re trying. You’re doing a really good job.”

His thumb swipes softly over your temple, guiding your hair back further out of your face. The smile fades from your face. Then, you’re just blinking up at him. Your face is calm. His doesn’t reveal anything.

Slowly, his thumb swipes along the same trial. Over the skin covering your temple, just slightly into your hairline. It doesn’t even cross your mind to move. Maybe because you’re too thrown off by this sudden tenderness, maybe because you don’t actually hate this feeling.

The third time, he doesn’t follow the same route. His thumb swipes tenderly along the skin of your cheek, gently trailing in a small circle along the apple of your cheek. Further down. You stare up at him. Your heartbeat betrays you, thudding away in your chest as his thumb leaves your cheek and meets the corner of your mouth.

His eyes dart from his thumb to your eyes, studying your expression briefly, before he looks down again. You’re silent as he swipes his thumb delicately over the plump skin of your bottom lip.

“What did you mean earlier? — About Malcolm?” Your sudden question surprises the both of you, putting an abrupt end to the out of body feeling that was fogging Bradley’s mind. He blinks, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his hand away from your face.

“What?”

“You said he wouldn’t care if I lived or died. Why?” You push yourself up from your front, settling onto your knees instead. Bradley’s brows knit together. The only thing he can think to say is your name. He stumbles it out, baffled. “You don’t even know him. Why would you say something like that?”

He could turn this into another screaming match. Avoid answering until you’re yelling so hard that you’re blue in the face. But, he won’t. He deserves answers too — he’s tired of that night clouding his head, having no idea if you remember or not.

“Because he left you on the side of the road to freeze to death last December,” Bradley’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s sitting on your bed, alone in your room. Your face twists in confusion. He’s not done yet. “And the only reason you didn’t freeze to death was because I hauled your ass into my truck and drove you to your parents’ house.”

He’s expecting to have to elaborate further, but you know exactly which night he was talking about. You remember the three days after blacking out that Malcolm wouldn’t so much as answer the phone to you.

“No you didn’t.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at you. He wishes there was something he could show you, some way he could prove to you how fucked up you had been when he had found you on that curb.

“You were wearing a blue dress with sparkly shit on it,” Bradley says, his voice too calm. You were. You woke up still in it the next morning. “Open-toed heels.”

What the fuck were you thinking? — In the middle of December?

“Your parents live at the end of a long street with a bunch of Oak trees on it,” They do. Last house on the left. You stare at him, unblinking. “Your room is on the second floor, at the back of the house. Your window overlooks the swimming pool. I called your fiancé from that stupid fucking pink phone on your nightstand eight times before he picked up.”

Your chest shudders with the next slow breath that you draw in. He sits there, watching you try to rationalize what he’s telling you. There’s too much information for it to be a lie. The look on his face tells you that he isn’t lying.

“You… spoke to Malcolm that night? — What did he say?”

Bradley makes a face, then turns his chin towards the ceiling and sighs. He looks down and rubs his rough palm over his jaw, shaking his head at you. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he left you in the fucking snow, unconscious.”

The air conditioning unit rattles behind you, making you all the more aware of the sweat starting to bead on the nape of your neck. You swallow softly and look down at the textbook between the two of you.

“We were fighting that night, but he — I think I — I think I ran off…” Your memories of that night are fuzzy. Truthfully, you can’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about, much less what happened for him to be so angry even days later. “Whatever happened wasn’t his fault—“

“No?” Bradley interrupts, a level louder than he had been previously. You pull back from him subconsciously, bracing yourself on the bed behind you, trying to find purchase in the sheets. “It wasn’t his fault? — Anything could have happened to you, you know that? — What kind of man lets someone that they love put themselves at risk like that?”

“He probably didn’t realize. I’m sure he thought that I got a cab. Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him?”

Wait, Bradley, what did you say to him? — He’s looking at you, but he’s had this conversation before with Natasha. All those years ago. Seconds before he had answered her and watched any love she had had for him ebb away.

“We had a conversation.” Bradley answers you dryly. Your brows knit together, leaning just slightly closer. “I asked him where he was. If he knew where you were. He asked me if you were still sulking on the curb outside of the quad. He knew exactly where you were.”

Finally, he renders you speechless. For the first time, maybe ever, you’re left without something to say to him. There’s a brief silence between the two of you before he speaks again.

“What were the two of you arguing about that night?” Bradley presses.

“I — I can’t remember. Something stu—“

“Why did you kiss me?”

Your eyes go round, widening incredulously at the man sitting on the other side of your bed. The man that you’ve spent the last week and a half screaming at. The smug, over-confident man ten years older than you who refuses to dress his age or pay grade. The man who threatened your fiancé back in December.

“What?” You shriek, pushing up onto your knees and scrunching your face up at him.

“You sat in my car and begged me not to take you into your parents’ house. You kissed me. I dragged you out of the truck and put you to bed.” Bradley says it so calmly — you wonder how often he has thought about this moment to be able to recount it so easily.

You look him over. There’s no more distance between the two of you than there would be between a driver’s seat and a passenger seat. Obviously you were out of your mind that night, running away from Malcolm and not kicking and screaming when this oaf had put you in his car. But there’s not a chance in hell that you would have kissed him. You can’t stand him.

Still, here with just the two of you, you’re not sure how it would benefit him to be lying about this.

So, you take a deep breath and try to ignore the heartbeat thudding in your ears. You stare at him. His hair is neat enough. Short at the back and sides, curly on top. It would have been shorter when he was in the Navy, but you remember it being longer at the beginning of the year. You hadn’t shown up to many of his classes, so you can only guess at what he wore during the winter. Vaguely, you’ve got a memory of him in grey slacks and a navy sweater. Still not wearing a tie.

If he had come straight from his office, he would be in his work clothes. You would be sitting in the passenger side of his truck. It was snowing out, so you know he would have been cold. The sun-kissed pink hue on his cheeks was probably still there, just frost-chilled in variety this time. His facial hair is always neat. Everything tidily shaved, his moustache always trimmed. He’s certainly not ugly.

Long lashes. A slight bump in his nose, like he might have broken it once, but it suits him. Slightly raised scar tissue on his cheek, his throat. Lashes that touch the bone of his eye socket when he closes his eyes. Freckles dotting his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Eyes that can’t quite decide whether they’re brown, black, amber or hazel. Pink, plush lips.

Ah. That’s where your attention catches. You practically take a mental snapshot of the place where your eyes land. The hollows of his cheeks, the scars on his left side. His strong jaw, usually clenched when he’s looking at you. The thick length of his neck, his protruding adam’s apple, the gold chain usually visible just inside of his collar. Those thick, reddish pink lips.

Pushing up on your knees, you lift your gaze and find him already staring. He knows exactly what you’re about to do. His hand finds your hip and grabs at it roughly as you put one knee in front of the other and crawl to him. He guides you where he wants you and lifts his other hand, cupping your jaw.

His rough palm sits against your jaw bone. Tenderly touching your cheek, just slightly grazing your throat. Eclipsing the side of your face with the magnitude of his hand size. Even up close, you’ve still got no clue of why you would kiss him. Well, nothing that you can rationalize. No explanation that would make any kind of sense to you on any regular day.

But, if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s because you know that there is no rationalizing this. The want that you feel for him just doesn’t make sense. His fingers curled around your hipbone, pressing roughly into the denim there — it doesn’t make sense.

And yet, when the strong hand on the side of your jaw pulls you forwards, you’re all too willing to lean all the way into him and kiss him. Softly, slowly. Your bottom lip between his, controlled even though all he wants to do is throw you down on his bed and kiss you like he means it.

Bradley figures that’s a bad thing, that he’s in control of the situation enough to be gentle with you, but not to stop himself from making this mistake. His tongue swipes softly against your lip at the same time his hand tugs at your hip. You wobble forwards, he parts his thighs and tugs again making you land unceremoniously against his legs.

You can feel the abandoned textbook digging into your ankle. Its glossed pages, open and forgotten.

His hand trails from your jaw, around to the back of your neck. He feels you tense against him as he pulls you close by your neck and your waist, lifting, and then planting you on your back. The second that your spine touches the sheets, you tear your mouth away from his with a gasp.

He stills, kneeling between your parted thighs, staring down at you. You glance down. He watches your brows knit together and follows your gaze down to the necklace that has slipped from his shirt. You lift your stiff hand from your side and reach out for it. He swallows as the delicate tips of your fingers graze the gold cross. You wonder where his dog tags are. Why he’s wearing this today. If he just wore the tags for Natasha’s benefit, maybe.

“I didn’t know you’re religious.” You breathe out. He’s just close enough to be able to hear you. His hands flex around the pits of your knees, skimming down your calves.

“I’m not,” He answers you quietly. “It belonged to my dad.”

You breathe out hard, but it doesn’t make that weird feeling in your chest go away. You just keep on staring at that dangling necklace. Something keeps you from looking him in the eye. Fear, shame — lust — you’re not sure exactly what it is.

Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of his flexing forearm, planted beside your head. Bradley watches through darkened eyes as you reach out once again, starting at the back of his hand. You trail the vein in his skin from his fist, up along the inside of his forearm, onto his bicep. Stopping at the hem of his white t-shirt sleeve.

Bradley leans down, moving to the side to catch your mouth. This second kiss is different from the first. It’s all him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you’ve got the sense to press into him, to open your mouth. Both of you are surely aware of how dead still you’re laying, the way your hands are balled in the sheets at your sides.

But, you lift your chin and chase his kiss like he’s got your next breath. He pushes harder against you, his tongue pressing forwards and grazing yours. Suddenly, your hands aren’t so still any more. They’re up and shoving at his chest.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, horrified.

He sits back on his knees and stares at you. You’re right. What the fuck is he doing? — You’re one of his students, and fuck, your father would never let this go. Your fiancé too. Fuck, your fiancé.

“Keep your tongue in your mouth, what is the matter with you?” You snap at him, sitting up swiftly and hitting his chest with another hard shove. Bradley stares at you. Never in a million years was he expecting your issue here to be with the fact that he’d barely grazed your tongue with his.

“Excuse me?”

“Your tongue, you animal! — What do you think you’re doing?” You pull your legs out from between his thighs and shift away from him, leaping off of the bed. His jaw falls slack, staring at the way you’re glaring at him from the bottom of the bed.

“Kissing! — What? — Are you telling me that you’ve never—“ He shakes his head, trying to make sense of what he’s hearing. He knew you were inexperienced but french kissing has been popular in the US for a lot longer than you’ve even been alive.

“No, I haven’t! — What kind of girl—“

“Alright, stop yelling, stop yelling!” Bradley stands up swiftly and catches hold of both of your biceps. Quieting, you crane your neck back to look at him. He looks down at you and exhales. “That was a mistake. Right?”

His thumbs brush gently along the backs of your arms. You’re silent, just staring up at him, but he gives a quick nod anyway. That’s good enough. Squeezing your arm, he lets you go and then moves.

“Fuck. Okay,” He runs a hand over his jaw and turns, dizzily trying to collect his things. “We’re good. We just need to not get in each other’s way, get you a C — and then we’re out of each other’s hair.”

There are so many things you want to say. Even more that you want to ask him. But, you don’t. You just nod silently at him and tuck your hands behind your back. Then, you make the mistake of glancing downwards. The khaki colouring of his shorts has never looked as indecent as it does now.

Bradley doesn’t need to follow your gaze to know what you’re staring at. He knows all too well that he has been rock hard since he first grabbed at your hip. The little squeak you had made had sent every red blood cell in his body rushing south, and the way you’re staring at his straining dick now doesn’t help.

You make it worse too. There’s no shock on your face, you’re not saying anything. You’re just staring at the way his thick length is pressing against the fabric of the shorts, hard, and because of you. Natasha, that you had understood. She had been touching him and she was undeniably gorgeous. And they had history.

“Stop —“ Bradley pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and dips a hand into his shorts to adjust himself with the other. That still doesn’t stop you from staring. He frowns at you. First you don’t know how to kiss, and now he’s realizing that you’ve probably never seen a dick either. “For fucks’ sake.

Your eyes finally go wide as he grabs the textbook, turns on his heel and leaves the room with a slam of the door. You flinch at the sound, suddenly completely alone in your room, reeling. Ashamedly, your first instinct is to call Matthew.

Bradley walks down the hall, takes the stairs, and into his own room. It’s empty, meaning that Luke’s probably in Robin’s room. Bradley should be an adult and go and lecture them both. Instead, he slams the door to their bathroom and twists the lock. Cold water probably would have been the best thing to do. Instead, letting the warm stream soak his body, his clothes ditched on the floor, he feels like he can finally breathe.

Truthfully, your fiancé is the furthest thing from his mind. The fact that you’re his student has never felt as minuscule as it did when he was kneeling between your thighs and watching your delicate fingers toy with his necklace. You’re graduating. This is just extra credit. If you had passed the first time, you’d be out of his class already.

All the excuses in the world doesn’t make it okay that he has kissed you twice now. But, that doesn’t stop him from trailing his palm along his toned stomach, wrapping a hand loosely around the base of his cock and planting his free palm on the tile in front of him.

Upstairs and three doors to the right, you’re sitting criss-crossed on the same bed that you had just kissed your professor in with an old plastic phone pressed to your ear. The line rings, and rings until it feels like you’re about to burst into tears until finally his voice comes through on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need to ask you something and I need you to please answer me honestly. Okay?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @cherrycola27 @sugarcoated-lame

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Can I request the 141 team x reader

Where reader is kinda stupid and a tall fox like person, has super sharp canines and while they are cuddling maybe it goes to fair and reader bites them and says "look I marked you lol" just stares at it for a moment before (either cleaning it up with a medkit or with their mouth) idk I'm craving something that's like me and I have sharp canines.

If you have done something like this please feel free to delete!

[A/n:Mm, this is different, I like it. Thank you for requesting]

Summary:Your a foxy person with sharp teeth, one day you accidentally bite them alittle to hard and help clean the bite

Type:Short Scenarios: Price X M!Reader: Ghost X M!Reader: Soap X M!Reader: Gaz X M!Reader

Version:Mw2

Ghost

He's already use to your foxyness, that's why your a good sniper. He's used to it, nothing can really surprise him when do these foxy shenanigans. When you guys where cuddling his back was pressed against your chest, he was just laying there, caressing your hand gently. He was half way asleep when you bite him. He jumped and quickly turned around.

"Haha, look i marked you...actually, that looks like it hurts"

You got up dragging Ghost with you. He'll never tell you about the raging blush behind his mask. Getting the first aid kit you gently cleaned the bite. Ghost was quiet still half asleep, that's why he didn't say anything before.

"And there"

Kissing the bite gently you patted his thigh before you both headed back to bed, him staying up alittle longer than he hoped just touching the bite mark slightly, a small blush still on his face.

Price

You were foxy yes, but you were also a crazy good sniper because of that so he never stopped you. Your small pranks were harmless at least, besides the time you and Soap planted C4 near the base to scare the new recruits. You two had a earload from price and a hell of a punishment. Price was reading in bed, sitting up while you layed on him. He had his book rested on your head. Staring at his thigh before glancing up at him. Biting his thign he yelped.

"OW-Fuck!"

Hitting you upside the head with the book he had he gently rubbed the spot you bit. You looked up at him with a sad look before lifting his shorts and boxers to find the bite mark. Price watched as you licked and kissed the bite mark gently "cleaning" it. Chuckling at this he patted your head and got back to his book. Hoping to hide his face. You sucking at his thigh has him alittle flustered.

Gaz

He helped in your shenanigans. It's one if his favorite activities. Running around with his boyfriend messing with people and playing pranks. Its so fun, he calls them dates instead if messing around. He'd probably be laying on top of you, hugging your neck, napping. His small snores making you smile, but the drool on your neck not so much. Chuckling to yourself you kiss his shoulder. Looking at him, like your waiting for something. Deciding it was safe you opened your mouth, stilling looking at him, you bit him. Hard. Hearing a small yelp you felt his shoulder collide with your jaw. Letting out a groan you rubbed your jaw. Gaz looked at you horrified, not processing you bit him.

"Huh?! What happened?!"

Gently grabbed your face Gsz kissed your Jaw to hopefully help it. You smiled tapping his non exposed shoulder.

"I marked you. See?"

You pushed his sleeve out of the way so he could see it. Sighing Gaz stood up to find the first aid kit, it was a bad bite, probably because he slammed(?) His shoulder into your jaw as soon as he felt pressure on it. Cleaning the bite Gaz looked at you, now proped on your elbows staring at him. Gaz gave a small smile before looking back at the bite mark.

Soap

He loves how foxy you are, he now has an excuse to call you foxy, hinting at the fact he thinks your hot. The C4 thing got him in a but load of trouble but doing it with you made it 10x more worth. Sitting next to you on the couch, well more like leaning against you. Soap was on his phone, going back and forth with some silly arguments with his siblings, since there all in a group chat. Looking back at you Soap went on about how his sister were saying something about him being single, and how he wanted a photo with you. Smiling you nodded. Soap smiled back with a wide grin, getting his phone camera ready, he lifted it above his head to get the both of you. Soap Smiled wide, eyes closing slightly. Deciding to take this change, you bit his cheek. The picture took a second before he reacted, it being of Soap smiling wide with his eyes closed, and you biting his cheek, so they couldn't see your face.

"OW! What the hell!"

You smiled cheeky and kissed the bite. He still sent the picture but now he was grumby, punching you slightly.

"Love you too Soap"

He just grumbled something under his breath.

~

[A/n:all my other requests are Scenarios so they might take longer. Thank you for requesting]

[pumpkinsy0]

In a world where pony and curly would have been able to freely date and be romantic public, can we get hcs for them going on dates?? I feel like Pony would try and orchestrate book-like romantic dates and curly would end up embarrassing them both 😭

i dont think ive acc made hcs for this before omg strap in

•first off ik their hungry asses would love diner dates, they dont even talk that much they just stuff their face and theyre so real for that

•curly would USE that jukebox, its like he’s hogging it, he specifically picks songs pony likes, even if he only mentioned it like ONCE and then never again

•if someone tries speaking up about it being annoying, curly just scares them off, when hes in the diner its HIS diner brah, get w the times🙄🙄

•roller skating was already a pretty popular thing around that time, much to their fun i could see pony dragging curly along, much ti the dismay of everyone else i can see THEM going

•ponys at least normal, he tries skating around, meanwhile curlys going at the speed of a literal bullet, hes pushed some poor people over

•left pony standing there having to apologize for him, curlys treating ts like its roller derby

•them record store browsing,,,honestly this wasnt even a date, pony was just looking around and curly saw him through the window and joined him

•really pony didnt even wanna buy anything but curly said tim gave him so money and said he could get him something, so pony was VERY analytical about what he wanted to but since this is like a once in a year sweet treat for him

•curly accidentally broke one of the records but the clerk aint see so for all they know, they just found it like that

•but now when pony plays that record when hes alone, he thinks of curly, like the equivalent of a friend showing u this song and now when u listen to it, u think of em

•surfing culture was actually on the rise in the 60s (not rlly in oklahoma but yknow, it was a growing thing) so on a beach date, curlys THAT guy saying that looks gay as hell (despite the fact that he’s literally on a date rn but shhhh)

•pony would HATE swimming at the beach, he hates the water sm, so he’s just building a sand castle or somethin, curly got him to at least get his feet in it, but nothing too crazy

•they spend most of the time w ponys sand castle, pony just wanted to make one and curly was obsessed w making it cooler than that stupid ass 5 year olds sand castle

•curly either buried pony in the sand or was throwing wet sandballs at ponys back, but at some point he missed and hit this other white guy and had to pretend it wasnt him who threw that, pony and him moved away just in case

•pony was picking up seashells and curly found some ones he thought was cool n just gave it to pony

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

In my spare time, when I'm not watching dramas I'm either reading books or watching people talking about books on YouTube. One tradition I've always really enjoyed is their "Mid-Year Freak Out" tag, especially because I like the idea of getting a chance to reflect on the year so far as well as look to the year ahead.

This year I thought I'd combine my two passions and use (and in some cases alter) the prompts for my own use, i.e. so that I can talk about dramas rather than books.

The only rule: answer the questions (and go wild I guess).

And we start the list with the biggest risk! No The Trainee is nowhere near finished and, no I have no idea how it's going to finish (it's GMMTV it could drop the ball through the floor and into the earth's core for all I know) but, if it manages to keep going the way it's going, I'm going to absolutely love it. I've mentioned before that The Trainee reminds me a lot of Misaeng, what I haven't said is that Misaeng is my (tied) favourite drama of all time and if The Trainee can get anywhere close to making me feel like I did the first time I watched Misaeng (which it is so far) then it's on to a winning formula.

So far it's got everything I look for in a drama: a solid cast with excellent chemistry, a plot that focuses on the little battles of everyday life, and an excellent mix of fast friendship and slow burn romance with plenty of character development along the way. It also doesn't hurt that it's got the balance between slapstick-funny and emotional tension pretty much bang on either.

I can't get this drama or it's characters out of my head and I am deeply, deeply, invested in where things are going next so, as a nod to the hold it has on me and my hope that I've found a new all-time fave, The Trainee is my favourite drama so far so GMMTV DO NOT LET ME DOWN.

Thai BL opening themes can be very hit or miss for me (I won't lie, I have skipped many an opening sequence because I can't stand the song) but Wandee Goodday's "Fan With Benefit" caught my ear the first time I heard it and refused to leave me alone after that. I think I listened to it on repeat for at least 2 weeks and then at least once a day after that.

It's fun, it's flirty, it's got a chorus I like to dance to and it has now found itself on my "Songs to Cook Dinner To" playlist (I don't know if that says more about the song or how I cook dinner).

Now if only the drama lived up to its theme song...

Last Twilight would have been on this list had I not dropped it in December and, as a result, rendered it ineligible for a 2024 drama. I'm still absolutely fuming about how badly it let its audience down and how terribly it handled an extremely nuisanced topic to the point its final messaging was almost harmful.

I'm not going to get into this in too much detail because my frustrations have been voiced much more eloquently by people @lurkingshan and @twig-tea. I will say, however, that I loved the first 6(?) episodes of Wandee Goodday and I'm really sad about how much I didn't enjoy the rest of the drama.

There were a lot of things to like (and a lot of potential) right from the start: two couples with great chemistry, an ace character with actual depth and dimension, really sweet relationships (both familial and friendships), and the foundations for some interesting explorations of various interpersonal dynamics. Unfortunately none of these things really got followed through on and instead Wandee decided to go dark (with topics like mental health, sexual assault, loss and grief, parental neglect and abandonment to name a few) and do it badly. I don't mind if a show wants to explore difficult topics, in fact I really appreciate it, but what I won't tolerate is a drama introducing those topics as central plot points and then skimming over them in the most superficial way possible.

If you can't be bothered to put in the effort to properly research/explore difficult topics, do not include them in your drama.

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SHOW SINCE IT FIRST GOT ANNOUNCED. Which unfortunate because I was so excited for it I got stressed about it living up to my expectations (or not) and then couldn't watch it when it came out. It's annoying, it happens, I know how to fix it.

Anyway, I've given it some space, I've dealt with the other things that were making me stressed and I am now ready to devour it give it a go.

I have long been a fan of Ahn Pan Seok's works and I really appreciate his directorial style, the themes he chooses to tackle, and the way in which he explores his topics of choice. I will fully acknowledge his work is not for everyone; he favours slow (extremely slow) stories with characters and plots who are realistic to a frustrating (and sometimes infuriating) degree. You also need to have a pretty in depth understanding of Korean society and its problems, taboos and concerns to fully understand the underlying messages of his dramas and the structures/beliefs/views he's critiquing. That being said, for me that is the perfect recipe for a drama that's going to claw itself into my brain and stay there.

Secret Love Affair, One Spring Night, and Something in the Rain all had a lasting impact on me and, thanks to @lurkingshan's posts, I'm pretty sure Midnight Romance in Hagwon will join them.

It may come as a surprise after the last entry but I actually try quite hard to not get hyped about upcoming releases, mainly to avoid creating any expectations which can then be disappointed. I like to go in with as open a mind as possible.

As a result, there are a few upcoming releases I'm keeping an eye on but none I'd say I'm properly "anticipating" (á la Midnight Romance in Hagwon). The closest I can get is Monster Next Door which I am genuinely excited for and which I plan to watch from day 1.

I'm not completely sure why I'm looking forward to it so much, I think it's because I do love a good opposites attract, foes-to-hoes dynamic and Monster Next Door seems like it's going to offer that to me in spades alongside a serving of comedy and a sprinkling of heat. Bring the introvert-extrovert pairing and let me watch them be stupidly whipped for each other, it's all I need for now.

Technically all of the dramas on my Want to Watch list because I want to clear it but I'm aware that that's a bit of a reach.... If anyone can spot any dramas on here that you think I should prioritize (or dramas you think I should scrap), recommendations would be appreciated.

I also want to watch more Japanese BLs. The few I've got through, I've enjoyed and, for a lot of them, I've already read and loved the source manga so I know I'll enjoy the plot. Unfortunately I really struggle with the short episodes (30 minutes is not long enough for me to get invested) and that I have to commit to binging them and can't watch them while they're airing, which is a whole other issue. I'm thinking of focussing on Japanese GL for now as a hook (I'm not enjoying the current Thai GL line up and I'm running out of Korean GL I can find online) so I guess the dramas I "need" to watch are She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat and Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko.

* Biggest surprise

* Newest favourite actor/director/writer/producer

* Most beautiful drama

* Newest fictional crush

* Newest favourite character

* A drama that made you cry

* A drama that made you happy

And there you have it! Lightly tagging @lurkingshan @twig-tea and @italianpersonwithashippersheart but no pressure! Anyone else who wants to do this, feel free! Just tag me so I can gather more recs to make my To Watch list even longer.

[asshlyyyy]

Christmas

Fic Warnings: Mentions of possible miscarriage. Pregnancy, swearing I'm pretty sure...? If not, disregard this warning. Mentions of being sick, being sick, vomiting. There may be spelling and grammatical errors. Author's note at the end. Please let me know if I missed any warnings! Thank you!

Note: This could be read as a stand alone or as a part two to Thanksgiving!

Masterlist | Previous Part

You walked up to the front door and turned the handle opening up the door. You two never really bothered to lock the door since you were behind the gates. You only really locked it at night. You placed your car keys off to the side, away from Elvis��� cause lord knows he doesn’t know which key belongs to which car. You closed the door behind you and started to take off your coat. 

“Mama!” Your son’s voice filled your ears.

“Hi my sweet son,” You smiled and hung the coat up. You walked over to him and picked him up from the floor, Elvis was just sitting a few feet away from you. 

You had just come back from your doctor’s appointment to check on the baby. Elvis wanted to come with, but someone had to watch Theodore. You also couldn’t bring him because he doesn’t do the best in new places.

“How’d it go?” Elvis asked as he got up and made his way over to you. 

“It went well, he just told me to be careful.” You responded with a smile as you looked up at him. 

“So nothing bad?” He questioned as he placed his arm around you. You let out a hum and shook your head. 

“No, he just thinks it might be stress because of the holidays.” You responded as you kissed your son's head, holding him close to your chest. 

“Okay,” Elvis nodded and kissed the side of your head, offering to take your purse. Which you happily gave him. You sat down on the couch and just held your son close. You looked down at your belly and frowned lightly. 

For how far along you were, you were growing big. With Theo, you carried him small, but it looks like this baby wants more room. You knew that with each pregnancy you were bound to grow weight, it’s natural. Not only because of the baby but also because of how our body works. You were good at keeping control of it. 

“What are we doing for Christmas?” You asked as you looked over towards Elvis who was picking up the toys off the ground. 

“I think we were going to host again?” Elvis looked at you with a questioning expression. 

“We can, we would just have to go to the store. We just don't have ham or anything.” You explained to him as you rubbed Theo’s back gently.

“I can send someone out. The stores are probably crazy right now.” You nodded lightly at his response. Your heart felt… sad. It felt empty almost.

“Can you put him down for his nap?” You asked as you looked at the sleepy boy on your chest. 

“Yeah of course,” Elvis said as he took Theodore out of your arms. You mumbled a thank you and watched as he walked away. Elvis knew something was wrong the moment you walked inside. He just didn’t know how much truth you told him. 

You lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket down onto your body. You cuddled into the blanket and reached for the book that was on the coffee table. It was one of your sons, but it was a story either way. It was the story of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Did it give your son a light scare at first? Yes, but once he learned that the Grinch doesn’t come unless you are extra bad, he was okay. 

You actually had a lot of Dr. Suess books. In fact, you got Theodore the two that came out this year for his present. How you opted to do Christmas was that Santa gave the essentials, the ‘boring’ stuff some may call. He may give a toy here and there, but the fun stuff comes from the parents. You didn’t want him to see you guys as boring. To some kids, books may be a boring gift, but he loves to look at the pictures. He was still too young to read, but he liked to point at everything and ask, wha?

You heard Elvis as he began to walk down the stairs. His shoes hit rough against the carpeted stairs. Which bothered you to no extent. You wanted to keep a clean house. He would then argue that it was the maid’s job to vacuum and clean the floors. Some nonsense really.

“He’s all put down and- you’re reading one of his books?” Elvis questioned as he placed the white baby monitor down on the coffee table.

“It was the only thing nearby,” you replied simply. However, just on the opposite end near the lamp sat a copy of the holy bible. Maybe you were just in your feels and didn’t want a hard book to read. Nonetheless, something was wrong.

“All right, tell me what happened,” Elvis spoke as he appeared back into the living room. You tore your eyes away from the book and looked over at him. 

“I told you what happened.” You said, returning your gaze back to the book. Not really wanting to have this conversation. 

“And I know that there is more than what you told me.” Elvis came to the couch. He moved your legs out of the way and quickly sat down, resting your legs on his lap. You let out a sigh and looked over at him. You closed the book and laid it down in your lap.

“He said if I’m not careful I can lose the baby,” you spoke softly. You didn’t even wanna say those words out loud. It would just make it feel more real, and you felt your eyes start to water up. 

“Hey hey,” Elvis’ tone softened. “What? Why would he say that?”

“You know how I went because of a pain? That I felt… really sick.” You brought up as you wiped away your slight tears before things got too crazy.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“He says it isn’t normal to be really sick during pregnancy. Sure morning sickness is normal but… with the sickness and overworking myself. He basically bedridden me.” You explained to him, humming to the feeling of Elvis rubbing his hand up and down your leg. 

“We’ll get through this together okay?” He tried to reassure you, but you both knew deep down the Colonel would pull him away to film some random movie. The two of you repositioned yourselves and your back laid against his chest. His hand rested on your small bump and rubbed slight circles against it.

You played the rest of the day safe. Once your son woke up from his nap you played some games with him before one of the maids started dinner. You felt bad keeping them from their family, but you sent most of them home already. Only two decided to stay and you were thankful. 

Everyone was tucked away in bed before you knew it. Of course not until after you left out milk and cookies for Santa, which Elvis was gonna have to eat and drink later. Along with putting the carrots back in the fridge. He also had you write Santa a little note. Asking for some last-minute items, even though you told him it was too late. Theo argued his case and won.

Christmas Day came sooner than you expected. Well, three in the morning kind of soon. You sat on the floor near the toilet. Everything you had eaten at dinner down the drain of the toilet. It wasn’t just morning sickness anymore. This baby was just… taking everything out of you. So, you sat there until you were able to push yourself up.

Elvis was still sound asleep. He had these moments where he would be either a heavy sleeper or a really light sleeper. Today was one of those heavy nights. You rinsed your mouth out with some water and popped a mint before heading back to bed. You didn’t expect him to wake up every single time. Someone needed rest to watch after Theodore, and Elvis was just more capable of that.

Despite not being able to do much, you knew damn well that you were going to dress up for the holidays. So, as you walked down the grand white staircase, you heard laughter and voices coming from the living room. You steadied yourself on the railing and put on your bravest smile. 

Truth be told, you woke up and just didn’t want to move. And this is after the hour you had awake between three and four. Maybe you shouldn’t have ever moved since your doctor bedridden you. To say the least, you were grateful for your maids was an understatement. They would be the ones cooking and cleaning until this baby comes. Without them, you didn’t know how your baby would survive, not off of Elvis’ cooking that’s for damn sure.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and heard your baby boy’s voice announcing your arrival. “Mama!” He squealed in happiness. He got up on his feet and made his way over to you.

“Hi my sweet boy,” you said and reached down picking him up. You pressed multiple kisses on his cheek and made your way into the living room. “Look how beautiful you look, Y/n,” your mother complimented you.

“Thank you, mama,” you said with a smile. Though, you doubted you even looked that beautiful. No amount of makeup or pretty dresses will hide the fact that you weren’t feeling well.

Elvis got up from his place on the couch and offered you his seat, which you gladly accepted. “So honey, is there a reason you’re not cooking today?” Your mother questioned.

“Oh, I’m just not feeling that well today, so Janice is holding down the kitchen,” you said with a small smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that dear,” your mother responded. You replied with a smile node and reached over for Elvis’s hand. 

“I believe we were gonna open up presents before dinner, right darlin’?” Elvis looked over at you, seeing if that was still the schedule.

“Yes,” you nodded. “With everything planned out after dinner, Theo should fall asleep at his normal time.” You further explained looking over at your family. 

“What about your father, Elvis? Isn’t he joining us?” Your mother asked with her sweet-toned southern accent. 

“Unfortunately not, that b-“ Elvis quickly coughed to cover up what he almost accidentally said. “That wife of his has him over at their place celebrating. I think she’s still mad about Thanksgiving.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that son,” your father said. Elvis smiled softly at him as a way to express gratitude. 

“Shall we exchange gifts then? I know Theo must be dying to rip them open,” she let out a chuckle. Everyone joined in with her. You tickled Theo’s stomach and watched as he erupted in a fit of giggles. 

“Let’s have him pick?” Elvis suggested, though it sounded like he was asking for permission. He wanted to be careful with what he said, he didn’t want to cause you any stress. 

“Of course,” you responded and placed Theo down on the floor. At first, Theo just sat down, but with some encouragement from his family. He made his way over to the tree. 

You had to arrange some things around, but you placed the tree where the grand white piano is. You, more like you had Elvis, move the piano back so that you could fit the tree. You always thought it looked nicest there. 

Theo looked around trying to figure out what to grab first. Should he go for something big or something small? You just thought he was lost and confused about what to do. He was only two after all. Elvis kneeled down and placed his hand on your son’s back.

“How about we check the stockings? See if Santa filled them with some candy and toys,” your fiancé encouraged the young boy. Theo nodded excitedly at the sound of Santa, toys, and candy. 

You watched your boys make their way over to the fireplace and Elvis pulled down the stocking. He wanted it to Theo and you watched as he started to pull things out one by one. You hummed softly and leaned back, and nuzzled into the blanket that was thrown around you. 

Gifts took… an awfully long time. It was just, that every time Theo opened something he had to play with it right away. It would take anywhere from a minute, to five to get him to open up another present. Not to mention the tears he would shed because he couldn’t play with his toy. It was… a very emotional roller coaster.  

“I actually have one more gift to give,” your father spoke up as he stood up. “I think you’ll be very happy with it.” He looked at you as he said it. You looked at him confused and pulled yourself away from Elvis’ shoulder. 

“I found it the other day when I was cleaning out the attic,” your father explained as he pulled up a box that was hidden from your eyesight. 

“What is it?” You questioned as he placed the box in your hands. 

“Open it and you’ll see.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him and opened the box. You froze when you saw the old ragged, yet somehow in perfect condition, stuffed bunny staring up at you.

You lifted the bunny carefully and continued to stare at it. “Is this Miffy?” You asked as you looked over at your father. 

“It is, I thought… maybe you could pass her down to your baby once they are born.” You smiled softly at his answer and nodded. 

You got Miffy when you were a young girl. You would wear your pretty dresses and run around the yard. She slept by your side every night. Then she became a decoration on your dresser, and then soon she was placed in the attic. You never thought you would see her again, let alone in such great condition.

“I cleaned and fixed her up,” your mother spoke to you. 

“Thank you, this… this means a lot to me.” You started to tear up. You and your goddamn pregnancy emotions. You were quick to wipe your eyes and soon picked up your boy from the ground. 

The fear of losing your baby just kept coming back to you. You didn’t mean to think about it, but… seeing Miffy, and your dad suggesting giving her to your baby once they’re born. It brought that fear that if you are not careful enough, they’ll die. 

You held Theodore close and excused yourself from your family. You pulled on your coat and boots and walked outside. “Mama, oday?” Theodore looked at you worried as he snuggled closer under your coat. 

“Yes, mama is okay.” You replied softly and kissed the top of his head. 

Don’t stress over this.

The more stress, the more likely you’ll have a miscarriage.

Happy thoughts, Y/n, happy thoughts.

“Hey baby, everything okay?” You heard your mother’s voice. You turned your head and spotted her behind her fluffy coat. 

“Yeah, just got a bit emotional, is all,” you gave her a sad smile.

“May I offer some advice?” She asked gently. You nodded slowly and looked at her, your hand rubbing your son’s back. 

“You’re gonna face rough pregnancies every so often. At the end of the day, when you are holding your baby close to your chest… that is when it all matters. It may seem rough, and like your life is over, but at the end of the tunnel is God’s greatest gift. A newborn baby.” She spoke as she looked at you, never for a second leaving your eyes. 

“Do you think he sees us as sinners?” You asked with a sad expression. You may have not been heavily influenced by God, but he played a role in your life. Just as he did with your fiancé. 

“Just because you two aren’t married? Perhaps, but he knows that you two are down that road of getting married. He knows Elvis has a crazy schedule. I believe he made an exception just for you two.”

“How do you always know what to say?” You questioned. 

“I’m your mother, I’m supposed to.” She smiled and pulled you into a hug, being careful of the toddler against your chest. You leaned into her hug, not being able to properly hug back.

“Thank you.”

The three of you went back inside and waited for dinner to happen. The maids made a beautiful and tasteful dinner. The main course being the Ham. You didn’t understand the reasoning behind holiday meats. Thanksgiving was always served with Turkey, maybe a ham, but Christmas was served with ham. 

Your plate was full to the brim, hopefully, you’ll be able to keep it all down. You hardly had much to eat during the day. A bowl of oatmeal and fresh-cut fruit in the morning, and then dinner now. After everyone finished up their plate, everyone slowly but surely left. Your parents, your brother… Vernon made sure to stop by to drop off presents and say hi. 

Other than that, the maids cleaned up, you got Theo in the bath. Then you got him all ready to go to bed, with the help of Elvis. You then got in the bath yourself, figuring that would be the best way to destress. Before you knew it, you were in your pajamas and getting in bed.

You hummed softly as you pulled back the bed covers. You weren’t one to lie and say that the silk covers kept you warm during these cold months. Nonetheless, it made Elvis happy, and if Elvis was happy; you were happy. But- there was no way in hell you were gonna suffer while pregnant during the winter.

“Elvis,” you called out to him as you got into bed, slipping your legs under the covers.

“Yeah, darlin’?~~” You hum at his voice. You don’t know how, but he just sounded more southern at night. Maybe it was because he was getting sleepy. His voice was getting more raspy, the whole nine yards.

“We’re switching covers tomorrow.” You stated, not bothering to ask. You wanted your fleece sheets, not freezing silk.

“Hold on now-“ he came in from the bathroom, a toothbrush loosely hanging from his mouth. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Cold,” you answered simply, “and the baby doesn’t want to be cold. Mama doesn’t want to be cold.” You gave him that look. It was that very same look that said a million unspoken words. 

Elvis had a lot of say what got done in his house. Despite it being considered as both of yours. At the end of the day, it was Elvis’ name on the deed. He was the one to purchase it. He was the one who got to design and plan out the rooms. Then of course your son got a say in what went on in his bedroom. Despite the mess, he would make every single day. All you were asking was for a simple change of the sheets. 

“Fine fine,” he muttered under his breath as he returned to the bathroom. You choose to ignore it just this once. 

Does the bedroom bother you? Yes, it absolutely does. Compared to the rest of the house, it was dark and moody. It almost screamed vampire. You were more than happy with the blackout curtains, but you wanted it to look more lively. To match the rest of the house. Then again, you think it would kill Elvis if you put any sense of color in his bedroom. 

You reached over to your side table and picked up the book you were reading earlier. Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith. While Elvis was more into books that related closely to the lord, you were more of a romance fan. You liked your little romance novels because deep down you wanted your romance to be like them. 

That isn’t to say that the relationship you have sucks. You have your rough moments just like every other couple. In these stories though… it feels as if nothing ever goes wrong for them. That is what you wanted. A perfect life, a perfect relationship, a perfect… everything. Yet every night before you two signed off, you would read together a verse in the bible. One chosen at random. 

You would open the book, and go through the pages, stop at one random, run your finger along the page, and stop it at random. You two liked to take it as… a reading. Thought most of the time the verses don’t lead you on a path of anything. They are more or less… well, they are verses. Not fortune tellings, but you two still liked to take them as such.

The bathroom soon became dark and Elvis emerged from the doorframe. He made his way over to the bed and slid in next to you. Well, more like got in… then scooted over to you. He pressed a kiss to your head and pulled you into his warm embrace. You let out a light giggle and made sure to quickly save your space in the book. 

“You know, I haven’t given you your gift yet.” He spoke softly. You hummed softly and turned your head upwards to look at him.

“You’re giving me a baby, Elvis.” You spoke gently as you brought your hand up to his jaw. 

“I can give you one of those any time. This is a special gift.”

“And what does it have that the other special gifts don’t?” You raised your eyebrow. 

“I-,” Elvis didn’t know how to respond. He generally just needed the excuse of Christmas to give you more gifts. “God told me to.”

“Did he now? And what did he tell you to get me?” You played along with his statement.

“Well, that’s for you to find out,” he pulled out a neatly wrapped long box. You could already guess that it was some type of jewelry because of the box. Not a ring or earrings, could be a bracelet, necklace, or even a watch. The possibilities were endless. 

You took it out of his hands and ran your palm against it. “Let’s see if God chose correctly then.” You pulled the wrapped paper off and revealed a black velvet box. The words of a jewelry company posted on top. You opened it and saw a beautiful gold necklace with an oval, and an E engraved on it. 

You opened the necklace and smiled at the pictures already in them. A picture of you and Elvis, a picture of Theodore, and two more spaces to be filled. You looked over at Elvis and started to tear up. “Elvis,” you whispered. 

“Once our baby gets born we can add their picture… then we can do a family picture as well.”

“It’s perfect, I love it.” You threw your arms around him and pressed multiple kisses on his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he rubbed your back gently. “Merry Christmas, my darlin’,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and held his hand on your bump.

It may have started off as a rough day, but the ending was most worth it. Much like other things. The beginning may suck, but if you truck through to the end you will be rewarded. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips as you kissed him.

“I love you, and I love our baby.”

“I love them too,” you smiled alongside with him. Just think, next year you’ll have two kids for Christmas. It may be chaotic, but you were ready for this chapter. 

Special Taglist: @darlinboypresley @austinstyles

Author's note: I started writing this after the first part went up. But it took me all the day till the 19th to finish. I am not completely a hundred percent happy with this, but I think I want to turn this into a holiday fic. I don't think there will be one for New Years. I can see an Easter one happening, a 4th of July one, Halloween, loop back around I might do Veteran's day instead of Thanksgiving for next year. Then ending it again with Christmas. Of course the newborn being there.

In the original fic, the reader actually suffered a miscarriage, and I wasn't completely sure if I wanted to copy that over. So, I placed the idea in this fic, it does not mean it will happen, but it leaves the doors open for that possibility, though I kind of just said what would happen.

Next fic will be posted on Christmas Day. I hope to have it done much quicker then I did this fic. I hope everyone is having a wonderful holidays!